#and only those top two survived lol

[sourscratched]

crumpled pocketful of offbook scraps that are just so wildly clashy and have nothing to do with each other but uhhhh. Enjoy i guess

[yuwuta]

YUUTA OKKOTSU’S DECLASSIFIED JUJUTSU TECH SURVIVAL GUIDE (AN APPETITE HAUNTING THE HEART)

❝i know this tastes too good to be healthy. the more it melts, the sweeter it gets, so take my heart out because i need all of you.

*this is yuuta okkotsu’s fool-reviewed plan for navigating all things curses, sorcery, and love. 

pairings. okkotsu/reader

content, warnings. canon-adjacent, reader has a cursed technique, friends to lovers, smut (uhh... no triggers i think? other than implied virginity loss on yuuta’s part), mentions of violence/curses, possessive/intrusive thoughts... he starts of kinda sweet and weird and then just gets... weirder and worse lol, so mostly yuuta being... yuuta <2

notes. jujustu tech is a college not a highschool, yes i brought naruto in this, i believe in sasuke slander only from a place of pure love, real sasuke ridicule will not be accepted xoxo

word count. 12k i told you i could yap about him all day

playing. candy/baekhyun, untouched/the veronicas, cream soda/exo, lacy/olivia rodrigo, pure honey/beyoncé

#1 — Do NOT touch Maki Zenin’s tools (but if you do, the cute girl who hangs around Inumaki might help to patch you up).

Yuuta hadn’t meant to piss off Maki. He was trying to be helpful, but Yuuta learned the hard way today: do not touch Maki’s cursed tools, at all, for any reason whatsoever. He intended to hand it back to her, but she was prompt in assuming that was part of an attack, snatching it from under his grasp and giving him a jab on the wrist with the dull end of the stick. If the beatdown he’d endured during training put Yuuta on his deathbed, then that hit was the final nail in the coffin.  

The crack! sound of his bones made everyone pause their sparring, and Gojo winced the loudest, “Ouch! That one had to hurt, kid!” It was also Gojo who gathered everyone to stand around and look down at him clutching his wrist in pain, before making the executive decision to appoint you as Yuuta’s caretaker.  

“This is definitely something you can handle!” he cheered, patting the top of your head, “Take our dearest Yuuta to the infirmary and patch him up, please and thank you! With the way Maki’s been kicking him into the ground, those cuts are sure to get infected sooner rather than later. The two of you can join us for dinner when you’re finished!”  

Yuuta tried to refute, on the grounds of “No—no! I—ouch—this really isn’t worth using any kind of cursed energy over!” Which was quickly met with a mischievous raised eyebrow from his teacher, “Oh? Are you insinuating that my precious student doesn’t have the skill to fix a simple fracture?” That prompted Yuuta to spill a flurry of apologies, none of which were coherent, and ended up with him trailing behind you sheepishly to the infirmary with a broken wrist, several bleeding wounds, and probably early heart failure.  

Now, Yuuta sits with his feet dangling off of the edge of the examination chair, shivering from the chilliness of the room, and all of his nerve endings rattling at the realization that this is the first time that he’s been alone in a room with you since you’ve met. He winces, first at the sting of disinfectant into his wound, and then internally—mostly out of embarrassment—because his outward reaction made you pause your actions to question if he’s okay.  

Okay is relative, he thinks. In the grand scheme of things, he’s okay. Concerning his current injuries, he’ll be okay eventually. Concerning this… whatever this is he feels for you… maybe not so okay.  

“Sorry,” he stutters, too loud for the atmosphere and proximity of your bodies to each other, and, so, he winces again, cheeks staining red to match his embarrassment, as if he or you needed any confirmation of it. He doesn’t mean to be a difficult patient, but he has an adversity surrounding hospitals and medical care, and that alcohol really does burn, and you’re really close to his face, and—and you giggle a little, but Yuuta hears a chorus, instead; warm, spring-like, with violins and a piano and cellos strumming in perfect harmony, and the buzz of bees and butterfly wings flapping the melody.  

“You apologize a lot,” you tell him, a kind smile on your lips. You step forward, just a bit, as you peel off the band-aid adhesive and gently press it over the bridge of Yuuta’s nose. It’s Hello Kitty themed. It makes him want to scream.  

“Yeah, uh—sorry about that!” Yuuta apologizes, once again too loudly. He scratches at the back of his neck with his left hand, and his eyes go wide after a few beats, “No, wait—I didn’t mean to apologize again. I just... I, uh... thank you. That’s what I wanted to say. For helping me, you have my sincerest thank you.” 

Yuuta dips his head to bow, and when he raises it again, you’re blinking at him owlishly, and he thinks he’s really done it now. You must think he’s a freak, if you didn’t already. He thinks you’re gonna tell him off for being pathetic and a weakling, but instead you laugh again—that precious sound that pauses Yuuta’s world for the better.  

“You’re awfully formal. There’s no need for that, or to thank me. We’re friends, afterall,” you reassure him, “Even if Gojo did force you to be my practice dummy.” 

It’s his turn to reassure you, his uninjured hand moving from his neck to shake frantically in front of him, “It’s completely okay,” he does his best to give you a smile as warm as the one you give him. It probably doesn’t work, but he tries anyway—he’s always been an awkward smiler, too wide-mouthed and toothy, “You can do whatever you want to me, I trust you.”  

Your face seems almost solemn at his declaration, and the panic instantly kicks in again. Yuuta scrambles when his words play back in his head, “I’m sorry, was that weird? I meant that I trust your judgment. You can, uh, fix me up however you best see fit—or just leave it! I’m sure it’ll heal on—”

“You’re awfully self-sacrificing, too,” you cut him off with a laugh, your usual warm nature clicking back. Yuuta shrugs, feeble; you smile wider, “I’m the one who should be apologizing to you. I keep staring, and I’m sorry to have made you uncomfortable.” 

“Not at all! You don’t... make me uncomfortable, I mean. You could never,” Yuuta rushes, curling back into himself after his outburst, “You... it always feels really nice when you’re around. I can’t explain it, but everything is calmer.”

Your eyes flutter across his face, before you turn away from him, “I can tell it makes you nervous—I can hear the changes in your heartbeat,” you tell him, opening the cabinet to return the alcohol to its rightful place. You must also be able to hear his thoughts, chiming in just as Yuuta continues to wonder if his heartbeat is really that loud, “It’s part of my technique. I don’t mean to intrude on your heart.” 

Is it an intrusion if Yuuta left room for you? If he wanted you to be there? Was it crazy to think that he’d give you his heart to hold and trust you to take care of it, even though you’d only met a few months ago? Maybe it would be easier if he let you squeeze tight enough to put him out of his misery already.

Luckily, you keep talking before he can say something stupid like that out-loud again. 

“It’s just that... you remind me of somebody that I used to know. You’re kind like him, and you both share a well-intentioned recklessness, too. I see so much of him in you that it’s hard not to stare sometimes,” you admit, turning back to face him, and gingerly taking his wrist between your hands. When your hands start to glow, Yuuta can feel it—your reversed cursed technique is warm on the surface, but chilly underneath, like a heated blanket on top of perfectly cool sheets. 

“I don’t mean to say that you’re just a replacement,” you continue, slowly rotating your hands over his injury. It stings a little, then soothes, “I’m just still in awe of how nice it feels being around you. It feels strangely—” 

“Familiar,” Yuuta interjects, “I understand. You feel that way, too. I think... that’s what I meant before.” He understands your words perfectly because you remind him of someone precious to him, too; someone he used to and still loves alot. “You—it makes me happy, that’s why I seem so nervous.”

It seems as though you understand him, too. His heart sings, and you can probably hear it, but Yuuta doesn’t quite mind so much now. What he feels for you is consuming, maybe concerning, but knowing that you know what it’s like to love like him brings him an odd sense of comfort. Maybe he should be jealous that you’ve had someone to love that much before, but he’s not exactly in a position to talk. What matters is that you can hear him and feel him—his heart and his love and his sad and his happy, and it doesn’t push you away. 

It makes him want to burst. He owes you a thank you for putting something so precious in his life. He owes you an apology, for ever doubting that you couldn’t handle his symptoms. He should have realized that you can handle his love.

“You feel really warm, too,” he blushes, scratching at the back of his neck with his free hand, “And, uh, not just because you’re holding my hand.” 

The twinkle in your eyes turns into confusion, then surprise when you look down to see that the hand below his wrist had moved to rest underneath his palm instead. His wrist was well healed by now, and you’d been, effectively, massaging his skin and muscles with your technique for the latter duration of your conversation without realizing it. 

Yuuta couldn’t tell when it went from healing to hand holding, but he’s not complaining—and he doesn’t think he could have stopped it either. Another quality to your technique that he couldn’t understand was how your energy felt sticky, flowed like honey; how it managed to run into broken crevices and bruised dents with a mind of its own. Even if he’d wanted to pull his hand away—and he didn’t, he absolutely did not—he wouldn’t have gotten far from you. He never wanted to be. 

“You already have calluses on your palm,” you note, dispelling your healing energy, holding onto Yuuta’s hand only by want now, “You train hard. You’ll catch up to Maki and Toge, quickly, but not if you don’t take care of yourself.” 

Yuuta almost chokes when you rotate your wrist so that your fingers are aligned. Your hand is so much softer than his, warmer than his, and maybe he’s idealistic, but your fingers seem to slot perfectly between his when you curl them. 

“I’m not always going to be around to fix you up,” you warn him, “So don’t go around pissing Maki off too much, alright?” 

Yuuta can feel the heat from your body flow through him. From his palm, up his arm, down into his chest, and everywhere else. It doesn’t feel real. You’re holding his hand, you’re smiling at him, you’re right there and you’re so bright and beautiful, so Yuuta doesn’t know why his thoughts are so gray and dangerous; you wouldn’t hurt him, and he doesn’t want to hurt you, so why can’t he stop thinking about keeping you like this—of stitching your hands together forever to keep you by his side, or letting this heat consume and burn you both. 

Yuuta shakes his head to wiggle those thoughts away, but to you it seems like he’s saying no to staying off of Maki’s radar. When he realizes it, he nods too reverently to make up for it; surely looking like an idiot, and then to top it off, he squeaks, “I—yes, ma’am!” 

Another foolish outburst on his end, perhaps, but it makes you giggle, fills the room with springtime for a moment, so to Yuuta, it was worth it. “Good,” you nod, release his hand and beckon him off of the chair, “Come on, we should go eat before Panda takes all the good sides for himself.” 

Yuuta follows you back to the dorms with his stomach already full of love, love, love. He loves you, and you can hear, and see, and feel exactly what you do to him, and you don’t run. Yuuta thinks maybe you should, even though he doesn’t want you to. Surely you know what he did to Rika when he loved her. 

Rika seems to like you, actually, if the humming of her voice in his head as he takes his seat at the table next to you is any indication. He can vaguely make out some of her words as you pass him the dumplings—warm, kind, loyal. He agrees. Pretty, too. No disagreement there. 

In such a short amount of time, you’ve shifted Yuuta’s ethos for life. He wanted to die to be with the person he loved before, and never quite understood why Rika would stop him, why she would want him to suffer in this life alone; but maybe this is what Rika was always trying to tell him; that his love was not lost and buried with her, but flowing towards you, his heart, a beacon for you to locate. 

You’d mentioned that he reminded you of someone you knew before, that you couldn’t see anymore. Yuuta doesn’t know what happened to your person before he came along; he can only hope that you’ll allow him and his heart to be a vessel for your love someday, too. He won’t disappoint you. He won’t let you let go of him. 

It shouldn’t be hard. You already have his heart in your hands. 

#2 — Gojo is more than a teacher. He is also the school event planner, once ranked Diamond in Overwatch, and is the only person blacklisted from any and all kitchens on campus. He also gives pretty good (sometimes questionable?) advice. His eyes are kind of scary.  

You’re there when he and Toge are nearly decimated by the Grade 1 curse in the abandoned market. He still doesn’t understand much about sorcery at this point, so seeing people like you and Toge in action is awe-inspiring to say the least. Yuuta knows that Toge is nothing short of amazing, but he can’t help but to be drawn into you, you, you—your energy, your fighting style, the seemingly never-ending applications of your technique. Cursed energy in and of itself is still a foreign concept to him, so perhaps it’s that seeing you use the reverse of it so effortlessly is even more novel to him. 

He can hear Rika strumming in the back of his mind, an indistinct itch and hum that sounds vaguely like laughter at his self-justification. He chooses to ignore her. 

After, while he’s still buzzing with the tingly warm sensation of your technique after you’d patched him up, Gojo finds him, and Yuuta, unable to keep up a façade, pours all his anxious, worried, inquisitive feelings about his mission on the table. 

“The way that (_____) can heal wounds... is that something I can learn?” Yuuta questions his teacher, eyes tired but genuine and earnest.  

And Gojo, all knowing and absolutely singing at the implications, smiles so wide he’s certain his newest student could see the crinkles in the corners of his eyes, even through the dark tint of his glasses. “Maybe.”  

He goes on, leaning back into the old loveseat, one leg crossed over his other knee, “You’ll probably be able to learn to heal yourself with reversed cursed technique, but using it to heal others is difficult and rare. Shoko and (_____) are the only people I know who can do it.”

“Is… did she get to learn it because she’s a Grade 1?” He remembers Maki explaining the ranking system for Jujutsu sorcerers. You and Toge were ranked the highest in the class, and amongst the other Kyoto students; it would make sense that you two have learned more applications of your techniques due to your higher placements.

Gojo chuckles, much to Yuuta’s confusion. “That’s not quite how it works—and if it were, then you’d already know because you’re a Special Grade. You don’t unlock new lessons as you move up, you move up because of how well you’ve learned to control and apply your own cursed technique.”

Right. That makes sense. Except Yuuta knows that his classification of Special Grade is a bit of a cheat because he can’t control or apply his cursed energy half as well as any of his classmates. He has Rika to thank for his immediate promotion, not himself or his own skills.

“In any case, if you do learn it, you’ll never be able to execute it like her, that’s for certain. Reversed cursed technique is complicated to learn and nearly impossible to teach. It’s one of those things you truly have to figure out for yourself when the timing is right—I only got it when I was on the brink of death. It’s 100% effective on the person doing it, but only 50% effective when applied to other people by the user,” Gojo says, “Except for (_____). She was born with reversed cursed energy, which is why she has an almost 100% output on herself and others, so she’s extra special. ”

Yuuta frowns. He never expected to do anything half as well as you, but knowing there’s only half a chance that he could, literally, only ever meet you half-way is frustrating. You can save him time and time and time again, as you already have, and all he can do is be a wound for you to stitch back together. 

It must be difficult for you. A similar thought had crossed his mind when he first met Shoko-san, feeling bad for her having to carry the burden of healing others, knowing that she could never receive the same treatment in return. It’s worse for you, though, to be an angel amongst the men on this Earth—it’s not fair that you can give so much to help, and nobody can do the same for you. Yuuta wants to give something to you, he wants to devote himself to you, so at the very least, you have that. If he can’t give you anything else, he can give you himself.

Gojo laughs at Yuuta’s silence, kicking his legs up on the coffee table. “That’s hard for you to hear, huh? Ha! You truly are a lover, not a fighter, Yuuta.”

Yuuta blinks at him. “I, uh... thank you?” He says, even though he’s not so certain that those two things are discernable.  

“Right now, the best thing for you to do is focus on controlling Rika and your cursed energy. That way, (_____) can also focus on fighting, and not healing, when you’re on missions together. The stronger you are, the less she’ll have to clean up after you,” Gojo advises.

He puts his feet back on the floor and uses the leverage to lean over, a bit too close for Yuuta’s comfort. “The only thing you can do for her is to learn to help yourself.”

Yuuta’s eyes go wide. He wants to—he wants to help you, wants to help himself, wants to help others, too. There’s a selfish twang for a moment, the thought of not needing you anymore tugging at his heart, but Rika reminds him that he’ll still want you. 

Then an even scarier thought crosses his mind. “What happens if I don’t learn to control this? What happens if I curse her instead?”

Yuuta trembles at the thought, breathing and heartbeat erratic, his sensei moving back a bit. Rika is there again, reassuring him that he never hurt her, that his love never hurts, that the only person he’s ever truly harmed is himself by isolation of his own feelings. Trust her, Rika demands, she can handle this.

You can. Can you? You have, so far. You don’t run, you don’t push, you give, and give, and give to him; Rika was kind and playful and took and took and took Yuuta’s loneliness and sickness in stride and he still cursed her, seemingly for all eternity. He wants to love and be loved, but not if it means hurting you—isn’t it bad enough that he’s already inept at healing your wounds? Why should he risk giving you more?

“Yuuta,” Gojo calls him out of his thoughts, “I’m disappointed.” 

That truly breaks Yuuta’s cyclical monologue. “I—disappointed?” 

Gojo ticks his tongue, shakes his head and points a finger in accusation, “You should know your fellow classmates better by now. (_____) is not that weak or scared,” he chastises, “You’re so worried about cursing her that you haven’t realized that she is the only person so far to have effectively used her curse on you.”

Yuuta pauses, eyes wet with the awful realization that Gojo was right. You have already cursed him; your technique has already gotten past the barrier of his curse. You’ve cursed him. He never stopped to think that it was possible, worried only about himself. How selfish—he shares Gojo’s disappointment in himself. 

He’s spent so much time loathing his jealous mind and decaying heart that he hasn’t opened his eyes to see you that you’ve found him. You can poison anything he does, and make the antidote with equal ease; how stupidly naive of Yuuta to think that he could be the one to diagnose or treat you better than you could him, or yourself. 

“I’m sorry, sensei,” Yuuta dips his head, and also spares you an internal apology, “I understand better, now.”

“Is that so?” Gojo muses, leaning back into the sofa. His eyes scan Yuuta’s when his head is raised again, that knowing grin creeping back up on his lips. “Well, if you still want to know more about reversed curse technique, or want help learning it, it’s not an entirely lost cause. I’m definitely not the person for this lesson, but, you know who is?” 

Yuuta feels a sense of whiplash from the change in Gojo’s demeanor. Confusion clouds his mind again, and he shrugs, “Um... Shoko-sensei?” 

Gojo makes a loud buzzer noise, complete with crossing his arms in front of his chest in a big ‘X.’ Yuuta frowns again. Is that where Toge learned to do that? 

“Wrong! I’m talking about (_____), obviously!” Gojo claps his hands together, before lowering his glasses to wiggle his eyebrows, “Tutoring is a textbook way to get some alone time, kiddo. You want to spend more time with her outside of class and missions, right?”

“I want to spend all my time with her,” Yuuta confesses, mindlessly. And foolishly, he soon realizes, when he sees that Gojo’s grin has tripled; and he’s quick to flash his hands to correct himself, “No—not like that—not in a creepy way! I just... I want to get to know her better, like you said.”

Yuuta’s awkward chuckles fill the space, and he can feel his insides burning from his cheeks all the way down to his hands. Would he ever be able to think coherently or tactfully when it came to you? 

“So, uh... I... it’s okay if I ask her about this stuff, too?” 

“Some sorcerers don’t like talking about their cursed techniques. But (_____) might not mind. You won’t know until you try.” 

Yuuta nods shallowly. Try. He can do that—if not for himself, then for you; he can try for you. All you need from him is to accept your course of treatment; to love you is to let you curse him, completely. 

“I’m a firm believer that all’s fair in love and war,” Gojo stands, stretching into Yuuta’s space to ruffle his hair. He leans down further, giving him a glimpse of his glowing eyes before sparing him a wink, “So, be a little greedy, and give it your best shot.”

#3 — Social media is the most twisted curse out there. It makes you feel so close, yet is a stark reminder of just how far you are from the person on the other end of the screen. 

Yuuta has never considered himself good with technology. Even before Rika’s incident, he often felt ostracized by his peers because he didn’t have the same interest in or experience with games and cartoons. He had no reason to have a computer or a phone until enrolling at Jujutsu Tech, and there was an evident learning curve in navigating the devices. Toge often snickered watching Yuuta use his smartphone with the dexterity of a senior citizen. 

He only barely set up Instagram and TikTok accounts with Toge’s help, but he doesn’t really get the idea of followers—why would people who don’t know him want to follow him? Why would he follow them? He doesn’t know many memes or jokes and even after seeing them, he doesn’t think many are all that funny, but he laughs anyway. 

He doesn’t have much time to perfect his social media and meme skills, anyway. He’s dedicated to training and gaining mission experience—which pays off when Geto declares war on the school by the end of the year. Yuuta remembers how you returned his phone to him the next day, a few cracks and black, dark spots on the screen, giggling that you’d found it in the rubble, but that even your reverse cursed technique couldn’t fix its scars. 

He thinks he gets the hang of it in the end—the basics of communication and the appeal behind connection with others through it—even going so far as to trade selfies with Gojo sometimes, who always seemed happy to receive them, no matter how much post-exorcism curse gunk Yuuta was covered in. 

He also frequently exchanges texts with you. He much prefers to see you in person, but when you’re stuck for long hours in the ER, or away from campus on your own missions, Yuuta has grown fond of receiving your messages. He always attempts to read them in your voice and imagine your facial expressions to match those of the emojis you send. He hasn’t quite gotten the hang of those yet, doesn’t understand what Toge means when he says that not all smiley faces are created equally, so to save himself the trouble, and potential embarrassment, he’s opted to use emoticons instead. Which, if you asked him, has been working out in his favor, seeing as you call them cute. 

Yuuta also uses the safety of his phone screen to implement some of Gojo’s advice; picking your brain about curses, sorcery, and healing via text message for just long enough for you to say it’s easier to explain in person to come to him and teach him in your spare time. Soon these study sessions turn into texts asking to hang out outside of class and missions and work, and Yuuta couldn’t be more elated. The screen he once scorned at seemed to be his one-way ticket to being able to talk to his favorite person constantly. 

But Yuuta never thought it would become his only means of communication with you. He’s devastated when you break the news to him, over half-finished oolong tea and nervous finger-twiddling. 

“You’re leaving?” He echoes, hoping he doesn’t sound too much like a heartbroken child, even though that’s exactly how he feels. 

It’s quiet outside of the tea shop where you two sit, nearing seven in the evening; only the soft sounds of other customers conversing behind you two inside, distant cars on the main street, and the sound of Yuuta’s heart beating frantically.  

“Not leaving leaving,” you clarify, pausing your finger twirling to place one of your hands over Yuuta’s on the table, “I’m still studying, but I’m being sent abroad for a bit.” 

He should be focused on the fact that you’re touching his hand—Yuuta should be happy! Rika still cheers for you in his mind, but her voice is quieter now—but Yuuta can’t. He’s focused on everything else, spiraling about the implications of your words. You’re leaving... going away from him when things are going so well. 

Yuuta was so happy when you taught him the reversed curse technique, even happier when he realized he did have the ability to heal others, knowing it also meant having the ability to help you relieve some of your burdens. That didn’t mean that he didn’t still want to give himself to you, he would if you’d have him—but now he wouldn’t have the chance.  

“I haven’t told anyone else yet—Gojo only told me this morning,” you mumble, “I’m going to miss you all a lot, but we can still text every day! I don’t know how long the time difference will be, but we can FaceTime.” 

It’s not lost on Yuuta that he is the first person that you’ve told about this. It’s another thing to be happy about, another little victory he never thought he’d achieve, but it’s still overpowered by the dread of you leaving him. 

He blinks, placing his other hand atop yours, sandwiching them between his, “How long?” Yuuta can’t read the expression on your face, but you don’t pull your hand away. He’s glad. He didn’t think when he’d done it, but the lack of rejection feels good—your touch always feels good, reverse cursed energy or not. 

“I’m… not sure—a few months at least, maybe until the end of the year,” you admit, squeezing his hand, “There are some cursed objects and scrolls they want me to help recover, and Gojo says I get to work with another Special Grade sorcerer, too.” 

His hands feel so good, so warm, but everything else about Yuuta feels cold, icy with dread and fear. You’re going away for a long time, and he won’t get to see you or hear you laugh or feel your warmth while you’re gone. His sunny days are going away, and Yuuta honestly doesn’t know how many more overcast skies and rain clouds he can take.

And it’s selfish, he knows. He should be happy for you—you were chosen for this mission, for this training; you’re getting the chance to use your skills to help others, and train even further. So, why couldn’t he be happy for you? Why could he only feel a pit in his stomach about the thought of you leaving and meeting some other Special Grade who’s rightfully deserving of their title? Not only had he lost the thing that brought him to you in the first place, but you’re about to find another replacement. Sure, with or without Rika’s curse, Yuuta had become so much stronger, but what’s it worth if he couldn’t keep you by his side?

“Tsukumo is supposed to be really cool, but you’ll always be my favorite Special Grade, Yuuta,” you taunt with a smile. 

Yuuta’s eyes go wide and watery with wobbly lips and flushed cheeked and sweaty palms to match. Favorite. Favorite, favorite, favorite. The word spoken in your voice rings in his head like a beautiful chime, the tones washing over him and erasing all his fear and doubt and insecurity. 

You had called Yuuta your favorite. Sure, he’s still upset when he and the other first-years drop you off at the airport too weeks later, he still cries the first night you’re gone, still nearly breaks his knee trying to jump for his phone the first time that you call; but it’s okay because Yuuta is living off of the temporary high of being your favorite. 

And also, because, in the end, your separation seems to have been inevitable. Not a month after everyone bids you farewell from Jujutsu Tech, Gojo tells him that he’s next on the docket to be sent abroad. He’s happy for a split second, thinking that he might get sent off to Europe where you’re still working with Tsukumo, but then Yuuta learns his true fate: studying under the tutelage of Miguel in Kenya; equal parts away from his classmates in Tokyo, and from you in Barcelona. 

Whoever said distance makes the heart grow fonder was a liar and a bitch, because the favorite boy honeymoon comes to an end when Yuuta settles into his new room and makes his first call to you from Nairobi. The feeling and reality of being alone, and even further away from you finally hits him. Still, he relishes in the sound of your voice; fantasizes that when you reach for your phone to show him your new things, it’s you reaching for his hand; dreams of you laying next to him when you fall asleep on the call, and desperately wishes that he could touch you, hold you, kiss you. 

He really wants to kiss you. He thinks he’s probably always wanted to kiss you, from the very moment his feelings for you started to grow; even if he couldn’t discern them at first, he knows now—Yuuta knows that he misses you like he’s never missed anyone before. The grief of losing part of Rika, and then losing his proximity to you merely weeks apart is finally catching up to him, and it’s morphing into a yearning that tugs on his heartstrings and rattles his brain. 

He knows that the rate of growth of his feelings for you hasn’t been steady, but he blames you for that. You’re the reason he loves you so much, the reason he can’t sleep at night, the reason he learns how to bring Rika back—because he thinks of you, you, you, and how he lost Rika once, and he’d be a fool to lose you twice.

Yuuta thinks it’s no coincidence that your cursed technique has the ability to alter him in mind and body. You have so much ownership over him and you probably don’t even know that Yuuta has spent every single moment of his life living and breathing for you since you’ve met. 

And you take his breath away yet again, when he gets to see you in Germany. Miguel is taking him to Switzerland on a classified mission, and you and Tsukumo are on your way to Austria, and by some great miracle, your layovers align. When he sees you waving to him down the long corridor in the airport, it feels like a scene straight out of his dreams. Yuuta spares no time trying to look cool or nonchalant; making a beeline to you, desperate to feel your touch after so long. 

He’s breathless in those ten minutes that you’re reunited. Everything is too short, but he does his best to live in it all. He speaks a mile a minute, cramming in anything he hadn’t already revealed to you in your many late-night FaceTimes, and swallowing everything you tell him. He wants to believe that he’d made the best of what little time he had with you, but the truth is he didn’t. Because while you were smiling and hugging and telling him that you missed him, all Yuuta really wanted to do was kiss you—and if he were a smarter man, a better man, he would have. 

He thinks, for a split second, that you might have wanted to kiss him too—when you rock back on your heels after saying good-bye, hesitating for just a moment, almost expectantly, before your eyes flutter away. He’ll never know, because he never asked, he never tried, he never said—only whispered, pathetically, to himself as he watches the silhouette of you and Tsukomo before you disappear for boarding, that he loves you. 

He almost believes that you hear it when you turn over your shoulder after his quiet confession. Would it have been better that way—if he kissed you, or confessed in the heat of the moment—or would it be taking advantage of an otherwise beautiful moment? Yuuta will never know, and the what if tantalizes him.

He takes his phone out of his pocket and opens the thread of your messages. He starts typing, then stops. Backspace. Start typing. Pause. Read, re-read. Delete. Groan. 

What’s the point? He can’t kiss you through the screen, and he’ll be damned if the first time he tells you that he’s in love with you is via phone call. He slumps his shoulders, and Miguel gives him a pity pat on the back. Yuuta goes to lock his phone when he sees the gray thought bubbles pop up below your last message and his entire body goes rigid in anticipation. 

[received] 03:27 PM — [attachment: 1 image] — you should keep a closer eye on your things yuuta — i miss you already (◍•ᴗ•◍)❤ 

Yuuta’s heart stops when he sees the picture of you in your seat, wearing his white uniform jacket. He doesn’t know when you snuck it away from him, but that doesn’t matter—like anything else, he would have willingly given it to you, and then some. It looks much better on you anyway, and Yuuta pinches his eyes shut for a brief moment, to swallow down the thoughts threatening to swarm his mind of you in his arms, in other clothes, in his bed. 

He opens his eyes, takes a deep breath, and lets the warm, gooey feeling settle into his veins, and moves his fingers to type. 

[sent] 03:38 PM — keep it, you can have anything of mine you want — i miss you more (๑′ ᴗ ‵๑)♥

You heart his messages and let him know you’re taking off soon, and putting your phone on airplane mode until you land. He’s not so confident to send a picture in return, unless you ask for it. Maybe you will, when you’re in Austria. He’ll have to work on his selfies.

He takes another once over the picture you sent, committing the idea of you in his clothes to memory. He knows the messages won’t delete themselves, but he takes a screenshot for safekeeping anyway. Maybe phones aren’t so bad, afterall. 

#4 — Do not kill Itadori Yuuji. Under any circumstances. Even if some days you really feel like it. Also, sign up for a Crunchyroll subscription. 

Yuuta can confidently say that his training abroad was both the most difficult and fulfilling thing he’s ever experienced. He believes that the change he’s endured is mostly good—he’s physically stronger, emotionally wiser, and overall more confident in himself and his cursed technique. One year ago, he would have been content with dying, but now he has more than enough reasons to keep living. He has people who care about him, and who would miss him if he were gone; and he’s got someone he would miss a whole bunch, too, should anything happen to them.  

By miss Yuuta means that he might burn down a small town, might level a city, might flip the entire world on its axis if something were to happen to you. In his defense, he’d go to extremes for most of his friends—but for you, there’s truly nothing he wouldn’t risk.  

He figured that out in his time abroad, too; came to terms with the fact that he’s selfish with his love. He loves too much, too hard, too close, and he isn’t very willing to share. He doesn’t see it as a bad thing, anymore, either—Yuuta knows now that the way he loves makes him who he is, and right now, he has the confidence to say that he likes that person, and that he loves you, undoubtedly. 

So, forgive him if there’s a cloud of negative energy the size of a coach bus looming over him at the moment, because since you’ve returned to campus, Itadori Yuuji has been slobbering over you like a lovesick puppy.  

Because apparently, you happen to know Itadori Yuuji—as in, since you were four and he was three, all the way up until your senior year of highschool, when you were scouted by Gojo, who, believes that you coming home from your study abroad trip would be the perfect time to reunite two best friends who hadn’t seen or heard from each other for the better part of two years—all while keeping this little reunion a secret from everybody, including you and Itadori.

A surprise, it certainly is, when the first time that Yuuta and the other second-years see you in months is on the dingy couch in the common room, under a cuddle pile of the first-years. Nobara’s arms wrapped around your left arm, body slumped against your side, Megumi’s long limbs stretching over Itadori’s torso, leaving the palm of his hand resting on your thigh. Far too close for Yuuta’s comfort. The only saving grace is that the jacket he loaned you is also spread across your lap, offering another layer between your body and his palm. And then there’s Itadori Yuuji, squished right between you and Megumi, with his head on your shoulder, his arms around your waist, and your free arm slung around his neck. 

Yuuta should have been relishing in the fact that you were finally home, but all his focus is drawn to the way your position allows Itadori to cuddle right into you, to the way your arm is around his shoulder and your cheek pressed against the top of his head. You two might as well have been in your own little world, and Yuuta hates it. And, as if that’s not enough, the realization that he was not the first person to hug you or welcome you home clicks, and his anger bubbles deeper.  

Next comes dread, that creeps in slowly when you and the first-years wake up, and you and Itadori go on and on and on about how surprised you were to see each other at the airport, how Itadori just assumed that when Gojo said he’d assigned them to “pick up something super special,” that he was messing with them, how you couldn’t seem to take your eyes off of your precious, precious kouhai that you’d missed so dearly.

Childhood best friends brought back together through sorcery. Yuuta’s seen that one before, and he didn’t like the ending.

You and Itadori mend the gap in your friendship like two years of no contact was nothing, falling into a pattern that’s so easy and familiar, that it’s painful for Yuuta to watch. The assumption that you’d died, and the knowledge that Yuuji had actually died only served to strengthen your vows to protect each other in the name of your friendship from here on out.  

Yuuta considers putting his own sword through his chest if it means you’ll swear your devotion to him. If he died, would you cry for him? Would you pray over his grave and beg for him to come back to you?—or would you find comfort in those who kept living, find solace in a friend who came back for you and can still hold you in his arms? 

“Tsuna tsuna,” he hears from his left, followed by a mischievous giggle. Toge’s taunting is hardly enough to pull Yuuta out of his cloud of rage, but the blunt end of Maki’s staff is.  

“Will you stop pining so damn hard?” she sneers, whipping the staff back to her side and placing a hand on her hip, “Not only is it pathetic, it’s gonna attract curses like flies to honey.”  

“Why am I the only one getting hit?” He turns to his right to motion to Megumi, who seems to be brooding just as hard. Megumi respects you, but it was easy to see that he was reaching his limit on sharing his recently revived lover with someone else. Maki huffs, “Because he doesn’t have a literal cloud of darkness looming around him.”  

Yuuta sighs, doing his best to reign in his feelings, but it’s pointless once he hears your laughter across the field—light and airy and sunshiney and all because of Itadori Yuuji. 

What were you two talking about? If Itadori were out of the way, would you pledge yourself to Yuuta? Did he ever hold a space comparable to Itadori in your heart—would you let him?

A broken chord strikes Yuuta’s heart when he realizes that Itadori is the person you told him about last year; the person you missed so much, and you never thought you’d be able to see again; the person that Yuuta reminded you of; the person he was happy and eager to be for you. And now, in knowing Itadori, Yuuta thinks that his willingness was beautifully naive—to think that he could compare to someone like this. Itadori is light, where Yuuta is dark; he sees the best in people, where Yuuta manages to come off on the wrong foot always; he perseveres in faith and determination, where Yuuta is fueled by an anxious desire to prove, prove, prove himself to be worth something to anybody. 

He can see how easy it is to love Itadori. It’s easy to cling to faith, to believe in something higher than yourself, to know that someone above can pull you up. Yuuta cannot compete where he cannot compare; he’s a shadow that engulfs you, takes you away from light, a dream that’s hard to wake up from. He could never be bright to you; his best attempt would probably drive you and him too close to the sun, martyred for love in burning flames.

Still, even in all his jealousy, Yuuta comes to the even more sobering realization that making Itadori disappear wouldn’t fix his problems. You told him he wasn’t Itadori’s replacement, but maybe that’s because he could never be him; maybe he doesn’t have to be. Yuuji could never be him, and he could never be Yuuji, but whether Yuuta likes it or not, he and Itadori are two sides of the same coin; and as such, Yuuta has, begrudgingly, grown to feel the same sense of responsibility over the younger boy that you do.

So, even though he never expected that they would both be at the mercy of your hand at the same time in this lifetime, he absolutely cannot kill Itadori Yuuji. Not only would it make you sad, but it would probably make Yuuta even sadder in the end, somehow. What a bother. 

He’s about to get up—to leave, maybe go over there, he doesn’t know yet—but he stops when he hears a calm buzzing by his ear. Yuuta blinks, slowly, shoulders relaxing unconsciously, allowing the larger than normal honey-bee to land on him. He recognizes it as one of your shikigami—and even if he hadn’t, that familiar, cooling sensation that washes over him would have let him know—so, gently, he lifts a hand across his torso, allowing it to crawl onto his finger, and strum its tune.

Yuuta can feel a few more, hear them humming around him, and he closes his eyes, lets the small group of bees flutter around him and all that looming jealousy dissipates from his body. 

Faintly, past the calm hum of the small swarm, Yuuta can hear the call of Yuuji’s voice, petulant, “Aw, no fair. Fushiguro, I want calming shikigami, too! Can you bring out the bunnies? Please.” 

Beside him, Toge and Maki seem bemused by his newly calmed state, then amused when Megumi sighs, stands, and reluctantly pulls his hands together before a couple dozen white rabbits flood the field and hop onto Yuuji. 

The buzzing grows softer, and then quiet. Briefly, Yuuta feels a bee land on his cheek, before it flies away, leaving the smell of fresh pollen in his wake, and when he blinks his eyes open again, you’re there, in front of him with a smile sweeter than anything he’s ever known. 

“Hope they didn’t scare you,” you muse, waving a finger before the last bee hovering around you disappears, “You seemed upset, everything alright?” 

He’s about to open his mouth to say something, anything, when he’s cut off by Itadori Yuuji once again, with one bunny on either shoulder, and three more cradled in his arms. “Hey, doesn’t (_____) totally remind you guys of Sakura!”  

Maki scoffs, albeit with amusement, as she points her staff at Yuuji’s hair. “If anyone bears resemblance to Sakura, it’s you, Itadori.”  

Yuuji actually makes an attempt to look at his own hair before chuckling. Yuuta flashes a look to Megumi, who looks equal parts exasperated and enchanted. Yuuta doesn’t get the reference, and when Inumaki starts making gestures about how Yuuji is like some Naruto guy and Yuuji screams about how Megumi resembles a Shikamaru, he becomes too afraid to ask.  

You seemed charmed at the end of the discussion, when everybody fundamentally agrees that you’re the Sakura of the group. Yuuta is far less charmed by these comparisons (and it has nothing to do with the fact that he didn’t get one). He doubts that this Sakura person can do what you can do, doubts that Sakura is even worthy enough to be compared to you, whoever she may be. 

And maybe Yuuta goes back to his room to watch several compilation videos about ships in Naruto later that day, but nobody has to know that. From what he’s gathered, Sakura is pretty cool, and even though Yuuji bears the most physical resemblance to her, he can see why everyone agrees that your healing abilities compare well to hers. Yuuta thinks you’re better, and he’s still holding out hope that there’s some other character equivalent for you that Itadori didn’t think of, that Yuuta can, just to prove that he knows you better. He doesn’t fight any comparisons between Gojo and Kakashi, though. That one honestly freaked him out a little. 

If it turns out that you’re Sakura, then he should hope to be Sasuke, but Yuuta thinks this dude is kind of a dick. From the 47 minutes of scattered Naruto content that he’s consumed, he actually much prefers the dynamic between Sakura and Naruto, even if that does equate to Itadori Yuuji having a crush on you, at least you’re out of his league and chasing after somebody else. 

Still, he thinks Sakura would be upset if Naruto actually died, or worse, if Sasuke actually killed him—never mind the fact that apparently he tried to kill her? Yuuta would never do that, but Sakura still seems to like Sasuke after all of that... in any case, Itadori Yuuji must live, and Yuuta must accept his fate as Sasuke reborn. 

Though, to Yuuta’s understanding so far, Sasuke and Naruto are destined to duke it out and if only one of them has to survive, then maybe it’s not so bad to be this guy. Yuuta doesn’t know how it ends between them, but he thinks he could take on Itadori Yuuji if he had to. He won’t because he’s your friend, and Yuuta’s friend now, too, but if Itadori or the curse inside of him acts up, then Yuuta can at least rest assured he can put a stop to it. That’s not something he could have guaranteed a year ago, but now, he can. 

Yuuta sighs, finally locking his phone and shoving his head under his blanket. He’s been knee deep in analyses about Sakura ships for the past two and a half hours now, and he’ll admit Sasuke is growing on him, but not much. His only saving grace seems to be that Sakura is madly, unconditionally in love with him; Yuuta wouldn’t mind having that kind of devotion from you. He turns to lay on his back, staring up at the blank ceiling and wonders: if it came down to saving only one of them, would Sakura pick Naruto or Sasuke... would you choose the boy who’s loved and looked up to you since you were kids, or the boy who sacrificed everything in hopes of gaining enough strength so that what happened to him never happens to anyone else. 

Maybe they answer that in the series, Yuuta reasons. 720 episodes, at 20 minutes per episode... if he devotes about half-a-day to watching Naruto, then he can breeze through it in a little over two weeks, maybe sooner if he uses his weekends efficiently. That’s plausible, and by the end of it, Yuuta is certain that he’ll have the answers he needs—and even if it doesn’t, then at least, he’ll have one more thing to talk to you about.

In the end, Sakura picks Sasuke, Naruto marries somebody else, and Yuuta understands that the two were never opposites, but complements, and that Itadori Yuuji-shaped pit in his stomach dissipates. Still, about three weeks later at breakfast he makes the argument that if anything you’re more akin to Tsunade, minus the gambling addiction, and that gets him rave reactions from everyone, including you, who is more than happy to show him your new slug shikigami as a means of commemorating your new Naruto kin. 

Believe that, Itadori. 

#5 — None of this matters if you don’t kiss her. You have to kiss the girl—or she’ll get mad enough to the point where she’ll kiss you.

The following month comes your indictment into the Semi-Special Grade hall of responsibility. Yuuta vaguely recalls Gojo’s lecture on how people don’t really get promoted to Special Grade—it’s classification you’re born or cursed with, like himself, or Yuuji, or Tsukumo—but, you, of course, defy all odds and expand everything Yuuta knows. Nobody is surprised—Yuuta thinks everyone was among the similar thought that you were undoubtedly unique amongst your classmates, in a way that was different from him or Yuuji. Being born with a body that generates reversed cursed energy instead of cursed energy is deserving of Special Grade status if you asked him; he doesn’t know what pushed the higher-ups into finally acknowledging your skill, but he knows it’s well-past due. And while he’s happy you’re getting recognition for your efforts, Yuuta would never wish to saddle you with half of the shit the higher-ups put him through. 

They better hope that Yuuta doesn’t find out that they’re plotting anything with you, lest they meet the end of his sword.

Part of your promotion entails a dual-degree program that will have you starting medical school next fall. Yuuta almost cries at the thought of you being sent away again, until you tell him that Gojo managed to pull a few strings this time—to fund everything and keep you in Tokyo. 

And even though you’re not licensed to treat civilians yet, you’re already more than experienced with taking care of and healing your fellow sorcerers, which lends Shoko’s promotional gift to be a shiny new office, right across from hers. Yuuta is the first person you invite inside, and he brings you a photo of you, him, Maki, and Toge from last year—honestly, probably the only photo the four of you have together—to christen your desk, and a plaque with your name on it for the door, that he may or may not have fantasized about it reading with your first name and his last name on it instead.

To no surprise, your office becomes a safe haven of sorts. Yuuta would define any time or place with you as a safe haven, but there’s something special about this place. Maybe Yuuta is still leaping from this being the second time you’ve chosen him. He’s the first person to see your office, the first person to sit at your chair, your first official patient when he stubs his toe against the corner of your desk (where he left the first decorative object). Maybe it’s a little far to say that this place has him all over it as much as it does you, but Yuuta likes the sound of that. 

When he comes back from gruesome missions, he’s invited to let himself in, no matter how much blood he’s covered in, and you’ll be there to take care of him. It’s not different than before—not different than even last year when he’d waddled in your shadow to the room across the hall and sat down with heart palpitations while you fixed his wrist—but something about this feels special. It holds a different weight than hanging out in your dorm or cooking together in the kitchen; this office is yours, the things you say and do to him here are confidential, the yearning for and almost-kisses you almost have are for you and him alone; within these four walls, you’re free to curse him completely. 

So, he’s understandably upset when your office becomes a cozy corner for the other students as well. Maki likes to take refuge inside to study alone, Panda and Toge have been caught on more than one occasion attempting to wrap gauze around each other like zombies, Megumi uses your supplies and basic first-aid lessons to prepare small kits for him and the other first-years, hell, even Gojo has been found asleep in your office on more than one occasion. He gets why people are drawn to you like a magnet, why you’re comforting, and welcoming, and a source of warmth for them, but that doesn’t mean that Yuuta likes to share you. It’s much harder to almost-kiss you this way. 

He must have pouted loud enough about it, because shortly after, instead of inviting Yuuta to your office for lunch, you ask him to meet you on the field. Not one to question you, he obeys, and soon, instead he’s met with an entirely new safe haven, sitting criss-cross inside your domain with all your shikigami slithering and fluttering and buzzing about him. A butterfly lands on his nose, and Yuuta’s nose crinkles. You lean in to let it crawl on your finger instead, and don’t lean too far back when you slowly begin to explain to him the intricacies of your domain and how it all comes together. 

It’s amazing, surely. Yuuta listens as best he can, but it’s hard when there’s a halo of butterflies around you, and a symphony of bees buzzing in his ear, and a slug kissing at his hand, and a snake coiling around his body and gently massaging his muscles, and your voice sound so soft and warm, and you look so pretty and, and, and he wants to kiss you again. 

He wants to kiss you really badly. He wonders if that’s part of your domain—honestly, he’d wondered if that magnetic, honey-like attraction he has to you is in any part influenced by your healing nature—wonders if the confines of your space exacerbates the flow of blood to his heart and his cheeks and his—

“Are you listening?” you question, that glowing, addictive smile on your face, “You know I can make the snake bite, the bees sting.” 

God, Yuuta wants to kiss you. He wants to live in the spring garden of your love forever, and ever, and roll around in the grass and drink honey with you, and kiss you and kiss you and kiss you. You could keep him here forever, he’d be perfectly content with living his days wrapped up in your curse. 

Yuuta shakes his head to snap out of his daydream, disrupting a few butterflies in the process. “I—sorry,” he apologies, “I’m listening now.”

You hum, folding your legs underneath your knees and sitting before him. Yuuta’s certain he looks slightly ridiculous, covered head to toe in animals and small insects and burning underneath your gaze—wasn’t this domain supposed to help people feel better? Is there no cure for lovesickness that you can use on him—or, at the very least, embarrassment?

“I asked you why you won’t kiss me.” 

Yuuta knows that if he weren’t in your domain right now, he would have fallen to a sudden death. “I—I, um,” words, Yuuta, words; a bee lands on his cheek, he takes a deep breath, “I’m sorry.” 

That doesn’t seem like the right answer, judging by the twist of your lips. Of course it’s not—because it’s a lie, and you know it, and you know he knows that you know it. How could he be sorry for wanting you, for spending every last waking moment breathing for you, hoping that you’ll end his laborious breaths and pour air into him yourself?

“You know, I brought you in here to make sure that you wouldn’t run or pass out on me,” you confess, reaching out your hand towards him; the tip of your finger barely grazes his cheek as you allow the bee to crawl onto you, “I worry about your heart more than I should.” 

You flick your finger gently, allowing the bee to flutter freely and your eyes to focus back on Yuuta’s, “Right now, in this domain, it’s mine to control. To stop, to beat.” It’s yours outside of here, too; to fix, to break. He knows. He knows, he knows, he knows. “Why won’t you let me have it, Yuuta?” 

Yuuta gasps, and despite his surprise, despite his extreme lovesickness, despite his dark desires, his heartbeat remains steady, his body remains perfectly tempered and cool, his voice resonates clearly—all because of you. 

“You’ve always had it,” he confesses, “Always. From the moment I met you.” 

He can’t read your expression. He’s suddenly hyper aware of the power struggle here; domain aside, you can hear everything about him, sense the slightest physiological change in him, alter any one of his bodily functions at your whim and Yuuta doesn’t know what goes on in you. Would it be wrong to confess that he likes it; that this feels like you having him, that he likes knowing you can take him? 

“I thought so, maybe,” you enlighten him, “Last year with all the calls and texts,” you lean over and set free a butterfly from his shoulder, “And then in the airport,” then guiding the snake to coil around your arm and around your torso, “And then I thought maybe you’d have said something when you were jealous of Yuuji,” this time your hand touches him, a feather-light touch to his elbow, “But you didn’t, and I was beginning to wonder if I was hearing your heart beat for someone else, instead.” 

Yuuta grabs at your hand erratically, “No—no. Never.” 

He’s senselessly in love with you, and if it weren’t for your healing hands, Yuuta’s certain his ribs would have cracked from the pressure of his happy heart by now; but then again, maybe he should ask you to let it break—let that fracture serve as an entry point for you and yours, to prove to you that it beats for you and you alone. 

“So then what is with you? You have a habit of giving girls your heart and not kissing them, or asking them out—is it always straight to marriage with you?” 

It’s torture hearing that word fall from your lips. He doesn’t have time to even begin to process it. Yuuta’s eyes flicker to the smile on your lips, the slight tilt of your head. He says something he shouldn’t, “Would you be opposed to that?” 

“I’d like a kiss first,” you tease, “Would you give me one?” 

And how could he ever deny you anything. There, with a harmony of beautiful insects and warm sunlight, Yuuta finally, finally, takes the last move forward to kiss you. It’s everything he wants and exactly as he’d imagined—he can feel the rush in his bones, the want in his stomach, the love against his skin when you fall into him. 

It’s one kiss, and another, and then Yuuta can feel your tongue against his, greedily falling into the rush of you. He’s everywhere, hands on your neck, lips on yours, body stradling yours when he carefully leans you backwards; Yuuta has you, and you have him, and he won’t let this moment go to waste. He pulls away for a moment, only a moment, to take in your kiss-swollen lips and commit this vision to memory. He’ll have to take another visual photograph outside of your domain, when your bodies are free to breathe erratically and equilibrium is broken so you and truly, truly, feel all of Yuuta’s love in earnest. 

He wonders if it’s the effect of your domain that prevents his nerves from running haywire when you take off his shirt, when you let him take off your pants, when you have your hands on his chest and his on your hips. It must be. Yuuta knows for certain that otherwise, he’d be a blushing mess of fumbling limbs and stuttering words. 

Still, Yuuta thinks, domain or no domain, he wouldn’t let this moment pass him. It’s not nerves when his hand brushes over your clothed clit and he hears you moan—even if it had been, that would have been the antidote to his poison. Lust, pressure, possession wash over him in excruciating waves. He wants more. He wants you. 

Impatience when he adds pressure with his hand, bliss when you buck your hips to add more of your own, greedily grinding against his fingers. Yuuta kisses you again, swallows your moans and feeds you his own when slips his hand past the barrier of your underwear, and he feels your warm, wet cunt against his fingertips for the first time, and when he pushes two fingers into your heat, he thinks he could cum right then and there, from this alone. 

“Yu—Yuuta, more,” you plead. Your hand on his neck, fingernails scraping into his skin that should leave a mark. They probably won’t. He’ll be sure that next time they stick. 

And Yuuta, unable to deny you anything, obeys. He curls his fingers inside of you, thrusting gently at first, and then with more confidence—and warning, when he hears you snarl about not teasing. Ironic, he thinks, as he watches your lips fall open, since you’ve had him strung along since day one. 

“I wanna—wanna cum with you inside,” you moan, a sound that Yuuta promises to commit to memory. Later, when his brain is working better, and the coil in his stomach isn’t so tight, and you’re not clenching around his fingers. 

You’re greedy, and Yuuta’s never realized it. You suck him in and still want more, and you must know that he’ll give it to you. It should serve as a warning, you have the high-ground to take him any which way you want—for a fool, for granted, for yourself, for nobody else; so what does it say about him that it only spurs his arousal, that it makes him impossibly hard and he can feel himself leaking from the thought of it. 

“I want that, too,” he reassures you, leaning down to press his forehead against yours, because you’re perfect for him, “But I want this first. Give me this first, please. Please.” 

He thinks you might cry. The rational part of him knows you can regulate it, that you probably won’t; the sick part of him wants to see it, wants to know what it takes to make you lose control. 

You call his name like a prayer, once, twice, and on the third time, Yuuta can feel it as much as he can hear it. He can feel the moment that your walls clench, and your eyes screw shut, and your body convulses around him. You’re beautiful, irreverent, and Yuuta thinks that being responsible for this is the greatest achievement of his life. 

He wears your orgasm with pride, raking over you as you blink your eyes open to him again. You’re lucid too quickly, he really is going to have to take the time to enjoy this somewhere less controlled later, eagerly wrapping your hand around his wrist and forcing them to his mouth. Yuuta groans when he tastes you on his tongue, nothing short of euphoric, and he’s sure to taste every last drop. 

You smile, and then laugh—an almost inaudibly giggle that has Yuuta smiling back reflexively. Like always, he follows your every move and succumbs to all your whims when you lean up to kiss him, and then coax off his pants and underwear, and line the tip of his dick up with your slit and pull him in, again, by the neck to bite at his ear, “Come on, Yuuta. Give it to me.” 

An order, a promise, a plea—Yuuta vows to fulfill them all, determined and spell-bound when he sinks into you. He can only imagine what it feels like for you, but for him it’s warm, wet, soft, snug, sticky—like honey, like a bee drawn to sweetness. It’s good, too good, Yuuta doesn’t know how to last when you feel this good. 

He can feel you everywhere, around his dick, your hands on his back, your breath on his cheek, your skin against his. He feels stuck to you, stuck in you, mind, body, and soul as one, unable to differentiate him from you, from you, from you. 

“Fuck,” Yuuta stares, carefully swiping a thumb over your browbone, conscious but not in command on how deep he’s thrusting into you, “You’re so—fuck, I love you.” He wants to hear you say it back, he needs to, he has to. He can feel it again, stomach in knots, and nerves on fire, and skin sticky, and Yuuta has to know—“Please, please. Do you love me, too?” 

You stutter, only from the rock of his hips into yours, reaching for his face and cradling it between healing hands, “Of course I love you, Yuuta.” His mouth opens, wobbly, and tears flow over his eyes—briefly, Yuuta thinks that it’s cruel that you’d let him cry; that you have command over every function in his body and that you’d let him cry, but he can’t bring himself to be upset. He’d probably have cried regardless, because hearing you say that you love him is a rush comparable only to burning tightness in his gut right now. 

You tangle your fingers in his hair, pulling his lips to yours when you finally let go together. Yuuta can feel you tight around him, when he cums; and an unfiltered harmony of moans and skin on skin when he lays on top of you, sinks into you. Your hands don’t leave his hair, and Yuuta finds bliss in your affection, in being in your arms, in being yours. 

He doesn’t know how long you two stay like that, he doesn’t know if physical time passes in your domain, but it doesn’t matter. He’d stay here forever with you, let you use the full extent of your prowess to eat his heart out as sustenance, bleed for you to quench your thirst. He’d be everything you need and more; he’ll make sure that he’s all you want when it’s done and over. 

[uglypastels]

Logan x reader where the reader is scott's younger sister and they're in a secret relationship because she's younger/obviously doesn't want her brother to know. Maybe Scott tries to set her up with someone else or she gets hurt on a mission or something because she got too cocky and everything comes to the surfaces. Sorry I know that's now very descriptive🙈

no don't be sorry this was perfect, if not giving me too much to word with lol. this is so great I wasn't really sure how to incorporate all the elements, but I hope what I managed to do was still good. I certainly had a lot of fun writing it lol. also, apologies if there are some dumb mistakes/errors. i am so sleep deprived but just really wanted to post this before going to bed.

warning: Smut 18+ only. MDNI. no condom [wrap it before you tap it pls]. p in v. fingering. swearing. degradation ["slut" is used]. accidentally almost public stuff. quickie. sub/dom dynamic. un/intentional cockblocking.

~ X-Men Requests Open ~ Masterlist ~

‘Oh my god,’ you moaned out as Logan pressed you against the wall of the small janitor’s closet. It was too cliché to even think about it. And who would have ever expected the Academy to have a janitor’s closet? If you thought about it, it was almost as if the universe wanted you to take this opportunity and hook up with him in the little cubby.

The second you saw him that morning in his loose-fitted long-sleeve and those boot-cut jeans, the only thing you could think about for the rest of the day was how much you needed him. You had managed to survive past noon, and then you had to go and stumble into the garage and catch him working on his motorbike.

His long-sleeve was discarded to reveal the white, now slightly dirty, tank top. His arms were toned and tanned. You watched him just long enough for him to notice your presence, then to grab the towel hanging from his back pocket and wipe his hands clean. 

‘C’mere, Princess,’ he called you over with two fingers, and you almost felt like you had gained the ability to float so quickly had you made your way over to him. Next thing you know, he had picked you up, his hands firmly on your ass, yours in his hair, and your lips colliding in a passionate crash of a kiss. 

‘Fuck, I missed this,’ you moaned out in a desperate moment to catch a breath with your chest already heaving. ‘Missed you.’ You kissed the corner of his mouth, getting the most satisfaction at how a smile formed in the spot where your lips touched him. Neither of you could help yourselves. The urges you felt were nearly animalistic, but when you were around him, you also felt like you were up in the clouds, feeling light as a feather and giddy like an idiot. The need for him was coursing through your veins. 

‘Mmm, I know, sugar,’ his voice came deep from his throat in a growl full of yearning. ‘Gonna let me have my way with you, yeah?’

All you could respond with was a desperate moan. So caught up in the delicious feeling of his body against yours, that you nearly missed the beeping announcement of the garage doors opening. You would have gone on unaware of anything going on around you if it wasn’t for Logan pulling away and setting you back on the ground. It was like a switch flipped on inside your brain, and just in time, as the doors opened and a car drove up as you took your precautionary steps away from Logan, who had gone back to working on his bike. 

The car halted in its designated parking spot, and you weren’t surprised to find your older brother, Scott, stepping out of it. Only he would have such perfectly unfortunate timing.

‘Hi Scott,’ you tried to sound chipper about bumping into him, and absolutely not like he had just interrupted a much-needed make-out session with your boyfriend that he knew nothing about. How you had managed to keep it a secret for all these months, you had no idea. 

‘Hey,’ he smiled politely you way, as he had already made his way to the exit. As always, you couldn’t see his eyes through the red glasses he wore, and yet you could tell exactly where he was looking at with that judgemental look of his. But Logan didn’t pay him any attention, which might have even been the bigger insult than if he had quipped something your brother’s way. You knew he wanted to, though, but you also knew that he didn’t want to insult your brother right in front of you. 

You waited for Scott to walk out of the room, but to your surprise, your brother turned around to you. ‘Are you coming?’

‘She was about to.’ You heard Logan mumble under his breath as he… You weren’t sure what exactly he was doing with that bike with the screwdriver. You never understood much of mechanics.

‘Uhm, yeah,’ you responded, ‘I uhh– I just wanted to ask Logan something. I’ll just be a moment.’

‘No, I’ll see you later, bub,’ Logan caught you off guard. ‘This might still take a while and I don’t want to keep you waiting.’

‘Oh, ok.’ You pushed the disappointment off your face before you started walking to the exit where Scott stood, still none the wiser. As soon as you walked into the corridor, you made up an excuse to go the other way and walked as fast as you could without making it necessarily suspicious if he had glanced your way.

The hours that followed went by painfully slow. You kept your eye out for Logan, but he was nowhere to be seen all afternoon. Dinner had come and gone, and you were returning to your room, already having made your peace with the fact that today was simply one of those days where fate kept you apart.

And exactly at that moment, Logan turned the corner.

‘Where the hell were you all day?’ you questioned, annoyed, but no matter how angry you pretended to be, the grin on your face at the sight of your boyfriend was quite clear in meaning.

‘I did have stuff to finish on my bike.’ He took a few large strides your way, ‘and then some kids needed help with something.’

‘Aww, that’s sweet.’ You leaned into him, your chin on his chest, as you looked up into his eyes.

‘Don’t act too surprised, Princess.’ His arms immediately wove themselves around your waist, and you slowly leaned for a kiss. It was risky to do this in an open hallway where anyone could walk in, but in the moment, you couldn’t care less. You just wanted to feel him, all over you. The desperation for it grew with each second and was ready to explode. 

That was all in theory, of course, since as soon as you heard any threat, the risk-taking daredevil part of you immediately hid, and you were looking for an escape route. It was two pairs of footsteps this time that echoed through the hallways. You cursed under your breath. 

Just your luck to be standing next to a door. Trying its limits again, you pulled down at the door handle and sighed with relief as it opened. You quickly slipped inside, pulling Logan in behind you by the hand. He closed the door back behind him just in time as the footsteps, which you now recognised to be Scott and Jean’s, along with their voices, moved across the spot where you had just been standing.

‘Are they—’ but your question never was finished, as your lips were caught in a haste kiss. It was pitch black in the tiny room, but you heard Logan pull the lightbulb cord. The next thing you know, the faint yellow light illuminated what you now recognised to be the janitor’s cubby. A closet large enough to fit a large shelfcase filled with cleaning products, buckets, and towels. But Logan needed no time to orientate himself. He was already all over you. One hand pinning your leg up against his upper thigh, leading you against the wall. 

‘Oh my god,’ you moaned out as you felt the pressure and structure of the room against your shoulders, Logan’s chest against yours. His hand stroke up and down your leg, squeezing at the soft flesh of your ass.

‘Wanna be my good little girl?’ Logan growled into your ear.

‘Yes,’ you whined, desperate for more than just his kiss. ‘Fuck, yes.’

‘Want me to fuck your tight little pussy, sugar? Just like you’ve been begging me for? What you say, you little slut?’ At the sound of his words, all of yours simply escaped you and so you could only respond in a series of moans and whines. All sounds that brought Logan immense joy and arousal. ‘Yeah, thought so.’ It had been a very conscious choice you had made that morning by wearing a skirt. Not that you had expected to end the day in this closet, but you were sure it would end somewhere in Logan’s grip. And so you were fully prepared. 

His fingers smoothed over your panties, pressing over your slit, feeling the material get soaked through just that one simple touch. But it wasn’t enough. For either you or him. He kept toying with you for a few more minutes, never crossing the material barrier of your underwear, long strokes up and down, pushing in closer, almost as if nothing was there to separate you. 

‘Please,’ you cried out, ‘baby, please. I need–’

‘What do you need, sweetheart? C’mon, use your words?’ God, you hated when he got so cocky. You could never take much of his teasing. Then again, you weren’t in here to exactly last long. 

‘Need your fingers. Please.’ 

‘Good girl,’ he kissed your forehead, snapped the band of your underwear to make you whine so prettily as he loved, and pulled the panties down your legs. 

Another filthy moan left you as his fingers slowly filled you up. The expletives rolled off your tongue in the rhythm of his thrusts. He kept a steady pace, and one that left you shaking against him. So much so that soon enough, he had to hold you up by the arm, pinning you down even harder. One leg propped up high for even easier access to his favourite part of you. 

‘Such a good slut, taking anything I give you, anywhere I want you.’ His voice could practically get you over the edge alone, and he knew that well enough on his own, and so he kept talking. ‘Can’t wait to get my hard cock in you, Princess. Gonna fill you up so good. Fuck. Just you wait—’

‘No, please,’ you cried out.

‘What’s that? My girl can’t wait a few more minutes for her cock?’ He kissed your neck so ferociously it was more like his teeth grazing over the sensitive skin, and the sensation left shivers down your whole body. He raised his mouth up to directly speak against your ear.

‘So fucking desperate. Wish you could see yourself now. Just know you’d do anything for me, wouldn’t you?’ He punctuated the question with one final deep thrust of his large fingers. ‘You gonna cum? No, no, no. Not yet. You’re gonna let me have my fun first, isn’t that right?’

‘Yes.’ was all you managed to say. Then his lips clashed with yours in another of your sloppy kisses. Your hands found themselves in his hair for the second time that day, and you already felt yourself falling into bliss, and that was all without even the feeling of his length finally pushing deep in you. If only you could scream the pleasure you felt. But for now, in the closet, you would make due by digging your nails into his shoulder. That, in turn, only got Logan more riled up as his thrust grew in pace. He hit all your right spots evenly, hard and deep. If he kept going like that, and you were sure he would, you didn’t know just how much longer you would last.

‘Fuck, I’m gonna–’ your voice was breathy and out of focus, as all that was on your mind was him inside you. 

‘Yeah, c’mon, sweetheart, come for me. Come all over my cock.’ he growled the words with the same intensity and desperation for release you felt.

You were so close. Just ready to burst. Moment away when—

When suddenly, a knock on the other side of the door halted the both of you. In a sudden moment, everything washed away with the power of a tsunami. Leaving nothing behind but emptiness.

Someone cleared their throat. Someone who you could already recognise from that simple gesture. 

‘Alright, it’s past curfew, lovebirds, knock it out.’ You could hear in your brother’s voice just how uncomfortable he was by catching two, what he assumed to be students, clearly hooking up. Your guess was that the room had not been as soundproof as you imagined a cubby to be. Or you were that much louder. 

You looked up at Logan, who had already started zipping up his jeans. There was another firm knock on the door.

Well, if Scott had already felt embarrassed, you were about to make it ten times worse.

the end.

thank you for reading 💗

if you enjoyed the fic, please consider reblogging and leaving a comment. or send a message via my inbox. requests are also more than welcome. 💗

[blueteller]

Do you know how smart Cale actually is? Like- what extent his intelligence can reach?

That's an interesting question! Let's take a look.

From what I know of IQ scores, anything above 120 puts you in top 10% of the population. So I easily see Kim Rok Soo!Cale belonging in that category; of >120 IQ. However, IQ had always felt a little vague to me. It's nice to have a number to put on a scale and all, but what does it actually mean in reality? Let's try this from a different angle.

Gardner's Multiple Intelligences model of divides talent into eight categories, plus one additional one:

Visual-spatial

Linguistic-verbal

Logical-mathematical

Body-kinesthetic

Musical

Interpersonal

Intrapersonal

Naturalistic

Existential

Why not try to measure him up against each one, as no person is actually intelligent in every way and not even a fictional character can excel in all of them (unless they're a Mary Sue or something lol).

Visual and spatial judgment stands for easy reading, writing, puzzles solving, recognizing patterns and analyzing charts well. I think Cale is definitely a pro in this category; he does loves reading and he's fantastic at analyzing data.

Linguistic-verbal is for remember written and spoken information, debates, giving persuasive speeches, ability to explain things and skilled at verbal humor. And while I constantly make fun of Cale for not being able to explain himself, he IS good at using the "glib tongue" and being persuasive, so I think he is very skilled in this category as well.

Logical-mathematical means having excellent problem-solving skills, the ability to come up with abstract ideas and conduct scientific experiments, as well as computing complex issues. Cale is an incredible strategist able to change his plans in an instant, so he is definitely a genius in this field.

Bodily-Kinesthetic Intelligence is a fun one, because I think it's the hardest one to judge, considering that he literally changed bodies. It of course stands for sports, dancing, craftmanship, physical coordination, and remembering better by practice rather than learning theory. Cale... does not like that. However, it doesn't mean he's BAD at it. If he was a genius in this field, however, I believe he would like it a bit more. Thus – I suspect he was average. In the past he was forced to exercise for the sake of survival, but once he was given the option of taking it easy, he quit instantly. He is capable, but does not have any particular predisposition for it.

Musical Intelligence drives me nuts, because we literally do not know, and I dearly wish I did. There was not a single mention of it in the whole series. As much as I want to believe in a cool headcanon of KRS being an unrealized musical genius... I think he was probably average or below average in this.

Interpersonal Intelligence stands for communication, conflict-solving, perception and the ability to forge connections with others. And while you might have some doubts about Cale, I say he IS a total pro in this. Those are all leadership skills, and Cale is one HELL of a great leader.

However...

Intrapersonal Intelligence is where Cale is severely lacking. It could be partially due to trauma, but I think at least some of it comes through his natural personality. It stands for introspection, self-reflection, the ability to understand one's motivation and general self-awareness; and that is Cale's biggest weakness, one that might actually cost him his slacker life dream in the end, due to all the misunderstandings he causes.

The last two, Naturalistic and Existential Intelligence types, are also not really Cale's forte. The first is for things like botany, biology, and zoology, paired with enjoyment of camping and hiking – none of which Cale actually does for pleasure, only because he has to. And yeah, farming is in that category too, but it's not like Cale is actually a real farmer just yet. And the second is for stuff like philosophy, considering how current actions influence future outcomes, the ability to see situations from an outside perspective and reflections into the meaning of life and death – and Cale is REALLY not interested in this type of self reflection.

Which leaves Cale with 4 types of intelligence he excels at, 2 which he is REALLY BAD at, 1 where he's below average and 1 he's probably average, with 1 left completely unknown.

Does this make Cale a genius? Pretty much, yes. Does it also make him stupid in very specific ways? VERY MUCH, YES.

[kanmom51]

Jikook car drive to CT

I think that before I dive into the actual car ride I have to set a few things straight.

Did you guys notice they chose to ride together? Shock and awe...

Lmao.

Just a little stab for all those who were nitpicking at them back in 2021-23. Yeah, you's that were all about "but they don't ride in the same car anymore", or "they aren't addressing each other or reacting to each other on SM", or whatever other kind of insecurity for some or just outright malice from others.

JM and JK are the same JM and JK they were before the hiatus and solo paths. Same same. With adjustments having to be made to a new reality of not spending close to 24/7 together. Adjusting to their crazy busy solo work and schedules. Adjusting to learning how to be alone when you are used to not being, because your significant other is submerged in his work while you are not. With adjustments to not having ot7 as their protecting glass closet. When you are used to being together close to 24/7 and circumstances change and you can't anymore, as a couple you need to adjust to that new reality and sometimes it's harder on one of you than the other. Not because you don't love each other or need each other equally, but because you are different people and adjust differently to this new reality.

And in the reality of these 2 young men, well it has been apparent since the beginning of 2023 that JK was the one that was struggling most with these changes. I'd say that this is can be a huge clue to his neurodivergence.

When we look at these two young men, whom I believe to be 2 queer young men in a long term loving relationship, not only do we need to look at them within the context of them being in one of the biggest if not THE biggest band in the world right now, living in a still mostly homophobic society and at the time were looking at enlisting for their 18 month military service, a military that still outlaws sexual relations between men.

This has to be understood while looking at Jikook throughout the years and in 2021-2023, things changing after creation of Hybe, going public, trying to buy out SM and the whole saga with MHJ (which was going on since Oct 2022 behind the scenes).

That's a good starting point understanding them in 2023 and going into watching Are you sure?

But that's not all.

There's more.

Seeing some of the reactions, comments, posts I feel the need to say this as well:

JM and JK are human beings.

They aren't characters in a drama.

This isn't The Bold and the Beautiful, JK not Ridge and JM not Brooke or vise versa (seriously, just picked the parallels because of the current hair colours). They weren't married and divorced ending up with others and then married again and divorced and with others and just going on and on and on. Ups and downs, ins and outs, together and parted. This is real life, not a TV show. Not only would their love not last that (and they clearly love each other), their interactions, their dynamics wouldn't just stay the same same. Not to mention what it would have done to the band and their own relationships with the others. They wouldn't survive it nor would the band. So don't create drama where there isn't is what I say.

What I see is a pretty much levelled long term couple. With relationship bumps in the road, adjustments, frustrations, moods.

I also see 2 queer young men who due to the reality of 2023 have close to zero camera time in one frame. And it shows.

But mainly I see LOTS AND LOTS OF LOVE FOR EACH OTHER.

On top of that I see both of them feeling physically unwell. Poor JM with his stomach issues and bursting pipe (yes I just said that, lol), and JK who has been ill for days, had to go to the hospital for treatment before his solo debut performance, for that performance to be fucked up by the weather. Man was definitley still unwell the whole time constantly sniffling and coughing. And JM worrying about JK's health is another indicator as to it not being nothing.

Bottom line: these are real life people with their own different characteristics, feelings, stress, anxiety, illnesses and the runs.

Not that they didn't know there will be cameras, they were well aware of it, but looks like JM was initially a little shocked to see just how many of them.

Even with the cameras and initial apparent awkwardness, not with each other, but with the whole "it's just the two of us on camera together, no other members to buffer", they are at ease with each other, smiling and giggling.

And even with the cameras and that on one hand need to say things but on the other need to still be wary of what you say and not to say too much - something they are expert at, even if it's been a while and takes them a bit to get back on the wagon with. Even with that they go back to that very jikooky type of formal - informal interaction with each other, JK 'forgetting' JM is the hyung out of the two (like I said, same same).

We have JM's cheeky comment about spooning JK if he's cold, one he insisted on implementing that same night. Mics on, cameras obviously on, but us not allowed to see a thing (and I will talk about this in another post - the whole "if there's nothing to hide how come we didn't get to see one of the apparently funniest moments of the trip, one that the the two and those around them couldn't shut up about?" (phew, that was a long question).

We also get a cute JM looking out for JK's health turning on the heat in the car, turning on his seat heater (without JK knowing about it, lol).

As a whole, those two in the car sounded like an old married couple. I was watching laughing the whole time, the whole thing feeling too familiar, lol.

But I know what you are all waiting for.

More so those that love to question their relationship.

Let's get on and discuss the car convo some are stressing over.

This:

But wait.

Before I talk about it, there's one more word I want to mention.

CONTEXT.

Context is EVERYTHING.

We all know that, right?

And what is the important context here?

Well, first of, this is all in front of the cameras.

Secondly, we ALL KNOW that even with their crazy schedules JM and JK DID GET TO SEE EACH OTHER in those months counting up to this trip, in private, just the two of them.

We know from them that they were together drinking the night before Hobi's enlistment, for example. We know JM was at JK's before JM left for London end of May, JK 'complaining' about having to change the way JM adjusted the mood lamp. We know they are the closest duo in the group, but beyond that, those two are just super close. We know that JK went live basically every time JM left for overseas and was overjoyed when JM showed up in his comments (including his comments during the mukbang live and perhaps coming over after he finished his schedule). This is before this trip. Let's not mention (or maybe let's) the flirt-fest we got in the JK in bed live that came shortly after this trip.

One other huge thing we seem to forget is that:

This is an edited product we are seeing.

Not a live discussion.

And even if it looks like the conversation is somewhat flowing, when you look really closely you see that there are cuts cuts cuts. Some might just be change of camera angle, others are real cuts where you can see that whatever was said was not said at the same time as a flowing conversation.

So, if you look carefully you will see that the first part of the discussion and the part where JM brings up V are not exactly in one flow. That there is a cut between what JK says, and we will get to that, don't fret, and when JM brings up him facetiming with V and what follows.

The start of it is also not clear. If what JM says about not going somewhere together in a while is the start of the flow of conversation, then the clip they are showing us of them in the car driving in the streets of NY is not connected to that, because the conversation continues when they are already out of town. 2 possibilities here. Either that was the start of the convo and for some reason they decided to show the car driving in NY even though the convo happened with them out of the city already. Or, once again, my point that maybe the convo isn't in one flow - even that first part of it. That JM did say what he said when they were still in the city and then their conversation following was edited in a way that we didn't get much of it until they were already out of the city and JK says what he says.

Reason I bring this up is again to emphasize the fact that as much as we are let in, we are still getting an edited product.

You know, same edited product that cuts out their flirty playful bedtime toothbrushing session.

I also want to bring this up, because I basically agree with much of what @shellbells-things the importance of them needing that getaway together (in this post):

This was written with the official translations in mind.

But you see, this is not what JK said.

The actual translation is basically JK calling out JM for not seeking him out enough!!!

And we also have this from @haedalkoo (thanks you for this post💜):

And why does it matter? Why do these different translations matter? Because they tell us a totally different story.

In the first you have JK saying that when one of them is busy, even though the other is not, he does not tend to call/reach out to the one that is busy. Basically this could be read as them not making an effort to contact the other even when they had time on their hands to do so. And perhaps that is why there are people up in arms about this, although my take of it is that even if this was the correct translation, which it is not, that understanding, that conclusion, would have been a very superficial one, disregarding the context of those two, who they are, where they are and what they are doing, as mentioned above.

In the other, what seems to be the more accurate translation, we have a salty boyfriend complaining about his partner not reaching out to him when he's busy, but also not reaching out to him when JK is busy, even if JM is not as busy.

"Your busy you don't seek me out, your not busy you don't seek me out"...

Now let's look at what JK said within the context of it all.

This isn't about them not seeing each other, not being in touch at all. Being estranged. Losing contact. Like so many want it to be about, given that would be so much more dramatic and 'interesting'.

This is about it not being enough for JK.

Enough being the key word.

JM and JK are different. They are both highly driven, and when JK has a JM by his side, said JM is a catalyst and has JK as driven as him. But you see, they weren't together. JM, being the workaholic that he is, highly driven with his work, having to give not 100% but 1000%, could easily lose himself in that work. And as much as he loves JK, or perhaps even more so because he's crazy about him, he can't have him around as a distraction. So, in a sense, when he works he can get lost in that work and that leaves little "free" time to spend with the person he loves, the person that loves him, the person that needs him. Same person that was REALLY struggling at the start of 2023 while JM was too absent. Again, that does not mean that JM was not spending time with JK. It was just not enough. Especially while JK was sort of lost at that point in a sense that he had no clear path set for himself. JK is different in the sense that JM is kind of his blankie, his anchor, his safe place. He needs JM around even when he is up to nothing (see JM's "he comes to my room to lie on my bed and do nothing" from the LA live 2021). And having him around is a need. Do we remember crying JK at the end of his lives on White day 2023. Heart wrenching. And again, it's not that JM doesn't need JK, he does, but a. his need is different to JK's, and b. JM was super busy at the time while JK was doing basically nothing.

And when JK was busy, well I'm guessing that JM was giving him the space he thought JK needed to work. But obviously this wasn't what JK wanted.

This saltiness is all coming from the same person that says he doesn't answer his phone calls or reply to texts. The person that JM complained when he doesn't answer his calls. With all that he still needed JM to reach out. He needed to know that JM is thinking about him.

This conversation isn't about them not seeing each other. It's about not seeing each other enough. It's about JM not seeking JK out as much as JK needed him to. And it's about them not being able, for whichever reasons (exterior or self inflicted) to do exactly this. Be out and about together. The two of them. This is exactly what you do in a healthy long term relationship. You talk. You are open. You tell your partner how you feel and what you need.

And you know what JK sounded like to me?

He reminded me of this JK:

The JK that even though he had already scolded JM he couldn't just let it go. That even though JM apologized several times and explained himself, he just couldn't let it go because it was weighing on him, that choice that he felt JM made.

And I know, I just know, that this conversation we got in the car was not a one of. That "Your here. Finally" we got from him at the end...

He needed this to happen, for JM to make this happen.

I will also add, even though I cannot go into too much detail at this point, that I feel that the : "You're here. Finally", has so much more sub context to it within the way they had both handled 2022-23 and that adjustment to the new reality. Not about it being easier for one over the other, but more so about how they handled this "apartness" that was kind of forced on them.

Anyway, that "finally", that was it for me. Seeing. No. Feeling how this was weighing on JK. Feeling just how important this was for him. JM making that effort and showing up for him like he did.

I hope that I have managed to get the message through. I will drill it in with my three keywords to this post:

COUPLE

CONTEXT

ENOUGH

I will end this by saying this:

Read that convo as you will, see those two as you will. At the end of the day not only did they CHOOSE to do this again and again (even with the little time they still had with their crazy schedules and upcoming enlistment). Not only did JK say he wanted to keep going with this until they are 50 years old. But they also CHOSE to enlist together. To be TOGETHER for those 18 months of military service. CHOOSING to do so knowing that meant a harder service and placement.

At the end of the day they CHOSE EACH OTHER.

And they will keep on doing so!!!

[bonefall]

Thank you for speaking out against the ableism towards Moonpaw, genuinely. I’m an actual intersex person with XX / XY chimerism, and I have slight physical ‘abnormalities’ resulting from it, too.

The XL Bully post being at the top of the Moonpaw tag genuinely hurt my feelings, and badly. People equating her chimerism to a ‘deformity’, making jokes about how ‘oooh she killed her twin in the womb LOL’ and all that…

I tried expressing concerns with a pretty well-known designer/artist who reblogged that post, but they just blocked me - and not before making a snide comment abt how I’m apparently ‘evil’ because I, too, ‘killed my twin in the womb’.

It’s so upsetting that almost nobody will actually give two fucks about the irl people that they’re shitting on - physically disabled people and/or those with chimerism - and will just cower away when their hypocrisy is pointed out. Thank you for spreading awareness

XX XY Fusion Chimerism is cool as hell and I'm so sorry there are people out there who are unironically acting like serfs from the fucking dark ages about something that happened when you were an EMBRYO. Like, we understand that there is nothing EVIL about things zygotes do, right??

We ALSO understand that fertilized eggs don't literally eat each other??? What happened wasn't some struggle for dominance where the larger twin hunted the smaller one down, something happened and two sets of complete genes merged. There's a few ways this can happen, one of them being because there were two eggs that didn't fully separate to begin with-- so both get fertilized and then one zygote "retreats" back into the other one.

You didn't kill your twin. First of all, there wasn't another "twin" to begin with, it was just a bundle of cells because we are talking EARLY pregnancy. Second of all, there's a high likelihood that it wouldn't have even been capable of getting carried to term anyway. If ANYTHING, Chimerism is the only way that ""twin"" SURVIVES.

But. I'm doing the thing where I'm barking logic at something completely irrational. Mostly I hope it makes you feel a little better.

What was said to you was shitty. Jesus Christ. Chimerism and intersex conditions are not a deformity. Being disabled isn't a cosmic punishment. You're not evil for existing.

(I'm feeling a need to just. Pause on that. Who the fuck implies zygotes are capable of evil. I thought we all agreed Brokenstar's plot thread was ridiculous why are we doing it for REAL PEOPLE).

Insane that someone needs to say this but these aren't hypotheticals. Everything I'm talking about with this discourse is based on the existence of REAL. PEOPLE.

[rootspiral]

Agatha All Along deep dive: episode 1 part 3

(Wandavision entries: [1][2][3])

(AAA entries: ep1 [1][2][3][4] ep2 [1][2][3][4] ep3 [1][2][3] ep4 [1][2][3])

so babe, hear me out. we could adopt him. just spitballing here (agatha, probably)

bwahhaha fantasy!billy and his death stare, meanwhile real billy is such a polite baby

if you look closely you can tell Joe Locke is fighting for his life holding down laughter in a lot of his scenes with Katrhyn. he has nerves of steel, couldn't be me

(also, billy telling her she has neither the respect of her peers NOR a fulfilling home life? harsh, but fair.) (at least her wife is trying to fix the home life part)

honey, don't go around kicking grumpy little twinks now! perfectly in character. despite her chaotic exterior, rio is a very lawful person. she is literally the laws of nature!

the Ballad plays faintly in the background when Billy mentions the Road

I love when good actors have to pretend to be bad actors. and I also find it interesting that Agatha cast herself as a good guy. does it make her feel bette? is she telling herself that all the atrocities were justified, that it was only survival instinct? (like rio said, she's only lying to herself)

I had to look up the painting, it's Macbeth meeting the three witches (thank you Reddit!) So Macbeth (Agatha) and Banquo (Billy) meeting Lilia, Jen and Alice?

how did I miss Billy sitting on the chair Rio was just on?! amazing lens choices here too

Wanda's death makes her cry again. I honestly, honestly believe she feels awful about what she did to her. but guilt will never be enough to redeem her - especially because she tends to run away from it.

Wanda's magic was so strong that it took at least four things to undo the spell: Wanda dying, Rio's intervention, Billy's counterspell, and Agatha's willpower. It was a group effort, Agatha could have never done it alone. And despite her scorched earth tactics, there are still two people in her life, rio and billy, willing to help out in her hour of need

it's naughty tiiiime

I still really love the curls

can I say iconique?

it's like someone's about to die at the end of this

bwahahahahaah and oh my GAWD all the case files and boxes, where did she GET that stuff, did she rob a precint, did she make them with the power of arts and crafts

you know what I think? being naked here is a power move. she is being very over the top because she's really uncomfortable, she just woke up and she's in those moments when you stop dreaming and have to relearn what's real and what isn't. she is someone used to calculate and scheme and micromanage every aspect of her life and she is not in control right now. what does Agatha do to reclaim control? she puts on a show. to her, being under the spell was way more like being naked, her insecurities and emotions and past were out in the open for everyone to see. being physically naked could never be nearly as distressing, and this is a nakedness she chose, because it tells people nothing about herself, nothing of what she wants to keep secret and protected. she's got the upper hand, not the other way round

you are all cowards and sheep for not saying Wanda's name, says the lady who would rather hide under a dozen magic layers than face her problems

that is so nice that they brought her groceries actually??? and lol those are the flowers in Agatha's crime scene pictures

that little girl is having a great time

FUCK CLOTHES BUT FUCK THESE CLOTHES SPECIFICALLY!!!!

(wait am I allowed to post butt cheeks? what are the rules right now?)

she turns quiet and emo as soon as she's alone

why doesn't she just - kiss the wiwwle bunny. bury her nose in that big fluffly head. even villains need a cuddle sometimes.

sure, bring señor scratchy. so menacing. that'll show them.

poor boy. trapped in a closet with ralph's bluray collection

aaand I really want to get to the next scene so I'll start on it right away, hopefully it'll be ready later tonight

go to part 4

[whateverisbeautiful]

♥️Reveling in Richonne - TOWL

#49: The Final Deal (1.05)

gif cred: @nerd4music

Over the years, Jadis has made several deals with Rick and pretty much every single time she screwed him over. 😪 And unsurprisingly, Jadis tries to screw Rick and Michonne over again as she and Richonne attempt to make more deals in the following TOWL scene. However, this time around will be the final deal. Finally. 🙌🏽...

Richonne enter a Yellowstone National Park museum and it’s fitting for Jadis' final moments to take place in this sorta artsy location.

gif cred: @nerd4music

As Rick and Michonne quietly hunt Jadis down they come across that bumbling trio from earlier and once again they easily disarm them. And then walkers come and take the trio out which…how those three survived this long I’ll never know lol.

So then a shootout ensues with Jadis. And it’s sweet seeing Rick and Michonne hold onto each other as they run away. 

gif cred: @coolpartytimefan

As Rick and Michonne stoop behind some fabric, I adore the quick little moment of Michonne checking on Rick with one hand on his face and one on his thigh. Her baby for real. 🥲

cred: @ririchonne

Jadis is again yapping about living and dying for the cause and calling Rick a traitor and then when Rick pokes his head out she straight up aims for the head and grazes him with her shot. 😑Knowing how fatal that shot could have been to Rick, Jadis’ needed to be sent to the afterlife immediately. Like...

Michonne says Rick’s name with concern as they switch places and he assures that he’s alright. And proving yet again that Jadis oddly might belong in the Top 5 Richonne Believers, she says, “You two together, you are unstoppable.”

Then she gets way too personal when she says, “But that won’t save your kids. You kill me, they’re dead. I die by my wounds, they’re dead.” And she’s feeling extra bold as she steps out of hiding and says, “I get killed by walkers, they’re dead.”

What Jadis fails to see is that having the audacity to threaten Michonne and Rick’s kids in front of them like this guarantees she’s dead. Like Jadis, hon...

You can tell Michonne is seeing red as she steps out with her gun aimed at Jadis. Understandably, because now Jadis is triggering Michonne as a mother.

Rick calls Michonne's name but Michonne is ready to end this lady once and for all as she debates pulling the trigger. Jadis almost looks like she’s beckoning her to do it, but knowing they actually do need some info out of Jadis first, Michonne instead kills the walkers coming from behind Jadis.

When Michonne runs out of bullets, Jadis starts shooting and they both flee for cover. Jadis tries to dish out more of that CRM culty propaganda when she says, “It didn’t have to be this way. You were on the path, Rick. After all these years, you were finally feeling the responsibility to fight for something bigger than yourself.”

Wth, Jadis? 😑 Hearing that I was like - truly girl, shut up because what do you mean he finally felt a responsibility to fight for something bigger than himself?? As if Jadis didn’t meet Rick in the process of him fighting a whole war to free oppressed communities. 🙃 She's an absolute clown. 🤡

Rick makes his way over to Michonne as Jadis tells Rick that “Beale saw it too. He was gonna give you the Echelon briefing the moment you returned.” Yeah well, Consignee Bethune had other plans lol. 😋🚁🌊

And then I always really like this wordless exchange between Rick and Michonne. Because as Jadis claims that Rick’s eyes would have been opened by the briefing, Michonne looks at him and then he looks up at her and the ways it’s filmed you can just tell that there is nothing the CRM could say or open his eyes too that would make him not choose Michonne every single time. 

gif cred: @andy-clutterbuck

Jadis says Rick could have secured Alexandria’s security but he didn’t. Then she tries to make Michonne an issue by saying, “You let Michonne pull you away from that.” If only Jadis knew how true that was considering Michonne literally pulled them out of a helicopter to get away from this army. 🤭

Then Jadis wants to start coming at Michonne directly saying all she had to do was leave when Rick arranged for her escape and since she didn’t Jadis declares that now the fates of their friends and their children are sealed. Ok, Little Miss Villain...

Rick tries to again appeal to Jadis’ heart, if she has one, by saying she doesn’t really want to kill everyone back home. He calls her Anne again and he’s onto something regarding the name Anne getting Jadis riled up cuz she sounds particularly irritated as she doubles down on the CRM perspective that, “It’s not about want. It’s about keeping your humanity or saving humanity. And it is a choice.”

In a way, that is the very thing TOWL explored with Rick’s journey. He thought he had to just die and save humanity but through Michonne he regained his humanity and the belief that they can both keep their humanity and save humanity, it doesn’t have to be either/or.

Jadis says she’s chosen her community and her life and then questions if it’ll be them that dies today or her and everyone back home. And the way Michonne got a good swing at Jadis with RJ’s ax, it’s looking like Jadis is going to be the one meeting her demise. Her time is clearly almost up.

So playing pretend one more time, Michonne says, “She’s right, Rick.”  And then Rick and Michonne demonstrate yet again that verbal communication is just a thing they do for fun because they are entirely capable of conversing and making entire plans just by looking at each other.

As they look in each others eyes they immediately know to try and pull a con on the original scammer herself. Also I just realized this is Michonne once again choosing to just not even address Jadis and speak only to Rick.

Michonne says, “I didn’t want to see it. I wanted her dead so I didn’t have to see it. But Rick, there has to be a sacrifice. Since I found you, all that I’ve done has been for us. But now I see, this can’t end with us going home.”

Jadis asks what’s it gonna be and then Rick says, “Okay,” pretending to agree that he’ll stay with the CRM if Jadis doesn’t threaten Michonne or their home. 

Michonne says, “There’s still a deal to me made, one where we all can live and Alexandria.” And hearing yet another deal even be attempted to be made with Judas was just...

Fortunately, it’s a fake deal and the final deal with this snake.

Rick says Michonne will get supplies that’ll help Jadis stay alive long enough to get to the jump point and then Rick will go back with Jadis. The shot of Michonne looking at Rick as he says this. 🥲 It just truly feels like she’s looking at the love of her life. 🥹

Rick looks in Michonne’s eyes as he tells Jadis that they can say he was the lone survivor of the helicopter crash and he’ll go back to the CRM to work for a future like none of this ever happened.

He says they’ll do this on one condition and Jadis already knows when she says, “Michonne gets away and I never tell them about Alexandria.” Rick says, “It’s the only way this works” and then I love his subtle wink at Michonne when he asks, “We got a deal?” 

Jadis wonders why she should trust Rick after all the stuff he’s pulled but that had me like why should you trust him???? Pretty ironic coming from literally the longest-running scammer in the franchise. 😑

gif cred: @nerd4music

Rick understandably isn’t interested in convincing Jadis why he can be trusted so he just asks, “We got a deal or not?” Jadis isn’t doing so hot from the blood loss so she agrees and says, “Yeah. We got a deal.”

Then, y’all I adore seeing the small detail of Rick and Michonne holding hands. 😭 I love that they were holding hands during this deal, wanting each other to know that regardless of what they’re saying to Jadis right now they’re still entirely in this together.

And I also love that Rick doesn't let go of Michonne’s hand until the very last second as she stands up to come out of hiding and “go get supplies.” 🧲 TOWL said every Richonne scene is gonna have a dash of romance and I’m beyond here for it. 🥰

So Michonne tosses her weapon and exits and I love that she puts a little feisty emphasis on the weapon toss when she looks at Jadis. And then Rick disarms and shows himself as Jadis tells him to come closer.

Jadis lays down her weapons and Rick of course takes one more opportunity to let Petty Rick shine as he looks at Jadis on death's door and says, “You’ve looked better.” When I tell you I love this extra man lol. 😋 I know he’s appreciating the number his wife did on this garbage woman. And whenever Rick’s eyebrows go up like that, just know some shade is bound to follow. 🤭

gif cred: @nerd4music

Jadis again expresses acknowledgement of the power of Richonne when she says, “I was a fool to think I could take you down, with you two together.” Jadis never got much right in life, but she did have a solid grasp on the fact that Rick and Michonne really do make each other stronger and they're hard to beat together. She explains that’s why she agreed to the deal so she could keep Rick and Michonne separate.

And then to the *utter shock* of everyone, Jadis whips out Red’s red gun and attempts to double cross them for the fifty-'leventh time. 🙄But I love how Rick responds unfazed to her ploy like he thinks it’s the most predictable thing ever. 🥱 A serpent gon’ do what a serpent gon’ do, so I'm sure seeing her aim the gun just had Rick like...

Jadis says she doesn’t trust Rick but she respects him. And then Michonne shows up with a weapon pointed at Jadis and tells her to drop the gun or she’ll kill her.

Then, those noodle-less walkers come and bite a chunk out of Jadis' neck. And getting fatally bit instantly spurs Jadis' come-to-Jesus.

gif cred: @perryabbott

Jadis goes into a monologue about the many lives she tried to balance with her back and forth between Jadis and Anne and the CRM and the Alexandrians. And Richonne is nice enough to listen to her last words.

As she realizes Father Gabriel already showed her the answers she needed (realized too late imo 🙃), Jadis reveals where her dossier is hidden and tells them to just destroy it and go home.

She still believes in the CRM and that they’ll bring the world back, so she looks at Michonne and Rick and says, “Tell me you won’t come after them.” And then y’all, Michonne says request denied because she doesn’t give a damn if this is Jadis' dying wish, they’re gonna do what needs to be done. 👌🏽

Michonne replies, “No. Because we are coming for them.” And the way Rick looks, it appears like this development is news to him lol. But I love that Michonne wants Jadis to know this just before she goes.

Michonne continues, “We’re gonna get the dossier. And then the CRM - we’re gonna stop them.” She looks over at Rick as she continues to inform both Rick and Jadis of what comes next when she says, “He’s gonna get the Echelon briefing and find out everything that they do that the city doesn’t know about. The city I saw won’t stand for what they are. And we’re gonna help the city stop them.”

And y’all, the way Jadis is staring at Michonne...I know she’s thinking ‘and this is why I wrote a whole chapter on Rick's wife in my dossier.’ #DirectQuoteFromJadis'Mind. 🤭 Had her like...

Then knowing how much Jadis loves being called Anne, Michonne calmly says, “Because, Anne, the CRM is not the answer and they must end.” And, with the way Bowlcut believes in Richonne, you know Jadis knows they’re going to be successful at stopping the CRM.

Jadis really had to die knowing she and the very mission she dedicated her life to are about to take some serious Ls. 😬

Michonne then turns to Rick and says, “We’re gonna do that.” See, Michonne has been through a whole lot of life and so she’s standing here now knowing the CRM can be taken down just like all the rest.

And always a great and supportive husband, Rick is on board with this plan as he looks from Michonne over to Jadis and says, “You kept us alive for a reason.” And I love the way Rick subtly smiles at her, knowing Jadis is getting yet another front-row seat to the power of Richonne. 

So Jadis,...

Hearing this seems to have Jadis realizing she made some bad life choices and should have just stuck to her artsy lane when she says, “I wish I died an artist.” I always really like that line. Something about it is poetic and pretty in a tragic way.

But also, whenever I hear it I’m like girl, don’t worry you did die an artist...

Jadis reflects on how her life as an artist wasn’t about survival but about truth. She says this is the end of her story and her peace and then it becomes crystal clear a Richonne proposal moment is coming when Jadis removes the wedding ring and holds it out.

As she holds the ring, she tells Rick, “On the bridge, you told Gabriel you wanted to marry her.” And I love that this gets brought up again and that Michonne gets to learn that Rick was planning to marry her officially before he was taken.

The way Jadis looks over to Michonne when she says this always makes me smile because she looks quite happy to let Michonne know, 'yes girl, your man was trying to...

Jadis puts the ring in Rick’s hand and says, “He found this, and he wanted to give it to you.” Rick is shook by this and asks, “How did you...?” And I feel like with the way Rick so clearly had proposing on his mind during this road trip home I’m sure that has him even more bewildered of how Jadis knew this.

Jadis just smiles and shakes her head which had me like - hold up up up cuz no we’re nawt just shrugging off this detail of how she got the ring and was in contact with Father Gabriel. I needed her to tell them about her tea times with Gabriel because Richonne needs to interrogate that man when they get home lol. 🙃

Jadis tells Rick he wasn’t dreaming about killing her and then says, “Go ahead. Do what you said you would do. Please.” Michonne and Rick stand up and the time arrives for Rick to finally take Jadis out for good.

Jadis dies and it’s a somber vibe as Rick just quietly walks away and Michonne follows. After playing in Richonne’s face from season 7 forward, stealing years from them, and putting their children in danger, I felt it was only right for her to go. Even overdue. And while that monologue didn’t at all redeem her in my eyes, it was well-performed by McIntosh and had some heart.

gif cred: @nerd4music

I’m most glad that she gave Rick that ring tho because it leads to the best scene of the episode. 🤩

One of the earliest ways that trifling Jadis tried Richonne was in the season 7 finale when she said she was gonna lay with Rick and asked Michonne if she cared. 🙃 Y’all remember when she looked Rick up and down, turned to Michonne, and asked, “Yours?”

Well...about that.😊

I always find it to be poetically fitting that here in Jadis’ final episode, it’s also the very episode where Rick and Michonne affirm that Jadis' "Yours?" question actually isn’t that crazy because Rick and Michonne really do happily belong to each other.

He’s hers. She’s his. 🥲

So you know I gotta break down the absolutely beautiful scene that makes that sentiment crystal clear. 😌👌🏽💍

[charlieslowartsies]

FINISHED MY TOOTHLESS PLUSH!!

Materials, info and some comments under the RM!

Toothless' Pattern I purchased

Materials: 6 yards of black minky 1 yard red minky 5 yards of Poly-Fil extra loft medium quilt batting 18 oz of poly pellets (4 oz in each foot) 2 Mainstay firm bed pillows for stuffing 1 spool of purple thread for the top stitching details on his tail, hip and main wings 2.5 spools of black thread Dark green, lime green, goldenrod and light yellow embroidery floss black acrylic paint white fabric paint Velcro one very old, small and cranky sewing machine who somehow survived this ordeal several comfort shows, podcasts, and music to listen to

This was my winter break project! Granted I started bits and pieces of the process in early December, but once my two weeks off hit he really started getting worked on lol.

I know it's hard to tell from photos, but he is A BIG CHONGUS. Toothless is 5.5 feet from head to tail tip, and has a 9 foot wingspan. He weighs about 8 lbs.

He took about 60ish hours and was very complex. My budget was $200 and he came in at $202! That includes things like the bulldog clips that I bought when he was being pinned because the minky was so slippery! This cost EXcludes a sewing machine, or things like an embroidery ring which my mom had, so I was very lucky in several areas—but he still was not cheap, either by expense or by time and sweat/tears!

Of course, the minky was by far the most of the cost, coming in at $122. I’d say the batting would be next, but I waited and snagged a good deal at my local craft store and got the batting for $18. I HIGHLY recommend buying bed pillows. The original maker of the pattern used IKEA pillows I believe.

I increased his size by 20%, so I printed him at 120% and guesstimated on the minky amount. My WORST mistake was forgetting to mirror the WINGS, which meant I had to recut two of the four pieces of fabric. (I should have marked it on the pattern, which I did mark well for things like number count.) Had I not done this, I would have used a lot less minky. I bought 7 yards and only needed 5.5 before my error.

(Now I’ve got scraps and a whole yard left sitting there whispering that it wants to be made into a Krobus plushie…who seems much less of a hurdle than Toothless.)

I stuffed Toothy’s hip fins and tail fins with one layer of quilt batting. His wings however, are double layered with the batting for extra plush, warmth, and durability. His eyes are hand embroidered (my first time!) but stitched on with the machine. Toothless has poly pellets in his feet to help support his bulk, but most of his weight is in his body, hips and start of his tail so he actually sits up really well.

He was a huge labor of love for sure! The pattern was great, the instructions were…less great. But my mom helped me figure out a lot of the troubling bits. Some parts were easy to follow and others were basically "bing bong fuck ya life." Despite that, I do suggest this pattern. But this is definitely an intermediate or advanced pattern. They also sell the eyes for those that have access to an embroidery machine.

I followed the pattern closely as I desired. I did omit the back spikes on his rear legs, and I couldn’t embroider his lil nose by hand ^^; I also did not make his blue alpha fins because of expense and mistrust in my own skills...also, I kinda wanted HTTYD1 Toothless haha. I love the series as a whole but the og movie is literally one of the reasons I went to college, and it went into my thesis as well.

I want to remake his prosthetic at some point when I have time and energy, but for now I’m pleased with 99% of him, especially since this is my first plushie I’ve ever made. I do not regret any of my personal changes and I’m totally in love with him.

[hiskillingjar]

Dumb/Bimbofication (Strade/MC)

one of my top kinks that i totally overthought and ruined for myself for like two weeks lol, but the purpose of this challenge is to NOT overthink. STUPID. dumb. why are you so dumb, huh? i know you like being dumb, but just try to think for even a second, okaaaaay? :3

day 30: dumb/bimbofication second person. cw for incredibly dubious consent. please actually go to college. or don’t. i’m not your dad.

"Ooh! You've got a student ID in here. What, trying to keep all those discounts even after you've graduated? You naughty thing."

You whimpered very quietly, your voice like the shivering mewl of a dying animal, as Strade sifted through your purse. 

He tossed aside your personal effects flippantly, pocketing any cash you had stuffed between the folds (what little you did have), and flicked through your numerous credit and loyalty cards carelessly, covering the basement floor with remnants of the life you had before him.

If you could even call this a life.

"Nooo, hang on, this is pretty up to date," He then said after a beat, his features narrowing as he took a closer look at your ID, before his eyes went back up to yours, a dark brow raised in a silent question. "You haven't graduated yet?” He grimaced, but it was a sympathetic expression that didn’t suit him in the slighest. “Yeesh, you're a little too old to be at university anymore, aren't you?"

"I'm...a-a grad student," You murmured, idly licking your bloody lips (you refused to drink anything he had offered you and you were sorely regretting that decision now) and casting your gaze downwards, not wanting to look at him. "I...um, I teach sometimes, too…guest lectures, that sort of thing…"

"You're a teacher?" He asked, raising his brow.

"Teaching assistant," You corrected him, before looking back down. "Um...I'm...working on a PhD...in, um," You bit your lip, cringing slightly at the dramatic irony. "...Criminal psychology."

"Criminal-HAH!" He cut himself off with a hearty guffaw, a deeply indulgent smile spreading on his face, clearly thrilled by your discomfort. "Wow, what are the chances?! Hey," He sat forward with another laugh, pushing himself closer towards you. "If you survive this," If. "This'll be a great inclusion in your essay, won't it? They'll give you that fancy degree on the spot!"

Your lip trembled and you looked down again, trying to hold yourself together (trying not to burst into tears) and not think too much about the fact he said 'if you survive'.

If.

You'd read countless books, journals and articles about guys like Strade, the rare sadist (who were not so rare, with one in ten people identifying with sadistic traits, according to university study) who didn't channel his desires into relationships with vulnerable girls or tearing people apart online, but actually did something about it. 

You should know how to deal with situations like this. And you did, on paper anyway.

Theory rarely worked as well, in real life, as they did on paper.

"Hmph," He chuckled, looking back down at the student ID before he tossed it aside (and even that stung a little). "I’m not being fair…it’s impressive, really! You must be pretty smart, huh?" His expression softened slightly, golden eyes sparkling with mirth, before he reached out and ran a hand through your hair. "How lucky for you...beautiful AND clever. Most people only get graced with one of those features, you know?"

You didn’t say anything, but you let your head follow his touch, a tear beading down your cheek.

You thought it best to play along, at least a little, and not piss him off anymore than you had to.

You did want to survive this, after all.

Strade let out a huff through his nose and gently (as gently as he could manage) brushed the tear away with his thumb, before his fingers wrapped around your chin and he forced you to look up at him again. 

"I don't think smarts are good for much, though," He said cryptically, canting his head to the side with a strange sort of smirk. "Not in a situation like yours."

He then pushed his free hand through your hair, and forcefully slammed your head back against the support beam you were propped up against. 

"HNGH-!"

Without time to prepare or adjust, you could feel your eyes widen and bulge out your skull, straining against your fragile eyelids, and your teeth rattle (you even wondered if he’d knocked something loose with the force of the slam), and a wound opened on the back of your head, near instantly, weeping and red, blood running down the back of your neck.

"NGH, s-stop!" You yelped, planting bound up hands (flattened into parcel-tape wrapped mitts, so you could move but not much else) against his chest and trying to push him away.

He laughed callously as you struggled against him, but he stayed where he was, bringing his free hand up and tapping your forehead with a finger.

A condescending little gesture that made your insides twist uncomfortably.

"How about you stop thinking first?" He said.. "It's like I said already, fraulein, smarts aren't gonna help you, and smart people like you,” He tapped your forehead again. “You always think too much. So, stop using that thing in your head, hm?"

"Mmf," You sniffled, soft and pathetic sounding, from the pounding pain, even more tears running down your burning cheeks, as he shoved your head back against the support beam again, your head throbbing and oozing with blood the more he fucked with you. "Stop, please-"

"Come on, I alread told you what I want!" He said, somehow outraged, with a tut and a shake of his head. "Mein gott, it's really so easy. Just switch that brain off and focus on being...mm, cute, hm?” He smirked, clearly pleased with himself when your flushed cheeks flushed someohow darker. “After all, I don't think you're really cut out for this…ah, psychologist business, are you, fraulein?"

He reached out, running a finger down your face, before smirking and tilting his head. 

"You know better than I do, you have to keep your emotions in check when you're dealing with criminals like me, sweetie. You need to stay calm if you want to think clearly. Didn't they teach you that in all those classes of yours?~"

He unexpectedly (totally expetedly, you were just too out of it to think right) slammed your head back into the beam, knocking your brain around even more, as another rivuloet of blood ran down the small of your back and trickled on the cement floor.

"Stop iiiit, stop thinking!" Strade teased, grinning lecherously, despite his evident frustration. as he leaned into you, bringing his mouth close to your ear. "Come ooon, you already know that you're not getting out of this, don't you? What are you clinging onto all those smarts for?” You felt the caress of his tongue run over the shell of your ear, and your grimace just set deeper. “You might even like dumbing down a little."

He snicked again, his tongue tracing the line of tears on your flushed cheek, as his fingers, sticky with the blood oozing from your head. trailed down your heaving chest.

"I know I'll like it, anyway."

"Hhhh," You let out a deep exhale when he finally let go of your hair, your head sinking down to your thighs, barely able to support yourself.

Your head was hurting so badly. 

You just wanted to be left alone. 

"Heh, good for you. You're pretty stubborn!" He said, like he was paying you a compliment, moving closer to your slumped form for a moment. "They teach you that in your fancy college? How to put up with torture, threats, rape, that sort of thing? Sounds like a class I'd like a whole lot…"

Strade pushed himself to his feet with a soft 'hup!', then, and paced over to his workbench, openinhg one of the drawers with a metallic clatter.

"Well, if you won't respond to violence...I think I know another way to, ah...turn your brain off, so to speak."

He rifled through the drawer for a moment before he produced what looked like a...egg vibrator.

Your head was still swimming from his pain, but your eyes widened, dreadfully wide (with dread being the operative word) and you forced yourself to sit up as he paced back towards you, smirking like a Devil at the clear fear in your expression. 

"Ah, I know that look," He grinned as he took the knee in front of you again, moving his foot (the thick sole of his boot) over your ankle and pinning it still against the basement floor. “Mm, maybe they don’t prep you for rape, like I thought they did…might want to talk about that with those professors if you get out of this one, liebling~”

"Ngh, no, no-" You grimaced as his free hand forced your thighs to part.

"Now, I'm not usually one to do this sort of thing.” He started, like you hadn’t said a thing. “I've got a buddy who's way more into this stuff then I am, but, ah," He raised his eyes to yours, his expression giving away an eleation that made your stomach churn. "I'm getting the sense that a geek like you isn't so familiar with the more...intimate sides of things, hm? Sooo, maybe I should use that to my advantage?"

“Nononono,” You grit your teeth with erratic fear, trying to guard yourself with your taped up paws, but he was stronger than you (and not dazed out of his mind), and was able to overpower you with ease, pinning your hips backwards and forcing the egg into the gusset of your underwear. “No, Strade, please-!”

"And hey, maybe I'm wrong. Maybe you’re not a total prude like I thought, but…no offence, but you don't seem to be a very popular kind of girl," He teased with a shit eating smirk. "With your head in the books all the time, I'm guessing you didn't have much time to be...social, huh?” 

He kneeled between your spread legs then, forcing them to open to accommodate him and only pushing you more open.

“Well, no worries. I'll teach you how to have a good time...and turn off the brain for a few minutes, too."

“NGH!”

You took in a sharp inhale as the toy buzzed to life (where was he even hiding the remote?), the initial sensation unfamiliar and uncomfortable, especially when combined with your throbbing head.

"Mph, see, there we go," He muttered approvingly, his golden eyes focused on the way your face was twisting into a grimace, your legs trying to close around him as the buzzing continued, relentless, rubbing against parts of yourself that even you hadn’t touched. "Now, that's a better expression. You don't have to think about that big scary brain of yours, now, do you? You get to just...let yourself be dumb for a while."

His free hand let go of your thigh and gently brushed a lock of your hair behind your ear, before cupping your cheek. 

"Doesn't that feel better? Doesn’t it feel nice to be…away from whatever life you were living before?” He tilted his head, giving you a considered expression. “You don't have to think about those grades, those classes...all those books. Sounds like a real drag, doesn't it? You get to just enjoy the feeling for a little while, okay?"

"Okaaayyy..." You drawled, squeezing your eyes shut as your shaking hands sank down to your sides, the sensation from the buzzing toy simulationusaly overwhelming and...incredibly pleasurable.

You didn’t even know your body was capable of feeling like this.

When did other people learn about this?

"Heh, that's a good girl," Strade murmured with a filthy grin, leaning in closer to you, rubbing his thu,mb over your cheek. "That’s much better. Now, you get to just be a cute little thing for me, don’t you? You don't have to think about a thing. You don't get to worry about your studies, your job, your family...anything like that.” 

He leaned in and pressed a kiss to your cheek.

“You just focus on being...sweet, and pretty, and dumb. Can you do that for me? Hmmm?~"

"Uh huuuh," You breathed out, your tight expression relaxing a little as he used the egg to massage between your wet folds, teasing a node just above your dripping hole that made you see stars. "Oh, that's good...nhh..."

"Mhmm, see? You’re feeling good," Strade chuckled, taking in the sight of you with an indulgent sigh, indulging in the way your expression was slowly relaxing and transforming under his touch.  "So good, you became a cute, little idiot for me without me even trying. Hah!”

He increased the intensity slightly, watching your expression intently.

“You're liking being a little puppet for me, aren't you? You enjoying this, even if you’re pretending otherwise. Hnn…” He grinned against your cheek, breathing you in. “You like it when I make you feel like this, all mindless and dumb for me? Come on, let me hear how much you like it."

"Oh, god-!" You gasped, pressing your sweaty, tear streaked face against his shoulder (leaving a wet print on his shirt as you did so).

He chuckled kindly, not seeming to mind, and placed a hand to the back of your head, forcing your face closer.

"That's it, baby doll," He cooed encouragingly, circling the tip of the egg in a tight little circle against your cunt. "Feels good, doesn’t it? Nice and intense? You don't have to use that head for a damn thing anymore. All those hours studying, thinking, trying to use that brain...well, it got you into some trouble all right, didn't it?” He pet your hair slowly, like he was petting an animal. “Don’t let yourself get upset again, though. It could have happened to anyone…you’re just lucky enough that it happened to you, aren’t you?”

"Mmhmm," You nodded (as best you could), biting your lip hard as you felt your brain (figuratively) start to slur in your aching, bleeding skull and…leak out of any available hole it could.

Maybe it would be better if you just submitted to him.

That's what all your classes told you to do, wasn't it? To...submit to what the criminal wanted, to play along, act dumb and pliant and easy, even if that meant losing yourself completely.

That had to be it.

"Good girl," He praised, his lips pressed against your ear again so you could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin. "Behaving so well, now, aren’t you? You just needed someone to help you feel good, and now…all those big thoughts you had before are just...slipping out of your head.”

“Mmhmm~”

“It's so much easier for someone like you, isn't it? Being a brainless, little doll? So easy to just listen to my every word and do exactly what I tell you? You can just...sit back and enjoy the feeling…you don't even have to think about it. That’s what I’m here for, isn’t it, liebling?"

Yeah.

Submitting would be the smart thing to do. 

"Hmph. So much for college, right?~"

[cherryc1nnam0n]

I'm bored and I don't wanna write something so have this rant about the (fictional) men I love and why

Hello people

This is Cherry speaking and today I am presenting top men that I love and why are (most of them) them all serial killers who wear masks and are dead? We'll find out here

1. Brahms Heelshire

I mean just look at him, skrunkily wall boi who has never showered, the man with a mask that makes him look so fuckable and submissive and he fucking whines?! Ngh, so hot

I need to lick those man titties with all my might and ride him until his legs give out

But unlucky for me he's dead as fuck so yikes, he's not dead in my mind or in my blog

2. Billy Loomis

Crazy Ghostface boi who can rearrange my guts any time he wants and breed me all he wants mhm mhm

I fucking love Billy because look at him, he's a psychopath but he looks so hot while being it

Who wouldn't love this man??

But again, another one dead, killed by Sydney (fuck you Sydney), but not before leaving his offspring but we won't talk about that now

3. Eddie Munson

The exception to being a killer because he was framed it's my beautiful boi Eddie <3

I love this boi with all my heart and he can touch it with his dick all he wants <3

I fell in love with him when I saw him on Stranger Things 4 and I haven't since then <3

But my boi was eaten alive by a swarm of feral bats and bleed to death in Dustin's arms but he's still alive in my mind, and Tumblr's mind <3

4. Mark Hoffman

My crush from Saw since I watched the movies when I was 6

I have always loved older men for some reason so yeah (daddy issues)

He's not a good apprentice from John because he kills people and doesn't give them the chance of survival but I still love him <3

But as all of them, he was tied up on the original room from Saw and left to die there

It's presumed he's dead because people only survive 3 days without food so he's probably dead as fuck like all of them bois in this list

Still, he's still alive for me so he can breed me all he wants <3

5. Ethan Landry

Another Ghostface crazy boi who died a virgin (not in my mind if you know what I mean)

He was killed in an awful way but he's still hot and submissive and breedable and oh my gosh he's so hot

I am literally obsessed with him and you'll see my latest likes are all Ethan so yeah, fuck me (Ethan) I guess

6. Billy Hargrove

My asshole of a boyfriend who was too weak in spirit to fight off Vecna and died thanks to it

I love him <3

He's my favorite boi that can hit me and fuck me all he wants until I fry and he won't even stop by then so mmmmmhmmm

But again, ded as fuck lol

7. Hannibal Lecter

Cannibal daddy can eat me alive whenever he wants, I have excess skin so he can have all he wants mmmm

He's so pretty and sophisticated and so mmmm

I love him and he can eat me all he wants and breed me too

(I don't remember what happened to him if he died of not but yeah)

8. C!Technoblade

My pig boi who is a genocidal and an anarchist will always live rent free on my mind

(Along with his creator Alex, RIP Techno, we miss you a lot)

But on the DSMP I headcanon he had a lovely wife and two kids who loved him a lot and now they're alone and sad </3

But he's alive in my own AU so it's fine

I love my pig boi

9. Jim Hopper

I mean look at him, he screams DADDY in all his forms

I love hunks for some reason and he's one of them

He can have me whenever he wants

Only exception to being dead lol

Man titties

But anyways. That's everyone I can name off the top of my head so if you until here have a nice day and I love you <3

[ihavemanyhusbands]

Revenge is a Dish Best Served Bloody

PART THREE: VIOLENT DELIGHTS

Part One // Part Two // Mini-Series Masterlist

Also on AO3

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Fem!Bounty Hunter!Reader

WC: 4.9k words

Chapter Summary: The climax, in more than one sense of the word. Justice is finally served, and all the other pieces fall into place.

Warnings: MINORS DNI, THIS FIC IS 18+, canon typical violence, some descriptions of blood and gore, arson, drug use (chem called Buffout), implied mutual pining, smut, fingering, unprotected p in v (dont do it at home), radiated creampie (there’s RadAway dw lol), dirty talking, dom/sub dynamics, multiple orgasms, aaaaaaaaaand that’s all i can think about rn but lmk if i missed anything!

---------

Sounds in the middle of the night, a distant clamor that sharpened into voices as you regained consciousness. You sat up, disoriented and wide-eyed. The ghoul crouched nearby, immediately alert, hand on his holster.

“What’s–”

He put a finger to his lips, fixing you with a glare and a slight shake of his head. Dread immediately curdled in your stomach. Ever so slowly, you lifted yourself onto a crouch, grabbing your crossbow. 

Moonlight faintly filtered through a window caked with years of dirt and grime. The near complete darkness made the shadowed objects around the room morph into ominous, bulky shapes, exacerbating your fear. There was a momentary silence, in which both of you stayed still, listening.

The two of you had holed up for the night on the top floor of another dilapidated building. It sat on the outskirts of what used to be Shady Sands, a town that had been re-bombed years prior. The risk of running into trouble was much higher, as there was a lot more foot traffic. There was still plenty to scavenge, after all. 

And not only did you have to worry about mutants or raiders, but also knights of the Brotherhood of Steel. One of their bases was closer than you’d like, and you’d heard the rumble of their choppers in the distance while you skirted the enormous crater where the city once stood.

According to the ghoul, you were only a few days away from Axl’s main compound. Without either of you acknowledging it, you’d slowed down the pace. The moments of silent companionship stretched like lingering summer sunsets, and yet somehow, they were still not long enough. At times, you even felt the same way you’d felt at the outcrop, bordering on serene. 

It seemed surreal that your destiny was just within reach. Though you had been preparing for years, letting grief and rage carry you through even the toughest obstacle, you felt hesitancy for the first time. A part of you did not want to face the stark reality of it quite yet, not knowing how things would go down once you got to your destination.

 It wasn’t necessarily that you had a fear of death – you lived so closely with it that you didn’t flinch at its inevitability. Only at its abject cruelty; The way it striked indiscriminately, with disregard for those left behind. 

What you worried about was living through the whole ordeal and coming out the other side alone. The ghoul had no fealty to you, much less… attachment. You’d fooled around a couple more times throughout the journey, but it was all carnal pleasure – a lesson that your body was not just an instrument of brutality and survival. You’d let yourself become soft and pliable, like putty in his hands.

But that wasn’t to say he was tender, necessarily. There’d been no kisses between you – though you sought them in earnest – and he had not yet taken you, as he put it. His biting remarks weren’t nearly as sharp anymore, though, and you’d caught him being more protective of you. Not to mention, he always made sure you were never lacking RadAway.

For your part… You thought it was gentleness you felt, though you still couldn’t quite put a name to the way you were feeling. Perhaps just comfort was enough to describe it, interestingly enough. 

Barks of laughter sounded a little clearer, reminding you of the situation at hand. A few crashes followed, like things were being thrown about. It definitely sounded like they were inside the building, you realized with growing terror. How close were they? And how many of them?

“I should go give these visitors a warm welcome, don’tcha think?” the ghoul whispered, unholstering his gun. “It’s only polite.”

“Don’t you mean we?” You whispered back.

“No, y’ain’t comin’ with. I don’t need you getting in the way,” he said as he stood up. “Not many places to hide up here, so you best start lookin’.”

“You can’t just make m–” You started to protest, also standing up, but in two silent strides, he was right in front of you, holding your chin firmly.

For the briefest second, he seemed to be debating something. His eyes searched yours as if he would find the answer there. Another crash, most likely on the floor just below, and his lips thinned into a grim line as he made up his mind. 

“Listen…” he said, no time to waste. “The name’s Cooper. Holler it if you need help. Keep an eye out, but don’t let anyone see you.”

With that, he let go of you and slipped out of the room, not looking back once. You stood there for a moment, dumbstruck, his name rattling around your head like a pinball. 

But you had to shake yourself out of it, quickly scanning your surroundings for a place to hide. He’d been right about there not being many options, but you hadn’t realized there were virtually none at all in that room.

Except… there was a broken window on the far wall, and you avoided stepping on shards of glass as you made your way over. Right outside, there was a rusted fire escape, ladders leading up and down. 

You leaned out of the windowsill and looked up at the night sky, spotting the big and little dippers. It was lucky that the moon was almost full, not leaving you completely blind. You swung one leg over the windowsill and begged the stars – anything up there that could be listening – that the fire escape didn’t collapse under you.

It groaned slightly as you lowered yourself onto it, making you wince, but thankfully it was pretty sturdy. Still, you tried not to think too much about the height, stifling the vertigo that threatened to creep in. It was then that you heard yelling, accompanied by a barrage of gunshots. You felt a sharp pang of worry for Cooper, but you knew he could hold his own.

Out in the open, you were even less safe, but while you couldn’t really see anyone down below, you knew better than to descend. So, you used the more precarious ladder to ascend instead. Muscles tense as it shook and rattled, your palms sweating, but it held your weight. 

Breathlessly hauling yourself onto the rooftop, you first made sure you were alone before lying on your stomach near the edge, crossbow ready. The scuffle continued below, and you hoped all the noise didn’t attract even more unwanted guests. 

Time seemed to take a liquid form as you waited, slipping through your grasp unnoticed, your focus on the unrelenting night. The animal instinct to survive had kicked in, blocking out your fear and slowing your heartbeat down. 

Your father’s patient voice was at the back of your head. “Remember, when it comes down to it, calm and focus is what it takes. You’re more likely to make a mistake otherwise, a deadly one.”

Suddenly, a whistle rang out – a high note shortening into a low one. You didn’t move at first, but then you adjusted your position slightly to try and get a better look at the source. A head poked out of the broken window below, and your finger was instantly on the trigger.

Cooper raised his hands in mock surrender, an amused, sly grin on his face. Your muscles immediately relaxed as you exhaled the breath you’d been holding.

“Jus’ me, cowpoke,” he drawled. “It’s clear now. Get your ass down here before I come get you.” 

You found yourself smiling with relief as you put your weapon away, climbing down the ladder with less care than when you were going up. You stumbled into him as you dropped back onto the fire escape, losing your balance. 

“Woah, easy there,” he said, steadying you but keeping you close. “Y’really missed me that much, darlin’? I was only gone for an hour.”

You shoved away from him, rolling your eyes. You noticed he was splattered with blood, some having transferred onto your clothes. None of it seemed to belong to him, though, which was another small relief. 

“How many?” You asked, deflecting his question. 

“Too many for my likin’, and y’know I like myself a crowd,” he said. “Most of ‘em had Axl’s brand, others seemed like newbies. Fuckin’ amateurs, all of ‘em.”

You swallowed with bitter distaste as you heard that name. Surely the death of a group of his men wouldn’t go unnoticed, so that meant you had less time to make a move. The two of you had discussed some plans of attack, but you hadn’t chosen any course of action yet.

You thought of the bottles of Buffout you’d scored in Filly, unbeknownst to him. You’d gotten them as a last resort, not stupid enough to believe the two of you would be able to take on a whole compound of raiders just as you were.

You crossed your arms over your chest. “What now?”

“We loot ‘em, and then we get a move on as soon as dawn comes.”

“No rest for the wicked,” you sighed, even if you were no longer tired.

“Ain’t that the truth,” he chuckled. “But you were a good girl tonight, listenin’ to my orders.”

You bit down a grin and climbed in through the window so he couldn’t see the flustered look on your face. He checked the hallway as you gathered the rest of your stuff, and then you followed him out of the room, unable to stop the warmth spreading in your chest.

“Cooper?” You whispered, barely wanting to disturb the silence. “Thank you, again.”

Silence hung for a moment, and you thought he wouldn’t respond at all. 

“That’s twice now,” he said, glancing over his shoulder at you. “Don’t think I’ll forget your debt after all this.”

That warmth exploded into fireworks and oh, you knew you were doomed either way.

—-----------------------------------

The compound was larger than you’d imagined, visible from a great distance. As soon as you’d crested the hill, you’d felt like a stone dropped into your stomach. The sun had set an hour ago, so the cover of darkness was to your advantage. No turning back now. 

But before Cooper could take another step forward, you grasped his arm without thinking. He frowned as he looked down at your hand, then up at your face.

“Y’ain’t havin’ second thoughts, are ya?” He asked. “Little too late for that nonsense.”

You shook your head. “It’s not that, it’s just… maybe we need to reassess our strategy before we do anything hasty. I could use some more rest, too and–”

“Quit it,” he snapped. “What’s the matter with you? You anxious?”

How could I not be? You thought to yourself. You were braced for a fight, itching for it, even. It had made sleeping impossible the previous nights, no matter how much Cooper had tried to force you to rest. The constellations in the sky seemed to brighten the closer you got to the compound; Guiding the way, granting you strength.

But you wanted one more moment with him, just as you were then. So you gave into foolishness, pulling him in as you stood on your tiptoes to bring your lips to his. He flinched, surprised, gripping you in return. You were ready for him to shove you away, but when he didn’t, you placed a hand on his chest.

His lips were chapped, but not unpleasant. Warm, too, and set firmly at the first delicate brush of your lips. You heard a grunt low in his throat as he felt the tip of your tongue swiping at his bottom lip, coaxing, and it was then he snapped out of his shock. 

The way he kissed you was rough and hungry, with a certain desperation you knew he would never admit out loud. Your tongues tangled, exploring each other’s mouths – though, truly, his was dominating yours. He gripped your hair, keeping you from escaping, even if it was the last thing you wanted to do.

But before you could get too deep into the kiss – reaching another point of no return – he pulled back, searching your face. Felt fire in his loins as he saw the glazed look of desire in your eyes, but he had to bat it away for the time being.

“Should’ve jus’ said you were needy,” he murmured. “But then again, you always are.”

A faint smile at his teasing, but he noticed the turmoil beneath. “Cooper...”

He let go of you, sobering up and slipping back into his usual prickly demeanor. The times called for it after all; He knew you needed that strength, too. He cleared his throat and glanced back at the compound, trying to think. An idea suddenly came to mind, and he couldn’t help a lopsided grin.

“I say we burn the whole place to the ground,”  he said, tilting his head towards it. “And when they’re runnin’ around like chickens with their heads cut off, I’ll carve you a path towards him in the chaos.”

You froze, eyes widening, momentarily unsure of what to say. “I thought you said you had business with him, too.”

He shrugged, looking away. “You’ll settle the score for the both of us.”

The enormity of this statement — this unspoken gift — rocked you to your core, making you take an involuntary step forward. You thought to reach out to take his gloved hand, a rare sob clogging your throat, but you knew it would ruin the moment. 

You would find a way to thank him later, when all was said and done. 

—————————————

It was both fortunate and unfortunate that the raiders had stocked up on so much fuel. To them, it was most likely a precious commodity. To you, well… It was merely a means to an end — A conveniently deadly one. 

In the darkest hour of night, Cooper had slipped into the encampment, silent as a shadow. You decided to knock back some Buffout and wait for the mayhem to start. He’d told you to stay hidden until the fire had really taken, but you were already bouncing around impatiently, starting to feel the effects of the chem.

The sharp tang of the fuel reached you in the breeze, and you clasped the handle of his machete with a white knuckled grip. Though you had weapons, he’d insisted you carry it, just in case. It brought you some comfort to have it, as if it was an extension of him.

In the distance, there was the sound of a small explosion. You jumped, but didn’t make a move yet. Those within the encampment started to rise, their voices confused and alert. Every single one of your muscles were poised to run, your senses screaming at you to spring forward. Pupils fully dilated, mind sharper than ever. You briefly wondered if that was how prey drive must feel. Buffout’s no fucking joke.

Instead, you slowly skirted the perimeter, keeping to the shadows. The voices raised and beneath them, there was the dragging hiss of fire igniting, catching hold of everything in its path. 

Another explosion, this one much closer, if the subtly trembling earth was any indication. And so commenced the cacophony of chaos, though there was one word among the screams that you were able to distinguish – Ghoul!

The fire was rapidly spreading, so much so that you could feel its incandescent heat, sweat beading all over your face. Show time. You sprang up from your haunches and scurried to the nearest opening.

Things were blurry from then on. You had more than a few close brushes with certain death, but every time, without fail,  a whizzing bullet would be your salvation. But that wasn’t to say your machete went unused, blood spattering you like a warrior’s anointing. 

Axl’s main quarters were, unsurprisingly, harder to break into. Cooper took care of it, disposing of the raiders that were guarding their leader. The room was cramped with all sorts of loot, including hundreds of caps, perhaps more. Weapons, as well, and not to mention an assortment of Chems.

Axl himself was a large man with long, wild hair that was streaked with grey. He was wearing armor made of scraps and he was riddled with scars, one of his eyes missing. The one remaining glared at the two of you – just as mean mugged as you remembered – but he only seemed to recognize Cooper. 

“Surprised to see me?” Cooper said, grinning easily. “Suppose you were so cocksure I wouldn’t discover your ruse, sendin’ me on that wild goose chase.”

“It was a perfectly valid bounty, guess you just didn’t read the fine print.” Axl smiled cruelly in return, his eye returning to you as you took a step forward, teeth bared. “Who’s this bitch? Your guard dog?”

In the next moment, his knee exploded in a spray of blood and gore as Cooper shot him, ripping an agonized howl from his throat as he collapsed.

“Since nobody taught you any fuckin’ manners, I thought I might as well do it,” Cooper said, trying to sound bored despite the rage in his tone. 

“You stupid motherfucker! I’m gonna … Kill you for this!” Axl managed to growl, writhing on the floor in torment, pathetically trying to drag himself towards any nearby weapon.

Cooper ignored the threats and nodded towards you. “All yours, cowpoke. Best hurry now, fire’s still spreadin’.”

You held his gaze, hoping your eyes could communicate all you wanted to say. Things took a dreamlike quality, time narrowing down to that very moment. You nodded back, and there was the ghost of a smile on his face. You drifted forward, the past and the present intermingling in your mind. 

The memory of your father’s laughter. Years of adventures and survival and the foolish belief that you would always have each other. The startled look on his face as the bullet went straight through his jugular. How he’d pushed you to safety right before his body slumped over. The glimpse of his killer’s face, which had branded itself in your mind. 

Now, you had it in front of you once more, right where you wanted it. And not a hint of doubt clouded your mind.

You raised the machete over your head–

“This is for my father, you son of a bitch.”

– And swung it down in a swift, deadly arc.

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

You weren’t sure how you were walking, but you knew you needed to get a safe distance away from the burning encampment. Cooper held you to him as you trembled all over, adrenaline leaving your system in hot and cold waves.

“There, there, you’re alright,” he soothed, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “We’ll stop soon, I promise. Come down’s a bitch on that one, ain’t it?”

You nodded, having confessed to the Buffout earlier, cold sweat running down your back. “I feel like I need to sleep for a thousand years.” 

He chuckled. “I’ll give you a night, sweetheart. Maybe a couple, If I’m feelin’ generous. I ain’t done with you yet, remember?”

You peered up at him, one corner of your lips curling up in a smirk. “Oh yeah?”

“Oh yeah,” he confirmed. “Matter of fact, I think it’ll take you those thousand years to repay all your debts.”

“I can start tonight.”

“Easy there, cowgirl. If I were you, I’d use my time wisely and rest,” he said pointedly. “You know I don’t play around.”

“Hmmm, I don’t know, Cooper. I’m still feeling pretty restless,” You said, lying through your teeth. Exhaustion ran deep, but that wouldn’t stop you from seeking him, eager to become soft once more. At his mercy. 

He hummed in thought, eyes flicking down to you, nonchalant. “Guess I might just have to put you to sleep, huh?”

You grinned, biting your lip and pressing yourself closer to his side. You found a small, rundown shack to hole up in, and he poked his head in to make sure there were no rad roaches or mole rats. 

There was barely enough space for the two of you, but you didn’t mind. He threw his coat on the floor and you set your stuff down before he was cornering  you. He tugged off his gloves, tossing them aside. 

“First thing’s first, gotta get you out of these filthy clothes,” he husked, hands settling on your hips, fingers slipping under the hem of your shirt.

He undressed you methodically, enjoying the slowness of it. Revealing more and more of that soft skin he loved to touch, and peeling away the brutality of the night. A hum of appreciation as his hands began to roam, tugging you closer and lowering you onto his coat in an all too familiar way. 

“Much better,” he murmured, feasting his eyes and making sure you were unharmed in equal measure. 

A few scrapes and bruises, but you’d live. He’d done a good job, all things considered. He let out a low, appreciative whistle, barely able to keep his hands to myself.

Your eyes were shiny with want as you looked up at him, lips parted, body taut with anticipation; Shuddering for an entirely different reason. His nails trailed up your thigh as he leaned forward, hovering over you.

“Well, ain’t you the gift that jus’ keeps on givin’?” he rasped, kissing a spot on your jaw just beneath your ear. “All mine to unwrap and play with.”

You nodded, moving your face so his lips would meet yours. But he held back with a tsk.

“Say it f’me, darlin’.”

“All yours,” you sighed, a teasing smile on your lips. “For the next a thousand years or so.”

“That so?” His hand came up to grasp your face. “We’ll see about that.”

He kissed you then, tongue invading your mouth, licking your upper lip in a way that had you whimpering. It was lazy and indulgent, his free hand slowly trailing down your front. 

The same hands that had caused so much destruction now coaxing a fire of a different kind. The night’s events were banished to the periphery of your mind, a languid haze taking over. 

And then his fingers reached their target, and he moaned into your mouth as he parted your slick folds and discovered just how wet you were. Unfurling like a flower at his touch, chest heaving, arching against his hand.

You keened as he plunged two fingers inside you, the pad of his thumb pressing against your clit. Drawing circles in that teasing way he knew would have you bucking under him.

“That’s it, nice and slow,” he husked, pulling back to look at your face. “Make those pretty sounds for me.”

It was hard to hold his gaze — much less focus — as he deftly managed to pump his fingers and move his thumb. Your brain nearly short circuited as he found a rhythm that had you dangerously close to the edge… but also left you craving more.

“Fuck,” you gasped, clutching the wrist of the hand that held your face, if only to anchor yourself to something. 

His grin was roguish. “Yeah? Gonna give me one like this?” 

You tried your best to keep it at bay, wanting to save it for the melding of your bodies, but he could feel the flutter around his fingers. 

“Please, I-I want your cock…” you pleaded. “I need you inside me.”

A soft chuckle to conceal the low groan in his throat, the hunger growing within him. 

“In time,” he said. “Nobody said anythin’ about you only cumming once, honey.”

With that, his fingers doubled their effort. Your back arched off the ground as you felt pleasure quickly building inside of you — a dam ready to burst. 

A choked sound left you as you tumbled over the edge without warning. Muscles clenching as you felt the orgasm rippling outward, blissfully emptying your mind of anything else.

“There’s a good girl,” he praised, feeling the tight squeeze of your cunt around his fingers, his cock twitching painfully in his pants. “See? I knew you could give it to me.”

Your head swam as his hands withdrew. You heard the soft rasp of his zipper being undone and the clink of his belt. Eager, you looked down as he nudged your thighs further apart with his knee, slotting his body between them.

The slick, flushed head of his cock encircled by his fist, pumping himself — large and hard and textured just like the rest of him. He let spit fall from his mouth onto your clit, spreading it with the shaft of his cock as he rutted against you. 

Your legs jerked a little with the stimulation against your still puffy clit, but needy whines still poured from your lips like the sweetest melody to his ears.

You knew better than to tell him not to tease you, instead hitching your hips to meet his movements. He growled, barely able to hold back by that point. You softly sighed as your knees pressed against his sides.  The head notched at your entrance and he pushed inside, thrusting shallowly to open you up further as he reached halfway. 

“Fuckin’ hell, you’re tight,” he rasped as you clutched his arms. “Greedy cunt can’t help squeezing me, huh?”

Before you could even try to respond, his hips snapped a little more roughly, finally burying himself to the hilt. A shared exhale as he bottomed out, fully stretching you. 

“C-Cooper,” you breathed. “Fuck, please, keep going.”

“I’ll take care of ya, don’t you worry,” he said, voice ragged.

He grasped your hips hard enough to bruise, pulling back only to slam forward again. Tugging you to meet his thrusts – long and deep – and you submitted amiably. Soon, the room was filled with the obscene, slapping sound of your bodies joining. Your moans spiraling in a hypnotic repetition, your eyes heavy-lidded as you lifted your head to get a better look of him driving into you.

“Takin’ me so well,” he groaned. “Pretty lil pussy made just for me.”

Your ankles pressed against his lower back, urging him on, not wanting to separate from him for even a moment. Sweat dotting your brow and stray tears of overstimulation on your lash line. You were everything worth adoring, in his eyes. 

One hand reached up to paw at your breasts, which he’d been watching bounce with each one of his thrusts. Pinching the nipples between his fingers, drawing a small yelp from you, but feeling you clamp down on him at the mix of pleasure and pain.

“O-oh, I’m s-so close… Cooper,” You gasped, and he felt your legs start to tremble. 

“Go on, sweetheart, give it to me,” he urged, pushing your legs further up and adjusting his angle. “Wanna feel you come all over my cock.”

Somehow, he felt much deeper that way, pounding at your cervix in a way that had you practically yowling. A momentary dizziness as if you were teetering at a great height… and the second orgasm hit you ruthlessly, forever ruining you for anybody else that wasn’t him. 

He let out a long, rough groan, and heat flooded inside of you as he also came. He fucked you through it, hips stuttering as he emptied out. 

In the come down, you were both panting hard, drunk on endorphins. All energy sapped out of you, lying boneless on top of his coat. He chuckled at the sight of you, something dangerously close to fondness in his amber eyes.

“Little late to ask if you got protection, huh?”

“You know I keep that RadAway on me,” you rasped, smiling weakly. 

“Atta girl. And speaking of,” he murmured, pulling out of you and leaving you achingly empty.

Your vision swam as you watched him tuck himself away, making his way towards his pack. But by the time he found the distinct yellow IV bag, you were slipping into the best sleep you’d ever had. 

—————————————

It was well past morning by the time you woke up. The sun was high, and you felt its heat wafting in through the doorway. Cooper wasn’t around, but you were relieved to see his things were still there.

You noticed he’d cleaned you up to the best of his ability, but you were still naked. You winced as you sat up, stretching your arms over your head. Slowly, you stood up and gathered your clothes from around the small room. 

Still, despite all the aches, you felt as if a huge burden had been lifted off your shoulders. The pain of remembering had turned into a dull throb which would take more time to fully heal. At least now you could focus on the good memories, no longer haunted by the need for justice. 

Freedom was at your fingertips – to choose, to live. Even the sky seemed a little bluer that day.

As you finished getting dressed, you heard the clink of spurs growing closer, his figure hovering in the doorway. 

“How’s my little killer?” Cooper said, leaning against the frame, arms crossed over his chest.

“Like I’ve been run over,” you said, grinning. “But good, otherwise.”

“Good. It’s about time we get up outta here. I let you rest more than enough.”

A flutter in your chest at the word we, reminding you that perhaps your freedom would be partial, but you didn’t mind as long as it was in his company. 

“Right, where to next?” You asked, hauling your pack onto your back. 

He shrugged, sly smile tugging at one corner of his lips. “The world is our oyster, darlin’. We can go wherever we damn please.”

You mirrored his smile, thinking that underneath that tough, seemingly unbreakable exterior,  he just might be feeling the same way about you. “Lead the way, then.”

-----

The End.

[verysmallcyborg]

Fornax Val'ethtue

B A S I C S

Name: Fornax Val'ethtue (or Fyrstyrn [fire star] Dotharl, when thinking of the two naming conventions)

Nicknames: They don't have much nicknames, however friends that know Fornax well enough can call them "Lily" (Delmira especially calls them that, this is because of their association with the flower), otherwise only Ryss gets to call her sea puppy or treasure

Age: 37 (by Endwalker)

Nameday: 5th Sun of the 1st Umbral Moon

Race: Sea Wolf Roegadyn + Xaela Au Ra (au roe, if you will. tehe)

Gender: Non-binary Butch (she/they)

Orientation: Lesbian

Profession: Outside of WoL responsibilities... bodyguard and marksman

P H Y S I C A L     A S P E C  T S

Hair: Black with a bunch of grey hairs. If it's short, it's spiky and either has the sides and the lower back of it shaved down, or they have their sideburns. If it's longer, then it's generally messy and uneven with a "wild" look.

Eyes: Black sclera, slit pupils, and vibrant orange. Fornax's eyes only glow because their dad taught them how to apply limbal rings when she was young, but never learned how to accurately do it (or when to stop doing it, until there was a full glow) after his death.

Skin: Dark grey, has a black gradient starting at their forearms and goes all the way to their hands. Has a fair amount of scales, though some are broken and ripped off around scars.

Tattoos/scars: Decorated in scars all over their face and body, but the most notable ones are on their face, neck, and torso. Some of her face scars are from saving a coeurl kit from hunters, and briefly got mauled by its mother when returning it (they understood the protective instinct, but OUCH). The scars across their neck and chest was an incident that put them at deaths door, and then a large scar on their side is from... WELL. Ryss. :) Don't worry about it :)

Very important: their top scars!! Those tits: chopped off. Also the end of their tail (that doesn't have the top layer of thick scales) has a bite scar from the Major-General, no one believes them when they say a tiny shark with tiny legs bit them while fishing.

Fornax has a very subtle trail of faint orange stars on their back for a tattoo!

F A M I L Y

Parents: Unnamed Roegadyn mother & Xaela father. Her mom was a traveling merchant of sorts, while her dad was part of the Dotharl clan. Unfortunately, both were murdered while Fornax was young... :')

Siblings: No siblings

Grandparents: N/A (I don't think that far with family LOL)

In-laws and Other: No idea about in-laws, but for other: their lovely spouse, Ryssrael!!! :)

Pets: Befriends every stray and animal that they cross, but specifically, they have a little black coeurl and a baby amaro that follow them around.

S K I L L S

Abilities: Very skilled with a rifle and axes of any kind (WAR/MCH combo), though they are in their best element when within melee range. Weaponizes their teeth, claws, and tail as often as they can, and wields terrifying, brutal strength that amplifies when angered or under a need to win and/or survive. Best not to piss off a butch who could pull an entire ship with just them and their partner!!

Hobbies: LOVES cooking and all kinds of hands-on crafts, but specifically knitting and crocheting.

T R A I T S

Most Positive Trait: Their unwavering determination

Most Negative Trait: Has a self-destructive habit of fleeing and attempting to isolate themselves when hurt

L I K E S

Colors: Most warm colors, baby blue, black, and purple

Smells: Burning firewood, ocean breezes on the sunrise/sunset, the stinging metallic scent of blood, flowers in a field, freshly cooked food (especially stews and bread)

Textures: The subtle raised skin of old scars, the wool off of freshly sheared karakuls, tree bark, warm hands against their scales, horns, and tail

Drinks: Apple cider, hot chocolate, fruity beverages

O T H E R    D E T A I L S

Smokes: Not really, unless offered

Drinks: Only in good company/socially

Drugs: Recreationally? Maybe, otherwise nah

Mount Issuance: Still has their red chocobo (HEH...) but he spends his days sleeping and chilling in the garden of their yard. Nowadays they use a comically tiny airship.

Been Arrested: Several times by the Maelstrom and Flames, mostly when they were a teenager & young adult because of petty thefts and getting in trouble for some of the jobs they took on to scrape by. Fornax has gotten significantly better at escaping and hiding though, which is kinda funny when you wonder, how does anyone lose a 8ft/244cm tall au roe with a big ole tail?

Tagged by @hazelkjt and @cindernet-explorer!!! thank you <3

UHHHHHH i've seen most folks i follow be tagged already, so i'm pointing at the viewer. Your Turn

[outerspaceismyhappyplace]

Here is a scene from a KnY Classification AU that I will Never Ever finish lol:

“Wait, stop!” Kyojuro throws himself between Sanemi and the box. “Sanemi, stop! Don’t you sense that she’s Little?”

“Demons can’t be Littles,” Sanemi spits. “It’s trying to trick you.”

“How would she even do that?” Tengen rolls his eyes. “That makes no sense. You can’t trick Caregiver instincts into activating.”

“They can be wrong,” Sanemi insists in a growl.

“Yours, maybe,” Tengen mutters.

“We should wait until the Master arrives before we make any hasty decisions,” Kyojuro says pointedly.

“Let me…” Tanjiro frantically struggles to get up. “Let me…please, give me the box.”

Kyojuro turns to look at Tanjiro and nods, picking up Nezuko’s box and bringing it to him.

“Thank you,” Tanjiro breathes, resting his head on the top of it. “Where…where are my other Littles?”

“All surviving Corps members are currently recovering at my estate,” Shinobu says.

“But I don’t…” Tanjiro swallows. “I don’t know if they survived.”

“Your bond marks would have scarred if your Littles died,” Gyomei tells him. Tanjiro notices a few scarred bond marks on his arm where his sleeve isn’t covering it and wonders how many there are.

“Well…I’m only bonded to one of them,” Tanjiro says quietly. “And even then it’s very weak. My Littles are…rather difficult. I’ve only been caring for them for a few months.”

“Ah. I understand completely!” Kyojuro laughs, looking at his three Littles. “Mitsuri and I were bonded in a matter of days, but my boys sure didn’t make it easy for me!” Giyuu and Obanai both blush and look away.

“One of them always wears a boar hide, and the other has bright yellow hair,” Tanjiro says.

“Ah, yes, those two are both safe and sound,” Shinobu smiles. “They’re expected to make full recoveries.”

Tanjiro breathes a sigh of relief. “Oh. There is…there’s another Little in the Corps who I met during Final Selection but was even less agreeable than Zenitsu. I’ve been worried about him, though. Do you happen to know the status of a Corps member named Shinazugawa Genya?”

Sanemi’s head snaps up at the sound of the name, and the other Corps members all slowly turn to look at him.

“Your brother’s a Little?” Tengen demands. “And you just abandoned him?”

“He’s not!” Sanemi snaps.

“Your brother’s a Little and you didn’t even know?” Tengen’s fuming, fingers twitching by the handles of his blades like he’s thinking about pulling them out and killing him right there and then. “You’re the saddest excuse for a Caregiver I’ve ever met! You don’t have the instincts at all, you don’t know how to handle the kids when they’re regressed, you’re not even supposed to be able to hurt Littles, and you almost stabbed one just now!”

“Genya’s not a Little! He never presented!”

[winryrockbellwannabe]

How to survive your first year in uni

(from a 3rd year student that only learned all this this past semester)

(applicable to other stages of your academic life, ofc, i was needing this advice rn in the end of my bachelor's)

1. Find ways to be interested in all classes.

Being it by watching documentaries/movies, wanting to be the smartass that knows quantum physics in family reunions, or wanting to tutor your crush on maths (not me doing that to learn integrals lol). You have to at least find a short term motivation to study for that class. That's the most important bit to be able to study it. But of course you also have to be interested in your classes, so try to watch tv shows about it to make it look cooler. (me watching big bang theory and realizing I understand some physics equations)

2. Find other people who are also interested in your classes

For example, this year in radiations class, i would have given up on being on track with the classes if my friend wasn't a master in radiations. They always answer my curiosity questions, and give me fun facts, so it helps me be interested in it. Also, other people's enthusiasm about a course is going to make you so much more excited about it.

3. Ask questions to your teachers.

I promise it won't be dumb. And even if it is, i promise it won't be in the top 10 dumbest questions they ever had to answer in their career.

My rad prof said in our first class that a master's degree student had once asked her what is a photon, and she answered bc there is no shame. (he was a comp sci undergrad, so he genuinely didn't know) That helped me feel more at ease asking her questions tbh, bc now i feel like every question is valid.

4. Don't worry if you are unsure about your future.

Everyone is. The only ppl that aren't unsure are the Rory Gilmore's of this world that had the same dream for so long that they don't even know if it's still their dream or not.

You're still changing, literally during my first year i had two different mental breakdowns thinking I chose the wrong degree. Which was just the stress and uncertainty speaking, bc im still very much enjoying my degree lol. (and the funniest bit, one of those mental breakdowns was me thinking i wanted to switch for computer science, but now i think that wouldn't do it for me. I changed my interests so much since then)

5. Make time for friends.

Both your "old" friends and trying to meet new ones. It will help you not to go insane during exams period lol. Also, try to talk to students from the years above you, they'll have so much advice to give you (you just have to say you're a newbie in uni, and they'll literally start rambling about their 1st year mistakes, at least that's what me and my friends do with the new kids lol)

[urbancowboyjoel]

Bite The Hand | Joel Miller x f!afab!reader

Bite The Hand: Chapter One

Prologue | Read on AO3 | Series Masterlist | Bite The Hand Playlist

When Tess doesn’t show up for sewage duty, you seek out Joel for answers.

Word Count: ~6.1k

A/N: And the journey begins... also, I genuinely have no clue what post-apocalyptic sewage maintenance entails/looks like, so please let me have my creative freedom and overlook the inaccuracies lol (updated 5/29/24)

Warnings/Tags: n/a (refer to masterlist for complete series warnings & tags)

Bite The Hand: Chapter One

The morning sun shined brightly in your eyes as you casually strolled toward the entrance of the sewage tunnel. Your eyes were still heavy with exhaustion and your legs seemed to drag with each step you took, fatigued and sore from the previous day's intensive labor. The streets of the Boston QZ were nearly empty, as they typically were at the crack of dawn; primarily occupied by soldiers heading for morning patrols and other military duties, with only a handful of civilian stragglers lingering around, sticking close to the walls and keeping their heads down. 

While most civilian duties didn't start this early, sewage maintenance was the one in particular that the overseeing soldiers preferred to complete early and move on with their day. Meanwhile, those actually carrying out the maintenance duties would spend the remainder of their morning scrubbing themselves clean, if they even cared to, before heading off to their evening work. That was only if there were any slots available. 

Sewage maintenance was the shittiest job quite literally. It also happened to be the job with the highest ration card payout, making it more appealing to those desperate enough to take any shifts FEDRA had to offer. Regardless of the payout, it was still not a highly sought after duty with many people putting their pride over survival. You on the other hand…your name was consistently at the top of the list each and every week. 

You didn’t necessarily need the ration cards given your unique position within the QZ, however, it proved to be quite advantageous in your underground dealings with fellow QZ residents and FEDRA soldiers. The extra cards provided a valuable buffer for negotiations when necessary, as well as served as a safety net when unexpected emergencies popped up. The additional earnings also allowed you to acquire a greater variety of higher-quality supplies for trading with outsiders from the surrounding cities, expanding your clientele to your advantage.

A group of soldiers, all no older than their mid-20’s, just like yourself, were laughing amongst themselves outside the metal gate that led to the tunnels. You were familiar with most of them, having done deals with them at some point or another. Some you knew better than others for various reasons. However, they typically disregarded you, anxious that the things you’ve done for them would come to light. 

Your eyes fixated on them as you approached the opposite side of the fence to wait for Tess; as per usual, your presence to them seemingly went unnoticed. Normally, Tess would be the one waiting for you, however from what she told you last week, she and Joel have been doing more and more deals, working tirelessly day and night. Supposedly they had a pretty huge deal go south recently and she was stuck doing damage control while Joel was busy tracking down those who had wronged them. With this in mind, her tardiness didn’t come to you as a surprise.

Neither Tess nor yourself delved too deeply into the specifics of your respective runs, only name dropping here and there, giving casual warnings on areas and people to stay away from. Despite the general lack of discussion in that regard, there seemed to be an unspoken understanding between the two of you, which is why your bond grew so strong over the past year or so. 

As you glanced at your watch, with ten minutes remaining until the job was set to begin, you sensed a presence come up behind you. Their heat radiated against your cold limbs, making the hair on your arms stand erect, catching on the fabric of your thin and weathered flannel shirt.

“I didn’t expect to see you around today,’ the man’s voice was coarse and laced with sarcasm. A faint smile started to form on your face, but you promptly pressed your lips together to prevent it from manifesting completely.

You rolled your eyes, ensuring the timing was just right for him to witness the reaction you intended for him to see as you turned to face him. The soldier looked down at you with a broad, toothy grin. His dark, curly hair appeared to absorb the sunlight that cast a sliver of light upon the two of you, while his deep brown eyes transformed into a soft bronze hue. It was hard to maintain your straight face as you marveled over him, but you forced yourself to as your fingertips bit into the palms of your hands.

“Roman, always a pleasure,” you responded in a syrupy-sweet tone, with traces of sarcasm lingering heavily in your words. His dimples deepened as his smile grew wider. “I’m sure you’ll thoroughly enjoy watching me shovel shit all morning.” 

Roman let out a brief chuckle, one side of his mouth tugging as his cheek took on a hint of pink. “Well, I’m sure you won’t have to worry about that. You know us; we barely venture past the door, let alone come far enough to watch you all,” he teased. “But, if it’ll make you feel better, I can turn around.” 

“Mmm,” you hummed, sticking your tongue in your cheek. “You're a brave man admitting that to someone like me. Now correct me if I’m wrong, isn’t it your job to observe us?”

He let out another melodious laugh. “I know you won’t tell,” he said, looking down at his fiddling thumbs, contemplating whether to extend a hand towards you or maintain the narrow distance.

“Brave and confident,” As the last bit of playful banter left your lips, laughter emanated from the group on the other side of the gate and your subtle smile dropped to a frown. 

Leaning to the side of Roman and peering around his body, you narrowed your eyes, shooting a glare at the eavesdropping soldiers. Some immediately ceased their snickering, while the others covered their mouths and turned away from you. 

Straightening, you redirected your glare towards Roman. “I suppose the means you told them then,” you spoke in a noticeably quieter tone, your expression authentically serious. He briefly turned away from you, looking at his buddies. Without uttering another word, they promptly vanished into the tunnels, the heavy metal door slamming with a loud thud.

At the same time Roman turned away, you glanced at your watch once more, realizing only a couple minutes remained and Tess had yet to arrive. A thought crossed your mind: perhaps she went inside already? However, you doubted the possibility. After all, who would willingly stay in there longer than necessary? Moreover, it seemed rather out of character for her to not wait for you. You let out an uneasy sigh. 

“Don’t think I had to say much; we were quite… loud, wouldn’t you agree?” He hushed his voice to match yours as he turned back, a breathy chuckle escaping at the end. “And the thin walls…” When you eventually lifted your gaze into his brown eyes, a slight smile formed on your lips. You tried to suppress it by biting your bottom lip but couldn’t entirely succeed. He responded with a gentle smile. “Can I drop by later? Maybe for dinner or… anything really. I just would like to see you outside of work duties and late night drop ins.” His question made your heart flutter, and for some reason, it embarrassed you. 

It wasn’t your usual practice to sleep with FEDRA soldiers, especially those that you knew from doing trades. However, Roman was different, it was a unique situation. And in this lonely world, there were moments when filling that void felt comforting. Eventually, you gave in to the feeling, and Roman just so happened to be there at the time.

At times, the connection with Roman felt genuine–the emotions, the intimacy, the love, the way he looked at you with a hint of something deeper in his eyes. You frequently had to stop yourself from having such thoughts, reminding yourself that both of you were merely two lonely individuals just trying to survive a chaotic reality. In this world, there was no room for love; it was simply an escape, just pure lust to distract from everything around you, even if it was just for half an hour or so. 

You took a moment to reflect on the question, running the tip of your tongue over the grooves of the roof of your mouth. Thoughts of your late-night visits to each other’s apartments flooded your mind quite frequently; more often than you’d care to admit. 

“I’m not sure, Rome,” you mumbled, glazing down at your boots and shaking your head; a few strands of hair slipped out from behind your ear. Your eyes fixated on the torn tips of your boots, with some metal brackets that held the laces missing.

Roman gently grabbed your forearm, pulling you closer to him; you didn’t object to the gesture. The sensation of his calloused palms caused a shock to run right through your core. “If it’s because of them, they–they don’t think anything of it,” Roman hastily replied, his eyes growing intense. He glanced over his shoulder, allowing a loose sigh to escape his lips. “They were just messing around, I promise. I didn’t say anything to them,” his eyes widened, the familiar glimmer appearing once again. “I wouldn’t want to jeopardize this.” A small scoff escaped you as he made the final statement, prompting a confused twitch of his eyebrow.

“This? What is this? ” You voiced the question, even though it was primarily intended for your own contemplation. A brief silence hung between the two of you. Roman allowed his hand to glide down the side of your arm, entwining his fingers with yours. 

“What–” he started to speak but was abruptly cut off. His head snapped in the direction of the voice, eyebrows knitted together in a deep furrow.

“Cruz, duty’s starting,” the voice reverberated from within the tunnel. Roman released an irritated sigh, releasing your hand with hesitance. Avoiding eye contact, he pivoted on his heel, placing his hand between your shoulder blades. 

Without exchanging any further words or glances, the two of you entered the sewage tunnel. The humidity and stench hit you with an intense force, prompting your nostrils to flare in response. You had to muster all your strength not to show any physical reaction. 

Seated behind the table, one of the soldiers passed you a set of work gloves, safety glasses, and a shovel, with some hardened brown matter adhered to the wooden post like cement. The mere appearance of it stirred a sensation of nausea deep within you. As you walked over to the rest of the rest of the unfortunate ones desperate enough to do this, you yanked the piece of fabric tied around your neck up over your mouth and nose and began shoveling at the sluggish piles of God knows what. 

A large portion of your mind remained fixated on the situation with Roman, causing you to entirely overlook Tess and her absence.

The entire time you made a conscious effort to divert your thoughts from the unpleasantry of shoveling literal shit. Instead, you focused on recent deals you had negotiated, strategizing how to execute them, devising timelines, and considering the most effective order to complete the deals. You thought about Roman, switching between self-deprecation for your feelings and entertaining the idea of what it might be like to be with him. Your mind eventually wandered to the numerous nights you've shared, not wanting them to end. You envisioned his sweat trickling down his bare chest onto yours, the way his curls stuck to his forehead, and how his muscles subtly shifted beneath his skin with every movement and thrust.  Engrossed in these thoughts, you entered a state of complete autopilot.

The soldiers assigned to supervise the cleanup typically stayed just beyond the entrance. Despite being repeatedly instructed to stay within a ten-foot radius of the workers to ensure the cleanup met standards and everyone behaved appropriately, they consistently disregarded this instruction. You couldn't entirely fault them, either.

According to Roman, they simply stood there and engaged in conversation until all the workers would return. Occasionally, they placed bets about comical things, such as betting on which civilian would be most likely to return covered in shit or who might cause the most trouble when distributing ration cards. You could never tell if Roman found it genuinely amusing or if he considered it as absurd as you did. You preferred to believe the latter, but perhaps he was clever enough to appear indifferent about it in your presence.

As you turned the corner, now completely disappearing out of the soldiers’ sight, you encountered the sequence of shallow side alleys leading to the primary piping tunnels. Taking a moment to pause, you glanced over your shoulder. No one was behind you; the rest of the group ambled ahead. The tunnels, usually quiet because of people's thoroughly diminished pride, seemed even quieter than usual today.

Tossing some of the residual sludge towards the center of the tunnel, you approached the initial side alley on your right. It was the only one with a functioning light, albeit it was on its last legs. The light flickered consistently, just as it had done last week when Tess hastily pushed you into it.

"Shit," you muttered under your breath, the word escaping in a brief and abrupt manner.

You broke into a run, swiftly catching up to the small group of individuals that showed up today. Most cursed at you as you passed them, only stopping for a short moment to check their faces. The last person at the front of the group was an older man, probably in his late 60’s. He shot you a stern glare as your eyes met his.

"Anyone up ahead?" The words emerged breathy and muffled as you gestured with your covered chin toward the end of the tunnel. He narrowed his eyes at you briefly before giving a slight shake of his head, then returned to his work. Turning in the opposite direction, you began heading back. It was unusual for Tess to miss your coordinated duty day, especially without informing you beforehand.

Everything blurred as you hurried back to the entrance, your mind wholly preoccupied with recalling Tess's words in the alley just last week. Your heart thumped wildly against the walls of your chest, desperately hoping she followed through with her promise to reconsider the run.

“I’ve got a run coming up in a day or two, wanna join?” Tess asked in a hushed voice, a faint smirk gracing her gaunt  face. “Huge payout, you’ll get half.” 

"Half?" You confirmed, almost exasperated by her offer. Turning your head, you heard a pair of wet footsteps echo past the alley. Your stomach dropped, although you knew the soldiers wouldn’t dare to venture this far and no one else would care enough to stop and ask what the two of you were doing. "What's the catch, Tess?" Your tone turned sour as you frowned, suspecting there had to be something.

"Listen—" Her voice raised slightly, and you closed your eyes, exhaling a huff of air through your nostrils.

"I don't like the sound of that," you cut in, shifting all your weight onto the shovel and resting your chin on the top of one of your hands. She took a step closer, her serious expression evident under the flickering dim light.

"No, it's not... it's not bad." Her tone shifted. You stood facing her, fingering the hem of Roman's long-sleeve shirt—the one you mistakenly grabbed instead of your own as you hurried out of his apartment earlier that morning. "It's across the city in Richmond. I have a contact out there who can exchange some equipment for a stockpile of guns. I happen to have another contact here who urgently needs guns. They've promised a year's worth of ration cards in exchange, and–and that would be huge for me, even half would be enough to get Joel and me what we need."

"A year? You don't think they're bluffing?" you inquired, skeptical of the legitimacy of the offer.

"I know they're not. C’mon, I could use someone like you out there." As the lights flickered, the desperation in her eyes became more apparent than before. Tucking your bottom lip between your teeth, you contemplated the offer. A break from sewage maintenance would be nice–just for a month or two and focus purely on trades.

"That's incredibly risky, Tess," you finally voiced. A silence lingered between the two of you; Tess continued to stare at you, hoping you'd change your mind, while you stared at the ground, so close to giving in. "What does Joel say?"

"Joel?" His name seemed almost foreign coming out of her mouth. You didn't know much about the guy, other than the fact that most smugglers were afraid of him and the few pieces of unimportant information Tess occasionally let slip into conversation. "He... he doesn’t want to risk it."

"Perhaps you should reconsider it, then." The words felt painful as they left your throat. Yet, you'd prefer her to be a little upset than somewhere dead.

You were met with more silence from Tess. She was now looking at the ground, the stick of her shovel cradled in the nook of her elbow, with both hands on her hips. You knew how significant this deal was for her—the clients, the payout. Even receiving half would be sufficient to alleviate some of the burden she carried. However, it didn't alter the fact that traveling to that part of the city was a death sentence in itself.

"If you can wait a few more days, I'll go, okay?" Your voice sounded strained. Whether you went or not, she would do this. You knew Tess well enough to know that. "I need to finish up a deal with Nathan, then we can go."

A sickening sensation washed over you when she didn't respond. Tess didn't even look up from the ground; she stood completely still. "No... no, I think I'll reconsider," her words emerged slowly, prompting your eyebrows to rise. Without another word, she brushed past you, her shoulders slightly rounded, and returned to work.

The soldiers appeared to snap to attention at the sound of your wet footsteps under the damp concrete floor. Your breathing was labored and heavy due to a mixture of physical activity and emotional turmoil. They exchanged glances among themselves, none quite certain about what to do. You knew they wouldn't shoot or arrest you, but you weren't necessarily certain they would let you go scot-free.

"What are you—" One of the soldiers, who you’ve heard the others call Tank likely due to his large stature, stepped in front of you. You didn't pause to acknowledge him; that was the last thing on your mind. As you blew past him, your shoulder collided with his, nearly toppling him over by the force. "If you leave now, you won't get your pay." His voice seemed uncertain, devoid of any authority. “ What do we do?” He redirected his attention to his comrades.

Setting down your shovel and returning the provided supplies to the table, you exited the tunnel through the heavy metal door, the sudden bright light nearly blinding you. Raising your hand to your forehead, you shaded your eyes.

The gate emitted a loud squeal as you pushed it open, the metallic sound echoing against the tall surrounding buildings. The noise drew the attention of two soldiers standing near the alley that led back to the street. They didn't attempt to conceal their skeptical looks as you walked toward them. Your chest tightened as one of them took a step towards you; their exchanged words were unintelligible, but based on their expressions, you knew you were about to be confronted with numerous questions.

"Moore, fall back," Roman called out to the approaching soldier, the gate squeaking once again as he pushed against it. Glancing back at him, your eyes showed nothing in particular as your mind remained solely focused on finding Joel and hoping he knew where Tess was. "Hey, hey, slow down." The sound of gravel crunching under boots filled the air as he jogged to catch up with you. Roman grabbed at your shoulder, causing you to come to an abrupt stop. "Is everything okay?"

“I don’t… I don’t feel good, I just need to lay down.” Your words didn’t sound convincing by any means, but you didn’t necessarily need them to be. Roman was loyal enough to cover for you whether he knew the truth or not. “Please don’t say anything.”

His eyes widened as he stared down at you, a glimmer of panic evident. Confusion twisted your face as you glanced behind you, waiting for him to say something. Wiping his hands down the front of his FEDRA-distributed uniform shirt, he took a few steps closer, closing the distance between the two of you.

"You don't think—" he whispered, leaning toward you. Your eyes shot open as you realized the reason for his reaction. “Because we–we’ve been careful.”

“No, no, Roman, definitely not.” Instant relief flooded through him. “But I need you to cover for me okay? Don’t ask me why, just do it… please. ” As soon as he nodded in confirmation, you turned on your heel heading towards the street.

“I’ll stop by later when I get off,” Roman shouted after you, seemingly not caring if anyone else around heard. His voice faded the farther you got. 

Now, he was the last thing on your mind.

You swiftly passed through the now crowded street, walking fast enough to reach Tess' apartment within a reasonable timeframe, but not so fast as to raise suspicion from the soldiers patrolling the streets. Running would signify trouble to them, and the last thing you needed was to be stopped, taken in for questioning, and subjected to whatever else they might feel compelled to do. There, Roman couldn't cover for you.

People halted, shooting you dirty looks and cursing as you bumped into them. 

Approaching the front of the apartment building in Area 4, a group of teenagers hanging out by the entrance suddenly seemed to become interested in you. Quickly catching on, you slowed your pace and loosened your posture, while simultaneously pretending you hadn’t realized. They seemed to form a circle around you as you neared the steps, and one of the larger boys positioned himself in front of the door, blocking your path. The young punk grinned at you, revealing a mouthful of rotting teeth. Staring directly into his eyes, you countered with a smug, annoyed expression while ignoring the others.

"Say lady, I haven't seen you around here before," he said, glancing from side to side, making eye contact with his pals as they closed in. You observed those around you, noticing some were a bit smaller, others a bit bigger, but they were all teens, though some could easily pass as children due to their very apparent nutrition deficiencies. You had dealt with people worse than a handful of punks with nothing better to do than start shit for entertainment.

"Congratulations on your observation skills, FEDRA could really use you on patrols. Can you move now?" you responded amusingly, taking a couple of steps toward the door. A few of the boys snickered.

"Geez lady, I meant it as a compliment." The boy looked you up and down as you descended one step, leaving only one stair between the two of you. Rolling your eyes, waiting for the opportunity to move past him. "What's your business here?"

You let out a small laugh, a bewildered smile appearing on your face. "I only answer to FEDRA. Move ." Your voice remained unwavering and firm. Today was not the day to mess with you—no day was, truly, but especially not today, not when Tess was potentially in danger.

"I'm sure you do, lady," his voice rose an octave, revealing his true youth, and you flinched, feeling the muscles in your neck tighten. The words struck a chord within you, sending pure fire and rage through your veins. If you had no self-control, you would have thrown him down the stairs, sending him toppling over his even younger friends.

"Kevin! " The high-pitched screech of a lady echoed from above. Fear quickly filled the boy’s eyes as everyone turned their attention upward. A slender woman with gaunt cheeks peered out from the window. Her eyes resembled an endless abyss of darkness, and even from the fourth story, the emptiness within them was noticeable. Looking back at the teen, his complexion had gone ashen, he grimaced as he continued staring at the woman. He eventually shrugged as to say what? “Get your ass up here, right now, and do not make me come down there and drag you up those fucking stairs again.”

A few passersby halted in their tracks, drawn by the angered mother, before eventually moving on. Meanwhile, the boy’s so-called friends engaged in hushed conversations among themselves, punctuated by the occasional laughter.

"Mommy's calling, Kev," you quipped, and he quickly redirected his focus toward you. Clearly embarrassed, he flung the door open with such force that the front side smacked against the brick building. The others who still lingered let out boisterous bursts of laughter.

You halted the door with the palm of your hand as it started to swing back. Kevin's footsteps, fueled by a mix of anger and embarrassment, reverberated throughout the building. The echoes of his heavy steps were accompanied by a symphony of coughs, hushed whispers, and the distant cries of a baby from one of the levels above. This was your first time stepping foot in this section of apartments. Cracks ran up the walls and you followed the lines with your eyes as they spiderwebbed out across the ceiling; chunks of plaster had crumbled away, revealing the inner parts of the framework. A dense layer of dust and dirt had settled on the floor, with the damp corners transforming into a mud-like substance. You thought your building was a shithole, but this one certainly shifted your perspective. If the hallways were this bad, you could only imagine the condition of the actual apartments.

Tess and you never disclosed the exact details of your residences within the Boston QZ. There were small references scattered throughout your conversations: a shared connection residing in her building, a tidbit of valuable intel picked up from a soldier in yours, Tess frequently mentioned an entrance to a tunnel system in her basement, and you revealed a vulnerability in the wall behind your place—a FEDRA-secured spot discreet enough to go unnoticed yet fragile enough for someone with the right knowledge to exploit. Tess had told you just enough information for you to assume she lived in Area 4. 

Uncertain of Joel's whereabouts, you pondered the possibility that he ended up going with Tess. However, one thing was clear: erring on the side of caution seemed wiser. Plus, the prospect of a day spent in anticipation had a certain appeal, certainly better than your other options.

Upon returning to the building's entrance and starting to ascend the steps, a voice captured your attention. "What brings you to this part of the QZ?" The tone carried a blend of amusement and genuine curiosity.

"Hannah, what... where have you been?" Your heart sank as you turned and examined her face. In a different world, you might have embraced her, shedding tears of joy at her mere existence. But this was not that kind of world. “I thought you were dead.” Your voice became eerily quiet as your throat began to burn. 

“Got sent to the hole for a week…then a month.” She replied, the bruised swelling on her cheek evidence of her troublesome ordeal. “Turns out those FEDRA bastards aren’t all talk.” Her mouth curved into a frown, and her voice took on a small, almost melancholic tone. The implications of her words made your stomach twist into a tight knot.

“I’m sorry. You just got out?” you inquired, tracing your thumbnail along the pad of your index finger. She nodded before heading toward the stairs on the opposite side of the hallway. With a quick motion of her head, she gestured for you to follow her. You wondered: Perhaps she would know where Tess lives.

The two of you ascended the narrow staircase in silence. The nature of your usual conversations was not suitable for casual hallway talk, especially with the ever-attentive ears around.

“Seriously though, what are you doing here?” In a hushed tone, Hannah asked when you reached the third floor of the building, glancing nervously over her shoulder. Your hamstrings throbbed from the steps, and a wave of dizziness washed over you due to your lack of nutrition. You waited for the small child accompanied by an elderly lady to pass by, allowing them to create some distance before responding.

“I’m looking for Tess and Joel, you wouldn’t happen to know which unit is their’s?” Your voice quivered unmistakably as the words escaped your lips. The moment you uttered their names, Hannah halted, fixating on you with a vacant expression. She rubbed her lips together a few times before releasing a nervous sigh.

“Why?” The word came out like a tautly pulled string, resonating deep with tension.

“It’s not–it’s not like that I promise.” The desperation grew stronger when you realized Hannah, in fact, knew where she lived. “I can’t tell you much, you know how it is. I haven’t seen her in a week and I’m worried, okay? I just want to make sure she’s okay, or at least try and see if Joel knows.”

Hannah scoffed, a wince accompanying the smile that graced her face as her bruised cheek lifted. “Good luck with Joel. But- uh…” She let your voice trail off as if she were contemplating. “They’re on the fourth floor, room 402. It’s down the hall from the stairs, second room on the left. If I find out you–”

“Hannah, I promise.” You cut her off before she could finish. Her look softened as you both came up to her door. “I owe you one, seriously.”

She nodded a few times, lingering in the doorway of her apartment, avoiding eye contact with you. Uncertain of what else to say, you offered her a pitiful smile before turning away and heading back towards the stairs. “Hey,” Hannah yelled out to you as you walked away, causing you to turn back toward her. She glanced around cautiously before locking eyes with you. “If you go out again, be careful. Things are really… they’re getting bad.” Her voice barely reached your ears. With a single nod, you turned away, the sound of the door clicking and locking behind you.

The peephole seemed to stare back at you as you stood in front of the door. Almost ten minutes had passed since you found the apartment–room 402. The initial few minutes were occupied by your hand hesitating in mid-air, contemplating whether to knock. The past several minutes were spent pacing the vacant, dark hallway. You weren’t afraid of what was behind the door, despite the things you’ve heard about Joel, you harbored no fear for him. Your hesitation stemmed from what you might find out once that door opens.

You released a forced exhale through your nose, embarrassment and foolishness swelling within your chest. Using the meaty side of your fist, you pounded against the door three times. You took a step back, biting your lip in anticipation. Your ears strained as you tried to catch any indication of someone behind the door. After a few minutes passed with no response, you decided it wouldn't hurt to try one more time— one last attempt before you staked out on the ground and waited for someone to return, hopefully soon.

Again, you pounded on the door three times, this time a bit louder and with more force. Before taking a step back, you tried twisting the door knob, just to check–it was locked, as you expected it to be. A lot of people didn’t care, leaving their doors unlocked as nothing they had was ever truly their’s, but Tess had more at stake, and she was well aware of that.

Your attention sharpened at the sound of something falling inside the apartment. Leaning in, you pressed your ear against the door, furrowing your brows as you strained to concentrate on the muffled noises within. The muted murmur of a man's voice and the persistent scraping of wood against wood resonated in your ears. The vibrations from approaching footsteps reverberated through the ground, growing louder as the person neared the door causing you to straighten once again.

A gust of wind hit you as the door swung open, revealing a middle-aged man, his hair dark and wavy with whisps of gray and a patchy salt and pepper beard; you assumed this was Joel. “What?” His voice, laden with grogginess and hostility, carried a biting edge within that single word, nearly causing you to flinch. He wasn't looking at you; it seemed as though he was staring right through you. Your lips parted, but nothing came out. 

As he reached to close the door, his hand curling around its edge, you took a single step forward. “You know where Tess is?” Your words were calm yet firm, just as you intended. You could see the cords of muscles in his forearm strain as he halted the movement of the door.

"What do ya want with Tess?" His question almost sounded like a test, his eyes narrowing at you as he leaned against the doorframe. Glancing in your peripheral vision, you suddenly realized how isolated you actually were; the fear of the Joel Miller amongst the smugglers began to seep through your veins, making you feel awfully small.

Straightening your posture and tilting your chin up, you looked him in his eyes. You couldn’t tell if his eyes were dark as night, or if his pupils were simply dilated to hell. “Haven’t seen her since last week and she didn’t meet up with me this morning like she usually does, just wanted to make sure all was good.” You responded, aiming for a neutral tone to avoid sounding too overbearing. 

Joel ran his tongue over the front of his top teeth, looking you up and down with a gaze as hard as stone. Nothing was behind those eyes of his, which made your stomach twist and turn. You’ve dealt with a lot of different kinds of people over the last several long and grueling years, enough to learn that someone having nothing behind their eyes, is not a good sign. 

To your surprise, he allowed the door to swing open, its weight pulling it toward the back wall. Without uttering a word, he turned away. Taking it as an unspoken invitation, you entered, surveying the apartment before you. It was somewhat as you had imagined—dimly lit and dilapidated, but undeniably lived in.

The rotting wooden floor planks creaked under your steps as you crossed the threshold. He gestured toward the table, just past the door, indicating a chair. Walking deeper into the apartment, he headed to the kitchen, grabbing something off the counter. Pulling out the chair to face him, you observed the muscles in his back shifting under the dark green button-down. His elbow peeked out through a worn part of the shirt.

“So, do you know what she’s up to or not?” Urgency slipped into your words, evident enough for Joel to turn toward you, leaning against the edge of the counter. In one hand he held a glass bottle of liquor, in the other was an empty glass. For a moment, he stared at you, and you stared back, hardening your eyes.

“She’ll be back in a bit, she had some trade to do this morning.” He replied rather cooly as he stared into the bottom of the shallow glass. He blew into it to clear any dust that had settled. A sense of relief washed over you, however, a bit of confusion manifested. Some trade? You thought, wondering why she dipped in sewage and didn’t tell you beforehand. 

Tapping the tips of your fingers one by one softly on the table, you realized the piles of pills on the table, some in baggies, others scattered messily along the surface. Your eyebrows knitted together, the sun catching on the glass of empty bottles gleamed in your eye. Pills and alcohol. The sound of Joel belching caused your attention to flick back to him, his dilated pupils now making sense. 

“Mind if I wait here for her, we’ve got some urgent business to discuss.” You watched him carefully as he poured some of the liquor into the glass, throwing it back in one swallow.

He shook his head. “Be my guest.” His tone was sarcastic, sliding the glass onto the table as he passed you, making way for the bed that was just past the living room area.

Bite The Hand: Chapter Two

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