#and sometimes they would see them and interact with me

[cherryblossom-heart]

Do I still wish it was you?

Satoru Gojo x Reader 

Masterlist (If you're into marvel)

Summary: You were content in the darkness his absence had left you, his memory keeping you focused on one plan. It had to be a white-haired sorcerer with an annoying personality and the bluest eyes you had ever seen—the one who came and saved you from it.

12.7 k words

Content warning: ANGST, mentions of suicide, depression, violence, grief, past Toji x Reader, foul language, +18 SMUT, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, rough sex, unprotected sex (wrap it y’all). fluff, Satoru is the sweet, jumping from a building but not a bad way, fighting, fReader

A/N: Ik this is out of my usual content but I can't get over the JJK men so, I hope you guy's like it. You're welcomed to send me an ask with any comments, questions, etc., you have on this. 😊

Sweat covered your forehead as you fought to recover your breath, the smell of sex and humanity filled his bedroom along with the sound of heavy breathing. It took a couple of minutes for you to finally stand from the bed, making your way to the bathroom, not bothering to cover up.

You saw your reflection in the mirror. Naked, disheveled hair, flushed skin along with droplets of sweat, and a minor bruise on your collarbone, the result of a certain white haired sorcerer’s lack of restraint. A small smile placed on your lips before you could stop it as you touched it, the skin still a little tender.

Your sight landed on the small tattoo you had on the left side of your chest, a small black lined heliotrope carefully placed on top of your heart. A prickling sensation invaded your eyes along with the painful sensation of guilt, what were you even doing here? How could you smile when he was gone?

The feelings didn’t get a chance of nesting in you though, as firm hands wrapped around waist and lips caressed your neck. Your sight darted to the mirror, meeting the most breath taking blue eyes you had ever seen along with a smile.

“If you don’t get any clothes on, I might have to fuck you again.”

You smiled at him, desire igniting again as he’s hands caressed your skin.

“Is that supposed to be a threat?”

A cocky smirk showed up on his face, not that it was unusual to see it. Satoru Gojo was nothing but confident, sometimes overstepping to egocentric, but you would be damned if you didn’t admit he had good reasons for it.

His lips brushed your ear, hot breath hitting your skin.

“It’s a promise that I very much intent to fulfill.”

Satoru Gojo was going to be the death of you.

Correction, Satoru Gojo was going to be the reason you would live.

You hadn’t planned for this. You had a set plan: to become a sorceress, completing missions, breaking curses, and fighting battles, one after another. A non stop cycle of violence and war until your body gave out and if death came for you, it wouldn’t bother you. You would receive it as a long awaited friend as nothing mattered to you anymore, never since the day he died.

He was supposed to meet you back at your apartment in Kyoto, he had promised you he would be there. You waited for hours, and hours turned into days and days turned into weeks.

The last thing you heard him was a couple of text messages that read:

Job’s almost done. Maybe we should take 

a vacation, go to Las Vegas and stay at 

one of those casino/hotels you were talking

about. 11:13 pm

Anyway, I’ll see you in two days. I’ve

missed you. 11:14 pm

He vanished without a trace after that.

You moved to Tokyo as you were tracing his last steps. You had talked to Kong, who could not give you any answers. Years of dead ends and unanswered questions finally led you to give up. That day, you drank yourself to sleep.

Everyone was sure he had left you behind, taken his payment for his last job, and left the country. You couldn’t blame them, it was on brand for him to do something alike, but this wasn’t the case. You knew he wouldn’t do that to you, not when he promised he would see you.

There was also this strange feeling that had settled on your chest the day after his text. It had taken you by surprise as you were just having lunch and suddenly a sharp pain hit you in the chest and the sensation that something had gone wrong hit you. You had thought it was just stress of not seeing him, maybe a little of an overreaction from you, but as time passed, the emptiness in your chest never left.

He was dead.

After over a year of wandering aimlessly in Tokyo, a certain blue-eyed sorcerer found you. You felt his stare while you were getting your coffee, the burning sensation of a powerful presence followed you around the streets of the city. You pretended you were oblivious to it, changing your path every once in a while to double check you were being tailed.

Once the amount of people around you dissipated, you made your way to a bench in the park, sitting in it so calmly it almost seemed everything was normal for your follower. That was until you looked to the buildings on your left, your eyes connecting with a white-haired man with blackened Windsor glasses. For a second he looked surprised, as it was almost impossible that you could’ve sensed him, but a playful smiled replaced it as soon as it came.

It took him less that 60 seconds to come to approach, you crossed your legs once you felt a presence taking the remaining space in the bench you had sat on. Even when you didn’t look at him, you could still feel that cocky smile on him.

“How did you know I was following you?” He questioned, his arms spreading along the back of the bench as he made himself comfortable.

You took a sip of your coffee. “I could feel you.” You said, nonchalantly. Imitating him, you leaned back. “How did you get here so fast?”

“I teleported.” He shrugged.

“Huh, interesting.”

“You don’t seem surprised at all.” He turned around to look at you.

“Why would seeing a Jujutsu Sorcerer surprise me?” you asked, now facing him.

The air in your lungs almost disappeared as you found two blue eyes peaking over his glasses, it was almost as if they could see inside your soul. The shiny speckles that seemed to dance around his iris called you, entrancing you into looking at them longer.

Was that his power? Who was this man and why was he stalking you?

“So you know about Jujutsu Society?”

“What does it matter to you?” You barked, your harsh tone only making him smile more. “Who the fuck are you, and why the fuck are you following me?”

He lifted his hands. “Woah there princess, I don’t mean any harm, I promise.” He extended his right hand to you. “I’m Satoru Gojo. The strongest sorcerer in the world.” He winked as you shook his hand.

You rolled your eyes the pet name and his ego. “Sure you are.”

At the moment you didn’t believe him, thinking he was just an over confident asshole that was just pushing your buttons. Looking back, it made you chuckle at how wrong you were.

He laughed, amused at your response. “You really are something else, aren’t you?”

“Why don’t you just tell me what do you want?” You huff, already exasperated by him.

Blue eyes locked on you as he leaned forward. “Why don’t you tell me about that special grade knife you keep in that purse?”

Your pulse picked up, the feeling of your heart smashing against your ribcage so hard you felt it would burst out. You couldn’t let him take it, he gave it to you. Perhaps you were too obvious with your worries though, as his eyes traveled to the tight grip you had suddenly imposed on your bag.

“Don’t worry, I’m not taking it away.” He reassured you. “I was assigned to take it, but now you’ve captured my attention. I have a hunch you’re much more interesting than that old piece of steel.”

You had found yourself entangled in the world of Jujutsu, at least more than you already were.

He had told you about the sorcerer world, the clans, the sorcerers, the customs, the curses, and everything that came along with that. You had known you had abilities to see things no one else seemed to notice, abilities to get rid of the monsters that crawled all over the world that you had perfected on your own, but you were never sure what to call them or what to call yourself.

Not until a black-haired man with green eyes and a purple worm surrounding him bumped you in the street. A man whose name you couldn’t even mutter without breaking down.

Now you had joined the same world he despised and worked alongside the same people he hated. The sorcerer world had found your abilities useful, at least for the time being, and they had decided, with some pressure from Satoru, that you could be a good addition to their dwelling numbers.

You didn’t like working for them; you didn’t want to do it for a long time, but you had thought it was a good way to just let go and prepare yourself for death. A jujutsu sorcerer's life span was never long; sooner than later they would find their demise. Sure, you could just kill yourself; it would probably be way faster, but if there was an afterlife and you found him there, he would be disappointed in you. Besides, it reminded you of him; he had helped you be as strong as you currently were.

So you fought, day and night; you took whatever they had; there was no small or too big of a curse for you to take. Everything seemed fine for a while; you were content with how things were for a week, until Satoru decided to intervene.

An annoying little prick—that’s what you usually describe him as. His interest in you hadn’t dwindled even after you agreed to join him; it even seemed to have made things worse. He pestered you, following you around with a cocky attitude and bad jokes, forcing you to go with him to places just so he could buy desserts. He got in the way with your missions, babysitting you in as many as he could.

The thing that annoyed you the most was the fact that he was always looking at you, not in a weird, sexual kind of way that you could’ve handled, but he did it in a way that it felt he was trying to look into your soul. Even if you couldn’t see his eyes behind the black pair of glasses, you could still feel the burn of his stare on your skin. It felt as if he wanted to know all your secrets, and for the same reason you tried to stay away from him, but the more you tried to do it, the more he seemed to put an effort into crushing it.

Satoru Gojo was the bane of your existence.

“I told you it was a good idea to get this peach daifuku for the way home.” He said, mouth full of food. “Want one?”

“Sure.” You muttered, snatching it out of his hand.

This was the third time in a week he had decided to come with you for a mission, your patience running thin the more time you spent with the white-haired sorcerer. You had done your job without any hiccups, and the worst part about it was that it seemed he wasn’t even there to intervene if anything did happen, evidently by his relaxed stance along with his arms crossing his chest.

That could only mean that he was tasked with babysitting you or he had actively chosen to follow you everywhere, and you didn’t know which one was worse.

“Hey, Gojo...” you started, unsure on how to make your point. “You don’t have to babysit me, you know that, right? I think I’ve shown you I’m capable enough of doing this.”

“That’s not why I’m here.” He answered, lazily stretching his arms along the subway seats.

“Then why are you here?” You questioned, slapping away the arm that was on your side.

“Cause I like keeping you company.”

Cocky blue eyes met yours, except this time they weren’t all cocky; they were sincere. They looked at you with precaution, gaging your reaction towards his words as if they were almost afraid to scare you away.

You didn’t give an answer to his words, opting instead for eating your snack in silence. Maybe it was worse that he had been babysitting you; if that had been the case, you wouldn’t have had a small smile on your face.

A knock on your door woke you from your impromptu nap; the banging was so loud it reverberated throughout the house. You looked at your watch and noticed that it was only 7 p.m., but that didn't make it any better; whoever it was, you wanted to kill them.

With angry footsteps you made your way to the door, not caring that it looked like you had just woken up.

"What?!" You yelled, flinging the door open.

Your sight was flooded with snacks and movies before revealing Satoru, his glasses slightly tilted down as he looked at your clothes.

"Nice outfit." He winked.

Suddenly you realized that the only thing you were wearing was a gray sweater, barely big enough to cover your thighs. You pulled the sweater down, warmth infiltrating your face.

"Why are you here?"

"Movie night." He said simply, pushing his way into your apartment.

Once he was in the living room, his eyes scanned his surroundings, which in turn made you a little too aware that your apartment was too empty, almost as if no one lived there.

"I don't remember inviting you." You pinched the bridge of your nose, sure a migraine was on its way.

"Hey, it's not like you have anything better to do."

After a few seconds of delivery, you grabbed the bag of instant popcorn to make it in your microwave, rolling your eyes at his smile.

Maybe it was because you were too tired to argue with him; having just woken up, your brain wasn't working so well. Maybe it was because you knew it would take less time to go along with his shenanigans than it would to argue with him.

Or maybe, just maybe, you felt lonely. Sure, Satoru wasn't your first choice, but he seemed to want to be there, even when you tried to keep away from him. There was something about his persistence that made you smile, almost like a puppy you couldn't keep away.

If you were honest, he wasn't that bad. In another life, you might have enjoyed his company, maybe even become friends, but you weren't interested in anyone else coming into your life, not with a hole in your chest with a name on it.

But just for one night, you decided to give in.

You sat down next to him and put the bowl of popcorn between you. "So what are we watching?"

"This." He handed you a DVD case with a foreign title on it, Italian, it seemed. “The movie is great; there's a lot of action; the only bummer is the main guy dies.”

You slapped his arm.

"Thanks, dickhead. Way to spoil the movie."

“Don’t be a cry baby; you could’ve guessed it within the first 10 minutes of the movie.”

You scoffed. "You don't know that."

"Sorry, my bad." He raised his hands. "You're acting like I said the main guy's love interest turns out to be working for the bad guys."

"Dude!"

He laughed, the echo of his voice resounding along the walls.

"I can't believe you fell for that."

"Just play the stupid movie."

You ended up watching two more movies that night before you both fell asleep. And in the warmth and comfort of your lonely apartment, it was the first time in a long time that you didn't think of green eyes and black hair before you closed your eyes.

"Ah, come on. You need to give me more details." Satoru complained, walking alongside you.

"I don't have to give you shit."

It had been a few months since that movie night and you had found yourself not completely rejecting Gojo's presence, and on good days, you would say you enjoyed it. You didn't argue as much when he joined you on missions, and you didn't fight him when he wanted you to go with him to get something to eat or to your apartment to watch a movie. It was... a routine of sorts, and you'd be lying if you said you didn't enjoy it at least a little.

"You can't just tell me you have a tattoo and not tell me what or where it is."

"And you'll never know."

He hurried his steps, standing in front of you, but walking backwards. He put his hands together and begged you to answer.

"Please, you must tell me, the secret could kill me. What would you do if the strongest sorcerer in the world died and it's all your fault?"

"I'd probably throw a party." You snorted.

Satoru, the drama queen he always was, put his hands over his heart, a playful 'ouch' escaping his lips.

"You hurt me, Princess. I thought you would be devastated if something happened to me." Gojo pouted, the sight making you chuckle slightly.

"Oh yes, absolutely. I would mourn you for at least ten years." You joked.

"Make it fifteen and I might consider forgiving you." He winked.

You made your way through the busy streets of Tokyo until you found yourselves standing in line for coffee, the cozy environment of the place giving you a sense of warmth.

"If I pay for your drink, will you tell me about your tattoo?" He whispered next to your ear.

The smell of his mouthwash hit your nostrils, the cool mint scent lingering in your mind for a few seconds.

"It's going to take a lot more than a bad cup of coffee for me to tell you this."

He rolled his eyes, arms outstretched in defeat as he wrapped one of them around your shoulders. You shook your shoulder, trying to get him off of you, but he didn't budge. You told yourself that just for once you would allow it.

"How about dinner sometime? Would that be enough for you to tell me?" He said casually.

You turned to him, one eyebrow raised in disbelief, thinking he was joking. Although the way he had said it made you think for a second that it was real and there was another intention behind his invitation. That thought only lasted a second as you found it impossible that he was talking about a date, so you played along.

Your eyes turned back forward as you shrugged. “Depends where you take me. Spend enough money on me and I might give you a hint."

"Oh, you're one of those girls?" He chuckled. "You only go out with someone who takes you to expensive places and showers you with gifts?"

"Well, Gojo... if you want to know all my deepest, darkest secrets, you might as well try a little harder." 

Silence fell upon you, making you think the conversation was over, but a few minutes later he spoke again, surprising you with his words.

"Alright, I'll pick you up tomorrow at eight."

The dim lights of the restaurant made for a more private, intimate atmosphere. Gojo had actually kept his promise, you could tell the restaurant was way over your budget, the cutlery alone seemed to have cost a fortune. The waiter had been very attentive, leading you both to a table at the back of the restaurant and taking your coat to put it away.

Once the two of you were alone, you had assured Satoru that you had only been joking, that you had not really taken his offer seriously.

"Why did you come?" He asked, taking a bite out of the appetizer he had ordered.

"I mean, who am I to turn down free food?"

He chuckled, "And what do you think so far? Worth your time?"

"Ask me after dessert and I'll give you an answer."

Dinner continued with ease, and after a few glasses of wine, you began to laugh at his jokes and make some of your own. You never thought that spending time with Satoru would make you so... happy? You weren't even sure how to describe it, the only thing you knew was that it wasn't horrible.

It was actually quite nice. And for the first time in a long time, you allowed yourself to get to know someone.

You talked about where you grew up, how you got your powers, and about your family. In return, he talked about his clan, how he had mastered his powers and about some of his years at Jujutsu High. You talked about little things, your hobbies, your favorite color and your favorite movies.

Talking with Satoru made you realize that you knew so little about him, even though you had known each other for almost a year. Sure, you knew some little details here and there, but you never went in depth, to you, Satoru was nothing more than a pain in the ass and a pawn of the Jujutsu society. Unfortunately, it seemed that almost everyone else thought the same.

That night, you realized that only a handful of people saw him as Satoru instead of Gojo, the greatest defender in the Jujutsu society. Perhaps that was why, despite his colorful personality, he seemed lonely. He seemed to be missing someone in his life who would see him as something other than the power he was born with. For whatever reason, this thought made your heart ache.

Throughout the night, you found yourself staring at him more than usual, noticing every little detail of his face. You noticed the way his hair sometimes fell over his eyes, the way his smile showed most of his teeth, the wrinkles that appeared at the corners of his eyes when he laughed. You also noticed the tenderness of his eyes, how every so often he looked at you in a way that would make your heart hammer against your chest or the way he would look at your lips every so often and you weren’t sure if he knew you noticed or he just didn’t care.

At the end of the night, you were having trouble deciding which dessert to get, not sure whether to get the cheesecake or the assorted mochi, so he told you to get both.

"I don't believe you, there's no way you don't have hobbies."

He laughed. "I really don't. I'm just too good at everything I do."

You rolled your eyes at him. "And you have the biggest ego I've ever seen in my life."

"Some would call it ego, I call it confidence. And well deserved."

You finished your last mochi, enjoying the last bit of strawberry flavor. As soon as you had taken the last bite, Satoru spoke eagerly.

"So, was this dinner good enough for you to tell me about your tattoo?"

You pretended to hesitate for a second, but you had to hand it to him, he went all out.

"I guess I have to tell you now that you spent so much money on it." You said with a sigh.

"Yes!" He exclaimed, pumping one of his fists in the air.

"Don't get too excited, it's nothing too scandalous." You pulled your cleavage to the side, exposing the left side of your chest.

His eyes locked on the drawing on your skin, heat burning inside you the longer he stared.

"It's a flower?"

You nodded. "It's a heliotrope."

"What does that mean?"

Your voice wavered, your chest tightening. You couldn't talk about it. You didn't want to. But you couldn't show him.

"That's a story for another time."

As much of an asshole as you thought Satoru was, you knew he wasn't an idiot, he understood that you didn't want to talk about it, so he seemed to let it go.

"Alright, that's fair. I got a lot of secrets tonight." He stood up and straightened his black suit. "I'm going to go to the bathroom real quick and then we can go, is that okay?"

"Sure, take your time."

You lost sight of him as he turned the corner and your mind wandered over everything that had happened tonight. You hadn't expected that Satoru would actually buy you dinner and in such a place, and even though you knew that this was just a peasant's change for him, it still surprised you.

You were also surprised by how... human he was. He had surprised you once when he told you about the children he was sponsoring and taking care of, since their parents were nowhere to be found. You didn't get the change to ask for their names, but you were sure you would get another one, you were sure Satoru wasn't done surprising you.

A man called your name and made you look up. 

Shiu Kong stood in front of you, his desvihebeled appearance intact, except for the way he had done his hair, a small attempt to soothe it.

"Kong." You said as you stood up. You shook his hand in greeting, wanting to get this conversation over with before Gojo returned. "What brings you here? Pleasure or business?"

"You know it's always business." He scoffed. His eyes took a double look at your dress before a small grin appeared on his face. "I would ask the same, but it looks like it's all pleasure for you."

"I guess you could call it that." You shrugged nonchalantly.

Neither of you said anything for a second. It wasn't like you were friends, you were barely a step above strangers and the only connection you had was gone. Fortunately, Shiu broke the silence.

"I never expected to see you here." He cleared his throat. "It's good to see you moved on."

Her heart fell to the ground, replaced by a painful sting.

"I... no, it's not like that." You tried to explain, your words stumbling.

Why did you try to justify yourself? This wasn't a date, was it?

"Hey, I'm not asking for explanations." He said. "I'm not judging you, it's been a while since anyone has heard from Toji."

Toji.

His name came back to haunt you as if it was the first day he didn't go home. The pain was excruciating, almost blinding you to the point of passing out. You hadn't heard his name in over a year, you didn't even dare to say it.

That was a date, right? What the hell were you doing going on a date with Satoru Gojo? How could you do that to Toji's memory? How could you be in a restaurant, laughing and enjoying the company of someone who wasn't his? A sorcerer's sorcerer?

How could you?

A man in a suit called out to Kong, motioning for him to come over to where he was.

"Anyway, I have to go now. Have a good life, kid."

You barely registered his handshake or when he walked away, all you could do was stand there and try not to collapse. The sudden realization hit you, you hadn’t thought of him throughout this whole night, only at the very end of it.

You had forgotten him.

A hand on your shoulder made you jump, worried blue eyes looking at you through the usual black glasses.

"Are you okay?" Satoru asked, worry lacing his words.

No.

How could you be okay when you forgot him? How could you even do that?

You didn't know what to do, the hole in your chest threatened to swallow you whole. It was what you deserved.

"I-I have to go." You said simply.

With quick movements, you grabbed your purse and made your way to the exit. You didn't care about getting your coat, not when your lungs couldn't breathe, each inhale bringing you closer to suffocation.

The heels you wore hindered your steps, almost causing you to trip twice. With frantic movements, you kicked them off, your bare feet touching the streets of Tokyo as you tried to run from the white-haired sorcerer who kept calling your name.

Calls and texts flooded your phone, finally forcing you to turn it off.

You avoided Satoru after that.

"The wound will heal in no time, but I would still recommend you to take a few days off." Shoko said as she took off her gloves.

"I'll think about it." You said, no real promise behind your words.

Shoko looked at you, studying your face carefully. You knew what she saw, the dark circles, the carelessness of your appearance. But most of all, the pain behind your eyes. Maybe a while ago you would have been careful, trying to hide it so no one could see it, but at this point you didn't really care anymore.

As you rolled your shirt down to cover your torso and the large cut that had been made there, the door burst open, making both of you jump.

Satoru entered the room, taking strong and determined steps towards you, and within seconds he was standing next to you. He lifted your shirt just enough to get a glimpse of the damage the curse had caused, cold fingers poking at the newly healed skin.

It took you a few seconds to snap out of it, but eventually you were aware of how close he was and how exposed you felt.

"What the hell are you doing?" You barked, taking a step away from him and dropping your shirt.

"What the fuck am I doing?" He repeated, an incredulous tone in his words. "What the hell were you thinking? We were supposed to go on this mission together."

You got his text, along with several others telling you to wait for him before going in. Just like the ones you got before, this one was ignored.

"I don't remember asking for a partner."

He scoffed. “You can’t be serious right now? You almost fucking died and you’re mad at me for wanting to go with you.”

"I don't need your help!"

"You do when you've been trying to get yourself killed ever since I met you!" He shouted, his chest heaving with anger as he came closer to you.

"Satoru-" The doctor tried to intervene but Gojo stopped her.

"Stay out of this, Shoko."

"So what if I am?" You said and came closer to him.

"Do you know how fucking crazy this is?" His hands went to his hair and pulled it back in despair. "You've had a bad life? Tough shit, everyone here has been through tough times, you think that makes you special? That somehow that makes it okay for you to say fuck it and act so fucking stupid?"

His words burned deep inside you, you didn't know what he was talking about. He couldn't even imagine how it felt. He knew the effect of his words, but he kept going.

"You want to know why I still go on missions with you? Because of shit like this. Not only will you get yourself killed, but you might end up hurting someone else. Is that what you want? Don't you care about anything but your own selfishness?"

Your eyes began to sting, his face just inches from yours. Blue eyes were once more focused on you, once again searching in your soul. This time though, you could see something in them, a type of pain you didn’t understand. It almost made you back away.

Almost.

"My life is none of your damn business. Drop the 'savior' complex and stay the fuck out of my life." You pushed him away. "We're not friends, I can barely stand you, and I sure as hell don't need you pestering me with whatever this is. Stay. The. Fuck. Away."

His hands became fists and you thought he was going to grab you, maybe even shake you. Instead, he walked away, the only remnant of his presence being the sandalwood scent of his cologne. You stood there for a while, your chest heaving as you tried to fight back the tears.

"He's not wrong, you know?" Shoko spoke, her voice startling you. For a moment, you forgot that she was in the room. "It's pretty obvious that you're trying to get yourself killed."

You thought about arguing with her the same way you had with Gojo, only you didn't have the energy anymore, the weight of everything hit you all at once. You sat back in the chair where you had been examined, your head hanging from your shoulders.

"I don't know what to tell you, Shoko. Life sucks."

She laughed. "Yeah, I'll give you that much." She reached into her pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. She grabbed one before holding her arm out to you. "You want one?"

"Do you have anything stronger?"

"Not today, sorry. Cigarette is the best I can offer."

You took one out and put it between your lips. Shoko lit yours before hers, the smoke filling your lungs immediately. The raw sensation in your throat almost made you forget your pain, a good side effect you more than welcomed.

“I know that Satoru can be a little too much but he means well.“ She paused, trying to find the right words. "We have seen this before with one of our classmates, not exactly the same, but close enough. He was Satoru's best friend."

You were surprised, not once had he ever mentioned it, although you hadn't exactly asked questions about his life, not until this dinner.

"Is he dead?" was the only thing you could think of to ask.

"Oh, no. He's very much alive, he's just..." She took a drag on the cigarette. "I don't think it's my place to tell you this, so let's just say that things have gone very badly for him. So you can understand why he's a little worried about you."

Neither of you said much after that, preferring to smoke in silence. Shoko's words made sense to you, there was always a hint of sadness when Satoru talked about his school days. Even when he smiled and told you about his pranks as a teenager, at the very end of his stories, his eyes would flash with pain, just for a second.

After a few minutes, you finished your cigarette, stubbing it out on the sole of your shoe. You thanked Shoko for her care and for the cigarette as you made your way to the door until she called your name.

"Satoru told me about your dinner and how you avoided him." Heat flushed your cheeks, slightly embarrassed that someone else was aware of your actions. "I like you and I don't know what's going on between you two and it's none of my business, but he's my friend." Her eyes hardened as she spoke. "So don't hurt him or I'll have to hurt you. Don't make me hurt you."

Your eyes widened in surprise for a moment, the look in Shoko's tired eyes replaced by a certainty that sent shivers down your spine.

"I'll try not to."

Rain in Tokyo always seemed to take you by surprise, especially because you always forgot to check the weather before going out. It was something you weren't used to, but every time you were forced to run in the rain, you told yourself you'd remember next time.

With a plastic take-out bag in your hand and your leather purse covering your hair, you ran like hell through the sea of umbrellas. You looked at your watch once you reached the stop sign, sighing at the time.

10:45 a.m.

"Shit." You muttered.

You could still make it, you tried to tell yourself. As soon as the light changed and you were able to cross the street, you took off. The purse you held over your head hindered your movements, so you had decided to just let it hang by your side as you rushed through the streets, making your way back to the school.

After a few instances of almost slipping and a few assholes passing you with their cars and making it their business to splash you with the water pooled next to the sidewalk, you finally arrived, the food still safe in your hand. You reached the building, wet marks leaving a trail behind you, and you checked the time.

10:59 a.m.

Yes.

Finally reaching the classroom you wanted, you stood outside. Voices could still be heard from the inside of the room, relief washing over you as you decided you wait outside. Only you felt the cold sensation of your wet clothes, making you shiver unconsciously.

The door flung open, a group of teenagers stopping in their tracks as soon as they saw you. They looked at you, confused not only to see you there, but at the state of your clothes.

"Uh-" one of them tried to speak, but you cut him off.

“Out. Now.”

With a quick pace, they left. You took a deep breath before venturing inside the room.

Satoru sat on top of a desk at the back of the room, eyes focused on his phone. He seemed to be typing a message, a mask of worry as he seemed to type and delete over and over again. You stayed by the door, words dying on your throat. What were you supposed to say? Should you just say hi and pretend everything is good even though you haven’t spoken in weeks? Or just go right to the point and apologize?

A ding from your phone brought back your attention, as well as Satoru’s. Your eyes widened, feeling as if you had gotten caught somewhere you weren’t supposed to be. You reached for your phone, glad that it was still dry enough to still function.

A small smile formed on your lips.

Greatest Pain in the Ass

Hey, 10:01 a.m.

You looked back at him, a light rose tinge spreading through his cheeks.

“Hi.” You said with a shy smile.

“Why are you soaking wet?” He questioned, eyes scanning your appearance.

“It’s raining outside.”

Satoru rolled his eyes. “You forgot to check the weather again?”

“Perhaps.” You answered, making your way to him. Once you reached the desk he was sitting on, you plopped down, opening the plastic bag you were carrying. You took out two honey lemon cold teas along with a couple of cheesecakes, two crepe rolls, and a package of sour candy.

“What’s this?” He asks as he grabs the tea.

You knew Satoru wasn’t going to be able to resist it, his sweet tooth always coming on top of everything.

“Take it as a peace offering.”

The sorcerer took off his jacket, handing it to you. You considered not taking it, but the shiver down your spine convinced you otherwise.

“Thanks.” You muttered.

In what seemed less than a minute, half the food is gone, the other half barely having a couple of bites. You sit in silence as you keep eating your cheesecake, occasionally sipping your tea.

“I’m sorry, by the way.” You broke the silence, the heaviness in your chest lifting as soon as you said the words.

“Did you just say sorry?” Asked Gojo, too incredulous to your annoyance. You nod, eying him. “You? You said I’m sorry? The rain must be toxic.” You rolled your eyes at him, and in return, he grabbed you by the shoulders, his face filled with fake concern. “It must already be in your brain! No, please don’t die!”

“Alright, asshole. I get it.” You pulled yourself apart, completely annoyed by his antics. You take a sip of your drink; you knew you deserved it. “I really am sorry, though. I’m sorry for leaving you at the restaurant and snapping at you back at Shoko’s.” You looked down to your hands, the feeling of shame creeping up over you. “I guess I’m sorry for being a dickhead in general to you, especially when you’ve been nice to me.”

“Why did you leave that day at the restaurant?”

“I—“ your words were caught on your throat. Should you lie? Tell the truth. Avoid the question? You looked at him, and even without being able to see his eyes, you knew what he was thinking.

Tell the truth.

You took a deep breath. “I used to be with someone, a man older than me, and he was... he was involved in a bad world. He left for one of his jobs, and one day he didn’t come back; he simply disappeared.” You stopped for a second, a knot on your throat almost breaking your voice. “I came here to find him; look for any clues that might tell me what happened to him, but I didn’t find anything, not a single word about him.” A tear took you by surprise when it fell from your left eye. You quickly wiped it, as if that could clear out the pain your heart felt. “The guy that used to be his handler was at the restaurant; we saw each other, and he—“ you scoffed. “He thought we were on a date and that he was glad I moved on. After that, I just couldn’t stay; I felt as if I was betraying his memory, betraying him, and everything was just too much for me. I felt like I was drowning the more I stayed there, so I did the best thing I could; I ran.”

Another tear made its way down your face, but you stopped caring. No matter how hard you tried, the pain of losing him would always be there.

After you finished your explanation, seconds went by without any response, something you attributed to him processing your story, but you weren’t sure. It had always surprised you how volatile Satoru was, sometimes easy to read as a first grade book, and sometimes, like now, where you might as well be reading a forgotten foreign language.

“Is that why you always put yourself at risk?” He finally spoke.

“Yes.” You answered, a tinge of shame crawling up over you. “I had a plan, you know? I was fine dying doing this. I needed it.”

“What changed?”

“You, I guess. It’s very difficult to die when someone keeps getting in the way.” You chuckled to yourself, Satoru, not finding any humor in your words. “I don’t know; one day I woke up and I realized that I didn’t want to die. I also realized I like being here.”

He looked at you, and this time his eyes carried a sadness too big to bear. “Are you still looking for him?” He asked, almost hesitantly.

“No, I know he’s dead.”

“How are you so sure?”

“I just feel it.” You shrugged. “I think I felt it the day he died; there was this painful and heavy sensation that got in my chest, and I couldn’t shake it off.”

“What would you do if you found the people that killed him?”

His question took you by surprise, as you didn’t expect it from him. You had thought about it a couple of times though, on long nights where you missed his presence and the scent was almost gone from his clothes. On nights you wished you had gone to Tokyo with him instead of staying back in Kyoto in your normal life. On nights you wished you could have his touch at least one more time.

“I’d kill them. And I’d make sure they would suffer.”

You both stayed in silence after that. A heaviness in the air had surrounded you, almost as if you had made things worse by telling him the truth. You knew that he wasn’t mad or disgusted by you, but there was a storm of thoughts going through his mind that made you wish you could read minds.

The silence was agonizing, and the longer it kept going, the more your chest would tighten. You wanted to break it any way you could, so you decided to ask a question that had been gnawing at you for weeks.

“Can I ask you something?”

He looked back at you, coming back to reality. “Shoot.”

“Was that supposed to be date?”

He smiled, almost sadly, as he fixed his hair. For some reason you got the feeling he had something more to say to you, but after careful deliberation he gave you a simple answer.

“Only if you want it to be.”

It was up to you.

God, why did he do that?

Was that what you wanted? Your mind was nowhere close to thinking about a relationship with someone else, let alone having a date. There were so many things wrong with you: dead boyfriend, inability to move on, active desire to die, walls so high up they could probably compete with the Great Wall of China. You had an attitude problem, a dangerous job, and you hated people getting too close to you. You were not looking to date.

But.

If you were going to have a date with anyone, the idea of it being Satoru didn’t bother you in the least.

Maybe you even liked it.

“I think I do.” You whispered.

You smiled at him.

He smiled too.

Satoru opened his mouth to say something, but a ding of his phone interrupted him. With annoyance, he unlocked his phone, his fingers typing up a quick response before putting the device back in his pocket.

“C’mon, lets go.” He said as he put together the trash from your snack and threw it in the can.

You downed the rest of your sweet tea, throwing the bottle to the same can and getting it in the first try. Satoru turned around and gave you a thumbs up. You caught up to him with a little stride.

"Where are we going?”

“To your place so you can get changed.”

Right. You were still soaking wet from the rain. Suddenly you were hyperaware of the squeaking sound your boots made and the smaller but still present trail of water you left on your way.

“After that, we have to go to Shinjuku.”

“Alright.”

His arm wrapped around your shoulders, and for the first time since you met him, you didn’t slap his arm away.

“Wait, I have another question.” You said.

“What is it?”

“What did you text me for?”

“…”

“You were going to apologize, weren’t you?”

“I was not.”

"Yes, you were! Man, I should’ve taken longer buying all this shit.”

“Whatever, it doesn’t matter anymore. You apologized first, so I win.”

“Oh, so it was competition now?”

Your voices filled the empty halls of the building, the bickering between you not stopping even when you were on good terms. This time there was something different though, and as laughter began erupting from both of you, you were sure there was no going back to how things were before today.

You liked that thought.

—————

Pink petals fell from the sky, swept away by the chill winds of April. Groups of people were scattered around Ueno Park, admiring the beatty of hundreds of cherry blossom trees along with hanging lanterns that decorated the main path to follow. Conversations, laughter, and music filled the air, and once you walked further into the park, the smell of food reached your nose.

Satorus hand pulled you towards one of the food stands, making both of you wait in line for some croquettes. You looked down at your joined hands, entwined fingers and all, and your heart skipped a beat.

Coming to the Cherry Blossom Festival had been an impromptu plan. Satoru had just texted you to dress up for the night in something you found comfortable enough to walk, and 20 minutes later he had knocked on your door, a blanket on his shoulder and a small basket on hand.

You liked that about him. Most of your dates had been improvised, to a certain extent. It was either him wanting to do something right in the moment or with him barely giving you time, just like when he asked you to pick you up the next day.

He brought spontaneity to your life in a way that made you happy. Satoru brought a lightness with him that you didn’t think a lot of people saw and how you wished everyone could. Maybe then they could see past the confident facade he always seemed to carry, and instead they would find the human, annoying as ever but with a heart the size of the world.

After getting your food, you went to find a place to sit that would allow you to have some privacy. Gojo guided you over a no trespassing sign, and when you expressed your concern, he simply smiled.

“Trust me, we’ll be fine.”

So you followed him until you found a good spot; there he extended the blanket while you put down the basket, making sure to take everything out. Petals fell all around you, and the darkness of the night enveloped you, except for the dim light of the moon and a couple of lanterns.

Everything was perfect.

Then his hand grabbed the side of your face, making you turn to him. He had taken out his glasses so the totality of his blue eyes were exposed. God, they were beautiful. His eyes went from your eyes to your lips, a quick but intense glance. His hand traveled to the back of your head, almost as if they were asking for permission to go forward. You grabbed his arm, your finger giving him a slight caress.

That was all he needed.

He kissed you. He kissed you in a way that made you forget to stop breathing. He kissed you in a way that you felt every single sensation around you, yet the only thing you could focus on was his lips on yours. He kissed you, and you wanted more. You wanted everything.

He kissed you with desperation, like he had wanted this for a long time.

He kissed you, and you tasted his mint toothpaste along with something else you couldn’t place.

You pulled apart to face worried blue eyes, looking for a sign that perhaps you didn’t want that. He thought he might’ve overstepped his boundaries, and you were going to run away again.

You kissed him again to erase his doubts, and you knew it.

He tasted like the future.

Moans filled his bedroom. The squeaking of the bed pushing against the wall made you glad you were at his apartment instead of yours; if anyone had to deal with angry neighbors, let it be him. Satoru hadn’t even let you take off your clothes completely; instead, he had pushed down your underwear and lifted up your skirt, your underwear still hanging from one of your ankles.

Your face was facing a pillow, but you had heard him pull his pants desperately. He was big; he had warned you, but once the tip of his cock had tried to breach your entrance, your confidence in taking him had severely dwindled. He knew what he was doing though, his hands traveling in front of you, finding your clit.

A gasp left your lips, the coldness of his hand surprising you. He drew small, precise circles on it; every time he would hit a certain angle, you could feel yourself getting wetter. He knew what he was doing.

“You’ve been driving me crazy, you know that.” He whispered in your ear.

Electricity traveled all over your body, the anticipation of him finally being inside you driving you crazy.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You panted, grinding all over his fingers.

You felt his hand smacking your ass. Hard.

He pulled your hair back, your head lifting from the pillow. “Don’t act dumb with me, princess.”

His lips found the right place on your neck, and the sensation of him sucking on it made your knees weak.

“You know this is my favorite skirt.”

Smack.

His fingers never gave you a rest; the longer they kept going, the more the pressure built inside you. Your skin felt on fire; every kiss, every caress, and every smack made you feel like you could almost cum. Satoru had a way of overwhelming your senses; you sometimes wondered if it was a side effect from his six eyes.

He went faster, fingers using your own moisture to slide all over your bundle of nerves. You were so close, your moans getting louder and louder. You wanted it. No, you needed it. You need it like a thirsty man needs water.

“Please.” You begged.

“Please what, princess.”

“D-don’t stop, I’m so close.” You breathed.

So, so close, the coil inside you tightening, ready to snap.

He stopped.

“What the f—“ Your whine was cut short by his cock sliding inside of you.

He did it all at once, not giving you time to adjust. God, he was huge. With one sharp thrust, he was completely inside. You felt a little pain, but the overwhelming amount of pleasure you felt washed it away to the back of your mind when he started thrusting.

“Is that what you wanted?” He asked, his voice gruff as he digged his fingers on your hips.

Smack.

“Answer me, you little slut. You wanted my cock so bad?”

“Y-yes!” You were barely able to say.

Smack.

“You thought you could tease me all night.”

Smack.

“Grind your ass against me.”

Smack.

“Your fucking hand was under my pants while we were in that meeting. You thought that was fucking funny?”

Smack. Smack. Smack.

“Fuck! No!”

His pace was relentless and punishing. He seemed like a wild animal who had just caught his prey. His thrust was too much; you found yourself pulling away from him, but strong hands pushed you back to him.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” He growled. “You wanted it so bad, now you have to take it.” A hand pressed your head against the bed, and you felt his left leg hoping on the bed.

You didn’t think he could reach deeper inside you. Once again, you were proven wrong. You couldn’t last longer, not when you felt the tip of his cock almost hitting against your cervix. Your walls tightened around him, causing him to hiss in pleasure.

“God, this pussy is perfect.”

He buried himself again and again and again until tears rolled down your eyes. He knew you were close.

“You’re going to come all over this cock, princess?”

A pathetic mumble resembling a ‘yes’ escaped your lips. That gave him the signal he needed.

This time his rhythm never stopped; consistent hard, deep, and quick thrusts punished your pussy over and over again. His grip on your ass tightened too; you were sure you would have marks on your skin tomorrow morning. He kept going, faster and faster; you heard moans that left his lips, and you were sure he was also close.

“Come on, baby, come all over this cock.”

That was all you needed to come undone.

He kept going for a couple of thrusts, rhythm gone as the desperation for chasing his high became bigger and bigger. His hands grabbed the sides of your hips, using them to bounce all over his cock. It was almost as if you were his own toy.

He came no long after that.

Both lay in bed, sweat covering your forehead and back as you gasped for air. Satoru was the first to stand up, grabbing a towel from the bathroom to clean himself. You were too tired to move, so the sorcerer took it upon himself to clean you himself. The cloth felt weird against the raw skin of your pussy but the carefulness of his touch made it better.

The towel flew across the room, landing in an unknown location. After picking up the now crumpled-up sheet, he covered both of you with it, his arms bringing you to his chest. The bluest eyes in the world looked at you, admiring every inch of your face as his hand caressed it.

You took the lead this time, reaching to him for a kiss. Your lips touched his, and his lips parted slightly, allowing you to deepen the kiss, his hands burying themselves in your scalp, pushing you in as if the closeness that you had wasn’t enough.

For the first time in a long time, you were happy at night; your heart didn’t ache as you fell asleep in the warmth of his arms.

“God, why the fuck did I listen to you?” You mumbled, dangerously close to the edge of the building.

Tokyo's city lights shone below your feet, the never-ending life of its streets still buzzing no matter how dark the sky was. The altitude you were in made the wind strong enough that you felt you were going to be swept away by it. The jacket you had brought was no match for the wind, your hands clenched on the material as if that would warm you more.

“Because it’s going to be fun.” Satoru said before kissing your cheek.

“Not if I freeze to death.”

Satoru stood next to you, tall, powerful, and beautiful, with his eyes free from the typical dark glasses. Even as you were at the edge of the top of a twenty-nine-story building, he seemed so nonchalant it couldn’t help but annoy you.

How could a man so annoying be so perfect?

How were you so lucky to have found two perfect men in your lifetime?

“You were the one that wanted to try this.” He laughed, a big smile on his face.

“Whatever, let’s just do it.”

His hand extended towards you, waiting for you to grab him back. Your hand went halfway before the corner of your eye caught how tall the building actually was. You had refused to look down for this very reason, but you couldn’t do anything now; your eyes were locked in.

What the fuck were you doing?

Fear settled in the pit of your stomach along with regret, as Satoru was right; you were the one that said you wanted to see how his teleporting worked. When you had asked him what his favorite part of it was, he answered free falling from a building and teleporting back to where he had started. And now, the longer you looked, the dizzier you felt.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“I can’t do it. This is fucking insane.” The volume of your voice was an octave higher, but you couldn’t control it.

You began backing away until hands on your face stopped you.

“Hey, it’s ok.” He said calmly. “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. We can just go back and do something else.” He waited a moment, trying to see if you would back away, but you didn’t. “If you want to do it, though, you have to trust me; trust that I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.”

He backed away, moving close to the edge. His hand reached out to you once more.

“Do you trust me?”

Your hand finally took his, trembling legs making their way to him.

You took a deep breath. You trusted him, even when your senses told you it was a bad idea. You trusted him even when your survival instinct fought hard to push you away from the edge.

You trusted him.

Wholeheartedly.

Fully.

Unconditionally.

You both jumped.

The rational part of your mind told you it had happened in a matter of seconds; it couldn’t have been more than four, considering the height of the building and the fact that you didn’t splatter all over the floor. For the other part of your mind, though, it was endless. You fell, and you fell, and you couldn’t stop falling; the floor was close but never close enough.

The scream that left your lungs made your throat ache, your chest rumbling as the scream kept coming and coming. Your heart wasn’t in your chest anymore; you were sure it had already exploded the moment your feet left the building. You were even surprised you were still breathing; your lungs didn’t seem to get enough air in them. You had heard how people that fall from skyscrapers die from heart attacks rather than the fall itself. Now you could see that happening; the longer you thought about it, the more you felt close to death. That was until you felt pressure on your hand. Satoru’s hand never left yours, even when you tried to pull your arms to your face, trying to cover your eyes from the ever-closing floor.

One moment you were in the air, and next you were back at the edge of the building.

Your legs failed, almost making you drop to the ground, but his arms were there to keep you steady. Miraculously, you still had a living heart, as you felt it’s beating on your ears every time. Gojo’s worried face gained your attention, his eyes scanning you as his lips moved, but his words never reached your ears. Only then did you finally process what had happened.

You had jumped from a building, and you had teleported back.

You were still alive.

The fear was quickly replaced by blinding excitement. The adrenaline coursing through your veins felt like hot liquid fire, this time the trembling of your body caused by it. The sudden feeling that you could conquer the world overcame you; you wanted to do it again and again and again so you could feel like this forever.

A laughter came out of you, which initially had scared Satoru, but the more you laughed, the more he was sure you were ok.

“I can’t believe I just did that.” You said as Satoru’s hands helped you stand up.

“I told you it was awesome.” He laughed along with you.

You jumped to his arms, pulling him in for a kiss. Your hands traveled all over his hair, pulling it as you deepened the kiss. His hands brought you up, settling on your ass once your legs wrapped around his waist. Something in him was desperate for your touch, his hands holding you in place as both of you kept exploring each other.

You pulled away from him, excited to tell him you wanted to try it again, but he interrupted you.

“Let’s do it aga—“

“I love you.”

Your heart stopped this time.

You knew he had loved you for a long time. Every moment you spent together you could see it. His love was in everything he did. It was in the way he made you laugh, in the way he would make sure you’d have enough to eat, in the way he would buy your favorite snacks on the way to your apartment, on the way he would offer to do the dishes so you could go take a shower, on the way he would caress your face, his eyes screaming the words he didn’t dare to say. His love was everywhere.

A long time ago you had never thought you would love someone the way you had loved Toji, and in a way you were right. Loving Toji had been intense, warm, and comfortable; for a man so closed up to love, he had surprisingly shown you so much of it, even if it had taken some time for it. You had loved Toji first, and you had given him your unconditional love even before he knew your feelings. Loving Satoru was different; it was quick and unexpected, but most importantly, it made you feel alive. You had gotten used to the shell of yourself you presented to the world, something you had gotten comfortable with, but Satoru had managed to break it with his bubbly, eccentric persona. He had teared the walls you had built, little by little chirping them apart, until your heart could beat for someone again. There was no comparison between Toji and Satoru; they both had your heart forever, just in different ways.

He loved you even when you felt like you didn’t deserve it.

So how could you not love him back?

“I love you too.”

The smell of pancakes filled Satoru’s apartment, along with the sound of his tinkering around the kitchen. You stretched yourself along his bed, your skin welling the coolness of the expensive sheets he had. Your body was sore; the toll of yesterday’s curse, along with your nighttime activities with Satoru, had left you drained.

You stood up, using one of his shirts to cover up. The sight that welcomed you once you reached the kitchen made you laugh. Pans and food were scattered everywhere as the sorcerer went back and forth from the pans to the freshly made orange juice he was trying to make.

“Who would’ve thought pancakes and orange juice would be your one true enemy?” You chuckled.

He turned around to face you, his hands carrying a bowl with what you assumed was pancake batter. A shy smile adorned his face, which managed to swell your heart with love.

“It’s not my fault the instructions on the recipe weren’t clear; how was I supposed to know you had to grease the pan with butter?”

“I’m pretty sure every recipe says so; even then, it’s basic knowledge.”

You walked closer to him, reaching out to him for a morning kiss, but he backed away.

"Don't; I have a raw egg all over me.”

“Now, how did you manage to do that?”

Satoru shrugged his shoulders, going back to his duty. You propped yourself on top of one of the kitchen stools, looking at the white hair sorcerer finish cooking the last of the pancakes.

“You need any help?”

“Nah, I’m almost done. I was trying to bring you breakfast to bed, but I was sabotaged.”

“Sure you were.”

After a few minutes of cooking, the last of the pancakes rested well on top of the mountain he had created. The orange juice was now in a clear crystal jar right in front of you. It would’ve been a nice scenery if it wasn’t for the mess that tainted the background. Satoru began throwing everything in the sink in a rushed manner, his hand reaching out to grab the kitchen towel.

You stood up from your seat, snatching the towel out of his hand.

“Why don’t you go take a shower while I clean this?” You offered as you thought it would be uncomfortable to eat covered in eggs, flour, and orange juice.

He shook his head. “No, I had this whole thing planned and—“

You interjected “And I’m very grateful that you did this, but I also want you to enjoy breakfast. Besides, it’s just going to be a little cleaning. I promise, as soon as you get out, I’ll stop cleaning.”

Satoru, as stubborn as he always was, was about to refuse your help, but to his dismay and your amusement, his hand landed unspilled batter that covered a part of the counter. You tried to control your laughter, which only made it more obvious, earning an eye roll from the sorcerer.

“Fine, but no more cleaning as soon as I get out of the shower.”

You lifted your right hand. “I solemnly swear.”

He left the room with quick steps, the sound of his discarding his clothes echoing from his bedroom. You put yourself in action, focusing on just cleaning the counters as it felt like a more important task than tackling the mountain of dishes; Satoru could take care of that.

You were almost done throwing all the trash that you had gathered in the can when a ringtone surprised you. Satoru’s phone had somehow ended behind the toaster, and surprisingly, it had survived being stainless with all the food flying around it. You wiped your hands quickly before grabbing it, Ijichi’s name flashing on the screen.

“Ijichi is calling you.” You yelled at him, sure that he would be able to hear you even in the shower.

“I’ll call him back later.” He yelled back.

You put it in the counter, letting the call go to voicemail. You were about to keep going with your duties when the phone rang again—another call from Ijichi. This ringing kept going for a little while until it went to voicemail once more, then the texts came, one after the other.

A sudden heaviness installed in your stomach; maybe it was something important; it had to be for him to be so insistent. You grabbed the phone in your hands, typing the four-digit password to unlock it. Another message popped up on his screen, and you clicked on it.

Ijichi

I’m sorry to interrupt you, Mr. Gojo, but we have a situation. 9:37 am

I wouldn’t be so insistent if it wasn’t serious. 9:37 am

Please get back to me as soon as possible. 9:38 am

It’s about the Fushiguro kids. 9:38 am

Fushiguro kids.

Fushiguro.

You dropped the phone; it’s screen is cracking as it touches the ground. It couldn’t be them, could it? There was no way Satoru had anything to do with those kids. Why would he? You had never even told him Toji’s last name, none the less told him about his kid and stepkid. It couldn’t be, could it?

“What’s wrong?” His voice startled you, a concerned look on his face as you walked towards you.

You gather all the strength you have, unsure whether the words will actually come out of your mouth without getting stuck in your throat. You looked at the floor, thinking it would be the only way you would be able to talk.

“Who are the Fushiguro kids?” Your voice was barely audible, the straining in it impossible to miss. You looked back at him, hoping to find his usual smile or perhaps just a confused look on why you were acting like that.

You hoped for anything that would tell you it wasn’t the same Fushiguro family you were thinking about.

Instead, wide, panicked, blue eyes looked back at you.

“I—“

“Don’t fucking lie to me.”

It didn’t take a genius to figure out Satoru was thinking of an excuse—anything he could bullshit you to take away the anger that began simmering in you.

“Who the fuck are the Fushiguro kids?”

A heartbeat went by, then he answered.

“Megumi and Tsumiki.”

A scoff left your lips. Everything in the room was spinning, the beating of your heart pounding incessantly on your head. Millions of questions ran through your head, but you were unable to focus on one, each second passing you by and flooding you with emotions you weren’t sure how to process. Was this how it felt to be in his unlimited void?

“How do you know them?”

“Toji Fushiguro told me about Megumi.”

“Did you know who I was?” Your voice was barely above a whisper.

He hesitated, not wanting to reveal himself, but there was no point in it, not anymore.

“Yes.”

“What—? How did you—?”

There it was, the same sadness you would sometimes catch behind his eyes. You had never dared to ask about it, sure that he would come to tell you with time. You had guessed it had to be with Suguru; the things you had asked about him earning almost the same sad look of losing his best friend.

But this wasn’t a sadness about losing someone. It was a sadness knowing everything would end as soon as you knew the truth.

No. It couldn’t be. It couldn’t be him.

He couldn’t be the one.

Not Satoru.

“No.” You backed away from him, his presence digging a hole in your chest. “No, no, no, no.”

“Please, let me explain.” His hand tried to reach you but you slapped it away.

“What the fuck are you going to explain?” You screamed, the last syllables of your sentence breaking as tears pooled in your eyes. “That you fucking killed—“ you couldn’t even say the words; they tasted like vile rising from your esophagus.

“I’m sorry.”

Rage.

Pure, blinding rage.

Your senses, your body, your thoughts—everything was swarmed by rage. Your hand, almost like in automatic motion, punched the sorcerer square in the face, landing him across the room. His body left a dent in the wall; the few frames he had hanging were now broken apart, all scattered over the floor.

Before you could think about it, your hand had already reached out to your bag, taking out the knife Toji had given you. The shock from your hit had passed, and now Satoru stood up, a small cut on his cheek. You sensed him before he had even teleported, the sudden cursed energy surge behind you alerting you of his moves. You grabbed him by his throat, slamming him back down to the floor.

After spending time, you had learned to read every part of Satoru that involved his fighting techniques along with the signature of his cursed energy. You had learned everything that was to learn about the greatest sorcerer in the world, and now you were going to use it to finish him, even if you died.

You grabbed your knife, your cursed energy amplifying the one the object already owned, and you aimed it at his heart. You wanted him to feel the same pain he had caused you when he killed him, the pain he caused when he had lied to you. You were going to carve his heart out, and maybe then he could understand a fraction of what you were feeling.

His teleportation worked again, this time placing himself further away from you in the room. The tip of your knife crashed against the wood panels, leaving a dent in them.

“Please, stop.” He pleaded, the sorrow in his voice making your heartache ten times worse.

You didn’t stop; you couldn’t allow yourself to stop.

Your body smashed against his, knocking him down against the bed. Slash after slash he dodged, your knife unable to pierce his skin. In between movements, he kept pleading with you, the desperation in his voice increasing with each attempt.

Somewhere along the fight you saw an opportunity at his feet. You weren’t sure if it had been on purpose or maybe it was just a coincidence his guard wasn’t as high as you had expected, but you seized the moment, your arm managing to pin him against a wall.

The knife you held shoots up straight to his neck, the blade making contact with his skin. You were ready to slash a straight line along it, but the back of your mind told you something was wrong.

You could touch him. All along the fight, you had been able to touch him. The cut he had from your punch still bled slightly, another piece of evidence of your proximity to him. Every kick, every punch, and every tackle had made direct impact with his body.

Not once during the fight had he activated his infinity.

The blade dug on his skin, and a faint drop of blood trailed down his neck.

“Why the fuck aren’t you using your infinity? I could fucking kill you.” You screamed in his face, digging your knife deeper into his skin. “Why aren’t you fighting back?”

A despairing smile showed on his face.

“Because I love you.”

Hot, salty tears cascaded along your face, the bridge of anger finally snapping as the sorrow took over everything you could feel. You couldn’t stop them; the more you tried to contain them, the bigger the hole in your chest grew.

He loved you, and you believed him.

You loved him back, and that love made you want to die. You couldn’t kill him no matter how much you pretended you wanted to; you knew you couldn’t survive losing someone that you loved again.

No matter how much you hated him at the same time.

You stood up, ready to grab your pants and bolt through the door. His hand stopped you, steading you in place.

“Please, don’t leave.” His begged, tears matching yours. “Please don’t leave me.”

Two bleeding hearts pleaded for each other that morning; one begged for forgiveness while the other begged to be put out of its misery. Both of them were entwined by the love they had for each other, along with the hurt they caused.

Yours was the only one that got what it wanted.

“Never contact me again. I’ll kill you if you do.”

If you like the story please interact: reblogs, likes and comments go a long way. Feedback is always appreciated! Feel free to message me about it.

[yappielestappie]

Some lestappen thoughts in these trying times:

I think Max and Charles have a bond unlike anyone else in F1, even though they’re not that close of friends. I’d even go so far as to say they’re trauma bonded.

We all know Jos was downright horrible. It’s quite reasonable to assume that this was very hard on Max as a child, and that he felt alienated and alone (recall the quote of him saying it would’ve been nice to be able to play football with kids his age, sometimes). The only times he got to hang around with kids his age was on the race track. And who was always there? Always at the top? Always challenging him? Charles Leclerc.

Charles, meanwhile, had the opposite. He had a entire support system built around his racing career. He had both brothers and his godfather with him, and a fathers love to guide him through. In his teens, he lost both Jules and his father, and suddenly, the only consistent familiar part of racing that remainder from his childhood, would have been Max.

Meanwhile, while Charles was suffering this loss, Max was in Formula 1, in a top team, doing quite well, and had picked up a support system (albeit a likely limited one) in Daniel Riccardo. I think Charles was extremely jealous of Max when he also got to F1 in 2018. Their whole lives, they’d been opponents, and then Max beat him to F1 by 3 years & had everything Charles did not (a good seat, a father, an older F1 driver to guide him). I also think that’s why the Austria 2019 podium ended up being such a big conflict. It was a lot more than just a win to Charles. It was proving himself.

Now, they’ve both matured (Daniel helped Max and Seb helped Charles). They can look back on their karting days fondly, and they both recognize that the only real supportive part of their karting careers that still remains, is each other. All the hatred they had for one another has turned into support, and a kind of respect that very few drivers have for one another.

They have something special. It’s undeniable. There’s no other drivers on the grid that have history anything like them (Pierresteban could be discussed but that’s a whole mess). And now I think they’re old enough to realize they have something special.

Max genuinely cares about Charles. It’s obvious. Their racing is so much different to anyone else Max goes wheel to wheel with. Leclerc is the only driver I’ve ever seen him apologize to. The whole “Charlie I’ve got a space for you!” Thing is still blowing my mind. Max talks about Charles like he’s the only one Max actually wants to race, like Charles is the only person worthy of challenging him. He rates Charles over everyone else even when he fucks up “come on Charles man, too many mistakes” comes to mind.

And Charles is the same way right back, he just usually has a bit more shame. It’s worth noting that he speaks highly about a lot of other drivers, but Max always seems special. He compliments max out the wazoo sometimes. It’s clear that he sees Max as the very best - as the benchmark to beat. But more than that, he defends Max just like we do. Charles always supports Max’s moves on Lando, even when they’re clearly in the wrong. He supports Max’s aggressive racing, claims to LIKE it even, when Max is being constantly harassed by the fans and media.

There’s something between them. Some unspoken reason why they support each other like this and the only conclusion I can come to is that the memories they have of each other are inseparable from their memories of racing. They’ve been competing at the top since they were 6 years old. They know how to be rivals better than they know how to do anything else in the world.

I don’t know if they ever hang out outside of F1. I don’t know if we’ll ever see them interact again once Max retires. But I do know that they’ve shaped each other in a way that will impact them until the day they die. Every untainted memory from their childhoods is about each other. All the memories of loss and abuse are separate to their memories of each other. They are the only thing that remains.

The most fundamental part of racing for Max, is beating Charles. And the most fundamental part of racing for Charles, is beating Max. Everyone else on the grid is irrelevant- an obstacle. They are two halves of the same story and I think that’s more beautiful than any romance book I’ve ever read.

oh anon you are so absolutely right. listen for me, it's the fact that we can talk all day about lestappen and ship them or let our imaginations and minds go wild with w/e but fundamentally? at the end of the day? there is also substance to it - even any form of fandom aside, there are simply facts about them that make them such a beautiful dynamic. there is something so mesmerizing about the level on which they drive, perform, their talents and skills and the way they grew up with and around each other in a sense. the beautiful juxtapositions, the red strings of fate, the way their paths kept crossing and intertwining even before they raced each other again (suzuka being max' first proper f1 test drives and then jules etc.)... there is just something cosmic about them that (as stated in some previous post) almost boils down to THEM BOTH BEING LIBRAS which is still driving me insane. the balance. the way this just screams UNIVERSE just as partners in life, as twin flames, as two sides of the same coin, two weights on a scale... again, not even saying this is related to the fandom angle of romance. like you said it almost runs deeper than that. and i, personally, refuse to be normal about it the same way the two of them are never truly normal about each other.

[smilesatdawnmain]

ETERNAL LMK AU (Part 6) (Interactive Story)

Time for some answers

The rules are simple.: I will give the written passage, and then at the bottom there will be a vote on how the characters act next!

Story: Eternal Au

Ships: Shadow Peach

Digging his heels into the dirt to try and slow his speed, realizing the farther Wukong went so did he, Macaque called back angrily to the collectors,

“What is going on? What isn't good??" he demanded.

The collectors cringed, glancing at each other. Rushing to keep pace with Macaque, wearily eyeing the sky in case somehow Wukong did spot them, they nervously smiled. Normally they would never fear, but that golden vision of his- it was rumored to even view the dead if he was looking close enough.

One of the collectors, a stout figure with a chipped jaw and a nervous twitch, cleared his throat. “You see,” he started, his voice wobbly, “That connection you’re feeling? And uh, seeing? It’s… complicated.” He shuffled back a step as Macaque glared, spitting out words like venom.

“Complicated? Explain! I don’t have time for riddles while that fool flies off with me!”

The second collector, a more slender figure, leaned in closer. “It’s the bond,” he whispered, as if saying it too loudly might make his presence known to the flying King above. “Remember before how we said souls can get held up from moving on? One being, their soul is stuck or trapped like yours was?"

“Okay?” he grumbled, slipping his hand just a tad through the ropes these collectors insisted on keeping to hold onto him. Shifting between them he grasped the golden string around him. As much as he tugged and wiggled, it wouldn't loosen. It felt hot to the touch.

It felt like Wukong- his very essence and power.

It gave a strange sense of both comfort and discomfort considering Macaque’s own emotions were torn by the man.

The burly collector continues, "There are other reasons that can stop a soul from moving on. The other two are they have some lingering connection to this world that is preventing them from leaving. Or... a living connection is tethering them down. Honestly, it could be both cases for this one." the two nodded knowingly to each other.

"What does that mean?!" Macaque snapped, standing to try and pull and remove this rope from him, only to gag as it dragged him further rightward to follow after Wukong.

The Collectors followed, “Soulmates,” they summarized.

Macaque blinked, confusion flashing across his features before morphing instantly into indignation. “Soulmates? Are you out of your minds? Wukong and I?” He spat the name like it was poison. Such a thing would once thrill him. Perhaps even now it… still kind of did.

A soulmate was something rumored in the demon community. The thought of something so pure and wonderful was a dream he himself had when he was just a cub. But now, tainted by blood and betrayal, the very idea sent a shiver of revulsion coursing through him. It was horrible. It was impossible!

Something so sacred couldn’t possibly be. A soulmate came once. Not just in a lifetime. As the name implied, it was the one intended for your very soul. To find this person took more then luck.

Wukong was his soulmate??

Wukong was… his?

And he didn’t want you.

The thought made him seethe to avoid the pain that followed, “If that fool is my soulmate, then I’d rather be bound to the netherworld!” With every protest, the golden thread seemed to pulse brighter, almost as if responding to his anger. The more he wrestled against the bonds, both physical and ethereal, the stronger the connection felt. It tingled through him—a sensation that flickered between distaste and a kind of reluctant warmth. Ignoring it was becoming increasingly difficult.

"Well this doesn't often happen with mortals but well uh- demons are a little different." the smaller collector admits weakly, "Certainly makes our job harder, let me tell you. As a demon you live a long time, thus the connections you make are always stronger. Sometimes the magic of demons and their soul mates even mix together making a literal tether-" they gestured to the rope.

Macaque slowly looked down, his eyes flarring. NO.

No no no.

“What does this mean for me? Is there any way to remove this?" he couldn’t be Wukong’s soulmate. He couldn’t continue to be forever tied to that King- that jerk. The man who cared so little for him he would choose everyone else over him!

One of them shrugged, nonchalant to Macaque’s despair, "Soulmates are tricky? Honestly, maybe not until he moves on."

"Moves on??" Macaque repeated. "That doesn't- eleborate!" he barked, kicking his feet.

They held up their hands, "Chill! Chill man." they sigh. "Regrets, lingering desires, many of these things some people can let go once they come to terms with their death. A trip you never got to take, a hobby you never got around to trying- simple things that could easily be put aside. Love and soulmates, that is where it gets tricky. People could mourn all their life and never truly move on or let go of those they have lost. A person soul knows who they are destined to be with, and tend to have an issue with letting go."

Macaque's mouth felt dry. "What does that mean for me?" his mind was reeling, "Are you saying that until Wukong "lets me go" or whatever bullshit like that, I can't move on?"

The two stepped back out of Macaque's range when he tried to swipe at them, "Basically?" they offered sheepish smiles. "Same could be said for you. Sometimes those who are dead can't let go of the living people they are leaving behind.”

Macaque felt his face heat, quickly barking, “I have no issues letting that man go!”

They blinked once, then at each other, not believing him for a moment. “Rightttt.” they trail off. “Either way, usually this problem can be solves by the person eventually moving on, or... the person keeping the tether dies."

They all glanced at the very much immortal Monkey King. Macaque's eye brow twitched. He rushed over to Wukong, yelling, "Move on from me you son of a-!!”

The diyu collectors covered their ears as Macaque let out a long set of slurs.

"I wait and wait and wait- and you never had any problem letting me go before! Ditching me for years- and NOW suddenly you got an attachement issue?!"

He held onto the string attached to his waist, feeling it pull him in different directions like a puppet on a string. Peng had always made fun of him, asking if there was anything Wukong could do to break his grip over him. Well, murder sure felt like it should have done the trick!

So how was he possibly still tied to him??

….he knew how…. But he would rather not say.

Previous

Next

[systcmaticeras]

hi there! we're a p-did system, and figured it might be nice to try and find a sense of community somewhere, so why not try here? we've had suspicions for a while but consistently gaslit ourselves into thinking otherwise– this is our first time accepting that this in fact a likely reality and are self identifying as plural until we can get in to see a psych to confirm. we use i/me and we/us rather interchangeably for the most part and to the best of my knowledge as the host we're all okay with they/them pronouns but some of us have other pronouns we also use! now, a few rules or general topics to cover real quick:

• we are not here to engage in syscourse, we aren't professionals or doctors, it's simply not our place.

• we do not mind (pro)endos interacting, we haven't been able to form a solid opinion on that subject matter, but we also do not want to discriminate or be rude to anyone, all plurals are welcome and we'd love to get to know you!

• we don't tolerate hate speech or bullying, if anyone is commenting such things on our posts they will be swiftly blocked.

• we would prefer that no one under the age of 16 (bodily) interacts in dms or anything unless they need some help or support, we are 19 bodily, so we just want everyone to be safe! any ages are welcome on this page, however almost all of us do swear and have a dark sense of humor, so keep this in mind!

• we love introjects! for who we know of rn, a lot of our system is introjects, not everyone to be clear, but we've always found great comfort in different forms of media, so we assume our brain split some of the characters we resonated with the most and still continues to do so sometimes!

with all of that out of that out of the way, a brief intro to the alters as we know ourselves!

FIZZ

they/them, key-host (rarely leaves front, most others blend with or co-host with me), potential helluva boss introject but this is unclear, i may have just stolen my name from it!

CONNOR

he/him/they/them, emotional protector, fronts occasionally, mostly during times of stress, but sometimes just when he wants to. dear evan hansen introject.

RIFF

he/him/they/them, protector, possible gatekeeper, second most frequent fronter so far, has a typing quirk, generally pretty caring but can definitely be stubborn and sarcastic. west side story introject.

LESTAT

he/him/they/them, role unclear, doesn't front frequently, tends to use french terms and a fancier vocabulary. iwtv introject.

DALE

he/him/they/them, role unclear, rarely fronts, not very confident but extremely sweet, wants the best for everybody.

V1

they/them/it/its, persecutor, co-con frequently but unlikely to fully front, harsh, does not like others, does not care to communicate with others. they have not shared their name, thus the placeholder name of V1.

ROSALIE / V2

she/her/they/them, possible caretaker, she doesn't front frequently, we don't know much about her, very sweet and motherly. name is assumed.

V3

she/her/they/them, role unclear, pretty chill personality from what we know, hasn't fronted much, first one to inspire me to make a picrew for her, hoping to have a name soon.

P

she/her/they/them, little – role unclear, we do not plan to share too much info on her, she fronts occasionally, and absolutely loves jellyfish and ham.

that's about all we have for right now, but we hope to meet some fellow plurals and cannot wait to find some community here!

~ fizz

[whytheylosttheirminds]

How do you feel about Rafe and Sarah’s dynamic this season. I feel like it was a bit rushed . I mean, they have such a complex and conflicted relationship. The writers could’ve really made an interesting story here, but I just didn’t believe them at the end. . Drew and Maddy are excellent actors, but I just don’t think the script sometimes does them justice. Their final scene with they’re talking just doesn’t feel earned. What do you think?

I 100% agree. I loooove the hug scene don’t get me wrong, but I think it could’ve been even better with just 3 or 4 more lead up moments/scenes to get us there. I think the scene where she goes to his house (grey polo with the too small sleeves you icon) and flinches when he gets mad and runs away when he leans in is written, directed and acted beautifully. one of the best scenes in the show for real.

Here are the places I would have put more interactions between that scene and the hug scene to bring it home:

• when JJ is floating in the water after falling off Chandler’s boat, Rafe is the one that finds him and pulls him from the water, returns him to the pogues. There’s no big conversation about it, he just drops him off at their camp and gives Sarah a nod before driving away. It’s not heroic, it just opens the door that she closed when she ran from his condo.

• they have a longer conversation when she brings him food and water while he’s tied up. Maybe the door closes behind her and she accidentally gets locked in there with him (that’s cliche but some kind of forced proximity that results in them having to speak) in this scene I would add in him telling her about Sofia. maybe he sees the wedding ring John B gave her and it prompts him to tell her he gave Sofia their mom’s ring and he thinks she’ll be mad but she surprises him by saying “I think that’s great, Rafe.” The purpose of this would be her seeing he’s made real progress and an acknowledgement of family history.

• when she’s hungry and they all go to steal apples and cause all that chaos he disappears for a second and comes back with a whole ass meal for her, refusing to explain how he got it. I both think this would be hilarious and would provide the chance for him to acknowledge her pregnancy. Then they could still come back with the apple, and almost get arrested and rafe could pull out his change purse and go on his shopping spree just the same.

I think with those 3 things (or even just similar things), that moment would’ve been even more glorious but das just me!

[mimisempai]

The daggers

Summary

A dagger can be sharp, so let's not talk about two daggers... but despite its sharpness, it can sometimes be the tangible proof of an unbreakable bond.

Mobius kept Loki's daggers. He carries them with him at all times, and locks them up in the evening after taking care of them. The only physical evidence of Loki's presence in his life.

But the daggers are also a daily reminder of the gaping hole the god's absence has dug in Mobius' heart.

For @rin-love-is-green

For the @lokiusbang Story based on @rin-love-is-green prompt and beautiful drawings you'll see through the story on Ao3 ann on her tumblr Beta'ed by Sabine

4/4 chapters - 6045 words Rating : G

The rapid tapping of keys echoed through the dimly lit open office of the T.V.A. as Mobius hunched over his desk, his eyes glued to the glowing screen. He was putting the finishing touches on the mission report he and his team had just completed. 

Another timeline repaired, and he felt a sense of satisfaction that the T.V.A., once on the verge of collapse, was coming back to life, giving meaning to the lives connected to its intricate network of timelines. Each mission accomplished was a small patch on the immense wound left by the revelation of all the lives the T.V.A. had previously cut short. All the lies.

"Hey, Mobius!" 

Casey's voice snapped him out of his thoughts, the agent always bright and cheerful now. He was standing by Mobius's desk, a broad smile on his face as he continued, "It's good to see the T.V.A. up and running again. I'm glad to be more involved in missions now, while I'm still here of course, I'm not cut out for field operations, I'll leave that to you guys. But I'm happy to be a force you can count on."

Mobius gave him a small smile in return. 

"Yes, things are looking up. Who would have thought that the T.V.A. debacle would reveal the hidden talents of some of our team members, hm?"

Mobius winked at him before adding, "People we'd barely noticed before. Make no mistake, you're a force we know we can count on, Casey."

Casey smiled happily.

"Well, I have to go, good night Mobius, see you tomorrow."

"See you tomorrow, Casey."

Casey walked away under Mobius' amused gaze and disappeared down the hallway with a final wave of his hand.

Before Mobius could resume his work, O.B. appeared, a whirlwind of ideas and excitement, and as always, Mobius could only listen.

"Mobius! You've got to come see me tomorrow. I have a concept for a new device that could..."

"A new concept?"

Mobius raised an eyebrow and O.B. nodded quickly, "Oh, it's revolutionary! You'll understand when you see it, but it's about adding a principle of..."

"O.B. Mobius doesn't have time to listen to this!"

It was Casey who had returned, and Mobius watched their interaction with an interested and amused eye.

"But what if it's vital to what happens next!"

"Yes, I know, but he doesn't have time now."

"But..."

"I have time now, so why don't you come and explain it to me."

"But I..."

"Over a meal in the cafeteria."

"Casey..."

"I'm sure you skipped lunch again."

O.B., seeing that he wouldn't have the last word, sighed.

"All right..."

"Come on, let's go."

Casey and O.B. said together, "Bye Mobius!" and then left the open office. As they walked away, Mobius heard their conversation fade away.

"So O.B. tell me about this new concept?"

"Well, you know, Casey, I was just thinking..."

Mobius realized how much things had changed around here. His two friends and colleagues had grown closer and Mobius wondered just how close, a strange knot forming in his stomach. What was behind their camaraderie? Was it just friendship or something deeper, something unfolding like the mysterious timelines they so often crossed?

Like what he had with... what he could have had with...

Read the complete story here on Ao3

Lokius masterlist : here

[kindalonely-ngl]

Sylus's Voice Call: Remote Support

Today I felt like listening to his voice so I re-listen to his old voice calls and I realized I haven't listen to his Remote Support call.

I've said this before that Sylus is the type of person who I will probably love and admire from a safe distance because I am scared(?), intimidated, feel small yet attracted and in awed by his huge and secure presence. Like if I get to befriend him, I will try my best not to show my naturally pessimistic side. I will seek advice, yes, but I wouldn't dare to complain and whine in front of him because I feel like he won't entertain such things and would prefer if we get our shit together and face the problems ahead. Sylus is someone who would push his person to be the better version of themself whether the person is ready to face themself or not. He's a fierce green flag, a kind of friend my mom would pray for me to have, and the person who I should hold on to. But for me and my low self-esteem, Sylus is simply intimidatingly admirable.

... and through this voice call, I could say that I was almost right.

Maybe because I've met some friends and acquintances who have almost similar mentality/personality/presence as Sylus and I remember their firm, "positive" response and optimistic outlook made me feel even smaller, extra pessimistic and weak. And as the call continued, I was hella nervous when MC kept on pointing out how he was acting different than the "usual" Sylus would act (pampering her, calming her down, playing along with her antics etc)

I was like "Girl, just say thank you and ask for a simple advice and support or something. Stop it I'm scared! 😭"

Maybe because I've never been too close to anyone in my life, most of the time I felt like MC is pushing it too far and that makes me feel scared and my social anxiety would just gradually makes its way into my already anxious heart. And I often thought to myself "Is this normal? Is this how people interact these days? Is this what they called a cute banter between people in love? Is this flirting? I'm scared." Especially when replying to the LIs texts, I always find myself feeling nervous, scared to choose between 3 options, as if there are right and wrong answers or the affinity level would drop if I choose the wrong one. Idk what to do with myself so sometimes I would left the texts unread for a few days until I'm ready lmao and that's how I actually am irl too.

Anyways, as my heart started pounding anxiously, waiting for his sharp remarks, I was relieved when he put them in words nicely. I was baffled at myself for expecting him to say mean things to MC lol.

When he said "believe in yourself" so softly I got teary eyes, heartbeat slowed down, I exhaled the breath I didn't realized I've been holding for a while and I just fell in love with him. Again.

And when he said that he would be there for MC anytime haaa such a heart pounding and warming phone call 😩.

I love him and I would love him to be real but at the same time I would be sad if he is real because I know he won't even glance at my negative, pessimistic, low self-esteem ass. Seeing how he loves MC whose personality I can't relate to at all, yeah just stay fictional, my dear Sylus.

In conclusion, I'm scaroused of Sylus.

[ryllen]

So what made you go for the green haired shouty bitey boi? 😆

Not that I’m complaining! I just never knew there was even a Yuu x Sebek pairing among all the more common ships in this fandom, so I was pleasantly surprised stumbling upon your content.

honestly i don't consider myself a true lover of sebek that i probably wouldn't give u reasons u want to hear fhsdh

i just like him in the way that he fits my yuu dynamic, but he is not exactly the type i personally go crazy for lmao i feel like, i am more of a mother-in-law that would always find something to criticize him about so when u see actual sebek lovers go kyaaaaaaaaaa waahhhhh criesssss diessssssss on sebek new cards, i'm like, lmao yea okay boi

my true babies are jade and trey lmao 🤣 jade tbh, trey comes after bcs i started to consider him after seeing him being shipped with jade notinmyrightmindiwouldeventhinkicouldcreateayuuthatcouldhandlejadesojadeyuuisneveranoptiontome

do u still even want to hear my lore ? l m a o.

i always thought sebek was the most unlikeable one on twst bcs i hardly ever saw the fanarts of him on my twitter tl, (honestly it was like the entire diasomnias, bcs to be fair their main story line had not come out, but i still saw sebek the least of them all) and i heard a bit about how he only ever talk about malleus, so lmao who can even get between that

but then my very first story interaction with him was the masquerade, and the lap incident was so funny, i don't know lmao, after that i was thinking how annoying sebek was with his yelling human this human that on daily lesson and this very first post between them happened

if u just read my tags under that post u see my struggle of suddenly considering him at all fhsdh

tho i read on his halloween vignette that deuce said he never rly yells in a way that caught him in trouble with the teachers so i don't think my thought of him rly matches him canonly

but yea i like tsun elements in my ships, and i find it fun when they bicker too

tho i just pretend yuu has the magical ability to ignore his volume of shouting bcs lmao even i still can't stand his yelling when i put him at homescreen u can actually find me going "shhhh...!!! sebekkk......." in real life when he yelled on my screen it usually ended up with me having to omit him & exchange with the others bcs he nearly gives me headache

do u regret reading until this far? lmao, this is mostly just me ranting about him rather than me gushing about him bcs lmao this is just how i am with sebek

anyhow, it feels like everyone is gushing about sebek from the halloween event but i am too lazy to read everything from the event from fan translation right now so lmao, who knows, either i will like him a bit more, or i just want to noogies him further once the next year halloween come on ENG server.

if we want to talk a bit of the good side of sebek, i think it is good that he is hardworking i love when he puts his hand on his chest during battle as if he is taking a deep breathe and letting it out to calm and assure himself that he'll do just fine

i think it's very humane of him to have insecurities even tho it's not super explored in canon, bcs he is too busy assuring himself with boastful confidence *like someone i knew, alex sdv i was talking about u and ur initial stage

but that's where the fandom power comes in exploring the unexplored, here is a writing i love about sebek who tries hard everyday

i just wish i can actually ease him up a little bit and that's how my sebek comes to be i love to explore more on his childish side, his teenage boy side that appears in the game sometimes, but is still far too drowned with the race he set for himself to achieve the kind of power he dream of, as fast as he could be and the side where he is not purely drowned with the thought of malleus sama fshdh

the problem with me, i think i always butchered a good amount of unwanted traits of a character, to make them more likeable but does that makes the character still them enough ?

anyhow we are digging at the end of the well here i am not even sure if it's relevant to ur question anymore but i am glad and thankful that u found me

ciao maybe, or i'll see u around 👋�� good day

[void-ink-studios]

Rinse and Spit [Part 2] - A Mouthwashing AU

Chapter 2 baby!!! It's a bit of a calm before the storm type of deal. And a little bit more character interaction, for better or worse.

Check it out on Ao3 right here! And drop a comment while you're there!

Content Warning: Depictions of physical abuse.

Curly didn’t see the others much these days.  Not that he saw Swansea or Daisuke very much, even before the mysterious meeting with Anya.

But now, not even she came to see him much.  Just to redress his bandages, give him an IV for food, and keep him as clean as could be helped in such situations.  But she didn’t speak to him.  Or really look at him anymore.

Maybe she finally figured out how to hate him.  Curly figured it was only a matter of time.  Five months of taking care of someone that could be blamed for all current problems had to have taken its toll on her.  He didn’t blame her in the slightest.

She watched him through the night, just to make sure he didn’t choke on his own vomit.  She extended as much care as she needed to.

It’s exactly what Curly deserved.

He had no right to miss their one sided conversations.  Or her reading out loud to him some cheesy fantasy novel, or the employee handbook.  He didn’t need any of it, didn’t deserve any of it.  So it’s only right, he supposed, that she’d decide that as well.

But the other’s absence meant that it was just Curly and Jimmy in the Med Bay these days.

And Curly hasn’t had a moment’s peace yet.

Jimmy liked to stare at him.  Maybe gawk is the better descriptor.  He seemed to take some amusement or satisfaction looking at Curly’s state.

Curly had done his best not to dignify it with eye contact.  But it was hard when you felt the burning emptiness locked onto you.

He touched a lot.  No matter how many times Curly made noises to indicate it hurt, or how he moved his weak limbs, he was touched.  He was moved and turned and rotated, as if Jimmy was trying to take in every detail.  He opened and closed his mouth, sometimes hard enough to make his teeth rattle against each other.  He forcefully turned his head to make him look at random things.  He picked at bandages, staring as his ruined skin tugged on them.

I hope this hurts.

Sometimes he would just choke him.  If Curly ever made it out of this, he would remember the look on Jimmy’s face forever.  There wasn’t any light in his eyes.  Not even anger or disgust.  Just emptiness as he squeezed and pushed hard onto Curly’s neck.  Sometimes he’d rummage through a drawer and see how far he could push a tongue depressor down Curly’s throat.

Jimmy didn’t talk much during these visits.  Only when he gave him his pills did he really talk.  But dear god did Curly wish he didn’t.

“I know the way you thought of me” he started.  “I was your charity case, right?  Saving me from my struggle of a life?  Yeah, I see that, Curly.  I suppose you think I should thank you?”

Jimmy stared intensely at the pill between his fingers.

“Who should be thanking who now?  Not like you can do anything without my help anymore.  It’s you’re fault we’re in this mess.  I think you should act a bit more grateful.”

The pilot leaned in close, close enough Curly could smell his breath.

“Say thank you.”

Curly did move.  Didn’t open his mouth.  Just kept his eye locked on Jimmy’s.

“I said to say thank you.  Say thank you and I give you your pill.”

Jimmy’s hands were rough.  They always had calluses, he’d worked a number of odd jobs back on Earth, labored the softness of his skin away.  And Curly could feel all those years of struggle as his former friend started to squeeze his cheeks tightly, forcing him to maintain eye contact.

“I’m busting my ass around this ship because of you.  The least you could do is be thankful for it.”

Curly’s world goes topside as Jimmy shook his head back and forth.  Black spots filled his vision, and he could hear the blood rushing in his head and ear.  And the grip just kept getting tighter.

“Say it.”

Curly forced his throat to make sounds.  Some kind of approximation of “Thank you.”  Anything to get Jimmy to leave faster.

“There.  Wasn’t so hard to just show a little appreciation, right Captain?”

Curly had learned to mostly escape his own body when Jimmy shoved his fingers down his throat.  That’s been a skill he’s gotten really good at.  He could carry his mind away, to other places and times, far far away from the Tulpar.

But he could never escape for very long.  Jimmy patted his cheek like he was a misbehaving child finally deciding to cooperate.

“You know.  If we had the supplies and Swansea could let go of a bottle of mouthwash for long enough, I bet we could put together a little button wall for you.  You know, like those videos of the talking dogs Daisuke was showing you?  Then you can tell us when you need your pills instead of making those fucking noises all the time.  Look at me.  Still fixing things.”

Jimmy laughed.  Curly didn’t.

He had hoped that would be the end of it.  But he was hardly so lucky these days.

“Stop staring at me.”

Curly flicked his gaze up at the ceiling, his eye tracing the patterns of the seams in the ceiling.  He could still see Jimmy, out in his peripheral.  Staring at him.

“Why’d you have to give Swansea the ax, hm?  Old bastard won’t hand it over.  Kept saying how you entrusted him with it.  Even before the crash.”

Curly wasn’t sure where he was going with this.  What was he meant to do?  Answer?  He’s not even sure why.

But there was something in Jimmy’s expression that makes him glad he did.

“...This really was all your fault, huh?  If you had just… Well, we wouldn’t be here.  And now look at you.  You’re too useless to be angry at.  Managed to dodge any responsibility and get to lay here.  You don’t have to do anything.  Must be paradise, right?”

And then Curly was alone again.

He didn’t know how long he sat there, just trying to breathe and let the pill’s effects take hold.  He didn’t even like how the pills felt.  He felt clouded.  Muffled.  Not even in a way that could let him relax or distract him from the pain.  It’s just now he can’t do anything to express that discomfort.  He can’t even make “those fucking noises” when they take effect.

Best he could hope for is them making him too tired to do anything else but sleep.

He didn’t know if Anya knows that.  Does she think they’re helping?  Does she know that Pony Express paid for the cheapest possible painkillers and called it a day?

He didn’t know which answer would be worse.

“...Captain?”

Curly jumped a little.  Couldn’t be…

Daisuke seemed lost.  He always looked a little lost, but this time he really looked out of place.  He’d been to the Med Bay a few times, as far as Curly remembers.  A few bumps and bruises that Anya had to clear, especially after the foam wall mishap.

“Uh, hi Captain.  It’s been a while.”

Curly made a soft noise as Daisuke inched into the room a bit further.  He turned his head, unable to look at the intern.

The kid shouldn’t be here.

Take Responsibility

It was Curly’s fault this kid was here.  He remembered the memo from Pony Express, that they assigned an intern to the voyage.  He remembered getting frustrated, but letting it go and informing Swansea he’d be training a new crew mate.  He remembered how excited Daisuke was when he boarded the ship, immediately tripping over the last step before the captain could warn him about it.

Curly thought bitterly about Pony Express.  Why bother hiring an intern if they knew they were going under?

God, what are his parents thinking right now?  Did they know?  Did anyone on Earth know they’re stuck out here?  When would they figure it out?  Long after they’re all mummified in this metal tomb, that’s for certain.  If they even get that far.

“Are you feeling any better?”  Daisuke sat on the chair right next to his bed, where Anya usually sat.  He turned his head to look at the kid.  “Right… Dumb question, sorry.”

He pulled something out of his pocket.  Oh… His game system… Swansea had complained when he first saw it, called it a waste of batteries.  And maybe it was.  But Curly let him keep it anyway.  What harm could two missing batteries cause, after all?

Curly remembered Daisuke showing him the game he was playing, months ago.  Some platformer, a difficult one, one Daisuke himself said he was kinda bad at.  Yet he kept playing.  Curly couldn’t recall a time he’s seen the intern not smiling while playing.

Unconsciously, Curly makes a noise, a motion towards Daisuke, who had begun playing.

“Oh!  You wanna see?”

Curly hesitated for a second before nodding.

“Awesome.  So, I’m on this level with a bunch of explosive mushrooms, the explosions are huge and hard to dodge.  Never made it past this level.”

Curly watched the gameplay, the tiny character trying to dodge and weave between fungal bombs.

He felt himself move before he consciously realized he was doing it.  But he found himself now on his side, watching the game.  It was the most movement Curly’s had in days, at least movement that he initiated.

“Swansea’s not interested, Anya’s busy, and Jimmy… well, nobody seems to really have time for anything other than stress right now.  A-And I don’t blame them, this situation sucks.  Maybe we’ll get famous for it later, but right now… Things are pretty dicey, Captain.  I know I should probably be doing something more useful right now but… I don’t know.  I just don’t want to make things worse.”

Daisuke looked at Curly, a little surprised to see the captain’s change in position.

“Oh, woah.  Anya said you haven’t moved in ages.  Heh, glad my game’s so interesting, Captain.  Makes me play better, I bet.  Be my good luck charm?”

Curly didn’t make a noise, just a shallow little nod.  If he could smile, he would.  It was the first in a long time that the captain felt he was being treated like a human.

Not that you deserve it.

“Anya and Swansea have been acting weird lately.  They have little meetings in Utility.  I don’t think they know I’ve noticed.  I thought Swansea said Utility was walled up with foam.  Guess he cleared it out.”

Daisuke made a little triumphant noise as he defeats what Curly believes to be a miniboss.

“They don’t talk about you anymore.  I tried to ask Anya if you were doing any better and she just kinda looked away.  I thought you had died or something. Swansea just told me to not worry about it.  Maybe that’s why I wandered over here.”

Curly made a wounded noise at that.  He figured he was probably a lost cause anyway, but… Well it didn’t make hearing it hurt any less.

“Jimmy’s been weird too.  Or, I guess he’s always been a bit weird.  But now he’s acting really weird.  He keeps telling me that Swansea’s up to something, but… I dunno.”

Daisuke shook his head, his expression turning a little embarrassed.  “Sorry Cap.  Didn’t mean to talk your ear off like that.  Or, uh, wait… Nevermind.  I can go if you, uh, want.”

Curly groaned.  He couldn’t grab, couldn’t reach out very far without the bandages tugging on his back and arms painfully, but he tried his best.

“Oh.  Cool.  I guess I’ll keep playing here then.  It’s quiet here.”

The two stayed like that for a long while, with the only noise being the little sound effects and music coming from Daisuke’s game.  Even the fluorescent buzzing and crackling of the window screen seemed quieter than before.

“I get why Anya sleeps here instead of the Lounge.  Gotta be nice to get away from Swansea’s snoring, right?”

Curly chuffed a weak laugh, surprising even himself.

He wished he could tell Daisuke stories.  He had wanted to ever since the intern first introduced himself after take off.  Wanted to let him know they’ve all been in his position.  And that he’d find his place soon, just like they all did.  But Curly was always too busy or distracted.

Take responsibility

It all seemed so pointless now.  What place was Daisuke meant to find if he lost his job before he even finished his first trip?

“Hey Captain…?”

Curly snapped out of his thoughts, turning to look more directly at Daisuke.

“When we get back, you’ll keep in touch, yeah?”

Curly was confused at that.  Keep in touch?  It’s a miracle every second he’s still breathing, how is he meant to last long enough until they get to a proper hospital?

But then he saw the look in Daisuke’s eyes.  He was always such a happy kid.  Smiling even when Anya lost her mind at his luck in dice games.  Laughing even as Swansea scolded him for doing something foolish.  Joking even in the face of what’s certain death to everyone else.

But… Well, Daisuke probably knows that too.  He knows the chances of them ever seeing Earth again are slim enough to cut air.  He knows as much as everyone else.

Do you see the dead pixel?

Curly nodded, making his best effort at a positive noise.

“Awesome.  I gotta tell Mom and Dad what a cool boss you are.”

Take responsibility

The door slid open, breaking whatever spell was cast over the Med Bay.  The buzzing and crackling filled Curly’s head again, the pill’s effects finally enveloping his head.  He spotted Anya, who looked a little startled.  Both at Daisuke’s presence and Curly’s new position.

“Daisuke.  Did you need anything?  Another new bruise?”

“No Ms Volkov.  Just chatting with the Captain.”

Anya looked between Curly and Daisuke.  Curly had the impression like she was inspecting him.  Whether it was like an insect or like a wound, he couldn’t tell.  He wordlessly rolled back over onto his back.

“...Swansea was looking for you.  You might want to meet him in the lounge before he blows a gasket.”

“Yes ma’am” the intern said with a silly little salute.  He turned to look at Curly one more time.  “I’ll talk to you later, Captain.  You’re my new good luck charm with my games.”

And with that, it was just him and Anya once again.

The two stared at each other for the longest time.  Curly hoped that maybe she would finally speak to him again.  His selfish heart still ached for her company.

I hope this hurts.

“...Goodnight Captain.”

And Curly was alone again.

[rjschoicesstuff]

Choices fandom appreciation shoutouts

This event is so so so lovely and I really want to join in hehe. I'm not great at expressing my thoughts/feelings and stuff but I really wanna try because I'm really thankful for all of u guys!! :)

When I first posted on this account last summer I honestly expected I'd probably post a few things and dip again because I usually don't get much attention on social media platforms. And also wasn't sure if anyone would really vibe with my approach to characters and stories hahaha 🙈.

But instead people were so nice and I felt so welcomed and like 'oh wow people seem to actually enjoy what I do??' And I had so much fun reading the tags left on reblogs of my art and stuff. And alongside that it has been soooo fun to see everyone elses posts and characters and leaving my thoughts on those as well (and slowly getting less shy about it too 💪). And I even started reading fanfic for the first time in my life hahaha.

I feel like I'm rambling but I just really want to say all this haha, it's been so fun being on here! I love drawing everyone's characters and other requests and will keep doing that (like pleeaase dont be shy, I love drawing everyone's characters) because it's fun and it's also kinda how I say 'thank you' for all being so nice to me!! So yeah thank you all for making me feel so welcome the past months! :)

Especially as someone who usually has trouble making friends and putting myself out there due to shyness it means a lot!

Under the cut I'll also put some messages directed at separate people, I'm fighting the lil voice in my head that's shy about this but you guys all deserve to hear it hehe, even if I'm kinda ass at expressing myself like this

But even if not mentioned/tagged I appreciate everyone who supports me/my work so much and I love seeing you guys in my notes!!

@lovealexhunt In the short time I've been here I've noticed you do so much for people and this fandom! I've loved all the fics you wrote that I read so far and love how you write Mal and Daenarya together (and the vampire au OOOO). She's so fun and I loved drawing her interacting with Ripley and will definitely do it again sometime!! And I'm also still so obsessed with the geometric Ripley art and I thought it was so sweet of you to draw that for me aaaa

@lilyoffandoms I always love seeing your art on my tumblr feed and your designs for your mc's!! And I'm still sooo in love with the Ripley drawing you did and that really made my day back then because it was a total surprise too!! In general all the art you've done of my characters has just been awesome and made my day every time!!

@choicesmc I love what you do with all your mc's, when you make picrews for them, the artworks I've seen you do for them and all the info you share about them, you're so so creative!! I love all your writing a lotttt, especially the shorter ones you've been posting lately!! I rly enjoy talking to you in dm's a lot, if it ever seems like I don't it's just me being shy haha 😭. I also love the tags you leave when you reblog my art and when you point out stuff you notice :)

@sapphoschoices Thank you for so often sharing my posts!! And in general always supporting people and sharing their work! I love all the edits I've seen you do and hope you'll keep sharing more hehe. I also read a fic by you for the first time last week and really enjoyed it! Made me wanna replay Desire & Decorum..

@rosesnink Thank you for letting me borrow your mc's a few times when I wanted to draw interactions! I had so so much fun writing back and forth about Rex and Brienne after I posted the art of them together hehe, I always love to see other people with orc mc's in general. I also really like the gif edits you make and your fics I've read so far!

@aria-ashryver You were one of the first people in the fandom who started sharing and commenting on my art and thanks to that I ended up not just  posting a few things and dipping forever like I expected hahah. I always really enjoy reading through the tags you leave on the art I post!! I finally caught up to SICSIG a while ago and it was sooo fun seeing what you did with Immortal Desires and all the extra lore and stuff and I can so clearly tell so much love went into it. And your sprite edits are also always so amazing aaaa.

@cadybear420 Thank you for often sharing my posts I really appreciate it hehe. And thank you for letting me draw your mc's a few times, I had sm fun with it haha. And it was really fun talking about Ripley and Evie interactions. I really enjoy your edits, you're so skilled aaa!! I also enjoy reading about your mc's a lot + how you write gnc characters and gnc m×f romance.

@gaiuskamilah I loveeee your art a lot and love seeing it on my feed!! I also really enjoy reading your thoughts on books, characters, themes in books etc. You make me wanna replay BloodBound so bad (and I definitely will do that soon)

@hsslilly-blog I'm sooo obsessed with your art you have no idea. You're rly funny and I rly enjoy seeing your posts on my feed. I really really love how you write characters, like they just feel so real, it's super inspiring!

@mydemonsdrivealimo I really really enjoy your art and everything you share about Jensen and Bryce. You're like  The Bryce Mutual to me, anything you say about him is basically canon to me lol. Thank you for letting me draw Jensen a while ago it was SO fun aaaa

@peonyblossom

Thank you for the cover redraw ideas you sent when I asked for ideas, I had sooo much fun drawing the Alpha cover with Kalani and Channing!! I enjoy the bits you share about your mc's and oc's a lot too!

@choicesfandomappreciation

[stellar-solar-flare]

This popped up on my dash and since you said that the conversation is open, I thought I would share my two cents, even if it might be stuff you are already familiar with and do yourself. I don't think I'm in the same fandoms as you but things mentioned here are observations made from multiple fandoms. Although I have been writing in AO3 instead of tumblr for the most part, my experience here comes from writing almost exclusively Steve Rogers longfics (mostly 50k+ words, 10+ chapters) from 2021. I don't claim to be super popular - I'm just reflecting on the relative differencies I have noticed in my engagement.

First of all, please don't quit a series just because it has been over a month. That's not a long time for an update at all! If you're writing fic, it's something you do on your free time without getting paid, so there's absolutely no reason at all to apologize life getting in the way.

From my own experience, I have to agree with the consistency and speed of updates being pretty big factors on engagement. I have noticed most reader engagement when I have been able to push out one or more update a week for multiple weeks straight. It helps people stay engaged with the story and invested when the story is fresh in their minds. But then again, I have gotten a lot of comments when coming back from a hiatus too so I think it's not the only factor at all.

Writing a lot, even if it's not the same series, helps keep one's fics on people's minds, and helps establish you as someone who writes X character (with a certain kind of characterization). I share sneak peeks sometimes, but that's just because I am too impatient to wait, they're not from 'marketing' standpoint. Personally I try to focus on writing and let the writing itself do the rest, but I do make a point to reply to comments and thank people, even if that is sometimes very delayed, so that they know I appreciate them. I also don't talk badly about my own writing, because as a reader, seeing someone do that can very easily turn me off from reading their story. (To be clear, I don't mean venting about the human frustrations of writing but publically calling your own stories bad etc.)

One of the big things for me as a reader and a writer is having multiple storylines going and having 'hooks' in the story, so to speak, so that the readers know what they're looking forward to when the story continues. Cliffhangers are the ultimate form of this but things like a character uncovering a partial piece of information that raises questions work too. I spend a lot of time establishing chemistry, both romantic and platonic, so that the readers have something to root for.

Then again, engagement always depends on the story. Some things do better than others. Sometimes I think a fic is going to be well-liked and it doesn't get much attention, sometimes a thing I thought was just pure self-indulgence gains a lot of reader interaction. Which brings me to my next point - I think that the writer's enjoyment bleeds through the story to readers; things that I have enjoyed writing the most are my most popular fics. And sometimes when I think I'll write some easy 'trope soup' that'll get a lot of interest, it's crickets. I think there's a lesson there for me.

I try to engage with people and be a part of fandom beyond writing. I read and comment other people's fics, I reblog stuff, I talk about everyday things and try to stay active even when I have no capacity to write (happens to us all). It helps foster a sense of community, and while it's not self-serving and I read and comment out of genuine enjoyment, ultimately being active in fandom and engaging with writing helps us all. It does feel like current fandom population doesn't comment as much as they used to, which is a shame. But I try to be the change I want to see in the world.

It's also worth noting that sometimes there are these 'lulls' in fandom where everyone is sort of quiet and busy with life, I assume. Like major holidays. They just happen, and the season will change again. Also, scheduled reblogs and comment replies help reach different sets of people.

Finally, focusing too much on the stats is a thing that for me is a road to madness that sucks all enjoyment out of writing. It is human to want engagement and look at the pretty numbers but again, what matters is the enjoyment you get from a story. Personally I have written a 250k longfic in a tiny niché that was commented regularly by one single person and occasionally by about five people. And I still love that fic to death and am so proud of myself for writing it.

That's my two cents, from my personal experience. As always, they should be taken with a grain of salt, and they might not be universally applicable. I wish you the best with writing and hope that the muses are kind to you.

Writers of multi-chapter fics:

How do you keep your readers engaged as the story gets longer?

I've heard from many, and seen it myself, that interaction drops significantly as the chapters accumulate (which I honestly do not even understand...hence why I'm asking this) but I've also seen a lot of writers who have quite lengthy fics where the engagement and excitement seems to stay consistent throughout.

They're receiving asks with comments and questions about the latest chapters, the reblogs are abundant compared to likes, and I'm just curious if there's anything anyone does differently to help maintain this other than just being a great writer 🤣 (which I'm realizing is probably the key thing and that there's nothing to do other than just be able to write a really good story which I'm clearly not haaaaa)

I've tried sharing snippets of upcoming chapters in the past and they've always fallen on their face, I've released chapter playlists, etc so I feel like from a "marketing" standpoint I've done what I can? And also as writers we shouldn't even have to work that hard to "promote" our fics considering people ask to be on taglists and what have you. (This is the site for sharing and ACTIVELY participating in fandom...)

It's been a struggle to keep myself motivated to finish up my series and I'm starting to wonder if there's even a point now that it's been over a month since I've updated (which I realize consistent updates are likely a huge factor as well 🙃 but, you know, life.)

Anyway. Thinking out loud here. Any advice/conversation is welcome! 💗

[jackredfieldwasmyjacob]

just wrote my name in egyptian!!! it would be pronounced 'nekhet' ('nejet' in spanish pronunciation)

[lazylittledragon]

i'm going to scream i got accused of being a transmisogynist by someone on twitter because of this specific part of my t4t steddie art

[puppyeared]

learning abt friendship decay and "not reaching out to your friends for months at a time unprompted is not neurotypical behaviour" has me feeling a certain way

[softlyspun]

Oh, this is fun! As a historical costumer, I have some Thoughts on how corsetry and fit interact, and this is actually a topic that was keeping me from writing a costuming post for the Ginger and Mint girls. Might as well get it out of the way now! So, corsets...

I think the first thing that might not be completely obvious is corsets are sturdy. Even cheap ones from places like Corset Story are much, mush heavier than, say, a t-shirt or dress shirt. For its components:

The Busk

So, when I refer to the busk, I'm taking about the front closure of the corset, this bit right here:

(My cat decided to help.)

This is the bit that's going to give you trouble when you put the corset on, even if it's the correct size. It's a rigid bit of metal, much, much less flexible than the rest of the corset bones, and it's where the closures are attached. Usually those are the little metal clasps that you see here, but sometimes, especially in modern fashion corsets, you get some really whimsical ones, like this thing from Corset Story.

I'm inclined to say the busk isn't generally a point of failure in a corset: those little metal loops are riveted in place.

Next, we have

The Bones

So, when I'm talking about corset bones, I mean these bits:

These are long strips of something stiff but flexible. Historically, whalebone (a misleading name, it's actually baleen) was used, though, you'll also see things like stiff cord or reeds used for the purpose. Modern corsets use plastic or metal. They tend to be about the weight and flexibility of zip ties, maybe slightly stiffer. With time and use, these bones will conform to the shape of the wearer's body. This is sometimes a point of failure, usually when the boning pokes through at either the top or bottom of the corset. This will usually manifest as the tip of a bone poking you. (Almost every time this has happened to me, it's been under the armpit, but it could just as easily jam annoyingly into your waist). I suppose, technically, if it was put under some kind of weird strain, a bone could snap and poke through the middle of the garment.

Last, we have:

The Laces

So, a corset is actually a fantastically adjustable garment. This isn't to say that it isn't possible to wear them too tight, or for a corset to be too small, but in general they're a lot more forgiving than pop culture would have you believe.

At least with the corsets I've worn, the top and the bottom of the corset actually lace separately, and they tie at the middle. I almost always end up loosening the laces almost as far as they'll go when putting a corset on, getting the busk fastened, and then lacing it to the desired tightness.

While it's possible to lace it up on your own, the whole thing is much easier with another pair of hands.

For the points of failure here: the laces themselves can vary wildly. I've personally never had an issue with laces breaking, but it's not impossible that they might fray/weaken against the eyelets, or, if they're under a lot of strain and made from a flimsier material, they might just snap. The eyelets themselves are another potential point of failure: I've found that they can pull out and tear a garment when under strain (Or if you make the mistake of putting a grommeted garment through the wash. RIP, the kirtles I made in college). This is less of an issue when you're looking at historical construction, since historical eyelets are more or less embroidered into the garment, like this:

This is stronger and less likely to pull out, but still has the potential to unravel or wear out.

The final potential point of failure is the fabric of the corset itself. Like I said, these things are sturdy, but they're not indestructible. If the corset was already worn/damaged, and not carefully mended, it's possible for the fabric to tear (possibly dramatically!)

Just for funsies, let's look at how likely the issues are to occur:

The corset is uncomfortably tight, and it's all your character can think about.

Yeah, this is absolutely likely to happen. I think anyone who's done historical reenactment or cosplay has misjudged the fit of a costume at some point. Bonus points if the corset is an integral part of the costume, or if you're at a con or a Faire where you can't easily get out of the stupid thing. It almost always goes along with chaffing from the fabric of whatever you're wearing underneath the corset (and you should be wearing something underneath the corset. They're undergarments, but not next-to-the-skin undergarments)

I actually have my own personal experience with this. At a wedding, a reenactment friend came up to ask why I wasn't dancing. When I mentioned that I was corseted into a formal dress that didn't quite fit, her face went from teasing to sympathetic, and she assured me that I should just sit down.

The corset won't fit, no matter how much your character--or a helper--tries to get it on.

Like I said before, corsets are surprisingly forgiving (just lace it looser), but sometimes a garment is just too small. This is bound to be a point of frustration: even mass-produced fashion corsets can set you back a couple hundred bucks, and it takes a while for them to ship. If it's a custom corset, that's a much, much bigger investment, in time, money, or both. Depending on how much time you have before the event where the corset was being worn, this might require some radical changes to costume/garment plans. Many historical dresses are made to fit over structured undergarments, and won't fit correctly (or possibly at all) without a corset underneath. If it's for a cosplay, this might mean having to frantically throw together a look-alike out of duct tape and hope the morning of the convention.

All that being said, it might be possible to salvage the garment by just adding in a new panel. This was often how maternity corsets were handled in-period. Still, if the character is in a hurry, this is likely to end up being an obvious patch job, especially if they don't have a matching fabric on hand. If the corset is being worn as an undergarment, this might not matter. If it's being worn as a fashionable overgarment, it might cause remarks.

The corset is beginning to break or come undone as it struggles to contain your character.

I suppose it's possible that a less-experienced assistant might tie a bad knot that could come undone, which would honestly be the best case scenario here. The corset would just loosen as the night went on. Otherwise, this is the herald of frustration: this is going to mean either some time-consuming repairs, or buying a new corset.

The corset bursts open, unable to contain the pressure behind it.

This one's pure fantasy (not that there's anything wrong with that!) The possible ways I can see this working:

The rivets along the busk pull out, letting the corset fall open in the front.

The laces tear, sending shreds of ribbon everywhere, and the garment opening in the back.

The fabric itself tears, probably along one of the sides, in between the bones.

The corset is too restrictive to take off, and your character needs help getting out of it.

This has so, so much potential for a sweet, intimate moment. At the end of a day, feet and head both aching, I've found that I usually just want my beautiful outfit off. And there's always that point of exhaustion, realizing that the busk isn't going to cooperate and let you get out without unlacing the stupid thing, but that the laces are either tied too tight for you to undo yourself, or the knot is just out of reach. Turning to your equally exhausted assistant, and just quietly asking for help. The sigh of relief when the corset finally falls away. The red marks on your skin, where the fabric was pressed too-close for hours. The overall soreness of being through a busy day in costume, and the satisfaction of having had a great event. A vow to take things easy tomorrow, to let your body rest and recover.

Anyway, those are my thoughts on corsets and historical costumes as they relate to this kind of kinky fun!

corset prompts if u can!!! like being too big for a corset and just either not fitting or burstin it if thats ok !!

A time and a place:

On the way to an event that your character needs/wants to look extra nice for.

At an event, presumably with plenty of people your character wants to look good in front of.

On the way home from an event that your character may or may not have gotten a little too wild at.

At home, while getting dressed.

At a store, while trying things on.

The issue:

The corset is uncomfortably tight, and it's all your character can think about.

The corset won't fit, no matter how much your character--or a helper--tries to get it on.

The corset is beginning to break or come undone as it struggles to contain your character.

The corset bursts open, unable to contain the pressure behind it.

The corset is too restrictive to take off, and your character needs help getting out of it.

The cause:

No fault on your character's part; the corset was simply too small for their body.

Too much eating/drinking.

The corset used to fit, but your character has gained weight since they last wore it.

Bloating, be it from nerves, bubbly drinks, something they ate earlier, what have you.

Too much movement, gradually wearing on the too-tight corset and/or your character.

[ablog]

Girl help I wish to travel to different dimensions just to watch a movie/show I really like a little to the left