#anyway ive asked if this one is still available

[gorillaxyz]

guy selling foreign language set... £4 a badge... SOMEONE BOUGHT ONE? HUST ONE???? so. im not gonna bother with the set butbi think this one is cool and yknow i love commemorating... interests... with buying myself a little something something... and these are from 1968....... but the thing is. this guy is selling for PICK UP ONLY? FROM CHELTENHAM? BRO

[spearxwind]

Every so often I remember that one user that i blocked for a reason i dont QUITE remember but im pretty sure was because they were being rude and abrasive to me on my own blog and then they took to making posts about how "someone they really looked up to blocked them for no reason" i wonder what became of them

[arolesbianism]

I've been playing oni all day again and I'm rotating various dupe hcs in my mind... Might take a stab at designing some random dupes later to fuck around and wait nvm it's past midnight god damnit

[exopelagic]

supervisor was met. god help our souls

[arthenaa]

nocturne (interlude) — mizu x f!reader

synopsis: it seems as if you've always managed to bump into your father's regular in untimely situations. it also can't be helped that you think he's absolutely handsome.

content: reader is a daughter of a medic and an apothecary, golden retriever x black cat trope, might contain historically inaccurate terms (not that well versed in the edo period or japanese culture. forgive me), mizu will be referred with he/him pronouns, mizu being emotionally constipated ig, slight mention of violence and gore, fluff, pre-relationship, meet cute, sfw.

a/n: heyaaa :D its been awhile since ive posteddd. considering this as a break from comms and sch!! ill try to be more active in posting as my xmas break is approaching hehe <33 current hyperfixation is mizu from blue eyed samurai. (I HIGHLY SUGGEST WATCHING IT !!!) enjoyy part 2!! (my love mine all mine)

You can still remember the first time you met him.

It was quite easy to recall the memory with ease. It was after all one of the nights where there weren't many customers fluttering about to avail your father's services in medicine due to idiotic accidents and miscalculated duels. You watched your father pull out herb after herb, vial after vial, stitch after stitch as more and more swordsmen of all ranks came in and out of the shop.

You were quite well-known around town as the daughter of the medic—often smiling and huffing about. Some say you were too naive to be comfortable and accommodating to your father's customers but others also claim you were elegant and a ray of sunshine due to your approachable and easygoing nature. None of that mattered anyway, not when the field of medicine was your only focus in life.

Your father doesn't like to call you his apprentice but you knew you were his. After all, with all the knowledge he's passed down unto you, you might as well run your own apothecary but alas, you still had much to learn.

It was also a quiet agreement among men that no one pays too much attention to the daughter of the skilled medic and apothecary. You suppose it's because of your father's standing and reputation that most men would rather cut off their arms than get on the bad side of one of the only medics who can actually do a decent job in life-threatening situations.

Which brings us to the current topic at hand.

It had been a cold winter that night. Your father had been busy making fresh medicine at the behest of a high lord in one of the rich provincial states up north. It was up to you to man the front and be alert in case any wanderers might walk in asking for help.

The harsh breeze of that winter night was your first cue. The doors had swung open which left you scrambling off your seat then a second later, a man with a lean stature stumbles his way through—arm clutching the side of his stomach.

Your breath hitches as he props himself against the wooden pillar. He looks up at you, blue eyes clear and intense that it left you speechless from where you stood.

"I-I," He gasps for air, eyebrows scrunching from the pain. "Help-I need—"

You wasted no time in aiding him as you took wide strides to his injured form, arms holding out to keep him steady as he began to wobble back and forth. You scream for your father, worried that the man before you would pass out at any moment.

Thankfully aware of the situation, your father prepares the receiving area. You look back at the injured patient with worry in your eyes as you further assess all sorts of damage on his figure.

However, you can't help but find yourself entranced by his clear blue eyes. Despite being on the brink of utter exhaustion, he has managed to keep himself awake perched up on your shoulder.

He locks eyes with you, blinking slowly, and just as you begin to get lost in those blue hues of his, his body begins to fall.

"Sir, wait—!"

Then he's out like a light.

The next time you met him had been purely coincidental.

After that night, the man left quietly like the leaves falling gently along the stream. He left quite a hefty sum of money on your father's desk and kept the bed clean at his departure. It's safe to say that your father was overjoyed by the payment.

Your father had sent you on an errand to town to gather some supplies from a supplier he trusts. He had been busy attending to patients and manning the counter to be the one to get the package himself.

"You have nothing better to do anyway, might as well be useful to your old dad," Your father scrunched his nose playfully as he placed a bag of money on your palms. "And if a man approaches you, remember to use that knife I gave you and make clean perforation at the jugular vein—"

You had stopped your father right there.

It didn't bother you that much and this also was an opportunity to get some leisure time. You did as you were told and saved a bit of money for window shopping.

Stumbling upon an artisan selling hair ornaments, your eyes immediately dart toward a golden hairpin with imitations of sakura leaves. Upon reaching out to inspect it, a hand collides with your own causing you to let out a gasp.

"Apologies—" Your eyes dart up to look at the stranger but is met instead with familiar blue eyes, this time under the disguise of orange tint sunglasses. "Oh! It's you."

The man furrows his eyebrows in confusion. "Are you Mr. Gojo's—?"

"Daughter?" You perk up with a smile. You shift from heel to heel at the intensity of his gaze. Somehow, you're feeling quite nervous with this gentleman. "Yeah. I caught you that night."

"Ah," The man nods, awkward in his stance before turning back toward the array of ornaments in front of him. "Thank you."

"I-It was no problem," You stammered, hands smoothing out the fabric of your kimono. "It's what we do after all."

There's a hum of response coming from the man before silence ensues between the two of you. He had gotten back to analyzing other items that the vendor was offering and you could only stand there, discreetly watching his every move.

You didn't have the opportunity to take a good look at him besides his eyes that night. Your father seemed like he had recognized the man before you and ushered you out of the room before you could have the chance to offer help. Though, now, you could see that he had a proportionate height—a few inches taller than you but still tall nonetheless. His shoulders evoke confidence with every move of his body but his face talks of the mystery hidden under the guise of his kasa. He was pretty, yet... handsome. You've never come across a man who could embody both sides of the spectrum.

"Do you need something?" His voice had startled you out of your daydream causing your cheeks to flush. He raises his eyebrow with his ever-perpetual glare. You give him a sheepish smile.

"I've never gotten your name, sir." You purse your lips, tilting your head as he squints his eyes at your request.

"My name? Why?"

Your mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water at his response. Why? What does he mean why? This man was truly cynical, you think.

"Well, I saved you, didn't I?"

"Correction. Your father did." The man deadpans. You giggle at his tone, eyes crinkling in amusement.

"Alright, no need to get so philosophical with me," You jest, trying to get him to lighten up to you. You take a step closer, trying to gauge his expressions as you give him a lighthearted smile. "Is getting to know people a crime now?"

The man sighs before looking at the array of hair ornaments to your right. He then grabs the hairpin you were looking at and tosses a bag of coins toward the vendor. He places it within your palms before adjusting his cloak. You flinch at the sudden gesture, unaware of his intentions.

"It's Mizu." He says before turning and leaving without further explanation. You stand, agape as the man further blends in with crowd with each step he takes away from you.

This man—No, Mizu, surely is interesting.

This next meeting was one you were thankful of.

Now, it wasn't as if your meetings were solely limited by chance. He became a regular after your father's incredible work on him. You watch him arrive usually at the end of every week, either looking to restock the medicine that your father gave him or get himself treated for an unwanted injury.

You tried interacting with him during his visits but Mizu always either cut the conversation short or grunted in annoyance. He never tried to entertain much of your whims and only left you grasping at straws for whatever possible chance of interaction he might give you.

Although, despite being cold towards you, he still has the heart to help you in mundane tasks whenever he encounters the chance. For instance, upon seeing you struggling with the basin, he immediately walked over and carried to where your father is with ease. He also grabbed your freshly bought basket of fruits and guarded you on your way back home. He even thumped the back of your head lightly with his hand on his way out while you were fixing up the front.

He was an enigma. A puzzle you desperately tried to solve but always failed.

The thought of his gentlemanly actions had always left your heart thumping faster and louder within the confines of your chest. Wanting to know him, get closer to him, see the corners of his lips upturned—anything to see a version of him only you can keep.

It also seems that your father is familiar with his master. You hear talks between them, asking about the well-being of a man named 'Master Eiji', the one whom Mizu calls his swordfather. You ought to know better than to eavesdrop but somehow your attention has always been led towards his very existence.

Your father had always been strict about you ever since you were but a wee girl. He had expressed the importance of having a fruitful marriage with someone who is of your deserving. He, after all, was in a true love marriage with your mother and was together for at least 25 years before your mother succumbed to her illness at the age of 45.

It also didn't help that you were deemed the sunlight of the town, often getting several interested looks from promising men. But all your suitors couldn't take the intensity of your father's expectations. It's safe to say that you won't be getting married for awhile.

"Just stay here, my daughter," Your father sighs as he serves you seconds of your favorite food. "Who the hell cares about marriage anyway."

You laugh, reaching out to pat your old man's hand. "It's going to look bad for you if you don't marry off your one and only daughter, y'know?"

"That's precisely why I don't want to do any of that," Your father grumbles, taking a sip of his soup. "Work here, eat, sleep, go have fun. That's what your mother would've wanted anyway."

You were grateful for your circumstances, yes, but you've always wanted to help out as much as you can for your dad. His reputation as a skilled medic can only take so much before others will come to expect more. So as long as you're in his care, you try to help out around his shop as much as you can.

Although you wonder if your father would allow him to—

Ah, forget it. Convincing your father was a lost cause.

Back to the current task at hand, your father had tasked you to gather some herbs from the forest near your humble abode as it is less taxing for your finances when you have easy access to one nearby. Gearing up for the coldness of winter, you stepped out of your house in pursuit of such herbs. With a hop on your step, you wish to finish your task sooner than later to prepare for a certain gentleman possibly visiting later at night.

The only you thing you didn't account for was the possible danger you'd be encountering.

"Listen, I-I don't want any trouble," You slowly backed away as a group of men began surrounding you. It was uncommon to encounter bandits around this area as this was situated near the town. You're not so sure as to what prompted this criminals to stage a robbery in broad daylight.

"Oh, c'mon little miss," One of the bandits chuckled. He twirled a knife in his hand as he approached you menacingly. "We just wanna know what you're up to."

Your breath speeds up as one of his companions playfully advanced with a jump in his step. You flinched back, heartbeat thumping as the crunch of leaves around you signified their slow advance towards your figure. You clutched the knife your father gave you within your hands, ready to use it in case one of them tries something.

Jugular vein. Neck. Neck. Vein. Keep it fast. Right side.

"Perhaps we could do something fun, darling? I'm sure you'd love it." Wide grins and loud laughter erupted from their lips.

Vein. Lethal point. Could head straight through the liver. Artery. Perforation.

Your head had begun to ramble, your father's words echoing within the depths of your mind. Just as you adjusted your grip on your knife and one of the bandits had began to finally get whatever they aimed for in the first place, a breeze of wind suddenly alerted you of a new presence.

You shut your eyes in fear as one of the men at the far back screamed.

"What the fuck?!" The leader bellowed as he watched his man crumple to the ground, holding what was left of his dismembered arm. The other bandits begin turning towards the new opponent, swords ready as they watched him step over their comrade.

You open your teary eyes, locking gazes with the familiar hues of blue hidden under orange tint. There's some sort of hardened glare as Mizu looked at you up and down, assessing your well-being within a matter of seconds.

"This is Takayama's jurisdiction," Mizu's deep voice bellowed as he placed his hand on the scabbard of his sword. "I suggest you leave."

The leader lets out a scoff as he widens his shoulders to appear more menacing to him. Mizu only looks at him under the guise of his kasa.

"You are outnumbered, samurai," The man smirks. It might've been intimidating with the number of men that surrounded Mizu but you were well aware of his prowess as a swordsman and completely had faith in his abilities. "Your talks of dominance do not affect me."

Mizu chuckles, one hand reaching up to push back his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"We'll see about that."

"Thank you," You smile widely, eyes crinkling as you grab his extended hand.

The bandits groaned in pain as they crumbled to the ground. Some have even passed out from the harsh hits that Mizu had inflicted. You watched him twirl and move with elegance, slicing and hitting with precise angles that left you in awe at his performance.

It took at most 15 minutes for him to finish all of them and another 3 minutes for you to pick your jaw off the floor and fix yourself up.

"It's no problem," Mizu nods at your gratitude. He holds your hand firm as you wobble back and forth to stay back in balance. "Although, I advise that you venture towards areas within the town vicinity. This area is bordering outside of Takayama, thus the bandits."

"Ah," You let out a soft laugh. "There were more herbs here. I thought it was safe."

Mizu doesn't reply back as he gazes at you from the comforts of his glasses. You flush at his stare, still not being able to handle its intensity. You look down to busy yourself with, staring at your conjoined hands before finally taking notice of a scratch on the side of his hand to his wrist.

"You're injured," You whispered as you pulled his hand close to yours. You hear Mizu's breath hitch as he stumbles slightly at the pull of your hand. You look up at him as he furrows his eyebrows.

"I-It's fine, it doesn't hurt." He tries to reason with you but your grip on his hand remains steady.

"You saved me so I'll repay you by treating this. Alright?" You give him your best smile and suddenly the samurai doesn't have the heart in him to say no. At the sound of his reluctant silence, you enthusiastically pull out your satchel filled with medicinal tools. It was handy that you always kept your tools with you no matter where you went.

You applied antiseptic, brushing it with a clean cloth along the wound. Whether Mizu felt the pain or not, he only remained as still as a rock while you worked.

"You're early today," You try to make conversation as you clean his wound up. Mizu stays silent for a few seconds before replying.

"I had free time," He says. "I... was also out of medicine so..."

You hum, nodding along his words as you make gentle strokes to ease the pain (if he ever felt it).

"If you ever need to go out like this again," He picks up the conversation making your heart skip a beat. There's a pause of silence before he continues. "Let me—If I'm there, let me know. You don't need to endanger yourself like this."

You let out a quiet laugh as you finally wrapped his wound with a white strip of cloth. You look at him with softened eyes, reveling in his slightly flushed cheeks and gaze dulled by sincerity. There's a pause of comfortable silence between the two of you, only lost in each other's gazes.

You slowly reach out, hands pausing as you communicate a request for consent. Mizu only gives you a small nod before you reach out to pull off his glasses. Those same beautiful blue orbs stare back at you as you revel in their gaze.

"You're more handsome like this," You whisper as you take a step closer to him. Snow gently falls around you, cascading in gentle flow as you breathe out puffs of air. Mizu tilts his head with an upturn of the corner of his lips.

There it is.

You flush in his gaze as he reaches up to brush a stray hair away from your face. "You're jesting," He says with a quiet tone.

Your gaze at him doesn't waver. "I'd say yes if you asked me to marry you."

Mizu let's out a chuckle, eyebrow raised at your bold response. "You are one dangerous lady, Y/N. Does your father know that?"

You roll your eyes at him. "How could he know when all he does is keep men away from me," You tilt your head playfully, "Although, I do wonder why he often keeps you close. Perhaps, he's found you to be worthy of a man."

Mizu laughs at your praises, shoulders shaking as the two of you stand close to one another, basking in the soft breeze of the winter sky. He lifts his hand up and flicks your forehead. You flinch back, holding your forehead in pain as you give him a glare.

"Ow?!" You frown as he looks at you with a smirk on his lips. "What a way to turn off a lady!"

"You're too adorable to be a lady," Mizu teases as he crosses his arms over his chest. He tilts his head as he looks at you with squinted eyes in thought. "Kind of like a.... puppy."

Your jaw drops at his comparison causing him to release a few chuckles. It wasn't fair that he was out here causing poor things to your heart and raised by a father who was direct and determined to achieve the things he wanted in life, you didn't allow yourself to back down.

With wide strides, you easily reach where he stands before standing on your toes and grabbing his face as you placed a chaste kiss on his cheek.

"Wha-?!" His face flushes a deep red as he moves back holding his cheek. You flash him a cheeky grin as he looks at you with wide eyes.

"I'll be waiting for your proposal, Mizu," You giggle, swaying back and forth with your hands tucked behind you. You put on his glasses before leaning slightly forward with eyes squinted playfully. "Or shall I be the one to propose, hm? Seeing as your blushing from just a kiss on the cheek."

Mizu takes a few seconds before collecting himself. There's an unreadable look on his face before makes careful steps towards you. You watch him, curious as he stops in front of you—hand reaching out to pull his glasses off from your face. You expect him to start berating you for invading his space but what you received after was certainly something you never took into account.

He leans down and gingerly places a kiss on your lips. Your breath hitches as he presses himself close before pulling away all to fast. Your lips tingle as you watch him put on his glasses back with a smile.

"I'm no coward, Y/N," He adjusts your cloak as you remain speechless in front of him. "I don't make promises I can't keep."

And just as he enters, he walks off with quiet footsteps, leaving you grasping at whatever was left of your brain after what he just did. Your face flushes a deep red as your fingertips touches your lips with shaky movements.

Did this man just—

"Are you coming?!" He calls over from the dirt path back to your house. You stumble in your footing as you rush over to him.

"I-I'm coming!" You stammer as you gather your things and rushed towards him. He greets you with a smile and this time with his glasses tucked away. Blue hues greet your flushed form and suddenly an overwhelming realization washes over you.

Oh, I'm definitely not going to let this man go.

a/n: MY WIFE MIZU MY WIFEEE,,,,, planning to make a pt2 idk lemme guys know if u want one. will also fix my archive, tumblr's getting messy. NOT PROOFREAD but will fix if ever i do go back on this after my finals. HOPE YALL ENJOYED THIS!

[dckweed]

BABYGIRL, jake "hangman" seresin

summary: in which hangman and his babygirl go on a wild ride with an unplanned pregnancy and finally admitting their feelings for each other and figuring out life in general as new parents

warnings: pregnancy, morning sickness, smut, like alot of smut in this one, christmas themed even though it's march!, ex boyfriend meets new boyfriend and it's not pretty. rooster becomes a cowboy.

hi my loves :) been a minute for this one huh? anyway, please remember that this series is open for requests!

series masterlist here, series playlist here.

thank @mamachasesmayhem for making our new header, shes the bestest !!

PART FOUR - the parents. 

If you thought Jake was bad before the incident at the bar, he was even worse now. He hovered, and he followed, and when he wasn’t available to hover and follow, he enlisted his friends to do it for him and send quarterly reports back to him. You found it endearing at first, but as Thanksgiving came and went you were thoroughly annoyed and at wits end. It was one time, and you were doing so much better since your small stint in the labor and delivery ward of the hospital (that Jake declared you would not be giving birth in because he didn’t like the way the nurses talked to you sometimes), you had regular check ins with your doctor, and were taking medications and drinking as much liquid IV as you could to keep hydrated during spouts of being too nauseated to eat. You continuously told Jake that he didn’t need to have his friends watching over you on their days off, but he continuously did not listen to you (the Seresin Selective Hearing coming in full stride), so you were continuously apologizing to whichever poor squadron member was spread out on your couch or lingering in your kitchen when you would venture out of your bed in the morning. Your favorite days were Bob and Natasha days, Bob was always so sweet and gentle and calm. Though he still followed you with his eyes whenever you left his general area, you didn’t mind because never asked what you were doing or told you to take it easy. Even though you weren’t always hungry, you had taken to baking him something sweet the night before his days to be with you as a thank you. 

Natasha was just straight up fun. “Fuck Jake.” She had said, and tossed you a pair of comfortable shorts and a shirt and had taken you on a walk down the beach on her first visit with you, and when you had checked her phone later when Jake texted her, you had found the string of lies she had been feeding him all day and laughed about it with her until he got home from work. “How was knitting, babygirl?” He had asked, setting his bag down with a kiss on your head. You grinned and locked eyes with Nat, telling him how calm and quiet it had been. She sent you a wink over his shoulder on her way out the door, and from then on out, she was officially your best girl friend. 

You didn’t mind your days with Rooster either, but he was definitely a little more on edge, probably because he still had a rocky relationship with Jake and didn’t want to do anything to fuck it up, you couldn’t say you blamed him. Javy, on the other hand, was a carbon copy of Jake and the amount of times you had to remember to breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth as you tried not to beat him with a sock full of bars of soap was astonishing. 

And if you thought Jake was bad during November, December was entirely worse the closer you got to christmas. If anything, he was stressing you out more than being sick was but you didn’t have the heart to tell him because he was obviously enjoying being able to take care of you, and who were you to say that he couldn’t? Your nerves and frustration became steadily worse as it got towards that time of the month, you ran around you and Jake’s apartment packing up both of your suitcases because knowing him he’d forget to pack his britches if you didn’t remind him to do it (he had in fact forgotten to pack his britches once on a vacation that both of your families had taken as teens). You also fretted and stewed about what you guys were going to tell your parents. Your small baby bump was no longer small and was kind of just..there. It would be noticed as soon as someone hugged you, and knowing Jake’s mama, she was going to hug you. 

“Stop your worrying, babygirl..” He sighed from your left, his right hand coming to rest on your knee. You guys were crossing into Arizona, one more state left to go before you hit texas, and you were starting to get antsy. He had one hand on the steering wheel, slouched back in his seat as if his truck wasn’t outrageously big and hard to handle. “They’re gonna be okay..” 

You bring your attention to his face, about to speak when you’re cut off by a loud snore in the back seat. You crinkle your nose in slight disgust, peaking behind you. Rooster was as manspread as the backseat of a GMC allowed him to be, his long legs spread wide and his even longer torso leaned against the door and seat as his head rolled against the window. He had had no other plans for the holiday, and you could see the loneliness in his eyes when he said it and gosh darn it you just couldn’t say no to those big sad eyes, so you invited him on the trip home. You thought your dad would love him, and so would Jake’s brothers. “He seems to have made himself comfortable.” You chuckle, turning back around to face the front. Jake only hums in response, his hand going up to rub your belly gently before he takes it away to place it back on the steering wheel. 

Not too much longer after that you noticed a tall McDonalds sign a little ways off the freeway and your stomach grumbled loudly, and your mouth watered as you thought about how good a chicken sandwich and fries sounded. “Jake, baby, get off the freeway up ahead!” You say, whacking his bicep a few times in excitement as you bounce in your seat a little bit. “Pull into the McDonalds!” 

Jake hums in slight disgust but does as you say, who was he to decline you of food when you were hardly ever hungry? He only hoped that you wouldn’t throw it up all over his freshly cleaned interior. 

Two chicken sandwiches and french fries later, you were back on the road, dancing in your seat happily to whatever was streaming through the radio as you munched on french fries and an M&M McFlurry. 

Jake was insistent on making the long drive to the Seresin Ranch in one go, he hated stopping, so what part of the drive wasn’t spent with you and Rooster goofing off with each other, playing weird car games and trying to rope Jake into them, was spent with you sleeping, which is what you were doing when Jake slowed his truck down to turn left onto a long dirt road, the metal archway just above the electric fence that slid open spelled out his family’s name in big bold lettering. 

It hadn’t snowed just yet in this part of Texas but it was definitely cold enough to have frozen some of the water puddles that littered the well worn dirt drive so he drove carefully, both hands on the wheel just as you started to stir in your seat, your head having bounced off the window as he hit a particularly big pothole. You groaned, rubbing your eyes and your belly. It wasn’t going to be a secret too much longer, you realized as your bleary eyes focused on the lights of the ranch house just up ahead. 

“Sorry Babygirl, I was trying to be gentle..” He murmurs, looking over at you with a slight pout tugging at the corners of his lips. You hum in response, stretching in your seat. You could make out your Daddy’s John Deere Gator the closer you got, and you started to get more nervous and excited all at the same time. You had told all of your family that two of you were together, you weren’t really sure how else you were supposed to explain your prolonged trip to California where you essentially moved in with him, but you both had been hesitant to tell them about the baby, knowing that questions were going to be asked, and that his Mama was going to want to fly out the moment you told her, and you just weren’t ready for that. You weren’t really ready for this either, but you knew you didn’t have a choice. 

“S’okay,” You yawned, checking in the backseat. Rooster had started dozing off again too so you shook his knee, his eyes flew open instantly and he sat up at attention. “We’re home..” You say. The Seresin’s home was just as much yours as your own home was, and the same went for Jake with your house. The two of you were always at one or the other, practically living at each others houses in the summers, this was and always had been home, and if you wanted to be really sentimental and make yourself cry, Jake had always been your home too. 

Rooster moves his head so it’s poking out between the two of you, over the center console of the truck. “Damn, Jake..” He breathes, taking in what bit of the ranch he could see in the dark of the night, the big texan sky giving little illumination tonight. You knew that his words would really be emphasized in the morning when he saw it in all of it’s glory. The Seresin Ranch was a working ranch, full of cattle and acres of land, whereas yours was only a personal ranch, your father living off of the land and making enough money here and there off of cattle sales. It was more than enough to raise you and support your mama, it had been a happy life, but life at the Seresin’s was just different. 

“You ain’t seen nothin’ yet, Bradshaw.” Jake drawls, pulling his truck into the drive, right behind his mama’s much smaller SUV. The dome lights pop on overhead as he opens his door before pulling the keys out of the ignition, not bothering to honk the horn to alert them of your guys’ presence. He was more worried about getting you out of the car and into bed. It was damn near midnight by now, and you had only been dozing for less than an hour. He knew you and the baby needed sleep. 

He comes around the front of the truck and opens your door in the time it takes for you to unbuckle and stretch in your seat, Bradley having gotten out as soon as Jake did. “Come on mama, lets get you inside..” When he wasn’t calling you Babygirl, he had taken to calling you mama and it did something else entirely to your already hormonally raging body and when it rolled off of his tongue in his own mama’s driveway, you just knew you were in for the longest christmas of your life because there was no way in hell you were getting down and dirty in Mama Seresin’s house. You take his outstretched hand and swing your feet out of the truck, landing on the running boards in the dark. “Easy, it’s a little wet.”  

“Thank you, baby..” You say, reaching up on your tiptoes to plant a kiss on his scruffy cheek. He hums, a hand going to the small of your back to pull you flush against his body, or as flush as you can be with a round belly. “You ready?” You ask quietly, listening to Bradley unload the luggage from the bed of the truck. 

Jake sighs, rubbing the small of your back. “Not really,” He says, pulling back to look down at you with a little grin on his lips. “But it will be better the faster we get in there and get the shock and surprise done and over with.” You nod in response and he simply kisses your forehead, going to help Bradley with the bags. 

The boys are the first ones into the house, you follow them almost sheepishly, heat blooming across your face when you realize that this is it. Your daddy is in the midst of hugging Jake, giving him a “Good to have you home, son”, and shaking Bradley’s hand, an impressed look across his typically hardened features when he realizes how strong his grip is. “You can tell how good a man is by how strong he grips your hand.” He always says, and Bradley must be a damn good man because your daddy shakes his hand out when they pull away. 

His eyes lock on you standing in the open door of the Seresin house, a home that was just as much a second house to you as it was to your daddy, and a grin spreads across his face. “Com’ere, honey!”He practically shouts, pulling you into him by the arms. Your belly presses against his as his arms go around you, and just as he’s rubbing your back he seems to notice it, hands gripping you by the shoulder he pushes you away for a moment, looking down. “...honey?” 

Jake is by your side almost immediately, ready to step in if needed. “Sir, Mama, Daddy..” He says, addressing his whole family. His brothers are behind his mom, and they’re all looking on with interest. “We have an announcement..” 

You keep your eyes on your dad, watching his face as you speak. “You’re gonna be a Papa, daddy..” You say quietly, wanting him to hear the news first. At first, there’s nothing, no sign of any kind of emotion on his face, eyebrows furrowed, until a grin breaks across his lips. 

“You hear that?!” He shouts, raising your arm up in the air as if he had just won the super bowl. “I’m gonna be a fuggin, Papa!” A chorus of celebration is shouted throughout the entrance of the house, and one by one you hug your way through the family, finally coming to a rest by Bradley about half an hour later, your eyes drooping and shoulders sagging. 

“Alright guys,” Jake says, looking up from his conversation with his mama to see you using Bradshaw as a support pillar. “It’s time to get her to bed, been a long day and a rough few months for her with the pregnancy sickness and all that..” 

The next morning fares slightly less busy for you, though the whole family seems to be home and all eyes are on you when you venture out of Jake’s old bedroom at around eight thirty in the morning, way later than normally allowed on the ranch. You can’t help the blush that creeps up your face as you head through the large living room toward the kitchen. “Well good mornin’ Babygirl,” Jake’s brother, Nash, drawls at you, lifting his coffee mug to his lips with a wink as he passes you in the kitchen doorway. His boots were covered in dirt and it was clear that he and his brother had all been out working already. “Sleep good?”

“Yeah, actually.” You say, smile on your face as you walk into the kitchen, opening the fridge. “Morning, Mama..” You smile, looking over your shoulder at Jake’s mom. “You send Bradley out to work with the boys?”

She was handling a slab of some kind of meat, putting it in a marinade, probably for dinner tonight you realize. “He’s running cattle with Jake and Brian, doin’ a damn fine job of it too from what Nash just told me.” She says, turning to the sink to wash her hands before turning back to you just as you’re pouring yourself a glass of orange juice. “Can I see the belly?” 

You laugh, but oblige, not even stopping to think about how you look much farther along than the amount of time that you’ve been with Jake as you lift your shirt, and walk around the kitchen island. Her hands go to her face and she grins happily before reaching out to touch your belly, warm hands gently caressing the skin. “It’s Dalton’s, isn’t it?” She asks, suddenly, looking up at you and you choke on the juice you were sipping on, stepping back away from her hands. “Oh relax honey, I’m not upset, honest..but do you think I was born yesterday? I’ve had five babies, i’m not stupid.” 

“I, um..” You stammer, not sure what to say. You and Jake hadn’t prepared for this at all. You climb up onto a stool that sat at the Island, your head spinning. “Ma’am, I can explain..”

She waves her hand in the air, looking at you with noting but love as she smiles. “Babygirl,” It really was your God given name when it came to this family, you realize. “We all knew you were gonna end up together at some point in time, and if this is what brought you together then so be it, I could care less..my son isn’t stupid, I know he know’s that baby isn’t his and I’m just glad that it kicked you both in your asses finally…” 

You spend the morning talking with her, helping her prepare the foods for dinner. You were honestly relieved that she knew the truth, and even more relieved that she wasn’t upset at all. You knew Jake would be happy too, he hated keeping secrets (especially from his mama). 

Once you were finished in the kitchen, you made your way over to your family’s property, climbing over the fence like you used to when you were kids. It was chilly out, you wore one of Jake’s hoodies and a pair of sweatpants as you made your way to the burial site for your mama, spending a little while there before making your way to the house. Your daddy was gone, off in town somewhere so you meandered around on your own, finding yourself in your old bedroom, staring happily at the photos of you and Jake throughout the years that you had stuck to various surfaces. 

He found you there an hour later, going through old things in your dresser drawer. “You look so damn good in my clothes, babygirl..” He says, pressing his lips in a chaste kiss just below your ear. You hadn’t heard him come in and he scared the bejeezus out of you, which makes him grin as he looks at you in the mirror, his hands going under the hem of his maroon aggies hoodie and straight to your stomach. “Been looking for you all day babygirl..”

You sigh happily as his lips find their way down your neck, his cowboy hat lifting off of his head as he goes. “You found me..” You breathe, watching him in the mirror. Your hormones were horrible lately, and you were always ready to go for him and it seemed like he could sense it on you, almost like a dog. You loved it.

“Uh-huh, all alone too..” One of his hands moves from your belly to your tit, his whole hand cupping it with a firm squeeze that has you leaning your head back against him, already putty in his hands. “Y’know..I always wanted to fuck you in here babygirl..” Your thighs clench at his words, his voice and musky smell from working outdoors all day flooding your senses. 

“..please..” You whimper, pressing your ass back against his denim clad half hard cock, turning your head to capture his lips though he doesn’t let you. He catches your jaw in his hand, cocking an eyebrow at you. 

“What was that, babygirl?” He asks softly, his other hand dropping from your tit to pull your hips back against him even more, rubbing himself against you. “You askin’ me to fuck you?” The hand that was still on your belly moves down lower, slipping with ease into the waistband of your sweatpants, or rather, his sweatpants, and into your panties, cupping your already disgustingly wet mound. “Yeah..you were askin’ me to fuck you.” He practically growls, voice a deep rumble in his chest. 

You’re not entirely sure how it happens, but somehow you’re bent over your dresser, arms bracing yourself upright as Jake slams into you from behind, your head thrown back against his chest as his thick cock hits that spot that has you seeing nothing but white spots and saying only his name. One of your legs is cocked up on the top of the dresser, the position giving him better access to your pussy from behind, his hands gripping your hips with what you’re sure is a bruising strength but you couldn’t possibly care less because god, Jacob Seresin was fucking you in your teenaged bedroom and it was all you could fucking think about. 

“Jake, jake, jake, oh-, my..ohhhhh” You sputtered out, your pussy clenching down on him so hard that he thought it was going to bruise. 

“Yeah, I know babygirl, I know..” He grunts in your ear, lips marking up any inch of visible skin he possibly could. He felt fucking feral in that moment, but goddamn it was the best feeling. “That’s my fuckin’ girl..takin’ my cock so fuckin’ good f’me babygirl..so fuckin’ good..” There’s not even words leaving your mouth anymore, just filthy, lewd sounds as he continues to fuck you into oblivion, your legs going weak as a third orgasm hits you like a wall of bricks, your arms going weak to the point that you start to collapse. 

“Aht-aht, I gotcha,” He’s chasing his own orgasm as wraps his arm around you, a hand at the base of your throat to force you to look into the mirror. “Look at you babygirl, look at how fucking sexy you look like this, huh?” You could swear there were tears coming out of your eyes, but you wanted to look but you couldn’t tear your gaze away from his eyes in the mirror, looking into the beautiful expanse of green as he fucked into you with wreckless abandon. 

“I love you, i love, i love you..” You mewl, back arching as the overstimulation of your three orgasms starts to rockett though your body, you keep chanting it, not able to stop the flow of words even as you feel hot ropes of his cum paint your insides, even when he finally stops fucking into you and finally just holds you to him, cock still stuffed into your overflowing pussy. 

“Holy fuckin’ shit baby..” He breathes, head dropping to your shoulder as you both catch your breath. You can’t help but let out a chuckle. “Look at you makin’ all my teenage dreams come true, huh?” 

“Just like that song, right baby?” You say meekly, your body completely exhausted now that he had worn you out. He smiles against your skin, placing a loving kiss as he starts to finally pull out of you, his cock going flaccid. “M’sleepy..” You say, a yawn over taking you as you stretch, Jake having wandered off out of your room. 

“Should probably take a nap, huh?” He says, a damp rag hanging from his hands as he bends down to help clean you up. You jump at the sensation, your pussy still sensitive. He places a kiss at your pelvic bone, looking up at you almost apologetically as you run a hand softly through his mussed hair. “Mama is making some kind of roast for supper, be ready in a few hours i think..” And then you remember your conversation from earlier. “What’s wrong with your face?” 

“Jake, baby..” He stands up after helping you back into your sweatpants, ever the fucking gentleman he is. “Your Mama knows..” 

“What do you mean?” He asks, wrapping his arms around your waist after placing his stetson back on his head. His eyebrows are furrowed, and as you look down at your belly and look back up at him he suddenly realizes. “How?!” 

“She asked to see my belly this morning,” You say, resting your chin on his chest as you look up at him, arms wrapping around him. “She’s not stupid, baby..she’s only had a million of you boys, she knows how far along i should look if we were basing the baby off of how long we’ve been together..”

Jake hums, kissing your forehead. “Was she mad?” You shake your head, small smile on your lips. “Good, because I don’t like fighting with my Mama, but I would have if she was mad at you, at us..” You squeeze him then, realizing once more that this man truly does love you. “Let’s get back, yeah? I think your daddy is coming over too..”

Christmas with Jake’s family is amazing, you had spent weeks finding and wrapping gifts for each of his brothers, and even his Mama too. His daddy on the other hand, you just gave a smile and a kiss on the cheek as you slipped him a new canister of chewing tobacco, to which he grumbles a thank you and pats your belly. Your own daddy is almost brought to tears as you hand him his present, a gift wrapped scrap book (something your mama had been very into doing), some the pages full of your pregnancy journey so far. 

“Honey, this is the best gift..” He says, eyes watery as he pulls you in for a big hug, planting a wet kiss to the top of your head. 

From everyone in the family, you and Jake received alot of baby gifts, clothes and rattles and what nots..and from your daddy, a yellow quilted blanket, just the right size for a little baby or toddler with your mama’s first and middle initials stitched into one of the corners. You lifted it to your nose and inhaled, it smelled of her perfume. 

“Daddy..” You voice quivers just as much as your lips, your eyes welling with tears. “This is perfect..” You say, showing it to Jake. “It was mama’s baby blanket, she always said that she was saving it for me if I ever had one of my own..” You wipe your eyes with a tissue that Jake hands you. “She must have been working on it before she passed, it smells like her..” You couldn’t even describe how much you missed your mom, how you wished you were going through this time of your life with her by your side, and even though she wasn’t here physically any more, this gift from your Daddy just made it feel as though she was. 

The rest of the day is a blur, the family happily bantering as they all sit down for supper. Bradley had even been welcomed with open arms into the Seresin family, having been ladled with gifts of his own even though he was a last minute addition to the family. You had honestly never been happier, had never felt more at home and at peace than you had in that day. And unfortunately, it all came crashing down the next day. 

You, Jake and Bradley had all decided to save the last day of your trip to pack up your old apartment. There wasn’t much that you actually wanted to take with, most of it just clothes and keep sakes, but it was enough to fill up a small uhaul trailer. You had already listed a bunch of your furniture on sale on FB Marketplace, and were meeting the buyers as Jake carried things down to the trailer. 

About halfway through the day, when you’re freezing and tired and ready to take a nap, the devil shows up at the doorstep. “So, I see you’re back in town.” 

You turn from where you had been packing a bunch of your books into a box, heart racing. Jake had gone down the road to the mexican restaurant to pick up lunch for you guys, you had had the sudden craving and who was he to deny it when you spent most of the pregnancy not eating? Bradley was downstairs, he had helped a nice lady carry your couch down and put it into the back of her pick up and hadn’t come back up yet. 

“What do you want?” You ask, a hand going almost protectively to your belly. It was shown off well today, you had opted for workout leggings and a lululemon zip up jacket with a tanktop underneath. Your belly looked quite prominent and it seemed to be the only think his eyes were drawn to. “You shouldn’t be here, Dalton.” 

He sniffs, dark eyes looking up at you. “I see you kept the bastard.” He takes a step into the apartment and you back up, nervous. “Where’s your precious Jakey?” He asks, looking around the corner and down into the hallway. “Word around town is that the two of you are dating now..”

“We are.” You say, swallowing thickly. “We came home for christmas and so I could pack up all of the stuff I want with me in california.” You think you hear footsteps coming down the hallway outside the door and you can only hope that its Jake or Bradley. “What do you want?”

“I want a word with the son of a bitch you cheated on me with.”

“I never-”

“I don’t think thats gonna happen, pal.” Bradley came around the corner into the doorway, leaning against it. He looks at you and you relax only slightly, his black Stetson pulled low over his brow. “I think you need to leave, the lady looks uncomfortable with you being here.” 

“Oh yeah?” Dalton asks, turning to glare at him. “Is she fucking you too?” 

“Dalton!” You half yell, catching his attention as Bradley stands up straight. “I never cheated on you, and I’m not fucking anyone besides Jake, not that it’s any of your business.” 

The man scoffs. “Yeah right, you’re a fuckin’ whore..how else would you be pregnant.”

“Okay, it’s time for you to leave.” Bradley says, stepping into the room. His neck is red and you can tell that he’s angry. 

“Oh, and you’re gonna make me?” He looks back at you, pointing to Bradley. “Who the fuck is this guy, huh?” 

“He’s gonna be the least of your worries if you don’t get the fuck out of here.” Jake stands in the doorway and you immediately run to him, clutching his arm tightly. The situation was clearly growing tense and was starting scare you for real. 

taglist:

@bellaireland1981 @sky0401 @memoriesat30 @bat-luna-cat @memeorydotcom @mamachasesmayhem @kmc1989 @justherebecausesafarisucks @mrowphine @djs8891 @stepheewdgirlie @roosteraloha

[faeriekit]

Health and Hybrids (XIX)👽👻💚

[I can't remember the original prompt posters  for the life of me but here's a mashup between a cryptid!Danny, presumed-alien!Danny, dp x dc, and the prompt made the one body horror meat grinder fic.]

PART ONE is here PART TWO is here PART THREE is here PART FOUR is here and PART FIVE is here PART SIX is here and PART SEVEN is here PART EIGHT is here PART NINE is here PART TEN is here PART ELEVEN is here PART TWELVE is here PART THIRTEEN is here PART FOURTEEN is here PART FIFTEEN is here PART SIXTEEN is here PART SEVENTEEN is here PART EIGHTEEN is here...nineteen...oy vey.

💚 Ao3 Is here for all parts (now featuring mediocre mouseover translations, only available on a computer)

Where we last left off... THE BART RETURNS! The earth rejoices! 🥳🎉 Physical therapy can be fun, even if it usually isn't!

Trigger warnings for this story:  body horror | gore | post-dissection fic | dehumanization (probably) |  my nonexistent attempts at following DC canon. On with the show.

💚👻👽👻💚

Danny learns a few more words with practice.

Foda is simple. If Danny is hungry, he can ask for foda. It sounds exactly like food, and when he asks, they feed him.

…Or they up his IV. Which. Danny’s tongue might still feel sore and nasty, but the doctors and nurses and millions of minders don’t seem that mad when he sticks his tongue out at them. Sometimes they even laugh.

They don’t even sound all that mean.

It takes Danny a good chunk of waking time for him to realize that he…probably is hooked up to something he doesn’t want to think about, since all the efforts of lifting and moving him haven’t resulted in a single bathroom trip since he woke up here.

Firstly: horrible.

Secondly: his legs are super, absolutely, positively immobilized, and if someone doesn’t give him enough medication quickly enough after it wears off, Danny is very aware that something is deeply wrong with them.

So. Uh. That’s…gross.

He learns bealo just as quickly. He isn’t sure what bealo means, per se, but when he says it, they up his medication until Danny can pretend he doesn’t have any legs again.

God niht is goodnight, unless Danny is feeling snippy, and then it’s just niht.

…The one lady who minds him always says the whole thing, though. Even when Danny’s mean. Like the one time he threw his rocket at someone.

Or the time he started ignoring everyone when they tried to touch him.

…Or the one time he tried to freeze his IV bag, and put everyone on alert because if he’d been human, that would have seriously hurt him.

“Sorry,” Danny’d whispered, even if it wouldn’t mean anything to her.

She’d patted his hand and meant it. Danny’d had to dry his eyes with his wrist. “Eall es wel.”

Anyway.

Danny hates being in the freaking bed every hour of every day. So when his “sitting up” exercises turn into “hey, let’s try the wheelchair” practice, Danny gets so excited-slash-nervous that he kind of feels like he’s going to throw up all the liquids he’s been injected with.

None of the regular people try to lift him. Instead the lady does it herself, scooping Danny up in very strong arms, the golden cuffs on her wrists weirdly warm on Danny’s skin. When Danny’s settled, his legs sticking out real weird and his back kind of sore, he’s…out of bed.

He’s. He’s not in bed anymore.

And. Sure. It’s temporary, but it’s not the bed. Danny can wriggle, and he can sort of palm the wheels underneath him with the heels of his shaky hands, and he can see so much more of himself than he has in ages and ages.

For one. Both of his legs are in casts. That’s. Not good. He can’t feel it right now, but the sight of fully encased legs…

Well. If he can transform that won’t be a problem. If. If he has to escape. But it is…it’s super scary. He mostly remembers being captured, but the…the other people had been focusing more on his thoracic cavity and his face and head.

…So why are his legs so bad? Did something else happen?

(It did, didn’t it?)

(…Didn’t it??)

His hands shake, but there’s something to all that grip training, or else Danny wouldn’t be able to paw at his neckline to look down his own shirt. Or, well, his cloth nightie, anyway.

It’s good that he looks, since, well…his chest is glowing a solid green.

Whatever should probably be scar tissue. Uh. It…isn’t. There’re gouges down his chest and a crater where his heart should be that probably should be healing over, considering, you know, he’s not freaking dead at this exact second (mostly??), but. Instead of, like, healed flesh, or, say, his insides, there’s a transparent green…jelly… holding him together.

He can see how the green bounces with his heart beat.

...Danny drops the neckline of his gown. His breath comes in choking bursts, eyes pressed into his eye sockets—he feels sick.

He is sick. He has been sick.

The humans are keeping him here because he’s a freak of nature and he’s broken from head to toe and the Guys in White carved his flesh out of his body and opened him up like a can of cranberry sauce.

He presses his hands to his chest, to his stomach, just trying to breathe for long enough that he doesn’t throw up his oatmeal and occasional juice and IV nutrition onto the pristine floor of his sickroom. The people around him all make sympathetic noises that don’t help because he doesn’t know what they mean.

And then he feels something weird.

Not all the sensation in his fingers are back. It’s easier for him to feel impediments than it is to feel textures—something that blocks him from moving, rather than anything sensory-specific. He can usually tell when he touches fabric, because when he moves too far, it pulls tight around his hand. He can tell when he’s on something solid when his hand fails to go through it.

There is something solid sticking out of him.

Danny’s heartbeat quickens. It’s not. It’s. There’s something in him.

And it’s not—it’s so solid. When Danny brushes his hands against it, he can feel his skin and his flesh move with it, trying not to dislodge the thing embedded in him. It pulls at his skin. He doesn’t know what it is.

His fingers tremble as he tries to brush over the object through his gown, trying to figure out its shape from faulty touch alone. It’s like waking up to find himself jammed with needles all over again.

People are talking around them. Danny doesn’t try to listen in. He’s scared. He’s so scared. Something’s happened to him, and he didn’t even notice.

Some of it is—hard. There’s a crinkling sound when he moves. Danny manages to pull his gown neckline back again to catch something of a glimpse, and all he sees is plastic.

He doesn’t know what it is.

He doesn’t know who to ask. He can’t understand anyone and he doesn’t know if he trusts them.

They put something in him. There’s something embedded in him.

He thinks he’s going to cry.

Something touches his arm—Danny flinches. His core tightens with stress as he puts a metaphorical hand on the button, ready to run and hide at any notice.

It’s the lady. He knows her.

No, he doesn’t. He doesn’t know her at all. He can’t talk to her in any way that matters. She’s not a doctor. He doesn’t know why she’s here, or why she’s keeping him here.

She’s nice. She fed him. But is that all it takes to trick him? To make him compliant? Pliable?

She stops touching him when he gets scared, her eyes worried. She kneels—closer than Danny would like, probably, but she keeps her hands to herself. Danny’s heart races faster, out of order, starting and stopping and starting again like a bad engine.

“Eow eart wel?” she asks from his left arm rest, a common question, so softly. Danny doesn’t know what it means. “Eall es wel. Ænlic eow, ænlic me. Bruce bræð wið me?”

She takes a big, deep, breath. Her hand rises slightly over her chest, following an exaggerated movement. Don’t panic. Breathe. Breathe like me. One, two, three.

Danny’s breaths are more choked. More panicked.

But when she breathes, he breathes with her—even with every stutter in between.

“Hwæt es woh[O3] ?” the lady asks, so gently it’s almost a whisper. Her pointer finger hovers over his body, but doesn’t touch—and eventually, Danny figures out she probably wants to know where he’s hurting.

But he’s not hurting. He’s scared. There’s something inside him, and he isn’t sure what it is. He presses the heel of his hand to the object. He feels something rigid refuse to bend inside his flesh.

There’s something of recognition in the woman’s face. “Inne cwic tima,” she says, more certain of answers outside the room, and darts away,

Danny wants to bounce his bound leg. He feels awful when anyone is in the room with him, considering how little of them he knows, but, somehow, it’s so much worse when he’s actually alone.

When she comes back, there’s a second person who walks through the double doors with her, in blue scrubs with ducks on them. They wave to Danny.

Danny…blinks. He feels numb. It’s kind of a problem.

They take it in stride, though; in their hands is a blank board and a chunky marker. The cap comes off, the new person scribbles for a minute or so, and then turns the board around so that Danny can see.

It’s a…person. A rudimentary outline person, sure, with some visible bones and organs to fill in the person-shaped outline. Danny can recognize most of them from anatomy class, although those memories are more…personal, now. A little more painful.

The person taps on the board. The person points to Danny.

Danny frowns.

The person turns the board back around and makes some Pew, Pew, Pew! sounds with their mouth, occasionally opening and closing their hand over the board to match the noise. There’s some more scribbling. When the board turns back around, there’s a violent smudge of marker on top of the drawn person’s drawn intestines.

The person takes their covered pinky finger and erases a little neat circle of marker in the intestines, mostly favoring one side. They draw a little arrow from the hole to the general outside-of-the-person blank area. Then another circle, with a thicker circle inside.

Danny recognizes the object jutting out of him. Oh. This is how he got it.

The person—probably a doctor, Danny guesses, or the surgeon who did this to him—do these people even need credentials, actually?—hands the board over to the lady. They hold out ten outstretched fingers, marker under their arm, and make a show of counting every one of the outstretched fingers with the opposite hand. Then they take the board back.

And then, when they write on the board, Danny can actually understand what they say.

Or, well, it’s numbers! The numbers are the same as his—the line and a circle is clearly meant to be a ten, and the little x is a multiplication symbol— they draw a 10, as clearly and a brightly as it could be against a stark white board, and add a little x 7, probably to indicate a week; the result is ten suns times seven, or seventy suns.

Danny feels his heart bounce in his chest. Danny would bet a whole lot of money that the number is meant to be seventy days. There is an end point. It’s not that Danny is free to be subjected to random anatomical whims—there’s a goal here. This was purposeful.

The little circle-within a circle gets erased. The hole is scribbled through as if it was never there, and the person makes a weaving gesture with the marker that Danny is certain is meant to be sewing.

Tears prick at his eyes. The lady gets close by him again, but Danny lets her. His hands aren’t good enough for wiping tears the way he wants to, yet. Help and company are good.

She gives him a tissue from Danny's bedside table. He takes it with a whisper of a grip.

“Seventy?” Danny rasps, tearful. Hopeful. Terrified of hope. He practically jams the tissue into his eye sockets.

The lady’s eyes go wide. “Seventy,” she repeats, marveling.

It’s enough. Nothing is perfect, but it’s enough. And if Danny's allowed to spend so long in front of the space window that he falls asleep in his wheelchair, well. It's not like he was in charge of where they went.

[fuctacles]

Eddie, not panicking: Henderson's older brother is a little broken and now it's my fault, apparently? :/ [Part III]

[Part I] [Part II] [Part IV]

"I smell popcorn. Do you smell popcorn?" Dustin asked, sniffing the air.

Eddie stuck his nose up in the air, imitating a rabbit to his best abilities.

"Indeed I do."

Dustin was already opening his door and stomping down the stairs.

"They're watching the new Karate Kid!" he yelled from the living room. 

They could have been watching a documentary about shrimps and Eddie would gladly join them anyway just to be an annoying menace to the older Henderson. Besides, his alternative was the algebra homework in front of him. So, like a properly feral trailer creature, he buried it deep beneath Dustin’s blankets and dumped a stuffed cat toy on top of the pile before leaving the room.

The living room curtains were already drawn to create an illusion of a cinema experience. The whole room smelled of popcorn and Dustin’s smugness because he managed to plant his ass comfortably into the only available armchair.

Eddie was doomed to share the couch with the older kids - Steve and his girlfriend Robin whom he’s seen in passing before. He waved at her, and she waved back, which was their usual routine. Steve patted the empty seat on his other side, grinning.

“So glad you are joining us.”

“I’d rather be studying, but my therapist advised human interactions,” Eddie sighed heavily, falling against the cushions. His hand was immediately buried in the huge bowl of popcorn Steve was holding. The boy put it in the air instantly.

“Wait for the movie to start!”

Eddie chewed on his stolen kernels, looking him dead in the eye before shifting his gaze and raising his eyebrows pointedly at something behind him. The realisation hit him immediately.

“Robin!” he swirled around to scold her. She was sitting up on her knees to reach the bowl.

“Just start the movie!” Dustin yelled, throwing at him ammunition from his own, smaller bowl.

“Unbelievable,” Steve murmured, reaching for the remote.

Eddie exchanged a glance over his back with Robin, snickering at each other. He liked their company, despite his initial reservations. The Hendersons' house was quickly becoming a second home to him, and he was slowly but surely accepting it. Maybe ‘86 was going to be his year in more than just academics; He already got a bunch of freshmen he was embarrassingly fond of, and while he did not actually have a therapist to tell him that, he knew expanding his social circle wouldn’t hurt. A good party of adventures needs variety. And it’s so hard to find a healer. Maybe Robin would be down? Steve was probably more of a tank, which was also an asset.

The movie has been on for maybe ten minutes when a Dustin-shaped blob tried to squeeze itself between him and Steve.

“Hey!” they both protested in unison. Steve shoved himself into Eddie, squeezing all the air out of him as he was now shoved between him and the armrest. 

“You have your armchair!”

“Well, it’s at the wrong angle. It’s not optimal for watching,” the boy whined, trying again to squeeze himself between Robin and Steve this time. He did the same thing though, pancaking her between himself and the couch.

“Come on!” Dustin groaned.

They did some back and forth, shifting in front of each other like in Wayne’s stupid basketball matches, until Robin decided to be a dumbass and reached for the remote to pause the still ongoing movie. Dustin saw his opening and dipped to his right, sliding between her and the armrest. Suddenly, Steve’s elbow was in Eddie’s ribs.

“Shit, man, I’m sorry- Dustin!”

“What!? Just take Robin on your lap and don’t be a pussy!”

“Ew, fucking gross-!”

“We are not fucking dating-!” they protested simultaneously, their voices overlapping with a similar sense of exasperation and annoyance.

“How bout you sit on my lap, little brother?” Steve offered, saccharine coating his words.

“Ew, I’m not a baby, Steve!”

Eddie patted Steve’s arm, the one still wedged way too close to his very bruisable ribs.

“There, there, Stevie, don’t cry. I’ll sit on your lap,” he said, sending him his best pitying smile.

Steve’s eyes were on him again, the tree bark brown of the oak tree little Eddie hung his first birdhouse on. They weren’t rolling though. Why weren’t they rolling and annoyed in that heavenly entertaining way?

“Great,” Steve said, a small relieved breath escaping him. And then his arm was living his space.

Oh, of course. Eddie overdid it this time. The joke went too far, and he was going to get his teeth knocked out again, but this time no new ones are coming to replace them.

The arm landed behind him, circling his shoulders. The other landed on his legs and in the next second he was being lifted off the couch, expecting a close encounter with the floor, or being dumped onto the armchair in the best scenario. 

But then he’s not, he opens his eyes, and he’s surrounded by warmth and softness and the movie is being rewound to the point before the sitting argument. 

He is embarrassed and mortified, looking at the screen like it could somehow tether him back to his previous reality. The one when he was not sitting on Steve Henderson’s lap.

He took a cautious look at the others, who didn’t seem bothered by the fact that Eddie just got manhandled into another man’s lap. He was the only one freaking out. Maybe it was a normal occurrence for Steve, maybe he was exaggerating?

He was sitting a bit to the side not to obscure Steve’s vision. The man’s arm was brushing against his spine, thrown around the back of the couch behind him to make room. He could feel the rise and fall of Steve’s chest. He could feel Steve everywhere.

It was his idea, his stupid mouth said it, and so he couldn’t back down now, even if his skin was on fire.

Everyone but him seemed to be focused on the movie, so he decided he was not gonna be worse. Just imagine it’s still the couch. A very warm, breathing couch.

Steve moved under him without warning, and Eddie stiffened up. He pressed a hand against his mouth not to make a sound, the other one gripping the flesh of Steve’s thigh, hard. There was a hand against his waist, a futile attempt not to jostle his body.

Then the world was right again, Steve settled under him. With a peace offering in his hands. He had wrenched Dustin’s mini bowl of popcorn to give it to Eddie.

He accepted it but made the mistake of looking at Steve.

There was no tree brown in his eyes, it was all technicolour reflexes of the TV, reminding Eddie of neon signs in the dark.

“Thanks,” he whispered in the dim room. Steve smiled at him, a hint of teeth shining right next to him. He stuffed his face with popcorn and reminded himself Steve was Henderson’s brother and Eddie was comfortable sitting in his lap.

And he was, for the majority of the movie, until Steve forgot himself and his hand landed on Eddie’s knee, thumb rubbing against the denim. Eddie eyed the movement, then subtly glanced at the man’s face. He was watching the movie, relaxed like none of his limbs were moving against his will. Eddie scrunched his nose, looked away and jostled his leg. Steve squeezed him gently and let go.

“Sorry,” he whispers, too quiet, too close to Eddie’s ear. 

He shakes his head.

“‘s okay,” he whispers back, even if it didn’t feel okay.

He survived to the end of the movie, but as soon as the credits started rolling, he jumped up and off Steve, eager to open the curtains, let some fresh air in, and sprint across the yard as far away as possible from Steve Henderson’s thighs. The flowers beneath the window would make for a great landing spot.

Before he could leap into freedom, a familiar heat, smell and shape of a human approached him, gently pressing against his side.

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable,” Steve said, his voice quiet below a whisper. Eddie turned away from freedom, putting distance between himself and the heat.

“You should be sorry,” he scoffed, giving him his best death glare and stepping away.

He had an algebra textbook to dig up from underneath blankets.

It’s not that he was uncomfortable with touching. He was a very tactile person himself. But this level of closeness was not something to share easily, not with someone he barely considered a friend. Steve was a weird person. 

Said the freak.

He was wrangling the blankets when someone coughed behind him. He was so whirred up, this time he did scream.

“What!” he turned around to find Dustin, who was positively fuming.

“What did you say to him?”

“Nothing!”

“No, he looks like a kicked puppy. So you must have said something.” Dustin’s frown deepened.

Eddie frowned back.

The boy sighed, closing the door and coming closer to lower his voice as much as his vocal cords could manage.

“Listen, we are still working with Steve to open up and be himself. Which, apparently, involves a lot of hugs and shit. So like, if you do anything to fuck this up, even unintentionally…” He scrunched his face like he was in physical pain saying it. His eyes were big and more childlike than ever. “I can’t have you coming over.”

There was a lot to process there, none of which Eddie expected. Being banned from the Henderson household? No fucking way.

“Shit.”

Dustin nodded solemnly.

“Shit. He’s in the kitchen right now if you want to have a word,” he looked at him pointedly. Eddie winced.

“Now?”

If eyes could kill, Eddie would be ten feet underground and rotting.

“Fine,” he scoffed. “I’ll go apologise to your brother.”

“Atta boy!”

Eddie threw him the middle finger and left the room. He stomped down the stairs to announce his presence and then knocked against the kitchen door frame for good measure. Two pairs of eyes turned towards him.

Of course, Steve’s not-girlfriend was with him.

“Can I have a moment with you?” he asked, searching Steve’s eyes and, oh shit he did look like a kicked puppy.

Steve nodded, but not at him. He nodded at Robin and walked towards Eddie to steer him back into the living room.

“Dustin told you to do this?” Steve guessed immediately.

“Yes,” Eddie admitted. “But he’s right. I overreacted. Just,” he bit his lip, because damn where was his script? What was Steve’s AC and where were the dice?

“Warn me next time?” What fucking next time, Eddie? No, there was going to be next time, because Steve needs hugs to heal, and you need Dustin to graduate. “Like, in the BDSM community, consent is the most important thing. You know?”

There was a soft sound somewhere from the house like someone facepalmed. Which, fair, Eddie would too if he didn’t have to actively participate in the disastrous conversation. So, thanks, anonymous eavesdropper for being unhelpful.

“BDSM?” Steve repeated, the corner of his lips twitching. Even the other participant in the conversation was laughing at his expense. Great.

“Yeah?”

“And you are… part of that community?” Steve cocked his head with curiosity and a curious cat was better than a kicked puppy, so Eddie was doing great. 

“No,” Eddie scoffed. “I mean kinda? But not really. Hey, listen, how about we don’t talk about this,” he offered, laughing awkwardly.

Steve nodded, no traces of sadness on his face. Meaning if all else fails, Eddie could at least go around humiliating himself for laughs.

“Anyway, sorry for being a dick, ask next time. Okay?”

“Okay.” Steve smiled his warm smile, the one that always reminded Eddie of his delicious cookies.

“Can I touch your hair?”

“Really running with it, I see, but okay.” Eddie didn’t like his hair being touched but this one time he’d make an exception. Kind of like he was appeasing a toddler to stop whining.

He was expecting Steve to tug at his hair, he was kind of used to it. Maybe run a finger through them, rub at the split ends and complain about how he doesn’t take care of his curls. Eddie saw his hair products collection, and noticed the judgemental stares, alright? He knows.

Instead, Steve’s fingers brush somewhere near his ear and come back with a piece of popcorn.

“You should check if there’s more before you leave,” he said, before leaving Eddie to rejoin Robin in the kitchen.

Eddie ran.

He ran into Dustin’s room, ran from his incredulous question about using BDSM as an argument, then ran with his textbooks under his arm, towards his car and far away from the Hendersons' house.

User tags: @i-have-three-feelings @mblogs @awkwardgravity1 @imacowboy3 @just-a-tiny-void @clumsiluni @shotgunhallelujah @halfadoginatank

[Steddie masterpost] [Ao3] [ko-fi]

[the-s1lly-corner]

Could I request TADC with a character who has abandonment issues and is afraid they’ll be left alone again? 🥺 thank you in advance!

TADC cast x reader who has abandonment issues!

rubs my silly little hands (the admin also has abandonment issues/is working through them) gonna answer a few requests then i think i might make meringue cookies (they have a weird packing peanut texture that i love. or at least how i think they would feel, admin has never actually touched or chewed a packing peanut but he likes to think this is what they feel like)

CAINE:

honestly if anything you might have to ask him to give YOU some space; caine in his spare time always wants to spend it around with you. doesnt even matter if you guys are doing something, he will literally just hover and run his mouth because he just cant get tired of you. so i think out of all of the cast hes going to be the one where to feel the most secure around since he pours his heart out about how much he loves you (whether platonically or romantically!). even when youre away off doing something else, hes likely gushing about you to anyone who will, and sometimes even wont, listen. embodiment of the "shes my girlfriend ehehe" mickey mouse meme that i saw going around a few weeks ago; point is theres nothing you need to worry about! however he listens when you share your worries, and squashes them down with reassurances and affirmations

POMNI:

oooo okay so this one is interesting because pomni is actively looking for an exit out of the digital world. and i think that this is common knowledge to just about everyone around her, you included. so i think that this might very likely feed into your fear of her leaving you behind... because what are the chances you guys would reunite if she actually found an exit? i mean can you imagine? and thats even assuming you guys would remember your time in the digital world when you return; im kind of on the fence on whether or not the digital memories would still be there after an escape, since you forget everything when you enter the digital world... (also as a side note for fluff with that idea imagine meeting with whoever after escaping and not knowing youve met before but you guys still fall for one another. this isnt just for pomni but for any of the characters. love that idea, so much)

anyways, as ive said a few times before pomni is... not good at comforting... but she sure as hell were try.. though, even she doesnt seem so sure of herself when she says shes going to be looking for you when you both escape, like shes scared you guys will be separated forever

"together"

RAGATHA:

as sweet and caring as ever, if you confide in her about your fears shes going to make sure youre not left in your thoughts. the best at reassuring you, and perhaps even pulls up an activity for the two of you to do together so you have something to get your mind off of it. if you dont approach her, shes going to notice that something is wrong with you and ask you yourself if youre okay and if theres something on your mind... does her best to stamp out your thoughts of fear and doubt, shes not going anywhere and she doesnt intend on abstracting anytime soon (though, can she really help it, if she ever does?)

point is i think out of all of the characters shes going to be the best in terms of comfort and making you feel safe and secure; and if it makes you feel any better you guys come up with a system of sorts to pin down the other if you guys ever escape the digital world; so you can find one another.. very sweet stuff, i think

JAX:

while ragatha is the best in terms of giving comfort and security, jax is probably the worst. the guy does not particularly scream the most emotionally mature and available; if anything i think he might brush off your worries with soft jabs like "dont be dumb, im not gonna go anywhere" or something in that vein. as per usual i think it would take you showing real big signs of distress for him to drop the whole asshole thing and try to make you feel better and assure you that hes not going to go anywhere. and even then its still a little.... eh... i mean jax isnt the best at comforting people; its not really his... thing, you know? sure he wont turn his back on you or make you feel bad (on purpose) but his main way of assuring you is just pushing the statement that hes not going to leave you be ("besides, im not done messing with you yet,") and even offers to hang out with you for the day/until you feel better

KINGER:

similar deal with caine in the case of "youre probably going to be the one asking for space" simply because kinger is too paranoid that something is going to happen to you that hes always trailing you and keeping you in his line of sight... honestly, i think his fears might even mirror your own; youre scared that hes going to leave you behind, and hes scared that something is going to happen to you and you wont be around anymore. neither of you can bury the thought... and in a weird, and perhaps even an unhealthy way depending on how intense it is and how you personally view it, you guys find comfort in your shared fears. like a confirmation that the two of you are too afraid to let go... you poor things... in short, you dont need to worry about anything, kinger is not going to be going anywhere..! in terms of comfort, he lets you hug and hold him and mess with his robes fur while reassuring you. back pats n rubs are in order, me thinks

ZOOBLE:

while zooble might come off as mean and cold, i dont think theyre exactly an asshole. sure they can come off as such thanks to their tone and attitude, but they care about you and while they struggle with expressing that... theyre trying their best... so at least theres an effort to let you know that they at least enjoy your presence..! their... flat voice doesnt really do them any favors but thats just how they talk. very firm in telling you that theyre not going anywhere, and to the point about it. while the others may go on tangents about why they wont leave, zooble will be blunt in simply saying that they care about you and that youre cool and that theyre not planning on just up and ditching you. now THATS not cool, unless you did something to them that warranted such a reaction... but what are the odds of that + then they would be in their right to bounce yk?

that aside, theyre firm and blunt in terms of comforting you, and often times offer to let you take the reigns for the day to choose what you guys do, in an attempt to make you feel better with something you enjoy!

GANGLE:

oh ho ho i think she would also have abandonment issues.... i mean it comes with the shy artist thing, you know? outcast weird kid who actually is a neurodivergant individual energy, you know? ponders. so i think, similar to kingers piece you guys find mutual comfort in the fact youre both so scared of the other leaving (again, the energy around that is up to you) and in an odd way it brings you two even closer. though, i dont think that would be enough for either of you to actually overcome your fear of abandonment, because ultimately its both something you guys need to work on... but why do it alone? you guys probably share tips and build each other up, going through something with a friend/partner isnt as scary or intimidating as doing it alone... so thats nice, i think..! not many ideas for gangle, unfortunately but i think i will leave this open with the concept of both of you healing and all that :3

[biggie-chcese]

concepts for kurumi wendy gumshoe gabs because why the fresh fuck did they not give her any like actually hey kodaka can we talk-

(rain code spoilers btw)(also gab will stop sounding like a word to you)

im gonna try to structure a kurumi gumshoe gab set but i will not be writing the conversations out bc im sorry girl but 1. im not obsessed with her enough to basically write a fic and 2. i think the conversations would still be comparatively dull due to yuma's function being "the normal one" to contrast the rest of the kooky cast and kurumi's function as essentially the same thing but also as a love interest and exposition dropper. but i still wanna at least give a model of what her conversations would be like for funsies. I'll be mixing what i think would realistically happen if they gave her gabs and also what i think should happen. alright let's get started

first off, obviously they shouldnt be available until after ch 2. maybe in ch 3 you get a new gab page and yuma can start finding new gabs out in the overworld (what sort of gem color would she have??? jade? is that too close to vivia's emerald? i dont wanna say some shit like rose gold). im not coming up with locations and hints sorry idc that much.

GAB #1

the first gab is them jumping over the hurdle of "wait we don't really have much interaction besides investigating murders and blushing dumbly" which is primarily what irks me in the game's efforts to push her as a love interest. at least let us watch yuma spend some god damn time with her holy shit WHYYY doesn't she have any fucking gumshoe gabs I'm going insa-

erm anyway let's make em have a casual talk abt something. yuma would probably start off like "this is the first time ive really been alone with kurumi ahh i dont know what to say this is awkward ahhhh" and shinigami gets rightfully annoyed with his cuckly behavior. but in an effort to save the awkwardness yuma asks her about her work as an informant. i think she'd enthusiastically spout off about it and how her grandfather inspired her (though keeping it vague because i think she could save more talk of missing family members for later). maybe she talks about her first forway into her informant work and a certain mishap that occured, yuma has to guess what happened bc she's a little embarrassed about it (this is whwre the dialogue options come in). but it's completely harmless. maybe she got spotted by the person she was tailing and then got a slap on the wrist and sent home. yuma finds it a little endearing, shinigami gives the bond level up message, and there. solid conversation. next

GAB #2

yuma asks her what exactly got her so interested in detectives. did she read heroic novels about them? did she see their noble efforts in the headlines? was she personally saved by one? the possibilities are endless and could all be answered here. actually lets have her teasingly make yuma guess here. poof, there's your dialogue options.

maybe she can even have a little kookiness as a treat and accidentally let the true nature of her admiration for detectives slip for a moment where it pretty much crosses the line of "that's a bit creepy". not towards yuma but still something a bit off putting like obsessively keeping track of her favorite detectives' activities or having information about their personal lives she absolutely shouldn't have (informant + proud participant in WDO stan culture is a dangerous combo) but she also misses doing that because now kanai ward is isolated. yuma could also be like "wait isnt what you were doing then a bit too much?" but it gets dismissed by shinigami telling him they levelled up their bond

Threeeeee!!!

this one should be about aiko methinks. yuma catches kurumi in a down mood and asks what's up and it goes from there. she gives us more detail into her friendship with aiko and maybe she could even actually acknowledge the deaths of those theatre club girls and mention how chillingly quiet the club has gotten. she tells yuma that she tries not to think about it, but the empty space they left behind is immense... yuma's dialogue choices may be to try to cheer up/comfort her. thank you, next

4

perhaps now she can talk about her grandpa (and also maybe drop how that home situation is cause girl where are your parents). she could talk about her mission in finding him cause he must be out there!!! somewhere!!!! this shit could be sentimental or smth. she could say something about kanai ward's nearly extinct species of people who are still fighting for the truth and how even when things are dangerous she remembers that no one else will do it so she's gotta step it up. she'd pivot that over to saying how glad she is that the master detectives are here bc of that, and yuma could have dialogue options where the correct choice is basically saying he admires her for that. idk. next

The Fiverrrrrrr

final gab. i was gonna be funny and say "probably another love confession like fubuki's and then yuma hits her with the nuh-uh" but due to the nature of the epilogue i actually dont think it does exactly that. maybe kurumi is stuck on a small, separate thing she's investigating and she summarizes what's up. i think it could potentially be a more personal problem or at least something she can connect to (another girl in school missing a family member? idk) so that it's a bit obvious she's more frustrated in not finding any leads. yuma helps her out a little in finding a lead (this is where the dialogue choices come in) and after thanking him, kurumi is like "y'know, we make a pretty great team" (flirting, but yuma doesnt read it that way.) shinigami groans and maybe even fusses about how she's yuma's partner but this goes ignored. and of course yuma's dense ass is like yeah i think you have the makings of a great informant and detective and he essentially coworker-zones her. kurumi then asks about how they could still maybe possibly work like this together perhaps maybe 👉 👈 🥹 after solving kanai ward's ultimate secret and yuma happily agrees. this will make his choice in the epilogue to fuck off to florida without much of a goodbye even funnier.

anyway thats it for my kurumi gumshoe gabs thanks for reading

[darling-i-read-it]

Not Fun Dreams

Dalton Lambert x fem!prophet(esc)!reader

Word Count: 6.1k

Warnings: insidious 5 spoilers, some angst, canon level events/violence (descriptions of the readers visions as violence and never being good), shared trauma, a lot of unedited fic lol 

Author’s Note: This ended up a LITTLE LONG good lord lol. I just kept going! I hope you enjoy love, it ended up being a little less angst then I wanted to have some sort of preunderstood relationship. ALSO i made up the art school dalton goes too because I couldnt’ find the name or remember if it was mentioned. When will this movie be available to watch whenever i want smh. Anyway, enjoy!

Requested: by anon, your dalton fics were amazing and if you’re still in the mood to write for him i got an idea! dalton with a prophet esque reader. maybe not full out but maybe they have dreams or in certain places they can see what will happen there but doesn’t get the full event ( mostly negative/horrific things because this is the insidious universe and nobody can have nothing). id imagine they’d be more reclusive than dalton because even though they’re both obviously very traumatized reader constantly has to see these horrific things and not know how to stop them. knowing possibly from a young age where you and the people you love will die. the trauma bonding. the protectiveness. imagine the drama if she knew the whole time he could astral project and didn’t tell him, like being childhood friends and going to the same college as you saw something in a dream (one of the dorm scenes) and are trying to prevent it. i’m an angst girlie through and through and this movie made me worst. please don��t feel pressured to write at all, and i hope you have a great day/night! 

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif)

When you were a kid it was much more simple. It made far more sense to you when your imagination was stretched as far as it could go. It was clouded by the guise of childhood, never knowing what was supposed to happen and what wasn’t. You figured that when you went to sleep and pictures flipped in your head piercing like a migraine, everything was normal. Your parents told you it was just dreams, even when the dreams started to get darker. You saw flashes of people’s faces, drenched in fear as they faced something unknown. The nightmares got worse. You insisted they weren’t nightmares. Children dealt with weird things all the time. 

It helped when the boy next door flew away in his sleep. 

Everyone must have these little gifts then right? All the children had a perk that slightly scared them, one they told their friends about that their parents didn’t pay much attention to. 

You’ll never forget the day Dalton moved. He left the house he had grown up in so that his parents could move somewhere bigger, somewhere to raise the new baby. You remember his little face, matching yours. You had never had a friend you cared for so much. It felt like the world could be taken on when you were with Dalton. 

“Are you sure you have to go?” you asked, quietly. You knew the answer to the question, even then. You had had an awful nightmare the night before. You had seen flashes of Dalton in bed, tubes surrounding him, IV’s in his arm. 

“My mom says so,” he muttered. You were hunched together in the corner of his house. Now empty, it seemed much larger. You didn’t like being in places that seemed to be experiencing change. You saw enough change. 

“But I’m worried,” you whispered. “Something might happen to you in the new house.” Your voice was hushed. Even then, you knew it was no use in telling his parents. No one would believe you. But you had to warn him because if anyone trusted you, it was Dalton. 

“Maybe it’s just another one of your not fun dreams,” he said quietly. He had gotten used to protecting you from them. You were often shaky when you woke up. He had seen it after a sleepover, cold sweats dripping down your petrified face. “Not one that would come true.”

You had known the lady down the street would trip down the stairs and die three weeks prior. But no one cared to check with the little girl who had silly prophetic dreams. 

“But what if it isn’t.” You pouted, a genuine pout. Dalton put his hand on yours, in a way only children could do. The most innocent of gestures. A sign of good faith. 

“I’ll be okay.” Even then he didn’t believe his words. He had been wandering further and further out in his dreams. You told him to stop, that it scared you. He insisted they were nothing like your dreams. His weren’t real. 

“You ready to go guys?” Josh Lambert asked. He walked up behind you, carrying a book at his side. 

“You’ll call right?” you asked quickly, suddenly overcome by emotion. Dalton nodded eagerly. 

“We’ve got your number, don’t worry,” Josh assured you. “We won’t be that far, right Dalton? Just down the road.” Dalton wanted to disagree but he didn’t. He just nodded, not ready for you to leave his house. Not ready to leave it himself. 

“I’ll call everyday,” Dalton promised. 

After a couple weeks he stopped calling. Your parents wouldn’t tell you why. Just that he couldn’t come to the phone. You could see him in your dreams, desperately lost and you had no way of helping him.

-

You woke up with a start. 

As you grew up the dreams started to become less violent. They were always violent in nature but sometimes you could wake up and not feel panicked. You looked at your bedside table, the orange bottles staring back at you. Some were for panic attacks, some were for general anxiety, some to help you sleep. You debated taking one, wondering if you could stick it out for the day. The thought was quickly dismissed. 

You had dreamt of Dalton. 

You hadn’t dreamt of Dalton since you were a kid, since you lost touch. The memory of it became so blurry over time. There was no way you could have blamed him for it. In hindsight you blame your parents and the cycle of time. You went to different schools and there was no reason to stay in touch because you couldn’t ever see each other. 

You grabbed your phone off the side of your bed. You hadn’t seen much. 

Dalton. Older, taller, handsomer. A full man now, though you weren’t sure why you were surprised. A school, the name of the school just barely on the tip of your tongue. You wrote down everything you remembered furiously. The feeling of dread. A familiar creeping of darkness that you couldn’t quite place. Your dreams were sporadic. Whatever you had dreamt of could still be months out. 

You got out of bed and walked down the hallway. You were packing for school yourself, eager to leave by the end of the week. The car was almost packed with most of your things. 

You reached for your parents phone book. They kept it beside the fridge, even though it was ancient and most of the numbers were outdated. You had given them grief about it before. Everyone had numbers saved to their phones now, what was the point of a phone book?

You ate your words as you flipped through the pages, looking for Lambert. Sure enough, both Renai and Josh were separately listed. You reached for your phone, trying Renai first. 

It rang for a while, leading you to believe the number might’ve been wrong. Then there was an answer and a kind voice spoke on the other end. 

“Hello?” 

“Hi! Is this Renai Lambert?” 

“This is her. Who is this?” 

“Hi Mrs. Lambert! This is kind of weird but my name is Y/N. I used to be friends with Dalton when we were kids?” There was a beat of silence and then a laugh, one you remembered well. You had always liked Renai. She was endlessly kind, always offering you lemonade when you came around. You could still hear her playing songs on the piano while you and Dalton ran around their house. 

“Y/N! Oh goodness, it’s been a while hasn’t it? Why are you calling now?” You smiled, happy she remembered you. 

“I just randomly dreamt of Dalton last night and hadn’t seen him in years. I was wondering if he still lived with you or if I could talk to him?” 

“For sure! Gimme one second.” She moved away. You could hear a muffled call for Dalton. The phone returned to her ear. “How have you been?” 

“I’ve been good! I’m going to art school at the end of the month,” you offered. 

“Really? So is Dalton! Oh, here he is!” There was a moment as the phone was passed along. You cleared your throat. 

“Hello?” 

“Dalton?” There was another beat of silence. You thought maybe he didn’t remember you, which would be slightly awkward. You would have to re-explain everything before he would even believe a word that came out of your mouth. Then he spoke. 

“Y/N?” You let out a breath of relief. 

“Yeah.” He scoffed and you could picture him shaking his head in disbelief. 

“What’s up? Are you okay?” Still the same protective boy he had been when you were kids. 

“I had a dream about you last night and I wanted to call, see if you were okay.” Another moment of silence. You wondered if Renai had left the room.

“A not fun dream?” he asked quietly. You nodded, looking down. 

“Yeah.” You could hear Renai in the background. 

“She’s going to art school too.” 

“Really? Where are you going?” 

“Western. Not far from home, at least, where home used to be.” 

“Me too,” he breathed. “Who would’ve thought?” You bit the inside of your cheek, wondering what it would be like to be back with Dalton again. You had never felt so understood like when you were with him. 

“When do you leave? We should meet up for lunch.”

-

Dalton Lambert had gotten tall. You noticed that first when you saw him. He stepped right out of your dreams and onto his dorm room flooring. You had just missed Josh who had eagerly scurried away. Your parents had left you too. Now you and Dalton were finally in a place where you could hang out away from adults, which was a weird feeling when you were together. 

He had texted you his room number and you knocked on the door. When it opened, he hugged you. It wasn’t awkward or weird. In fact, it felt like you had finally come home. 

“How are you?” you asked. 

“I’m okay,” he promised. He ushered you in. “I’d be better if you told me what your dream was about.” You shook your head. 

“It was just you being here.” 

“You have good dreams now?” You shook your head. 

“That’s the whole thing.” He gestured for you to sit at his desk or at the empty bed beside his. You sat down on his bed anyway, putting your feet up to your chest like you were a child. “I don’t. But I remember feeling bad when I woke up, like something was coming.” You looked over at him. “How are you? How are your dreams?”

He paused for a moment, like he was glitching or buffering. You tilted your head. 

“Dalton?”

“My dreams are fine,” he answered finally. “Not nearly as interesting as yours.” You nodded slowly. That wasn’t exactly the answer you were expecting to get but you trusted him to open up when he was ready. “So do you think somethings gonna happen?” 

“I don’t know. I think I’ll know more later,” you promised, though you only half believed it.

“The last time you dreamt about me I went into my coma,” he said quietly, cautiously. He opened up to you quickly, knowing what it was like to be friends with you when you were a kid. There was something so special about being known before you even knew yourself. 

“I know. That’s why I found my parents' phonebook and called your mom.” 

“At least you’ll be closer this time around,” he suggested. “You’re welcome to hit me in the head if I start drifting off when I’m not supposed to.” You laughed gently. 

“Good to know.” You looked up at his wall. He had started to put drawings up. His mom was in the one above his pillow, at her piano. She looked just like you remembered her. “How is she?” you asked. Your eyes scanned the room. “Oh man, how is Foster? Cali?” 

“Good, good, they’re all good,” he promised, laughing a bit. “My parents got divorced a couple years ago. My dad is slightly losing it.” 

“As all dads do.” Your eyes scanned the wall. There was a picture of his brother. Another of his grandmother, who you only met every once in a while. Above her was a picture you recognized. It was you. You when you were a kid, in a room you no longer remembered. “Is that me?” He cleared his throat. 

“Your call had me looking through pictures.” You glanced at him, smiling a bit. 

“I loved your house so much. It was like a second home to me.”

“It was a first home to me.” You rolled your eyes. 

“We have so much to catch up on. Tell me everything. I have nowhere to be.”

-

Dalton’s room became a second one to you. It was serendipitous, moving from swapping houses to swapping dorm rooms. The transition felt comfortable and seamless. His roommate Chris moved out because she was a girl so you mostly got the room to yourselves. 

A couple weeks in, he started to have nightmares. Nights where you recognized the look on his face when he woke up. It was the same look he had after he had wandered too far, daring you to go with him. When he woke up he looked just like a kid still. Big wide eyes, confused. 

You sat on the spare bed. Dalton had fallen asleep half an hour before but you couldn’t bring yourself to leave. There was nothing wrong with just falling asleep there. You had done it before and you would do it again, waking up to his alarm for his early class. 

You laid your head down on the pillow, scrolling on your phone. The night had fallen, indicating that you should let yourself drift off into sleep. You raised your head a bit, wondering if you could easily find one of Dalton’s shirts to wear to sleep instead of your uncomfortable day one. You should’ve asked him before he fell asleep. You stood up lazily, rubbing your eyes. The room was only illuminated by the nightlight at Dalton’s side. He had fallen asleep with a pencil still in his hand, his sketchbook still out on his side.

You groggily slipped the pencil out of his fingers, putting it on the desk. You grabbed his sketchbook, looking at what he was looking at. It was still just lines on a paper, soon to be something beautiful. You put it aside. You were about to turn around when he woke up with a start. 

He lifted his head completely, almost ramming into you. You jumped, startled. 

“Woah!” you exclaimed. He was breathing heavily. He looked up at you, eyes wide. You met his gaze, almost positive what had just happened. “Did you wander off?” 

“What?” 

“In your sleep. Did you project?” He was silent for a moment, still trying to catch up on whatever it was going on in his head. He didn’t say anything for a second, staring at you with bewildered eyes. “Dalton?” 

He finally opened his eyes up to speak but was cut off by a loud screeching. You put your hands over your ears, wincing. The fire alarm was going off. Dalton scrambled out of bed, looking at the door. He rushed forward, pushing it open. 

Down the hall, all the other students were leaving their beds. Most were still muddled with sleep, wearing nothing but their pajamas. You peeked your head out behind him. He grabbed your arm and started to bring you down the hallway to the stairs. It was too tight for everyone so his grip was iron tight, weaving through the confusion. You pushed through the door to the stairs, moving with the herd down. You glanced back, trying to find the source of the confusion. 

You emerged outside into the night. It was freezing. The group dispersed into the courtyard, everyone looking back to the building you had just left. You brushed against Dalton behind you, who had finally let go of your arm. You couldn’t see anything in the building, nothing to indicate a reason everyone was leaving. 

“Do you see anything?” you asked him. He shook his head. 

“No.” You shivered, suddenly very aware of how cold it was. 

“Maybe it was a drill,” you suggested. He nodded slowly, not wanting to argue as his eyes scanned the building. 

Someone was yelling something in a megaphone you couldn’t make out. You tried to find the source of the voice to no avail. 

“What are they saying?” 

“False alarm,” he said, like it wasn’t a question. You furrowed your brows. 

“How can you hear that?” 

“I pulled it,” he said, finally. You turned around to look at him. 

“How? You were right there with me the whole time.” 

“I did it in my sleep.”

“If you knew it was a false alarm, why did we come out here?” 

“Because I wasn’t sure.” His voice sounded far away. You looked back at the building, completely safe in the backdrop of the night. You turned back to him. His look was dreary and unreadable. “You should probably go back to your room,” he said, voice still far away. You tried not to take that badly. It just seemed random. 

“Okay,” you said quietly. “Are you okay Dalton?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m good.” You nodded slowly. People started to pass you, going back inside. 

“Want me to walk you back up?” “I’m okay,” he assured you, some of the life returning to his voice. 

“Alright…I’ll see you tomorrow?” He nodded quickly and started to walk into the crowd. 

-

The next morning you woke up in a daze. You couldn’t quite remember what happened the night before, all of it glossing over your memory like a blur. You grabbed your phone off the side table, your roommate still snoozing away. You had a text from Dalton and a text from Chris, his old roommate. 

Taking Dalton to that frat party tonight. Wanna come? 

You opened that one up first. Dalton at a frat party? You almost snorted. You hadn’t been back in his life for very long but it didn’t seem like his vibe. You opened Dalton’s text next. 

Sorry about last night. Had a weird dream and woke up weird. 

You texted him back immediately. 

No worries. Are you really going to the frat party tonight? 

Almost immediately a little bubble showed up in the white box. You laid your head back down on the pillow. It felt like you had only taken a nap because of the weird in between moments. A text came from Dalton. 

Supposedly. Chris wants me to go. Do you wanna come? 

You glanced at your calendar. 

I have a test in the morning, I think I’ll pass. Thanks for the invite tho :) Try not to get too drunk! 

You opened Chris’s texts back up too to answer her as well. As you were typing out your response, Dalton texted you again. 

Are you sure??? I could get lost, drunk and suggestive. Who would protect me from the onslaught of potential girls? 

You rolled your eyes harder. 

Chris will! 

You turned off your phone to get ready for the day. 

-

You sat on your bed in your dorm room. Your eyes were dropping off to sleep, phone down on your comforter, computer open as you looked at reference pictures. Your sketch book was open, though it didn’t have anything except the bare bones of some sort of idea. You hummed to the music coming from your phone, mind wandering from your work. 

Your roommate had gone to the same frat party as Dalton. You were by yourself tonight as the sun dropped. It was becoming more clear that you just wanted to go to sleep tonight to wake up rested for the test. You picked up your phone, pursing your lips as you tried to decide if giving up homework was worth it for the night. You had no new texts from Dalton or Chris except a picture from Chris’s phone of the two of them there. You smiled a bit. Dalton looked awkward and out of place. It was good that he was branching out. 

Finally you set your things aside. There was no use in trying to do any more work when you were still catching up on sleep from the night before. 

As you placed your head on the pillow a simultaneous pierce through your skull erupted. You grabbed your head at the familiar feeling. Usually you only got visions when you were asleep, waking up to some sort of horrific memory. 

A bathroom. It felt cold, like ice, like the ground hadn’t been stepped on by humans in years. A boy was there, his face shrouded by the toilet. He gripped the sides but his hands didn’t look real. Something was wrong with him. You couldn’t tell what it was. The sound of the door opening, a creek, a sudden stop. 

You dug your nails into the skin on your forehead, willing it to stop. It had been so long since you were awake when this happened. 

Before it subsided you could see Dalton in the doorway. The dread returned, the same dread you had when you were a kid and he was moving away where you couldn’t protect him. You let out a breath that you had been holding. Your hands were shaking. 

Usually you wrote down what you saw, quickly jotting down things you could remember. Typically nothing would stand out for you to take immediate action. This time you jumped out of bed, quickly putting on slip on shoes. You were wearing shorts and a hoodie, clothes to sleep in, when you ran down the stairs. You had never been to the frat the party was at tonight but there were still fliers everywhere and you assured yourself you would find one. 

Thankfully, right on the pole outside of the building was a green poster with the address. You knew where Greek Row was, not more than a five minute walk from your dorm. You turned towards it and started to run. 

By the time you got there you were already exhausted. You crashed through the door, entering a chaotic scene. There were people everywhere, ramming into each other, sloshing drinks on people’s clothes, too drunk to care. You scanned the crowd. You pushed through people, to the staircase. There were people hanging out there, leaning against the railing, leaning against each other. You walked upstairs, searching for a bathroom. The doors were mostly locked. 

You ran right into Chris, leaving the bathroom. You peeked inside but it wasn’t the one from your vision. 

“Woah! You decided to come after all! What are you wearing?” 

“Where’s Dalton?” She gestured to a door down the hall. You rushed towards it, almost tripping over yourself. You swung the door open. Dalton was on the ground, half under the bed, face filled with fear. “Dalton!” He snapped his head back up at you and then back in the air. There was nothing there. “Did you..did you see that?” 

“No.” 

“There was something-” You fell to your knees beside him, helping him out from under the bed. 

“What did you see?” 

“A kid in the bathroom. There was someone in the bathroom and he was-”

“Dead.” Chris emerged at the door frame. 

“What are you guys talking about?”

“Have you been astral projecting lately?” you asked him, voice low and serious. His eyebrows furrowed. 

“Have I been what?” You stared at him for a long time, unsure what he meant. Maybe he just didn’t want to say anything in front of Chris. 

“Dalton come on.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said and he felt honest. He grabbed your hand, willing you to believe him.

“When we were kids you could walk around in your sleep. Your soul left your body or whatever.” You paused, trying to read his face. “You don’t remember?” 

‘No,” he said, honestly. 

“What are you guys talking about?” Chris repeated. 

“We should go,” you said quickly. “We’ll talk back at the dorms.” You helped Dalton up. 

-

Though she protested, Chris left the two of you alone in Dalton’s dorm. The explanations coming out of his mouth weren’t something she trusted and she trusted you to make sure he went to bed alright. Though she did feel bad for dragging him along, unsure if the drinking had something to do with his abnormal reaction. 

“We have to call your parents,” you said as he sat down at his desk. He shook his head. 

“I can’t.” 

“Yes you can. They know what happened here and why you don’t remember it.” You hadn’t known everything about Dalton being in a coma but you didn’t expect him to remember nothing of it completely. He detailed not even remembering being sick. They moved into the new house and then the rest of the year was nothing but a blur. 

“I wouldn’t believe you if I hadn’t just seen it,” he breathed. You grabbed his phone off the table, opening it up. “Wait-” 

“No wait. We have to call your mom. She’ll know what to do.” 

“But this could just be something completely normal. You said I could do it before I went into my coma.” 

“And then you went too far, Dalton. I don’t actually know how far too far is but I know you’re already too close to it.” You held up the phone for him. “Call her.” He looked at you, eyebrows knitted. He looked at the canvas at his desk, completely covered in black, a red door created at the edges. There was something at that door he couldn’t remember anymore. He set his jaw and grabbed his phone. 

“I don’t think this is gonna help.” 

“Put it on speaker.” 

The phone rang for a moment but no longer than that. Renai answered quickly. 

“Hello? Dalton?” 

“Hey mom.” 

“It’s nice of you to call,” she said, half jokingly. “How are things there? Are you settling in nicely?” 

“Yeah mom, that’s not really why I called.” He gave you a look as you sat beside him eagerly. “I’ve been having these dreams and Y/N said you might know something about that.” 

The line was silent for a moment. 

“What kind of dreams?” 

“I can see my body when I leave it. Like I’m walking around in this other world.” 

“Is Y/N there?”

“Right here Mrs. Lambert.” She paused again. The tension seeped from the phone. You met Dalton’s eyes. 

“Mom?” 

“Maybe I should just come up there and talk to you in person. Can Y/N stay with you until I get there?” 

“What? Mom, you don’t need to come all the way up here.” Shuffling came from the other line.

“It’s too hard to explain over the phone. I’ll be there in the morning.” 

“No, mom.” He took a deep breath. “What happened? Tell me now.” His hands were wrapped tightly around the phone. He had grabbed your hand. You couldn’t remember when. 

“You and your father don’t know,” she said quietly. “We made it so that those memories were suppressed. I don’t know how it came back.” She shuddered. “When you were in the coma you went somewhere Dalton. For three months, we lost you.” 

“Where?” 

“A place called The Further.” Her voice was gravely serious. He stared at the ground. The name sent shivers down his spine, like all that repressed childhood fear came back. “You got lost there and things tried to take your body. Your dad went back to find you and…something else came back instead of him.” Dalton looked at the door painting on his desk. 

“How do I stop it?” 

“I don’t know honey. I’m coming down.”

“What about dad? What if he’s going through this too?” 

“I’ll get your father. We’ll come together.” Dalton had nothing to say to that. It must be serious if they were going to stay together for a long period of time like the drive up to school. “Stay with Y/N.” There was a beat. “I love you Dalton.” 

“I love you too mom.” 

She hung up the phone. For a long time you just sat there in silence. You hadn’t ever gotten those answers before, the ones you had only gotten glimpses of when you were a kid trying to sleep. 

“I remember the demon trying to get you,” you whispered. “He was dark…with red,” you said. “I had nightmares about him for months. I kept seeing him get closer and closer but no one believed me.” 

Dalton looked over at you, his look unreadable. 

“He’s trying to get me again,” Dalton muttered. “I can feel him.” 

You shook your head. That was the last thing you wanted to hear. You stood up, letting go of his hand. 

“This is bigger than us. There’s this whole other world and you’re going to it and it’s so close-” 

“But if I don’t go to it then-”

“Are you gonna stay awake? Forever?” Dalton shut his mouth. “Repressing the ability didn’t work so what else is there to do but enter the place?” You shivered. Just the memory of your visions sent chills down your spine. “I haven’t seen the demon recently. I’ve just seen you.” 

“Maybe that’s a good thing.” You nodded. You paced, unsure what to do with all the fear in your body. “We just have to wait till the morning, then my mom will be here.” You both knew that might not solve anything. Still, you nodded. There was nothing else to do but wait.

 “I’m staying here with you.” 

“I don’t wanna be alone anyway.” He shook his head, voice far away. This dorm had started to become a safe haven, despite the places your brain went when you were asleep. It felt much better than your own dorm with the roommate you hardly knew. You’d likely be getting a text from her in the morning, wondering where you were again. 

You sat back down on Dalton’s bed. 

“Are we gonna try and stay awake all night?” He shook his head. 

“If I wake up I’ll just stay right where I am.” 

“That sounds easier than it will be.” It was already late, nearly midnight. You were tired and your heart was starting to slow down now that the problem didn’t seem as pressing. You rubbed the sleep out of your eyes but it didn’t do much.

“Are you ready to sleep now?” he asked. You nodded. 

“I really thought I was gonna go to bed early tonight. Looks like I’ll be skipping the test in the morning.”

“I don’t want you to do that. I’ll be fine by myself.” You shook your head. 

“No way. I’m staying here until your parents show.” You yawned. “But I should probably go to sleep soon.” He glanced at the bed on the other side of the room. He knew you would go there automatically if he didn’t say otherwise. He couldn’t exactly explain it but he would just feel safer if you were closer to him. 

He could explain it but suddenly that feeling was scarier then wandering off into The Further. 

“I’ll take that b-”

“You could sleep with me.” You raised an eyebrow at the suggestion. Without so much as a beat you answered. 

“Okay.” He let out a breath. You got up. “Scoot over then.” He looked up at you and your willingness to be so close to him.

“I’ve gotta change.” 

“Then change.” He stood up, walking to his drawer. He shuffled around in there for something acceptable to wear. Usually he just wore his boxers and a shirt but suddenly that felt so revealing. He could see you in the corner of his eye, getting under the covers and getting comfortable. 

You tried to pretend it wasn’t a big deal to you that he asked even though your heart was in your throat. 

“Don’t look,” he said. You made a dramatic gesture of covering your eyes. He took his shirt, facing away from you. You peaked between your fingers, admiring his back as he quickly slipped the other shirt back on. When he undid his belt you covered your eyes again. 

“You can stay awake,” you offered. He turned off the lamp on the desk, leaving only the nightlight. He moved the blankets aside so he could sit beside you. 

“I’m exhausted from finding out my memory was erased.”

“It sounds so dramatic that way.” 

“What would you say?”

“Hypnotism.” He put his head against the pillow, facing you. It was rare you were at eye level. 

“That’s dramatic too.” 

You sat there in silence for a moment. You hadn’t seen his face so close to you since you were kids. It was just like the sleepovers you had when you were a kid, just a little less innocent. 

“Are you scared to fall asleep?” he asked, voice a whisper now.

“Sometimes. Tonight I am. I don’t wanna dream about you.” He should be feeling awkward, being so close to you. Instead he felt more comfortable than ever. 

“Then don’t.” 

“I’ll give it my best effort.” Your eyes were so heavy. They closed without you even thinking about it. 

“I’m gonna be awake a little longer. I think I’m gonna sketch.” 

“Okay Dalton,” you whispered and it sounded so incredibly childlike. He sat up a bit, leaning against the headboard. He grabbed his sketchpad off the table. You nuzzled your head into the pillow. “Do you mind if I use you as a pillow?” you asked quietly. 

“No. Not at all.” 

You moved forward a bit and then your head was on his lower chest, arm over him. He put his hand over your back and suddenly sketching seemed much less important than making you comfortable. 

“Goodnight Y/N.”

-

Neither of you had set an alarm. 

Renai and Josh showed up early at 7 the next morning, the sun still slowly coming up. Renai knocked on the door, antsy to see her son. She had explained everything to Josh on the way over. He was pleased to find he wasn’t crazy. 

The knock went unanswered. She took a deep breath and knocked again. 

“You don’t think it’s unlocked do you?” she questioned. Josh tried the doorknob. It opened with ease. They shared a look. 

The other bed was still unused. Laying in the other bed was you and Dalton. You were on his chest, a pencil lazily in his fingers. He was hugging you with both arms, cheek pressed against your head. 

Renai couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief. 

“They’re okay,” she whispered. Josh nodded. He wanted to smile at the sight. It felt right. 

“Should we wait for them to wake up?” 

Renai couldn’t help but feel unhappy when Dalton slept. Even years later, whenever he slept in, she was checking on him constantly. 

“They’ll understand.” She approached him, sitting at the edge and nudging his shoulder. He groaned. He was okay. He was there. You nosed your face further into his chest. 

Neither of you had any nightmares that night. Your sleep was as black as it should be, consumed by each other's arms.

[cyle]

hi cyle! I hope you are doing well! first of all im sorry if you find this intrusive, it's not my intention at all! the thing is -- i'm a long time tumblr user and fan, this place means a lot to me and i've tried to support the site anyway I can every time I can. I fell in love with the "do you love the color of the sky" tumbler when it was available, but at the time wasn't able to buy it (I live in Brazil and the dollar-real conversion is _steep_ lol). now things are looking up a bit and I'd love to have it and show my love for this hellsite (affectionate), but unfortunately its not available anymore! :( Ive tried seraching for it on ebay with no luck. so my last resource would be to reach out directly to someone at tumblr and ask if there's any way I could get my hands on one of those. if you think there's someone better equiped to help or an email I should contact, I'd be so grateful if you could point me in the right direction. but of course if there's no hope I get it :( thank you so much and have a nice day!!!

unfortunately our merch store is closed for the time being, but if it comes back, i will post about it here, or we'll post about it on @staff

there were some internal whispers recently about re-opening it for a limited time for a promotional thing, i'm not sure if that's still happening...

[claymoresword]

The Queen And Her Knight | Chp: 6

Alicent Hightower x Knight Fem!Reader

Summary: Alicent Hightower against her better judgement, falls in love with her sworn protector. Can she bear to fight her feelings or will she finally just give in?

Wordcount: 2.8k

Pairing: Alicent x Reader

Warnings: mention of SA, fluff, angst, smut (?)

Note: as i added in the warning above there is mention of assault in this. ive added asterisks before the paragraph so u can skip it if u need to but again do not read it if its going to be triggering! take care of urselves pls

initially i had ideas to write actual smut for this chapter but leading up to it didn't really feel organic so i changed my mind

i do have plans for it in the future though pls dont get mad it will come have patience!

anyway i hope u enjoy this one as usual let me know what u think <3

taglist: : @blackbirdv98 @flaiire1805 @alicentfangirl @memarrymilf @thegayassbit-ch @pandoraboxofgay @vantestark @babylesbean06 @lelleel @hauntedfictionland @livinginafantasysposts @baddie-on-a-mission-xx @katieask @alanatabalno12 @slytherin-sun @eclosionducharme @evolutionsglory @darthtargnister @jayreadingforfun314 @dxrewclf @rozmrazaradelfinow

The council meeting had ended hours ago but the day’s far from over.

You’ve been searching every inch of the castle for the crown Prince but to no avail.

Stepping inside Alicent’s chambers you spot Ser Criston next to her. It seems you had walked in on them mid conversation.

“Whatever you may feel for me, as your Queen.” You catch Alicent whisper to Criston.

Your eyebrows knitted together, what could they have been possibly speaking about that would warrant such a statement?

“I will not fail you.” Criston responds.

A beat passes and they still failed to acknowledge your presence.

You cleared your throat before speaking.

“You asked to see me, Your Grace?”

Alicent turns to look at you, moving to further her distance from the other Knight.

“Yes, Lady y/n.” You catch Alicent let out a relieved sigh and for a moment you wonder if she shared the same sentiment.

That early morning’s events had left you feeling repugnant. Criston always had trouble controlling his impulses but witnessing him kill an innocent man in cold blood was not something you could overlook. He was a man without honor and you did not respect it.

Seeing him in close proximity to the Queen now, you could not help but feel protective. Your hand reflexively resting on the hilt of your sword.

“That will be all Ser Criston, you may go.” Alicent says.

Criston doesn’t move. Instead, he shoots you a hard stare, a look you had no problem reciprocating. You gripped your sword tighter, prepared for the physical challenge if it presented itself.

He forfeits the staring contest to glance at the Queen once more before bowing his head at her. Finally walking out, leaving the two of you alone.

How a man at his age could behave with such pettiness was beyond you.

Alicent walks over to her door quickly shutting it. Making her way back she pulls you into a kiss. The sudden nature of it was followed by a familiar fluttering in your belly as the Queen’s lips moved against yours.

Smiling into the kiss, your hand found her face, holding it tenderly.

“I despise today.” Alicent says after ending the kiss.

Brushing your thumb against her cheek, you spoke.

“I’m afraid I must disappoint you further my Queen. I had no luck locating the Prince.”

“I checked in with Ser Erryk and he only mentioned the Prince might have gone into the city.”

“Erryk? Which one’s that?”

Alicent asks with some asperity and you have to suppress the urge to laugh.

“He’s the Prince’s sworn guard, Alicent.”

“Oh, that’s right– Erryk.” The Queen nods, walking away from you.

“Just as well, I have already sent Ser Criston to search for Aegon in the city. I only hope he will have better luck.”

You attempt to hide your disapproval at that but your face betrays you.

Alicent notices before you manage to school your expression.

“What is it?” The Queen questions as she takes a seat at her table.

“After this morning’s theatrics I can’t help but doubt his competence.” You answer after a beat.

Alicent furrows her eyebrows.

“Yes, Ser Criston has always been..” The Queen pauses as if trying to find the right words.

“Passionate.”

She finally says.

That left you feeling even more unsettled. Her answer provided no reassurance.

You stepped forward kneeling down in front of Alicent, your hands on the armrests of her chair.

“Should I be worried?”

Her eyes met yours, gaze softened with adoration. You watched as her eyes flitted to your lips before answering.

“He has never laid a hand on me, my love.” Alicent says.

You scan her face for a moment, trying to catch any trace of dishonesty. You knew how good she was at deceiving others when it came to her emotions but you had gotten even better at seeing through it.

“Okay.” You said once satisfied that she was telling you the truth.

“But I swear if he ever tries to hurt you he will not be returning to Dorne in one piec–”

Alicent cuts you off by planting a quick kiss on your lips. Earning a smile from you. Your heart feeling like it could burst for the amount of love you felt for your Queen.

Your fingers getting lost in her hair, you quickly pulled her in for a real kiss. You moved to deepen it right away, tongue grazing her bottom lip and Alicent's mouth opens wider in response. The Queen lets out a whimper against your lips as she pulls you closer by your collar, making it difficult for you to think clearly.

Your hands moved to grip her waist. Tilting your head, you left a trail of kisses starting from her jaw, and then her neck.

Alicent’s chest is heaving as you pulled down her dress slightly to place an open mouthed kiss against her collar bone. Moving further down, you planted another at the swell of her breast.

The Queen’s hand finds the back of your neck before moving to grip your hair, she tugs at it forcing you to lift your head.

“Wait–” She says in between pants.

Alicent’s darkened gaze further igniting your desire for her.

Placing her hands on your shoulders she shoves you lightly before sitting upright.

“You have many talents y/n and distracting me is evidently one of them.”

She states and a smirk forms on your lips.

“Well you flatter me, Your Grace.” You quipped, smirk growing into a broad smile.

Alicent rolls her eyes at you before looking away to hide her own grin. Your heart swells at the sight.

“Will you please escort me to the Tower Of The Hand? I have to speak to my father.” Alicent says before standing up, compelling you to do the same.

The air between the both of you still thick. You are admittedly having trouble shaking off the intense make out session that was just abruptly ended moments ago.

Alicent must have noticed as she tugs at the hem of your breeches causing your face to be inches away from hers again, she kisses you deeply.

“Let us have supper tonight? Once the matter with Aegon is settled.” She whispers against your lips.

“I would love to.”

══════════════════════════════════════════════

Walking through Maegor’s Holdfast, you had intentions to visit Prince Aegon as you had not seen him since before he disappeared.

You had the desire to make sure he was prepared for his coronation tomorrow and perhaps talk him out of any plots he might have of escaping again.

Walking past a group of handmaidens you gave them a warm smile before bowing at them politely. Soon you spotted the Lord Hand in the distance speaking to somebody just out of your range of vision, they were hidden behind a pillar.

It wasn’t unusual for you come across Otto of course but his hushed tone is what made you feel inclined to stop and eavesdrop.

“I noticed you have spent many hours with the Queen as of late, Lord Larys.”

“There is no reason those hours could not in the end benefit you.”

Hearing the tail end of that conversation was enough to make you physically recoil.

What in the seven hells was he implying?

You weren’t allowed much time to ruminate as the Hand quickly spots you.

Resuming your walk to Aegon’s chambers you pretended to have not overheard their talk.

Larys throwing you a smile as he passes you, his attempt at gallantry merely causes the hair on the back of your neck to stand up.

“My Lord Hand.”

You bowed your head in respect to quickly acknowledge Otto but he stops you in your tracks again by harshly grabbing your arm.

You had no choice but to listen to what he had to say.

“The Prince needs his rest my Lady, he will not welcome any vistors.”

Otto states and you feel anger creeping up on you quickly. Forcing your lips into a cold smile before responding to him.

“Did the Prince himself, say that my Lord? Or are you merely speaking for him?”

Otto doesn’t respond instead he stares at you in a way that suggested his word was final.

The day has been challenging enough and you did not wish to add to the burden.

Bowing your head again you turn around to take your leave. You settled at the prospect of visiting Aegon early on the morrow.

══════════════════════════════════════════════

Alicent sighed as she shut the door to her chambers. Immediately dragging her feet to the flagon of wine, pouring herself a cup.

Truth be told she was more than ready to get into bed and fall into a slumber, but the supper with you was one thing she had been looking forward to since you left her side.

She hears the door open and is glad to be greeted by your presence but an unwanted voice calls out to her instead.

“Your Grace.”

“The hour is late, Lord Larys.” Alicent doesn’t attempt to mask her exasperation.

“I only desired to share a conversation I had with the Lord Hand early today, Your Grace.”

“As you were the topic of said conversation I feel it would not be fair to keep it from you.”

Alicent’s swallows the lump in her throat.

Lord Larys’ presence may often be a discomfort to her but as far as she knows he had always told her the truth.

“Go on my Lord, what did my father have to say?”

Alicent doesn’t bother facing him, instead she lifts the cup to her lips, taking a large swig of wine.

“There was a mention of your shortage of allies as of late, Your Grace.” Larys starts.

“I simply put myself forward as a remedy to that.”

Alicent felt sick.

Larys was speaking in riddles but she understood him well enough.

“As of tomorrow the realm will be officially divided, you will need as many on your side as possible.”

“As Lord of Harrenhal I can assist in ensuring that you will always have somebody by your side.”

Larys steps closer and any effort Alicent has made to move away did not work.

She felt paralysed.

“You must get so lonely.” He reaches out brushing a strand of hair out of Alicent’s face.

She could not move but she mustered just enough to speak.

“You cross a line Lord Strong. How dare you lay a hand on your Queen.”

══════════════════════════════════════════════

You made your way over to Alicent’s chambers later than usual as you had spent some of the day with Prince Aemond. You could always count on him to make you to lose track of time.

Nearing the Queen’s room you had noticed her door had been left slightly ajar but Ser Criston was nowhere to be seen. Either he left his post to find a chamber pot or he is in the room with her, again.

**

Pushing the door open, you stepped inside. The sight you are met with makes your blood run cold.

Larys had Alicent pinned on the ground, you watched as she squirmed underneath him trying to fight her way out of his hold.

You unsheathed your sword storming up to him. You roughly grabbed the back of his shirt, successfully pulling him off her with one harsh tug.

He falls backwards onto the ground, a look on his face that only made you grow hot with fury. He had the audacity to look shocked at your interference.

“Have you lost your mind?!” You shouted.

Larys attempted to sit up but you pressed the tip of your sword directly into his neck, drawing blood.

He winces at the pain and it only urged you to push further.

**

“Have you any last words before I remove your head? You miserable fuck.” You were trembling with anger.

“Wait y/n. You can’t– don’t kill him.”

Alicent says in between sobs, her voice barely audible.

You glanced at the Queen not making any moves to remove your sword. Still intent on taking the man’s life that assaulted her.

Alicent knew you too well to mince words with you in this moment.

“Spare him. I command it.”

You removed the steel from his neck, sheathing your sword at once.

As much as you hated it Alicent was right, the Lord of Harrenhal murdered in the Queen’s chambers the night before Aegon’s coronation would look very bad.

“What do you suppose I do with him instead, Your Grace?”

Alicent opens her mouth to answer but she is interrupted by Ser Criston walking in, rushing over to the scene.

Making eye contact with him, your fist moved quicker than your mind could comprehend.

You punched him in the face.

Criston stumbles back holding his face in shock.

“Why did you let him in?” You asked through gritted teeth, your hand gripping the collar of his shirt.

“I-” He stutters, failing to answer and you roll your eyes.

Hand still gripping his shirt you pulled him closer to speak directly into his ear.

“Lord Larys had just tried to assault the Queen. You make sure he rots in a cell until the end of his days.”

Criston nods, harshly grabbing Larys to force him on his feet practically dragging him out of the Queen’s chambers.

Somewhere during your confrontation with Criston, Alicent had began sobbing again. Now that the two of you were alone she still has not stopped.

You knelt down, hand instinctively on Alicent’s back you were weary of touching her too much. Unsure if she even wanted you to.

“I’m so sorry Alicent.” You say and she immediately turns to pull you into a hug.

For several minutes you held the Queen in your arms as she sobbed in your chest.

After her crying subsided Alicent remained resting her head against your shoulder with your arms around her. The Queen makes no effort to move to her bed so you decide to help her.

“Come my love let’s get you to bed.”

Alicent doesn’t respond for a moment but eventually she nods before standing up. You swiftly lifted her in your arms before she could walk, the Queen lets out yelp in surprise.

Carrying her to bed bridal style, adorably you caught a faint blush forming on Alicent’s cheeks but decide not to comment on it.

Setting Alicent down in her bed gently you carefully draped the covers over her.

“Do you want me to stay?”

The answer was obvious by the way Alicent was gripping your arm but you felt it important to ask before climbing into bed with her after the night she’s had.

“Please.” Alicent nods, pulling you closer she shuffles to the other side allowing you space to lay in her bed.

Putting out the candle on your side of the bed you reached over to do the same to her side but Alicent surprises you by crashing her lips against yours.

Expecting it to be a quick kiss, you reciprocated. You attempted to pull away but Alicent stills your movement by placing a hand on the back of your neck.

“Please just keep kissing me. I want to feel you.” Alicent’s breath against your lips.

You leaned in, kissing her properly this time. Your hand that remained firmly against her jaw she quickly guided to her waist.

You kiss her deeply, still cautious but tender. Alicent moves her hand underneath your shirt running her palm across your bare stomach. No doubt she can feel your goose bumps forming at her touch.

Disconnecting the kiss to speak, you leaned back to look at her.

“My love, are you sure?”

Alicent nods, her other hand moving to the back of your neck once again. Pulling you close.

“I need to feel you.” She repeats.

Alicent need not ask again, you understood what she was saying.

Moving fully under the covers, you settled your hips in between Alicent’s legs as you placed feather light kisses on her cheek down to her neck, chest and everywhere else she allowed.

Erasing any trace of Larys there may be left on her skin.

══════════════════════════════════════════════

“I want to make you Lord Commander of the Kingsguard.”

Alicent blurts out into a silent dark room and you let out a huff in amusement.

“Alicent, you must try and sleep.”

You moved your hand along her back soothingly, you’d truthfully been drifting off yourself before she spoken.

“I’m being serious.” She says firmly.

“As am I. You are going to be exhausted come the morrow.” You matched her tone.

“You do not accept?” Alicent lifts her head to look at you.

“Your Grace, I am hardly competent enough to lead.”

“You would make a better leader than Ser Criston.” Alicent remarks, her hand moving to rest on your chest.

“That much we know for certain.” You mutter.

“Will you sleep on it? Give me an answer on the morrow.”

You nod, arguing with your Queen no further.

Alicent seemed content at that, moving closer she lifts your arm to drape it around herself. Head resting against your shoulder as she finally drifted off to sleep.

[sorcerersseestars]

 his eyes, your ears [part iv]

series masterlist

Gojo Satoru x reader

summary: There was a time when you called him best friend, but those days escaped you long ago. There’s no way he’s alive – right? With the depth of his betrayal still lingering in your heart and mind, what would his reappearance spell for your life?

pairing: gojo satoru x gn! reader

genre: angst, hurt/comfort

fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen

warnings: cursing, lowkey a little mental torture, TW! s*xual a*sault (forced kiss), violence!!, one instance of vomiting (sry), immoral and creepy Geto, reader is kinda anxious nonstop (like writer like reader?), some details are non-canon (a/n 2.0 at end explains), also it’s slow for the first half but picks up I promise, I think I made Geto sound British???, also I made Hanami act like a mom kinda 💀 uh…im going to call it comic relief?

word count: 6.7k. oof.

a/n: I am literally SO SORRY that this has been sitting in my drafts for so long but… life happens! Along those lines – I wrote 1/2 of this in September and 1/2 of it in May, so it might be a bit disjointed sorryyy hehe

“I didn’t ask for this.”

“Then you’ll have to live with disappointment,” He flashes you an all-too-pleased-with-himself smile. “Becaaause it’s totally permanently in your phone now.”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, right. As if I wouldn’t be able to delete a contact.”

He has a devilish smirk on his face, but his voice is annoyingly innocent and cheerful. “Go ahead, try!”

You gasp. “Gojo! Did you jailbreak my new phone?!”

“Uh, uh! That not what my contact reads as!” He snatches your phone from your hands, and points a large finger to the tiny name on your screen. “It’s ‘My Beloved Best Friend Satoru’!”

“Satoru,” You say dangerously. “Erase this or I’ll erase you from existence.”

He chuckles. “Oh, I’d love to see you try. You’re cute when you try to beat me.”

Your mouth opens and closes as you try to find words, and you try to ignore the heat on your cheeks. “S-Satoru! You asshole, give me my phone back!”

He holds it high above your head, a wide smile lingering on his face. He’s having way too much fun with this. You jump, trying to swat it out of his hand, but to no avail.

“Why did you even do this?” You grumble, sighing. “What, is it ‘how many ways can I torture (Y/N) in the span of a few hours’ day?”

He smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “You’re weak, remember? You gotta have me on speed dial if you want to survive in this line of work.”

First, your eyes widen at his blunt statement. Then you sigh again, this time a bit sadly. “Wow, you have so much faith in me…thanks.”

“You never know what’s out there,” Gojo says. “If you ever have any trouble, call me.”

You narrow your eyes at him, “Is this a prank? I thought you hated ‘helping the weak’.”

“I’m serious, (Y/N),” He says firmly. “I’ll always pick up. Abuse the privilege, whatever, I don’t care. Just don’t die.”

Your head snaps towards him, mouth hanging open with shock. “Satoru, what…? I’m not going to…”

You fall silent. There’s no guarantee of that.

He steps closer to you, closer than what you’d consider friendly. Your heart skips a beat.

“Just do it, okay? I’ll always be on the other end.”

Always, huh? But now…

Ring, ring, ring. You bite your lip, pressing your phone hard against your ear, as if his voice will appear if you wish it enough. Ring, ring, ring.

“Please…” You whisper. “Come on, come on.”

Your breath hitches as the distinctive timbre of Satoru’s voice fills your ear, but your shoulders fall almost immediately.

“Hey, sorry I’ve missed your call! If you close your eyes, recite my name five times, and spin around twice, I might get back to ya! No exceptions – not even–”

You sigh and hang up before you’re put through to voice mail. It’s not like he’ll listen to it, anyway.

He’s been avoiding you. You haven’t seen him for days – six, to be exact. It’s been five days since Shoko deemed you well enough to recover at home, despite the worryingly slow rate that your cursed energy has been returning. You were released with the promise you wouldn’t exert yourself and absolutely would not use any cursed energy. All the while, you had childishly held two crossed fingers behind your back – your promise was as empty as you felt.

You should have expected this; this shouldn’t hurt so much. Gojo is the strongest sorcerer the world has seen for hundreds of years. He never runs from his foes – he doesn’t need to. When it comes to facing emotions, however, he is all but mighty. Whenever his emotions run high, overflowing until they begin to leak out into broad daylight, he turns tail and practically erases himself from existence. It’s nearly impossible to find him – he mysteriously leaves no trace, even for an experienced tracker like you.

You left Shoko with an empty smile and promise, and Gojo has done just the same. Despite him swearing that he’d be back to see you, Gojo is nowhere to be found. You’ve dropped by at the school multiple times, even asking his students if they knew of his whereabouts, but nobody has been able to give you an answer.

He’s been dodging your calls, letting it ring until his chirpy voicemail message mocks you. The text messages you leave go unread, unopened.

When you hopelessly reopen your chat with him, you can’t help but bite yoru nails as you stare at the wall of blue on your screen. Message after message – unfinished thoughts, apologies, words full of urgency and desperation – are left by trembling hands bloodied by your own worry.

‘I’m the strongest,’ He always says, so why does fear spike in your veins at the thought of Geto finding him? 

Even though his own arrogant words ring through your head, you can’t quell the anxiety that threatens to wreak havoc over your fragile state. You’re worried, so worried, and it bleeds into the rest of your life: you’re all over the place, constantly forgetting appointments and important items, you are inexplicably tense, your breathing is constantly shallow and quick; you’re barely holding yourself together.

A few days ago, you had your meeting with Yaga, alone, which went just as horribly as you could have imagined, but you were thankfully spared contact with the higher-ups due to your condition.

But you’re almost all better now – at least physically. That’s why you’re back again, ready for another round of manipulation and abuse.

You’re out of it, so out of it. Your eyes are glazed over, and nothing they say registers in your mind. Even when you try to focus on the words leaving their mouths, your brain filters it all back into mindless noise.

There’s a sequence of very familiar syllables: ah, your name is being shouted. You look up with empty eyes, blinking slowly.

“Useless sorcerer, answer me, now!” Gakuganji roars. “You are testing our patience, and I’ve just about run out of it. Can you track him, or not?”

You breathe in shakily, and let out a weak, clueless, “What?”

“Track him, or they’re dead,” He spits. “Track Geto Suguru. Find him. We won’t wait long. If you haven’t reported back in a week, your parents won’t be able to enjoy their retirement any longer.”

Some of the other council members shift uncomfortably at his bluntness, but you barely even flinch.

You’re so tired of it all. You almost wish you had encouraged Gojo to just off them once and for all.

“Okay,” You mumble softly, lacking the energy to project your voice. “I can do it. I will track Geto Suguru.”

You drag yourself out without acknowledging them, without any show of respect, but the thought of caring is lost on you. Your apathy leaves a trail of displeased whispers, but you don’t even notice.

You speed-dial his number again and again and again, and are returned with nothing but the taunt of his cheerfully recorded memo.

When you finally look away from his contact info burning your retinas, your gaze is trained on the clear sky. It shouldn’t be so vivid, shouldn’t be so beautiful – today should be overcast and rainy. You can’t help but frown, but your eyes remain on the heavens.

Then you’re granted a sight that usually coaxes a smile out of you no matter how you feel: a particularly large gust of wind lays out a collection of reddening autumn leaves against the azure sky. They swirl and dance in the breeze, hovering in your field of vision for a few more moments before they are whipped away. 

It’s a sign of the changing of seasons – it has always been one of your favorite times of the year, especially during your years at Tokyo Jujutsu High. The rapid approach of the holidays and the time spent training with your classmates in the chilly air has always enlivened you.

Today, this sight drives fat tears to roll down your cheeks. It just serves to remind you of the juxtaposition between those blissful times and these turbulent times: the weight of Geto’s betrayal, his subsequent death, his impossible revival.

You turn your head to the side, eyes tracking the leaves as they dance into the distance. 

“So I’m really doing this then,” You whisper to yourself. “Yeah, guess I am. You’re not here to stop me…”

They’re far from Tokyo, much further than they were before. That much is obvious from the start, when you first scour for their residuals. After a disappointing first try by Jujutsu High - you shouldn’t expected much, anyway - you decide to return to their last known location: the forest you nearly were obliterated in. You dread returning there, but you have little choice unless you want to do a whole lot of guesswork.

You drive yourself there. Usually, you would be accompanied by your usual driver Ijichi, but the thought of asking him didn’t even cross your mind. In the eyes of the Jujutsu world, this is a suicide mission. You’re well aware of that: so why involve anyway else unnecessarily, risking innocent lives?

You’re grateful for the calming scenery that blurs by: miles and miles of inhabited land, solely occupied by woodland’s creatures. Hardly any curses are present in the countryside, as there are no humans to feed off of. Those special grades you faced were certainly the exception.

You pull over to the edge of the forest once you sense a steady stream of cursed energy. The residual energy is at least a week old - just around the time of your unfortunate encounter with them. You close your eyes and carefully sift through all of the cursed energy signatures left behind, immediately identifying Hanami’s and Jogo’s faint residuals. There’s one stronger energy, and very familiar: Satoru’s cursed energy.

His cursed energy is so easy to pick out, no matter where you are. It’s so bright and lively, practically humming under your fingers every time you sense it, almost as if it were your own.

But there’s a shadow – his energy shadows another. You concentrate, sensing an underlying current of a more recent energy. Your eyes fly open, startled by your discovery. It is much fresher than the others: the residuals are only a few days old.

Its signature is both unknown and yet alarmingly familiar. It’s dark, so dark. Its energy chokes you, holds you hostage with the way it starts to stick to you and steal your courage with its oppressiveness. You’ve never felt an energy quite like this, yet it feels all too familiar.

You begin to shake, the reality sinking in. “Geto…. Just what have you become?”

You shakily clamber back into the driver’s seat, firmly gripping the steering wheel with sweaty hands. Geto was here. Geto knows that you and Satoru were in the same vicinity as Jogo and Hanami. There’s absolutely no way he doesn’t know — you carelessly hadn’t wiped your residuals or even tried to cover your tracks.

You step on the gas. You keep your cursed energy flowing as you speed down the road, revealing a murky trail of residuals to follow. His cursed energy is so distinctly foul that you can pick it out from the rest with little effort. It’s overwhelming and makes you nauseous. Cursed with a twist of familiarity – a sickening combination.

Your mind begins to race. Is this how Gojo felt back then? No, it must have been so much worse, tracking one of your soulmates down with the intent to…to kill. And now you’re being forced to track him down again, just so the higher-ups can order Gojo to repeat history, just so your best friends will be forced to fight until one is–

You jerk the steering wheel over, making for a rough pull-over job. You throw yourself out of the car as quickly as possible before retching your stomach’s contents out onto the dark pavement.

The old wounds in your heart flare up; you clutch your chest desperately.

You are not strong enough to protect your parents - but are you strong enough to survive the alternative, the reality you and Gojo can’t help but deny?

“I have to,” You whisper to yourself. “I have to do this. I have no power in this world, I’m not the strongest…so this is all I can do.”

And so you are off again, this time unwavering from the course you’re set on.

By the time you reach Kyoto, an untimely five hours of panicked driving later, their residuals are so apparent that you hardly have to try. It’s almost as if they’re luring you in, the most sensitive tracker known in the Jujutsu world; why else would they leave behind such obvious traces of their cursed energy?

You ignore your instincts that scream for you to turn back, and instead continue into the outskirts of the most outer part of the residential areas – the residuals lead you far from the city itself.

As you venture further into the countryside, your stomach begins to clench. The residuals are much stronger now, but not alarmingly so. They should still be miles and miles out, perhaps 40 or 50 – there should be enough distance to not alert them of your presence. However, as a precaution, you stretch your hearing beyond the range of any normal human. You still feel unsettled, even with the extra layer of protection.

This is dumb. This is a terrible idea. Yet, you keep your foot firmly on the gas pedal.

You are suddenly flooded with an overwhelming wave of noise. Your brain barely has a second to process what your ears pick up: the roar of an object hurtling towards your car. You swerve to the roadside, and you’re barely fast enough: the driver’s side door is nearly scraped off, and it begins to smolder.

It shouldn’t be possible. They shouldn’t be here. Not again.

Running on pure adrenaline, you rip your seatbelt off and throw yourself to the passenger’s side door, seeking an escape from the next impending strike. Your hearing is more sensitive from your frenzied state, and you hear the next meteor much earlier this time. You rely on your hearing, on your hearing only: it will tell you where to dodge.

You climb out of the car, wheezing on smoke and fumes, and take off running. You gasp at the sound of the next meteor closing in on you and quickly dive away, throwing yourself to the ground and covering your head with your hands. The explosion is so intense that even after reducing your hearing, you feel the shock reverberate through your body and overpower any other sensation you feel.

After the ringing in your ears lets up for a moment, you finally feel the aftermath of the blast: shards of heated rock are embedded in your side, scorching your skin. There’s no time to even think about it: you’re up and running away from the voices that soon enter your hearing.

“You imbecile! Do you always have to do the opposite of what you’ve been ordered?” The grating tones of Hanami enter your ears as he hisses at Jogo. “He said captured alive! Or would you rather face his wrath?”

Captured? So they had been expecting your arrival; it was a trap all along.

“Relax, I haven’t even made a scratch yet!” Jogo shouts back.

“You’re embarrassing yourself in many ways,” Hanami scoffs. “If your intention was to kill, I will begin to further doubt your abilities. I already had to rescue you from that sorcerer, or has your pea-brain already forgotten that failure after it fell off of your body?”

“Shut up already,” Jogo growls. “I got it, okay?”

You truly don’t know what to do. Your last encounter made it very clear that you are solely a tracker with limited offensive ability. Hell, you didn’t even try last time because you knew it be to utterly pointless – the result would turn out no better if you tried now. Two special grades against a Grade 1 sorcerer with Grade 2 offensive abilities? You don’t stand a chance in that regard.

They’re in too close of proximity to disguise your presence – cutting off your cursed energy would be pointless. There’s only one other trick up your sleeve to increase your chances of surviving if they do decide to attack again.

You feel their cursed energies so much more clearly – when you steal a glance behind yourself, you can faintly see them in the distance. Not good.

Jogo suddenly barks out a laugh. “Boss never said we couldn’t rough anybody up though, did he? Got you there, dumbass! Don’t try to stop me!”

Really not good.

There’s a sudden spike in cursed energy – and that energy is heading straight for you. You try to dodge, but your reaction is too late. You feel the heat even before the impact, and you decide you definitely need to utilize your other ability. It’s not perfect, nor is it a full-fledged technique yet, but you have little choice but to use it now.

You concentrate all your energy into the side that will take the hit, and imagine an impenetrable wall. You think of Gojo’s Infinity: the space that can never crossed, no matter how much force is exerted. You don’t have the ability to manipulate space like Gojo, but your shield imitates his impenetrability.

Jogo’s fiery body slams into your side. Your breath is instantly knocked out of you, and the searing pain returns. Your shield absorbs the brunt of the strike, but you’re still knocked back at least thirty feet. You tumble into the undergrowth, your back squarely hitting a tree in your path.

You can’t stop the howl that escapes your lungs, and the ragged breathing that follows.

“They tried to stop it! It wasn’t even a fraction of my power and they couldn’t stop it! And you’re telling me that Gojo Satoru is interested in them?” Jogo howls in laughter. “How pathetic!”

At your next blink, Jogo has materialized in front of you. You weakly stagger to the side, wanting to get away but knowing you can’t deep down. They’re just toying with you – if they decided to get rid of you, they’d be able to almost instantly.

Jogo shouts loudly, “So weak it makes me sick! You can only run away, huh? Boss is right – creatures like you are disgusting.”

He rushes forward again, and you rush to encase yourself in your imperfect shield. To your surprise, you are not struck down: instead, you’re…in his arms??

“Hanami! Since you won’t let me have anymore fun, I guess we should go back,” Jogo yells across the clearing to the other Special Grade.

A burst of petals flies past your eyes; Hanami emerges from a newly-grown patch of flowers. They don’t say anything, but they approach Jogo and stand right over his shoulder. Jogo eyes Hanami suspiciously.

“Why are you hovering over me?” Jogo grumbles. “Stay away, tree hugger.”

“It’s almost as if he knew you were going to pull this,” Hanami huffs. “There’s a reason I’ve been keeping an eye on you.”

“They’re alive, that was the only request. Did Boss put you up to that ‘good guy’ act, huh? Agh, such arrogant scum! Thinks he can tell me what to do?”

Despite your shield, Jogo’s heat begins to affect you. You cough violently, and when you glance at your hands you see rivulets of red.

“Yes, I think that’s accurate, considering you call him ‘Boss’. Now, hand them over before they go up in flames.”

Jogo grunts unhappily, but complies. You’re transferred to the rough bark limbs of the tree cursed spirit. Hanami sighs at the sight of your angry red burns, eyeing Jogo, “Such a barbaric curse…destructive to all life and environment.”

“HAH! You-!” Jogo guffaws. “I’ve see you uproot your own forests! Environmentally friendly my ass! Shut your trap.”

You wince from his loudness.

“So obnoxious, isn’t he? Well, you’re the lucky one here - you get to take a nap,” Hanami says. “Rest well before your…‘meeting’.”

Your pulse quickens at the expression on the curse’s face: a demented sort of excitement. There’s a sweet floral smell that falls over you, and then you begin to grow sleepy. Your eyelids start to flutter as you try to fight it – but you are eventually pulled deep into a dreamless sleep.

You are roused from your sleep by the touch of another. A hand on your forehead – a comforting presence. It’s warm, and familiar. You’re about to smile widely and look deep into his crystal eyes, but when your bleary eyes begin to focus, your heart stops.

There’s an easy, gentle smile on his face. His dark eyes shine brightly, but your own can’t help but drift to the obvious surgical scar running across his entire forehead.

Your reflexes kick in: you smack his hand away, rejecting the unwanted touch, and fall into a defensive stance. He lets out a hum of amusement, but otherwise does not react.

“My old friend,” Geto Suguru coos. “How wonderful it is to see you again. Never thought I’d be able to – what a gift your presence is, my dear.”

It’s then that you realize that you’re shaking; your chattering teeth render you unable to let any words out.

“Did Jogo and Hanami rough you up again? How rude of them,” He sighs. “But don’t be scared, it’s just your old friend Suguru.”

He stops to let his eyes roam over your hunched form. A sickening smirk spreads across his face – sickening because it’s just like the sweet smiles he used to give you.

“You know, you really are the best tracker around. I have to say, I’m quite impressed. Too bad I know all your little tricks, though. Did you like the surprise I set up especially for you?” He smirks. “It’s hard to catch such a talented tracker as you off guard, but I think I managed quite well. You didn’t detect a thing, did you? They were supposed to be much further away, I know…it’s fascinating, isn’t it, the feats you can achieve through sorcery?”

You only stare at him in horror.

“No? Well, I know at least Jogo enjoyed it,” He says with a soft laugh, but his next words cause icy chills to run down your spine. “But I think I enjoyed it the most. The look on your face…was perfect.”

Your stomach turns at his words. His gaze is even worse: there’s a hungry, disturbing glint to them. Your eyes flit from his sharp onyx eyes to his traditional wear: his inky yukata and gilded kasaya are elegant and beautiful, but emanate darkness.

“Forgot what I looked like? It has been a while, hasn’t it?” Geto smiles. His smile is soft and almost sweet, but out of place; its familiarity makes your stomach churn.

“You shouldn’t be here,” You finally speak, voice quiet and cracking. “You shouldn’t exist.”

“That’s a bit harsh, doll. I’m not the only one who doesn’t belong in this world,” He says, lip curled in disgust. “Monkeys roam the earth. That’s more of a disgrace than my existence…I hope you’d agree.”

You only manage to gasp out, “How are you even here?”

His eyes meet yours, crinkling in a dark sort of amusement. “You’d love to know, wouldn’t you? There’s a price to pay for that knowledge, doll.”

“You’d…Geto would never hurt me,” You whimper. “Never.”

Geto just smiles. “I wouldn’t? Maybe not.”

His piercing eyes seem to see stare right through you. “But what about my best friend?”

You freeze.

“Is that such an uncomfortable thought?” He chuckles a little too lightly. “Never thought about it even once? Not even after he killed me?”

He tuts at you, clicking his tongue. “Sweetheart, I knew you were blinded by him, but never to this degree. How low you have fallen…”

He moves closer. Your breath is trapped in your lungs and you can’t move.

“One toe out of line and you might end up like me. Don’t you see?” He shakes his head.

Hot anger flashes through you, and your tongue lashes out before you can think. “One toe out of line? No. No. You committed genocide. You murdered your entire family in the name of it. For what? A delusional dream?”

He sighs. “Of course. So brainwashed…you’re practically a monkey. How disappointing. You don’t get it, do you? I was apparently his everything, and look how I ended up.”

“You’re not Geto!” You cry out. “You can’t be.”

He laughs softly, but his gaze is razor-sharp. “Are you sure these aren’t Geto’s thoughts?”

You bite your lip in nervous thought. “Ge- you…why am I here?”

He ignores your question as he begins to circle you like a hawk, eyes sharp and hungry. “You know, you’re not quite what I imagined you to be.”

You take a few tentative steps back, trying to subtly increase the distance between you and the living corpse in front of you, but he strides over to your side when he notices.

“I’m just so curious,” He says, eyes raking over your figure. “You really are (Y/N), aren’t you? Fits the descriptions…”

The blood drains from your face. You back away from his seeking hands that threaten to touch you, to investigate you.

“There’s a disgusting amount of papers with your name written all over them – I don’t think Hanami would have liked me much before. Such a waste of stationery,” He says, his twisted smirk pulling shivers down your spine. “Why was I so fixated on you? You don’t look like anything special. Don’t tell me…I actually fell for someone as plain as you?”

“What?” You breathe out, eyes wide, mouth parted in surprise. “Geto, you…he…it wasn’t like that.”

“And you didn’t even know,” He coos in faux pity. “How cruel to find out in this way. Seems like you have only ever focused on my former equal. You only pay attention to the strongest – how shallow. What did I ever see in you?”

“I- that’s not-“ You try to form a sentence, deny it, say it’s not true because it truly isn’t, but your tongue and vocal chords won’t cooperate with you.

“When confronted with the truth, humans get tongue tied,” He smiles, voice dripping with mockery. “How precious. What a good little monkey you are – so unbearably typical, so exemplary of your species.”

“Stop,” You gasp out.

“What, sweets? Can’t handle the truth?”

“Don’t call me that,” You try to say with conviction, but it leaves you weakly and softly, almost a plea.

“What, you only like it when he calls you that?” He says with a dark chuckle. “How pathetic. How much has you brainwashed you into thinking he acutally wants anything to do with you? Gojo doesn’t like to get attached. And even when he does–”

He leans forward, invading your space, pressing up too closely to your body. “–sometimes you still end up dead.”

“Stop,” You beg. “Get away from me. You’re-you’re scaring me, Suguru.”

“Am I?” He smirks. “Oh, I’m sorry. I know what to do to make you forgive me, though. Used to work on Shoko, too.”

“No, stop!” You cry, ragged breaths leaving you. “This isn’t you, stop, please, stop!”

“You’re right,” He smiles wickedly, eyes dark. “It’s not.”

His lips meet yours. It burns your skin, but not pleasantly – it’s all wrong, and it hurts. You shove him away with as much force as you can, leaving him stumbling back a few paces. He laughs. He laughs.

“Wow, I’m impressed,” He chuckles, amused. “You’re stronger than you used to be. Maybe you actually live up to being Grade 1 now, huh?”

“Who are you?!” You cry out. “Why did you bring me here?”

“I’m Geto Suguru,” He says with a crazed smile. “Is it that hard to believe when my body was never retrieved?”

“What do you want from me?” You snarl, growing angry. “You’ve just been toying with me, you bastard. Trying to play all these mind games on me, leaving your dirty work to your underlings. None of it feels substantial enough to kidnap me.”

A cackle escapes Geto, “You’re right, it isn’t. By yourself, you aren’t of any interest to me. Just a memento of the past – I don’t have any use for you.”

He continues with a smirk, “I have to say though, your reactions have piqued my interest slightly. Jogo seems to feel the same way. Perhaps if you could be our little monkey for entertainment - it might keep Jogo out of trouble elsewhere.”

Reduced to entertainment.

“You’re sick,” You say, shaking your head.

“Hardly. It’s only natural treatment for someone so unimportant. Should I be frank?” He asks, touching his chin to mock contemplation. “You are here solely as means of luring him out.”

You break out in a cold sweat. It was as you suspected and feared: you are only bait. Bait for the strongest.

“He won’t come,” You declare. “This is pointless.”

“Do you take me as an idiot monkey?” Geto frowns. “You’re not the only one who can read residuals. He came last time, and he will come this time.”

“He doesn’t know,” You hiss. “He won’t come. He doesn’t want to see me right now.”

Geto only smiles. “He’ll come.”

His confidence scares you. Even though it would be very unlikely Gojo is even aware that you’re away on a mission, doubt still swirls in your gut. You don’t want him to walk into this trap – who knows what Geto has planned?

While you mull over your thoughts, Geto grows impatient.

“This is quite dull. Let’s test your strength, First Grader,” He smirks. “Maybe they’ll pass you to Special Grade if you can land a single hit.”

Suddenly, your breath is stolen from you. You double over in pain, caught off guard by the assault to your stomach. It was only a kick, but it was the hardest you’ve been hit in your entire life by another sorcerer.

“Silly me, I’ve forgotten my manners,” Geto says drily. “When harkening back to our school days, I must ask if you’re ready before we spar.

But don’t forget, the enemy won’t wait for you. Didn’t we learn that?”

Satoru’s words. He would often preemptively attack before the sparring session officially began, and he would always recite those exact words. You feel sick.

You don’t respond, knowing it would take away from your focus. Instead, you concentrate on pouring your cursed energy into your hearing technique.

He begins his initial assault: he’s extremely agile, and his punches and kicks seem to come out of thin air. You anticipate his attacks with your highly developed sense of hearing, listening for each twitch of his muscles and the roar of his appendages slashing through the air. Essentially, you read his moves before he has finished them. Your body can’t always keep up with your hearing enough to avoid him, though, but the blows are lessened by your half-developed shielding.

You haven’t attempted a single hit of your own – all your energy has gone into avoiding each of his potent attacks. Every time you see an opening, your chance is ruined by another attack of his.

After a few minutes of religiously defending, your senses slow. You can hear everything, but you can’t physically keep up with him. You begin to take hit after hit after hit – until you’re forced to retreat several paces back. Blood drips from your nose, spilling into your mouth and filling your mouth with the metallic tang of iron. It tastes of defeat and cowardice.

“Are you sure you’re not a monkey?” Geto roars in laughter. “To call you a sorcerer is sacrilegious at best. How disappointing you are. Haven’t improved an ounce since our days together, have you? Other than that half-baked excuse of a technique - trying to imitate the strongest, perhaps?”

You ignore his taunts, using the time to draw out two small daggers from your sleeves. You fare better with bows, but the twin blades are better than nothing.

“What cute little pocket knives,” Geto jeers. “They look sharp.”

“Want to find out?” You growl.

He scoffs. “I’d like to see you try.”

It is a dance that never ends – you are held captive by the need to defend yourself, not able to stop without the fear of further injury. You are slowly giving up hope when time seems to slow down. Your breath hitches as you spot what you need desperately: an opening. You zero in on the opening, thrusting your right hand into the open space. A spurt of red splashes your hand – your aim was true.

You step back immediately, parrying his retaliating blow with your other blade. More droplets spill over you, a shower of red that makes you nauseous.

You’re breathing hard. You haven’t fought with a sorcerer – or even a curse – for a long time, and it’s taking more of your strength than you anticipated.

Geto doubles over, which fills you with confusion. There’s no way those two nicks did any substantial damage, so why is he hunched over in pain?

And then you hear it. Laughter. Crazed laughter erupts from him in waves. When he looks up at you, the fear in the pit of your stomach intensifies. He’s not hurt – he’s pissed off. Very.

“I have to admit, you exceeded my expectations. But that’s not saying much when I expected nothing from a dirty monkey like you,” He spits. “What a brat.”

“If I recall correctly, you were the one who wanted to spar like old times,” You glare, grip tightening on your daggers. “It was only per your suggestion.”

“Your insolence boils my blood…how does he care for someone like you?! How did I?!” He roars. “You are nothing!”

He rushes forward faster than you can register and knocks you to the ground. You instinctively roll out of the way and are still nearly stomped on. You try to stand up, or even just sit up, but can’t. You begin to panic – you feel frozen in place, unable to even turn your head.

“Now you can’t run away,” He growls. “Should I make it a little unbearable? You deserve it.”

You feel a great pressure forcing your body into the ground. It’s excruciating; you feel as if your bones are grinding together and all your muscles are compressed. You can’t bite back the cry that erupts from your throat.

“Now you really feel the gravity of the situation,” He says with a demented smile. “You know, maybe I don’t need you anyway. He can just come to retrieve your body. Can’t make the same mistake twice, after all. Leaving a body to rot is a vulnerability. I could fix that for him, too…leave a puddle where you used to stand? If I crush you long enough, perhaps…”

“Fuck you,” You manage to get out. “You’ll never win. You’ll never beat Satoru.”

You fall flat on your face, coughing, as you are released from his technique. You try to push yourself up, but you only manage to a kneeling position. Not that it matters anyway, not when you are grabbed by your throat and hoisted in the air.

“Do you always make so many mistakes?” He hisses. “It’s like you want me to kill you.”

You couldn’t respond even if you wanted to with how hard he’s clutching your trachea. You have no idea when you dropped your blades, but they’re not in your hands now, so you have to resort to pitifully clawing at his grip with your bare hands.

Your vision begins to blur and darken as you asphyxiate. Howls of laughter ring in your ears, getting quieter and then louder as your hearing fades in and out.

Is this how it will end? No, it can’t, you can’t let it. You can’t leave yourself to die at the hands of Geto Suguru. You can’t die at the hands of your former friend, and be found by your other best friend. You can’t do that to him.

You claw harder, more desperately, even though you feel yourself weakening. It’s futile – his grip won’t even loosen at your efforts.

You have to use your weaker technique. If you do it perfectly, it might propel him from your body, giving you a chance to escape. Escape to where, you don’t know, but you need to try. You don’t have any chance otherwise.

With a burst of strength you didn’t know you had, you focus all of your cursed energy into the skin that is touching Geto. Your close your eyes, visualizing the perfect invisible wall that encases Gojo – no flaws, no gaps, no way to get past – and then you release your energy.

There’s a loud smack that resonates through the air, and then you crumple to the ground. When you look up, you can see a hard shell jutting between you and Geto, effectively shielding you. Geto is clutching his arm, which is now red and swollen.

You actually did it. It was a perfect use of your technique.

“You are frustrating, but no matter. I have other methods at my disposal. Didn’t think I’d have to pull this on you, but you seem to be begging for your demise, so I might as well use it,” He grits his teeth, and holds one arm out, his forearm curling up.

A ball of black energy appears at his fist. It is nebulous and shifts as it grows bigger. It begins to glow as time passes, as it amasses more energy. You have no idea what that is, but you highly doubt your shield will be able to block it. As you think about your options, your shield begins to fade away – you are nearly out of cursed energy. You are wide-eyed as you watch the last sections of your shield dissipate to nothing.

Entirely defenseless, you heave yourself to a standing position and try to stumble away. You fall to one knee in agony – Jogo and Geto have taken a toll on you.

You look over to see the ball of darkness leave Geto’s fingers. You are frozen, knowing you can do nothing, but also knowing you will die if you do nothing.

It approaches, and you close your eyes. Hopefully it will completely destroy you in a single instant, so it won’t be torturous. At least you won’t be in pain for long.

It’s going to hit you. And then you suppose it does. You feel weightless, like you weigh nothing. Perhaps your body has been destroyed, and this is how your brain is processing the absence of your nerve endings.

But if you are not here anymore, why does the wind whip through your ears?

You were mistaken. You don’t just feel weightless, you are weightless.

When you open your eyes, tears spill out at the sight in front of you. Tousled white hair, a blindfold tucked over his eyes, rigid determination showing through his features.

“I didn’t know this is where we were holding the school reunion. Class of ‘007, except Geto went all rogue and didn’t end up graduating. What a failure!”

His words are playful, and he’s smiling, but somehow his tone doesn’t match. It’s serious and dark, not at all jocular. He seems to be making an effort to keep up his lighthearted persona, but his true feelings can’t help but bleed out.

“Ah, you finally showed up,” Geto cackles. “It’s not good to have a weakness. I was about to do you a favor.”

Gojo laughs bitterly, “Don’t you know? Strength comes from weaknesses. Not that you would understand.”

“In any case…” He looks down at you. “I won’t let you take away my strongest weakness.”

next part

a/n 2.0: Okay so, idk how it 100% is in the manga bc I haven’t read it, but basically this ‘Geto’ (*cough* Kenjaku) has thoughts that are Kenjaku but with some of Geto’s memories ?? .. sorry if that’s non canon heehee

Bonus!!: Also I’ve been learning some Japanese so here is Gojo’ name spelled out: ごじょさとる。This is more for my own enjoyment 🫣 but here you go lol

tag list: @thenyxsky, @whitehairedtwink, @screwyou3

also thank you @zoyatoshi for your such sweet reblogs 🥹🥹 literally inspired me to finish this chapter up after 6+ months !!

[lostacelonnie]

as per Some demand: on polish romantic literature, the depiction of russians, and world serpent of honkai impact 3rd fame. apologies if this is very unorganized but its all just things i was thinking about while distracted in class and not TERRIBLY serious analysis

so before i begin. im very sorry if i get Some details wrong because the main piece i’m using for comparison, dziady (część III) by adam mickiewicz, is something ive read a While ago and in all honesty did not feel like rereading just for this as its just general thoughts. i przy okazji przepraszam że postuję o mickiewiczu ale jest on najlepszym kontekstem do sytuacji mam nadzieję że mi wybaczycie.

anyway. to give non-polish people a bit of context: dziady (część III) was written by mickiewicz during his time in russia, after being exiled from his home country (poland, lithuania, or belarus, depending on who you ask). most of the work is centered around what is means to “fight for independence” (as this was a time when poland was under russian occupation, and didnt technically. Exist. mickiewicz’s nationality is a topic of discussion even today, but thats a whole another topic so i wont get into it), why the nation has to suffer, if this was god’s plan, a fighter vs a poet vs a "traitor" during a country's fall etc etc but that’s not what i’m going to focus on here.

the main thing i want to touch on, as you might’ve guessed by the first paragraph, is the depiction of the russian General Populace- specifically, petersburg’s. there’s a couple of relatively well-known scenes from this work but the one most relevant here is ustęp. i could not find an english translation available online for free and, seeing as even its relevant fragments are Quite Long, did not feel like translating them myself (sorry). but there’s two main ones to look at: petersburg and do przyjaciół moskali.

petersburg shows the vision of russians as very… individualistic. walking among the street are different social classes: the tsar and tsaritsa, a military general showing off his battle-earned awards despite the cold, low ranked soldiers, women in expensive fur coats and colorful hats, wealthy people getting into their carriages; and the poor, freezing and hungry, but still talking about how honored they are to see their “superiors”. they arent bad at heart, but theyre passive, uncaring of how both other nations and even other russians suffer under the tsar’s tyrannical rule, as long as they, themselves, aren’t inconvenienced.

do przyjaciół moskali (to [my] friends muscovites) is less of a narrative part as it is the musings of mickiewicz himself, remembering the cold and unfeeling faces of russians that exiled him, killed and imprisoned his friends and other people, all for the purpose of not having to deal with any problems themselves- no matter if they ruined someone else’s life. however, as he talks with hate about the powers over them, it’s not the people himself he curses out- rather, he wishes that they were free, and brave enough to do something instead of becoming co-perpetrators.

so, tldr: in this work (and many, many others; this sentiment is present throughout a lot of polish literature from romanticism onwards) the russian people are depicted as not inherently evil by themselves, but rather unwilling to fight back against the oppressor that is their own government, oftentimes even reveling in it (the so-called “heroism of captivity”); that, or being just entirely ignorant of their homeland's crimes.

another theme that is integral to this work is messianism of the polish nation- supposedly, the reason why Everything Just Keeps Going Wrong For Us is because god has a plan in which the polish have to suffer, so that nobody else has to, directly paralleling jesus. 

BUT. to get into the part in which i actually start talking about honkai. what i’ve been thinking about is that the way world serpent agents are depicted in the game is actually quite similar?

taking raven herself as an example- first of all, she is Actually Literally Russian but that doesn’t matter here. so before mei joins world serpent, raven is this Mysterious Evil person, working for a Mysterious Evil organisation. she’s cold and ruthless and doesn’t hesitate to carry out her mission if it means getting a paycheck. and then lament of the fallen happens, and mei is in world serpent, and natasha is this. still not a Warm person, yeah? but she’s passionate about being a bartender, and takes care of the roost. simple woman just trying to survive. she’s not a perfect example, of course- she did leave world serpent at a point, only coming back when she realized her other paychecks just simply aren’t enough to sustain both her and the kids- but she’s still a mercenary. she kills people for money. not a bad person, just forced into a terrible situation due to something out of her control- but nowhere near a morally pure one, either. (which i’m very happy about, because that would be boring).

but, if you want to dig deeper, there’s the gray serpents themselves, as well- cold in both the metaphorical AND the literal sense, being machines and all. this one speaks for itself, i think? emotionless and unwilling to compromise, only caring to serve their purpose while continuing the flame chasers', namely mobius’s, legacy. but even the serpents themselves are individuals- they have their own personalities, and interests, even while being mass produced drones. but, like the russians in dziady, theyre mostly focused on themselves- pretty well seen with the serpent present in the beginning of salt snow holy city arc (disconnected from the thing keeping him alive, just because the majority would be better off on their own, with no regard of what would happen to the less fortunate ones).

but, to touch on the previously mentioned messianism- in honkai, that could be attributed to anyone not belonging to ws, especially in arc city and during project stigma- bearing the burden of being, in a smaller or larger degree, sacrificed for some twisted definition of the “greater good”.

additionally, one of the characters who cooperate with world serpent while not being its part is cocolia, who is russian; the person who (albeit accidentally) gets kevin out of the sea of quanta is seele, raised in russia; and misteln, an important part of carrying out project stigma, was not only “created” in siberia, but also approached by the serpents, and recruited, exactly there.

i don’t think i have a good conclusion for this one? as i said, just general thoughts on a topic i found interesting. i’m sure there’s more that could be said here but that’s what comes to mind ^-^

[silverofthunder]

☆ the greatest temptation ☆

Papa Emeritus IV x GN Reader || 🔞

summary: ”I know that one day I’ll have you and take a taste of that sweet wine flowing in your veins.”

content: 2.9k words, mystery (kind of), drama, fantasy, romance, suggestive stuff

♡♡ part 1 ♡♡ part 2 ♡♡ part 3 ♡♡ part 4 ♡♡

Oh, I had sooooo much fun while writing this part. 😁 The whole story feels so slow burn even though things are progressing all the time. And this isn't even that long yet. But anyway, this is another fave part of mine, hope you enjoy this!

It was already past 10 pm as you were walking home. You had had to stay longer at work due to Olivia being sick and there had been no other employee available. The cold air was pinching your cheeks and you tried to move your scarf up to cover your face more as you kept a fast pace, wanting to get home as soon as possible. You had decided to take a shorter route, though during this time it might not be the best option.

There were some people sitting on the streets with ragged and dirty clothes. They didn’t pay attention to you when you walked past them but your heart stung a bit as you thought how they probably lived on the outside. Being homeless didn’t necessarily mean that they were criminals but you still couldn’t shake the small feeling of uneasiness as you reached a point where the streetlights were broken.

Then someone grabbed you and pushed you around the nearest corner, pinning you against the wall and covering your mouth. With panic rising inside you, you tried to break free but the man was way too strong and then you saw him flashing the fangs to you.

”Oh, such a pretty snack walking here…” he spoke darkly, eyes glowing red as leaned closer. You swallowed, staring at the man, fear settling into you. You had no way out as your strength couldn’t match with the vampire’s so all you could do was to try stay calm.

”Wait… Do I know you?” the vampire asked, slowly moving his hand away from your mouth and you drew in a deep breath.

”No,” you answered.

The vampire tilted his head, the corner of his mouth turning up.

”I can swear I’ve seen you before,” he spoke, now running his forefinger along the side of your face, the sharp nail scraping your skin. ”Oh, yes, Hunter’s Moon. You were with one of the Emeritus brothers.”

You didn’t say anything, just stared at the vampire with gritted teeth. He licked his lips, his hand wrapping around your neck, the look in his eyes turning predatory.

”Hmm, would be nice to see what he does if I took a taste of his pet.”

”I wouldn’t try that,” another voice came from the right and you turned your head as much as you could to see Copia’s brother, Terzo leaning against the wall. You let out a breath you had been holding for a while, the fear now subsiding.

The other vampire hissed at Terzo and you knew it was a mistake. Everything happened so fast that you couldn’t even register it all but you were freed and Terzo and the other vampire disappeared into the darkness. You smoothed out your clothes, sighing, and were ready to head back home and just forget what happened.

”You’re not walking alone now,” you heard Terzo’s voice soon from behind you and turned around. He looked you up and down, slight line of worry on his forehead. ”You alright?”

”Yes, I just want to go home,” you sighed, feeling the exhaustion in your bones. ”Thank you by the way.”

Terzo stepped closer to you, a small smile passing his lips as he placed his hand on your shoulder.

”Hey, that was pretty close,” he stated quietly. ”I was lucky to caught your scent. Why did you even walk here?”

”I was taking a shortcut to home. Workshift was longer than usual and… well, you know,” you explained, giving a small wave of hand. Terzo nodded, his eyes closely studying you.

”You’re obviosly tired. Maybe it’s best if you crash at Hunter’s Moon tonight.”

A thought of a warm, soft bed was so tempting that you didn’t even bother to decline the offer. With a tired smile, you nodded and Terzo slid his arm around your shoulders and you leaned against him.

”Let’s go, then.”

You had barely woken up when someone rushed into the room and closed you in a tight embrace. When your tried mind realized it was Copia, you melted into it, burying your head into the crook of his neck, letting his familiar scent ground you.

”Oh, tesoro, I’m so sorry,” Copia spoke quietly. ”I should have been there to protect you.”

You shook your head, mumbling the next words against Copia’s skin.

”I’m okay.”

Copia pulled away, craddling then your face, his eyes full of worry and relief, too. You offered him a smile, placing your hand on his chest.

”It’s not your oblication to protect me. You can’t do that always. It was my mistake to choose that path.”

Copia’s expression changed pained and you knew he was not letting this matter go so easily.

”I would have never forgiven myself if you had been bitten.”

You patted his chest gently, cupping the side of his face with your other hand.

”Terzo was there and nothing happened. I would have kicked the vampire in the nuts but I suppose it wouldn’t have done much.”

Your attempt at trying to lighten the mood was almost successful as the smile was tucking at Copia’s lips even though he seemed to fight it.

”That I would have wanted to see,” Copia stated, caressing your cheeks with his thumbs. ”Though you probably would have only pissed him off by that.”

You grinned at Copia before leaning in to press a light kiss right on the corner of his mouth. You still hadn’t have time to properly go through the whole incident of the previous night so you didn’t know how to take it. Downplaying it wasn’t good but you were there, safe and still very much alive.

Copia captured your lips in a kiss, all sweet and slow, and you hummed into it happily. It deepened soon, Copia’s other hand sliding to the back of your neck while the other traveled down to your hip, pressing you against him. A small moan of yours was drowned into the kiss, your arms snaking around Copia’s middle as you slipped your tongue past his lips, the desire for more growing in your body.

When you swiped your tongue over where Copia’s fangs would be, he drew in a breath through his nose and a low growl left at the back of his throat, the sound of it sending shivers running through you. It would be so easy to just let go and let the desire drown you, let your bodies get tangled while exploring one another. Every cell in your body wanted that, to have him as close to you as possible.

Your hands went to the hem of Copia’s shirt and started pulling it up but then Copia moved his hands, stopping you as he broke the kiss. You let out a dissatisfied huff and Copia chuckled before his expression changed serious.

”Now’s not the right time for more,” he said, placing a kiss on your forehead as a compensation. ”I want you so much, in so many ways but I’m afraid I can’t control myself.”

Copia wasn’t lying, you could see it in his eyes – the fear tearing him, the sight causing your heart to make an unpleasant move behind your sternum. He didn’t like the idea of hurting you, no matter how many times you had told him it would be okay.

”I trust you,” you said, now again placing your hand on his chest. Copia gave you a half-smile.

”I know. You’ve always been so trusting,” he said softly, his hand settling under your chin. ”But the more time I’ve spent with you, I’ve realized how hard it has gotten for me to keep control. I thought I could fight against that primary instinct but you’re not making it easy.”

You tilted your head, a crooked grin finding its way on to your lips.

”I think I can feel that.”

Something predatory flashed in Copia’s eyes as he leaned closer, his lips almost touching yours. Warmth pooled in your lower body, your heart jolting and it felt like a timebomb was ticking beside you. Copia was that bomb, ready to explode when the timer would reach zero. Whenever you two had spent time together, it had been so easy to just forget what lied beneath Copia’s gentle exterior. He had been holding back all the time so no wonder all the tension was building up.

”You’ve been one of my greatest temptations so far,” Copia said, voice getting a bit rough as he continued after leaning closer to your ear. ”And I know that one day I’ll have you and take a taste of that sweet wine flowing in your veins.”

Suddenly you started to feel dizzy and if Copia wouldn’t have been there to catch you would have dropped to the floor. You swallowed, breaths coming out short after, mind filling with fog and your eyes fluttered closed. Copia hissed quietly in your ear and then you felt his lips on your neck, peppering light kisses on the skin. You gripped Copia’s arms tightly, heard your heartbeat ringing in your ears.

You would have let him take you, drink your blood right then. Pain or no pain, you would take it without hesitation.

”Il mio preriozo,” Copia whispered, the sound of his voice making you shiver. You breathed sharply, your fingertips digging into Copia’s arms, and there was a small voice somewhere at the back of your mind telling that he was testing you. How long would you be able to last?

You couldn’t blame him, though, for testing – or tempting – you. You had been doing the same to him and you had enjoyed every second of it. Grinning, you tried to push Copia further – and he let you do so, the dizziness oozing away from your mind due to the spell breaking. His expression was mix of predatoric-like hunger and something softer, a warm flame that had settled deep into him.

”Dammit, I want to be with you forever,” you breathed out. Copia grinned, fangs in full display but there was the familiar sadness reaching his eyes soon and the grin faded. He cupped your face, scanning every little detail he could find.

”You really have no any self-preservation instinct, do you?” he asked, raising his brows.

You shook your head, trying to keep a straight face but ending up grinning, nonetheless.

”I think that part might be missing.”

Copia stared at you for a while, then rolling his eyes with a smile and pulling you into a hug. You used the opportunity to slid your hands under his shirt and feel the cool, soft skin against your palms. Copia tightened his hold of you and you let out a long, content sigh.

There would be right time for everything, that was sure.

Your mind was full of all kinds of unprintable stuff as you basically stormed into Hunter’s Moon after very annoying workshift. You had to walk through a crowd of other people and vampires before finding your way to the back, go through the door that led to a corridoor and a staircase up at the end of that which lead to the private rooms of Emeritus brothers. Copia’s room was the last on the left and you didn’t even bother to knock, placing your hand on the doorknob and turning it – the door wasn’t locked and you could just barg in.

The sight that awaited you was something you had not expected, though you probably should have as Copia was a vampire after all. Copia was sitting behind his desk and there was a person on his lap, leaning against him and Copia’s face was buried on their neck, fangs clearly sank into the skin. You froze on the spot, blinking and mouth falling open.

Copia’s eyes found yours immediately, the dark look in them making your stomach turn – it wasn’t unpleasant, more like a thrill doing flips. He raised his head a little, the blood smeared fangs becoming present and the person he was feeding off from mumbled something you couldn’t quite catch. Copia just looked at you and this time you could only see the beast in him – there were only hard edges in sight, certain darkness that should have made your blood run cold but it didn’t.

This was it, what you had wanted to see for a while now. Copia who fully embraced the vampire side of him, who let his instincts do what it was meant to do. It was fascinating, to see how Copia then sank his fangs into the neck of his prey again, the satisfaction he got when the blood slowly killed his hunger. The person he fed from seemed to be in a some kind of drugged state, maybe due to vampire venom, and they probably had given their consent before any of this had happened.

The whole feeding seemed intimate but you knew that there was no more to it. Copia’s hands were just holding the person at place, otherwise he sat there like a statue. But there was still the slightest bang of jealousy – you wanted to be there instead of that person. And it was like Copia could sense that want in you, he pulled away from the person’s neck, his chin and paints now smeared with blood. He licked his lips before standing up, carrying the person to the bed on the right side of the room.

Then Copia walked to you, stopping right in front of you, his eyes glimmering danger and you swallowed, your heart now hammering in your chest. There was still no fear in you and you reached out to touch Copia’s face, the dark lines that resembled elevated veins now visible around his eyes. Copia flashed his fangs as your fingertips ghosted over his skin and he looked like he wanted to take you then and there, his gaze so intense and hypnotizing.

You smiled in awe, leaning closer, sliding your fingers onto his lips and Copia drew in a deep breath through his nose, his hands grabbing your arms and sharp nails digging into your skin.

”You should go,” Copia croaked out, sounding almost desperate. ”Now.”

It was a warning – maybe. However, you had no intention to go anywhere. So you just shook your head, leaning now so close to Copia that there was only a mere inch between your lips.

”Why should I? I’m not afraid of you,” you said quietly and the look in Copia’s eyes changed into a mix of wonder and disbelief.

”You’re too good for me.”

”No,” you spoke softly, now cupping Copia’s face, smiling warmly. ”You deserve this – to be happy.”

Copia’s gaze turned into a warm sea of red and white, completely melting your heart. You could feel this fun, warm vibration around you, but there was also some darker, deeper force pulling at you from within. Maybe it was love, though slightly twisted kind of that, maybe lust and fascination or everything at once.

”I believe that with you I can’t be anything else than happy,” Copia admitted and while it might have been a bit too optimistic and sappy view, it still meant a lot to you.

You let out a long sigh, gaze flickering to Copia’s lips that were slightly parted. They were still partly covered by blood of the stranger so you slid your thumb over them, trying to wipe it away. However, Copia gently took a hold of your wrist and stopped you. For a moment you held your breath as you thought you had offended him by doing so but as your eyes met, there was no sign of hurt visible and you could release the breath.

”Leave it, I’ll wash it away later,” Copia said, pressing your hand against his chest. ”This is who, what I am. The sight is not as glorious as you might have thought.”

You gave him a half-smirk.

”I rather see my blood on there.”

Copia smirked back at you.

”I know. We’ll get there at some point, tesoro.”

You knew that it would happen eventually. By now there were no doubt about that. You were getting a bit impatient – waiting for some things you really wanted could be hard – but you knew it was best to wait a while yet. Out of the two of you, Copia was certainly more of the voice of reason, making sure that you knew what you were really getting yourself into.

A voice coming from the bed interrupted your moment, startling you as you had already forgotten their presence. You peeked behind Copia and saw the person now sitting on the bed, looking at you with wide eyes. Copia turned around and the person stood up, smoothing out their clothes.

”You feeling good?” Copia asked, and the person nodded, their eyes then settling on you. You offered them a polite smile and they smiled at you back with a bit of hesitation.

”Sorry if I interrupted something,” they apologized, heading to the door but stopping after opening it and turning to look at you. ”Uhm, I happened to hear a part of your conversation. It seems like you two have a special bond.”

You shared a look with Copia, both smiling knowingly.

”I guess we have,” you stated happily.

”I’m happy for you,” the person said and after one last smile they left the room. Their words warmed your heart and now you felt kind of silly that you had been jealous of them. You knew there wouldn’t be others, not in the way like you were. When you turned to look at Copia, there it was, clear as a day in his eyes – adoration, deep affection, and you could swear that in that moment you fell for him a little bit more.

You were so gone that there would be no point of return anymore.

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