#ari's fics -> memories...do not open

[aikuse]

❝ Run into the bright lights most nights, now or never / Always and forever, the last day alive. ❞

word count: 3,944 content: afab!reader, alcohol consumption, oral sex (reader!receiving), penetrative sex, first meetings a/n: first chapter of the long-awaited series, woot! hope you guys enjoy. this will be crossposted to ao3, but will only be accessible if you have an ao3 account for privacy <3

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There’s boxes strewn around your room in your midst of moving out. You had no idea you’d have so much cardboard stored away as you tear the tape with your teeth, closing one of the final storage compartments and sighing, feeling the last of the packing up slide off your shoulders.

There’s one box that you haven’t picked, yet. It’s been closed and sealed for a long time, dust collecting on the top of it. It’s a bit beaten up too, smaller than the other hefty moving boxes.

You know what’s in there. Every time you notice it, your curiosity peaks; hope returns.

You swat it away physically, as if the thought existed in the air around your head and that would help you forget it, and repeat the sentence you’ve been telling yourself for months now.

Don’t open the box.

Because then, you have to face the truth.

The truth that it’s all over.

Tears prick at your eyes. This time, you’re worn down; you’re stressed out, you’re sad, you’re torn apart and attempting to pick up the pieces and shove them into a U-Haul that will take you across the country. Away from all of this, away from the sadness that you’ve collected. Away from the bridges you’ve burned; not entirely your fault, though. It’s the fault of the man who wears those stupid orange sunglasses and bright green eyes, the softest smile tugging at his lips as he looks at you like you’re a star.

And this time, you finally cave. The box cutters are in your hand before you even realize, tearing open the small box and seeing the journal pages spill out.

You pick up the one titled SUMMERTIME in large black letters, sitting back against the wall. You have a few hours before you have to sleep; why not immerse yourself so you can finally let go, once and for all?

It couldn’t hurt, right?

As you begin to read, you’re thrown into a memory you’ve attempted to forget.

The start, after all, is the best part.

The summer sun is warm on your face when you step out of your villa.

Greece was lovely this time of year, the soft ocean breeze tickling your face and causing a slight burn in your nose from the salt. Everything was so blue, photos could never have done it justice. You’d taken so many disposables, but nothing could compete with seeing the view with your own eyes. The pretty blue roofs of Santorini stood out starkly against the white alabaster walls as you make your way down the stairs, two at a time.

Your beach bag is heavy against your back as you finally reach the sands, the warmth of them squeezing in between your toes as you adventure out, grabbing an open chair with some shade. Pale as you were, the sun would not be kind to your skin even with the layers of sunscreen you had caked on mere minutes before. Your hat protected most of your face, as did your sunglasses as you lean back, sighing at the relief that came with finally resting on the chair by yourself.

As the hours tick by, you take notice of a certain someone staring at you across the beach.

He’s cute, you think to yourself behind your sunglasses. He’s tall, black hair and green eyes standing out starkly against his pale skin. He’s sunburned, his shoulders sticking to his frame having just left the ocean. His hair is slicked to his neck, droplets sliding down his face as he sits, his sunglasses perched on his face. They’re translucent and a pretty orange; but they do nothing to hide his gaze from you.

Blushing, you choose to look away, picking up your book from the bag you’ve brought along with you. It’s a good read, something about magic and twists of fate; you’re almost finished it, every page gripping you as tightly as it can. It’s a good excuse to look away from the man who has clearly picked up on you staring at him, because you can feel his eyes pricking at your skin. You don’t look back at him; you’re not really in the mood for conversation.

You sip your beer as you continue to read, the sun crossing the sky faster than you realize. Before you know it, it’s sunset, the sky ablaze with colors of orange, yellow and red. Night drifts across the horizon in deep purple, and you yawn, stretching, before beginning to pack up. Amidst your packing, you completely miss the footfalls that land on the sand, approaching you from behind.

“Hey there.”

Your bloodstream feels like it’s on fire as you jump and turn around, nearly spilling your packed bag as you manage to choke out an apology (for what? you ask yourself, he’s the one disturbing you) but being captivated by his eyes. They’re so much more green up close, and he’s much taller. He towers above you, looking down at you, the dying sun’s rays turning his skin a pretty tan.

Wow.

His hand scratches the back of his head as he suddenly appears shy, and you blink, hoping that you’re pretending seeing blush crawl up his neck and across his cheeks. “Saw you starin’ at me all day today,” he admits finally. His voice is nice; it’s smooth and slow, like a gentle breeze weaving through your ears.

You gulp. “S-Sorry about that, didn’t mean to be weird—”

He waves you off, grinning. His teeth are so white. “Nah, not weird. I get that a lot.”

There’s a beat of silence between you two, as if neither of you know what to say next. He doesn’t seem to want to speak the words that are clearly bubbling around in his head, and you’re still confused as to why he’s even over here. Your mind drifts to the bath that’s awaiting you back at the villa; you’d just gotten a few lavender bath bombs delivered today from room service. It’s going to smell so good—

“So, uh, was wondering. If you got plans, ‘s fine, but my friends and I were gonna go to one of the bars ‘round here for some drinks later. You wanna come?”

Your mind races at top speed. Is he…asking me on a date? No, he can’t be. It’s with his friends. It’s just a group outing. He’s just being nice. Is this weird? Is he gonna kidnap me?

You choose to say none of those things, and instead forgo the idea of the bath. It’ll be there for when you’re back, and possibly will feel ten times better when you’re drunk. “Sure,” you nod, “I’ll go. That’s awfully nice of you to invite a stranger.”

His smile grows wider. “Yeah, well, I wanna get t’ know the cutie that’s been oglin’ me all damn day. You seem different than the folks I stick around. I like it.”

Your skin prickles at that comment. Different. You hadn’t gotten a good look at his friends, but you sure would tonight, you suppose.

Numbers are exchanged, as well as drop-off locations, and you part ways, watching him wander back to his group as they finish packing up. He seems to be the loner of the group, oddly enough; nodding to one of the shorter members with wily, curly brown hair and wide brown eyes, chattering excitedly over what you can only assume is about the eventful evening you’re all about to have. There’s no additional partners in sight; you heft your bag over your shoulder, hoping that there’s at least someone else that’s, well, more like you.

A stranger.

The bar that’s written out in the text message glaring up at you is relatively simple. It’s a tiki bar, really, with low lights and a calmer atmosphere than some of the clubs further down the boulevard. Blue, purple, yellow and green slowly flicker across the walls decorated with license plates from all over the country, which leads into an open-air space with soft neon lights, beat up wooden seats and a cobblestone floor. It was…quaint, to put a word to it.

You can't miss the stranger sitting at the bar, orange-tinted glasses low on his nose as he nurses what looks like a juice box. You approach him, ignoring his friends who have perked up behind him, having seen you already. The one you'd seen on the beach with the curly hair looks especially interested, and the growing burn on your neck is becoming difficult to ignore as you muster up the bravery to slide into a seat next to him.

The stranger glances over, before a lazy smile breaks across his face. You get a better look at what he's drinking; it's a soda, blue in color, with unreadable Japanese text on the label. "Juice at a bar?" you comment, and he chuckles, the rumble making your cheeks feel warm.

"Yeah. I don't drink."

There's something unsaid there, but you choose to ignore it, ordering yourself a fruity cocktail from the bartender. You can feel him staring at you, pretty emerald eyes digging into your skin as you take a sip from your drink, sighing as the tropical flavors gush across your tongue, putting you a little more at ease.

"You like fruity shit like that? Seems like we got somethin' in common."

You turn to him. "Normally I'd go for a beer, but…I'm nervous."

He cocks his head. "You, nervous? Whatcha mean? You spent all day starin' at me and now ya got cold feet?"

The blush on your cheeks is so warm that you feel like you could light a fire with it as you look away, scowling. "Well, I wasn't expecting you to come over and talk to me!" you exclaim, taking another long sip of your drink. God, rum tasted so good to you right now. It was exactly what you needed with the ball of anxiety in your stomach.

The stranger takes a moment of pause, before huffing. "Fair play," he gruffly responds back, "but now you know. At least you look cute with your cheeks all red like that." There's a tug of a smile at the edges of his mouth, though, pushing the teasing tone. You don't know how to respond — instead, you change the subject after realizing your mouth is ajar like a goldfish.

"What's your name? I never got it."

"Togame. Jo Togame."

You swirl your straw in your drink. "Togame. Japanese?"

He nods.

"You on holiday, I'm guessing?"

He nods again. "Out with my friends, who you saw on the beach w'me. Jus' had to get outta Tokyo for a little while, clear my head, and this felt like the best place. Feels good since I met you, too. You seem…different."

Different?

It's no secret that you are a little different. I mean, how many other people go on holiday alone? Solo traveling must seem so strange to someone who has so many friends, you think to yourself as the rum hits your tongue once more. The ice has melted, which waters down the taste as you suck up the rest of the liquid through the pink straw that's been placed in your cup.

"Good different, or bad different?"

He doesn't hesitate. "Good. It's good. I like it."

The conversation devolves into small talk; you learn that he works retail, in a boba tea store back at home. One of the friends he's come with, the one with the curly hair, owns the place. "Choji," he says, gently, as if the name has a deeper meaning behind it, a fonder emphasis, "was my first friend. I couldn't let him open it and watch it fail. I had to help him." He speaks about the shop like it's his child. You write down the name of it in your phone — if you're ever in Japan, you make a note to visit sometime.

The night progresses steadily on, and the clock on your wrist grows past midnight. You barely noticed, four rum punches deep as your cheeks burn from the alcohol, no longer embarrassed, allowing yourself to laugh at his jokes and giggle at his advances. He's loosened up as well, a third blue raspberry soda in his hand, his hand resting on your thigh with a feather-light touch. So light that you almost pretend you don't feel it; but you can't ignore the way it lights up your nerves.

"Wanna get outta here?"

Your eyebrows shoot up your forehead. "Right now? It's almost one in the morning, I should—"

"—go home?" He cuts you off with a knowing look in his eyes. "At least let me walk you home, yeah? Can't have you gettin' lost around here, and I'd feel bad knowin' I abandoned you. You've kept me good company tonight."

You look down at your empty cup, contemplating. You can feel the invitation to bring him inside your hotel room growing, but you decide to wait until after the walk to choose what you want to do. Who knows? Maybe he'll say something offensive and you won't have to worry about denying his advance and feeling bad.

Something tells you he won't, though.

And it's not the look that Choji and his other friends give him as you both leave the bar, Togame waving at them from afar.

Definitely not.

The walk home is relatively long; but Togame makes you feel like it passes in an instant. His hand moves to your back as you walk next to him, chattering away about what tourist attraction you're planning on seeing next. The heat from his palm makes your back feel warm, fighting away the chill of the night as you brush your hands along your arms, a shiver coursing down your spine.

"You cold?" he asks.

You shake your head. "No, it's fine—"

You're cut off with a squeak as he removes his orange jacket, emblazoned with a tribal-style tiger head on the back, around your shoulders. It's large, two or three sizes too big with the sleeves extending far beyond your hands. You push the sleeves up, huffing. "Well, just for the record, I didn't need this, okay?" you say, scowling, and Togame laughs, his head falling back as his hand leaves your back, being replaced by his arm wrapping around your shoulders.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever."

Silence falls again, the only sounds the buzzing of the street lights and the far off lapping of waves against the shore. The moon is high in the sky, bright and full, casting a pretty glow among the villas. It's ethereal; no picture you could take with your camera or your phone would do it justice. You'll have to rely on your memory to recall it again; however fleeting it may be.

You close your eyes for a moment, Togame's arm around you warming you along with the jacket around your shoulders. Salty sea smell stings at your nose, and his cologne (tastefully faint) drifts throughout your breath that you take.

"Oi, eyes on the road. You're gonna trip 'n fall doin' that."

Your eyes flash open, and you look up at him with a scrunched face, meeting his amused look. "I was just…" you trail off.

Do I tell him? That's way too fast, right? That's weird…right?

"Just what?"

Fuck it.

You sigh. "Just…capturing this moment in time. I'm…I feel happy. For once. Forgot what this felt like."

Togame doesn't respond, and you avert your gaze, terrified of the look you're expecting to find. Instead, you feel him grip you just a little bit harder, pulling you a little bit closer.

"Me too."

It's just words. He doesn't mean that. He just met you today, for heaven's sake!

But it still gives you solace. This is why you traveled solo here. Meeting new people, taking a chance, adventuring out…you feel free. You feel in control for once. In control of how this night will go, even at almost two in the morning. And who better to have around than the man that you've hit it off with? There's a sense of familiarity there, with Togame; it's like you've met somewhere else before, somewhere you don't remember or recall. He feels…

You blink.

He feels like home.

You don't bother shaking that feeling off anymore. Who cares if it makes you cling to him? Who cares if it makes you a little desperate as you walk up to your villa's door, his arm removing itself from his shoulder as he hangs back, eyes burning into the back of your neck. He won't say it, though; you've only known him a short time, but Togame doesn't seem like the desperate kind. You almost wish he was; but it feels refreshing to know that whatever choice you make, he seems to be happy with simply knowing you, even if only for a short time.

The key is in the lock before you pause, turning around. "Togame—"

You meet his eyes.

Whoa.

They're dark, a deep forest green as opposed to the emerald color you'd seen earlier. It's not want, necessarily; although you do identify it there. It's more wistful, more nostalgic. Longing, perhaps? Either way, it makes your thighs unconsciously press together.

And in that moment, you decide.

The song playing in your headphones from the beach echoes in your ears.

Live like it's your last day alive.

Now or never.

You gulp. "Did…did you want to come in?"

His eyes dart down to look at your lips, one of his hands brushing against your cheek. "Yeah," he breathes out, "but first…can I kiss you?"

Fuck it, you think to yourself for the second time. I deserve this.

You nod, and his lips crush against yours.

From there, it's a whirlwind. You can barely concentrate on what's happening as the door closes, his lips attached to your own, rum and blue raspberry and floral tones being shared between you as you stumble back to the bed. His arms wrap around you, one hand pressed against the back of your head and the other on the small of your back, dipping you onto the bed gracefully. You moan as one of his thighs gets in between your own, rubbing at your mound.

"Fuck."

His voice is raspy, shot through with want as he moves down to your neck, licking and nipping gently at the sensitive skin. Your breath hitches, fingers deep in his hair as you feel yourself unconsciously rutting against his thigh. It's huge compared to your own; he's strong, you can feel it in his muscles above you as he gently moves against you on the bed.

"Oh, fuck."

This time, it's you breathing a curse as his hand leaves your lower back, pushing your shorts and underwear down easily as his thick fingers gently move through your folds. Your clit begins to ache; everything feels so intoxicating right now, you feel like you're floating. Your head is light as Togame's mouth moves from his spot on your neck down to your chest, tugging your top down and his tongue darting out to brush against a hardened nipple.

He makes a noise as he runs his fingers through your folds again, all the way up to your clit, which makes your hips jolt and you let out a soft moan. His eyes are on you like a predator, sunglasses centimeters from falling off his face as he sucks and swirls his tongue around your nipple. "You're so wet already," he whispers against you, "wanna taste you so bad. Can I?"

You have a moment of confusion. This man, whose already gotten you mostly undressed, asking to eat you out? Not just…doing it? Asking for permission? The coil in your stomach tightens so quickly as you realize how attractive that is. How badly you'd wanted the people you'd slept with to just ask, instead of assume.

You can barely form words with so many sensitive points on your body being practically bullied, so you nod.

His hand moves up to cup your breast, rolling your nipple with his thumb as he dives down, tongue lapping at you.

It's electric, his sudden movement, and you arch up into his mouth. His other hand comes down to press against your hip, keeping you from squirming upwards as he devours you. It's insane how good he is at this; his tongue dances across your folds, flicking up to lap and suck at your clit, then down to prod at your sopping hole. It's maddening, you think to yourself as your nails dig into his hair. It's maddening how good he is at this; how much you've been missing.

What are the fucking odds you'd land such a gold mine? While traveling alone?

Your thoughts are interrupted by Togame's voice against you, rumbling. The vibration has your legs tightening around his head, and you just realize how close you are. "Fuck, 'm close," you say to him, and he nods, continuing his movements. "I know," he says, and your head falls back as you moan at the sheer confidence exuding from him, "I can feel it. You're fuckin' soaking, baby. All f'me, too. You taste so fucking good, you know that? So good—"

His tongue flicks against you just right, and the wave inside you crests.

Your eyes snap open. "Togame, I'm gonna—"

He rumbles. "I know. Cum for me, baby."

You've never been one to cum on command, but God, the way he says it has you gushing all over him with a cry. He happily laps it up, too, murmuring how good you are and how beautiful you look beneath him, twitching and squirming as your climax rips through your body like a freight train. You're seeing stars, your body feeling light as air as your muscles contract and relax, stuttering as your high abates.

All of his movements stop, and you feel him disappear. A whine escapes your throat at the loss of contact, but it's cut off as his mouth presses against your own, tongue rubbing against your own. You can taste yourself on him, the gentle tang sharp on your taste buds as he groans. His hard-on presses against your thigh, and you tense. It's big.

"Can I—"

"—fuck me?" you finish his sentence, out of breath as he pulls away.

He shakes his head, a smirk tugging at the edges of his lips. "No, I can't fuck you. That would be ruining the masterpiece underneath me."

You're completely unprepared for what he says next, your mouth ajar to retort back, some strength returning to you until his thumbs hook into the waistband of his pants. He gives you a knowing look; there it is again, that feeling of nostalgia. That feeling that he's going to take care of you. That you want him to take care of you.

The energy is electric. You don't want it to stop, and when he speaks again, your mind goes blank.

"I'm going to worship you like you deserve. Like it's our last day alive together. Like we've known each other for years. Like you're the only thing that matters to me."

You don't dwell on the implications of his statements—you're too fucked out to even try as his bare cock, a dusting of curly black hair around the base, nudges against your wetness. All you know is that you need him. You need him bad.

And as he enters you, his cock stretching you just right, it feels like coming home.

It feels like heaven.

taglist: @qichun @stunie @fuyuswifey @suyacho

divider credit: @/cafekitsune

networks: @pixelcafe-network

disclaimer: DO NOT copy or repost my works for any reason. translations are acceptable, but please ask for permission first!

© togamest 2023-2024

[nyashykyunnie]

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 ✦ Kyunnya's Wonderland ✦ ━━━━

✦♡ -ˋˏ Kyunnya ˎˊ-♡ ✦

𝐀 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫, 𝐀 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫, 𝐀 𝐓𝐢𝐧𝐲 𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫 𝐈𝐧 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐆𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐱𝐲

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| TEMPORARY WRITING HIATUS UNTIL MY CREATIVE JUICE COME ALIVE

| Rising Sign: Cancer

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| Age: 18↑

| Kyunnie's Song: Moonstruck - Enhypen

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| Main Fandom: Solo Leveling, Love and Deepspace, HYV games, Wuthering Waves

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| 성진우 내 아기💜

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| YES : Do talk about me about your day, interesting things, random brainrots, silly thoughts, headcanons

| NO : Please do not rant in my inbox randomly and send harmful texts I am uncomfortable with a lot of stuff involving the opposite of positivity and substances. Including depictions of suicide, self-harm or anything involving with poor mental health. It's not that I don't care or anything it's just that I am easily triggered and it makes me recall harmful memories. Please get professional help if you have symptoms. Although I enjoy headcanons of drunk Jinwoo DOES NOT EQUATE to me liking irl substances!!!

| Just Because I'm an adult does not mean I enjoy adult pleasures !!!

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🌸 Click Here for Jinwoo Bots 🌸

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✦♡ JINWOO MASTERLIST ━━━━ ₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ.

Sung Jinwoo x Cuddly SO

Sung Jinwoo x Introvert SO

Sung Jinwoo: Boyfriend Hcs

Sung Jinwoo x Male! Reader Who He Thought Was a Girl For Years

Sung Jinwoo: Comfort

Sung Jinwoo! Two Hearts x Gn! Reader: Twice To Love You More

Sung Jinwoo x Gn! Isekaid! Mage! Reader

Sung Jinwoo! NSFW! hcs

Yandere! Sung Jinwoo x Gn! Reader

Sung Jinwoo x Fem! Reader! S-Ranker S/O

Sung Jinwoo x Reader Having A Panic Attack

Sung Jinwoo x Bubbly Reader

Sung Jinwoo Assassin Au: Part 1

Idol Au Sung Jinwoo

Sung Jinwoo Boyfriend Hcs: Part 2

Part 1:One-Sided Love: In Which, you realize Jinwoo was always for Hae-In

Part 2: One-Sided Love: In Which, you realize Jinwoo was always for ???...

Malewife! Sung Jinwoo x Gn! Reader : High school Love!!!

Sung Jinwoo x Gn! Reader: Holding Hands

Sung Jinwoo x Drunk Fem!Reader

Valentines Day Special Fic

Part 1: Sung Jinwoo x Terminally ill Reader

Part 2: Sung Jinwoo x Terminally ill Reader

Yandere! Jinwoo x Best Friend! Reader

Yandere! Sung Jinwoo x Player! Reader

Route 1-Loveless Marriage Au: Jinwoo x Reader

Route 2-Loveless Marriage Au: Jinwoo x Reader

Jinwoo Drabbles: Jealous. Jealous. Jealous.

E-rank(?)! Jinwoo x E-rank Witch! Reader

Boyfriend! Jinwoo x Reader

Band Member!Jinwoo x Reader

Part 1: Pirate King! Jinwoo x Siren! Reader

Part 2: Pirate King! Jinwoo x Siren! Reader

Jinwoo x Fem! Reader: Healing

Jinwoo x Artist! Fem! Reader: Drabbles

Historical Au: Slave!Jinwoo x Noble!Reader

Jinwoo x Nerd! Fem! Reader: Drabbles

Self Aware Jinwoo vs Sylus x Fem! Reader

Jealous! Lovesick! Jinwoo x Fem! Reader

Jinwoo x Fem Reader: Soulmate au

Jinwoo x Isekaid! Artist! Reader

Jinwoo x Fem! Reader

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Zayne x Fem! Reader: Drabbles

Zayne x Lemurian! Fem! Reader: Ebb Day

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Self Aware Sylus vs Jinwoo x Fem! Reader

ʚ(੭´͈ ᐜ `͈)੭ .｡✧･ﾟ: ~♡ —! stories written by kyunnie; translations, reposts, plagiarism are strictly forbidden.

divider image credit thanks to @/cafekitsune

[prettyboykatsuki]

father jing yuan and his beloved child,,, fuck or die... ari you're cooking

fem!reader, incest, estranged relationships, sex pollen

i feel like. well. i like estranged fathers in my incest fic i guess. but i like the idea of jing yuan and his estranged daughter a lot being real. in the fuck or die context.

i imagine it in the concept of you once being his beloved. when you were smaller, younger. life is different on luofu you know? but you loved your father more than anyone in the world. when you were a little girl, there was no one more important. and he was always a good father to you - but you ended up having a fight when you were going your own path in life. you were taking on dangerous research, doing dangerous things.

you don't remember it now, because it was so long ago - but you haven't seen him in years. though jing yuan, the sort of man he is, has kept tabs on you in all that time. he thought about forcing you home. he thought about being disciplinary. but he convinced himself you'd return at your own time someday. the rift in the relationship is never mended, not completely

when you return to the luofu, it's been a long time. your adulthood has leveled you into a fine woman. you're here because your close friend is getting married. you have no intent on seeing your father. but of course that's impossible. it's yanqing who drags you home, drops you unceremoniously at his office.

and there's a calm air about him. a wave of grief washed over with a wave of love and nostalgia. it will never be the same, your relationship - and seeing him now only reaffirms. still, you decide to neglect the bad blood between you. you decided to drink with him, speak with him, open up the avenues because you're also growing older.

you never know when the mara will take him. and you talk to him civil, but the little loved girl inside you trembles whenever he speaks to you so gently. it's troubling.

i always think of it as poison. the aeons and their disturbed sense of humor, maybe. a bottle of poisoned wine, something made in a lab - causing the loss of inhibitions and provocation of lust. an aphrodisiac puts it lightly. but it sparks it within you both

the only way the pain subsides is being touched, and there's no one for you to call. only jing yuan, the only thing left of your childhood.

there's something apologetic about it. some deep sense of innate disgust overwhelmed by chemicals and frustration. but there's a specific sadness in his face you've never seen - something strange and suffocated.

your skin is burning hot in all the places he touches, sobbing with relief and yet burdened with whats happening. but there's something too, admittedly tender, about the gesture. something almost profound with the soft forehead kiss, the promise of pleasure. it's an apology, among many things, and something about that is too crushing for you to bear.

so you do what you know how, revert to the smallest parts of you. a girl in the arms of your one and only parent, cradled gently in his embrace. the warmth of it is suffocating, but it's sweet. a bitter memory but one you hold as your rocked, split open on his cock like it's natural. he takes care of you, and you remember. what is was like when he loved you.

you ask if he still does - buried so deep within you, you can feel it up to your throat. it's aching and intrusive and it feels good, but it makes you cry. every time he touches you want to cry.

"it's not a matter of if. nothing could measure up to your importance, silly girl."

[dnangelic]

Get to know the mun ! repost, don’t reblog .

——— BASICS.

[ NAME ] : tsun (short for tsundere)

PRONOUNS : he / him

ZODIAC SIGN : pisces-aries

TAKEN OR SINGLE : single

ANYTHING ELSE ? : my dog is way cuter and more interesting than me

——— THREE SERIOUS FACTS.

you don't have to soften up your muse with me. really. i've written mainly antagonistic/villainous/horror-centric muses in the past so i'd like to at the very last believe i understand at least some of the struggle when it comes to having a muse like that. which isn't to say that daisuke won't still try to appeal to some form of compassion for even the most reprehensible muses because that's just the way that he's built, but nobody has to apologize and worry about hurting me, the mun's feelings for being mean to daisuke. if he wasn't built for helping then he was built for a lil bullying. it's okay. i love to see it <- mean older bro/failboy aficionado syndrome

i don't really do starter calls or memes anymore. the best way to start something with me is to either get at me directly for a thread/plot discussion or if that's too scary just make an ic remark on any random ass post and i'll probably make a new ic post for it. or send me an ask and we can go from there since my askbox is always open. i try to do the occasional inbox call but since i don't like my asks to be overly bland and it takes a whole lotta creativity, i don't do those super often either.

if you don't know something about my muse it's best if you ask. really. seriously. DN 'canon' is scattered in multiple directions and multiple pieces across multiple formats, and most eng speakers have only seen the anime or read the manga, which imo are the two bottom-most "best" formats for grasping what the hell is even going on overall in the series. atp pointing people to either my public vs private knowledge post or my canon divergence post is probably the best i can do to provide a comprehensive list of different 'facts' about how i work my characterization.

——— THREE RANDOM FACTS.

i have in fact been with DN since the early 2000/2010s-ish, around middleschool. i wasn't there when its re-serialization was announced in 2020 or so but the first and second volumes will always be a formative memory for me, and the tokyopop ENG translation set i have (up to book 12) has somehow survived over the course of like at least five different moves. this is also probably why i find sugisaki's original, absolute oldest style the most nostalgic/'best' in a way, if only to me. i've also been a vkei fan since vanan'ice started releasing music, immoral memory lost memory has and always will be my #1 comfort song. no wonder i ended up writing dn charas

i like to cook and bake. baking more than cooking, which is sometimes a problem since i can end up baking more than my family ever eats. i'd love to make DN style parfaits/cake cups sometime, i just don't know who's going to be able to eat all of it laksdjlakgjl. but anything to see icing wiz in a cup for realsies!

my life has been dominated by roguelike/dungeon crawler looter type video games. i've probably got literally like ten billion hours on mabinogi since that was my social system in 2000-2010 range (look i know but it was hot stuff back then ok) and now that elin's been released i've jumped from messing around in elona to there, but put me in front of something in the vein of the whole fate/torchlight series etc and i'm probably clocked out forever

——— EXPERIENCE.

i started a tumblr rp blog as a joke for a friend (now no longer my friend) i'd chat with during ~2015 give or take a year. i didn't even care about the chara at first but i've always loved writing, and i ended up actually getting into said chara and the series they were from to write some more/beyond just sheer crack for my friend. i've never written fic for the same reason that i've never written anything standalone tho, that being i completely lose confidence all the way down to the last drop in my bones

i like deep and firm muse connections. this doesn't necessarily even mean positive ic ones, but i like it best when muses absolutely have something. it doesn't even have to be definite either, like the way satoshi and daisuke's relationship within canon is somehow balancing both a killer rivalry and deep caring friendship and just about everything else they always got goin on in between. it's usually after any sort of dynamic is established that i feel much more comfortable sending unprompted asks too.

i have like 50 tabs open at all times and 600 things in my drafts. i did this to myself. but if i never catch DMs on tumblr it's probably because i never got a notif thanks to the 50 tabs, and if i never catch DMs on discord it's probably because i saw it, got busy, then forgot about it til i checked again and bam it's been like a month and now responding feels too awkward. i'm so bad at personal communication i'm so sorry. use my askbox if it's urgent i swear i've never failed to respond to any of those asap. losing drafts is thanks to the 600 things, but if you want me to dig up something because you miss it and so i can respond to it asap i can always do that too. im literally just too tired to scroll to find shit that isn't my most recent sometimes iawjewahjaiijkrf it's a bad hobby habit i knooooow

——— MUSE PREFERENCE.

i've tried to find the common denominator between all of my muses in the past multiple times and i've never been able to find it. i've written anything and everyone from, like, folklore ocs to meta knight from kirby. in general i like to have a muse that i don't always have to take too seriously though. or that comes off as comedic on the surface but i can still handle in a serious and legitimate/realistic way, ie just like dark and daisuke being clowns and a singular failboy but still just. kids, teenagers grappling with very real uncertainty about themselves and their futures and identities. muses have to have a voice, and i'm very particular about being able to clearly hear my muses in my head and my writing, so if anything that's probably my largest deciding factor.

——— FLUFF / ANGST / SMUT.

FLUFF : yep

ANGST : yep

SMUT : hell no. idk how many times i have to tell people i don't give a shit how hot you think dark is, he's physically 16-17 and is directly linked to daisuke, who's 14-15. these are minors. there's 2892859864 anime charas who are of age for you to smut with, get away from the middleschoolers!!!

——— PLOT / MEMES : see all the way above. i basically live in my activity notes so it's better to grab my attention somehow through that. i get shy about sending memes and also am just..... not around constantly so checking dash can be annoying. if there's a meme you have a really good idea for and you want me to send it specifically i've got no problem doing that though. love u guys

TAGGED BY : @cherriedrage thanks zaggy!!

[springdandelixn]

Hello, My Lovely Spring Rolls!

To celebrate such milestones in my personal (birthday! woot woot!) and tumblr (500 followers!) life, I will be hosting my first-ever (and hopefully the beginning of more) sleepover for all of us to enjoy!

I've only been actively posting my stories on this site since October 2022 and truthfully, you guys have been such a blast and I cannot thank you enough for the support and love you continuously give.

With that being said, I hope you would join me in this sleepover and make more memories together!

For this sleepover, we will be having 2 events; 1) Writing Challenge, and 2) Fic Requests.

🌻This challenge is only open to 18+. Minors, please DNI.

🌻The theme for this challenge is, you guessed it, SPRING! Not only is it on my tumblr name but it's my favorite season of all time. I know we are still far away from it but oh well.

🌻The sleepover will start on January 31st and end on March 31st (though my birthday is on the 7th of March huehue) No late submissions, please.

🌻This challenge is open to all genres BUT (and it's a big one) if you've been hanging around me for a while, you know what my preferences are—angst, smut, and dark.

🌻All tropes are allowed—Mafia, A/B/O, enemies to lovers, lovers to enemies, even step-cest if that's your vibe.

🌻Characters must ONLY be from the following fandom:

Game of Thrones - Jorah Mormont, Petyr Baelish or Jaime Lannister

MCU/Marvel - Vision, Loki, Thor, Bucky Barnes, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Bruce Banner or Logan Howlett

DCU - Clark Kent or Bruce Wayne

Sebastian Stan Characters - Lee Bodecker or Steve Kemp

Chris Evans Characters - Lloyd Hansen, Ransom Drysdale, Curtis Everett, Andy Barber, Jake Jensen or Ari Levinson

Tom Hiddleston Characters - Jonathan Pine, James Conrad or Thomas Sharpe

Miscellaneous - Joel Miller (The Last of Us - Either Pedro Pascal or the video game character) or Samuel Drake (Uncharted)

🌻Reader insert only, no OFCs or ships. Sorry.

🌻Entries must be new and original. I will not allow any entries that are part of an ongoing series. If it is, make sure that it can be read as a stand-alone piece.

🌻There is no word limit but do make sure to add the Keep Reading line after 500 words.

🌻Please use the tag #rolling into spring writing challenge when posting your work and tag me in it. If I haven't reblogged it or given a comment within 24 hours after you've posted, shoot me a message.

🌻No Underage, Beastiality, Incest, Monster(??) and Water Sports.

🌻A prompt list will be provided for this challenge but it is not mandatory to use them. You can use them as a guide to help you kickstart your work. The most important thing is that your story has the element of Spring in it.

🌻I reserve the right to not read or interact with your work if it makes me uncomfortable or if you didn't abide by the rules. Warnings are a MUST and should be written appropriately.

🌻Any questions that you may have, my DMs are open. You can also join my discord server to engage with others and bounce off ideas with one another.

🌻Rules of the writing challenge pretty much apply here as well.

🌻I will be providing a dialogue prompt list for you to choose from. You can also suggest a trope or give me a brief description of your request.

🌻Please use this form when requesting a fic. Just so as not to crowd my ask box.

🌻Fics will only be written with dark themes. (sorrynotsorry)

Now that the ground rules have been laid, all that's left to do is to have fun! And I look forward to your requests as well as what you'll come up with for this event! Make me squirm and gimme hay fever! (okno) haha

Writing Challenge Prompts

Fic Request Prompts

[maskedemerald]

WIP List (Tag Game!)

I was tagged ages ago by @the-down-upside-finch thank you so much! Sadly I was in deadline and life drama time so catching up on the tagged stuff now.

RULES: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

Warning: This is going to get long, like seriously I have too many even if I discount the Fan Fic ideas... which I am doing because some of them might get used for future challenges that need them not to be talked about.

Feel free to send me an ask about any of these!

Book Writing Stuff

A Curiosity Piqued Series

Medallion Heist

Message in a Bottle

Wards

Rivals

The Vanished Researcher

The Shadow Master

The Transfigured Corpse

Framed

The Traveler

The Queen of Stone

Lapis Feather (Previously Frost Amber)

Vigdis' Revenge

The Shadow Master Returns

The Bleeding Tree

Sentience

NecRomance

Doppelganger

A Brother's Return

Null Beast

Ruins of Crystal Spires

Loops

Ari vs Arnvaldr

A Focus of Time

Haunting Memories

Lost Brother

The Queen of Stone's Revenge

Uneasy Aliance

And that's just the A Curiosity Piqued WIPs!

Magic Act

Vampire Saga

Queen's Conmen

Apprenticeships in Sorcery

A Kind of Freedom

Biological Component

Blood Book

Caged Phoenix

Captain's Shoes

Curse of the Sands

Dragon Egg

Dreaming Weapon

Sands in the Hourglass

Frozen Dragon

Hatchling

In the Ashes of the Bookshop

Kayla Rising

Last Breath

Last Man on Earth

Odd

Prince Pendant

Prince's Secret

Rebirth

Should Have Been Born a Fish

Stolen Breath

Taking up the Chase

White Raven

Wish You were Here

Glaesier

Astral Projection thing

Book Boy

Wynn equivalent

Lethal Lyra

Anastriana

Garnet

Spark the Fires

Space Druid

Talisman Warlock

Forget me not

Game Writing Stuff

Light of the Oubliette

Willow

New Khronos

Fenrir

Aether Shards

Comics Writing Stuff

Better Luck

Searching Prince

Dragon Cursed

Bottle Pirates

Phantom Circus

Not Under the Mountain

Now for the Tags:

It would be crazy for me to try and tag 1 person for everything listed here, seriously that would be 67 just counting the book writing things! So I'm just going to tag all my current writers tag list and throw it open to anyone else. (Shout at me if you want to be added to the writers list for tag games, whatever you write be it original stuff or fan fiction!)

No pressure tagging @scribe-of-stories, @allie-and-the-words, @card-queen, @sm-writes-chaos, @the-real-lyra-vale, @squarebracket-trick, @jasperygrace, @pb-dot, @wmlittlemore-is-writing, @akiwitch, @aalinaaaaaa, @cat-esper, @chayscribbles, @thetwentiethdisaster, @i-rove-rock-n-roll, @ashwithapen, @vaultofqueenorion, @sparrow-orion-writes, @thetruearchmagos, @taveren-writing, @alnaperera, @amaiguri, @guessillcallitart, @stesierra, @sam-glade, @thebearthatreads, @dogmomwrites, @callahanscorner

I apologize if some of you were already tagged for this game while I was gone with IRL chaos throw a link at me and I'll take a look if you did!

[mrsreginagold]

Fic: Take A Better Look In The Mirror

Fandom: Nikita 

Pairing: Ari Tasarov x Nikita Mears (Nikari)

Rating: R

Spoilers: Canon-divergent AU for season two, episodes ten and eleven; Nikita ends up staying at the Udinov estate as Ari’s guest. 

Summary: After a revelatory evening with the man she once considered an enemy, Nikita makes a decision that alters the trajectory of their relationship. 

Author’s note: This is possibly the steamiest piece I’ve written for my beloved pairing. Jury’s still out. I would not consider it explicit, as I have a specific level of detail that I’m comfortable with writing, but I did push my limits a little more than usual. There’s still some fluff and cuteness however, because I love these two far too much not to include some banter.

On AO3

Take A Better Look In The Mirror

                  The décor of the Udinov mansion was lavish, opulent and indicative of the old-world wealth that had resulted in it being built. It was the polar opposite of the foster homes that Nikita Mears had bounced to and from throughout her youth, and yet being in such a fancy establishment didn’t fill her with the envy that she expected it would. 

                  “It’s a little off-putting and stifling,” she admitted, clinging to Ari Tasarov’s arm as he escorted her back to the room she was temporarily inhabiting. “And it feels haunted. I can’t really blame Alex for not wanting it back, even if she has fond memories of growing up here with her father.”

                  “If we’re being candid: neither can I,” her companion nodded, glancing briefly at the tapestries that decorated the walls off the hallway they were walking up. “The hidden passageways certainly don’t help matters. It would be like living in a Poe story.”

                  “Exactly! You could direct a horror film in this place,” she shivered and leaned further into him on instinct. 

                  A low, alluring chuckle escaped him at her remark. “Perhaps that’s what she should do instead of keeping it – rent it out to film studios.”

                  “It’s not a bad idea,” grinning, Nikita nudged at his shoulder. 

                  “It’s nice to hear you praise a suggestion of mine,” a warm, genuine smile crossed Ari’s handsome face. “And here we are. That went much quicker than I thought it would,” he couldn’t help a look of disappointment once they drew to a halt in front of the door.

                  “Actually,” she grasped at his bicep to keep him from leaving. “I could use your assistance.”

                  “Oh?” he quirked a brow. “With what?”

                  “My dress,” she pushed the door open and coaxed him inside with her, turning around to gesture at the back of her evening gown. “When I was getting ready earlier, the zipper kept getting stuck, so I’m afraid I’ll rip the fabric.”

                  “Ah,” his hands settled on her shoulders, squeezing reassuringly. “In that case we could do with more light.” He flipped the switch on the wall, which flooded the space with a cozy yellow glow. 

                  She guided him over to where there was an ornate, floor-length mirror and kept her back turned. “Is this better?”

                  “Much.”

                  Nikita swallowed a moan when Ari’s long, elegant fingers whispered across her bare skin before locating the metal fastening. 

                  Carefully, he drew the zipper down, mindful of the delicate silk it was holding together. 

                  Her breath hitched as she felt the cool air wafting in through a nearby window hit her flesh, goosebumps erupting along her arms while her partner completed his task. “Could you go close that? I didn’t realize I’d left it open.”

                  “Certainly.”

                  While he was momentarily preoccupied, she surveyed her own reflection – noting the subtle flush to her cheeks and well-aware of the mounting pool of warmth beginning to gather below her stomach. 

                  The rogue agent swallowed again to quell the unexpected surge of butterflies. She had never been a woman to fall prey to rash, impulsive decisions, but there was simply no denying how badly she desired the man who was currently ensuring her own comfort. 

                  He returned to her side. “Was there anything else before I turn in?”

                  Slowly, she turned around and let her dress drop to the floor, her choice clear. 

                  There was a long pause as his gaze raked over her lithe, athletic form. 

                  “Nikita…” she swore that the resonant timbre of his voice deepened, realization blooming in his bright blue eyes. “What are you doing?”

                  She brought her fingers up to his lips to shush him. “For once in my life, what I want.”

                  Ari peered down at her, that startling gaze of his seeming to penetrate deep into her soul, searching for any hint of deception. 

                  To clarify any lingering confusion, Nikita curled her hands around his necktie and yanked him forward so she could capture his mouth with her own. 

                  He froze – but just for a moment – his own feelings becoming the driving force that propelled him to gather her into his arms and return the embrace with fervor. 

                  Relief flooded her system, and she kissed him back just as eagerly while she shoved his suit coat down his broad shoulders. 

                  Recklessly, he tugged his arms free, his soft lips straying to dart firefly kisses along the slope of her jaw before lingering at the hollow of her throat with his tongue.

                  Her knees threatened to buckle, a whimper tearing from her when he scraped his teeth deliberately across her clavicle. 

                  He pulled away for air, the stunning color of his irises nearly invisible due to his pupils dilating with arousal. “Do you trust me?”

                  Breathless, she nodded. 

                  “Turn back around,” he commanded, though the tender kiss he brushed to the shell of her ear was a clear sign that he was not intending on being rough. 

                  She twirled to face the mirror, her pulse jumping as she watched him slowly undo the buttons to his dress shirt, so it fell open over his chest. She was now faced with a firm, sculpted torso dusted liberally with dark hair, the warmth at her core leaping upwards a few degrees just from the sight of him. 

                  He shrugged out of the garment and then stepped forward, so his taller form was flush against hers. 

                  She chewed at her lower lip when his arms circled around her midsection, tugging her in those few centimeters needed so there was barely any space between them. Then: he grazed his mouth to her neck while drifting one hand up and the other down. 

                  Nikita reached back and briefly shut her eyes with a quiet sound, her fingers winding into the soft strands of Ari’s dark brown hair as he languidly massaged her sensitive flesh through the lace. 

“Eyes open,” he muttered, biting teasingly at her shoulder. 

She did so just in time to see his other hand dip between her legs.

                  She let out a half-strangled sound while he worked utter magic, trembling under the skill of his hands and arcing into his touch as best she could. 

                  He mumbled something under his breath in his native tongue and deftly unhooked her bra, baring her torso to continue unhindered. 

                  Nikita cried out when his ministrations turned more insistent and used her free hand to ensure no barriers remained. 

                  “Are you always this needy?” Ari purred, clearly delighting in the power he had over her. 

                  “Just don’t stop,” she gasped, writhing under his grasp. 

                  He bit down on her neck hard enough to leave a mark but listened. 

                  He didn’t let up until he brought her artfully to the brink and she was a quivering mess that he had to catch so he could carry her over to the bed. 

                  Nikita was still quaking from bliss and only mildly aware of Ari undressing fully while she stretched out over the silk and velvet blankets. “Gimme a minute,” she exhaled slowly, reaching for him when he joined her. 

                  He settled next to her, but didn’t make a move right away, content for the moment to smooth her messy hair away from her gaze and admire the wanton image that she presented. 

                  From her vantage point, the view was just as nice now that there was no obstructing clothing. Every possible inch of his lean, yet remarkably chiseled form was on display, and she took leave to appreciate what was before her. Her eyes traveled down along the breadth of his torso and then lingered over the toned planes of his chest and abdomen and the taper of his waist, eventually drifting lower. 

                  As far as she was concerned, he was perfect. 

                  Gradually, she traced a pattern through his chest hair, turning towards him and slinging a leg over his waist to keep them close together. “Can I ask you something?”

                  “I’d say after what just occurred you’re allowed to ask me whatever you want,” he laughed, his arms draping around her so he could rub circles across her back.

                  “I was just wondering if you’d ever…well, fantasized –

                  “Yes. Multiple times.”

                  “I didn’t finish the question!”

                  “You didn’t have to, it’s written all over your face,” his dimples flashed. “The better question here is have you –

                  “YES. Repeatedly,” she groaned and hid her head against the pillow. 

                  “It’s a little late to be embarrassed, dear.” 

                  Though she couldn’t see his expression, she could easily picture it and whirled back to face him again. “I should have known you’d make pillow talk as difficult as you do anything else!”

                  “So it’s my fault?” Given the cheshire-cat grin that was directed her way, Ari was very much luxuriating in their banter. 

                  “You’re incorrigible,” Nikita narrowed her eyes. 

                  “Maybe, but you seem to like it,” he stretched out lazily, and then drew her into a tender yet passion-filled kiss, which effectively derailed whatever remained of her train of thought.

                  She toppled backwards onto the mattress, pulling him along so that he enveloped her body with his.

                  Soon enough, she was lost to the velvet sensation of his skin, her nails forming crescent moon shapes when she latched onto his back as his lips strayed from hers to gain purchase elsewhere. 

                  Heated, open-mouthed kisses drifted over her throat, then her shoulders, until he finally skimmed down so he could lavish her breasts with attention. 

                  Her hands fisted into his hair, arching off the bed as he took his time. He seemed determined to worship every inch of her, and she was not about to stop him. 

                  Sweetly, he placed a kiss over her heart before diving lower, lingering at her navel for a second and then – finally placing that amazing mouth where she hoped he would. 

                  Her hips bucked in natural response, another strangled moan escaping that warped into his name repeated like a mantra as she grabbed onto a pillow for leverage.

                  She could feel him smirk,  which only sent pulses of overwhelming want rushing through her system. 

                  Sweat gleamed on her naked form the longer that he wore on, until at last, a loud exclamation ripped from her throat that signified just how well he had pleased her. 

                  He rested his chin on her stomach to watch her as she calmed down, her body shaking from release.

                  She tilted her head curiously, noticing how intently he seemed to be studying her. “What?”

                  “I’m marveling over how beautiful you are,” he confessed, crawling back up so that he could hover over her. 

                  Wanting to return the favor for what had just transpired, she reached down. 

                  He hissed sharply and attempted to dissuade her, ensuring her that it wasn’t necessary.

                  “Let me try,” she insisted. 

                  It was not long before he was the one at her mercy, his chest heaving as he struggled for breath as her actions turned bold. 

                  His reaction was probably what enticed her the most. She had never been so blatantly erotic with someone else, and when it was his turn to careen over the edge, she was the one grinning. 

                  They took a few minutes to recover from the onslaught, exchanging languid, grateful kisses until they had regained enough energy. 

                  She found that she loved how his taste mixed with hers, almost a mirror to their entwined bodies. 

                  Ari turned so he could recline Nikita against the pillows, trapping her beneath his solid build so he could make her his in every sense. 

                  She raised her hips in an invitation that he gladly took, joining them together with a decisive thrust. 

                  Searing warmth caused her nerve endings to go into overdrive. He fit with her so perfectly that stars already burst against her eyelids. 

                  And then he began to move in earnest and her world spun. 

                  She hitched her legs around his waist, meeting his motions as an equal. They were like two puzzle pieces, meant to interlock together. 

                  She dragged her nails down his back, livid scratches emerging in her wake, sweeping her hands around so she could caress over his torso as their coupling neared its pinnacle. 

                  He altered his angle and buried deeper, moisture glistening on his skin as their exertions began to take their toll and he slowed in his pace. 

                  It was arguably the most sensual moment she’d ever experienced. She tipped her head back to admire the tempting image he made while regarding her as if she were the only person in the universe who mattered. His hair, now hopelessly tousled, fell rakishly across his forehead, and those eyes that she easily lost herself reflected only the truest emotion. 

Nikita framed Ari’s face between her hands, love swelling to the surface as they reached their peak in unison. She stole a kiss that muffled their shared cries when that perfect moment was achieved and there was nothing left to do but fall. 

                  Cheerful sunshine wafted through the bedroom window the next morning, filtering over the lovers still fast asleep. 

                  They were understandably exhausted and still tangled up in a cuddle together beneath the sheets while they reaped the benefits of a well-earned rest. 

                  Nikita stirred first, disoriented for a moment due to her vision being out of focus, but when she realized that the events of the previous night had, in fact, happened – she beamed. 

                  With a cat-like stretch, she ducked a kiss to the center of Ari’s chest, and then made her way up, nibbling at his shoulder in an attempt to wake him, only for her phone to go off and a rather embarrassing tune to begin playing. 

                  Her lover’s gorgeous blue eyes fluttered open and then he muttered: “Why is your ring tone Bye, Bye, Bye?”

                  She wasn’t certain what was more mortifying: that he recognized the boy-band track easily enough to name it, or that she had forgotten to change the settings. 

                  “Alex was messing with me,” she groaned, swiping at the device to shut it off. 

                  They stared at each other and then began laughing as the absurdity of the situation struck them both. 

                  He greeted her properly with a kiss. “How does breakfast sound?”

                  “Breakfast sounds amazing. Better yet if it can be shared in bed.”

                  He grinned and promised her that he would keep that in mind. 

The End

[vivisviolets]

Hi, hope you're fine. I'm NM, she/her preferred gender is female and favorite things are food, Twice and sleep

I would like to join your game

Thanks in advance 😊

NM⭐️✨🌨 ✩Judgement, Page of Pentacles, Death, Four of Wands (reversed) (bottom of deck) ✩ 222, 444, Pluto (dominance, placements, or plutonic-related event/time), Mars dominant, fire dominance/placements, earth dominance/placements, Aries/Capricorn/Scorpio placements, opposite appearance/coloring, similar appearance/height, sunlight glow, possible karmic, channeled song, Under The Table - Fiona Apple Hi NM~!! welcome-welcome to your fs/partner reading and also congrats on being the first to send in your request!! you special little bean you~ ok so I already feel this is a very interesting reading- this may be a connection with a lot of tension, tension in a relationship is not necessarily a bad thing, the possibility to experiment with each other's emotions can be an intense trust building exercise- at least that is what I am picking up. your random pictures also show that which I found so telling- I see a lot of pain related to their emotions, very watery + "undeveloped" earth energy. Their home life was very reactive- maybe both of their parents took their emotions out on them… But I digress, what this person has gone through has made them into who they are, and they feel grief about it… I do not want to endorse a difficult relationship of highs and lows. And I'll say there may be times when you two purposefully take a break from each other, and it may get to the point where this relationship just cannot be done anymore. there is SO MUCH potential here holy shit I feel like I'm finally cracking that sparkly but rough geode and finding the purest of amethyst crystals- and also some ooey gooey lava in the center~ ugh anyway- both of you could benefit greatly from this relationship. however, it requires communication, this person needs to be gotten through to, from a voice of calmness and rationality. and if you choose to be that person, then your partner, in turn, has to express and give back to you. I'm seeing the dynamic of calm healer, and comforting protector, and both of you give to each other's hearts and minds, there is fulfillment and healing on both ends (omg it's giving Ruby and Sapphire from Steven Universe omg I am cooking rn).

but- if this person does not cooperate, nor receive what has been open to them (this future partnership), then leave. just walk away. ok I am sorry for this reading possibly being rather heavy (but then again this is all for entertainment so I'd just read it like you would a wattpad fic if you know what I mean- claim anything you want and leave the rest<3). Ok so, I'm gonna wrap it up, the “high” points have the energy of those mornings you stay in bed a little longer- and you're awake enough to be aware of how calm, and warm, and dry, and fresh everything is. you're having breakfast together with the early morning sun (your partner likes to cook,- they like to feel the "control" over the ability to give and bring you comfort, aw.), and then going on a walk through a town center, or an outing running simple errands like a farmer's market- a lot of very meaningful moments and memories either spent in your shared living space or in some open/outdoors area- I see fresh foods, fresh flowers, cooking, a small flat with sunlight, and there's such a glow at being able to see each other everyday (weird message but there might be a few clues for you in one of the next readings I do- that's weirddd but ok!!)… You two are beautiful, and they see you as this angel of light and their best friend. Communication and teamwork are the keys to potential, and remember none of what I said can be confirmed, and it's important to look at someone's actions for what they are ❤️ that being said, I know for an absolute fact you'll find peace, commitment, and partnership, no matter who you may have to leave in the past, or what stage of life you're facing. Love is always around the corner for someone like you. You are smart and brave, and love is always for you❤️❤️❤️. *i hope this was helpful my darling ♡~ consider leaving a tip on my patreon if you enjoyed, or follow and become a violet~ doesnt matter to me tho :>~ sending you on your wayyyy, bye bye!!* love, vi~♡

[imliterallyjustablackgirl]

"About the Blogger" meme

Thank u sm for tag @happylikeasadsong

Star Sign(s): Virgo sun, Cancer rising and Aries Moon - * ratata, in the ghettooo*

Favorite Holidays: Christmas and New Years, I just love little lights and the snow in the trees and to be reminded that makeup is just make up by the Canadian wind, while I get bitch slapped like I owes it money, ahhh, canadian's winter. I loveeee Christmas songs, I get so excited when it'ssss timmmee ( Mariah is it you). I dream for the day were I get to put lil socks like in movies with name and everything. Might even stitch them myself uwu. We don't do it, but maybe one day, family on my own.

Last Meal: As like my last meal if I d i e or - I ate a burned sandwich, I did it to myself. Me and myself are not talking right now, the sandwich was the last straw for today. It had two large meatballs in a subway wanna be bread - could have been great- I'm getting emotional all over again.

Current Favorite Musician: Brown noise 10 hrs- no wait - Rap orchestra - that's like the current thing I'm listening to right now. Mostly Metro's concert rap Orchestra. But Tanarelle, forever my love. Sade, for sure.

Last Music Listened To: * sigh - go look at the last edit I watched** 1975- about you, the snippet of Holt singing. Last Movie Watched: Bottoms - Lmao- THEEE GAYYYZZZ

Last TV Show Watched: Craig of the Creek - Rick and Morty, Bob's burgers, I watch Bob's burgers alot.

Last Book/Fic Finished: Now why did you have to do me like dat.

Last Book/Fic Abandoned: W A W Abandoned? I Do Not Abandoned My Kids. They just live inside my head until one day a smell, a sound,or an idea reminds me that they exist, or I write them on a piece of paper and forget about it OR they live inside my notes pads. Let's not speak about myout-of-wedlockk Skyrock- Wattpat and Fanfiction.net, children, they are not mine, you cannot prove it. Where is the paternity test?

Currently Reading: Y'all posts, like it's bedtime stories. Curry's fanfictions - honestly I read most of y'all updated or not fanfiction, I was on A3O Sydcarmy tags when there was barely two pages, so ouf - thank you to y'all my loves :* truly. I would lie if I said now I have too much windows open I'm confusing the timelines and fanfic. - Seasons of Sydney by shewalksoverme I am waiting for them to update. I am not handling it well, sadly *sighs*

Last Thing Researched for Art/Writing/Hyperfixation: Canada's woods, slightly make me sounds like a serial killer but HOW would you write a werewolf Carmy,huh!? I lived there most of my life, thought it would help me get a better writing experience, yet I've been too busy to continue and now I'm alarmeling aware that we have coyotes. Great ;-;

Favorite Online Fandom Memory: I have alot but I watched the last episode of Stranger Things with my friends last year. S8 of TVD, feeling like a last survivor of some sort, trauma lol - The Howl House - the finality, it healed my inner child to see a queer neurodivergent kid being understood by her mom, kick ass and be happy lol.

Favorite Old Fandom You Wish Would Drag You Back In/Have A Resurgence: Amphibia- it's such a cute and layered cartoon. OMG - I ALMOST FORGOT - CENTAURWORLD. It deserves the praise. It deserves to be acknowledged, the bad guy changed my perception of so many things.

Favorite Thing You Enjoy That Never Had an Active or Big "Fandom" but You Wish It Did: I wish (His Dark Materials: The Golden Compass) when I tell you, that this fantasy world has haunted me, because of how good it was for little girl me, argh! I would watch it all over again, I wish it had a bigger fanbase - if you love Christmas-

Tempting Project You're Trying to Rein In/Don't Have Time For:

Listen - Projects are not the issue, it's the follow-through, I'm gonna try writing mini-stories to keep my mind engaged. I'll manipulate myself into work - Also I keep losing password to things so, yeah- My fic started: Under the moon- I will this week updated it- I want to write more one-shots, more smut for sure- I am interested in exploring differents fronts of any characters. Shit, I might even a Bob's Burgers fanfic. You can't stop me, you're not my mom- that I know of :O I would like @currymanganese to do it @angelica4equity You don't have to, but like... an ant somewhere might die cauz of it so, idk- do u wanna be an ant murdereww? Yeah, that's what i thought

[newtedison]

brinho week 2023, day 2: safe haven | “we’re safe, aren’t we?”

here’s a short little scene for y’all. this technically takes place after the events of my safe haven brinho fic, but i wrote it so it can be read as a standalone. 

(~1.2k, SFW, hurt/comfort)

Jorge and Aris decide to break the news over dinner.

They stand in front of the rock memorial, hitting two pieces of wood together and calling for attention. Brenda picks her head up from where it had been resting on Minho’s shoulder to listen.

“Hey, everyone,” Jorge greets once the group has quieted down. “Aris has something he wants to tell you.” He claps Aris enthusiastically on the back, the strength of it almost causing Aris to stumble over. 

Aris clears his throat awkwardly. “Uh, hi guys. Some of you might know that me and Jorge have been working on a WCKD tablet we managed to smuggle out of Denver. Well, this morning, we were able to unlock it.”

A sporadic mix of “wow,” “oh?” and “huh” litter the crowd. Brenda and Minho look at each other, eyebrows raised.

“It’s solar powered, so it’s self-sustaining. Hopefully we can use it to repair the other WCKD gear we salvaged. We could keep digital logs and reduce the wood we use to make paper.”

Brenda nods, the idea sounding nice enough.

“What was on it?” Minho suddenly asks. “I mean, we’re still safe, aren’t we?” 

Brenda turns to him in worry at his rapid change of demeanor. Aris stares at him too, also caught off-guard.

“We’re fine, hermano,” Jorge chimes in. “It’s mostly records, like of their medical research. Not all of it, but enough to be helpful. We’ll be able to improve our medicine.”

“There’s also messages between them and some other countries,” Aris says. “We’re not the only survivors.”

To Brenda, this is good news. The weight of potentially being one of the last human beings on Earth was one that had laid heavy on her mind. Knowing there are other people out there, it takes away some of that guilt and responsibility.

But she can feel the way Minho tenses next to her, the energy of it almost radiating outward. She squeezes his hand in concern.

“Hey, what’s up?” she whispers. 

Minho looks at her for a moment, conflicted. Eventually, he stands up and runs toward the woods, Aris briefly pausing whatever he had been saying before continuing. Brenda doesn’t hesitate before following, knowing Jorge will brief her on whatever she missed later.

She doesn’t try and call out to him, knowing that he knows that she’s coming after him. It’s probably what he expected, as well.

He only stops once they make it to the hidden area of the beach where they first met. He stares out at the ocean, the sunset almost finished. 

Brenda silently takes her place next to him, wrapping an arm around his side. She watches the tide with him and waits. It takes him a few minutes to speak.

“They should never have taken that tablet,” he mumbles. Brenda looks up at him; his eyes are a little vacant, like his mind is seeing something else. “It can only make things worse.”

“How?” Brenda asks softly. “What do you know about it?” 

Minho swallows. “They had them everywhere at WCKD. They used them for everything. Opening doors, giving medicine, writing logs.” He looks down at the sand. “Shocking you. Increasing your heart rate. Making you see things.”

Brenda’s heart shudders, much like it does every time Minho mentions his torture at the hands of WCKD. He doesn’t much, which she understands. 

“They’re not here anymore,” Brenda assures. She turns Minho so he’s facing her, but his eyes have trouble focusing. “WCKD is gone. We watched it burn. The whole thing collapsed, no one survived. It’s done. It’s dead.”

“‘We’re not the only survivors,’” Minho repeats Aris’ words. Only this time, they’re filled with dread. “You heard that, right? WCKD was communicating with other people. Those other people can’t be good, and they’re still out there. They’re probably looking for a cure, too.”

“That’s not our problem.” Brenda squeezes Minho’s shoulders. “This island is our home. We’re not going anywhere.”

“But they might.” Minho’s gaze finally hones in on Brenda, wide-eyed and desperate. “What if…what if turning the tablet on sent out a signal of some kind? Maybe it sent our location to the other survivors. They’ll figure out we have Immunes here, they could send boats to try and capture…” 

“Hey, babe, look. Look at the water right now.” Minho turns. “No boats, right? No one’s attacking you right now. No one’s coming for us.”

Minho takes a few long, deep breaths. Brenda rubs a hand on his chest with each breath, right over the heart.

“Not right now,” Minho says through an exhale. “But they could.”

“They could,” Brenda nods. She cups Minho’s face and turns him back to her. “But we have weapons. We have guards watching the island. We’d see them coming from miles away.”

Minho frowns. He opens his mouth, then closes it. He grips Brenda’s side with a panicked tightness.

“I can’t go back,” he whispers. “I can’t let Aris and Sonya go back. It can’t happen to Thomas, to Gally.” His voice begins to rise in anger. “WCKD was willing to kill to get to me. What if the other survivors come, and you’re standing in their way?”

Brenda has a flashback to when WCKD took Minho. She and Jorge had originally left, but came back, and they took down as many WCKD guards as they could. It hadn’t been enough, and the way Thomas screamed out Minho’s name as they dragged his unconscious body into the plane is still so visceral in her mind. 

She’s learned by now not to blame herself for things like this, but when you love someone as much as Brenda loves Minho, it’s hard to push back the guilt. She didn’t know him then, but if she had, she would have done more than snipe the guards. She probably would have ran right into the line of fire if it meant getting him out.

“If I’m in their way,” Brenda says, her hand wrapped around the back of his neck, “then they don’t have a fucking chance.”

Minho looks at her, clearly still uneasy but starting to calm down, his hand fiddling with the fabric of her shirt. She loves how much they joke and banter in their relationship, but she also knows when to turn that off, and when Minho needs her. She’s still learning to be vulnerable, but she’ll do it for him.

“If I…” Minho starts. “If you…” He shakes his head, unable to say it. Brenda knows what he’s thinking. “I know my life has been mostly shit, but you’re still the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You know?”

Brenda gives a small smile. 

“That’s not changing.” She pauses, then decides to turn on some of the humor. “Unless the survivors come and they’re actually super chill, and you meet someone you decide is better than me.”

It manages to crack a smile from Minho, a tension in her chest releasing at the sight of it. She knows the things that haunt Minho will never really leave him, but if she can be there at his side to bring him back to earth, to keep him grounded, and to even get him to laugh, then she’ll be content. It’s the least she can do, really.

Minho pulls her in for a kiss. The sun finishes setting behind them, the darkness of the night draped over them like a blanket. 

“That’s never happening,” Minho assures. “I can promise that.”

[aikuse]

summary: don’t open the box. that’s what you keep telling yourself, over and over, seeing the unassuming cube of cardboard sitting on your bedside. don’t open it; because then, you have to face the truth. the truth that it’s all over.

➥ or: four times that togame abandons you, and one time he finally stays.

⚠️ contains: fem!reader, abandonment, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, alcohol consumption, violence, summer vacations, missed connections, suggestive themes. mdni.

🗒️ author's notes: this is something i've been brewing for a long time ever since i wrote my first meeting fic with togame <3 and i'm obsessed with this chainsmokers album, i feel like many of those songs are so him in some ways...i hope you guys enjoy! please feel free to like this post or reply to be added to the taglist.

chapters (5):

last day alive (now or never)

bloodstream (i'm so complicated)

my type (can't decide if you'll be yours or mine)

it won't kill ya (dance with me)

something just like this (some fairytale bliss)

-> divider(s) by: @/cafekitsune

[mothfables]

Hello, I’m Moth! This is a sideblog for any writing I do!

As of right now I will not be doing requests of any kind (except for those that have been sitting in my inbox for the past... uh while). This may change in the future, and if it does I will let you know, but for now anything I post is just going to be for me! Also, if something catches your eye, like a prompt or headcanon, feel free to use it! I just ask that you credit me! <3 The ask box is always open if you have any questions or just want to talk :D

This will also be where I’ll link any series I end up doing, so keep an eye out!

If you want to check out my main blog- and see where my current interests are going- check out @iolitemoth!

I’m also on AO3 now! Check @Iolite_Moth!

Specific Tags: #moth’s tales (my writing), #moth art (art by me), #sneak peek (what it sounds like), #chapter notes (notes from first drafts), #fable art (fanart!!!), #fable writing (anything written by other folks), #mod speaks (just me talking, about writing or anything) #gift fic (gifts for folks!!), #snippets and bits (short bits, not necessarily for anything specific)

Skye in the Studio

Part 1

Part 2

Sillyvision Stories

Spell Gone Wrong

Henry’s Transformation

Gender is Boring (Robots and I Agree)

The Plague

Sunstone’s Universal Venture

Hatchlinghood Shenanigans

Trouble with Gossan

Assorted Linked Universe

Violets and Rabbits

♡Bunny Flops♡: Part One - Part Two - Part Three

A Bun in More Ways Than One

In Which Wars Picks a Fight With an Apple Tree (& Loses)

Blushing Bunnies and Rings

Nightmare

Beetle Hunting for Beedle

Thistles and Thorns

War Stories

Winter Chills

Beads and Rings and Other Things

Rabbit in a Wolf Den

Legend(ary) Cuddles

Assorted Legend of Zelda

An Assortment of Kisses

Cuddles and Wishes and Bunny Kisses - A collection of soft, fluffy moments with the bunny duo. Set after ALBW and during LU

Getting Together

First Kiss

Rain

Bunny Cuddles

Growth Spurt

Apples and Bunny Love

Heat Wave

Couch Cuddles

Chore Day

Bunny Fever

Cuddles? ✔️ Kisses? ✔️ Anything Else? ...Nah I Think We’re Good

Strength Training

Scars

Wolves and Rabbits - Legend meets Wolfie for the first time(s). It doesn’t go well

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Snail - Legend is turned small suddenly, leaving the Chain to deal with a traumatized baby!Legend with the Vet’s memories

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Fluffruary

Day 1: Best Friends

Day 2: First Date

Day 3: Cozy Shelter

Day 4: Ice Skating

Day 5: Hugs

Day 6: Small Gestures

Little Bunny - stories about age regressor Legend and his family

Four, Reading

Wild, Baking

The Chain, Storm

Groose, Meeting

Ravio, Thunderstorm

Happy Bunny

Tumble

Raviolishipweek

Queering the Chain

Day 1: Queerplatonic Relationship

[shadowsong26fic]

Coming Attractions!

Yes, I'm aware it's Tuesday not Monday but shhhhh XD

Just a quick one this month. Not even going to split it up by fandom as I usually do, just kinda blitz through.

So I ended up...essentially taking January off from writing, apart from a scattered few sentences here and there. Which on the one hand was probably good for me but on the other hand I'm behind on projects lol. Ah well.

Priorities for this month: 1. SWBB I'm picking up the project I had to step away from last year. Anakin was not found at age nine and never became a Jedi; we're handwaving that TPM ended roughly the same way anyway because Padme and Obi-Wan are very good at what they do and one of the other pilots got lucky on the droid control ship. Fast-forward to like a year and a half/two years into the Clone Wars, Ahsoka ends up briefly stranded on a planet that's neutral mostly because it's a black market hub. They click pretty quickly, hang out for a while, stumble into a Separatist plot to test a chemical weapon and blame a limnic eruption for the deaths, and Deal With It. Hondo and Bo-Katan are briefly involved because I said so XD 2. P&J We're getting to the part where Ari actually finds stuff out, lol. Getting to Europe and talking with other researchers, etc. There's some interesting stuff in Marseille, and Calais is important. And Ari and Phil continue to be cute in the background. 3. The Other Battlestar Baltar ends up on Pegasus; there's a bunch of stuff built up around the two OCs who fill the plotholes he left behind...I need to get more text down in general, lol. And also figure out how I want to structure it? Like...I do need to establish the new people (including a few on Pegasus, like the senior medical officer, a marine officer, there will also be a Four who gets pulled from the civilian fleet...) and also clarify why Baltar ends up in a different position (and why Helo doesn't because he and Athena still need to meet). And it would probably make the most sense to just go linearly and handle all the miniseries exposition in order. But then again would that actually be Interesting; or would it be better to pick up later and jump back and forth in time...yeah, you see my problem lol. 4. Acheron Javert Groundhog Day fic; looping the last 36ish hours of his life. (from right before he heads to the barricade to his death). 5. Maybe get back into Precipice or write some origfic if I have time/brain.

Longer-range projects: 1. Percussive Maintenance is still hanging out in my head, so I'm tentatively planning on that for GBB (aka the one where the at least two concussions Sam gets during Downloaded unlock Enough of his memories) 2. Or maybe I'll jump back to The Blood of Angry Men, we'll see. (aka a Zarek character study; looking back on his life (and the allies/friends/tools that he's led to their deaths) from the night before his execution) 3. What I'm definitely not doing is any of the crossovers floating around in my head; either the Star Wars ones or the WoT ones. (the one I talked about the other night; and a fusion is actually sort of building in my head because of course it is. Mostly because of the Kara-as-Mat thing I pinged onto the other night; but also Baltar would be an interesting Logain; possibly Zarek as Taim? I think I'd leave Rand as Rand and just fill in the roles around him. Lee also lines up really well with Perrin...and since this would derail pretty early on I feel a little more Flexible about love interests/etc. lol. For reasons of Tuon, Moiraine, and Lan, mostly. Also Faile. Also I'd still want Caprica as a sul'dam, I think, but Logain doesn't have a canon love interest IIRC sooooo that's easier to sort out XD ...although now that I think about it, Athena as Nynaeve and Helo as Lan could work...) 4. Incinctus/other Castlevania things. 5. I'm doing pod_together again once signups open. I need to refine my fandoms list, haha. Not that I haven't had interesting times the last couple years, but it'd be nice to get matched based on something that Isn't a very secondary/tertiary fandom for me again. 6. AtLA may come floating back into my head enough to pick up some of the projects I wandered away from there, we'll see.

Not writing, strictly speaking, but there's some admin/modding stuff for this year's GBB that I should get a move on, especially since the event is moving to May-October, plus helping out with SWBB the way I do every year.

...yeah, that's pretty much where things stand. Hopefully I'll hit a nice groove this month!

What about you guys, what are you working on?

[departeaaa]

CASSIAN BARAKZAI • DC BIO • 36

i tremble. they're gonna eat me alive...

chara tag ⁂ fic idea tag ⁂ creations tag ⁂ pinterest tag ⁂ ship w/ john c tag

BASICS

Name: Genesis Cassian Barakzai

Nickname(s): Cass, Genesis, Jen

Date of birth: April 1 (She says her life’s a joke from birth)

Star sign: Aries.

Gender/pronouns: Cis-woman, she/her

Orientation: Bisexual, Biromantic

Occupation: former Field Journalist. Currently a ghost-author. Fake psychic who actually knows her shit.

Relationship status: Single, but sometimes seeing J.ohn Co.nstantine. It’s ridiculously complicated.

Playby: V/ita Mi/r

trigger warning before reading further: death, probably other things but idk what exactly.

Tests

INFJ CHAOTIC GOOD

A QUOTE THAT REMINDS ME OF THEM:

“What use is moonlight? I reach into it, fingers open, and my hand is silvered and blessed, and comes back to me holding nothing.”

— Margaret Atwood, from “Sumacs,” in Interlunar

BEGINNINGS

Born In: Unspecified, Russian (Unspecified because Cass' father never told her where) Raised In Location: Unspecified, Ireland (Unspecified because Cass won't tell)

Current Location: Gotham.

Places Lived: Random places. She just lives wherever.

Nationality: American.

Background:

Her biological mother is from Afghanistan and her biological father is from Russia. She never met her biological mother, but her biological father was cool enough to give her her mother’s surname ‘Barakzai’ as a memory to her. Her father was originally going to live in London but he ended up marrying an Irish woman who he loved very much, and during that time, things were alright.

Even with the area in conflict during the 90s, he still made things comfortable and Cass still had a good group of friends to rely on and family she was comfortable with. She also adored her little sister. She was a surprisingly happy-go-lucky girl growing up, to many people’s surprise if they see pictures of her from this time compared to now. During her time in Ireland, she learned magic from her step-mother and was pretty great at it and gifted at predictions.

Thing was, she noticed that magic was a little buggy when her father used it so she always warned him of it. She wasn’t exactly sure why. But when she was seventeen, her parents died performing a spell that they did without thinking of the repercussions and it not only wiped them out but everyone in their small town except for Cass and her sister.

And upon this discovery, Cass and her sister hopped out of town and began new lives. Cass decided not to use magic often, but ended up using ‘fake psychic’ predictions along with real ones in order to make a good amount of money to make it to uni and to afford a place for her little sister to live since they didn’t have any other family to go to. And though she knew her father would roll in his grave, they chose London as the place to stay.

Cass stayed for a while and studied up until a grandma of hers reached out to help take care of her sister, so she could live her life. Cass did not want to leave her sister, but she ended up doing field journalism and occasionally took time off. It was during this time where she met John Constantine and found him to be rather irritating, despite sleeping with him.

The two ended up working together because he noticed some of the fake psychic predictions she made were legit and he also had noticed when she performed street magic for kids she sometimes did actual tricks.

He had warned her to be careful around kids, but then contradicted himself by asking her to help him with something. And she had helped him, and it ended up biting her in the ass and he ended up ditching her. Which led her to be cross with him. The two of them did not meet again, until later on when he’d warned her that her sister had been possessed by a demon. Which caused Cass to not only use magic again, but she was now open to working with John again.

Though she no longer uses magic often, and she uses her party tricks of fake psychic readings for her income and her books, she will occasionally investigate hauntings for people just to make sure what happened to her small neighborhood won’t happen to anyone else’s home or family – though it was not a demon’s doing and her parents’ own foolishness. Cause deep down, despite Cass’ serious façade, she just wants to help people.

[stellamancer]

sniffs moda u wrote me an essay.

tldr: if you don't read me and moda crying at one another at least look at their cute doodle at the end of their essay.... it's so cute.... despite... well you know. i'm gonna hang in on my wall.

AS MUCH AS I WOULD LOVE TO CALL THIS FIC MY MAGNUM OPUS IT IS NOT A FIC I WOULD WRITE NORMALLY. lmao in any sense of the word. time loop. no romance. gojo... but i think this would be the most memorable since time loop searing itself into ur brain (yours and mine especially)

BUT YES. i am an advocate for the strong opening!! i mentioned it before, but it is my personal belief that you must start strong. as someone who generally decides in the first few paragraphs if i want to read something or not... i feel like they are the most important parts of any particular work.

buT YEAH. i was very meticulous in most... most of my details LMAOO. beef has told me in the past that a good story has good foreshadowing and like i get really... giving a reader a good shock, but i think it's very satisfying for readers to like, figure stuff out. and the thing with the magical girl was put there expressly to give readers an early hint about what gojo basically spells out for them later.

BUT YEAH I'VE THOUGHT ABOUT IT TOO and with the hussle and bustle of everything, especially in earlier loops where things are insanely chaotic, there were definitely incidents where reader was probably touching someone else at the time of death. but the consistent looping needs consistent touching.... hehe....

AND YES. SINISTER COUNTING. that's on purpose. it echoes into the repetitive lines, well, mostly repetitive. i made jumps just because i feel like the higher the number went, the higher the stakes felt, ya know? but yes reader needs therapy soooo bad.

AND THANKS AHAHA. i was honestly a little concerned that reader came off as.... too composed. but it's as you say, they are very good at compartmentalizing their feelings in addition to approaching the situation in a very pragmatic way. that being said, there were definitely loops off screen where they were just... completely bsod'd. i didn't write those in because i didn't feel they'd really add to the story. HAHA. tho i guess maybe one sprinkled in would have been good.

i think that they were. fairly well adjusted, i actually haven't really given too much thought to what kind of life they were living prior to this.... time to think about that and hand off more crumbs to ari lmaoo.

aH YES. that line, and then the other shounen battle manga lines... very intentional on my part. me, as the writer, poking fun at the irony of the situations HAHA my own personal copium.

EVEN IF U HAVEN'T SEEN DA EPISODES... i know u have seen the gifs. and for someone who says it ain't about gojo grinding his gojussy on jogo's arm you certainly bring it up a LOT.

ALSO LISTEN. i think it can be agreed that he is supposed to be a good looking guy. reader just acknowledges that, and as you said, that's their copium. actually the... morbid entrancement is one of things i really wanted in this fic and what, in my mind, links it to it's spirtual prequels (nier fic and another fic i wrote a long time ago in which both readers were also entranced by a very handsome man committing atrocities)

and right??? HE IS FULL NAMED SO MANY TIMES IN THIS FIC. but it doesn't feel quite right to call him gojo for them i think. a little too familiar, even tho it happens later on.

yes... it is evil but i must hammer the despair down.

but yes!! their memory is good. they are focused. they are in the zone. they got amazing grades in school LMAOOO.

you say it's the only time loop fic you'll read but what if i wrote another? /j BUT YES. they are a determinator!!! strong willed!!! precious baby!!! but their friends are very precious to them. makes me think i should do something to their parents in their backstory. :D

BUT YES!!! DA ESCAPE. too bad about it tho. lmao.

ALSO YES THE NO MUSCLE!! very unfair you know? they are getting smarter.... or maybe smarter... ahaha...

i feel like.... the last bit of that scene with kenny is very heartbreaking in a lot of ways because the resignation... the realization that they about to be killed with intention. :'D

ALSO I THINK IT'S UNFAIR TO CALL ME A GOJO FUCKER FOR READER BEING OVERWHELMED BY HIM LOOKING AT THEM it wasn't for hornky reasons but more 'is this real???' reasons sniffs... so mean to me.

it was my intent for the mochi receipt scene to be funny!!! a moment of levity if you will since the majority of this fic is so heavy and like, i guess pretty representative of how his presence is really the turning point for everything....

but YEAHHHH reader blasting that barrier hehe.... as the deserve a little destruction as a treat.

AND YESSS THAT LINE... the one you mentioned before... hehe... it's a good onee... but yes... i feel like since 1) reader has gone through the wringer and is very desperate and 2) they're kind of an outsider to the situation they're not going to try and be delicate about what's going on. i think that kind of directness really gets to gojo.

ALSO BECOME GOJO FUCKER MODA AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

gojo did not know jogo's name i think, but reader did tell him what it was. i rewrote their explanation so many times because i wanted them to be concise but they were also... not amazing at it at first LMAOO.

happy ending? maybe (actually moda.... they didn't really save anyone at the station itself, but their actions did trickle down so that ultimately the lives of others (namely nanami and the haseba twins) were saved. BUT i think they would have been happier if that fool didn't open the box right back up HAHAHAHA.

but thank you moda, truly, like, thank you for being my cheerleader during the whole writing process of this fic, from listening to me ramble about it, to listening to me read it multiple times in my attempts to push myself to finish. your support helped me finish this fic!!!! even if u and pika were trying to tell me that two could fic in the box and they could boink weeps.

i hope u look forward to what happens to this reader next hehehehehehehehee.

beyond the unending night (reader + satoru gojo)

notes: it's finally here. the long awaited halloween fic. yes, i know it's march, but i did start working on it in september. haha. there's so much i could say, but i will leave it at that this fic is, in every sense, a fic that i would not normally write. and yet here we are.

contains: f!reader (no physical description or gendered language is used), no explicit romantic pairing (though you don't have to look hard to find the reader x gojo implications), major character death (played with), semi-graphic depictions of death, blood and violence, minor suicide ideation, canon retelling (lines of dialogue are pulled from the jjk english dub because i'm a dirty dub watcher). opening poem is from higurashi no naku koro ni (minagoroshi-hen). fic title is from giga's beyond the way.

please note that this is a time loop fic and, by nature contains repeating scenes (particularly from canon). please do not read this fic if you do not like that sort of thing.

wc: 21,883 read on ao3 (account required) || playlist

Please tell me what happened in this night. It's like the cat inside the box.

Please tell me what happened in this night. You don't know if the cat in the box is dead or alive. Please tell me what happened in this night. The cat in the box was dead.

The first time, it is instant— you don’t even know what’s happening.

The second, it is by flame, but you barely realize it, barely feel it— a second of mind numbing heat before nothing.

The third time, it is something slicing across your throat; you see the blood spilling everywhere, then the pain follows— a moment of pure agony before nothing.

The fourth time you realize what’s going on; what’s really going on.

You realize you’ve been dying.

You think your head is going to explode.

At first, you think it’s because the subway platform is crowded, insanely so— there are hundreds of people shoved into this space alongside you, packed like sardines in a can. You’ve never been one for crowds, but it’s the reality of things when you live in Tokyo. For the most part, you’ve learned to accept it, but even this crowd is a little much and you wish you hadn’t listened to your friends when they said you should go party in Shibuya for Halloween; you don’t even like partying.

There’s a sharp pain in your temple followed by a thought so loud that it feels like someone is screaming it at you through a megaphone positioned right next to your ear.

It’s the night of October 31, 2018— Halloween in Shibuya.

For the eighth time.

Before you can even question the thought, images flash in your mind’s eye, blurry at first before they come into focus. The platform gates open. Chaos ensues. People dropping onto the subway tracks— spontaneously bursting into flame— their heads, necks sliced off, stomachs cut open—

Bile rapidly builds up in your throat, and you clamp your jaw shut, trying to force it down. Not here. Not now. You try to focus on something else, anything else happening outside of your brain. There’s a pair next to you musing about the people standing on the subway tracks, wondering what the two (the four?) of them are talking about. You blink back tears as you look. You can only see two: a freakishly tall man with white hair dressed in all black, and another man, dressed in strange, yet more traditional looking garb. Are those costumes too? You don’t have a lot of time to think about it as another image forces its way into your brain.

Your corpse— lifeless on the ground.

Your corpse— burning to ash.

Your corpse— bleeding out.

You can’t hold it in any more. Every fiber in your being screams at you to get away from the subway tracks, but instead you rush toward them, shoving people left and right as your hands desperately reach the stability of the gate. You grip it like a lifeline as you retch over the side of it, the contents of your stomach spilling all over the subway tracks.

There’s a quiet murmur of disgust behind you but you can’t be bothered to respond. You need to get out of here. You need to leave. You need to do it before—

The gates open and the crowd starts to move like a tidal wave, pushing and shoving their way through the gate. You’re swept away, vomit long forgotten as you and a few dozen others tumble onto the railway.

Alarm bells go off in your brain, loud and deafening. A voice in the back of your head screams for you to get off the track! Get off the track now before—

The platform erupts into a cacophony of screams, drenched in horror, saturated in fear. You are surrounded by people, by corpses— beheaded, sliced open, bursting into flames.

Your terror roots you to the ground as the carnage ensues around you. It’s only when another person, another corpse, dressed in a magical girl costume collides with your body that you can finally move. But it’s too late, you realize, despaired and helpless, as your bodies fall to the ground.

It’s too late.

You die an eighth time.

You think your chest is going to explode.

At first, you think it’s because it’s so hard to breathe, frustratingly so— there are hundreds of people squeezed into this space alongside you, packed like cattle for slaughter. You've never been one for crowds, but it’s the reality of things when you’re in Shibuya. For the most part, you’ve come to accept it, but this crowd is way too much and you wish you had just stayed home and ordered a pizza; though honestly, the thought of pizza kind of makes you sick.

There’s a dull throbbing in your forehead, followed by a thought so loud that it feels like someone’s hollering at you from a loudspeaker that’s been installed in your brain.

It’s the night of October 31, 2018— Halloween in Shibuya.

You think it's the ninth time now.

Behind you, you hear a woman screaming, her voice crazed and terrified. You turn your head automatically to look at her and when you see her you realize you recognize her yellow and white magical girl costume. You can say with certainty that you’ve never seen her before and yet—

Before you can ruminate more on it, images— memories assault your mind’s eye with a clarity that is absolutely sickening. That woman colliding into you, your bodies slamming into the subway tracks before you both— Your stomach churns violently,

and you feel like you’re going to puke, but you force it down— can't afford to right now. Instead, you make your way over to the woman.

Her head is in her hands as she mutters over and over again about how everyone is going to die. People around her figure that being stuck in here with the crowd has probably gotten to her. You, however, know better.

“...hey,” you say softly.

Her muttering comes to an abrupt halt and slowly she raises her head to look at you. There’s a flash of recognition in her eyes and she grabs you violently by the shoulders. “You! You know, don’t you? That we’re going to die?”

If it weren’t for the fact that you have indeed experienced death here eight times already, then you would have thought she’s lost her mind. Slowly, you nod and she seems relieved by it, her grip on you loosening.

You can’t help but feel a little relieved too— glad to know that you’re not the only one experiencing this nightmare. There’s a voice in the back of your mind that’s confused though. Why is she only remembering now? But then again, it took you a few times before you realized yourself.

Around you people start to gasp, and you glance back toward the railway to see an abnormally tall man with white hair and dressed in all black jump down from the atrium onto the railway. He lands rather gracefully for someone who jumped at least one floor and starts to converse with the other three people (you think they're people— two of them are in some pretty wild costumes) on the track.

Wait. Isn’t it supposed to be just two people: the tall man and the one in the traditional clothes? Where did the other two come from?

“We have to get out of here,” the woman says. “Before they kill us.”

Her grip shifts from your shoulders to your arms and she starts to shove at everyone around you, trying to force her way through. She seems to know, just as well as you do, that any second now the gates will open and the crowd will start spilling onto the railway, littering the tracks with bodies and ash. Neither of you can let yourselves get swept up with the rest. If you do and you end up on those tracks, you’re as good as dead.

People move aside at a snail's pace, many of them too focused on trying to see what is going on on the subway tracks. This isn't good. You need to move faster or else—

The collective sound of the gates opening echoes in your head, a metallic hiss that makes your stomach fold into itself. Before either of you can stop yourselves, you both whip your heads back to look, to confirm, but it’s a mistake.

The briefest lapse in attention is enough to pull you both into the current of people, and try as you might to fight against it, the crowd splits you and the woman apart as it swallows you both whole. You’re both spat onto the tracks at the edge of the platform and your head collides with the metal rails of the track. It feels like your skull is about to crack in two, and it takes every fiber in your being to scramble to your feet. You're close enough to the platform that if you can just climb up it, then you'll be—

“Help! Help!”

It’s the woman’s voice. You turn to see that she ended up a couple meters away from you. She’s staring at you, eyes brimming with fear filled tears as she extends her hand in your direction. You take a step toward her, reaching out.

And then, her entire body is engulfed in flames, the skirt of her magical girl costume a ring of fiery death around her.

Her blood curdling scream is the only thing you can hear, her burning flesh, the only thing you can see. You don’t know what to do.

You can’t save her.

There's something touching your back. You can barely feel the pressure, but it's hot, scorching hot, mind numbingly hot, painfully hothothot.

You know this sensation. You have felt it before. The scent of burning cloth, burning hair, burning flesh clogs your nostrils. It's too late, you realize, helpless, despaired as the flames eat at your body— your soon to be corpse.

It's too late.

You die a ninth time.

It’s October 31, 2018— Halloween in Shibuya.

This is the tenth time.

Your head hurts, but you ignore it. There’s something more important that you need to attend to. You immediately make your way to the woman you met during your last round, the one you watched burn to death. Her costume is still pristine, unmarred by fire and death.

For now.

She’s not screaming this time and while there’s a little voice in the back of your mind that’s concerned by this, you try to ignore it.

“Um, excuse me?” you say when she doesn’t acknowledge you as you approach.

The woman turns to look at you. You’re taken aback by the distinct lack of recognition and it feels almost as if the woman you encountered previously and the one before you now are two separate people. In a way, they technically are.

“Do I… know you?” she finally asks when you don’t say anything.

Your mouth is dry. How do you even answer that? You don’t know her. You just watched her die twice. You know her. She begged you for help. You couldn’t save her.

If you explain all of this you know she’s just going to think you’ve lost your mind. Maybe you already have— you’ve died nine times after all.

You give her a weak smile. “I… just wanted to tell you that you think your costume looks great.”

She blinks, taken aback by your words. There’s no doubt that she wasn’t expecting you to say that. It’s the truth though, her costume is nice; she’s dressed up as a character from a magical girl anime that was popular a couple years ago.

“Thank you! I made it myself!” The woman breaks out into a genuine smile and your heart hurts. In a few moments she’ll die and the costume she worked so hard to make will be nothing but ash on the subway tracks.

“Sorry,” you blurt out before you can stop yourself.

“For?”

For watching her die. For not being able to save her.“...I just kind of came up to you all of a sudden…”

She laughs. “It’s okay.”

It’s not.

You consider telling her that she should try to move. That if she stays here she will die. You don’t want her to die. Again. You can still hear her screaming in your ears as she burned to death. You want to tell her.

You don’t.

“Stay safe, okay?” you say. It almost sounds like you’re begging.

She gives you another smile, kind and gentle and you think you’re far too undeserving of it for not telling her what fate will soon befall her. “You too.”

“I’ll try,” you say and move away from the woman just as the gates open and the crowd surges toward the railway. You do not fight it as you are swept up into the crowd and despite what you said, you do not try, this time, to stay safe.

You die for the tenth time.

It’s October 31, 2018— Halloween in Shibuya.

This is the fourteenth time.

There’s a slight ache in your head, but it’s subtle enough that you can ignore it. The pain you feel lessens with each round and you think it’s a sign that your body no longer feels the need to remind you of the precarious situation that you’re in.

Or maybe you are just becoming numb to everything: your death, the death of the people around you, the death of the woman in the magical girl costume—

You try not to think about it too much as you reach into your bag to check the time on your phone: 8:37PM. There’s not a lot of time: you need to move.

At the very end of your last attempt to escape this nightmare you realized something. You need to know exactly what is going on around you so you can plan accordingly: where to not stand, where to not go. Up until now, you’ve relied almost solely on the knowledge gained from your previous failures to try and survive, but obviously it’s not enough to keep you alive. You’re not sure why you didn’t realize this earlier. The panic, maybe? The fear?

Maybe you really are becoming numb to all this.

Unlike previous iterations, this time you elect to move closer to the gate, positioning yourself somewhere against it where you’re unlikely to be pushed off the platform in a couple minutes when they open. You take great care to place yourself where you can see the ones responsible for the slaughter very clearly. At the beginning, you could only see one, the one who looks the most human, but with each repetition, the other two have become more and more clear. You wonder why. You don’t have time to think about it.

Murmurs nearby alert you to the arrival of the fourth major player involved in the night’s events. You look up and see the white haired man dressed in all black descending upon the platform like an angel from the heavens. This is your first time really looking at him and you realize there’s something almost inhumanly attractive about him. You can’t quite put your finger on it, but it occurs to you that you shouldn’t even try; you don’t have the time to be drooling over some handsome stranger.

You’ve naturally never taken the time to try and listen to whatever the conversation the man and his opponents have before all hell breaks loose on the platform, but you try and lean closer to listen. It’s hard to hear over the dozens of conversations going on behind you, but you try anyway. There might be a clue to what’s actually going on— or better yet, a clue on how to get out of it.

It’s obvious that you’re missing context from what bits of the conversation you do manage to hear, but honestly it all sounds like stuff out of a shounen battle manga. There is one part of the exchange that you manage to hear with a startling sort of clarity. It feels almost as if your heart stops beating as your blood turns ice cold in your veins.

“If I run away, you’re just gonna kill everyone here, right?” the man in black asks.

There’s a pause, and if your heart was still beating it’d be long enough for just four heartbeats.

“If you run away?” The monster with cane repeats, the sadistic grin spreading wide across its features, displaying its charcoal black teeth. The gravelly sound of its voice sets fire to the blood in your veins, your stilled heart thumping wildly, in fear, in anticipation. Soon. It’s happening soon. You brace yourself. “We’re going to do that even if you don’t!”

You die a fourteenth time.

It’s October 31, 2018— Halloween in Shibuya.

This is the seventeenth time now.

Things are going surprisingly well, even as the people around you tumble onto the tracks. You manage to hold on, desperation keeping you from falling into the abyss. This is good, you tell yourself, despite the fact that it’s not the first time you’ve achieved this. Every little victory is worth celebrating, but you have to remain vigilant. This is yet another information gathering loop, and while you know that maybe this time you’ll be lucky and live, there’s still a chance, a big one, at that, that you will die again.

You have to make the most of each and every death.

It’s such a morbid thought, but the ends justify the means, or so you tell yourself. If you have to die a few times to make it out of this unending nightmare, then so be it.

The spot you’re in is a good vantage point; it’s easier to see everything happening below you. It’s so good that it’s actually sickening. You watch as the monster with the cane and one with what looks like branches for eyes slaughter the people on the track, mowing them down, setting them aflame. In another life, in another many lives, that was you down there, and for what feels like the first time in forever, you feel like you’re going to be sick. You feel like, at some point, you likened the scene before you to some kind of shounen battle manga, but you think that was wrong.

This is borderline horror.

Everything plays out before you like a scene out of an action horror flick. If you didn’t know better, you’d think you were just an extra on set, but you know the reality is that you’re just an extra to whatever phantasmal battle is taking place in front of you. The monsters and the strangely dressed man all try to attack the man in black, but he manages to block every hit effortlessly, as if he is protected by some sort of invisible barrier. When it seems the two monsters are about to hit him, he merely jumps out of the way and the two monsters seem to collide, the force of their combined strength sending a gust of air throughout the crowd. The man in black neatly lands on a nearby platform half wall and says something about curse users, whatever those are, to the monsters, before he starts to mock them, pulling down his strange blindfold in the process.

And this, you’ve found, is where you start to get in trouble.

You clearly remember thinking, at some point, previously, that there was something attractive about this man. You still don’t know what it is. You haven’t had the time to try and figure it out, but there is one thing that you do know: you can’t keep your eyes off of him.

He drops back down onto the tracks, antagonizing his opponents in an arrogant tone as he approaches. When he comes to a stop between the two monsters, the second round of their fight begins. They try to hit him, but he dodges still, gracefully, fluidly, like the three of them are embroiled in some sort of passionate, yet violent dance.

You cannot turn your eyes away as he cruelly rips off one of the arms of the one-eyed monster.

You cannot turn your eyes away as he brutally kicks the branch-eyed monster in the abdomen, sending them flying to the other side of the platform.

You cannot turn your eyes away as he effortlessly hurls the one-eyed, now one-armed monster in the same direction, sending them smashing into the wall.

Only when the man in black seems to fly to the other side is the spell over you seemingly broken. Still, your eyes give chase, and your body too, rushing from one side of the platform to the other. You can’t lose sight of this fight, you tell yourself, settling in a spot you recall being safe during your last round. Doing so could mean another death, another loop, another October 31.

You watch as the man in black acrobatically dodges what looks to be vines or roots that the monster with branches for eyes seems to have summoned from the depths of the Tokyo metro. He lands on the monster’s shoulders, balancing on them as he uses its branch-eyes for leverage. The look in the man’s eyes is so crazed that you can see it from where you’re standing. He says something to it and then—

With a feral and sadistic smile, he rips their eyes straight out of their skull.

Your heart is pounding wildly in your chest as you watch the fight unfold. It is horrifyingly, disgustingly violent, yet still you watch as people on the track are killed by the human-like person, blood raining down as their freshly beheaded skulls go flying into the air. He and the one-eyed monster launch their counter attacks against the man in black and the blowback is so intense the power goes out causing everyone to scream.

There’s a faint glow where the man in black is standing that starts to grow brighter and brighter. You can make out his form turning to face the wall, and it seems almost like he’s slammed the monster that had branches for eyes against it with some sort of telekinetic power. Despite the panic from the people around you, you manage to hear him, chuckling like a mad man as he draws closer and closer to the monster.

The one-eyed monster yells out a name, a name you think must belong to the man, but he doesn’t hear it. He doesn’t hear the one-eyed monster as he extends his hands out toward the eyeless monster, exerting some kind of force that you can’t really see. He doesn’t hear the one-eyed monster as the eyeless monster’s entire body is vaporized in a flash of blue light. He doesn’t hear the one-eyed monster, as the lights flicker back on revealing a smoking crater stained with purple blood where the eyeless monster once stood.

But you do.

Satoru Gojo.

You make sure to remember that.

It’s October 31, 2018— Halloween in Shibuya.

And this is the eighteenth time.

You watch as the man called Satoru Gojo stalks through the crowd of people on the subway tracks, chasing after the one-eyed fire monster. It throws people at him, in a clear attempt to slow him down.

It does not work.

Satoru Gojo climbs back onto the platform in a way that you can only describe as inhuman, and the people nearby shriek and move away from him, out of terror, out of fear. You, on the other hand, draw closer, refusing to lose sight of him.

He is relentless in his pursuit of the one-eyed monster. It continues to throw person after person at him, but he does not stop and the people float there, suspended in midair before they are gently lowered to the ground by some unseen force and scramble away.

No one dares get close to Satoru Gojo, everyone on the platform seems to know that doing so means certain death, yourself included. But you still feel the need to keep an eye on him. The monster and the strangely dressed man are focusing more on him than the crowd— anyone in between is just collateral damage.

But not you.

Especially since you’ve made it this far— you’ve never made it this far before.

A voice echoes throughout the platform; you realize it’s the automated announcement.

An eight car train is pulling in. Please wait behind the yellow line.

You can hear everyone’s relief coming from all sides. The train is coming! The train is coming! A ripple of hope makes its way throughout the crowd. With the train comes the chance to get off the platform and the senseless violence that’s been happening here. Some of the people around you are talking excitedly and others are running toward the gates, toeing the yellow line they’ve been instructed to wait behind. And you, you should be excited, you should be hopeful.

All you feel is dread.

It eats at your stomach, at your chest, at your mind. Clawing and gnawing at you in a way that leaves you paralyzed on the platform. There’s something wrong here. You can’t be sure because you’ve never made it this far, never survived long enough for the train to come, but something is just not right.

No.

You must be paranoid. The train coming is a good thing. It has to be a good thing. You are just paranoid. It’s normal. It’s natural. Dying seventeen times would do that to anyone— rob them of hope, condemn them to an existence full of fear.

It is not lost on you that the thought of dying more than once, much less, dying seventeen times is not normal or natural in the very slightest.

But you need hope, you crave it, wildly, desperately. The hope of freedom, of escape is the only thing getting you through this unending nightmare. Every time you die, every time you wake, it is with the hope that maybe, just maybe this iteration will be different, maybe this one will be the one where you make it out, make it back to your friends who must be waiting for you, make it back home where you can be safe and sound. You need the hope to keep going. Because without hope, what will you have left?

The train screeches as it pulls into the station and the people around you laugh in both disbelief and relief. They start to push and shove toward it, fighting to be able to board because there’s no way everyone here will be able to get on an eight car train and being left behind at this point is practically synonymous with death. Unable to decide if you believe in the train as a symbol of hope or a new layer of fear, you are pushed along with the crowd toward it.

The doors of the train cars slide open and the current passengers all rush off as they disembark. You as well as everyone else on the platform can see with a horrifying clarity that the train is filled to the brim with monsters. Monsters that reach out and grab anyone their hands can reach. The woman to your left. The person to your right.

You.

Hope is gone.

What do you have left?

You die for the eighteenth time.

It’s October 31, 2018— Halloween in Shibuya.

This is probably the twenty-sixth time now.

If there is anything this entire ordeal has taught you, it is that you are resilient. Whether it is some innate trait that you never had any reason to uncover before or just a byproduct of being trapped in an unending cycle of being dead and not dead, you don't know. What you do know, though, is that even if you no longer have hope, you at least have your resilience.

Whether you want it or not.

You check the time. It’s 8:35PM. Something flickers in your chest, like a faint light in a sea of darkness, but you ignore it. You don’t have time right now.

With a nimbleness born from your previous failures, you weave your way through the crowd. You’ve done this enough times to know where the gaps are— who will yield and who won’t. Your destination is the escalator that leads off the platform and up to a higher part of the station. You’d noticed previously that the escalator along with every other entrance onto the platform will eventually be blocked by vines or roots of some sort (the work of the branch-eyed monster probably). It’s not a perfect plan because you don’t know what happens on the other side, but whatever it is has to be better than whatever is happening on the side that you’ve been on.

You’d tried to get to the stairs during your last two rounds, but you’d just missed it. You hadn’t been fast enough and had gotten caged and slaughtered along with the rest. But this time, this time you have more time. It’s just one minute, but it’s enough. You know it is.

The flickering in your heart grows stronger. Hope. You try not to pay attention to it— you don’t want to be disappointed yet again. But you want to so badly. A voice in the back of your mind tells you to focus on the good, tells you that if there was truly no way out of this endless nightmare, then why would you get more and more time with each round to escape your fate?

With that thought in mind, you break out into a run, recklessly rushing through the crowd, shoving anyone who will not yield to the side. Out of the corner of your eye you can see the stark white of Satoru Gojo’s hair as he descends upon the platform.

You need to get up those stairs.

Now.

If you remember correctly, the roots and vines don’t close off the area the moment he touches down, but a little after they start talking, so you think there is probably some time, but you can’t leave it to chance.

The stairs are packed, and for some reason no one is moving. The escalator right next to it is just as full and the power doesn’t seem to be working. You don’t have time for this. You clamber onto the escalator’s rubber handrail, ignoring the weird feeling that passes through your body as you do so. You don’t have the time to worry about whatever that is. The people around you start exclaiming around you, but you don’t care, you don’t listen. You wobble as you try to balance yourself and when you think you’re steady you try to run.

But you trip.

And you die for the twenty-sixth time.

It’s October 31, 2018— Halloween in Shibuya.

This marks the thirtieth time.

And you have, finally, finally made it up the escalator, up the stairs with barely a second to spare. You pause, glancing back as the roots or vines or whatever the hell they are seal off the entrance to the platform. You notice that the area where the plants come down is actually fairly clear, despite the crowd. It seems weird, but you don’t dwell on it.

A strange feeling envelops your entire body and your legs turn into jelly. As you sink to the floor, you realize what you’re feeling is relief as all the tension, maybe thirty iterations of Halloween 2018 worth, seeps from your being. You don't remember the last time you felt anything other than fear and dread; it’s weird, but not unwelcome.

That voice in the back of your mind tells you that you can't relax just yet: October 31st isn’t over. Even though you have repeated this night again and again, burning the events that play out on the platform into your memory, you do not know a single thing that happens over here. It would be smart to scope everything out.

Legs still shaky, you rise to your feet and start walking. You think it’s probably for the best to try and head up to the surface and you make your way up to the next floor.

It’s packed with people here too, but relatively peaceful, especially when you compare it to the pandemonium taking place beneath your feet. Still, you can make out the undeniable hum of displeasure resonating throughout the crowd. People complaining about how uncomfortable their costumes are, people complaining about how much they want to go home, people complaining about how much their nights have been ruined because they couldn’t meet up with their friends and—

A thought hits you like an eight car train.

You were supposed to meet up with your friends.

That’s why you were on the platform in the first place— you were waiting for them to arrive, but then the trains stopped working, and people just started pouring into the station out of seemingly nowhere (you think you heard some people say they’d come from the crossing?). Soon after that is when everything went to shit.

You check your phone, though, for once it’s not to look at the time (8:56PM). Instead, you open LINE to check your friends’ group chat. There’s no signal here, for whatever reason, so if there are any new messages, you haven’t received them. The last one was from Kei, mentioning he was enroute, but as far as you know, you’re the only one who made it to Shibuya before the trains stopped.

Did one of them maybe make it here though? Surely, you would have run into them if—

The image of a woman in a magical girl costume fills your vision, burning to death before your very eyes as her screams echo in your ears. It is the first time in what feels like forever that you’ve thought about her and your stomach churns violently. You couldn’t help her, you can’t even help yourself, so how could you even expect to do the same for your friends if they were here? The mere thought of having to watch them die over and over is almost enough to send you over the edge. You don’t know if you could do it.

Would you even have a choice?

No. You can't think like that. You have choices. You've had choices. If you didn’t then, you would still be down below, among the fire and brimstone. Dying, if not dead already. However, instead, you are up here, where, for the moment, it is quiet and peaceful.

That thought, in of itself, is enough to give you a shred of solace, a glimmer of hope.

You take a deep breath and fiddle with your phone a little more, changing your lock screen to a picture you and your friends took at a photo booth not too long ago. The four of you are huddled together, faces squished as if you're all struggling to fit in the frame, despite there being plenty of room. You're mid-laugh because it's the first time you've been in a photo booth in years, Mio and Shin are grinning mischievously and finally, Kei is smiling, but only just slightly, the embarrassment clear on his face. It's probably only been a few months since you all took this picture, but the fact that it feels like it's been years makes your heart ache.

You press your forehead to the screen, like a prayer, like a promise.

You will make it out of this nightmare.

No matter what.

A shrill scream yanks you from your thoughts and you are instantly on your feet, alert as your eyes flit around frantically to identify the source. It doesn't take long for you to find it and when you do, you think you might have stumbled upon a new layer of horror to this nightmare.

It’s not the corpse, dangling by a noose, that terrifies you— by now you’ve seen dozens upon dozens of dead bodies that the sight of just one more doesn’t faze you in the slightest. The thing that’s the most mortifying, that’s the most disturbing is that right next to where the body is tied are two girls, two teenage girls still dressed in their school uniforms.

You can accept monsters and weirdly dressed men being responsible for the carnage tonight, but children too? Both girls look like they’re barely in high school and try as you might to rationalize things, to chalk it up to coincidence, you cannot ignore the ominous energy radiating from them.

The very notion that these two children could have killed someone here is a hard pill to swallow, but so is the fact that you’ve died.

And you’ve had to swallow that pill thirty times now, so what’s once more?

“Listen up!” one of the girls yells over the crowd, but she is mostly ignored; you don’t think everyone here has noticed her and the corpse dangling from the rafters. She scowls and turns to the other girl and says something quietly to her. The other girl nods and almost instantly she’s stringing up another person, another example. You want to look away so badly, and yet you cannot bring yourself to and you watch the poor soul choke to death.

“I said listen, you dumb monkeys!” the girl shouts, and this time she’s caught most of the crowd’s attention. “If you don’t want to end up like these two, you’ll listen to what we have to say!”

There is clear dissent among the crowd, people dismissive as they utter their disbelief. Some seem to think it’s a prank, but you know better. It takes two more examples before the crowd goes silent before the two high schoolers.

“About damn time!” The girl roars and then points toward the atrium, which is currently covered by roots and branches. “All of you move over there!”

You have a bad feeling about this.

Still, you comply; the girls have made it abundantly clear that failure to do so will result in death, though, at this point, you're almost certain this iteration is a bust and death is all but imminent. You try to keep positive— thinking you can at least gather information or, who knows, maybe there's a chance that this one is the one.

Yet when you step onto the mound of vines and branches that cover the atrium it feels as if you've crossed the threshold into hell. Your footing is stable… but for how long?

An eight car train is pulling in. Please wait behind the yellow line.

It's faint, but you can hear the announcement from below. The liquid in your stomach curdles at the sound as you recall the train and, in particular, what is on board. Soon enough, those monsters will be swarming the platform, massacring everyone in reach, guzzling down their blood, feasting on their flesh—

It dawns on you that the people on the platform are the monsters' first course.

And you, and those around you here in the shrubbery, are the second.

As you realize this, the branches and vines disintegrate beneath your very feet and suddenly you are mid air— falling, falling into the abyss below.

You die for the thirtieth time.

It’s October 31, 2018— Halloween in Shibuya.

You've done this nearly sixty times now.

After countless failures, you've decided that you're just not going to go upstairs any more. No matter where you try to go, you still end up herded onto the death trap above the platform where you ultimately fall to your death. You've tried positioning yourself in the same spot, tried bracing yourself for the drop— but nothing seems to work: upon landing, assuming you manage to land without hurting yourself or dying in midair (which has happened a couple times) you get grabbed and killed by one of the monsters from the train. It's probably not impossible, you just don't have the physical prowess or reflexes for it.

If anything, you can try again later, but you sincerely hope you don't have to.

It's 8:32PM, and you have plenty of time to get to your chosen spot for this loop— it's close to the stairs, in the very center of the platform. Here, there's little risk of getting pushed off onto the tracks when the gates open. You'll probably have to move when the train comes, or even before (assuming you survive) to avoid the monsters, but you'll get to that when it's time.

You can't really see the fight once it breaks out after Satoru Gojo arrives, but you still try to keep track of it as best as you can. You see when he hurls both monsters across the platform and you're not sure if it's muscle memory or what but you have to fight the urge to move to the side and watch. It's been a while, yes, but you've seen the fight countless times before— it doesn't change. Satoru Gojo will give chase. He will rip the branches from the branch eyed monster's skull. He will use some kind of power to eviscerate them.

You don't need to watch, but there's something in you that wants to.

It doesn't make sense, you've seen it all before; if you're unlucky you'll see it all again.

The lights go out and people start screaming; Satoru Gojo is ending the life of that one monster. Soon enough he'll be back on the platform, in pursuit of the other. You think at that point it would be good to move, reposition yourself as far from the incoming train as possible.

When he rises from the tracks like a demon straight from hell, you realize it's the first time this loop that you've actually gotten a good look at him. You remind yourself, again, that this isn't the first time you've seen this man, this scene. You can't help but watch, but stare at Satoru Gojo as he stalks through the crowd in pursuit of his prey. His expression is an eerie sort of calm that's at odds with the acts of violence you've seen him commit— his eyes an unnaturally bright blue.

He's a terrifying sort of beauty and you can't help but be captivated by him.

An eight car train is pulling in. Please wait behind the yellow line.

The sound of the announcement sends your heartbeat into a frenzy, snapping you out of your little trance. The train is coming and you need to get moving. As you dart to the edge of the platform, the thought occurs to you that even if you avoid the initial wave of monsters, it's likely you will inevitably be caught by them and killed. It wouldn't be impossible for Satoru Gojo to turn his attention to them instead of the two he's currently facing, but he's just one man— can he truly defeat all those monsters?

You can see the train pulling in and you brace yourself, praying that it'll work out somehow.

The doors hiss open and the screaming starts again as the monsters come bursting out of the train, biting and mauling anyone they can get their hands on. Those who were lucky enough to not be at the front start to scramble away and the monsters give chase. Your body is taut, ready to try and dodge any that come your way.

Out of the corner of your eye you notice something moving through the air. A person? With blue hair? You take the risk to look— they're attacking Satoru Gojo. He tries to punch them but they fly away from him to dodge— disappearing into the crowd.

You hear a loud cracking sound over the cacophony of the crowd and your stomach twists; you know what that sound is. The roots above the atrium disintegrate and bodies from above start to rain down onto the platform.

And then, you're not sure what happens— it's so quick that you only manage to see what looks like an explosion of blood surrounding Satoru Gojo. Corpses litter the ground around him and even from here you can tell he is shaken by the carnage.

The monsters have finally reached where you're standing, and you duck under one as it lunges at you. Although it's big and scary, you realize it's moving kind of slow. Right after it another one comes at you and you take a side step to avoid it; this monster is kind of slow too.

Maybe you can do this.

As soon as you think that a strange feeling courses through you. Every hair on your body feels like it's standing on edge and the voice in your head is telling you to look at Satoru Gojo. You don't understand why because you think he's the least of your worries right now, but you do it anyway.

He's in some sort of stance, one hand raised to his face, fingers bent in some kind of gesture. There's some sort of aura, oppressive and frightening emanating from his form.

Satoru Gojo is doing something.

You just can't tell what.

It’s October 31, 2018— Halloween in Shibuya.

And you are utterly confused.

Barring your first few loops when you weren't fully aware of what was happening, you have very distinct memories of how each of your previous iterations of this night have gone— of each and every one of your deaths. But for your last round, the last thing you remember was feeling the immense power radiating from Satoru Gojo's body, but that's it.

You do not remember dying.

In fact, you don't think you did.

And yet, here you are again, back at the start: it's 8:32PM and the monsters and strangely dressed man are standing on the subway tracks waiting for the arrival of Satoru Gojo.

You don't understand what's going on; you didn't die but you're still stuck in this damn loop. Up until now, your death has served as the trigger to restart the loop. It's not impossible that maybe you suffered a quick and painless death but you're almost certain that isn't the case.

Something else must have happened.

Something having to do with Satoru Gojo.

You have to find out what. If you don't, you won't know how to avoid it, and if you can't do that, then you really might spend an eternity stuck in this nightmare. And so you take great care to repeat the steps of your last round. You need to make sure to survive to the same point you made it to last time.

Miraculously, you do.

The moment you feel that sensation again, a prickling sort of feeling that envelops your entire body, your eyes are on Satoru Gojo— trying to figure out what the hell he's doing. His eyes are crazed with a desperate kind of focus. You see his mouth move— he's saying something. A spell? A prayer? A curse?

You don't know.

You do know.

Your brain feels like it's going to explode.

Again.

It’s October 31, 2018— Halloween in Shibuya.

Again.

You do not know how many times it's been the night of Halloween in Shibuya: you stopped counting around the hundredth loop. It feels like it's been a while since then. Or maybe it hasn't? You don't know any more.

What you do know is that this night ends up going one of two ways before you are forced to repeat it. Either you die, in some way, shape or form or something happens just after nine that forces you to reset. You still don't know what it is exactly; you only know that Satoru Gojo is responsible for it.

You do prefer it to dying— it's far less painful.

But if anything, you wish you could just die permanently and never have to repeat this night ever again.

Unfortunately, you know better.

The only good thing you’ve noticed about all of this is that you really do seem to keep waking up earlier and earlier. The last time you checked, it was at around 8:30. It might take hundreds of thousands of loops, but eventually you’ll certainly wake up early enough to avoid this damn entire mess.

But by the time that happens… will your sanity still be intact? Will you really be able to go back to a normal day to day life after living the equivalent of hundreds of years, repeating the same night over and over again? You don’t even know how you’ve managed to stay sane all this time and as much as you want to believe you could do it…

There has to be a breaking point.

For both your mind and this time loop.

If you’re lucky, you’ll reach the latter first.

There’s a dull ache in your head that feels foreign yet familiar. Your mind is foggy, all your thoughts hazy as you try to recall what the word for this feeling is.

Groggy.

It feels as if you’ve woken up from a nap and you blink the sleepiness away from your eyes. When was the last time you took a nap? It’s been a while… You think you maybe tried once or twice, but you were too nervous, too on edge. Awake or asleep, it didn’t matter because, either way, you were doomed to repeat this nightmare.

As you think this, you realize that something is different.

You’re used to how the start of each loop feels like waking up suddenly and abruptly and it becomes clear to you that you haven’t looped. This is completely uncharted territory.

You need to find out what’s going on.

The first thing you notice is that it’s quiet. Almost eerily so, especially when the last thing you remember was screaming and chaos. You glance around you and find that it looks like all the monsters from the train are dead, the ground littered in their bloodstains and corpses. There were so many of them, you don’t know how someone could have wiped them out so quickly… Could it possibly have been Satoru Gojo’s doing?

More concerning than the complete eradication of the monsters is the fact that nearly everyone else on the platform is standing stock still, their mouths ajar with blank expressions on their faces. It’s almost as if their souls have completely vacated their bodies…

Were you like that too before you woke up?

You hear voices, and your body immediately goes tense as you turn your head in their direction. A little ways ahead of you, you see a man dressed as a monk conversing with the blue haired person from earlier and before them is—

Your heart nearly stops: it’s Satoru Gojo, restrained and on his knees.

Honestly, you can’t make heads or tails of the conversation they’re having; it’s more shounen battle manga nonsense. Satoru Gojo doesn’t seem to be enjoying their conversation either, and he interrupts them, clearly annoyed.

“Are we gonna do this or what?” he asks. “The view sucks and I’m just kinda bored.”

“I wanted to enjoy this sight for a little bit longer, but you are right,” the monk says. “I wouldn’t want anything to happen— gate, close.”

When he says that, Satoru Gojo’s restraints move, the weirdly shaped cubes at the ends of them closing in around him, trapping him in a giant red cube. It starts to shrink until it’s small enough to fit in the monk’s hand.

You gulp and hope they don’t notice that you’re awake. The fact that they haven’t slaughtered the rest of the people standing around you is a good sign, but you don’t want to find out what happens if they know you’re cognizant.

It’s not hard to play the part of a living statue, especially when you compare it to everything else you’ve had to suffer through on this night. You watch as the monk’s allies, the ones who had attacked everyone on the platform, wake up, but before they can do or say anything, the box holding Satoru Gojo slips through the monk’s fingers and makes a dent in the concrete. The look on the monk’s face makes it clear that it’s a problem he wasn’t expecting.

You don’t know a damn thing about Satoru Gojo, but you feel like this kind of thing is the norm for him.

The blue haired person suddenly looks in your direction and you nearly stop breathing. Have they noticed you? It takes everything in you to keep perfectly still, in hopes that maybe they didn't, that maybe they’re looking at something else. They raise their arm and it extends, their hand acting like some kind of projectile. You almost shut your eyes and brace yourself for impact, but their hand flies upwards and hits something on the ceiling, destroying it.

Inwardly, you breathe a sigh of relief— you’re still safe.

For now.

You listen to their following conversation and while you still don’t fully understand everything, it’s clear they’re talking about what to do next since they’ve taken care of Satoru Gojo. Something having to do with someone named Yuji Itadori? The group seems split on what to do about him but it’s clear he’s their next target.

Eventually, everyone but the monk (you heard the blue haired person, who is apparently named Mahito, call him Geto?) runs off, probably to find this Yuji Itadori person. Once they’re gone, Geto speaks and, at first, you think he’s talking to you, but it becomes clear he’s addressing someone else. “Those cursed spirits are actually smarter than the two of you.”

“Give him back!” a voice hidden among the crowd hisses. Your blood runs cold at the sound. You recognize it; it’s one of the high school girls from the upper floor.

“We cooperated with you fully and kept dropping monkeys for you,” says another voice; it must be the other girl that was with her, the one who hung all those people.

“Now give us back Master Geto’s body like you promised!”

“Don’t toy with Master Geto any further than you have!”

You blink in confusion. Isn’t the monk named Geto? The way the girls are talking it sounds like they’re talking about someone else… Is it possible that the body is ‘Geto’ but the person they’re talking to is someone else possessing it? It sounds kind of crazy, but then again, so is every single thing you’ve experienced tonight.

Your suspicions concerning this ‘Geto’ are confirmed only seconds later as he says, “Now begone, or is it your desire to be killed by this body?”

One of the girls vows her revenge and you hear shuffling somewhere else in the crowd as they scurry away. Now you think it’s just you and whoever it is that’s puppeting Geto’s body. You see him plop down in front of the box (the prison realm, you think he’d called it) that’s holding Satoru Gojo.

“You can come out, you know,” he says after a while.

You freeze. The rest of the platform is completely silent. This time you think he might actually be talking to you.

“I know you’re there,” ‘Geto’ adds, his voice casual. “If you’re insistent on hiding, you should know that I’m not afraid of using whatever means necessary to smoke you out.”

Given everything his allies have done, there’s no doubt in your mind that he’s serious. You were hoping to hide out among the crowd until he decided to leave, but it looks like you won’t be able to now.

Looks like this loop is a bust after all.

Your heart starts to race as you weave your way through the crowd. In every single one of your loops, you were always treated like a bit character, never noticed or singled out by any of the major players of the night. Although this is your first time encountering this ‘Geto’ it’s clear to you that he’s involved with everything that’s happened here and honestly, you get the feeling he might actually be the mastermind behind the massacre.

That makes you even more nervous.

You come to a stop in the place where Satoru Gojo was once kneeling before he was put in that box. Now that you’re out in the open, ‘Geto’ looks you over with some sort of nonchalant curiosity.

“You’re…” he starts, sounding thoughtful, "not a sorcerer, are you?”

Sorcerer. You heard that term thrown around by him and his group a few times. It’s what they’ve been referring to their enemies as. It probably wouldn’t be smart to lie and say you are one; you get the feeling he’d see through your lie anyway. “I’m not.”

He hums. “How interesting.”

“...what do you mean?” you ask before you can help yourself.

“It’s just you have an abnormally large amount of cursed energy for a non-sorcerer,” he explains. “Though, I suppose that all just sounds like gibberish to you."

You nod and look down at the box lodged in the floor. It has eyes, big creepy looking eyes. "...are you going to do the same thing to me as you did to that man?"

He laughs, "...fortunately for you, the prison realm only holds one person at a time and I need him sealed away more than you."

"...does that mean you're going to leave him in there forever?"

"If I'm feeling nice, I might unseal him in a hundred years or so."

One hundred years? At this point, you've probably lived roughly that amount of time through your loops alone, but for Satoru Gojo… "Won't he die first?"

"Only if he decides to," 'Geto' says, looking completely and wholly unbothered. "Time doesn't doesn't flow in the box, so when I unseal him, he'll be the same as he was just now. Physically anyway. Who knows how deteriorated his mind will be after all that."

Time doesn't flow in the box.

The words echo in your mind over and over. Time doesn't flow in the box. In other words, that means time has stopped in the box, and if that's the case then—

"Anyway, rather than worry about him, shouldn't you be more worried about yourself?"

You look at 'Geto' and he's smiling at you, it's friendly, but ominous. There's no doubt what is going to happen next, though you had already resigned yourself to this iteration being a bust; it was only a matter of time.

Time doesn't flow in the box.

"I was thinking I might keep you around, even if you aren’t a sorcerer, your wealth of cursed energy would serve my plans well," he muses. "But… it would be too much trouble trying to teach you how to use it in time."

As he talks, you realize this is probably the first time your death is intentional— every other death you've suffered has just been a byproduct of the ongoing slaughter. You were just another casualty, a victim, never a target.

You're scared.

Even though you know that once he kills you, once you die, you'll just loop back to around 8:30 again. You'll be on the platform again. And you'll play out some sequence of events before you eventually die again. And again and again.

Time doesn't flow in the box.

"I'll be nice, though," 'Geto' says, raising a hand and another monster appears out of nowhere. You don’t even bother trying to figure out from where. It doesn’t matter, especially since this monster will surely be the one to end your life. "I'll make it painless."

"...I appreciate it," you say and close your eyes hoping that he's not lying about it.

Time doesn't flow in the box.

He didn't lie.

You die again.

It’s October 31, 2018— Halloween in Shibuya.

And you're trapped.

You don't know how and you don't know why, but you are stuck in a time loop— forced to suffer through the horrific events of the night before you die and begin it all again. It's been a long time since you stopped counting how many loops you've gone through, but if you had to guess, it's probably somewhere in the hundreds now.

You are so very tired.

But it doesn't stop. It won't stop no matter what you seem to do. You are stuck. You are trapped. You are doomed.

“Time doesn't flow in the box.”

Ever since that first loop where you heard whoever is possessing Geto's body say that, the words have been stuck in your head, playing on loop.

You finally realize why.

“Time doesn't flow in the box.”

It's 8:25PM when you wake up; that should be plenty of time.

You need to find Satoru Gojo.

After hundreds of loops you've come to a singular conclusion: you need to prevent him being sealed in the prison realm. You've witnessed it enough to know that you won't be able to do it alone; you'll need his cooperation.

You rush upstairs as fast as you can, ignoring the shiver that runs down your spine as you step onto the stairwell. According to your previous loops, Satoru Gojo arrives on the subway tracks at 8:40PM. With how crowded the upper floor is, you don’t know if you’ll have the time to intercept him and talk to him, but if you can at least figure out where to find him, then you can try and talk to him during a subsequent loop.

When you reach the fourth basement floor, however, you don’t know where you should even start. He’s pretty tall so you think you could spot him in the crowd, but… there are still so many people. It occurs to you that maybe it would be better to try and look from a higher vantage point so you head to the stairs that lead up to the third basement floor. You check your phone again. It’s 8:35PM; you need to hurry.

Luckily for you, you find him very easily on the third basement floor.

The only problem is that he’s in a hard to reach spot— squatting above a sign hanging over the crowd.

You check your phone again. It’s 8:38PM and he’s starting to move, presumably to meet with those waiting for him on the subway tracks. It’s good that you found him, but there’s no doubt about it.

You’re going to need more time.

The moment you wake up, you immediately bolt toward the stairs. It's taken many, many more loops, but you've finally brought the time you wake down to around 8:15. You're still not sure if it's enough time, but there's only one way to find out.

You barrel your way up to the next floor and zig zag through the crowd to get to the next flight of stairs. By the time you get to your destination, you're completely out of breath, your chest heaving as your lungs clamor for air. You’ve done this so many times, yet your body acts like it’s always the first. It sucks, but there’s nothing you can do about it. You slow to a brisk pace to catch your breath and check the time. It’s 8:27— a new record. Hopefully it’ll be enough.

The goal is to catch Satoru Gojo before he moves to his lookout point above the crowd. While not impossible, it would be difficult for you to follow him there. You eye the safety barricade that blocks off the area where he’ll be moving in just a few minutes warily.

Yes, getting over there would be extremely difficult.

You don’t want to think about it right now; you’ll deal with it when the time comes.

Especially since Satoru Gojo has now entered your field of vision.

Your heart starts to race at the sight of him and it feels like it’s beating a million times a second. There isn’t a lot of time. You need to talk to him, but your legs only wobble, your feet planted firmly to the ground. This is not good. You need to move. You need to move.

Finally, after what feels like both an instant and an eternity, your feet finally budge, propelling you in Satoru Gojo’s direction. The beating of your heart only grows louder as you make your way toward him, mingling with the single thought that’s echoing throughout your mind right now: will he even hear you out?

You need to make him.

“Excuse me!” The words nearly come out in a stutter as you realize that you are actually talking to Satoru Gojo. You have watched this man at a distance for so long that it almost felt like he wasn’t real, like he was just another fixture in this nightmare that you’ve been living for far too long. And yet, here he is, right in front of you, in the flesh.

And his attention is on you.

All sound stops: the crowd around you, the thoughts in your head, the beat of your heart. Even though you cannot see them through that blindfold of his, you know that Satoru Gojo’s eyes are on you and the thought of that, the knowledge of it is actually a little overwhelming. Your mouth is dry and suddenly you don’t know what to say, but you need to say something. You need to say something before he thinks maybe you bumped into him by accident and just walks away without a word.

“I need to talk to you!” The words just burst out from your mouth and something about it is just absolutely embarrassing. You’re not sure if it's desperation or the fact that you haven’t really talked to anyone other than the existence occupying Suguru Geto’s body in nearly forever.

Satoru Gojo’s lips slowly start to form a smile, “Oh, yeah?”

The sound of his voice makes your mind go blank. There’s something different about it right now; more playful, amused even. Maybe it’s because he’s talking to you, a harmless human being and not a monster trying to kill him. It’s almost kind of jarring, but you know, with certainty, what Satoru Gojo’s voice sounds like. And the fact that he’s actually talking to you right now has you kind of excited. You nod, doing your best to not show how thrilled you are that he’s not ignoring you.

He hums thoughtfully, “Sorry… but unfortunately I kind of have some business to attend to right now.”

“I—” You start to say that you know that he’s headed down to the platform below to fight with…Choso and Jogo, you think their names are— you don’t know the name of the monster with the branches for eyes. “It’s— it’s really important!”

Gojo tilts his head a little, clearly thinking. You should probably say something else, something to try and convince him to stay a little longer and hear you out, but your mind is both full and blank. Where do you start? From the beginning? Or do you start with what is most important? Maybe you should say what you think will get his attention. You’re not sure, and you realize you really should have thought about this earlier because you’re running out of time right now.

“...mind handing me your phone?”

You stare at Gojo, completely and wholly confused, but he just holds out his hand expectantly. When you don’t move, he wiggles his fingers a little, a silent gesture telling you to hurry it up. Without thinking, you reach into your bag and unlock your phone before handing it to him.

“Kind of sucks that cell service isn’t working right now,” he remarks as he types something into your phone before handing it back. “But! Here's my number.”

You look down at your phone and, sure enough, Satoru Gojo has added himself as one of your contacts. He’s even added a little star to the end of his name. That’s… a little unexpected. Why his number though?

“Are you… hitting on me?” you mutter in your confusion.

He laughs, “Well, you said you had something really important to talk to me about, right? So just give me a call when you get home or some time tomorrow and we can talk then!”

You’re not going to make it home, or even to tomorrow, and neither will Satoru Gojo. As you start to tell him this, he steps past you. Desperate, you try to grab him, but somehow, for some reason, you can’t. You remember he did this with Jogo and the other monster, made himself untouchable.

This is not good.

He gives you a little wave, cheery as he says, “I’ll talk to you later!”

You watch, helpless as he hops over the barricade beyond your reach.

Gripping your phone tightly, you take a deep breath. It's fine, it's not like you didn’t expect things to go well anyway.

You'll just have to try again.

Every time you’ve tried to solicit help from Satoru Gojo, it has gone the same way. He just won’t give you the time of day, and in some ways you can’t blame him; he’s clearly here to deal with the monsters down on the platform. You’re fairly certain that he probably thinks that whatever is going on with you is a much lesser issue in comparison.

Plus, it probably doesn’t help that in the times that you’ve approached him, you haven’t been able to articulate yourself particularly well. Once you start talking to him, you just get hit with something akin to stage fright and the connection between your mind and your mouth just stops working. It’s gotten better with each attempt, but…

It’s just so frustrating.

It is interesting that Gojo has given you his number every time, star symbol and all. You’re not sure what kind of person you were expecting him to be, but after witnessing him literally and viciously rip monsters apart, you’d figured he’d be a little more somber. However, in the fragmented conversations you’ve had with him he’s come off as far more friendly and playful than you would have thought. Is he the type of person to get more serious when the situation calls for it? You can’t help but wonder, but ultimately, it doesn’t really matter.

What really matters is that you’re able to convince him to help you.

You have to convince him.

“Excuse me!” you say, stepping in Satoru Gojo’s path. You don’t stutter this time, and your voice is more sure. This is good.

“Yes?”

His head turns in your direction and you gulp. Gojo’s gaze, despite that blindfold of his, still feels just as overwhelming as it did the very first time you approached him. You have no doubt that he’s sizing you up, but there’s just something about it that makes you feel like you’re being picked apart.

You take a deep breath and step closer to him, hoping your voice sounds firm enough as you say, “I need your help. I’m trapped.”

He chuckles a little, “I know, but yours truly is on his way to go beat up the bad guys keeping you all trapped here, so soon enough you’ll be all free to go on your merry little way.”

Right. You were so caught up in your own plight that you nearly forgot that technically you’re not the only one ‘trapped.’ Satoru Gojo obviously knows that everyone else is confined to this station, but you doubt he knows that you’re confined to this night alone.

“That’s not what I mean!” you sputter.

“Then what do you mean?” Gojo asks. Should you tell him that you mean that you’re trapped in a time loop? You’re honestly not sure— in the movies and manga you’ve read about time travel, revealing that sort of thing risks creating a time paradox which seems to be a bad thing. If you have to tell him, you will, but— “Oh, I get it.”

You stare, bewildered. Did you maybe just spew all of that aloud?

Gojo gives you a mischievous smile. “You’re hitting on me, aren’t you?”

“No!” The word comes flying out of your mouth. You can’t deny he’s attractive— you’ve thought it all this time, but that is not what’s happening here.

“No need to be embarrassed,” he continues, ignoring you. “I totally get it, so if you want, I’d be happy to give you my number!”

Again? You’ve received Satoru Gojo’s contact details in every loop you’ve talked to him, star symbol and all— you even have his number memorized. There’s something kind of odd about how he keeps giving you his number. Part of you wonders if he’s got some sort of ulterior motive, but you haven’t thought too deeply about it. There are way more important things going on.

“I don’t need your phone number,” you say. “I need to talk.”

Your response seems to give Gojo pause. Did you somehow manage to get through to him? No way. Your suspicions are all but confirmed when he gives you that familiar apologetic smile.

“Like, I said, I’m sort of in the middle of something, but…” Gojo reaches into his pockets and rummages around until one hand fishes out a folded up piece of paper. The other hand keeps digging around in his pocket and when Gojo seems to give up on whatever he’s looking for, he turns his attention back to you. “Got a pen?”

What?

Gojo tilts his head. “Well?”

“I do, but…” You trail off, unsure why he’s asking.

He holds out his hand waiting for you to just hand him the pen. You still don’t get it, but you reach into your bag’s front pocket and pull out the pen and hand it to him. Gojo looks almost like an excited child when he takes it from you, quickly scribbling something onto his paper before shoving it and your pen back into your hand.

You look at the paper; it looks like a receipt. For a disturbing amount of mochi that Gojo bought earlier today. The amount of money he spent is almost sickening; way too much to be paying for mochi. More importantly, you notice something juxtaposed over the receipt’s print.

It’s Satoru Gojo’s name and number.

He even drew a little star next to his name.

“If you change your mind later, just give me a call!” he tells you cheerily. “I promise I’ll make it worth your while!”

You gawk at him. He cannot be serious. You literally just told him that you didn’t need it and yet he still gave it to you. He must want you to contact him later, but you can’t even begin to understand why. It can’t have been something you said or did, right? Unless, he’s actually—

“Later!” Gojo’s voice cuts through your thoughts and you notice him walking off with a wave.

You can’t let him get away.

Again.

You crush the receipt in your hand and rush after him. Despite the crowd, Gojo seems to move through the people with ease and it almost seems like they are yielding to him naturally. It’s good for you. Makes him easier to chase.

“Wait!” you yell, but Gojo doesn’t even look back. Bastard. Your muscles strain as you try to run faster. You know you won’t be able to grab him if you get to him, but there has to still be something you can do to stop him. Circle around him? Cut him off before he—

Satoru Gojo reaches the barricade.

“Wait!” you yell again. “Satoru Gojo, wait!”

He does not even acknowledge you.

You’re almost there though. Almost. If you reach out your hand, then maybe, maybe you can grab him. Something in your head tells you that it’s useless; you’ve never been able to touch him. But, you don’t care, you don’t care because you have to try. You stretch out your hand, desperate and hoping, but just as you do, Gojo effortlessly jumps over the barricade, moving to survey the crowd.

Due to your momentum, you almost collide into the barricade, but you manage to stop yourself. You stare at Satoru Gojo through the glass. He watches the crowd for at most three minutes. Is this just another bust? Is there really nothing you can do? There must be a way you can get his attention. Is it possible to climb over the barricade? No, it’s too high. There’s nothing you can grasp onto or use as footing either.

This fucking sucks.

Another minute or two and Gojo will be on the move again, and there will be no way you can follow, no way you can get his attention. You press your hands against the glass, pushing against it. Naturally, it doesn’t budge. Why would it? If only you could get it out of the way. If only you could break it. This stupid barricade is the only thing between you and Satoru Gojo and there’s no way you can climb it, but if only you could break it.

If only you could fucking break it.

Suddenly, the glass feels warm. Satoru Gojo’s image starts to look a little distorted as the warmth beneath your fingers grows. Something is happening. The glass starts to vibrate and shake. Violently. The tremors grow stronger and stronger. You should stop. You should back away.

You don’t.

The barricade starts to crack and fracture and soon the sound of shattering glass resounds throughout the entire room. Everyone starts screaming. No one knows what’s going on— not even you. But you don’t care. It’s gone. The barricade is gone.

You take a step forward, toward Satoru Gojo. He’s on a beam that’s about a two meter drop from where you’re standing. That’s fine. That’s okay. You can make it. You have to. Without a second thought, you jump—

And you land on the beam. You look up and Satoru Gojo’s attention is back on you. He’s finally, finally turned toward you, face twisted into an expression you can’t decipher or even comprehend, but—

Something’s wrong; your world is turning on its axis, but—

Satoru Gojo is looking at you, and—

Up is very quickly becoming down, and—

Satoru Gojo is coming closer, but—

You’re slipping—

But he’s right there, and—

You’re falling, but—

He’s trying to catch you, but—

It’s too late. It’s too late.

The last thing you think you feel—

—is Satoru Gojo’s arms around you.

It’s October 31, 2018— Halloween in Shibuya.

And you are causing a commotion.

“Shit! Fuck!” you curse loudly. The people near you start to shift away but you barely notice; you don’t really care.

You were so close, so fucking close and yet… yet here you are again. It’s quarter past eight and you are back on the goddamn platform. You don’t know what happened; you remember falling and thinking you were going to die, but you are absolutely certain that, once again, this time, you didn’t die.

Is Satoru Gojo at fault again? Did he do something? Like he did all those other times you looped without dying? When you think about it more, you don’t think so. You don’t know what happened; all you know is that you tried to get to him, but you slipped.

And he caught you, you definitely remember that.

You still don’t understand why you looped, but there’s not much you can do about it now; it’s not like you can go back anymore. It just sucks, because you think he might have actually listened if you’d talked to him.

Or he would have come after you for… whatever happened with the barricade. It could have been taken as an attack on the crowd… But if he thought you were doing that, then why would he catch you?

You don’t know.

All you know is that you have to try again.

The only problem is that you don’t know how you managed to shatter the barricade. You think about it as you make your way up to where you’ll find Satoru Gojo. There is the possibility that it wasn’t you and something else happened to it instead, but that feels way too coincidental. It had to be you. That’s the only thing that makes sense. You just can’t figure out how you did it outside of wanting, wishing, praying for the barricade to break. It’s not like you have supernatural powers like Satoru Gojo and his enemies.

Despite your mind being completely and wholly occupied by trying to figure out how in the world you managed to break through that barricade, you still manage to make it to the second basement floor of Shibuya Hikarie by 8:25PM— a brand new record. Satoru Gojo doesn’t show up until around 8:34PM, so that gives you almost ten minutes to try and figure out what you need to do to try and replicate shattering the glass barricade again.

Except—

Except Satoru Gojo is already here.

The thought that maybe you’re mistaken flashes in your mind before it’s quickly dismissed; there’s no way you’d mistake anyone else for him. There is absolutely no denying it: that is Satoru Gojo. Bewildered, you double check the time on your phone. Maybe you misread it and you’re actually late but sure enough you read it right— Satoru Gojo is here early.

What the hell is going on?

Of the thousands of times you have experienced this night, this hell, this sort of thing has never happened before. Everything happens at a specific time, as if adhering to an unseen schedule. It’s likely that what happened in your last iteration did delay Satoru Gojo’s arrival onto the platform, but other than that there has never been a deviation to the time table.

And yet, here Satoru Gojo is, nine minutes early now.

You realize that that’s not the only thing that’s strange: he’s not moving. In previous rounds, when you encounter Gojo here, he’s walking to the lookout spot beyond the barricade. But, right now, he’s just standing there, hands stuffed in the pockets of his jacket. It almost looks like he's waiting for something.

Or someone.

This unexpected turn of events has you rooted to the spot. You’re not sure what you should do. No. This shouldn’t change anything. You need to talk to him. As concerning as a change like this is, the extra time it gives you should be a good thing. Despite knowing that, your feet are still firmly planted to the ground.

The crowd shifts and you see Satoru Gojo start to move. Toward the barricade? No. He’s not heading in his usual direction, rather he’s—

You stop breathing.

He’s headed toward you.

All sound stops: the crowd around you, the thoughts in your head, the beat of your heart. Even though you cannot see them through that blindfold of his, you know that Satoru Gojo’s eyes are on you and the thought of that, the knowledge of it is absolutely mind numbing.

He comes to a stop before you, lips curled up to form an amused sort of smile as he says, “Soooo, you needed to talk to me?”

You try to answer but no words come out of your mouth. Are you dreaming? You have to be, right? There's no way that this is actually happening. Could it be that, after thousands of loops, you’ve finally lost it? Your mind shattering along with the glass of the barricade at the end of the last one?

Gojo tilts his head, indicating that he's still waiting for an answer. When you open your mouth, at first, nothing comes out, the words stuck in your throat. You force them out, your voice cracking, “...how did you know?”

He smiles, looking almost mischievous as he reaches up and lightly taps the side of his head. “I remembered, of course!”

All you can do is stare at Satoru Gojo. He remembered? How is that possible? From his perspective, this is the first time you’ve met and while it shouldn’t be possible for him to remember there’s something in your mind that’s keeping you from completely dismissing the possibility.

Gojo laughs, “I take it from the look on your face that you’re not used to this sort of thing happening. Is this the first time?”

“No.” The fact that the word is out of your mouth before you can even really think about it surprises you and you really have to think. Your face scrunches together as you try to remember. Is this really not the first time? Then, the memories assault you, overlapping as they replay simultaneously in your head— a woman in a yellow and white magical girl costume— begging you for help as she burns to death— smiling as she tells you she made her costume herself. “...it happened just once a long time ago.”

“‘A long time ago,’ huh. Sounds like you've been at this for a while now.”

“...unfortunately.”

Gojo hums. “So when you said you didn’t need my phone number…”

“You’d already given it to me a few times,” you say, figuring that’s where this conversation is going.

“Really now?”

Does he not believe you? Or is he just being an ass? You’re not sure, but since you had taken the liberty of memorizing Satoru Gojo’s phone number you recite it back to him to prove your point.

Just when you think you may have stunned Gojo into silence he starts to laugh, obviously finding something funny about the fact that you know his cell phone number. “Seems like you've got quite the fascinating technique there.”

Technique? What is he talking about? Your confusion must be plain on your face because he adds, elaborating, “The time travel.”

You continue to stare at him. You don't think you'd consider what you've been going through time travel, because traveling implies moving from point A to point B, but you've been stuck walking in circles at point A for a long time. What really gets you is… “What do you mean by ‘technique?’”

“You mean you don’t— oh. I get it; no wonder you’re trapped.”

That does not answer your question in the slightest. “Can you please explain what you're talking about? What do you mean by ‘technique?’”

“Right, right… So basically, a technique is like a special sort of power,” he finally explains. “Like I said, your technique seems to be a kind of time travel. Whenever you activate it, your mind is sent back in time.”

What he's saying makes sense, but… “How come you were sent back too?”

He laughs again. “Isn't it obvious? Think back to before— do you remember that I caught you as you were falling?”

You nod slowly. The memory of his arms around you is almost embarrassingly vivid. “...is it because we were touching?”

“Ding, ding, ding! That's correct! Anyone you happen to be touching when you activate your technique gets affected by it too!”

Something about his tone annoys you, but you try to ignore it. He could have just told you rather than make you guess. “How do you know that for sure?”

“Well,” he continues. “You’ve done your little time loop a bunch of times, right? If your technique affected everyone, or even a few people in a select range you would have noticed for sure. And if it affected only just you then we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now, now would we?”

When you think about it, you do think that the woman in the magical girl costume might have bumped into you before the loop where she remembered.

“That’s honestly just conjecture, but I've got pretty good eyes, so I’m hardly ever wrong.”

Gojo gives you a grin and while you do think that his reasoning is sound enough his confidence is a little grating. More than that, though, you’re glad that this conversation is actually going really well.

“Either way,” he says thoughtfully. “It doesn’t look like you can control your technique. Usually a person’s technique manifests when they’re a kid, but you seem to be a special case… in fact, I bet your technique activated for the very first time tonight— probably under some pretty extreme circumstances, too.”

“...dying counts as an ‘extreme circumstance,’ right?”

“Oh, absolutely. Or legitimately thinking that you’re gonna die, but it seems like your body has been unconsciously activating your technique as a sort of defense mechanism. Which is why you’re trapped.”

“So, if I could control it I’d be able to make it out of this time loop.”

“Yeah, but in this case it probably wouldn’t end very well for you,” he points out with a chuckle. “It’s not like you actually want to die, right? I mean, if you did, then your technique wouldn’t even activate in the first place.”

You don’t; what you want is for this night to finally end. To be free from the endless cycle of dying over and over again and again. You don’t think death is quite the answer; even if you were to learn how to control this supposed technique of yours, there’s no guarantee that you would just unconsciously activate it when the grim reaper comes knocking on your door. No, the answer is…

“Anyway!” Gojo’s cheery voice cuts through your thoughts. “I highly doubt that you’re the type that makes a habit of jumping off ledges for the funsies, so the fact that you’ve been dying tells me that some pretty gruesome stuff is about to go down, so, tell me what happens tonight.”

The sudden drop of his voice sends a shiver running down your spine. If it weren’t for the fact that you’ve seen how serious Gojo can get, the sudden shift in demeanor would probably freak you out a bit, but it doesn’t. This is the Satoru Gojo you’re familiar with.

You do have one concern though. “That… won’t create a time paradox or anything, will it?”

“Nah,” Gojo shrugs. “You wouldn’t cause one with the way your technique works, besides, if you’ve only been going back at most an hour or two in time it’s hard to believe you’d be making a really big impact… unless you really believe in the butterfly effect.”

You’re still not quite sure.

“Trust me, it’ll be fine.”

His voice sounds strange. Gentle. Kind. It's the most soothing thing you've heard in a long time and it makes you want to believe him.

“...okay.”

Anxiety is still gripping at you, but you try to dispel it, taking a deep breath before beginning your explanation. For the sake of brevity, it’s probably best that you’re as concise as possible. There isn’t much need to really get into the nitty gritty of things unless he asks specifically.

Naturally, you begin with his arrival onto the platform and how soon after a fight breaks out and how the crowd is unfortunate enough to be involved. Gojo’s expression is passive for the most part, but he does crack the faintest hint of a smile when you mention how he manages to eviscerate one of the monsters.

It disappears once you tell him about the arrival of the train. Between the dozens upon dozens of people being dropped onto the platform by those two high school girls and the hoard of monsters disembarking from the train, everything devolves into pandemonium.

“Wait,” Gojo holds a hand up and you pause. This is his first interruption since you started recounting the night’s events for him. “Everyone is able to see the monsters?”

You stare at him. What a weird question. “...yeah?”

His mouth twists and it looks like he’s thinking about something. You can’t even begin to imagine what. Finally, he comments, “Makes sense.”

It does not, but you don’t ask him to elaborate. Surely if it was important he would have just done so.

“Anyway, in the middle of all that, you… you do something.” Your brows bunch together as you remember the stance Gojo took, the crazed and desperate look in his eyes, the feeling of your head about to explode. “I don’t know how to describe it. At first, it would just force me to… activate my technique, I guess. But now, it just knocks me out for a few minutes.”

Gojo frowns and he rubs at his chin, obviously thinking about what you’ve said. Eventually, he raises a hand and bends his fingers into a familiar gesture. It’s the one that preludes whatever he does on the platform. “Do I do this?”

“Yeah.”

He hums. “Interesting.”

You wait to see if he’ll explain. He doesn’t. Great. Even if he doesn’t think you need to know, it certainly would be nice to. It’s annoying otherwise, but you ignore the feeling and continue. “I can’t tell you what happens when I’m knocked out, but when I come to everyone is basically a zombie and all the monsters from the train are gone. I think you kill them.”

“I probably do,” he says casually. “But what about Volcano Head?”

“...you don't…get a chance to kill him,” you say slowly. Gojo tilts his head, waiting for you to elaborate, but you hesitate. You have to tell him, you know you do, but…

You have seen the interaction so many times and though you don't know the exact nature of the relationship between them, you can tell that seeing Suguru Geto (or rather seeing his body) shook Satoru Gojo to his very core.

There's no doubt in your mind that he will not take this news well.

“Come on now,” Gojo's tone is light-hearted, unaware. “Don't keep me in suspense here.”

It's as if you're withholding the punchline to a joke. In a way, you suppose you are, but you don't think he's going to find it funny.

You take a deep breath. You need to tell him. The worst thing that could happen is that he doesn't believe you, but if that's the case… you'll probably just end up repeating this all again until you find a loop where he does.

Having made it this far, you'd like to avoid all that.

“Before you can get Volcano Head you get restrained by something called the prison realm,” you say slowly, “by someone calling themselves… Suguru Geto.”

The second the name leaves your mouth, there is a clear and obvious shift in the air. Gone is Gojo’s laid-back and frivolous demeanor, replaced with something more somber and almost frightening. The tension grows more and more palpable to the point that you think it might almost choke you.

You almost wish that it would.

“You can’t be serious,” Gojo finally says, once your words have fully sunk in.

“I—” You start to speak, but come to an abrupt stop when you see him shove his hand into his pocket to yank out his phone of all things.

The both of you know full well that there’s no reception here, but you don’t think that he’s planning on making any calls. Gojo scrolls and scrolls on his phone before he stops and shoves the screen in your face. It shows a picture of three people— a teenage girl with a cigarette in her mouth, a younger, happier version of Gojo sporting a pair of round sunglasses and—

“When you say ‘Geto’ is this who you’re referring to?” Gojo demands, using his other hand to point at the third person in the frame— a handsome young man with long dark hair pulled up into a bun.

“Yes, but—”

“That’s impossible. It can’t be him,” Gojo interrupts, his voice firm, cold even. “He’s dead.”

There’s a note of finality in his words that is definitely meant to leave no room for argument. It doesn’t stop you, though. Instead, you glare at Gojo’s stupid blindfold and say, “...being dead doesn’t mean a damn thing! I’ve died hundreds of times and yet I’m still fucking here, but—”

“Your situation is different,” he interjects, the temperature of his tone hiking up, his words like heated hissing. “I killed him almost a year ago. There's no way—”

“You didn't get rid of the body properly!” You cut him off, raising your voice in hopes that he'll take even just a second to stop and listen. It seems to work and you add something you remember ‘Geto’ saying. “You should have had Shoko Ieiri get rid of it, but you didn’t and now some… some kind of gross brain thing is possessing the corpse!”

The air between you both is silent as the grave. Though you can't see it, you can feel the weight of his gaze pressing down on you. He’s definitely having second thoughts about everything you’ve said so far. There’s a chance he might even think you’re his enemy now. You stare him down though, refusing to look away. You’ve made it this far, you can’t— you won’t back down.

“...you’re not lying, are you.” Gojo’s words are more of a statement than a question. There’s no doubt in your mind that he knows the answer, and yet he’s still asking. You wonder if maybe he’s clinging onto some vain hope that maybe, just maybe this all a sick, cruel joke that’s gone way too far.

“I’m not.”

Gojo holds your gaze for a second longer before he lets out a curse. “Fuck!”

“...I’m sorry,” you say quietly, mostly because it feels like the most correct thing to say at this moment. You don’t know the whole story, but it seems like they were close. If so, then it must have hurt Gojo a lot to have killed him, and must hurt even more to know that someone is desecrating the body. You hate that you, a complete and utter stranger, happened to be the person to tell him, but…

It had to be done, for the sake of getting past this unending night, it had to be done.

Gojo runs a hand through his hair and lets out a ragged sigh. “Okay. What happens after that?”

You give him a rundown of what follows; he gets sealed, the monsters wake up and all but ‘Geto’ leave in search of their next target. When you mention the high school girls demanding the brain give Geto’s body back, Gojo snorts loudly.

“Fat chance of that,” he says derisively.

You nod in agreement. It was clear to you that the brain parasite has no intent on giving it up any time soon. “After they leave, he… talks to me.”

“Probably couldn't ignore all that cursed energy you have,” Gojo remarks offhandedly.

You stare at him, expression twisted in a way that shows that you have absolutely no clue what that means. It should be fine for you to ask this one question; it actually concerns you after all. “What does that even mean?”

“Exactly what it sounds like, though… probably doesn't make much sense to you, does it?”

You give him a pointed glare and all Gojo does is laugh.

“Just think of it like having a lot of MP.”

“...Like in a video game?”

“Exactly!” Then, Gojo tilts his head, clearly thinking. You don't bother asking; you don't feel like he'll explain.

“He does ask me if I'm a sorcerer, whatever that is. Is that why?”

“Probably. Ordinary people don't have even a fraction of the energy you're packing.”

‘Ordinary people’ he says as if you’re not an ordinary person who got caught up in all this supernatural sorcery bullshit. Or at least you were, but if the time loops are really a product of your own doing…

“Does he kill you when you answer?” Gojo asks to get the conversation back on track.

“Not right away. What happens next kind of varies,” you answer. “He usually lets me have a question or two before he kills me; I've asked him a couple different things.”

“Really taking advantage, aren’t you?” Gojo says and you're not sure what to make of his tone. Is he mocking you or is he easing back into that laid-back persona of his?

“If I’m doomed to repeat the same situation over and over, I might as well make the most of it,” you respond flatly.

“You know, your technique kind of reminds me of save scumming.”

He’s definitely gone back to acting almost completely unserious— all signs of his earlier agitation are nearly gone.

“So what did you learn?”

“Well, the prison realm only holds one occupant. Once they’re sealed, time stops for them and the only way out is if the bearer unseals them or if they choose to kill themselves.”

“I see… And what about our body jacker?”

“He didn’t go into detail but he said something about… striving toward the evolution of mankind?” You frown a little at the memory. He didn’t explain further because he said that you wouldn’t understand.

“Huh. Interesting. Wonder how he was gonna go about doing that.”

“I don't know, but I can't imagine you'd like it since he goes out of his way to seal you into that box,” you say. “Said you’d get in the way because you’re too strong.”

Gojo shrugs his shoulders and grins a little. Cocky. “Well, I am the strongest sorcerer around, you know.”

You would think him overconfident if you hadn't seen the magnitude of his strength first hand.

“Anyway, that's as far as I ever go. When he's decided he’s done talking to me, he kills me and I loop back.”

“So, in short, what you want help with is getting past that point, right?”

“More or less.”

“And all I have to do is avoid getting caught by the prison realm?”

You nod.

“What’s it look like?” he asks. “A big cage with a bunch of metal bars?”

Now that you think about it, you haven’t woken up early enough to see it before it traps him, but you can’t imagine it looks that much different. “No.. It’s a small box with eyes… It gets big enough to fit you in it, though.”

“Huh.” He stretches his arms out above his head as if he’s trying to emphasize how large he actually is and shoots you a grin. “Should be easy enough then. I bet our body snatcher used the shock of seeing Suguru to trap me but since I'll see it coming, avoiding it'll be a piece of cake.”

Gojo makes it sound so easy, and maybe it really is as simple as that, but you can't help but be worried still.

“Don't tell me you don't think I can do it,” he says, tilting his head.

“It's not that,” you admit. “I'm just concerned I might die before we can get to that point.”

Truthfully, since you know that will just result in another loop you're less concerned with dying itself and more worried about losing the progress you've made in convincing Gojo to help you. Even though it's been clearly proven you can loop him as well, there's no guarantee you'll be able to make the physical contact needed to do it upon death.

“You've made it pretty far on your own, though, right?”

“Yeah, but… I’ve messed up plenty of times.” More than you can even count. “There's also the possibility that taking the time to talk to you might have thrown things out of whack.”

Speaking of time, you check your phone. It's 8:39PM. You curse.

Gojo leans over to check your phone. “Let me guess, I'm supposed to be somewhere right now.”

“Yeah, this is when you’re descending down onto the platform.”

“You know where I am down to the exact minute?” He asks and you tilt your head back and forth a little. It’s not exact per se, but it’s close enough. Gojo chuckles a little. “Man, I didn’t realize that you were actually that into me.”

That earns Gojo a glare from you, but he just laughs it off. “I doubt being a few minutes late is going to make a big difference.”

You certainly hope so.

“Don't worry,” Gojo says and you notice he's using that tone from earlier. “You won't die.”

It’s hard to argue with him when he uses such a reassuring sounding voice and yet, you still open your mouth to try— to voice your doubts, but what he says next silences you before you even can.

“I'll protect you.”

You think your heart stops beating in your chest and your words dissolve in your throat.

He grins at you. “Did you fall in love with me just now?”

That catches you a little off guard. You're willing to admit he's hot, but surely he must be joking. “How could you even think of something like that at a time like this?”

Gojo laughs again. “Well, since someone is so worried about their time table being all messed up, I better head down there; can’t keep Volcano Head and friends waiting, right?”

You blink. Is that it? “Wait, shouldn’t we make a plan or something?”

“Isn’t the plan for me to not get caught in the prison realm?”

Yes, but… “But what about me? Is there anything I can do?”

Gojo stares at you, or at least you think he does. “...I don’t know, is there?”

You’ve seen the encounter between Satoru Gojo and those monsters so many times and you try to picture a version of it where you intervene and… all you can see is yourself getting in his way. You’re no fighter, no… sorcerer, or whatever he is, you’re just some ordinary person that was unfortunate enough to get all caught up in this mess. The most you can probably do is kick the prison realm out of the way when the time comes, but otherwise… “...no, I guess not.”

His expression turns sympathetic. “You’ve done plenty by telling me everything that happens. So just wait up here, and let me handle the monsters.”

You almost nod. Almost. But then you remember what transpires up here above the platform. You know it sounds safer up here where you’re less likely to get involved in the carnage, but… “Wait, no, if I stay up here then I’ll fall to my death when those girls—”

Gojo laughs, interrupting you. “Don’t worry about that. It’ll be fine.”

“How?”

“Just trust me.”

“I…” It’s hard to. After everything you’ve gone through it’s hard to trust in anything, to believe in anything. Even though you’ve made it this far this time, the worry that something will go wrong and that you’ll have to do it all again still lurks in the back of your mind.

Despite all that, you want to believe.

You want to believe that you can make it past this unending night, that one day you’ll wake up and it’ll no longer be October 31, 2018. And the first step towards that is trusting in Satoru Gojo.

“...okay,” you say quietly. “Okay.”

Gojo chuckles then asks, “Anything else before I head off?”

You start to ask if there’s anything you should say, in case things don’t work out, but you stop yourself. You’re choosing to trust him, to believe in him— you can figure out that stuff later if things end up going south after all. So, instead you give him a smile and it feels a little weird because you don’t remember the last time you did. “Good luck!”

For a split second, Gojo looks almost surprised, but then he laughs again, beaming widely at you. He starts to move past you and reaches out to give you what you think is meant to be a reassuring squeeze of the shoulder and then he’s off. You turn to watch him go, the crowd, once again, parting almost naturally for him.

When he reaches the barricade, he pauses, raising his hand as if he’s giving you one last wave. Then he jumps over it onto his little perch and then less than a minute later he’s gone, descending to the platform below.

Now, all you can do is wait.

You check your phone again and it’s 8:44PM. If you remember correctly, the high school girls start threatening everyone right before 9PM. With Gojo’s arrival being shifted back almost five minutes, does that mean that they’ll be shifted back too? It would make sense, but you’re not too sure.

Out of habit, you keep checking your phone and at nearly 9PM, you hear the shrill voice of one of the girls over the crowd, commanding everyone to do what she says, her partner stringing up bodies until everyone listens. Everything plays out just as you remember it, which is mildly comforting, though you know that the events that happen up here are more or less independent from what happens below.

Surely, just as Gojo said, a few minutes aren’t going to change anything, but—

No.

You agreed to trust him. To trust that everything would be fine.

When the girls start to demand that as many people as possible climb onto the roots and vines covering the atrium your heart starts to hammer in your chest. In just a few minutes, all the foliage will disintegrate beneath you, and you and everyone else here will fall into the abyss below.

You are afraid.

There isn’t a single loop where you’ve really survived this fall. If you don’t die in midair, you die right after landing. It’s a death trap, and that’s why you’ve stopped coming up here. There’s a part of you, the part that knows what’s about to happen, that wants to try and run back onto stable footing. But you can’t, because you know if you do then the girls will kill you for sure; you have to stay.

It’ll be fine, you tell yourself, it’ll be okay.

You just have to trust Gojo.

An eight car train is pulling in. Please wait behind the yellow line.

You hear the announcement faintly below you. It’s almost time. You brace yourself and try to stay calm. Gojo said he would protect you, that you wouldn’t die. You don’t know how he intends to keep that promise, but all you can do is believe in his words.

It’ll be fine. It’ll be okay.

The vines and roots start to crack and the ground beneath you starts to give out. You squeeze your eyes shut as that sickening weightless feeling overtakes you. It occurs to you that this is actually quite literally a trust fall— will Satoru Gojo really be able to catch you?

As you fall, you realize almost instantly that something is different.

You’ve experienced this fall dozens of times and so, even though it has been a while since you’ve gone this route, you are very familiar with what it feels like. Something is different. You’re falling faster. The trajectory is changing. It’s like some force, other than gravity, is pulling at you.

Is this Gojo’s doing?

Just as your body collides with the ground you hear the sounds of mutilating flesh meld with the screams surrounding you. Blood and severed limbs litter the ground, but you try to ignore it. You need to focus on your own survival right now. Quickly, you scramble to your feet scan the area around you; you’re on the platform right now and right in front of you is—

Right in front of you is Satoru Gojo.

His back is turned to you, his focus currently elsewhere. Looking at him you realize you recognize this scene, though it’s much closer and at a different angle. He’s about to do that thing, that thing that knocks you out.

Something in you tells you to move closer to him, after all, he used his mysterious powers to deliberately bring you closer to him, right? You rush toward him and as you do something he said earlier pops up in your mind.

Anyone you happen to be touching when you activate your technique gets affected by it too!

Whatever he’s about to do… Is that his ‘technique?’ And if it is, would it work the same way as yours? If so, there’s only one way to find out: you need to touch him. You dodge monsters and other people as you run toward Satoru Gojo and—

A monster still manages to grab you, its large hands wrapping around your wrist. You try and yank it free, but it's much stronger than you are.

“Shit!” you hiss as the monster starts to pull you toward it and away from Gojo. What do you do? Your other hand is still free, should you try to punch it in the face? Or—

Before you can do anything, something blasts the monster’s head clean off. Shocked, you stare as the monster’s body slumps onto the ground, its grip loosening on you instantly. You whip your head around to find that while Gojo still has his back to you, his arm is bent back in your direction, his palm open as if he fired some invisible blast from it.

Then you feel it again, something pulling at you, but this time it's more forceful. Your body is yanked toward Gojo and the second you feel his hand press against you, you see him make that gesture with his other hand.

“Domain Expansion,” he whispers in a strained voice. “Infinite Void!”

Something happens and your vision flashes for a fraction of a second. And then—

The room is enveloped in an eerie stillness; all the violence and bloodshed coming to an abrupt stop. Monsters and humans alike stand like the living dead, unconscious with their eyes wide open as if they are staring into an infinite abyss. You recognize this scene, you’re familiar with it because it’s similar to the one you wake up to after being hit by Gojo’s ‘domain expansion.’ The only difference is the presence of the monsters, who are all but gone when you regain consciousness.

The pressure from Gojo’s hand is gone and he says to you, his voice still low. “If you’re squeamish when it comes to blood and gore, it might be best for you to close your eyes.”

And then he’s gone.

You do not take his advice. You do not close your eyes. How many loops were you unable to witness what’s about to unfold? A few hundred? A few thousand? And if all goes to plan, then you will never get another chance again: there’s no way you could possibly look away.

And what you see unfold before you is that Satoru Gojo was right.

He is the one to kill all the monsters.

It’s not as if you really had any doubt, after all, it seemed like the most logical conclusion to come to and yet…

There’s a difference between knowing and seeing.

All the violence resumes and the platform is engulfed in the sounds of carnage and slaughter once more. The lack of terrified screams makes everything more disconcerting— without them, all you can hear is the squelching echo of mangled flesh and blood splattering all over the place. You can’t really see him, but you can tell where Satoru Gojo is in the crowd as he leaves dozens upon dozens of decapitated heads soaring in his wake. Once or twice, he leaps out of the crowd and even from where you stand you can see the crazed glow of his inhumanly blue eyes as he massacres monster after monster.

Even though you don’t think you have anything to be scared of, you are still terrified: Satoru Gojo is no longer a man, but violence incarnate. You want to move closer to where Gojo gets trapped, but you’re afraid to. What if you get in his way? What if he kills you by accident?

Dying again when you’ve made it this far is definitely not ideal, but isn’t being killed by Gojo the best case scenario? Because then the two of you would probably loop together again and—

No.

Gojo said you wouldn’t die.

He said he’d protect you.

It’s hard to believe when he’s in the middle of a massacre, slaughtering monsters left and right, but you remind yourself yet again that you have to believe in him.

You take a deep breath and start moving, taking care to keep an eye on where Gojo is. You don’t know how long this is supposed to take, but you do know where he ends up when he’s just about done. The closer he gets to that spot, the sooner the prison realm will be unleashed upon him.

There’s a small group of zombified people nearby and you settle yourself among them. It’s not super close, but you think it's close enough that you'd be able to run over and kick the box away from Gojo if you have to. You do a quick survey to see if you can spot the body snatcher, but he's nowhere to be found. Hopefully, he hasn't noticed you moving around, or, if he has, he's more concerned with Gojo than he is with you. Given that you always seem to be the last thing he acknowledges, you'd like to think that he doesn't consider you a threat.

Which you're not, not really anyway.

The sounds of slaughter start to die down and you look to see Gojo approaching the spot where he gets caught. He looks beat, his eyes unfocused and his breathing heavy. You do another quick scan around him and notice a small box a few meters away from him, wrapped in what looks like paper charms or seals or whatever they're called. That has to be the prison realm— though it looks different than what you saw before. Gojo seems to notice it right after you do, his gaze honing in on it, examining it with some measure of bewilderment. Then, some invisible force slices through all the paper seals covering the box and it expands, the corners of the box floating up in midair to reveal what looks like a large sheet of dark red flesh with a large bloodshot eye stapled to the middle.

Disgusting.

If Gojo didn’t realize before, he seems to now, because he takes a step back, away from the grotesque thing. Good, good—

“Hey! Satoru!” Your blood runs cold at the sound of the body snatcher’s voice. He emerges from the crowd, smiling widely as he gives Gojo a wave. “Long time no see!”

Satoru Gojo’s entire body goes rigid. Shit. You told him, you warned him about what was going to happen, who he was going to see, but was that not enough? It’s possible that no amount of warning would have been enough to mentally prepare Satoru Gojo for the sight of the man he said he killed a year ago. After all, you know that there’s a stark difference between knowing and seeing. Even then, if Gojo doesn’t gather his wits and move now then he’s going to get caught and you can’t let that happen.

Your body moves before you can even think about it.

You scramble out from your hiding spot in the crowd and throw yourself in between Satoru Gojo and the prison realm. There’s no way you can kick it away from him now, not when it’s in this form, but maybe, if you get between them you can at least keep it from capturing him.

The eye quivers erratically, as it flits from Gojo to you. Every hair on your body stands on end as it watches you, the pupil dilating and contracting uncontrollably. You can’t look away from it, your own gaze fixed to your image reflected in the black abyss of the pupil. Something in the back of your mind tells you to stop, to get away, it’s dangerous, but you keep your feet firmly planted to the ground.

A second, or maybe even a minute passes and the prison realm shifts, its fleshy form morphing to restrain you.

The body jacker looks at you, his frown tinged with disgust. “Don’t you think you’re being rather rude by butting into what could have been a touching reunion?”

You scowl. Is he still trying to play the role of Suguru Geto?

He sighs and looks past you at Gojo. “Satoru, I thought bringing lesser sorcerers to fight alongside you was more trouble than it was worth?”

You hear Gojo snort from behind you, “It is… but this person here isn’t a sorcerer… Just like you aren’t Suguru Geto.”

The faker almost pouts and presses his hand to his chest as if Gojo's words have wounded him. “Satoru, I’m hurt, how could you say such a thing to your best friend?”

“Cut the bullshit,” Gojo snarls. “You can’t fucking fool me. You might be in Suguru’s body but I know with all my heart and soul that you’re not him.”

The corpse snatcher stares at Gojo, expression blank before he sighs once more. Then, his gaze shifts back to you, his eyes narrowed as he looks at you with sheer disdain. It feels as if you’ve been drenched in ice cold water. There's no smile this time but you already know what's going to happen.

He’s going to kill you.

“I intended to deal with you later since you seemed harmless enough,” he says, raising a hand to summon a monster— the same one he always uses to end your life. “But you’re in the way. So, I think it’s for the best if I just get rid of you right now.”

Instinctively, you try to take a step back but the prison realm’s restraints keep you in place. Not that it would have mattered much, even in the loops where you’ve tried to escape the faker’s monster, it still kills you, too fast and too agile for an ordinary human like you to avoid. All you can do is squeeze your eyes shut and wait for the monster to kill you. At least, it’s always painless.

Something touches your back.

Your eyes shoot open.

Before you is the monster, wiggling and writhing only mere centimeters from your face. It gurgles and snarls at you, desperate to fulfill its master’s wishes and kill you but it doesn’t move any closer. You stare at it with wide eyes, unsure of what to do.

Someone behind you clicks their tongue— Gojo. You try to turn your head to look at him, but your movements are too limited, the most you can do is turn your head to the side. The sounds the monster is making start to change, sounding more frenzied, almost as if it’s in pain, and you flit your eyes in its direction just in time to see its entire body explode. The monster's guts and bright purple blood fly off in every direction, getting on the floor, the ceiling, the zombified bodies of the people unfortunate enough to be nearby, but not on you.

This is Satoru Gojo’s doing.

He steps in front of you, half turned towards you as he moves in between you and the body snatcher. His hands are shoved in his pockets as he loudly says, “Did you really forget about me?”

You’re not sure if he’s talking to you or the body snatcher.

Past him, the imposter scowls, raising his hand once more, probably to summon even more monsters, but Gojo’s quicker, and it almost looks like his eyes are glowing even brighter, the blue looking almost white as he whips his head in the faker’s direction. The sound of mangling flesh and breaking bones echoes throughout the room as Gojo, using that mysterious power of his, seems to break the faker’s arm.

The body snatcher hisses loudly and despite the fact that his face is twisted in very obvious pain, he tries to shoot Gojo a mocking smile. “Do you really think you can kill your best friend again?”

“I already told you,” Gojo turns to fully face the monster inhabiting Geto’s corpse. He tilts his head a little to the side and some force starts to squeeze at the faker’s neck. “You’re not Suguru.”

You hear a loud crack as Gojo telekinetically snaps his neck.

The head rolls onto the ground and you almost look away, but then you notice his eyes still moving, looking around. Is he still alive? Then you remember: the thing possessing Suguru Geto’s body was some kind of parasite. “Gojo! Wait! The brain!”

He reacts almost instantly, head turning and in an instant the skull is crushed and all that remains is red splotch on the ground.

You almost relax. Almost.

But the body is still standing.

Horrified, you watch as it quivers violently before falling to the ground. Then what looks like dozens of black spirits start to erupt from the corpse and the entire room is engulfed with a shrill howling.

What the hell is going on?

“Those must be all the cursed spirits he consumed,” Gojo explains uselessly, voice barely audible over the screaming. “Guess he was empty before.”

You don’t bother asking what he means. There are bigger problems right now. “What do we do?”

“No choice to exorcise them,” he answers plainly.

For him to exorcise them, he means. You both know that there’s not much that you can do. You still can’t move and honestly, you don’t even know if it’s possible to get out of the prison realm’s restraints. Not without dying. And if you die now…

Everything will have been for naught.

You’ll reset time and have to do this all over again— assuming you can even get to this point again.

There has to be something, you just have to think outside the box.

Or rather—

“Gojo!”

He glances back at you.

“You need to seal me in the prison realm!” you exclaim. He turns to face you fully, looking bewildered and you start to explain as fast as you can. “Those things are going to attack any minute right? I can’t move or try to hide and I can’t expect you to protect me the entire time and if I die then I’ll end up looping time again, but— but, if you seal me in the prison realm then that won’t happen.”

Gojo frowns, looking conflicted. “You don’t think I can do it?”

“Wouldn't it be easier if you didn’t have to?”

He tilts head and you think he’s conceding your point.

“Please,” you beg, staring at him desperately. “We don’t have much time. The other… cursed spirits will wake up soon too!”

You don’t have to explain that you mean Volcano Head and friends.

It takes only a second for Gojo to consider the very few options you have. “...how do you seal it? Do you know?”

“I think so,” you answer. “There’s no guarantee it’ll work but I think that if you say ‘prison realm, gate close’ it should seal me inside.”

If anything, it’s worth a shot.

Gojo nods. “Do you know how to break the seal?”

“I… don’t,” you confess. You never asked, and you don’t think the body snatcher would have told you even if you did. He only told you that it holds one and that…

That time doesn’t flow in the box.

“...you don’t have to break the seal.”

Gojo frowns, “Wait a sec—”

“Even if I make it past tonight… What if this all happens again? What if I inadvertently trap myself in another time loop?” you ask. “I… I don’t want to have to go through all of this again. It’s better for me in a place where time doesn’t pass.”

You don’t know for sure if it’ll be better, but right here, right now, it seems like the best option.

It feels like an eternity passes before Gojo says anything.

“...fine,” he agrees and you don’t quite know how to feel about it. The howling around you all grows louder. You wonder why the cursed spirits haven’t attacked yet. Maybe Gojo’s power is holding them at bay… for now anyway. You both know that he can’t ignore them forever.

“...before I do, though, mind if I ask you just one thing?”

You blink. “Not sure what I can do for you in this state…”

He laughs. “I just want to know your name.”

What an odd request. Though, now that you think about it, you don’t think that during this loop or any other loop really, you’ve ever told him your name. It only seems fair to tell him, since you’ve known his for longer than he’s known of your existence.

You tell him your name.

He nods, looking as if he’s committing to memory. Probably easier to remember than his phone number. “Any last words?”

You try to think of something. Nothing comes to mind and you just shake your head.

Gojo takes a deep breath, “Alrighty then… Prison realm, gate close.”

Just as it did the many times you’ve seen Satoru Gojo sealed away, the boxes and restraints around you vibrate a little before they start to close around you, growing large enough to fit your body as they approach.

You won’t see it, but once you’re inside the box will shrink and become small enough to fit in the palm of someone’s hand.

Will it be quiet inside?

In your final seconds, some words, some last words come to mind, and you say them, hoping that he hears them in time. “Thank you, Satoru Gojo.”

You burn the glittering glow of his brilliant bright blue eyes into your mind.

And then, everything is engulfed in an unending black.

It’s November 30, 2018— morning on the campus of Tokyo Prefectural Jujutsu High School.

Satoru Gojo strides through the school grounds, casually tossing a small silver box with eerie blue eyes known as the prison realm up and down in his grasp. Walking at his side is Shoko Ieiri, a pretty woman who’s been unfortunate enough to have been Satoru’s friend since high school.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Shoko asks, twirling a few strands of her long brown hair.

“What do you mean?” Satoru responds nonchalantly. “All my ideas are good ideas.”

Shoko hums in clear dissent, but doesn’t say anything more. Even she knows better than to try and waste her time trying to argue with Satoru. “I’m just worried about their mental state. Didn’t you say that time doesn’t flow in the box?”

“I’d be worried if it was some normal person,” Satoru says. “But after what they’ve gone through I think they’ll be fine.”

“...well, if you say so.”

The two arrive at their destination: the largest training area on the Jujutsu High grounds. Satoru places the prison realm at the center and takes a few steps back with Shoko standing behind him, in case anything happens.

He doesn’t think it will, but it’s always good to take at least a few precautions.

“Gojo, are you sure we should be doing this?” Shoko asks again. “Didn’t they want to remain in the box?”

“Of course I am,” Satoru says with his usual air of confidence before looking back at the prison realm nestled in the grass. He grins and then—

“Prison realm, gate open.”

if you made it this far. thank you. it's my sincerest hope that you enjoyed the ride.

[worksby-d]

We’ll Get There

Pairing: dad’s best friend!Ari Levinson x fem!Reader

Summary: Ari has to confront you after finding his ✨toy drawer✨ disarranged.

Warnings: Age gap (Reader is over 21), inexperienced!Reader, dildos, vibrators, fingering, maybe a tiny bit of humiliation, 18+/minors dni

Word count: ~2,000

a/n: First full Ari fic alert 🫣

PART TWO

⋆ ˚｡⋆˚ ҉˚⋆｡˚ ⋆❀

“Come in!” His muffled voice comes from the other side of the door after only a few knocks. He was watching the time and knew you'd arrive early; you always do.

“Hi, Mr. Levinson,” you smile politely, kicking your shoes off and dropping your bag of clothes to the floor.

“Please,” he chuckles. “This has to be your fiftieth time house sitting for me. You can call me Ari.”

You laugh a little at that. It's really only been a few times, your dad volunteering you each time, knowing you could use the little bit of money he always pays when he gets back. But either way, you make a mental note to use his first name.

Watching as he goes back and forth to bring his luggage out of his bedroom, you'd be lying if you said you weren't staring at him – The large strides his long legs allow him to take, his biceps bulging against his tight t-shirt as he lifts the heavy bags, long strands of hair falling in front of his face. He's a vision, but certainly one you should be snapping yourself out of.

“I have a bit before I have to leave actually…” He does it for you, quickly getting your attention. “There's something I want to go over with you quickly, if that's okay.”

“Oh, yeah, okay,” you nod, finally moving away from his door.

You figure there must be something different with his locks, or maybe there's an appliance not working. He passes his kitchen and another door though, and you realize he's leading you toward his bedroom.

You're not an idiot – Memories from your past stay flash before your eyes, hoping, praying, he didn't notice anything off after you left.

“Now, I don't want to accuse you of anything,” he begins. You freeze in his doorway as he walks toward the side of his bed, but will yourself to look calm. “Because I'm very thankful you're able to help me out so much. But when I got back last time, it seemed like you had used my room…”

“I– yeah,” you blurt out, trying to come up with an explanation instead of flat out denying it. “The TV in here is better than the one in the guest room.”

“Gotcha,” he laughs. He drops his face forward before looking back up at you, looking relieved. “So I'm not crazy. I can always tell when something’s out of place. That's okay though, I think this bed is more comfortable too, to be honest.”

“It is.” You play along, glad he bought it. Or so you think.

“With that said…” You take in a breath as he goes on. “Imagine my surprise though when I opened up my nightstand drawer and noticed things out of place there as well.”

“N-no,” you stammer immediately, mouth turning dry as you struggle to come up with a quick lie this time. “I didn't use them, I just–” You go silent, realizing you basically admitted to it already by knowing what's even in the drawer.

“Aw, really?” His voice comes out a tone you've never heard from him before–almost mocking–as his eyes narrow on you, trying his best to bite back his smirk when you become restless under his gaze. “Because I've had the image of you fucking yourself with my toys on my bed stuck in my head since I noticed.”

Your eyes widen and you stand up straighter. But why does his confession have your legs feeling weak? “I, uh…”

As he steps closer to you, his voice softens again. “I've jerked off thinking about it.”

You don't have to cave and admit you weren’t in here because of the TV. He knows the truth when you can't contain yourself, being the one to take the last step closer to close the gap between your bodies, pressing your lips against his.

Your conscience doesn't catch up with you until you feel his hands hesitantly rest on your hips. Quickly pulling away, your eyes snap open realizing you've finally failed to repress your feelings for him. “Sorry–”

“No,” he shakes his head, pulling you back against him so he can kiss you again. “Don’t be.”

As his lips move desperately against yours, it becomes more heated in no time. Your arms leave your side to grasp onto his shirt as his hold on you tightens. He carefully walks backward with you toward the bed, turning so he can sit you down. Neither of you want to break away, a quiet sigh coming from you as he interrupts your make out to return to his toy drawer.

“If you're using these, I want to make sure you're at least using them right while I'm gone,” he breathes out, catching his breath the same way you are as you watch him shuffle through the contents of the drawer.

Your heart races seeing him grab the flesh-colored dildo and a bottle of lube in his hand.

He catches the look on your face when he turns back toward you, bending down to give you another soft kiss in an attempt to ease your nerves.

“Let’s start with something simple,” he offers, handing you the toy. “Show me what you've been up to when I'm not here.”

Feeling the weight of the toy in your hand, you slowly let out a breath and hand it back to him for just a second so you can shimmy out of your shorts and underwear.

He offers to help with the lube as you lay back and you nod your head, telling him to drip some on your bare pussy. The cold liquid sends a chill through you and he chuckles putting the bottle back in the drawer.

Reaching down, you use the tip of the silicone dick to rub the gel along your slit. You gulp pressing against your entrance, knowing it's not as simple as he says. You remember this one being too big.

Not wanting to admit that though, you push on the base of the toy, whimpering as it stretches you open.

“Attagirl.” He pats your knee, sitting beside you on the edge of the bed. “Keep going.”

After a couple moments of continuing to work yourself up with just the tip, you thrust it deeper. Your head falls back, a pleasurable sting pulling a moan from you. The toy continues to fill you up as you pull it out and thrust it back in a few times, but you're nowhere near taking it all.

“Don't be shy,” Ari teases, placing his hand over yours at the base. “You can do better than that.”

He situates himself so he can comfortably move his hand along with yours as you fuck yourself. Batting your eyelashes up at him though, you slowly pull your hand out from under his, silently asking him to take over. Maybe he can make it fit.

He gives you a warning look – You're supposed to be learning how to use them. He already knows.

“Please, Ari.”

He lets out a scoff of disbelief, toward himself for giving in. How can he say no when he has you sprawled out on his bed like this though? Something right out of the daydreams he's been having.

“Fuck, you're tight,” he says, watching you squirm as he’s met with resistance trying to thrust the toy deeper. “You use this one last time?”

“Tried to,” you whine, trying to close your legs together but his free hand stops them. “It’s too big.”

“Oh, pretty girl,” he chuckles. “Then you'd never be able to take me.”

“Y-you?” Your eyes go wide. He's bigger than this?

“Don't worry,” he winks, making one last effort to fuck you deeper, still gently though so as not to actually hurt you. “We’ll work up to that.”

Unsuccessful, he stills his hand, leaning down to give you a quick kiss. “I thought this would do, but maybe we need to start with something even smaller.”

You whine something incoherent and pathetically reach out for him as he pulls the dildo out of you and stands up.

He rummages through the drawer again, this time choosing a small bullet vibrator. You almost let out a sigh of relief before stopping yourself.

“Come here.” He waves you to sit up and scoot toward him as he sits at the head of the bed, spreading his legs to make room for you between them.

You easily obey, moving so your back is against his chest. The erection you've given him is hard to miss as he presses against your lower back and heat rushes to your cheeks. You're thankful he can't see your face right now.

His hands guide your legs apart, hooking them over his own. Keeping one hand on your thigh to rub soothing circles with his thumb, the other picks up the vibrator and sets it to the lowest setting.

As he holds it to your clit, you let out a breath, fully relaxing back against him, effectively melting under the pleasure.

“Gotta stretch you out a bit, okay?” He whispers, dropping his face to your neck to place soft kisses against your sensitive skin. “I'll start with one finger and go from there.”

“O-kay,” your voice breaks, feeling his middle finger plunge into your cunt. His fingers are a lot bigger than your own, having a hard time believing it's only one filling you up right now. “Fuck.”

“Is this better?”

“Yes,” you cry out, grasping onto his thighs to keep yourself in place. “So good.”

He can't help but laugh, his breath warm against your neck. “Take the vibrator then. It's your turn.”

You panic and grab onto his forearm, thinking that means he's going to stop touching you all together.

“Relax,” he whispers in your ear. “My fingers aren't going anywhere. You gotta use the toys yourself though.”

Replacing his hand with yours, you keep the vibrator pressed firmly against your clit as he adds another finger to the mix.

Feeling the second one stretch you open, you can't imagine taking anything more. “So big,” you murmur.

“My fingers?” He chuckles. “We have a lot of work to do, princess.”

He can tell you're close when your legs begin to tremble and your fingers begin desperately moving the vibrator around your clit. Your hips thrust forward trying to get Ari to fuck you harder, push you over the edge.

“Gonna cum already? From just two?” He tsks, wrapping his arm around you to still your hips. “They're not even knuckle deep, baby. This little cunt of yours wants more though, I can tell. We'll get there.”

Desperate for release, you take it upon yourself to increase the setting of the vibrator. Your head falls back against his shoulder as a moan gets caught in your throat.

His sped up movements fill the room with the obscene sounds of your arousal coating his fingers.

“For now, cum for me.” His voice right in your ear is almost lost on you, nearly drowned out by your quickened breaths and anticipation. “Cum all over my fingers and that little toy.”

You choke out his name as you cum, back arching off of him as you writhe against the strong arm he still has around you. You have to pull the vibrator away when his fingers don't stop, fucking you all the way through your high before he lets up.

His arm loosens, his hand moving underneath your sweatshirt to rub calmingly against your stomach as you work on steadying your breath.

“Did so well,” he cooes, pressing a few kisses to your shoulder, cheek, and temple. It's all meant to be a distraction while he gently pulls his fingers out of you, prompting a small whine from you anyway.

With his hand out of the way, you slowly bring your legs back together, a little sore from the position you were in, and turn to the side to wrap your arms around him and rest your head on his shoulder.

“You mastered the bullet,” he jokes, earning a small laugh from you. You nestle your face closer against him out of embarrassment. “You think by the time I get back in two weeks we'll be able to use the other one again?”

“I'll try,” you mumble against him. “I promise.”

“Good girl.” His hand rubbing your back pauses only so he can hug you tighter for a few more minutes before he really has to leave. “I want updates while I'm gone.”

“Yes, sir.”

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