#do not ingest heavy metals

[elminx]

Hey folks, colloidal silver is not considered a safe treatment for anything in the medical community, including COVID. Shockingly, there's a really good reason for this: it's a heavy metal.

Do you know what happens when you ingest heavy metals?

You get heavy metal poisoning.

Source: the NiH

"There is no clinical evidence supporting the use of colloidal silver to prevent or treat COVID-19. Furthermore, no alternative remedies or dietary supplements have been shown to prevent or cure COVID-19."

We should absolutely be continuing to monitor, prevent, and treat COVID effectively.

But we also need to stop spreading bunk information.

New zine that's free for anyone to print and distribute! Read the whole thing at newlevant.com/COVIDzine or in the rest of this post.

[focsle]

I get so annoyed when people are like ‘oh those 19th century idiots with their silly understanding of things that were killing them lol’ when half of it was like…

They knew there was harm but because of various things, be it manufacturing happening out of their control, or what their access or lack of access looked like, or what assurances they were given by whom, what have you, that harm mitigation became more challenging.

Like, people knew that scurvy was treated by access to fresh fruits and vegetables (though there was sometimes a mistaken identity of believing acidity was indicative of something that’d help you, such as vinegar, which is a logical conclusion when you don’t know about vitamin c). But sometimes one still finds themselves in a place or job where that access can’t happen.

Doctors and journalists were sounding alarms about the dangers of heavy metals in dyes and makeup. But If your understanding of how something caused harm didn’t match with the actual currently-not-understood dangers (such as thinking that arsenic kills something when ingested, but not knowing about dust or outgassing) one might not be alert to the danger of it. The power of advertising, and labels, and assurances could also sway people as much as they do today.

There were journalists who wrote on the dangers of adulterated food cut with inedible materials. But if, like heavy metals in dyes and cosmetics, it was embedded in the manufacturing process, and if there was no system in place to hold those manufacturers accountable, there wasn’t much you could do. Especially for poorer families who didn’t often have access to food that WASN’T adulterated. They couldn’t afford food that wasn’t adulterated. You still have to eat.

Some doctors also sounded the alarm about the use of mercury / calomel treatments for various ailments, saying that they did more harm than good. But if that’s the most widely available treatment, if it’s the only option open to you when the alternative is ‘inevitably die horribly from syphilis anyway’, people may have taken their chances. Especially when it was also being pushed by other authority figures as being an effective miracle cure.

Idk all this to say that capitalism always kills, ordinary people trying to get through their lives are always trying to do the best they can in the circumstances they find themselves in with the knowledge they have and what’s available to them, and like…look in a mirror or something. I don’t want someone calling me an idiot 200 years from now, if humanity is still here, because my organs were full of microplastics. There’s nothing I can do about that. Criticize the greed and structures that put them there.

[wheatbreadfuckyeah]

Flirting with death [Viktor x Reader]

Summary: In a chaotic lab, Viktor’s sharp words and irritation mask a reluctant respect for your brilliance. Amid playful tension and unspoken bonds, Viktor values your presence even when you had just point a loaded gun to his face.

Sigh sighh sighhhhh— hope u like it!

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The lab was dimly lit, its usual atmosphere of sterile precision clouded by a curling haze of smoke that seemed to blur the lines between order and chaos. The rhythmic hum of machines filled the air, punctuated by the crackle of open flames and the volatile hiss of chemicals bubbling in makeshift glass contraptions. Tonight wasn’t about calculated progress or meticulous breakthroughs. It was one of those nights where discipline surrendered to the thrill of reckless, unbridled creation.

You slouched in your chair, exuding an air of devil-may-care rebellion, the faint glow of your cigarette casting flickering shadows across your face. Smoke curled from your lips like ghostly ribbons, dissipating into the stale air. Scattered before you lay your tools of choice: experimental compounds, volatile tinctures, and haphazard notes scrawled in a frenzy. “For society,” you murmured between puffs, your voice dripping with mockery, barely concealing the grin tugging at your lips. A wheezy laugh escaped you, your shoulders shaking as you revel in the memory of your latest antic.

“And then... oh, you should’ve seen her face!” You doubled over, the chair creaking beneath you as your laughter echoed off the metallic walls.

Across the room, Viktor’s golden gaze flicked toward you, his work momentarily forgotten. He sat stiffly at his workstation, tools in hand, precision etched into every line of his posture. But your laughter, grating, relentless, and manic, broke through his focus like a hammer shattering glass. His jaw tightened, and for a moment, he seemed to weigh the merits of ignoring you versus addressing you. With a heavy sigh, he set down his tools with almost exaggerated care, the quiet clink of metal punctuating the tension. He straightened slowly, leaning heavily on his cane as he turned to face you, his expression carved from stone.

“Do you find something amusing,” he began, his voice low and measured, though his words carried a serrated edge, “or have you simply decided to abandon what’s left of your sanity?”

“Oh, Viktor,” you wheezed, wiping a tear from your eye, “if you’d been there, you’d have died! I said—”

“I think,” he interrupted, his tone cutting through your words like a scalpel, “you’re doing enough of that on your own.” His cane tapped softly against the floor as he stepped toward you, each movement deliberate, his irritation barely contained. “Whatever concoction you’ve ingested this time is clearly interfering with—”

Without warning, you spun your chair around, the wheels screeching against the floor. The motion was theatrical, almost comical in its abruptness. Then, with a flourish, you produced a pistol, the barrel levelling at Viktor’s face in one smooth motion. The laughter died instantly, the air between you crackling with tension. Viktor stopped mid-stride, his eyes narrowing as his gaze locked on the weapon. There was no fear, no hesitation. Only a sharp, unyielding intensity that could have sliced through steel.

“You’re testing my patience,” he said quietly, his voice as cold and steady as ice. His eyes flicked to the gun, then back to you.

"You won’t shoot."

“Oh, am I?” you teased, your grin widening into something equal parts dangerous and playful. “Come closer and find out, sweetheart.”

Viktor’s expression didn’t waver. He took another step forward, unflinching as the muzzle pressed lightly against his forehead. The room seemed to hold its breath. Then, with an infuriating calm, Viktor raised a hand and pushed the barrel aside, the cold scrape of metal against his temple doing little to faze him.

“Are you quite finished?” His tone was flat, his exasperation simmering just beneath the surface.

You exhaled, the gun lowering as a smirk curled across your lips. Leaning back lazily in your chair, you took another drag of your cigarette, blowing the smoke directly into his face. Viktor’s nostrils flared, and for a brief moment, his eyes closed, as if summoning every ounce of restraint to keep himself from throttling you.

“Relax,” you purred, rising unsteadily to your feet. You swayed slightly, but the swagger in your step was undeniable as you sauntered closer to him. “You should try living a little, Viktor. Who knows? You might even enjoy it.”

“I live just fine,” he shot back, his voice cool and clipped, “which is precisely why I’d prefer you didn’t endanger mine every other day.”

You laughed, ignoring his protest as you reached out, your fingers curling beneath his chin. Tilting his face toward yours, you studied him, your gaze sharp and deliberate. “You know,” you murmured, voice low and teasing, “you’re even prettier when you’re annoyed.”

A flicker of something passed through his eyes; exasperation, perhaps, or the faintest trace of reluctant amusement. But then, with a sharp motion, he brushed your hand away, his expression caught between irritation and resignation. “And I,” he replied dryly, “apparently enjoy flirting with death to tolerate you.”

Your grin widened as you leaned closer, your breath warm against his cheek. “Truth be told,” you whispered, the words a velvet challenge. “You’d miss me if I wasn’t here.”

He scoffed, turning away from you. “Miss the noise? The smoke? The endless catastrophes?” His sarcasm was as sharp as ever. “Yes. Terribly.”

Your laughter erupted again, full-bodied and rich as Viktor returned to his workbench, muttering under his breath. “It’s a miracle,” he said to no one in particular, “that I’ve survived working with you this long.”

“Oh, come on,” you teased, stumbling forward to lean against the edge of his desk. “You love this. You love me. Admit it.”

Viktor didn’t look up, his hands deftly manoeuvring the delicate tools before him. “If you’re done waving guns around and inhaling poison,” he said evenly, “sit down. Or better yet, go to bed. I’ll clean up your mess—”

Before he could finish, you shifted, accidentally knocking a delicate glass tube off the desk. It shattered on the floor, the sound slicing through the air. Viktor froze, his head turning slowly to fix you with a withering glare.

You shrugged with a sheepish grin. “Oops.”

“Again,” he finished bitterly, the word dripping with resigned disdain.

As you backed away, triumphant, you caught the faintest flicker of a smile tugging at the corners of Viktor’s mouth, a fleeting, almost imperceptible sign of something softer beneath his usual layers of irritation and sharp retorts. It wasn’t care, not in the traditional sense, but respect. A grudging acknowledgement of your brilliance and a grudging tolerance that spoke volumes. Viktor would never admit it, but he respected you. And maybe, just maybe, he cared enough not to let you go.

[marzipanandminutiae]

honestly the positioning of common-sense sun protection- hats, parasols/sun umbrellas, sunscreen, etc. -as either prissy and affected or unnecessary anti-aging obsession is one of the most dangerous lines we've collectively been fed as a society, for 100 years now

like I get where it all started, I do. there ARE health benefits to sun exposure in moderation, those were starting to be understood around the 1910s, and the 1920s fancied themselves the inventors of science and Women Doing Things OutdoorsTM because of some discoveries made and voting rights gained around that time. tanning was the new miracle cure! it meant you were outdoors and active- with no consideration that the "active" part might be what made people feel good, not so much the endless sun exposure! it spoke to European or tropical holidays!

(if you were white. if you had natural, healthy dark skin, no dice; keep rubbing heavy metals on your body to look lighter. there's just no winning)

and unlike forcing factory workers to ingest radium and other harmful fads of the day, the negative effects took years to surface and weren't yet fully understood for what they were

but it took root so deeply that when sunscreen began gaining just a BIT of a foothold...it became associated with the kind of people who use special wrinkle-prevention straws. and some idiot who thinks skin cancer is caused by eating seed oils just reblogged one of my comments on the matter, linking a weird study that claims tanning-bed use is somehow good for you

god

we are never getting out of the Skin Damage Is Beautiful Industrial Complex, are we?

[the-teufort-nine]

Ignore this if you’re uncomfortable with it no worries. Can we do an reader x merc (particularly medic, sniper, engie, demo, spy, and maybe heavy) Where they find reader greening out (super pale/passing out) and the mercs have to “save” you? Establish relationship please! Super hurt/comfort! I need a pick me up after a bad bad sesh.

anon you're so real for this. The one and only time i tried weed i greened out so bad that it scared me off drugs 4 ever (don't do edibles in the woods kids!)

I hope this makes u feel a bit better. get plenty of rest & water <3

Mercs x GN!Reader | Too Much THC

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ Hurt/Comfort | SFW | Cw: drugs, bad trip, thc overdose symptoms, vomiting ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Featuring:

Medic, Sniper, Engie, Demo, Spy, and Heavy

Scenario: When Respawn goes down for a routine bug check and maintenance, Reader decides to take advantage of the ceasefire to partake in some of Pyro's "special" brownies. However, things take a bad turn when the fire bug's edibles turn out to be too much for them to handle.

🕊️+Medic+🕊️

"Y/N? Taube, are you in here?"

The effort it took to pry your eyes open was truly Herculean, though you couldn't, for the life of you, remember when it was you'd actually closed them. Nausea made your vision swim, and despite your best efforts, you couldn't respond to your boyfriend's concerned voice. Words seemed beyond your capabilities, as was doing more than slowly blinking your eyes.

You were in the medbay, slouched down on the floor with your back pressed against a frigid metal cabinet. With great, great difficulty, you recalled that you'd stumbled in here when you began to realize that something was wrong, hoping to find Medic tending to his birds or riling up the living bread loaf he kept in a large jar, or whatever the hell it was he did on your rare days off. However, the medbay had been empty, and your legs had decided that they'd had enough of holding your weight.

"Y/N? Pyro told me you looked as though you vere going to be sick before you ran off, and zhat zey haven't been able to find you since. Please tell me you're in here, because ve searched the rest of ze base and I don't think I could handle you getting stuck inside ze walls again."

The tiled floor in front of you was starting to look like a choppy ocean, so you squeezed your eyes shut and knocked your head back against the cabinet behind you. It made a dull 'thud', and you heard the sound of footsteps approaching you.

Success had never felt so headache inducing.

"Ach! Mein liebling, are you okay?" Medic's voice was suddenly right next to you, and you jolted slightly, eyes opening in panic.

Your boyfriend was crouched next to you, an extended hand held aloft in the air as he waited for you to settle. When your breathing evened out once more, he gently wrapped and arm around you, frowning when he felt how cool you were to the touch. Even through your uniform, the doctor could feel that you were much colder than you should be, especially given the New Mexico heat that permeated throughout the rest of the base.

"I think I'm paralyzed." You responded, eyes moisiting as you leaned into the touch, "M' legs stopped working when I tried to find you."

"Y/N, I promise you're not paralyzed. You're simply having an adverse reaction to ze cannabis you ingested." Medic soothed, before slightly jabbing the back of one of your knees. You kicked out with a yelp, drawing a slight chuckle from him, "See?"

Unfortunately, you were feeling more than a little sensitive at the moment, and it only took a moment before tears filled your eyes.

"Don't laugh at me!" you warbled, lip wobbling a bit as you voiced your hurt feelings.

The look of amusement on Medic's face was wiped off the instant he saw your tears, and he quickly shifted into damage control mode.

"Scheiße! Please don't cry, taube, I'm not laughing at you!" he pulled you in closer, letting you rest your head against his chest as he shifted his hold on you, getting ready to pull you to your feet, "Come now, you vill be alright. Let's get you to your room so you can warm up and lie down, ja? I do believe Pyro intends to bring you one of zeir, ah, what's the word, weighted blankets?"

You grabbed a fistful of his shirt and sniffed wetly, grateful that he'd changed into his casual clothes, because the smell of his usual work coat was far too 'hydrogen peroxide and blood' scented for you to handle right now.

"Will you stay with me?" you asked quietly, clinging to him as he helped you become vertical once more. "Please?"

Medic smiled and gently pet your hair, taking the brunt of your weight with little trouble as you staggered up onto your feet. "Of course. I vill stay with you until you feel better, and zhen I vill go kill Pyro for letting you run off by yourself in such a state."

"Mnh, no you can't kill Pyro. No Respawn, 'member?" you muttered into his chest, not wanting to pull away yet, lest the world turn into an optical illusion yet again.

"Ah, verdammt, must have slipped my mind." he tutted, voice tinged with false disappointment, "I suppose I vill simply have to settle vith cuddling you instead."

⎚-⎚⌖Sniper⌖⎚-⎚

"Roo?! Roo?! Bloody 'ell, I swear if you don't wake up, I'm gonna lose my damn mind!"

Consciousness was slow to return to you, but by God did it make sure you knew how much it didn't want to be here. The only indication that you were actually awake, aside from the sound of your boyfriend's panicked voice coming from somewhere above (behind? Christ, you couldn't tell at the moment) came in the form of a disgusting, semi-familiar taste in your mouth; the patented Dustbowl combo of sand and blood.

With a sputtering cough, you managed to pull your hands beneath your prone form and shoved yourself up enough to hack and spit the vile mix out. A shaky sigh of relief came from your boyfriend's direction, wherever that was, and suddenly there were hands patting your back, helping to clear your airways.

"Christ alive, Roo, you nearly gave me a fuckin' heart attack!" Sniper barked, though his voice was filled more with relief than any form of anger, "What the fuck are ya doin' out here?"

"What?" you croaked groggily, rubbing at your aching head, which felt as though it had taken a direct hit from one of Scout's bats. Hadn't you just been on your way to your boyfriend's camper van? "Where'm I?"

"Middle'a the damn battlefield, Roo." Sniper frowned, "Yer right lucky I was nearby an' spotted ya. Dunno how long you've been out here for, but ya look right crook, luv."

You groaned and sat up fully, nearly toppling over as a rush of dizziness washed over you. Sniper was quick to catch you, plonking himself right down in the dust behind you as he drew you in closer, hugging you to his chest. He listened to you breathe for a moment, watching as your face scrunched up as you licked gritty sand out of your blood-stained teeth, the sight reassuring him that you were, in fact, alive. It looked as though you'd somehow managed to fall off one of the nearby bridges, judging by the amount of bruises that were starting to form on your face and arms.

"Fucking Pyro." you hissed, before spitting out another mouthful of blood and dirt, "That is the last time I trust them to make edibles, Jesus Christ."

"Strewth, ya' took one'a the fire bug's eddies?!" Sniper ran a hand through his hair, dislodging his hat slightly, "No wonder ya' fell ass over backwards, you must be greened as all hell! It's a bloody miracle ya' made it this far!"

The australian slid one arm beneath your knees as he adjusted his hold, grunting as he wobbled to his feet. He was hardly the strongest mercenary on your team, but you didn't survive out in the Outback for most of your life, and then survive traveling around with 9 other lunatics to fight and die and fight again in an endless gravel war, without picking up some muscle.

"Right, let's get ya' to Medic. I'm willin' ta bet ya' broke somethin', givin' your right shit luck, darl." Sniper said, eyes flicking over your battered body. While he couldn't see any obvious signs of serious injury, it was obvious that you were in pain. "She'll be alright, Roo. The Doc'll fix ya' up, then you can rest up in the van. Sound good?"

You let out a weak approximation of an agreement, not feeling well enough to form a proper response. Instead, you tucked your face into your boyfriend's neck, smiling slightly when you felt his stubble scratch against your cheek. The scent of coffee and gun oil filled your senses as Sniper started off towards the medbay, and it gave you something to focus on other than the pain that radiated throughout your entire body.

The next time you wanted to get high, you'd just smoke with Sniper. It would be a hell of a lot less painful and embarassing.

🧰🔧Engineer🔧🧰

You were having a heart attack.

Your nails dug into the skin nearest your heart as you fought to calm the erratic organ, your breaths coming in rapid, pained pants. Cold sweat dripped down your neck as you panicked silently, unable to find your voice to call for help, to scream, to do anything. If you could just speak, then perhaps you could get Pyro's attention. The masked mercenary was lounging on their bed only a few feet away, their head tilted back as they gazed up towards the painting of a rainbow unicorn on their ceiling, nodding along slightly to the record the two of you had put on earlier.

The mega baboon heart in your chest, though incredibly useful in battle, was now working against you, the increased rapid blood flow causing you to feel lightheaded. If you didn't do something fast, you were going to pass out.

Taking the deepest breath you could, you attempted to call out to Pyro. Unfortunately, all you managed was a near-silent rasp, the attempt taking more out of you than you'd anticipated. You blinked, and suddenly you were on the ground, Pyro frantically mumbling in front of you. It was harder than usual to pick out their words, especially with how rapidly they were speaking, but you managed to glean that they were frightened by your collapse, and that they were going to go and find your boyfriend.

As quick as a wildfire during the dry season, Pyro left your field of view, throwing open the door to their room and running out. The slam of the door hitting the wall made you flinch, and made you very aware of the fact that you still weren't breathing right.

The panic that had left when you fell unconscious returned full force, and you writhed on the floor as a stabbing sensation radiated out from within your chest. No matter what you did, or how you positioned yourself, the pain would not relent, and your vision began to blur.

"Y/N!"

A southern-tinged voice broke through your panic, and suddenly there was a muscular arm supporting your back, tilting you up slightly. A warm, calloused hand gently rubbed your chest, applying a light pressure.

"Easy now darlin', ah got'cha." Engineer soothed, his own rapid breathing starting to level out. When Pyro had burst into his room in a frenzied panic, yelling about his partner suddenly passing out, he'd run out of there like the Devil himself had been nipping at his heels.

The gentle pressure and familiar voice of your beloved southern boyfriend slowly brought you out of your fear-induced panting. You blinked up at Engineer, a few tears slipping down your cheeks. A gloved hand gently wiped them away.

"There we go, sweetheart. Try'n match my breathin'." he murmured, continuing to stroke your cheek with his thumb, "That's it. You're doin' so good, darlin'."

You finally managed to take a deep breath, sighing in relief when the pain in your chest began to wane.

"Thank you, Engie." you said softly, leaning into your boyfriend's arm. Engineer smiled, and with his goggles pushed up as they were, you could see his eyes crinkle as his mouth turned upwards.

"It was no trouble, doll. I'm just glad you're alright." he said, gently pressing your foreheads together, "Y'gave me 'n Py a helluva fright. I think they just about burst into tears."

"Oh no." you said sadly, managing to sit yourself up as the topic of your conversation finally made it back to the room. Pyro warbled out an apology in between exhausted pants, the arsonist clearly wiped out from the 'fuck off amounts of weed in their system/dead sprinting to Engie's room and back' combo. "Ro-ro, it's okay! We'll just lower the dose next time, yeah?"

Engineer merely shook his head with a laugh as Pyro wheezed against the doorframe, a shaky thumbs up being your only response.

🍾🗡️Demo🗡️🍾

+ Soldier is here too. He's not your boyfriend, but he is boyfriend adjacent most of the time.

Oh dear God, why did no one warn you about the dangers of mixing weed with alcohol?!

"Aye, there ya' go, mo luaidh, just get it allll out." Demo comforted, rubbing your back while sharing a sympathetic look with Soldier.

The two men had invited you to come and drink with them after they had found you lounging on one of the common room couches, and although you were already feeling quite buzzed after hanging out with Pyro, you weren't one to turn down the opportunity to spend time with your two favourite boys.

Unfortunately, the liquor in your stomach had decided to start a war with the edibles already stationed there, and neither of them were being very kind as they knocked you on your ass with the shakes and forced you to upchuck your lunch into the nearest bucket.

"Demo, I think 'm dying." you groaned, before sticking your head back into the bucket, a wave of uncontrollable shivers wracking your body, "Tell Medic he can't experiment on my body, okay?"

Suddenly, you pitched forward, and it was only Soldier's quick reflexes and Demo's hand suddenly snagging the back of your shirt that kept you from face planting into your own vomit.

"Fuck off, yer not dyin'." your boyfriend insisted, though you could, through the sudden wave of dizziness that had assaulted you, hear the worry in his voice, "Ye just had a wee bit too much to drink, that's all."

"Weed's not helpn'." you managed to bite out, before vomiting once again.

"Yer high?! Christ, ah' bloody knew there was somthin' off about'cha!" Demo groaned, smacking his free hand onto his face. Beside him, Soldier grimaced.

"Son, take it from me, it's gonna get worse before it gets better. You WILL feel as though you are in the trenches, but we will help you!" he shouted, before remembering that loud sounds were probably the last thing you needed at the moment, "I could try contacting Merasmus? He made me some kind of wizard voodoo potion that helped me feel better the last time I was higher than an eagle."

"No." was the firm reply from both you and Demo. The last thing you wanted was Merasmus dicking around with his magic while you were greening out.

Another round of shivers ripped through you, making the bucket rattle in your grip as you fought to keep yourself upright. Soldier tucked his arm around your midsection as Demo resumed his back rubs. Their presence grounded you, and you smiled weakly, though neither could see it, since you were still face down in the bucket.

"Thanks, guys." you said, wincing as your stomach turned and your vision swam.

"Do ye want to try an' move to the couch, love?" Demo asked.

"Nah, I think I'd just end up down here again if I tried to stand up." you replied, "Will- will you two stay, though? I know you probably have better things to do, but..."

"Negatory, private! I have never left a man behind, and I will not start now!" Soldier stated, and Demo nodded in agreement.

"Solly's right, a thasgaidh, we're stayin' right here 'till yer all better."

🚬🔪Spy🔪🚬

There was someone in the base.

Now, usually that would be a given; you lived with nine other mercenaries, after all, but this was different. Your teammates were supposed to be out, taking advantage of the ceasefire to get some much needed shopping done. Even your boyfriend, Spy, who usually never accompanied the others, had gone along this time, citing a need to pick up a few things at the local post office. You had decided to stay, since you had been waiting for Pyro's 'special' brownie to kick in, and hadn't wanted to deal with the bustle of Tuefort while you were high.

Now, though, as you stood with your back against the corner of one of the hallways that led to the intel room, your trusty melee weapon clutched in your hands, you were sorely regretting your decision.

You swore you'd seen something moving around the base, always just out of sight. It had sent a thrill of fear through you and put you on high alert. Respawn was down; what if the other team had decided to risk a surprise attack? Take care of one of their enemies permanently? You were all alone, inebriated, with only a close range weapon to defend yourself. Easy pickings.

Swallowing hard, you let your gaze snap back and forth, a snarl pulling at your lips when you saw the air flicker slightly, just for a moment, at the edge of your vision. You whipped around, eyes wide and searching, your ears straining to pick up any possible sounds.

"Y/N?"

A scream tore itself from your lips, and you jerked your weapon up to a defensive position as you turned once more, this time to see-

"Spy?!"

Your boyfriend stood only a few feet away from you, hands raised defensively. You blinked, before shakily lowering your weapon, relief flooding you, "Oh, thank God its just you."

"Were you expecting someone else, mon amour?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"N- no I just-" you ran a hand through your hair, still feeling a faint prickle of unease dance across the back of your neck, "I kept thinking I was seeing someone moving around the base. I- I think maybe Pyro messed up the dose in their brownies, because I am freaking out."

Spy made a soft sound of concern, and stepped closer, extending a hand to rest on your cheek. You smiled at your lover, but something still felt... off.

'Jesus, I must be greening out bad.' You thought to yourself, leaning into Spy's touch.

"I'm sorry to hear that, mon bijou. Would you like to retire to my quarters? Or, if you'd like, I can bring you to yours?" Spy offered sweetly.

"Yeah, that'd be-" you started, before his words suddenly caught up to you, the weed in your system making you a bit slower to react, "I'm sorry, honey, what did you call me?"

"Mon bijou. A fitting name for someone as beautiful as you."

My jewel. The one name Spy didn't like to call you. He'd never given you the full story, just saying that it was a nickname he associated with an unsavoury character from his past.

This was not your boyfriend.

Swallowing the fear that threatened to overwhelm you, you gave the enemy Spy your best smile. "Aw, you flatter me, darling. Do you mind leading the way? I'm a bit out of it right now."

"But of course." he replied, turning to walk down the hall, fully expecting you to follow him.

The second you were sure he had turned fully, you swung, your melee weapon catching him in the side. The wet shhhhck! of metal cutting through flesh was promptly overtaken by the man's cry of pain and shock. As he crumpled to the floor, his disguise melted away, revealing the colour of your enemy team.

"I FUCKING KNEW IT!" You screamed, arms raised as you gripped your bloodstained weapon tighter. Your breathing picked up as your adrenaline kicked in, your whole body seeming to buzz.

The enemy Spy hissed in pain, his hand instinctively going for his knife, before you swung your weapon down again, barely missing the appendage. Had you not been higher than the moon, the masked man would have been short a hand. Realising he was in a losing battle, and a potentially permanent one at that, your enemy scrambled up and became cloaked once again, racing back down the hall and, presumably, out of your base, leaving a trail of blood splatters as he ran.

With the danger gone, you dropped, shivering and shaking so badly that your weapon rattled loudly against the ground. Your breaths came in shallow, wheezing gasps, and you had to fight to keep your lunch from coming back up. Not knowing what else to do, you curled up in a defensive ball, pressing your swimming head into your knees.

"Y/N! Merde, merde, merde! Y/N! Where are you?!"

You jerked back to awareness, sucking in a breath through your teeth, jaw aching with how long you'd been clenching it. The base was alive once again, though the familiar sounds of chaos seeming much more frantic than usual.

How long had you been dissociating for? Christ, you were lucky that enemy Spy hadn't come back to finish you off.

The sound of rapid footsteps reignited your panic, and you squeezed the handle of your weapon. Had the rest of the enemy team come to finish you off? It sounded like your team was the ones here this time, but how could you be sure? You'd been right last time, after all.

Suddenly, Spy, your Spy, rounded a corner, looking uncharacteristically frazzled. When he spotted you, you could see the relief on his face, plain as day.

No, no you couldn't trust him. What if this was another trick?

"Y/N! Oh, ma moitié, you're okay, thank God. We saw ze blood and-"

"Get back!"

Spy paused, clearly caught off guard by your aggression. Wobbling to your feet, you glared at the man before you, putting all your effort into staying upright. You wouldn't be fooled twice.

"Y/N?"

Your eyes flicked over him, searching for any obvious tells. When none presented themselves, you cautiously stepped forward, weapon extended. Spy eyed you warily, but didn't make any sudden moves. It wasn't hard to piece together that something had happened while they had been gone, and if this was what his partner needed to feel safe, then he would allow it.

Once you were close enough, you roughly tapped the blunt part of your weapon against where you knew you had struck the enemy Spy, watching for any indication of pain. Spy continued to look at you with concern, but the colour of his suit and mask didn't change. This really was your Spy.

A relieved sob tore itself from your throat, and you all but fell into your partner's waiting arms. Spy wrapped his arms around you in an instant, only wincing a little bit as you cried into his suit. This one was less expensive that his usual work wear, and he could excuse it getting a little wet if it was in service of your comfort.

"What happened, mon rayon de soleil? Who has frightened you so?" he questioned, wondering who exactly it was he needed to kill. You didn't scare easy, but considering when he'd left you'd just recently had an edible... well, he wasn't exactly surprised that you were emotional than usual.

You just cried harder, unable to wrangle your emotions. Everything was just too much, and you justed wanted the comfort of your boyfriend and teammates.

As if reading your thoughts, Spy gently maneuvered you so that you could lean on him and walk down the bloodied hall, "Shhh, shhh, it's okay, petit tigre. You don't have to speak now. Let us get back and let ze others know you're okay before zey tear ze base down looking for you."

You nodded weakly, and this time, you let the man lead you down the hall.

✊🥪Heavy🥪✊

"This was poor choice, yes?"

You squinted at your boyfriend, trying your best to look ticked off from your place beneath a mountain of blankets. You were already suffering, did he have to rub it in?

Now, to be fair, you did make a poor choice recently. That poor choice being the decision to eat three of Pyro's weed brownies. At the time, it had seemed like a good choice. What better way to spend a lazy ceasefire day than by getting high with your buddy? Well, things had quickly gone sideways when you realized that Pyro had no idea of how much was too much when it came to THC, and thus the two of you were now high as balls and greening out hard.

"Yes." you muttered, snuggling down deeper in your blanket nest as you continued to hold Heavy's hand. You'd been holding onto it for the past half hour, having asked the giant to hold your hand when you'd started to get scared, only to grip his hand like you were making a business deal.

"Hmm, good. Heavy does not think лапушечка will make the same mistake again." your boyfriend mused. "Would you like snack?"

"I do," you started, squinting harder as you tried to sit up, "but I can't move. My bones are soup."

"Do not worry. Heavy will fix."

Suddenly, you were being picked up by the back of your shirt, not unlike a kitten. Heavy sat you on his lap, letting you rest against his broad chest. He produced a bag of pretzels, and your eyes locked onto the salty snack, your stomach growling. You attempted to lift your arms, but your limbs had decided to go on strike.

Seeing your struggle, your boyfriend took pity on you. Heavy fished out a few of the pretzels and placed them in your mouth. Processed grain and salt had never tasted so damn delicious.

"I love you." you sighed, leaning against Heavy as much as you could. Nothing said true love like feeding your partner when they were hungry, in your opinion.

"Я тоже тебя люблю."

[mackjlee9]

|Part 2.1|Leon Kennedy x Male!Reader [?]

Masterlist.

part 2. version 1.

«««

Resident Evil 6

To say (M/n) hated every second of that mission was an understatement, and now, departing from the graveyard after Helena said by to her sister, he saw the woman throwing something at Leon, (M/n) recognized it as the makeup Ada had left behind in the helicopter when they left Tatchi that night.

"For when you see her again," he might've been quite far away, but he still heard her words thanks to the wind blowing in his direction. And (M/n) it was the moment to say goodbye.

He walked a few steps forward, and took a deep breath, "Hey Leon..." The blond made eye contact with him at the sound of his name, stopping his way to the van, and his blue eyes just silently stared into his (e/c) ones.

(M/n) felt like he couldn't breathe, realizing Leon's eyes had never made him feel this tense and insecure before, making him shift in place as he anxiously tried to make his voice come out.

"I uh... I don't think that- uhm..." Leon sighed, feeling exasperated at (M/n)'s stuttering.

"Yes?" He seemed bothered by him, as if he was wasting time having this conversation with him, and (M/n) understood that it was really over, he had to say it, and face the harsh reality of the fact that Leon didn't- never loved him.

He pursed his lips and reaches his hand into the pocket of his jacket, wrapping his fingers around the cold metal key. He could vividly remember the day when Leon gave him a copy of his apartment's key, but he no longer needed it, and he had already got his stuff out of there so there was no reason to keep it any longer.

(M/n) held Leon's hand and placed the key in his palm, looking at it for a moment before making eye contact with Leon's cold eyes.

"We should break up," he released Leon's hand, letting the blond see what he had given him, "It's clear that I'm not who you wished I was," he muttered while placing his hands inside his pockets, "Goodbye, Leon."

And like that, he made his way back to his motorcycle, there wasn't anything else he could do now, after all, he was only here because he knew Leon would be, and it was time to let everything go.

Leon's sight shifted from the key in his hand to (M/n)'s back as he drove away at high speed, wrapping his fingers around it, he stared at (M/n) leaving until he disappeared in the horizon.

//////

A few hours later, when the sun started setting, (M/n) had found himself walking into a bar and he had been sitting at the counter for hours, drowning his pain with glass after glass of whiskey, but living with Leon for years had made him realize how much alcohol he had to ingest to get thoroughly drunk, and he wasn't even halfway there.

As he was debating asking for a refill of his glass or getting up and leaving, he felt a heavy hand on his shoulder.

"Same as his," the man says to the bartender before sitting down on the stool next to him, (M/n) doesn't have to look to know who it is, he knows that voice well. It's Chris.

Of course, even though he knows who it is, he isn't any less surprised to see him there, and he finds himself showing Chris a small smile.

"Hey, man," Chris smiles back and takes the glass placed in front of him, grabbing it and taking a sip of the amber liquid swirling inside it before setting it back down.

"Hey..." (M/n) soon realizes that Chris seems nervous and he wonders why, but doesn't voice his thoughts, deciding on spending the rest of the night together, drinking to forget their feelings... If Chris had anything he wanted to forget.

While the hours pass, more alcohol sets in their system, making them loosen up a little bit more each passing minute, until they're comfortably talking and joking for a bit, and (M/n) isn't too sure about anything at this point and time, but he swears Chris is flirting with him. Or so he thinks, it seems like he is anyway. But he's not sure of anything at this point.

Although he is sure that... He definitely doesn't mind the flirting, not one bit, and he finds himself flirting back, enjoying Chris' reactions and their interaction drags on.

//////

It was a normal day off for (M/n), he was spending some time in the park, looking around and enjoying a cool drink on a rather warm day. He felt at peace, for the first time in months, he felt comfortable and safe in this spot in his life. Everything was going fine, and he was glad it had, he needed the stability for once.

He took another slow sip of his drink as he patiently waited, sitting on a bench, watching kids play and their parents chatting amongst themselves.

But then, he heard his name being called, by a voice he would recognize anywhere, a voice that he hasn't heard in almost eight months.

For a moment he thought he was hearing things, but as soon as he turned his head to the side, he saw Leon. He couldn't help but think that the blond -now more of a dark brunette- had definitely seen better days, he looked rather awful, especially comparing him to the last time he's seen him.

"Leon?" (M/n) is not too sure what happened after that, he just hears Leon rambling on and on for a few minutes, muttering that he's sorry and wants him back, how he really had to lose him to love him, and (M/n) can see the tears brimming in his eyes, which makes him stand up to try and calm him down, the movements of his hands catching Leon's attention when he catches the sight of something shining in his finger.

And he stops talking all together, his sight fixated on the ring placed on (M/n)'s left ring finger.

He almost couldn't breathe as he forced the words out of his throat, "You're... Engaged?" Leon's voice breaks his heart, he sounds so hurt by that, but (M/n) doesn't attempt to make him feel better.

"Yeah," is all he can manage to say in a meek whisper, sounding more like an exhale than a response.

"With who?" Leon looks back at his eyes, those (e/c) eyes that stared at him with sympathy and sadness. He opened his mouth to answer, but he was interrupted by another man's voice.

"(M/n)! The movie is gonna start soon!" The male looks over his shoulder, and sees Chris standing a few feet behind him, looking at him with a wide smile, sunglasses covering his eyes from the bright sun.

Leon sees the same sparkle on Chris' left ring finger and that's all he needed to see to understand.

"Oh... Yeah, I know, he... He's a nice man," (M/n) has a guilty expression on his face when he looks back at Leon, and he can't handle that.

"Leon-" the male wears a strained smile on his face and he shakes his head, taking a few steps back, ready to go.

"No! I-I understand, I fucked up and now I lost you... forever," realization seemed to have settled on Leon's whole being, the remaining light in his eyes banishing in the blink of an eye, "I'm... I'm sorry, I gotta go-"

(M/n) was unable to move or say anything as he caught sight of the single tear that fell down Leon's face, before he turned around, wiping it away and walking away from him. He really was at a loss for words, watching how Leon walked away.

[whale-trawl]

"ATTENTION ALL SANITATION WORKERS!! Do not bring home, consume, or otherwise take flora OR fauna from the upper tunnels! You are here to REMOVE and DISPOSE of these. You are CLEANING. We're all very well aware of the muck these things live in, and I'm very sure you do not want to ingest any of that! Heavy metals poisoning is not covered by the City's graciousness!!! - Management"

or; Worm explores an ecosystem in miniature.

[chase-prairie]

Does anyone have any favorite internet resources on food forest movement stuff? Academic stuff is one thing, but I'm trying to find things that are keyed to the pulse of what people are talking about outside of academia. I know a lot of that gets circulated here in the general solarpunk vibes zone.

part of my frustration that i'm trying to pinpoint here with concrete sources is that there's a middle ground here that has to be found between oblivious optimistic radicalism and like, the actual work it takes to *run* a food forest. I just read Make the Golf Course A Public Sex Forest and some of it is good, some of it is just "wow you have never actually gardened before, have you?"

The resistance organizations like park districts and forest services have to these well-intentioned, poorly-researched efforts stems a lot from the very practical logistics.

Yes, wouldn't it be great if you could eat wild berries from your local park. How the hell are we going to remediate all the lead out of the soil so those berries are safe? Yes, wouldn't it be cool to turn parts of golf courses into community gardens. How the hell are we going to remediate the decades of literal mercury application out of the soil? Those lawns weren't pest-free by default! Yes, wouldn't it be amazing to have a orchards in the city parks? Who is going to do the INTENSE work managing those trees? Picking all the apples? Dealing with the wasps and the mess coating the sidewalks?

There's so much good work that can be done but making the connections between the dreamers and the actual do-ers is overwhelming. Not least because many dreamers just love to talk and don't want to do. Meanwhile, the do-ers are terrified of getting their asses sued because some well-intentioned foragers are ingesting heavy metals.

[virgin-martyr]

Trauma is a toxin that hooks into our hair and organs and blood and becomes part of us, the way heavy metals do, our bodies nothing more than a layering of flesh around everything ingested and experienced. These things sit inside us like the misshapen pearls we sometimes prise from oysters.

Sophie Mackintosh, excerpt from The Water Cure

[surely-galena]

idk how often lead paint are used (if at all)

but for total shits and giggles, in the crackiest way possible, i imagine marius using lead paint, sometimes accidentally drinking the paint water

and then someone tries to assassinate him with poison and it doesn't do shit because as it turns out, the poison isn't as strong as lead and marius sort of built a tolerance to lead poisoning on accident.

cue assassin freaking the fuck out because the poison had no effect

idk where that came from

Hi Rose!! :D

I did some surface level research for this ask because I thought that lead paint wasn't used any longer, but that's actually a myth... just not in the way I thought it was. When I think of lead paint, my mind goes to historical artists who poisoned themselves through their paintings, but the articles I skimmed were all about lead paint used for industrial/homeowner purposes. There is, however, Lead White paint for artists, but this is pretty expensive because it isn't produced as much and there are safer alternatives for artists to use, too. Money isn't a problem for Marius, so let's say he ends up using the fancy lead white oil paint for his art.

I read through this transcript of an episode from This Podcast Will Kill You on lead poisoning (tw for discussions around child experimentation) and essentially, adults are at lower risk than children because they don't absorb as much lead into their system. Also, absorbing lead through inhaling it is much worse than ingesting it because it gets into your system through your lungs. So even if drinking lead paint water sounds bad (and likely is), it would probably be much worse if Marius had been exposed to lead dust. Both are still bad though!

Plus, since lead has a sugary taste, Marius would probably be able to identify that he was drinking paint water on his first sip (and hopefully spit it out). If he doesn't... then Marius what are you doing.

Now I couldn't find a good source on this, but according to this Wikipedia article on Mithridatism (building up an immunity to poison), it is not possible to build up a tolerance to heavy metals (e.g. lead). This makes sense to me, but take it with a grain of salt since I didn't find anything to back this up.

Also, in the scenario with the assassin, let's say that Marius did somehow have a tolerance to lead poisoning. The chances of the assassin using lead would be a lot lower compared to something fast and lethal (belladonna and cyanide immediately come to mind but you may have to fact check that). So Marius would have an immunity to a different kind of substance and would still end up getting poisoned.

But say that nothing happens to Marius, like you said, and the assassin starts freaking out (as they should). Then this implies that Marius has either knowingly or unknowingly been building up a tolerance to a different kind of poison than lead (which means he's been going through symptoms of mild poisoning over and over again), and not only that, he's been continuously poisoning himself to keep up that tolerance.

Who's responsible for that?? Vyn and Luke, in some attempt to save their friend before he gets assassinated in the future? Giann von Hagen, bragging about his tolerance to X poison to Marius and thus putting ideas into younger Marius' head? Payton, who somehow predicted what kind of poison future assassins would use???

I hope I didn't lose you with all that rambling, haha. It's still a great scenario even if I didn't focus on the comedy/crack part as much, thank you for the ask!!

[iamthepulta]

I read Saint Sebastian's Abyss last night, some of it aloud to my friends, and it was an excellent read. Would recommend to literally anyone in academia or people interested in old deranged men.

Mercury/cocoliztli research update under the cut.

Summary of cocoliztli for the uninitiated:

Cocoliztli is the name given to a list of fatal symptoms that pop up during Spanish Colonization. These are typically described as epidemics, the most notable being 1545, 1576, 1636, and 1813. 1545 and 1576 were the most deadly and well-recorded, centered in Mexico and starting in Mexico City. The symptoms include, but are not limited to, fever, bleeding from the eyes, nose, and mucose membranes; interior hemorrhaging, heart palpitations, jaundice, little to no urination, mental and muscular deterioration, and death within 3-4 days. Over the years, almost everything has been used to explain the epidemics, including but not being limited to, smallpox, yellow fever, malaria, typhus, bubonic plague, and salmonella. The current academic consensus of cocoliztli is a viral hemorrhagic fever, (think Ebola) although it poorly explains the transmission patterns, latent periods for the virus, and its sudden disappearance after 1813.

So I think cocoliztli might be heavy metal poisoning. This is an absolutely batshit insane idea but is consistent with the transmission (extensive range, but no record of human-to-human contact), the indigenous population suffered disproportionately and the Spanish took longer to get ill and mostly survived, and its sudden disappearance was due to the ongoing Mexican Revolution and subsequent development of the cyanide process for gold and silver rather than the mercury used before. TLDR.

My research is NOT peer reviewed though, and while I've done (extensive) due diligence, I still consider this nothing more than a fancy coincidink because I haven't been able to talk to anyone who knows enough about Spanish colonialism, toxicology, cocoa growth, and mercury processing to smack me upside the head. So. Grain of salt.

That said, at this point I've been meandering quite a bit and trying to branch out from Mexican history. I think the transmission was via cocoa bean since the Spanish drank less and processed it before drinking while the indigenous population drank it strong and often chewed the beans straight for the caffeine. However, I need to nail Guatemala since they were the earliest cocoa growers I can find, and I need to align the gold mining process to mercury production or gold production in 1545. The patio process (involving mercury for silver processing) was only developed in 1572, and it aligns perfectly for 1576. But everything falls apart if I can't prove 1545 caused the same damage the same way, but different process.

[talking out loud]

This initially led me to Peru. Peru has Potosi and Huancavelica. Potosi is a silver mine discovered in 1545. (Yes, the date is suspicious, but I don't know why yet. The 'discovery' is just talked about vaguely from a guy wandering up the mountain. I suspect it has a lot to do with. You know. People keeling the fuck over that year.) The Huancavelica mercury mine was known pre-colonization, but extraction was minimal.

It's hard to describe my research takeaways from Peru because my brain keeps getting hung up on how fucking evil the Spanish Empire was. The cruelty to the Inca of Potosi and Huancavelica is... immeasurable, because it wasn't just the cruelty of slavery, it was the psychological cruelty of knowing the effects of inorganic mercury poisoning.

Inorganic Hg is typically what you inhale from vaporizing mercury or when you ingest poisoned food. If you're going to choose one of the two, vaporizing mercury is... better....? Because mercury within the lungs is absorbed into the blood slowly. However, you have coughing, tremors and nervous system deterioration while it slowly makes it to the brain. Ingested mercury is metabolized by the stomach into methyl mercury, which has one less electron (Hg+1). This means it can pass organic barriers into the bloodstream, where it's carried directly to internal organs, including the brain. Symptoms include soft tissue damage, internal bleeding, bleeding gums, loose teeth, bloodshot eyes, nervous system damage, paranoia, mental deterioration. Conscripts typically went to Huancavelica and Potosi and never returned home because the poisoning was so extensive they knew they would be dead within two years.

Methyl mercury poisoning (my theory), when eaten, is very similar to ingested mercury, except the plant has already oxidized the mercury for you. So instead of traveling to the stomach and over time being oxidized, methyl mercury is able to pass through the digestive system into the blood and soft organs immediately.

Inorganic mercury poisoning would've been well known by the Inca specifically at the point of the second cocoliztli epidemic in 1576. They would've called it by a very different name which the Mexicans likely wouldn't have had. And This is where my knowledge begins to fray at the edges. They would've recognized 'cocoliztli' as mercury poisoning symptoms, and likely what was the source of the poisoning. I don't know how extensive this knowledge was, and if their term, 'pest' is symbolic of the same thing. I have a feeling it is, but I simply don't know enough to claim that since secondary writers 1) do not care about making the distinction, 2) didn't name mercury poisoning; I'll have to go back to MM&E for this. 3) often translate the word without describing the actual symptoms so it takes more time for me to find the original source/context. 4) I don't know Spanish because I'm a pleb. T^T

Anyway, this said, Guatemala was the likely source of the original outbreak because they were the original cocoa producers. My learnings here: they did have a lot of mercury. The Maya used a lot of mercury as pigment. I'm not sure how much in comparison to the Inca and Aztecs. They had both native mercury and cinnabar sources, and those mines still seem to be in use today funding the illegal gold mining in Central and South America. The USGS source I found from 1957 didn't know, but that was also 1957. (There's also the sad knowledge this USGS bulletin was absolutely done for the CIA.)

In Acuna-Soto, the most damage from 1540-1550 in Mexico was done in Mexico City and the Yucatan Peninsula. The Yucatan Peninsula is suspect because there are no known mercury mines there on the peninsula itself. Were they growing cocoa on the peninsula? Are there gold mines there? Were the deaths just centered on the closest metropolis closest to the growing region? Either way: Guatemala was a growing region and there were absolutely mercury mines there, but that's not a connection.

Additionally, I stumbled on descriptions of an epidemic that killed most of the Mayan nobility in 1519. The descriptions are poor, but describe mental deterioration and bleeding symptoms that align with cocoliztli. Further research required into 1519 as well as 1545.

I also just found a book/paper picking apart the known descriptions of the last Incan ruler's death. (I don't actually believe this since the descriptions of his death align pretty well with syphilis or typhus. However, I don't like the timeline.)

So: Are there gold mines along the Yucatan? Does my hypothesis stand in light of 1545? How did the Spanish deal with the Maya? General summary of history and population decline.

I need further knowledge of gold mining in Peru pre-1550. I have a whole thesis I need to read on this, but I haven't made time to do it. There was cocoa grown in Peru as well, and I need to pinpoint those spots in comparison to this thesis.

(misc question nagging at me) What the actual fuck happened in 1545 for Potosi to be discovered? This date is too coincidental. Did all the explorers just book it out of the cities in fear of the 'epidemic'? I also don't like the possible reality that the indigenous nobility might have been indirectly (unintentionally) killed this way. It's not likely, but also isn't out of the question.

I also need to make a diagram summarizing symptoms of typhus, syphilis, and subsequent epidemic descriptions I've found.

[maxwell-mtv]

Introducing Joja Pink™️

[I've been brainstorming this since Spring, but I'll be diving my hand into the world of NSFW writing with my new AU. Introduction below the cut (there won't be any NSFW in it, that'll be purely on my AO3). The chapters will follow a general story plot but won't be plot heavy like my other fanfictions I'm writing. Think of it like self indulgence. Feel free to request any pairings, scenarios, etc, and I'll do my best (so long as it's nothing gross/illegal/ generally just awful) to write it when I have time away from my studies!]

NEW! Introducing Joja's new tonic for you! With refreshing bubbles and hints of rosemary and ginseng, Joja Pink™️ is the tonic we're sure everyone will love! Try it today from your local JojaMart! You'll do better with Joja :)

Joja Pink™️ is not to be ingested by anyone under the age of 21. Joja Corp is not liable for any adverse reactions from ingesting Joja Pink™️. If you believe that Joja Pink™️ may be causing a severe allergic reaction, we advise you wait 24 hours for symptoms to disperse before seeking medical attention.

Standing over a metal table, a final product was placed for display on a tray. Its curved bottle was slender and made from clouded glass which gave the illusion of it being filled with cherry clouds. The label was refined and determined to make any middle aged mom stop and fancy its features. In cursive lettering, framed by various pink petal decals it read:

Joja Pink The New Tonic For You

At the very bottom there was a warning that whatever fizzing liquid inside was intended for mature audiences, no younger than 21. 

It was a drink that was intended, to general audiences, for more feminine people seeking a healthier alternative to their infamous Joja Cola. It would surely give rise to a new audience of folks looking for a cheap, albeit refreshing, drink, exclusive to their stores alone.

Standing over the displayed prototype was a tall, young looking man. Brunette hair draped over his face, cupping the edges of his cheeks, and stopping at his ears. Glasses reflected the lights which cast a sinister shadow over his features. Reaching up to adjust his sights, he smirks. “So this is what you guys at the lab came up with?”

A slouched, disheveled looking man in a lab coat nodded. “Thanks to the folks in the design department, we’ve perfected the next product that will sell millions!”

“Is that so?” The younger man teases, circling the table to view the bottle at all dimensions without daring to touch it. “I guess this’ll do. I’ll let my superiors know you’ve done an acceptable job.”

The scientist backs nervously from the young man. “Th-There’s just one problem, sir.”

The younger man stops and cranes his neck to snarl at him. “What now?” He snaps.

“There are some adverse side effects...” The scientist manages.

“Are there really?” Coldly said, the young man lowers his face so the light no longer blinds his eyes from the scientist. “Shocking.” He retorts sarcastically. “If it’s like the last product, it doesn’t matter. Slap another warning label on and we’ll be exempt from legal action.”

“I-It’s not that simple sir! Surely with another trial run, I-I’ve created a less potent version which should resolve the effects of this one.”

“I don’t have more time. I have the COO and stakeholders breathing down my neck so this can be sold and served ASAP. It’s bad enough we’ve already had to delay its release from Spring to now!” The young man takes a moment and slumps, pinching the bridge of his nose as he collects his temper.

Shaking, the scientist holds out a thick folder containing a whole slew of papers, charts, and reports. “Mr. Dobson, surely if you just took a look at the test results you’d see why-”

“As if my time should be wasted on reading terminology that no one can understand but eggheads like you!” Snatching the folder up, he tucks it under his arm. Leaning in, he goes nose to nose with the poor, shaken older man. “If I scan this over and there is nothing about physical harm being done to those test subjects, I’ll have my lost hours of productivity compensated by comping your paycheck!”

Pulling back, Dobson circles the table once more. Standing before the drink, his confidence smirk returns. “Trust me, Dr. Wallace, you’re over thinking things again. Just as you did with Joja Bluu. And look how that went! We managed to turn it into a trendy craze amongst kids! We encouraged purchases for it by running competitions which never really had any payout to begin with! We rigged it, as we always do, so the people learn to love what we feed them.”

“B-B-Bu-But what about the kids who were hospitalized when they drank all those sodas!? Their skin permanently dyed a dark blue! No one should be ingesting more than one of those, let alone these,” he gestures to the pink bottle, “a week! The side effects will be chaotic and dangerous for any poor schmuck who plays into this latest scheme!”

“Dr. Wallace, might I remind you we’re not in this to make the world a better place!” Dobson scolds. “We’re in it for the chance at survival in a shrinking economy! With the war overseas, there’s never been a better time to thrive! Now,” Dobson strides to the exit, teasing a hand over the handle. “If I find out you put in a complaint against me or my approval of this drink, then I’ll have your job on the line too!”

Dejected, Dr. Wallace slinks back and bitterly eyes the bottle. “Yes, sir.”

“Good. Now send that approval report to me so I can forward it and get these things out by Friday. Releasing it while it’s still hot will do us justice.”

“Yes, sir…”

With that, the two men part, leaving only the future this drink had laid out for its unsuspecting victims.

…

Grunting, Shane drops another box marked “FRAGILE” on the linoleum floors of the JojaMart he was employed. Following him was another, younger man with spiked blond hair and a visible attitude for rebellion. “Can you believe they’re coming out with this now?” The young kid, Sam, speaks up as he dusts his palms off. 

“Yeah, I swear I was tripping when Morris announced this junk’s release again, but I guess they overshot their timing.” Shane responds gruffly, cutting open the box. Reaching in, he puts the first of many 4 packs of the newly produced bottles onto a display. Looking back and out at the nearby exit, he huffs. 

“Yeah, by two whole seasons! I heard from Martin that these babies were held back in the testing period. Something about ‘unforeseen side effects’.” Echoing Shane’s efforts, he began unpacking his own box onto the display table.

Shane scoffs, rolling his eyes. “What doesn’t cause some weird shit to happen when it comes from this shithole?”

“Easy now, last time I saw Morris he was working out where he could put the rest of these.” Sam glances around nervously before turning back to his work.

“Like I give a shit. If that old fart hears me, what’s he gonna do? Not like anyone else is dumb enough to work here...”

The redhead at the register several feet away huffs.

“Oh, hey Claire! I don’t think he meant you…” Sam attempts to defend Shane.

Looking over his shoulder at their only female coworker, Shane glares. “Yes I did.” He retorts and turns back to Sam, slamming another case onto the table. 

“Now let’s remember, folks, whatever you break while on the clock gets docked from your pay.” The chilling, condescending tone of their store manager makes Shane blanch. He can feel the man come closer from behind, stopping just a few feet away to better take a look at their progress. “Looky here, a fine display coming around from the both of you! I’m sure if we talk this thing up enough that it’ll sell like hot cakes!”

Shane turns to face his boss. “Considering how many chicks are in this town? I don’t doubt they’ll all flock to try this pink pony garbage.”

“Men can drink it too, you know.” Morris warns and leans over to slide a bottle from its cardboard corner cozy. “I’m trying it myself.”

“Oh? Far from you to like Joja Cola, sir.” Sam crosses his arms and eyes the cocky man with suspicion.

“Well, for one this isn’t a soda, it’s more of a seltzer. And for another, my managers have given all JojaMart managers the lucky chance to try it before it sells.”

“So what? It’s going on the floor today…” Shane remarks.

“Yes, I suppose I did hold off till the last minute.” Morris chuckles softly, glancing sheepishly to the side. “Well, anyhow, I should go. I have some reports to finish up.”

“Hey!” Shane calls, effectively stopping Morris in his tracks. “What are we s’posed to do with this case, huh? We can’t just sell it if it’s missing one!”

Morris’s smile grows, one could almost hear the bell go off in his head before he answered. “You’re right. Normally JojaMarts have more managers to share these sorts of deals with. However since I’m the only one and that’s going to just get written off during inventory anyway, why don’t you two boys have a riot and give some to your friends? Consider it a gift from your friends at Joja!” Gleaming, Morris marches right back to his office located at the front of the store.

The two men look between each other, the now shut door of Morris’s office, and the leftover bottles from the carrier. After a moment, Shane shrugs and waves Sam off. “Go ahead and take them. I only drink one kind of fizz made for adults…”

“Really!? Dude, this is the best day ever! You think Abigail would wanna try one of these?” Sam bounces with joy, taking one of the bottles in his hands and looking it over.

“How should I know? It’s not like I hang out with her…”

“You’re right, I’ll just find out tonight at the Saloon…”

“Good thinking. You know what else is good thinking?”

Sam tilts his head curiously. “Hm?”

“Me not being the only one to finish unpacking. Come on, man.”

“R-Right, sorry.”

[basu-shokikita]

Kloktober 2023 Day 18

Inspired by a metal song

Despite being a Metalocalypse fan, I'm not actually a metalhead, so I hope hair metal counts for this prompt.

Today's entry is explicitly Skwistok for a change. Warning for suggestive content too, but nothing beyond that. With this song title, what can you expect anyway 🤣

It takes place during Dethklok's rise to fame, they weren't quite the biggest band in the world yet, but not a bunch of runts in a basement either.

Toki stormed into the room without knocking, without checking if he was busy, essentially without giving a damn about what Skwisgaar was up to generally. He flopped on the bed unceremoniously and started grumbling and kicking his feet against the mattress.

Skwisgaar raised his eyes from his guitar. “Bad nights?”

“It suckeds!” Toki mumbled almost incomprehensibly so. He turned himself to the side and glanced at Skwisgaar pitifully. It was Saturday night and he was back home before 2 am, he was officially a failure of a rockstar. “What ams you doings here?”

“Didn’t feels like goins out.” Skwisgaar shrugged and Toki couldn’t help but admire the confidence with which he said so. Like he wasn’t burdened by his own womanizer reputation. “I think ams getting a little boreds of fuckins da regular womens.” 

“Dat’s because you’ve fuckeds so manies!” Toki laid on his back and sighed. They were seriously in different worlds.

Skwisgaar chuckled. “Maybes.” After a pause, he added. “Tells me about your nightsk.”

Toki was almost a bit too ready to talk. “Soes, I went to dis parties and I trieds to score some goils. Dere was this really pretties redhead, but she totallies turneds me down…” He pouted. “And then her boyfriends gots really mad at mes-”

“She had a boyfriend?” Skwisgaar seemed somehow impressed. “Dats bold, Toki.”

“I didn’t knows!” Toki said. “I thoughts she was alones…anyways. He trieds to punches me soes…” He cleared his throat. “I kicks his ass.”

“You gots into a fight?” Skwisgaar raised his voice slightly, indicative of his surprise.

“H-He starteds it!” Toki defended himself. “And I wasn’ts gonna loses…not in fronts of da pretties lady…”

“So, yous kicked her boysfriendsks ass.” Skwisgaar concluded.

“Wells…yeah-buts...” Toki gazed at Skwisgaar and found him smirking. “Oh, you ams just teasings me right nows!”

Another chuckle and Skwisgaar returned to his guitar. “You ams such a kids, Toki.” There was a tint of fondness in his tone.

Toki frowned. “Whatevors.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “It amsnt a big deals anyway.”

“Shores.”

Toki stared at Skwisgaar who was too focused on the guitar to notice. He felt his eyelids heavy from all the alcohol he had ingested, his head spinning like a whirl and his body clumsy. Even so, he decided to stand up. “Heys.” 

“Hmm?”

“Let’s dance.” Toki said.

Skwisgaar shook his head. “You knows I don’ts like danskcings.”

“I don’t cares.” Toki stretched his arms towards him. “Gets up.”

“Noes.”

“Come on, Skwisgaar!” Toki insisted. “Don’ts be borings!”

“There amsnt even musics to dance toes.”

Toki walked to the stereo and put a random station on. It was playing sappy rock. “Deres.” He turned to Skwisgaar, gesturing. “Now gets up.”

Skwisgaar rolled his eyes, but did as told. “Dat’s dildos music.”

“Yea, yea.” Toki reached to hold Skwisgaar’s hand. “Now turns.”

As he let himself be spinned, Skwisgaar added. “Dancings ams dildos toos.”

“Shut ups.” Toki said, looking down. “Watch your steps.”

“Eugh.” Skwisgaar groaned, trying to keep up with Toki’s feet. Even while drunk, he still had more grace than the huge Swede. “I hates dis.”

“And yets, you keeps accepting everytimes.” Toki smiled, this time he was the one spinning under Skwisgaar’s reluctant arm. 

“You ams too annoying.” Skwisgaar said. “Like a whinies dog whats can’ts stop yappings. I has to shuts you up somehows.”

“Oh, shut its, I knows you like dancings with me.” Toki said. In a miscalculation, he accidentally stepped on Skwisgaar’s foot and lost his balance, falling forwards. “Oh, shits!” On reflex, he held onto Skwisgaar’s waist.

“Ams you okays?” Skwisgaar asked, concerned.

“Yeah.” Toki said, still hugging Skwisgaar. 

“...Cans you-”

“No.” Toki closed his eyes, nestling against Skwisgaar’s shoulder. “Shuts.”

Skwisgaar audibly sighed, but he accepted and they slowly waved with the music. He really liked Skwisgaar. Because thanks to him he had a home and a family, of course. But also because he was so nice to him even though he pretended to be cool and distant. And he smelled good and he was so nice to look at. And nice to touch, and…

Toki slowly raised his eyes to him, a gesture that didn’t go unnoticed by Skwisgaar. 

“Toki?” He saw Skwisgaar call him, though his voice sounded like he was far away. 

He smiled, messy and impulsive thoughts taking reign over him once again. With the coordination he had left, Toki stood on his tiptoes and meshed their lips together. 

It only lasted a second before Skwisgaar pushed him away from him, brows furrowed. “Toki, I alreadies tolds you-”

Undeterred, Toki stroked the side of Skwisgaar's face, more alcohol in his veins than common sense. “It amsnt no big deals…” He whispered, their lips brushing each other before he locked them again. 

This time, Skwisgaar lingered before pulling away and Toki could see in his expression that he was conflicted. And he was so pretty too.

“Comes on…” Toki urged him, unable to contain the goofy grin on his face. 

Almost resigned, Skwisgaar was the one closing the distance between them this time. His lips were firm but soft against Toki’s. Briefly, he broke away and glanced at Toki with uncertainty before kissing him with full force. 

Toki had kissed a lot of girls ever since he joined Dethklok. Pretty girls, hot girls, beautiful girls. He had made out with so many by now and most of the time he had really enjoyed it. Less often he had loved it, even.

But no one had beat Skwisgaar. No, kissing Skwisgaar was different, it was unique and borderline magical. Toki couldn’t get enough of his kisses, though he only had the bravery to ask for them when he was intoxicated. It felt safe, it felt easy. 

And most importantly, it felt good.

Skwisgaar shoved him against the wall and Toki was suddenly glad he didn’t get laid that night. He held the sides of Skwisgaar’s face with devotion, tilting his own head for a better angle. The kiss deepened and Toki couldn’t hold back a moan when Skwisgaar bit his lower lip, way too entranced and inebriated to play cool. 

It would’ve been embarrassing how ready he was to give Skwisgaar full access to his mouth the moment he felt his tongue slide across over the bitten lip if he didn’t know that Skwisgaar was into it too. Why else would he pull Toki so close, as if he didn’t want to let him go? Why would one of his hands stealthily run under Toki’s shirt and the other one over his neck? Why would he hungrily devour Toki’s mouth?

Skwisgaar loved it, even if it was just the ego boost of making someone melt under his touch. Toki couldn’t help but hope that he wasn’t doing this with other Dethklok members. He couldn’t dream of monopolizing Skwisgaar’s lips over the ladies, but at least he could be the only bandmate he occasionally made out with.  

When Skwisgaar pulled away, it was akin to someone going back to the surface after being submerged for too long. “Okays! No mores of dis.” He said, seemingly more to himself than to Toki.

The only reason why Toki was able to hide his disappointment was because that singular session was going to keep him going for several weeks at the very least. “Did I tells you I went to a party?”

“Ja, you dids.” Skwisgaar sling an arm over his shoulder. “Let’s get yous some rest.”

Toki giggled stupidly. “Ams you invitings me to your beds?”

“Ams inviting you to sleeps.” Skwisgaar purposefully ignored the remark, placing Toki’s back on the wide mattress. He didn’t move away fast enough, though, and Toki pulled him in for another kiss. “Enofs.” He said, after indulging for more than a few seconds. “Go sleeps, Toki.”

Toki gazed at Skwisgaar with stars in his eyes. “Thank yous.”

Skwisgaar frowned slightly. “Yous welcomes. But one days I won’t be takingsk cares of you no mores.”

“Ja…” Toki smiled, looking over to the empty ceiling. “But untils dat…” The tiredness was washing over him like a water dam being opened. At some point Skwisgaar held his hand, though that could’ve been part of a dream.

Not that he’d remember the next morning anyway. 

[levieske]

(𝟑) 𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐦𝐞

In which Yuji Itadori accidentally spoils Hana Akiwara’s plans by ingesting Sukuna’s finger, and Satoru Gojo is constantly humbled as a result.

satoru gojo x ofc x suguru geto

[ canon divergence, fix-it au, everybody lives, no kenjaku, no shibuya incident, jjk s1, slow-burn, aged-up characters, age gap, questionable relationships, mentor-student relationships, unresolved sexual tension, more mature and graphic in future chapters, crack heavy for now, tvd references if you squint ]

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After lounging at home and ruminating on her nagging thoughts for some hours, her day unfolded in its typical rhythm. The black-haired curse user got ready for her shift, quickly redoing her signature braid and grabbing her tote bag. After completing her usual ritual before work, she approached the door, her hand hesitating on the cold metal of the handle. She scanned her organized room and her gaze fixated on a particular floorboard slightly askew. With practiced ease, she pried it open to reveal the object of her recent dread: the finger.

Her anxiety remained a constant companion throughout the afternoon. Hana's intuition screamed that Gojo's sudden departure was more than it seemed, but she couldn’t pinpoint the exact reason why. As a precaution, she fashioned the finger into a makeshift amulet, tucking it under her shirt. She arrived swiftly to the coffee shop and the hours slipped away as she took orders and handed baked goods. Her worries were dulled by the constant buzz of the machines and chatter of the customers’, something she was thankful for.

As the sun began to set, Hana continued pushing her thoughts in the backburner, trying to focus solely on completing her tasks until her shift ended. She didn’t want to dwell in any of it and she had been able to do a pretty decent job at it, scrubbing the L-shaped counter, until a wave of strong cursed energy hit her. The recognizable aura made her stop her movements. She heard the chime of the closing café door and footsteps approaching her. Akiwara didn’t need to turn around to know who that was.

“Great.” Her voice was filled with sarcasm, trying to hide the waver in her voice. Her heart pounded, in a rhythmic panic. “You missed me that much?” 

Akiwara tossed the rag in the sink and finally turned around. Gojo stood there, wearing the school’s characteristic navy blue uniform, just like earlier that day. He seemed deep in thought as he inspected the pastries displayed. One lonely daifuku, a pair of matcha mochis and a taiyaki Hana had planned to take home were all that remained.

“Something like that.” He replied after a while.

The curse user stared at the sorcerer, in plain disbelief. He was seemingly less irritating than usual, which kind of alarmed her. Satoru continued to scrutinize the baked goods in silence. Hana expected him to say something, anything really. Her heart beated faster inside her chest, uncertainty filling her head. Hana toyed with the hem of her apron, her fingers tracing the fabric as she gathered the courage to break the silence.

“What brings you here, Satoru?” She asked, her voice steady despite the unease churning within her. “I’m sure you weren’t just passing by.”

Gojo lifted his head. “There’s no easy way to go about this.” He began, his voice heavy with a sigh. Akiwara noticed his stiff posture, hands buried in his pockets. “Itadori’s dead.”

His response took her off guard. She gripped the counter for support, her head felt dizzy. She must have misheard. “What- How?” Her voice was coarse, stammering. Hana blinked a few times as her vision turned blurry.

“I’m sorry.” His tone was sincere, but Hana could feel his gaze avoiding hers behind the blindfold. His features were covered by guilt.

“What happened, Satoru?” Her confusion quickly morphed into anger, spitting his name filled with venom. “What did you do to him?”

She felt a surge of resentment overcome her. Whether or not her anger was misplaced, he was responsible for this. Gojo was supposed to look after Itadori. After all, he was the reason why her friend had gone to Jujutsu Tech. She tried to steady her breathing, concealing the lump in her throat. She should at least hear him out to know what happened.

“I need you to come to the school with me, so you can see the body.” He said, his request sounding more like a plea than a demand. “I want to test something.”

Hana was dry, containing her tears with each breath she took. “Why would I do that?”

Inhale. Exhale.

“I have a feeling Itadori’s not truly gone yet.” Satoru remained stiff as he explained himself. Hana had a feeling he still wasn’t looking at her, that damned blindfold. “Your clan’s connections with Sukuna may give him another chance.”

It was no surprise for her that the man knew that piece of information. Her clan didn’t have a great name for itself.

“You’re going to have to tell me what happened.” Hana demanded, firmer.

Satoru seemed to deflate slightly. “He was sent on a mission. It was a trap and Sukuna ripped his heart out when he took over.” Before she could protest further, he continued. “I wouldn’t be asking you this if I wasn’t sure you could fix this situation.”

“How do I know this isn’t another trap?” The curse user frowned. Yuji’s death wasn’t enough for her to forget the target on her back.

“Because it isn’t. If I were to kill you, I would be upfront about it.” He simply stated it, his voice sending chills down her spine. Hana stared at him, conflicted. “The only people we are going to meet are the same ones willing to keep Itadori a secret if he comes back.”

“What do they know?” Hana's question was a flicker of vulnerability surpassing the walls she tried to contain her emotions with.

“No one in Jujutsu Tech knows much about you and your brother, aside from me. I mostly avoided telling them you have this .” Gojo admitted, his hand briefly grazing the spot where she hid the finger around her collarbones. “Think of this as me trusting you, Hana. I see your potential.”

Akiwara lifted her eyebrows in a skeptical manner, her eyes meeting his blindfold. “Potential or not, why are you so sure I can resurrect Yuji?”

“Oh, I don’t think you can.” Gojo’s reply was nonchalant, his laid-back tone taking her off guard again. “You’re going to contact Sukuna.” Akiwara’s features twisted into a frown, her eyes narrowing at his words. “You felt there was something wrong with him,” he gestured to the finger, “don’t try to deny that.”

The curse user rolled her eyes, but didn’t acknowledge what the sorcerer said. “Let me grab my things. I’ll be right back.”

After she collected her belongings and stepping out of the café, she noticed Satoru had taken the leftover baked goods with him. She decided against asking him, choosing instead to walk alongside him towards his car in silence. The ride was quiet, the only sound being the hum of the engine and the occasional rustle of the paper bag containing the sweets. She didn’t utter a word during the ride and he didn’t try to make conversation, allowing her to stare at the passing landscape as she continued thinking about what she had just decided to do. It wasn’t like she could jump out of the speeding car, although she had a feeling her brother would have preferred that.

Jujutsu Tech was located in the outskirts of Tokyo, hidden in the mountains. The campus was filled with traditional-style buildings and the amount of cursed energy felt a tad overwhelming for Hana. There were just too many sorcerers in one place or, maybe, she was just on edge. Before even the thought of fleeing crossed her mind, Satoru had already led her to the morgue. The fluorescent lights cast a harsh glow over the faces of Shoko Ieiri and Kiyotaka Ijichi, the two sorcerers that stood by Yuji's body. Their entrance didn’t go unnoticed, her presence intruding in the sterile room. Hana felt the weight of their stares on her, both strangers ignoring the fact that the tall sorcerer entered munching on the sweets of the cafe. She didn’t think she’d be able to stomach them anymore.

“You brought the curse user?” Shoko's voice was calm, cutting through the silence. Hana expected her to use a judgemental tone, but the medical-gown-wearing sorcerer didn’t seem to bother.

Gojo's reply was matter-of-fact. “Yep. This is Hana.”

Ieiri's eyes narrowed in her direction. The curse user in question fidgeted, aware that the woman had just noticed the little trinket she had with her. “You forgot to mention she was using one of Sukuna's fingers as a channel.”

“Didn’t think there had to be a problem.” Gojo retorted, meeting her gaze unflinching. “She’s here to help, right?”

Hana shifted uncomfortably by his side, sighing. “Of course. Yuji is my friend.”

“See? It’ll be fine.” His cheerfulness seemed to come back for a brief second. 

“You know I don’t doubt it.”

Akiwara watched the exchange in silence, concluding that they were close. Ieiri and Gojo, at least. The other sorcerer stood quietly in the room, trying to blend into the background until Gojo engaged him in conversation. The curse user drowned out the sound of their voices, her attention drawn to Itadori. Her heart ached as she saw him, his body lying lifeless on the autopsy table. She had avoided looking at him at first, trying to maintain her composure until Satoru would tell her what he wanted her to do. But now, her gaze was inexorably drawn to him. She walked towards him, her steps slow and hesitant, when she noticed Gojo had moved closer to Ijichi.

His eyes were closed, his skin a sickly pale, almost white. There was a gaping hole where his heart should have been. His hand was cold to the touch, but she held onto it, her fingers wrapping around his. She held it tight with her two hands, closing her eyes as she exhaled. “I’m so sorry.”

Hana bowed to the body of her friend for a few seconds and her eyes opened to meet… Yuji’s? The world seemed to stand still as she held his gaze.

“Hana?” The sound of her name startled her, her grip on his hand loosening as she straightened her back in surprise. Itadori sat up, his eyes scanning his surroundings. The hole in his chest was gone, his skin regaining some of its color. It felt like watching Bella turn into a vampire in real life. Blissful, but oddly off-putting.

Hana distantly heard the voices of the three other sorcerers in the room, but she disregarded them, focusing on Yuji only.

“Yuji…” She mouthed his name. Her arms instinctively found their way around him, pulling him into a tight embrace as she shook off the initial shock. 

Yuji hugged her back, his voice weak but filled with warmth. “Hana, what are you doing here?” He looked down at himself, realizing his… lack of clothing. Hana noticed, her cheeks flushing a deep crimson as she hastily broke the hug. She averted her eyes, a respectful distance now between them. “Wow, where are my clothes?”

Ieiri, quick to diffuse the awkwardness, handed him a shirt as Gojo approached them. “Yuji. Welcome back.” He extended his hand for a high-five, which Itadori returned with a small, disoriented smile.

As Gojo spoke with Itadori, Akiwara tried to steady her breathing, feeling her eyes water once again. She stepped out of the morgue with a shaky breath, not stopping until she reached the outside of the building. She knew it would be best to stay with Gojo, but she needed to calm down. She wasn’t going to break down there, in front of those sorcerers. She’d process her emotions at home, with her brother, where she felt truly safe.

Inhale. Exhale.

Leaning against the wall, Hana wiped away the stray tears that had escaped, careful not to smudge her eyeliner. It wasn’t waterproof. Thankfully, she had successfully regained her composure when Satoru and Shoko exited the medical building. Hana was perched on the railing, observing the deserted campus. The absence of people at this late hour brought her a small measure of comfort, but she was still acutely aware that she was in enemy territory.

The white-haired sorcerer's voice pulled her out of her thoughts. “Here you are. I thought you had already left.”

Hana chuckled, turning around. “And walk down all those stairs alone? I'd probably get lost before I even reached them.”

Satoru's smile widened at her response. He seemed pleased with the outcome, and she shared his sentiment, to an extent. Yuji was alive, which was great news, but she had set a foot in Jujutsu Tech. Hana grimaced at the thought; it was a line she had never intended to cross. She had no desire to mingle with sorcerers, yet here she was. She sighed, feeling overwhelmed by the night's events. She hoped Yuji wasn’t mad at her for leaving like that. The two sorcerers started walking and the curse user followed them, not wanting to get left behind.

“Should I update the records?” Shoko asked, glancing at the tall man.

“No, leave them as is.” He replied instantly, already having made his mind up. “It’s safer this way, I want him to be able to defend himself next time they set a trap.” He explained further. “I’m sorry, Shoko, but could you leave him as dead in the records?”

The doctor shrugged, casting a brief glance at Hana. “So, you plan to keep Itadori and the curse user hidden away?”

Hana stared at Satoru expectantly. “No, she is going to join the school soon .” He emphasized, turning to face her. The curse user raised her eyebrows in disagreement. “I’ll have Itadori make his comeback in time for the Exchange Event.”

“Why?” Ieiri asked, plainly.

“It’s pretty simple. No one is allowed to take youth away from young people.” Gojo turned to Akiwara. His smile tinged with gratitude, he was being sincere. “Now, now. Your job here is done. It wasn’t so bad, see?”

“I guess…” Akiwara shrugged. Aside from her little breakdown, there wasn’t much to it. “I still don’t know if I even did anything- I just held his hand.”

Gojo eyed her. “You didn’t feel anything?”

The curse user rolled her eyes at his inquiry. “I felt light-headed, but I think that’s because this place makes me nauseous.”

Shoko laughed at her comment. “I hope you know what you’re doing, Gojo. I won’t update the records.” She turned to Hana, offering her a tired smile. “Until next time.”

With a wave and a cheeky grin, Satoru bid farewell to the doctor sorcerer. Hana just smiled back at her. The sorcerer and the curse user then set off towards the exit, their footsteps echoing in the silence. Hana fiddled with the straps of her bag, replaying the events in the morgue. She didn’t feel anything out of the ordinary. As ridiculous as it seemed, the man was pretty sure she would be able to help. If she had done anything, she would gladly take credit for it, but she hadn’t. She couldn't even recall if she had felt Sukuna's cursed energy during their encounter.

As they neared Gojo's car, Hana decided to break the silence. “Maybe it was the power of friendship what helped Yuji.”

“Yeah, maybe.” He shrugged, and gave her one of his irritating smiles as he unlocked the car. “You still have to give me an answer. Did the power of friendship convince you to stay?”

“Yuji isn’t attending until when now?” She retorted, climbing into the vehicle. She fastened her seat belt and gave the man a pointed look as he mimicked her actions. “There’s no power of friendship to begin with to convince me to attend Jujutsu Tech.”

The sorcerer hummed, pretending to be deep in thought, then looked at her. “You could make lots of friends, heh.”

“I’m not a child, Satoru.” She frowned. How old was he anyway? She studied him for a moment, Gojo didn’t even look much older than her, six years tops. “I need to talk with my brother about this. Then, I’ll give you an answer.”

The answer would still be no, but she didn’t have the energy to fight him.

Satoru started the engine, nodding. “Well, remember, it’s either joining or being executed.” He continued smiling sickly.

You should really work on your convincing tactics.” Hana’s frown deepened, baffled.

“I can be really persuasive.” He replied, batting his eyelashes at her. She looked away, a soft laugh escaping her lips.

This man was really something. Hana didn’t understand what to make out of him, other than thinking he seemed a tad childish in his position of “the strongest”. He might as well just be weird, which wasn’t something exactly out of the norm in the curse users she had met.

As Satoru began to drive, the woman found herself stealing glances at him. The topic of Yuji remained an enigma for her. She didn’t know what he was going to do regarding that matter, really.

She broke the silence once again, the question already having left her lips before she could dwell into her thoughts further. “Will I be able to see Yuji again?”

“We’ll see about that.” His reply was vague. He glanced at her, his eyes twinkling. “If only you enrolled…”

“Oh, shut up.” Hana muttered, shaking her head.

He sighed, his expression turning serious. “He's safe in the school, and I don't think it's a good idea to let you see him. For now.”

His words didn’t do much to ease her. In fact, it only fueled her frustration. “Yeah, super safe.” Hana replied bitterly.

The rest of the ride was spent in silence. Their playful banter had died down with her comment, and Satoru seemed to understand her need for quiet, which she appreciated. Maybe she had been a bit harsh, but hiding Itadori in a place full of sorcerers seemed downright stupid. When they reached her house, a wave of unease washed over her. How did he even know where she lived?

Sighing, she concluded it was probably Yuji who had given him that piece of information.

“Goodbye, Satoru.” She spoke, dryly, as she undid her seatbelt and opened the car door.

Gojo's eyes tried to meet hers, failing as she was already stepping out of his vehicle. There was a flicker of something unreadable in his gaze behind his blindfold before it washed away. "Goodbye, Hana."

Hana walked towards her apartment complex, not looking back. She couldn't shake the feeling that she had just passed some sort of test.

˖ ⁺ ‧ ₊ ˚  ♡  ˚ ₊ ‧ ⁺ ˖

Less than a week later, Yuji was pretty much delivered to her home. Hana’s resentment towards the blindfolded prick had been growing in the last few days, aggravated by her lack of knowledge about her friend’s whereabouts. Her emotions were back in check and so was her perception of Gojo.

The curse user sighed at the vessel’s facial expression.

“He didn’t even tell you why I was there when you woke up?”

Itadori nodded slightly. He shifted in his sitting position on the couch, where both of them now sat. His legs stirred under him as he watched Hana rest her chin on top of her knees. The girl crouched in front of him, on the other side of her black couch. Her dark pajamas and colorful choice of socks would have raised a laugh out of him if only the last few weeks hadn't occurred. Yuji wished he could just erase them, he really did.

He kept his brown eyes on her gray ones as she spoke. “I thought you knew.”

“Gojo has explained little about you.” He shrugged.

His mentor didn't have any problem avoiding certain topics, despite his incessant complaints. Yuji knew he hadn't outright lied to him. He never denied the fact he wasn't telling him everything, but that didn't make it less annoying.

“What did he say about me?”

That got her full attention. Itadori didn't miss the way she lifted her brows at him. It was him who sighed this time. “He told me you're unpredictable and that makes you dangerous. That's all I needed to know.”

“Is that why you looked terrified when we met in the bakery?”

She openly smiled at him, just like she used to when she mocked him. Yuji Itadori was used to that smile, but that didn't mean he was immune to it. He started playing with the laces of his turquoise hood.

“No- Well, yes.” He rectified, almost stuttering. “To a point.” The vessel could feel his cheeks getting warmer under the curse user's stare. “You're still my friend.”

Hana needed to know. “What do you think about me, then?”

The girl lifted her head.

“You're a good liar.” Yuji was blunt. Ouch. “But I believe you had your reasons.”

Her head was on top of her knees once again. She turned her head to her left, deciding to avoid her friend’s eyes as she let the words sink in.

She had reasons. She used to have them, anyways. She wasn’t certain anymore.

“If I knew what was going to happen that night, I would have told you, Yuji.” She finally looked back at him. “You wouldn't have that thing inside you.”

The vessel had a frown fixed on his brows. “It's not your fa-”

“But it really is.” Hana was abrupt. “You know that.”

“I just… Don’t understand why you wanted it.” Yuji admitted, watching Hana’s features. “What were you planning?”

“Nothing evil.” The girl assured him and chuckled, as her heart beated faster on her chest. “It’s just a cursed object I wanted to try, you know my technique absorbs cursed energy, right?”

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The legend of Sukuna, the big, bad cursed spirit dating back from the Heian Era, had been etched into Hana’s consciousness from a tender age. His power had been fragmented into twenty severed fingers. Cursed objects were powerful and quite useful for her technique, cursed energy manipulation. 

Hana believed Yuji wasn’t asking the right questions. The reason why she wanted the finger and what she was planning on doing with it was simple: she wanted to channel it. Her technique allowed her to -quite literally- copy and paste techniques when she used others’ cursed energy. Just like she had when she had met Satoru Gojo. She copied his abilities and used Sukuna’s as a distraction.

Of course, understanding the techniques she used was as much of a requirement as channeling the energy of her opponents was. It didn’t come naturally to her using others’s energies.

Convenience was another one of her reasons. In reality, she could have just channeled any other cursed object. Many of them were singular and heavily guarded, hidden. The twenty fingers were scattered, some even serving as talismans warding off the bigger curses. The Akiwara’s intrigue in these fingers was sparked by their grandmother’s tales, although the passage of time had faded many of the details. Their nana, who had left Japan in her youth, introduced them to the intricacies of jujutsu. After all, their relatives hadn’t been able to use cursed energy and their matriarch was the sole source of knowledge for the twins.

It was only last year that the Akiwara’s path intersected with a curse user, a meeting none of the siblings cherished. Hana had been looking for information about her clan and the elusive cursed object, which resulted in drawing unwanted attention. This stranger’s interest mirrored her own, and he provided the twins with snippets of knowledge. Nothing worth the meeting, really. Kenji and Hana met a few more curse users along the way, but it wasn’t until recently that her brother found an actual lead.

Weeks before Hana found herself entwined with sorcerers, Kenji had caught wind of a potent cursed object rumored to be within the walls of their university. He betted it was one of Sukuna’s fingers and he was proven correct. In comparison to him, Hana had made little to no progress in her stupid occult club. Who knew actually looking for information would have achieved something, heh? Hana hadn’t been particularly invested in the search for the finger, focusing instead on having a little break from jujutsu for the meantime. Kenji, on the other hand, was relentless in his pursuit of knowledge. His break was quite short lived.

However, Hana's efforts weren’t entirely in vain. You see, there were few individuals who would listen to her blab about occult-related stuff and also want to partake in the conversation. Even though they weren’t actually knowledgeable in jujutsu, she believed they would serve some purpose as minions. It was because of Yuji’s insistence she joined the club. He was the first classmate to approach her, which kind of spoiled her plan of being the loner of the class.

Yuji seemed to be spoiling many of her plans.

Despite her initial reluctance to form close connections with others, especially as the older girl who had been held back a year, she gradually grew attached to her fellow club members. They didn't prove to be particularly helpful in her search, yet she began to develop genuine friendships with them. The only thing she regretted was ever telling them about the finger’s possible location.

The twins were no strangers to manipulation, having navigated a world that seemed perpetually against them. Despite her new friends’ lack of knowledge about curses, Hana believed they would make the task of finding the finger easier. She had no intention of just unsealing it on school grounds, knowing that such a powerful cursed object would attract even more curses, especially the stronger ones.

But those… idiots, just did it regardless.

It was supposed to be nothing more than a lighthearted joke when she talked about unsealing the finger, a bit of encouragement wrapped in humor. Hana was aware of Iguchi and Sasaki’s fascination with the supernatural, and Itadori seemed to be glad of taking part in the club’s antics. They had a great time when Akiwara, using a burst of cursed energy, knocked over Sasaki’s bottle during a ouija board session. Their screams amused the curse user, but she still brushed it off saying it had been her fault by being clumsy. It was harmless fun.

The day her friends found the cursed object, Hana was tied up at work. Iguchi and Sasaki forgot she’d be all afternoon at the café, and Yuji wasn’t even there as he was also occupied. Unbeknownst to her, the unsealing of the finger had unleashed a horde of curses that targeted her friends, wreaking havoc in their university. With the help of a sorcerer, Itadori dealt with the chaos and the night ultimately resulted in him ingesting the finger.

By the end of her shift, Akiwara had a few unread messages and a missed call from Itadori. It was more than enough to make her rush to the hospital, where her friend had informed her they were. A sense of urgency propelled her through the hospital’s sliding doors, as she skillfully avoided the few people that lingered around. She found Yuji at the reception, sitting down as he waited for her. Her gaze fixed on him as she strode towards him, her steps quickening. His usual bright demeanor was dimmed, replaced by a grim expression. Hana’s mind was clouded by her friends’ well-being when she sat next to Yuji, unaware of his recent change.

“How- how are they?” The curse user asked, trying to calm her erratic breathing. She fidgeted with her hands, her eyes searching in her friend’s ones for answers. “What happened?

“The ceiling in our club room just… collapsed.” Yuji’s reply was quiet. His gaze met hers, concerned. “They’re stable, but they got hurt pretty bad.” 

Hana’s heart sank. “How bad are we talking?”

“Mild concussion for both,” Yuji recounted, his voice barely above a whisper, “Iguchi’s arm broke trying to protect Sasaki, and she sprained her ankle. They were unconscious when help arrived, and haven’t awakened yet.” Hana nodded, begging him to continue. “They’ll be fine, the doctor assures they’ll recover with rest.”

“I hope so…” She mumbled as a response. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”

“You couldn’t have known, Hana.” Yuji consoled, offering a comforting touch on her shoulder. “I didn’t even…” “

“You didn’t see anything… strange?” Hana inquired, her voice trailing off as she averted her gaze. Yuji looked at her, frowning. “I mean they said they were-”

“I didn’t.” Yuji interjected, but Hana wasn’t able to decipher the conflict in his tone. “They told me they were waiting for me before doing anything, and… the ceiling had already collapsed by the time I got there.”

Relief washed over Hana, mingled with a twinge of disappointment. The chance to obtain one of Sukuna’s fingers had slipped through their fingers, quite literally.

Despite feeling a twinge of guilt for putting her friends at risk, she reminded herself that it was their own idea. Kind of. She merely shared a rumor with them, without giving any specific instructions. Yet, the guilt lingered, weighing heavily on her conscience. Normal humans and their stupidity weren’t something she could control, but Hana had grown fond of them. She shouldn’t have gotten them into this mess.

As she was deep in thought, Itadori battled with his own inner turmoil. It was probably going to be the last time he saw her before going with Gojo and Fushiguro to who knows where. The boy, now a vessel, hadn’t really thought about the consequences of his impulsive decisions. He acted on instinct and it somehow worked out. His friends were alive and the powerful curse he now housed wasn’t in control of his body. The only thing he could ask for was Hana's presence in his life, even though it was probably for the best that they remained apart.

Neither of them wanted the other to be entangled in the world of jujutsu. It was quite ironic.

Yuji’s voice broke the silence. “Hana, I… I wanted to say goodbye. I’m transferring to another university in Tokyo.” Hana looked at him in shock as she processed his words. “My grandpa passed away today. He always talked about that uni… I think it’s what he would have wanted.”

Hana reached out, her hand finding Yuji’s as an offer of comfort. “I’m so sorry, Yuji..”

Yuji's only parental figure, Wasuke Itadori, had played a significant role in his life. Hana had met him when she accompanied Yuji on one of his visits to the hospital. He was a stubborn old man, but his mood lifted dramatically when he took notice of Hana. She laughed at one of the man’s jabs at his grandson, not fully comprehending the inside jokes the family had. It was endearing and, sadly, Hana understood all too well Yuji’s need for a change of scenery now that all he had was gone.

She would miss him, truly. The bond between Hana and Yuji was evident, despite the existence of certain unspoken topics. Hana believed that as their friendship blossomed, she would have eventually shared more about herself. Anything related to jujutsu was off the table, though. Hana recognized her friend's innocence, and didn't want to burden him with it. The danger of getting the unwanted attention of sorcerers or curse users was enough to stop her from telling him anything. Kenji and her had cut ties with cursed users many months ago for that very reason.

They embraced and parted ways with a heavy heart. As Hana made her way home, her thoughts were already on visiting Sasaki and Iguchi once they awoke. But as the weeks went by her friends remained unconscious, Hana and Kenji resumed their search for the next finger, which you already know how it ended.

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[accidentally-in-fictional-love]

Love Until We Freeze Ch.3 Day 2 - Breck/Reader

[ 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 ]

Warnings: Dead dove, do not eat. No use of Y/N, gender-neutral reader, reader's unwanted attraction and related thoughts start here, physical punishment (slapping, grabbing, choking, etc), dubiously received flirting and teasing, aftercare as manipulation, degrading talk, claustrophobia, anxiety and panic attacks, attempted suicide, nonconsensual touching, masturbation, slight self-asphyxiation.

Wordcount: 8865

Summary: A questionnaire and a visit to the the Diamonds should be an easy day of avoiding all attempts to win you over, but it's a little unwanted deprivation that really throws you through a dangerous loop.

Notes: This one gets extremely heavy near the end, please refer to the tags above and on the first chapter for a reminder of the reoccurring ones. From here on out, Breck calls the reader Bunny as a g-n nickname, as in the bunny hill, as a sign of degradation/affection at how low they are beneath him, their current status, and because there's something about them that demands his fondness. He also starts touching the reader, which ranges from dub-noncon as well as eventual consent, but not in this chapter. I'll be warning for it every time it happens.

You didn’t know what time you fell back asleep since there was no clock in your room, but you did know it had to be before 9AM as your door was flung open and your light was turned on. You groaned as breakfast was set on your table, the Square delivering it leaving you to eat, and you noticed immediately that it wasn’t as grand as the day before. You blamed it on your new lodgings, a clear punishment as your thermos didn’t even have marshmallows today, but you didn’t care, it didn’t matter to you. You finished off your decent meal, it not bringing you to tears this time as you took a few sips of the beverage before pressing the thermos to your skin, using it as a heat source as you stood and walked to the bathroom. You dumped the chocolatey drink down the drain and filled it with water instead, not a fan of the nonfiltered taste but it was better than ingesting pure sugar and nothing else.

You downed half of it before refilling it and starting on your morning shower, this time being sure to lock the door, although you bet he already had a key, there was a bunch on his ring so it wouldn’t surprise you in the least if he showed up again. Already shivering, you pulled back the curtain and went to turn the tap when you saw an addition to the shower, a crude metal bar screwed directly into the porcelain to keep the handle from turning past lukewarm. You stared at it as you only grew colder, your hand going to the smudged steel and turning it right, it truly stopped from going where you wanted. You tried to force it before attempting to pull the bar off, needing to find something to undo the screws with, but they’d been covered over, even if you managed to find a screwdriver it’d never be able to get a grip, and the lukewarm water felt freezing as you were covered in the spray during your attempts.

You grabbed a towel and held it over yourself before stomping back into your room, your skin already red from the burn as you pointed up at the camera. ‘Fuck you!’ you shouted at it, the device just staring back as you expected, and you returned to the bathroom and shut off the tap, you weren’t that desperate yet. You filled the sink instead, avoiding your reflection as you bathed via washcloth, the water only warming your hands as you tried to work quickly, the air working against you as all you did was delay getting dressed again with how long it was taking. Your teeth were chattering by the time you were able to pull on your clothes from the day before, you almost wished you’d be able to ask Breck to at least sneak your things up there, but you guessed that it’d be impossible with your parents hoarding what might as well be the last things you’d ever touched in their eyes.

Pissed off, aching from the cold, and hating yourself for wanting Breck to share his body heat again, you waited at your table with your thermos, now filled with hot water even though it burned your tongue and throat when you took small sips. You tried your doorknob after what had to be ten minutes had passed, it still locked as you again expected, and you prayed that Breck wasn’t still enforcing his rule on you finding him when it opened and he stared down at you.

‘You should change, I can’t have you making me look bad while I’m your Tester,’ he sniffed, tossing another gray sweater as well as some generic colourless clothes your way, your wish for warmer socks granted. You went to undress when he walked in, got comfy on your bed again, and you shot him a look before taking a step towards the bathroom. ‘Does it really matter?’ he asked with a smirk, and you frowned before heading inside and locking the door. You changed as quickly as you could, leaving the dirty outfit on the sink, your hand refusing to let go of your jeans because you just knew that’d be the last you saw of them, he’d be taking everything of yours as of today.

When you walked back out he looked you over before standing, the two of you heading back for that overly empty meeting room so he could finish with whatever he was going to say the day before; instantly something caught your eye as you walked in, one of the lights decorating the back wall flickering like it was on the ends of its life. You stared before shaking your head and looking away, getting caught in the flicker would make you dizzy and again you didn’t want him to know that. You sat back down and waited for him to get ready, pen in hand as he looked down at the sheet in front of him, and when he spoke you let out an involuntary groan.

‘Do you ever have sinus infections, caused by allergies or colds?’ he asked professionally, your body sinking lower into your chair; great, a questionnaire to help them get a better grasp on who they were allowing into their cult, how exciting.

‘Dunno, I avoid the cold usually,’ you said a bit snarkily, reminding him once again of your hatred for it, and he glanced up at you before writing something down and continuing.

‘Do you find yourself clumsy, either tripping or breaking things, such as dishes?’

‘Sure, who doesn’t from time to time?’

‘When was the last time you remember an incident?’

‘You mean like you kidnapping me and keeping me here against my will?’ He didn’t answer. ‘Yesterday, all of yesterday.’

‘Do you find it difficult expressing your creativity?’

‘I didn’t used to, but now I think it’ll be a little hard in this place.’

His eyebrow twitched but he still wrote something down all the same. ‘Do you recall a time when you felt happy outside?’

Your stare grew hard, your hands clenching over the table. ‘Yes,’ you answered curtly, holding the S in a hiss, ‘two days ago, before I met you.’

‘How about when you made someone happy?’

You looked away, trying to picture your family’s faces as they welcomed you onto the minibus with various greetings, none of them expecting you to have come. ‘...Yes.’

‘And when you made yourself happy?’

It took a bit longer for you to answer this time, your anger fading to sadness, how much you dreaded coming, how you’d wanted so badly to stay home, how you couldn’t think of a single moment to confirm his question with. ‘No… no, I can’t.’

‘When you stroked an object?’

Instantly your face lit up red as the question snapped you out of your depression, the shock of it making you wonder if you’d really heard him correctly. ‘I- I don’t-?’

‘It’s simple, do you or do you not recall a time when you stroked an object?’ he repeated, his posture relaxing just a little as he made an effort to cross his legs under the table, your gaze automatically going down even though you couldn’t even see him under the glass; he smirked again, writing something down before you even had time to answer, your mouth finally working again as you scrambled to combat whatever it was he was thinking.

‘I uh, I don’t know how to- are you asking me if I-?’ No answer, his pen still gliding across the page as he kept looking up at you. ‘Stop, okay, I mean I have, but-’

‘If an object were to be presented to you, would you be able to give me an example of stroking it?’

Your mouth went dry as you swallowed, your eyes again going down and meeting his reflection before you looked away, the mental image of him pushing himself away from the table, spreading his legs, and letting you kneel in front of him invading your brain before you could stop it. You shut your eyes tight, trying to will the thought away because that was the last thing you wanted, and when he couldn’t get your attention with snapping he stood up, walked just enough to be able to reach you, and slapped you hard across the face instead. That instantly got you out of it as pain raced across your cheek, your eyes wide as he then picked up his chair and moved it to the end of the table so you were closer, his mouth a thin line but his eyes looking excited.

‘If you can’t concentrate then I’ll get your attention in other ways; now, if an object-’

‘Yes, sure fine whatever, I can stroke an object,’ you told him hurriedly as you lowered your hand from your cheek, your legs pressing together as he didn’t write this one down; instead he sat back, his hand resting on his thigh until you were forced to look down again, and once he was sure you’d gotten a look he held out his pen for you to take. You tried not to acknowledge the disappointment as you picked it up, carefully avoiding his hand, and you felt the humiliation rise as you did as you promised and limply stroked it a couple times, first with just your thumb, index, and middle fingers, then your whole hand when he didn’t say anything.

‘That question wasn’t part of the form, but thanks for indulging me,’ he admitted before grabbing it back, and you jumped up so fast your chair caught on the carpet and toppled over.

‘What the fuck are you trying to pull with this?’ you demanded, your face even hotter at being tricked, and he looked up at you before flipping ahead a few pages and filling in a future answer.

‘I’m not trying to pull anything, unlike you, with the way you looked at me.’

‘You fucking-’

He stood again, eyes still flashing as he hit you once more, your head snapping to the side this time from the force of it; in that moment you stared at the light again and got stuck a moment, your head starting to swim as your eyes unfocused a little, and you had to stop yourself from looking before it got even worse. ‘I don’t appreciate your language,’ he told you warningly, and when you went to curse again he grabbed you by the sweater and threw you back. Still dizzy, you tripped over your fallen chair before you could try and avoid it, your legs stumbling over it and making you hit the ground hard, more pain shooting up your elbow as you landed on it weird. He stepped over you and lifted you up until you were on your knees, the soft fabric digging into your neck as you cradled your arm, too nervous about what he was going to do to you next when he clearly had no qualms about actually hitting you, no empty threats just to scare you there.

‘I-I…’

‘If you can’t take this seriously, then I can ask you these again, outside, in the tool shed,’ he threatened, and something told you instantly that that was a place you didn’t want to get acquainted with. ‘Would you rather we head out there so you can concentrate? Or shall we sit back down so we can finish this and move on?’ The flicker caught your eye again, and you shut your eyes to avoid it before you felt him grab you by the chin, his fingers digging into your jaw and making you whine.

‘I can concentrate,’ you managed to say, and he seemed satisfied with that as he let go and sat back down. You didn’t keep him waiting as you fixed your chair, angling it away from the light so you could fully face him, and he shot it a glance before going back to his questions.

‘Do you recall a time you went fast?’

The questions were still silly and cryptic, but you answered to the best of your ability with a little less snark after that, your jaw aching as you tried not to rub it. After them, there was a yes or no section about more cryptic things, and you learned very quickly that answering without a yes or a no was the wrong thing to do when he grabbed you by the wrist and twisted. He didn’t let go for the rest of the test, not through the section about your childhood, or your family and other relationships, not even about your mental health as you were all but forced to tell him about your depression, the questions worded in a way to make you realize how much you needed these teachings, needed to find the happiness they promised to bring.

It was bullshit, but whenever you weren’t truthful he twisted your wrist just a little more and held it there, your bruising elbow screaming as lightning strikes of discomfort shot up and down your arm. Finally you reached the last question, and when you gave him your answer he wrote it down and let you go, an actual yelp leaving you as it hit you all at once how twisted your arm had been for so long. You couldn’t decide on whether to rub your wrist or your elbow as he double checked that he hadn’t missed anything, and when he was satisfied he got up, took the two steps to get to your angled chair, and kneeled down in front of it.

Your eyes widened as he took your wrist and rubbed it for you, his thumb kneading in just the right way that it made your eyes shut, a relieved moan slipped out as the pain eased up just enough, and it drove you crazy to know that he would probably be smiling if you were to look. You knew what he was doing, you weren’t an idiot even if he might’ve thought you were just because you pretended to fall for his tricks, but you couldn’t deny the fact that you’d keep doing it if it meant he wouldn’t stop sharing his heat and massaging the pain he was causing you until you could get out of there.

‘You really need this,’ he suddenly said, and you cracked open an eye to see that he was staring up at you. ‘What you can learn here, it’ll fix you, bring back what the world out there took from you, I can help you understand.’

‘Fix me?’ was all you could say, and he held your wrist a little harder, really pressing his thumb into the joint as he kept massaging.

‘Yes. You don’t even realize how bad it’s gotten, I could tell when you told me everything, staying here is the only thing for you now.’ His hands moved up, straightening your arm so he could work on your elbow, each press making your hand twitch.

‘You think I don’t know how bad my own life is?’ you frowned, and he gave you another hard press that had you leaning into it to make him ease up, and when your torso inched closer to him he took that chance to move on from your elbow to your jaw; he rubbed comforting circles into your cheek, almost as if to apologize for before, and you hated yourself for liking it.

‘I know you don’t,’ he hummed before turning your head slightly to the side, his eyes looking you over. ‘Your face is so cold but your cheek is warm where I hit you, it must be irritated.’

You resisted the urge to say anything only so he could hold you just a moment longer.

‘Now that this has been taken care of, the real lessons can begin,’ he told you as he stood, his chair put back into place and his papers tucked under his arm. ‘It’s a long slope from where you are, little Bunny, up to Black Diamond, but I’ll guide you all the way, you won’t fall again.’

‘I still don’t want to join your institute,’ you said even with the risk of being hit again, but he didn’t believe you as he just nodded and started for the door, your body following him on instinct.

‘Tell me that again after you’ve heard what I have to say.’

This wing was still new to you as you guessed it was just the training wing, but he didn't give you any sort of a tour this time, not stopping until you were heading to an entirely new part of the building. The hallway was glass, letting you see the beauty of the mountain around you and actually making you pause as you couldn't help but stare. He was annoyed at first, but when he saw the look on your face he softened, not in a kind way you noted, but in a smug way, like he knew even you couldn't resist the view despite your hatred of the cold.

‘You can have this always when you stay,’ was all he said as he walked up behind you, his hand hovering over the back of your neck, you could feel it slightly disturb your hair. 

‘A good view isn't enough to give up my entire life,’ you answered honestly, your eyes scanning the view until you saw it, the hotel was a small dot in the distance but it was there, and once it was located you were able to find the lifts, following their path up and up until you found the Double Diamond route.

‘What are you even leaving behind? What's waiting for you back home? You've got a part-time job, you're easily replaceable. Your apartment can be rented out to someone else who'll appreciate it, you won't have to pay rent here.’ His hand moved closer, fingertips scraping against your scalp just enough to send a shiver down your spine. ‘Is there anyone even expecting you to come back? Any friends, or partners? Will your parents even care after the first month with how little they saw you after you moved out?’ You could hear his breathing quicken, his chest pressing against your back, your hands coming up to press against the glass as you tried to move away. ‘You've got nothing for you back there, you are nothing, a nobody.’

He grabbed onto you and shoved you forward in one swift movement, your face smashing into the glass as you heaved, it holding strong as the bitter cold stung so badly it made your eyes water combined with the pressure he was putting on your skull.

‘I told you this place will be good for you, and now I know it will be. You won't just be finding clarity, you'll find happiness, freedom, purpose; with us, with me, you can learn the teachings of E.C., not just pretend to listen but actually learn, I can make you a somebody, I won't let you crash and burn out there.’

‘You're hurting me,’ you choked, your eye shutting against the glass as he pressed a little harder, his teeth grazing your ear before biting down hard just to hear you try and muffle the following yelp of surprise.

‘I can't wait to fly with you, you'll never know true freedom until I show you…’

‘I said you're hurting me.’ You tried to elbow him off and he groaned in your still pulsing ear before backing up, his hand rubbing circles into your scalp before you jerked away from him, half your face burning, your teeth indented into your cheek as you stretched out your jaw.

‘The cold looks so good on you, I can already see how red your face will be when I take you down,’ he mused to himself before licking his lips, and when your back hit the glass you felt a sick desire to have him touch you again. ‘All the blood rushing to your cheeks, the tip of your nose, I wonder if your lips will turn blue…’

‘Aren't you supposed to be teaching me something?’ You needed to say it and get him away from the glass, half because you were afraid of what he'd do, half because you were afraid of what you wanted him to do as the pulsing in your ear finally settled. It seemed to be enough though, and he straightened the slipping papers under his arm before holding out his hand for you to take, which you did, but only because yours was freezing after being pressed against the glass. He went back to leading you to the other half of the property, this institute doubling as an instructor's building so much bigger than you thought as it turned into more of an office mixed with a museum. Instead of unfinished floors and numbered doors you saw the place's logo everywhere, as well as photos of current and past members leading up to the man and woman you'd seen on the video, the founders of this whole thing.

Along with them you also saw that there were locations in the other states with mountain ranges, each one under a different name than the hotel down below, but they all belonged to Edmund Casey in the end. The one you were at was the main one, the very first branch, which explained why it was the highest rated one in the country, with Portland coming in second. ‘I used to work there, couple years back I helped stop someone I knew from taking everything down, got me a permanent place here,’ he told you when he caught you checking out the photos. ‘She was the only Double Black, nearly killed me trying to spin it like I wasn't doing it for the good of U.I., thankfully I was able to get the job done.’

‘...You became a Diamond because of that?’ You were partially curious, but you also knew that feeding his ego would keep him talking about anything other than his intended plans for the day.

‘I was already a Diamond, that's how I found out about it,’ he said, his expression darkening as he thought back to it, wrong move. ‘I thought they'd make me the next Double Black, but they already had someone else in mind, he got promoted for doing fuck all while I spent the next month in the hospital.’ He looked down at you, you'd just reminded him of something he hated and he did not look happy about it. ‘I didn't hesitate to put a bullet in her stomach when I thought she was a threat to everything I stood for, and she was someone I grew up with, someone I loved; don't think I won't do the same to you if you try anything like that phone business yesterday, Bunny.’

You swallowed, your back pressed up against the wall and your head bumping into the photo and making it swing; you didn't even know when you'd gotten there but now that you were he had you boxed in, his hand trailing down until it rested over your stomach. ‘What’s the point of teaching me anything if you're just gunna shoot me?’ you asked, and he gently poked you in the gut before jabbing hard, and when you winced he held you in place by your shoulder so you couldn’t double over or move away.

‘Would you prefer if I buried you instead?’ He jabbed you again, even harder this time, and even though it hurt you knew it'd be nothing compared to a gunshot.

‘You know what I prefer,’ you groaned, and he gave you one final poke before the hand on your shoulder moved to your throat, his thumb resting just over your collarbone as he avoided using any pressure.

‘Keep that up, see how you can talk back to me when I force enough ice down your throat to tear it up,’ he said in such a sweet voice it was like he was speaking to a lover, and when you swallowed again you knew he felt it under his fingers as that sharp canine peeked out to bite at his lip. ‘Of course, I might still try it; the sight of you gagging on the thickest icicle I can find has crossed my mind a few times since I first saw you.’ He looked you over again, and even though he kept his distance you could still feel his teeth on you. ‘Although, after what I saw earlier, maybe you might prefer something… warmer.’

‘Oh f-’ You didn’t even get a chance to even think about finishing as his grip around your throat tightened, his hand cutting off the word itself better than the slap from before had as you choked out a gasp.

‘What did I say about language?’

‘Excuse me, you never showed so I was sent to see what kept you.’ You both turned, you with a little difficulty as he quickly let go of you, to see a Square standing just off to your right, and even though he wore reflective goggles you could still tell he was avoiding the sight of you by the way his head kept slightly turning away. Breck cleared his throat, straightened himself up after picking up his fallen papers, and then grabbed your hand so you couldn’t dawdle or get distracted again. He all but dragged you after the Square until you stopped again in a small but grand library, the far wall all glass and showing off more of that magnificent view, a few other Diamonds already there and talking amongst themselves until they noticed your presence. As soon as they looked his hand left yours, your arm falling limply to your side before you lifted it to try and rub some heat back into yourself, a couple of them watching you with distaste as no one else was bothered by the room’s temperature.

‘This is the one you want permission to use our facilities on?’ one of them asked, her hip cocked to the side as her long hair spilled out from under her hat. ‘Isn’t there a search party going on right now for-’

‘There is, but I took care of it yesterday, no one will search this far,’ Breck informed them, a few talking in whispers for a moment.

‘No one under Square consideration is typically allowed to use the Tank, you’d really use up your time for this?’ another asked, his stereotypical dudebro voice going so perfectly with his outfit that you would’ve laughed under normal circumstances, but your throat was still sore and you didn’t want to know what he’d do to you for laughing at a Diamond. 

‘I would, I know what I’m doing with this one,’ he answered firmly, someone in the back snickering at him before walking into view.

‘Yeah, like how you said that the last time, and your so-called methods got her killed, smooth move on that one,’ he teased, someone giving him a fistbump as Breck tensed, your hand moving unconsciously towards your neck as he took a few calming breaths.

‘She wasn’t ready, I told you all that she was having trouble on the Greens, there was no need to rush her onto a Blue,’ he reminded them tersely, the whispering continuing with more hushed snickering, and you saw him move before he was hitting you with the papers, the clipboard hidden underneath. The papers flew every which way as the board snapped against your face, your voice crying out as the laughs fell silent, and when you staggered to the side you felt the heat trail down your face from your eyebrow as pain exploded behind your temple and eye. You touched the area with a shaky hand and pulled it back red, your eye twitching as Breck just stared at you, and you turned to see if the others would help only to find them all silent and waiting for your next move. ‘Pick those up,’ he ordered, tossing the rest of the board to the floor along with everything else, and you looked back at him as red started to stain your gray sweater. ‘I said pick those up, I can’t have you making a goddamn mess in here.’

You wanted to yell at him, tell him he was the one who made a mess but you couldn’t, so you just sank to your knees and started gathering the pages back up again, the other Diamonds talking before a new one spoke up.

‘Sure listens better than the last, that might just keep you alive, how’s your skiing?’ he asked, and when you opened your mouth to answer he hit you on the top of the head before snatching everything from you, your hands flying open to avoid the very strong possibility of papercuts.

‘Still on the bunny hill, but I’ll have you flying by the end of the week, won’t I?’ he asked you, and when you didn’t answer right away he grabbed you by the chin, your jaw going slack. ‘Won’t I?’

‘Y-yes,’ you managed to say, although it came out more as, ‘Es,’ the others satisfied with what they were seeing.

‘Good listener and determined, you’ll be a proper Circle in no time,’ the Diamond told you before turning back to Breck, who looked a little less angry, just a little. ‘You have our permission to use the Tank and the rest of the gym, just leave those boots and I’ll have Trey start fixing up a new pair of skis, but until they’re done don’t forget to use the training ones, they can wipe out all they want with those.’

‘Understood, thank you, and I was wondering if I’d also be able to use our private slopes until the search dies down, don’t wanna risk anyone seeing the posters before we take them down in a month,’ he requested, your gut churning at the thought of fully disappearing by this time next month, how easy that was for them to do when you were standing right there.

‘Good idea, you sure you’re not gunna lose another one out there? The other side of the mountain is so much steeper,’ another Diamonded reminded him, and when he looked at you you felt such a shiver go down your spine that it almost made you wobble, the pounding in your head growing stronger.

‘Oh, that won’t be a problem,’ was all he said, and they called the meeting before heading back out to do whatever it was they did up there when they weren’t giving lessons down below. Your body waited until they were all gone before you stumbled over to the nearest chair, the leather cold and creaking under your palms as you tried not to collapse against the back of it, Breck just watching you before walking over. He circled to the front, kneeling on the cushion as he reached for your face, and you flinched away from him until you felt how gentle he was holding you, your entire body melting into it as he examined what he’d done. ‘You’ve got blood on your sweater, we’ll have to pick up a new one before we continue,’ he hummed, his voice soft once more, and your eyes closed as you clenched your teeth in absolute misery.

‘I don’t understand you,’ you moaned, and he shushed you softly as he ran his thumb over the blood and licked it off of the digit before pulling out a handkerchief from his vest pocket. He cleaned you up as best he could, sometimes pressing a little too hard and making you flinch to the point he had to hold your head in place, and when he was done he pocketed it again instead of throwing it away.

‘Leave your shoes in the hall, we won’t be going outside today anyway,’ he told you as he stood up again, his hand waiting for you to take when you were done, but the thought of walking around there in just your socks was already making your toes grow numb.

‘Can’t we just visit Trey so he can measure them?’ you asked nervously, already expecting to be hit again for opening your mouth, but he spared you this time, giving you just a look you couldn’t argue with further instead. You did as he asked, undoing the laces just enough to slide your feet out, and you shivered as you stepped onto the carpet, knowing the tile that waited for you outside would be much less comfortable. He nodded and then you left the room, your boots handed off to Trey as he managed to reach you before you could set them down.

It was like walking on the mountain itself, the socks warm but not that warm as he led you down more hallways, a brief pitstop to hand off his papers to someone else slowing you down and making you hop from foot to foot. You were almost relieved when you reached the place he wanted to take you, it being the aforementioned gym with every possible piece of equipment you could think of; of course they wanted to stay in shape when they weren’t hitting the slopes, and just the thought of using one of the machines until you were all warmed up and sweating sounded like absolute bliss when before it would’ve been a headache.

You were in the middle of wondering which one you’d get to use first when he just grabbed you by the arm and kept going, a bunch of doors indicating smaller rooms lining the wall to your right. He opened the first to reveal an almost egg shaped… thing, you had no idea what this was, and when he walked over to it and pressed a button, the top unlatching so he could open it up, you still had no idea. ‘This is a sensory deprivation tank, you ever heard about these?’ he asked as you peered inside to see water, and you warily shook your head. ‘We have a few things up here that help with our skiing outside of Casey’s teachings, and I thought this might help you understand how it feels to be free, to fly,’ he said as he tested the water, and when you didn’t do the same he grabbed your wrist and made you dunk your hand in. It felt strange, thick, the water just about cold enough to burn, and you yanked your hand away and shook off the liquid, not liking this at all.

‘You’re gunna make me go in there?’ You weren’t afraid of small spaces typically, but the thought of him locking you inside a small room with a door only he could open filled you with a deep terror.

‘I was hoping you’d accept it on your own, since I can’t trust you with the pools, but if you don’t want to-’ Two Squares you hadn’t even heard come in suddenly started stripping you, Breck going over to a closet against the wall to find a towel and something else you couldn’t see. You fought against them as you lost every layer, your clothes tossed on the bench nearby along with the towel, your fighting moving onto the Squares themselves as they attempted to get you inside the tank. 

‘Wait! Let’s go skiing, okay? You can show me how it’s done, just let me get dressed and we can practice on the bunny hill, can’t we do that?’ you begged as your desperation ramped, Breck just pressing something small into your palm before moving the Squares aside to hold you, and when your hope arose at the thought of him liking that idea he shoved you hard. You landed on your back in the water, a bunch of it splashing out onto the floor before he was shutting the lid, it was pitch black, he was locking you in. ‘Breck, wait, Breck!’

‘Use the earplugs, it’ll keep the salt out,’ was all he said before it latched closed, nothing but the sound of water and your own heavy breathing surrounding you.

‘Please! Let me out! I don’t wanna be in here!’ you pleaded as you banged on the lid, your own voice so loud as you couldn’t even hear him on the other side anymore, you truly were deprived of all senses outside of the sound of the water still splashing. ‘Teach me to fly! I don’t want this, please don’t fucking leave me in here!’

Silence.

Your breaths came fast as your eyes fought to adjust but there was no light in here, your ears ringing as the water settled and the sound of nothing hit you so hard you became dizzy, your throat tight as your panic washed over you. ‘Okay, people use this all the time, this is fine,’ you whispered to yourself but even then it was too loud, your mouth shutting as you tried not to cry. I need to just lay down and wait, ear plugs, where’d the earplugs go? You felt around until you found them floating, and you wiped them dry as best you could before putting them in; it only accentuated the silence to the point where you felt like you were going to have a full panic attack, your eyes shutting next to ignore the fact that there was nothing around you in this space. You laid back and the thick water floated you up, it was only up to your waist but like this it felt like you were in an endless ocean, your hands finding the sides to make it a little smaller until your brain started to convince you that they were closing in.

You let your arms float at your sides as you sniffed and tried not to cry, light flashing behind your eyes to create something in the darkness, and when you let out a sob your head tilted a bit too much to the side. Salt got into your cut and you cried out in pain, your frustration building as you had a tantrum there in the dark, only stopping when your head dipped under the water and you choked. You coughed and spit the salty water out, your eyes and forehead burning from it as you went back to floating, your only choice to do what he said and just… fly.

You hated this, it felt like you were in a void, his words in your head as he told you you were nothing, this is all you were, just this. I don’t want this, you thought to yourself as you held back another sob, the video playing in your head as you watched all those happy people glide over the snow without a care in the world. I want to be happy, why does everyone else always get to be so fucking happy except for me? 

You saw your apartment, the blinds always drawn, messes strewn about as your depression got worse, the last visitor your landlord as he informed you your rent would be going up come the fall. 

Did I ask for this? Is it my fault I’m here? I didn’t know he’d do this, I just thought… 

You saw so many happy couples visit your work, their smiles wide and their hands latched together, and your hand closed over nothing but water without him there.

Can I… can I be special to him if I stay?

You thought of coming home by yourself, eating alone, sleeping alone, for the rest of your life, becoming a nothing just like he said; maybe next time your parents wouldn’t even invite you out after the hassle you were putting them through, maybe they’d go off somewhere great and you’d only get to hear about it over social media, everyone smiling and happy and free while you could only scroll over them on your phone.

I don’t wanna be alone…

You felt his hand in yours, sharing his warmth even though he had little to give.

I don’t wanna be alone.

You were on his lap, his chest pressed to yours, his hands on your hips as your wet hair dripped onto his shoulder.

I don’t want to be alone.

He was leaning over you, his lips just above yours, did you really angle up to meet him or was he keeping away so you couldn’t reach, even though you wanted to?

‘I don’t want to be alone!’

A sound filled the tank, it making you jump even with the earplugs blocking out most of it, and light streamed in so bright that it blinded you as a figure leaned down to look inside. You blinked repeatedly until you could see, Breck just staring at you as you sat there, bare and exposed for him to see, and you felt so overwhelmed at the mere sight of him that you scrambled forward, your arms flying around his neck as you nearly pulled him in with you.

‘Please don’t make me go back in there, I can’t do that again, please don’t make me, Breck,’ you sobbed into his shoulder, one hand balancing on the rim of the tank while the other rested against your lower back.

‘Sounds like you didn’t enjoy it as much as I’d hoped,’ he muttered to himself, his hand traveling up your back, then your arm before resting on your shoulder. ‘Maybe we should try the full hour, give you time to adjust to it, then you’ll see.’

‘What…? Wait, no, no don’t-!’

He used the hand on your shoulder to push you back again, your flailing even more wild this time as the Squares jumped in to keep you from crawling out as he moved to shut the lid once more. ‘One hour, but if it still doesn’t sink in, maybe we can go for two.’

‘Breck!’

Your hands hit the invisible wall in front of you again as he then locked you back in.

You were floating. You were dead. You were in hell. This was hell.

Your tears had dried again ages ago, maybe an hour, you weren’t sure but you knew he hadn’t let you out after another 60 minutes, that was certain. You were weightless in there, your eyes no longer swimming with ghosts as you saw nothing but darkness, your breathing slowed as your brain tried to shut down again. Your anxiety had spiked when the lid had shut to the point where you were sure you’d experienced it on a whole new level, the lightheadedness surpassed when you’d actually fainted when you panicked too hard, and when you woke up from it you were still there, still nothing.

You didn’t dare speak as you floated, you couldn’t remember how to like this, you didn’t want to hear your voice disappear into that void. You had the ability to find the edges, the bottom, the lid, but you refused to, not wanting to know that you really were in there, that he’d left you there to rot. The self-hatred had run out a long time ago, you’d gone through every single way to insult yourself, tear yourself down for being so stupid, so unlikeable, so unwanted that you were easily forgotten, and now you had nothing left to do but watch those people in your mind glide down the slopes.

‘Do you remember a time of happiness? Of freedom?’

You didn’t, neither of those things were here, not anymore.

‘When you had the ability to conquer your biggest fears, insecurities, and self-doubt?’

You were afraid of everything, all you had left were your insecurities and self-doubt, he’d made sure of that.

‘When you were on top of the mountain, freely descending with no force, and with no regret?’

You were never getting off this mountain, you’d never know what it was like to be free, and the world would keep turning as you drowned in your regrets.

As even the video faded from your memories, that didn’t sound like too bad of an idea.

Your neck ached a little as you pushed back, the water rising until it stung the corners of your eyes, and you resurfaced with a cough as a bit of it went up your nose. You didn’t sit up though, your lip quivering as you leaned back again, your hands finding the sides so you could get a grip; you braced yourself and used that to lower yourself into the water, your heart racing as you submerged yourself fully, your forehead burning as your lungs already started to ache, then shout, then scream. Your body fought to lift you back up just that little bit but you didn’t let it, the back of your head hitting the bottom as you involuntarily started to thrash, muffled moans of discomfort swallowed by the water as you just kept holding yourself under.

When you felt your grip start to slip you shut your eyes even tighter and flipped over, your hands clenching over your hair as you held your head down, and when you couldn’t stop yourself from opening your mouth to try and take a desperate breath you only gulped down water. The lightheadedness was back, your grip was softening, the floating feeling more comforting as the void offered its relief to you, called to you so you could escape this hell, this loneliness. You wanted it as your hands slid down to the water, a new weightlessness taking you over as you left your body, you were free now, you were flying.

The lid cracked open and hands were on you then, your entire body limp as you were pulled from the tank and placed on your back, a towel under your head as hands pumped on your chest, a mouth breathed air into you. You could almost see it, the Squares panicking as Breck just stood there and waited, and you were ready to go back down the mountain and see your family when he dropped down to his knees, plugged your nose, and breathed life back into your lungs.

You were thrust back into yourself as you coughed, choked, heaved all the water from your lungs, Breck wiping off his mouth as you were rolled onto your side. Tears streamed down your face not only from the burn but from the misery of him saving you, you were so close to going home, and he wiped a bit of water and bile from the corner of your mouth before standing. He wrapped a towel around your waist, your bloody sweater draped over your chest for that extra bit of warmth as he then picked you up, the Squares getting the door for you as he carried you back to your room.

‘You should’ve let me die,’ you moaned, or at least tried to, you didn’t think your mouth had caught up to your brain just yet, although that might have also been the other way around.

He didn’t answer no matter what the truth was, eyes straight ahead as you passed by other members, their gasps and whispers making more tears fall as you tried to block them out; it was too loud, too bright, you felt too cold and too much, every part of him that touched you making you feel too hot. When you reached your room the door was opened for him but the Squares didn’t stay, Breck laying you down on your blankets still soaking wet, and when he got up you let out a desperate sob, not wanting to be alone again after that. He returned with more towels, gently drying and warming you up, and when he was done he lifted you just enough to pull the blankets free so he could place you under them.

‘There was a camera in the Tank,’ he whispered as he crawled in next to you, and you still felt like you were floating as you sank into the mattress. ‘I watched you for almost 4 hours before you gave in, and I need to know: what did it feel like?’ His hand rested on your chest, rubbing heat into you as he felt your strengthening heartbeat, his face nuzzled into your neck as his leg moved on top of your own. ‘Did you feel free? Did you see God as you held yourself under the water?’ He started to pant as his crotch rubbed against your hip, his hand sliding lower until it was resting just under your stomach, your body heating up more and more as another tear rolled down your cheek, his tongue peeking out to lick it away. ‘Did you fly?’

‘Yes…’

He pressed a kiss to your jaw with a groan, tasting the salt on your skin as you let out a sigh, and when he moved even lower you felt your brain shut down again as everything faded back into that comfortable blackness.

You sat up with a start, blanket flying off of you as adrenaline raced through your body, your heart still pounding as you reached up to feel it with a very heavy hand. Every part of you ached from lying so still for so long, gravity feeling so much heavier than usual as you coughed again, still tasting the salt and his mouth. He was gone now, or maybe he hadn’t even been there in the first place, the only evidence of that day’s happenings being the dampness persisting on your pillow. Your body was hotter than it’d been in days, your thighs twitching a little as the memory of need still persisted, and you fell back against the pillow as you trailed your hand down from your chest to the throbbing heat waiting for your attention.

You just barely touched yourself before your sigh made you stop, there was still a camera, and you forced yourself to stand and head for the bathroom where it was safe, you needed to feel good after what you’d been through. You didn’t turn on the light, it would hurt too much and you didn’t want to see yourself in the mirror as you felt your way to the toilet, the lid coming down so you could sit, and it didn’t feel as cold as it would’ve been on your bare skin as you spread your legs and let your head fall back.

You wanted him there with you, you needed him to keep being there as your hand started to move, he saved your life and then just left you again like it was nothing, you were nothing, you needed him to make you something. ‘Breck…’ you whispered as your hips started to roll forward, your heart starting to race for a different reason as your pleasure built. He was your saviour, the only thing holding you here, your hand clutching the edge of the sink since he wasn’t there, your quickening breaths filled the room as your back started to arch.

You felt him hit you, grab you, shove you, the sight of his hand on his thigh and the threat of something warm filling your throat making you pant, it all hurt so much but it was all you had, he was all you had, and when a louder moan left your lips you covered your mouth before you knew something that would work better. Your hand closed around your throat and he was there with you, your hips twitching as you gasped out a breath, maybe if you suffocated like this he would come back for real and breathe more life into you as your hand just kept going, made him bear witness to how he made you feel. Each time you managed to suck in a breath you’d squeeze harder, seeing him there in the dark as your release started to build, and when your moans started to sound like gasps of his name you came all over your hand with a cut off cry.

You slid off the toilet and onto the floor as you let go of your throat, the shame of it hitting you so fast that you couldn’t even enjoy your afterglow there on the cold tile, your tears returning as you hunched over and sobbed. You tried to berate yourself but you couldn’t even do that, a cough coming out instead the moment you tried, and you felt even more shame as you remembered that he’d left you in there for four hours; he’d waited until you were almost dead before pulling you out, he’d wanted to see you float there before choosing to save you instead of letting you die, your life meant that little to him despite his promises of helping you become free.

‘Fu- ah! Ffffuck y-you,’ you choked into the tile, shoulders shaking as you hated him, you truly hated him more than anyone else in your entire life, the numbness that set in afterwards so strong that you didn’t even have the strength to get back into bed before you passed out again.

[originemesis]

@cast-you-dxwn xxx

“Hng, you and your surfer-boy bullshit-“ Saltern quips as Abel lands at his side and the water flows into a shield over their position. Rounds pound into the holy water, their points mushrooming as they hit the unyielding wall, an ever-growing bouquet of copper-and-lead flowers suspended in the tiny, writhing tides.

The wound is bad, a mangled mess of flesh, intestines, and bullet fragments. Not immediately fatal, but without surgery or some quickly-applied healing magic, Saltern would surely die, if not of blood loss then by succumbing to infection.

The man laughs at Abel’s comment, though it is cut short by a wheeze and a pained groan. “You’re mixed up, man, I was shitting my guts out for weeks after that.”

The initial stab of pain as the tendril of water breaches the wound is indescribable, leaving the heavy gunner unable to do much as draw breath, much less cry out, but God, does he want to. The tendrils work through the wound swiftly as they are guided by Abel’s practiced hand, catching the main body of the projectile and all of its fragments, the metallic pieces tinkling against the floor of the emplacement.

The water seems to do its job well, slowly beginning to knit together torn flesh and organs, the pain beginning to dull, and the bleeding beginning to slow even as Abel hops up onto the gun to take Albert’s position.

Rounds continue to smack into the shield, a few of them finding the narrow sliver the medic keeps open, whizzing past his body as he begins to put rounds down range.

The exorcists who are advancing towards the barricade are caught out in the open, and their light armor offers no protection against the large-caliber projectiles being hurtled down range. One woman is cut clean in half as they stitch across her midsection, unable to even scream as she falls to the ground. Another is caught in the shoulder, the entirety of her arm flying from her body in a spurt of bright gold arterial blood.

The platform shakes as another exorcist from above lands on it alongside Abel, her blade raised and ready to strike. Before the blow can fall, her body jerks once, twice, thrice, before the three neat holes in her side explode outward, showering Abel’s armor in blood and bits of bone.

Albert lay where he’d fallen, his sidearm now in his hand even as Abel’s holy water continues to root around in his guts, the barrel smoking as the Exorcists corpse falls from the platform.

"You should try it sometime. I've been told it helps with anger management. Possibly cholesterol-" Both of which Albert could do with- well, once his guts were all sewn back up anyway. If it weren't for that, he imagines his insinuation would have been met with a headlock and a subsequent grinding of knuckles into a shorn nape because Albert would claim that helped manage his anger more. Perhaps later. There would be a later...

As bullets blasted the shield overhead- an amplified champagne burst and pop for each entry into the blistering body of water, the medic is quick to retrieve and discard the stray and it's fragments from Saltern's, leaving the water in its place to meticulously sew damaged ends of guts and reconnect them with bouts of roiling pain that likely did mimic the results of ingesting chili oil infused wasabi by the pound. "It was voluntary..." The reminder is the last thing he shares with the other before he's scrambling to get the station secured for when Albert could find his feet again.

There's no denying the other is a repelling force with his aim, because it doesn't take long for some exorcists to find their way beneath the shield and through the stream of outgoing return fire, and once the bodies of a few block the final entry point as living shields for the last infiltrator to rattle the platform with her landing. The gust of her wings too close for comfort upsets his balance to the side, and the gauntlet on his arm prepares to catch the blow while he grabs for the handle of the field dressing dagger sheathed at his side. The resounding whizz of a shot from behind renders the padding of his armor freshly painted with splatter of gold, and he blinks as the exorcist topples over mid attack.

Swinging his gaze back to confirm Saltern was still on the mend, he nods and offers the man a camaraderie chorus of "get some!" over a jerked thumb. They had done the whole storm the base drill countless times, and the defensive position was really a matter of hunkering down and diverting the onslaught's patience to take a preferred route. That route, from what he understands will have their back up from the embassy...they just have to last that long.

Thumbing past the dagger, he yanks free the shepherd's cane from its holster on his back, the glint of angelic steel evident in the slope of its handle. If another makes it through, he's going to hit them right back out into the bullet spray. Flock around and find out.