#i can't believe this is the first I'm hearing about it. I'm a failure of a power metal fan AND a cosmere fan

[captainjonnitkessler]

BLIND GUARDIAN RELEASED A SONG ABOUT KALADIN STORMBLESSED???

[daenysx]

i'm fooling myself into believing i actually have james here, writing this made me feel a little better. i hope you like it too♡

james potter x fem!reader

james strokes your arm with ghostlike fingers.

you lean into the touch instantly, let him keep you close to his body in bed. your shirt wrinkles as you slide yourself to him, naked legs move forward to be wrapped around his. he accepts your shaky hands greedily, pressing them on his chest. you can feel his heartbeat. you can feel his breathing. you can still feel.

james has never been the one to complain about the kisses you want from him. his lips are stuck on your skin, sometimes curled into a smile. today it's most like a little frown, his slightly pouting lips stay on your head. he breathes in the scent of your conditioner. his one hand stays on his chest to keep your fingers steady as his other hand goes to your waist.

"feel any better, lovely girl?" he murmurs. you nod against his body, rubbing your nose to his neck. "good."

you move a little bit, almost shy to ask but james would never ever say no to you. he recognizes the shift in your emotions, carefully touches your face to see your eyes.

"can i do anything else?" he whispers. he already helped you shower and washed your hair. he applied your favorite cream on your face with your eyes closed. for a big man, he's incredibly gentle. he was sure you weren't hungry when he made you wear something soft to bed. he did all of these just to help you see that you are not alone. you don't have to do everything by yourself. james will happily carry these weights with you.

"i just want to stay here, jamie." you mumble. he kisses your hairline as a response.

"let me hold you," he starts, he sits and leans against the headboard as he pulls you to his lap. his one hand stays on your back as the other holds your legs. "better?"

you nod. he pulls your head to his neck with gentle fingers. "it's gonna be okay, sweetheart." he says quietly.

"but you don't even know what's wrong." you reply.

james lets you play with his fingers. "i know i'm gonna be here with you when you feel good enough to make them okay."

a slow teardrop falls on your cheek and then james feels it on his neck. you take a breath to stop crying, doesn't work though.

"baby." james whispers. "if you need to cry, you cry. it's okay, you don't have to hold back if crying will make you feel better."

"i just-" you start. "i don't want to feel like this. i feel so weak and so unlike myself. i can't do anything, i can't catch up. i let myself down."

you cry harder on james's chest. he rubs your back to help you let it all out. the poisoning thoughts in your mind, the disappointment you feel towards the world and yourself. he's not gonna let you think that you're not doing good enough. you've been strong for so long, maybe it was inevitable for you to doubt yourself when you feel the failure for the first time.

james holds you for minutes, until you finally calm down. you look so tired, it breaks his heart. your eyes are closed, your skin runs hot with the amount of stress you let out. crying is good until you face with the reality again, you are stuck in your mind.

"let's take this off." james says, holding the edge of your shirt and pull it from your head to give you some cool air. "there you go." he kisses your shoulders and your collarbone. his thumbs rub your cheeks dry and you lean into the touch. you seek his lips desperately, meeting with his mouth halfway and taking a kiss from him. he gives you another kiss when you pull back, his huge hand covering your jawline to take control. you want to kiss him until you go breathless, until your head is dizzy, until you only think about him and nothing else. it's a poor coping mechanism but james knows you, he gives you anything you need just to put your mind on ease.

"we'll fix it, do you hear me?" he says, firmly. "anything that bothers you, anything that feels wrong. we'll fix it together."

you nod because he sounds so sure of himself. "you can cry as much as you want, you have nothing to be ashamed of."

you lift your head to see him better. a single drop of hope makes its way to your head, you are not alone in this. james kisses your neck to tilt your head back, you breath easier. he covers your neck with his kisses, his hands are strong like he can make every wrong thing right.

"i'm just gonna sit here, hold you in my arms like my baby." he says. "because that's what you are. you are my girl, do you think i'd let you carry everything by yourself?"

you kiss him so hard, he can't breathe. such a good way to go, with you in his lap only wearing a small tank top and your panties. he lets you bury your head to his neck again, he kisses the soft skin right below your ear. you are vulnerable in a way but never with him. even in your poorest state he makes you feel strong. you can still come back.

[mikareo]

“ ࣭⸰ ★ HE'S JUST NOT THAT INTO YOU . . . ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ 呪術廻戦 ; gojo satoru x fem reader (1k)

⊹ ⠀⠀ valentine's day is approaching; and with a valentine comes love...or for worse...heartbreak.

contains; gojo satoru x fem reader, angst, mentions of fluff idk, there’s some swearing i think author's note; happy (almost) valentine's,, i’m projecting

1 day, 9 hours, and 47 minutes.

your last conversation wasn't anything out of the ordinary. there was no dry spell. no plateau. no failure to communicate. just you and satoru, plus the typical banter, talking about something as simple as what you were planning on making for dinner; to be more precise, what you were trying to make for dinner. you're a pretty awful cook according to him.

everything seemed to be going so well...really well...almost perfectly well— and with valentine's day right around the corner, you'd instinctively assumed that he'd ask you to be his. instinct is a difficult emotion, though. is it even an emotion? you're not quite sure, but your heart believes it is. your heart— which is practically pounding out of your chest at the current moment, stretching your skin, eager to feel the limitless fresh air and freedom that comes with floating on cloud 9— instinctively wants to believe satoru is your soulmate. you love him don't you? is the answer yes? it should be no.

you've known him for...what? four months? four months of your twenty years of life is seemingly small. that's only one point six-seven percent of your entire lifetime...one point six-seven percent of your life that you wish you could relive forevermore.

...he isn't going to text you back is he?

2 days, 2 hours, and 15 minutes.

each second passing is another flicker of hope that misses the candle wick. instead of lighting the path that leads to your eventual relationship, it lights a fire beneath your feet. your socks feel warm. there's coal beneath them. hot, burning coal withering away the sense of feel in your toes; breathing in the aroma of heartbreak until it becomes a roaring fire that consumes all of you.

why is he doing this? what did you do wrong? you haven't done anything wrong. he's just a man. a man who can't seem to stop playing with your heart.

you can hear his voice in the back of your mind. the part of your mind that connects to your heart. "can you facetime, right now? i'm having a bad day and i just want to see your face." he had to have meant that. "you don't need to apologize for talking over me, i love hearing what you have to say." a guy wouldn't just say that to say that. "don't be too hard on yourself, i know you'll figure everything out becuase you're you. you always know what to do." it couldn't have all been bullshit.

it can't have been bullshit.

because if that's all it was, then you're just a fool in love.

and fools in love are no better than clowns.

3 days, 14 hours, and 22 minutes.

you did what you hate doing. the thing that makes you want to scream into your pillow at the mere thought. the very thing that screams desperation and neediness and clinginess and insecurity all in one. you sent another message.

in the past, you've never had feelings strong enough to elicit such a response. your heart hasn't tied itself to another person's with a red satin bow. the fated string of fate hadn't found you yet. it allowed you to maintain a stable head and remain grounded with no hopes of love on your radar. you hadn't yet learned how to fly; until that day you met satoru and suddenly you had a hundred pilot lessons lined up day-after-day.

it was so easy being with him. everything was so easy.

for the first time ever you had no doubts. you weren't afraid of waking up one morning to find him gone. disappeared. nonexistent. you full-heartedly believed he'd never leave; and you believed he reciprocated those thoughts. now, though...now you may never know what bits and pieces he reciprocated— because your plane crashed. turbulence flew beneath the wings and drove the flight off course. the oxygen masks bellowed down upon the passengers, every seat being filled with your pounding heartbeats, and each and every one of them blew out of the window with no parachute. he didn't even try to cushion the fall.

4 days, 1 hour, and 39 minutes.

if there's one message you never expected to receive, it's surely 'seen 14 hours ago'.

you'd given him space and assumed he'd been busy with a million other things and hadn't had any time to send you a quick message. your last text wasn't even anything out of the ordinary, just a quick "are you okay?", you think that's pretty reasonable. it's reasonable, isn't it?

something could be seriously wrong with him. why else would he leave you on read? he's never done this before. usually, you're the one who's more distant between the two of you. that's how your relationship began, after all. he'd send five texts in comparison to your two; which later evolved into five rivaling five, and now to zero rivaling two. the scales have tipped. how do you rebalance them?

you trust satoru. there must be a perfectly good explanation for this odd irregularity that's occurring in your otherwise perfect relationship. after all, all of your friends love him— they think he's the greatest catch of the 21st century. he's never done anything in the past to warrant such strange behavior. this is simply a difficult week for him...and you'll be there whenever he's ready to vent.

5 days, 22 hours, and 7 minutes.

a broken heart isn't for the weak...but unfortunately, you're not one of the stronger warriors.

he's at another girl's birthday party. he hasn't messaged you back in almost six days...and he's with another girl? celebrating her? he could be holding her close and you wouldn't even know, because god knows he wouldn't tell you. he won't even say good morning anymore. he won't even answer your fucking three word message that you sent out of desperation and concern for his well being. instead, he's at the club with his friends, getting drunk and taking shots, having the time of his life; and you're sitting in your room watching his social media stories...believing that everything that went wrong is all your fault.

but it's not your fault.

it's not your fault you fell for someone like that.

someone like satoru gojo.

[queenendless]

CRIMSON

A/n: I legit don't know how to title this piece. Inspired by @xo-romiiarts and their artwork.

Also Guns for Hire by Woodkid fits this piece so listen to it while reading this or any song that gives dark!GoGe vibes.

CW ⚠️ : 4.7k worded piece with DARK MATURE themes/depictions of murder/genocide, teen dropouts/runaways, angst, hurt/comfort, romance/fluff, already established poly!teen!GoGe x fem!teen!curse seer!reader, set in an AU where the guys did go through with it ... you have been warned. ⚠️

Cause #261 and fanarts of Gojo saying yes to Geto have given me the push to finally get this out. I have been working on this since September of LAST YEAR SO I hope yall enjoy this.

And I'm working on a pt 2 to this set a few months to a year later of the aftermath. Cause Lord, Clan Head Gojo x Cult Leader Geto x Reader but they're dark now kinda I wanna explore in my own way. With them kids. Their kids. And scene.

*DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, COPY, EDIT, PLAGARIZE, AND OR STEAL MY FANFIC WORK. Rather if you enjoy my fan work, then reblog, like, comment, n follow pls n thnx u.

"You're late, Suguru."

Indeed he was.

"No … I guess you got here fast. There are several Star Religious Group facilities in the city, after all."

Something felt seriously off the moment the snowy-haired sorcerer raised his head.

"Satoru? Is that you?"

The look in his eyes … practically radiating their potent rebirth … a stark contrast to the fading scuffs of blood running down the left half of his face, down both sides of his mouth, weariness evident.

"What happened?"

This was not his Satoru. This one … had seen hell first hand. In a twisted way, they both have today. Literally at death's door.

"I see you already saw Shoko."

"Yeah, she healed me. I'm fine now."

And yet, a long sleeved uniform arm slipped out from under the sheet, swaying a bit til staying still as a lifeless corpse would be.

"No … me being safe doesn't help anything here."

Not when he failed to keep their promise to Riko-chan. She was ready to walk away from the merger with him. Choosing to live for herself rather than follow her pre-chosen fate. Yet, fate had other plans. A cruel one, at that.

"I screwed up. You're not at fault." Gojo sounded so blunt, so calm … willing to accept all the blame for their greatest failure yet.

"Let's head back."

An eerie ringing began penetrating Geto's hearing as the clapping kept going. He chalked that up as an explanation as to why he thought he misheard Gojo's next words.

"Suguru, should we kill these guys? The way I feel right now, I doubt I'd feel anything about it."

As the form of Gojo carrying Amanai's draped body was being overshadowed by the pure white radiance of the smiling clapping cultists, Geto's morality dilemma prodded his mind, unable to meet Gojo's gaze.

"No. There's no point. It looks like there are only common believers here. The masterminds who know about our world have probably fled already. And unlike with the bounty, they won't be able to talk their way out of this. The organization had problems to begin with. It'll be dissolved soon enough."

Geto, standing in the pure white room of morality, starkly contrasted Gojo as he brushed past him and stood in the crimson room of immorality.

"No point, huh? Does there really need to be any point to it?"

Does there need to be a rhyme or reason for them to act on this? Ideally yes. They may be above the laws in most cases, but even sorcerers can't enact vengeance on regular humans. Unless they were curse users or even like the Sorcerer Killer, they couldn't lay a hand on them.

Realistically?

Right now?

The clapping grew louder, mocking him. Antagonizing him.

Gleefully celebrating her death and their own damaged, traumatizing failure.

Geto's left hand curled into a fist.

His morals were conflicting with his personal feelings; his fist shaking in restrained emotion.

His almond eyes, weariness tainting his eyebags, finally looked up.

Out at the clapping, smiling crowd.

"It's very important that there is. Especially for a jujutsu sorcerer."

Even the cruelest scum of the Earth get away scot free, never facing retribution. Darkness grew underneath him, outstretched to reach their seemingly untouchable light, as his fractured moral code made way for his true inner self to finally show its true colors.

"But not us …"

Gojo stiffened. Slightly looking back over his shoulder, peering inside the open doorway, his radiating Six Eyes turned on at the darkened gaze of Geto's eyes slightly looking back in return.

"Not today."

Rage and distraught guides him.

He would right this wrong.

To the bloody damn end.

Now triggered by those firm, final words, Gojo's heightened state strengthened as he set Amanai's body down gently on the hallway floor, the anger he didn't feel on her behalf in his rematch against the fallen Zen'in man was finally making its appearance, intertwining with an unhinged drive for chaos in his blood as a twisted gleam overtook his lips.

Survival of the weakest. Discouragement of the strong. That's how society should be; one where jujutsu sorcerers protect non-sorcerers. That's what he always strived to uphold despite his inner demons. But now… they as sorcerers still failed in the end.

Riko-chan, Kuroi-san, the weak but good ones, now dead by the orchestration of these unforgivable heinous —

"Monkeys." Having seen that monkey assassin's standing corpse himself on his way inside; decimated and dripping with bloodied spilled guts, made Geto wish he could deal the killing blow himself back in Tengen's domain.

This would have to do, feeling ready to puke when he uttered the same word as that scarred mouthed bastard, wincing as the shadowed hole he summoned released his newest curse.

The same cursed worm draped over his shoulder, opening its mouth to pop out the handle of a cursed tool, one Geto pulled out as swiftly as Gojo began ascending to heights unbound, slicing the cursed energized blade through the air as tears sprung from his unforgiving dark eyes.

"DIE!"

Those monkeys' glee changed to confusion then bursting out in waves of panic as the blade grew in length the more Geto spread his cursed energy into it.

Several heads got sliced sideways, splattering blood over some's prime white apparel, kicking off the shrill hysterics.

In an instant, Gojo blips out of sight only to plow through a row of them scurrying ants in his way like the cursed speedster he had become.

Blown off head chunks.

Fists jutted right through their torsos right and outta their spines.

Setting off carnage filled piñatas left and right.

Trained on every weakling in his sight, Gojo's uniform grew darker as more blood seeped further in with each blow.

Reappearing as he grabbed a randomly chosen neck, snapping it in two with ease, before blocking a panicking one that tried socking him from behind, glowing eyes narrowed in as he clenched their fist before ripping their arm right off with swift ease. Their tortured screech is heard one moment, the sound of bones crunching in Gojo's other hand the next.

Through hatred fueled adrenaline, Geto cleaved in them guts to match the mutilated limbs that rolled across the crimson spreaded floor.

Those attempting to flee were squandered as the force field of Limitless smooshed them, splattering the now cracked dented walls; minced red.

Many more sunken noggins soared in the air, sprinkling red from on high.

Screams and splatters became the symphony of Pandemonium.

Flinging the chain around the neck of one, Geto swung them like a chain and ball, crushing many others against the walls.

Those petrified hideous faces get their brains ruptured out; globby chunks vomiting out by mere cursed thought.

Many rammed right into the glass window ceiling, sending cracks racing in its wake, the pure white sunlight becoming a neon red.

Shards of glass rained down, deflected by Limitless as the pair found themselves back to back, watching with callousness as many were skewered like porcupines.

Limbless lumps of lifeless flesh plastered every inch of the once pristine interior from every wall, crevice, and even the ceiling had scarlet drenching it.

Their haggard breaths and sweaty burning faces aside, their dark craving for retribution still lingered in them both.

It wouldn't be enough.

Not until every last member was eviscerated.

Dismissing the worm, Geto scanned the room, trembling at the grotesque aftermath.

His cerise painted hands hung limply at his sides.

Amiss the madness, their residuals were there.

Fortunately they knew to an extent how to hide them. However long those held out, they couldn't waste a moment. Any longer than that spent here meant capture followed by immediate execution.

Feeling himself moving by a firm grasp tugging on his hand, his light headed state transitioned to a frigged one over what they had just committed. The solid squeeze of Gojo's sizzling hand helped pull him further out of his own unsteady mindset.

"Satoru …" He internally felt revolted at having those monkeys wretched blood covering his skin.

"Suguru."

Through the path of red, his closest friend – his ally in genocide – turned to him with cherry-red streaking his unbuttoned jacket and the collared white undershirt, for his glowing – exhausted – eyes were scarred with the brutal truth. Reaching his stained, steadfast hands out for that stained lost face, Gojo rested his forehead against Geto’s, staring into those stricken eyes of one of his most greatest treasures.

"Come with me. Let's get away.”

Blood trickled down from the ceiling, spilling along their hair, staining their faces, but both couldn't care less as they sealed it with a kiss. Lost in the bloody euphoria, relishing in one another's warmth.

The new taste of searing iron overtook the repelling flavor of cursed spirits, overwhelming the pair as Geto clawed at Gojo's back and the latter's hands massaged the former's supple cheeks, bringing muffled moans outta them both.

It feels right … anywhere … as long as it's with each other. It's just right.

Wherever they end up, whatever it may be, may it be nowhere near here whenever whichever sorcerers would be sent to investigate this now scene of massacre.

Once partners in sorcery.

Now partners in crime.

What a send off for them, the newly dropouts.

The clapping halted.

The ringing faded.

Their hearts felt lighter.

But something still felt off.

Someone was missing.

"Y/n." Geto's eyes opened to stare into Gojo's as they parted lips. "We can't leave her behind … we can't …"

Knowing their cursed seer partner probably foresaw the bloody chain of events that had recently just transpired in the last few hours. But knowing how abrupt they can be, maintaining and willing them into your mind’s eye was still a burdening struggle, ergo you being left behind at school for tiring training.

The heavy fog of bloodlust and tension between them lifted for now Geto's eyes lightened at sensing that familiar presence. He knew Gojo sensed it as well, for his glowing eyes followed his lead, taking Riko back in his arms, the duo raced to the surface outside.

You had ran outta the car that dropped you off down the street. You gulped to stifle back the bile at the gory sight of the fallen Zen’in still standing; the bloody puddle reaching for you now.

Your gaze averted once you spotted them coming out, hurrying over, your stomach churning at how scrapped up and red they appeared, but your empathy outweighed the disgust as Geto caught you in his heavy weighted grasp.

The fear in Geto's eyes mingled with confusion and concern. "Y/n … I … we –!”

Gojo’s eyes slanted as you kept your face hidden. "Did you get a vision?”

Your shaky nod against Geto’s chest paired with your ashamed tone. “I was too late … I,” An anxious pause of silence stretched between you three. “Shoko told me where you were headed after healing you … then came another one … of course you two would get Riko’s body back …”

They waited for the heart shattering blow. The final nail in the coffin. You shunning them away, cutting ties immediately. Rejecting them for their heinous act. Fleeing away in horror to Jujutsu High, reporting their sorry asses and ousting them as traitors. All the above — !

“The system would have let these zealots slip through the cracks. They … their assassin … they all deserve to rot in hell for what they've done … all because of Tengen … Kuroi and Amanai have been avenged.” Your callous tone kinda threw them off a tad bit.

Geto gulped. “You … You're okay with it?”

Your head finally rose up, the glossy layer to those e/c eyes sparkled from the sliver of sunset. "I know I can't make up for letting you all down … and no amount of apologies can redeem my blunder … but I can do this at least. I'll bring her back to the school, back to Kuroi-san. They deserve to be laid to rest together.”

You reluctantly pull away from Geto’s warmth; uncaring about the red stains smearing your clothes now, to take the wrapped up body as Gojo gently passes her into your arms, melancholy heavy on your face but the strength of resolve aiding you in carrying her. “My place is with you two. Always. Now more than ever.”

Geto’s eyes pricked with burning warmth; your willingness to stay despite everything, as he kissed your temple. “We should be apologizing to you.”

“There's still more of those facilities in the city left standing. We're not finished just yet.” Gojo's voice spoke doom for their upcoming targets, a stark contrast to his own kiss to your forehead being so sweet.

“They all need to go. Every single one of them.” Geto clenched his veiny hands, determined to see this through to the end. “We will return for you. If you wouldn't mind packing our things for us by the time we show up …”

You nodded, sadly smiling. "Don't keep me waiting too long.”

Their brisk nods to you paired with smooches to your cheeks were all you were given before you watched them holding hands then warping away.

The driver stayed silent as they drove your contemplative self, keeping her cold self close to your warmth, back to school for the last time.

°•○•°•○•°°•○•°•○•°°•○•°•○•°°•○•°•○•°°•○•

The sun had set.

Crimson painted the sky.

A young girl's life ended by a gunshot to the head.

Two young teens, forced to face the cruel reality of their lives through near death.

The Star Religious Group Headquarters.

House of the Children of the Star.

Their monotheistic religion spent worshiping their absolute God; Tengen.

Crossing the wrong sorcerers, nearly costing them their lives in the process at the hands of their hired assassin; the Zen'in clan failure.

Their facilities left as ruins scattered in ruble, collapsed craters layering the grounds, red painting the toppled stone and marble.

The trauma of near death, failing to keep their promises to protect their friends' lives, and losing to a physically gifted human … their pride as the strongest duo now tarnished.

Retribution.

Selfish desires made to fruition.

With Riko-chan now gone, the assimilation was now void.

Tengen-sama had evolved.

The barrier hiding the school's location was weakened and easily spotted by the Six Eyes.

You solo carried Riko to the morgue, spotting your senpai and fellow kouhai watching you from the distance, ignoring your driver hurriedly running to inform Yaga-sensei of the turn of events, but only making eye contact with Shoko as she was standing out front by the entrance, already expecting you, prepared for the worst.

You two stayed silent, understanding exactly just from seeing the acceptance in your gaze.

Seeing the covered bodies laying side by side on the tables, you prayed over the mother daughter pair, believing the guys would stop by to do the same, hopefully.

As you just finished zipping up one of three duffle bags meant for each of you in your room, you felt the ripples through the Force that is cursed energy.

The fuse was lit. The air pricked with sparks as those two set off a chain reaction.

You could visualize the facilities up in flames.

“You really are idiots.” Shoko leaned against the open doorway, smoke in her disapproving frown. “To think they'd go this far … and you're bailing with them.”

“My whole world ended when I lost my mom. My dad was a broke ass deadbeat. Then I was discovered, brought here and met you all. You became the family I needed … so I thought that was enough. But those two … they're my everything. We ride or die together. You can join us or stay here. That goes for you two as well, ya know.”

You felt Haibara and Nanami hiding behind the wall before joining Shoko in the sliding doorway. By the looks on their faces, the news spread like wildfire.

“If I go with you guys, then the higher ups will force my sister to take my place.” Haibara frowned at the guilty truth.

“Rules and regulations keep us in line, as much as they suck.” Nanami sulked.

“Those old cods view us all as disposable tools. We're not heroes. We have our own ideals, desires, lives even. And if it means I may die down the line because I choose to walk away, then I'd rather die with freedom than serve them as their obedient lapdog.” You spoke devotedly.

“I don't get it.” The blunt tone and her aversion to eye contact made you realize how left out Shoko still felt that her two crazy guy friends were willing to leave them – leave her – behind.

“It'd be nice to have you by our side Ieiri … but I know you still have Utahime to consider.” You grinned at seeing the tiny pink tinted rise to her cheeks.

“You're our classmates! To have you and our senpai be branded as curse users, I don't want to have to fight you guys!” Haibara's angry tears made your heart waver. Your own eyes burned with cursed energy.

The static film reel of seeing your guys getting savagely brutalized, Riko and Kuroi's murders, even further down the line … glimpsing Haibara scarred and pale and so damn still —

“You're still our friends. Always.”

Even with glistening chibi eyes and stubbornly pursed lips, Haibara realized you had made up your mind, reaching Nanami's hand to squeeze and be his anchor.

“It's not a crime to be a kid, but the accumulation of life's little despairs make you become an adult. Remember that.” Nanami understood that much, knowing the guys are capable of setting the world on fire when pushed too far. Like so.

Blinking back tears yourself, you nodded. “If you ever need us or change your mind, you know how to reach us.”

Throwing the duffle bags outta the window before jumping out yourself took them all by surprise. Jutting their heads out, they were relieved yet anxious spotting Geto's manta ray cursed spirit flying away, the bags and you safe across his lap and wrapped up in his arms.

His crestfallen gaze back at them was the last sight of him they received when they also spotted Gojo floating on high, gazing at them with melancholy, the living example of Nanami's parting words to you.

Knowing deep in your intuition they snuck into the morgue to pay their final respects to Riko and Kuroi before retrieving you, you kept quiet about it, trusting them wholly to catch you as well.

On that day, everything changed.

On that night, there was no turning back.

But to both yours and Geto's surprise, the boldness of Gojo as he landed right by you both on the manta ray and grasped Geto's shoulder, his suggestion for a hideaway took your breaths away.

The empty private home – one of quite many – belonging to his family's clan; this one gifted solely to him. Even as fugitives, making such a bold choice to hide there, Gojo sure is a wild child.

Wading in the waters of the giant tub to wash away the blood, flushing the pink tinted liquid down the drain, then filling up the tub once more made way for some scented oil that helped elevate the tranquil vibes.

“You're certain?” Geto scrubbed his shoulder length sudsy hair, brushing his wet locks.

“The clan has too many spots all over Japan. We crash here tonight, take what we can to sell for cash in case the geezers fry our bank accounts, then high tail someplace new. Like say, I don't know, overseas?” Gojo's lax assurance transformed him into a chibi in Geto's point of view; resting his head and arms back against the tub's rim.

Almond eyes darkened, catching the scar stretching from Gojo's lithe neck, across that toned chest, and stopping by his hip poking out of the bubbly water.

Exhaustion smeared with piqued intrigue and guilt in those blue eyes spotting the X shaped scar on Geto's sculpted chest.

Red tints colored their faces as pleased sighs left their lips at the warm water loosening up their stiff muscles, fingers weaving through each other's slick hair, bringing their faces closer, brown meeting blue as they stared longingly at each other.

The unique connection ergo magnetic attraction was evident. From clashing freshmen to still bickering but budding sophomores. And now, as fresh genocidal dropouts, they both looked like they aged a lot.

The contrasts, the similarities, their yin yang dynamic.

That and the fuzzy warmth was getting to them.

“I'm really glad you're alive.” Geto nuzzled his nose against Gojo's.

“RCT for the win.” That albino pecked the corner mouth of his raven.

Their tired giggles relieved the tension.

Brushing their bare dripping shoulders together, lips connected, initiating timid soft touches. Drool connected their heated tongues, their heated breath fanning one another's face, oh so close, wanting more.

Your hums of content grabbed their attention as you waded over to them, watching your round cheeks blowing soapy bubbles into their faces.

Running your hands down their scars made your lips tremble at the agony they went through. Entrapped in their arms, you hummed as their lithe hands caressed your supple smooth skin for they were touched by your gingerly layered kisses along their tender marked flesh.

Toru's yawning broke out, worrying you and Sugu who suggested you all start drying up. Toru was the most exhausted being actively awake using Six Eyes for 3 days straight.

But you all were, mentally and emotionally.

The electric dryer rumbled as your wet uniforms swirled within. The AC hummed in the backdrop.

Duffle bags left open as you three laid in the enormous bed, you three snuggled in close on the center.

Setting up a small simple altar in honor of Riko and Kuroi in the room gave you all some peace of mind, especially when burning some smoky incense to cleanse the place. To pray and hope that their souls were in a better place than the hell they're stuck on called Earth.

“I detest humanity. Swallowing cursed spirits made from the worst parts of their very existence for so long confirms that. Killing those cultists put my mind at ease … as horrible as that must be to you.” Suguru's weary gaze shifted to meet Satoru's now unsettlingly calm ones as they laid atop the bed beside each other, clad in just boxers, with you splayed across Satoru wearing just a large tee you all shared just cause.

“You've been feeling this way for a long time, then.” Suguru flushed as Satoru weaved his hand through those silky obsidian strands, free from the metaphorical shackles of his usual restrained bun. “I'm sorry I didn't realize it.”

Suguru's cheek nuzzled his wrist, breathing in Satoru’s cozy scent. “I never wanted you to. Or anyone for that matter. These are my own feelings to grapple with.”

Satoru's messy cat hair shook, tickling Suguru's face, closing his stinging eyes to let them rest for the moment as their foreheads touched. “Well, now, we'll carry that burden together.”

“We're branded as curse users now … we're on our own from here … and you're fine with that?” Sugu was skeptical for the most part.

“I never held hatred for anybody before … not even over Amanai's death … but I always knew my life would be spent as a living weapon for jujutsu society … a monster. And now that I've crossed the line … there's no coming back from that … but I'd do it all again …if it mended the pain you felt inside. I just … I don't want you suffering in silence anymore. I never want to leave you behind.” That soothing voice of his cracked.

Suguru was breathless seeing red in those reopened agonized eyes.

“Still … I took advantage of your heightened state and let my emotions cloud my judgment. I'm supposed to be the moral compass … yet I'm no better than those monkeys … and you nearly died because of them … I'm sorry Satoru … I'm so sorry.” Water hit Toru’s skin as the choked up weeping of his best friend smothered his shoulder.

“Hey, hey. I'm here, aren't I?” Keeping an arm wrapped around his partner, Satoru smooched the crown of Suguru's precious noggin, being tickled by those loose bangs in the face, shushing him and kissing that pierced ear of his. “And even you need to cut yourself some slack and lean on others too, ya know. And realize … you can't get rid of me that easily. You're stuck with this monster for a long time, Suguru~”

That possessive, enamored voice compelled Suguru to peak out and witness those lovesick eyes; the polar opposite to the tunnel vision of the reawakened Satoru Gojo that approached him with Riko-chan in his arms, struck right at his core.

The soft warm lamp on the side table paired with the sliver of moonlight between the curtains transformed their eyes into mini galaxies. Their own universe even to dwell in and share together.

“Hmm.” He brushed back Satoru's locks to spot the scar on his forehead and kiss that booboo. “You've never been a monster to me. Just a goofy idiot.”

Elated chuckles hit his giant lobed ears as his resident goofball pecked his blushing nose. “Your goofy idiot, smart ass.”

“Awwww~”

Flinching at that familiar voice, the guys directed their flushed gazes to you; your cheek mushed against Toru's pillow chest, fawning over them with your e/c eyes, round with sparkles and hearts set a glow in ‘em.

“I agree with all the above. Don't mind me. Just get it on with the yaoi goodness.”

“How subtle.” Suguru's eyes crinkled with mirth.

“She's got good taste, though.” Satoru's feline grin followed, rolling you both over to smush you in between them, pecking your forehead. “Period.”

You frowned. “All the apologies in the world can't make up for me letting you two down today.”

“Nonsense.” Suguru disagreed as the back of your head cushioned in between his plush pecs. “Having you here with us makes this shitty day much better.”

“We all screwed up.” Gojo griped before it became a longer deeper yawn.

Your eyes glowed a moment before dying down, alerting them and reminding you. “Time for you to sleep. Cause we got a lot of shit to think over on how to move forward. For all of us.” His exasperated sigh was met by your chaste lips as you leaned up to kiss him; him returning it to suck them up.

“Yes ma'am.” His pouting turned to a dopey grin; growing wider when Suguru kissed him goodnight too. That finally conked him out, breathing softly, when Suguru's hand wrapped around your side, turning you to lay on your back so he could see you properly; eyes clad in guilt of his own.

“Y/n, in no way should you feel responsible for what happened. That assassin would have killed you too if you had gotten involved. If we lost you as well …” His forehead met yours, letting you kiss him slowly, pulling him in to relish your personal taste. “My hope is that they're in a better place now.”

“Me too … My visions are just as much an omen as they are an aid. In this world there are no guarantees for a peaceful living … but I believe in you two … no matter what … and I know in my heart this is worth it, risks and all.”

Your honest smile made him grateful for accepting him, despite all that's happened, his tears hitting your face in response so you kissed his tears away.

“Thank you, Y/n.” His whispers met your lips as you two got caught up in another kiss when you two grunted in surprise as Satoru flipped you both over, smothering you two under his precious heat.

“‘M love you both, mmh so much.” He mewled, sleepy eyes peeking open to drowsily smile down at you two.

“Satoru, we can't breathe.” A red faced Suguru wheezed out.

Satoru languidly laughed, “My bad.”

Thankfully, you three were able to get some shuteye that night.

They're your whole world now.

Deep down inside, they know they're both monsters, for that day brought the truth to light of their dark potential.

But they're your monsters.

Your empathetic, devious, passionate monsters.

And as far as the truth goes, you too are just the same.

Three of a kind, indeed.

[whaledenwtf]

Professor!Gale x Reader - Extra Credit

Oh yeah, its all coming together. I really like the idea of Professor Dekarios and I find teachers really hot (and so is Gale). Also, since this is a student teacher scenario, I imagine the age difference to be about 10 years, with you being around 25 and Gale being 35. Both legal and consenting adults. So many people have already contributed to this scenario and I decided to try!! Hope I do this hot wizard justice. :)

AO3 LINK: Here

Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist: Here (MY REQUESTS ARE OPEN PLEASE REQUEST STUFF)

Warnings: afab!reader and Male Smut, Body Worship ( Female Receiving), Squirting (hehe), Creampie, Oral (Female Receiving), Sex on a desk (you're welcome), Praise Kink, Power Imbalance, CONSENSUAL Teacher and Student Dynamic, Slight Angst, Speaks of Academic Anxiety and Fear of Failure

My priority is always trying to keep the characters as close to their in-game personality as possible!!

WORD COUNT: 6892

You have been attending Blackstaff for the last couple of years. Nothing was truly noteworthy in that time, until your last semester of your last year. You were a flourishing wizard, excelling in every class. Until you were seated in his class.

In your first day of class with Professor Dekarios, you were taken aback by his good looks. You were so used to old stuffy wizards for professors that you could never fathom them to be young, and attractive. You were distracted by his looks, and then his knowledge. He's well-read, and holds the interest of all his students. You knew that most of your classmates were attracted to the wizard, but you felt so incredibly awkward sitting in his class spending the majority of it fantasizing about him.

"Here are your current marks in my course. Most of you are excelling-" He gives a pointed glare to the backrow of the class, who are all giggling at his attention. "But for those who find their grades are... less than subpar, you can speak to me after class or in my office hours." Your hands brush when he hands you your grade, and your heart speeds up a bit. After everyone has received their grade, you hear groans of exasperation and gasps of elation. Flipping over the paper, your eyes widen.

A-

This can't be right you think to yourself, questioning what you have done to slip from your perfect A+ average. Logically speaking, you knew this wouldn't kill you outright, but it sure felt like it would.

"Now, we will continue today's lesson with the history of the evocation spell Green-Flame Blade. Interestingly, the spell's origins come from-" His voice drowns out. Your heart thumps loudly in your ears. You felt... anxious; confined and claustrophobic. You feel a minor tremor go through your body. You snap out of it, and look up to see everyone packing up to leave. How long was I not listening? You ask yourself. You felt guilty, your wandering mind has allowed you to lose track on your priorities. You couldn't fail. You had to succeed, and push yourself further than you have ever had in your life. The line to speak to Professor Dekarios was not as long as you expected, but your anxiety had slowly increased with every second you were left waiting. Once the person in front of you had left, you step closer to his desk, shy and nervous.

"Ah, Miss (Y/N)! How can I help you today?" He is standing behind his desk, slightly bent over so he could lean over it.

"I wanted to speak to you about my grade, Professor Dekarios." He furrows his brows.

"You're grade? I'm surprised, considering you are my best student-" He shuffles closer to you, conspiratorially. "Between me and you, the entire class has an average of C+. You're the student who I see the most potential in." You blush at the words. You were surprised that you were his best student, considering the many talented and intelligent peers you were surrounded with. You find it difficult to believe the course average is a C+.

"I want to know if there is anything to raise my grade. I find this to be unacceptable, and wish to boost my grade." You whisper quietly. He hums.

"You remind me of myself when I was a young wizard. Despite the fact I excelled, I felt the need to better... the best." You've heard the rumours about your professor. He was once Mystra's Chosen, and the whirlwind romance was all anyone could talk about. One doesn't simply get chosen without reason; you had to have unimaginable potential and have such an understanding of the Weave that Mystra herself would welcome you.

"I remind you of yourself?" He hums in affirmation. He begins packing his things, before glancing up at you.

"You think that this grade is the end of your world. That the universe itself will implode around you." He states it as though he read your mind, and you wonder if he casted detect thoughts on your mind. "I see no issue with your grade, (Y/N). In all my years of teaching, you're the first student who even reached an A grade in any of my courses. You're an intelligent, talented wizard." You shake your head, frowning.

"Please, Professor Dekarios. Let me prove myself to you." He finishes packing up, before standing at full height and rubbing his beard.

"Well, perhaps I can find something that would be stimulating enough for your caliber." You smile wide then, and squeal.

"Oh thank you! Thank you! I won't let you down." He chuckles at your enthusiasm.

"Come to my office hours later tonight and we can further discuss what can be done." You nod, your cheeks straining from how wide your smile was.

"I'll see you then." You begin to walk away from his desk, picking up your things. As you walk out of his class, you turn around to look at him again. He is turned away from you, and you admire him from a distance. You cross the threshold of the door, head held high. You will prove yourself.

You were grateful that you could change out of the Blackstaff uniform you were forced to wear. You were in a blouse and skirt, with your Blackstaff cloak around your shoulders. You knock on the door of his office, nervous and excited.

"Come in." Despite being muffled, you could tell it was him. You open the door slowly, before walking in and closing the door behind you.

"Hi Professor Dekarios." He smiles up at you from his seat, waving over to the two armchairs infront of his desk.

"Take a seat, Miss (Y/N)." You go to sit down.

"You can just call me (Y/N)." You tell him, biting your lip. His eyes glance to your lips for a moment before connecting your gazes.

"Alright, (Y/N). I went ahead and took the liberty of getting your transcript and I must say I am truly impressed." You glance down to his hands to see him holding a piece of parchment. "I had not realized I had such a prodigal individual in my class, though I am not surprised. You have exceeded my expectations for what I see in students. I can say with certainty that we are more alike than I originally thought." You blush at his words, the praise from his lips making your heart flutter in your chest.

"Thank you, Professor." He leans forward, to once again look over your transcript.

"That being said, imagine my surprise in seeing your transcript! Your grades are extraordinary. In both theory and practical courses you've achieved top grades." You hum as a response, nodding. His eyes snap up to yours, and you get struck by his beauty. In the light of his office, his eyes are a chocolate-brown. Despite having the most common eye colour, on him they seem well-placed. Perfect.

"Is there anything that may be affecting you outside of your studies? You may be my best student but I can tell your mind wanders elsewhere during my course." You blush and look down.

"My mind often wanders, and I am sorry about that." He hums, rubbing his beard in thought.

"Is there any issues at home? A particularly distracting significant other?" Your head snaps up at his words. He is watching you intently, his attention on you completely.

"Oh- um. No. No family to have issues with, and no relationship to be distracted by. Just me and my wandering mind." You see him exhale, and the tension in his shoulders leaves.

"Alright." He sounds pleased at the information. "Well, there isn't anything I can do regarding previous grades as they are already in the system-" You whimper, eyes watering. He stands to crouch next to where you are seated. He places a hand on your arm, rubbing it in a comforting matter.

"Please don't cry. I'm not particularly good at handling beautiful crying women. " You turn to look at him in shock.

"I'm sorry professor-" He cuts you off, still rubbing your arm.

"Please call me Gale." You nod, looking down. He goes to stand, knees cracking.

"However-" Your eyes snap up. "I may be able to give you an additional assignment that can boost your grade. Like I said, you're my top student and you don't need much to boost such a grade." In your excitement, you jumped up and hugged him.

"Oh thank you Gale! I won't let you down." His arms wrap around you as he chuckles.

"You can't disappoint me." He says with certainty. You look up at him blushing. His eyes glance down at your lips. After a breathe, you move away from him, biting your lip. He coughs, trying to clear the atmosphere.

"What do you need for the assignment?" He ponders this for a moment.

"As an exception, I'll accept anything. Whether that be a written assignment, practical application or otherwise." You smile.

"I can do that." He smiles at you, and you blush at his radiance.

"Perfect! As long as it is done before the final grades are processed the grade will be adjusted and your transcript unaffected." You nod excitedly.

"I'm forever in your debt, Gale." He waves you off.

"Pish-posh. Just trying to help." You turn to walk to the door, but before you can step further he grabs your hand gently. Your head snaps back to him.

"Please do not hesitate to speak to me if you need anything else." He squeezes your hand before letting go, and you've never felt such an acute sense of loss.

"Thank you. I may take you up on that offer." He smiles down at you.

"Take care of yourself (Y/N)." You nod, before leaving his office. You felt a sense of excitement, and were grateful for Gale's ability to bend the rules for you. You will not let him down.

The next time you see Gale was in class the next week. You decided to apply yourself further, and made it a personal goal to answer more questions and be part of more discussions. You can feel the ire from your classmates, but you ignore them in favour of basking in the validation and praise from Gale. "Very good, (Y/N)! The application of Mage Hand can be used only outside of combat! However, it can be used to pick up weapons. I remember once when-" He cuts himself off when a student raises their hand. You turn to look at the student, who you remember was one of the girls who usually interrupts class.

"So can we use it in the bedroom?" She asks flirtatiously. Her friends all giggle around her. You roll your eyes and look at Gale. He coughs to cover his shock.

"I-um. It can be." You smirk at his reply. His eyes glance at you and the side of his lips quirk up.

"Do you have any experience using it, professor?" He blushes.

"I don't think that's an appropriate question regarding the lesson." She sighs. Before anyone can speak up, the bell rings and people get up from their desks and leave. You walk up to Gale, holding your notebook. There are still some people in the class, wandering and speaking to eachother

"Hi Ga-Professor." He smiles at you.

"Hi (Y/N). How can I help?" He asks as he packs up his things.

"I have decided on what to do for the assignment." He perks up at your words.

"Wonderful! May I ask what you plan on doing?" You grin.

"It will be a surprise, but I will be casting a spell! No written assignment." He closes his bag and stands to his full height.

"I'm excited for your practical prowess. When do you plan on showing me this incredible act?" You think for a moment.

"Anytime that works with you." He nods to the door, silently asking you to follow him. You follow next to him as he speaks.

"I do not have any other commitments today." You bite your lip.

"Me neither." He opens the door for you, waving you to walk in front of him. You bow jokingly, before walking ahead of him. You both laugh as you walk out.

The walk to his office is filled with varying topics of conversation. From his Tressym, Tara, to topics regarding spells and their origins. You were slightly disappointed when you arrive to his office door, saddened by the end of your conversation. Once again, he opens the door and lets you in first.

"Let's get started! You are keeping me at the edge of my seat." He lays his things down before standing next to you.

"I've decided that I will be casting a spell above what you have taught us." His eyebrows jump up his forehead.

"Which spell?" He asks, curiously. You lay your things down, and raise your hands into position.

"Astral Projection." You tell him confidently. His jaw drops.

"Holy hells. Are you sure you will be able to cast it? What about the hour long casting time? Have you considered-" You cut him off as you begin the hand gestures.

"I've been concentrating for the last hour. I've also successfully casted this spell multiple times." You tell him. He leans forward on his desk, watching you intently. You begin to mutter the cast, the Weave flowing through you like water in a river. You look directly in his eyes as you mutter the last word, and then you feel yourself floating. Once you feel the ground under your feet, you look next to you and see Gale in awe.

"Phenomenal! You executed the spell perfectly- furthermore you concentrated during our conversation. I've never been so impressed by such a feat!" He tells you, his voice echoing in the astral plane. You grin at him.

"Did I pass?" You ask coquettishly. He laughs out loud, looking at the outline of his body.

"Pass? I'm considering sending a strongly worded letter to the Dean to have you graduate right away!" You laugh out loud. He walks forward, looking at the area in interest.

"Are you able to transport us into a different realm?" He asks excitedly. You giggle at his enthusiasm. He smiles at you.

"Of course. I have a place in mind!" You close your eyes, casting a silent spell. When you open them, you find yourself in your bedroom.

"Is this your bedroom?" He asks curiously. You nod, smiling.

"It is my safe haven. It's where I first casted most of my spells, and successfully astral projected for the first time." He walks around, looking at the stacks of books and trinkets with interest.

"It suits your style." He says gently. You blush at his words. He sits down on your bed, taking a book into his hands.

"Death and Divinity: A Godly Guide. Interesting tome." He tells you. You sit next to him, taking the tome in your hand.

"I was curious about death. It takes so much from us, and will take us too, one day." You tell him quietly, explaining how the tome got into your possession. He hums, placing a hand on yours.

"Death is not the greatest loss in life. The greatest loss is what dies inside us while we live." He says sadly. You turn to look at his profile, and see a sadness that seems exhaustive.

"Life gives us a lot. But it can also take. You're stronger than I am, especially after all you dealt with." You tell him as you squeeze his hand. His thumb caresses your hand gently.

"I am no stronger than any other man." He replies, looking at you.

"I find it difficult to believe that." You whisper to him. His eyes glance at your lips again.

"I'm afraid I am no different than any other. Quite ordinary." You glance at his lips, leaning closer.

"Nothing about you is ordinary, Gale Dekarios." He leans closer, and his lips graze yours. You drop the tome on the floor and grip him closer to you, basking in the comfort and warmth of his kiss. His tongue traces the seam of your lips and you gasp. He takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his hands moving to grip your face as his tongue explores your mouth. You moan, leaning further into him. After a moment you separate, gasping out.

"I am so sorry." Gale apologizes profusely, standing. You stand with him, smoothing your hands down your clothes.

"Do not apologize. It's my fault." You tell him, embarrassed.

"I am the one who went further. I will be honest, (Y/N). You've captivated me. You are a constant in my thoughts. I apologize for being so unprofessional." Your heart sings at his words. You take his face into your hands and pull him into a kiss.

"The only reason I was distracted in your course was because I think of you. You occupy my thoughts- and I cannot stop." You tell him earnestly. His eyes widen.

"O-oh." You pull away to grip his hands.

"I'm sorry Gale. I understand this will only cause you problems. I can transfer course-"

"Absolutely not. Despite the fact that I am your professor, I can not imagine you removing yourself from my course. I- I do not want to let you go now that you are in my reach, and in my grasp." He tells you as he leans in, his breath fanning across your lips. He kisses you again, passionately. The back of your knees hit your bed, and you fall over. He climbs over you, still kissing you. As his hands begin to roam, your concentration snaps, and you find yourselves in his office.

The fantasy was ripped from you both. You are panting, eyes wide as you stared at your professor.

"I-" You start, breathless. He takes two steps forward, pupils blown wide.

"Please." He whispers. You wait for a moment, before the urge is too strong. You pull him down to kiss you, moaning and gasping into his lips. You open your mouth, and he spares no time in exploring it. Your tongues dance around each other, exploring and absorbing the other. You pull away when you hear footsteps outside the door. You jump from him as they get closer. You rush to hide under his desk, grateful that nobody could see you from the other side. The doorknob shifts, and someone walks in.

"Hi Professor Dekarios~" You frown as you hear the voice of that student who interrupted class today.

"To what do I owe the-" he harrumphs. "pleasure?" the way he said it with such disdain makes you smile.

"I heard another student speaking about an extra assignment and was wondering if it would be possible for me to have one as well?" You don't hear anything for a moment, but you assume Gale waved her over to the chair in front of his desk as you see his feet shuffle closer to you.

"I suppose I can do so. What did you have in mind?" He asks her as he sits down, trying to not kick you.

"I can think of a couple of things I can do to boost my grade." She says huskily. You bite your tongue, trying not to groan at her words.

"Well I am all ears." Gale tells her. You smile at his inability to understand her intentions.

"Well... We are here, in your office... alone." You can hear her lean forward by the way the chair creaks.

"Yes?" He asks her unsure. You stifle a giggle in your hand, which she didn't hear. He had heard your giggle, and nudged you with the toe of his shoe.

"I can do anything you like. Some have said I'm good with my mouth." He coughs out, and from your angle you see his eyes are wide like saucers.

"A-are you insinuating that- Absolutely not! I will have to send a letter to the Dean of the academy to have you cease your studies immediately-"

"B-but Professor-" She squeals out. He goes to stand.

"Not only is that incredibly disrespectful and unprofessional, but you make a mockery of wizardry itself. Leave now-" He says angrily, before pausing. "please." He ends softly. You hear her sobs as she runs out, the door slamming behind her. He sighs as he goes to lock the door. Once you hear the click of the lock, you make your way out from under his desk.

"I am sorry you had to hear that-" You wave him off.

"Do not apologize to me." He exhales loudly, rubbing a hand over his face which looked tired all of a sudden. You pick up your things which were hidden in the corner of the room.

"Are you leaving?" He asked sadly. You turn to him, biting your lip.

"I understand you have a lot on your plate, Gale. I do not want to add to it-" You walk towards him, leaning up to kiss the corner of his mouth. "But I also do not want to overstay my welcome after such a situation. It doesn't change what I said and how I feel." You reassure him. He closes his eyes, running his fingers through his hair.

"I feel the need to apologize for ruining the moment-" You cut him off, taking his face into your hand and caressing it with your thumb. His eyes flutter open, eyes gazing into you with tenderness.

"There will be many more moments. If you'd like-" You take a random sheet of paper from your notebook and scribble on it before tearing it off and giving it to him. "Here is my address. Send me a pigeon or come visit me." You graze his lips once more, before pulling away and unlocking the door. You turn to glance at him once more, and see he is holding the paper, rubbing his lips softly. You blush and turn away, heading home for the day.

That night, as you are sitting on your couch and reading a novel you hear a knock at the door. Your bare feet patter against the hardwood of your floors. You open the door to see Gale standing there, holding a bottle of wine and a bag full of books.

"Oh! Hi Gale." You usher him in, closing the door behind him as he toes off his shoes.

"I understand you probably did not mean I could come over tonight, but I had to see you again." He tells you. You blush at his words, before taking the items from his hands.

"You are welcome any time. Please, take a seat. I was just reading." You usher him to the couch, where he takes a seat and looks around your home, interested.

"I brought a bottle of wine and some literature. I thought you would enjoy it." He tells you shyly. You grin at him, and he is struck by your beauty.

"I don't need anything to enjoy your presence, Gale. The thought is appreciated regardless. Let me get us some glasses so we can enjoy it together." He nods at you, smiling. As you walk to the kitchen, you ponder the day over in your head. You were in awe of what transpired today; between you admitting your feelings for your professor, to him reciprocating those feelings! From the student who over imposed, to your perfect cast of Astral Projection. It was a taxing day, and you are glad you could relax before tomorrow's sun rose.

As you walk back to your living room, you see Gale has stood and looked over your bookshelves.

"Are you impressed?" He jumps at your words, before turning around and smirking.

"Many of these tomes I have at home. Quite a collection you have here." You smile, putting down the two glasses on an end table next to the couch.

"Not as extensive as I wish, but I will hope to get there." He turns around to look further, before chuckling. He pulls out a slim novel, grinning.

"The Tale of Tadpoles and Illithids; Saving Baldur's Gate-" He smirks at you, as you blush. "Didn't think you were such a fan. Want an autograph?" He teases you. You snatch the book out of his hand, sticking your tongue out.

"Not my fault you are an accomplished wizard and author. I happen to enjoy reading all sorts of topics and... well... I was interested." You admit to him. He puts an arm around your shoulder and pulls you in, before kissing the top of your head.

"I am interested too- in you, of course." He says confidently, before rushing in to add that last part. You laugh at his fumble, leaning your chin on his chest to look up at him.

"Is that so?" You ask him lowly, biting your lip. His eyes follow the movement, and he exhales softly. Now in the privacy of your home, in your space, you feel confident and sure of your actions and words.

"I do." He whispers. You pull away from him, taking his hand in your own and tugging him to the couch.

"Let us enjoy good wine and great company." You tell him, smiling as he gets comfortable.

"Thank you for-" He harrumphs, blushing. "-for letting me in." You pour the wine into the glasses, handing him one. You edge yourself closer to him, the heat of his body warming you in different ways.

"Of course. I won't leave you outside. I extended an invitation for a reason." You lean against your hand, taking a sip of wine. You moan at the taste, your tongue swiping across your lips to catch any stray drops. He blushes into his glass, all of a sudden bashful.

"Was there anything in particular you wanted to speak about?" You ask him curiously, after a minute of silence. He looks down at the glass in his hand, swirling it around.

"I just wanted- no needed- to see you. I do not know how to traverse this path we laid out for ourselves... I mean, I am your professor! I cannot help wanting you in every way, and any way. Intellectually, spiritually, physically-" He ends huskily. You gulp a sip of wine, blushing into the glass. "You have taken my thoughts hostage, and I cannot help but be gravitated to you. You are phenomenal in ways I admire, and like a moth to a flame, I am magnetized." Your thigh bumps into his as you pull your legs up onto the couch.

"I am honoured that you think so highly of me. I can't help but feel concerned that you will realize I am not much. You've experienced so much, and I feel- no; I know- that I will come short of your expectations." You tell him honestly, sighing. His hand makes itself known on your thigh, his thumb caressing circles into the thin fabric of your lounge clothes.

"I cannot let you think for a moment that you will come short of any expectations I have. You've exceeded any and all expectations I have had in others for the longest time. You're absolutely radiant. Let me show you." His hand begins to move upwards. You bite your lip as your gaze trails from his hand, to his face. He was already watching you intently, looking for any sign of denial.

"Please." You whisper, echoing his words from earlier today. He stands to take both your glasses and sets them down, before crouching down in front of where you are seated on the couch.

"May I?" He whispers, looking up at you. You can't help but feel as though he was a worshipper, and you, his goddess. You felt a pang of adoration for him, and cannot help but understand what enthralled Mystra when she came upon him. He was utterly irresistible, and you were tired of resisting against him and his charm. You nod, swallowing in excitement. His hands caress your calves, going up and massaging your thighs. He takes his time, even laying soft kisses on the top of the fabric covering your thighs. His eyes glance up as he does so, taking in the small gasps and sighs of pleasure coming from your lips. He slowly tugs the fabric of your pants down, pulling them off your feet and folding it with a gentleness you admire.

You are already buzzing in excitement, pupils blown wide and hands gripping the fabric of your couch. When he looks up from his task, he is aroused at the fact you were parading around without any undergarments.

"You little minx. I cannot wait to devour you. Would you like that?" You moan, your hand going to his hair and tugging as you nod excitedly. He chuckles at your enthusiasm, before his hands go to your knees to spread you open. You whimper as he does so, and the groan he lets out when he sees you spread open for him is whorish.

"Look at the mess you have made for me. Such a good girl for me." He whispers into the skin of your inner thigh, his beard scratching you deliciously. You whimper at his words, one of your hands going up to your top to pull it up over your breasts so you could play with them.

"J-just for you." He moans as you speak, inhaling your scent. Your core pulsates at the action, your cunt tightening around nothing as your slick leaks out.

"You smell delicious. I know I will get drunk off the taste of you." He tells you before kissing your clit. You arch off the couch, your foot sliding up and finding purchase on his back. He curls his forearms under your thighs and pulls you closer to the edge of the couch, and the show of his strength makes you moan out his name. He begins to lick your lower lips, moaning into you at your taste.

"Gods, I have dreamt of this for months. I will make sure you cum on my tongue more than once tonight. Consider that a promise, sweetheart." He says into your core, eyes looking up at you.

The picture you painted was gorgeous, with blushing skin and half-lidded eyes. Your hand is holding your breast in your hand, playing and tugging with its peak. He keeps his gaze on you as he expertly explores your inner sanctum. You gasp, moan and whimper at every flick and swipe of his dexterous tongue, his name a prayer on your lips. His tongue prods at your entrance, as one of his hands spreads you open further. He thrusts into you with the appendage, as his nose bumps into your clit. He pulls away to suck the pearl, groaning at the sight of you arching painfully off the couch in pleasure. Your other hand finds itself in his hair, tugging on it and pushing him further into your cunt. You feel the coil in your lower belly snap, and you shout, your body almost split in half from the way you arch. You can feel your spend rush out of you, squirting and coating Gale's lower half of his face; you think even his shirt is drenched. You have minor convulsions of oversensitivity and Gale continues to lick you, groaning at your taste.

"O-oh. P-please ah. I'm sensitive." You whimper into the air, body hunched over. You felt like jelly. As your eyes come into focus, you see Gale looking at you with a dark look in his eyes.

"I promised more than once. I will deliver through with that promise. Be a good girl and hold your legs for me." You whimper, your arms limply moving to hold them up for him. His arms uncoil from your thighs to gather some of your slick from the inside of your thighs. He looks directly into your eyes as he licks up the spend, his tongue weaving through his digits. You whine, gyrating your hips. He chuckles at the movement, before taking two of his spit-riddled fingers and thrusting them into you. He groans at your tightness, scissoring his fingers to spread you open.

"You are so good for me. Want me to make you feel good?-" You nod, whimpering. "Such a good girl. Can't wait to make you scream my name again. This time I'll make you cum on my fingers." You never expected Gale to be so forward and... dirty. Hearing those words come from lips that brought you to another dimension of pleasure was nothing short of thrilling, and your body was already begging him for more. You nod, tears welling in your eyes from the overwhelming need you felt for the man who spent the last twenty minutes worshipping your figure. He begins to thrust his fingers as his tongue laps up at your still sensitive clit. You knew you wouldn't last long with the way his tongue and fingers worked together to make you come apart for him.

Your hand finds itself back at the roots of his hair, tugging the strands. He groans at the action, kissing the side of your inner thigh as his eyes glitter with adoration.

"Gods. I do not know how I could ever let you go after tonight." He whispers. You suppose he was speaking to himself, but you heard him and you felt an overwhelming sense that your heart felt... full. You're not sure if it's the arousal, the adrenaline from the mind-blowing orgasm or something that is just Gale Dekarios, but you decided it was a dangerous feeling. Those three words made your tongue feel like lead, and his touch was distracting enough for you to only let out sounds rather than words. He started tracing letters on your clit, and you begin gyrating on his face again, his beard burning you slightly.

"That's it, sweetheart. Take what you need from me. Gods you are beautiful. I love seeing you like this." You gasp out when you hit your peak again, explosions behind your eyelids. You tightened around his fingers, whimpering and mumbling nonsense in your deliriousness. Your ears are ringing, and you just babble words. For a moment, he looks at you with shock before he gazes at you with adoration, petting your hair and kissing random parts of your body as you come down from your high. Once the last tremor goes through you and you can hear the world again, you look around and realize he is laying down under you, whispering sweet nothings in your ear as you struggle with the loss of time you faced.

"I-I never experienced... What happened?" You ask him, turning over so you were chest to chest. He chuckles at your questions, his hands caressing your back and arms.

"Not to toot my own horn, but you seemed very adamant in not coming back down from your high. Said such nonsensical things..." He whispered, kissing your lips. You fidget on his chest. your thigh bumping into his bulge as he groans.

"What did I say?" You whispered worriedly.

"You said you loved me-" You groan, hiding your face in his chest, which you now notice is shirtless. Just how much did you miss? "Now don't hide such a beautiful face-" His hand finds itself at the back of your neck, positioning you to look up at him. "I love you too, you know." He whispers, the hand at the nape of your neck pulling you forward into a passionate kiss. You felt overstimulated, between the kiss, your heightened adrenaline and the fact he laid his heart bare- you wanted to give yourself to him wholly. You pull away from his lips, hands on his chest so you could look down at him.

"I need you." You tell him blankly. His eyes widened.

"Do not feel the need to please me. What I did, I wanted to. I will never ask you to reciprocate." He tells you, his hand pushing away stray hairs and tucking them behind your ear.

"I don't remember stuttering, Professor Dekarios." In a sudden show of strength, he picks you up and lays you on the closest flat surface - your desk.

"Such a naughty girl." He tells you, groaning. As your back is laid flat on the desk, you spread your legs, biting your lip.

"Well? What are you waiting for?" Your foot nudges the seam of his pants, toeing the button holding them up. He closes his eyes, biting his lip.

"If you continue that I will not last as long as I'd like." He tells you honestly, groaning. You pull your foot away, but he grabs it to kiss your calf. You smile up at him, as he gazes into your eyes adoringly.

"Gods. How lucky am I?" He whispers into your skin. You giggle, running a hand through his hair sweetly.

"I feel as though I'm the lucky one." You tell him, smile widening. His hand goes to the button of his pants, pulling it out of the loop. His pants fall, leaving him in his undergarments. He pulls those off too, leaving him completely bare. You raise yourself onto your elbows to admire him.

His physique was exquisite, with defined muscle and the perfect amount of hair. His chest had a light scattering of it, which then trailed down to his belly button before becoming coarser and showing a darkened happy trail, which was accentuated by his v-line. His trail goes lower until it reaches the base of his cock, as trimmed as the rest of him. What excited you, though, was his cock; it was like the rest of him- perfect. He was above average in length and girth, and the tip was flushed with pearls of precum leaking from his slit. He pumps himself once, then twice, before smirking down at you.

"Admiring what you see?" He asks cheekily. You bite your lip as your eyes trail back up to his face.

"I'd like a taste." You whisper sensually. He gulps loudly, before his hand goes to the back of his neck.

"Ah-That won't be necessary. I'd much rather bring you to the planes of ecstacy." You pout at his words.

"Next time I want to please you. Bring you passion." You respond. He smiles.

"Next time?" He's being cheeky again. You hum, taking your legs into your hand and bending in half to present yourself to him. Your hands are on the insides of your knees, and this angle shows your puffy and overstimulated pussy. He groans at the sight, and another pearl of precum leaks from his cock.

"Please... Gale. No more teasing." You whimper, watching as his hand strokes himself again. He nods, shuffling closer to you. He rubs the head of his cock against your slit, bumping into your clit. You jump at the touch, gasping. You then feel the tip of him go to your entrance, entering it slightly before pulling away.

"GA-" You couldn't even finish saying his name, as he bottoms out in one thrust, both of you moaning in unison. His thrusts are slow but deep, his girth stretching you to your max; and his length poking at your cervix. He thrusts slowly, his eyes gauging your reactions and what you like.

"M-more." You whisper. He begins to speed up, the friction between you both making lewd noises that fill the space. All you can hear in your living room is the slapping sounds of him thrusting into you, your pussy's wetness and the joined whimpers. He leans in closer to kiss you, his chest rubbing against your nipples. The change in angle also leads him to go deeper, his tip kissing your cervix much more roughly. You feel your end coming closer, your moans loud against his lips. He pulls away, looking at you with hooded eyes.

"Give it to me. Cum on my cock." He tells you roughly. You feel his fingers begin to rub tight circles around your clit. The coil snaps, and you cum around him, gasping his name repeatedly. As you ascend, Gale groans into your neck, your tightening walls bringing him to his end quickly. He stills, filling you with his seed. You both stay there, panting. As you descend from your highs, you feel yourself be lifted by Gale, who brings you to your bedroom.

He lays you on the bed, before going into multiple rooms. You hear him go aha! from your position on the bed. Lifting yourself onto your forearms, you see him walk back in with a cloth. He wipes you down gently, one hand on task and the other carding itself in your hair. Once he deems you clean enough, he lies next to you and pulls you into his arms. He kisses your forehead and sighs.

"Thank you." You tell him, curling into his embrace as you lay your head on his chest.

"For what?" He asks you curiously. You lean your head up to look into his eyes.

"For allowing me extra credit." He chuckles and leans in to kiss you. You kiss him back sweetly, excited for what your future will look like now that he is in your life.

[bitterbutblue]

What if i request Robin x Fem!Reader where Robin felt a bit pressured from the media and as her beloved girlfriend you help her relief stress :33

It can be fluff or smut, i dont rlly care i just want more Robinnn content :333

Thank you in advance!!!

Also can i be 🍷 anon? :3

you're not bad, but rather good ☆ robin x fem!reader

~ omg hi!!!! ur my first anon this is so exciting.... i don't do smut but i can totally do fluff.. anything 4 u <3

gonna start naming out the song lyrics i've been using as titles

loveable ~ jo yuri <3 ~

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

Robin's recent comeback- a miserable failure.

Robin's new EP 'Welcome To My World' has been nothing but a colossal failure. With each new album, Robin continues to disappoint- fans are sick of her low effort songs and lack of stage presence. Her comeback stage shows her clearly lack of passion. Just because she has made a name for herself does not mean she can now slack off on stage when fans pay thousands to see her-

You closed the article before you finished reading it. If you continued, you probably would've ended up throwing your phone across the room or do something along the lines of that sort of stupidity that you would end up regretting later. That article was like a knife through the heart for Robin but for you it was a knife through the author's decaying and bleeding out body as you stab that fucker over and over again. Okay, maybe that was too violent but fuck you can't stand to see people say such bullshit about your girlfriend. She called you at work, crying and saying she couldn't do it anymore. You could barely make out her words through her sobs and the bad signal (which led you to believe she was hiding in the bathroom).

"I worked so hard, I don't know what they want from me. I can't-"

"Robin, baby, deep breaths- okay? I'm right here, it's okay."

It infuriates you, how people can run their mouths and say whatever bullshit that comes to their mind just because they're not satisfied with their own miserable lives. Just because they feel like dragging someone down would perhaps make themselves feel better about the fact that someone half their age is more successful than they will ever be. You want to tell her that you'll fucking find them and make their life a living hell but that's definitely not what she wants to hear right now.

"What do they want from me? I'm so tired, I don't wanna do this anymore."

All you really could do was continue to comfort her, hoping that she can pick up what you're saying through the static and cut offs due to bad internet. You just stayed with her until her cries became sniffles and she stated that she has to go before they suspect anything. You swallowed back your worry and just nodded.

"Okay. I love you, Robin.

You can feel her smile from across the phone.

"I love you."

That night you spent the entire evening in the kitchen, prancing around and trying not to burn the eight things you have going on the stove as you flip through your phone to find that recipe for the thing in the oven that looks horrifically bad.

"Ah fuck..."

You check the time- 8:03, she should be back soon. You finally find the recipe page and you feel your heart drop. Fuck, you were supposed to bake it for 30 minutes- not 50! No wonder that shit looked so wrong! You scramble to pull it out of the oven, the timer with 5 minutes left. You groan when you see how it looks- first it looked wrong and now it was probably burnt too. So much for making your girlfriend's favourite dessert.

"Love?"

The soft voice startles you, yelping as you dropped the cake pan.

"Shit!"

Robin stands there in all her glory. She looks exhausted, eye bags worse than before and shoulders sagged but to you she was still the most beautiful woman you have ever laid your eyes on.

"Everything okay?"

She tries to smile at you but it looks so forced. You feel your heart clenching in your chest as you pick up the cake pan from the ground, moving it back onto the counter.

"Baby, just let me take care of you tonight?"

You pull her in close, hugging her tight. She freezes at first, before completely melting in your grasp. She lets out a shaky sigh as she buries her head in the crook of your neck.

"I missed you."

Her voice is muffled against your shoulder but you just smile as you tiptoe to press a kiss to her forehead.

"I missed you so much, baby." You pull away, cupping her face with your hands as you brush your thumb against her cheek. "You look beautiful."

"Don't lie."

She gets flustered so easily, face turning pink as she looks away but she can't stop the small smile from forming on her face.

"I'm not. You look beautiful."

She sighs as she looks back at you, and the tired expression on your usual warm and happy girlfriend really does hurt you. The way the media can tear people down into nothing but the most insecure parts of themselves has always rubbed the wrong way with you but watching it happen to the one you love most is absolutely heartbreaking.

"I made you dinner?"

"I saw."

Her smile is not as forced now as she looks around the kitchen, a soft giggle escaping her lips.

"Quite a mess you made."

You just shoot an embarrassed grin at her as you tried to hide the cake pan behind your back.

"Well, I'm not a good cook."

"I think you did amazing."

She steps forward, caging you between the counter and herself.

"You make the worst days brighter, you know?"

"You make each of my days better. It's only fair I do the same to you."

Robin looks down, playing with her hands.

"I don't deserve you."

"Oh shut up."

The kiss was soft, gentle and loving. She cups your cheeks as she steps closer, bodies pressed against each other as you pour all the love you can convey through a simple act.

"I love you. I really love you so much, Robin." You say breathlessly to her when you pull away. She doesn't say much, only resting her head on your shoulder as she takes your hand into her own, lacing your fingers together.

"And I'm so proud of you for your new comeback. You've worked so hard and it paid off. You keep outdoing yourself and the people who don't see that can fuck off and die."

She sighs.

"No need for the violence, yeah?"

"Violence is always the answer."

You feel your heart flutter when she lets out a soft laugh, like a songbird's first melody of a new spring.

"You do whatever you want." She says, resting a hand on your chest as she leans in to press a quick but soft kiss to your lips. "Thank you- for this."

"Always."

The food you cooked was mostly inedible- resorting to the two of you ordering takeout together but you couldn't care less about the burnt cakes or undercooked mac and cheese. Robin is smiling again, and that's all you wanted to achieve for the night.

Response to: Robin's recent comeback- a miserable failure.

Robinsdog: op do u not have a life

servallandau_official: No one thinks this.

⤷ talesofthewinterlandsfan222: serval spitting facts but also what r u diong here

⤷ servallandau_official: Do I know you?

⤷ talesofthewinterlandsfan222: ENEVRMIND

march4robin: im giong to find u my entire crew is oing to find u we will run out train into u

galaticstelleballer: i am also going to run my train into u. and my bat. both at the same time.

⤷ dh: Guys please.

Sunday_Oakfamily: We are taking this post and the writer off the platform.

The article you are searching for no longer exists.

[robynrocksforbrains]

I love you ×9

Ok so I am probably not the first person to notice this or point it out since I've only been a byler for like six months... BUT I did maybe go a little crazy about this. So I'm gonna talk about it.

So a few days ago I was thinking about the mlvn endgame argument "well Mike said 'I love you' nine times". And like, first of all, saying "I love you" doesn't undo a year's worth of deliberate lying and miscommunication. That's not how relationships work. Their issues are still very much real and very much not going anywhere because they're not even TRYING to do anything about them. But also... I was thinking: why nine times? Why that number specifically? Was it just random? Is there maybe anything to indicate that nine is significant? Is there maybe a scene in the first episode of s4 that tells us how we should react to the monologue?

So, the DND basketball montage. Great stuff. Amazing foreshadowing. Everyone loved it.

I got to thinking about it. Decided I needed to know what Mike's roll was. I kinda spiraled about it on twitter because I could not see it clearly and I couldn't tell if it was an eight or nine. Desperate times called for desperate measures so I recorded my tablet with my phone and found the perfect frame.

IT'S A NINE

CLEAR AS DAY! IT'S A NINE! GREATEST DAY OF MY LIFE!!

Anyway, I don't know how DND works. I don't know why this roll evoked the reaction it did from the party - most significantly, Mike's very disgruntled reaction (I don't mean The Party™ I just mean literally the party that is playing this campaign) I genuinely don't know what the fuck is going on in this game. But what I do know is they wanted us to associate this roll with failure. That's why it corresponds with a missed basket in the basketball game. That's why Eddie gets this ooo that sucks for you guys look on his face. That's why we hear a chorus of "nooo" from the party. That's why Mike says "no no no" and looks extremely upset. I don't know anything about DND, but I can read context clues.

So I'm not going to try to understand what's going on in the game, I'm just gonna go off what I think they wanted us to subconsciously pick up on.

So they show us all of this. They associate Mike with the number nine in the first episode and then that number shows up AGAIN in the last episode.

The monologue cannot be associated with anything but failure. Whether that be mlvns failing relationship, or their very real failure to save Max (at least before El revived her), and their failure to save Hawkins. The monologue does not stand apart from that. It is completely interwoven with these failures. If you have average media literacy, you know that. Even before I was aware of just how important byler is to this entire story, before I was aware that they've been setting up byler endgame since day one, you would never catch me thinking that the monologue was supposed to be received positively by the audience. You would never catch me saying mlvns love saved the world. (Although that's because I genuinely forgot about mlvn a few weeks after I watched s4). I think I received the monologue in the way it was intended to be received. I didn't fully understand it, or why they would execute it the way they did, but I still received it in the way I believe it was intended to be.

So I know the general agreement among bylers is that the monologue kinda sealed the deal for mlvn bones. Like I'm not saying anything new really. But I genuinely do think that Mike's roll in episode one, the reactions to it, and the missed shot it corresponds with were meant to foreshadow the monologue and how they wanted the audience to receive it.

This is fiction, everything means something. Everything is thought of. The timer (and maybe scores, I genuinely can't remember) in the basketball game had significance. Other rolls in the DND game had significance. Why would that be any different for Mike? Especially when his roll was a nine and that number shows up for him again when he says "I love you" nine times. And both of these things are associated with failure.

Not that we need any other reason to interpret the monologue as a less than good thing. It's just the way that it is, it's pretty easy to figure out how they wanted us to take it. But they still did give us a hint. I think it's really cool.

[dreamauri]

♪ — 𝗦𝗪𝗘𝗘𝗧 𝗖𝗛𝗘𝗘𝗞𝗦 max verstappen x fem! driver! reader (fluff) “. . . you and max fall in love through your years together in f1.”

( main master list | more of max verstappen ) ( requests | taglist )

Max propped up his cheek on his fist, sinking down in his chair bored. You who, was sitting beside him, decided to play trickster on him. Sneakily you quickly poked him under his armpit ( where you knew he was ticklish ).

The blond was quick to retract and curl away. You could only smile at him innocently as he glared at you. In an attempt to take revenge, Max reaches forward to poke you back but you recoil and dodge.

His glare and frown deepened as he tried again only to fail as you silently laugh at him, picking your tongue out. The two of you were starting to get the attention of the people in the conference room, even Charles who was answering a question paused to watch the little war between the redbull drivers.

In a final attempt to get you back, the boy jumped on you. The two of you fell back in your chair, laughing as he tried pinning you down wrestling style.

"OK! OK! I give in." You laughed trying to push him away from his face. "SIKE." You tackled him.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"Hi. I'm Max Verstappen." You greeted as you looked into the camera lens holding a serious gaze. "And I'm princess Barbie." Max finished off in a thin girly voice, an extremely bad impression. You broke out in laughter rocking back in the foldable chair. "Oh shit-" you tried to reach forward to stabilize yourself, which was utter failure because you ended up falling.

"Are you okay?" Max asked in the thin voice, sucking at holding his laugh in. "Oh my God, princess Barbie." You wheezed getting up slowly only to fall back on your knees again wheezing as you held your stomach.

"I can't believe you right now." You laughed getting up and sitting on his lap instead now that your chair is demolished. He was quick to hug you around your waist and pull your back close to his chest.

"Wait, what were we doing?" He asked the marketing team forgetting what you were filing in the first place.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Max leaned his phone on a tissue box with his selfie camera recording. You were holding his face still drawing clown makeup on him with purple lipstick.

"She got a higher position." He gave Context. "I got higher position~" You sang smiling brightly, continuing to draw the small circle on his nose. "He's going to dinner like this." "Wait what?! No. You're joking."

He tried to pull away but you only held him in place laughing evilly. "Hey hey, we had a deal. Loser does whatever the winner wants." You squished his cheeks. The boy could only pout to the camera as you draw an upside down triangle under his right eye.

"Aren't you a handsome cutie." You teased kissing his cheek making the Dutch boy smile brightly, forgetting all about his future coming embarrassment.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"MAAAAAAXX!!" You ran through the paddock jumping onto the boy once you go to him. He luckily caught you hugging you tightly. "I missed you." He mumbled once he set you down, hugging you tightly which you of course returned.

"It's only been a week." Riccardo commented walking past the two of you laughing. "That's still long!" You defended, taking Max's hand walking with him to the Torro Rosso Motorhome. "Did you get a chance to eat yet?" He asked opening the door for you. "I was waiting for you actually."

"I sneaked in these cookies I got from Walmart, I don't know if they are good. I wanted you to try them first." He whispered quietly, making sure no one could hear, as if it were a drug operation. "You're the best." You giggled excitedly.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"Maxie! Say cheese!" Max was taken by surprise. Turning to you, he smiled widely laughing ( and you couldn't help but snap a picture ). "Hold up the trophy and your medal." You told him and he did, adjusting his pose as you snapped another picture on your phone.

"I'm so proud of you." You pocketed your phone, pulling him in a tight hug. You rubbed his back as he relaxed in your embrace closing his eyes. "I'm so proud of you, Maxie. That was an amazing drive. My race winner." He squeezed you in his hug smiling. "I couldn't have done it without the best teacher in the world. Thank you, Y/N."

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Max looked at you sadly as you packed all of your stuff from your driver's room. He sat on the couch where he spent cuddling you after sessions for months. "Hey, stop frowning. You're going to make me sad."

"But you're leaving." He sighed, propping his cheek on his hand. "I'm just changing teams. I'll still be around." You smiled, standing in front of him. He looked up at you with an expression you could only describe as grief. "Hey, Daniel will take my seat next year. He'll treat you well. I'll make sure to always be high up so we can share our podiums." You crouched down on your knees kissing his cheek, putting your hand on his free one.

"I'll spend all summer break with you." "You promise?" "I promise." You nodded smiling receiving a kiss on your cheek, the first one he's given you. You and Max had developed a relationship like no other. Being his first teammate, you welcomed him into the sport and treated him better than some other people *cough* jos *cough cough*. You taught him all your tricks and was there for his first win, which he was so proud to show you on the podium.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"There he is!" You cheered as Max ran into your arms. The two of you shared a tight hug with loud laughs. "Championship contender! That's my boy!" You lifted him up spinning him, making the boy wheeze. "I'm so proud of you." You set him down cupping his cheeks. "I'm so so proud, Max. You deserve it. And I can't wait till you win the championship!"

He could only look at you smiling brightly. You made him feel so good about himself. You gave him courage and confidence, to do and preform better. And he did, all because of you. You were crying as you watched him raise the Abu Dhabi grand prix trophy. He pointed at it, gesturing for you to see. And you nodded proudly, wiping the tears from yours eyes. He found you soon after, smashing his lips into yours in a passionate kiss which you returned wrapping your hands around his neck.\.

"I love you so much, Y/N. Thank you so much! For everything. I would've never made it without you." He whispered in your ear, holding you in his embrace like his life depended on it. "Lets go out tonight." You whispered back smiling. "Lets have fun, you deserve it."

youruser

liked by pieregasly redbullracing and 67M others youruser I have no words to describe how happy i am for you, Max. You deserve the world 🧡❤️💙can't wait to see the number one on your car next year!!

[queenofapeacefuldawn]

An Analysis of SPY × Family Chapter 99

Manga spoilers, and a very long post ahead!

I'd like to preface this with saying that all of this is my own analysis, and I'm not very smart at these things, so take this with a grain of salt!

This chapter was extremely heavy: with Henry realising his feelings for Martha, and how it echoed the main theme of this story: how war destroys relationships and how innocent civilians are forced to enlist out of fear for their families' safety.

The chapter starts off, continuing off the cliffhanger of the last chapter— it turns out to be a false alarm, but Martha leaves her feelings for Henry unsaid.

She begins writing letters to Henry, and they keep a regular correspondence to substitute for their tea parties--

The war continues to grow dire, and Martha's squad hasn't been given any combat training, yet, they're forced to go to the front lines, under the pretext of "serving your country" and "keeping your family safe".

Henry is obviously shocked and scared for Martha when he finds out she's on the front lines, but we never get to hear his thoughts with the introduction of this fucking bitch-

🤓☝️ lookin ass--

In this chapter, we get to see Donovan's own ideals, which are shown through his argument in the debate. Interestingly, Donovan is almost the same age as Demetrius is in the present-day. (At least, that's what I'm assuming-- Henry mentions being in charge of the middle schoolers, and Demetrius is a middle-schooler.)

He claims,

I have a couple of thoughts about this. First,

"I know that solving differences with dialogue and weapons is ideal". The phrasing of this is interesting, because it kind of sounds like he doesn't believe in that-- he just knows that solving differences with diplomacy instead of war is 'ideal', but does he really believe in that? I don't think he does-- and, his own definition of 'peace' is definitely... ambiguous. What does he think 'peace' is? Subjugating other countries with his own power?

He already has a strange concept of humanity and other humans' own ideals-- he believes that, at our core natures, human beings are liars. That the only thing we're capable of is war and destruction.

This is also very similar to his own ideals that we see in modern-day. He doesn't care about either of his sons, as he says, they are essentially strangers to him. And, you might have raised them (though with Donovan, "raised" is a stretch), you might be their own father, according to him, he will never truly know his sons. Which is why he doesn't even attempt to understand them. His own ignorance for human nature and for others around him is really what makes him a failure of a father-- we are never truly born "knowing" others. Yet, every day, we make an attempt to learn the people we care about-- and isn't that a little of what love is? Take the Forgers-- they are three strangers to each other, each concealing their own natures from the others. They're all liars, and yet, they're making an effort to heal; they're learning to love and they're learning to learn about the people around them, the people they care about.

This is his flawed ideology. In his world, humans are strangers-- humans are nothing to each other, they're always hiding their true intentions from each other. Humans can't be trusted-- humans don't trust each other, which is why war and destruction and pain is all humanity is capable of.

But it's really not. SxF's message is of how three strangers--- three orphans of a war they were forced to partake in--- come together and form a home. Yes, they are liars, yes, they're hiding their true intentions, but they're making a home for themselves, a home where one can be safe, where a young girl, who's experienced horrors no child should, can feel safe and in her mother's arms.

Which is why I think Donovan's ideology is so flawed--- and how beats of it echo in the modern-day SxF story, especially when Twilight meets him.

Yes, by mere dialogue, reaching a mutual understanding is idealistic, but the most important thing is to not stop seeking to understand each other.

Humans are flawed, humans are selfish, humans are kind--- there's a debate on whether, intrinsically, humans are good or bad. We're all given different cards to play with, but really, it's up to us to decide on our faith in humanity.

It seems like Donovan has a wholly negative view on humans--- we can never know each other's true intentions, and it's with this doubt that humans wage wars--- it's with this doubt that humans lie and kill and cause destruction.

It's because of this doubt that Desmond is planning a war himself.

Martha writes Henry a letter, and she talks about a dream where all the students are holding hands, circling Henry. She can't join them because her hands are filthy--- maybe it's guilt? Maybe she's feeling guilty, maybe she feels like she can't join the others because her hands are stained with blood.

She's scared. She's regretting joining the front lines. Her only solace is the letters from him. The only way he knows she's alive is the letters from her.

I feel like another story would have taken a turn, making Henry regret his own feelings for Martha because the war had torn them apart. Instead, Henry realises his own feelings and his own wants too late-- and it becomes the last letter he gets from her.

It feels like an extra gut punch, as in the beginning Martha was embarrassed to call him "beloved", but now, he's calling her beloved, and he misses her so much. He cares for her so much, and doesn't know how she is.

All he can think is---

His hands are stained with ink. The nib of his pen is almost breaking. Ink is bleeding onto the page. In Martha's dream, her hands are stained with blood due to her desire to protect Henry and her country. In Henry's reality, his hands are stained with ink due to his desire for Martha to come back, be with him again. The Soldier and the Scholar, each trapped in their own Hell.

Henry finds out that Martha's squad has been killed. Their lives were a "sacrifice" for their country. This is blatant propaganda, and, he feels they're sullying her memory by mythologizing her; by using her life, using her death as a way to snare more students into a violent and hopeless and painful battle.

He speaks out. He's punished.

He's been brutalised so much, that he needs to wear a monocle.

We learn more about Donovan's and Henry's own ideals. Donovan gives up on people who've disappointed him-- people who he deems as fools. Henry doesn't believe in that. He believes that everybody deserves to not be given up on--- every body deserves a person in their own corner.

Towards the end of the chapter, Henry's forced into a marriage by his father, believing it's "for the best", because the soldier he was waiting for never came back to him.

We cut to "Somewhere near the East-West border", to a home with a fireplace. Martha is just opening her eyes, and is severely injured.

This definitely isn't a safehouse or military barracks or a military hospital.

A home with a family, or at least a person, with a fireplace and a chopping block for firewood.

This place is also near the sea,

which makes me think it's somewhere near the south. (If I'm remembering the map correctly).

Edit: The map is faithful to irl Germany, which means the sea is to the north, not the south. Sorry for the discrepancy before!

I'm thinking someone rescued Martha while she was injured, and brought her to their place to rest and recuperate--- which is why she's presumed dead, and why Henry wasn't ever given closure.

The next chapter is no doubt going to be explosive--- the 100th chapter. I feel like this arc will segue into something bigger, something more heart-wrenching and painful (I don't know how that's possible, but I trust Endo-sensei.)

---

Thank you for making this far and reading this whole thing! I hope you enjoyed, and I hope I wasn't annoying with my hatred for Donovan lol.

Also, on a more light-hearted note, I explained the plot of SxF to my dad, and he's intrigued and wants to read the manga. I'm planning on showing him the first ep of the anime, to see if he likes it. I feel like he will.

[allfearstofallto]

I hear your pleas for ideas loud and clear so I raise you yandere Kaeya gaslighting tf out of you. So talented you are, but you always fumble when it comes to presenting your skills to the world. Oh so many wonderful ideas in that mind of yours - too bad they die on your lips.

And that's why you need him. To save you from embarrassing yourself as you clutch your latest creation that would undoubtedly revolutionize some industry against your chest as your eyes burn with unshed tears. It always baffled him that you thought that you were worthy of that honor. I mean, you can't even order a meal without shaking like a leaf.

You aren't built for this lifestyle, now are you? Geniuses could easily bounce back from failure, yet here you are, soaking his shirt with your never-ending tears. Were you ever a genius?

(basically Kaeya gaslight gatekeep girlbossing talented inventor darling into oblivion bc I just know this man would be jealous if you were famous. I'm so sorry for writing so much but this idea has been eating me up inside so now I send it to you. May I be 🐇 Anon?)

🐇 anon, first of all, it is a pleasure to meet you! Secondly, my dear bun, you've saved my ass!! This was such a good prompt and it felt incredible to write!

Maybe I'm just in the mood to write gaslighting bitches cause this felt natural!!

Voiceless

Yandere! Kaeya x reader

TW: gaslight, and quite harsh words, but Kaeya is saying them so it's kinda sexy

If people could see what was going on inside your head, they'd think you were a genius. And you are, or at least, you believe that you are. But all those faces, all those eyes on you, those people looking at you makes your body go stiff and your words lodge in your throat. And in the end, you look like a bumbling idiot.

But you were his bumbling idiot. That's what he'd tell you at least. Hurtful words yes, but he meant them in an endearing way. His phrases were sweet and loving, even if to the average person they sounded a bit harsh. You explained to people that he didn't truly mean it that way, he was just trying to make you feel better.

“And how was it today?” He’d asked you. He always looked like a work of art when he came home from his long shifts. Every strap and piece of clothing would be pulled from his body as he spoke, he was so careless about showing himself off in front of you, but you were still flustered and shy around him.

With a sheepish smile, you held up the mora that he'd given you to use for a drink, completely untouched. You couldn't even bring yourself to leave the house. A dramatic sigh fell from his lips, but he still kneeled on the couch and wrapped his arms around your shoulders.

“Oh, you sweet, poor thing,” he whispered in your ear. He took your cheeks into his hands and squeezed them lightly, like he was coddling a child, “Still so shy aren't you? It's okay, I speak for you.”

It's like you breathed a sigh of relief when he spoke. All the weight of the world was lifted off your shoulder. You were a genius, yes, but you were a genius who could barely speak a full sentence to anyone. Except for Kaeya.

His charming smile and flashy personality made you weary at first. Why would someone like him be interested in something so quiet and timid? You felt like a coal in comparison to his flashy, diamond-like nature. Your mind was like a maze, endless corners and rooms filled with ideas, but you got lost in them as well, and just ended up choking on your own words.

Kaeya released you from his warm embrace and sat down next to you. He looked at the coffee table in front of you, covered in ideas and doodles that you'd have for your latest inventions. Your mouth never moved, but your brain was a constant machine, most days you couldn't get it to shut up. It all had to be let out, in notes or drawings.

He picked up one of the random pages, an idea for a water filter, and a chuckle fell from his lips, “And how would you pitch this one?” He asked. The way those words fell from his lips felt condescending, he already knew that you couldn't do it, but you knew better than to think that. It was just his love, it was how he showed it, he wanted you to succeed.

You felt yourself flush even thinking about it, but you still stood with the paper in your hands. Walking to the other side of the coffee table, you looked down at the notes you'd written. It was all there. Everything about your idea was right there, everything you needed to say was right in front of you. But when you looked up from the page, you felt dizzy, the letters on the paper began to merge and swirl together.

It was like your world had tilted on its axis and suddenly everything was lopsided. You felt yourself spinning, but you knew you were standing perfectly still. The only person looking at you was Kaeya. His beautiful self, like a statue crafted by the gods, was sitting there, focused on you.

An average person would love and adore the amount of attention someone like Kaeya gave. A smolder on his lips and all a sparkle in his eye. But you weren't the average person and you already felt as if you were sinking into yourself, like the world was about to swallow you whole, and before you knew it, tears had started to fall from your eyes.

“Can't even talk in front of me anymore, can you?” He asked and you gave him a slow, solemn nod. You tried to hold back sobs as you realized how truly useless you were. Unable to speak in front of even your own boyfriend, a true genius would never suffer from this.

“I'm- I'm sorry,” you'd somehow managed to stutter through your apology, but that much was to be expected of you. Tears fell onto the page and smeared the ink of your notes, but it didn't matter, it's not like you were going to read it anyways.

“That's the problem, my love,” he cooed to you in his usual tone, he stood from the couch and began scooping up all the pages that lay on the coffee table. All your ideas, all your work was crumbled up into a ball. It stung a bit, seeing everything you had worked so hard to make be treated like trash and thrown away, but nothing hurt more than your failures, “You're not built for this kind of thing. You know that, right?” He spoke close to your face, your lips brushing against your, soft like flower petals on your skin.

“I know,”

“But that's okay. Do you know why?” He asked, placing a gentle hand on your face and squeezing the fat of your cheeks.

“Because I'm yours. And I don't need to be smart to be yours,”

He held you close to his chest, peppering your forehead with kisses. All your work was thrown in the trash. “It's only making you unhappy,” he said. And he was right. You weren't ready for this. This type of thing wasn't for you. You only needed him.

So you lay in his arms and tried to stop the sniffling. He was the only person you'd need to talk to, he'd be your voice if needed be. You were only hurting yourself trying to do these things that you weren't made for.

[captainjonnitkessler]

BLIND GUARDIAN RELEASED A SONG ABOUT KALADIN STORMBLESSED???

[bizarrelittlemew]

the saddest line in the trailer

at first I was too distracted by Stede's plunging neckline and gold earring to fully realize why this kept nagging at me but:

"I've been a failure my whole life."

and the way he says it:

as a matter of fact, because he fully believes it – it's an integrated part of his self-image

to comfort someone else (presumably), meaning that even though it is sort of similar to Ed's "I'm not a good person" from s1e6, this scene doesn't seem to be about Stede getting comforted – he is just throwing that line in there

with the follow-up line of "It's not so bad once you get used to it," because he is used to being called a failure by everyone around him, even when he was a kid, so much that he doesn't question it

and yeah, Stede fucks up a lot and can be a bit air-headed/naive and overestimates his abilities (Stede's super high confidence vs. shit self-esteem is a central part of his character), often to the detriment of himself and everyone around him, but his biggest "crime" growing up was simply that he was different and didn't live up to the norms of masculinity. and this is what caused him to be made to feel like a failure by the world around him.

(putting the rest under the cut because I have a lot to say apparently lmao ⬇️)

idk it is just so sad that after everything that happened at the end of season 1, he still echoes his father's and the Badmintons' words when talking about himself (and his own "I'm not a pirate, I'm an idiot" from s1e1). he still has a lot of growth to do.

and while it's good that he embraces his own shortcomings (and I hope he stays a loser in many ways <3) and the show reinforces that you don't have to be perfect to be worthy of love/that you are worthy of love just as you are, it is just. idk SO SAD to hear him say that about himself so earnestly

but do you know who doesn't let Stede self-deprecate?

THIS GUY, FROM THEIR VERY FIRST DAY TOGETHER

from telling Stede he isn't such a terrible pirate (at least he's alive), to not letting Stede call his own ideas stupid, Ed likes Stede for who he is WHILE not letting him talk bad about himself like that.

now we can't know who Stede is talking to in the scene in the trailer, just that it is someone with long dark hair:

and it could be someone else (to me it doesn't look quite like Ed's hair, but the quality/lighting makes it difficult to tell), but if it IS Ed, it has the potential for him to (once again) go against Stede's negative self-talk 😌

I am so interested to see how this scene plays out and I REALLY hope we get a scene mirroring the bathtub scene (even if it's not this one) but with the roles switched ✌️

[stilljuststardust]

Hey! I’ve been really struggling lately, I’ve been trying to shift for 4 years now with no success. since January I’ve been trying to shift with loa and trying to manifest things into this reality to help me become more aware of my power. For the past two months I’ve been trying to manifest seeing the numbers 1212 but I have yet to see it appear anywhere outside of clocks. I feel stuck and after two months of staying strong to my assumptions and not having any results I’m really doubting the law and if it’s real at all. If you have any advice I’d really appreciate it. Thank you :)

You are not stuck

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

Hello! thank you for the ask! I'm going to break this down into sections, mindset, advice, and direct instructions.

At the end I'll have a bunch of links and some of them will be marked as success stories.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

Mindset

Let's start with the angel numbers:

I don't see how "only" seeing the number on clock faces is a failure. To live in the end also means that when it comes to you you shouldn't brush it off. If you truly held the assumption you saw 1212 everywhere would you have the same reaction to seeing it on a clock? Or would you see it as something that directly proves your assumption?

Manifestations show up naturally in the 3D, if you manifest a loaf of bread it's unlikely it'll appear in a cloud of glitter but instead a way that makes sense to the world around it. Suddenly your neighbor wants to bring you bread, suddenly it's on sale, etc.

I say this with love because I think you need to hear it, you're still putting power in things outside of yourself. The physical world, angel numbers, username antishifter44, none of those decide whether or not you can do this. You and you alone decide whether or not you can do this.

Do you view shifting as something that happens to you or do you view it as something you do?

If you want to step into your own power the first step is to accept it. YOU are the operant power of your reality, YOU have final say, once youve decided on something YOUR opinion is the only one you'll consider.

You run this show, and right now the actors are just improving based on the last act (the old story/assumptions) so you have to direct them to do something different.

Have you been truly living in the end or do you still view yourself through the lens of being a struggling shifter?

Do you identify with the person who's shifted or the person who's struggling to do so?

Do you default to the assumption of failure?

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

Advice

This section has been shortened significantly because I would risk repeating myself in the next one.

I need you to put more faith in yourself than anything else in your life. I need you to trust yourself more than you trust the physical world. If you said it will happen it will.

Your subconscious always takes you at your word. It believes anything you tell it. How long have you been telling it the story that you are struggling?

It's job is to supply you proof of what you're telling it. Have you been repeating that no matter what you try it is hard for you and that none of this stuff is working? Then it's going to give you evidence of that. If you tell it something it's going to give you evidence of it.

You're operating under the assumption that this is hard for you and you can't do it and so your subconscious is supplying you proof.

I'm going to tell you a story about myself.

When I first started I was obsessed with doing tarot reading after tarot reading asking if I was going to get it.

I pulled a card that had been following me for some time and I finally deciphered it as me needing to quote "fight for it"

At the time I interpreted this to mean trying harder and harder I now know what it meant.

I wasn't willing to defend the idea that I will shift no matter what. I thought of it as something I was chasing after instead of something that would always be undeniably mine.

I still repeated the old story despite saying how much I wanted it to change. I saw it as something I had to escape instead of something I had to power to rid myself of.

I needed to decide that it was mine and be willing to persist in or "fight for" that idea. It wasn't that I needed to struggle to obtain it, it was that I had to be willing to challenge the ideas that opposed it.

I was holding on to the idea of being a "struggling shifter" because I was romanticizing it. I accepted struggling as a fact about my journey.

Eventually I realized that I had to let that story go if I wanted anything to change.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

Instructions

This is very similar to my loa challenge because it's based on the same idea.

With the law of assumption whatever you assume to be true is true. This means if you assume manifestation and shifting to work a certain way they have to by law.

I want you to write out how you wish shifting and manifestation worked. Maybe it looks something like this (example list):

Shifting is easy

I don't need to do anything to shift

I shift without even trying

Obviously it may look different for you but these will be our stand ins.

I know you're probably struggling to view it as something that is done because you're still seeking validation in the 3D, this is a mental trick I use to think of something as a fact.

I want you to recognize this list as the rules of shifting. That's just how shifting works, it's now an undeniable truth about it's nature.

Don't think of it as something you're trying to will into existence. Think of these as if they are the pre-existing laws that define shifting.

Treat your desire as if it is an initiate undeniable rule to your reality.

Affirm these new rules to yourself for ten minutes a day and anytime doubt comes up I want you to calmly remind yourself that this is the rules, there isn't an alternative because this is just how it works now.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

You get a link! YOU get a link! Everyone gets a link!

The only "key" to manifesting without fail

Get your desires by morning from my fav sub/add tape creator

How to break negative thought cycles

"resistance"

Blushydior, how I manifested my dream life in difficult circumstances

You are not Sisyphus

Success links

Ole reliable, Barbados

Money success story I got on my blog (this one made me so happy)

Success story on my robotic affirmation challenge

Death revision success stories part one

Death revision success stories part two

Death revision success stories part three

All from one person

Robotic affirming success stories (check the comments there's like a million more)

Won the lottery (NSFW method though so be warned)

Revised boyfriends mother's death

I am adding this in an edit because I had to get permission but one of my mutals has been following me for a long time and manifested me following them back: @lovebvni

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

[draco-after-dark]

Feral JD!!! I love this kinda stuff, and you already got some awesome art for it! I’ve been appreciating John Dory more and more lately, so it’s cool to find all the AUs

Got any specific scenarios you’ve been thinking about for him? Love to hear anything about it.

I also wonder about when he discovered he couldn’t read anymore, was he nonplussed? Disappointed? Didn’t realize it happened? How’d his brother figure it out and would they go about teaching him again?

I appreciate you! ✨💜👍 have a good day!

OOOOOOOOH I HAVE SO MANY ACUALLY

I'm having so much fun building his world out

I actually have a few scenarios in the works now and some mini comic ideas too, Just gotta finish them :]

The reading thing is actually an interesting point. To be honest it wasn't something I initial thought to hard about but now that you brought it up. Here are some thoughts I had on it.

(Also sorry this kinda long I got a bit carried away woops)

not being able to read does come as a shock to JD when he first realizes, It takes him a bit to come to terms with it and when he does realize its a "Shit, I really am a failure." kind of mentality.

Since he was just out in the wilderness reading and writing wasn't something he need to do, it was all about survival for him so something so simple as that never crossed his mind as a skill he could lose.

Not being able to sing/talk just sort of sprouted from when he turned grey and fully integrated himself to being alone, Truly alone. Just being by himself he never had a reason to speak, so eventual the years added up and he just couldn't figure out how to speak.

So I always figured Clay would be the first one to figure out that JD can't read. For some context JD has been away from any type of society for several years if not a whole decade at this point. just by himself out in the wilderness wander around from place to place. So loneness has set in hard and he hasn't had a conversation with someone since being on his own.

JD tends to approach his brothers when their on there own or hanging out with each other. He tends to avoid large crowds and sticks to the outskirts of pop village unless there is immediate danger within the village. They had a spider incident a week ago but JD dealt with that real quick. The village still has pretty mixed options on allowing him to stay but considering the brothers haven't even been able to get JD to come inside branch's bunker yet. It's not something the they have really considered or cared about yet.

Also for Clay figuring out JD cant read it would probably go something like this...

Being in a book club Clay can often be found reading books around pop village. So when its a beautiful sunny day. He decides that it's the perfect time to catchup on his latest book. That quickly becomes wishful thinking however when he feels the brush of fur against his arm. He's surprised to see John Dory crouched next to him head tilted leaning into his personal space. Just sort of staring at his book with a curious look on his face. He's not interacted this close to JD yet on his own, usually he only makes an appearance if Floyd or Branch are around. So being on his own with John so close makes him pretty nervous. Especially since previous interacts between the two of them haven't been the best. John may or may not have tried to attack him and Bruce at their first interaction. It was quite a shock to all the brothers when they discovered that not only Floyd but also John Dory had been kidnapped by the pop star wannabes. If Clay's being honest he didn't believe Floyd when he first told them that John Dory was still trapped some where in the dressing rooms. It didn't make any sense to him. Why would they keep leave John backstage for their big performance. Unless they had already sucked him dry of his talent. What they actually discovered Clay could have never seen coming. Their brother, their oldest brother was practically unrecognizable, In both behavior and colour. He still thinks about when they found him in that room huddled in the corner. The terrify snarl that came from him when they tried to get close. Heck. he didn't even know a troll could make such a noise. So what was he doing here with him now?

"Uh . . . hi?" Clay asked curiously his voice wavering slightly.

He could see John's ear tilt towards him so he must have heard him and was at least listening. Hopefully.

"what uh . . . what brings you here today?"

A low deep rumbled sounded out from John's throat has he lifted his hand nearest to the book and brought it closer to himself. Eyes flickering across the page. To Clay it looked as if he was trying to read the pages so without a word he tilted the book more towards JD and waited. Just watching him. As seconds turned into minutes he could feel the frustration growing inside his brother, from the way his brows knitted together, to the way he kept getting closer to the book. Like if he looked harder, tried harder it would all make sense. That was when it clicked.

He cant read. Clay thought.

He can barely talk, if grumbling even counts as talking. Can't read and chances are he cant write anymore ether.

With a scoff John shoves the book away from himself slides down from the rock to sit on the grassy earth below.

Clay felt odd. He wasn't sure what he was feeling. Pity? Hurt? No that wasn't quite right. Emptiness? A sense of loss? A mix of everything he guessed.

He never really considered how John must be feel. That it must be . . . frustrating. Not just being alone for so long that he unconsciously forgot things that always seemed so, basic. Normal to everyone. That writing and singing songs came so natural to all of them. That the once self-proclaimed leader of Brozone couldn't even read his own lyrics anymore. He could never imagine not being able to read again. Being left unable to communicate even the simplest of things, but here John was. Going through all that. Practically alone. Clay frowned well he stared down at his once proud brother and then a flicker of hope flashed through his eyes.

". . ."

"Do you want to read again?"

His ear perked up at that and his head quickly flipped back to Clay. An unreadable look in his eyes.

"I could teach you, to read, write, to talk again?"

He see the thoughts swirling through his eyes, the hope, that became to spark but that quickly disappeared as he sank back down towards the grass. I look of sadness crossing over his face as he began to fiddle with his claws.

"Do you not want to learn how to read again?" Clay aske bewilders

John huffed and stared at him with an unamused face

"well why then?"

John glanced to the side and gestured in way "carry on" sort of way.

"I don't understand."

John gave him a deadpan stare and flung his head to the side letting out a deep sigh.

Clay was thoroughly confused. what was he missing, what wasn't ne understanding. This was his brother, his older, former bossy, arrogant, obsessed older brother. So Clay wanted to try something. Something he had done in years.

"What, are you still to cocky to let your little brother teach you a thing or two?"

He huffed again, but this time it sounded more like a light chuckle followed by a quick eyeroll and after a few seconds John stared at him, one eyebrow raised like he was saying "are you serious right now?"

"So your telling me you'd rather sit on grass and feel sorry for yourself rather then spend time with your younger brother?"

Oh ya, That hit a nerve. If there was one thing John cared about it was his family, Family was apart of him and it always had been. His greatness strength and weakness. Something Clay figured out real quick when they were younger trollings. John must have felt as offended as he looked because next thing clay new he had already stood up and hoped right back up on the rock beside him.

"Same old Dory"

To which John responded by giving his brothers shoulder a shove and jerked his head towards the book down in Clay's hands.

"okay okay, will start with the basics . . ."

Don't know how in character this is for Clay but I tried guys. So yeah that's my thoughts so hopefully this makes sense.

Also if any Fanfic people out there stumble across this and start thinking they want to give try at writing some stuff for the Feral boi please do I would LOVE to read it. Like tag me please so I can read it and draw it.

Anyway imma go to bed byeeeeeee

[iri-2]

I Love You Like That

Rating: Not Rated Category: F/F Fandom: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse) Relationships: Mother Miranda/Reader Characters: Mother Miranda, Karl Heisenberg, Salvatore Moreau, Eva

Summary: As a scientist in The Connections, you and Miranda work together in a laboratory. Over time, you develop feelings for this somewhat harsh but seemingly vulnerable woman. One day, she "takes" you to her hometown.

You find yourself falling for Miranda.

A few months ago, she was just a somewhat sharp-tongued colleague who had recently joined. You don't know why you are attracted to her and trap so deeply.

"I think I might have some feelings for you, Miranda." Your fingers tightly gripping the edge of the notepad.

Miranda's scalpel pauses on the corpse. "Why?"

Why?

How would you know? Most of the time, she doesn't seem that friendly towards you. Until recently.

"Lab romances aren't a good idea. Shouldn’t we just focus on researching the combination of the E-type fungus and cadou?" Miranda rejects you directly.

"I knew I shouldn't have told you, you’re too cold to everything." you mutter, the tip of the pen you're holding trembling on the experiment log, leaving messy ink stains.

Several months ago, the leader of The Connections suddenly announced with excitement that they had found a scientist to join the project you were working on.

As the team's most outstanding researcher, you were assigned to the same laboratory as this scientist, in Romania.

Passing through the purification facility at the entrance, you enter the room. You see a woman already dressed in full lab attire, examining a small piece of tissue under a microscope.

"So, you're THE best researcher? You're here REALLY early," the dark-haired woman says.

"You must be Dr. Miranda? I firmly believe that I arrived on time." You try to ignore the unfriendly sharpness in her tone. This new scientist seems to have no understanding of interpersonal communication.

"In my sense of time, you are late." She doesn't lift her head from the eyepiece.

That’s quite rude.

"Okay, first, you’re new. Second, I’m on time. Third, I hope we can get along well at work," you put on your lab coat.

She takes off the slide and finally wants to take a look at you. "That'll take a while."

… For the sake of the experiment's progress, you silently endure her occasional criticism.

She’s mean all the time. She even uses you as her assistant, handing you the used experimental equipment for cleaning.

"For a hundred times, I'm NOT your assistant! I’m a scientist as you." You can't bear it anymore.

She shrugs her shoulders and remains silent.

… One day, she directs her accusations at you again.

"Did you touch my culture dish?" Miranda accuses you without any evidence.

"Why would I touch your culture dish?" you respond, feeling puzzled.

"It's just the two of us here. If it's not me, it must be you. No one else can come in."

"So, you blame me when your experiment doesn't go well?" You're annoyed.

Every time she starts an experiment with anticipation, but after a failure, she becomes unusually desperate.

Her blue eyes dim a bit, and the wrinkles at the corners deepen.

"Sorry." You hear her say the word for the first time.

She looks vulnerable. She has never revealed to you the purpose of her research. However. every time the experiment fails, the gloom in her eyes deepens a bit. She doesn't seem to have only seen biochemical experiments when she looks at the tissues and cells. When the experiment fails, she seems to have lost her most precious thing.

"It's okay," your anger subsides slightly.

In the next few days, Miranda's accusations against you seem to decrease. Once, while testing the biological activity of one kind of cadou, you were about to cut a small piece when Miranda suddenly stopped the next move of your scalpel.

"Put this on." She hands you safety goggles.

You put on the goggles, and soon you understand why.

This type of cadou sprays green slime when stimulated, splattering on your goggles and mask, and it smells awful.

"Well, thanks, Miranda."

"No problem." Miranda says gently.

In the following weeks, she finally treats you completely as a colleague. Sometimes she will leave some very clean culture dishes and test tubes by your side. Once she suddenly appears behind you, tidying up the collar of the lab suit you hastily put on in the morning, and then goes to do her experiment as if nothing has happened.

You have become accustomed to her harshness towards you, and recently her tenderness and concern for you have made you start to worry about her situation. What makes this woman who always uses ridicule and condescension to communicate with others like this? And what makes her depart from her normal behavior?

Sometimes when you observe your chemical reaction, you feel someone looking at you from behind. When you turn around, you only see Miranda writing the experimental report seriously.

… You shouldn't have started caring about her. This has kept your gaze on her for too long, so long that you realize you have fallen in love with her.

But out of professionalism - or more importantly, you still think Miranda will treat you with her cold attitude, just like she has built a defense line in her heart, making your heart break, so you just hold your feelings.

… Six months later, when you place the cells you cultivated under the microscope, you witness unprecedented success.

"Miranda! Come here!" you wave for Miranda to come over.

She observes the cell activity under the microscope.

"These are cells I cultivated with an entirely new serum," you say with joy in your tone.

"Eva…" Miranda murmurs.

"Our project has finally made a breakthrough." You write something in your experiment log.

Miranda looks up, muscles twitching on her face, as if suppressing ecstasy. "You’re better than I thought."

"Let’s just pretend I didn't mention this," you place the notebook on the desk. You regret your impulsiveness. What were you thinking?

Miranda holds the equally cold surgical knife in her cold hand and hovers over the body for a while before continuing with the dissection.

Miranda doesn't speak much that day. At the end of the work, she takes off her lab uniform and speaks to you as if she has made up her mind, "I didn't tell you and most people about my research purpose because people would think I was crazy and that I just needed to find a psychologist,"she continues,"I want you to know my purpose."

"But this is a surprise, and you might not like it."she adds.

"Try me," as someone who has just been rejected, you speak weakly.

Miranda takes a step towards you, and you see her hand getting closer to you, then it lands on your face.

And then you plunge into darkness.

"Wake up, wake up." You hear Miranda calling your name.

"What?" You open your eyes and find yourself leaning on her.

She sees you awake, coughs awkwardly, straightens your body, and steps away from you.

"Is this your idea of a 'surprise'? The best I could think of was that you blindfolded me and took me somewhere, not something resembling a kidnapping." You're a bit annoyed and confused,"How did you make me faint that quick?"

"I did say you might not like it," Miranda avoids your question.

"Where did you bring me?" You glance around, it looks like a vineyard.

"My hometown," she replies.

Miranda guides you out of the vineyard and onto the road.

The houses around are very low, the highest looking like it has only two floors. Some houses have adjacent livestock sheds with pigs and chicks.

The villagers here wear clothes from the last century, some grinding flour, others rolling hay. They stop their activities in surprise when you pass by, and when they see Miranda beside you, surprise turns to fear. They quickly return to their work.

"Don't be surprised, they rarely see outsiders, so they react like that," Miranda calmly explains to you.

"But they seem scared of you," you turn to Miranda.

"Probably because I look different from usual. This village is conservative, and they're not used to new things," Miranda tries to explain.

What is she like usually? Does she wear the same clothes as the villagers? You rarely see Miranda in anything other than a lab coat, and today she wears a simple solid-color cardigan. You can't help but imagine Miranda wearing the villagers' clothes.

"Why don't they go to the outside world?" you mutter.

As you go further, people become scarce until you enter a field where there's no sign of villagers.

"We're here," Miranda leads you to a house.

This house is built against the mountainside, away from the village center.

She opens the door and enters with you. The furnishings inside the house match the vintage theme of the village.

"Is this where you live?" you ask.

"Yes, not used to it?" she gazes at you.

"I just didn't expect someone like you to be so unmodernized," you murmur.

"Come see my lab." She ignores your sarcasm.

"You also have a laboratory here?" The size of this house doesn't look like it can accommodate a laboratory.

She opens a door deep inside the house, leading to a bedroom.

"Well…?"

She goes to a corner and pulls down a switch.

There's a click, and the blank wall in front of you starts moving to the sides, revealing a laboratory still marked by the passage of time.

"I see. But why do you hide the lab?"When you think this woman is strange enough, she still has surprises waiting for you.

She gestures for you to enter her laboratory. A damaged wooden table is scattered with various books and a few black-and-white photos.

You see a photo of a dark haired woman holding a little baby. "Is this you?"

"Yes."You never see her this emotional before, her blue eyes slightly dimming.

"This child…"

"She was my daughter."Miranda's voice carries endless sorrow. "She died when she was ten."

"Oh, I’m sorry, Miranda." You look at her, your voice softens.

"That's why I'm researching the Megamycete; I want to bring Eva back." Miranda's hand holds your arm.

"That's why when your experiment failed, you were like a soul being pulled out of your body?" You feel the coldness of her hand. Has she always been this cold? "I believe you can succeed, our research is progressing well."

Her blue eyes have returned to their original state, looking at you with immense tenderness. "You've helped me a lot. Thank you." She seems to find it awkward to say such things. She lets go of your arm, her cheeks slightly flushed.

She appears so fragile.

"You know, you can tell me directly in our laboratory." You don't think she needs to use "kidnapping" to take you to this village surrounded by deep mountains to tell you this.

"There are still some things that I will let you know here," she doesn't think she does this with great fanfare.

Miranda insists you stay overnight in her bedroom.

"Where will you sleep?"

"I'll rest on the couch." Miranda is about to sit down.

"Miranda?" You call her from the bedside.

"Hmm?"

"I'd like to hear Eva's story."

Miranda freezes in her movements, then stands up and says, "Not many people ask about her."

"If it makes you uncomfortable, you don't have to force it." You see sadness engulfing her again.

"It's okay, I don't mind talking about her." She slowly walks towards you and sits beside you.

"Eva was born in August. I remember it was a hot day, and giving birth to that little one exhausted me." Miranda's gaze focuses in the distance as she smiles.

"Her eyes were blue…"

"Like her mother."

She looks at you gently. "Yes, just like me."

"She was the smartest among her peers, learned things quickly. She got along well with other kids, everyone wanted to be friends with her." Miranda speaks softly.

"She even learned carving from the village carpenter. One day, she excitedly ran home, holding something in her hands, shouting, 'Mom! Look at what I made today!' She raised a wood carving in front of me, which was in the shape of a goat. The head and body were divided into two parts and pieced together. I held little Eva in my arms and praised her for doing so well. She was thrilled."

A wood carving of goat? You seem to have seen something similar in the village.

"She used to visit various houses in the village every day, helping them with chores. She was so energetic." Happiness surrounds Miranda as she speaks.

You listen attentively to her storytelling. This is the most time Miranda talks, maybe too much.

After that, it's not your fault. The day-to-day research makes you sleep very little. In Miranda's gentle voice, it feels like listening to a bedtime story, and you grow sleepy.

Your head tilts to the side, hands on your stomach, breathing steady.

Miranda lifts you gently from the bedside, letting you lie down on the bed. She covers you with a blanket, arranges the pillow, and sits by your side, watching you sleep peacefully.

Lab romances? Sounds fun.

You wake up from Miranda's blanket, and the scent of her woody perfume lingers in the air. Getting off the bed, you walk to the kitchen.

"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty." Miranda sits at the dining table.

"Good morning." You lazily reply.

"Your breakfast." She points to the apple pie and fried egg on the table.

"What about you?" You look at the complete apple pie and ask her.

"I've already eaten." She picks up her tea and takes a sip.

"Any plans for today?" You cut a piece of the fried egg and put it in your mouth.

"We're going to Heisenberg's factory."

"Heisenberg's factory?" You question.

"Yes, Karl Heisenberg is my… assistant. He's advanced in bioelectric research."

"Oh, you have 'assistants' here too? I thought I was the only one of yours." You tease her.

"They are indeed my assistants, but you you're different." She awkwardly coughs.

You feel a bit pleased that you successfully teased Miranda.

"Have your breakfast now, we'll head to the factory. It's located outside the village, a bit far." Miranda gestures towards your breakfast.

"Why not 'kidnap' me there? Seems quicker." You take a bite of the apple pie.

"I could, but I prefer you to walk there with me consciously." Miranda finishes her tea.

"What do you mean by 'I could'?"

"Eat your breakfast."

Miranda and you walk on an ancient bridge. In the village, you still feel the strange gazes of the villagers, but after Miranda glares at them, they dare not stare at you anymore.

"Miranda?" You tilt your head to look at her.

"What's wrong?" Miranda softly responds.

"Why do I feel like the villagers are afraid of you?" You ask her.

"We'll talk about it later." Miranda doesn't want to say more.

Outside Heisenberg's factory, wild grasses are overgrown, and abandoned metal parts are scattered in the bushes.

As if predicting your arrival, the factory gate slowly opens, revealing a man standing at the entrance.

He wears a dirty light green trench coat with a tattered wide brim fedora, but his sunglasses are polished to a shine.

"Ah, Miranda, you're here. Welcome." The man opens his arms to welcome you.

"Heisenberg, this is my colleague." Miranda informs him of your name.

"Hello, Miranda said I should show you how bioelectricity works." Heisenberg produces a cigar from behind his back.

"Thank you, Mr. Heisenberg."

In his workshop, you see various large instruments emitting orange lights, indicating their operation. They are quite different from the precise instruments you are familiar with in your laboratory.

You swear you hear a hissing sound coming from some tightly closed doors.

Heisenberg leads you and Miranda into a dimly lit room with many surgical tables. On them lie many gray-skinned… people?

"These are my experimental results." Heisenberg proudly says. You can see excitement gleaming behind his sunglasses.

"Are these people?" You point to one with an iron drill replacing its arm.

"They used to be. Don't worry, I only experiment on them after they've passed away. They've been implanted with Cadou, and with some electric stimulation, they’ll 'come alive'."

Like Galvani's frog experiment?

"Although the electricity used now is external, in ongoing research, I've enabled them to gradually activate their own neural potentials, making them have life activities, just like a resurrection." Heisenberg explains.

Your understanding of bioelectricity is limited, but you listen to Heisenberg's enthusiastic explanations, occasionally nodding along.

"Perhaps this can help with your research?" Heisenberg finishes his grand speech and hands you a development notebook.

"Thank you, Mr. Heisenberg."

"Call me Karl." Heisenberg corrects.

You filter out his self-praise in the report, summarize the key points about the experiment in your head.

Heisenberg finishes his cigar, casually tossing it on the ground and extinguishing it with his boot. Taking a step forward, he places his hand on your shoulder — the glove he wears is oily, much like the messy strands of his long gray hair.

"I believe Miranda wouldn't choose the wrong person. She never used to wander around the village with outsiders." He gives you a positive look.

Your gaze shifts to Miranda, who is staring at your shoulder. "HEISENBERG! I appreciate your help today, but it's getting late. We should go."

"But it's only noon. Don't you want to stay for lunch or something?" Heisenberg asks you with a smile.

"No need. We have other things to do. You should focus on your own tasks," Miranda immediately rejects him.

"Alright, suit yourselves." Heisenberg walks towards his workbench, starting to clean a metal hammer.

"What else do we have to do?" You ask Miranda as the factory gate behind you automatically closes.

"We're going to the reservoir."

"The reservoir? I guess it's not for some leisurely fishing."

"No, just taking a walk."

"So, this is the 'other things' you mentioned. Sounds important," your tone carries a hint of mockery.

Miranda purses her lips. "It's important to me. Perhaps to Moreau as well."

"Moreau?" A new name.

"He's another assistant of mine, living near the reservoir. We can pay him a visit."

You follow Miranda towards the windmill. Does Moreau live in a windmill? That’s so weird.

Miranda leads you into an elevator, descending into a cave-like area.

Wow, this guy lives in a place even more unusual than Heisenberg.

You hear the sound of someone vomiting.

You see Miranda frown.

Sounds emanate from a small house in the cave, like a comedy show. You hear an odd laughter, followed by chewing noises.

Miranda knocks on the door.

A peculiar-looking guy opens the door.

"Mother!"

You see Miranda shoot him a fierce look.

Mother?

"Oh, no Moth… Mo… Mi… Miranda, you came! Moreau welcomes you to my reservoir! Y…You brought a newcomer." This hunched-over guy speaks with a strange voice, containing a gurgling element, reminiscent of fish blowing bubbles.

After the door is fully open, you see his face clearly under the indoor lights. Wow, his features seem… really bizarre. His eyes are swollen, half-closed, his nose is short, and below, his mouth is wide open, with teeth seemingly having a mind of their own, growing in various directions.

Oh, God bless him.

He acts unusually excited, his skinny arms trembling. He invites you into his house. Miranda looks somewhat reluctant, but she follows you inside.

"Miranda, you're actually here to see me. You rarely visit me!" He's excited like a child, reaching out to you. "And you brought a newcomer!"

"Salvatore, stop. She's my colleague, here to help me with experiments. We just came from Heisenberg's place. We need some data on Cadou." Miranda halts Moreau's action.

"W…Wait for me here. I'll fetch the experimental data right away." Moreau rushes into the inner room and comes out with a stack of documents.

Miranda takes the documents and hands them to you. You carefully avoid touching the suspicious green marks on top and put them into your backpack.

Miranda seems ready to leave, and so do you.

"Miranda! Newcomer! Stay for lunch with me." The person with a strange appearance shouts.

"No, thanks, Moreau." Miranda replies coldly.

Moreau leans forward and grabs something. You follow Miranda and turn around, seeing Moreau holding onto the corner of Miranda's cardigan hem, hunches his back, appearing so small and weak.

"Fine. I can accompany you for a while. Let go." Miranda pulls out the hem from his hand, speaking extremely reluctantly, "No lunch."

She looks at you inquiringly. You nod.

"Just one episode, just one episode like always," Miranda tells him.

Moreau tries to jump up excitedly, completely unaware of the stiffness in Miranda's tone. He continues playing his comedy and starts chewing on the cheese on the plate.

You and Miranda sit side by side on the stools behind Moreau, facing the TV. The comedy is amusing, Moreau giggles, and at one point, he accidentally chokes on the cheese, producing a loud cough. Miranda sits straight, showing no reaction to the comedy.

Is this cave well-ventilated? Why do you smell such a strong fishy odor?

You frown in disgust, praying for this episode to end quickly so you can leave this damp and gloomy place.

The unpleasant smell allows you to catch a faint fragrance from Miranda, like her blanket, woody and pleasant — something you like.

After another ten minutes, the fishy smell intensifies. Unable to bear it any longer, you start moving closer to Miranda, attempting to use her scent to mask the fishy odor.

The fishy smell is really strong, and your face is almost buried in her neck. When your nose brushes against her skin, she slightly recoils.

Miranda speaks.

"Moreau, control yourself."

"Mo… Miranda, I didn't mean to!" Moreau immediately apologizes.

After a while, you feel the fishy smell diminish significantly. You turn your head to rest it on Miranda's shoulder. She doesn't move, lets you lean on her.

The episode finally comes to an end, and you feel relieved.

Miranda says to Moreau, "We should go now."

You stand up quickly, ready to escape.

Moreau appears reluctant, and there seems to be tears in his eyes. "Goodbye, Miranda. Goodbye, newcomer."

Before you can say goodbye, Miranda, without looking back, pulls you away, leaving Moreau behind.

Leaving the reservoir, the air suddenly becomes incredibly fresh. You feel like your foggy brain has been liberated.

"Miranda? Shouldn't we go for lunch?" you poke her arm.

"Sure," Miranda nods.

"Are we going to the restaurant in the village, or…?"

"We'll buy ingredients and cook ourselves."

"Getting another meal from the great scientist? Looking forward to it! The apple pie and fried eggs you made this morning were just perfect." You recall their aftertaste.

Miranda smiles at your reaction. "Let's go and get some ingredients."

You can also find me here.

Thanks for reading!

[ilaytrapsfortroubadours]

😴sleepy hug / falling asleep together for Lokius !

(I have no idea where in the series this takes place, just don't worry about it 🥲💕)

***

Loki and Mobius unceremoniously strolled back to their quarters, nary exchanging a word or even a glance.

They approached the elevator, Mobius hitting the button and waiting by Loki's side, hearing the subtle tick, tick, tick of the elevator approaching their floor.

It wasn't until after they entered the elevator that Loki shot Mobius a glance, to which the analyst returned the glance with a tired smile.

"We did good today," Loki said, trying to get Mobius to catch his eye.

"Yeah," Mobius said, eyes fixed to the floor.

"We did all we could've done."

"I could've done better."

"Mobius—"

"Just—" Mobius turned to Loki, about to snap at him, before taking a deep breath and letting it out. "—Don't. Please. Don't try to comfort me. I—" He sighed, exasperated. "I fucked up, okay? I almost got one of our guys killed, not to mention losing the variant without a trace."

"It wasn't your fault that the expulsion method backfired," Loki said, resting a hand on Mobius's shoulder. "I mean, who the hell could've known that this variant was immune to fire?"

"I could've known. I should've known."

"Mobius—"

"I should've checked his file, this is all my fault—"

"The responsibility of vetting our targets wasn't entirely on you. We had dozens of other agents that glossed over that. It was—" Loki paused, gathering his thoughts. "...An institutional failure, alright? And besides, beforehand, we were caught up in that surprise meeting with Renslayer, so you wouldn't have had time to check, anyway."

The elevator dinged, the doors opening. Mobius exited first, Loki following close behind him as they walked back to the agent's quarters.

"It wasn't your fault, okay?" Loki said, as Mobius fumbled with the keycard to his front door.

The agent nodded, staring into the door blankly for a moment before scanning the card and leading Loki in.

"Can I get you anything? Water? Coffee?" Mobius said, shrugging off his jacket.

"I just need to sleep, I think," Loki said, slipping off his shoes and tie, watching Mobius as he did so. "Are you okay?"

"I'm— I'm fine. Just need to sleep, like you said." Mobius replied, struggling to keep the tremble out of his hands as he filled a glass with water.

Loki didn't believe Mobius's answer for a second, but decided not to pry.

"I'm going to go take a shower," He said.

"Okay," Mobius replied, absentmindedly.

...

Loki emerged from the bathroom, towel drying his curls when he saw Mobius. He was sitting on the couch with his head in his hands, struggling to stifle his sobs.

Loki's heart sank. His first instinct was to rush over and comfort his friend, though he knew that the second Mobius knew Loki saw him, he would clear his throat and act like everything was fine.

Instead, he set the towel down on the floor and walked over to Mobius slowly, hoping that the agent didn't hear him, as that would immediately make Mobius panic and shut down.

Mobius only lifted his head as he felt the couch beside him dip, looking up to see Loki looking at him with a concerned expression.

Damn it.

"Loki, I—"

"Mobius. Don't lie to me. Please."

Mobius was left with his lips slightly parted, mid-dismissal. Loki stared into his eyes, his gaze sharp and determined, almost frightening. Love is a dagger.

"Tell me what's wrong. Please," Loki pleaded.

The agent sighed, resigned.

"I just...I can't shake the feeling that it's all always my fault, you know?" Mobius said, his eyes flickering back down to the floor. "I feel like no matter what I do, it's never gonna be enough, and I just— end up being a failure. Putting everyone at risk. Not accomplishing the one task I was set out to do."

He sighed, rubbing his neck anxiously.

"It makes me think I'm the problem. And I feel like I didn't used to be. I used to be good at this. I used to be sharp, and clever, with an impeccable track record. And now, I just can't stop...messing everything up."

Mobius felt his eyes well up with tears again, to his dismay.

"...I feel like all I ever do is let people down."

It was like a knife to his chest, Loki hearing that from Mobius, who was, in his eyes, the most clever man he'd ever known.

"Mobius. Look at me," Loki said, taking the agent's hands in his. "You are not letting anyone down, and you are not a failure. You're the smartest man in this entire godforsaken place. And I mean that."

Mobius smiled minutely, still struggling to keep Loki's gaze.

"I appreciate it, Lokes. I'm just..." Mobius sighed deeply, his shoulders drooping. "Tired. I'm so tired, Loki."

The agent couldn't keep the tears in his eyes from falling at that. Loki gently placed his hand on Mobius's cheek, wiping a tear away with his thumb. "I know, my dear. But we're here. We're okay. Everyone is okay."

Mobius nodded, his head falling forward in exhaustion.

"Let's get you to bed," Loki said.

...

Loki pulled the covers up over Mobius's shoulders. The god bit his lip, hesitant to leave, but he turned to do so anyway.

"Wait," Mobius murmured.

Loki's heart leapt. He turned back.

"Would you— Would you wanna stay for a bit, maybe?"

Loki smiled. "Sure."

Mobius returned his grin and sat up, patting the spot next to him.

Loki crawled in next to him, feeling uncharacteristically giddy, albeit a bit nervous as well, his heart beating a bit too quickly.

He turned to Mobius, both of them sharing a bit of laughter over the absurdity of the situation.

Loki couldn't remember the last time he'd shared a bed with someone, and was unsure if Mobius ever had.

"Sorry if I'm not the best company, I'm pretty exhausted," Mobius said.

"It's no trouble. I'm quite tired, myself," Loki replied.

"Well. Guess we best get some rest, huh?"

"Agreed."

Mobius turned and switched off the lamp beside him, laying down and positioning himself so he was facing Loki.

"You know, you've been fussing over me all night, I feel obligated to ask—" Mobius said, his tone playful, albeit sincere. "How are you? You good?"

Loki felt the urge to respond as usual, with his typical "Oh, I'm fine," but Mobius had been so honest and vulnerable with him. It was only fair that he did the same, despite his instinctual reluctance.

"I'm, well—" Loki stuttered, "I've been— in an odd place, I suppose?"

"Yeah? How so?" Mobius asked.

"Well, when you found out your tormentor was at fault for your gory and untimely death, it makes one reexamine a lot about themselves," Loki said, trying to keep his tone light and joking, failing to hold back a nervous stutter at the end of his sentence.

"I can imagine," Mobius responded, concerned. "I feel a need to apologize for— well, the whole interrogation deal."

"Oh, please, Mobius, no apology needed," Loki said, dismissive. "You were just doing your job. And I'm fine."

"Are you?" Mobius said, returning the same sharp and prodding gaze Loki had given him earlier.

"...Maybe not," Loki murmured.

"That's okay," Mobius said. "You don't have to be. We can be 'not okay' together. How's that sound?"

Loki nodded, lest the tears in his eyes escape if he uttered a word.

"Hey," Mobius whispered, taking Loki's chilled hand. "It's like you said to me. We're alright. We're safe."

Loki nodded, squeezing his eyes shut at the onslaught of memories and emotions flooding his mind.

"Do you, would it help if I—" Mobius stuttered.

Loki looked up at him, inquisitive despite his distress.

Mobius lifted his other arm minutely, indicating his offer.

Loki nodded, moving to wrap his arms around the agent, his head tucked perfectly underneath Mobius's chin. He breathed in deeply, trying to replace the images in his mind with the agent's comforting scent.

Mobius smiled as he felt a sense of love and adoration flood through him, warm and syrupy sweet like honey. He wrapped his arms securely around the god.

"Thank you," Loki muttered, exhausted.

"Thank you," Mobius replied. "We're in this together, alright?"

Loki nodded, finding one of Mobius's hands and lacing his fingers with the agent's, giving it a gentle squeeze. "We are."

Mobius returned the affirmation, squeezing Loki's hand as he let his eyes fall closed.

"Sorry if I get your pillowcase wet," Loki said, indicating his still-wet hair.

Mobius chuckled. "Small price to pay."