#i end up needing to do research cause my brain will only let me read like

[hinadori-chan]

hold on i’m second guessing myself now. from pla raid to current arc it’s been like 5 months, right? or thereabouts?

[lushandlamb]

The 12th House: You’re Stuck In The Story

If you have been into astrology for some time, you have surely come across the elusive descriptions of the twelfth house. Hospitals, hidden enemies, lurking, prisons, etc are all terms that come about when people attempt to explain this house. However, the twelfth house seems to shirk any attempt at being understood or conceptualized. It wants to stay opaque. I also never understood this house, despite my attempts to read astrology cheat sheets and research. The only time I came close was when I learned the phrase: “you’re stuck in the story.” What does that mean? The context I heard this phrase was someone discussing how their mother consoled them after a rough breakup. She told her daughter that she was stuck in the story. She was too busy going over the events, ruminating, trying to analyze and piece together how what was became what is. But this left her in the past, unfocused on the present, causing stress and anxiety.

In the last few years, I had a crush, or better named, a limerence on a man. I’m prone to these sorts of things. Anyway, I learned that his Moon and Jupiter crossed over my 12th house. It was an interesting realization. I had considered that maybe we could be like twins, partners that matched each other in mind and spirit. Despite the fact that he was already in a committed relationships, I saw our little looks at each other, the little talks we had, his politeness as a sign that love was breezing past us as we walked side by side, our feet matching in pace and beat. I asked myself how these encounters could just mean nothing. There had to be something there! How can I feel this way if it means nothing? But in the end, these were all just little things, little courtesies that I had taken to mean much, much more. I was stuck in the story, I rehashed this man and I’s relationship over and over. What happened between us? Did he…? Do I still….? Does she know about…? I only learned that we were never partners and we could never be partners because I could only stand as his shadow, not myself. Always dedicated to him, chasing after, happy to live on those amorphous interactions of what could’ve been love. Only to come to the realization that it was nothing to him. And then I asked myself how I had been tricked. I journaled. I wrote bad poetry and bad short stories. I did even worse tarot readings. I was building the story up in my mind, always the self-analyst.

But really, I was living in the realm of questions, irrationality, anxiety. I was stuck in the story and he became this dark matter in my brain. When I was bored and idle, when I was lazy and sedentary, I thought of him. I was losing my hold on it. It wasn’t something I could let myself think about because it was all I thought about. This is the twelfth house. It’s where confusion lives, it’s where dreams, that are seemingly rational and from reality but then distorted, are born. It’s what haunts you, keeps you in bed, keeps you unfocused, anxious yet already so tired. It’s the sappy, unrefined word vomit when you try to make sense of it. It doesn’t want to be put into words, it doesn’t want to be known because it takes away the disorder it brings, in how nebulous it is. This is how I came to understand the twelfth house. 

I will add that rumination can be necessary. I needed to reflect to realize what I had wasted, what I had lost, but it’s more of the spiraling. I knew the lesson, I had been aware, but all of this awareness only lead me to stay in this shady relationship, going over what I had known, creating more confusion.  There is a point where healthy reflection, meditation turns into overthinking and paranoia. The rational becomes distorted. Sometimes, you should let yourself live with the fact that you couldn’t understand it. That the center couldn’t hold (maybe, it never existed) and things fell apart.  Fin. 

[cipher-the-sidhe]

Do you know of any folklore or resources about blind people and magic or spiritual site? I do remember reading something in a book about Shinto but I would have to go back and transcribe it

Of course there's Odin

And then Argus and the Cyclops are all beings having to do with eyes.... I guess if there's anything that resonates with you in particular that you want to share? I've also been thinking about Cassandra

I don’t have a particular resource to direct you to. Truth is that anytime blindness comes up in folklore it usually Means Something, and I personally haven’t researched too much into anyone’s interpretation of that symbology. My own experience with blindness as a spiritual person and as someone who practices magic feels very intentional and meaningful, but I do not think my experience with it is universal.

My mind first goes to Welsh mythology and Morda- the blind man who helps tend the cauldron of Awen under the goddess Cerridwen’s command; and to the old stories of faery doctors passing on their Sight from mentor to apprentice by having the master put the palms of their hands on their student’s head and the bottom of their foot. In this way, their Gift would transfer from one to the other. This does imply that the mentor would either need to be surrendering their own Sight so their apprentice could have it, or they would be spreading part of it from themselves (almost like an infection, which seems appropriate when one considers the often brutal consequences of having Second Sight).

In both cases, mundane vision is disregarded in favor of a guiding inner or second Sight. Morda remains faithful to the Goddess’ task of brewing the Awen, never once casting his mortal gaze onto the potion. But when Gwion Bach stares into it, he is entranced and that leads him to stealing (on purpose or not is up to debate) the gift of Awen for himself and betraying the Goddess Cerridwen, and consequently being hunted down and devoured by Her. This speaks to a frequently present theme of punishment by the Otherside for the abuse (or indeed use at all) of second sight.

At the same time, there are countless stories of people being struck blind- poc sidhe- by the fair folk for viewing them without permission. The Good Neighbors do not like to be observed as a general rule. This has always been interesting for me to think about, because while I was born with second sight, I was not born blind, and indeed I became blind/visually impaired only about 3 years ago under mysterious circumstances. That is, no doctor has yet to be able to explain what is causing my vision loss, despite conditions about myself that should have been able to otherwise explain it (I have a brain tumor that sits precisely between my optical nerves, yet does not appear to in any way be affecting them. And nothing else so far has solved this mystery as to why I am still blind). So was I punished randomly after 25 years of having second sight by some Neighbor that didn’t like me catching sight of them? I don’t think so, but it is still interesting to think about how my second sight and the loss of most of my first sight could be related.

Sorry, I ended up rambling a lot! TLDR is that no, I don’t really have any resources to suggest. I’m not sure that this topic has been covered by anyone in our position before in a comprehensive way. But if you do come across anything, please let me know! And I will do the same.

[neewtmas]

Jealous // Part I

A/N: finally managed to write a part II to this

pairing: george karim x fem!reader

wordcount: 1.4k

masterlist

The only source of light that illuminates the kitchen are a couple of almost burned down candles on the table, their flickering light sending shadows dancing over the tablecloth and the kitchen cabinets. I stare at the indents my nail makes as I drag it over the cloth, again and again, in a never-ending circle. The quiet clanking of metal against porcelain tells me that George is still stirring his tea. It must be cold by now.

“When do you think they’ll be back?” I ask, not taking my eyes off the table. Silence. George has stopped stirring, and I know he’s rubbing his eyes behind his glasses like he does every time he’s tired and stressed. “I don’t know.”

I let my eyes wander over to the old clock that hangs on the wall right next to the door that leads into the hallway. The larger, slightly crooked hand has almost reached the top, telling me it’s nearing 4 am. Usually Lockwood and Lucy aren’t out that late, especially not when the case they had set out to solve was such a minor one. Or seemed like it on paper. George and I had been back since shortly after 1 am, the case we had to solve being simple in every sense of the word.

Since then, we had slowly run out of things to talk about, and I had given up on racking my brain for further conversation topics. That’s not usual at all for us, just a few weeks ago we would have never sat in silence for that long. Except when reading and researching in the library maybe. We had been what you could call a team from the day I started my employment at Lockwood & Co, mostly brought together by the fact that half the time, Lockwood and Lucy just had a dynamic that made one feel like they were intruding on something.

It took some time for George to warm up to me, but I thought he considered me his friend by now. Yet here we were, sitting in silence in the dimly lit kitchen, avoiding looking at each other. I wish I knew what had cause this shift between us, but I don’t have any time to ruminate over it. The sound of the front door opening and falling shut and boots on the creaky floorboards make me perk up. George’s eyes briefly meet mine before the kitchen door flies open and Lockwood steps into the room, followed closely by Lucy. They seem exhausted, but uninjured.

Lockwood plops down on a chair, still in his coat, and lets out a big sigh. “Tea”, is all he says, while Lucy scoots next to me on the bench. George gets up without a word, pours two cups from the kettle on the stove and comes back to the table to put them down in front of Lockwood and Lucy, much more forceful than needed. The cup leaves a stain on the cloth as Lockwood raises it to his lips to take a sip, and immediately spits it out again. “Now that’s actually disgusting”, he grimaces, putting down the cup. “Yes, because it’s been on the stove for three hours”, George snaps. “Where the hell have you been?!”. Lockwood raises his arms in defence, evidently surprised by George’s intense reaction. “Calm down, everything’s fine. We had an issue with the cab and couldn’t find a new one, so it took a little longer than usual.” He gives George one of his charming smiles that is sure to diffuse any tense situation, but George seems immune to it today. “Well thanks to you I had to sit here for three hours, wasting my time!” He rises from his seat, clearly agitated. “Don’t expect me to be up early tomorrow.” With that he leaves the room, not sparing any of us another glance. No one says a word, until somewhere in the house, a door shuts loudly. “Phew, someone’s in a bad mood”, Lockwood chuckles as he gets up to prepare a new kettle. “What’s gotten into him? Did your case go wrong?”

I shrug, feeling somewhat deflated. I wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but the fact that George just spent three hours with me only to leave and call it a waste of time stings pretty badly. “I don’t know”, I say weakly, “He hasn’t really talked to me at all today.” Lucy looks at me quizzically. “All week, actually”, I add, and cringe at how pathetically small my voice sounds. We stay silent for a while, until the tea was ready. “Do you know of anything that might have upset him?”, Lucy asks, smiling at Lockwood who hands her the first cup of tea he poured. He sets one down in front of me as well, before he resumes his place on the chair, his own steaming cup in hand.

I search my brain, for something, anything, but I come up empty. “I have no idea. Everything was fine a couple of days ago.” I stare at the cup in front of me. Lucy goes to drop in a sugar cube, stirs it a couple of times and hands it to me. “Since when exactly is he acting like that?”, she asks, and I take a sip. The hot tea burns my lips and tongue and my throat on the way down and distracts me as I try to recall the events of last week.

“I guess since the last time we were at the library, last Thursday”, I say. “What happened there?” Lucy asks again, and I continue. “That’s the thing, nothing. We were just at our usual table, doing our usual stuff, nothing special. Kipps and his crew stopped by for a few minutes and were annoying, but that’s really the most exciting thing that happened.” Lucy sits up straighter, clearly interested now.  “Did Kipps do anything?”

“No. He just introduced the newest member of his team to us, but I don’t recall his name. Joe? Or Jonas?” Lockwood huffs, annoyed just like every time we talk about Kipps and his team. “Johnathan. I’ve seen him once, seems about as incompetent as the rest of them.”

I nod. “Right. Well, when I went to bring back a book, I ran into him, and he asked me out on a coffee date.” Lucy gasps, and Lockwood leans forward, waiting for me to continue. “Did you say yes?”, Lucy asks urgently, and I can’t tell what she wants the answer to be. I shake my head incredulously.  “Obviously not. Well anyways, a while later we pack up our stuff, and on the way out, we walk past their table. And he yells after me ‘don’t forget our date, sweetheart!’. When we were outside, George asked me what that was about, and I just told him he asked me out earlier.”

Lucy covers her mouth with her hand and stares at me, wide-eyed. “Did you also tell him you said no?!”

I shake my head.  “I kinda thought that was implied”, I say, twiddling with my fingers.  Lockwood laughs, and I just look at him in confusion. “Nothing implied that”, he says, raising his eyebrows. “Poor Georgie thinks your going on a date, and that’s why his mood is so sour. He’s jealous!”

My face heats up, and I can just tell I’m scarlet right now. “Why would he be jealous?”, I mumble, embarrassed. “Well, that’s easy to answer”, Lucy chuckles. My cheeks burn at the implications of her words. George? Jealous? Never in a million years would I have come to that conclusion. “But then why would he just stop talking to me?”, I ask, exasperated because Lockwood and Lucy seem to enjoy my embarrassment a little too much. 

“Because it’s George”, Lockwood simply says. “That’s what he does.” A smile tugs at his lips. “I suggest we go to sleep now. Maybe you’ll have a nice dream about your lover boy.” I think my head is about to explode, and I’m not sure which one he is talking about. I look over to Lucy for help, but she just bites her lip to keep from bursting out laughing. “Lockwood is right”, she manages to say, before she can’t hold her laughter anymore. I hurry out of the kitchen, face beet red.

[lovimagines]

Assumptions

[Alpha!Tomura x Fem!Omega!Reader x Alpha!Dabi]

[Part 1 of ?]

Summary: You find yourself having fun at an arcade when a stranger approaches you, offering you a position within his team. Things go south, quickly.

Warnings: A/B/O, possible canon divergence, swearing. (Please politely let me know if I missed something/need to tag anything else!!)

Word Count: ~1,900

A/N: The ‘____’ is your name! THIS IS MY FIRST TIME WRITING A/B/O!! I’m very new to it, and have done research, but I’m still learning! Also quick note, reader is close to Dabi’s age in this! At the very least, reader is meant to be 18+! I also haven’t written for BNHA in literally 4ish years? So... please go easy on me! One last thing, reader is written as neurodivergent! This is a kind of a self indulgent fic, but i wanted to leave it sort of vague so a lot of people could read it! -Beth

The universe seemed to be out to get you. For the longest time you assumed you were quirkless, you assumed you would be an alpha, and you assumed you’d have your best friend forever.

Within a long, drawn out several years, those things were proven to be very wrong. You lost your best friend. You had a horribly powerful Quirk. And once you hit puberty, it was revealed you were an Omega.

Life couldn’t get more rough. So you thought.

U.A. High School seemed to be a good thing that could be going for you, when you were younger. But, once you failed the hero exam and were told you too… ‘Unstable’, you were sent packing. Your Quirk was ruthless, and very much so unstable, but you thought someone would be able to help you with that.

Years passed and when you did not show any interest in any of the alphas that would present themselves to you, your parents were growing tired. Eventually you ended up moving out and living with Quirk (curse) on your own.

It proved difficult but you did it, all by yourself for a while there. And then your life is completely flipped again when a villain presents himself to you, asking for you to join him and his cause.

You hum to yourself as you walk around an almost empty arcade. You don’t allow yourself out often, due to the hell that is your Quirk, so when you do let yourself enjoy the world around you, you soak it all up.

“Hey lady!” A kid screams from the other side of the arcade. There aren’t many ladies in the arcade, causing you to turn around. You look and some boy is rushing you. You reel back and cock your head at the kid. He gets to you, bends over and catches his breath, then begins to talk once more. “Is that your initials on the race car game?”

You snort, “Yeah, how did you know?”

“I saw you use that thing the other day. I wanna race you. I wanna beat you!” The kid sounds determined. You only nod and let him lead you to the game. You take a seat on the metal, barely padded chair and grab the steering wheel of the game. The little boy gets on the game connected to yours, right beside you, and readies himself.

You start the ‘race’ and are quick to get in the lead. Within the time limit you destroy that little kid. You notice once the game is finished he is the third on the leaderboard. Someone’s under him.

“Hey kid.” A voice comes from behind the both of you and you turn around, “Get up, it’s my turn.”

The kid doesn’t question it and he quickly excuses himself. The tall man sits down, and looks over at you. His face is obscured by his hood and his long, blue hair, but you can definitely feel his eyes on you. Your grip on the gaming wheel tenses and you avert your gaze.

You begin to get up, but you’re stopped. “No. I wanna beat you. You are the first one, right?”

He was second place. You groan. “What do I get if I win?”

“I don’t know, what do you want, _____?”

You freeze. You hadn't told him your name. With knuckles turning white, you stare at him for a moment. You look back at the screen in front of you and your jaw clenches tight. You inhale sharply through your nose and wonder how someone’s found you. You then have to rack your brain to remember if you took your suppressants that morning.

You're sure you have, so you calm down slightly, but you’re still terrified. You ignore his earlier comment and mumble a ‘let’s get started’ and both of you start the race. You're tense but you don’t let that throw you. You’re still able to win, and with ease.

“Ok. I won.” Your throat is dry, it’s hard to swallow, and your hands are aching. “Now what?”

“Well, it’s only polite if you let me talk to you after beating me that badly.”

You can’t tell if the niceness in his voice is forced or if he’s just… awkward. You want to believe it’s the ladder. You agree to talk to him and stand from the game. You look at him with big, worried eyes, and take a shaky breath.

“I’m not going to murder you or something,” His voice is low, gruff, and almost confused sounding.

“Oh.” That made you feel worse honestly. You’re back is to one of the walls and you inhale sharply. “Um, can I ask how you know me?” You are sure he hears you gulping down your spit. “I mean, I don’t even know you…”

The man gives you a wide smile and backs you into the wall. Your back hits the cool brick and you’re cornered. ‘Oh, and he isn’t going to kill me,’ you think to yourself. You watch his Adam's apple bob and feel yourself drawn to him momentarily. Something about him was enticing, but you couldn’t tell if it was your heat coming soon or if you just thought he was mysteriously sexy.

His hands grab either side of his hood and it drops, revealing blue hair and blood red eyes. You go to gasp, and a dry hand is covering your mouth, one of his fingers lifted above your skin. He shushes you and you’re struggling to breathe out of fear. You wanna just crumble, fold even, but you don’t. You stand frozen, watching the League of Villains leader staring at you. His eyes bore into yours.

“Sh, we don’t need to alert anyone, though I’m sure your Quirk could help us…” You only nod a little. “I have a proposition for you, ____,” his face drops, looking more serious now. You let him speak, without interrupting, you aren’t sure you want to say no anyway. “I know how the heroes treated you. You were thrown out like some animal.” Tears prick your eyes as he continues to speak, bringing memories up that you did not want to think about. “I know that must eat away at you.”

You shut your eyes, a couple tears falling from them.

“I think we can help you. Just as much as you could help us. We’d benefit each other greatly.”

It takes a moment. But you open your eyes once more and nod. You nod in agreement, in agreement of everything he just said. You were hurt by U.A, quite tremendously. And maybe, the league could help you with your so-called curse.

His hand falls from your mouth and he’s quick to pull his hood back up. You inhale sharply, your breath catching as you catch Tomura’s scent. You hoped and prayed that he could not catch your scent. You exhale slowly and look at Tomura with a curious gaze.

“Can we stay here a little longer though? I don’t get out often… And I wanted to get a prize before leaving.”

Tomura groans but gives you a reluctant nod. You smile at him and begin your walk towards the claw machines. Tomura is hot on your trail, watching you closely as you reach the machine. Without him even asking, you begin to tell him what you’re doing. “I like to get prizes every time I go out! They’re souvenirs, I guess.”

“Your Quirk makes it easier.”

You expect it to sound like a question, but he ends it as a fact. He knows. You are almost uneasy. He knows more about you than you’d like, and you’re far too scared to ask how.

“How does your Quirk work exactly?”

You wanted to hit him with a ‘how do you not know that?’ but you did not. “I’m unsure, really. I think about the outcomes, the probability and… it changes. I’m not very good at it, even now. Little things are easier, though. Like this-” You put a quarter in the claw machine, “Which one do you like?” Tomura gives you a confused look and points to a random plushie and you nod. “It’s easy to fix this outcome. It's easy to luck out here.”

The claw goes down on the plushie and you easily bring it to the opening. You drop it and bend over, pulling the plushie out. You stand up straight, Tomura’s eyes not leaving you. You extend your arm and give him a goofy grin. When he doesn’t immediately take it, you frown. You pull the plush back to you and Tomura cocks his head. You avert your gaze once again and Tomura is trying to process what just happened.

“You wanted to give me-” You interrupt Tomura with a nod. He sighs, “I thought you kept them.”

“No, not always. I mean, I love to collect things, but sometimes other people need them more than I do. I like to think that it gives them a bit of my luck.”

Tomura is unmoving for a moment. Wheels turning. You can tell he’s thinking really hard about something, but you’re unsure as to what.

“Give me that damned stuffed animal.” Tomura takes it from your grasp, fucking it under his arm as not harm it, and you smile widely at him. “Can we go now?”

You nod. Tomura leads you out and you two set out for wherever the hell he was taking you.

When you reach the hideout, you feel your nerves acting up. ‘Fuck, my suppressants,’ you can’t help but freeze in your spot. Tomura’s hand grips your waist and he begins to pull you forward. You start walking again, trying to push your worries and fears away.

The door of the hideout opens and you stand beside Tomura like some terrified animal. Everyone in the general vicinity looks at the both of you. Your wide fearful eyes, and Tomura pulling you closer, as if he didn’t want them to jump you.

“Who is she~” The blonde girl speaks up first.

“This is-”

Another person enters the room. A person covered with staples and scars. Another Alpha. Your eyes lock with his and for a moment, you feel nostalgia. And not the good kind. The kind that makes your stomach turn and tears well up in your eyes.

“Who the fu-” He stops himself. Tomura is glaring at him, and his eyes are just stuck on you. You want to run, but the grip Tomura has on your side is debilitating.

“_____.”

He knows you. More than Tomura does. He knows you.

Those eyes are unforgettable and you're suddenly very aware of why you felt so sick.

“Touya?”

“You two know each other?”

You’re stuck in your spot still. You watch as he begins to make his way towards you and you cower into Tomura’s side. You thought you would never fear your best friend. But you also thought you’d never, ever see him again.

“How the fuck did you find her?” He’s pissed. ”Get her the fuck out of here. Right now.”

You blink at him, tears forming. Tomura’s grip somehow tightens, and you’re left standing beside two alphas who look like they’re ready to rip each other’s throats out.

“No.” That’s all Tomura says at first. He isn’t backing down. There is a short pause, “This is _____, our newest team member.”

[somekindofsentience]

katya and dmitry (my beloveds), or discussing mutation motifs in texts from a biological and psychological standpoint

CONTENT WARNING: DISCUSSIONS OF MENTAL ILLNESS AND HUMAN EXPERIMENTATION.

READING-THIS WARNING: I MISINTERPRET STUFF A LOT, THIS IS PURELY MY INTERPRETATION OF THE SERIES. SORRY IF I'M WRONG. :(

When I first watched through Parties are for Losers and its respective songs, my brain was already whirring. Come on. I'm a Vocaloid nerd, obviously I have to look into it, and I know something is up, which means the analysis brain begins. I really enjoyed the Evillous Chronicles, and it seemed as though this was similar. Unlike it, this was actually in English (being set in Russia), and the narrative felt inherently more understandable, although that may just be because it's only 13 songs, compared to Evillous' 82.

AND it covers topics of biology and its affects on psychology. it's perfect. why have i never heard of this before??!?!?!?

There's a lot of aspects to explore within PafL, but I want to specifically focus on Katya (KT) and Dmitry, and their mutations, taking a biological and social approach to their current mental state. I will refer to Katya by her full "name" because it feels a little more humanising, and our baby girl deserves that.

Human experimentation/mutation is a fascinating topic to explore, because it questions the essence of humanity itself - how could you do that to another human being, a child, no less? End and Save is one of my favourite webtoon comics because of this. The abilities that these children gain typically have significant disadvantages, due to the inherently unethical nature of the creation. In some ways, the mutation itself explores corruption.

Biologically, genetic mutations are a natural occurrence, resultant from selection. We are nowhere near the current level needed to cause significant mutation like that of Katya and Dmitry's, and despite what most people think, there's actually no real intention to head in that direction. Therapeutic gene editing (LITERALLY MY SPECIALISED INTEREST. LIKE I WANT TO GO INTO THIS IN THE FUTURE. THIS IS PERFECT.) strays away from eugenics, and focuses on curing genetic disease. It's a fascinating topic of research, and one I hold dear to me. CRISPR my beloved

Katya's mutant ability is directly related to stress. It causes the extensive growth of tissue when she's in a stressful situation, and she has limited control over the flesh. This then has to be cut off, leaving serious wounds to heal on her skin.

art by Ferry

Taking this biologically, it would have to be mutation related to extreme cell division in tissue - in more simple terms, it's not unlike cancer, where a cell does not consider the required markers for division, and instead rapidly divides. Katya's seems far more controlled than cancer, sticking only to particular sites, and also significantly more extreme. Considering the stress required, it may actually be related to an influx of hormonal changes during stress sequences.

As a result of this, Katya is hypersensitive to the emotion of others and can tolerate a high amount of stress, with inherent optimism. She's relatively simple, and tries her best not to let her abilities weigh her down. In the end, she resigns herself to undeserving of true kindness, suggesting she has some well-hidden low self-esteem.

Dmitry's mutant ability seems more controllable, and therefore powerful, than Katya's. He has the ability to pick up anything, with vague limitations on weight, provided he knows specific location and it is within a 15 metre radius.

art by Ferry

Telekinesis from a biological standpoint? I'm not opening that can of worms. I'm not even gonna try. Make it up yourself. I'm pretty sure A Certain Scientific Railgun couldn't even really explain Kuroko's powers, and I'm one small scrawny rat.

Dmitry suffers severe physical consequences as a result of this ability, even using it regularly - severe headaches, loss of consciousness, and dizziness, which can been seen when he attempts to save Anya. Dmitry is significantly more cautious of the outside world than Katya is, and he's somewhat more hostile, threatening Yura and Sanya when he is blackmailed. However, he's practical, likely from the skills taught to him through use of telekinesis.

Dmitry and Katya were set out to have a negative relationship, due to the power dynamics between the two of them making them inherently different people. Dmitry was used for several years as an "assistant" to test Katya's abilities, and seems to hold a grudge with her over that. They have differing opinions on the outside world, particularly due to the way Dmitry's inhumanity was repeated to him often, as the lab researchers began to fear his power. He's not so pessimistic that he acts as contrast to Katya, but the clashing elements still causes them to go their separate ways in KT's Guide.

I couldn't find any specific links between the use of GUMI as KT and Fukase as Dmitry, but I'm sure there is some when considering the different Vocaloids used as a whole. I just wish I could understand what it was, but I don't quite know enough about Vocaloid as a whole for that. Alternatively, it could just be because of gender and the fact that both sound good with the style of the song.

song i wrote this listening to (after PafL, of course): sleep thru ur alarms by Lontalius

it's been a rough night, okay? i needed this as a distraction.

thanks so much to powercoreact for the suggestion! i genuinely really enjoyed this, and you hit my secret hidden love for vocaloid right in the feels. can you believe i watched this like an hour ago??? i feel like i've known it for years.

[kuwdora]

Istredd recs

Here are some Witcher recs of Istredd with Geralt and a few stories with Yen 'cause I love Istredd a whole lot!

Geralt/Istredd

Alright, let me tell you about @brighteyedjill 's series Collaborative Scholarship, because this is 100000% my jam.

Research Methods (5,302w. Explicit) features Istredd enlisting Geralt to retrieve some arachas eggs. Of course Istredd discovers Geralt’s unorthodox method of collecting the eggs via oviposition. What you need to know about this fic is that Geralt and Istredd are complete and utter NERDS. And adorable. The story is also incredibly sweet and endearing and god, the banter is so good.

Advanced Study (5,589w. Explicit) is where Istredd gets fisted by Geralt and it’s so fucking cute and dorky and nerdy and hot. The Istredd POV is just absolutely exquisite the entire way through. Denial, cute horny thirst, nerdy. Geralt is dry and funny, but also nerdy and sweet. This fic really does have everything for these two.

The Scholar in the Ruins by @bittylildragon. (9,944w. Explicit). Istredd enlists Geralt’s help with some wraiths at some elven ruins. THIS IS SO SOFT. Like!!! Geralt has such low self-esteem but he ends up having such a good fucking time with Istredd. They're so soft. I adore the way Geralt tries to understand Istredd’s motivations about the elves and how Istredd manages to surprise and disarm Geralt with his sincerity and charm. This fic is a joy to read. (Also it is incredibly hot!!)

The Giant Bumblebee (1661w. Teen) by C_hawk. Istredd saves Geralt from bleeding out and Geralt returns the favor by helping Istredd look for a monster of interest. This is a cute, banter-y fic that sends me in a happy tizzy because their dynamic is hilarious and lovely. I'm smitten with how Istredd doesn't really know what to do with Geralt.

The Thing You Loved (1057w. Teen) by @brighteyedjill. Istredd gets kidnapped! ISTREDD WHUMP. ISTREDD WHUUUUUUMP and Geralt. I adore thiiis fic, I ADORE THIS. This is more Istredd whump than just slash but it just sets off happy firecrackers in my brain because their dynamic!! Is so good!!

points of the same star (468w. Mature) by and_a_dash_of_Angst. This is a great smutty ficlet with some bondage and d/s vibes. The twist at the end is AMAZING!!

If You Go on Like This (4582w. Teen) by @brighteyedjill. Geralt rescues Istredd and they learn a little about each other along the way. I. ADORE. THIS. God… I could just eat up this pairing all day long forever. Jill manages to build up their dynamic so subtly, slowly, delightfully and I am in LOVE. This is more of a Geralt & Istredd situation instead of the slash but ooooh, so delicious.

as flies do by flirtygaybrit (7020w. Teen). Geralt shows up to the conclave of mages on Thanedd and finds an potential ally in Istredd. The ongoing metaphor in this is superb, and Geralt’s humor is just absolutely spectacularly hilarious and dry and witty. ALSO. Omg! Istredd’s first line in this fic: “I can’t say I’d be any richer for being accused of ogling a witcher’s backside.” It only gets better from there. Their dynamic!! is top fucking incredible! If you love delicious imagery and prose, please check out this fic. It’s mindblowingly good.

Yennefer/Istredd

One Last Thing, Before I Go (3283w. Mature) by @arse-blathanna. Alright, so this is a sad Istredd and Yen get back together and breakup again, so it’s painful and ache-y in the most exquisite way. I love this Yen POV and it’s so difficult to let go of that first love. They don’t really fit together in the same way anymore, but they’re trying...even though it’s not enough. So if you’re in the mood for some angst, this is a fic you want punching you in the heart. 😭❤️

A Little Chaos (1223w. Mature) by @brighteyedjill. Istredd and Yennefer. Whumpily sweet sex pollen that is so lovely and emotionally satisfying.

Come Back For You (2:52) by me, @kuwdoravids. This is my Yen/Istredd, Istredd/Geralt, Istredd/History fanvid. Didn't I, didn't I, didn't I say I would be the one to make you feel this way. The love and pain of caring for another person (and about history!). Moving through the shit to be there because that's just what you have to do. Even though people aren't really listening to you. Come for Istredd's gorgeous face, stay for the vibes and feelings!

[musicfeedsmysoul12]

Random thought time:

-I don’t typically like fics where anyone other then Izuku is gender bent because I’m my experience it becomes this weird sort of… bleh mess that doesn’t stay true to the characters.

For example: fics where Todoroki is turned female give me weird vibes a lot (not all but some) because they make her less Shouto and more ‘ice Queen girlfriend who is emotionally intelligent and super smart’ when in reality Shouto is an emotionally dense wall. Not dumb (defiantly not as often shown in fanfic) but he’s not that smart about emotional or social stuff. By removing that you remove a huge part of his character. And sure different socialization but let’s be real: I can still see Endevaour moulding Fem!Shouto into his successor especially if Rei can’t have more kids. (Headcanon but yeah) so her experiences are mostly the same.

Other examples include just… they like make the characters so off in my head it’s hard to read. Like I read a Fem Kirishima where she was all long hair and giggles and I’m like: Fem!Kiri is the biggest ducking himbo in the world who is jacked as fuck and has her short spiky hair still. That’s Kirishima.

- I’m still salty about the ‘this character is bisexual with a harem but only has the opposite gender in the harem’ shit.

- I find myself not giving a fuck about Tsu more and more but I’m reminding myself it’s cause of fanfics and that I need to research shit to get back to liking her. I still don’t like Izu/Ocha/Tsu though and never will.

- I have come to the conclusion I will refuse to make Iida, All Might or Izuku a bad person in fics because they get enough shit and I love them.

- I really want to write a story with an older sister for Izuku who ends up raising him cause I’m giggling over the idea.

- I hate time travel in the sense of ‘we can go back in time but cannot interact with anyone due to paradox’. I like it as in ‘the world ended so fuck it. Let’s go back and try again’.

- I find myself wishing I’d not had Inko be a bad person in POTSOD, but I don’t fully mind cause I like writing Dadzawa.

- I sometimes wish to try and write out Raising Kacchan but fuuuuuuck I don’t wanna deal with Stan’s finding it and then my other shit.

- I am very annoyed each time I see a tiktok whining about genderbends. Yes, some suck. Others though are fucking amazing as they observe shit.

-I had Shinsou/Jirou ONCE and now my brain keeps poking it with a stick.

- I refuse to write ShinKami anymore because I can’t stop just seeing smaller EraserMic and it feels so cheap to do it because fan authors literally make it the whole thing that it’s the second coming and fuuuuuck it’s boring.

- Ms Joke’s flirting should be treated like how Mineta flirts as Aizawa does not seem to be amused by it, and his reaction to her showing up is oh shit, not ‘oh yes!’

- I wanna write a one sided crush for Aphrodite Rising that ends very badly as in scorched earth who isn’t someone anyone expects because I wanna make it hurt and really examine how toxic views on things can affect anyone and sometimes you don’t realize how toxic they are until it’s staring you in the face.

- Any fic that has any character other then Izuku be Quirkless (Uraraka, Shout, Bakugou and so on) should be avoided in my mind because half the time it’s a thin excuse to bash Izuku and the other it’s just dumb. Write him getting into the hero course!!

- I still believe the best character arc for Bakugou is for him to never rise about the mid rankings as this shows he will accept it’s not a competition and that heroics should be about saving people not beating them.

- I would have 90% less of an issue with Bakuhou is it wasn’t for the idea that Izuku HAS to be his friend after.

- I have ranted about the above before.

- … I have in fact read some B@kuDe€u fics that weren’t bad, but like that’s a rare fucking find that doesn’t have Izuku be a freaking doormat that just smiles and nods at the shit that Bakugou pulls.

- I got called a hypocrite a while back on POTSOD and I think it was about Bakugou and you know what? Fuck it. Fine, call me that. I’ll admit it. Will anyone else admit they’re one to for stabbing the fuck out of him while screaming about Endevaour?

- speaking on that the more I think about it the more I’m like: I might… kind… maybe… sorta… don’t mind his redemption arc because while I firmly think the message you must always forgive your abuser is a shitty one I do know that at least he is trying. I just think it’s a bit to little to late but he acknowledges that at least in some cases.

- someone said they hate Magne because people only like her as she’s trans and they ignore Toger and stuff. They were also giving off mad homophobic and transphobic vibes with their shit though but… fucking hell they had a point and I hate it. Magne’s character is so flat that… yeah. That’s a fucking point for a lot of her love. (Not that it’s wrong or anything but where is the Tiger love?)

- I plan on redemption arcs for Toga in a few fics but I’ll be blunt they are not what people normally expect.

- I love asshole Dabi but I do enjoy my ‘he’s a good brother’ fics it’s just asshole Dabi is more fun to write. Maybe I’ll try one day to write it but until then… yeah.

- I’ve warmed up to TodoDeku and UraDeku more but I still stand by the idea that Iida often gets forgotten and he should be around way more. I see to many fics replace him with Todoroki and it kind of made me salty about the platonic friendship between Todo and Izuku. Why are you replacing Iida?!

- JiroMomo has reached a similar state as UraTsu to me: I find it stale because it’s often used in fics as a background pairing and sure they’re friends but there’s the ‘get the girls out of the way’ vibe mixed with ‘yeah they’re friends but… can I personally see chemistry!?’

- it is after midnight and I think my laundry is done after my giant ass purge/clean today so good night. Send me asks about this shit to if you want

[mcverse]

To the anon that requested this. I tried saving it to draft with my response, but it vanished into thin air?? so I have to start all over. Hopefully you can see this.

Point to consider when reading this, I know nothing about d&d, so I did a little research trip just for you. Be kind to me :(

And thank you for requesting Knb, I love these guys so much.

For those that don’t know what D&D is aka me, it’s a fantasy tabletop role-playing game. I believe that they have a mobile or pc version similar to it. And a campaign is a continuing storyline or set of adventures, typically involving the same characters.

I cannot imagine any of the characters playing the game willing at first. Shocker, not really like let’s be honest. The only way I can think of them getting even close to the game would be because somehow it’s Midorima’s lucky item for that day.

Like he just shows up with it one day, tucked under his arms like an added appendage, no big deal.

Kuroko would have never heard of the game.

Kise might be interested, seeing it as a challenge.

Aomine wouldn’t care because if it’s not basketball or tits, you get it.

Murasakibara is only around when it’s snacks. If it’s not snacks, he’s not interested.

Akashi might definitely does know of it simply cause he’s big brain. He taught himself how to play it so he can converse easier if it’s ever brought up in conversation.

Kagami’s just lost, stop playing with me. Midorima just gets stranger to him. Like who walks around with a board game?

Wrong, it’s a tabletop game, Bakagami.

That said, just because they weren’t interested in it at the start doesn’t mean they won’t be by time they go their separate ways.

Midorima would be annoyed because Kise definitely snatched it out of his arms. He then tells everyone to play, where they disagree simultaneously. It’s only when he taunts them, saying they’re just scared that he’ll beat them, despite it not being that kind of game, do they cave.

Akashi with his power controlling hard on takes the reigns before Kise do what Kise does; look like a fool. He explains the game, ignoring groans and mutters about not wanting to play. It didn’t matter because now he’s invested. And what Akashi says is absolute per canon.

He makes up the setting, the bad guy, end goal and even narrates the whole thing. He does give the other free range to choose their characters.

Kagami is a Barbarian, Aomine is a fighter, Kise is a bard, Kuroko is a druid, Akashi is a wizard, Murasakibara is a clerics and Midorima is a sorcerer.

Surprise, Midorima is the bad guy, for bring the damn game in the first place.

It starts off nice, them not really caring about the storyline or how it affects their character. Then it gets kinda chaotic. Like what. the. fuck.

Kuroko being the wholesome boy that he is, actually understood the game at first but now he doesn’t know what the hell is going on anymore… he likes that he was building up his animal friend roster, but Midorima needs to seriously back the fuck off with his nasty as vine spells on the forest.

Kagami is living the dream, showing unforgettable strength and purpose. Yet despite being in the same traveling company as him, he keeps picking fights with Aomine, who equally heads him on with just as much fire. Aomine still doesn’t give a fuck and he’s gonna keep giving that same energy, rest easy on that.

Seriously what the fuck, can’t even be civil in role play?? Midorima’s sorcerer is practically hurling out a lung in laughter at you, like it’s all part of his plan. To him, they were weak sauce.

Everyone thought Kise was a clown. Who chooses to be a Bard? It wasn’t exciting, there wasn’t any action. But Kise is probably the only one that greatly affected the sorcerer by distracting him with his terrible music. Midorima was so annoyed, he was hindered speechless.

How? HOW??

Be for real, Murasakibara’s not even here. He’s probably the only one that’s checked out. Too busy munching on his snacks rather than contributing to the game. Only makes a move when Akashi tells him to, still barely an effort on his part.

Akashi, unsurprisingly, is giving Midorima a run for his power. It’s almost like Akashi should have been the bad guy, with the way he’s causing more problems than actually solving. He was a menace, who knew… unlucky for him, none of his attacks or plans actually work. Wtf bitch wait!

Midorima was strategically well made for his role. He even outsmarted Akashi, with the way it was going it didn’t seem like he would ever fall. His pride crumbled when they tried a different tactic, though.

Instead of fighting alone, they all worked together as a team like it was originally supposed to be. Even Murasakibara put in a little effort for this part, having enough of Midorima’s shitty attitude.

When the game came to a close, they all vowed to never, ever play this “dumb ass game” again. It’s definitely a one time for the one time type shii.

Especially when they can hang their victory over Midorima’s head.

[brokenmusicboxwolfe]

Today I was telling Mom about something I watched (a mediocre vampire film) , and as I got talking I wondered why never has a certain sort of character. It occurred to me would be a natural, yet in decades of watching and reading I have never once encountered anyone like them.

So I started going on about it, and Mom was getting interested even though she was tired. Suddenly I said, “Now THAT’S the character I want to read about!”

Damn.

No really. Damn. It would take a lot of work to get right, and time I don’t have, and OMG the research, and…

Still, I said to Mom that I really needed to go write the idea down. Maybe I would actually do something with it.

But then I was busy. Really busy.

Just before the post office closed I popped in to mail Mom some jelly. To my surprise someone recognized me from high school even though we hadn’t seen each other in decades. While I was scrambling to remember who they were, I did kind of a lousy job of asking about them while trying to answer their questions.

And what was about the first thing they asked?

“Did you ever write that book? You always said you were going to write one.”

Did I? I was always writing in my notebooks but I don’t remember ever telling anyone. I wanted to, just because all my brain was good for was daydreaming and that the only practical use I could figure for it. I just don’t remember talking about it.

Geez, maybe I did. I’ve had my old elementary school teachers nag me every time I run into them for not writing a book. “I expect you to have published a children’s book by the next time I see you!”

BTW! I have never intended to write children’s books. Undisciplined sprawling epics about grumpy outcasts saving the day through decidedly un-child friendly means with bittersweet endings only the victorious but traumatized know, sure. But what these people expect I don’t think I’m capable of, at least without ending up banned by some schools! LOL

“Did you ever write that book?”

It haunted me.

I went to rest my poor ankle before the last push of on my feet for the day. I flopped for 15 whole minutes, an eternity of rest for me, and what did my brain do for that time? Think about that character I’d mentioned to Mom!

My brain was obsessed. If they are this, then what would encountering that mean. How would this detail impact their past? How would their present be? Would they fit in the world or would the world of the story have to shift a little for them. In just a few minutes I had spun an ever increasing web around them.

Double damn!

I had an idea for a character I REALLY want to see, and the universe seems to be trying to nudge me into writing it…..

But I have no story. No plot. Just a character.

I thought tonight, feeling so energized by the ideas, I’d work on it.

Life didn’t let that happen. Too much to do, too little time, and always the exhaustion that mushes my brain too much for ideas to find a space.

The character is going to fester away in my mind, a sore place that won’t quite heal until I cut it open and let it bleed out onto the page. Or a sculpt. Or one of my silly painted boxes.

Unless life gets too much in the way. Then given enough time it will heal, but a messy healing that leaves a scar that no one else will see. But I will know it’s there, a reminder of the wounding an idea unused can cause.

[lostfracturess]

symptoms and causes | ch. 09

ღ pairing professor gojo x med student reader

ღ summary he's arrogant, self-centered, and he's your professor. renowned for his brilliance in neurosurgery and infamous for his allure. too bad you have to work with him on this research team. now you're stuck with dr. satoru gojo, delving into the complexities of both the brain and the heart—and of how far you'd go for a love that could destroy not only him but you as well.

ღ wc 11.5 k (i'm insane)

ღ warnings [18+] this story contains substance abuse/addiction, (rough) smut, mature themes, self-destructive behavior, (heavy) angst, mentions of death / illness / blood / abuse, graphic medical procedures. reader discretion is advised.

ღ author's note this chapter is in satoru's pov! "she/her" -> "you", also there is a minor character from the manga in this chapter but no spoilers :) also, this chapter gets kinda dark? pls remember this is fiction, don't do drugs and also don't sleep with addicts, thank you!! enjoy reading!! (fanart in the header) ♡

series masterlist + playlist + ao3 + wattpad

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Sweat trickled beneath the collar of my shirt.

My fingers dug into my arm, nails biting through the fabric.

If I didn't scratch, maybe I wouldn't lose my damn mind. Maybe the office walls would stop spinning long enough for me to think.

But the itch burning beneath my skin was too strong today, almost unbearable.

I barely registered Higurama's entrance as he pleasured me with yet another visit. He slumped into the chair across from me, looking less like a lawyer and more like a corpse given a temporary reprieve.

His sunflower pin, that obligatory symbol of his profession, seemed ironic given the permanent scowl etched onto his face.

"Well?" I snapped, desperate to break the silence that made the itch even more cruel. "Spit it out."

He sighed, then reached into his worn leather briefcase and retrieved a slim folder. He placed it on the desk. "The good news is, the brat's family is willing to settle. Saves us the headache of a trial."

"And the bad news?"

"It'll cost you. A lot." He slid the folder across the desk. "The kid wants a ridiculous sum, claiming emotional damages and whatnot."

I huffed, a harsh sound that echoed in the silent office. Images of the student's bloody face after I'd put him in his place flashed across my mind, the satisfaction fleeting. My fingers twitched at my sides, the urge to scratch growing stronger. I rolled down my sleeves. 

Damn my luck.

I slid the folder back to him, not needing to see the sum. "Tell them whatever he wants, he gets. Just make this go away."

Higuruma frowned. "I understand wanting this over with, but we could negotiate, bring that amount down—"

"No." I cut him off. "Money doesn't matter. If this mess disappears, it's worth every damn yen."

Higuruma's eyebrows shot up. "We're not talking about an insignificant amount, Gojo. You broke his jaw in seven bloody places, knocked out half his teeth."

A smirk twisted my lips. "Sadly not all of his teeth."

"Gojo," Higurama's voice held a warning edge I'd rarely heard from him. "You could be staring down the barrel of a prison sentence."

"That's why I have you, isn't it?" I leaned back in my chair. "Old friend's favor and all that."

Higurama's stare hardened. "This isn't like those scrapes I used to bail you out of. The consequences here are far more serious. I'd never agree to settle this if you weren't a friend. You should countersue that kid for drugging your student."

The mention of her made my stomach clench. "I said no," my voice low. "I won't drag her in front of some courtroom circus. End it, Higurama. Whatever it takes."

Higuruma let out a sigh that spoke volumes. He stood, straightening his jacket, that sunflower pin glinting with a false cheerfulness in the afternoon sunlight.

"Very well," he said. "I'll prepare the documents. Be advised, this could set a dangerous precedent—"

I cut him off with a raised hand, the very thought of potential consequences a fresh irritant beneath my skin. "Just get this over with," I said, forcing myself to meet his gaze. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a hospital to run."

He nodded and turned. 

As he reached the office door, I spoke, my voice low. "Higuruma."

He paused, one hand on the doorknob. "Yes?"

"You keep your mouth shut." It wasn't a request, but an order. "This doesn't touch her, understand?"

"I have my professional obligations, Gojo."

"And I have mine," I countered. "Her finding out is not an option."

"Perhaps it's a decision you shouldn't be making for her."

"Perhaps," I replied, the word a blade in the silence that followed. "But it's a decision I will make. That is all."

He nodded, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. He knew, the bastard. The truth wasn't just about the lawsuit, and it hung unspoken between us.

He opened the door and stepped out without another word.

I slumped back in my chair, the leather creaking in protest, and released a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding. It trembled as it left my lungs.

My hand. That goddamned traitorous hand was shaking again.

I fumbled in my desk drawer, fingertips brushing against the familiar shape of the pill bottle.  Clonidine. Not the ideal solution, but it was all I had right now.

I choked down the dry pills, the bitterness clinging to my tongue like a curse.

Why the sudden weakness? Why now?

I'd survived far worse without crumbling like this.

The room tilted slightly, the fluorescent lights blurring into white splotches. I squeezed my eyes shut and steadied myself, hands gripping the edge of the desk, knuckles turning white as the wood threatened to splinter under my grip. 

My breath hitched in my throat, each ragged gasp burning like acid.

No. I wouldn't let it take me. I wouldn't let her see me like this.

I could do this. I had to.

For her.

It was a lie, and I knew it. The pills would numb the physical symptoms for a while, but the real battle was the one in my head. And that, I was far from winning.

You can't run from what's inside your head, can you?

I needed fresh air.

─── ·✧· ───

I stumbled down the hallway, vision blurring slightly at the edges, willing myself to simply keep moving. My skin prickled and burned, every nerve on fire.

I burst through the double doors leading to the main lobby, momentarily disorientated by the sudden change from sterile hallways to the bustling public space.

My lungs sucked in a shaky breath, and with it came a scent — a subtle mix of something floral and the clean, faintly metallic tang of blood.

Her scent? 

What the hell—

My gaze swept the area, and there she was. She sat across the room, partially obscured by a crowd of people waiting to donate blood. The curve of her neck, the way her hair fell across her shoulders, were unmistakable. 

Why was she here, in the hospital?

If something was wrong, damn it, she should have told me.

But then I saw it. A needle was taped to the crook of her arm, a thin tube snaking down to a partially filled blood bag. She held a book in her hand and there was a line of concentration between her brows as she read, her thumb tracing idly across the page.

My hands fumbled to smooth down my shirt, a useless gesture since it was hopelessly wrinkled. Taking a steadying breath, I weaved through the crowd.

The trembling wouldn't quit, but with each step towards her, it seemed to lessen, replaced by a different kind of nervous energy. Still, I tried to project a calmness I didn't feel.

I couldn't let her see me like this, not now.

She still hadn't noticed me as I stood in front of her, her attention focused on the book in her hands. I leaned in, the scent of her perfume mingled with the sterile hospital smell, a combination both familiar and disturbingly intimate in this setting.

She was so engrossed in her book that she didn't notice me until I gently pushed it down, an easy smile pulling at my lips.

"What are you doing here?" I asked.

She blinked up at me. "What does it look like I'm doing?" Her eyes darted down to the needle in her arm, blood trickling steadily into the bag.

"Why didn't you tell me you were here?" I took the chair beside her, unable to contain my sudden annoyance. Why not tell me? It was illogical, this possessiveness, but damn it, I wanted to know.

"Thought I'd enjoy a few moments without your charming company." The sarcasm dripped sweetly from her lips, and under other circumstances, I might have countered with a playful remark of my own.

But today, my mind was something else. Looking away, I tried to ignore the subtle itch beneath my skin and focus on anything else.

"Quite the weather today, huh?" I finally blurted out, staring past her at the gray sky outside. Lame. Even for me.

"You came to me to talk about the weather?" She brought her book back up.

"It's going to storm soon."

"Is it?" She didn't even look up.

I watched her for a moment. Not just her face, but the way the sunlight painted delicate gold along her cheekbones, the way a single strand of hair had escaped, brushing against her lashes like a gentle whisper and creating a softness her serious expression couldn't hide.

It was a painfully beautiful sight, and so cruelly unlike my fucked up world. Some twisted part of me longed to disrupt it, to be the storm she couldn't ignore, even as another, saner part of me wanted to protect that peace, to protect her at all costs.

"What are you reading?" I asked.

"Kafka."

"Didn't know you were into literature." Damn, even to myself, I sounded like a condescending ass.

She lowered the book, meeting my gaze with equal parts amusement and defiance. "Believe it or not, I do read things that's not all about brains."

Something in the intensity of her expression, the way she held the book, made me want to understand this side of her. "What do you like about it?"

"There's just something about Kafka that speaks to me. It's—unsettling but in a compelling way." She closed the book for a second, her gaze lingering on the cover. "It's actually my second time reading it."

"Is this your favorite of Kafka's books?"

"It is."

"Read me your favorite part," I said, leaning back in the chair, folding my hands behind my head. My eyes slid closed, less to feign disinterest and more to focus on the sound of her voice.

She sighed, and the quiet rustle of pages told me she was flipping through the book. "Okay, but it might sound a bit strange out of context," she warned.

"I'm sure I'll love it."

I love everything that comes out of your mouth, silly.

"He wrote it to his father," she said, giving me a bit of context before she started to read.

"I'm not going to say that I have become what I am only as a result of your influence..."

Her voice was a soft caress. I drank it in, savoring her words, yet a shiver ran down my spine as she continued.

"...It is indeed quite possible that even if I had grown up entirely free from your influence I should probably have still become a weakly, timid, hesitant, restless person."

The words carried a cruel, familiar sting, each one leaving a fresh, burning scar on my skin.

"I should have been happy to have you as a friend, as a boss, an uncle, a grandfather, even as a father-in-law, only as a father you have been too strong for me..."

Too strong.

What a fucked up way to describe it. A child, small and defenseless, pitted against an unyielding force. Where was the justice in that?

My father's voice thundered through my mind. Like a knife, his disapproval carved into my very being. Not strong enough. Never enough. Not what a Gojo should be. Never living up to the legacy, never matching him.

Weakness. That's all he ever saw.

My fists tightened until my nails dug into my palms.

The old anger flared hot.

"...and for that I was much too weak." She closed the book.

My eyes snapped open, blinking in the harsh light. My head throbbed. The familiar itch clawed beneath my skin, a demanding, relentless torment. I dug my nails harder into my palms.

No. I wouldn't let him have that power, wouldn't lose control.

Her gaze flickered to mine, and I swore something shifted in the air between us.

"He describes how it was growing up with such a strong father, how it shaped him his whole life," she paused, her voice laced with hesitation. "He writes about the desire for approval, the weight of expectations. It's about seeking validation from someone who's supposed to guide you, but instead becomes this unattainable figure."

Her words echoed uncomfortably in my mind.

My gaze fixed on her hands, the way they nervously gripped the book, fingernails biting into the worn cover. Why was she so tense? Did she know? No, I never told her.

"Satoru?" Her voice sliced through my thoughts. 

Before I could respond, the shrill sound of my pager tore through the room. I fumbled for it, eyes scanning the stark message.

Brain bleed. Trial patient. ICU. STAT.

"Fuck." Adrenaline surged through me. I shot to my feet, "I've got to go. There was another brain bleeding with one of our trial patients."

"Wait!" She stood abruptly, her gaze locked on the IV line snaking into her arm.

What is she—

Wait—

What??

Before I could interfere, she yanked the needle out of her arm. A bead of blood gushed out, and she quickly pressed a cotton ball against it. "I'm coming with you."

For a split second I stared, stunned. This woman is completely insane. And I can't wait to marry her.

We sprinted through the hospital corridors, a blur of white walls and concerned faces. Bursting into the ICU, my heart pounded against my ribs, my focus narrowing to the patient on the bed. A doctor stood beside him, a grave expression etched on his face.

"Time of death, 16:22."

The words echoed in the sudden, oppressive silence. My chest tightened as the world narrowed to the still form on the bed, the empty hum of machines. It was over. We're too late.

Wait. She will surely—

I turned around, and a surge of fear shot through me. 

She stood there, her face ashen, the crimson-stained cotton ball clutched in her trembling hand. Eyes that were usually so vibrant now held a shattering vulnerability, her breaths coming in shallow, desperate gasps.

In an instant, I was at her side. "Hey, hey," I said. "It's okay. Just breath, can you do that for me?"

My hand found her shoulder, squeezing gently. The warmth of her skin was in stark contrast to the ice in my veins. My mind churned, guilt twisting like a knife in my gut. Of course, she would react like this. I'd been a fool to bring her here.

"Wait in my office," I said, my voice as gentle as I could manage despite my fear. "I'll be with you as soon as possible."

Her eyes locked with mine, searching. A flicker of resistance crossed her face, then resignation. She nodded, a mere jerk of her head, and stumbled away, each step seeming to take an impossible effort.

Watching her go, my heart clenched. 

For all her strength, her boldness, there was this fragile core to her, one that the world, and I, seemed intent on bruising. And that, more than anything, sent a spike of anger through me—an anger directed squarely at myself.

Fuck, focus, you have a job to do here.

"Dr. –" I began, and then cursed inwardly. What the hell was his name again? Familiar face, stupid haircut, uglier glasses—

"Dr. Ijichi," the young doctor said, his voice a touch shaky. A bead of sweat glistened on his forehead.

"Right, of course." Annoyance pricked at me. He's a newbie. I should know this, I should care. 

I softened my tone, just a fraction. 

"Let's go over this from the start. What triggered the bleed? Did the patient present any new symptoms?"

Ijichi flipped through the chart, his fingers fumbling slightly. "The bleed appears spontaneous. Scans from yesterday showed no signs of an aneurysm or underlying issues. Blood panels within normal limits, no recent head trauma reported."

"But something must have caused it," I snapped. "The implant—could there be a malfunction? A short-circuit? Anything?"

Ijichi took a step back, a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. "It's possible. But I'd—I'd need to examine the implant itself for any sign of damage."

"Well, then do that." The words came out harsher than I intended. My gaze swept over him, noting the faint tremor in his hands. Damn it, I was scaring the kid. I forced myself to take a breath. "Look, I know this is a lot. But we need to act fast."

"Patient's medical records are clean. Blood pressure was normal at last check." Ijichi was regaining some of his composure, his voice a touch firmer. A good sign.

"Can I see his scans? Lab work? Everything."

The next minutes was a blur of reports, X-rays, MRI sequences. I scrutinized every detail, my mind racing ahead, chasing ghosts of potential errors. Ijichi hovered nearby. He fielded my questions, fetching additional reports and cross-referencing data. 

I couldn't fault his dedication, but a nagging thought itched at the back of my mind. Experience mattered in situations like this, a cool head under pressure. Maybe if I was here sooner—

The annoyance flared again. If this was a flaw in the method, heads would roll. Mine, Suguru's, and—the trial would be scrutinized, the funding in jeopardy—and her—

Dammit. I'd promised her this wouldn't happen again. That with me, she wouldn't have to watch another patient die. Images of her flashed before my eyes—the haunted look she'd worn earlier, her vulnerability.

My fingers twitched against my arm, nails biting into skin.

"Dr. Gojo?" Ijichi's voice broke through my spiraling thoughts. "I've isolated something in the pre-op scans."

I snapped back to the present. I leaned over his shoulder, peering at the image. A slight irregularity, a minuscule shadow on the edge of the implant interface.

"Could this be it?" Ijichi's voice held a hint of excitement, of finally being useful.

"Maybe," I said. "Any sign of inflammation? Tissue reaction?"

He zoomed in further. "Inconclusive, sir. We'll need higher resolution images, maybe a tissue sample from the insertion site."

"The autopsy." The word was heavy on my tongue. "Get on it. I want the implant and surrounding tissue on my table as soon as possible."

Ijichi nodded. "I'll contact pathology right away."

Left alone in the small room, I slumped into a chair, exhaustion washing over me. The relentless adrenaline rush was fading, leaving behind a hollow ache and the lingering, uncomfortable question.

How many more patients were out there, ticking time bombs with our technology inside their heads? And what the hell were we going to do about it?

The sterile confines of the ICU were suffocating. 

I looked over to the clock and my breath hitched. Fuck, I left her alone for over 30 minutes now. I sprung up from the chair and raced to my office.

Bursting through the door, I saw her—knees drawn to her chest, head buried in her arms. A sharp pain shot through me, guilt twisting with a strange sense of relief that she'd obeyed my command at least.

In a few swift strides, I knelt before her. "Hey, love" I cupped her face, forcing her to meet my gaze. "You okay?"

She blinked, eyes wide and shadowed. A forced smile touched her lips. "Yeah, just—it was all a bit much. I'll be fine."

The words were hollow, the act unconvincing. Her skin was pale, her jaw tight, and her eyes betrayed the unmistakable sheen of unshed tears.

"Don't do that," I said, more softly than I intended. "Don't pretend with me."

"I'm fine, really," she said, pulling her gaze away.

I watched her, a familiar ache settling in my chest. I'd told her to wait here, thinking it would shield her from the worst of it. Instead, I'd left her alone with her thoughts.

I'm so stupid.

I hesitated, searching for the right words, "Do you often get these panic attacks?"

Confusion clouded her features. "What?"

She doesn't even know herself?

I brushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "Panic attacks. Like back there, in the ICU—"

Her eyes widened, then immediately narrowed in defensiveness. "I wasn't panicked. Just startled."

But I wasn't buying it, not this time. 

"The way you were breathing, the way you couldn't stand still," I ticked the signs off on my fingers, mirroring her symptoms back at her. "Remember the first time you did surgery with Suguru? When that patient died?"

"That was different."

"Or the massive bleeding in our last patient while surgery? When the suture tore," I continued relentlessly.

The defiance was fading from her eyes. I knew I was pushing her, but it felt necessary, a brutal ripping off of a bandage.

"I didn't think of it as of panic attacks," she said, her voice barely a whisper.

Oh, my brave, brilliant girl. How could I love her more?

I reached out, tracing the faint tracks of tears beneath her eyes. 

"What happened with the patient?" she asked.

"The bleed was massive," I said. "Likely a flaw in the implant itself, a malfunction we didn't anticipate. The autopsy will confirm."

She closed her eyes briefly. "Are we going to have to shut down the trial?"

"It's too early to say," I said, threading my fingers through my hair. "Maybe, I don't know."

We were both silent for a moment.

She wandered over to my desk. Perching atop it, she crossed her legs, staring blankly into the dimness of the office. I wonder what she's thinking right now.

Her gaze drifted over the desk's surface. Her eyes landed on a single, crisp document—the lawsuit, left there carelessly, intentionally, by Higurama after our earlier meeting. 

That bastard.

"What's the status on the assault charge?"

My stomach turned. Of course, she would ask. "It's being handled. Just paperwork and legal wrangling."

"By handled you mean?" she prompted, her eyes flicking back to the document. As her eyes scanned the document, her frown deepened, her fingers tracing the neatly typed figures.

I shifted uncomfortably, suddenly wishing those papers were buried at the bottom of a hazardous waste bin. "Higurama is negotiating with the kid's lawyers."

She looked up, her full attention now fixed on me. "Are you Insane?"

"It's not that bad—" I began, but the words died as I saw the anger on her face.

"They want how much? Is there a typo? A few too many zeroes?"

"It's fine. Money isn't the issue. I can handle it."

Her eyes narrowed. "Satoru, even for you, that sum is—" She paused. "You can't pay that. I won't let you."

"Let me? You make it sound like you have a say in the matter." I stepped closer, the distance between us shrinking.

Her expression softened with a flicker of annoyance, an emotion I found strangely comforting after the raw worry of a moment ago. "Satoru, this isn't a joke. I'm serious."

"Come on, a few zeroes here or there—it's pocket change for a devastatingly brilliant neurosurgeon as myself."

"This isn't something to joke about!" She swatted at my chest, a futile gesture that made me want to grin even wider.

"You love it." I rested my hands on either side of her on the desk, capturing her. "Admit it, the arrogance is part of my charm."

"Part of your insufferableness, more like."

"Everything's going to be fine." I lean in closer, the faint scent of jasmine that always clung to her, was intoxicating. "I promise. You need to trust me."

"Satoru—" she began, ready to launch into another argument.

Before another word could escape, I closed the distance between us and silenced her with a kiss. It began softly, a tentative press of lips, as if seeking permission. But when she sighed, her body melting against mine, it deepened into something more urgent, more insistent.

My hand slid into her hair, tilting her head just so I could claim her more. The taste of her was a much-needed distraction from the weight of the day. How goddamned much I loved her taste. Needed it more than I could ever admit.

When I finally broke the kiss, a flicker of anger still sparked within her, and oh, I loved it. Loved it when she was all angry with me. Every flicker of those expressive eyes, every sharp word—it all belonged to me. I craved all of her.

"Now," I said. "How about some coffee?"

─── ·✧· ───

The air in Yaga's office was suffocating. 

Every word from that old bastard was a knife, twisting deeper with each infuriatingly accurate accusation.

"You lost a trial patient," he rumbled, and I had to suppress a wince. 

"Setbacks happen," I shot back. "We fix it, we make it better. That's how progress works."

His fist slammed against the desk, making me jump. Damn it, Yaga always knew how to get under my skin. "And the cost? The reputation? Your recklessness will bury us all, Gojo."

"Risks I'm willing to take," I spat. "My patients are willing to take them. Because we believe in something more than your damn paperwork and red tape."

Yaga stood, his face a mask of cold fury. "Boundaries exist for a reason. And until you remember that, your precious project is over. The trial ends now."

The words echoed in the silence, a death sentence. 

I can't risk it getting shot down, not for her. The thought burned, fueled by the terror of seeing those tears again.

"I won't accept this," I said, my voice rough, "I'll fight it. The Ministry, the funding agencies—I'll make them see the potential!"

Yaga's lip curled in a humorless smile. "And while you chase those grand delusions, perhaps you should focus on the mess already on your doorstep. Your, shall we say, 'unprofessional' entanglement with that student of yours hardly instills confidence."

The blow landed with devastating force. 

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't give me that, Gojo."

"That's—" My voice cracked, the words catching in my throat like a shard of glass. "Irrelevant. It's a personal matter."

"Is it?" Yaga countered. "When your personal choices compromise your judgment, jeopardize not only this project but the lives of countless patients—it becomes very much my business. I've tolerated this long enough."

What?

"You can't touch my surgeries. Those patients need me."

"Do they?" His question was a poisoned dart. "Or do they need a surgeon with a clear head and untarnished reputation? While this mess remains unresolved, consider your surgical privileges suspended. You have enough on your plate."

I slammed my hand against the desk, heedless of the pain it sent tearing through me. My surgeries, my purpose, the very core of my identity—he can't take that away from me.

"This isn't fair," I said through gritted teeth. "You're overreacting. One setback—"

"One setback too many," Yaga cut me off, his voice hard as steel. "You've exhibited a reckless disregard for protocol, for ethics, and now it's spiraling out of control. The board has lost faith in your ability to lead this project, and frankly," he paused, his gaze piercing, "so have I."

The room felt suffocating, the air too thin to breathe. It was as if the walls were pressing in, crushing the fight out of me.

Yaga sighed. "Clear your head, Gojo. Sort out your priorities. Until then, take a step back. And for your sake, and the sake of those around you, stay out of trouble."

Then, a knock sounded at the door. I turned around.

The door creaked open, and there she stood, her eyes wide. 

My heart sank. 

In that moment, seeing her framed in the doorway of Yaga's office, a cruel reminder of the mess I'd made, the last thin threat snapped. 

This was on me, not her.

"Don't you dare drag her into this," I hissed before anyone in the room could speak. "This is on me and not—"

"Silence," Yaga's voice cut through my outburst. "Both of you. Sit."

She met my gaze, a flicker of something I couldn't name passing through her eyes. Then, she crossed the room and sat, her posture straight. The sight of her, defiant yet composed, filled me with a strange sense of pride.

"There will be repercussions, as you both are well aware," Yaga began. "The ethics committee has been alerted. A formal hearing will be scheduled, likely within the week, to address this debacle." 

He paused, his gaze raking over both of us. "I suggest you prepare yourselves well. The fallout will be severe."

The ethics committee?

Fuck.

My stomach churned, a cold sweat breaking out across my skin.

My fingers twitched. The itch beneath my skin now flared into a maddening burn. It took every ounce of control to fight the urge to rip the skin off my arm, to tear away the invisible parasites gnawing at my sanity.

"What kind of fallout?" I asked. "Suspension? Expulsion?"

Yaga's expression was unreadable. "The committee will decide that. Your actions—both individually and collectively—will be scrutinized."

"But she—" I began, but Yaga held up a hand, silencing me. 

"Enough," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "I suggest you both to prepare very well what you'll tell them, especially regarding your relationship." 

He let the implication linger in the air, a silent accusation.

"You can leave now," Yaga announced, already adverting his gaze from us to some papers in from of him.

I shot to my feet, my chair scraping back with a screech. I grabbed her hand, a silent command to follow. I knew she had a million questions, but I needed the world to stop spinning out of control for one damn minute.

I needed air first.

I needed to breathe first.

"Let's get out of here first, okay?" I said before she could even open her mouth to speak.

The elevator carried us down. I gripped the handrail so hard it felt like my fingers might break. Her gaze burned into me, her worry a palpable weight in the too-small space. I averted my eyes, focusing on the grimy elevator floor. 

If I looked at her now, I knew I'd crumble.

"Satoru, we should tell them," her voice was soft.

Please, love. Be silent. Don't make this harder for me.

"No," I said, harsher than intended. "We won't. This could ruin you, and I won't let that happen." The words sounded strong, protective—but the truth was, I was terrified.

My hand twitched with the need for a relief I hadn't known this strong for weeks. Just one pill, one measly little pill was all I needed right now. It gnawed at me, a craving that wouldn't be ignored.

"But it's my choice too. You don't get to decide this alone."

"You don't understand. If they find out about us now, under these circumstances they'll use it against us, make it look like we were reckless, unprofessional. Our judgment, everything we've worked for, will be called into question."

"I don't care about their judgment! I care about what happens to you!"

Couldn't she see? This wasn't about bravery, or honor. This was about survival. It was about saving her, even if it meant destroying myself in the process.

"I can't risk your future, not for this. End of discussion." I turned away, unable to stand the hurt, the frustration burning in her eyes.

I was meant to be her strength, and I was failing her. Failing us.

Then, as if the universe itself decided to pile on my misery, the elevator lights began to flicker. The low hum warped into a high-pitched whine, the sound like nails scraping along my exposed nerves.

The elevator jolted, then shuddered to an abrupt halt. Darkness crashed down, pierced only by the sickly yellow glow of the emergency lights.

Stuck.

Trapped. 

Confined.

I felt the blood drain from my face.

Then, a voice, tinny and overly cheerful, chirped through the elevator's speaker. "Uhm, sorry about this folks. Seems we have a minor—uh, technical issue. Be with you shortly."

Fuck.

I could feel her gaze burn into my neck, a heavy pressure like she held a gun to my head.

"Well, you can't fuck your way out of this one, can you?" Her voice held a cruel amusement.

I considered it for a moment, then remembered the security camera scrutinizing our every move, the worker no doubt listening. Too risky.

Not that I'd mind a video.

I sighed. Leaning heavily against the cold metal, I let my head thunk against the elevator door.

God, please have mercy.

Defeated, I turned and slid down the elevator door, sinking to the floor, the metal cold against my back. She crossed her arms and I knew she wouldn't back down.

For a while, silence reigned.

"They'll want to know everything—about the research project, the surgeries, the brain bleeding, the student lawsuit," I hesitated for a second. "And about us."

"I know." Her reply was matter-of-fact, almost dismissive.

"This should concern you."

"I don't care."

My god, this woman makes me lose my mind.

Her stubbornness was so infuriating, yet it made me want to rip her clothes off right here, right now. It was as if she saw the storm raging within me and refused to back down, daring it to break us both.

I shifted, the cold floor chilling me to the bone. "If we tell them now about us, they'll use it against us. They'll tear us apart."

"And what's the alternative?"

"We say nothing. Professor and student. Nothing more."

"They'll question others."

"No one knows, except Suguru, and he won't tell anyone."

"We already look guilty. Professor and student spending so much time together? Doing surgeries together? Let alone the scene you caused at the summer gathering. People already talk, Satoru. You know they do."

She was right. Damn her for always being right.

"The committee will know," she continued. "They'll ask questions. And we can't afford to be caught off guard."

"Damn it," I cursed, raking a hand through my hair.

"Satoru," she began, the sound of my name on her lips a caress against my raw nerves.

Please never stop saying my name.

"We both made choices. The only option now is to be truthful. You can't shield me from this, nor do I want you to. I've chosen to be here. So, we tell them. Tell them you and I," she faltered slightly over the next word, "that we're in a relationship."

I blinked, my mind stuck on the word. Relationship. 

She'd never used that word before.

But the way she said it now, laced with that familiar defiance. Always the challenge, testing my limits, turning everything into a battlefield. God, I craved it—the clash, the surrender, the maddening, intoxicating burn of her. All of it. All the time.

A smile, genuine and almost idiotic, spread across my face. 

She narrowed her eyes. "What?"

"We're in a relationship?"

Say it again, love.

"You're such an idiot."

Giving me nothing as always.

"How are you holding up?" Her question stopped me cold. "Just two more weeks, right?"

Two weeks. 

Two more weeks until I was supposed to be completely free from the insidious grip of the opioids. My fingers twitched at my sides at the mere thought of it.

I forced a smile. "Everything's fine."

The lie burned my throat, but it was preferable to the alternative. I couldn't let her see my weakness, not now, not with everything else hanging by a thread.

"Not quite convincing," she said. "But then again, you never were a good liar, were you?"

She saw through me. Of course, she did.

In that moment, something shifted—a silent war waged between us. Her gaze relentless as she fixed me with her gorgeous eyes.

"Guess my luck's run out, huh?"

"Don't," she warned. "Don't do that. Don't shut me out, Satoru."

We held each other's gaze, a silent standoff in the flickering emergency lights. It was always like that, always a battle of wills to see who would give in first, yet this time fear flickered in her eyes, a fear that matched my own.

A crackle from the elevator's speaker broke the spell. 

"Hey there, folks," the tinny voice chirped. "Just wanted to let you know we're working on it. Shouldn't be too much longer. Sorry for any inconvenience!"

Wordlessly, she shifted closer. Sinking down beside me, her shoulder pressed against mine.

We sat in silence, side by side.

Each breath I took felt less violent, the chaos in my mind muted by the simple warmth radiating from her. I reached for her hand, our fingers intertwining.

In those shared breaths, the world melted away.

"You know," I began, the words barely a whisper. "I'd do anything for you."

Her hand tightened in mine. "And I'd anything for you."

A bittersweet smile touched my lips. "And that will probably be our undoing. Either way, looks like we're in for one hell of a fight."

My grip on her hand tightened. I couldn't lose her. Not to the fallout of my mistakes and certainly not to the vultures who would circle us, seeking to exploit any sign of weakness.

I was trapped in a cruel paradox. My need to protect her was the very thing that might destroy her. And the realization cut deep.

"Then let's fight like hell," she said. "If it's a battle they want, it's a battle they'll get."

God, I love this woman. 

And as we sat there, trapped in that metal box, I knew one thing for sure:

Trouble would come—it always does. But anyone who dared to hurt her would have to get through me first.

─── ·✧· ───

A light summer rain spattered the city streets, blurring the neon signs into shimmering streaks of color. I dodged between hurried strangers, the air heavy with the scent of wet asphalt. Each step brought me closer to my destination.

As I reached the weathered wooden door, my phone buzzed. Suguru's name flashed on the screen.

"Hey," Suguru's voice crackled through the line. "I got those test results you asked about."

"And?"

The silence that stretched felt like an eternity. 

"Elevated AST, ALT, ALP, bilirubin, and GGT, low on albumin," Suguru finally said.

I clenched my fist around my hair. "Can't you at least sugarcoat that a bit?"

"Satoru this is serious. You need treatment, and we need to plan this out, like, yesterday."

What a pain.

"Look, I'm in the city right now," I said. "There's something I need to pick up. Can we discuss this later?"

"Something more important than your liver giving up?"

"Well," I began, a wry smile playing on my lips, "If you must know, I'm about to make a seriously bad financial decision."

A beat of silence, then a groan. "Satoru, you know I can't read your damn mind. Just spit it out."

"It's for her."

I didn't need to elaborate. He understood.

"Figured," Suguru said, resignation evident in his voice. "But seriously, Satoru, your liver—"

"I know, I know," I cut him off. "We'll talk later. Promise."

I hung up before he could protest further.

The shop's weathered sign creaked above the doorway as I stepped inside. A bell tinkled, cutting through the stillness. The musty scent of old paper and polished wood enveloped me.

The shop was empty. I wandered further in, into the maze of shelves. Sunlight pierced the stained glass windows, fracturing into shards of crimson and sapphire that danced across the worn wooden floor. Dust motes danced in the beams.

My eyes drifted over the towering shelves filled with books. I reached out, my fingers trailing along faded covers, the embossed lettering cool beneath my touch.

Them, a soft shuffle of footsteps echoed from the back room.

A tiny, elderly woman emerged. "Can I help you find something?"

"Actually," I said. "I believe I have an order to pick up."

Her wrinkled face lit up. "Oh, wonderful!" she exclaimed, a burst of energy belying her age. "That special piece. It took some doing to get ahold of it, you know. Just a moment, dear."

She disappeared back into the dim recesses of the shop. My fingers tapped restlessly against the wooden cashier's desk as I waited.

The old woman returned, carefully cradling a worn wooden box in her gnarled hands. My pulse quickened. With trembling fingers, she unlatched the box, revealing a slim volume nestled in aged tissue paper. Lifting it out, she held it towards me.

"Signed by Kafka himself."

The weight of the volume in my hands was unexpectedly heavy as I took in the sight of the worn leather and faded ink.

"She must be very special," the old woman said.

"Huh?"

"The woman you gift this to."

"She is," I said, a smile tucking on my lips. "She's everything. Deserves everything."

"She must be very lucky to have you."

Her words echoed in my head. Lucky? More like a burden.

"I'm not so sure about that," I began, the words hesitantly tumbling out, "maybe she deserves someone who doesn't have to try so hard."

The old woman tilted her head. "Sometimes, dear," she said softly, "it's those who try the hardest that are the ones worth holding onto."

"But what if trying isn't enough? What if the very act of trying—it just breaks things more?"

The old woman's smile didn't fade a bit. "Love is often a messy business. Broken things can be mended, you know. Sometimes the cracks make them all the more beautiful."

"But some things are beyond saving," I whispered, the bitter taste of the words lingering in my mouth. 

Damn it, why couldn't I be better for her? She deserved someone strong, someone who wasn't one bad day away from crumbling.

"Perhaps. And perhaps," she countered quietly, "it just that brokenness that makes it perfect."

I huffed. "That sounds like something she would say."

I glanced down at the book, the worn leather seemed to burn against my skin. My fingers twitched. It had been hours—too many hours—since my last pill.

The old woman cleared her throat "Well, dear," she said, her voice taking on a brisk tone, "shall we settle up then? I believe that comes to—"

She fished out a worn leather purse and snapped it open, revealing a wad of crumpled bills. My eyes widened as she extracted them, my brain fumbling to calculate the absurd amount she fanned out before me. My jaw must have hit the floor.

"Life advice never comes cheap, dear boy."

─── ·✧· ───

The basketball arced through the air, a perfect curve that ended with the satisfying swish of the net. Another shot, another temporary reprieve. The rhythm was soothing, a mindless distraction that usually brought a sense of ease.

But tonight, it felt hollow.

Another shot. Another basket. 

Each thud of the ball against the cracked asphalt mirrored the pounding in my temples. Sweat stung my eyes, my lungs burned. The deserted court, bathed in the fading warmth of the afternoon sun, offered no solace.

Another shot soared towards the backboard, this time clattering wildly off the rim. The ball ricocheted away. Frustration surged through me.

Elevated liver enzymes. Decreased platelets. Albumin's dropping. This isn't about a few late nights, Satoru. Your body is giving up on you.

Suguru's warnings echoed like a death knell.

It was bad. Worse than I'd allowed myself to admit. The years of pushing limits, of drowning my demons in a haze of toxic oblivion, had caught up with me with brutal efficiency.

A wave of dizziness washed over me, and for a sickening moment the cracked asphalt seemed to tilt and sway. I forced myself to focus, to regain control. The irony of it all nearly choked out a bitter laugh. 

Control. 

What a futile concept.

Suddenly, my arm burned, a sharp insistent sting. I clutched it, fingernails scraping against the already inflamed skin. It was a subconscious act, a frantic search for relief from the maddening itch that throbbed beneath the surface.

My fingers came away sticky and red.

Fuck.

Then, my phone buzzed against my thigh. I fished it out of my shorts, the screen blurring in the fading light.

It was her.

[6:15 PM] You: Seen your car in the university parking. Still here?

[6:15 PM] Satoru: Basketball court.

[6:15 PM] You: Should have known.

[6:15 PM] You: On my way.

A shiver ran through me, a rush of something akin to adrenaline.

She was coming.

The bleeding scratches on my arm seared. I fumbled for the sleeve of my crewneck sweatshirt, pulling it down hastily in an attempt to hide the evidence.

I forced myself to focus on the net.

And then I saw her, a silhouette etched against the dying light, her presence shattering the fragile focus I'd clung to. My heart hammered in my chest.

For a moment, time seemed to stutter.

She came towards me, her steps soft against the rough asphalt. Every detail of her etched itself onto my mind with painful clarity. The way the twilight painted streaks of gold across her skin, the gentle curve of her lips, the slight furrow of concern between her impossibly beautiful eyes.

My god, those eyes.

Even if she looks at me in pity, I wish she would never stop looking at me.

I forced myself to toss another shot, a pathetic attempt to feign normalcy. The ball arced through the air and swished through the net—a lucky streak.

Her footsteps stopped just short of the three-point line. She didn't speak, just watched me with those perceptive eyes that always seemed to see too much. My pulse quickened, a mix of fear and longing washing over me.

Tonight, in that flowery dress, she was insanely beautiful. 

She reached down and scooped up the ball that had just rolled to a stop at her feet. A spark of amusement ignited in her eyes, a challenge I knew I would accept even before it left her lips.

With a playful smile, she began to dribble. Her movements were hesitant, fumbling—adorable. So different from the confident woman she was in the operating room. 

Still, she moved with focused determination, mirroring the way she approached everything in life. For a moment, I just watched, savoring the unexpected tenderness of her trying.

I closed the distance between us, amusement tugging at my lips. I reached for the ball, intent on displaying my effortless skill.

But she surprised me. Though I easily pushed her away, a hint of resistance in her stance, she didn't stumble back as I'd expected. She held her ground, our bodies a breath apart.

She tilted her chin up, defiance still burning in those impossibly pretty eyes. For a breathless moment, I was lost in their depths, in the faint scent of her skin, the gentle rise and fall of her chest.

God, how I needed her.

"You're quite distracting," I said, my gaze drawn to the sheen of sweat glistening along the curve of her neck. Our bodies were impossibly close, my breath ghosting across her lips, the faintest hint of her smile teasing me.

"Don't blame me for your bad play." She snatched the ball, biting her lower lip as I moved to block her shot. I closed in, body to body. With a twist and a feint, she evaded me, keeping the ball just out of reach. 

"Or is the great Dr. Gojo," her eyes flickered down to my lips, then back up, "—afraid of a little challenge?"

The words hung in the air, a taunt, and a dare.

My hands moved instinctively, framing her face, tilting it upwards. The distance between us vanished in a heartbeat.

Her lips were soft, yielding against mine, the faint taste of something sweet clinging to them. My pulse thundered, fingers tracing the delicate line of her jaw. I pulled her closer, our bodies molding against each other. Her exhale a soft sigh against my lips.

The basketball, forgotten and rolling away across the cracked asphalt.

I deepened the kiss, not able to resist her. I lost myself in the sensations—the warmth of her skin, the intoxicating taste of her, the faint scent of her perfume mingling with the summer heat. Raw need flared within me, a desperate hunger that threatened to consume all semblance of control in me.

When I finally drew back, it took every ounce of my willpower. She was breathless, her eyes filled with a yearning. Just how I like it.

I snatched the forgotten basketball from the asphalt, twirling it on a finger. "So much for your challenge." My voice coming out slightly breathless. 

I spun on my heel, took a few steps, and arced the ball towards the net. It swished through with a satisfying thud. "Looks like someone gets distracted easily."

"That's hardly fair," she retorted with a determination in her gaze that both amused and intrigued me. "You're basically a pro."

"So you admit defeat then?" I taunted, dribbling the ball between my legs.

I could see the way she was analyzing my movements, trying to mimic the way I held the ball and the fluidity of my shots. She was always like that analyzing my every move. Watching me with an intensity that only she could.

"Not at all. You just need a handicap. Perhaps you can only use one hand behind your back?"

"Alright, first-year," I smirked, tossing her the ball. "You're on. Just don't blame me when I crush you even with a handicap."

The ball bounced awkwardly in her grasp as she took a hesitant shot. It bounced off the backboard, miles away from the net. A flicker of frustration crossed her face. Fucking adorable.

"Next one's going in," I said as I retrieved the ball and began dribbling. "But you have to get it from me first."

I kept my promise, playing with one hand behind my back. Yet, I wasn't playing to win. I was playing to keep her close, to savor the spark in her eyes, the way she moved with a newfound confidence.

She darted in close, her eyes locked on the ball, and with a swift movement, she feigned a step to the left before stealing the ball from my less-guarded side. She took her shot.

Her second attempt was slightly better, the ball at least hitting the rim with a hollow clang.

She should really just stick to surgeries, not sports.

She retrieved the ball again. After a particularly clumsy dribbling attempt of her, I swooped in, intercepting the ball with ease. However, she surprised me. Lunging forward, she snatched the ball from my grasp again and, in a fluid motion, took a wild, off-balance shot.

The ball soared through the air, tracing a perfect arc. It hit the backboard and, against all odds, bounced through the net.

"Maybe you're not as good as you think you are?" she teased, flashing me that smile. 

Oh, sweet thing. I let you win just to see that smile. But it's still cute how you try.

"Lucky shot." Without conscious thought, I moved closer, drawn to her like a moth to a flame.

"Careful, Professor, or your student might surpass you." She teased again as if she didn't know exactly what those words did to me.

But sure, tease me again. Bring it on. Tease me, taunt me, push me until I snap.

You'll reap what you sow.

She began dribbling, but I was relentless, closing in. With a quick feint, I disarmed her, snatching the ball and watching it roll away.

She tried to sidestep, a flicker of surprise in those beautiful eyes. Too slow. With a final stride, I cut off her escape, her back hitting the cool metal of the basketball pole. She was trapped.

I grabbed her neck, fingers intertwining in her hair. Before she could object, before I could second-guess myself, I closed the remaining distance, my lips crashing against hers. Her soft gasp swallowed by my own hungry sigh.

The kiss was heated, desperate, a clash of urgency and hesitant surrender. My arms circled her hips. I bent my knees slightly and, in one swift motion, lifted her off the ground. Her legs wrapped around my waist, a gasp escaping her lips.

I pressed her closer, my body straining with an almost painful need. I lost myself in the softness of her lips, the faint taste of cherry chapstick, the intoxicating sensation of her skin against mine.

I deepened the kiss, my tongue tracing the seam of her lips. I tightened my hold, pressing her closer until I could feel the frantic beat of her heart against mine. A moan escaped my throat as I felt the sudden desire to possess, to consume, to brand her as mine.

Not out of aggression, but a desperate need for more—more touch, more taste, more of the overwhelming rush that only she could give me. 

She was the fix I couldn't resist, the poison I desperately craved. Because with her, oblivion felt so damn close.

Her hands tightened in my hair, the short strands of my undercut providing purchase as she tugged me closer. Her scent enveloped me. It clung to my tongue, my lungs, fueled the heat blazing in my blood. 

My teeth grazed her lower lip, drawing a soft moan that stretched my shorts even more painfully. It was my undoing. Every thought, every restraint burned away in the heat of the moment. I needed to have her. Not just a taste, not just this stolen moment.

I craved all of her, with a desperation that bordered on madness.

Then, like a splash of ice water, her nails raked across the raw skin on my arm, searing pain cutting through the haze. I winced, her touch like burning coals on my skin.

"What's wrong?" she gasped, breaking the kiss.

"Everything's fine," I said, not wanting to let go of her. I leaned in again but she flinched back. 

"Don't lie to me." Then, her gaze fell to the faint stain of blood seeping through my sleeve. Her eyes widened. "Satoru, your arm—"

In an instant she rolled up my sleeve, revealing the scratches. 

Fuck.

I lowered her back to the ground. Her eyes narrowed, a frown creasing her brow.

"It's nothing."

"It's always 'nothing', with you," she said sharply.

Reluctantly, I allowed her to roll up my sleeve even more, revealing the red marks. Here was the ugly truth, laid bare beneath her concerned gaze.

"Do you have something to clean this?" Her voice trailed off as her eyes flickered towards my sports bag, lying forgotten on the sideline bench. With a determined look I knew all too well, she walked towards it.

I tried to stop her, but she was already unzipping the bag, rummaging through its contents. A knot tightened in my stomach. There was no first aid kit, no antiseptic wipes—only the worn book that I hadn't had time to wrap yet.

"What's that?" she said.

She pulled the book out, a flicker of confusion crossing her perfect face.

"Sorry, it's not wrapped." Not that I know how to wrap a present, as I hardly ever made gifts before. But I would have tried for her. It was the least I could do.

Her eyes flicked from the book to me, her brain clearly working overtime. She turned it over, studying the faded cover. Slowly, realization dawned in her eyes. "You—you bought this for me?"

I shrugged, a nonchalant mask to hide the frantic pounding of my heart. "Thought you might like it."

"Like it?" She flipped open the book, revealing the faded signature on the first page and a key tucked loosely among the pages. For a moment she just stared, then looked up at me, her eyes wide. "Satoru, is this—"

"Ink on paper," I finished for her. "And a spare key to my apartment."

Silence descended, broken only by the soft rustle of leaves. It felt like she was staring a hole through me. Then, she walked over, book still clutched in her hand. Instead of the thanks I expected, she swatted me on the arm with the cover.

"Ouch, you know how expensive that was?"

"I can't accept this." She held the book away from her as if it might burn her. "It's too much, Satoru."

"Don't like it?"

"Like? Like?" Her voice rose, and then she looked back down at the book, a smile spreading across her face. "Satoru, this is—," she trailed off. "How did you get this?"

"Had to bargain with an old hag. Some minor soul-selling, nothing major."

"No, seriously, this must have cost a fortune."

"Money doesn't matter," I said softly. "It's you. You're all that matters."

The book in her hand twitched. There was a flicker in her eyes, like the urge to swat me with it again, but she contained the impulse. It was replaced a moment later with a frown as she focused now on the bloodstain on my sleeve.

She moved closer, a dangerous stillness about her. 

Her touch on my sleeve was hesitant, fingers tracing the inflamed scratches. "You gonna tell me what this is? Or are you gonna sidestep the issue again until we fight, because you know my patience is wearing quite thin these days."

"Nervous habit."

"It's new." There was no judgement, just a matter-of-fact tone in her voice.

"Yeah." 

The lie felt like ash on my tongue. 

It wasn't new, of course. I'd just gotten worse at hiding it.

"Thank you."

"For what?" I asked.

"The book, idiot," she said with a gentle smile. "And for telling me."

Ah, that smile. I melt every time.

"Come on," she said, letting go of my arm and turning towards the university. "Let's patch you up."

Without hesitation, I followed.

─── ·✧· ───

"So," I started, a slight wince escaping me as she cleaned the scratches. "You didn't tell me. What brought you here in the first place?"

"You didn't ask."

"I'm asking now."

A flicker of hesitation crossed her face. "I had some research to do in the library."

I knew her too well—the slight catch in her voice, the way she avoided my gaze.

"What research?" I prodded gently.

She sighed, then met my eyes. "The patient with the brain bleed. I had to double-check something."

Of course, she would still be agonizing over it. It was in her nature—the relentless, stubborn dedication was what would make her the best damn doctor I knew she'd become.

"Don't," I said. "Don't think too much about it. I can't stand to see the worry in your eyes."

She held my gaze. "I just want to be as prepared as I can be."

"I know, love," my voice softened. "But not tonight, okay?"

Suguru's office reeked of stale smoke and lingering whiskey—a sharp contrast to his neat workspace. Ironic how I was the one out of first-aid supplies. The addict, while he was still well stocked. But that's why I had his key.

She carefully placed a bandage over the last scratch. "You know the first ethics committee hearing is soon."

"Are you nervous?"

"Are you not?"

"No. Our research is flawless. Bulletproof."

"There's always a flaw. And they'll find it. Something we missed, overlooked. Don't blame me for wanting to prepare."

"You are prepared," I said. "Nobody knows this research like you. Not even Suguru. It's your blood, sweat, and sleepless nights poured into every page. This is yours in a way it could never be mine. You gave it life, meaning."

She seemed lost in thought, her focus narrowing in on my arm. She moved closer, like she'd just spotted something.

"Satoru—" she began, then hesitated. Even in the dim light, I could tell what she saw. "Where did you get those scars?" Her frown deepened. She leaned in closer, as though seeking further proof.

My fingers twitched. I clenched my fists, nails digging into my palms. It was a distraction, a pain to combat the other. She had that look in her eyes that seemed to say, you know I won't stop until I hear the truth. So I gave in.

"My father was a demanding man," I said, the words leaving a bitter taste in my mouth. "My mother turned a blind eye." 

I couldn't bring myself to say more. The image was enough to paint the picture.

For a second it seemed she froze. Her gaze remained fixed on my arm, her grip tightening ever so slightly.

Wordlessly, she rose and moved away. Moments later, she returned, a small syringe gleaming dully in the dim light.

"What's that?"

"Antibiotic," she said. "Those scratches were raw, you could get an infection."

"I'm fine."

"Let me be the judge of that." A hint of steel laced her words. Then, with startling gentleness, she added, "I don't want to see those old wounds opened any wider."

She tilted my arm, and with a swift, practiced move, the needle pierced my skin. I barely flinched. How different from the times I'd taught her, her hands trembling, her hesitation a reflection of her gentle heart.

Now, she moved with the certainty of a seasoned surgeon.

She'd grown so much.

For a moment, I simply watched her.

Finally, she turned, disposing of the gloves and syringe. She crossed the room and retrieved something from her purse, my gaze following her movements.

Then she was in front of me, her hand outstretched. My eyes focused on the small, white pill resting in her palm.

I knew the shape better than my own reflection.

A wave of nausea crashed over me.

Why would she do that?

I stared at the pill, then met her gaze. There was fear in her eyes. 

"That's not clonidine," I said.

I knew exactly what it was. Yet, I wanted to hear it from her, needed her to say it.

"It's hydromorphone," she said, her voice firm. "Take it, Satoru."

"Why?"

"Because you've been scratching your arm bloody, that's why."

A dangerous thrill surged through me, a sharp contrast to the icy dread in my veins.

She had no idea what she'd start here.

"Take it," she snapped, "before I force it down your throat."

Something shifted in the air between us.

I stood, my movements slow and purposeful. With one swift move, I closed the distance between us until I loomed over her. My breath ghosted over her lips, the scent of her fear mingled with the ever-present, gnawing need.

Without breaking eye contact, I took the pill and reached for the half-filled liquor glass on Suguru's desk.

She watched, confused, but she didn't stop me as I crushed the pill against the weathered wood of the desk. It shattered easily beneath the glass, the sound like a gunshot in the tense silence.

I took hold of her nape. My fingers threaded through her hair, my grip firm. Her lips parted, a silent plea, but I flinched back, denying her.

Not yet, love.

Where's the fun with that?

I slowly turned her around until she faced the desk. She shuddered as I gently pressed her forward, bending her over the surface.

The thin straps of her summer dress dipped, revealing the gentle curve of her shoulders, a vulnerability that made me lose all good reason.

Her breath quickened, a soft sound against the silence of the room. I reached forward, fingertips ghosting over her skin. Then, with a deliberate slowness, I swept the hair away from her nape, exposing the tender skin beneath.

For a long, breathless moment, I simply absorbed the sight before me. 

Her perfect body was bent in graceful submission, the delicate straps of her dress barely clinging to her shoulders. The exposed curve of her nape, the soft warmth radiating from her skin. 

Raw need surged through me, a reckless defiance of the consequences, of the fragile threads of self-control I still clung to.

Why did she offer me the pill?

And why couldn't I stop?

My hands were unfamiliar steady as I reached into my pocket, fumbling for my wallet. Withdrawing a credit card, I placed the white powder on its smooth surface.

Her breath hitched as I moved closer, the card hovering just above the silken expanse of her exposed skin. Then, with deliberate slowness, I lowered it, creating a thin white line on her back. It felt like a brand, a pact forged in shared recklessness.

She shivered, a slight tremor that ran through her entire form. Whether it was revulsion or anticipation, I couldn't tell. And in that moment, I realized I didn't want to know.

I leaned closer, my heated breath ghosting over her back. Without conscious thought, I opened my mouth, my tongue licking the powder off the delicate skin of her back.

The taste was bitter, acidic, sweet—familiar.

The rush hit me like a bolt of lightning.

My skin crawled, alive with a tingling rush. My senses honed to a razor's edge, amplifying every sight, smell, and sound. Exhilaration surged through me, a wild, intoxicating rush, tinged with a fear that tightened my chest like a vice.

Fuck, how I missed that. 

How I craved it.

I pulled back, gasping, struggling to regain control. 

Yet, my hands refused to retreat, frozen against the heat of her skin. They trembled, a desperate battle between insatiable need and the last shreds of restraint. The warmth of her burned me, a tantalizing agony beneath the thin fabric of her dress.

A war raged within me. 

One voice screamed for surrender, for the oblivion of her touch, the sweet release of surrender. The other, weaker now, whispered warnings, a faint plea for control. It was a familiar battle, and with each second, my control weakened.

The sweet tang of the powder lingered on my tongue. 

Yet, it did nothing to quell the rising fire within me.

A fire only she could extinguish.

Unable to stop myself, my hands moved on their own. My fingers traced the curve of her hip, the warmth of her skin a siren's call through the delicate fabric. With a gentle push, the hemline of her dress inched upwards, revealing the smooth expanse of her thigh.

A soft gasp escaped her lips. "Satoru?"

"Don't speak," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

Don't speak, love.

Every word of you would only fuel the fire even more.

And my sanity was already hanging by a fragile thread.

I pushed the flimsy strap of her dress further down her shoulder. Delicate skin, warmed by the summer heat now laid bare. I ran a hand over the expanse of her back, reveling in the silky softness, the shudder that rippled through her at my touch.

I slid my hand beneath the hem of her dress, my fingers mapping the soft curve of her thigh. She moaned, a ragged sound that mirrored my own desperate need. I tugged the dress upwards still, baring more skin to my touch.

My chest heaved, my breath coming in uneven gasps. With a rough pull, I slammed her against me, her body against my already hard length a sensation that threatened to shatter the last vestiges of control.

The battle within me was all but lost. There was only this moment, this desperate, all-consuming need to claim, to consume, to lose myself in the oblivion she offered.

My hands roamed. The flimsy fabric of her dress was a mere inconvenience, torn aside to reveal the soft swell of her hips, the smooth expanse of her inner thighs. She shivered beneath my touch, fingers digging into her heated skin.

"Wait," her breath hitched. "Not here."

Yeah, it was Suguru's office. His desk. 

But in this moment, I couldn't care less.

"Yes, here."

My hand wound into her hair, forcing her head back. She gasped, her body arching against mine in surrender. The room tilted, the world outside blurring into nothingness. The only reality was her in front of me. I wanted to mark her, claim her as mine. 

Consequences, reason, all were distant echoes drowned out by the roaring in my blood. The rational part of my brain, a pathetically small voice, screamed at me to stop. 

But this part was loosing.

I pushed her dress all the way up to her waist, revealing the lacy underwear she wore. I drew her closer still, seeking a connection deeper than skin on skin. A moan escaped her lips, and she arched against me, the tremble of her body a heady mix of surrender and desperation.

"Satoru...please," she whispered.

"Tell me to stop," I said. Each word was a test, a twisted game we both knew she'd lose. My hand slid between her legs, a slow, agonizing caress that made her breath hitch. "Tell me, and I will."

A single word, and this could end. I waited, barely breathing.

She shook her head slightly. Then, with a boldness that ignited me all over again, she arched into my touch. "Don't stop," she breathed, her voice ragged. "Please, don't stop."

My god, that woman.

I could feel the despite simmering beneath her surrender, a bitter tang that only made this twisted game more addicting.

"Do you have any idea what you do to me?" I said, pushing the fabric of her underwear aside and sliding a finger inside her, feeling how wet and ready she was.

She was soaked through, drenched in a way that told me she wanted it as badly as I did.

With each stroke, I felt her body yield to me, growing even wetter as I explored her depths. It was an intoxicating sensation, knowing that I had such a powerful effect on her, that I could reduce her to this state of pure need with nothing but my touch.

She let out a ragged breath, gripping the wooden surface beneath her as if it were the only thing keeping her grounded. I added another finger, stretching her open as I thrust in and out of her, searching for that sweet spot I knew would drive her mad.

When I found it, she gasped, her walls tightening around my fingers. "Right there," she moaned. "Don't stop."

I know, love. I know you like that spot.

I know how you crave it. The surrender. The sweet release of losing control to me. 

And in this moment, there was nothing I wouldn't give you.

Burn me. Break me. Doesn't matter. I'd still offer myself willingly. 

I'm yours to ruin.

But tonight, you'll break for me.

Every fiber of my being screamed for her, begging to bury itself deep inside of her. Watching her writhe underneath me, hearing her soft cries as I thrust into her, only fueled my hunger further.

I wanted to feel all of her, to brand myself onto her skin.

My cock throbbed painfully in my shorts, straining against the fabric. I could feel the precum leaking from the tip, dampening the material. The urge to rip off my clothes and plunge into her almost unbearable.

All I could see, all I wanted, was to be inside of her. Where I fit perfectly.

Then—the door. 

My hand stopped. Her gasp snagged in her throat.

Suguru stood in the doorway, a flicker of resignation in his eyes. Some people just don't understand the concept of knocking first, do they?

I withdrew my fingers. With a swift tug, I pulled her dress down, covering the parts of her only I deserved to bare. His eyes didn't have the right.

"Really?" Suguru sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "My desk?"

"Problem? Or feeling left out, Suguru?" My slick fingers found my mouth. I licked them slowly, savoring the lingering taste of her. My eyes never left him. "I thought you liked sharing."

<- prev chapter | next chapter ->

author's note: SCREAMING, CRYING, THROWING UP. i don't know if satoru went insane in this chapter or if i went insane while writing it. maybe both. but i had SO MUCH fun writing in his pov. i had a few heart attacks while writing this. and yes, imagine the "yes, here" in anakin skywalker's voice haha. 

also i know that kafka's books all got released after his death so a copy of his book with his signature is slightly unrealistic, but we just ignore that fact.

and last, don't sleep with addicts, that's not cool in real life, but in fiction it's okay, he can't hurt you there. anyway thank you so so much for reading, i hope you don't come at me for writing this omg, i'm so nervous posting this. i'm gonna go throw up now.

🏷️ @sad-darksoul @aerithsthingss @mylovelessnightmare @bbyxxm @musababy @neuviloved @ykehqqy @hexrts-anatomy @fvsm4x @tw0fvced @heijihattorisgf @sadmonke @thatsopanu @sirencholia @sugurusdiscordmoderator @erwinslut @shervinss @certainlysyko @mechalily @purplehallow11 @kendall0111 @bloopsstuff @therealestpussyeater @louoi7 @whereflowerswenttodie (pls comment on the series masterlist to get tagged in the future!)

[burntblueberrywaffles]

My 2023 recap (but it's through all my favorites posts I've made this year)

Part 2! (part 1 here)

Aug 14th

Me @ the prequels haters:

Aug 14th

Aug 18th

He did it for me specifically and I thank him every day ❤️❤️❤️❤️

Aug 20th

Me progressively spiraling in my latest sw posts:

Aug 26th

Discovering you’re ace is wild cause like, you guys were serious when you said you wanted to fuck that character/celebrity?

We weren’t just exaggerating and being silly?? UH???

Aug 27th

Watching the end of ROTS: a moodboard

Aug 30th

Having a R2d2 and C3po cameo might be the laziest form of Star Wars fan service but you know what that shit work my dumbass goes “OMG it’s R2 and threepio 🥺🥺🥺” everytime

Aug 31st

Tumblr staff be like: somehow they’re still using desktop, lets add an evil clown

Aug 31st

“I want the main character to end up with this person, even though I hate one of them who sucks and doesn’t deserve to end up with such a good-”

My brother in Christ call me crazy but I don’t think you actually love this ship. Read an x reader or x OC fanfic at this point jfc.

Sept 4th

Me sending a feedback report to complain every time tumblr makes another idiotic change:

Sept 10th

I’m always so scared to assemble it

Sept 15th

I love doing research, I am not tearing my hair out (lying)

Sept 21st

Im so good at forgetting my blorbo is a child murderer you wouldn’t even believe

Sept 29th

Lowest luminosity setting is not low enough why is my iPhone a fucking beacon of light burning my retina with the force of a thousand suns

Sept 30th

Me every few months:

Oct 4th

Oct 18th

Me reading fanfic titles on ao3 after first becoming a Taylor Swift fan:

Oct 28th

My boy was so sleep deprived this would have fixed him.

Oct 29th

Can’t believe you hate on my ship just because it’s toxic, unhealthy and has disastrous consequences for everyone around them. Grow up. 🙄

Nov 11th

I have beef with TCW Anakin

Nov 14th

When people go “ew why would you be into this ship when it’s toxic and problematic” and I’m just

Sometimes you don’t need another reason than "it makes my brain go brrrrr” it’s fiction babes it doesn’t have to be good or healthy ❤️

Nov 15th

I thought “oh it would be fun to randomly send a kitten picture to this one mutual” and then I went insane 🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️ sorry about that besties

(this isnt a good post but since i'm making this as a 2023 recap I want to commemorate that time I sent kitties to all the beloved mutuals LOL)

Nov 18th

I love these “what do you most associate with [insert US state]” polls bc my non-American ass is always:

Baby I literally have no idea what you’re talking about ❤️

Nov 17th

hate when people are like “why would Padme be into cringefail Anakin it’s so unrealistic”

Like, um, CLEARLY she saw his pathetic weepy eyes and immediately decided she wanted to fuck that. What’s hard to understand.

Nov 20th

I think when you break up with someone their memory of you should be wiped men in black style thank you

Nov 22nd

Philosphy class be like

Nov 25th

Me when the known mass murderer starts murdering

#you’re telling me my genocidal babygirl is in fact genocidal???

Nov 26th

The thing about philosophy class is that most of these dudes you have to learn about just suck.

“Ohhhh humans only use each other and every relationship is only built on the potential advantages you can get from it” So your heart has never exploded thinking about how much you love your friends?? Sounds like a you problem.

Nov 28th

Snow being judgmental and having a constant sense of superiority…. brother you can’t even buy a new shirt HUMBLE YOURSELF

Nov 28th

Me starting the Ballad of songbirds and snakes and reading snow’s inner monologue: this guy sucks lmao I will NOT be rooting for him and Lucy Gray to be together 🙅‍♀️

Snow:

Me: oh goddamn it

Dec 1st

“I liked this thing before it was cool!“ Boohoo you’re not special. You just stumbled upon it before other people, congratulations.

"I still like this thing after it was cool, now that public opinion has shifted from being overly positive to considering it bad and cringe” now that takes strength. Courage. Who I aspire to be.

Dec 3rd

Snow: is always nice to Sejanus, helps him distribute food to the tributes, offers him a seat, gives him advice, CALLS HIM HIS FRIEND, save his life-

Also Snow: wtf this bitch thinks we’re friends????

#babyboy you are so stupid

Dec 4th

Me when I see my friend sadposting: I will smother you with kisses and love. Do you need me to kill someone btw

Also me, when I’m sad posting and friends send me encouragements: Friend??? 🥺 Friend cares about me??? 🥺🥺 friend wants to cheer me up? 🥺🥺🥺

Dec 7th

Tumblr rn feels like a landlord trying to make its tenant leave by not fixing shit and cutting utilities, but unfortunately for everyone involved, I am a rat

Dec 10th

No but seriously no one should try being tumblr famous, this website is for one thing only, and that’s having a silly time with your friends and mutuals 😤

Dec 12th

If your mutuals don’t say hi in the tags when they reblog one of your popular posts from someone else then what is it all for

Dec 12th

“Ew liking unhealthy ships is so toxic-”

“Actually toxic ship are INTERESTING unlike those boring healthy ships that have no flavour-”

Meanwhile me, who can appreciate and enjoy any ship dynamics:

Dec 18th

I’m like an old man shouting at clouds except I’m a 20 years old trying to make everyone listen to La Lumière by pomme asdagshdjfk

#I don’t think anyone is buying what I’m selling but I shall keep trying 😔

Dec 20th

Snow when being friendly to Sejanus results in becoming friends with Sejanus

#bro was really like: you’re telling me the person I’ve been treating well and interacting with regularly thinks I’m his friend??? #and that everyone else also think we’re friends???? #like yeah bby that is how friendship works ❤️

[mintyvoid]

so i bought and have now recived my anti planner, and while i imagine a bunch of the tools wont do anything- im hoping something helps. And ill try to speak up if anything does.

For some context i suppose if you dont regularly read my depressed rants, i was diagnosised autistic in 2020 but had been in therapy on and off since 2010 for anxiety and depression. I found a majority of resources not helpful or treading over ground ive already done years into- when I started researching 'okay so im autistic what the fuck do i do now, how do i get better'.

(I just keep ranting how shit doesnt seem to want to work for me below)

Most likely cause of all the years ive done work on myself, i am very self aware and quite good at communicating how im feeling. But found that none of the tools I learned helped long term or even enough to better my quality of life(now knowing this was because all those tools help people without a neuro disability, they simply were never going to work).

I've also found that a lot of the resources out there, include this book, are catered towards those with adhd, which while having a lot of simularities to autism- they are not the same. And though I had previously thought i was adhd, im like pretty sure this isnt the case(like in terms of a duo adhd n autism diag). So a lot of the stuff i end up finding /also/ doesn't work.

Though i cant reaally tell if its due to the autism or depression. A good example is the 'trick your brain' angle i see abundantly. To do things like 'set a timer to create a deadline or force panic' or similar time constrainted things simply dont work. I can feel incredible stress to complete something from a deadline or disappointed friend or angry manager and it do little to nothing to motivate me to do the actual thing. If i dont want to do something(or even if i want to do something but my brain for whatever reason doesnt let me), it doesnt happen- concequnce be damned.

I can break tasks into smaller chunks for days, but if i cant get up or move my arm to start said small task then it doesnt really matter does it? The one thing i can do is organize lol, but its the one thing that i see the most as advice- which is totally understandable as its not something taught so a majority would lack the skill. I was really lucky to seek help when i did and to then get actually good advice. It's probs been the only moment where help and support did actually help my quality of life.

Most likely I wont see any improvement in my life till I either go back therapy(actually find someone who can help someone like me, probs needs to be on meds again too) or can afford to create an environment thats supportive of my needs...or more than likely a combo of the two lol. Neither of which i see happening as both need money and i cant work nor get much from my disability program and cant work enough on online stuff to make that my income.

As an aside, i do know that many if not most, have it worse than i do. And i often feel that i simply cant complain about my own situation because im have a loving family that supports me as much as they can, im no where near homelessness, im not bipoc or a trans person, i could technically work but i would only be able to just work(aka id have to give up doing what i ant for a living and went to school for and actually am passionate about, and honestly typical work stresses and sucks so much energy out of me ugh id probs just burn out again n quit). I dont feel i can ask for money or support when there are others i feel need it way more than i do.

And i absolutely hate that what i have isnt enough, and that fact is also why i feel i cant vent. Srry this kinda went off the deep end.

[lawyernovelistpersonal]

I'm sure plenty has already been said about Renfield from today's entry, but I'd just like to highlight some stuff we see about Seward.

Warning for talk of medical experimentation, animal cruelty, and mental illness

It would almost be worth while to complete the experiment. It might be done if there were only a sufficient cause. Men sneered at vivisection, and yet look at its results to-day! Why not advance science in its most difficult and vital aspect—the knowledge of the brain?

As a quick note, He's not suggesting cutting Renfield open here. I think there are two interpretations of this: first, that he's suggesting that he could allow continued animal cruelty for the cause of advancing psychology (vivisection also being animal cruelty which he says has advanced science). Second, he's suggesting that continuing to study Renfield by allowing him to continue building up his own personal food chain and observing him would be considered unethical but could yield good results, again for the advancement of psychology (much as vivisection was considered unethical but he considers it to have advanced science).

If only there were a sufficient cause! I must not think too much of this, or I may be tempted

Here we see that he doesn't consider the advancement of knowledge (and, to take an uncharitable reading, his own advancement in his field) to be a good enough cause for unethical experimentation. He wants there to be a good reason because he does want that sweet, sweet knowledge, but knows there isn't one and so makes the decision that he's not going to carry out the unethical experiments.

This was actually a very active debate around vivisection at the time: the Cruelty to Animals Act, 1876 said that researchers who carried out cruel experiments on (vertebrate) animals could be prosecuted unless the experiments were "absolutely necessary for the due instruction ... to save or prolong human life". Unethical experimentation could be carried out if the cause was considered good enough. In this case, though, there might be benefits, but those benefits don't outweigh the costs and Seward doesn't try to claim they would.

Seward also shows a lot of self-knowledge here, acknowledging that he's susceptible to temptation and thus needs to avoid thinking about what he could learn from letting Renfield carry on his food chain experiments to their conclusion because he might actually fall to that temptation, come up with a justification, and start acting in a way he knows to be wrong.

And that's important: he does know it would be wrong and resists the temptation to do it anyway.

A good cause might turn the scale with me, for may not I too be of an exceptional brain, congenitally?

There are a lot of headcanons about how Seward is neurodivergent and that's why he went into psychiatry, and for me this clinches that interpretation as canon.

First, we tend to use "exceptional" to mean "better than usual" but it really just means "unusual". Seward is acknowledging that he has had or may have had an unusual brain since birth, suggesting that, indeed, he has some kind of neurodivergence even though he can mostly hide it and he and others in his profession don't have the knowledge to analyse and name it.

The other part of what he's saying here confirms the idea that he got into psychiatry because of that knowledge about himself: he wants more knowledge in his field because his own mind is unusual. And, again, he has enough self-knowledge to be aware of his own susceptibility to this specific kind of temptation and be on guard against it.

To me it seems only yesterday that my whole life ended with my new hope, and that truly I began a new record. So it will be until the Great Recorder sums me up and closes my ledger account with a balance to profit or loss. Oh, Lucy, Lucy, I cannot be angry with you, nor can I be angry with my friend whose happiness is yours; but I must only wait on hopeless and work. Work! work!

If I only could have as strong a cause as my poor mad friend there—a good, unselfish cause to make me work—that would be indeed happiness.

That's really sad.

We can see from this that Seward hasn't moved on at all from being rejected by Lucy; just as in that first phonograph recording, it still hurts and he's still trying to throw himself into his work but here we also see that he feels hopeless and purposeless. He really hoped that she would accept him and when that hope was dashed it clearly sent him on a horrible downward depressive spiral that he's really trying to get out of but doesn't know how.

I particularly note that he specifies he wants an unselfish cause and I wonder a bit what the selfish causes are: self-aggrandisement might well be one, relevant to what he said earlier about advancing his field more than other famous researchers had. Avoiding his own pain might be another. There may also be a dollop of self-loathing in there driving him to believe that if he finds joy in anything that means doing it is selfish, so if, for example, he did really help a patient he couldn't feel that doing that gave him an unselfish cause to work towards. It's an ugly catch-22 with the fact that he specifies that an unselfish cause to make him work would make him happy.

Finally, it is quite touching that he's very clear he's not angry with Lucy for rejecting him despite the pain that rejection causes him and doesn't resent Art for being her choice. Keep drinking that Victorian Respect Women juice, Jack.

[a-bird-who-writes]

How I boost creativity

Music

Daydreaming

Read

Watch a show

Write for 15min

Start Note-

Hey there!

I'm this post, let's talk about ways to keep up or boost creativity. I only know the ways I work with it, so I hope some of these options work for you when you got a block!

Music:

Listening to music in general, but especially songs that remind me or the story that I am about to write and need a boost for helps a ton.

If you can, work out a playlist that gets you inspired for the idea or WIP you need to progress on and use that as a listening device when you work. If you can think better or work better with music this will probably help you brainstorm ideas.

Daydreaming:

Daydreaming works with/or without music. Just find a place comfortable to rest and think of all the ideas you might be able to use for your WIP, even if it would be far in the future or small unnecessary scenes.

When wanting to boost with this, it might end up being a little brainstormy or even cause you to think of another story or possible WIP, BUT if that's getting you in the mood to write at all it's still a win in my book.

Read:

Read a book, any book you see. It could be a fantasy you've been wanting to pick up for a while or an informational one about something you've wanted to learn about for a long time. Anything you read will help you learn and in turn might even make you want to write or think of your own ideas.

Sometimes you may also want to read a book similar to your own, doing this can make you study how that author did what they did to use as tips in your won writing for support.

Watch a show:

Watch a show, just for fun or for some research. Dumb or not, comedy or something serious, this could boost your creativity.

Watching a funny show or something that you enjoy could boost your mood and provide you with a creative boost for later writing or some ideas for your own work. Not to mention the fact that shows and movies take a lot of script writing to be done, along with a lot of dialogue and setting work. Observing these things and taking it to account how they did what they did can provide you with lots of settings or situations to put in your own story.

Write for 15 min:

Just pick up a piece of paper or grab that laptop and write. Blank page or full document, the point is to start.

Writing or thinking about your WIP for at least 15min a day every day will soon put your brain Into a rhythm. Doing this begins to work your brain into naturally thinking about these ideas later and throughout the day to prepare you for your scheduled 15min. And if you start with 15min and get a boost of creativity you might begin to write more even after the alarm has went down.

End Note-

Why thank you for reading to the end, I appreciate you!

Above I just listed all of the ways and things I do to boost my creativity during times I may be blocked or not want to write.

These things usually pull be out of a block when I'm willing to use them and have the time. But what's most important in all of these is not to pressure yourself, take your time. If you need to rest and not write in a day, don't do it. Self care is the best care, and your writing can wait for another day.

- Hawk

[dismal-noise]

Let’s Learn About Water Weight

Hello everyone! I’ve been seeing a lot of confusion about water weigh on ED tumblr, so let’s talk about it! 

[DISCLAIMER: I’m not an expert, just spent some time researching and want to share what I found]

All my sources will be at the end of the post <3

So... What is it?

The term “water weight” (in terms of dieting) refers to the bloating you feel sometimes with seemingly no reason. This is also the most likely reason for your weight loss plateau (especially if you have been maintaining your calorie deficiency and macros).

Extra water is stored all over your body in tissue or between blood vessels, and tens to pool in your extremities. So if you wake up sometimes and feel like your hands are stiff and puffy, that’s why! 

Here are some causes:

Dehydration!!

Too much salt

Carbs

Thanks! I Hate It.

Me too, so let’s talk about what we can do. 

Dehydration:

This one seems super backwards, right? I mean, why does having MORE water in my body mean I might be dehydrated?

Well think of it like this; our bodies don’t know that we have access to water whenever we need it*. So when you are dehydrated, the body will hold onto all the water it can because it doesn’t know when you’re gonna find water next. 

Here are some things you can do:

Drink up, try to be drinking water throughout the day. If you feel thirsty, then take a drink of water! 2-3L of water will ensure that you are well hydrated, but don’t push yourself. Take it slow and don’t make yourself sick <3

Eat your water! Add some more hydrated foods to your diet. Watermelon and cucumber are 2 great and low-cal examples!

Get those electrolytes! Losing too many of these bad bois can also cause dehydration. I like to get a bunch of 0 cal powerade to help with this but you can do whatever you like :)

Too much salt

This one is pretty self explanatory. Too much salt = more water retention. The salt will dehydrate and we’ve already talked about what dehydration does.

HOWEVER! Don’t think of salt as the enemy and attempt to cut it out completely! Sodium is a mineral our body uses everyday, so make sure you still include some salt in your diet.

Here are some things you can do:

Watch how much salt you consume! if you feel like you’re holding onto more water weight, it may just be due to consuming more salt yesterday that you’re body needed

Drink up! Hydrate yourself with some water!

Energy and Carbs

Have you noticed that after finishing a restrictive diet, you seem to gain back some weight very fast? Carbohydrates are the reason, but not for the reasons you may think.

So lets talk about Glycogen, one of the ways your body stores Carbohydrates. Glycogen is large molecule made up of a protein core surrounded by glucose. This stuff is stored in the liver and muscles, and is used during energy-intensive exercises, and for supporting the brain when food is scarce. This is because it’s a form of energy that the body can quickly metabolize. 

The Glycogen molecule is bound to water molecules when in storage (think 1g of Glycogen = 3-4g of water). This means that when your body uses 1 gram of Glycogen, about 3 grams of water is released from the body. 

It only takes a few days for all your Glycogen to be used up, and this is why your weight loss will seem dramatic at first! But once you start eating those Cabs again, your body rushes to replace all that missing Glycogen. 

So all that water weight you lost will most likely come back as your body restores its energy stores. This is totally normal and a very good thing!!! But I know that it is also super frustrating so lets see what we can do

Don’t cut carbs completely! Carbohydrates are super important for your body to function, and having more carbs while you diet MIGHT help to mitigate the weight fluxuations when you lose and gain water weight.

Be kind to yourself, and expect this to happen. You’re ok, its not fat. be kind and stay hydrated, it’ll go away after a while. 

Is there anything else I can do?

Actually yes! Have a cheat meal once in a while!! I mean it, having an occasional high calorie day helps you get rid of water weight. 

There was a super cool study done during WWII about starvation diets that became known as the “Minnesota Starvation Experiment”. It’s about very low cal diets and what they do to the body. 

The TLDR is that researchers fed participants low cal diets for low periods of time. But the participants didn’t weigh that much less, they were stuck in a plateau. BUT after a big high calorie day, the researchers noticed the participants getting up to pee a lot the following night. And the next day BOOM! Dramatic “weight loss” as all the water weight had been expelled the night before!

It’s a very cool study that I think you all should check out!

Conclusion

Be kind to yourself, stay hydrated, and plan cheat days. Water weight is a bit of a bitch but it’s completely normal and is not permanent. 

Stay safe everyone! 

Love, Dismal

Sources:

What’s water weight? (WebMD)

Science explains why you lose water weight (ThoughtCo)

What is water weight (kaylaitsines.com)

Water retention and weight loss (Southwest family medicine)

Bonus readings:

MN starvation experiment 

Benefits of drinking water

Hydration and weight loss (scientific paper)

*I know not everyone has access to water, Educational Resource Here