#i have way too much fun writing these fake articles

[neathyingenue]

From the Prodigal Plebian, for immediate release:

The Partial Performer Returns to the Stage in a Masked Tour-de-force!! [PLEBIAN EXCLUSIVE!]

(with thanks to @thedandy-detective for writing Jules's parts ;D)

Last night at Mahogany Hall, a daring masque graced the stage. A haunting score accompanied the cloaked players’ mesmerizing movements. The lead, especially, was magnetic; although they wore a simple black costume, all eyes drew their way. And at the curtain call, when they unmasked, it became clear why: this was none other than the Partial Performer, returned to the stage at last!

The Prodigal Plebian sat down with the Performer in their dressing-room for an exclusive interview. As charming offstage as on, their manner retained a smooth rehearsed air as we discussed craft, inspiration, and future plans. (This interview has been edited for length and clarity.)

PLEBIAN: You were gone for months. What were you doing all that while?

PERFORMER: I was not gone- I was studying the old masters of the craft. Actors, playwrights, crews. I had grown dissatisfied with my performances. I knew it was unsustainable, to be unworthy of the stage and yet command it, all the same.

What has motivated your sudden return?

I returned when I was ready—it’s as simple as that.

Did you write and direct the Masque we just witnessed, as well as inhabiting the starring role?

It was written by a blossoming playwright from Watchmaker’s Hill, whose name will be revealed at a party tonight if she so chooses. She was inspired by the soundless walks of the tigers of the Labyrinth. I shouldn't wish to take away credit where credit is justly due—besides, her troupe kept my secret under lock and key, no small feat.

Can we expect more works from you soon?

I am back, Ms. Salcedo, to acting!

...

Yes, the Performer is back, and the tastemakers of London know it! Already they’re snapping up tickets to anything featuring the Partial Performer. So unless you fancy bribing your way in with a wheelbarrow of weasels, the Plebian recommends that you hightail it to the box offices now. Don’t be deterred by rumors of a Phantom. Perhaps with the Performer back, the theatre’s luck will rise once more!

[celestie0]

gojo satoru x reader | fake marriage au [18+]

in holy matriphony ch3. domestic encounters

ᰔ pairing. fake marriage au - neighbor&realtor!gojo x nurse!reader (ft. choso x reader & suguru x reader)

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is your extremely annoying next-door-neighbor who you're pretty sure is the most insufferable man you've ever met. given the fact that you exclusively work the night shift at a chaotic emergency dept, just got broken up with your boyfriend of seven years, n have been taking care of your sick mom ever since her multitude of diagnoses, yet somehow your neighbor is the main source of stress in your life should speak volumes. but when your mother's medical bills start to skyrocket more than you can manage, and you learn that said neighbor of yours has the best private health insurance in the country, you ask him to enter a matrimonial agreement with you for the spousal benefits all in the name of saving a few hundred thousand dollars. but you'll have to see if suffering cohabitation w him is worth any amount of money.

ᰔ genre/tags. fluff, smut, angst, enemies to lovers (sort of), annoyances to lovers (that's more like it), small town romance, fake marriage, next door neighbors, lots of bickering, suburban shenanigans, slow burn, mutual pining, mild love triangle(s), gojo likes to play house but you don't, hatred for the american healthcare system, gojo always forgets to mow the lawn, jealousy, an insane amount of profanity; btw gojo in this fic is in his mid 30s n reader is in her late 20s

ᰔ warnings. reader in this fic has a sick mother w alzheimer's & cancer so there is secondary medical angst!!

ᰔ chapter. 3/x (probably 10)

ᰔ word count. 14.1k (i like this number)

a/n. hello hellooo my ihm bb's :'') so good to see you all again. so this is actually the first half of an original 26k word chapter 3 that i had written lmfaooo i genuinely entertained the idea of posting a 26k word chapter but like gat damn. idk i thought it would be too much. so there is this first part which is 14k and then the next chapter will be 12k! anywho, this chapter was fun to write, there's still a lot of set-up tho hahah. ihm has been really fun to write for me cuz it's kinda chaotic but chill at the same time lol :0 i really hope you enjoy!! see ya at the bottom!!

nav. ch1 :: ch2 :: ch3 :: ch4 :: ch5 (pending)

“Soooo…..ready to consummate the marriage?”

You turn fast on your heel, so fast that Gojo almost trips over his own Welcome mat at his doorstep in an attempt to not accidentally topple over you, which you’re sure by the sheer size he has on you would’ve killed you or at the very least paralyzed you from the neck down, so it’s a good thing his hands fly out of his pockets then brace himself on the wood paneling above the door. 

“Wha–” you stutter, “what?!”

He stands up straight before leaning against the doorframe and crossing his arms, the sleeve fabric of his suit stretching across thick muscle but you refuse to give him the satisfaction of looking. “The marriage technically isn’t valid unless we consummate it.”

You roll your eyes and dig your finger into your heel to take it off and then do the same with your other, relishing in the freedom of your feet from the shackles of constrictive feminine clothing articles, although you’re a solid two and a half inches shorter again. “I would rather make love to one of those inflatable balloon salesmen at car dealerships that flail and flap around in the wind than let you touch me for the purpose of sex.”

“Fuck that’s harsh,” he laughs, like he’s genuinely impressed by the comeback this time, “so a dead bedroom then, huh?”

“Can’t be dead if it was never alive in the first place,” you mumble as you tread into his house and toss the documents envelope you had been holding onto the coffee table. You hear Gojo make his way across the hardwood floor behind you paired with the metal clanking of keys as he throws them into the paper mache bowl on the foyer table. 

“By the way,” you hear him say, and you turn your torso slightly to side eye him only to see that he’s casually taking his suit jacket off with a flip of it backwards, “who was that guy in the courtroom that was glaring daggers into my soul?”

Your eyes widen briefly. And then you sigh. “My ex.”

He pulls the jacket off behind him by the sleeves and tosses it onto the loveseat. “Huhhh. You used to date a cop? You don’t seem like the type.”

“What?” you say as you face him fully. He’s loosening his tie now with a tug. “Why not?”

“You’re kinda…delinquent. Figured a cop would like a more ‘docile’ woman,” he says.

“You sound creepy as fuck,” you say, grimacing a little as you narrow your eyes at him.

He sighs before tossing his tie off to the side as well. “I don’t agree with it. I’m just getting into their headspace. Everyone knows how cops are. Y’know, controlling.”

“Choso is different,” you immediately spat back at him, before your head can even run the words through a filter, and you realize it came off as defensive. Your cheeks warm, because now it looks like you’re not over your ex. And you want to be. Why were you still protecting Choso’s dignity?

Gojo blinks at you, a little surprised before he swallows slowly and he holds his hands up in front of him in surrender. “Alright. I believe you.”

You turn away from him and worry your bottom lip between your teeth, feeling awkward before you scratch your elbow and then turn back to face him again. “Well. If you run into him around town,” you say, “can you try to make him feel emasculated and jealous? He did me dirty.”

Gojo runs a hand through his hair. “Uhhh. How?”

“I dunno,” you shrug, “brag about how great our sex life is or something.”

“But we have a sexless marriage.”

“Oh, yes, speaking of this sexless marriage,” you start, jutting your hip out to the side as you cross your arms sternly, “there are some ground rules that need to be set between you and I.” You point between the two of you.

“Ground rules?” he mimics after you as he undoes the top couple buttons of his white dress shirt, “like what?”

You hold a finger up. “Like no touching.” You hold another finger up. “Obviously, no sex.” You hold another finger up. “No sneaking into my room in the middle of the night.” You hold another finger up. “No peeping in on me while I’m showering.” You hold another finger up. “No ogling me around the hou–”

“These rules sound incredibly one-sided,” he snorts. 

“Yeah, well, don’t break them, you creep.”

“And if I catch you ogling me around the house?” he asks. 

You roll your eyes. “Such a thing will not happen.”

“Uh-huh, uh-huh,” he sarcastically affirms, and he approaches you which makes you flinch a little but you realize he’s just walking past you towards the living room.

“Y–” you stutter, “you heard me, right? Once I start living here, you have to adhere to these rules.”

He waves his hand in the air dismissively with his back facing you. “Yes ma’am.”

Your eye twitches slightly, and you storm towards him only to watch him slump down onto his couch, knees spread wide as he leans forward with a small grunt to grab the remote off the coffee table before settling back again. He lays an arm up and stretched across the backrest of the couch before he turns the TV on and scrolls through news channels. 

You make your way in front of him, obstructing the view of the TV, and he leans off to the side to try to catch a glimpse at the screen but you reposition your body so that he still can’t see it. His eyes slowly move to you and he has an irritated look on his face. 

“I’m tryna watch CNN,” he says. 

“Punishment,” you say, “for breaking any of these rules will be severe.”

He raises an eyebrow, interested all of a sudden as he tosses the remote back onto the coffee table and leans forward, placing his elbows on his knees. “Oh? What’s the punishment?”

Honestly, you don’t know. You just want to threaten him to keep him in line. Forget the fact that he’s the one doing you the favor here with this marital arrangement, and yet you’re threatening him. But it has to be done. “You don’t want to find out,” you say, trying to sound as eerie as possible.

“Not knowing what it is makes me want to find out,” he tells you, his knee swaying side to side like a dog wagging its tail. 

You briefly glance down, and for fucks sake why is all of his clothing so perfectly fit and stretched taut whenever he does anything? You try not to eye the shape of his thighs as the black fabric stretches while he’s seated.

You clench your fists at your side, worry your bottom lip under your front teeth, furrow your brow and blink rapidly from not being able to come up with something to say, and Gojo seems to read this as worry before he laughs a little.

“Don’t worry,” he says, “I’m not gonna break any of your silly rules, despite how tempting it might sound to me.”

“I don’t believe you,” you mutter as you walk around the couch towards the kitchen, feeling thirsty all of a sudden. 

“Seriously. I won’t. You’re not my type,” he says from behind you on the couch, with a tone that tells you he’s trying to sound reassuring but it really just pisses you off even more, “I don’t really go after women with daddy issues.”

“Wha–” you gasp, offended, and you spin on your heel to glare at the back of his head. “Who the fuck said I have daddy issues?!?!”

“No one has to say it, I can feel it,” he says as he continues to clicks through channels.

You pick an avocado up out of the pile of fruits from the bowl at the center of the island, holding it over your shoulder to charge up as much kinetic energy as possible so you can chuck it at him hard enough to knock him unconscious, and it’s like he senses the malice radiating off of your body because he looks over his shoulder at you.

“What’s that in your hand?” he asks.

“A grenade,” you say, “that I’m gonna launch at you.”

“Oh, thank god,” he exhales in relief, “I almost thought it was an avocado for a second.”

You deadpan stare at him. “I don't find you funny.”

“I think I’m pretty funny,” he says mindlessly, like he’s just arguing with you for the sake of arguing.

“No. I have never once laughed at a single thing you’ve ever said. Only grimaced with disgust,” you say.

He sighs. “Look at us. We’ve barely been married for an hour and we’re already fighting.”

You abandon your empty glass on the counter, shuffling around the corner towards the front entrance of the house because you can feel the headache from your pure annoyance starting to creep up on you. You sense Gojo’s eyes on you from the couch as you shove your feet back into the uncomfortableness of your heels. 

“Where are you going?” he asks. 

“Back to my house,” you grumble, wobbling a little when you take a step towards the door and place your hand on the handle.

“When are you gonna move in?” he asks suddenly.

You freeze in your tracks at his question. You’ve never heard the question before, because you’ve never had the chance to live anywhere that wasn’t your childhood home next door. So the question is jarring at best, and threatens to make you cry a little at worst. 

“Once I get my mom into hospice,” you say, quiet enough to where it’s possible he might not have even been able to hear it over the sound of presidential election updates. And then you make your way out of his house. 

•┈┈┈••✦☽✦••┈┈┈•

It’s a beautiful sunny spring morning, clouds trailing by across the sky offering momentary relief from the heat reaching the pavement, and you’ve got a good marching band walk going on as you stroll down the sidewalk of your neighborhood for your morning walk. Well, that phrase implies that you go on morning walks often. You really don’t, you very rarely have the time or energy. But today you decided it was time to turn your life around (your running shoes will see you same time next month). 

You hear some commotion off at the right side of the street, and when you lift your head up a little to clear the obstructed view of your sun visor, you see a couple of cops standing on a lawn, chatting up your elderly women neighbors with their laughter bolstering in the air. One of the cops turns around, making eye contact with you, and—  of fucking course, it’s Choso.

“Oh, fuck me,” you mutter under your breath and try to walk faster down the sidewalk in Korean ahjumma style. 

“Hey! y/n! Wait!” you hear him call out and he jogs across the street to catch up with you.

You continue to military march down pavement. “What do you want, Choso? Why are you stalking me?”

He runs up in front of you to stop you in your tracks. You frown at him and cross your arms across your chest. “I’m not stalking you,” he says, “I got a call about a stray dog out here.”

“Oh. Wonderful. So glad to know our officers are keeping us safe from cute street dogs,” you say, tone dripping with sarcasm.

“The dog had rabies. It bit an old man. Had to put it down,” he deadpans.

“O-Oh,” you stutter, cheeks flushing, “well, then, leave? Your job here is done.”

“I just—” he starts, “I want to—” He sighs, looking flustered like he’s trying to gain some sort of courage. And you’re almost entirely certain he didn’t need to garner this much courage to face a rabid dog than he seems to be needing for you. “I, uh, I want to meet your husband.”

“W-What??” you exasperate.

“To say congrats,” he says, but through gritted teeth.

You roll your eyes. “Yeah fucking right. You just wanna abuse your po-po powers to arrest him then throw him into jail then kill him to leave me widowed so that I’ll get back together with you and make a fool out of myself all over again.”

“Your capacity for catastrophization never fails to amaze me,” he says.

You’re pretty sure your therapist said something similar to you last week, too. 

“Ahhh!! y/n!!” you hear a familiar feminine voice call from down the street, and both you and Choso turn your heads toward the source of the sound.

Amaya, your neighbor, who is roughly thirty-weeks pregnant at the moment and therefore waddling down the street to get to you, is waving her arms in the air as her husband as well as another one of your neighbors follows after her. She finally reaches you and takes your hands into hers. “I haven’t seen you in forever!! How’s your mom doing?”

“She’s doing well…just getting by,” you say awkwardly, as Choso’s cop partner also approaches this little group that’s forming here, along with the elderly neighbors that he had been talking to. 

“Doctors taking good care of her?” Amaya’s husband, Ren, asks you with a twisted expression on his face and arms tightly crossed over his chest like he was gonna beat the doctors up if they weren’t. 

“Yes…” you say, “although, I think I’ll be transferring her care to Kaiser.” Oh. Fuck. You should’ve kept that to yourself. Big mouth.

You can feel Choso’s eyes on you as he watches this interaction between you and your neighbors. 

“Oh! That’s interesting,” Amaya says, and as her hands soothe over yours, she feels the bump of the ring on your left hand. She glances down. “H-Huh??? Is this a wedding ring?!”

Choso crosses his arms and tucks his hands under his armpits in your periphery.

“Y…yeeeeesss…” you say awkwardly.

“You’ve finally married?” your elderly neighbors chirp out at the same time.

You shoot them a dirty look over the word finally. “Yes.” Please drop the subject, please drop the subject.

But Amaya has always been the gossipy nosy neighbor. “To who??”

Choso snaps his face to you, intently studying your body language. You take a deep breath.

“I-I didn’t tell you?? I married Satoru!!” you chirp, as if it was a normal thing.

“Ehhh?!” you hear multiple of your neighbors’ voices call out. 

“You married Satoru??? But you hate him!!” Amaya blurts out, her voice loud and echoing down the street of the neighborhood.

“I—” you stammer, ducking your head a little to hide behind your visor, “um, oh, y’know…those feelings just…snuck up on me!”

“Awwww good for youuu,” Amaya coos, and one of your elderly neighbors comes up to you with a cheeky smile to then rubs your arm approvingly, “he’s sooooo handsome, you’re so lucky!!”

Ren lets out a hmph over his wife’s flattery of another man, and you roll your eyes, wanting to put Gojo in his place even in the face of just your neighbors, but then you remember that a loving wife wouldn’t say something like his personality makes him an ugly rat. 

“But when did this happen?” Choso’s partner speaks up, his voice accusatory. Choso hits his partner’s chest vest with the back of his hand, as if to say cut it out.

You feel pissed off at that.

“Oh yeahhh, you and Choso only recently broke up!” Amaya says, pointing between the two of you.

You purse your lips together from the anxiety of this entire conversation. “Three weeks ago. Choso and I broke up three weeks ago,” you say, not even sure why you’re disclosing your personal matters to this group of congregated people, but the peer pressure was damning, and you’re pretty sure silence on this subject in front of your neighbors would only make Choso more suspicious, “and—” you had to get your story straight, “well…within those three weeks, Satoru and I just…got to know each other.”

“Eh?” Ren speaks up. “But he was out of town for two weeks. He only came back a week and a half ago.”

You blink at him.

“Ohhh yes, yes, that’s right, honey,” Amaya agrees with a slow nod in remembrance as she pats her husband's chest, “those chocolates he brought us were from London, right?”

Choso tilts his head at you, giving you a glare with the intent of having you crack under this pressure, because you’ve just been caught in a cold hard lie. More importantly, how the fuck did you not notice that Satoru had been gone for TWO WEEKS??? He was your next door neighbor. You’ve seriously been so damn out of it these days. Also, why the fuck didn’t he get you chocolates from London?!?!?! The fucking snake. 

“A marriage within three weeks is a little odd, no?” Choso’s partner speaks up, but with less of a casual conversation tone and more of a I sense something illegal going on here tone.

“Alright, alright, alright,” Choso sighs, taking a step to stand in front of you. “Let’s all get on with our days. She doesn’t have to share any information she doesn’t want to.”

You blink in surprise at Choso’s words, of which all your neighbors acknowledge albeit slightly reluctantly as they wave goodbye to you and start dispersing back to their homes. Choso’s partner gets some notice through his radio, and he pulls it from the velcro of his chest to speak into it before heading back to their cop car with a slight jog. Once everyone is gone and it’s just you and Choso again, he turns around to face you. His arms are still crossed at his chest while he wears a very skeptical and almost reprimanding look on his face.

“What are you up to, y/n?” he immediately asks you, and you feel goosebumps tickle your skin even in the heat. “I really hope it’s not something fishy. Or illegal.”

You swallow hard. You know the U.S. federal codes in the law for marital & insurance fraud like the back of your hand, since you read through them hundreds of times before deciding if your arrangement with Gojo would be worth it. 8 U.S.C. 1033 and 18 U.S.C. 371 provide for a penalty of up to ten years in prison for insurance fraud. And under that statute, you can also be fined up to $250,000. The best case scenario is that you just have to divorce Gojo, and forfeit your chances of ever recovering from your crippling debt. And while it’s hard to prove marital fraud, Choso had reason for a personal vendetta against you, and he has the resources to launch an investigation. 

“Why would I do something illegal??” you ask, as if to convince him that the possibility was absurd. 

He takes a step closer to you, and your breathing picks up. “People do illegal things all the time,” he says, “for the thrill, out of curiosity,” another step closer, “the most common reason that I’ve seen?” He’s so close to you now that you catch the familiar scent of his skin. “Desperation.”

You catch a small gasp of air from his imposition in your personal space, and finally, your weak legs manage to take you a step back. 

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about here,” you say with a shaky voice.

He raises an eyebrow at you. And then he sighs. “Stay out of trouble.”

Your eye twitches at him, annoyance resurging but you have to bite your tongue for self preservation. Gojo’s words about cops liking more docile women ring in your ears for a brief moment, and you have to physically shake your head to get his voice out of it. 

His partner yells for him from his car, something about a call they got for a robbery downtown, and Choso spares you a warning look before he turns on his heel and jogs back to the car. The sound of police sirens mimic the panic in your beating heart as you watch them speed off down the street and out of sight.

•┈┈┈••✦☽✦••┈┈┈•

You pull into your neighborhood at the early hours of the morning, skin feeling dry and eyes feeling heavy with exhaustion as you yank your hospital badge clip off your scrub top to toss onto the passenger seat along with your stethoscope, releasing it from your neck like pulling a noose loose. 

Before your shift last night, you had to take your mom to the hospital because she was have shortness of breath, and her oxygen saturation was low on her pulse oximeter. She’s stable now, it was just yet another flare up of her COPD, but given her other risk factors, the hospitalist admitted her to monitor her overnight and through to the evening today if all goes well. Which meant that you could have the house to yourself for once. It might sound selfish to say, because shouldn’t the more dominant feeling be I hope my mom will be okay, but the reality was that there’s only so much of that worry you can have at a time. It doesn’t mean you’re not thinking of her literally every second of the day. It just means you’re human. 

The weirdest thing about working the night shift is seeing everyone else’s days start while yours is just ending. There’s a bit of satisfaction with it. Like imagining laughing at their faces ha ha! You have to go to work now at seven in the morning, meanwhile I get to sleep! as if working the night shift doesn’t lead to substantially higher rates of cardiovascular disease and other chronic illness, as well as an early death. So who really got the last laugh? Day shift workers. Literally.

It wasn’t something you did because you liked working the night shift. You do it because you get paid a 20% differential for it. And you need all the money you can get right now.

Your brain seems to be working more than usual if you’re able to think about all these things after a shift. Swiftly pulling into the driveway of your home, around the hull of Gojo’s obnoxious boat in the driveway, you get out of your car with your purse hanging from your shoulder and just before you shut the door, you see one of your elderly neighbors waving at you from across the street. You’re pretty sure her name is Margaret, but you’re awful with names. You do remember that she was in the posse of neighbors that were flocking you yesterday and asking you pushy questions about your marriage in the presence of Choso. And your body stiffens a little. 

She tilts her head at you as you stand in your driveway, and you awkwardly glance over at Gojo’s house.

“Oops!” you chirp from across the street, “always forget to pull into the Hubby’s driveway instead! Silly me!!”

You grab your emergency overnight stay bag from the back of your car and hurry over to Gojo’s house, knocking on the door incessantly and ringing the bell so as to not arouse any more suspicion from your neighbors about why two married people aren’t living together. “Forgot my keys!! Hahahhahaha,” you exclaim while your pounding on the door intensifies. You’re sure you're just being paranoid, because why would sweet old lady Margaret (Janice? Patricia?) snitch on you? But you’ve been paranoid all your life. It’s one of your fatal flaws. 

The door opens suddenly, right as you were about to pound harshly once again, and you stop the motion in time to not sock Gojo in the abdomen with your fist. He blinks down at you, his face a little puffy from sleep, his hair shooting out in all different directions, and he scratches at his chest through the thin cotton of his shirt, one he clearly threw on last minute before opening the door considering the fact that he put it on backwards. And inside-out. 

“Huh? y/n?” he mumbles, his voice deep and kind of raspy with sleep, “what are you doing here?”

“Just let me in,” you hiss at him, glancing over your shoulder to your elderly neighbor's lawn for a second, and then duck under his arm that was holding the door open to get inside the house.

You turn around to see him shrug his shoulders and slowly close the door, clearly too tired to deal with the bullshit this early in the AM, and he turns around to face you before leaning back onto the surface. His eyes close, like he’s trying to preserve the sleepy feeling for when he gets back into bed.

“Can I help you?” he says. His head falls back with a small thump to rest on the door.

“I’m going to sleep here for the night. Er, for the day,” you say. “I will move in starting today.”

“Okay,” he easily agrees.

You blink at him. “Um. Show me to my room.”

“Yeah, sure,” he says, scratching the back of his neck as he heads for the stairs with the shuffle of his slippers across the hardwood floor. You note that he is very easily malleable and overall smooth brained when he’s sleepy. You try to ignore the fact that you find it kinda cute. 

You follow him up the stairs and he leads you across the loft into a hallway studded with a couple of doors. He opens one of them for you, his head drifting a little like he’s about to fall back asleep. “Here you go,” he says while gesturing inside the bedroom and rubbing his eye with a weakly closed fist, “guest bedroom. Uh, there’s another one near the master too that’s a bit bigger, but this one has a lock on the door. So that I don’t sneak into your room in the middle of the night.”

“Thanks,” you accept and head inside. You set your emergency overnight stay bag on the bed and then turn around to face the door to find Gojo still standing in the frame. He has his hands pushed into the pockets of his pajama pants as he squints at you. 

You feel…a little…nervous? Shy? Who the fuck were you to be shy in front of Gojo? You really don’t give a damn what he thinks about you, since a lion does not concern itself with the opinions of a sheep (you’ve been doing reruns of Game of Thrones this past week), but starting today, you’ll be in his territory, and this whole situation is so domestic that you feel vulnerable in front of him. Like the sheep somehow managed to splay the lion open this time, and now the real you is on display for him. You’re suddenly self conscious of the unruly state of your hair and the stains of IV fluid on your black scrubs and the fact that the allegedly flake-proof mascara you put on at the beginning of your shift has long since flaked all over your cheeks.

“Um. Can you leave?” you say in a small voice.

“Huh?” he responds, like he himself forgot that he was still standing there. “Oh. Yeah. Sorry.” He lets out a very long exhale. “Make yourself at home.” And then, still facing you, he walks off to the side veeeeeeery slowly until he’s out of sight.

You walk up to the doorframe and peak your head around to the left to see him still standing there.

“Satoru. Stop treating me like I’m some animal at the zoo. Leave.” 

“It’s just so weird seeing you in my house like thi—”

You slam the door on him, your breathing finally slowing down again as your palms lay flat on painted white wood. You move your hand down to the handle, thumb and forefinger lingering on the lock as you look at it for a moment, but ultimately decide against locking it.

The room has a bathroom attached to it which is nice. The bed is a queen size, fitted with light blue and eggshell white sheets, tucked neatly spare for one corner of the bed where the duvet is flipped over. To the left of the bed is a nightstand and to the right is a dresser that looks very new. You take a glance at your reflection in the mirror sitting above it, and let out a small gasp at your less than flattering appearance. 

A five minute shower does you wonders, and you pat yourself dry with a towel that matches the shower curtain. You find one of your floor-length vintage nightgowns, with the long frilly sleeves, after rustling through your overnight stay bag, along with a toothbrush and some moisturizer. 

As you brush your teeth, you pace around the room. There’s a little staggered rack near the window that is lined with plants and the blinds are angled perfectly for sunlight to get through to them. You poke your finger to one of the plant’s soil and notice that it’s damp. Been watered recently. Gojo is a plant guy? He really doesn’t seem the type. Well, actually, he’s pretty vain about his avocado tree. But houseplants were a different story. A whole different trope of person.

After getting ready for bed, you slip into the sheets and lay stiff despite the comfortable mattress as you stare up at the ceiling with the duvet tucked under your arms. It’s bright in the room. Back home, you have blackout curtains, which help you sleep because it blocks out the morning light. Here, you don’t have that. You don’t have your melatonin either. But you do have the exhaustion in your veins, making you blink slowly and slowly until the water in your eyes feels as thick as oil. You’re so tired to the point that you can’t even sleep.

You force your eyes to close anyway. You’ll pretend you’re a queen in a palace, here in a foreign land she has recently conquered under her empire. A daydream that you find doesn’t really help you drift off to sleep. But counting sheep never fails you. 

•┈┈┈••✦☽✦••┈┈┈•

You awake in the afternoon with a headache that pounds at your head like the FBI is trying to infiltrate your own mind. And all you can hear now is the FBI OPEN UP!!! meme as you groan and rub at your temples with one hand while leaning over the bed to pet at the nightstand for your go-to bottle of Tylenol just to–

Pet around at nothing.

“Mm?” you mumble, opening your eyes cautiously before harsh light makes you close them again. But even behind the protection of your eyelids, you’re still very keen on the brightness that finds you in this room. Finally, you’re able to blink the sleepiness away and adjust to the light, and when the blur of your vision subsides, you realize that you’re in a bed that is most definitely not your own. And then you remember.

You spent your first night (well, technically morning and early afternoon), at Gojo’s house.

You swing your legs over the edge of the bed, balled up fist rubbing at your eyes ferociously as you sit groggy from the sleep that enveloped you so performatively after your shift last night. You can’t even remember coming to his house, which is concerning, since that could mean you forgot to do a lot of other things when coming home. Like changing your clothes, and scrubbing your make-up off. But it seems like habit and routine has saved you, since you glance down and see yourself in one of your nightgowns and your skin doesn’t feel dry.

A loud thud! noise from directly beneath you startles you, jolting some of the sleepiness out of you, and you finally feel inclined to head out the door.

You make it across the loft and to the top of the staircase so you can peer over the railing to the downstairs floor. But from the top, you can’t see anything except for the entry area and the family room, but you assume the sounds you hear are coming from the kitchen, because it sounds like the closing of a fridge and ceramic on marble paired with footsteps on hardwood. Lifting the hem of your nightgown up so you don’t trip over it, you creep down the stairs, diligent in avoiding the 2nd and 7th step (you’ve since learned that they creak a little), and make steady progress in getting to the bottom of the stairwell to then stealthily peak your head around the rail and peer into the kitchen. You only have a view of one side, the long counter strip with the stove and the fridge, but you freeze when you’re met with the sight of a man standing there shirtless pouring orange juice into a coffee mug.

You’re temporarily shocked, your fight of flight immediately kicking in as you clutch the imaginary pearls around your neck in fear…but then…you slowly…find yourself starting to stare. This man’s back is huge, massive really…with tense and defined muscles, expansive smooth lines with ridges that meet bone. His shoulders are broad, rounding down into strong arms that are split with veins. And your eyes trail the way his waist narrows down to his hips, of which gray sweatpants very loosely hang from. Honestly, if the door in the movie Titanic was as large as this man’s back, then maybe Rose AND Jack could have fit on it and survived. (a/n. basically picture this)

And in the middle of your drooling, you realize. That this man. Is. Gojo.

Which should be a relief to you, because if it wasn’t Gojo, and there was just some random man in the house, then you’d have to start looking for a weapon of sorts. But instead you just continue to watch him silently without coming out of your hiding. Shirtless in his own kitchen (a crime, really) as he pours OJ into a black mug (who the fuck drinks juice from a coffee mug). He suddenly turns around to face the island and a small gasp leaves your lips before you duck your head behind the rail to hide yourself from his line of sight, and when you realize you’re in the clear, you slowly peak your head back out.

The sight of his chest and torso nearly knocks you breathless, because why is his skin so smooth…and taut across the defined muscles of his abs, glistening with a sheen you can only guess is a salty layer of sweat. His fringe is damp, sticking to his forehead and the sides of his face, a droplet of sweat rolling down from his temple towards his chin but he uses his bare shoulder to wipe the sweat off before it can get that far. He brings the mug of OJ to his lips and tips it back with a swallow, the thick muscles of his neck rippling and rolling with the bobbing of his Adam’s apple, a singular droplet of orange juice escaping from the corner of his lips, trailing down the vein on his neck and into the territory of his chest. Okay. You were being creepy as fuck right now. He can’t find out that you’re staring at him like this, you’d literally move to a different country if he ever caught you. And yet, for some reason, you just can’t stop either. 

He pulls the mug from his mouth, letting out a large exhale since he literally just gulped it all down in one go. He places his palms flat on the table, slightly distant from one another, as he takes in the sight of his counter, while you take in the sight of the way his biceps bulge and the veins on his thick forearms tense. He looks like he’s contemplating something. And then he shrugs his shoulders slightly before grabbing the carton next to him and chugging straight from it, like whatever he poured himself wasn’t enough to quench the thirst for citrus juice he seems to have after–you can only assume–the workout he just had. 

There’s a deep noise that’s muffled in his throat in the second before he pulls the carton away from his mouth and his eyes glance at something on the floor. You can’t see what it is, but you can see the marvelous shape of his ass through his sweatpants– I mean, you can see him furrow his brow a little and then he’s suddenly crouched down on the floor, ducked behind the island and out of sight, before he mutters something that you think sounds like damn fridge…

You stand on your tiptoes on the last step, trying to peer over the obstructing view of the counter, but you trip over the hem of your nightgown, losing balance and–

–fall straight onto the hardwood in front of you, on all fours. 

“Ah,” you exclaim blandly, and in your periphery, see Gojo suddenly stand up straight from his crouched position.

“y/n?” he calls out from the kitchen, his tone surprised.

“Sorry!” you chirp as you feel embarrassment creeping up on your cheeks, “just, uh, fell down the stairs!”

“What?!?” he exclaims in a panic, and you forgot that most people would panic if someone said that to them. He rushes over to you and gets down on one of his knees to peer at your face, his hand shooting out to grab your upper arm with little delicacy out of concern, and his eyes roam all across you to assess for injuries. “Are you okay??”

“Just!” you chirp as you yank your arm out of his hold, “Peachy!” You’re not able to make eye contact with him as he remains kneeled next to you, but you can’t find yourself able to move either. So you just relish in the ridiculous feeling of being on all fours in your vintage grandma nightgown in front of your shirtless and, breaking news: very hot, fake husband. God you can smell the musk and sweat from him when he’s this close, and it’s sexy. You have to be careful to not just straight up mount him on the floor right now. Much to your aroused dismay. 

“Um,” you squeak out, “can you put a shirt on.”

“Huh?” he looks down at himself, like he forgot he’s half naked. “Oh. Yeah.” He stands up. “Sorry, I’m not really used to having someone in the house anymore,” he says, and his use of the word anymore isn’t lost on you. 

He heads over to the coat closet, pulling a gray sweatshirt that’s a shade darker than his sweatpants off of a coat hanger and then pulling it on over his head. He pulls the hood off, and now his hair looks damp with sweat and sexily ruffled up. And he’s also in a comfy-looking sweatshirt. That was way hotter than being shirtless, for fucks sake. You wonder if he’d reconsider being shirtless again. He’s kneeling down beside you once more, and yes you are still on all fours just staring down at the hardwood floor like an animal paralyzed with fear. 

“Have some decency, please. Especially since I am to start living here from today onwards. I would appreciate modesty around the house,” you say as a tactic of self preservation. “Take note of my attire–appropriately covering all skin.”

“Are you gonna stand up?” he asks you.

“No. I shan't.”

“What? Why not? And why are you talking like that?” 

“It appears I am frozen.”

“Are your knees okay?”

“I believe so.”

He sighs and gets up from his knelt position, then suddenly comes up behind you, bending over to wrap his arms around your waist tightly before picking you up with the same ease in which someone would pick up a plastic lawn chair. You gasp, still retaining your four-legged creature formation, until he shakes it out of you and then sets you back down onto your feet. 

“Don’t be so dramatic,” he says with a sigh as he heads back towards the kitchen, and he’s back to crouching down somewhere behind the counter.

You shuffle your feet over to the kitchen and peer over the kitchen island to see that he’s examining the floor in front of the fridge.

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

He scratches at his eyebrow. “The fridge is leaking again.”

“Oh.”

He clicks something on both sides of the fridge's feet and then grips the corners of its body, pulling it out from the wall with a small grunt leaving his lips. Even with the baggy sweatshirt, you can see the curves of the muscles in his arms as he works. 

You place your elbows on the island and hold your face in your hands as you watch him. “How are you gonna fix it?”

He’s dabbing at the wet hardwood with a very worn out rag to get it dry. “I just have to shut the water valve off for a bit.”

“How do you do that?”

He points over his shoulder with his thumb, and you trace the line of it to the cabinet under the sink. 

“Really? You’re gonna get under the sink?”

He dusts his hands off and tosses the rug off to the side. “Uh-huh.”

“Are you sure you can fix it?”

“Yeah. No problem.”

“How long has this been an issue?”

His gaze flicks to yours briefly before he stands up. “About a week.”

“Don’t you think you should just call someone?”

“What?” He turns to face you and crosses his arms across his chest while raising an eyebrow at you, like you’ve just deeply offended him. “Why the fuck would I call someone for a job I could do myself?”

You tilt your head at him, trying to hide the smirk that threatens to tug at your lips. “Well you said it’s been a whole week.”

“Yeah, I’ve–...I’ve just been busy. So I haven’t had a chance to really take a look at it.”

“Ohhhh okay okay,” you say in a teasingly skeptic tone, poking your tongue to your cheek as it’s getting progressively harder to hide your grin.

“What?” he says to you, impatiently.

“Nothinggg,” you purr, and you watch him with a cheeky look on your face as he glares at you before he disappears off towards the garage.

He comes back with a tool box and you spend some time poking around in it curiously as he grabs a couple of tools before crouching down in front of the sink.

For some reason, you feel shy watching him. Maybe it’s because when he’s laying on his back, the top twenty-percent of him ducked underneath the sink, and he’s working his hands on some pipes that you can’t see, his sweatshirt rides up a little and you can see the very lower part of his torso. And then when he yanks particularly hard on something, it rides up more and you can see his abs tensing and relaxing with almost every breath he takes and every move he makes. You’re just grateful he can’t see you, and the urge to clench your thighs together is almost stronger than your brain’s disposition to convince yourself that he’s not attractive just because you think he’s annoying most of the time. 

“y/n,” he calls out to you from under the sink, and you jump a little. He tilts his head a little so he can make eye contact with you from under. “Can you hand me those slip-joint pliers?”

“I have no idea what that is or where to even begin to know what that is.”

“The pliers that have the serrated edges,” he tries.

“Huh?”

“.........shark with sharp teeth.” 

“Oh! Yes. Yes, of course,” you grab them and then shuffle over to him before crouching down, balancing on your toes, “here you go.”

“Thanks,” he says in a flat tone, slowly taking them from you. 

“You’re welcome!” you chirp. You feel very useful. 

His head disappears back to deep underneath the sink again to work on stuff again. Even though this whole thing is probably just his masculine ego wanting to fix things around the house by himself rather than just call a person that is literally paid to fix these sorts of things, you have to admit that you’re not complaining for getting to watch him do something handy. 

“I’ve just– gotta–” he grunts a little and you hear the creaking of pipes, “tighten this up a bit–” he lets out another gruff noise, his voice strained with effort, and you’re ashamed to say it sounds hot. “Alright!” He pulls himself out from under the sink and stands up back onto his feet with a bounce in his step as he dusts his hands off. “Fixed. For now.”

The fridge starts making a strange whirring noise. You raise an eyebrow at him. He quickly reaches behind it and clicks some button before the eerie whirring stops.

“Okay. Now it’s fixed.”

You give him a very skeptic look. “Sure, Jan.”

“Don’t sure jan me. Trust. It won’t leak anymore.”

“Whatever you say,” you respond before heading back up the stairs to freshen up. 

By the time you go back downstairs, Gojo is nowhere to be found, and you take the opportunity to sit on his couch in the living room to then peruse which streaming services he has on his TV. It isn’t until about ten minutes later that you hear someone coming down the stairs, because he makes no effort to avoid the creaky steps.

You put your elbow up on the couch backrest and twist your torso to look at him. He’s wearing pajama pants and an unmatching black short sleeve cotton T-shirt that’s loose around his torso but tight at the arms. He’s ruffling his hair up with a hand towel, attempting to get it dry from the shower he clearly just took. As he makes his way towards the living room, you catch a waft of the clean soapy aqua fragrance of shampoo lingering in his hair. He stops about four feet behind the couch.

You glance down at his feet. “Why the fuck are you, as a grown ass man, wearing bunny slippers inside the house?”

He opens one eye to glance down at his slippers as he continues to tousle his hair dry, “oh, Juno got them for me for Christmas last year. She wanted me to wear them ‘all the time or else uncle toru’s feet will burn off from the floor lava.”

A small smile makes its way onto your face. 

Juno is Gojo’s five-year-old niece, and from the interactions you’ve seen between them, and from the way My Little Pony was the first thing that popped up when you turned the TV on, you know that Gojo absolutely adores her and vice versa. You’ve met her a couple times, even babysat her once in an emergency, and she’s a cute and bright little kid that you certainly have way more fondness for than her obnoxiously annoying uncle who is also now your fake husband. Wait, does that mean that Juno is your niece now, too?

Gojo lets out a sigh before hanging the towel over his shoulder, his hair apparently adequately dry enough for him now. He looks younger when his hair is messy and a little damp, falling over his forehead flatter than usual. It’s kinda boyish and dare-you-say charming.

He looks down at his slippers again with a pleasant reminiscent look on his face before placing his hands on his hips like he’s a baseball dad of three. “Y’know, when I was growing up–”

“Ah yes. During the Great Depression.”

He gives you an annoyed look. “Quit it. When I was a kid–”

“Back in the 1800s.”

“Aren’t you pushing thirty?” he asks you.

“Aren’t you in need of some new dentures?” you ask him.

“Fuckin’ rude,” he mumbles as he walks towards the foyer table to rip open some of the mail that was scattered across it.

“What happened when you were a kid?” you ask.

“Forget it,” he says, tucking some of his bills back into envelopes.

“What!! I wanna know,” you say.

“Yeah well I don’t want to tell you anymore,” he responds.

As you two fully grown adults continue bickering like toddlers for the better part of two minutes, your phone is ringing upstairs unbeknownst to you. 

“Wait. Shut up,” Gojo cuts off your next insult as he snaps his head up-right suddenly. 

“What?! Did you just tell me to shut u–”

“Shhhhhh,” he hushes you, turning his ear towards the stairs with a concentrated expression on his face.

You silence yourself, and then you hear the ringing coming from upstairs.

“Fuck,” you mumble as you scramble off the couch and jog to the bottom of the staircase, Gojo’s eyes on you the entire time as you run up the steps back to your room.

You hear your phone ringing on the bed somewhere but you can’t find it so you rummage through the sheets before finally spotting it, swiping on the call and bringing it to your ear without even checking the caller ID.

“Hello?” you say.

“Oh! y/n, hi there. It’s Dr. Johnson calling. I was prepared to leave you a voicemail,” he says.

“I’m here,” you say hastily, holding your phone to your ear with both hands as you feel your entire body tense up. 

You never knew what to expect with any sort of phone calls these days, especially when you’re at work or when your mom isn’t home, because a phone call could be something as simple as approving a refill on some of her medication, to something much worse than that. Something much more final than that. 

“It’s not an emergency,” Dr. Johnson says on the other line, like he can sense your fear and anxiety through the phone, “just wanted to reach out to let you know that I spoke with the hospitalist who admitted your mother to the hospital and she’s doing better now. They’ll likely discharge her by the end of the day.”

You slowly let out the breath you were holding. “Oh, that’s wonderful. I know she needs to come in for chemo tomorrow, so it’s perfect timing.”

“Yes, we’ll see her tomorrow.”

“Uh, Dr. Johnson, I do want to let you know…I’ll be admitting my mom for hospice in a couple of days,” you tell him. You wince a little, because you know it’s probably something that you should’ve discussed with him prior to all of this. “It’s…likely that you won’t have to continue her care anymore, since she’s been approved for Kaiser insurance, I’ll be transferring her care to Kaiser physicians.”

There’s a moment of silence on the other line, the briefest moment of hesitation from a self-assured doctor who always had something to say right away. “Really? That’s–...wow. I can’t say I won’t be extremely sad to not see her anymore.”

“I know…” you say, worrying your bottom lip through your teeth, feeling a sudden wave of guilt overtake your senses, “you’ve been following her progress ever since her diagnosis, even got her into remission…it’s just a little complicated with some insurance stuff and some bills as well. If I could have things my way, I would continue care with you and your team.”

Even though you can’t see it, you can tell he’s nodding on the other line. “I understand, y/n. I know that there’s more to healthcare in this country than just…receiving care. But I don’t have to explain those things to you, since you’re a nurse. Do what’s best for you and your family. Give me the details for the hospice, and I’ll have my MAs send over your mother’s chart.”

“Thank you, Dr. Johnson,” you whisper, your voice cracking slightly. “Really. For everything.”

“You’re most welcome.”

“Oh–” you stutter, in fear he might hang up right as you remembered to ask him something.

“Yes?”

“I know I’ll see you tomorrow so we can discuss it then too, but I was just wondering if the scans were back from my mom’s brain MRI she had done? I know they usually take three weeks to come back but just wanted to check.”

He lets out a low chuckle. “I had a feeling you’d follow up about that. No, there are no scans that have come back. I’ll let you know right away when they do.”

“Okay…” you say.

“I know you’re worried about a possible glioma,” he speaks up, “but let’s just try to stay positive until we see the scans, okay?”

“Yes. Sounds good. Thank you, doctor.”

“Alright. I will see you and your mom tomorrow.”

“Yes. Bye,” you say and hear his word of farewell too before hanging up. 

You stare down at the screen of your phone, taking in slow deep breaths to calm down your nerves. You just wanted these scans to come back already so that you could feel at peace knowing that your mom’s worsening neurological condition is due to her Alzheimer’s and not a tumor in her brain. The average survival length of a person with a brain tumor is low, and even worse if it’s a glioblastoma, ranging at around 12-18 months. You can buy her a few years at least with the stage of cancer progression she’s at right now, even with the possibility of remission, but if it becomes severely advanced disease then–

You gasp softly and cover your mouth with your hand, unable to even fathom the thought without feeling a feverish chill run down your entire body. Now's not the time to spiral. Deep breaths. One, two, three. Now is the time to stay positive. Just like Dr. Johnson said. 

Putting one step ahead of the other, you leave the room, cross the loft and slowly make your way down the stairs and stop at the very last step when you see Gojo rushing across the foyer with his dress shoes on, wearing a dark blue suit, save for the tie, and he looks like he’s pressed for time.

“Are you going somewhere?” you ask from the last step, your hand curled around the rail still.

“Hey, uh, yeah,” he scrambles, grabbing his keys from the paper mache bowl on the foyer table and then pats at his pockets for his wallet only to notice it’s absent. “Fuck.” He disappears somewhere into the house in a hurry and then returns with his wallet in his hand before shoving it in his pocket with the jingle of his keys too. “I had to push a couple house viewings from this afternoon up, so I need to leave.” He finally turns to face you and exhales slowly to regain his breath. “Small favor?”

“What’s up,” you say.

He rubs the back of his neck a little guiltily. “Well, Sana called a few minutes ago asking if I could watch Juno since she had to pick her up early from school, and I said sure, but I have to leave now, so–”

“I can watch her,” you say.

He claps his hands together in prayer form and holds them up to his face, “I owe you one.”

“Mhmmmmm,” you hum, watching as he resumes his haste to leave the house. And just before he heads out the door, you say— “Collar.”

“Huh?” He turns around to face you. “Oh.” He takes a second to flatten the collar of his shirt. “Thanks.” And then he’s out the door.

You sigh, relishing in the emptiness of the house. Maybe you should raid his pantry, or play porn on the TV super loud so all the neighbors think he’s a creep. But perhaps that is not appropriate, given that his sister will be bringing his niece over very soon.

You quickly head over to your house to change into something more appropriate than your nightgown, just some blue jeans that honestly make you look like a soccer mom, and then a T-shirt. You walk back to Gojo’s house and only get about five minutes to peruse his pantry when the doorbell rings.

When you open the door, you’re met face-to-face with Gojo’s sister, Sana. How would you describe Sana? Well, first of all, she’s beautiful, with all the same features as Gojo except in female form. Striking round blue eyes, silky white hair that shimmers silver underneath sunlight (you would describe Gojo less poetically than this, though). Her hair is pin straight, falling down just past her shoulders. She’s sweet, or at least has been the couple of times that you’ve met her, but she can also be a little serious and strict. The type to not really laugh at the dinner table if you make a pointed joke about the current political state of the country, but maybe it’s because she didn’t even understand the joke to begin with. Either way, she’s very different from the annoying and irritating temperament of her older brother, and how their mother managed to give birth to such two different kids is beyond you.

“Hey,” you greet her at the door with a small smile.

“Hi, y/n,” she returns with a polite smile of her own. She’s holding onto Juno’s scrawny shoulders as the kid stands in front of her, barely to the height of her mother’s hips. Juno was toying with the light pink baseball cap on her head, her hair pulled through the opening in the back and tied up into a ponytail. “I’m so sorry to bother you with her.”

“Oh! No, not a bother at all, I love getting to see her,” you say as you crouch down to get at eye level with her. “Hi Juno!”

Juno has curly white hair rather than the pin straight that her mother possessed, a feature that more closely resembles her father’s hair, along with her hazel eyes. You’ve only met Sana’s husband, Jun, once before. From what you know, he’s some type of businessman, and the first thing you noticed about him was that he was the same height as Sana. But his wife was blessed with supermodel height and was probably taller than most men, so it wasn’t surprising. Jun was hearty, almost suspiciously kind, laughed boisterously loud, and in the small amount of time you met him, it was easy to see that Sana very rarely humored his ill-mannered and awkwardly-placed jokes, but they seemed very in love with each other regardless. Apparently he and Gojo go golfing every other weekend. Information that you seem to know despite any desire to know it. 

Juno hugs her water bottle to her chest, shy as she makes eye contact with you. “Hi, auntie y/n.”

“I loooooove your baseball cap! It’s so cute, where did you get it?” you ask her.

She blinks off to the side timidly, her fluffy white lashes fluttering over her bright eyes. “Um. Uncle Toru.”

“Ohhh I see, I see! It suits you.”

Sana nudges her a little with her knee. “What do we say, Juno?”

“Thank you, auntie y/n,” she immediately squeaks out in reflex.

Your eyes catch a glimpse of the white bandage wrapped over her tiny arm and your brow furrows before reaching out to gently hold it. Juno winces a little from the sensation. You stand up straight.

“What happened to her arm?” you ask Sana.

Sana sighs as she tucks some of her hair behind her ear. “She fell on the playground at school today. It’s a pretty large scrape and it’s been hurting her a lot.”

“Did you disinfect it?”

“Oh…I just–...washed it with some water. The school nurse wasn’t there today so I just had to pick her up early.” 

“Mm, I see,” you say, “I can take a look at it. I have some neosporin in my purse.”

She lets out a relieved sigh, like she was secretly hoping you would make the offer. “Thank you. Really.” She gently pushes on her daughter’s shoulder. “C’mon Juno. Go inside and set your homework up on the table.”

Juno cranes her neck up to look at her mom. “Mommy, can I have a snack first? Pop-tart!”

“If your uncle has them in the pantry, then sure,” Sana says, and immediately upon hearing those words, Juno rushes inside the house with giggles filling the air. “But only one!!” Sana yells out to her in a strict tone, and you watch with amusement as Juno skips off before returning your attention back to Sana.

“Sooo…” she starts, a small hint of hesitation playing on her usually prim face, “I suppose we’re sisters now. Sisters-in-law.”

Your eyes widen and your shoulders stiffen. It was at least a good thing that Gojo told his family already that you two are married, because it seems that most of his extended family live here in this town. At least, you know that his sister’s family and his parents live here. Better to be heard from him directly than to run into you randomly living at his house all of a sudden when they drop by. You’re sure his family has questions about this extremely sudden marriage to say the least. You’re not sure how much they’ll try to pry, but you hope it’s not much, because you’ve never really been a great actress. “Yes. Yes, we are.”

“Mm,” she hums pleasantly at you, nodding slowly and peering off into the house beyond your shoulder, “say…I’m, um, just a little…surprised by how sudden this all is.”

“Hmm?”

“With you and my brother,” she says straightforwardly. “Obviously, you must know he’s been married before, but it’s…a little odd, it feels like just yesterday when he told us he was…getting a divorce. And now he’s married again.” She trails off when she has some sobering thought that flashes through her head. “Oh gosh, I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m blabbering about this. I’m just–...I’m just thinking out loud. It must be a sore topic.”

“Oh, no, no, not at all. No worries,” you say with an awkward laugh, “I’ve, um, come to terms with it?” You try your best to come up with a believable response.

“That’s good,” she says while she runs soothing circles with her thumb over the skin at her elbow, “well, some love moves faster than others.” She displays a well-meaning smile on her face. “I’m really happy for you two.”

For some reason, your heart warms. Like when the lines of reality and imagination blur, and so you’re left here with a truly comforting feeling. Only it’s fleeting and temporary, like escapism. “Thank you,” you say softly. And after a moment, “by the way, I’m really sorry for…Satoru and I not having a proper wedding. We just wanted something simple.”

She lets out a small scoff. “Oh, gosh, don’t apologize for that. I’m sick of weddings. I was so glad I didn’t have to peruse yet another wedding registry this year. There are only so many toaster ovens I can buy.”

You’re a little surprised by the humor from her, but the two of you let out small laughs in unison at the doorstep.

Sana glances at her watch. “I have to get going. Call me if you need anything, okay?” 

You nod. “Sure. Thanks.”

You close the door slowly, watching her briefly through the stained glass window as she heads towards her car and gets inside before promptly driving off. 

There’s the sound of ruffling heard and then the sound of things falling off a shelf towards the kitchen. You turn on your heel and head in the direction. “Junooo,” you call out, “where are youuuu?”

“In here!” she chirps from the pantry room. You turn the light on to see her standing in the center with a couple boxes of cereal fallen around her. She’s holding an empty box in her hand. “The pop-tart box is empty,” she says with a pout and sulk of her shoulders as she makes the most :(( face you’ve ever seen a child make.

“Oh no,” you say, grabbing the box from her and inspecting the inside, “your devious uncle must’ve eaten them all in a manic episode.”

“What is a manic mean?” she asks you as she looks up, rubbing her ankle with her other foot.

“Oh, it’s like…crazy? He went crazy?”

She giggles at the thought.

“If you’re hungry, I can make you something,” you offer.

She shyly nods her head but her grin fully rounds her cheeks before she darts off towards the kitchen. 

You find her standing near the kitchen island, trying to get up onto one of the bar stools but to no avail. You come up behind her to pick her up then set her down on the seat, adjusting it so it’s a little higher. 

“What do you want me to make?” you ask her as you come around to the other side of the island and set your elbows up on the cold marble, leaning over to place your chin in your palm. 

“Um…” she brings her index finger up to her bottom lip in thought, “pancakes? Can I have blubbery pancakes?”

“Huh?” 

“Um…” she starts again, “last time, when I eated them at your house. Um, when I ated them at your house,” she tries to correct herself, “I really liked them.”

“Oh!” you perch up from your bent over position, “I remember! The blueberry pancakes. Aww, Juno, you remember that? How sweet.”

She becomes a little bashful and glances down at the her lap.

“Okayyy,” you say, placing your hands on your waist as you look around at the kitchen, “well I’ll have to see what ingredients I’m working with here, but hopefully I can make them for you.” You tilt your head at her before pointing a finger. “Have you ever seen the show Chopped?” 

She sits up straight with excitement. “Yes yes! Me and mommy love it.”

“Good. Let’s pretend I’m working with a mystery basket here,” you say, and then you turn around to open Gojo’s fridge. 

You can learn a lot about a person based on what the inside of their fridge looks like. You’re surprised to find the inside of his looks…sparkly? That was the only way you knew how to describe it. With clean shelves that reflect the bright lighting off the plastic, plastic that looks as mirror sheen as glass. As your eyes take in the contents inside, you notice he has some leftover thai food at the front, most likely leftovers from as recent as last night. One of the produce drawers is filled to the brim while the other is mostly empty, and you notice he separates them by leafy stuff vs. veggies. The leafy stuff is the drawer that’s filled to the brim, and you just know he’s stressed out over how to use all of it up before it starts wilting. Must’ve been on sale, you think to yourself. To the right of the fridge, there are an insane amount of orange juice cartons, and you notice he drinks the same one as you–pulp free with the added vitamins and calcium that’s made for kids. Although maybe he has an excuse for it, since he has a five-year-old niece. There’s a few containers of meal prep stacked up at the back of the fridge that look like some sort of arrangement of quinoa, chicken and Mediterranean vegetables. And then there’s just a bunch of assorted cans of beer throughout the fridge, which you assume are to appease the diverse preferences of his friends whenever he has them over. 

You grab a couple of eggs from the egg carton, placing them on the counter along with a stick of butter plus a half-full carton of milk, and peer deep into the fridge past the wall of condiments to eye for any fresh fruit such as berries, but you don’t see any. You try the freezer and are relieved when you see he has some frozen blueberries in there.

“Okay!” you shut the fridge. “Just need to grab a few more things from the pantry room and then I’ll make you your pancakes, okay?” 

Juno nods enthusiastically. “Um. Can I get my backpack?”

“Sure.” You pick her up off the bar stool to set her down on the ground and she runs to the coffee table in front of the TV to grab her things as you head to the pantry room. 

Flour, sugar, baking powder, all tucked in your elbows as you carry the ingredients back to the kitchen before dropping them onto the counter and picking Juno up to place her on the barstool again. She starts to lay out her glittery pens and pristinely sharpened pencils in front of her as well as a packet of papers. 

“I can’t believe they’re giving Kindergarteners homework these days…” you mutter under your breath as you grab a bowl. “Juno, wanna help me crack the eggs?”

“Yes!”

“Let’s go wash our hands then.”

As you mix all your ingredients together and Juno continues to stare at her papers with her face awfully close to them (does she need glasses?), you think to yourself what a nice little life this is. Although you haven’t been able to spend the day at your house like you were hoping you would, since you could finally have it for yourself, it was nice to spend it at Gojo’s. It was something different, something refreshing, something grounding. An escape that you needed. 

“Um. Auntie y/n?” Juno calls from behind you as you flip a pancake at the stove.

“Yes sweetheart.”

“How is mommy?”

“Hmm?” you hum. “My mommy?”

“Yes!”

“Oh you are just the sweetest thing. She’s doing okay. She’s just a little sick still.”

“When I’m sick,” Juno speaks up with a childlike enthusiasm in her voice, “my mommy gives me grape soor–...stir–” she struggles with the word, “shrup, ah, syrup! Grape syrup. It makes me better.”

“Ohhh honey, I know,” you coo as you try to match her enthusiasm, placing two little pancakes onto a plate for her. “When you get the sniffles, right?”

“Yes! Maybe your mommy will be better too if I give her some of my grape syoorup?”

You stop in your tracks, staring down at the food you were just plating.

The innocence of a child. It was hard to stay strong in the face of it. When you were younger, you probably would’ve thought that a magical potion would make your mom all better, too.

You turn around to face her. “Well,” you say, clearing your throat a little to fight the knot that you find is twisting it, “I think,” and now you’re blinking away the faint sheer of tears as you press your lips into a thin smile, your soft soft above a whisper, “that that is a wonderful idea.”

Juno gobbles up her blubbery pancakes with the extra maple syrup on them and you watch her take every bite. There was something satisfying about seeing a little kid eat so well. The sight made you feel well-fed on their behalf.

“Alright,” you say with a small grunt as you pick Juno up and set her down onto the ground, then take her hand to lead her over to the carpeted family room. “Let me take a look at this scrape of yours.”

Juno’s hand tugs slightly when you try to pull on it, so you turn around to see that she has stopped in her tracks halfway through the trek to the other room.

“What’s wrong?” you ask her.

“I don’t want you to see it…”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s ugly.”

“Juno,” you tug on her hand a little, “I have to see it so that I can clean it. Otherwise you might get sick. A type of sick that even grape syrup can’t fix.”

She looks up at you with curious eyes, not fearful ones. 

“There is sick like that?” she asks you.

“Yes. Now give me your arm.”

Juno follows you to the family room and stands still, the front of her jutting out slightly as she pouts, a display of her remaining disapproval for you taking a look at her scrape. You get down onto your knees and slowly undo the bandages, unwrapping the layers one-by-one before the end falls off and you’re staring at a 4x2cm superficial abrasion on her arm, and when your thumb lightly swipes at the skin underneath it, Juno winces from the pain.

You also notice she has a bruise on her left upper thigh, right below where the hem of her shorts end.

“You…only fell onto your right side, right?” you ask her.

“Mhm,” she nods.

“That’s it?”

“Yes.”

“How come you have a bruise on your left thigh then?”

Her eyes widen slightly with shock and her head quickly snaps down to look at her thigh. “Um. Um. I don’t know. Um. Um.”

“Juno,” you say, trying to muster up a strict tone, but she refuses to make eye contact with you anymore as she stares at the carpet beneath her. You gently grab a hold of both of her wrists. “Sweetheart. Look at me.” Her eyes slowly lift up to meet yours. “I want to help you, but I can't help you unless you’re honest with me.”

Her big eyes blink at you slowly and her bottom lip quivers slightly.

“How did you really hurt yourself?”

She immediately starts bawling. Full on sobs that echo throughout the room and startle you slightly as the tears freely fall down her cheeks and she struggles to wipe them off with her left arm, but they only drip down her elbow.

“Oh–” you stutter, holding her by her shoulders, “Juno–”

She sniffles. “They–” she hiccups, “they pushed me…they always push me.”

“Who pushed you?? Who always pushes you??”

She sucks in a deep breath as she continues to cry and you struggle to wipe at her tears for her with the pad of your thumb. “The–hic–girls at school. They’re so–hic–...wahhh…they’re so mean.”

“They pushed you on the playground and that’s how you got this scrape and bruise?” you ask her.

She nods as she slowly begins to come down from her outburst, her remnant sniffles and short sharp inhales showing that she was struggling to breath. You run to grab some tissues and then come back, holding them to her nose before she blows into them.

“Oh sweetheart…I’m so sorry,” you say to her.

She suddenly runs into you, hugging you tightly, and you’re momentarily surprised before wrapping an arm around her too and then gently patting at her back.

“How long has this been going on?” you ask her.

“Mm…ever since I–hic–ever since I got on T-ball team…but they couldn’t get on.”

“Oh…” you coo, gently rubbing her back now. You’re not a mom, you’ve got no fucking clue how to navigate this sort of situation. But you can try your best to give some advice. “Juno, you have every right to feel happy and safe at school.” You gently pull her away from the hug so that you can look at her face. “And it’s okay to stand up for yourself and against anyone that is being mean to you. Don’t let them take that power away from you.”

She nods slowly, her lip quivering slightly again.

You sigh slowly before giving her another hug. “And we’ll work out something with your mom too, okay? She can talk to the teachers.”

“No!” Juno shrieks, pulling away from you suddenly. You blink at her. “No. Please don’t tell my mommy.”

“W-Why not??”

“Because–” she stutters, “um…I want to tell her myself. Because I lied, and mommy always says to me to not tell lies. So I have to fix it myself.”

You tilt your head at her, frowning slightly. You’re not exactly sure how much autonomy over such things you should be granting a five-year-old, but you decide to give her the choice. You hold your pinky finger out to her, “you have to promise me you’ll tell her though, okay?”

She nods and wraps her pinky around yours. 

After getting her scrape cleaned up and tended to, Juno spends the next hour or so watching My Little Pony on the TV as you clean up the mess you made in the kitchen. And as you’re staring out into the backyard while wiping down the cutting board, the sound of the doorbell ringing makes you jump with a startle and breaks you out of your trance.

You were prepared to open the door to find Sana standing at the entrance, but instead you’re met with the sight of a different woman.

Much older, and with all the same features, it doesn’t really take you long to figure out who she is.

“Ah! There she is!” the woman chirps out. “I’m—”

“Juno’s grandmother,” you finish the statement for her.

“—Satoru’s mother,” she instead says.

You both blink at one another.

“Well,” she chirps, “I’m both!”

Gojo’s mother appears to be a kind woman, and it’s evident that being gorgeous must run in the family. Although she has aged features, they’re still beautiful in a graceful way, where people would take a look at her and think of aging as a privilege and not a curse. Her eyes are somewhat feline, different from the roundness of those you’ve seen in her family, and her hair is a shimmering silver all around with a pretty silk press layered hair style that flatters her frail jaw. She was wearing a French-style button up dress with a rather gaudy belt around her waist, and you catch the scent of her lilac perfume even while she’s standing three feet away.

She puts her hands on her hips and has a forced smile on her face. “My son gets married and he doesn’t even tell me a peep about it, or introduce me to his new wife! I have to come all the way over here myself!” she exclaims, and her tone is like she’s trying to play it off with nonchalance but the stiffness of her features makes it look like she’s losing her mind. “Well,” she clicks her tongue, “he’s always had the penchant for never sharing anything he ever does with me.”

“Ah…I’m so sorry, Mrs. Gojo,” you say to her, unsure why you’re apologizing, but there was this energy to her that made you realize she had a skill for making people feel apologetic in her presence.

“No worries! Not your fault. I’ll deal with him later,” she says, her smile growing to where it almost fully crescents her eyes in a frightening way that almost sends a shiver down your spine, “anywhoooo,” she takes both of your hands into hers, “you’re very beautiful, and you have a very lucky-looking nose!”

“Lucky?”

“Yes, yes. You will bring luck to our family.”

“Thanks?” you say, trying to manage a smile.

She takes a step closer to you. “Tell me, what do your parents do for a living?”

“Oh! Um, well, my mom is retired, but she used to be an art teacher. My dad is in the food business, but uh, I haven’t spoken to him in years ever since my parents got divorced.”

“Ah,” she says curtly, her face blank as if she couldn’t think of a single thing to follow up with after that. She peers past your shoulder. “Where’s the little princess?”

“She’s just inside grabbing her things.” You gently slip your hands out of her hold and turn around to face the inside of the house. “Juno!! Do you need help?”

“No!!” she calls from the kitchen.

“Say, my dear,” Gojo’s mother speaks up, “why don’t you and Satoru come by for dinner this weekend? Jun and Sana apparently have some important news they’d like to share with the family, and I offered that we all hear it together over a meal. This way you can meet your father-in-law too!”

You take a deep breath in, realizing that this fake marriage agreement involves a lot more deceit than you ever thought it would. “Sure. Yes. I’d love that. Let me know if I can bring anything.”

“Wonderful!” she exclaims, just in time for when you feel Juno brush past you towards her grandma, hunching over slightly with her backpack’s weight. Gojo’s mother pulls you in for a hug which entirely startles you and you slowly wrap your arms around her as well. “It’s so lovely to have a daughter-in-law. Oh, I am just so happy to have you in our family.”

She lets go of you but still keeps you close by a delicate hold of your elbows, a gleeful smile on her face as she looks you up and down slowly.

“Bye, auntie y/n!!” Juno squeaks out, hugging your leg, and you pat at the top of her head. Her grandmother finally lets go of you and takes Juno’s tiny hand in her frail one, and you see them off to the car.

By the time you make it back inside the house, you let out a deep slow breath, one that you didn’t know you were holding in, as you lay your weight back on the front door. You feel a pressure in your head from your dwindling social battery and all these tricky encounters.

So, you’re part of a whole other family, now?

That. Is. Frightening.

.

.

.

[end of chapter 3]

a/n. ah!! hope you enjoyed this ihm chapter :’’) sorry if it seemed like a bunch of random scenes lolol i swear it’s all set up for stuff that will happen down the lineee. i just be yappin so the word count ends up kinda high. hope to see you in the next one!! <3 love u all. also it’s my frank ocean anons bday today so i dedicate this chapter to themm 🫶🏼💕 manifesting dilf gojo for u bb for anyone curious about why reader is a bit paranoid w potentially being busted for her fake marriage, i had another reader that was curious about this too so i answered them here if you'd like to check it out :)

➸ take me to chapter four!

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[dreamescapeswriting]

Dancing In The Shadows ~ LF [MATURE WARNING]

CONTINUATION OF THIS PIECE

WORD COUNT: 5.4K

GENRE: mafia AU, hacker reader, felix technically kidnapping her, insta love (sorry but its fun to write hehe) enemies to lovers? Cute, fluffy, SMUT MINORS DNI, protected sex, public sex (kinda) links into the other stories too ehe

PAIRING: Felix X Fem!Reader

⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - February 2024

⤜MASTERLIST

Felix sat behind his imposing mahogany desk, his eyes fixed on you as you stood before him, pulling on the sleeves of your hoodie nervously as you waited for him to say something. You were the reason for his recent financial troubles...well, not really, Felix had more money than he knew what to do with but you'd been the one with the balls big enough to steal from him. The one who had infiltrated his bank accounts with such skill and finesse that even Felix had to admire your audacity. Felix wasn't stupid though, he'd done his research before he'd "hired" you, taking you from your boss with the impression he'd bring you back but it simply wasn't true.

Once he had you he simply wasn't going to just throw you back, you were a once in a lifetime catch and he wasn't dumb enough to drop that. In the hacking world, you were simply known as Firecracker. No one knew who you were by physical appearance but the jobs you would do told people what they needed to know. 

You stole from the rich to give to the poor, a real modern-day Robin Hood. If Felix wasn't so rich he would have been pissed off at you for trying it on him.

"You've got guts, I'll give you that," He finally spoke, his gravelly voice breaking the silence and making butterflies flutter inside of you, you hated them for it. Ever since he'd taken you from work you couldn't stop the tingles in your back or the butterflies whenever he'd touch you or speak to you. 

"Hacking into my accounts takes some serious skills. I should be mad, but I'm impressed." All things he'd already told you in the office but was going back over on his own, leaning forward he studied you closely. He wanted to know more about the elusive Firecracker that no law enforcement or underworld man had been able to catch. 

"So, what? You're going to kill me now?" You'd seen the man standing outside of his office with guns, he might have promised you a job when you were at work but who was to say it wasn't just some ploy to get you to go with him.

"I gave you my word. I take that seriously," Felix said as he leaned back in his chair, a sly grin playing on his lips as he watched you. While you were faking confidence he could see the nerves seeping out of you and it impressed him more than he would have liked to admit.

"I want you to work for me," He declared, you arched an eyebrow at him. 

"You've proven yourself to be quite the asset, and I could use someone with your talents, you already stated my computer security sucks...So fix it." He turned his desktop computer around and you blinked at the screen before turning back to face the man who was watching you closely.

"And if I refuse?" It wasn't like you had much of a choice but you wanted to know the repurcations.

"Then I'll have to resort to less pleasant methods of persuasion. But trust me, you'll find it much more lucrative to be on my payroll." Kissing your teeth a little you looked back at the computer. Despite your better judgment, you found yourself intrigued by the offer. You'd never worked for anyone but yourself in the security way before, but the idea of being affiliated with one of the most powerful crime families in the city was undeniably tempting.

"I have conditions." You weren't dumb, you were going to do this with rules in place. You'd seen enough movies and read enough articles about the underworld that you had to be prepared.

"I would be surprised if you didn't." A slight smirk played on his lips as he watched you scramble to think of something but he couldn't help but think about how beautiful you were, how cute he found it whenever you'd play with the sleeves of your shirt.

"I want full access to your network. I need to know everything about your system if I'm meant to be fixing it." He nodded at you, it was his full intention to give you anything you asked for. Hell, he'd give you a house and a more stable job if that was something you wanted from him.

"Okay. What else?" He got out a notepad, ready to write down a list of everything you wanted but you just stared at him,

"Lastly. Once I've fixed it, I'm out. No strings attached." The pen in his hand stilled as he stared down at the notepad, it had never occurred to him that you would want to leave but he nodded,

"Fine. But I have a feeling you'll want to stick around." He tried to make it seem as though he was joking but you shook your head.

"Nothing will make me stay, Mr Lee." You sounded so sure of yourself and maybe you were but now that Felix had you there was no way he was going to let you go so easily.

"Hmm. We'll see." He mumbled, getting up and readying his office for you to use.

With determination and skill, you set to work. You fortified Felix's digital defences, erecting layers of encryption and implementing state-of-the-art security protocols. It was insane how poor his security was for someone who was supposed to be the best of the best. You thought you would have been working alone but Felix watched you work the whole time. You spent every night in your own room in his huge house, the two of you would eat meals together giving you time to get to know each other which was something you were feeling unsure about.

The more time you spent with him the more you wanted to leave, growing attached to someone was never an option for you and getting attached to a criminal? Never. 

But Felix found himself falling for you and hard, every day you'd work he would watch you with a mixture of fascination and admiration, impressed by your intellect and resourcefulness.

But as the days turned into weeks and your job neared completion, Felix found himself growing reluctant to let you go. He had his men ruin some of your work so that you'd stay around longer but it was getting harder and harder to do that with how good your work was. He had grown accustomed to your presence, your sharp wit and unwavering confidence a welcome distraction from the monotony of his daily life.

You pushed your chair away from his desk, smirking to yourself. You were unbelievably proud of how well you'd done your job, despite the obstacles that had been thrown in the way. 

"I've fixed your security systems, Lix," You announced, Felix's smile dropped from his lips as he stared back at you. He knew this time would be coming but he thought he would have more time than this. 

"It's time for me to move on." You stretched in the chair, your heart breaking at the thought of leaving him but you weren't going to listen to it. Felix's heart sank at the thought of losing you.

"I- I still need your help," He stuttered a little, he hated that he was stuttering but you were the one person who turned him into a nervous wreck with just one look.

"I fixed everything Lix, everything is unbreakable." You weren't going to allow yourself to stay any longer, you'd already felt yourself falling and you wanted to stop it in your tracks.

"Firecracker...Come on, you're the best of the best. I need you around," He sounded desperate but he honestly didn't care, he didn't want you to leave. Not when he was so close to you now. As soon as you were gone he'd be alone and the thought of that terrified him.

"You'll find someone who's just as good." You shrugged, you knew people who could replace you and if he really wanted you could get him their names.

"I can't let you go." He said simply as the door to his office opened,

"You promised." Your voice was strained as you realised what he was going to do.

"I'm sorry."

"You said you kept your word!" You screamed as two of his men stood at the door, holding their guns another led you to the room you'd been staying in.

"I hate you!" You screamed at the door, Felix' stared down at the floor. He knew he could get you to like him, he just needed a little more time with you.

You were trapped, despite your skills, you'd been no match for Felix and his powerful organization. Reluctantly, you resigned yourself to your fate, knowing that you were at Felix's mercy.

It had been a few weeks since Felix had taken you in, every day you were forced to spend meal times with him. You hated him but at the same time, your heart was still falling for him, despite him taking you hostage. 

"Yn, you have to speak to me eventually," Felix stated as he watched you walk away from him. You'd spent most of the meals in silence, with Felix taking the conversations and talking about his day mostly. 

"Why? You want me to be some trophy in your grasp, trophies don't speak." You mumbled. It was the first time he'd heard you speak in weeks and even though it was a mumble it was music to Felix's ears. In the dimly lit confines of the home, tension hung heavy in the air as you turned on your heels to face him.

On one hand, you hated him for taking you but on another, he had taken you away from everything you hated about the real world. You were given the freedom to explore - with an armed guard by your side. You had no bills to pay, no responsibilities, it was nice...It would have been nicer if it hadn't been against your will.

"Yn, you have to understand," He pleaded, his voice tinged with desperation as he tried to justify his actions as if that was even possible. 

"I didn't take you hostage because I wanted to. I did it because... because I couldn't bear the thought of losing you." You scoffed a little, your eyes flashing with anger as you met his gaze, your fists clenched at your sides. He was unbelievable.

"That doesn't excuse what you did," You retorted, your voice sharp with reproach. 

"You can't just kidnap someone and expect them to forgive you because you're afraid of being alone." You grumbled at him, folding your arms across your chest, you weren't just going to forgive him for kidnapping you just because he gave you some piss-poor excuse.

Felix winced at your words, the weight of his guilt pressing down on him like a suffocating blanket. He knew that he had crossed a line, and had violated the trust of the one person he cared about more than anything else in the world. Even though he'd barely known you, part of him knew the two of you were meant to be together and he wanted it to work more than anything.

But if he'd let you leave when you were supposed to, he never would have seen you again and this had been the only logical part his brain could come up with. 

"I know I messed up,"  He admitted, his voice thick with remorse, it was now or never to make it up to you. 

"And I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you, I swear. But please, just give me a chance to prove that my feelings for you are real, that I'm not just some monster trying to control your life." Your anger softened slightly at his words, your heart aching with the weight of his confession. 

"I love you...I have a shitty way of showing it but I do." You blinked at him. Love? He barely knew you. 

"Your idea of loving me is to kidnap me and force me to stay against my will?" A pang of guilt shot through his chest as he stared at you.

"I'm sorry, Yn, I know I messed up and I'll do whatever it takes to make it right, but please...Just...Just give me a chance to prove to you my feelings are genuine." You wanted to believe him more than anything in the world but it was hard when everyone in your life had used love as a weapon.

"I want to believe you, Felix," You whispered, your voice tinged with uncertainty.

"But you have to understand that trust isn't something you can just demand from someone. It has to be earned, and right now, I'm not sure if I can ever trust you." Felix's heart sank at your words, the realization of his mistakes hitting him like a freight train. 

"I'll do whatever it takes," he promised, his voice trembling a little, he was willing to do anything to get you to agree to be his. 

"I'll make things right, I swear. Just please... please don't give up on me." You stared at him, biting the inside of your cheek as you thought about it.

"I'll have conditions." If you were going to give this a real chance then you were going to do it with your own conditions and speculations.

"Anything." He breathed out, relief sounding in his voice as you finally agreed to him.

"I want to go out more. Alone." You stated plainly, that all you wanted was time alone. Time to go out without someone watching your every move.

"Anything but that." He bit off a little, his tone unsure of what to make of that. What if you ran? What if you found a way out and never came back?

"You said you want me to trust you but you won't trust me," You snapped at him angrily, the anger bubbling over and finally spilling.

"Yn-"

"That's the only thing I want. Time alone." He sighed a little and rubbed the bridge of his nose, looking back to you before nodding.

"Fine. You'll come back?" You knew running would be useless but part of you didn't even want to run.

"I promise." You whispered as he watched you, his eyes narrowing a little as if he were trying to figure out if you were lying or not.

"There's a ball coming up. A charity one, you can go shopping for a gown and accessories." He told you,

"I don't have money," With that, he handed you a black car with a smile on his lips.

"Buy yourself something nice," You stared down at the black card. Oh, you were planning on buying something nice, but it wasn't just going to be one thing.

You found yourself decked out in silk and diamonds, courtesy of Felix's card that you'd kept on you ever since you'd gotten back from your little trip. Felix carefully walked you through the grand hall and smiled as he looked around, the event was in full swing as people began to mingle with one another. But you were the only person Felix wanted to spend all night talking to. Felix escorted you through the grand ballroom, all of these things had become to the same for him over the years but he would always make sure he came to them to donate a wealthy sum before leaving.

Only tonight, he wanted to stay. He wanted to take you out on the dance floor and show you off in the stunning dress you'd worn and let everyone know that you were his.

"This place is so beautiful." You gasped out, you couldn't believe your eyes. The opulent chandeliers cast a soft glow all over the room, soft music played through the hall and people chatted among themselves. 

"You look beautiful," He whispered in your ear, smiling to himself as he looked at you. Ever since you'd walked down to him that night he hadn't been able to keep his eyes off you, not that he ever did before. Your attention slowly turned to Felix who was dressed in a tailored suit, looking as handsome as ever.

"You look handsome," You whispered, part of you wanted to hate him for keeping you hostage but after almost maxing out his card - or so you'd hoped - you were starting to feel a lot better about everything.

Felix began to navigate through the crowds of people and the more you walked the more out of place you began to feel. All of the people in attendance were wealthy and powerful people, you were a hacker who had a chance incounter with a man worth more than you could possibly think about. The further you walked the more aware you were of the curious glances and whispered rumours that were being passed around. Felix didn't even seem fazed by them as he reached for a tray of champagne and handed one of them to you.

"To a wonderful night," He cheered to you, both of you drinking from your glasses until his phone started to ring inside of his pocket, smiling weakly he pulled it out.

"Hello...Yes, this is he," He mumbled into the phone before turning to look at you, and you smirked already knowing what the phone call was about.

"200K...Hmm," He hummed as he stared at you, he had to admit he was a little impressed with how much you'd managed to spend on the card he gave to you.

"No, not to worry. That wasn't fraud, just my future wife throwing a tantrum. Alright, thank you."

"Future wife?" You giggled a little as he licked his lips slowly and shook his head at you,

"200K? What did you even buy?"

"A whole computer system, a whole new wardrobe and some diamonds." You showed him the earrings you were wearing and he couldn't help but laugh to himself.

"You didn't give me a spending limit," You shrugged it off, you expected him to get mad but Felix was quite impressed. He never thought you'd be able to spend that much in one day.

"For you? There's never a limit baby," He smirked before kissing your lips softly. For a fleeting moment, you forgot about the dangers that lurked outside the ballroom walls, or that you'd been taken hostage by Felix. You just allowed yourself to feel happy, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck and kissing him back deeper this time. 

Tonight, you weren't just some hacker girl that Felix had brought along to the ball to play Cinderella for the night and you weren't his captive. You were simply a woman lost in the enchantment of the moment, captivated by the enigmatic man at your side.

As you slowly pulled away from one another there was something different in Felix's eyes, 

"What's wrong?" You were almost scared your kiss had been bad but he shook his head at you, hesitating for a moment as he thought about what he could say to you. He wanted to let you go, to let you leave the home if that was what you truly wanted but part of him was scared you'd never come back. Taking in a deep breath he reached out, his hand trembling slightly as he cupped your cheek,

"Yn, there's something I need to tell you." Your heart skipped a beat as you stared at him, waiting for him to say something but your heart raced faster with anticipation. 

"What is it?" Your voice barely came out above a whisper as you stared at him. With a sigh, Felix searched your eyes, his gaze intense and unwavering. 

"I know that our relationship began under... unconventional circumstances," he admitted, making you smirk a little.

"But as I've come to know you, I've realized that you are so much more than just a skilled hacker. You're intelligent, brave, and fiercely independent—a woman unlike any other I've ever met." He had no idea where he was going with this, it wasn't something he'd rehearsed. But your heart was fluttering at his words, your chest swelling with warmth you'd never felt before.

"And...I find myself, drawn to you in ways I can't quite explain." Your hand slowly moved to cup his cheek and you felt how hot he was getting,

"You've become an integral part of my life. And I don't want to imagine a world without you in it."

"Felix..."

"I know I technically held you captive so...I understand if you don't want to stay with me but I needed to let you know my feelings are true." He looked at you, swallowing a lump the size of a boulder in his throat,

"But I'm going to let you go. You can leave the house, you can move out."

"Lix," You whispered, your voice trembling with emotion as you stared at him. His confession washed over you as you watched him closely, you felt the same way for him and hearing him say he was willing to let you go made you only want to stay.

"I feel the same way, I-I never wanted to...I always thought love was   just a weapon but you..." You didn't even know where to start with him.

"You care for me more than I ever thought possible." You whispered to him before Felix' blushed,

"Dance with me?" You added before he nodded, taking your hand in his.

As you swayed in each other's arms, the world around you faded into insignificance, leaving only the gentle embrace of the music and the warmth of your shared connection. Your head was rested against Felix's chest, your heart racing with a mixture of nerves and excitement. Despite the lavish surroundings and the curious glances of the other guests, you felt safe and protected in his arms, as if nothing else mattered but the two of you at that moment.

Felix held you close, his touch gentle yet possessive as you moved together in perfect harmony around the floor. With each step, he felt the weight of his past sins and regrets fall away, replaced by a sense of peace and contentment that he had never known before.

"Lix," You breathed out as you stared up at him, your eyes sparking a little as he stared down at you. In a moment of unspoken understanding, your dance slowed, your movements becoming more intimate as you gazed into each other's eyes. The soft melody continued to play, wrapping around you like a cocoon as you drew closer, your breaths mingling in the air.

With a gentle touch, he cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin as he leaned in, his lips hovering just inches from yours. your heart raced in anticipation, your eyes fluttering closed as you surrendered to the inevitable. You'd kissed before but now there felt a sudden pressure for this one.

Your lips met in a tender, electrifying kiss—a silent declaration of the feelings that had been simmering beneath the surface for so long. Time seemed to stand still as you lost yourselves in each other, the world around them fading completely as you shared a moment of pure, uncontrolled passion.

"Follow me," You breathed out, grabbing his hand in yours as you made your way through the crowds, ignoring the people who were staring and mumbling. Right now you needed Felix and you didn't have time for pleasantries as you made your way through the hall.

"Here?" He chuckles as he lifts you up onto the countertop of the bathroom you'd just dragged him inside of, your heart racing as you watch him closely.

"What if someone comes in?" He arches a brow at you before you drag him closer to you by his tie. He knew no one would come in, his men had followed him to the door and were no doubt waiting outside refusing anyone entry if they tried.

"Then they'll see we're busy and leave." You grumbled before kissing him, this time the kiss was deeper and more intense as you pushed off the blazer he was wearing onto the floor and worked on the buttons of his shirt.

"Someone's very needy." He chuckles to himself as you glare at him, you weren't in the mood for any games, you needed him and you weren't afraid to show it.

"Shut up and do something about it then,"

"Gladly." He groans, his hands rolling up your dress until he exposes your bare core and he smirks to himself,

"No panties?" He arched his brow at you and you giggled spreading your legs for him to get a better view. His eyes run down your body, his tongue darting out to wet his lip.

"You're so fucking beautiful," He groans, his hands drifting to your thighs, his knuckles catching on the edge of your pussy making you whimper.

"You take my breath away," He tells you breathlessly,

"Prove it." You demand, spreading your legs, his eyes drop to your pussy and he groans instantly falling to his knees. You were the only woman he would ever drop to his knees for like this. Having the great Lee Felix on his knees for you sent a power trip through you like no other. You grab his head as he trails his tongue along your slit making you whimper a little at him,

"Please." You plead with him, your hips bucking a little toward him as he chuckles softly sending vibrations all over your body. His tongue touches your clit, circling it, then tracing it down your centre and dipping inside of you, lapping you up hungrily. Your hands tighten in his hair, pushing his face closer to you as you grind against his tongue. Your eyes fluttered shut as your head rolled back against the mirror behind you.

"D-Dear God, Lix, please." You moan out as he removes his tongue, licking his head to look at you as he licks his lips.

"You taste like paradise," He groans before dropping his head and eating you out like a man starved, His eyes meet yours as he keeps his face buried between your thighs, your hips trying to get more friction as you cry his name out loudly.

"Felix!" You scream, his teeth gently biting on your clit as he sends you over the edge. Ecstasy washed through you as your hips shuddered beneath him, a giant smirk toyed on his lips as he got up from the floor.

"That was fucking hot," He moans out before kissing you deeply, your legs wrapped around his waist as you yanked him closer to you. The kiss was desperate, raw, filled with a need so strong you began to grind against his pants.

"You'll make a mess, firecracker," He chuckles softly before you pull away, unbuckling his belt and kicking his pants down leaving him bare in front of you. Felix was quick to reach for his wallet, grabbing a condom from the inside and rolling it onto himself as you wiggle your eyebrows at him.

"This is going to be quick," He winks at you, he could hear a commotion happening outside but you smirked at him. The two of you were at a ball filled to the brim with rich people and you wanted them to hear you getting fucked by him. 

"Lix, don't make me beg," You whine before he slams into you, holding you tightly as you groan, throwing your head back against the mirror so hard you were afraid it was going to break. You scream his name out as he pulls back and thrusts into you again, your legs wrapped around his waist as you bring him closer to him.

"Felix!" You cry out as the door handle jiggles, making you giggle as Felix chuckles to himself.

"Felix! Is that you?!" A man yelled from outside the door, you whimpered a little but Felix only continued to plow in and out of you.

"I'm busy fucking my girl, we'll be out soon!" He calls out before slamming into you again, your head rolling back as your hips bucked toward him. You dig your heels into his ass urging him on and his hand presses onto the mirror behind you, the other on your hips as he fucks you. His thrusts wild and hard as he groans your name out.

"L-Lix." You moan out as he continues to drive into you, your hands digging into his shoulders as you yank him closer to you, your release drawing closer as you cry out his name.

"I've got you, you can come, firecracker," He moans out, reaching his hand down and rubbing your clit roughly. Your release rushes over you unexpectedly as you cry out his name loudly, whimpering and bucking uncontrollably. Felix chuckles to himself, completely in love with the way you come undone around him but he doesn't stop.

He continues to fuck into you, one leg over his shoulder as he hits you at a different angle,

"G-God, YES!" You cry out as he smirks to himself, his fingers rubbing your clit as you whimper his name out, your third orgasm of the night already fast approaching as you whimper his name again and again.

"Come for me, firecracker. One last time," He grunts, thrusting harder as you cry out his name, your stomach clenching as you cum around him once again, clenching so tightly you send him over the edge and he spills into the condom.

The two of you stay like that for a few seconds until Felix carefully lowers your leg down and leans his forehead against yours, panting heavily as you let out a tiny giggle.

"Think people will stare when we go out there?" You leaned back against the mirror and watched as Felix smirked and nodded.

"Who cares?" He chuckled before slowly dressing himself. A loud banging sounded on the door as you rolled your eyes, someone was clearly desperate for the toilet or for Felix's attention and you hated them for it.

"I've got info for you!" Someone yelled from outside the door as Felix stuffs himself back into his trousers, did himself up and checked that you were dressed before opening the door he wasn't going to risk anyone but him seeing you.

"Minho," Felix greets with a smirk on his lips, the man glances in your direction before looking over his shoulder.

"Kitten, take Felix's date to the girls for a chat. The men need to talk business." You glanced at Felix to make sure it was okay first and he nodded, kissing your cheek quickly before you ran off with the woman Minho had spoken to.

The girls you'd been standing with were all so friendly and each of them had been telling you about their dates, you since learnt that all of them were with a criminal madman which had made you feel a lot better about yourself and Felix.

"I hate you," You grumbled, jokingly as Felix stood behind you, his lips brushing against the skin on your neck making your body shiver. The bathroom sex wasn't enough, you wanted to go back home and fuck until you saw the morning sun,

"I hate you more, my little firecracker" Felix smirked down at you before you swatted his hands away from you, but he successfully managed to get his hands around your waist and he smirked.

"Excuse us, ladies but we have some making up to go and do." Felix chuckled before dragging you away without a second to even say goodbye to them all.

"Hey I was having fun, who knows when I'll see them again?" You pouted a little, but Felix spun you around and pulled you into a tight embrace.

"You'll see them at our wedding no doubt." He shrugs as if it was the most casual thing in the world for him to say and you roll your eyes at him,

"You're that sure I'll marry you?" You quipped, he was. In fact, he was willing to put money on it.

"I'm sure I can convince you after a few more orgasms," He winks before you shove against his chest and make your way out to a car.

@chiisaiblog @sw33tnight @kaitieskidmore97 @laylasbunbunny @stayconnecteed @saymyspringrain @toplinehyunjin @katnisspeetaprim @acciocriativity @just-aelia @choisoorin @straykids5star @midnightfrog625 @beccaskz @scarletemeterio @halesandy @junhannies @gothic4under4lord @lixie-phoria @soulphoenix1618 @aerastus @jin-from-the-block @lensfilm @elizaschuyler18 @piratequeen-impact @kpopsstuffs @chaeyoungs @delulu18 @xyahrinx @katsukis1wife @anthropologymajorkpopmultistan @blairscott @4-chan-inpadella @niktwazny303 @moonlight-the-writer @armystay89 @hadassahchan @yxngbxkkie @myyouthdonut @extrhotjne @ca11me3mily @elissasimp

[limes-sagau]

Mondstadt Sagau Shimegi AU Drabbles

I'm Alive! 

Sorry this took a hot minute to put out, but here's the Mondstadt edition of the Shimeji AU. I did every playable character from Mondstadt, some of them have shorter sections *cough* Mika *cough* simply because they haven't had much screen time in the game or I don't know them well enough. In the future I might do an update post for some of them. Also this should be treated like crack. Now that this is out I can move on to actually writing the First chapter of To Build A Haven which should be up soon. 

ALBEDO:

Curious but not a menace 

He looks at everything your doing with absolute interest 

He wanders around looking at what you're doing and writing what he observes down on a notepad. 

If He’s really interested in something on the page you're on like a photo or text he will snag it to get a closer look (for those who don't know there is a function that allows shimeji to grab items and take them off screen, this can be reversed by simply refreshing). 

He gets a little miffed when you refresh to get the item back in its correct place but he's not upset for long. 

If you leave your computer he will end up messing around and looking up articles on chemistry and physics, he tried searching up alchemy and he just got led down a rabbit hole that he later found out was all fake.

So there's no alchemy in your world, interesting! 

Uhh Oh! He accidentally duplicated! 

He’s immediately on guard once he sees the duplicate

Is that his twin! No wait, the mark on the twins neck is there!

He realizes it is just a full carbon copy of him that just wanders around mindlessly.

He will get a little antsy if you let the duplicates get out of hand in their numbers so make sure to dismiss the duplicates 

He just wants to study this strange world in peace. 

AMBER:

She confused as hell. 

She waves to you whenever you return from getting up from your computer 

She is the opposite of a menace. 

She almost is too helpful 

She sees her knightly duty in this weird in between world to be of help to you. 

If you're easily distracted while working on something like a document she will wave her hands around and try to get your attention so you get back to work. 

And while she is not an expert in grammar she’ll try her best to point out errors in your sentencing. 

When you're not working on something important she has a lot of fun climbing the walls of your screen and jumping off to glide across your screen. 

If you pick her up with your  cursor and toss her she’ll laugh and glide down

Don't shake her though! She’ll get dizzy!

BARBARA: 

Shy babbie!

At first she's kinda cowering in the corner so confused as to what's happening and in awe of your presence. 

Eventually she chills out a bit but she never fully relaxes.

You got spotify going in the background?

Great! This is how Barbara got introduced to (insert music genre here) or (insert artist here) 

She will be scandalized if you play something with profanity, innuendos, or sexual references.

Like full clutching of pearls

Do not play Squidwards Nose for her. She is sweet baby, she doesn't deserve that. 

I'm sorry if some of yall dont like what I'm about to say… but the moment you play one of Taylor Swift's songs she's hooked.

I'm talking like something from Folklore, Evermore, or Midnights.

Her favorites are Clean, Willow, and Snow on the Beach (she does not like the F bomb in that one though)

She does try to give everything you listen to a fair shot even if it might not be her style.

If she likes the song she will sing and dance along to it.

BENNETT: 

He fall over all the time 

So Bennett will be like climbing the side of your screen and will lose his grip and fall. 

If you catch him he'll be so happy.

Hes kinda wandering around your page

He do be trippin (and not in the fun way) 

There was this time where he picked up one of the items on your screen and didn't know how to set it down.

He ran around scared and confused until you refreshed the page. 

If you pick him up and shake him, he will get dizzy. 

DILUC: 

He’s pretty chill 

He will start wandering the internet if you leave him alone with your computer open

Hopefully he doesn't find your fanfics

Who introduced him to Batman?!?!

JUSTICE FOR MONDSTADT!!!

Not that big into the superhero movies but he does really connect with Batman, who would have guessed. 

Show him the Mt. Dew wine or the Peeps Wine from TikTok and the disappointment will be so evident on his face. 

That's not even wine 

If you do bring up some articles on wine brewing and aging techniques he will read them and take some of the methods to possibly use at Dawn Winery. 

DIONA: 

She small she baby 

Normally she’s chill

But If you drink in her presence be prepared to experience the menace of menaces

Every time you leave your computer unattended expect to come back to either your browser being on a local AA group website or on a study showing the impacts of alcohol on the body. 

She aggressively points at what's on screen whenever you come back

She can be reasoned with if you give her a pat.

She can also be pacified by one of those videos of birds meant for cats

She also likes those games made for cats where it's like a bug or ants crawling across the screen and you gotta crush them. 

She tries to jump around the screen but she short, holding her up to catch all the crawlies. 

EULA:

Eula is confused by modern internet slang 

She mainly stands guard in the corner not wanting to get in your way 

She's in the overly respectful gang 

Don't pick her up and shake her she will seek revenge

Likes the cat videos on facebook though

She like the “going no contact with toxic family” type videos on TikTok since she can relate. 

Boomer but she working on it 

FISCHL:

Who let this theater major in the building?

She is by far the most distracting shimeji you can have on your browser 

“The Prinzessin der Verurteilung desires your attention at all hours” 

When your working you literally have to dismiss her if you want to get work done

If you leave her on screen when you leave your computer you will come back to her somehow reading Twilight.

The can of worms has been opened and Fischl's Twilight phase has been unleashed.

She also grows to love shakespeare if you ever have to read one of his works for a class

Holds up skull “Alas poor Yorick”

She does hate The Taming of the Shrew (if you know you know)   

JEAN: 

Like her sister she is also a bit confused 

This internet lingo is so confusing 

This is a facebook mom 

How did she get an account? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 

The funny thing is is that she successfully and pretty accurately shuts down alot of bigoted people 

She gain like a cult following of converted beige housewives 

KAEYA:

He isnt distracting like Fischl is but he’s like a cat who wants attention so they climb over your keyboard until you gotta move them and give them pets. 

Menace 

He’s the worst when it comes to fishing your fics out of your files when your away 

You gotta lock them up, time to move everything to your phone… rip storage space. 

You accidentally introduce Kaeya to his new guilty pleasure besides Wine… Horse Girl Movies!!!!

It's bad… It's really bad, his favorites are the movies Spirit and Felicity (yes the American girl movie).

The man misses his horse, why do the favonius cavalry have no horses? the captain of the calvary should have a horse!

He also is somewhat interested in the wine industry from around your world. 

He might give you a list of types he would like you to bring if you ever visit their world. 

KLEE:

Protect this one because she's so smol.

But also keep her from blowing up your documents-

She picks up whatever she wants and will set it down in the wrONg place but if you scold her about it she’ll give you puppy eyes and apologize.

And then do the exact same thing not ten minutes later.

She will wander around wherever she can so do not let her out of your sight. Open tabs, downloads, files, browser history, nothing is safe.

LISA:

similar to albedo in that she is curious about everything.

She likes that she can chill out and read whatever comes on screen

One of the worst if she finds your writing

She will correct your grammar and give suggestions while actively flirtily mocking your work. 

Likes making you flustered in the middle of work 

She requested you make her a playlist on spotify so you sit down and show her a few artists you think she would like 

She adds a bunch of music from (Hayley Kyoko, Muna, Clario, Mxmtoon, and Janelle Monae) 

She listens to it when she's on your computer and you aren't around while she looks through the internet.

MIKA:

I don't know this child!!! 

Literally I know nothing, hopefully he gets more character time in future quests

I'll come add more latter if we are given more 

Spawn in a Len(vocaloid) Shimeji and he’ll be so confused 

Who is this doppelganger! 

MONA:

Girl is going insane learning our world's zodiac system!

You have to dismiss her sometimes because she asks so many questions, some of which you don't know the answer to. 

“What Do You Mean? It's Considered A Pseudoscience!!!” 

She is beyond insulted if you don't believe in astrology.  

If you do believe in astrology she's so excited 

Give her your Natal chart and she’ll be ecstatic

After she learns everything she can about your world's astrology, whenever you boot up your computer she’ll give you your horoscope for the day.   

NOELLE:

She’s so polite! :D

Doesn’t do much climbing, but when she does it’s to clean the cobwebs in the corners of your tabs.

Will remind you to drink water and have stretch breaks every so often and will be very sad if you don't.

You better clear your browser history before she tries to take a broom to it. she doesn’t deserve to see what you look at, you degenerate fifth.

She either likes ICP or studio ghibli soundtracks; there is no inbetween.

RAZOR:

Precious Puppy™

He is very confused by the internet but he’s still very curious . 

Will patiently watch you work and will bite pop-up ads

Starts looking up pictures of wolves cause he's a precious baby and ends up in the furry community. He is very confused. He is very scared. Save him before he learns what an omega is.

ROSARIA: 

She's chill 

She's easily bored so she will on occasion if you are doing work just dip out 

How did she figure out how to dismiss herself?

Most of the time she leaves when your working 

She will stay if there is a church event back on Teyvat that she wants to get out of. 

If you summon Fischl they will both watch Twilight together 

Though Rosaria will leave after the first movie, she doesn’t like any of the other movies. 

She also has a few strong opinions on the way that Stephanie Meyer handled Native Americans in the book. 

SUCROSE: 

very curious and intrigued by the internet and will watch you work from the top of your tab and take notes.

will ask a bunch of questions about and google the answers when you leave.

got into a fight with a redditor about something sciencey you didn’t understand and battled that man for hours.

She won.

She likes watching ted talks and documentaries when you’re on break and wiLL get lost in wikipedia if you let her. Please don’t let her because she is very small and that website is very big. 

VENTI: 

#1 MENACE!!!

He's up about climbing the walls and flying all about the screen. 

If you are trying to get work done good luck 

If you ask he will sit down and be somewhat quiet 

If you listen to music while you work he will either be singing along to it or if the BPM is fast enough singing and dancing along with the music. 

He likes listening to the music you listen to because he can learn what to perform if you ever come to Teyvat.

He at first will be thrown off if you listen to something that's more on the sexual side ( im talking something like Ayesha Erotica, or cupcakKe) but eventually he gets used to it and has a lot of fun distracting you when those types of songs come on. 

Like Kaeya, he is also interested in the wine from your world. 

You have to tell him to narrow down the list he gives you of wines to bring to Teyvat… it was 2 pages long.

[kararisa]

darling, starling

— 5. unwritten rules — ✦ (wc: 0.4k)

You will never understand how people wake up before 10 a.m. and enjoy it. Scaramouche was your complete opposite in that regard, preferring to start his days egregiously early. But if you could help it, you'd stay in bed and sleep until the early afternoon hours, cuddled up in the warmth of your blankets.

But here you are, not comfortable in bed but instead seated on your sofa and half-heartedly watching some soap opera on the TV while you wait for the man of the hour to discuss a deal that could change both of your careers, for better or for worse.

The huge glass windows let in sunlight from the waking world, bathing the room in natural light. Scaramouche gives you a nod of acknowledgment as he sits down, a cup of way-too-bitter tea in hand. He takes off his reading glasses and leans back to look at you properly.

“You look like shit,” he greets.

You rub your eyes before glaring at him, “I wanted to catch you before you ran off to the nearby cafe to write your book. We need to actually talk about what we’re getting into in this deal.”

You take a breath before starting, “It’s not going to be easy dating me. Fake or not.”

Scaramouche’s words are dripping in sarcasm. “I know your food preferences if that’s what you're worried about.”

“That...” you groan. “That isn’t even what I mean and you know it; I’m being serious. You know how relentless the media can be when it comes to me. Rumors of us dating have been around since we were first spotted going out and about with our friends. And they’ve only gotten worse since you moved in with me.”

“I can take whatever the tabloids throw at me,” he shrugs. “Besides, my aunt works for The Akasha, remember? She has a lot of pull, not just in Sumeru.”

Is he even taking this seriously? His nonchalant air makes you think he doesn’t understand the gravity of the situation you’re getting yourselves into. He consistently interacts with his fans but maintains a respectful distance from them — you know he's capable of handling a life of fame.

But ever since you stepped onto the stage, the tabloids have followed you like a phantom — lurking in every corner and following your every move. Their eyes aren’t only set on you, though, but on every person associated with you. Scaramouche’s privacy has been invaded multiple times throughout your friendship with him, and he’s expressed his distaste for a life that's fully in the public eye in the past.

Why is he so determined to see this through?

“I doubt one editor-in-chief will be enough to influence the press,” you say.

“But she does control what stories get published,” he points out. “And if she approves articles about us being spotted together in public, it’ll be enough to get people talking.”

He has a point. Goddamn it, maybe he actually thought this through and this wasn’t just some half-assed plan he came up with at 2 a.m.

The two of you would have to set some rules, but that could come at a later date.

“Do we have a deal?” Scaramouche sticks out his hand.

“Yeah.” you take his hand and shake it. “We got a deal.”

✧— previous — masterlist — next —✧

summary:

rule number one: don't fall in love.

rule number two: no one can know about the deal.

rule number three: keep physical affection limited to the public eye. no kissing under any circumstances.

rule number four: break up after you release your album.

easy enough to remember. oh, and remember to not break the rules okay?

author's notes:

sorry for being inactive lmao i got depressed for a hot minute

nah cause why is scarayn banter so much fun to write

taglist — currently OPEN:

@aestherin @unsterblich-prinz @yourstrulykore @krnzysh @syriiina @yumiaur @featuredtofu @kodzusmiles @meigalaxy @fangygf @motherscrustytoenailclippings @samyayaya @hiimera @beriiov @e0nssadrift @dazaisboner @nillajhayne @chluuvr @nillajhayne @deffenferofjustice @romyoia @xiaomainlmao @hotgirlshit5 @potabletable @letthewindlead @esuz @toriiee @kclremin @angelkazusstuff @phoenix-eclipses @sakiimeo @mayuumine @ako-ang-mahal-ko @only-cherry-blossom @keiiqq @what-just-happened-huh @n3r0-1417 @haunts-gh0st @layla240 @mamafly @duckyyyx @certified-shrimp @kgogoma @xtobefreex @aeongiies @mechanicalbeat1 @meidnightrain @nordicbananas @feiherp @erzarq

[superstar-nan]

Fight Tooth and Nail

Day 1

Summary: Your best friend goes missing after working a shift as an overnight security guard for the upcoming horror attraction Fazbear's Fright. You masquerade as a journalist to investigate their disappearance and find yourself with more questions. Questions that only a murderous animatronic intent on killing you has answers to.

Words: 3,586

Fun stuff: Springtrap/Reader/Michael, gender neutral reader, cannon typical violence, vv slow burn and romance is more implied kinda?? I'm very aromantic and the characters have complex relationships. william and michael are very much corpses and very much gross. Uploaded from my Ao3.

Next

───── (\ /) ─────

Your eyes flitted from the hastily scrawled note in your hand to the crumbling building in front of you. You knew it was supposed to look rundown to add to the scare-factor, but even from the back Fazbear’s Fright seemed more likely to receive several health code violations over screams. Maybe it was the broad daylight, or maybe it was the metal beam that collapsed in front of you right at that moment, but you couldn’t imagine the horror attraction gaining as much attention as the newspaper clipping led you to believe.

You hesitantly opened the back door, praying another metal beam wouldn’t collapse on top of you. It was unlocked, just as the man on the phone said it would be.

“Hello?” You said, before reeling back into the fresh air outside. The stench coming from inside wafted in a plume of rotten eggs and sweat. You gagged, taking in a couple gulps of fresh air, and then steeled yourself as you entered the building. The door shut with an uncharacteristic soft click behind you. 

“Hello?” You called out again. You blinked a few times, trying to adjust your eyes to the dark interior. 

“Over here!” A hand waved out of a room to your right with a dim, ghastly yellow-green light spilling from its doorway.

You walked into the room; an office filled with grime (possibly decorational), loose wires (hopefully decorational), and trash (definitely not decorational). A young man with a nonchalant grin swiveled on his chair to face you. He said your name and you nodded. 

“Awesome,” He held out his hand in a wide, informal handshake, which you returned. His grip was loose and a bit sweaty. “I was the guy on the phone.”

“Oh,” You said as you distractedly looked around the office. There were big boxes filled with Fazbear Entertainment merchandise along with character posters plastered on the walls. “It’s nice to meet you in person.”

“For sure, for sure,” He started clicking through security footage, drawing your attention. 

You noticed there were quite a bit of people throughout the building, all splattering blood stains or grimming-up corners to make the attraction just a touch more spooky. You bit your lower lip. Would any of them be willing to reveal some information to you, or would they keep you from investigating anything useful? 

“Welp,” He clapped his knees and stood up, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Why don’t I show you around? You can get the gist of all the best scares of the place for... uh, who’d you say you write for again?”

“Scary Attractions Monthly,” You said, taking out a pen and notebook. It was a fake name for... something. Maybe a magazine or blog. You didn’t put too much thought in it and apparently neither did he.

No, you weren’t here to write a glowing article on a mediocre, somewhat distasteful, and very unsanitary hazard of a horror attraction like you said you were. 

You were here because of a call. A call you received at four in the morning. A call you didn’t pick up, but you wished you did. 

“Right, that,” He said in a way that told you he was going to forget it again. “Well, you’re gonna love the place, we found some real legit relics!”

You just hummed as you followed him out of the room. 

“The attraction opens in like a week, so everyone’s been working extra hard to make sure everything works, and nothing catches on fire.” He stopped in front of a disassembled torso of Freddy. “Uh, not that anything would, that was, uh, “off-the-record” .”

“Right.” You said, pretending to cross something out. 

“Yeah, so when the place opens, people will come in at the opposite end of the building, and work their way towards where you came in; that’s the exit. We’ve got some totally vintage relics, man. Like this foxy head, super authentic.”

You squinted at it. 

“Like, it’s not a crappy cosplay for sure .”

That made you think it was a crappy cosplay.

“But it’s not just these totally authentic pieces that make the place, the whole place is rigged super vintage.”

You stepped to the side as two employees rushed past you, holding a heavy box of miscellaneous mechanical parts, “What do you mean?” You asked.

“Like, the whole place is built like it’s 1987, just like from the missing kids stuff,” It felt a little insensitive to refer to that tragedy as the ‘missing kid stuff’ . “The ventilation, the electronics, even the cameras and stuff, all for that authenticity.”

You swallowed, “So there’s no security footage?”

“Nah, but we’ve got a guard on around-the-clock, even overnight, so it’s perfectly safe.” You already knew that. Your best friend was an overnight security guard.

Suddenly, a pipe burst, spewing some white, cloudy vapor rapidly at an employee who was struggling to get the pipe under control.

“And is the ventilation perfectly safe?” You asked.

“Heheh,” he started to sweat. “Basically, I mean. He’s probably fine. Here,” He turned you around to a different hallway, “Let’s go this way, you gotta see the coolest part of the attraction.”

You followed him to an area with no one present. It was an odd feeling going from a busy part of the attraction to this place of complete emptiness, and you finally found the creeping horror of the attraction. With the molding tiled floor that was once bright, the low-ambient lighting flickering on-and-off, and the decades-old child’s drawings interspersed on the walls, the place really felt haunted. 

Then, the smell of rot and decay hit your nose in a crashing wave. You held your nose and gagged. It was worse than when you walked into the attraction, and then you knew why this area was so empty. 

“You gotta get that pen out because you’re not gonna believe this,” He said. “We got one, a real one!” He looked back at you gagging and coughing. “Oh. Yeah, the smell is, like intense , but you get used to it quick.” 

“What do you mean...?” Your sentence was lost on you as your entire focus was drawn to figure in the corner. 

A very large figure in the corner. A rotten bunny animatronic that towered in the shadows. 

Chills danced up your spine in your visceral fear. You were stalled by some animal instinct you didn’t know you had. 

It was large and lumbering and fully intact—ruined and soiled with time. It had to have been nearly seven feet tall, even as it stood motionless in its hunch. It looked almost half a century old, and even in its decayed state you could still see the design of what it once was: a golden Bonnie suit now corrupted a dingy green by age and rot.

Your heart beat slowed when you realized it wasn’t moving. It was just an animatronic; part of the attraction. Even as you followed your guide towards it, its eyes flashed with reflected light in a way that was perfectly terrifying. This really was a great find for the attraction. 

“So cool, isn’t it?” He said, knocking on the animatronic’s mildewy chest, and though logically you knew that wasn’t dangerous, you couldn’t help the drop in your gut as he touched the thing. “It’s like it was made for this place.”

“No kidding.” You said, and you meant it. Honestly, that animatronic might’ve been the scariest thing you had ever seen, let alone the scariest part of the attraction. You dared to take a few steps closer to it. You weren’t able to pull your eyes away from it, almost as if you did it would lunge at you. 

Its eyes looked too human. You wanted to throw up.

“Yeah, so spooky.” He also was transfixed, but not for as long as you were. “You wouldn’t believe how long it took to find it! We found some vintage audio training cassettes with it. We’ll probably have them playing, like over the speakers while people walk through the attraction. It’ll make the place feel legit .” 

The cassettes didn’t even cross your mind, “Does it still work?”

“Uh, yeah, probably.”

You were finally able to pull your eyes away from the rotted Bonnie. “Probably?”

“Well, I’ve never seen it move, and no one else has either, but nobody moves it and sometimes it’s not in the same place so probably. The cassettes mention something about the suits following kid noises, but I haven’t seen that either. And uh, we’ve got a guard checking the cameras all the time, so it's not dangerous.” 

He said that so nonchalantly you were baffled, “Are you sure about that? Didn’t somebody get bitten by one of these things years ago?”

He started to sweat, “Oh ye-yeah, that’s something uh, we’re working on this week. We’re grabbing a mechanic or... There’s a week until the place opens so, you know.” He trailed. 

Your face blanked. Well, it wasn’t any of your business how dangerous these things were anyway. You were only here for one reason. “Right,” Your eyes wandered back to the animatronic.

Your heart dropped. You held your breath.

Its eyes were looking at you. Eyes that were too human. 

It wasn’t looking at you before, was it? You would have certainly remembered it looking at you. You swallowed as you took a step out of its sight. Its eyes didn’t follow you. You must’ve imagined it.

Turning away from the rotted Bonnie, you put your pen to your notebook, “Having overnight guards is a good safety precaution.” You said, and his shoulders visibly relaxed when you said it. “And it’s pretty authentic to the original Pizzeria.”

“Oh, for sure, for sure,” He said. “That’s what we’re trying for, authenticity and all. Plus, they’ll also be a part of the show to really get that feel of a pizzeria!”

“The place hasn’t opened yet, but do your guards run into any trouble at night?”

“Nah, or at least I don’t think so.” 

His nonchalance irked you, “You don’t think so?”

“Well, nobody’s mentioned anything to me yet, so.” 

“Hmm.” You tapped your pen on your notebook before setting it back down, “I heard a rumor that one of your night guards disappeared on the job, is that true?”

“What?” He started to look nervous again, though whether it was from the pressure of saying the wrong thing or the guilt of having done something wrong, you didn’t know. “Oh uh, I don’t really know anything about that, where did you hear that?”

“Somewhere online.” You said, casually. 

“Well, it’s not true, somebody would’ve said something or—”

“But if there’s only one person on the night shift, how would somebody be able to say something?”

A click was heard behind you. Almost like the sound of a gear. Both you and the man you were talking to turned toward the rotted Bonnie suit. It didn’t move, or at least it didn’t look like it moved. It was still. That didn’t matter. You and the man you were with were deadly silent for a few moments. 

“We should, uh, we should talk in the office, right?” He said, and it wasn’t a balm that he was anxious as well.

“Yes, that’s a good idea.” 

The two of you left the area with the animatronic, and you felt the air around you lighten. It seemed he was right when he said you’d get used to that rotted smell, because you didn’t notice how much it was a relief to get away from that thing. 

“Anyway,” He said as the two of you walked. “I don’t know anything about a night guard disappearing. Yeah, a night guard quit suddenly without any notice a few nights ago.” The two of you ducked as a vent dropped nearly on top of you, barely being stopped by two employees who grabbed it just in time. It didn’t slow either of your gaits, “And yeah, this is not the first time that’s happened and is eerily similar to events that happened thirty years ago. But there’s always a bad string of luck before grand openings, typical exciting attraction stuff. So...” The two of you slipped into the office as a group of employees brought in a string of large boxes, “Probably don’t mention any of the rumor stuff in the article.”

You eyed him head to toe as he sat in the office chair. He was sweating a little under your scrutiny. He wouldn’t give you anything if you antagonized him, so you smiled and he relaxed, “Of course, it’s typical. Especially for haunted attractions.”

“Heheh, yeah, ‘course,” He swallowed and sniffed. “Well, uh, what other questions can I answer?”

“Tell me a bit about the security guards' role in the show.”

He leaned back slightly in his chair, “Oh yeah well, this is where they will be, in this office. When the place opens, people will come in where I told you before, and work their towards this office, and pass them, and out the exit.”

You wondered if your faux-enthusiasm was believable enough, because it felt as stiff as the disassembled animatronic pieces, “Oh, very cool.”

“Yeah! Just like a real security guard from a pizzeria.” He said, “Or well, they are real security guards, but you get what I mean.” 

“Absolutely,” You said. “Can I see the cameras? They’ve got such a neat 80s vibe to them.”

“Oh yeah, for sure,” He rolled his chair over so you could look over his shoulder. “I just click the camera here and... one sec.” He pulled an old panel with a few technical reboot options on it, before clicking one. You leaned your arms on the back of his chair as you watched the cameras fizzle from white static to a poor resolution of video footage. “There,” He said. “Pretty legit, huh?”

“Very legit.” You paid very close attention as he flitted through the different cameras, or rather what the cameras didn’t catch. 

“Yeah, in trying to make the place feel more vintage we have overdone it a bit, heh heh. Some of this equipment is barely functional!” His eyes widened slightly as he held up his hands, “But still functional, of course.”

“Of course,” You said. “Well, I thought I might take some more notes on the attractions and then I can let myself out in the front?”

“All the way to the other end of the building? Sure, if you want.”

“Thanks,” You held out your hand. “It was great meeting you.”

He smiled and shook your hand, and you almost felt bad for lying to him. He was just a guy excited about horror attractions doing his job. Even if he was brushing the dangers of this place under the rug; brushing your best friend's disappearance under the rug... No, nevermind. You didn’t feel even a little bad.

“It was awesome meeting you too,” He said. “Can’t wait to read about us in...” He forgot your fake journalism blog/magazine/whatever. “A few days or whenever you get around to writing it.” What a save.

You threw him one last smile before making your way through the busy preparations. You pretended to take a few notes, gave your best impression of someone interested in an empty Chica head, and attempted to talk to a few employees. Talking to the people who were working was more fruitless than you hoped. They either were too busy to talk to you or were skirting around certain subjects like the man who’d shown you around had. You attempted to find real evidence and real clues as well, but that was just as fruitless. Fake blood and artificial claw marks fooled you every time and you had to pass it off as admiration and journalism.

No, if you wanted to know what really happened, you would have to get into that office. Look at it more closely and see if there were any traces or clues left by them. Or even if you could take a look at the cameras more closely, see if a bird’s-eye-view gave perspective. You could only hope that maybe there would be an hour between the day shift and the night shift that you could look around and do some real investigating.

First, you needed to find a good place to hide. Somewhere the cameras couldn’t see, but employees wouldn’t spot you either. From what you saw, the cameras even extended to the vents, which was insane to you. However, not all of the vents were monitored. In your mind, you imagined some big locker or box you could hide in, but there was nothing like that, so the vents would have to do. 

Your stomach dropped. Hiding in the vents also meant you couldn’t be seen tampering with them, which meant you had to go to the area with the least amount of people. You rubbed your eyes. You were an adult. You shouldn’t have been so hesitant to be around what was basically a giant toy, a decoration. A nearly seven foot, moldy, possibly dangerous decoration that could crush you just by falling on you. You swallowed.

Steeling yourself, you walked toward the area with the rotted Bonnie.

There it was. Unmoved in a way that mocked your fear. Just as horrible to smell (was it really that ruined by mildew? Did someone stuff food in there? Did some poor animal die in there?), but you were getting used to it quickly. After a quick moment of choking. 

You wondered briefly what it must’ve looked like on stage, alive with music and light, warm in color and a delight to children. That must’ve been such an exciting thing thirty or forty years ago. Now it wasn’t even a shell of what it once was, it was a perversion. Twisted and moldy in such a way that its wires looked like guts and its endoskeleton was dulled like bone. Its smile that must’ve been cheery at one point now looked like a permanent, malicious grin. Its eyes—ever too human for your liking—and teeth were nearly the same dingy color of its mildewy fur. You realized this Bonnie was missing his bowtie, and that made you sad for some reason. 

You cursed under your breath, “What happened to you?”

You hadn’t realized how close you had gotten to the rotted Bonnie. Not unlike the sickening smell that you had adjusted to, you seemed to have adapted to the initial fear the animatronic instilled in you. Suddenly in a morbid curiosity, you were wanting to poke and prod at it; to test how rusted its joints must’ve been or to try peeking for rot inside. You shook your head of the impulse. 

You turned your head to look at the way you came. There wasn’t anybody passing by just yet. You looked at the camera, which didn’t seem focused but you couldn’t be sure. Lastly, you looked at the vent against the wall. 

In an effort to alleviate the tension beating against your chest—caused by a fear of getting caught, a fear of not finding anything, and a fear of the rotted Bonnie themself—you threw the animatronic a wink and said, “Keep an eye out for me, will you?”

You hurried to the vent, throwing a cautious glance behind you. You knelt in front of it, fully prepared to use a piece of shrapnel you found to undo its screws. However, you found the screws had already been pulled loose, interestingly enough. You briefly wondered who could have the strength for that as you quietly shifted the vent open and slipped in, gently and silently putting the vent back. 

You laid there on your stomach for a few moments as your exhilaration began to calm down. You hoped this place’s ventilation system wasn’t so “vintage” and “legit” that you’d suffocate or get some noxious gas spewed into your lungs.

As your heartbeat fell slower and slower, you cast your eyes downward. You had a long evening of waiting ahead of you. You shuffled quietly until you could get a hold of an earbud in your pocket. You took it out along with your phone, putting the earbud in your ear. You tapped on your most recent voice messages. 

Maybe you’d be able to recognize something in the voice message... or maybe you just wanted to remember why you were doing all of this.

You tapped on your phone until their voice message began playing in your ear.

Silence.

Shuffling.

Heavy, muffled breathing.

More silence.

Your name in a shaken whisper.

“...Come...” Their voice was hushed so so quiet. “...Come to...”

A child’s laughter, not quite right.

“...Hurry...I-”

The sound of the phone dropping.

-Click-

Your finger hovered over the option to play the message again. Your best friend was working at Fazbear’s Frights the night you got that message. They were supposed to meet you the morning after. They didn’t. After giving the message to the police, Fazbear Entertainment reported that your best friend had clocked-out at 6AM that morning and that there was no incident during their shift. You didn’t buy it. Whether there was some big corporate conspiracy, or whether something happened and Fazbear Entertainment just didn’t want to delay the attraction’s opening, you didn’t know. But a body hadn’t been found and that was something . Something to hold on to. 

You would get to the bottom of it.

You rested your head on your arm as you played the message again.

[mrs-theirin]

quilllllll! hi, hello, i simply had to let you know that i've been slowly but surely re-re-rereading the road, the hidden truth, and you, and first of all, gorgeous, beautiful, touching, magnificent, imagine a rainstorm of chefs kisses raining down uponst you <3 but i got curious and had to ask...are there any cut scenes/fun facts/behind the scenes special features you might want to share with the class? 🥺 hehehe i just know /i/ always end up having a bunch of stuff like that once a project's done, and i'd LOVE to hear any juicy tidbits you've got!!! :P (either way, had to remind you how gorgeous this - AND ALL YOUR OTHER WRITING - is!)

we are somehow on the same wavelength as i was rereading it myself when i got this ask.....i'm onto you queenie......

all jokes aside THANK YOU i am always blown away when you compliment my writing, truthfully, it means the absolute world to me and i'm glad you enjoy what i put out. from the bottom of my heart, your support is greatly, greatly appreciated

that being said. well. as far as fun facts go. one fun fact is that this was barely my idea. that's well known at this point i think but you can thank @merrybandofmurderers for originally giving me the idea of a fake dating, roadtrip au. second fun fact is that i winged the HELL out of this fic. 19 years old staying up (apparently, since i checked the outline???) till 5 in the morning trying to get it done. winged the hell out of it. i had a broad idea, but i built the chapters based off of da2 quest names. so like. i had almost nothing planned. i took a da2 quest title i liked and built a modern au plot around it. great idea i think. poor execution LMFAO

no cut scenes or anything due to the rushed and unorganized nature of the original draft. there are things that i cut from the original in my rewrite, but that's because i felt like they weren't serving a real purpose. i also was super excited to change it so it was modern au but with elves and kirkwall and all that stuff. does it make sense orzammar is in new york? no. do i care? also no

i have been intending to write a follow up ever since the ORIGINAL story, but it just hasn't felt right yet. i know i want to do it. and i really hope i will do it. but for now it will stay in my drafts, lovingly titled "trthtay superbowl follow up". between that and the eden/varric wedding at skyhold fic, we could place a bet on which one gets finished first! (psst, it's probably the wedding fic. i've written more for that. unrelated but maybe expect that? soon? ish? don't hold me to that)

anyway, i'd say the biggest thing is that trthtay was my "i can do better" fic, truthfully. i was STUNNED when it got on a screenrant article (before it was even finished too?), i mean, i still have my section printed out in my dresser. it was exciting. but to see so many eyes on something i didn't think was of the quality i'd like it to be was stressful. i wanted to be great. i wanted the thing that so many people saw from me to be groundbreaking. and i really didn't feel like it hit that mark. i don't even think the rewrite hits that mark! there are things that i've written that i feel are better than both. but, there's a bright side to everything, and that's that even what i would consider one of my worse fics was loved. it was loved. it was enjoyed. not only by the author of that article (david caballero, there's nowhere i can message you on that site, but if you ever see this, thank you so so much) but by everyone who decided to click the link and give it a try. by YOU, one of my biggest inspirations and someone whose writing i aspire to match someday. i cannot thank you enough (you, personally, queenie, and you, plural, anyone who's read my writing) for giving me a chance and pushing me to be better

so. anyway. i'm sure you didn't expect your question to get an emotional response, but i think any conversation about trthtay comes back to that. to hope. to gratitude. it truthfully blows my mind that you love it the way you do. thank you thank you thank you. i'm glad i have you in my corner :)

[nymph-ette111]

I’m happy to know you enjoy our interactions too and that you liked my little tangent there. I’m glad that you searched for accounts from actual people who have the disorder rather than pseudo-psychologists, because they are often the harshest without a shred of accuracy (just the way they talk about the narcissist’s eyes turning a demonic black is enough to make me exit the article).

To be fair, Quora is one of the worst places when it comes to accepting people with npd. So I’m glad you managed to find something that didn’t conclude in a pro-eugenics rant lead by a divorced dad who is certain his ex wife is a narcissist because she took the kids. And since I chose my first paper this school year to be about npd and gender (we could write about anything, it was to test our abilities in general), I had to go through a ton of those. They ranged from absolutely hilarious to restraining order worthy. Thankfully Google Scholar saved me from that (though I would never suggest reading studies upon studies on a topic for x reader headcanons, I’m only saying this to sort of validate where my understanding of it came from). Since, yk, it’s a relatively fresh thing (recognised since the 80s I believe) and the fact that I had a therapist who diagnosed me correctly and knew how to approach it is pure luck

Also just any dog metaphor is delightful but it fits so well with Toby too?? Like, it just feels so right when people do that. And I can genuinely see Jeff having some npd traits, good call^^

Ben is just so!!! He’s awful in the best way. I want to kiss him and also put him in a blender for fun :3 i want to drive him insane. And also hold hands maybe. Like, yeah, realistically I would lose my sanity if he liked me but he’s so fun

Also yeah, that’s why I like your blog so much. You don’t shy away from making them hard to be around, hurt, mean. All kinds of messed up but also fun to read about. That’s why I also said that they would probably have an easy time with hurting me mentally, bc if they were aware of just how paranoid I am they would absolutely do what I did in that friend example, only 10 times worse (like, specifically saying stuff they know gets a reaction out of me to force me to stay or do whatever). In all honesty, this might be just why I like creepypasta characters (especially this specific portrayal of them). I mean, it does fit into that type of ‚pleople may be nice but they are out to get you at all times so you need to act to survive’. It’s kind of a safe way to experience something that is both natural to me and also absolutely unsafe irl. Like, yeah, I would have to walk on eggshells to be with Toby but also that is the way I see any sort of relationship either way. Sometimes, I’m more uncomfortable with the pure fluff bc that feels fake and unnatural. On that note, Toby to me is so untreated-bpd coded

-⭐︎

Agreed Ben is so fucking stupid I want to gnaw on him and push him down the stairs, what a silly fella. You don't know how happy it made me when you said you liked my blog :') when I shared my first post I thought it wouldn't get any attention, and I would just end up deleting the blog all together so hearing someone actually enjoys these little headcanons I make about fictional serial killers is so nice <3

you said everything so perfectly I have nothing to add, and yes toby is fucking miserable any disorder he has is 100% untreated and yes I love him and yes I want him and—

[ddarker-dreams]

helloooo. I just wanna say: I've been putting off reading HWR for a long while now despite my curiosity and interest ever since learning Chrollo wasn't gonna be a yandere because that would mean the reader would have to be morally grey to match and plenty of their actions would be justified and it's just hard to relate and root for a character like that!! But I since got over it and started reading and I gotta say WOW. I am in LOVE with Lady Avalor!!! I can relate to her a lot am super duper interested in her story and fhdkdj you just did such an amazing job. I'm so glad you wrote this story and I'm only on chapter 2!!

Only problem is: every time Chrollo shows up, I'm just like ew go away 😭 you don't deserve her 🤚 get your fake and cunning ass awayyyy. Lady Avalor likes genuine and honest people!!!

AAA thank you so much for deciding to give the story a chance!! i loved reading this ask and hearing your thoughts, there really is no better blessing to give an author than that. thank you thank you <3

lady avalor my beloved ,,

it's always interesting to look at a story that i wrote a while ago (two years doesn't feel that long, but how i write has changed significantly), especially since HWR was the most ambitious story i'd set out to tell up until that point. i struggled with the first chapter in particular, but in retrospect, that and the final chapter have ended up my personal favorites. i worked off this basic idea for HWR reader and kinda built the story around her. i wanted someone born as a product of their extreme environment, since she'd later become a member of the phantom troupe, whose experiences in meteor city hardened them in a similar (yet different) way.

the dynamic i've normally portrayed of chrollo with a reader is one centered around power imbalance. reader has their wits about them but is just so positively outclassed due to their ignorance of nen. with HWR reader, i wanted her to be 'strong' in the sense she's an adept fighter, yet the area she falls short of is a solid sense of self. her entire life, all she's known is to receive orders and carry them out from a position in power (originally, her father, the finally, chrollo as the boss of the phantom troupe). the first — and last, really — time that she goes against her father's wishes, she loses everything for it and ends up in a state of nonexistence. just drifting from thing to thing, capable of sustaining herself, but for what?

what you mention about HWR reader's preference for genuine people is what i consider to be one of the more tragic elements of her character. it's what sounds best for her, and still, she's drawn in by chrollo's undeniable magnetism, the chance to have that structure she's unknowingly grown dependent on all this time. before that, it was karina, who seemed authentic enough, but would go on to use her too. even though chrollo came to care for her, it started as a way for him to better understand himself. they're both just these weird deeply flawed beings that orbit one another because there's no one else who can understand what surreal things they've been through.

if you couldn't tell she means a lot to me hjrntegkrm she's a hot mess beneath that prim and proper veneer. the girl edits wikipedia articles for fun. i'm glad that you're interested in her character. i think that even though the exact happenings of her life aren't especially relatable, the themes of isolation, oppressive patriarchal figures, delayed identity development and being used for the advantage of others are things that can potentially resonate.

[walriding]

character info sheet.

Name. Miles Luis Upshur Ramírez

Name meaning. Miles -- Latin, soldier. Luis -- Spanish, famous warrior or renowned fighter. Upshur -- English, literally just means 'from the upper shire', but the fun fact significance is that Upshur was the middle name of the famous American journalist Bob Woodward. Ramírez -- Spanish, wise / renowned ruler / counselor

Alias.( ses ). Fun Mount Massive nicknames: the Host, the Apostle, the Witness, Little Pig, buddy, etc. As far as actual aliases, he's used various combinations of his four names on fake IDs before -- i.e. Luis Upshur, Miles Ramírez, etc.

two pictures you like of your character.

The money shot, the big cryptid moment, the only third person view we canonically have of Miles:

2. Probably what I consider to be the definitive Oscar-as-Miles photo, one of the things I saw and was instantly assured of my FC choice. It might sound stupid but Oscar is such an irrevocable part of Miles to me. I can't see him any other way, and having such a strong visual representation of him has always been a huge help in making him feel real for all these years:

three headcanons you never told anyone. Disclaimer that I have probably mentioned all of this at some point but it's been seven years of writing this guy and I fear I'm out of completely new material lol

He's never been much of an exercise buff but Miles used to be into running. He had a set circuit when he lived in DC and tried to keep a consistent schedule even when traveling for work. Never got to marathon level but did a lot of 5 and 10Ks, even a half marathon here and there. But it's not something he does anymore largely because there's... really no point. One of the benefits of being possessed and also kinda dead is you don't need to workout! Yaaaaay! Unfortunately without the endorphins and the satisfaction of exertion, running has lost its luster.

Prior to Mount Massive, Miles had a long-term boyfriend from college until they were in their late 20s. The last couple years of it were a tumultuous on-and-off-again relationship that started to deteriorate after he lost his staff reporter job and had to travel more. Prop 8 meant that same sex marriage was off the table, but they talked about engagement and building a serious life together. If Miles hadn't lost his job he probably would've proposed. But, then, if he hadn't lost his job a lot of things would've been different.

Miles is genuinely obsessed with roadside tourist traps -- giant balls of twine and other objects, weird architecture, fake alien sites, that sort of thing. The kitschier the better. If you're roadtripping with him and he spots a funky sign, he's pulling over.

three things your character likes to do in their free time.

Listen to music -- he's almost always got tunes on in the background but will sit down and really get absorbed in an album when he can.

Read -- mostly current events articles, sometimes a good nonfiction book.

Drive -- loves driving around the middle of nowhere to clear his head, even though it's not quite the same without the Jeep (rip).

three people your character loves.

Not technically a person, but the Walrider. Judge him if you want, but after a decade he's accepted that they're fucked up soulmates that were always meant to be <3. It's been a slowburn enemies to lovers journey, but over time he's adapted and stopped hating it for things that weren't really its fault. He's gone from denial to acceptance to tolerance to feeling genuine affection for the Swarm. Maybe it's too complicated to really define as love, but he can't think of a better word.

@mslangermann in some form in all verses always.

People with conviction. People who stand up for themselves and the things they believe in. People who are thoughtful and who care about something bigger than themselves.

two things your character regrets.

Not being a better son and brother before everything went to shit. His life choices and the prideful stubbornness with which he committed to them drove a wedge between himself and his parents, which trickled down into a strained relationship with his sisters. In hindsight, they were just worried about him and only wanted what was best for him -- but he was too absorbed with his career and trying to piece it back together to see that. He regrets arguing with them so much. He regrets not making the most of the time he had when he didn't know it was running out.

Somewhat verse specific, but he very deeply regrets what happened with @mslangermann's husband Blake after Temple Gate. Murkoff picked him out of the wreckage and brought him to another facility -- Miles found him while trying to dig up whatever he could about the cult. Blake was completely catatonic, and probing around in his mind revealed that there was nothing left of him mentally, either. Rather than leave him to suffer in Murkoff's hands, Miles elected to put him out of his misery. And still hasn't told Lynn. He doesn't regret doing it -- truly, there were no options that would have saved Blake -- but he regrets not being honest with her. He also blames himself a bit for not finding him sooner and possibly preventing tragedy.

three phobias your character has.

the dark

confined spaces

heights

tagged by : @demcnsinmymind ty!!! tagging: @cyberpawn, @slidethirtysix, @paramnesias

[needleanddead]

Congratulations on becoming a Spouse™️!!! How would Lucas react to karma finally collecting the toll?Like his darling escapes and manages to get back to town with the photos of all of his former darlings that he discarded, all these known missing persons, and goes to the police. They’d have no choice but to arrest him to avoid a scandal, and then they find the diary of that one former darling… Would he remain stubborn throughout his trial, or would he feel remorse?

Anonymous asked: Also with your permission, I’d like to write a mock true crime article about him and credit you :3

to the second one: absolutely!!! it makes me feel so so happy when my silly little OCs inspire literally anything and a fake article sounds so so fun!!! you just have to let me see it or i'll be sad dfvnkjfgkdjnb.

as for the first question . . .

honestly? lucas falls very much in the 'delusional' camp, and i don't think that being caught would change that so much as make him double down. his belief system is thus; the world is cruel and awful and human beings are the scum of the earth (he includes himself in that, by the way; he knows what he did, back before he became the man he is now). his darlings have been that precisely because he has thought them above that filth; a person who is a beacon the darkness, who is pure and good and right and liable to be chewed up and spat out. darlings who have acted out and met the business end of an axe . . . well, they proved that they were just like the others, didn't they? and they deserved what was coming to them.

so no, he doesn't feel remorse. he's also not a liar, though, and he's not scared of crowds who might be attracted to a grisly case like this and his background means he certainly does not bow down to authority. he remains stubborn and resolute in what he did, though it's certainly obvious he's agitated by all of the hubbub and furore of what it's like to be amongst a flurry of people. he likes his solitude, after all (and i guess he'll get plenty of that in prison!).

he continues to see it like this: he was simply carving out a patch of the world for himself. he drew strict lines about his territory. the people he killed and ate were tresspassers, the darlings were liars and fakes, and in the end he used them for what they were good for. meat. i think he's far too set in his ways and certain of himself at this point to think about apologies and regret.

[milliesmuses]

Don't Live A Life Of Regret

Studying the decade that I am currently living in has been one of my recent passions.

"What to do in my twenties?" Is something I have googled search more times than I would like to admit.

That is partly why I began this blog. If you are in your twenties, let's go through this harrowing decade together. You don't have to be alone.

I have watched "I have wasted my twenties", "What to invest in in your twenties", "You're not behind in your twenties", "Why it's okay to broke in your twenties" and many other existentially exhausting videos regarding my age. As well as so, so many articles.

If you have also spent time frantically researching in similar ways, please message me. Maybe you have figured out something I haven't.

My early twenties were intense. From 20-23, I had no idea which way was up or down. I didn't know who I was or what I wanted to do. I spent years searching majors and careers online in my room, anxiously pondering what would not be a huge mistake.

But in my 24th year, my mind has calmed down a lot. I don't have it all figured out but way more than I did when I was a freaked out 22 year old.

The way I figured out what I wanted to do, for the current time anyway, was by trying out things. I learned nothing about what I wanted to do with my life sitting frozen in fear in my apartment. Now, I am working a job I like, B Dubs, I am going to film school in the fall, I am writing a lot and I feel much more fulfilled.

How To (Somewhat) Figure What You Want To Do (It will never be perfect so don't stress about that) :

Try new things so you know what you like and don't like

Be completely honest with yourself about you truly want out of life

Know that dying peoples most common regrets are "I wish I didn't work so much" and "I wish I lived the life I truly wanted, not what was expected of me"

Be nice to yourself. Life is too hard and people are too mean for you to beat yourself up. This will help you think clearly

Travel. I learned a lot about myself and had a lot of fun moving out of my home state to Texas and California

I truly believe that the Universe wants the best for us and loves us. This helps me find the courage to live the life I want to live. I hope it does for you too.

Kill your ego. Being humble will help you see yourself clearly

Don't surround yourself with fake people who judge you. Get real friends who support your true self and your dreams

Get off of social media. It's distorting your view of the world. It's not real and it's melting your brain

I hope this helps. Message me if you found this helpful or how your twenties journey is going!

[cakejerry]

I need to hear more on why you dropped BTS before

Ok. Tl;dr desperation for american validation beginning in 2017

Pretty normal scope of events actually.

1. Fucking hated spring day when it dropped, snoozer ballad, liked not today better. It doing so well on the charts only made me angrier. I had preordered both versions of the album and it turned out to only be a shitty repackage beating a dead horse (hyyh symbolism) into the ground. Stopped paying attention to their live shows as much but still kept up with the fandom.

2. Then boom they're being invited to billboard for a fake ass popularity stunt and everyone's acting like it's such a big deal. Bitch what the fuck is billboard? I genuinely dgaf. American validation desperation starts. I keep up with their releases even less. They're being cringe as fuck selling out to america and bringing in idiots to the fandom. I start hating the way namjoon is acting, as I look back on those days now he's trying WAY too hard with the aegyo and it's fucking annoying.

3. Bts outcast. I just... So cringe. So, so cringe. And everyone was acting so... Idk. People tweeting about jimin dying and laughing and making it blow up until there were actual billboard articles being written about it. Google it if you dont know what im talking about. Some of my tweets from the period:

4. Love yourself concept teasers drop. There's a bunch of random girls for no reason, giving all of them het plotlines in a story about friendship. Cringe. Someone tweets "dont sexualise their relationship with the girls don't disrespect them like that!" and someone replies "yoongis girl is going to eat his ass i can see it in her eyes" (very important to the narrative). I start feeling disconnected from jimin and start finding jungkook very attractive.

5. Dna teaser drops and im like ohhh this about to be good they're bringing retro back!! Turns out... They're going to be having the debut stage in america. I stay up with a friend all night watching it. Its exciting, but.... I don't care about america. I don't, i dont i dont. I truly dont. Oh yeah THE CHAINSMOKERS are on the album. I fucking hate collabs. I hate americans. But, whatever. The album is good. Like, really good. Serendipity is a jimin solo song, and I still love him despite my best interests. Best of me is good, pied paper is good, bojok is good, dna is GOOD... mic drop is fine, basic people are going to blow it up like they did with baepsae, but its okay. Im STANNING! But then the problems start arising.

6. Mic drop steve aoki. Need i say more. The lyrics... The sound... We get it, you're hardcore. You're embarrassed to promote colourful pop like dna. You're tough boys who misuse aave. Its so cringe. No one says anything about it. Great. The collab... WHO IS STEVE AOKI??? IDGAF!!!

6.5 deliberately leaving this one out just to check if anyone is still reading... The worst betrayal of my life *shiv gif*

7. And then... the american promotions. I stop paying attention completely. I start resenting everything. The way they look, the way they talk. Fans start making fun of a pic of jimin where it looks like he didnt cut his toenails. Rumors start circling that he got his chipped tooth fixed. I... Idk. It's the little things. I can't describe how awful the fandom space was, you just had to be there. The american influx was awful. Burn the stage drops. Another cash grab. People make fun of jungkook being sick. The love yourself concept feels hollow. I go back to wings and realize we have lost the plot.. hoseok is singing about his real life mother and people are creating theories about how it all relates back to the hyyh storyline. Jungkook is singing about how much he loves his hyungs and he didn't even write the words; rap monster did. I hate rap monster. Rap monster changes his name to RM- its less cringe to the americans that way. They change their logo- its minimalist now, to appeal to the americans. They're not the bulletproof boyscouts anymore. They're beyond the scene. Its hybe, not bighit. They're embarrased. They're changing themselves. They write all of their songs. (They really dont.) No but they do! We have to chart. (Inflate those numbers guys!) They're the only kpop group worthy of success. They paved the way! They write their own songs. We can tell! (Stream stream stream). Im completely removed. I only hear about them through 3rd hand sources. Bt21... Merch... Money.. sell... Buy... Book, movie, another repackage album, another movie, a game, another game, buy, sell, money.... I see the video of jimins voice breaking in fake love-- I laugh. Oh they made him show his abs for that comeback... Great. We only love him for his body, anyways. Oh, they're collabing with some random white bitch.... Okay.... Its called boy with luv?... But boy in luv will forever be MY baby. They're BIG now. People talk about them. They don't know them like I do. I don't know them like you do. Idol drops and I catch glimpses of it. Its.. too much. Its awful. Everyone calls it the worst song ever. Hearing snippets on the radio at the gym, im bound to agree. I hear nicki minaj's voice. Shout out to korea. Why is she here? What is going on. Why.. why are they doing this. This isnt bts. I hear dynamite on the radio in the grocery store- i only know its bts because of Jimin's disgusting awful dying cat voice. I post about it. Its funny. I love to hate. The song is shit. The song is being payolad onto the radio in my small ass country because bts fans are genuinely crazy. Steam. Inflate. Buy. Break records. Pave the way. NO multis, ONLY solo. Someone says borahae. I don't know what it means. A japanese group i like covers butter. I cant listen to more than 3 seconds of it- it sounds like shit. Its in english. Why is it all in english? The rhymes sound like a third grader wrote them. Is this what my.. my bts are releasing these days? Are they not embarrassed? They're decked out in gucci and lv.. it looks like shit. They look like shit. Theyre embarrassing themselves. Theyre everything they swore theyd never become. Theyre the people they made fun of. They neglect the korean audience. They stop promoting on music shows- its all special release this, single package that. But lets mass buy it. Lets show our love. Money. Money is love. Money will buy them leopard print and tacky sandals. Are they still the same bts i knew? No... No, they're not.

I remember a jhope fansite dying back in the day. I remember that I had never heard about her before, but I remember feeling devastated. I remember feeling connected to her. As I write this, I am praying that she is well. We all came together and shared our condolences. It wasn't an event- we didn't trend anything. But there was a feeling of remorse that day in the fandom. Of community. I remember huddling around the phone with my friend- I had just gotten a twitter notification from bts. They just finished a concert in their red bullet tour. They post a group photo. It gets 10k likes.

Now every time I listen to a bts song in public this flashes in my mind.

I hate bts.

[maineshewrote]

I-just-started-s4e5-thoughts:

Melon is just too oblivious to be the killer is all I'm saying.

A lot of unexplained black footprints in front of the Arconia in the titles this time.

So Melon's saying it was someone on the movie and we're seeing the writer wearing disguises at home. That's shady. Disguise tells me he's hiding something. Long shot, I know, but what if he actually couldn't write the script, not even the way he pictured the characters, so he stalked the trio? It would put him usefully in the middle of everything. But if the movie is about the trio's first case (Evidence: Howard was auditioning with lines about Tim and the Hollywood trio was dressed in s1e1 attire at the party), he would have to have been there, stalking, from the very first few episodes on. Which is a bonny fine time to develop a script, considering there was a whole year between seasons 2 and 3.

All of Williams's fits this season, I can't. They're flawless.

Absolutely fabulous that that article mentioned Loretta's character's fabulous limp! What a fun throwback!

I really should have finished and posted all my Loretta-working-in-LA-post-season-3 fanfiction drafts before this season got released, because you people are not going to believe everything that I had drafted became canon. (I mean, sure, my files have time stamps, but that's too much of a hassle to prove.) The ideas involved (but not limited to) in my notes were: Loretta's character on her LA show getting a hot love interest, the fact causing some mild disturbance between Oliretta although everything is completely innocent, Loretta's character getting caught in a fire on the show. I mean, that last one! How do these things happen! How did I see that one coming?! How can it all be canon? I'm going to feel so cheap finishing and publishing those stories now.

What's with all this Williams enjoying famous men? Ain't no way they get to do a character arc where she's the only one on the show whose family gets broken up over something like that.

Lovely to see late bloomer Mabel finally feeling she achieved something professionally. Good for her!

Still deeply unimpressed with the Brothers.

I can't be the only one disturbed by how unnecessarily unpleasantly they are sexualizing Loretta this season. Could we stop now?

When Melon accused Oliver of not taking care of his body, you could just see all the dips in his life passing before Oliver's eyes.

Aside from the hip replacement stuff, I am surprised at myself for liking Melon's character. Completely unhinged but so generous.

Okay, so the footprints in the opening titles are from that sticky mat.

But notice how Howard's whole body language changed in accordance with his new job, including his gait? That's commitment right there.

I can't explain it but Glen just being there brings me such joy.

Glen, honey, don't stomp the rats in the elevator. Your actor hasn't had much luck in there historically. (It was the other elevator, but still.)

The trio really shouldn't be showing random fake-bearded writers their murder boards.

Awww! They're still using Williams's who-how-why-why-now system!

But there are a lot of those kinds of shoes. Half of the production team could be wearing shoes with the same sole.

Glen standing in for Oliver is giving, "Am I a 100% Irish?! I'll havve yu knoow, I'm Putnam through and through. And divil the man who say a word agin' me yu knoow."

How about Glen plays Oliver instead of Galifragilistic? He doesn't even need to act, he's crazy enough. And he's got the missing tooth!

I see you, Howard, I see you saying you're the documentarian and leading us into experimental episode 6 with that.

Maybe it was two people, genius and unprecedented, you know... like last season?

A very nice solution. I'd like to leave the case at that and just focus on the main trio's domestic antics for the rest of the season. Of course, it's not really the Brothers who were the killers and the shooter we were shown in the trailer was a fair hoax, because we've still got half a season to go.

Let's not forget the not-tinsel. I have a feeling that's going to have some significance.

If somebody shot Glen, I will be fuming. (Yes, I did hear Howard's, "Oh my god, you've been shot," and Mabel's worried, "Oliver!" but there is no way they can touch my leprechaun Tinker Bell, so it better be Oliver no. 2 or Oliver no. 3.)

[smokyink]

self harm to heal

Treating life like a social ladder, where each milestone rewards you with fake satisfaction, is a never-ending journey. You never truly reach the end, do you? That's because, until the day you die, you're stuck in a vicious loop of pleasing others and receiving nothing in return. This article delves into my personal experiences with attention-seeking behaviors, BPD, and self-harming tendencies. Ever heard of someone mutilating themselves for fun or attention? Probably not, but people like that do exist, and I am one of them.

In a study conducted by Parker (2007), it was stated that individuals with BPD, who have a fear of abandonment, find a sense of relief in the sight of blood. This is true for me. I enjoy harming myself because the pain offers relief and a sense of safety. It may sound strange, but the oozing of blood from my skin brings me comfort. Skin is the largest organ in the body, and in my mind, my body is my canvas, where I can carve wherever I want.

While others may see self-harm as a form of suicidal ideation, I view it as a way of expressing myself, which is, in a sense, an art form. This is a controversial opinion, but it's one I stand by. I'm open to others' opinions, but I firmly believe in this. Every time I self-harm, I feel nothing at first. But once I see the skin burst and the blood flowing, I get a rush of serotonin.

Attention-seeking behaviors often go hand in hand with self-harm. When someone doesn’t receive the attention, love, and security from their primary emotional attachment figure, they tend to spiral into darker behaviors—self-harm, drug use, isolation, nicotine addiction, to name a few. The root of this lies in emotional neglect, starting from childhood. As a result, individuals are more prone to harm themselves and those around them as they grow older.

Speaking from personal experience, I’ve struggled with my identity since middle school, that awkward age when some kids hit puberty while others don't. I don't want to go too deep into my past, but to give some context, I was a shy girl who often withdrew into isolation, followed by emotional outbursts. It was a confusing and rough childhood, to say the least.

Now, where I stand, I’ve found a way to understand myself through writing. Writing has been the best thing that’s ever happened to me. It allows me to express what I struggle to say out loud. I often have so much to share, but verbal expression is hard for me, and writing has become my outlet.

Now that I’m back home, I finally had a serious conversation with my parents. After years of avoiding it, I decided to face it head-on. With trembling hands and a racing mind, wondering if this was the right thing to do, I blurted everything out. To my surprise, they were understanding and encouraged me to do whatever helps me feel better, but in a healthier way. I’ve always been wary of medication, fearing dependency and the monotony it might bring to my emotions.

I’m still not sure how I’ll navigate this journey, but I know I have people around me I can trust and lean on. That realization came after a long period of self-doubt and isolation. Recovery will be tough, but it’s not impossible.

[cherokeegal1975]

Article below is what I wrote on my post on DeviantART for this game idea that I very much know isn't going to happen. I thought it might if I could find the right game developer that would be willing to work with me, but I quickly discovered that game developers do not like outside ideas, especially unsolicited ones. I can't do it myself partly because I can't afford the classes or the resources needed to get it done...and I'd probably need a team, which I'll never get. Also, I look at myself and realize that even though I'd enjoy games and probably do well in them, I write stories okay, but I don't have it in me to create challenges, different outcomes or puzzles. I'm not talented that way. Even so, it was a fun idea to think about. I look forward to putting this artwork into my art journal when I can afford to get it made.

    I created a fake game play screen shot.  I can take credit for the horse and the dragon, both the full characters and the heads, but nothing else.  The rest I found online and made use of them like stickers.  I did add the text though.  Call me lazy if you will, but I just wanted to focus on drawing my characters and sharing my concept.  The game itself will never be made, I don't even know how to do such a thing, much less have the funds to buy the programs to make them.   The closest I can come is do a kind of writing game where I say "This thing is happening, if you choose to go left, click the #1 link, if you choose to go right choose the #2 link and keep reading."  I don't see myself doing that anytime soon...if at all.  It's an idea though.     Both the horse and the dragon are based on small plastic toys that I had as a child.  The drawings look a lot better than the original toys I lost so long ago.  Anyway, the basic game idea is that it's a story based, open world, lots of side quests, puzzles, useful collectibles, possibly a bit of a sandbox thing going on in it, with more than one possible ending.  Both animals can talk, both have abilities that compliment the other.  The main focus will be on content and though it doesn't have to be G-rated, it should not be focused mainly on violence or sexual themes.     So what do you think?  I know this isn't the most action packed scene in a game I've ever seen, but use your imagination, this is only one set in a huge world map.  I haven't thought too much on the story plot or anything, only the basic concepts of what I've learned from watching game playthroughs on YouTube.  I gradually learned what kinds of games I like and this one has everything I find fun and appealing in a video game...or so I imagine.     So, tell me what you think of my idea.  I really want to know.

    Update:   (This a journal entry from a few weeks ago, I've already figured out their names and I only added this on to help fill in some detail just in case someone actually wants to take my idea seriously...which I still know is about zero.) I know why a game developer wouldn't want to take my ideas and collaborate with me, they got too many of their own already and want nothing to do with outside help.  It's a shame too, I've got some good ones and just occurred to me that my pink dragon (I can't figure out a name and Rosie won't do because I've got a cat named Rosie here and I don't like to have more than one animal named the same thing even though my dragon isn't real.  Anyone have any suggestions?  Her name was Pink-yellow-blue, but that's a stupid name my child self came up with and I've long since out grown it.) might make a great avatar for a roll playing game in an open world kind of game.   Her abilities are human speech and intelligence, omnivorous, fire breathing, excellent senses of sight, smell and hearing. Very good at digging, powerful jumps, her tail is as prehensile as a monkey's so she can carry objects with it or help her to hang on to things like tree branches.  Her scales make her tough and fire resistant, excellent climbing capabilities, a really good swimmer and her fore feet work like hands.  She can also stand up and walk for short distances on her hind legs so she can use those hands.  She's the size of a large dog, so that means she can go into smaller places the bigger species of dragons can't.  Her only disadvantage is her lack of wings since her kind never had them in the first place.  Also, males have two small horns on their noses and her kind comes in all colors and patterns, so if they show up in the game, no two would look alike.  Her best friend is a black horse with four white socks, a white mark that starts on her forehead and runs all the way down her nose, a white mane and a white tail and silver eyes, who is just a sweet an intelligent horse in spite of her unusual coloring.  (Haven't drawn the horse yet, but I will.  I had almost forgotten that horse.  It's gone too, lost it long before I lost the dragon).  My character's home environment is a enchanted forest full of giant sentient trees that can change themselves to make hollows in their bases the dragons can use as homes.  The trees can also create mischief for the unwary traveler who disrespects them by shifting positions in such a way that the movement is never seen.  This movement can create false paths and get people hopelessly lost if they aren't careful.  This tendency can also aid my character in finding places if she asks them nicely to help her and most likely they will because their relationship with the tree dragons is a friendly one.   Maybe one of the game goals is to have my dragon go on an adventure to rescue her horse friend?  The game could have puzzles included as well as helpful companions that could come along as the game progresses.  I would like the game to have the best graphics.  I did down play the details on my dragon a bit because I wanted to hurry up and finish her.  I've been doing a lot of dragons lately and I've gotten tired of drawing more scales than I can count.  So I just did contours instead and only suggested that she's a scaled dragon.  She's got little lizard like scales except for the ones on her underside and I would love it if that would show up in the game when ever the camera got close enough to see them.   Well, anyway, I am aware that my chances of collaborating a gamer are slim to none, I'm still willing to try to put the suggestion out there just in case someone would take me up on my idea.  This dragon would do great as an avatar.  Not sure of the full plot, but those details could be worked out later by the developer. Also, I think the game controls should have the option to be made to work with a mouse so people on a tight budget don't have to buy a game controller so they can play the game on a laptop.