#i mean I need to learn how to animate too but at least that I have a baseline knowledge of already

[illmoraineakoi]

This is one of the really interesting questions about the stick figures: how does age, or rather maturity, actually work for them?

As far as I can tell, there are three major types of sticks in canon: Artificial Animated Sticks [Alan's, and potentially other Animators too], Artificial Other Medium Sticks [ie: sticks from games or other types of art that were still created by humans, like the RGBY] and Natural Sticks [Sticks like Purple who were born via reproductive means]

Age between these types of sticks has to have wildly different meanings, as well as the rate of maturity.

Purple, a born stick, is shown to be a baby in his backstory. He's then shown to have grown, though over how long of a timespan is unknown. At best, we can speculate that this type of stick's lifecycle is somewhat similar to a human's: born as an infant that needs to be cared for, and then learning how to live, developing/maturing, as they grow up.

But Artificial Animated Sticks are CLEARLY different.

All four of Alan's sticks are very capable right after creation. They're already quite mentally developed. Victim and Orange especially are quite smart just minutes after their 'birth'. Like they're already at least a couple of years old, cognitively.

Not much has been revealed about other types of Artificial Sticks, but it's likely that they're similar to Animated Sticks in this regard. Perhaps their level of maturity is based on their Creator's intent for them, but without further info, it's difficult to speculate.

As far as I see it, there's two potential measurements of age one could apply to Artificial Sticks: mental age, and age based on their creation date.

Personally, I think that Orange, RGBY, and Chosen all have mental maturity ages equivalent to their creation age [10-12, and 17-18 respectively]. Dark and Victim, however, just feel different.

Dark has always seemed to be a lot more similar to Chosen's age than his 'true' age, and I think that it might be due to the manner of his creation. He was made to Chosen's equal in almost every way, his polar opposite that was designed to be able to destroy him. This intention may have factored in to how "old" Dark was at his time of creation; old enough to match Chosen's. So I feel like Dark is also around 17-18. Maybe 16, if we want to interpret his enthusiasm for showing off the ViraBot as a 'childish' action.

Victim's different. I think that he's a case of being "wiser beyond one's years", entirely due to how much crap he's potentially lived through. 17 years is already a long time for stick figures, but Victim had five extra years to do things that Chosen did not (due to the enslavement). This, combined with how intelligent Victim seems to be, gives off the impression that he's older than 18. More like 23-25. Older than his creation-based age, but still young enough to make reckless, foolish choices based in anger, like trying to get vengeance on his Creator. Undeniably smart and clever, but still a little naive and unable to comprehend the potential bigger picture or the consequences very well. Or perhaps he's just really ambitious and genuinely doesn't care about any of the risks/danger, just about satisfying his vendetta.

(It's possible that future revelations from AvA11 might change this interpretation, so this is all, currently, tentative and speculative despite my own headcanons lmao)

While not specifically important to anything, I also personally headcanon Yellow being the oldest of the RGBY, followed by Blue, Green, and finally Red, though it's more of how twins/triplets argue about who's technically oldest than any meaningful time difference. They were all created on the same day, just a a couple of dozen minutes apart. Orange is the youngest of them all, by at least a year.

Also, another factor that complicates the entire age thing is that we don't know exactly how long living stick figures have been around. We don't know when the Outernet was made, nor where the artificial life came from. It's possible that all of it, everything, only came into existence in the late 1990s/early 2000s. Or, perhaps digital life began around the same time the internet itself was created, which would be around 1983. That's not a lot of time, all things considered. If Natural Sticks age at similar rates to humans, there can't be many generations of them yet.

It' just a really fascinating and confusing part of the lore. It always hurts my brain trying to think about it.

Oh! Oh!

Genuine question for people who consider and accept Color Gang to be 10-12 years old because of their debut episode date(2014):

Do you also accept that Victim and The Chosen One are 18? And The Dark Lord is 14? Because Victim and TCO's videos were uploaded in 2006 and TDL's in 2010.

This is like a GENUINE question. I'm not making fun of you, I'm genuinely curious.

If not, why? I would like to know why Color Gang are special cases.

[leejeann]

Practicing figure drawing so I can fulfill my dream of becoming an illustrator: Boring, predictable, little bit cheesy

Practicing figure drawing so I can make the bsd stormbringer animation I've had vividly playing rent-free in my head since I was like halfway through the book and heard a song for the first time in years that fit it perfectly: New, fresh, supporting my current source of brainrot

(little ramble about the animation idea below the cut because it's been rotating in my head for MONTHS and I just need someone else to hear it. vague spoilers for bsd stormbringer, but like vague enough it's barely spoilers imo)

The song is Invincible by Ok Go, for any fellow sb fans who want to see my vision lol. It was specifically the pre-chorus (starting with "i'm gonna bet they won't be prepared for-") that made it click in my brain, but then later the second verse also really clicked with it too (see below) and the concept has been rent free ever since. Might end up being more of an animatic but we'll see what my skill level ends up managing lol

ok so imagine the first verse is a combo of just general narration and/or the flags talking to/about Chuuya. "When the finally come to destroy the earth, they'll have to go through you first. Bet they won't be expecting that" just kind of feels like something the flags would say to him tbh. Like not verbatim but the sentiment of it

First pre-chorus is flashing through snippets of everything between Adam showing up at the bar until the first fight in the street. It might start with the confetti thing. I can't decide where to fit that, just that I want to include it lol. Probably ends with the reveal of that car (i know, i know, oof)

The chorus is the fight itself (...idk how to animate a fight but I'll cross that bridge later), ending with a longer shot of redacted holding Chuuya by the neck while everything breaks around them, then on-beat with the chorus ending it's a hard cut between seeing the hand on his neck to the same shot but with Dazai's hand against his back instead and everything immediately stopping, then Chuuya just kind of falling into a void and finally landing on the ground and getting back up just before the second verse starts.

(i really like that part in my head, if you can't tell by how clear of an idea I have for it lol)

First half of the second verse is Shirase talking to Chuuya. "Gonna decimate them like you did to me?" just fits his vibe too well. Then the second half of the verse is Dazai talking to Chuuya because the "will you devastate them deliberately?" line feels like it could be such a snarky Dazai way to make a jab about arahabaki like "So will you devastate them on purpose this time then?" if that makes sense

The last part of the song is still a little fuzzy in my head for how it'll go exactly, but like pre-chorus after the second verse will probably be like flashing through stuff in that lab and leading to the big fight with redacted. Then that chorus being the first part of the fight, the bridge ("so please use your powers for good") being like when they realize they haven't quite won and then Chuuya and Dazai are on the water tower. I think the build-up in that section musically fits the tone of how the scene is also building up, if that makes sense. The last "you're invincible!" after the bridge is like the where Chuuya launches himself off the water tower and/or the moment of Dazai turning around to see Chuuya is no longer behind him on the tower (can't decide which pov would look cooler to see from a narrative standpoint. Maybe I'll say fuck it and spilt-screen for both lmao) and then ya know visuals just kind of pop off until the end of the song/plot

Might have to tweak the timeline a bit because i want it to roughly cover the entire plot of the book. Once I at least get good enough at doing rough figure sketches and have the motivation to do it I'll be able storyboard it and figure that all out. Ok byee thanks for reading my ramblings, hope it made sense~

[valeriehalla]

actual writing advice

1. Use the passive voice.

What? What are you talking about, “don’t use the passive voice”? Are you feeling okay? Who told you that? Come on, let’s you and me go to their house and beat them with golf clubs. It’s just grammar. English is full of grammar: you should go ahead and use all of it whenever you want, on account of English is the language you’re writing in.

2. Use adverbs.

Now hang on. What are you even saying to me? Don’t use adverbs? My guy, that is an entire part of speech. That’s, like—that’s gotta be at least 20% of the dictionary. I don’t know who told you not to use adverbs, but you should definitely throw them into the Columbia river.

3. There’s no such thing as “filler”.

Buddy, “filler” is what we called the episodes of Dragon Ball Z where Goku wasn’t blasting Frieza because the anime was in production before Akira Toriyama had written the part where Goku blasts Frieza. Outside of this extremely specific context, “filler” does not exist. Just because a scene wouldn’t make it into the Wikipedia synopsis of your story’s plot doesn’t mean it isn’t important to your story. This is why “plot” and “story” are different words!

4. okay, now that I’ve snared you in my trap—and I know you don’t want to hear this—but orthography actually does kind of matter

First of all, a lot of what you think of as “grammar” is actually orthography. Should I put a comma here? How do I spell this word in this context? These are questions of orthography (which is a fancy Greek word meaning “correct-writing”). In fact, most of the “grammar questions” you’ll see posted online pertain to orthography; this number probably doubles in spaces for writers specifically.

If you’re a native speaker of English, your grammar is probably flawless and unremarkable for the purposes of writing prose. Instead, orthography refers to the set rules governing spelling, punctuation, and whitespace. There are a few things you should know about orthography:

English has no single orthography. You already know spelling and punctuation differ from country to country, but did you know it can even differ from publisher to publisher? Some newspapers will set parenthetical statements apart with em dashes—like this, with no spaces—while others will use slightly shorter dashes – like this, with spaces – to name just one example.

Orthography is boring, and nobody cares about it or knows what it is. For most readers, orthography is “invisible”. Readers pay attention to the words on a page, not the paper itself; in much the same way, readers pay attention to the meaning of a text and not the orthography, which exists only to convey that meaning.

That doesn’t mean it’s not important. Actually, that means it’s of the utmost importance. Because orthography can only be invisible if it meets the reader’s expectations.

You need to learn how to format dialogue into paragraphs. You need to learn when to end a quote with a comma versus a period. You need to learn how to use apostrophes, colons and semicolons. You need to learn these things not so you can win meaningless brownie points from your English teacher for having “Good Grammar”, but so that your prose looks like other prose the reader has consumed.

If you printed a novel on purple paper, you’d have the reader wondering: why purple? Then they’d be focusing on the paper and not the words on it. And you probably don’t want that! So it goes with orthography: whenever you deviate from standard practices, you force the reader to work out in their head whether that deviation was intentional or a mistake. Too much of that can destroy the flow of reading and prevent the reader from getting immersed.

You may chafe at this idea. You may think these “rules” are confusing and arbitrary. You’re correct to think that. They’re made the fuck up! What matters is that they were made the fuck up collaboratively, by thousands of writers over hundreds of years. Whether you like it or not, you are part of that collaboration: you’re not the first person to write prose, and you can’t expect yours to be the first prose your readers have ever read.

That doesn’t mean “never break the rules”, mind you. Once you’ve gotten comfortable with English orthography, then you are free to break it as you please. Knowing what’s expected gives you the power to do unexpected things on purpose. And that’s the really cool shit.

5. You’re allowed to say the boobs were big if the story is about how big the boobs were

Nobody is saying this. Only I am brave enough to say it.

Well, bye!

[luveline]

hiya jadey! A hotchner!reader x spencer request for you <3 Maybe Spencer comes home a little tense/snappy from a case and reader misinterprets it as anger towards her so she starts clesning and catering to what she thinks Spencer needs so he isn’t angry at her anymore? (even thought he never was.)

She sort of regresses into what she did when her adoptive parents weren’t pleased with her :(

love you love you love you superstar!

i love u <3 | fem, 1k

cw past emotional abuse

The door to Spencer’s apartment closes with a distinct clunk. Certainly shut too hard. 

It sends a horrible feeling deep into the very pit of your stomach. Like you could cry, then and there. You frown at the odd feeling and stand to shake it off. 

Spencer’s home. 

“Hey,” you say, calling without seeing him, making your way into the living room from his kitchen to find him at the door. 

His bag looks heavier than usual on a slouched shoulder, his hair puffy. He must’ve showered before they flew back into Virginia and air-dried his short curls. He drops his bag on the floor, scrubbing his face, nose and eyes screwed up tightly as his glasses push up to his forehead.

“You okay?” you ask.

His face flickers. “Fine.” 

It’s not the greeting you’d wanted. Maybe you’re egotistical or something but you’d at least expected a hug. He’s the one who invited you over, surely he wants to see you?

The queasy feeling worsens. 

You give him a little kiss on the cheek to test the waters. “Missed you.” 

“Yeah, I missed you too.” 

You aren’t convinced. Spencer rubs his face again, trudging to the couch to lay down. 

You send yourself into a tailspin. Looking around the apartment, you can see why he’s unhappy. You left your cup on the coffee table, your handbag on the armrest, there’s so much to clean up and put away. 

His silence means you did something wrong. 

He asked you to be there. He left you the key. But maybe he didn’t really want you there after all. 

When you were younger, you’d get home from school, and a half hour later your father’s car would park in the driveway. You’d get this feeling, then, a tenseness, not necessarily fear but anticipation. Some days it wouldn’t matter, and most days he’d come through the door like a animal to be coaxed into softness. You’d convince him to be angry at something else. Enable his fury, agree with every word he said. 

Smiling, calmed, he’d walk into a spotless kitchen and find a pan soaking in the sink. I just wish you’d have some fucking consideration, he’d say. Or, Really? Or he’d sigh like he couldn’t believe it and slam a cabinet door. 

Nothing was right. You weren’t worth any patience.

“Dove?” 

You peek around the doorway again, your tidying having taken you to the kitchen to wash your cup. “Yeah?” you say. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Just– just cleaning up.” 

“It’s fine. It’s clean, don’t worry about it.” He frowns at you. “Are you okay?” 

“‘Course.” 

His frown deepens. Spencer only ever frowns when he’s confused. When he’s upset he tends to press his lips together in an accidental pout, and when he’s angry, he’s stony. Spencer’s good at profiling because it’s his job. You learned it at home. Seeing anger in things most of all. 

“I’m fine. Are you okay?” you ask, wiping your hands on your shirt. “Sorry, I should’ve asked how the case was. It was tough, right? It– I mean, they’re all tough.” You smile as you sit on the couch beside him, one leg tucked underneath you. 

He shakes his head. “I’ve missed something. I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong.” 

“Nothing’s wrong.” 

“You’re not acting like yourself.” 

“Sorry.” You wince. “I thought you were having a bad day?” 

“I am. Or, I was.”

Spencer holds out his hand. When you take it, he pulls you toward him with the care of someone who knows what it’s like to be startled, shuffling toward one another to be knee to knee. He holds your arm like it’s all of you, pressing you to his chest. 

For a while, you just sit there. Quiet, almost silent, the apartment rests around you. Spencer frowns at your hand as he draws lines up and down your arm, but slowly his frown softens, and you realise your stress has faded with it. Spencer isn’t angry. And if he were, it’s not with you. 

“Sorry I shut the door hard when I came in,” he says. 

You feel caught. “It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine. Today was really bad, I got into it with Emily and the case… I don’t know. But coming home to you…” 

Spencer curls your fingers over his hand and presses them to the underside of his chin. 

“Thank you for coming over,” he says. “Did you eat?” 

You can’t help smiling, turning your hand slowly to cup his cheek, to hold him still. “I was waiting for you.” 

“Well, you decide and I’ll go pick it up.” 

“I can’t come with you?” 

“Do you want to?” He turns into your touch, glasses pushed against his eye, his lashes on the lense. 

You take back your hand. “Sure.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, we’ll walk. It’ll be nice, the weather’s not too bad.” 

“You feel okay?” he asks. 

“Worried about me?” 

“What your brother might do to me,” he says, nodding into the joke. Then he cracks just as quickly and tugs you in to hug you sideways. “Worried about how I made you feel.” 

It wasn’t Spencer’s fault, but you don’t want to talk about it anymore. You push up taller than him to encircle his head and neck, pressing your nose into the soft crop of his hair. He squeezes the small of your back with similar gusto. “Got my wires crossed,” you mumble. 

”Want me to uncross them?” 

You say, Please, and Spencer pushes you away from him to put your arms firmly on the right sides of you, uncrossing you, and kissing you on the nose. 

[wheels-of-despair]

"Loving Eddie was easy. Even on the hard days."

Aftermath | Chapter 11 | Eddie Munson

Eddie Munson x Female OC | E.M x Karmen Jones

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 Chapter 15.

Chapter Summary: The worst nurse on the ward makes a decision for Eddie that he isn't comfortable with. Karmen thinks about her family and then her compatibility with Eddie while giving up a Saturday morning sleep-in.

Story Summary: Eddie wakes up in the Upside Down after 'dying' in Dustin's arms. He wakes up again in the hospital and is reunited with his loved ones. This story covers Eddie's time in the hospital and overall physical recovery after the Upside Down.

This fic is part of the She Feels Like Home series. It sits between Boxing Day and Drop Out.

Chapter Tags: Angst, Hurt/Comfort , Fluff, ASL, (American Sign Language), ASD !Eddie, Autistic Eddie, Non-verbal Eddie, , Healing, Getting Better, Season 4 Spoilers, Found Family, Family Acceptance, Lore Drop, Mentions of kinks, Specifically Mommy!Dom Kink, Mentions of past relationship trauma/cheating/trust issues, patient abuse, medical abuse, talk of murder, past child abuse, mental health issues, panic attacks, suicidal ideation.

Words: 8k

~~

People don’t forget. Nothing gets forgiven.

Eddie remembered someone saying that once. He couldn’t remember who, just that it had resonated with him in an unexpected way.

The quote had burrowed itself into his subconscious and sprung forth again after Chrissy’s death. When he was hiding alone at Rick’s place before the Gang found him. Before he knew about The Upside Down and Vecna. It had become a mantra in his mind. A repeating phrase that promised him no hope.

After defeating the mysterious Dark Wizard, when his life was saved and his name was cleared. He thought that the words would stop swirling in his head and finally let him rest. That things would feel normal again and he could believe if only for a little while that even if people didn’t forget, that they would forgive.

But deep down Eddie knew better than that. That whatever wise man had spoken that truth to him was correct and he was fucked, plain and simple. 

People wouldn’t forget what he ‘did’ and they wouldn’t forgive him for it either. If his treatment from the staff at Hawkins Memorial Hospital was any indication of how Eddie was to live the rest of his life interacting with other people. The general public. Then he wasn’t really sure he wanted to get better and go home.

He hated the staff that worked whatever floor of the Godforsaken place he’d landed his sorry ass on. They were cold, rude and most of the time just downright nasty.

He’d gotten to know most of the nurses names by now. Recognizing them as they entered his room and gauging how his day was going to be based on the quality of care he could expect from the person that was assigned to him.

They were all terrible he’d decided before he had conversed with Nurse Jo. She had changed his mind about hoping that the whole ward burned down with all of the staff inside. 

He’d let her leave with the other patients before he lit his match.

But the others could all go to hell. He ranked them in his mind from awful to atrocious and changed their places weekly based on how horrible they’d been to him.

But there was one person on the leaderboard whose place had never wavered. The top spot for number one most hated Nurse in all of Hawkins, went to Sally.

Nurse Sally had a special place in his heart. 

The place he liked to keep every person that had ever wronged him in his young life. A place akin to hell where he could use them to warm his chest at the thought of them burning alive.

If being recently dismissed of a murder charge wasn’t a memory he had to sober him, he sincerely worried that Nurse Sally would finally push him over the edge.

He’d never met another person in his life that induced such a rage in him with as few words as Nurse Sally was able to.

She wasn’t even trying.

He didn’t think.

She was just… Like that.

The raggedy old bitch was only in her 60s according to intel he’d acquired while partaking in his new favorite pastime. Which was honestly just eavesdropping but he liked it better when he pretended he was watching the Hawkins spinoff of General Hospital.

Eddie had a hunch that Nurse Sally had lied on her resume and her formal medical training consisted of putting leeches on patients during the smallpox pandemic. 

She was a horrible woman. The meanest by far. He felt that he knew deep down in his soul that it wasn’t even personal. It didn’t matter who he was or what people had thought he’d done. She didn’t discriminate. She hated everyone equally. 

He wished he could have asked Steve about it when he’d visited. No doubt he had to deal with her as well, being on the same floor.

He could just tell she was the type of person that chastised new Mothers for not putting socks on their baby when it was 90 degrees out. The type that would watch a news story about the rise of rent prices and then call the generations after hers lazy. 

She definitely drove twenty miles an hour under the speed limit and then honked at people for overtaking her. 

He hated everything about her from the sting of the cold rings she refused to take off to the stench of cigarettes that followed her around. He usually loved a good cigarette but after not having them for a few weeks, the withdrawals were finally over. So if the rotten smell that brought on waves of nausea wasn’t enough to convince him that this woman was a Reptilian in disguise; The fact that her rings never warmed to what should be the natural temperature of her hands, would have him sure. 

He hated her more than he hated Maureen and Eustace from a few trailers over and they had always been at the top of his mortal enemies list, just above Principal Higgins and Karmen’s neighbor Margrette.

Yes a lot of his mortal enemies were elderly women but to his defense they tended to be the demographic that hated someone like him most. Older men hated him too but their hate tended to blossom into indifference and then they left him the fuck alone. It was the women like Sally that couldn’t keep their mouth shut about his appearance or the hobbies he held.

Despite all of the flaws Nurse Sally exhibited, the decidedly worst part of her existence was that she always worked the morning shift. He had never seen her after midday and while that should be a fact that brought him comfort once she was gone. He found it extremely unnerving in the middle of the night when his painkillers were starting to wear off and his body refused to rest, that there was a chance she would be the one to come stomping through the doorway in the morning when he was at his worst and really just needed someone to take pity on him. 

This particular morning she’d arrived twenty seven minutes later than usual to give him his cocktail of medicines. He understood the staff were busy and things didn’t always run smoothly in a hospital. But this was spiteful. It had been a quiet morning. 

She’d rolled her eyes at his un-finished breakfast while he struggled not to writhe in pain. It had taken all the strength he had not to flip the tray table over in response to her grumbles about the cereal he couldn’t stomach, going soggy. 

It would have only hurt him in the end. The strength he needed to do something so wild would drain what was left of his determination when she left him to rot in wet, milk blankets until shift change.

Instead he had closed his eyes and fantasized about running into her when he was finally free of this hellhole. 

Physically. 

With his car.

He wondered where she liked to take her lunch break while he shivered and gagged through the awful ordeal of swallowing his pills. Having finally graduated from morphine in the IV to oral medications.

He never thought he’d miss the icy feeling of medicine being injected directly into his bloodstream but not only did he now have to force himself to actually eat a little so he could swallow the tablets but he had to be awake and make the conscious decision to take them instead of the brief reprieves where they would inject into his IV while he slept.

He was pretty sure they weren’t supposed to do that. Probably were supposed to wake him every time but some of them just didn’t want to be forced to talk to him.

He wasn’t one to complain about going to sleep and then waking up again relatively pain free. He would have rathered it that way every time if he had the choice.

The oral medicine had nothing but drawbacks. It didn’t work anywhere near as fast and he wasn’t careful his stomach would reject them. The nurses refused to give anymore if he threw them up. He knew that technically they weren’t allowed to for safety reasons but he couldn’t help but feel that they took a little too much pleasure in reminding him of that fact.

He’d realized pretty quickly that it was important to take them as soon as he was able to have another dose. Because he would start to feel the pain again long before he was allowed to have more and if he pushed it back any further than the allotted 6 hours, there was a risk that not only would it become severe enough that it would feel like the medicine barely did anything but it would be bad enough to have him vomiting which rendered the oral medication useless anyway.

It was a horrible catch twenty two that repeated in cycles until he was lucky enough to accidentally stumble upon the combination of actions that would settle his belly and let him keep the medicine down despite the pain.

Usually the correct action was to have a few bites of food, swallow the pills as soon as he got them with as little water as possible and then lay incredibly still for several hours. Sleep if he could. But the staff was still insisting on doing his vitals every few hours and it had been long enough now that talk of Physical Therapy had started to amp up.

They wanted to get him walking again. They, being Owens men. Probably the hospital staff too but only so they could finally tell him to walk his ass out of there.

He wasn’t complaining about that part. He couldn’t wait to get out. But he was not looking forward to being yelled at by the Therapist for not walking far enough or long enough. Not trying hard enough. Despite his injuries being entirely unique to any other case they would have ever seen.

They didn’t know that and he couldn’t tell them.

He’d finished taking his pills, putting the little paper cup back down on the table hard like he’d just taken a shot. Water dripped from his lips as he took in several shaky breaths and pushed the tray away with an equally shaky hand.

He’d gotten them down. It was time to lie still now.

Except Nurse Sally had other plans for him. She’d been grunting at him for weeks now that he was an absolute mess. That even being in the hospital, not being able to walk and only having one thorough sponge bath in that timeframe was not an excuse to give up on one’s appearance.

Eddie wasn’t sure why she cared. She seemed like the type of pearl clutching witch to condemn him based on his fashion choices alone. He didn’t miss the irony that even if he did try to make an effort, she wouldn’t be happy with what he looked like. They had two entirely different ideas of what ‘presentable’ meant and only one of them was reasonable.

“-A matted rats nest!” 

Eddie tuned back into her ranting mid sentence and tried to figure out what she was on about as he slowly slipped back down the bed. Intending to slide under the covers and pretend like he was in a coffin until around lunchtime when the painkillers would actually start to kick in. About 45 minutes before he was due for another dose. 

He jolted away as he felt cool metal on his upper arm. Those damn rings just about giving him frostbite where she had tried to still him with her grasp.

He felt an overwhelming urge to hiss at her in response. Swat her over the head a couple of times, no claws and hope she was weirded out enough to not come back.

He didn’t.

But it was the closest he’d ever come to giving into that particular fantasy.

Instead he stared up at her with barely concealed fury. Paused in the middle of sliding down the mattress, his shaky arms barely holding himself up as she motioned for him to sit back up and snapped her fingers at him when he didn’t immediately move.

‘It’s just not in his nature.’

Wayne had told Nancy.

Good Lord Nurse Sally was starting to make him ponder if Wayne was wrong all along.

“I won’t have it for a second longer.” She continued, Eddie unsure what the hell she wasn’t having anymore as she practically yanked him back up the bed by the arm. 

She pulled a groan from deep in his stomach where his medication was still deciding if it wanted to play nice with the spoonful of cornflakes from earlier. 

She had some unexpected strength behind her wiry frame. Either that or Eddie had lost more of his bodyweight and muscle tone than he had realized while recovering. 

The bats alone were generous enough to relieve him of that extra 2 pounds people were always trying to lose in magazines. 

Eddie’s body protested as he shifted to get comfortable. He hadn’t wanted to sit up at all but had to, to take the pills. He’d learnt the hard way that he couldn’t dry swallow them lying down. 

His wounds didn’t ache all the time for no reason anymore like they used to. But they did randomly flare up now and again even when he hadn’t overexerted himself. It was a strange sensation unlike anything he’d ever felt before. Kind of half way between a burn and a sting. They throbbed like an ant bite but the pain was also sharp and pointy like a wasp sting. The difference was that it wasn’t focused on just one small point. It was the entire wound and the baseline of pain was consistent like a burn but amped up in waves depending on how he moved. 

When this happened it was like that for every wound at the same time. Even the ones that had started to heal really well. Even the small cuts on his hands and face that were all but gone. 

If he didn’t know any better he would think that all of them were still infected and he was feeling the effects of that. 

He couldn’t explain it to the doctors. All he could do was answer yes or no questions about pain levels that ranged on a number scale. He had no idea if this was normal or not for the type of wounds he had.

Even if it was normal, what was the ‘normal’ they were comparing it to? Burns like his cover story? Being mauled by an animal? Because they knew deep down these were bites and not anything else? 

Even if they knew exactly what happened to him that meant nothing in the grand scheme of things. They didn’t know anything about Demon bats from another dimension. It wasn’t like they had been extensively studied like every other animals on the planet.

For all he knew, their little fangs contained some sort of venom that would torture him for years to come like a stinging nettle.

Karmen had told him once about the colloquially known Gympie-Gympie plant from the state she grew up in. The most painful plant in the world. The kids were taught about it in early schooling because it left unsuspecting victims that accidentally touched it with a sting so painful it had driven grown men to suicide and it lasted weeks… Sometimes even months.

Was that what was happening to him?

It was a terrifying thought. That the pain might not actually ever go away. That he might be stuck like this for months… 

If not forever.

That he could potentially spend the rest of his life in sporadic agony with no one understanding why or believing that he was actually still in pain. Being labeled a drug addict and blacklisted from all hospitals as a med seeker.

The train of thought he was on made his throat feel like it was going to close up. His breath came short and sharp as he realized he had spiraled himself into a panic attack out of nothing.

“Calm down.” Sally directed flatly as Eddie’s chest heaved with the shallow breaths he was taking. His wide eyes watering as he looked around the room desperately to try and find something to ground himself. Anything else to think about to distract his brain and bring him back from thoughts of a lifetime of suffering.

“Ah!” He yelped in surprise as his head was jerked backwards. The shock of the motion forcing air out of his lungs with the cry and affording him the chance to take air back in without stuttering.

That’ll do it…

A long gasping breath was inhaled and held inside him for a long few seconds before he was struck again against the back of the head and it was forced out in a way that left his lungs completely empty.

He finally took a relatively normal breath. Tears in his eyes as he turned to look at Nurse Sally with fear clouding his brown orbs.

Did she just... h-hit me?

He asked himself, surprised by how fearful he sounded inside his own mind. His stutter was brought forth without even speaking. All thoughts of running her down in his van had vanished and suddenly he was again that scared little boy that had been struck over the head for not talking fast enough.

He was that kid, trapped in a room with an adult that didn’t care that he was afraid.

Tears spilled over and down his hot cheeks as he blinked at her. Realizing as he did so that she hadn’t been hitting him over the head to try and stop his panic attack.

She may as well have though, considering his body’s reaction to the touch he wasn’t ready for. It had triggered him in a way he hadn’t been expecting.

His eyes fell to the object in her hand. He looked between it and her frustrated face as his fear started to simmer down and was replaced with anger. The tears continued all the same as he glared at her with as much hatred as he could possibly muster in a vulnerable moment.

You fucking bitch.

~

Saturday morning was Karmen’s least favorite day of the week to wake up early. Every day it was a slog, no matter how she looked at it. But Saturdays used to be her reprieve. Friday nights were fun to look forward to even without plans and knowing she had nowhere to be in the morning was a kind of freedom she rarely chose to give up.

Which is why it was so damn hard to be walking through the hospital doors just after 9am on the one morning of the week she usually enjoyed.

She had afforded herself a little extra window of sleep this morning and while she felt a little more rested than usual, she had wrestled with whether or not it was worth it for the amount of guilt she held in her belly over making Eddie spend the beginning of his weekend alone.

She had told him the day before that she wasn’t getting up at the crack of dawn today. That she was burnt out and needed a couple of hours after work to focus on herself before a solid 8 hours of sleep. She had framed work as the issue and while it was technically the crux of it. Not spending more than an hour most days on her own basic needs and neglecting the miscellaneous ones was weighing her down in a way she hadn’t been ready for.

She’d practically spent the whole week Eddie was missing in bed but not a second of it was restful and since he’d come back she’d given it her all to make sure he had a reason to stick around.

He’d understood when she said she needed a sleep-in. Lord knew Eddie wasn’t a stranger to an all day lounge-about to recover from a shitty week. But she knew inside that he was sad about it and would never say because he loved her and wanted her to be happy too.

She had tried not to let it get to her. Even Wayne had stopped her as they left together the night before and told her that he thought it was great she was taking a moment for herself. He knew better than anyone how full on Eddie could be and she knew he felt the same weight on his chest that she did every time he had to leave the hospital. 

He had tried to convince her it was okay to take the whole weekend. That Eddie would be fine if she just didn’t show up again until Monday lunchtime. She knew that wasn’t true but she appreciated him for trying. At the very least he had convinced her that sleeping in was an okay thing to enjoy.

That he didn’t judge her for it.

But that fact hadn’t stopped her from dragging herself out of bed at 8:30am and eating her toast in the car on her drive across town.

Granted, 8:30am was still a sleep-in for her. But it wasn’t exactly the one she had in mind when she’d gone to bed purposefully without setting an alarm in the hopes her body clock would forgo waking her in a cold sweat, thinking that she was late for work.

She hadn’t bothered to get ready to leave the house in any capacity. Her unwashed hair still in a bun from the day before and the oversized shirt she’d worn to bed was ruffled by the whoosh of the automatic doors.

She couldn’t remember who’s shirt it was at this point. Just that it had been too big for them and it was the most comfortable ‘dress’ she’d ever worn in her life. She’d had it for a long time. It was one of her favorites that never usually left the house with her. No matter how comfortable it was, it wasn’t exactly a full outfit on its own and usually, she tried at least a little to seem put together with the way she dressed.  

She looked down at it as she waited in the elevator. A cartoon galah wearing sunglasses, surrounded by palm trees on a lavender background.

Oh, it was Bradie’s. 

She realized. Remembering suddenly that it could only belong to her older brother. The rose-breasted cockatoo was an Australian animal. The irony of that fact being that despite currently residing in Australia he hadn’t purchased the shirt there but in a gift shop in Thailand 5 years before he moved across the ocean back to the country they were born in.

She thought about him briefly as she headed towards Eddie’s room. Wondering what he would make of all this if she called him up and told him the story she had and tried to act as though it wasn’t fishy as hell.

No doubt he already had opinions but there was no way she was hearing them any time soon. 

She could pretty much guarantee that her Mother had barred him from calling her or asking about it if he did. Bradie was opinionated and pig-headed but if he liked you he’d give you the world. He was also fun-loving and laid back but it varied person to person if they had ever seen that side of him.

He hadn’t met Eddie yet but he’d gotten an earful about how fantastic he was a couple of months earlier. Strangely, not from Karmen. 

Karmen’s Mother Carla, had loved Eddie when they’d visited. 

She was one of the first after Wayne to tell her that there was no way Eddie did the things he was being accused of. She’d only met him a few times but she knew and she was an ‘amazing’ judge of character…

The fact that her Mother had immediately said that Eddie was innocent should have worked in his favor but if anything, it hindered his case. Her mother was a lovely, gorgeous hearted woman that trusted blindly.

In other words, she was gullible and prone to being hoodwinked by nefarious people.

But she certainly did have her moments. She tended to be right about people more often than she was wrong. It was just that when she was wrong, it was always a doozy.

‘Doozy’ didn’t exactly describe the magnitude of how wrong she would be if she was wrong about Eddie... 

But Karmen had overlooked it all the same. Said ‘thank you’ and decided to believe that Mum was right because she was just as gullible but only when it came to love.

Yes, Carla had loved Eddie.

He was exactly the type of boy that she wanted Karmen to find. Kind, polite, funny, a little bit silly and:

“So, so handsome!” She had cooed, her fingers pinching both of Eddie’s cheeks as he looked down at her with stars in his eyes.

He was her new favorite! She had proclaimed, slurring her words after several wines at the first dinner they’d shared.

Eddie blushing and kicking his feet as Carla’s other son Parker sat across the table, mouth agape.

He had traveled across the country to be there. Not to meet Eddie but to alleviate the guilt he felt that his Mother was ‘alone’ and ‘lonely’ since he, her last baby, had left home.

He’d only been living in L.A for a few months at that point.

Karmen knew her Mum hadn’t meant it the way it came out but she silently understood why Parker had bought a return ticket for only two days after his arrival and Bradie hadn’t visited in years.

Speaking of Braide, she was glad he hadn’t heard it. He was petty like her. Petty enough to renounce his citizenship just so he had an excuse not to come back for Christmas.

Parker had just rolled his eyes and written it down in a notepad when he thought no one was looking. 

He’d take the hit to have more material for his musical comedy.

He’d drink about it when he got back to L.A.

Besides, he liked Eddie. He already knew him vaguely from school. 

Karmen wondered what he thought about it all. Not that she really cared for his opinion. He was a worse judge of character than her Mum.

Their Mum who had just been trying to make Eddie feel welcome. 

She had succeeded. 

He hadn’t shut up about how much he loved Carla for several weeks afterwards. 

Karmen was happy with that result, if not a little worried that he’d leave her for the mature model of herself with better cooking skills. 

There was a small part of her though that found Eddie’s excitement at being accepted profoundly sad. Knowing Eddie had never really had a Mother figure in his life. He’d certainly never had one that outright said they liked him. 

The man had Mommy issues but not in the way she was used to. Most men she had dated that showed their hand early and ticked Mommy Issues off the list off Red Flags were total Momma’s boys but liked to pretend they hated every second of her doting on them. 

It was to the point that Karmen played second fiddle to Mother and put up with behavior she shouldn’t have from the in-laws that were just ‘protecting their baby’ from the mean lady that he asked to date him.

Eddie’s issues were very different. He hadn’t had a Mother to dote on him. He’d never been doted on before, period. He’d never really been taken care of before outside of basic needs and the kind of strained and stunted emotional talk that Wayne could offer.

Affection before Karmen was sparse and often came from inappropriate places and people. Like the Elementary School teacher that he latched onto because they were a little too nice when he was struggling to make friends or the person he had a crush on because they didn’t tell him to go away the first time he spoke to them.

Just two examples of the many people that were kind to him in the past that he went on to develop a strange parasocial relationship with.Thinking he meant more to them than he actually did. It always ended in the reality crashing down on him before he got too comfortable.

A big reason he had been surprised when Karmen actually turned up at the Hideout on that fateful Saturday night. He hadn’t misconstrued her general friendliness for affection or imagined the connection they shared.

She cared for him in a way he didn’t truly know he needed until he had it and Eddie liked being cared for. 

He liked it a lot.

That was what it came down to. It was something he’d only just begun to really open up to her about before everything went down. He’d had no problem sharing his tastes early on but a few weeks before he’d gone missing the can of worms had been pried open and emptied out all over the bed.

Just another checkbox at this point for why exactly she knew in her heart of hearts that Eddie was innocent. 

No one really knew him like she did. What he was really like behind closed doors. 

He wasn’t scary, macho or self-assured.

If anything he was timid, gentle and soft. 

He wasn’t capable of snuffing the life out of someone.

Also, despite not being able to tell her with his words, she knew there was nothing between him and Chrissy.

She had worried at first. Having been mistreated in the past there was always that deep seated fear of it happening again. Of being so gullible that she had not been able to see the signs. That fear of being blindsided by someone you trust, again. 

But after having time to sit with the information she had, she knew he was telling the truth about that at least.

There was just no way a barely legal highschool girl was worth giving up what he had found in her. 

Not in a conceited way. She didn’t believe she was hot shit or the best thing to ever happen to him simply because she was great and he couldn’t do better. 

But in the way of the deep understanding she had for who he was and why. What he liked. His personal tastes when it came to sex as well as everyday life.

Their shared predilections inside the bedroom and out.

She was happy to indulge any and all of his fantasies as he was her. There was no reason for him to stray when he’d already confessed his most awkward desires and she’d responded with enthusiasm. 

What would be the point of starting again with someone else? Even Eddie on Ketamine knew that was a frivolous endeavor.  

She worried sometimes that she had accidentally melded the inexperienced man she’d met into her ideal partner. Someone that catered to her specific tastes without regard for his own. 

But she checked in on that regularly. Every time the anxiety creeped in she’d revisit the idea with him and he was never anything but enthusiastic and excited. Telling her she was being silly and to forget the idea that she had somehow tricked him into wanting the things she wanted.

It hadn’t taken him too long to feel comfortable expressing some of his own kinks and the more he divulged, the less she worried. Each erotic fantasy had an anecdote or explanation attached that pre-dated her involvement in his life by at least 5 years.

The man knew what he liked, what he wanted and most surprisingly, why. 

He was incredibly self-aware in that regard and she envied the confidence he held in his desires. The ability he had to explain to someone that was basically a stranger how and when he’d realized that he wanted to be coddled by a maternalistic Dom.

There had only been a few times over the year where one of them hadn’t felt up to what the other had proposed. Eddie had no trouble voicing that with her and she’d happily compromised on something else, as he did for her.

Good sex certainly wasn’t everything she looked for in a relationship. To be honest it wasn’t even on her top 5 list of things that a partnership needed to be successful.

But accidentally stumbling across someone so compatible was rare. Someone that took her wants and needs into consideration during the act. Someone that not only shared kinks but outside of that was kind, compassionate, funny, just plain fun and:L

“So, so handsome!” 

Her Mother’s voice echoed in her head.

It was basically unheard of.

Eddie was an enigma in the best way possible. Even if he turned around the next day and said he never wanted to do anything along the sexual vein again she would be okay with it.

She could go without. She had always been happy to take care of herself.

Eddie had so much more to offer her than shared bedroom preferences. She felt she’d hit the jackpot with this man and she was willing to put up with just about anything to keep him around. 

The only thing she had to think twice about was giving up her Saturday mornings. But when faced with the prospect of getting to sleep until noon but waking up alone forever, the choice was easy.

Loving Eddie was easy. Even on the hard days.

She thought maybe she should tell him that, in those words. That he’d probably like to hear it.

But it would have to wait as she’d just arrived outside his room and her eyes twitched as all thoughts and emotions outside of anger disappeared into the abyss.

She wondered sometimes when rage at a sense of injustice overtook her, if the fury washed over her brain and made it smooth like a river rock. Only one thought allowed at a time when she was so mad that she wanted to cry.

Right now the single thought was Nurse Sally being flattened by her sedan. Unaware that she and Eddie had yet another fantasy in common. She exhaled a shaky breath as she watched Eddie wince at every rough tug of his scalp. 

His nose was scrunched and his jaw set in a way that told her it was taking everything he had left to keep his own anger and hurt inside. However it may present when released, she had no idea. 

It was ironic that he thrived on routine but had become extremely unpredictable of late.

Judging by the redness of his eyes, she was pretty sure he’d already let something out and it had been ignored. She could see if not tangibly feel the barely restrained furor that was bubbling in his gut at every unsolicited touch from that vile woman. 

Karmen rushed forwards as the dull thunk of the hair brush hitting against Eddie’s scalp bounced off the walls of the room. She held back her snarl just barely as she stepped into Nurse Sally’s view and held out her hand in a way that demanded attention.

Eddie startled at the sight of her. The way she had bustled into the room not giving him time to adjust to the intrusion, even though he was grateful to see her. 

He’d never been great with surprises but watching him get startled now was heartbreaking.

Karmen softened, realizing she had frightened him. Feeling bad for how she had approached even if it was because she was jumping to his aide. She should have been more mindful of how skittish he was at the moment.

“I’ll take care of it.” She ground out curtly, gesturing at her outstretched hand and waiting for the brush. Sally looked at her with condescending eyes and for a brief moment Karmen actually thought she was going to argue. To which she definitely would have shouted. Scaring Eddie again and getting herself kicked out without the chance to comfort him.

The other woman wrinkled her bumpy flesh as she smiled in a wholly unfriendly way before placing the head of the hairbrush a little too firmly into Karmen’s palm. 

Karmen suppressed the urge to wince as the bristles dug into her hand. Instead, staring down the older woman silently as she made a show of lingering to clean up things that didn't need to be cleaned before leaving the room just to see if Karmen broke her resolve.

She didn’t. Not saying a word or easing up on her glare until the old hag was completely out of earshot. Eddie watched his girl warily, knowing what she was doing and wishing he had the emotional energy to be proud of her.

She turned and watched as he moved his gaze to his hands. Unable to make eye contact when she finally put her attention on him fully.

“Hey.” She greeted him softly. 

He nodded to acknowledge her, not looking up as she put a gentle hand on his knee. 

“I was going to help you do this.” She said as she took a piece of his matted hair in her fingers. She had been wanting to tackle it since she saw it for the first time. Knowing on a personal level how hard curls were to maintain and how quickly it could get to the point of a buzzcut if they weren’t taken care of.

Eddie’s gorgeous curls were anything but taken care of at this point. Basically just a few matted dreadlocks in the back and a few free stands she had managed to conspicuously wrangle under the guise of giving him a nice little head pat while he was sleeping.

His bangs were relatively untouched and looked as normal as ever. The only issue with that being that they were in his eyes constantly and desperately needed a trim. Eddie wasn’t exactly a barber shop kind of guy. He’d cut his own bangs in the mirror 3 years ago and made peace with what they were. Before her, they were often uneven due to the fact that the only time they ever got a trim was when he got sick of blowing them out of his face while he was trying to do delicate painting or writing at a desk.

Giving into the 3am urge to say ‘fuck it’ and cut chunks off them in the bathroom of his trailer.

Karmen liked them anyway. But she had become his unofficial hairdresser in the time they’d been dating. She’d watched in horror one night as he had growled in frustration and stood up from where he’d been sitting at his desk, taking some random stationary scissors from his drawer and leaning into his mirror to snip them straight across in one go.

If Uncle Wayne had a job with regular hours he probably would have burst into the room to find out what she was screaming about as she jumped up to take the scissors away and offered to do it for him properly.

Not that she knew anything about cutting hair really. But she’d spent enough time at the salon in her early 20s to emulate what they did to a better standard than Eddie was used to.

Eddie nodded at her again, still staring down at his lap as he pressed his lips together in an effort to stop himself from spiraling again. 

“Eddie.” She cooed, dropping the piece of hair and sliding her palm underneath his locks and across his back. He leaned his side against her. Resting his cheek against her chest as she put the brush down on the bed and brought her hand up to run her fingers through his long bangs.

Why are they all so mean?

His voice sounded small, even though it was just inside his head. It was tired and weak, just like the rest of him.

He knew deep down of course why and that he didn’t do it. But it didn’t stop him from getting to the point on days like this where he started to question whether or not he truly deserved it.

There seemed to only be a select few people that thought he didn’t.

He never wanted Sally to do his hair. Never asked for it or consented at all. In retrospect she might have told him what she was planning but she certainly didn’t care if he was listening or not. Didn’t wait for his okay to touch him.

He didn’t want to be touched by anyone else. Least of all that horrible bitch or any of the assholes that chittered and chuckled in his direction all day long as if he couldn’t hear or see them. 

Just because he couldn’t talk right now didn’t mean he was stupid. 

That he didn’t understand how much they hated him.

They didn’t care if he got better. They cared about him looking better so they could get him out of there one way or another. Luckily, they cared if they lost their jobs. Eddie shuddered to think what someone might do to him if they thought they could get away with it. If Wayne and Karmen weren’t a constant around here to attest to the fact that he was getting better. 

If he didn’t have people to kick up a stick and ask questions if his health suddenly declined or worse.

“Can I help you with this today?�� Karmen asked quietly. Knowing deep down that he had not asked for or wanted the nurses to do it for him. “It’s alright to say no.” She reminded him when he hesitated a moment. Thinking about the answer.

His stomach was doing flips and he was still in a lot of pain. It was a miracle that he hadn’t thrown up thus far. Cold sweat beading on his forehead at the reminder that it was a possibility. His body taking the thought as its queue to remind him that the painkillers still hadn’t fully kicked in and this might be as good as it got if he pushed himself far enough to vomit.

The thought of someone tugging at his scalp for hours on end was enough to make him gag.

Soon?

He asked, moving his hand in a sign and looking up to her with worried eyes. He had been studying that book religiously and learning rapidly but he was pretty sure she didn’t have time to do the same.

She didn’t understand the sign but knew that it wasn’t a simple yes or no all the same.

“Maybe?” She asked, copying the sign with her hand as Eddie shook his head in response.

“S…” He tried, stuttering out a hiss for the beginning of the word as he moved his palm away from his body in a pushing kind of motion.

“Soon?” She asked, quickly. Catching on fast. She’d played a lot of charades in her time and for her 26th Birthday in June the year before, John had bought her Pictionary. To his dismay, she and Eddie were a well oiled machine at silently communicating. Often guessing each other’s pictures first try or with just a glance to tell the other how to pivot their guesses.

Eddie nodded happily. Bringing a hand up to his face and signing:

Sleep.

He didn’t actually want to sleep, having woken up not too long before. But it was the only way he knew to convey that he wanted to lie down. 

She understood. Disengaging from him and giving him the room to move as he needed to.

“Hey.” She said again as he settled himself on his back. Catching his attention and making him look at her curiously. “I’ll be right back.” She assured him as she pointed towards the open door. “I’m just going to make a phone call.”

~~

The phone by Eddie’s bed only called one way. People could call him if they had the direct line but he wasn’t able to make his own calls on the hospital's dime.

Not that he really had anyone to call anyway. Not that he could speak to them even if he wanted to.

But it meant that when Karmen needed to make a call she had to play nice with the nurses at their station so they would let her use the one patient phone on the floor.

She had come back not long after leaving without elaborating. Eddie had actually started to doze off and only noticed that she was back when the dip of the mattress under her weight alerted him.

She laid with him for a long while. Both of them fell in and out of a light sleep as Eddie’s painkillers finally managed to do their job and some of the tension left his body at the relief coupled with the feeling of a warm body next to him.

Karmen finally got her sleep-in as they were woken up by the lunch delivery. Eddie was surprised to find that he wasn’t in anywhere near as much pain as he usually was around this time of day. Maybe the late tablets meant that they were still working strong or maybe he had been overreacting earlier and actually getting a good rest next to a loved one would help him heal faster than he thought once he left the hospital.

He had griped over the food and Karmen didn’t blame him. Soggy peas mixed into lumpy mash and a questionable source of protein that they silently argued over the origin of until things got out of hand. 

Karmen was convinced it was beef while Eddie insisted on pork. 

Neither of them wanted to try it.

Eddie had gotten frustrated at her not understanding him and started snorting like a pig to which Karmen mooed at him repeatedly in response. 

A nurse had walked in at that moment with his next dose of medicine, both of them falling silent and watching her as she picked up his chart and wrote something down before leaving again without a word.

They waited until she was gone before bursting into laughter. Karmen smiling from ear to ear at the sound of Eddie’s chortling. She had missed the sound.

She promised him that when Wayne arrived soon she would go and get him some proper food from the cafeteria.

She made good on her promise. Disappearing to buy everyone coffee and Eddie a bowl of pasta shells in a red sauce that the lady behind the counter heated for her in the microwave.

She had hoped they would have pigs in a blanket on offer but she never got lucky enough to be that funny.

Eddie ate more of the pasta than she was expecting. She made a mental note to bring him some food and snacks from home during the week so he was eating at least one meal a day.

After he’d finished, Wayne produced the plastic bag he’d brought with him and Karmen handed him some money in return. Wayne had tried to refuse it but she’d forcefully stuffed it in his fist. He’d taken it but winked at Eddie behind her back as he slipped it into her handbag.

Karmen looked through the purchases and that was the moment Eddie realized that she had called Wayne earlier, asking him to bring her things on his way over so that she didn’t have to leave him.

He was grateful. 

She started placing things on the table beside his bed and he sighed deeply, recognizing them as haircare products and resigning himself to just getting it out of the way.

“I know.” She’d said, without looking up. “But I want this to be as quick and painless as possible and I only want to do it once.”

~~

A/N: I know I'm probably repeating myself a little in this chapter and will continue to do so in the coming chapters. I just really want to drive home how in his own head Eddie is at the moment and how frustrating it is for him to not have an outlet for that other than thinking about it and spiralling himself. Sorry if that's boring, but it's intentional.

Eddie is everyone's parents favorite child except his own 😂 @wheels-of-despair has an amazing series where Eddie is reader's Mom's fave as well. High recommend this fic that features this dynamic. 🥰

Part 12 will be linked here when it's finished. In the meantime...

Read the rest of the series here :)

This series is so personal to me, so it means the world to me when someone let’s me know they enjoy a work from this series. If you guys liked this please pleaseee consider letting me know via comment, reblog, message, anon ask etc.  

Tag List: @3ddi3-daydreamer @micheledawn1975 @munson-blurbs @wheels-of-despair @browneyes528 @stevemunsons

[ghoularaki]

cw: zayne being a service dom, size kink, fingering, bondage. MDNI

zayne honestly loves how much of a brat you are.

if he was a little less reserved he could say he was proud it. most of it is his doing by letting you get away with your princess-like attitude and continuously spoiling you.

he loves how you huff and stomp like a bunny when you don't get your way. but what he loves the most is how you cling to him and beg him to indulge you. depending on his mood, he will give in. though, when he's stern with you and you back down with wide eyes, obviously embarrassed, that's his favorite part.

no matter how much you like to pretend you are in charge, one little firm glance and you are instantly flustered. it always pulls an amused simper onto his face before he goes back to his typical stoic expression.

he can't help but bribe you with little treats whether it be candy, stuffed animals or himself when he wants you to listen. it always works like a charm. but on the days you want more he still obliges since you don't listen with harsh punishments, if anything you crave them. it's like allowing a child to eat as much candy as they want for them to finally learn too much of a good thing can be bad.

you look so pretty like this: under him and mewling like a kitten. it had been another day of you avoiding a checkup meaning he had to seek you out. at least this time you had the decency to sound guilty. telling him you forgot despite he had put a reminder on your phone for you.

so he offered to take you home, well more so his home, but you had no qualms. or you didn't.

now you laid on his bed, hands bound together by his tie, laid on your chest. your legs just as restrained, tied together with baby blue rope so your calf stayed to your thigh, and thigh to your chest on both sides. you were perfectly spread out for him, unable to squirm.

leaning over your form to establish just how much bigger he was than you, zayne's focus never strayed from your face. mouth parted and eyes hazy, you were thoroughly fucked out. he hummed in satisfaction. gently his fingers dragged in and out of your pussy, teasing.

"you're so pretty for me," his deep, soothing voice lulled into your ear.

a small moan broke out. tingles spread all across your body. he's been at this for what seemed to be hours. going at that pace that's enough to keep you at the edge, but never bring you over. it's maddening.

"zayne, i said i was sorry!" you cried out, wanting him to go more than a leisure pace.

"that you did."

his fingers pop out of your glistening hole to drag up to your puffy clit. from how your legs were forcibly spread, it was on perfect display. the swollen nub ready for zayne to play with at his discretion. your back arched as he swirled and flicked your clit.

"i'm sorry, please, please! i'll be good, i promise. i'll listen to you forever and ever, please," you babbled on.

zayne chuckled, amused at you being reduced to such a pliant thing. "i'll stop torturing you, now."

tears burst from your eyes as zayne kept his rhythm. moaning and whining, you snuggled closer to him as he bent further down to kiss away the tears. as you toes curled, zayne plugged his fingers back in and his thumb swirled your clit. petting the spongy spot deep inside you, you came with more babbles flowing from your tongue.

as you came down, he softly thrusted his fingers in and out, not wanting to drag your orgasm out as long as possible. when you sagged against the sheets, sweat on your forehead, you expect him to finally depart from you. but his fingers stayed inside, going back to tickling your g-spot.

"w-wait," you whimpered, still sensitive.

"you didn't think i was done, did you? there's still plenty you need to learn."

[black-lake]

The path of warriors 

⚡︎ Aries, leo, capricorn, scorpio and aquarius north node.

🏇🏇🏇

The north node is your karmic path in this lifetime, and as many charts I study and analyze, people with these signs always fascinate me the most with their life stories. These people tend to have the most dramatic journeys I noticed. They all share things in common, persevering alone, beating all odds, relying on themselves, and setting a good example for others. On that note, how have YOU been?? I hope life hasn't been testing you too badly? The day you'll be crowned will come, so hold on love  👑✨👸 I won’t be hyping you up in a sweet way I’ll be shouting at you so don’t mind my aries mercury.

People with these north node signs have to embody the spirit of the warrior, the fighter, the advocate, the trail blazer, the protector, they have no other choice. They persevere through unfathomable hardships. Many of them break generational patterns, needing to forge new ways rather than repeating the old. They remind me of the dragon, the lion, the tiger, the serpent, the owl, the eagle, all the spirit animals that are strong and powerful. This is a check in with you, an acknowledgment for your spirit, and a loving pat in the back from your leo north node friend. 🌞💛

Aries north node.

Rulers - south node: venus, north node: mars

How does it feel like having to fight and defend yourself since you were a child? Being attacked, played with, tested and teased by those around you, even adults coming at you? Being underestimated for your fighting ability and being put in the middle of a battle, unwillingly, even though all you really want is peace and harmony. You found it hard to stand on your own two feet, asserting dominance means conflict. You think you'll find peace but you're put in another battle. I’d be surprised if you haven’t had to fight physically at least once in your life. GET your ass up and STAND up for yourself, loudly, yes make a fuss. Let your voice be heard even if it disrupts the energy in the room. The universe claps for you when you beat their ass and hide the bible if god watching 💥🐯 (kendrick got an aries north node). Never let a bunch of cowards disrespect you, you're up to the challenge. The ways you move in life don’t have to be understood, you're forging new paths. Those who follow crowds lack your strong mindset, lack your vision and bravery. Move with integrity, and remember the truth always prevails at the end. 

With each battle you win, you're cultivating independence, a strong identity, self respect, autonomy over your life and a sense of direction. You are your greatest project and your most significant accomplishment. You've learned to rely on yourself, becoming an initiator, an entrepreneur, an advocate for justice, and a truth teller. Don't wait for people to join you to start, or compromise your needs and goals for others, you can do it solo. Free yourself from your libra ways of people pleasing and seeking social validation. Pick your battles, understand the difference between aggressiveness and assertiveness, and discern what is truly worth fighting for. You're the one who stands up against bullies and liars. You're one of the warriors that the universe uses for justice.

Trust your ideas and instincts, you got all the answers. The universe fights with you and protects you, you're never totally alone. Mistakes teach us lessons, don’t fear them. You're a natural leader, your passion for life is unmatched. You're distinctive, what represents you can’t be duplicated. When life throws obstacles your way, it's to strengthen your fierce confidence, self assurance and independent spirit. 🐅 When you bravely told the truth, when you went your own way, when you created your own thing, when you walked alone, when you took those risks and said fuck what they say, you inspired many people, you awakened many, you left many in awe of your fiery spirit. 

Leo north node.

Rulers - south node: saturn and uranus, north node: sun

How does it feel like to be robbed of your childhood? Being left alone and abandoned as a child? Not receive validation or love? Having your confidence and light targeted and attacked from a young age? Your most beautiful qualities discarded and taken for granted. Your innocence betrayed, your trust and integrity repeatedly broken. Being envied and hated for simply being yourself, for your aura, for shining brightly without lifting a finger. Being alienated, having groups attack you for your unique qualities. Standing confidently alone and walking it all alone. You LEAD, you don't follow, and that can just mean leading your own life. Do you still want to give to others instead of yourself? You can appreciate humanity and inclusivity but release the excessive concern over it. You expose fake groups and encourage authenticity. Princess Diana did everything she wasn’t supposed to do and shined bright doing it, her kindness was golden and her strength was a threat, so they could only attack her (she was a leo north node). Honor yourself, you were blessed by the sun. ☀️💫

You lead from the heart and you're guided by your inner child. Loving yourself and embracing every part of you is for the brave. Leave that group mindset behind, those that just want to fit in are cowards, fuck what the group thinks. Your love, loyalty, strength and generosity are gifts to the world. Don't try to hide your heart, or fall into your aquarius south node ways of turning into an ice queen, isolating yourself and building this artificial heart on top of your real heart, for the greater good or for a bigger cause, or for protecting yourself. Just don’t give to people and places that don't value you. You're learning to bravely STAND up for yourself even if many are against you. You're naturally protected when you are accepting of yourself, and building your self esteem in a genuine way that is based on deep values and not societal expectations.

Heal and free your inner child, don't let the outside noise steal your joy, let yourself play and explore. You'll meet the sun at the end no matter how dark it gets. All those obstacles were meant to make you stronger, develop this inner strength of a lion, this fiery confidence and assurance that isn’t shaken by the outside world. ☄️🦁 That’s who you’re meant to be my love. You're meant to put yourself first at all times, to love, validate and compliment yourself. You’re here to shine in your authenticity. You inspire more people than you know, your spirit won’t go unnoticed, your purity of heart always leaves a mark in this world. Your light is infectious.

Capricorn north node.

Rulers - south node: moon, north node: saturn

How does it feel like being introduced to the harsh realities of the world since a young age? Having to parent yourself without enough support? Being underestimated as a child, restricted, and made to feel inadequate? Being shamed for your sensitivity and emotions. Being placed in the most troubled family with difficult circumstances and told to create a legacy? like hello? universe?? am I a joke to you? Being expected to take responsibility for something or someone. Having pressure constantly put onto you. You become the hardest worker, and then still being messed with? Like oops there’s no reward, do it again. Why are you surprised, you’re saturn’s puppet. The truth is the universe got your back. Reminds of me of Eminem (he’s a cap north node), see how he beat all odds and became one of the greatest? a role model both in his field and as a father. You show people that nothing is impossible. Those lessons become your greatest gifts that guide you to build a stronger and unshakable foundation. Break free from that shell you're used to, you EXPAND beyond that. You're here to be self made, rags to riches. 🎖️✨

Recognize the invaluable qualities you got, the talents, the unmatched energy, the patience, ambition, determination, the caring heart and courageous spirit. Give that respect to yourself FIRST, respect your core values and be proud of what made you. Saturn wants nothing but mastery, it’s your soul that craves mastery this lifetime. 🪐💫 You're learning to build your own safety, at home and in the world, and create your own rules. Let go of your cancer south node tendencies of clinging to the past, repeating mistakes because of childish insecurities or your need to be needed and respected by others. Nurture and provide for yourself by stepping into the world as a self sufficient, disciplined, and goal oriented adult.

Realize that all those difficult experiences happen to help you let go of the past, to build a stable and balanced emotional world. One thing for sure, nothing can stop you, setbacks and failure only fuel your motivation and life force. Rest assured you are promised the respect you yearn for, the success, stability and comfort you dreamed of. You’re one of the most resilient people, unforgettable. Your life story sparks a drive in others to chase their dreams, it inspires more people than you know. The generation will never be the same after you. When you get tired, you can slow down, but remember that everything you need is within you, never doubt that.

Scorpio north node.

Rulers - south node: venus, north node: mars and pluto

How does it feel like having to endure major losses? Having things constantly crashing down before you? Having to fight addictions, destructions and oppositions from everywhere? Not getting a hold of any sense of stability. Feeling like what you chase is escaping you. Experiencing betrayals and having people bring you down, waiting to see you fall. Being the one to blame and villinize when their shadows are triggered. Having no choice but to fight back and learn to survive. Your truth seeking and curious nature triggers many. You go to extreme lengths to find out the truth and seek justice. Your path being ruled by pluto, it removes that which is obsolete, unneeded, no matter how hard you hold into it. You have to be comfortable with the uncomfortable. Your path involves confronting your own shadow self. Survival and regeneration allow you to discover and become fully aware of your true power, limitless potential, and divine nature. “Unstoppable” by sia (she's a scorpio north node) narrates well this story of resilience. You're an alchemist of self, a transmuter of energy, a fighter in all realms. 🐉🔥

This restless mind of yours and psychic abilities you develop aren’t for nothing, they're gifts to help you surrender and trust the universe, the one thing you can't seem to do. You are the butterfly, always cocooning, always emerging. Your life path is a series of metamorphosis. Like a butterfly you're turned into liquid, dissolved, before you choose to spread your wings and fly. 🦋✨ The universe is teaching you that nothing is constant, everything changes, and our innate value as a soul doesn’t. Let go of the illusion of stability. You can choose to flow with the transformative waves instead of fighting them. It's okay to trust and rely on others too, accept it as a gift from the universe. Break free from your taurus south node ways of being too attached to material possessions. Putting too much value on material and physical pleasures won't help you evolve.

Embrace the spiritual side of our human experience, that’s what generates and creates the physical. The painful challenges you faced were meant to shift your values, for you to see and use your power for good. You have the potential to break generational curses and the responsibility to choose wisely between doing better or worse. You can become a great source of inspiration and comfort for others. Whenever I feel like giving up I literally look up a scorpio north node person. Just know that you can save lives. People confide in you, they share their deepest secrets and traumas and you inspire them to keep going because you understand that even the most terrible events will pass and bring about growth and beautiful rewards.

Aquarius north node.

Rulers - south node: sun, north node: saturn and uranus

How does it feel like being the different and outcast child? Growing up in a chaotic and unpredictable environment? Experiencing discrimination or being looked down at. Having situations and people try to humble you. Having your ideas, beliefs and findings rejected and misinterpreted. You're literally vibrating on a different frequency. You might be surrounded by a community or be totally alone, regardless, having a different mission can leave you feeling alienated. You've got an independent mind, you're an innovator, bringing all that's new and futuristic to the world. 🛸✨ You show people different ways of thinking and doing things, breaking and setting trends. Your desire to be a social activist, a scientist and a humanitarian helps us progress. Being ruled by uranus, expect the unexpected, all sorts of twists and turns, don’t be too attached or take things personally and react from your ego. When you embrace your uniqueness, not try to fit in, and do things for the greater good not for validation, you align with your mission. You're a voice for others and that's a responsibility not to take lightly. 

While staying true to yourself, broaden your vision beyond what only affects you, recognize that we're all interconnected. You must learn to share the spotlight and celebrate all others. Let go of your old leo tendencies of extravagance, self importance and self serving behavior, they’ll only pull you backwards. We progress together and you are a catalyst for evolution. You have a deep connection to the earth and the universe, honoring your place within it. You're perplexed by those bums that lack decency and humanity and carelessly harm this earth. Sza, one of my fav artists today got an aquarius north node, and she embodies it well. If you're familiar with her story, you'll know she comes from a different and diverse background, her music style is distinctive, her interests are weird or unexpected, and her humanity and empathy make her relatable and admirable.

Your mission is so important my love, no one can do it but you. Your ability to see solutions beyond conventional teachings are gifts to the world. You recognize that everyone is unique, you celebrate their differences, and encourage individuality in others. People like you are the ones that awaken this world from outdated ideologies and conditionings. It's why this is one of my fav north nodes, it drives us forward by seeking freedom and authenticity, rather than conforming. You are a radiant shining star that holds much needed hope for everyone. 🌬️⭐️

[jibunbosh]

Mesmerizer is a satire of TikTok, YouTube Shorts, and the rest of the modern short-form vertical video format

A brief thematic analysis.

I'm sure there are countless people already interpreting the imagery and details in this wonderful song & MV, like here and here, so I won't spend too much time retreading that ground. Miku and Teto are dancing. Miku gets hypnotized. Teto signals for help, but gets hypnotized at the end as well.

That part is obvious enough, but that's still pretty surface-level. What is this seemingly hyperspatial horror scenario supposed to mean to us?

While checking to see if anyone before me's already come to the same conclusions as I did and if I should bother not writing this text post at all (lol), I came across udin's great analysis video. She comes to the conclusion that the song tackles themes of disillusionment with reality and the ways we indulge in escapism to relieve ourselves of the pains of the world.

I agree with that reading! From practically the very beginning, we have Miku call to us - the viewer - to push away our true feelings. Teto comes in to peddle a solution, inviting us to surrender and empty our minds - in her words, "pretending to know nothing."

You, the viewer, are a critical character in this masquerade. For nearly the entire video, Miku and Teto's eyes are unfailingly trained on you. Or, well... perhaps they can't actually see you, but they can see a camera, or whatever other aperture the point of view is supposed to be from. And they know they're being watched. (Who else would Teto be sending distress signals to?)

Let's put a pin on that for later.

udin notes very early on that Miku and Teto are, conspicuously, kept in vertical frames - very similar to the video formats of TikTok (and Instagram Reels, and YouTube Shorts, and whatever other clones of the format exist.) You know, just like the animator Caststation's Rabbit Hole fan MV that went viral some months ago.

Hey wouldn't it be crazy if the song's producer, 32ki, released Mesmerizer shorts too haha. Wouldn't that be crazy.

Wow, wild.

These short-term vertical videos are captivating & alluring. If you're reading this, it's more likely than not that you've also found yourself caught up in them at least once, scrolling through the infinite algorithmic slurry and forgetting about the real-life issues you have at hand. Would you say, then, that you felt hypnotized? Mesmerized, even?

And so these two invite us to join their world and focus on the... uh... rectangle.

Their dances are repetitive, following the same loop. Their outfits are distinct, but their choreography isn't. They're copying the same formula, repeating it ad nauseam to the best of their ability.

They're doing a fucking TikTok dance.

Back to the pin I told you about earlier, with Miku and Teto looking at a camera.

Miku sways with the camera, eyes looking directly at it like a swinging pocket watch. She's been looking at it the entire time, after all. We've been seeing her via our screen this entire time, but, again, she doesn't necessarily see us. She's beholden to the camera, which she dances for day after day, caught up in its spell. She's hypnotized by it. Eventually, she breaks.

Teto, on the other hand, resists. For a while, anyway.

Despite her being the one jumping to us with the "solution" at the beginning of the MV, there's very quickly good reason to question how much agency she has in this. She dances for the camera as well, but she doesn't want to. She's signalling for help. She wants out.

Many content creators (as much as I personally loathe the non-specificity and soullessness of the term) have struggled with the adaptation to the short-form video format, and the preference the algorithm has had for these captivating, bite-sized videos. They're catchy, and easily drive up metrics. Practically anyone who's publishing their work via video format online needs to learn to adapt or fall behind, even if that means whittling their content down to fit the frame, the time, and people's shortening attention spans. Sometimes, that means compromising on specificity and completeness... or, in other words, the true representation of a full work.

The song's writer, 32ki, has been releasing songs on YouTube for several years. Their first YouTube Short, however, was posted only a year ago: a short, whittled-down segment of their previous song, CIRCUS PANIC!!!, hoping for it to win the ProsekaNEXT song contest. It was their first song to achieve widespread popularity and hit a million views.

The shorts, however, aren't the "true" versions of the song. The full song just won't fit.

We're being mesmerized as consumers of this endless stream of content, rather than appreciators of music and art. However, that relationship isn't completely symmetrical across the plane that is the 4th wall. Miku and Teto are trapped not by their attention spans, but by a compulsion to project their "truthful acting" and peddle that window into a colorful, problem-free world.

We, as the collective audience, need not dwell on any one thing for too long - we need only swipe, and move on to the next video. However, Miku and Teto are trapped behind the screen for eternity, day after day.

They're the only characters we get to see, of course. There's no evil 3rd voice synth character that's plotting to keep them trapped in there. We can't put a face to whatever force is hypnotizing them and trapping them behind the screen. It's faceless - like the inscrutable algorithms of YouTube recommendations or the TikTok For You page, or the impersonal corporations that develop & maintain those aforementioned apps. Miku and Teto's likenesses, on the other hand, are being exploited and extracted from for their entertainment value, being strung along by that metaphorical hypnotizing force like puppets on a string.

Many people, represented by Miku, enjoy their success on such platforms. It's freeing and liberating to throw oneself wholeheartedly into such an endeavor, of course! Others, represented by Teto, harbor their doubts of the emotional veracity of such a medium, but know they have little choice lest they face destruction... perhaps not literally as a person, but as an idea.

Wouldn't it be easier just to let oneself be swept away by it and give in?

[wibben]

Occupational Hazards

Friends Nanami and Higuruma go on a duo mission together... and fall victim to some unexpected effects.

↳ pairing: hiromi higuruma x kento nanami

↳ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, bottom!higuruma, top!nanami, sexual tension, sex pollen, forced proximity, friends to enemies to lovers, rough anal sex, fighting, cum is lube, both a bit OOC but we can blame the pollen, generally feral behavior

↳ wc: 13,675

↳ notes: nanami art by @ hikonom on twitter, higuruma art by @ saksak_kazz on twitter. i hope you enjoy <3

“Ah, good, you’re here too!” Higuruma greeted amiably, sauntering into the meeting room with steaming coffee in hand, the kind of shitty, bitter stuff the staff room machine spit out. But at least it woke him up, so maybe that was by design. Sleepy sorcerers were more often than not dead ones. Sinking into the cushioned couch with an early morning groan, arm draped lazily across the backrest, he sighed into the steam.

He tapped, tapped, tapped his paper cup with dancing fingers. “Actually… any idea why we’re here?”

Smack!

Nanami dropped a manila folder onto the table between them with a sharp flick, his expression tight with irritation. “This.” He muttered, the frustration clear in his voice, offering no further explanation.

Higuruma raised a sloping brow and lifted his coffee to his lips, peering pityingly over the warped plastic lid. He is not as bothered by this intrusion to the beginning of his weekend, years spent tethered to work had numbed him to the inconvenience.

Unlike Nanami, who needed it pried away and leaves it with claw marks, spitting smoke like a raging dragon, he is not as jealously possessive of his freetime. Higuruma had long since learned to surrender it with little more than a resigned sigh and a wave in the rearview mirror.

Higuruma bent forward, placing his coffee on the table and knuckled it slowly across to Nanami, the way one might endear oneself to a stray animal. He needed it more, Higuruma thought.

The silence in the room turned meditative, broken by a deep grounding breath from the other man as he watched his plans of baking, and reading, and relaxing and no responsibility turn to dust. Deep breath in… he could bake next weekend and perhaps treat himself to a new book,  luck permitting maybe he would even start it… and breathe out. It gave Nanami a moment to cool, to steady himself before—

Gojo burst into the room, all gale-force energy and unfiltered exuberance, with a complete disregard for any semblance of professionalism and ignorant of the air of resentment stewing from the rigid blonde-turned-gargoyle sitting in the chair across from him.

“Great, you’re both here!” Gojo’s voice was far too chipper for the hour. “Perfect timing. I’ve got a fun little job for you two.”

Nanami looked up, unimpressed, maybe a little murderous. “Are you well aware that it’s a Friday afternoon? Which means that tomorrow is Saturday , which is the weekend and I absolutely will not—”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” Gojo flapped a dismissive hand as he flopped into the chair opposite them, leaning back with an air of nonchalance that had a vein pulsing in Nanami’s temple. Higuruma watched on with warring amusement and pity, both hidden surreptitiously behind steepled fingers where he kissed his teeth, resisting the overtaking urge to laugh.

“Anyway, there’s this small issue out in the middle of nowhere. Some cursed incidents, blah blah blah, you know the drill. Strange happenings, couples murdering each other nearby— you get the picture, right? Easy peasy. Easy enough to send one of the students really, they could do it in their sleep! I really can’t stress enough how easy it’s gonna be.”

Higuruma raised an eyebrow, finally speaking. “You were supposed to handle this one, weren’t you?”

“Yes, technically,” Gojo grinned, not at all sheepish and wholly unapologetic. “But there’s this festival I’ve been dying to check out. They’ve got all sorts of sweets—mochi, taiyaki, ice cream, you name it! I mean, why waste my time on some low-grade curse when my time is better spent there?”

Nanami’s frown deepened, if that were possible. “This is below our paygrade, then.”

“Exactly! Very astute, Nanamin!” Gojo cheered, completely missing—or more likely ignoring —Nanami’s tone. “Which is why you two are perfect for the job. You can handle it in no time and be back before the weekend’s over. Unless you’d rather join me at the festival? But fair warning, you’ll have to keep up with me while I sample everything. ”

He leaned forward, blinding smile growing wider as if offering the deal of a lifetime complete with spread open palms. But to both Nanami and Higuruma who glanced at each other, reading, it looked much closer to a threat. “So, what do you say? Curse or confections?”

Nanami didn’t even hesitate. “Tell Ijichi to prepare the car.”

Gojo sighed dramatically, as if truly disappointed they weren’t taking him up on his generous offer. “You two are no fun. But alright! You’ll be staying up there, got a place all set up for you. Should be a walk in the park—” he clapped his hands, standing and swaying forward—then back—on mile-long legs.

“Anything else we should know?” Higuruma asked, leaning back in his seat with clinical consideration. Details, details, details —

Gojo shrugged, already halfway out the door with a flippant wave over his shoulder. “Nothing you can’t handle. Just try not to kill each other before the curse does, yeah? Oh, and if you change your mind—”

“We won’t,” Nanami cut him off, already gathering his things.

Higuruma blinked, leaning forward now. Where were the details?

Gojo’s laugh echoed down the hallway as he disappeared, leaving the two men to contemplate the unfortunate turn their day had taken. Higuruma sighed. “He really has a way with words, doesn’t he?”

Nanami simply scowled. “Inconsiderate… incorrigible… no work ethic— ” he muttered, brushing his hands over a wrinkleless suit as he stood. “Let’s get this over with.”

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Sleek black wheels hummed along winding woodland backroads, the thick forest outside morphed into a smudgy, dark green blur. Ijichi was laser-focused on the drive, his hands gripping the wheel with his usual sweaty-palmed intensity.

Higuruma gazed out the window and traced the endless stretch of trees with his eyes until they swam with dizzy shapes. He watched until his head felt uncomfortably light, swooping his attention down to his stationary lap for a reprieve. This place was really out there… strange location for a curse.  

“You know,” Higuruma's voice slipped through the quiet, “it could be worse.” He leaned back, letting the car seat handle him as he let out a slow breath. “At least this should be simple. We like simple.”

Beside him, Nanami was the picture of calm, a book delicately cradled in one long-fingered hand. He’d had enough time to calm down, to temper his frustration with resignation; it couldn’t be helped… and this was somehow still better than the alternative of a day stuck with Gojo.

He gave a small, noncommittal hum, flipping a page. He’d long ago trained himself out of car sickness, these drives now offering a rare slice of interim peace—a chance to slowly make dents in his ever-growing reading list. 

“True,” he murmured, eyes never leaving the lines of text. “And I suppose the company could be worse, hm?”

Higuruma turned his head and the beginning of a smile swept over his mouth. “Oh, so much worse,” he agreed, letting his temple knock against the cool glass of the window. “We’ve been through enough to appreciate these quiet ones. In and out.”

Nanami’s eyes remained trained on his book, but there was the slightest twitch at the corner of his mouth.

“In and out,” he repeated.

“Maybe we can unwind after this. Grab a drink, like last time.” Nanami's offer slipped out off-hand as he flipped the page, more a passing thought than a concrete plan. If his weekend was going to be hijacked, he might as well make the most of it. And really, drinking with the person he'd be spending it with anyway didn’t seem like the worst idea. Higuruma was good company, always had been.

Higuruma’s grin was immediate, approval reflected briefly in the window’s glass. “I like the way you think!”

As the forest thickened and the road ahead narrowed, their destination creeping closer, there was no tension, no unease. Nanami was not so foolish to ever feel safe on the job, but with Higuruma, he felt something suspiciously close to it.

It was just a simple in-and-out mission—nothing they hadn’t dealt with before.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

The sun dipped low on the horizon by the time they arrived, splashing the sky with dramatic strokes of orange and pink that belonged more in an ornately framed and hung painting rather than on the front lines of the job.

As Ijichi brought the car to a crunchy halt on the gravel drive, the sound felt louder than it should have—like the world itself held its breath the same as the three men wrapped in the security of their vehicle. Three heads cranked towards windows and their cheeks squished against fogged glass as they took in their lodgings with the sort of veneration of stumbling upon the carcass of a dead god.

This place felt lost.

Old and rotted wood, planks speared from the sides like splintering teeth, green with creeping lichen and constricting vines that curled around every corner and nook and cranny like veins; pumping life into that which is lifeless, keeping alive that which should’ve long been dead.

Nanami was the first out after a brief moment's hesitation, smoothing his hands down his front and looking prepared to walk into a boardroom rather than the mouth of potential doom. It served to swipe away the sudden sweat on his palms.

The cabin that stood before them looked deceptively quaint, even in its disrepair, like something he’d find on a postcard if he ignored the way it crouched amidst the trees like it was prepared to pounce on them. He also ignored the way it made him want to twist his neck in submission, the instinct to drop to his knees in dogeza and scrape his forehead against the gravel before the steps.

Silence blanketed thick, the kind that makes you strain your ears for something—anything—to break it. But there was nothing. No birdsong, no chirping crickets, no croaking frogs or snapping branches of unseen wildlife. Too quiet, even for somewhere this remote. Like this space existed in its own bubble.

His face remained neutral as he swept the area, taking in the unsettling stillness with a mild frown. He couldn’t sense anything—no curse, no cursed energy, none of the obvious residuals Gojo mentioned.

Quirky little cabin, quirky little mission—Nanami would’ve preferred to be at home with a quirky glass of whiskey instead… not here swallowing nerves like a knock-kneed boy.

Higuruma stepped up beside Nanami, tracing the lines of the cabin’s exterior. It was a shithole. He didn’t see the dissonant charm in it that Nanami did, however faint. It was falling apart, the roof looked a good wind away from caving, and somehow it looked designed that way, because surely it would’ve fallen by now if it was ruined by time.

Something about it felt too perfect, too staged, like it was posing for a picture it knew would be taken—just waiting for someone to notice the way the door seemed to yawn like a hungry mouth, welcoming them to step inside its belly.

He allowed himself a moment of frankly healthy mortal terror before he shook it off.

They were professionals, after all. There was no room for jitters before they’d even crossed the threshold. Especially not because of a house.

Ijichi, meanwhile, looked like he might bolt if given half a chance. His hand shook a little as he passed over their overnight carry ons, eyes darting around like he expected the trees to start whispering or something equally unnerving. Not somewhere he wanted to be at night.

“I’ll be back tomorrow to pick you up. Call if you need anything sooner,” he said, trying to sound official, though there was an unmistakable thread of relief that unraveled his voice that he at least gets to leave. He was already halfway back into the car as the last words left his mouth, and Higuruma had to check an eyeroll.

They all felt it, which made him feel marginally better… but that couldn’t be a good sign.

With a final nod, Ijichi took off, the crunch of gravel beneath his tires fading into the distance all too quickly as the sun dipped behind the trees.

Nanami took point after a few seconds more of silent calculation, leading the way up the short, gravelly path toward the door. The wooden door creaked as he nudged it open, a slow, ominous drone that echoed the wrapped hilt of his blade in his closing palm, the sound hung in the air as a sword of damocles—the whole scene balanced on the edge of a razor, expectant and waiting for something to tip it over.

The floors beneath their feet groaned, clearly unimpressed with the sudden intrusion. Nanami was certain the whole place would feel just as unsettling as the outside had, but when they stepped fully into the cabin, they both paused. It was… beautiful.

The room basked in golden light, courtesy of old-fashioned lamps that dotted the space with a gentle, inviting glow. Each piece of furniture advertised rustic charm, worn edges and sturdy frames that practically begged to be sat on. The walls, too, adorned with an array of knickknacks and decorations—each item meticulously arranged.

It was the kind of obviously lived-in space that could lull you into a sense of comfort if you weren’t careful, the kind of place where you could almost forget about the string of suspicious mariticides that had brought them here in the first place.

It was strange, but it was also nice. And in their line of work, nice was a luxury.

Higuruma twisted around Nanami’s back, breathing out a small surprised huh! as he took in the unexpectedly charming interior.

“Not bad,” he remarked, the tension in his shoulders finally easing as he set his bag down on the worn wooden floor. His fingers slowly uncurled from his gavel, knuckles no longer white. “Looks like someone put some thought into the inside, at least.”

“Seems that way,” Nanami agreed, and he was already moving toward the heavy wooden table at the center of the room. He rummaged through his bag—though there wasn’t much to unpack, given the brevity of their planned stay.

Meanwhile, Higuruma allowed himself a moment to wander, not quite settled and seeking to stake out each and every corner of their accommodations, taking in the small details that made the place feel oddly inviting, idly picking up decorations from shelves with an appraising eye—

—and behind them, the door slowly hushed shut, the lock slipping into place with a soft click. Neither man noticed.

Higuruma plucked a ceramic owl from the mantle, his nose wrinkling; not at the decor, which really he found rather charming, but at the streaky, off-yellow trail of dust left in the wake of its removal. He huffed, mentally filing the complaint away.

It wouldn’t do to bring it up to Nanami, not when he was already less than thrilled about being out here at all.

He swiped a finger through the dust, rubbing it between his thumb and index finger, eyes narrowing in distaste. Filthy.

His nose twitched, and before he could stop it, a great inhale heralded the inevitable. Higuruma sneezed, the force of it sending up a poof of air that stirred the greater nest of dust bunnies, erupting the mantle into a cloud of yellow powder.

Coughing and cursing, Higuruma hastily set the owl back down and waved a hand in front of his face, stumbling back in a desperate attempt to escape the dusty assault.

Nanami only snorted, amused, offering a polite albeit unconcerned “bless you” over his shoulder. He only looked up when Higuruma continued to cough, bent at the waist and hands planted firmly on cocked knees.

“Are you alright?” He asked, already side-stepping the table to get to him.

“No,” Higuruma spat, straightening with watery eyes and a yellow dusted face. Nanami tried not to laugh at his misfortune.

“Gojo is a filthy, good for nothing liar,” he continued, and at that Nanami could only hum in sympathetic agreement.

“Got a place set up for us my ass, it’s not even clean—what if I had a dust allergy, huh? I could’ve died, right then and there!”

Nanami turned to the sink, wetting a sheet of paper towel and returning to Higuruma with a frown, handing it over. “Well it’s a good thing you don’t, then.”

“But if I did—”

“You don’t.”

Higuruma growled, mulish, but accepted the towel and scrubbed it over his face. Nanami, in an effort to be helpful, patted down Higuruma’s shoulders. But the dust was stubborn, it clung to his hands like childrens chalk, and it was already coating his own suit from how the dust was roused into the air, catching sunbeams as it swirled and resettled.

Beige was a forgiving color, and he found himself grateful for his preference of the shade over Higuruma’s black suits. Too easy to ruin. Impractical, really.

The more he cleaned, the more Higuruma’s initial anger waned, though a faint prickle remained—a persistent itch beneath his skin, in his nose, his hair, and even his mouth. It made him feel twitchy, uncomfortable, but nothing a hot shower couldn’t fix. He sighed, shaking off the lingering disgust with a few quick flaps of his hands.

“What do you think the odds are that we could get takeout delivered all the way out here? I’m starving.”

Nanami paused in his idle, and admittedly futile, attempts to brush the dust from Higuruma’s suit and sighed. “I wouldn’t count on it. No delivery driver would venture this deep into the woods for us. And if they did, by the time the food arrived, it would be cold and hardly worth the effort.”

“Hm.” Higuruma’s responding grunt was vaguely agreeable. Eyes slipped a longing look at the cabin’s surprisingly well-equipped kitchen. “Guess we’re on our own. I can whip up something decent.”

Nanami raised an eyebrow. “... Since when do you cook?”

“Hey,” Higuruma retorted, hands on his hips with offense and leaving yellow smudgy prints in the fabric. “I’m more than capable in the kitchen, thank you.”

Nanami couldn’t suppress a small smile at that. “I enjoy cooking, but if you insist.”

“Oh, I do,” Higuruma declared with exaggerated seriousness, though the competitively playful glint in his eyes betrayed him. “Just sit back and relax. Or sweep up some dust if you really need to be helpful. Now, shoo—out of my kitchen—”

Nanami laughed, allowing himself to be fluttered and pushed out of the room, shuffling along and casting a quietly fond look over his shoulder.

“Please refrain from setting off smoke alarms.”

Higuruma rolled his eyes, already moving back towards the kitchen. “Just watch. You’ll be begging me to cook more often after this.”

Higuruma started by rifling through the fridge, the pantry, and the cabinets above the sink; rattling glass jars and shuffling cardboard boxes. Gojo wasn't lying about this part at least: the kitchen was set up for them. Fully stocked, and Higuruma reckoned he might actually be able to make something of it. He grinned, feeling pretty confident about his odds. “Beef curry?”

“...mmm.”

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The cabin was all warm, sappy hues as the sun sank fully behind the trees, painting shadows that reminded Nanami of hot cocoa and knitted blankets, the kind of coziness that comes with soft lamps and fairy lights strung along high beamed ceilings. Outside, the dark now released from the creeping treeline pressed inky hands against the windows.

Nanami leaned back in his chair, eyeing the remnants of his meal on the plate with a neutral stare.

There was something off about it.

His desire not to discourage Hiromi’s good intentions naively outweighed his logic though, because he still ate it all, and maybe he would regret that decision later. It wasn’t bad , not even close—there was no taste of rot or spoil, but something that made his mouth tingle and heart thud unlike any curry seasoning he’d ever had.

“Not bad,” he said, setting his fork down with a measured nod. “Your choice in spices was a bit odd… but not bad at all.”

Higuruma felt awful.

He’d stomached it well, with pinched temples he quietly nursed the headache that crept up during the meal like a bad aftertaste, but stiffened ramrod straight at Nanami’s comment.

His brain thudded, thudded, thudded , each beat a jagged staccato as the words sank in, scraping like sandpaper against his nerves. “Not bad?” he echoed, biting through the cozy atmosphere with a bare-tooth grimace. “What do you mean not bad? It was delicious.”

Nanami blinked, surprised by the sudden sharpness and delicately ran a napkin over his mouth. He coughed awkwardly. “I was just offering feedback. It really wasn’t bad.”

The room suddenly felt warmer—too warm. Nanami dismissed it as the lingering heat from the stove, or maybe the spices from the curry, now irritatingly intense as he felt sweat gathering under his collar like humid, panting breaths against his nape.

Higuruma dug his fingers into his temples again, trying to rub away the tension that settled there like a thick fog. It made him woozy, he felt off balance. “Well, I didn’t ask for feedback,” he snapped, the words tumbling out with more venom than he’d intended. He wasn’t usually one to snap so quickly, but something about Nanami’s mild criticism was needling him tonight like a splinter under his skin.

Nanami’s frown deepened. “There’s no need to get so worked up; I apologize for my comment—”

“Worked up?” Higuruma’s dark eyes sparked like lit kindling with a sudden flash of anger. He shoved his chair back, the legs scraping loudly against the wooden floor. “You’re the one who started nitpicking. If your standards are so damn high, maybe you should’ve cooked!”

The air between them was heavy with ozone, tension slithered in, curling around the edges of their fraying tempers like blotting vines feasting on their discomfort. The silence that followed was heavy, anticipatory, and those vines grew roots and then fingers, curling into Nanami’s limbs and tightening the muscles on his face into a silent glare.

Nanami gathered up the dishes with a little too much force, the plates clattering together in a way that made the small space shrink smaller, the echoes bouncing off the walls and settling in the corners like something dark and brooding. The darkness that licked at the windows oozed its way inside.

Higuruma crossed his arms, feeling his irritation spike when Nanami turned his shoulder, hot and irrational, a screeching tea kettle in very real danger of boiling over completely. Don’t you dare ignore me.

“ Honestly, if your standards are so high, I’m surprised you tolerated it at all. My apologies for displeasing your precious palate.”

Nanami’s hands tightened around the sink basin, his knuckles paling as the metal dug into his skin. Slowly—deliberately—he turned to face Higuruma, meeting his glare head-on. Their eyes snapped together like flint striking steel, cold, unyielding, sparks flying. “Fine. Next time, I’ll cook. That way, we won’t have to worry about your thin skin getting in the way.”

Higuruma’s lips pressed into a thin line, but he didn’t answer. His fists clenched, nails digging into his palms as he held his ground, the air between them thickening, charged, shimmering with a tension that hovered like static in the room.

If either of them had been of their right mind, they might have noticed the air almost gleaming—an iridescent shimmer, like the heat rising off the hood of a car on a scorching day, or the sheer coat of yellow that coated nearly every surface, the cutlery, the plates .

Every small movement—an impatient twitch of Nanami’s finger, the brief flare of Higuruma’s nostrils—crackled with a heat that wasn’t entirely their own. Something crept between them, feeding off their frustration, stoking and bolstering the growing fire with every passing second.

Nanami’s glare shifted to the dishes in the sink, smeared plates and bits of rice clinging to the edges. The food had been good—damn good, really—and he hadn’t planned on nitpicking. He’d all but decided not to, but the words grew legs and clawed out of his mouth of their own volition.

Cleaning the dishes was out of the question—his mood was too foul to even consider it.

Higuruma scoffed and turned on his heel, retreating to the living room, his footsteps heavy and banging against the old wooden floorboards. Each footfall landed like the gavel he wields and felt every bit as damning.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

As the night dragged on, the cabin’s cozy charm unraveled at its rotted edges. The soft lights, once warm and inviting, were both too dim to read by and too bright to relax under, casting shadows that twisted nauseatingly on the walls. The couch, which looked so inviting before, might as well have been carved from stone for all the comfort it offered.

And though the house was deceptively spacious, the walls inched closer, closer, closer; tightening the noose around Nanami and Higuruma and forcing them into needless confrontations—over the lights, over which room to claim, over the correct way to handle the fire poker by the chimney.

Higuruma, by this point, had a few creative ideas for its use that had nothing to do with stoking a fire.

Nanami needed distance. A breath. Something to stop the heat crawling up his spine like a fever. He planted himself back at the sink, hands plunging into the soapy water with the kind of force that turned a gentle rinse into an act of war. The clatter of utensils against the porcelain screeched through the small kitchen, each metallic scrape a little too loud, a little too sharp. Water splashed up and soaked into his rolled-up sleeves, each drop that seeped into the fabric felt like a personal insult. He felt positively unmoored.

Every squeak of wet porcelain seemed to mock him, irritation climbing with each stubborn stain he scrubbed that just wouldn’t come out—his sanity hung by gossamer threads.

From the living room, Higuruma’s voice cut through the noise, sharp and loaded with an eye-roll Nanami could picture without even turning. “You don’t have to murder the plates, you know,” Higuruma jeered. “I can hear you all the way in here—that’s how you ruin them.”

Nanami’s grip tightened on the dish, his knuckles blanching white. It was stupid—petty. They never bickered like this, never fell into the brand of mundane sniping reserved for divorcing couples or other miserable types.

He prided himself on keeping calm. Unshakeable. Especially around Higuruma, whose dry wit and effortless ability to slip under his skin kept things lively and interesting. Fun, even.

But tonight? Tonight, everything grated on him. Every word, every sound—the scratch of ceramic, the way Higuruma's voice seemed to curl around the walls and echo back, each bounce sharper than the last. It shredded through the quiet, gnawing at his nerves, leaving them raw and exposed to the stifling air that compressed from every direction like a vacuum.

Nanami thinks he must be sick and Higuruma must be too, because he has just enough clarity to recognize that he doesn’t recognize them at all.

Nanami’s fingers skimmed beneath the sudsy water, brushing against something solid. The unexpected chill of metal met his skin, and his hand stilled as he recognized the shape of the knife buried there. For a moment, it grounded him—quenched the fire licking at his palms, made him feel in control again. He let his fingers curl around the handle, the coolness radiating through his hand and sending a shiver up his spine that felt blessedly soothing.

The blade could make it all stop. Take it. Walk into the living room where Higuruma stands and—

Nanami blinked. The thought dissolved, evaporating as fast as it came back to the void it came from and leaving a sick churn in its wake. He gritted his teeth and dropped the knife back into the sink with a harsh clatter, the sound sharp and final. He wanted to throw it out the window.

Absurd. He was absurd. He’s sick. Surely he must be sick, because he would never think that. Not over something so… nothing.

His thoughts felt foreign, like they belonged to someone else. He wasn’t a beast. He wasn’t a murderer. He’d seen enough bloodshed to know better—he knew better.

The fact that it entered his mind at all almost made him retch.

He wiped his hands on the hanging towel, the rough fabric scraping against his skin and pulling him back from the irrecoverable edge he’d almost stumbled over. Without a word, he turned on his heel, leaving the dishes half-done and the knife abandoned in the sink, as if he could walk away from the sick impulse the kitchen inspired.

The hallway felt longer than it should’ve as he stalked back into the living room, each step heavy, ball-and-chained to his fracturing mind. And there was Higuruma—standing in the small living area, arms crossed, his expression unreadable, half-lit by both lamp and fire and waiting for him.

The shadows carved deep lines into his face, the hooked curve of his nose sharpened by the light, casting him as something almost predatory.

When Nanami stepped into the room, the tension between them snapped taut, a thread wound too tight and ready to break, pulling them closer, reeling them into each other's orbit. It was like standing on the edge of a flame, the heat unbearable and the burn inevitable. They were drawn to each other’s fury, like moths with no choice but to dance in the fire until they turned to ash.

“So rather than be gentler with the dishes, you’re just going to leave them? I suppose you expect me to clean as well as cook?” Higuruma’s voice carved through the room like shattered glass skittering across stone. He didn’t move, didn’t uncross his arms, but his entire stance was a challenge, daring Nanami to step closer, to meet his gaze head-on.

The way his eyes narrowed, locking onto Nanami with stripping intensity sent a fresh wave of anger surging through him, hotter, more vicious.

Nanami froze.

Just keep walking. Ignore him. Keep moving. Bathe and go to bed.

“I’m taking a break,” he said instead, each low word a bullet added to the smoking gun, the calm before a storm that could level mountains. It was a voice that should’ve sent alarms blaring in Higuruma’s mind and made his instincts urge him to back off. It promised reckoning.

If Higuruma weren’t so festered in the pit of his own irrational anger, he might’ve retreated—might’ve backed away from the brewing tempest in Nanami’s eyes.

If he knew that moments ago, Nanami had gripped a knife and entertained thoughts of plunging it deep between his ribs, he might’ve put distance between them.

But if Nanami was sick, Higuruma was sicker. His skin twitched beneath the tight fabric of his dress shirt, shoulders rolling and shuddering in a futile bid to relieve the tension that knotted between them. Sweat slicked his body, glistening in the firelight that painted him in violent hues of orange and red, setting him ablaze from the outside in. He was burning.

His vision dimmed, draining of color until the world was a muted blur—all except for Nanami. Nanami snapped into focus, vivid and pulsing with life, a beacon through the haze of Higuruma’s dilated eyes. He panted, breaths heavy and ragged like a slathering dog, muscles twitching with the need to lunge, to close the distance between them. Restraint frayed at the edges, but all he could think about, all that consumed him, was Nanami. Going to him. Tearing into him.

"Can’t ever—" Higuruma’s voice cracked, struggling to force the words out between teeth clenched so tight he felt a pop in his jaw. "Ask for help, can you?"

A bitter scoff slipped, choked off as his throat seized, the dry walls of his airway sticking together and making his vision swim that much more as he missed another heaving breath. "Always have to be—"

He turned away sharply, a shudder running through him, the effort to keep speaking almost painful; and with it, he hoped to hide his shame at the grossly obvious erection snaking down the seam of his thigh, just as it had been for the past fifteen minutes. "—the lone wolf, thinking you’re so… so independent and fucking cool—"

His breath hissed, a harsh sound that scraped the back of his throat raw down to the bitter copper tang beneath. "So fucking cool—"

Nanami resisted with everything he had, every muscle tensed against the invisible binds that drew him in, demanding he act on impulses that should never see light; should never have been conceived at all.

His fingers twitched at his sides with the urge to act. To do something he’d regret. Wrap them around Higuruma’s throat, maybe, and squeeze until the hate drained out of them both.

He watched as Higuruma began to unravel, each tremor, recognizing the succumbing happening before his eyes as what he felt incubating within himself. It was like staring into a mirror, seeing his own fate playing out in front of him, knowing that it was only a matter of minutes—if he was lucky—before he would break too.

His pulse pounded in his temples, each beat syncing with that silent, relentless pull, dragging him recklessly toward oblivion.

Nanami stalked forward.

Higuruma whirled back around, a sharp animal snap of his neck with teeth bared like a cornered beast. His body jolted upright, spine straightening and meeting Nanami’s advance with a challenge that was all raw instinct—no hesitation, no retreat, only the need to assert dominance.

“What the hell are we really fighting about here? Dishes? Dinner?” Higuruma’s laugh was cold, a bitter thing that didn’t suit him at all. “Or are we dodging the real issue, Nanami? Because I’m begging for an excuse. Give me one, and I swear—” he leaned in as close as he dared, eyelids fluttering at the smell of him even at this distance. “I’ll fight you.”

Nanami didn’t know why they were fighting. Only that they were. And that the scorching compulsion inside him demanded it, devoured him and any dissent whole, certain he would be reduced to ash and hollowed to a bitter husk if he so much as raised a finger against it.

He couldn’t stop. He wouldn’t. The need to push this until something snapped was compulsive. The only end was cremation in this hellfire, one or both, and his desperation for it ripped him apart from the inside out.

“This isn’t about dinner,” Nanami growled, his voice thick with hot coals. His chest felt tight, air scorched by the words he could barely spit out. “Or losing my weekend to be here.” His fists clenched, nails biting so deeply into his palms that blood welled in the half moons, but the sting was nothing compared to the flames ravaging his veins. He’s in hell—he must be.

“This is about you.” Nanami spat the fever in his mouth, callous and cruel. His shoulders quivered and betrayed him, frenetic pulse having him swooping down towards Higuruma’s face a little too fast, a little close, nearly eye to eye now before he could reel himself back upright; drunk on the heat of it all.

“About how you are a burden. A constant, incessant, mind-numbing waste that I’d be better off without.” He wanted this. The confrontation and the catharsis that vitriol promised, even if it meant sinking deeper into the hell he was creating.

The space between them nearly evaporated, the air growing so thick they were both choking on it. Nanami could feel Higuruma’s breath ghosting over his skin, gulping for air, his throat bobbing, warm, uneven, alive—a siren call, seductive and dangerous and ruinous.

Break him. Rip, tear, flay—spill blood into the floorboards, let the cellar drink from him.

The thought scorched through Nanami's mind, twisted and raw, and for a moment, neither dared moved, both possessing an instinctive knowing it might provoke the other to pounce. The only sound was their breath, ragged, and the ratcheting pound of the other's heart, both animalistically attuned and tracing bulging arteries up their throats.

Hurt him. The insidious whispers slithered through Higuruma’s mind like smoke, curling around his thoughts, sick with rabid infection. Hit him. You’ve done it before. He despises you. Use the gavel. End it.

Sweat gleamed on Higuruma’s forehead, mirroring the dampness on Nanami’s neck. The air was suffocating, clinging like napalm, thick and oppressive. It was rage—pure, unadulterated rage—but something else too. Something that begged for pain, for release, for an end.

And then Nanami hit the wall.

The impact was savage, brutal. No time to brace. Higuruma slammed him back, the force sending picture frames clattering to the floor. The walls groaned, the very bones of the cabin trembling under the weight of their collision.

Higuruma didn’t hesitate. He was on Nanami in an instant, hands lashing out, cold fingers like steel vices around Nanami’s throat. The pressure was immediate and crushing—but Nanami didn’t flinch. His eyes gored Higuruma with deadly resolve, steel against steel, waiting for the other to break.

Nanami’s eyes narrowed, excitement seeping through his gaze as heat furnaced low in his belly, his breath coming out ragged. Higuruma’s fingers were still wrapped tight around his neck, but Nanami could feel something else—a thrum, a pulse. His cock strained painfully against his slacks, pre-cum already staining the fabric; the matting feel of his hair both enraged and delighted him.

He wasn’t sure when that happened.

He wasn’t sure he cared,

His hand slid up to Higuruma’s wrist, and with the deliberate force of bending iron, began to pry those vice-like fingers from his throat. Higuruma clawed for him, fist shaking with resistance, and every inch of fight only fueled the arousal that snapped sudden through them both like rubber bands.

A cold, metallic chuckle thundered in Nanami’s red throat, mocking with threat. "... Idiot."

He didn't waste another breath—there was no time. With a sharp twist and a powerful surge of his shoulder, Nanami shoved Higuruma back with enough force to send them both crashing into the floorboards.

They thrashed, clawing and bodying into furniture and light fixtures. Higuruma’s knee shot up, slamming into Nanami’s stomach, sending a shockwave of force that knocked the air from his lungs and his cock twitched, pre-cum seeping in thick rivulets down his thigh. Nanami grunted, but the ache only sharpened the edge of his need. Higuruma, too, felt the burn.

In one fluid, desperate motion, Higuruma rolled them over, breaking free from the hold, chest heaving with exertion, straining and throbbing in his pants with every ragged breath. His eyes blazed with fury, but beneath the rage there was something raw and ruinous. His gaze raked over Nanami, lips curled into a snarl, and all he could think about was how much he wanted to rip him apart—and fuck him into the floor. How much he needed to do one or the other or both.

Yellow clouds shaken from surfaces whirlpooled in the humid air. With each breath, Higuruma felt it more acutely—his clothes clung to his skin, and heat laid siege to his body, unbearable, searing. The pollen, the fucking pollen—he could feel it now, twisting his thoughts, his body, and all he wanted was Nanami beneath him, writhing and begging.

Nanami roared and lunged at Higuruma again, throwing him back into the wall with enough force to crack the old oak paneling. The cabin rumbled, books toppled from shelves, and somewhere in another room something glass shattered.

But all Nanami could see was the way Higuruma’s body shuddered at the impact, the way his pupils dilated, his lips parting in a wet gasp—so fucking pretty.

Higuruma choked, the breath knocked from his lungs, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t. His vision blurred, but the moment it cleared, he saw Nanami standing over him—panting, chest heaving, cock straining visibly against his pants, fabric stained dark and dripping. The visual sent a shiver through him, his stomach clenching hungrily and own body desperately reciprocating.

Each thrash and bit of fight only compelled the other to fight back harder. A cyclical prey-drive, hammering and hammering in the forge until someone broke into the coals.

In the charged, suffocating space between them, the air thickened, pulsing with a desperate craving that bordered on madness. Nanami’s grip tightened, punishing hands clasped around Higuruma’s shoulder and the fine bones of his neck. His fingers curled with creaking slowness against the soft skin and fabric, teasing the promise of bruises and ripped clothes.

Higuruma scrabbled for purchase against Nanami’s arm, spitting and clawing, nails raking down skin and leaving red lines that did nothing to deter the iron-grip on his neck; like the bite of a flea for all the attention Nanami paid it.

Their faces were inches apart, close enough that Nanami could see the fine particles of dust chalking Higuruma’s flushed skin, could feel the heat radiating off him in molten waves. Everywhere they touched the yellow mist was spread to him too, and where it was spread Nanami burned.

His breath juddered in his throat, billowing against Higuruma’s cheek his nostrils flared bullishly. Cologne, sweat, and dust that smelt oddly floral… pollen. Not dust at all.

It was the pollen. It had to be. But there was no time to think about that, not when every nerve in his body was on fire, every muscle twitching with the need to lay claim and consume, because Nanami is certain, so certain, of only one thing: the hellfire raging in his bones was going to kill him if he doesn’t whet it.

The muscles in Nanami’s back convulsed, rippling beneath his shirt as he bent lower, his breath ghosting over Higuruma’s throat. “You smell so good,” he groaned, voice rough and fractured and barely coherent. Had Higuruma always smelled like this? It was intoxicating and overwhelming and Nanami needed him.

He smelled too good. Too irresistible. Too much.

Nanami groaned and pushed Higuruma harder against the wall, the force of it rattling the entire cabin as if trying to shake loose whatever wild thing had taken hold of them both. But it was lodged too deep, its hooks set and curved too permanently.

His knee shoved between Higuruma’s legs, pressing up—hard—right against the throbbing bulge in Higuruma’s pants. Nanami felt the way it pulsed, wet and leaking, pre-cum staining the crotch of Higuruma’s pants so thickly that he felt it through the layers on his knee. And with the way his hips jerked forward, rutting against Nanami’s leg—he liked it.

Higuruma writhed, his body twisting and turning, but it wasn’t rage anymore. The way Nanami’s breath hitched, the way his muscles tensed and twitched—Higuruma felt it all, and it was driving him insane, breaking him down until all he could think about was the way Nanami had him pinned to the wall, how Nanami’s knee ground into his weeping cock, Nanami, Nanami, Nanami.

The clawing desperation to peel himself away was tossed in favor of frantic tugging, nails catching on rolled sleeves to yank Nanami closer.

Nanami’s world narrowed, everything outside the two of them fading into a tunnel of pulsing, seething hunger. Irreversibly dialed to the slick heat of Higuruma’s body pressed against his, the frantic beat of his pulse beneath Nanami’s hand, the sweat that trickled down Higuruma’s temple. He wanted to taste it, drag his tongue across that feverish skin, feel Higuruma’s pulse in his mouth and swallow it down gluttonously.

He leaned in closer, breath scalding against Higuruma’s ear as he gritted out the words, each one clawing its way from the depths of his chest and leaving the cavity bloody. He was gone—too far gone to reel himself back, yet somehow, impossibly, not quite lost. There was just enough of him left, clinging by a thread, enough to ask—beg, really—and pray that if the answer was no, he could resist just long enough for Higuruma to hit him and knock him blissfully unconscious.

Even if it killed him. Even if he were to self-immolate. It would be better.

“Tell me you feel it too… shit, I—” His voice broke, shivering, “I need you—”

The words barely left his mouth before Higuruma lunged, crashing his mouth against Nanami’s in a collision of lips and teeth. It wasn’t a kiss—it was raw, violent, a clash of urgency and rage. Their teeth clacked, tongues desperate and frantic, and Nanami groaned, low and deep, as he shoved Higuruma harder against the wall, hips grinding forward in a furious effort to fuse them together.

There was no room for dignity or restraint—just the unbearable need to fuck, to tear each other apart until they were satisfied.

Nanami’s breath hitched, a low growl rumbling in his chest as he gripped Higuruma tighter, fingers digging into the muscle beneath his shirt. The fabric tore beneath his grasp, threads snapping, and Nanami relished in the sound of buttons skittering somewhere across the room and lost to corners, the sensation of skin bared to him.

Higuruma’s hands clawed at Nanami’s back, fingers digging into tense and quivering muscles. Every nerve in his body was on fire, skin too sensitive, cock hardened to the point of pain with every desperate twitch of his hips. “Nanami—” The sound that came from his throat was jagged, agonized and barely comprehensible.

“I know—fuck—I know,” Nanami rasped, shushing and pacifying in a way suddenly tender in his understanding, each word dragging as if ground over sandpaper. He leaned closer, lips brushing Higuruma’s ear, his breath billowing and hot.

“You’re going to take it. Every inch, every bit of me until you can’t think straight—” nevermind that they already can’t think at all. Nanami hardly recognized himself. “—can you do that for me?”

Higuruma’s nails raked down Nanami’s back, whining and blinkered by lust to the point of muteness. Nanami could’ve asked him to peel his nails off and he would’ve if he thought it would feel good.

It spurred Nanami on, feeling his heart drop to his diaphragm to instead beat between his thighs. He didn’t waste another second, his hand shooting down between them, fingers trembling as he fumbled with the waistband of Higuruma’s pants. The button snapped free with a sharp pop, and Nanami tore the fabric apart, shoving his hand into Higuruma’s boxers without finesse.

His hand wrapped around the base of Higuruma’s cock, and the slick, hot pulse of it was almost enough to send Nanami over the edge right there. It was drenched, pre-cum spilling in obscene amounts, leaking down his hand, coating his palm in slippery warmth that dripped between his fingers. Fuck, he’s soaked. Higuruma was trembling, hips jerking into Nanami’s grip, chasing the friction with desperate, needy little thrusts.

“Fuck—Nanami, it hurts—” Higuruma gasped, voice cracking and jumping in Nanami’s fist, dripping onto the floor in the beginnings of a milky puddle.

“I know, I know,” Nanami groaned, voice low and wrecked, half-mad. He released Higuruma’s cock only long enough to yank his own pants down, fingers catching on the waistband in his rush to bare himself. He sprang free, and the sight of himself—hard as steel, already oozing to mat the honey blonde curls of hair on his belly—made him groan, muscles twitching with the need to bury himself inside Higuruma now. “I’ve… I’ve got you. Gonna help—”

There was no time for slow, no time for careful. None of the things he would’ve liked to do. No courtship, no gentle touches, no wining and dining, no chance to savor the feeling of peeling Higuruma away from the realm of friendship.

Nanami’s thoughts scattered like fractals, catching briefly on things like sunflowers—would Higuruma like if he bought them?—but the descending fog swallowed them whole.

Nanami groaned, he spun Higuruma around, slamming him chest-first into the wall with a force that rattled the entire cabin. The sharp sound of breath leaving Higuruma’s lungs was like gasoline on an open flame, and Nanami felt his erection twitch painfully, expanding more, oozing in a steady drip from the swollen tip. So much it felt like he might’ve cum already, but the ache in his balls told him otherwise—he hadn’t even begun.

Higuruma braced his hands against the wall, panting, his whole body trembling under Nanami’s weight. “Do it,” Higuruma snarled, thick with desperation and edged with defiance… or maybe just bravery in the face of what he knew was coming; both were equally admirable. “Please fuck me—I need it… it hurts—”

Nanami whimpered low in his throat, his hands gripping Higuruma’s hips, yanking him back roughly, aligning his pelvis with Higuruma’s ass. The head of his cock was so swollen it raged purple, slit weeping a thick coat that dripped down his length, soaking the base of Higuruma’s spine. It wasn’t normal—none of this was normal—but Nanami couldn’t bring himself to care.

He pressed the tip of his cock against Higuruma’s rim, smearing pre-cum over the tight ring of muscle and creating a slick runway as he dragged the head up and down, coating Higuruma in it. A small mercy, all things considered.

Higuruma’s body tensed, muscles bunching up beneath his skin as Nanami pushed against him, testing the resistance and hissed  at the stars that blew across his eyes. The pressure built, intense, unrelenting, until Nanami thrust forward in one hard, savage motion, burying himself to the hilt in a single stroke.

Higuruma howled, fingers gouging into the wall, tearing the lacquer as his body arched violently, breath coming in jagged, broken rasps. It was too much—too intense, too fast—but exactly what he needed and Nanami knew it.

Pain blurred into pleasure, the overwhelming fullness inside him, the brutal stretch—until there was no distinction left between agony and ecstasy. It all melted, streaming him into a state beyond either. He was euphoric, and the way he immediately shoved back into Nanami made it abundantly obvious.

Nanami froze, eyes rolling to their whites in a way that obliterated any semblance of dignity, the scalding heat inside Hiromi nearly buckling his legs. The way Hiromi squeezed, quivered, and trembled around him had Nanami teetering, hand lashing out to the wall for support and crushing over Higuruma’s knuckles instead.

“Fuu-haah—” The curse fizzled and died on his tongue, useless and defunct. And then Nanami moved, a brutal, unrelenting force, each thrust shaking them both to their very foundations. Flesh pounded against sticky flesh, echoing in the space in a way so pornographic that it might’ve made Nanami blush under regular circumstances.

But this wasn’t regular. His fingers slipped between Higuruma’s pinning them both to the wall.

Dinner and sunflowers.

Nanami’s mind flickered with a different fantasy altogether—far sweeter than the damnable pollen on his tongue, the softness he had wanted to offer Hiromi. That calm domesticity, the gentleness Nanami thought he should’ve given. But here they were, drowning and clawing at each other to stay afloat.

Higuruma’s body rocked with every thrust, his own cock dripping against the wall, smearing in gooey, messy trails. He was completely lost, undone by the feeling of Nanami inside him—stretching him, molding him. Every stroke sent a wave of pleasure-pain through his body, chipping moans from his throat, making him claw at the wall, desperate for more, desperate for anything and everything, and he took it greedily.

Nanami’s free hand slid around, wrapping firmly around Higuruma’s length. He squeezed, stroking in time with the thrusts that had Higuruma corseted to the wall. “You’re mine,” Nanami murmured, voice thick and tongue useless in his mouth, far better suited for lapping at Higuruma’s neck than talking, and so he does.

If Higuruma was his, Nanami would spend the rest of his life making it up to him. He’d worship him. Take him out for dinners, make sure he laughed, filled his life with comfort, and this—this would be a secret they’d share. A private thing to laugh about and remember rather than the source of shame Nanami feared. He’d—fuck, he’d get him sunflowers everyday. During the winter he’d grow them himself if he had to—

“Please say it,” he crackled, desperate, impeaching. Suddenly this mattered to him.

Higuruma’s breath caught, quivering with each brutal batter into his body, already cracking like pressured glass. “Yours,” he gasped, his voice staticky with gravel, shredded from the moans that never once stopped dripping helplessly from spit-slick lips.

“Fuck, Nanami, I’m yours—”

That was all Nanami needed.

Higuruma’s submission wasn’t just some indulgence of lust. It was deeper than that, something in his very bones. Nanami saw it clearly now—the dormant part of Higuruma that craved being tethered, the wolf who wanted to be collared, domesticated into a dog. And Nanami was more than willing to bear the leash, to hold it firm and tender in his grip, to guide Higuruma through his surrender.

Nanami possessed Higuruma so beautifully, so thoroughly responsible for him, that it inspired nothing but heart-stopping adoration in the delirious mess of a man beneath him.

The thought shot through Nanami like a bullet, inspiring furious determination to do away with the awful edges where Higuruma ended and he began. His hips snapped forward, thrusting with brutal purpose, hammering into Higuruma with a force that sought to unmake them both, return them to stardust or whatever primordial pool they crawled out of. And Higuruma, with every ragged moan, took it. No, more than that, he welcomed it.

Drool slid unashamedly down Higuruma’s chin, cheek squished to the wall, his throat convulsing with every slam of Nanami’s cock inside him so deep he swears he feels him in his ribs. His voice was nothing but a mess of broken syllables now— “Na-na-mi—!”—barely managing his lover’s name in the mess of spit and pathetic mewling.

“Harder,” Higuruma gasped, voice shredded beyond recognition, hips rutting desperately into Nanami’s hand, chasing that final bit of friction, that last agonizing piece just at the tip of his tongue. “Fu–uu–uu-ck, please—m’gonna—”

Ever his servant Nanami’s fist tightened around Higuruma’s cock, knuckles white with the force of his grip as he stroked him, rougher than he liked it himself, but exactly how he thought Higuruma needed it because he thought he might appreciate a firm hand. So salaciously determined is he to milk every drop of pleasure from him, to exorcize this feralness from their bodies.

That’s all it took. Higuruma’s entire body went rigid before shattering gloriously—

He convulsed, spine arching violently off the wall as his orgasm tore through him, ripping a raw, choked cry from his throat. Hot, thick ropes spilled over Nanami’s fingers, and the rest splattered messily against the wall. His breath hitched, caught somewhere between a sob and a gasp as the overwhelming mix of pain and relief threatened to drown him. His legs buckled, but Nanami held him upright, speared by Nanami’s cock and the firm grip that kept him from crumbling entirely.

Nanami slowed just for a moment, enraptured by the ruin beneath him, feeling the others' orgasm with ferocious synchronicity like a punch to the gut.

Higuruma was still trembling, breath uneven, each gasp shaky and erratic. “Please, just—” Nanami gripped his hips, dragging him back into place, and with a breathless choke, “—please don’t stop me—I can’t… I still need—”

Nanami bent him, his forearms flexing in a restraining pin around his chest and waist; Higuruma curled and arched back, and back, and back into him like some lewd figurehead of a ship.

“Fuck, Nanami… please—more.” Higuruma’s voice was impoverished, hands clawing at the walls until wood splintered beneath the blunt bite of his nails, desperate to hold onto something, anything, as Nanami drove into him, the force of it pushing him further up the wall with each sloppy thrust as his cock continued to sputter against frayed and scratched wood—impossibly unspent.

The tension in Nanami’s gut coiled tighter and tighter, a spring wound to its breaking point before finally—

It snapped with a final, brutal thrust, and he met his first orgasm with an embarrassing cry—raw, desperate, echoing through each fierce contraction that tore through him. His grip on Higuruma’s hand tightened as he whined against the damp skin of his neck, shuddering with every hot, thick pulse that spilled deep inside his lover. He gasped raggedly, gulping for air over flushed, bitten skin as he rode out the last shivers of release, clinging to Higuruma as if the world would fall away without him.

Their bodies slumped together, breaths mingling. Higuruma’s forehead pressed against the wall, and for a moment, everything was still except for the lingering tremors that juddered them both. Nanami’s breath was hot against his neck; his lips dragged over the skin, pressing kisses of apology, gratitude, pleading.

But it wasn’t enough. The insistent burn beneath their skin, the gnawing ache, still simmered. They could both feel it—this madness that refused to release its grip, no matter how hard they tried to bury it.

“Nanami,” Higuruma panted. His hands, now trembling, scraped roughly against the splintered wood. He forced himself to turn, just enough to catch a glimpse of Nanami’s face—flushed, tense, eyes squeezed shut in agony. “Are you… are you okay?”

Nanami’s answer was a slow shake of his head, breath bitten between clenched teeth.

“I… still feel it,” he confessed, voice rough, strained, composure stripped and leaving him shamelessly wanton. He swallowed, trying to regain some control of only his voice, but it was useless. A frustrated groan slipped out, his hips twitching forward unconsciously, still buried deep inside Higuruma, hard as iron and showing no sign of letting up. “It’s not enough… fuck, it’s not enough.”

Higuruma’s heart pounded, the reality of their situation sinking in. He should be sated, exhausted even, but his body was already responding to Nanami’s words, the fire rekindling with a vengeance—the refractory period of some debauched god, not the exhausted thirty six year old man he knows himself to be. He’s never been so hard in his life.

Without another word, Nanami tightened his hold on Higuruma, stumbling back on shaky legs until they sank to the floor. There was a brief, fleeting moment of tenderness as Nanami held Higuruma close, twisting him around so they could face each other.

Higuruma was ruined. Spit wet his chin and cheek, his hair spiked in all directions beyond repair, and eyes dilated so eclipsing of their pupils that Nanami can barely see the whites either.

Supple, pliant, and so beautiful.

“Higuruma…” Nanami’s voice was breathless and heavy, but there was a new softness to it—a plea woven through the desperation like wicker baskets, only hoping they’d hold the weight of emotions he was too addled to carry.

His hands found Higuruma’s, guiding them to his broad shoulders with a gentle insistence. He yearned for him with a presence of mind he lacked before. He’d needed a body, that was all, and that hadn’t changed… but Nanami wanted him.

“Please—”

The word broke from him, cracked and vulnerable, as his fingers tightened around Higuruma’s hip, trembling with the effort to stay anchored. He slid his hand down, cupping the curve of Higuruma’s ass and giving a firm, urging push, his wide, desperate eyes locking onto Higuruma’s, beseeching and pained.

Higuruma cupped Nanami’s face in his hands, the same hands that ruined a wooden wall possessed with something more gentle now, he cradled him like something fragile.

He looked at Nanami like he’d never seen him before, and in a way, he hadn’t. Not like this—not so ruined.

He leaned in, capturing Nanami’s lips in a slow, deliberate kiss, pouring every ounce of weight and nebulous bit of emotion into it. His thighs tightened around Nanami’s hips as he lifted himself up and then dropped back down onto Nanami’s cock. Fire met with the gasoline in his blood, reigniting anew.

He was always meant to be burned by Nanami.

He would give and take until there was nothing left.

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When the sun rose it did so sluggishly.

Like it too was afraid of what it might find inside the unassuming little cottage. Its eye rose hesitant over the trees, golden spears shot through windows and sheer curtains, illuminating the carnage strewn about the floors.

Anything not nailed down was toppled, the knick-knacks so meticulously arranged knocked to the floor or shattered, books indecently fluttered their pages in dead air, and the floors, the walls, and the upholstered leather of the couch were thoroughly destroyed.

Claw marks and stuffing, the odd bite taken out of the arm of a chair and left punctured with teeth—but no blood, no murder, no bodies—except for two, very much alive and tangled in a mess of limbs and sticky flesh on what remained of the couch.

Nanami’s leg dangled off the edge, one arm limp against the floor, while the other curled a cradle around Higuruma’s back where he slumped on his shoulder—drooling, snoring, and finally sated .

The man was peaceful—vulnerable in a way that tugged something deep in Nanami’s chest.

Nanami didn’t sleep.

Not much, at least.

He stayed vigilant, his thoughts churning like a storm at sea. Once they were both… “well” … he’d agonized, he’d thought, he’d theorized. He’d seethed and spat in his head like a rabid animal, every part of him on edge, because he knew this wasn’t right. This wasn’t simply an explosive culmination of little repressed desires—though he did take some time to consider the implications of what this would mean for his relationship with Higuruma tomorrow. No, this was something done to them.

He remembered reading the report about a curse Gojo exorcized once—one that could induce euphoria, passivity, bending the mind to its will through flower fields. If a curse could do that, then why not something more sinister? Something that could twist emotions, heighten them to the point of madness. Rage, hate, lust… such a curse wouldn’t need to act violently itself; it could simply turn its victims into weapons, feeding off the very emotions it created. The implications set a chill in his gut, heavy and unsettling.

Couple murders. One survivor. Confusion. The details were sparse in the file, but Nanami recalled those morbid little highlights, and with a new day dawning he knew he had to settle the theory that stewed in his head all night.

With a careful touch Nanami’s arm tightened around Higuruma’s shoulders, supporting his back as he rolled them over as gently as he could manage.

Higuruma grumbled inarticulately, Nanami inhaled and froze, hovering… the snoring resumed, and so too did Nanami exhale. He arranged Higuruma’s limbs so he’d be more comfortable, making sure long legs and bruised arms were tucked properly onto the fluff-bleeding cushions. His hand lingered a moment longer as he lifted Higuruma’s head to place on a pillow, fingers dipped in inky hair with soft consideration.

His palm brushed once, easing the tufted cowlicks on his head before he withdrew.

Nanami stood, his chiseled jaw clenched, determination hardening his features as he turned away from the couch. Without a backward glance, he marched to the front door, each step measured and purposeful.

Nanami didn’t bother with clothes as his feet pounded the floor, the cool wood unforgiving against his bare skin. He gripped the door knob like it was the throat of an enemy, twisting and flinging it with a force that should’ve sent the door flying—yet it didn’t budge. “ Hah… ” he chuckled, darkly amused. He tried again, muscles flexing, veins bulging with effort— how embarrassing, he mused, only if he hadn’t expected exactly this.

He moved to the kitchen. The window above the sink brightly lit with cheerful morning gold, dripping jewels from dewy grass on the gravel drive. He reached for the small metal latch, hope flickering in his chest like a dying ember—sealed.

“I fucking knew it,” he laughed despite himself, near hysterical at his idiocy. His hand found its way to his hip, the other raking through irreversibly tousled wheat hair.

“Knew what?”

Nanami’s flinched to hear Higuruma speak. He whirled around, finding him propped up on the couch, one arm slung over the torn and fuzzy backrest, his expression groggy but attentive.

“The door won’t open,” Nanami said with a derisive snort.

“—and you wanted to go outside naked because—?”

“The windows too. I can’t open them.”

Higuruma’s brow furrowed, sleep slowly ebbing away as he propped one knee up, hooking an elbow around it while resting his head atop the makeshift pillow. “And…?”

“They’re not real, Higuruma.”

Oh, so he’s lost it, Higuruma thought.

Higuruma blinked, a moment of confusion flashing in his eyes before he smothered it beneath a well-practiced mask of calm. His lips curled into a placating smile, the kind one gives to a person on the verge of breaking. “I see…” he didn’t.

“... are you feeling alright?” His voice was steady, honed by decades of smothering nerves beneath layers of practiced indifference. But he could feel the exhaustion pulling at his edges, the dregs of whatever had been in his system finally clearing. If Nanami wasn’t good, if he had truly lost it, then…

Nanami groaned, shaking his head as he strode back to the couch. “We’re in a domain, Higuruma. We probably have been since we walked through the door.”

That pulled Higuruma out of his spiraling thoughts. He scoffed, disbelieving that that was the conclusion Nanami arrived at. “No—no, we would’ve noticed.”

Nanami grunted in response, his focus on the rubble scattered across the floor. He crouched down, rifling through the mess with a single-minded determination until he found his boxers. He stepped into them with the kind of force that spoke volumes about the rage simmering beneath his skin. “Mess with my fucking head —my fucking body …I don’t fucking think so.”

“Wouldn’t we have noticed?” Higuruma insisted. He scrambled off the couch, the cool air biting at his skin as he tried the door, then the windows—no dice. He blinked owlishly. How hadn’t they noticed?

“Wait, where are you going?”

Higuruma watched, a mix of awe and concern tightening his chest, as Nanami, clad only in his boxers and wielding his signature black-and-white blade, stormed across the living room. The destruction underfoot crunched with each step, like the ground itself was trembling beneath his ire. He moved with the purpose of an angry deity, his eyes narrowed in determination. “I’m going to find it, of course.” The rest of his ensemble seemed irrelevant, the sheer force of his anger making everything else redundant. At the very least, Nanami refused to face his quarry with his dick out.

Higuruma scrambled for his clothes, now little more than torn scraps, but managed to yank on a pair of boxers, matching Nanami’s hurried attire. “Try going up,” he suggested, breathless, hopping in place to work an uncooperative leg through the leg hole.

“Is there an attic?” Nanami’s voice was sharp, all business as they moved in unison down the hallway, weapons gripped with white-knuckled determination, intent on receiving their pound of flesh in return for their dignity.

Higuruma nodded, still catching his breath. “I believe so. The house looked taller from the outside.”

Heat rises. The thought flashed between them, unspoken yet understood. The sweltering flames that burned them from the night before would have naturally ascended, carrying with it the intoxicating miasma that fueled whatever twisted curse that ensnared them, up to the highest point. Simple physics.

Nanami for all of his composure (last night notwithstanding) was always careful on the job. You would not know this by how he kicked down the door at the top of the stairs, blowing it clear of its hinges and obliterating it with a violent explosion of splintered wood.

“Where are you…”

The thing skittered down from the rafters, a grotesque, spider-like abomination with far too many limbs that clicked and chittered as it descended. Its body was an obscene, fleshy mass, swollen and pulsing as if ready to burst, its skin stretched thin over the bloated form beneath. It laughed in that eerie, tinny way curses do, mandibles clicking and many eyes rolling to devour the two men in the doorway.

It was slow, fat and sluggish, engorged on the feast they’d unwittingly provided, dragging itself across the floor with an unnatural, bone-crunching crawl. Its limbs twitched sporadically, like it couldn’t quite control them, its movements erratic and nauseating to watch.

Nanami liked to take his time, usually. Liked to assess his enemy and make sure there were no nasty surprises waiting for him once he engaged. Because Nanami was a careful man, even moreso when he isn’t alone. But not this time. There was no patience left in him.

Nanami’s eyes blazed with the cold, righteous fury of a vengeful god. Ratios lined his vision, spinning and locking into place with terrifying clarity. He swung his blade in a wide, brutal arc.

The strike was perfect.

Wooden boards shattered beneath the force of his blade as it sliced through bloated curse flesh, spewing rotten blood across Nanami’s bare skin. The creature shrieked and twitched violently, its many legs flailing in a grotesque, desperate dance before it seized up and fell still. The curse evaporated into dust… but not the usual gray ash he’d come to expect.

Yellow spores billowed into the air, and Nanami immediately hurled himself backward, instinctively bodying Higuruma aside and away from the cloud. The panic was swift and visceral, propelling him out of harm’s way as he crowded Higuruma into a safer corner.

Higuruma staggered slightly from the force but quickly steadied himself, feeling the air around them clear, becoming lighter, easier to breathe. The light filtering through the dusty old window seemed a little brighter now, cutting through the gloom with a newfound sharpness.

Nanami’s shoulders were tense, muscles flexing as he adjusted his grip on the blade’s fabric-bound handle. Higuruma couldn’t see Nanami’s ratio lines, but he could see the red welts and scratches marring his back, the way the skin stretched taut over them and surely must sting—but Nanami didn’t flinch.

Higuruma is silent for a moment, neither of them speak, letting the feeling of closure dawn well and truly over them before finally Higuruma sighed and relaxed his grip on his own weapon, raking a hand through his disheveled hair. “Well… I suppose that’s taken care of.”

Nanami straightened, his exhale feeling every bit the exorcism he’d just performed. His hand reflexively reached for his throat, adjusting a tie that wasn’t there, on a suit he wasn’t wearing. He grimaced, prickling.

“...It would seem so.”

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Scalding shower water and floral-scented soap that made Nanami’s stomach churn and skin shiver with thoughts of flowers, and petals, and pollen, and Higuruma—they took turns cleaning themselves one after the other. Nanami first, scrubbing his skin with a fervor that bordered on obsession, as if the force of his hands could erase not just the icy streaks of purple curse blood, but the memory of how it got there and every other substance that clung to his weary body.

After him, Higuruma took his place in the steamy room, letting water pound against his bruised and aching back, head bowed under the spray and washing away far more than dust and grime. It was a baptism, a cleansing, until the water that swirled down the drain ran clear and took with it the last bit of curse-induced grit and fucked dumb-ness from his brain.

The house invented its own gravity well, warping all sounds and emotions, all feelings except for what it wanted them to feel. But now that pull was gone. Their feet were no longer nailed down by that otherworldly weight; they were grounded once again by the earth's natural pull, back in the same plane as everyone else, free from the almost-world of the domain.

Nanami had already called Ijichi, arranging their extraction with the kind of professional detachment that belied everything that transpired within these walls. “We’re both fine,” and “it’s been dealt with,” and “yes, at your earliest convenience, thank you.”

Now, with nothing left to do but wait, Higuruma and Nanami moved around each other with dancing steps, choreographed avoidance and refusal to so much as bump into each other—because what if one thing led to another, and what if they weren’t quite right yet and it started again, and what if they said something stupid—

Higuruma ran a hand through his still-damp hair, grimacing at his inability to bridge the gap. There was no precedent for what they’d done, no documentation for him to point at and say “hey, here’s what we do now”.

Things had never been tense with Nanami. Their connection had always been easy, natural—colleagues by circumstance, friends by choice. They shared the same burden, the same grim determination to do what needed to be done and the understanding that someone had to do it. Misery loves company, and theirs had always been more than just a shared duty.

But that was before they’d fucked like their lives depended on it.

Funny how that changes things.

There was a carefulness in the way they moved now, an awareness that hadn’t been there before. Nanami was stiff and brittle, seeming almost afraid to get too close, like he couldn’t quite reconcile what he’d done with who he thought he was.

Higuruma, perceptive as always, kept his distance; not wanting to push too hard and break whatever fragile equilibrium they’d managed to find; because this wretched silence was still preferable to the breakup of their friendship.

It was almost comical, really, how they could teeter so close to the precipice of something meaningful and yet Higuruma found himself holding back. Like a cat eyeing a fishbowl, the temptation there, the desire to reach out and take the leap, but deciding against the jump because he was afraid he wouldn’t stick the landing.

But Higuruma had never been one to shy away from the truth. He’d made a career out of cutting through bullshit, and he wasn’t about to stop now even with potentially catastrophic consequences. So, with a resolve that brooked no argument, he weed-wacked the silence and leveled Nanami’s turned back with a look that would’ve dismantled a lesser man.

“We don’t have to talk about it.” He began abruptly. “But you’re a good friend of mine, Nanami—and if it’s up to me, that won’t change. So if we’re going to forget that this happened, just tell me so I can do the same. We need to be on the same page at the very least.”

Nanami surveyed the world outside the wide open living room window as if it were his kingdom. Quietly and greedily inhaling the fresh air that swept in, and with it went out the sordid smog that clung like film wrap to his brain. He’d been eager to confirm the windows would indeed open now with the curse exorcized—they did. He also wanted an excuse to silently gather himself—the window provided.

Nanami didn’t turn to face him, but the way his head lifted just so made it clear he was listening intently.

His gaze stayed riveted on the horizon outside, where the morning sun bled gold into the sky. Wishing that same light would illuminate the jumbled mess of thoughts and feelings he’d agonized over while Higuruma slept and highlight the way forward.

He thought he could handle it—both the mission and the man with him—but the pollen stripped him raw, naked to the soul. It was ugly and far from what Higuruma deserved; both physically and the cold words traded before it.

If Higuruma was his…

The thought alone made his stomach knot, a quiet yearning twisting inside him like hemlock. Nanami wanted so much more than what they’d been forced into—wanted to take his time, to show Higuruma the care and consideration he was worth. There should have been dinners, quiet conversations over wine, the slow unfolding of something deeper than friendship. It should’ve been a courtship, not a violent collision of hunger and curse-driven madness.

But what was done was done. No amount of wishing could undo it, and now, standing on the other side of the night, Nanami knew he had to make it right. He wanted to with a sincerity that bordered on desperation.

Because if Higuruma was his…

Nanami felt the longing bloom again, a poison that seeps closer and closer to his heart. He would give him everything. Anything he wanted—days filled with small comforts and nights spent wrapped in the quiet intimacy of just being together. He would repair Higuruma’s suit, take him out for the best meals, buy him flowers, and pour his drinks. He would worship him in every way a man could be worshiped, not just in moments of passion but in all the mundane, unspoken ways that truly mattered.

He indulged those thoughts while Higuruma slept, when the yearning of the body surrendered to the yearning of the heart. Nanami allowed his brutally thick arms to hold him just a little tighter, relishing those small hours of peace before he knew everything would change. It was as inevitable as watching the sun slowly rise through the windows, shedding light on the destruction they’d wrought; change would come, and he didn’t know from which direction he should protect himself when the path diverged.

But those hours of clandestine coveting seemed a lifetime ago, more a fantasy than a possibility. Higuruma’s voice was firm, almost clinical, as he tried to set the parameters of their future interactions. We need to be on the same page, he said, and Nanami felt a stab of regret that they weren’t already.

We don’t have to talk about it.

Nanami knew that was true, but it was the very thing that gnawed at him. They could sweep it under the rug, pretend it hadn’t happened, and go back to the way things were—but Nanami wasn’t sure he could. Not when he thought he felt something, saw something, in Higuruma. The path split before him now—safety and risk, retreating back or shouldering forward. Maybe he’d lost his mind a mile or so back.

Nanami finally turned to face him, the morning light catching whiskey eyes and flambéing them with ardent certainty. He didn’t know how to say it. He’d always been good with words but never this kind, but words didn’t know that when they tumbled out anyway.

“I don’t want to forget,” he confessed.

It was a start.

“I will not just brush this aside, Higuruma. You… mean a great deal to me.” What a pisspoor excuse of a confession, he thought bitterly.

He cleared his throat, met Higuruma’s shrewd eyes and fought against every impulse to look away. He forged ahead.

“Last night… wasn’t us. And I know that that is not how I would’ve wanted things to go if ever we were to…” he trailed off, waving his hand vaguely. But Higuruma nodded, understanding the words in the silence and encouraged him on.

“But it felt like—to me, at least, like maybe there was something there. Something worth doing differently, if you feel the same way.”

“I want to make it right. In fact, I insist on making it right, if you’ll let me.”

The silence that followed was thick with unspoken truths, the kind that couldn’t be easily unpacked in the span of a few seconds or weakly uttered confessions and pleas. Nanami’s heart pounded in his chest, each beat a tolling bell with the hope that maybe, just maybe, Higuruma would understand—that he’d see through the mess of it all to the sincerity underneath.

Because for all his equanimity, Nanami couldn’t shake the truth he’d arrived at while Higuruma slept that seeded itself in his chest: If Higuruma was his, he’d never stop trying to make him happy. He’d never stop wanting this.

“And I’d like to start with that drink… if you’re still amenable to that.”

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

The first tentative days turned to months, and then years.

Work-related dinners with the occasional bar visit to unwind effortlessly transitioned into intimate date nights. A strange bond formed in the crucible of something neither of them could ever explain, tempered with time and the endless patience of two men lucky enough to know what they have. Higuruma and Nanami repaired their relationship with gold, filigree filling the cracks and turning it far more beautiful than it began.

Now, when the two found themselves on the sun-drowned beaches of Malaysia, toes buried in hot sand with matching skin-warmed gold bands clasped in woven hands, they might mention that one time and laugh.

A humorous anecdote from a lifetime ago where Higuruma insists that that one time is the cause of his persisting back pains, and Nanami asserts that the scars that litter his back and arms are not from a curse at all but from that one time.

And when Nanami glanced at Higuruma, face turned toward the sun with a blissful smile on his face, Nanami allowed himself to smile too. He’d made up for it in every way that mattered so long as he could see Higuruma smile like that, and he would keep doing so for the rest of their lives.

[hero-hoe]

Owner!Ghost with dogboy!Soap who gets puppygirl!Reader as a gift.

MDNI. 18+ ONLY

Hybrid au. Kidnapping tw, naive!reader, Fem!reader, handjobs (m/m). Ghost and Soap are a little off. Sadomasochism tw

Ghost who's had Soap ever since retiring being discharged due to injury and thought "fuck it, I need something to keep me busy", so he gets himself a retired dogboy. Nothing wrong with 'im, they just tend to cycle hybrids out after a few years of use. Any longer and they go a little wrong in the head. Something about their genetics and how they could get too into their tasks and needed human handlers on the outside.

Ghost is pretty sure the one he got is a little messed up anyway. Fine by him, the man had done his fair share of awful things, too far beyond being considered a good man anymore. At least having the mutt gave him purpose again, he was losing his mind trying to fit back in with polite society on his own. Johnny was Price's idea to get Simon out of his house, to take care of himself instead of wasting away in a bare bones cabin in the countryside. Take the dog on walks and all that, get a membership at one of those expensive city gyms that let hybrids in so they could both keep up on their training.

Johnny would bark his ear off about his time in the military, causing messes he never had to clean up and getting paid for it. And he didn't push when Simon said nothing about his own experience. And then they settled into a decent enough routine, too intimate to just be hybrid and handler, but Ghost wasn't a man who liked labels. They were just Johnny and Simon, that's all that mattered.

He got a good dog. Sure, he was a bit off, but nothing that couldn't be handled. He barked a lot, hated strangers, refused to sleep anywhere but Simon's room after the first few nights. And he was energetic, always bouncing off the walls or chasing down random animals in the woods. If he brought back something to snack on, Simon never minded, so long as he clean his own mess. Ghost wasn't above rubbing the dog's nose in the blood and mud puddle left on the kitchen floor. Good thing Johnny learned the first time.

It'd been a few years, Ghost hadn't bothered to keep track, but his silly pup was getting restless. Only after the third time coming home to Johnny humping himself stupid in the toy he'd gotten, teeth sunk into the pillows, did Simon finally take him to the vet. Trying to handle the situation himself hadn't helped, and he didn't like seeing his boy so miserable, even if he looked beautiful because of it. Simon swore Johnny never looked better than when he was desperate and on their sheets, fucking into a silicone pussy like his life depended on it and whimpering into a slobber covered pillowcase.

Everything was normal, the vet said, a waste of £150. It's actually a good thing, they told him, means he's healthy and happy enough to breed and is having ruts. Gave him three options: have Johnny fixed, let the mutt handle it himself every time, or get him someone to play with. Simon was offended at the idea of getting his pup snipped, immediately shutting the thought down. But he couldn't keep watching Soap sob and beg, pleading for something Simon didn't have. He held Johnny in his arms each but after that, making sure to stroke his needy pup through every orgasm needed with a hand around his neck for stability.

Johnny was a good dog, Simon relented. Never once bit without being told and made sure to moan nice and loud whenever he was hit. He deserved a treat.

So Simon did his research, went to all the shelters and breeders and even searched the parks for a new treat for his boy. Nobody was good enough, he thought, until he found you. Soft, sweet, and so, so innocent. You didn't hesitate to take his hand when he offered you a treat and some ear scratches, wandering away from your old owner and right into his truck.

You ate the special biscuits he gave you and fell asleep with a dopey smile on your face, so happy when he told you he was gonna take you home and introduce you to his puppy.

Johnny was at the door like always, waiting on his knees at the time Simon said he'd be home. He was anxious and confused today, able to smell you from outside as soon as Ghost pulled up. You smelled so good, but he hated the idea of Simon bringing another dog home. Was he not enough? He'd been so good, why would his master need another pup?

"Settle, mutt." Simon huffed as soon as he heard Johnny's whine, the hybrid kneeling obediently at the door with his ears tucked back. "Stop the damn whining. Got you somethin'." He huffed, shifting you in his arms.

Johnny scooted closer, staying on the ground and sniffing at you cautiously. One of Ghost's massive hands laced into a well maintained mohawk, tugging tight until he calmed down. The pain grounded him, a reminder that Simon was there, that he wasn't being replaced. "Fer me?" Johnny asked, taking another deep inhale along the skin of your thigh where is dangled over Simon's arm.

Ghost hummed, the sound pulling another whine from Johnny's throat. "Smells s'good." He whispered, eyes dilating as he crawled closer. "She's pure bonnie, Sir."

Straddling Simon's boot, rutting mindlessly against his shin while taking in deep huffs of your skin, Johnny couldn't wait to play with you.

[jujutsukaisenwriting]

JJK Men Relationship Headcanons

Note: these are the hcs I believe would be true for JJK characters based on manga & anime!

Gojo Satoru:

Anxious / avoidant attachment type

Can be ignorant towards partner’s needs and is not the best listener BUT can learn

Is not familiar with the “compromise” concept

Kinda delulu about how life works due to his upbringing and powers

His love language is words of affirmation and quality time

Is very clingy due to his own insecurities and doesn’t understand why you’d need “alone time” if you two are together, duh

On a brighter note, is really caring and VERY loyal to the person whom he genuinely loves

Nanami Kento:

Though Nanami is considered a green flag, I have a feeling he might be a bit over-controlling or “I know better” type

Like, he’ll do anything for you but he might not consider whether you need it in the first place

Is SO GOOD at communicating though

Also, his kink is spoiling you

The first months of the relationship might be bumpy as he might try to do everything “by rules” aka “as it’s supposed to be”

DAD MATERIAL

Aoi Todo:

Honestly? One of the greenest flags (in addition to Yuji and Choso)

Loving, attentive, caring, protective but not possessive… I can honestly go on forever

Always looks and smells great (WHICH IS CANON BTW)

Knows what he wants and goes for it

Is also very respectful and is most probably a great listener

I see him as the most reasonable and reliable person to get into a relationship with and I’ll die on that hill

Toji Fushiguro:

Unpopular opinion but he is a) fine and b) actually ready for a relationship

Like come on, the guy was happily married

He will probably have trust issues at first due to trauma and it will take quite some time for him to open up

Over protective and might be hard to negotiate with, at least during the first half a year or so

Is falsely accused of not giving a shit or being too cold / distant. In reality, he is pretty caring and intense about his emotions

Choso Kamo:

Another unpopular opinion but I don’t really like when he is portrayed as super vulnerable, inexperienced, “baby princess” and etc

Choso is BADASS

Super protective and caring but also believes in people whom he loves and lets them go out there and test their limits

Meaning, he’d probable be worried sick for you but won’t lock you down in case of danger

Can be a bit too clingy and insecure in a relationship

A great listener and learner and is very grounded and reasonable

His best quality is that Choso is not afraid to walk up to people and ask questions if he has doubts about anything

Yuji Itadori:

My boy is another green flag

Yuji has a unique ability to see beyond one’s appearance and recognize inner beauty in people

He is very fun to be around but can be serious when needed

I feel he is great at communicating his feelings and thoughts and expects the same from his partner

Is very creative and takes initiative a lot

Might not take hints well due to him being extremely straightforward but that’s not really a flaw

Hiromi Higuruma:

Another overworking husband

Don’t hate me but I feel like Hiromi is slightly better in communication and the overall relationship thing than Nanami

He has this calm vibe of a good listener around him

I believe he’d actually care not to overwork too much so he can spend more time with his partner

Will buy you flowers regularly - but will use calendar reminders for that (which still counts)

Might worry too much about not spending enough time with you

Always makes you laugh

[seonghrtz]

𝐀 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐁𝐈𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐘.

synopsis: gojo accidentally hurts megumi.

The last thing Fushiguro Megumi wanted was to spend the weekend with Gojo Satoru.

Since he and Tsumiki had not only been taken in by the strongest wizard of the generation, but also by you, Megumi believed that he would somehow see you more than Gojo. However, his wish was never fulfilled when he had to stay in Tokyo with Gojo. But even so, he still had his weekends away from Satoru's craziness, basking in the comfort of your simple life ⸻ the complete opposite of Gojo's extravagance.

These were moments he cherished, not least because the peace you radiated was so much more comforting than the chaos that was Gojo Satoru. The afternoons he spent quietly reading his favorite books, most of which were gifts from you, or even watching documentaries on animal life by your side were the only routine Megumi had during the weekends. Were the only routine Megumi wanted during the weekends.

However, due to recent events, Gojo seemed to be drawn to you and was always trying to be near you ⸻ which certainly didn't please Megumi at all, since what he wanted was distance from Gojo.

But as long as you were there, Megumi would at least try to enjoy the time he had in the midst of all the chaos.

Only Megumi had never imagined that he would have to spend so much time with Gojo when the sorcerer suggested that he start training to control his cursed energy.

Gojo was not good at teaching, he had no experience as a teacher and his explanations were always confusing and lacked any line of reasoning, he would easily get lost in his own words. Megumi had to decipher what Gojo meant if you didn't intervene with a clear and coherent explanation.

You were sitting on the floor in front of a small table between the sofa and the TV in Gojo's apartment, helping Tsumiki with a school assignment while Gojo and Megumi used the rest of the space in the living room to "train". Initially, they had suggested that they train outside, but the uncertain weather (and Megumi's reluctance to leave the penthouse alone with Gojo) didn't seem to help. So Gojo thought this would be a good idea.

Key words: Thought.

It turns out that not everything works out the way we imagine. And sometimes the universe throws us a curveball so that our original plans don't work out, no matter how hard we try.

And that's how Gojo ended up accidentally hurting Megumi during that "training" session.

When you least expected it, you heard a small moan of pain and looked in the direction of Gojo and Megumi to see little Fushiguro lying on the floor, writhing in pain and Satoru desperately trying to help the boy.

"Megumi!" You quickly got up from where you were with Tsumiki and ran towards Megumi, trying to help him "What happened, Gojo?"

"Aah, well... I tried to teach him how to defend himself and then I thought he would actually defend himself but that wasn't the case..."

"Why are you teaching Megumi to fight, I thought you only wanted to help him with his cursed energy." You took Megumi on your lap, protecting him from a non-existent threat.

“Megumi can see curses, I just thought it might be useful to teach him how to fight first."

"He's only six.”

"But he was the one who said he wanted to learn to fight. And it was you who told me to encourage him!" Gojo said in his defense.

"But Gojo, you're a little... too strong."

"You think I'm strong?" Gojo smiled sideways as he stared at you through the dark lenses of his sunglasses.

"Don't change the subject!" You quickly rebuked him, "What I mean is that you have a much deeper knowledge of the Jujutsu Society and you understand their cursed technique, and that's one of the factors that makes you strong."

"I think you're the one changing the subject!" Gojo laughed.

"I was explaining myself." You rolled your eyes, "You don't need to rush into training him yet." You held Megumi and carried him on your lap.

"Where are you going?" Gojo asked as he watched you leave the room.

"Megumi's room.”

Megumi had never thought that he would (mentally) thank Gojo for hurting him.

The longed-for peace of his weekend had returned. Now, you sat next to him on the bed and read his favorite book while Gojo helped Tsumiki with her schoolwork.

"I think I better go and prepare lunch..." You said and looked at the clock on Megumi's bedside table.

"Can I watch TV?" Megumi asked.

"Of course you can, you don't have to ask permission." You ran your hand through Megumi's hair, messing up the unruly strands even more. Megumi hated it when Gojo did that, but with you it was different, he kinda liked it.

Megumi went into the living room and sat down next to Tsumiki who was watching a cartoon on the TV, apparently she had already finished her work.

After a while, when the smell of your food began to invade Gojo's apartment, Megumi got up from the sofa and went into the kitchen to watch you and Gojo cooking.

"Megumi!" You called, startled by the boy's sudden presence in the kitchen. "Is something wrong? Do you need something?" You bent down to his height and put your hand on his shoulder, looking for any sign that he might be hurt.

Megumi looked at you with bored eyes and just nodded, but at a glance, he noticed Gojo standing behind you with an indecipherable expression.

Megumi had noticed for a while that Gojo's behavior around you was completely different. He was still the same idiot as always, but he became even more idiotic when he tried to do things to get your attention. Not to mention that he always got annoyed when you didn't give a damn about the things he was doing ⸻ which was quite common.

It was quite clear that Gojo admired you and apparently always sought your approval. In a way, Megumi didn't judge him so much because that would have been hypocritical of him. Even as a child, he understood that you were cool and he admired you and sought your approval. It was great to get a compliment from you.

But Megumi thought it was more than admiration and seeking approval that Gojo wanted from you. He just couldn't say what it was.

"Oh, are you hungry?" You asked Megumi who nodded, "Lunch is ready, I'll just put it on the table." Your lips lifted slightly at the corner of your mouth and you stood up to get the plates and cutlery "Gojo, go tell Tsumiki that lunch is ready.

Gojo nodded and walked past Megumi, staring at him.

You set the lunch table and sat down in your usual chair. However, Megumi, who usually sat opposite you and next to Tsumiki, surprised you by sitting next to you. You looked at the boy, who just looked back at you and shrugged.

When Gojo returned with Tsumiki, he stared at Megumi under his sunglasses and took a deep breath.

Gojo sat down in the chair where Megumi used to sit and ate his lunch in silence, something that was not in his nature.

After lunch, when you and Satoru were clearing the table, you felt something tugging at your blouse and when you turned around, you saw Megumi and Tsumiki looking at you expectantly.

"What happened?"

"We wanted to watch a movie!" Tsumiki smiled.

"Ah..." You looked at the children and then at Gojo, "You don't have to ask permission to do things..." You said confused.

"We wanted to watch a movie with everyone, like when we watched Barbie," Tsumiki said, clarifying the situation.

"Got it..." You mumbled understandingly, "Well, when we finish cleaning up the kitchen, we'll watch the movie. Why don't you choose the movie in the meantime? It would be nice if Megumi chooses it this time, since you did it last time..."

"Good idea!" Tsumiki said excitedly and pulled her brother into the living room.

"So... are you staying the night again like last time?" Gojo asked with a touch of hope.

"Probably not, I have unfinished business in Kyoto."

After tidying up the kitchen, you went into the living room and sat down on the edge of the sofa, feeling your muscles relax into the softness of the seat.

Just as Gojo was about to sit down next to you, Megumi outwitted him and sat down in the empty spot, looking at Gojo with bored eyes but a glint of conquest.

Gojo bit his lower lip hard and sat down at the other end of the sofa, bitterly accepting his defeat.

So that was it. They fought a silent battle for your attention.

A fight in which Megumi had all the advantages. And that infuriated Gojo, who certainly wouldn't let it go. Gojo Satoru was not a loser and would not lose a fight, even against a six-year-old child.

memory garden masterlist !

☆! tag list: @arminswifee . @khaleesihavilliard . @chieeeeeee . @manooffline . @shybananabagellover . @r0ckst4rjk . @sad-darksoul . @chuluoyi . @stormflysaysstuff . @arminsarlerts

© seonghrtz, 2024. all rights reserved, please do not copy / steal / translate / modify any of my works !

[help-itrappedmyself]

Summoning Game Show Part 7

Masterpost

Okay. This is technically the end of Summoning Game Show! There is room to write more, but that probably won't be coming for a little bit. Thank you to everyone for reading and commenting and sharing. I am so so happy that people liked it and interacted and everything. I had a great time and I hope you like the end.

~~~~~

Red, Nightwing, and Robin soon find themselves in an office/meeting room of sorts. They’re seated on a couch in front of a table. 

Danny closes the door behind them. “I would offer you a drink, but I don’t think you could drink it.”

Danny takes a seat on a loveseat across the table from them. He has a small green dog with a spiky collar sitting in his lap and he pets him absentmindedly as he gets settled. Robin is laser focused on the dog.

“What would you guys like to talk about?”

“Who is that?” Robins asks immediately.

“This is Cujo!” Danny smiles down at the Cujo and he wags his tail when he hears his name. “You guys don’t mind him being in here right? He’s mostly well behaved.”

Robins shakes his head. “We don’t mind. Just…”

“Ah, dead animal. Well, animals get ghosts too.” Danny explains. “ Personally, I like to think that Cujo is happy.”

“His collar says Axion Labs.” 

Danny nods at Robin, fingers playing with the collar. “ He used to be a guard dog for them.” 

“What-” Robin is cuts off as Danny and Cujo start glowing more brightly, Cujo starts growling and his form flickers.

“Never- never- ask a ghost how they died.” The boys all nodded, and Danny and Cujo stabilized as they calmed down. “It’s very rude. Now, to business, why did you want to summon me? ”

“We do a lot of travel, space, dimensions and everything and we just wanted to learn more about this realm. Maybe set up communications, that kind of thing. A learning experience.” Nightwing explains.

“I mean, we clearly don’t know enough considering we didn’t know you could help Hood. Or that he needed help in the first place.” Red mutters the last bit. 

Danny eyes them all warily. “Historically, we don’t really do well when people want to learn more about us. What exactly do you need this information for?

“”Just to learn. I told you, I like to know things.” Red said.

“Well, I can’t just give out any information, but if you want to ask me some questions until Hood gets back, I’ll answer what I can.”

“What is this place actually called?” Nightwing asks.

“Oh, it has lots of names, because it’s lots of places. This is the Infinite Realms, home to all afterlives and the dimension between dimensions.” 

“Home to all afterlives?” Red is flabbergasted. Red wasn’t sure that he believed in any afterlives, and now there are multiple? “So you’re all dead?”

“No.” They wait a moment but Danny does not elaborate.

“So there are living people here?” Nightwing asks.

“Obviously.”Danny makes a face at them. “Everyone here is living. You need better terminology. Humans are very narrow when it comes to life and death.”

“That’s because usually you’re either dead or alive.” Robin is struggling to comprehend the possibility of an in-between.

“That seems very narrow-minded coming from people who came here with someone both alive and dead.”

“Hood?” Red asks.

“Hood is alive.” Nightwing states.

“And dead!” Danny chirps. “There are many in-betweens, most leaning to one side or the other. Hood leans more towards being alive, but his being alive is dependent on ectoplasm, so he’s at least a little dead. Though the fact that he was able to live with the ectoplasm he has means that he is mostly alive.”

“What is ectoplasm and how did Hood get it?” Red is very curious now.

“Oh, everything. Most of the Infinite Realms is made out of ectoplasm , including most creatures in it. “ Danny puts his hand together and green liquid pools in it. The same green as everything outside.

“So, that’s probably the Lazarus pits.” Red mutters. “ Explains the exposure bit.”

“You have ectoplasm in your dimension?” Danny asks.

The boys nod. “There are a few pools of it around. One guy in particular likes to hoard them to keep from dying.” 

Danny frowns. 

“That’s a violation. Ectoplasm is poisonous for humans, radioactive.” Danny complains. “And if his ectoplasm is as bad as the ectoplasm in your friend, that is not healthy.”

“It would be, he’s the one who exposed Hood to it in the first place.”

Danny groans. “Alright, I’m going to need a list of all the locations you know of in your dimension, and if you have a way for me to contact whoever is hoarding the ectoplasm that would be great. I’m going to have to take care of that.”

There’s a knock on the door and Danny calls, “Come in!”

Frostbite opens the door for Hood, who comes in without his helmet, but with a mask on. “Guys, this is my new doctor. He’s great.” Hood says.

“Glad you’re doing better!” Danny smiles at them both as Hood takes a seat. Frostbite nods his head, then leaves again, shutting the door behind him. “Frostbite gave you a rundown of what’s to do and what’s going to happen now that you have healthy ectoplasm?”

“Yep, explained all the side effects, but I’m already feeling much better.”

“Wonderful! So If you guys wouldn’t mind just giving me that information so I can follow up on it, I think we’re done here.”Danny stands, putting Cujo on the seat as he vacates it. 

“We would like to be able to get in contact with you, if you’re coming to our dimension, that way we can tell the rest of the heroes what you’re up to and everything. Is there any way to communicate between our dimensions?” Red asks.

“Frostbite also said I would need to discuss a way to get fresh ectoplasm from you until I can create my own reliably.” Jason cuts in.

“Well, looks like I have lots of business in your dimension. Do you guys have communicators that you use? Anything from your dimension on you right now?”

They all nod. “Cool, hand me something, two-way, that you don’t mind losing because after I fix it up you won’t be able to contact anyone except for me on it.”

Red hands him a phone, Danny opens it up and messes with the insides before putting it back together. Then he turns it on and calls his Ghost business phone so he would have the number. He hands Red back the phone, picking his own up. “What should I name you guys? Is it always going to be Red on the phone?”

“Probably not.” Red says. “Especially if Hood needs things from you as well. Just put us under Bats.”

“Bats is weird, but whatever you say.” Danny finishes with his phone and smiles up at them. “Thanks for competing! I’ll be in touch.”

[astonmartinii]

loving on a sunday | lando norris social media au

pairing: lando norris x reader

y/n and lando, the grid and an honest attempt at a sunday roast

masterlist if you want to leave a tip x

yourusername

liked by landonorris, maxverstappen1 and 601,239 others

yourusername: warning !! do not own a nice country house and farm because you will get lumped with the annual post season grid dinner, SEB PLEASE COME BACK I CAN"T TAKE THIS RESPONSIBILITY @landonorris what are you going to do when they find out you can't cook?

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user1: learning that lando can't cook is the least surprising thing in the entire world

user2: i'm sorry post season grid dinner? brb just going to cry my eyes out why haven't we heard of this before

user3: for my mental health i need photographic evidence asap

landonorris: way to bait me out in front of the whole world, thanks babe

yourusername: i'm sorry but if this crashes and burns i need people to know that it was your fault (because it defo would be)

landonorris: where is the faith? you back me to win every race but won't back me to make some roast potatoes :(

yourusername: babe when i was sick you burnt the soup so bad we had to throw the pan out

landonorris: I TRIED I WAS STRESSED YOU WERE SICK

yourusername: awwww babe, but it was le crueset and literally cost more than my life

sebastianvettel: it's been an honour to host it but i know you and lando will do great, send me all the photos !

yourusername: thank you seb, please come visit the farm at some point xx

landonorris: see i knew seb would have faith in me thanks mate

user4: lando's gf being a farm girl makes so much sense but also no sense what so ever

yourusername: tis the south west babe it's either banksy or farmers and nothing in between

landonorris

liked by maxfewtrell, yourusername and 1,023,677 others

tagged: yourusername

landonorris: should be peeling potatoes right now she's too pretty

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user10: oh to be a kitty cat being cuddled by y/n

yourusername: you're such a smooth talker babe but those potatoes won't peel themselves

landonorris: my years of being teammates with carlos has come in clutch

yourusername: you still suck at flirting i just love you so i still swoon, any other person would probably laugh in your face

landonorris: gonna ignore the insult and focus on the fact that you love me

user11: i swear every time i see y/n she's with another animal i've never seen before

yourusername: my farm is a safe haven for any animal, if they find themselves there they'll leave with a full tummy and a good load of cuddles

maxverstappen1: if lando is on potato duty does this mean we won't get them? they're my favourite part of a roast y/n PLEASE STEP IN

landonorris: oh wow i see how it is

maxverstappen1: i'm dutch i'm so serious about my potatoes

landonorris: i also don't fuck around about roast potatoes HAVE FAITH

user12: can we start a petition for lando to stream this? like at least the cooking portion

yourusername: watching my nervous breakdown live would not be ethical

landonorris: it's true she threw a carrot at my head the first time she cooked for my family

oscarpiastri

liked by landonorris, estebanocon and 590,455 others

tagged: yourusername, landonorris

oscarpiastri: officially a farm boy for the week (also known as third wheeling for seven days)

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user15: omg oscar went early? my mclaren heart is so full

yourusername: so so happy to have you here osc!! though you're not any more trustworthy in the kitchen

oscarpiastri: i'd defend myself but we've all seen me fail to boil an egg

yourusername: you tried your best !! but you've mastered the english tea which is a massive asset

oscarpiastri: i think i'd lose my seat if i couldn't make a cup of tea

user16: obsessed with y/n dragging everyone for being menaces in the kitchen

user17: love how oscar was like: post lando? no. post ducks? yes.

landonorris: mate you asked to come early don't complain about third wheeling now

oscarpiastri: i know i asked to come early but if y'all could lay off the soft porn for two seconds would be appreciated

landonorris: don't pretend you don't enjoy it mate ;)

yourusername: lando don't be mean :(

landonorris: i'm sorry oscar, i'm sure you don't enjoy watching us be happy

oscarpiastri: thanks i guess?

charles_leclerc

liked by yourusername, landonorris and 1,034,560 others

charles_leclerc: sad to announce i've been banned from the kitchen:( even banned from making drinks as well

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user18: this is defo the banning i agree with, we all saw the vlog with the pesto pasta

user19: tbf i've come to the conclusion the one person y/n would let into the kitchen is seb

yourusername: you're not wrong

user20: i need a chick in my dungarees right now

yourusername: why are you complaining about a free pass to sit on the couch and have someone else cook for you?

charles_leclerc: well when you put it like that ....

landonorris: let me revoke all of my previous complaints

yourusername: you know i like to treat you baby

charles_leclerc: why thank you y/n but that's an inappropriate thing to say while in a relationship

yourusername: it was in reply to lando's comment charles 😭

landonorris: guy forgot he could read for a second

charles_leclerc: MY BAD

user21: i know charles didn't come to a farm in all white

yourusername: i regret to inform you he did (it's all designer as well)

yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris and 702,340 others

tagged: landonorris

yourusername: sunday roasts are my love language, so happy to host the grid dinner with the love of my life

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user23: at first i thought she was being a bit too serious about this but that roast looks like it BANGS

user24: legit i need one asap

georgerussell63: carmen wants the recipe please and thank you

yourusername: bring her to the farm next time we're free and i'll teach her in person

carmenmundt: thank you darling

yourusername: anything for you

landonorris: ummm what about the guy you called the love of your life in the caption?

yourusername: i love you but i've tried to teach you to cook way too many times

user25: i'm sorry lando is so sexy

user26: forget lando, every pic i've seen of this house is the sexiest thing in the world

carlossainz55: thank you for hosting y/n and lando!! i had a great time see you on new years

yourusername: no worries chilli

maxverstappen1: the roast was the best thing i've ever eaten, i'll only dock points because i had to top and tail with daniel

yourusername: i didn't see you complain when i walked in on you guys cuddling

danielricciardo: you told me you loved it :(

maxverstappen1: i did !!! i enjoyed all of it, especially the roast though

landonorris: second to a roast @danielricciardo that's tough

landonorris

liked by alexalbon, yourusername and 1,208,943 others

tagged: yourusername

landonorris: so honoured to host the grid dinner and take over from such an inspiration in seb!! but mostly thanks to y/n for hosting at her farm and putting together an amazing dinner and weekend - also thanks for not killing the grid, i defo would have

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user27: i would've given a kidney to be there for real

lewishamilton: thank you for having us and for the sick nut roast

yourusername: we love you and roscoe !! and vegans are always welcome on my farm

user28: ROSCOE WENT?

yukitsunoda0511: thank you y/n i no longer think that english food is an abomination

yourusername: wow thank you yuki, i knew it would be hard when your only exposure was ... milton keynes

landonorris: wow my girlfriend is a miracle worker, and you're welcome yuki san we loved having you

user29: watching lando go from rookie to hosting the grid dinner, i'm soft

oscarpiastri: i love it here i'm sorry you're not getting rid of me

yourusername: no worries osc, you can stay as long as you want

landonorris: no complaining about third wheeling though, you're basically our child now

user30: experienced racer and rookie teammate friendships are so special to ME

danielricciardo: glad i managed to get my seat back just for this roast tbf

landonorris: not cause you missed me?

danielricciardo: eh i guess so

yourusername: just let me know when you're in england and you can come over for another

[rifari2037]

Always???

Just because there's a fanart of Zutara with Fire Nation culture, doesn't mean Zutara with Water Tribe culture never existed at all.

In one fanart, Zuko and Katara share cultures. Katara tries spicy Fire Nation food. Then, Zuko wears a parka and experiencing life in the pole.

Katara has to wear FN clothing!

Zutara shipper once made Zutara's wedding with Southern Water Tribe culture in South Pole. I don't see 'Katara has to wear Fire Nation clothing' there.

Zuko doesn't have to make an effort with her culture!

The same Zutara shipper made a fanart of Zuko joins Water Tribe hunting culture with his father-in-law and brother-in-law. He uses a parka, water tribe braids, and a water tribe spear.

This is one of my favourite Zutara SWT fanart. Zuko tries to learn Katara's culture, but it's turn out Gran-grand pranks him!

And there's no need to worry about Katara's heritage because there are also Zutara and steambabies fanarts with Water Tribe culture.

Look! Zuko is playing snowballs with steambaby. So adorable! What's the 'Katara has to wear FN clothing' thing?? I don't see it here, except for the fire symbol on Zuko's parka, that's all.

Also there are a lot, literally a lot of Zutara in Water Tribe clothing fanarts. I can't put them all, but, here some of them.

Oh, Netflix ATLA also gave us Zutara Water Tribe crumbs!! 😍😍

Zutara fanarts are very diverse, they usually wear red and blue, sometimes FN or SWT clothes, or sometimes Earth Kingdom clothes, or sometimes Painted Lady and Blue Spirit clothes.

So, 'Katara has to wear FN clothing' is ridiculous comment. Please, at least do a little research first before commenting.

Ship what you want but surely a relationship should be balance with both wanting to learn about the other's heritage.

Exactly!

But, to be able to learn and accept other cultures as part of ourselves, at least there is no culture that clash with our own principles, right?

For example, when someone have a vegan culture, meanwhile hunting animals, eating meat, and making clothes from fur are his gf's cultures, how can he blend in with that? Would he comfortable with all those??

Also, if he learns and accept most of his gf's culture - comfortable or not - then wouldn't he disrespect his own cultures and principles? So, how to make the relationship balance?

*hmm, well, I'm just saying. It's not like I take an example from canon

The good news is that Zuko's culture does not clash with Katara's. Their cultures are different, but them learn each other's culture will not disrespect their own principles (not like the example above).

He could hunting the animals, eats meat, wears parka, and wouldn't mind with the pelts. All fine!

Sokka [in the Fire Nation city] : Come on, Aang, everyone here eats meat. Even the meat! 

Bruh, even in canon Zuko willingly pretending to be water bender and using water bending move (he learns the move from Katara), so what are you complaining about?? 😭😭

[madzzz0797]

Just thinking about Daryl pining after reader.

CW: mild cursing, cigarettes, alcohol, implied death of an animal(non specific), implied smut(non descriptive) Daryl is kind of ruining her purity.

!!!MDNI ON THIS POST!!! Also if any of this bothers you please just scroll, your mental health is important to me. 

He is so in love with her it’s crazy. The only problem is she was raised religious and was very sheltered her entire life. Even now in her mid twenties she still is just a pure and kind as ever.

Daryl would be scared at first of breaking her out of her shell. But after he does he shows her all kinds of things. How to hunt and track animals. He took her with him to check some traps he set the previous day. She feels bad and of course she cries a little. “Dammit, I’m sorry darling I never shoulda brought ya with me.” Daryl felt bad so he just hugged he in the middle of the woods. Cradling her to his chest while she sniffed.

He gives her the first cigarette she’s ever had. Daryl was scared that she may choke based on how hard she coughed. He took it away from her. “Pretty women like ya don’t smoke noways.”

After she begged him for days he finally caved and took her for a ride on his motorcycle. He went slower than he normally would but she didn’t need to know that. “You better hold on tight, ya hear?”

She stumbled upon him drinking one night and asked if she could have some. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea doll.” But he knew he could never resist the curiosity in her eyes. And of course Daryl could never say no to his sweet girl. He hesitantly gives her a beer. She gets super happy drunk and Daryl just finds it so adorable.

Her fighting was awful. Poor girl was so afraid of hurting someone she forgot that she also has to protect herself. Daryl eventually convinced her to at least learn how to punch someone. He knew it wasn’t in her character but, “this is the end of the world sweetheart.” After she punched him in the arm like he asked her too he instantly knew they had a long way to go.

He thought her how to ask for what she wants. “Daryl please,” she whined under him. Her breath was ragged and her eyes glossed with tears of pleasure. He looked down at her and smirked.

“Please what? What ya want girl?” He knew exactly what she wanted. But she needs to understand that she has to be able to speak for herself also.

“Please just fuck me Daryl.” As soon as his name left her lips he’s giving her exactly what she was asking for.

As always, feel free to like 💜, comment 💬, and reblog ♻️. It means so much to me every time someone interacts with my posts. Also please send in a request if there is something you want to see me try my hand at writing.