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hxney-lemcn · 2 years ago

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The Fall — Connor x gn! demi! reader

summery: Connor asks a personal question which leads to reader explaining their sexual orientation. Which ends up in a confession and fluffiness.

tw: anxiety attack, mentions of being invalidated

a/n: Super self indulgent. I may be aroace but I will live in this fantasy as long as I want.

wc: 1.5k

Master List

I felt frustrated. Oh so frustrated. I typically would spend my spare time reading. No, not reading novels or books like I probably should. It was kind of embarrassing to admit, but yes. I read fanfic. It’s not a crime, okay. But recently, I couldn’t pay attention to it, my mind drifting off to someone else instead. Every time too. I would be reading about my favorite characters and then think about him instead. Which led me to stare at my phone when I had free time and come up with scenarios that would potentially befall us. Not only did it waste my phone battery, but it also makes me look dumb just staring at nothing.

I found myself in a similar situation at the moment. The t.v. droned on, some video or show, I wasn’t completely sure. I let out a small huff, tossing my phone gently onto my stomach. I turned my gaze to Connor, who happened to already be staring at me.

Connor invited me out to Hank's house today. Just to hang out. I accepted, deeming that I need to socialize with people more…and maybe because that meant I could hang out with Connor. Hank was off who knows where, telling Sumo to watch over us. Which led us to sit on the couch and watch something. I was curled into one side of the couch, a light blanket keeping me warm.

“May I ask a personal question?” Connor asked, head tilting to the side in that cute puppy-like manner.

“Shoot,” I replied, putting my full attention on him.

“Have you ever been in a romantic relationship?” He asked, curious brown eyes boring into me.

A range of emotions washed over me. Nervousness as to the implications this could mean, but also nervousness to what I was going to have to explain. I’m demiromantic, which meant that I had to get to know a person real well before even thinking about entering a romantic relationship with them. But I never really liked anyone like that for years…until now.

Which meant that I had little to no experience when it came to dating. And I honestly believed that it would stay that way. Which I didn’t mind, don’t get me wrong. I was content on my own with my pets…but I always wanted something more with someone. To be special to someone. Which led me to reading fanfic.

“No,” I replied hesitantly.

Connor’s brows furrowed, a slight frown settled on his lips, “I don’t understand.”

I frowned in confusion as well, “What don’t you get?” His stare moved back to me and it was intense, some feeling I couldn’t put my finger on was swimming through his eyes.

“How someone as amazing as you haven’t found anyone yet,” Connor stated.

I felt my heart rate accelerate and I tried to hide how flustered that statement made me, but I also knew he could scan me and find out without me even realizing. How could he say something like that so unabashed? He thinks I’m amazing? Does that mean he admires me? God, the thought alone made me feel all warm and fuzzy.

“It’s…hard to explain,” I shrugged, looking towards the t.v. only to notice it was shut off. Connor stayed silent, eyes pleading for me to continue. I let out a small sigh, ready to fall into the usual spiel, “I’m demiromantic. I need to get to know someone real well before even thinking about anything more than friends, and the people I start to like never really saw me as anything more than a friend so I’ve never dated or anything.”

“How long does it take for you to gain these romantic interests? If I may ask,” Connor asked, his body moving closer in curiosity.

Once again I just shrugged, trying to not think about how surprisingly quick I found myself falling for the handsome android sitting next to me. It still took longer than what the media portrays, at least a month, but that was quick for me.

“It depends,” I finally answered. “I haven’t been interested in many people, I could probably count the amount on one hand.” I let out a small chuckle at the thought. “Why do you ask?”

My eyes were drawn to Connor’s led as it spun yellow. It even blinked red for a second and I grew concerned. Did…was he going to invalidate me somehow? Tell me I’m just trying to label myself and that what I felt was normal? It’s happened more than I’d like to think, but I trusted Connor, so if he said anything like that I wasn’t sure what I’d do.

“I don’t wish to make you uncomfortable,” Connor finally managed to speak out. I moved to sit more upright, scooting closer to him. I gently placed a hand on his shoulder, and he seemed to relax a bit under me, the artificial muscles moving under my hand.

“I trust you, Connor,” I spoke up. “I know if something comes out wrong you don’t mean it in a bad way.”

“That’s not,” Connor huffed, shaking his head. My eyes fell onto that small piece of hair on his forehead, but I ignored the urge to push it back into place. His led once again blipped red before settling on yellow. “You produce these feelings inside of me, things I haven’t felt around anyone else. Hank has made some comments…and I believe this feeling is love, or strong attraction at the very least, but with this newfound information…”

Connor’s concerned, fearful look along with all the words he just spoke put my brain in overdrive. What? He…no. No…I…do I like him like that? I mean, yes I’m attracted to him, and yes, the idea of being in a relationship with him makes my heart pound faster.

I pulled my hand away from him, scooting away slightly. I clenched my fists against my knees, staring down at the carpet floor like it would give me all the answers. I barely recognized his honeyed voice call my name in concern. I didn’t notice how his led settled on a deep red. I was too wrapped up in my own feelings, suddenly overwhelmed by everything.

Scared, I was scared. Isn’t this what I wanted? Someone to like me? But was I in love with the idea of that? Or did I actually like Connor? I don’t want to start a relationship with the wrong intentions. Connor doesn’t deserve to be hurt. But I really really like him. Yeah, I like him. As a person. I like spending time with him. I like talking with him, I like helping him with his still newfound deviancy.

Oh god, what if he only liked me because I was the first person to be kind to him? No, no it’s not my place to question his feelings. It’s all new to him as well. This is new to both of us…the thought alone made me relax a bit. I took a deep breath, and then another. Would it hurt to just try out a relationship? It’s Connor after all, and if it doesn’t work I don’t think it’d end too terribly…

With one last deep breath, I opened my eyes, feeling a lot calmer than I did a few seconds ago. I felt guilty as Connor fidgeted with his quarter, led bright red, eyes searching for something in mine.

“Sorry,” I apologized nervously. “I…just got a bit overwhelmed.” Connor looked scared, he opened his mouth, but closed it. He seemed afraid he’d say something wrong.

“Like I said, I’ve never been in a romantic relationship,” I explained. “And…I guess I kinda thought I’d never get a chance. So you saying that you…” The word felt heavy as it sat on my tongue. “...are strongly attracted to me…I guess it kinda scared me. I’ve never dealt with this before, and didn’t think I’d have to. Not that it’s bad or anything! Because I like you too, I’m just…scared.”

Connors led spun yellow, processing what I had just said. Finally it settled on a serene blue, his face morphed from fear, to relief, to settling on pure joy.

“I also don’t have experience in this field,” Connor replied. “I was built with a social programme, but it didn’t include anything to do with romantic human relations. I would like to learn with you.”

Heat simmered through me, heart beating faster and I felt inexplicably happy. So happy, I had no idea what to do with this newfound energy bursting through me. I stared at Connor, his cute freckles, deep brown eyes, perfect eyebrows, full lips, to that damned piece of hair still out of place. It was hard to believe someone who looked so perfect would want to be with me.

Trying to calm myself from doing something I’d regret, I lifted my hand up and brushed that piece of hair up and into place. Connor closed his eyes, tilting his head closer to my hand. I couldn’t help but marvel at how soft his hair felt.

Continuing to brush his hair gently, I finally replied, “I wouldn’t want to learn with anyone else.”

Connor opened his eyes, his smile seeming to split at the seams. My heartrate spiked once more as I finally could put a word to the look in his eyes when he looked at me. Love.

#dbh connor x reader #connor dbh x reader #dbh x reader #dbh #detroit become human #rk800 x reader #rk800 #detroit become human x reader #x reader #dbh connor #connor dbh

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mingos · 2 months ago

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*crawls out of the ground like a mole, coughing up copious amounts of dirt*

so, hello.

i try to keep things as vague & light as possible when referencing my homelife because, honestly, the last time i brought up anything tangentially related i was essentially told “you being upset is making other people upset and ruining the fun” so being anything other than ✨chaotic positivity gremlin wilder ✨ here makes me paranoid, hence why i’ll just disappear for weeks sometimes.

but.

i’ve clearly been gone for a bit, will probably be gone for a bit longer, and since i’ve been getting messages from folks wanting to check in on me i wanna give a more detailed update than usual. i feel guilty for not responding directly, but for reasons i can’t get detailed on other than “the idea of having a conversation with 99.9% of people right now is terrifying” (is this what being nonverbal is, chat?) with even the .1% being a super recent development, a queue post into the void is my solution.

i won’t get that detailed, but if light references to domestic abuse, addiction, or just family issues in general are hard subjects for you - nothing past this paragraph is too pertinent anyway, so don’t worry about having to stop. all you gotta know is that some Bad Stuff with family happened, but i’m safe & i’ll be back in maybe another week or something.

anyways. i was living out of hotels for about 3 weeks.

more like 16-17 days if you want to get technical because 4 of those days i had an actual scheduled hotel for my twin’s wedding at the end of august - but i’ve basically been bouncing around since august 21st. the night of the 20th, i had a horrific fight with my family member and, for the first time ever, i left. don’t know if would call it brave on my part - since we were leaving for a trip anyway, this is just the first time my suitcase was already packed.

right now, i’ve been at another relative’s house since the 11th. i tried to go back on the 1st because, even after years of this, i’m apparently way too easy to convince everything is going to be fine… but by the 2nd i was out of there again.

currently mulling over my next move here because, as much as the common sense answer is to stay away, anybody who’s unfortunate enough to deal with this knows how complicated it is. i’m scared for this person’s safety as much as i am for my own. no one else really checks on them, and i’ve already had to deal with several medical emergencies they’ve had like bad falls & breathing problems. i don’t like leaving them alone for long because the guilt at the thought of something bad happening to them and no one knowing for possibly days or weeks eats me up.

i logically know i’ll have to get past that eventually because i can’t let my life be dictated by this incredibly toxic cycle forever or i’ll never be happy, but now isn’t the time. they also have a dog who would similarly be put at risk if something happened to them, so it’s a lot for me to worry about.

but, having said all that, we’re currently in the apology stage or i guess the negotiation stage because, after the shit that happened this time, i’m making it perfectly clear i’m not stepping foot in that house until they do something. detox, treatment, rehab, disulfiram, soberlink, therapy – something. we’re kind of running out of things for them to try at this point, but at least they used to try. they haven’t really been doing that this past year and I’m the one suffering the most because of it.

so yeah, that’s where things are at the moment. i’m mentally not doing so hot - but I’ve got my dog, and being able to sleep in a bed i’m familiar with for a change and not a hotel (I spent so much money on hotels, guys i’m cooked) is nice relief while I wait out whatever the hell is happening. talking to them over the phone again pretty much drains any of the energy I’ve got back, but it sounds like they’re starting to "get it' so hopefully they’ll start to take this seriously again because I can really only take one more year of this (if even) until I just need to accept these things aren’t my responsibility and move on.

honestly, having a close-knit group of friends/support system for the first time in years has really reminded me of that and given me the confidence to take a lot of steps to live for myself for a change, and to think about prioritizing my own happiness for once, which wasn’t the place i was in at this time last year, or the year before that, or the year before that - so I just want to say thank you again to anyone whose ever helped talk me through something or really just been nice to me at all. this is why i always remember to be kind because it can genuinely do a lot for someone going through something, because i know it has for me.

anyway uhhhhh i hope you are all doing well, and with any luck i’ll be chilling on here by the start of october. can’t miss spooky month and this insufferable pink bird’s birthday, after all.

much love.

#‘ 001. ’ (out of character)#❛ 'what am i going to queue with law'? ❜ (queue)

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maimingaffairs · 1 year ago

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Hi! Could I request a female reader x aleksander morozova where reader went for a walk alone and felt unsafe due to two sketchy men in a secluded forest area. Thankfully a group of people start walking towards them and they leave her alone. She returns home shaking and scared and aleksander comforts her with hugs, tea and some chocolate. He promises nothing will hurt her and is just super soft and comforting.

Unfortunately inspired by true events. Super thankful that a group of other walkers appeared, but really wish aleksander had been there to give me a hug afterwards

FIRST OF ALL ANON:(( please be safe! don’t go walking alone :( also second of all… i’m so sorry that this is late. i’ve been slacking on posting and writing recently with everything that’s going on in my life. i have SO MANY requests to get to, so please be patient while i slowly work through them all. third of all, thank u so much for your request my sweet little anon baby. i love u dearly. <3

warnings: none really. mostly soft

word count: 1.2k

Trouble to be Had (aleksander morozova x fem!reader)

You couldn’t shake the strange feeling that settled in the pit of your stomach.

You went for walks in the forest behind the Little Palace all the time and you’d never felt this kind of dread. But this time you did.

Usually, you weren’t alone, granted. Normally, you’d go on little walks with Aleksander. The two of you had been friends for a very long time, until eventually it evolved into something more, something romantic. Now the two of you were engaged to be wed, so it was understandably hard to separate the two of you. But today he was busy with meetings, as he so often was, and you decided to take your evening walk alone.

You ran your hand through your hair and looked back over your shoulder slightly to see two men following you. The feeling of dread bubbled up even more in your stomach. They both looked haggard and dirty, as if they’d been creatures of the forest themselves. You lowered your head down just a bit and you let out a little hum to try and relax your nerves, to no avail.

The footsteps behind you grew closer and closer, and now you could tell the men were much closer to you than before. You didn’t want to panic, but you were afraid it was heading in the direction as you continued to walk ahead, trying to work out how to get away from the two of them. It wasn’t like you could run into the forest, they’d surely catch you; if of course, their intentions were malicious. You were positive they at least weren’t friendly. That feeling of dread in your stomach made you nauseous and you hurried along, and with every quickening step of yours, you could hear theirs speeding up to match yours. Your breath became ragged and uneven with fear and you were about to break into a run when you heard voices ahead of you on the path.

You lifted your head to see a few other Grisha, including your friend Zoya, and you gasped softly, jogging up to meet them halfway as they walked towards you on the path.

“Y/n!” Zoya called.

You didn’t stop walking until you reached her and grabbed onto her arm tightly, trying your best to calm yourself down.

“Where is The Darkling?” She asked as you gripped her arm and watched as the two men stuck their heads down and hurried away from your group. You felt immense relief and you let out a long sigh before you looked up at Zoya, walking along with her as you clung to her arm.

“Meetings and such.” You murmured distractedly and she nodded once.

The walk back to the Little Palace was quiet save for the quiet chatting of the girls you were amongst, and the second you could see the palace in view, you bid Zoya goodbye and dashed off towards the building. Tears sprung to your eyes as you ran inside and you let out a few tiny huffs of breath as you made your way to Aleksander’s chambers. You kept your head down and determinedly pushed the doors to his war room open. You tried to ignore the stares of David and a few other Grisha that surrounded the table and you met Aleksander’s eyes as soon as you saw him.

Your cheeks burned with something between shame and timidness as you stood in the doorway and stared at him. Your chin wobbled just slightly and you bit down on your bottom lip. Not even a second had passed before a sharp clap sounded through the room.

“That is all for now. Please, give me and my fiancée some privacy.” Aleksander commanded and you stepped inside of the room to clear a path for the exiting Grisha.

As soon as you were alone, you closed the doors behind you and walked straight into Aleksander’s outstretched arms. You let out a little sob against his chest and god your face against the fabric of his kefta.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt your meeting.” You cried and gathered the lapels of his kefta in your fists.

“You do not need to apologize to me, but you do need to tell me what happened. Right now.” He said softly.

You felt his fingers run through your hair and you squeezed your eyes shut, “It’s so stupid, but I was out. Taking my walk. And there were these men following me and it scared me and I was so uncomfortable, and then I saw Zoya and walked back to the palace with her and, and I just wanted you and I was so scared.” You rambled and threw your arms around his neck.

He tightened his grip around your body and he shook his head, saying nothing. You took in the comfort of his scent and his arms and you relaxed a little bit, your tears ebbing away.

Once you were only sniffling rather than crying, Aleksander lifted you into his arms gently and carried you into his bedroom. He sat you on the edge of his bed and he knelt in front of you and took your hands in his own. He held them against his lips for a long while before he sighed.

“No more walking alone. Okay? Not in the forest. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you somehow and it seems as if there is trouble to be had in that forest alone. So please, my love, no more.” He murmured against your hands, and you nodded once, squeezing his hands tightly. He slowly began to pull his hands away from yours and you tightened your grip on them, not wanting him to go away.

“Darling, I’m going to get you some tea and then I’ll be right back.” He said soothingly, in a voice so delicate and soft that it was only reserved for your ears to hear.

You gave him another nod again and slowly eased up your grip on his hands until he was able to pull them away from yours. He gave you a soft smile and then he pressed one kiss to your knee before he rose to his feet and left the room. You slid off of the bed and shrugged your kefta off, leaving you only in your simple black dress and you sat back down on the edge of his bed, awaiting his return.

When he came back moments later, he had a little cup of tea for you and he sat down on a chair in the middle of the room and beckoned for you to come join him. You scrambled off of the bed and walked towards your fiancé and you sat down in his lap eagerly. He pulled your legs up so that they laid across his and he handed you your cup of tea, which you took gratefully.

He pressed a soft kiss to the side of your head and he let out a little sigh, “What am I going to do with you, little love?” He said playfully and pressed a few more kisses to the side of your head.

“Well, for starters, you could keep holding me. All night.” You said as you finished your small cup of tea. He gently took the cup from you and set it aside before gathering you in his arms, and you swore you’d never felt more secure in your entire life than you did in that very moment.

“Alright,” he said sweetly, placing a kiss against your ear, “All night then.”

#grishaverse #shadow and bone imagine #shadow and bone #aleksander morozova x you #aleksander morozova x reader #aleksander morozova #aleksander morozova imagine #the darkling x reader #the darkling #the darkling imagine #general kirigan imagine #general kirigan x reader #general kirigan #ben barnes imagine #ben barnes x reader

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quailxcrossing · 2 months ago

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💄 🍄 🎈 WONDER

💋 and ❗️(if it’s not too spoilers) Runo!!

🎸 🚨 Bartenn

💔 🌹 Machwell

🥩🍒🍎 Imogen <3

🪓 🍷 Kennedy !!

HOPE I DONT OVERWHELM YOU I KNOW THIS IS A LOT HAHA. I’ve been thinking abt these guys a lot (as always)! :3

JUMPS UP AND DOWN WITH YOU .hiiiii <3 i got really busy with hw so i wanted to wait until i had a moment i could sit down and really dig into these >;3ccc

i will always take an opportunity to talk about Wonder

💄 - What does your oc think of their face? Do they have a positive or negative opinion? Do they wear makeup? Do they have a skincare routine? What traits do they like most about their face?

Wonder has such a contentious relationship with its entire body; its face is no exception. It knows objectively a lot of people find it attractive, and it pays attention to its skin and makeup (usually focusing on its eyes) a lot. It'll stare at itself in the mirror and go yeah i know i'm hot shit. but also i don't think this body belongs to me and the only way I find that semblance of freedom and control is putting metal into it. it really wants more piercings, which is why in AUs i often give it the nose ring, bite piercings, eyebrows, etc- but in canon, it was advised by its team that getting more piercings would make it "harder to look at". they were appalled when Wonder showed up one day with the lip and bridge, but it was too late! being "hard to look at" is a phrase Wonder has not ever let go of.

(I think it makes them look super hot but whatever what do i know)

🍄 - Does your character like being in nature or do they prefer the indoors? Do they have any outdoor hobbies like camping or fishing? If they prefer the indoors, why?

Indoors all the way, Wonder dislikes the unpredictable nature of what makes the outdoors so great :( its house is extremely sterile and plain and empty because Too Many Things make it stressed out, and well! the outdoors is full of things. Its warming up a little bit to some things, Marya takes it down to the beach and it sits all bundled up in towels and a huge hat and sunglasses on a reclining chair while Marya wanders the shore and swims.

🎈 - What does your character do at parties? Are they a wallflower or a party animal? Do they go with friends or alone?

Wonder is still a fan of going to parties, its where it meets most of the people its in cahoots with, but things are a little different since its mental break. As I stated about disliking Lots Of Things, well parties are full of things, and very loud and very messy, so Wonder usually has to be in some state of mind to handle parties. It used to be a lot more rambunctious but the break caused the difficulties with busy locations and lots of socializing - but it still goes. Wonder doesn't really care if its uncomfortable.

runo love of my life

💋 - Is your oc a good kisser? Have they kissed anyone before? Do they even enjoy kissing? What was their first kiss like in comparison to their most recent?

This is such a cute question.....yes he's a perfectly fine kisser! he's just some straight man....he likes it, he likes kissing his wife......he just never knows when it's a good time, so sometimes he misses the mark or just waits for Peony to tell him "yes this is a good and normal time"

his first kiss was when he was first living away from his mom's house in a group home, definitely a little too rushed but there was a pretty girl his age and he was delirious on freedom

❗️(exclamation point) - What was the scariest moment of your character’s life? Does it still affect them?

OKAY WELL. okay the obvious answer feels like when he realized he might lose his younger brother forever (and he did) but there were a lot of other emotions happening there- grief, guilt, confusion, stress.....

the second scariest moment of just Pure Fear wassss probably when he found out Peony was gonna have their first daughter. he'd grown up his whole life with his mom beating into his head that having him was the worst mistake of her life, and that his dad was even moreso; Sunny was tentatively talked about before she was conceived, both Runo and Peony were like "yes this is something that would be cool" but when it Actually Happened he was terrified that he completely fucked everything up, and this was it, the end, that he was doomed to repeat his parents' mistake and Peony had been lying to him the whole time and she actually didn't want this at all- thats it! the relationship is over! and its all his fault!!!

obviously that was not what happened and Peony was extremely excited!! once the blind terror passed Runo was also a weepy excited mess, bc yess this is something that would be cool <3

bartenn questions from the bartenn enjoyer

🎸- What’s your character’s music taste like? Do they have one or two artists they play on repeat or do they have a varied and eclectic collection of music? Do they like mainstream artists or prefer underground musicians? What genres do they enjoy?

i mean you knowwww this guy is a classic rock dad YOU KNOWWWW IT I MEAN CAN HE BE ANYTHING ELSE!!!!!! you know he's got the most varied and crazy collection of old rock bands and his gas station exclusively plays oldie and if he hears a tiktok song from Harlie's phone, he keels over

🚨 - What’s your character’s relationship with the law? Have they ever been arrested? What for? What are their opinions on law enforcement?

he's never been arrested, despite his many crimes such as Starting A Time Loop. he's gonna be some big trouble with the Fold when he dies but i think they can forgive him....i mean just look at his scruffy little face he didn't mean it.....

he doesn't like police officers he doesn't give them free coffee when they ask

machwell machwell MACHWELL

💔- Who has your character hurt most? Physically or emotionally? How did it feel? Do they regret it?

absolutely Runo ABSOLUTELY absolutely runo absolutely Runo....his baby......Runo was so betrayed by him, Machwell's non-existence in his life was not a shadow out of the corner of his eye like it was for Goat- for Runo it was this big gaping hole, never able to be filled and always something Runo was blamed for.

Machwell regrets a lot- the leaving Runo guilt is humongous- which is why he's working very hard to completely forget about Runo so it doesn't hurt him anymore! yay! coping mechanism that's slowly killing his cognitive abilities!

🌹 - What does your oc find attractive in other people? Are these traits found in their friends and/or romantic partners?

blue hair and round little ears

personality wise he likes people who are very self-assured and assertive, strong people who can nudge him around, but not too much or else you've got a Francine who overhandled him to the point of regressing; he needs someone who is confident in themselves but also confident in Machwell, who'll nudge him around but in a way that's pushing him to stand up, instead of making him dependant on them again

imogen you have no IDEA i have wanted to talk about imogen 4 so long....underrated baby girl.....she is so important to me

🥩 - Does your oc have any coping mechanisms? Healthy or unhealthy?

the most major one that comes to mind is comic spoilers, or at least its something i'd like people to notice her doing and go "ohhh..."

🍒 - Does your character have a best friend? How long have they known each other? What do they like most about each other? How did they meet?

oh!! claps my hands!! no! no, Imogen doesn't have a best friend, she doesn't have a lot of friends, really! Imogen has always been pretty isolated by her peers- not because of anyone's choice, but literally, her peers don't like her. she's weird to them. there's been some light friends here and there, but after an event that happened when she was about 8, she realized her classmates genuinely didn't like her and felt she was too uncanny to be around :(

If Imogen were asked who her friends were, she'd say well, her dads! and her dad's friends- ooo! and her aunts and uncle!! and her grandparents!! and her dog, Bunny!! she has lots of friends!! she's friends with the grocer who has known her since she was small, and she's "friends" with plenty of retail workers around town who watched her grow up and are kind to her. she's friends with some of the older neighbors, and she's friends with....uh...her dads? oh she said that already

she hopes when she goes to college that she'll meet others who are more accepting! she's really really hoping for friends THAT ARE HER AGE....and she'll get some, although i don't think it happens in the comic. she ends up meeting Vega, and well. Vega is VERY used to strange uncanny people, so they're already starting off on the right foot!

🍎 - Does your oc go to school or take classes? Did they go to college? What was/is their favorite subject? Did/do they get good grades? Did/do they enjoy school?

Imogen LOVES school, her favorite subject is earth science and her least favorite is language. it just bores her. she loves learning about the planet and about cool rocks and plants and SPACE!!! she got her dad Caius's love for learning, having grown up on their books and lessons. she doesn't love it AS much, but in general, she doesn't mind school itself. what she does mind is the previously mentioned isolation, and how difficult it is to fit in, no matter how many shapes she tries.

kennedy

i like them.

🪓 - Does your oc have survival skills? Have they ever had to use them? What would they do in an apocalypse? Could they survive?

Kennedy doesn't look the part, but they do have some decent survival skills. they grew up out of their house quickly, so they had to learn early on how to couch-surf and feed themselves. for urban survival skills, they've got it covered!

would they survive dropped in the middle of the woods?? maybe for a little bit, purely because i think they'd be so scared they would go into some kind of override where suddenly they don't care about being covered in dirt and eating worms. but the instant they find civilization they're rolling over and crying bc their hair is sooo greasyyy

in an apocalypse i think they'd be awesome haahaha twirls my hair. kennedy knows how to fight and use blunt weapons so yeah i think they could get down to business. i think they'd be awesome haha

(the last question discusses alcohol!)

🍷 - Does your oc drink? What kind of alcohol do they enjoy? What are their drinking habits? What kind of drunk are they?

yess....maybe too much.......they drink white claws. white paws whatever. they love fruity shitty little drinks, but also they'll drink almost anything if you make it look pretty enough. they usually drink socially, and they're pretty used to it (a tolerance-built heavyweight) but sometimes they're just miserable for a variety of reasons, and this is their Not Great Coping Mechanism. it's not great because Leah knows if she finds them black-out that they've been drinking a lot. luckily this doesn't happen too often, but even once or twice is too many times.

as for what kind of drunk they are, the weepy clingy touchy annoying one. drunk Kennedy is a lot happier and chattier and it takes a lot more to make them angry at people! yyyayyy....?

#quail talks #long post #hooray!#pls read my giant wall of text about my OCs if you want okay yay

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mysaintkitten · 1 year ago

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Okay here's something: so reader is in love with Emma just cause of their talks but they think she's married to John like everyone else in town does so they hate him and thinks "oh I could treat her so much better" so they confess to Emma and asks her to run away with them.

Super dramatic I know, but I love my girl, but feel free to totally ignore this lol. Love your work!

although kitten is my main wife .. cillian looked absolutely gorgeous as emma. the brown eyes and brown hair ?? hello ?? also thank you so much !!

Lonesome | Emma Skillpa x fem!reader

prompt: emma isn’t being treated right by john, and you’re sick of it (NO MINORS!!!)

WARNINGS: none really, just fluff i think lol

word count: 1.2k

“milk or sugar?” emma asks from the kitchen,

“neither, please.” you respond, fidgeting with your hands in front of you.

you weren’t able to be alone with emma very often, you wanted to make sure you didn’t fuck anything up.

emma returns with two cups in hand and a spoon, smiling at you softly.

“for you,” she whispers, placing the cup in front of you, “for me.”

she flattens out her dress before sitting across from you at the table, “so, how’ve you been? it’s been a while since we’ve chatted.”

your eyes shift from your cup to her face, “oh, i’ve been alright. things have been stressful, but nothing i can’t manage. how about you?”

she picks up her spoon and begins to stir her tea, “things have been a bit mundane recently, but johns always keeping me busy with the housework.” she laughs

you smile at her laugh, but hearing her speak about john upset you. you know it shouldn’t, but you just had a deep inkling that he didn’t treat her right. and now look. she’s saying he doesn’t even help out with housework.

you lift your cup to your lips and take a small sip, “how’s john been?”

she doesn’t respond right away and breaks eye contact briefly before pulling herself together to respond

“he’s been good. busy with work,” she says, “i feel like i barely see him.”

so not only does he not help out, he doesn’t even give her the time of day? sickening. how could he have such a kind, compassionate, gorgeous wife, and not appreciate her? you think about emma, all alone, yearning for some sort of intimacy, affection, hell, even just attention. you’d give it to her. you’d give it all to her. but she’s a married woman, and you doubt she even swings that way.

you snap yourself out of your thoughts to respond, “must be hard,” you start, “i’m sorry john doesn’t .. you know .. give you the attention you need ..”

you watch emma’s face, she looks upset.

you attempt to backtrack, “i’m sorry if i went too far it’s just .. i hate to see someone like you being under appreciated.”

just when you think you’ve dug yourself into a deeper hole, she brings her eyes up to you again,

“someone like me?”

you swallow, how do you word this without making her uncomfortable?

“you’re just .. so sweet, and giving. and whenever i hear you talk about john it’s like he’s always .. not doing enough for you.”

she takes another sip from her tea and stands up, “he does enough. he’s just busy. he works. it’s how he shows he cares.”

emma heads to the kitchen and you trail behind her, “he shows he cares about you by neglecting you?”

you’re distain for john is becoming more and more evident by your tone and word choice. but to be fair, you’re not the only one that feels this way. everyone thinks john is kind of strange, but him being a shitty husband on top of that isn’t him making him look very good as a person.

she turns her body to you, her face displaying some sort of negative emotion that you can’t quite pinpoint. anger? sadness? both?

“it’s not neglect. i’m not a child.”

“no, you aren’t a child, but you’re a woman with needs. and he’s not fulfilling those needs, is he?” you question, she remains silent as her bottom lip quivers slightly, “when was the last time he held you? touched you?” you ask softly

as those words leave your mouth, she begins to cry. instantly you feel a pang of guilt.

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry ..” you whisper, rubbing her back soothingly, “its just .. it upsets me, emma.”

she sniffles and wipes her eyes, “no, no, it’s not what you said .. well, it is ..” she mumbles, “i’m so lonely.”

hearing her mutter those words made you feel awful. this poor woman, you don’t even want to think about how long she’s been feeling this way for.

she chuckles weakly, “i can’t even remember the last time he kissed me.”

you feel an impulse pop into your head, before you can contemplate if it’s appropriate or not it’s already leaving your mouth,

“can i kiss you?”

her tears slowly stop and her cheeks blush slightly, “what?” she whispers, clearly taken aback

your hearts racing exponentially faster, “can i .. uh .. can i kiss you?”

she takes a moment to respond, you’re convinced you’ve gone too far and she’s thinking up a kind way to ask you to leave,

“yes.”

you’re in disbelief, “really?”

“yes, you can kiss me.” she repeats

after receiving her approval, you gather up the courage to plant a small peck onto her lips. you give her another and she kisses you back, bringing her body a bit closer to yours.

the pecks shift into deep kisses, her hunger for intimacy was apparent in her body language.

she runs her hands along your hips, wrapping them around you just to hold you close.

you detach from her lips and bring them to her neck, kissing her skin softly, she moans quietly.

as you kiss her neck, you bring your hand between her legs, wanting to take this a bit further,

“no, stop” she whines, you pull your hand away and remove your head from her neck, immediately you regret your decision,

“i’m sorry, emma, i didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” you apologize

“it’s okay .. it’s okay .. maybe we could just-“ she starts, “never mind, it sounds dumb.”

you cup her face gently, “no, talk to me, please.”

“could we just .. talk? and kiss?” she asks, seemingly embarrassed by the request, you just smile,

“that sounds nice,” you coo, “but, what about john? what if he sees?”

she shrugs, “he’s been busy, he won’t see. i promise.”

she leads you up to her bedroom and the two of you lay in her bed, kissing, giggling, talking. as the sun begins to set, emma pulls out some wine.

she pours you and her a drink, and the two of you get undeniably tipsy.

as you kiss her with your hand on her thigh, the alcohol seems to cloud your better judgement. you whisper to her, “run away with me.”

she hums, “how do i explain that john?”

“he doesn’t need an explanation.”

she smiles and sighs before leaning in to kiss you again, “i’ll have to think about it.”

as you continue to drink throughout the night, she gets bit handsy, but no direct contact was made, just needy little touches. you allow her to touch within her limits, she’s clearly desperate for more, but she’s not ready to give it all up tonight. and that’s okay.

you fell asleep in her bed, wrapped up in her arms, and wake up with the bed empty. you sit up, a bit upset, but you notice a note sitting on the nightstand, it reads;

thank you for giving me a wonderful night, i’m sorry i couldn’t be here when you woke up. next time, i’ll make you breakfast in bed.

- emma

you grin at the note, and you grin even harder at her alluding to a “next time.”

you’re looking forward to doing this again.

——

i think this was mostly my subconscious talking .. emma skillpa if you’re reading this i want to kiss you

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian x fem!reader #emma skillpa #emma skillpa x reader #peacock #hope y’all like this #:)

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creepedverse · 6 months ago

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Give us Arthur info dump

Personal Journal (tw for animal death!)

Entry 003, XX/XX/2008

Haaaaaah. Farnbury… What a place! I expected to be shell shocked when I got here, honestly! But, underneath the starry sky… I feel at home. I guess I’m home when I’m in the trees, no matter which direction I find myself! ^^ But, there are some differences compared to New York. For starters, it’s not as cold! I love the cold weather, so I never complained at home, but now in February, I feel overdressed! I also… I made friends!! Two of them!! Can you believe it!? Of course I can believe it, me! They’re both so… just wow!

I was just setting up my camp for the night when I met him! My first ever friend!! (Better late than never!) He seemed startled to see me out there, but I think he relaxed once he realized I wasn’t like a bear or something! (Even though being a bear would be super cool!) He was very quiet, and I started to fill the space by talking! I… I usually find it hard to start conversations, but talking to him came so easy! He just listened, and that was nice. I guess that’s what friends do! Anyways, that’s how we first met! Ever since then, I’ve been running into him here and there! He actually works at the diner I go to for breakfast! He’s probably used to my order by now, since I always get the same thing! (Pancakes, short stack, and coffee) His name is Tommie! And I think that name suits him marvelously! He is very much a Tommie! ^^

I made my second friend just recently! Here I am, braving the wilderness in hopes of solving the mystery surrounding the farnbury entity, but… well… this is taking longer than I thought it would! When I found that cursed picture online, it only took me two weeks to contain the entity! Bam! Done! No more silly dog! But… this entity seems… different. It’s… stronger than most. I have some theories about it, but I’ll detail them in my proper investigation journal. Anyways! Where was I? Right! It’s taking a long time to get to the bottom of this thing! So, I soon found myself almost out of money. And so, that means I needed a job! The only problem is that… well… no one wants to hire a guy living out of a tent! Except for one person! Bonnibel… Bonnie! My beautiful Bonnie! She saved me from total, utter despair!! Heh… okay that’s dramatic! But! She hired me to work at her antique shop! And I’m so proud to say we get along swimmingly! She’s so gentle and kind and doesn’t yell at me if I miscalculate change! Actually, now that I think about it… this is my first proper job! Huh! How epic!!!

Bonnie has a truly beautiful ability. She can see ghosts! What are the odds of her befriending me!? She’s surrounded by the paranormal, and I hope she’ll let me help if anything troublesome bothers her. I have a whole section in my notes dedicated to banishing spirits! I hope she can rely on me… She actually… She told me a ghost follows me. A small hare… hopping wherever I go. I… um…

Well I guess if I’m telling this journal everything, I’ll tell it everything. When I first encountered the farnbury entity, I lost control of myself for a second. The entity seemed to try and get in my head. It completely mixed my thoughts around, I couldn’t make out up or down, left or right. I started freaking out, in the woods, all alone. My tics started going haywire! I couldn’t control my body anymore and I just… spazzed. (I guess my high school peers were spot on with that nickname.) I ended up falling down a steeper-than-average hill. I must’ve hit my head because when I woke up, it was daylight. I was fine again. However… on my way down the hill, I… crushed… a rabbit. I felt so awful! The poor little thing! I started to panic! Luckily, my brother had taught me well, and I managed to calm my breathing (and my tears!) and took care of the rabbit by giving it a small burial. I didn’t really have any tools on hand, so I used what I could to make a little grave. I must’ve looked like I was going to faint when Bonnie told me she saw a hare with me! But, how I’ll choose to interpret it is that the rabbit is looking after me. After all, I think he knows it was an accident (I hope he knows!) Maybe he’s hopping around after me to keep me out of trouble! I’ll choose to look on the bright side!

In all my years, I’ve endured countless jabs and bullying and that one fight before I left high school. I can’t help but admit that I was losing hope I’d ever make actual friends… But… Here in Farnbury, things are different. I made friends. I have friends. And I will do anything to protect them, and any other future friends I might make. I will figure this entity out, nullify it, and invite Tommie and Bonnie to travel the whole country with me when I’m done!!!

#creepedverse #crv #creepypasta au #creepypasta oc #crv arthur #answered asks #crv asks

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sesamestreep · 7 months ago

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Crozier/Fitzjames, fake amnesia

from this list of reverse tropes for fic writers. i told @firstelevens I wasn’t sure I had it in me to write fic for these two and then I went and washed my hair and while I did that, this idea popped into my head fully formed and I was bound by honor to write it down. Also it’s the first thing my brain has wanted to write in like two months, so I took that as a good sign?? Anyway, here’s…something. Kind of a Parks and Rec AU?? but also not in any serious way? It’s like…what if these dudes from The Terror worked in local government or whatever… don’t worry about logistics, I mostly wanted to write Blanky and Crozier being best friends and also talk about sobriety feelings a bunch. AND THEN I DID. only fits the prompt if you squint super hard but, regardless, please enjoy… on ao3 because why not

“So, you feel ready to go back to work tomorrow?”

Francis removes his gaze with considerable effort from the perfect red orb that is the sun sinking steadily under the horizon line across the lake and shifts it reluctantly back to Tom, who’s sitting back in his chair with his booted foot propped up on a milk crate that he got from God knows where. The sight of the boot that encases the lower half of his left leg does push a wave of guilty bile up the back of his throat but he’s already been told that if he apologizes for causing Tom to have need of it one more time, he’ll be drowned in the aforementioned lake, so he resists. Tom knows Francis is sorry about what happened and he’s chosen to forgive him, even if Francis still thinks it’s a stupid choice, second only to him befriending Francis in the first place all those years ago. Francis doesn’t know where he himself would have ended up if that hadn’t happened, though, so it all comes out in the wash he supposes.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Francis says, tracing a hairline fracture in his coffee mug with his thumbnail just for something to do. “If I take any more time off, I’ll just never go back, so it’s now or never, really.”

“Attaboy,” Tom says before taking a long, thoughtful drink from his own mug. Out of solidarity, or maybe sensitivity, he hadn’t had anything to drink tonight either, despite Francis’s assurances that it wouldn’t bother him and might even be a good idea, just for him to get used to it. It’s not like he could reasonably expect to go the rest of his life without ever seeing alcohol again. He’d seen four different ads for light beer alone this afternoon while watching reruns of ‘Bones’ on the couch and imagining every possible way his first day back in the office after rehab could go wrong and that hadn’t sent him into a tailspin, so he’d probably survive watching his best friend drink in his presence. Still, Tom had chosen to just drink decaf coffee with him after dinner like the ancient relics they are, because he is, without a doubt, the best person Francis has ever known. “You talk to anybody about it? I mean, besides me…”

“What, you mean like a therapist? Of course. I’ve got, what, six of them now, for Christ’s sake!”

“No, I mean, from the office. Have you talked to anyone about coming back?”

“Well, John, obviously.”

“I suppose you’d have to, yeah,” Tom says, running a ponderous hand over his chin. “Anything interesting from that quarter?”

“Just about what you’d expect,” Francis says, trying to be generous. John had been kind enough to let him keep his job, after all, despite how bad things got in the end, but Francis’s issues with the man remain, even with his newfound sobriety. Francis had sent him a long, downright obsequious email apologizing for the damage he’d done with his drunken theatrics both over the years and in the very recent past and explained in detail all the ways he was going to do better in the future, while expressing gratitude for the unprecedented amount of grace everyone, but particularly John, had shown him during this stressful time. It was, in no uncertain terms, the most embarrassing thing Francis has ever had to do, and he has, in his life, proposed to the same woman three separate times with absolutely no success, so it’s not like he’s lacking in options for that top spot.

John is, thankfully, the sort of man who likes to breeze past unpleasantness wherever he can and is also, more importantly, a deeply entrenched bureaucrat who’d just as soon do no work as do even a little work and therefore could not be bothered to hire a replacement for Francis. In fact, if he had to guess, John was probably clever enough to frame it as some sort of protection against a discrimination lawsuit somewhere down the line, despite the fact that several things Francis did at the staff Christmas party right before hitting rock bottom were definitely fireable offenses. John’s unflappable dedication to the status quo has worked in Francis’s favor for once, and while he certainly doesn’t deserve the break, he’s going to take it where he can get it on the off chance it never happens again.

“And the staff? Your team, I mean.”

“I got coffee with a few of them individually, just to clear the air and apologize, so that if anyone wanted to take a swing at me, they could do it outside of work,” Francis says, scuffing his shoe against the porch.

“Well, that’s considerate of you. Any of them try it?”

“No. The cowards,” Francis scoffs, which makes Tom laugh. “Jopson and Edward both seemed like they might be sick at the prospect of anyone in charge actually deigning to apologize to them, which was…humbling, to say the least. Then I got an extremely nervous monologue from Harry about the history and relative efficacy of Alcoholics Anonymous, which I think was his way of saying we’re square. And Silna told me if I tried to meet up with her outside of work hours again, she’d block my number and quit without notice, so...”

“She’s got the right of it,” Tom says, with a crooked grin.

“Yeah, that was my favorite of the lot,” Francis replies. “We’ll have a team meeting tomorrow and we’ll get someone in from HR so everyone can talk about feelings, God help us, but I think it might be okay. Which I could not have predicted when all this started, but here we are.”

“I could have,” Tom says. “You’ve made plenty of mistakes, I grant you, but you’ve also done right by these people in a lot of ways. They’re not going to forget that in a hurry. They’re a loyal bunch.”

Francis nods, looking out over the water again. The pinks and golds of the sunset a few moments ago have already faded into purples and blues as night creeps in. The nocturnal chorus of frogs croaking and insects trilling is rising in the nearby woods. He’s already said his piece about how absurd it is that they’re sitting comfortably outside on the porch after dinner—with jackets on and a fire going, sure, but still—and it’s only the beginning of March. Tom doesn’t need to hear any more ranting about global warming right now; it’s no fair repayment of his generosity. What Francis really should do is head for home soon and let his friend have some peace and quiet. He could use some of that himself, but he somehow doubts that he’ll get much rest once he’s home for the evening. At least he can panic about tomorrow properly there, though, by himself.

“Speaking of throwing punches,” Tom says, carefully, after they’ve been quiet a moment, “have you spoken to James at all?”

Francis winces with what feels like his entire body. “I haven’t had the chance,” he says, as lightly as he can manage.

It isn’t precisely true. If he found the time to contact everyone else who’d been affected by his spectacular fall from grace during his leave of absence, he could have found the time to reach out to James too, but he hadn’t. The apology he owes James Fitzjames is too big for an email, which he’d, in a truly cowardly fashion, gotten away with for almost everyone else, and the presumption and humiliation of asking for any of his free time as he’d done with some of his subordinates was a bridge too far. Besides, if they’d met up at a coffee shop to talk things out, Francis has no doubt James would have ordered his drink with oat milk or stevia instead of sugar or mentioned a cleanse he was on and Francis would have rolled his eyes and said something awful and then he probably would have had to go to rehab all over again, which would have defeated the point. Francis has been told by outside observers—professionals in the field, for what it’s worth—that he’s making progress, but he’s even more sure that he’s still, at his core, a miserable old bastard. He’s just less miserable than he was before, by a small margin. Unfortunately, he’s not any less old, though. In fact, he’s older, but that’s beside the point.

“You’ll have to face him sooner or later,” Tom says, not quite gently but not as bullying as he could be either.

“I know,” Francis says, covering his face with his hands. “I’ll do it tomorrow. I mean, if anyone’s entitled to an in-person apology, it’s James, surely.”

“After you punched him in front of everyone at the Christmas party and verbally berated him? Yeah, I think something more than a text message might be in order.”

“You accepted an apology text,” Francis says, scowling into his mug. “And I broke your leg. You needed surgery and everything. I don’t even think I broke James’s nose.”

“Only because your aim sucks when you’re wasted,” Tom replies, unbothered. “Gave him quite the shiner, though, if you want to compare wounds.”

Francis sighs. “I already said I’d talk to him. You have my word.”

“What am I? Your bloody father?”

“No, and I like you a great deal better for it.”

“Good, then what do I need your word for?”

“I was just trying to convey my sincerity.”

“I don’t doubt your sincerity, Francis. Never have. It’s everyone else you need to convince.”

“I don’t know what to say to James,” Francis says, into his hands. “I mean, with you at least, we’ve known each other for ages. We can bounce back from quite a lot, it turns out. James, he’s—I’ve never known how to talk to him in the first place. Now I’ve got to do it sober? I don’t know where to start.”

“How about, ‘James, I’m sorry for trying to knock your lights out with an audience present while I was drunk off my ass on the company dime’ to start?”

Francis closes his eyes and leans back in his chair, letting the shame wash over him like a wave and then, more importantly, letting it recede like waves do. He sighs loudly and shakes his head.

“You know, I’ve always regretted I wasn’t the sort of drunk who forgets what he does when he’s wasted. Feels like it might be easier, ultimately. Like, I could say, ‘oh, sorry for whatever I might have done to you, James. The trouble is I don’t remember any of it, but I’m sure it’s nothing I would have done sober, all the same.’”

“Feigning amnesia?” Tom barks, laughing and looking at him sideways. “What’s that? The thirteenth step?”

“Leave me alone,” Francis replies, waving him off but laughing himself despite his best efforts. “I’ve done a lot of owning up to things lately. Can’t I keep one petty grievance for myself?”

“You could probably get away with it, if you’d left it as a petty grievance rather than escalating to violence. And your resistance to dealing with James should tell you making amends there is your highest priority. Discomfort is a good thing here, a signal you’re heading in the right direction. If it were all easy, everyone would do it, you know.”

“That’s lovely, Tom. Will you be cross-stitching any of these aphorisms onto pillows to remind me to stay the course, or shall I just memorize them for when times get tough?”

“Fuck off, you dusty old prick,” Tom laughs. “Hey, what about this? ‘James, I’m ever so sorry for getting plastered and calling you out in front of everyone and then attempting to rearrange your pretty face with my fist! I do think some of the blame lies in you being so pretty and in me having some unresolved issues around my masculinity and my self-esteem, all of which you can blame on my waste of a father figure growing up, but in this case, I suppose I have to shoulder some of the responsibility for my actions myself. Forgive me?’”

“There’s no one else on earth who could get away with saying even half those things to me, you know,” Francis says, even as his blood doesn’t boil or even heat in the slightest hearing them. It rushes to his face instead, no doubt resulting in a fierce blush that the gathering darkness mercifully hides from view.

“I earned it the hard way, my friend,” Tom says, patting his boot.

“That you did,” Francis says, and rises from his seat. “I’d better be going, then. Much to do, after all: apologies to draft, laundry to fold, worst case scenarios to spin out.”

Tom gets up with effort, clunky and inelegant in his boot, but not so proud as to decline Francis’s hand when it’s offered. “I wasn’t trying to scare you off,” he says once he’s vertical.

“You didn’t. It’s like I said, I’ve a lot to do before the big day.”

Tom nods and, after a moment of deliberation, puts a hand on Francis’s shoulder. “You’re a good man, you know.”

“I’m not sure about that,” Francis replies, shifting away from the praise. “More of a bad man trying to be better.”

Tom gives him a long look at that and then shakes his head, smiling. “All that work on yourself and you still don’t get it,” he says, not unkindly. “What else do you think a good man is?”

Francis doesn’t know, but he spends the whole ride home and the rest of the night thinking about it all the same.

Francis’s plan of attack, such as it even exists, takes form more easily than he could have predicted. Once he starts thinking about how best to approach James at work and make amends on that front, he finds he knows a lot more about the man than he originally thought. A few years working together, however contentiously, has been enough to pick up on each other’s habits and quirks well enough that Francis can reasonably predict when he’ll be able to get a moment of James’s time without anyone else around. The fact that he can do this and yet never thought to do it before under any other circumstances is the cause of another wave of shame that passes less quickly than Francis would like.

Francis arrives at the City Planner’s office just before 8:30 in the morning with the certainty that he won’t run into John—the man has many flaws but his dedication to never showing up to work any earlier than he absolutely needs to is not one of them, in Francis’s opinion—but that he will, in all likelihood, find James already there and more than likely already working. He also arrives with the materials for a bribe, should that prove necessary.

He’s so worked up, going through everything he’s planning to say one last time in his mind before he actually sees James, that he doesn’t think to knock on the outer door, which is sitting half-open anyway, and just barges in instead. It’s not a great start, he realizes a second after it’s too late to do anything else, and it’s made even worse by the fact that James is there, as expected, and he’s only partially in his shirt, which is not so expected. Francis stops and gapes for a moment with all the grace of someone who’s been tased.

“God, sorry,” he says, and tries to step back, only to collide with the door jamb. “I should’ve—”

“Francis, it’s—good morning, I—this isn’t—I’m the—I’m sorry,” James says, managing to sound crisp and self-possessed even when he’s stammering his way through an apology. “I don’t normally…do this…in the office, I mean.”

“No, of course not,” Francis says, behaving like a teenager in a romantic comedy for some reason and averting his eyes, even though there’s nothing to see. James was in the process of buttoning his shirt when he came in, so it’s really the sight of his clavicle that’s made Francis so uncomfortable. Was he always this much of a ninny? Is that why he started drinking, to cover it up? It’s the only explanation that makes any sense now.

“I went for a run this morning and I neglected to pack a shirt with my work clothes, so I had to use the spare I keep in my desk for emergencies.”

The old Francis (of several weeks and easily a thousand group sessions ago) would have rolled his eyes at any number of things in that small explanation: running to work, keeping a spare shirt in one’s desk, referring to anything related to fashion as an ‘emergency’ and meaning it. Now, he nods thoughtfully and tries to think of it all as part and parcel of what he respects and admires about James: his dedication and planning, his ability to anticipate and address future challenges. The fact that he looks nice in blue. Whatever. It turns out it’s easier to do than he imagined it would be.

“I don’t think you have a habit of undressing in the office for fun, James,” Francis says, instead of any of those nice things. “Don’t worry.”

“Right,” James says, lightly, even as his shoulders remain tense. He does up the last few buttons and his clavicle disappears under the taut poplin fabric of his dress shirt. “Well, what can I do for you, Francis?”

Francis has heard—and, in turn, mocked—James on any number of occasions start conversations with a smooth, ‘to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?’, which is not an expression Francis himself has been treated to in a long time and for good reason. He doesn’t know why he thinks of it now, except that he’d take even a sarcastic reference to the pleasure of his company (of which there is none and never has been for James in particular, he thinks) over the idea that James should do anything for him, at this point.

“You’re training, then?” Francis asks, skirting gracelessly around the question James actually posed. “For another one of the what-do-ya-call-em’s? Not a marathon. The thing you did last year…?”

“The Ironman,” James suggests, looking slightly pained. “It’s a triathlon.”

“Yeah, that sounds right. Another one of those?”

“God, no,” James replies, nose wrinkling slightly before he seems to catch himself doing it and intentionally blanks his expression. “I’m not likely to do another one of those. I already have my bragging rights, after all. Today’s run was just for health.”

“Oh, sure,” Francis says, tapping a fingertip nervously against the cardboard sleeve of his coffee cup. “I’m meant to be doing that now.”

“Running?” James asks, betraying some surprise, which is fair enough.

“Exercising. For my health. To keep me…”

“Fit?”

“Well, distracted,” Francis replies, with a shrug. “There seems to be some thought of it helping to keep me away from drink, though I’m not sure what the logic is there. But I’m meant to be thinking of something I’d enjoy, anyway.”

“Not running, then,” James says, brow crinkling like he’s giving the matter serious thought. James is a fixer by nature—and by profession, of course, being paid mostly to follow John around and make sure the grand promises that flow from his mouth actually happen somehow. He thrives with a problem to solve. If Francis were even marginally less stupid and less proud, he might have thought to come to James sooner. He’s nothing if not several very large problems wrapped in a trench coat. Or a wind breaker, in actuality. The point is, Francis could use all the fixing he can get his hands on.

“Not likely. Never enjoyed it, really. Hard on the ankles, I’ve found.”

“Yes, it can be quite stressful on the joints. You’ve got to take all sorts of precautions,” James says, in the tone he gets when he’s working his way up to a long treatise of some kind, but he stops abruptly and his face betrays that he’s seemingly caught himself. He clears his throat. “So, it’s not for everyone. I understand.”

“Yes, well, my sponsor was saying that I might try tennis or racquetball, but then I’d have to find a regular partner or group, and I’m not sure I have it in me.”

“There’s a club nearby, actually, and they could help you arrange—” James pauses and shakes his head, once again stopping himself from expounding on the different options available the way he normally would. It’s an uncharacteristic amount of restraint coming from James, who loves recommending things to other people almost as much as he loves the sound of his own voice. Francis sees some of his own handiwork in this new display of shame and feels the need to make amends even more keenly than before because of it. “Well, you can Google it, I imagine, and it would be faster than listening to me. It is, uh—it’s in Eagleton, however, so I suppose that won’t do.”

“No,” Francis replies, frowning. “Thanks all the same, though. I imagine I’ll end up doing water aerobics with the rest of the senior citizens at the community center and call it a day.”

“You’re not a—you’re barely fifty, Francis!”

“I’m fifty-two, actually.”

“Oh, well, in that case, I hope you have your affairs in order,” James gripes, as he messes with something entirely unnecessarily on his desk. Francis smiles at the strange comfort of annoying him, which should not be reassuring to him at all but he’s a messed up sort of fellow even on his best days. The smile grows when James clears his throat again and adds, like he can’t quite stop himself, “Swimming’s rather good for the joints, actually.”

“Swimming?” Francis asks.

“Yes, swimming. As in, laps…in a pool. Something else the community center offers, if you were interested. It’s solitary—meditative, even—and good exercise. In—that is, in case you were wondering.”

“If this is you trying to talk me into a triathlon, James—”

James sniffs, more performatively haughty than genuinely haughty, Francis suspects. “I’d never,” he says. “I was merely recommending an activity that you might enjoy more than water aerobics, and that might spare the elderly of our community from dealing your obvious personality disorder early in the morning, when those classes tend to be held.”

Francis, much to James’s surprise from the look on his face, laughs at that. “I’ll take that under advisement,” he says, while James continues to regard him like he’s wild animal exhibiting signs of rabies who’s suddenly appeared in his path, which is maybe a common occurrence in town, depending on who you ask. “Thank you.”

James nods, distracted. “Sure.”

“Well, I—I…listen, I didn’t come here to talk about exercise regimes, which I figure you could have guessed,” Francis says, in a rush, because anything less than a headlong dive into the subject they need to discuss will hurt much worse than just getting it over with, he suspects. “And I don’t want to presume anything about your life, but I also figure there’s a non-zero chance that you’re already familiar with the famous 12 step program, maybe just through cultural osmosis, and I don’t want to over explain any of it to you, but, well, there’s a pretty important part about identifying people you’ve wronged through your addiction and the resulting behavior and making direct amends to said try people and—”

“I’m familiar,” James interrupts, softly. “Not directly, of course, or, um, anything like that—I don’t want to detract—but—”

Francis waves him off. “No need to explain. I just—well, obviously, that list of people, for me, had to include you, because of what transpired between us at the end of last year and how I behaved. The things I said to you, then—how I’ve always spoken to you, really—and of course, I—God, I’m so sorry. It feels absurd to say out loud but I’m sorry for lashing out at you and hitting you, I should never have—”

“It’s fine, Francis,” James says, starchily. He’s got a nervous hand pressed to his ribcage, so intently that it’s almost shocking to look and see no actual knife sticking out from there, somehow. With that, it’s hard to believe the breeziness of his words. “Really, this isn’t necessary.”

“And I’m telling you it is,” Francis explains, as carefully as he can manage. “Maybe it isn’t for you, I don’t know, but it’s necessary for me. Do you—can you understand that?”

“Yes, I’m sorry,” James says, after a deep breath. “Of course. Is there…more?”

“You tell me. Is there any other ways my drinking harmed you that I haven’t thought of?”

“No, I wasn’t—”

Francis holds up a hand to stop him. “That probably read as very sarcastic, given our…history, let’s say, but it was a genuine question. I think I’ve raked myself over the coals for every possible slight I can imagine but if there’s anything I did that I can address for you now, I’d have you tell me.”

“No, it’s fine, really,” James replies, shakily. “I only meant, I don’t really know what goes into all this. Is amends just an apology or is there more to it? I don’t need there to be, I was just curious. That’s all.”

“Well, you’re meant to endeavor to show you’ve changed your ways, I suppose. To indicate that you won’t be perpetuating the same harm in the future. Which, in this case, is tough, because…well, I mean, all I can give you is my word I won’t try to knock you out at work ever again.”

“Outside of work hours, however…” James muses, with a small, mirthless smile.

Francis winces, but otherwise doesn’t react. “I’ll never behave that way towards you again. On my honor, for whatever that’s worth.”

James folds his arms over his chest and looks down at the carpet, appearing like a sullen youth for a brief moment before he raises his gaze and becomes a grown man once more. Francis remembers when he’d shown up with John that first time, how he’d called James an infant to Tom when they finished their initial meeting with him about the town’s budget crisis all those years ago. Tom had laughed at him, wheezing ‘he’s a decade younger than us, if he’s anything, Francis. He’s our bloody peer now, and if you don’t see it, you’re cracked!’ Francis thought—still thinks—Tom is the one who’s cracked, in this case. James looked young, then; he looks young now, everywhere except the eyes, which contain a stormy sea’s worth of disappointment. Francis can be self-centered with the best of them but he knows he’s not the one who put that feeling there in the first place. He’s not that important. For the first time, however, he feels protective of the man in front of him because of it and takes it as his very solemn duty to never be the cause of his disappointment again, so long as it can be helped. All that and it’s not even 9 in the morning yet.

“It’s worth plenty,” James says, eventually, clearly just as uncomfortable with this much emotion so early in the day as Francis is and eager to be done with it. “Thank you, Francis.”

“Yes, well, I won’t take up any more of your time, I’ve been nuisance enough for one morning, but if there’s ever anything you want to discuss or clear up between us, my door’s always open. To you, that is. Well, to anyone, but just in case your particular welcome was unclear, I mean, you should—”

James sweeps a hand out wide in a graceful gesture like he’s literally clearing the air. “Understood,” he says, sincerely, “and appreciated.”

“Great,” Francis says, too cheerily and then winces again. “I mean, uh—right, I’ll just be going then.”

As he pivots back towards the door, the sloshing noise of the ice shifting in one of the cups he’d forgotten he was holding draws his attention. Christ, right. The whole point was—Francis really is starting to lose his mind. He contemplates just leaving anyway, like nothing’s amiss, but he’ll have to explain the two drinks to his team, absolutely none of whom will buy that the iced chai is for him. He’s gone on too many rants about how coffee shouldn’t be iced and tea only on certain occasions. He’s the type to drink hot, black coffee even on the most brutal summer days, though his sponsor did warn him that a lot of alcoholics do turn to sweets as a coping mechanism for replacing alcohol in their daily lives and not to be surprised if he found himself needing additional sweetener in his morning coffee as a result. Francis hadn’t credited it at the time, but he had found himself momentarily tempted at the coffee shop this morning by a sign advertising something called a ‘death by chocolate latte’ as the daily special before he’d gotten a hold of himself, so maybe there’s some truth to it. The point is, dragging this extra drink back to his office will be more humiliating than turning around and giving it to James like he originally planned, no matter how awkward it feels right now.

“Okay,” he says, turning back, “I promise this is the last thing and then I will let you get back to work. There’s, uh—it’s not a bribe, mind you, just an extension of the apology for what happened and for the fact that you’ll have to continue working with me for the foreseeable future and—you don’t have to forgive me, you don’t owe me that, I just thought—”

James looks at him, utterly perplexed, fingertips gently steepled on the top of the desk like he’d already been going back to whatever he was working on when Francis interrupted again. “What is it?” he asks, somehow still not betraying any annoyance at the interruption, hiding it well under an open tone of curiosity.

“The—this,” Francis finally spits out with considerable effort, holding the cup out towards James, rather than try to explain himself further. “It’s for you.”

“Oh,” James replies, with an expression like Francis is trying to hand him a live gerbil and not an upsettingly overpriced beverage like the ones he’s seen James drink on dozens of occasions. “I, uh—that’s really not necessary.”

“You must take it, James. Please. I said you’re not obligated to forgive me, I’m not trying to sway you, really. It just felt wrong to show up empty handed, after everything.”

“I understand, but, really—”

“You’re not on another one of your cleanses, are you? Giving up sugar or…calories before noon or something?” Francis ventures, imbuing his tone with more patience than he normally would, even though he still feels very little towards this thing in particular.

James is already so annoyingly healthy and brisk and handsome, it does take extraordinary amounts of patience to tolerate his talk of intermittent fasting and green juice with the goal of making himself even more annoyingly perfect. Surely, there’s got to be a limit to that sort of thing, but Francis doesn’t know; he’s on the opposite end of the spectrum it seems, having to re-learn the fundamentals of barely looking after himself in middle age without the aid of alcohol. It’s pretty grim, if he’s being honest. It really is no wonder that James has been so consistently earning the gold medal spot in the competitive sport of getting on Francis’s nerves, with that in mind.

His intentional gentleness does seem to pay off in this case, though, since James smiles at him in only mild embarrassment. “Uh, no, I’m not. I just—you’re not obliged to—”

“I know, but—listen, James, I already committed my penance by having to say the phrase ‘dirty chai’ with a straight face to a college student with a lip piercing at eight in the morning, okay? The damage is done. You might as well enjoy the spoils of my humiliation.”

James’s smile widens at that, looking for all the world like he can’t really stop himself. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but that mental image might be worth more to me than the entirety of your apology.”

“No offense taken,” Francis says, finally succeeding in handing off the cup, slick with condensation by now, into James’s care. “I hope it will sustain you for a while yet.”

“Oh, it shall,” James says, placing the cup gingerly onto his desk.

“Right, well,” Francis replies, “that’s all, then. I’ll see you…later, I suppose.”

James nods. “We have a meeting set for Tuesday—tomorrow. It should be on your calendar. Thomas said he—”

“If Jopson says it’s there, it’s there.”

“Great,” James says, easily. “Until then.”

“Yes. ‘Til tomorrow.”

Mission completed, Francis turns once more towards the door and is only interrupted in leaving by the sound of James clearing his throat behind him. He pauses, and looks over his shoulder, raising his eyebrows in question when he meets James’s eye.

“It’s only—forgive me if this is the wrong thing to say, under the circumstances,” James offers, fidgeting with the edge of the notepad lying open on his desk, “but you do—that is, you look well, Francis.”

Francis doesn’t allow himself the liberty of moving even an inch, not to fiddle with his collar or brush back his hair or otherwise indicate he gives so much as one singular damn about his appearance. “Do I?” he asks, tone purposely vague, like James has just told him the weather forecast and it’s only interesting to him in theory, really.

“Yes, very well,” James says, putting his hand flat on the desk very deliberately, like it was giving him away before. At what, who knows, but he’s got it under control now. “This change, it suits you.”

“Well, thank you, I guess.”

James now looks at his computer screen, absently. The next words he says might be something he was reading off of there, if they were anything else. “You look good, is what I meant.”

“How—?” Francis pauses, feeling immense pressure to say this right, somehow. “Sorry, but how would that be the wrong thing to say?”

“I wouldn’t want you to think, well—” James interrupts himself by laughing, just a little and rather joylessly. “It’s not that you didn’t look good before.”

“Oh, right,” Francis says, even as those words continue to make no sense to him in that particular order coming from this particular person. “Wait, you’re saying—I did?”

James meets his eye again, finally, but only to give him the most impatient, long-suffering look in human history. “Is it too much to hope that one of the twelve steps involves learning to take a compliment?” he asks, sounding depleted by the effort. “Because it is one of your most exhausting qualities that you can’t do so without endless interrogation first.”

“And it’s got a lot of competition,” Francis replies, feeling himself smile and choosing to do nothing to stop it, “what with all my other exhausting qualities.”

“You’re really only proving my point here, you know.”

“Thank you, James,” Francis says, dutifully. “It’s very kind of you to say. Better?”

“Much,” James sighs. “You’re showing remarkable improvement already.”

Francis leaves him, then, because to stay any longer would just be exposing himself to further ridicule and he’d absolutely deserve it, what with the stupid smile he now can’t seem to get rid of.

#lmao zainab's exact words when we talked about this prompt were 'i'm in my slightly confused but supportive parental energy era'#my madness is being indulged so patiently #anyway this has been stressing me out for a month now just take it away from me!!!#the terror #the terror amc #fitzier #francis crozier #james fitzjames #thomas blanky #writing prompt #reverse fanfic tropes prompts #god i've forgotten how to even tag writing anymore...#firstelevens #homelywenchsociety #that's my writing tag! don't worry about it!#prompt fill #as always when i come up with a silly au for something i'm like 'i don't know how everyone fits in i haven't thought about it at all'#except i am always lying because i always know #most important part of this AU is that tunbaaq is The Pit #and ross is mark brendana-quits #and that's most of what you need to know #please join me in imagining all of the truly absurd parks plotlines i can shove these idiots into #my favorite that i've thought of so far is forcing james and silna into ben and april's plotline of getting stuck in a parking garage #traffic jam together for hours #i just think it would break them you know?? and that's fun #anyway....

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luveline · 9 months ago

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small vent (please don’t read if it will stress you out or if you’re young — cw of past self harm and unhappiness but I am in no active danger and there’s nothing to worry about, but also just mentioning that in case someone were to open this and then get surprised by the content)

I feel so lonely lately and I don’t know what to do because i feel like I am making an effort to connect with people, maybe I’m not, but I feel as though I am and it’s just really frustrating to have that disconnect of what I feel like I’m doing and the actual result of it, I feel like no one really wants to talk to me, does that make sense? Like I can’t actually have a conversation with anyone, and I’m not blaming anyone for this, because I’m not a good conversationalist, this isn’t me trying to make bad people out of anybody at all but just I’m so frustrated and so lonely and it’s not getting any better. and of course as tends to happen I feel like, really down( and like time is slipping through my fingers, and I feel like I can’t do anything I want to do because I end up worrying or upset about something instead, I can’t stop thinking about stuff I’ve said or things I need to do or things other people have said and what I thought they’re thinking of me. I used to basically feel like this all the time a few years ago but it was going away, until recently when I feel very alone and like it’s worse than it was. I also feel super pathetic once again for putting this here instead of a diary but it’s hard sometimes to not want to know what you guys think, like —is this normal? I worry I’m too concerned with myself

I’ve also been thinking a lot for the last few weeks about hurting myself, because I used to in the past. I won’t do it of course and like if I were to do it it’s not as though I would want to mention that here because I know it’s catching and it hurts people because hurting yourself shouldn’t be presented as an option and it isn’t an option, so I won’t do it, but I do want to hurt myself because I just don’t feel well!! I actually did contact my doctor a few days ago to talk about how I am and my health but they haven’t gotten back to me yet. I know that it’s not how you should cope with bad feelings, but it’s also the only thing that’s ever worked for me

I think all in all I feel really alone, and I feel like I’m always embarrassing myself, like, I feel like the people around me are embarrassed of me. I don’t know why I feel so bad and if it’s normal or not. Like, should I more urgently go and see my doctor, or does everyone struggle feeling such low self esteem? I know life is hard for everybody, and for many much harder than I’ll ever experience, and so I’m caught feeling very ashamed of myself and alone, and like I’m doing things wrong but unaware of it. It’s a relief at least to not be suicidal because in the past I would get so anxious about things I would get tunnel vision and I’d need it to stop, whereas now I just feel quite depressed (sorry if that’s the wrong word) about it. I wish I could identify what it is that’s throwing me off kilter so badly. I hope it’s okay to talk about this here because I don’t think anyone will understand in my life how I’m feeling, I try to talk about it with my mam sometimes but she’s not the most empathetic person, or like she’s too empathetic maybe, and if I tell her I’m feeling depressed she’ll say me too and then guide the conversation about her life without really giving me a chance to speak to her about what’s really on my mind, or she might tell me (again) to go on ozempic (which I do not medically need). And I love my sisters but I can’t tell them either, so it’s just like desperately wanting to confide in someone, but everyone else is too busy

I think my life is just a black hole forever, you know, I don’t mean to be upset about it because things are better than they were, but it’s hard knowing that I’m not experiencing what other people are, and that I’m not connecting with people, and that I’m hard to like

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kel-lance · 8 months ago

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Eyeless Gojo AU Part 1:

Prequel: (read here)

———Warnings: mention of death, blood, killing, morally grey, slight mind control, Gojo just reacting to his cptsd in this universe, slight grooming (adults ideals on Gojo and their children), mindbreak, yandere(?)———————-

((Ending of year 3: (the woman Geto brought in was mamagumi. Toji was a secret weapon to the Zenin clan and was highly respected. The kids are being raised together. Maki and Mai are taught new techniques while sparring against Megumi (they all have their same techniques) so they were actually going to become to super strongest of the clan. Basically Megumi will be next in line of the clan and maki and Mai will be trained as his protectors.

The three of them are 5-6 years old at the time. Megumi who was recently orphaned and had a “cousin” named tsumiki who would look after him and not treat him like a prince. (She would scold him and treat him like a person and he grew to greatly respect her.

He learned to be humble by her, maki and Mai’s, and their friends. Megumi had a lot of friends growing up, Panda, Toge, Kamo, Todo, Momo, Miwa, Muta, all them knew him from his status. More so the head of clans were to meet and the others came by around middle school bc they’d have meetings with each other to have them all meet before they started in JJH.)

————————————-

Geto goes to see gojo at his place, you know, the 1000+acre plot of land that was supposed to suffice as Gojo’s own personal quarters. The same one where everyone and their mothers turned him away until they hear he’s Geto Suguru, to where they basically pull him in to ask him to get Gojo out of his room.

Geto is walked in, no knock or introduction. Gojos room, it was thick. The air was strong, you could feel it walking in. Geto goes to open the windows while keeping his demeanor. ”I’ve been picking up your slack everyday Gojo.“ Geto paused to let his friend talk over him, but that didn’t come. He looks back at Gojo in his bed, “C’mon seriously you out of all of us, you can’t be acting like this.”

“I thought you understood that I’m not like other people.”

“Well, before I said you’re not that special to be exempted out of stuff. We’re risking our lives as normal people while you can do months worth of our missions in a week, if you wanted.” Geto sighed, leaning on the wall next to the open vent.

Gojo’s aura, he could barely feel like it in the room, it wasn’t what was taking up the space before anyway. His voice was hard to even find. “….. What makes me so special then?”

Geto didn’t know what to say. This was real one of his worst bits. “You’re special because you’re Gojo Satoru. You are literally the strongest-”

“WHAT IS IT ALL FOR!?” Gojo snaps.

Oof, his jab of Gojo alone being the strongest always annoyed him. Gojo would say that they were the strongest, but Geto kept refusing. Gojo wouldn’t stop until they were equal, til they could bring him down to Geto, or what Geto hated was that they put him as far up as Gojo. It just kept showing him how different they were treated, but in this moment he shouldn’t have said it. “Hey, I’m sorry, I didn’t-“

“I know.” Voice breaking, Gojo continued. “I already knew that you would do this, but somehow it still hurts more than the anticipation. I,” He sighed, using it to catch his breath, “I really wanted you to know me.”

Geto was speechless. His best friend, the one person who Gojo was so intrigued by, he trusted Geto enough to let him know what kind of life he lived. How do his words still go unnoticed? He’s still unheard, seen as a brat for being tended to. How could he live as an adult? That’s right, they’re rendering Gojo powerless still. Even while he’s an adult now.

“I’m sorry. We can go get ice cream-“

“Get out.” Suguru could only blink. He didn’t hear that right-

“GET OUT!”

Gojo had never raised his voice like this before. His tone was so stern Geto thought someone else may have been in the room with him. Speechless, he just turned and left.

———————————————-

“You seriously didn’t say anything?” Nanami wasn’t recovering well from Haibaras death. That was just insane, how time moves so much faster when your brain is panicking. Maybe if nanami could’ve moved his legs a bit faster maybe haibara could’ve just lost up to his knees, but no, his organs ended up missing too. There was no way anyone could help them.

The blond was grouchier than ever. He was angry. There wasn’t a curse in the world that could escape his wrath. He supposed he could sulk and stay upset, risking his life even more as it’d unbalance his fighting style. He had to stay focused but couldn’t do that without motivation.

————-

Haibara was the only person really getting him to help others. Of course he wanted to help people, it wasn’t right that most of the population are victims to themselves, and they don’t even know it. They can’t help it, someone once said to him, and it stuck with him since.

“Why is it our job to help them if they don’t even know the danger they’re in?” Nanami said aloud.

“What a stupid thing to say.” Haibara comes around, folding up his magazine and smacking nanami on the head. “You should help others because you want to, there shouldn’t be any other reason for it. You’d be bargaining forever at that point.”

“Yeah sure, I get that it’d be more mental gymnastics around it all, but seriously what’s the real reason?”

“If you keep asking yourself questions, that time could’ve been used to save another life. Don’t you feel better after knowing they’re safe? That you did something for other people like us?”

“They’re not like us.” Nanami grumbled. His 16 year old mind just didn’t get why it was up to him to save most of the population, it was a lot of responsibility, let alone how Gojo was born into it. That’s how Nanami keeps himself away from Satoru, and Suguru by association, but Haibara makes it apparent to always greet them.

He kept breaking through Nanami’s boundaries and showed him that it’s easier to do if he wants to do it. And he’s been on that ever since, trying to get his friend to think differently to better himself.

——————

Nanami heard about what happened to the two, and reached out to Utahime for Suguru’s number, which she also got from Shoko. Telling his upperclassman what happened to their mutual friend, it was a big step for him to open up. They sat side by side, nanami leaning all the way back, as much as gravity would allow, listening.

“He yelled at me.” Geto said.

“That’s not like him at all, he’d never do that. Did you really recover fully? Maybe we’re all going crazy.”

“No,” Geto stopped him. “He actually yelled at me. Like I felt like a little kid and he was the upset father for once.” Nanami could tell that upset him, it wasn’t about power and control but that was never their dynamic. Gojo was always the kid, he was always the one with energy and not a care in the world, because he was a brat, but also so elevated that he was neglected of course he was going to be ignorant to things, much less latching onto the first person that treated him with actual sincerity and decency.

“I wonder what he’s seeing right now. If he knows how much he hurt me because he just sees everything. I bet he saw this conversation when he woke up again.”

“Do you think he might’ve saw something while they were putting his head back on?” Fixing his glasses, nanami could remember the details when yaga, Suguru, and Shoko came back holding parts of the two

Maybe. But his vision keeps getting in the way of his life. He knows that, we all know it, but what can we do about it? He’s the strongest. After all the training they’ve done together, Gojo having deja vu and being able to be familiar with Geto’s moves really always pissed him off.

Gojo tried closing his eyes but it seemed better for him, the light was less intense and he just had to trust his senses. Gojo was told so many times, taunted by Geto, always saying that was why Gojo could never deliver him a fair fight.

Bzzzbzbbzz. Looking down on his phone, Geto was surprised to see Shoko’s contact with an image attached, showing Gojo resting in a bed. “Come over.”

“Nanami, I gotta go.” With no time to explain, Geto’s out the door. Nanami sighs and decides to buy some flowers.

—————————

Gojo wakes up to Geto coming over to the infirmary. His head is bandaged heavily and Geto wasn’t told why or what happened, he just thinks that it was a mission that he failed bc of how bad his headspace was.

Gojo is honestly quiet. He listens to Geto tell him how he can just go out and do anything with his head like that, making it vague. Gojo thinks that even after doing what he did, that Geto and everyone would still not feel anything for him, he needed pity. He needed shame to feel human. He needed to feel something.

Gojo just sits and listens to Geto. He missed his friend so much. He sits in his bed, looking out the window at the world outside.

Geto is running his mouth, saying things in a tone that only his best friend would understand, trying to say in the best way possible how he cares. He’s just so worried how Gojo could be so stupid without him. Not even a laugh. He was boiling water for some tea, just preparing whatever he found around the infirmary to make it less tense.

When Geto brings gojo his tea, gojos already asleep. He sets the cups on the nightstand, he sits and looks over at his friend, thinking that it suited him. Being quiet like this was something he could only wish upon to happen, but it was killing them both.

Geto realizes that Gojo was calling for him to come so he could sleep. He looked over his body and his fingers had skin picked off, his body looked like he lost some weight, and the bandages covering his head and face was bothering him. He wanted to see that his friend was really there, that he was okay.

Geto got up to go to the bathroom and when he came back, he found Gojo back up, drinking his cold tea in the dark.

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