#i've been taking the blue path from day one. and you're telling me that in order to P-rank all of limbo i have to learn the other path?

[cherubytes]

i can consistently P-rank half of the currently available bosses and yet trying to complete 1-3: halls of sacred remains gives me a headache

[curtins]

DITTO — Gojo Satoru a rewrite of this post.

prologue. → brave, lucky, courageous. these are the words that people bestow upon you when the dust has cleared, and the king of curses is no more. you disagree, for if you were lucky, gojo satoru would still be standing at your side. instead you've been left to stare at the ocean shoreline on your own, without your best friend (the love of your life) by your side.

pairing. gojo satoru x afab!reader

warnings+. unfulfilled/unresolved love. angst, hurt, comfort, fluff. your usual shenanigans. sfw! implied, minor satosugu (mb because geto is my beautiful sad princess and i love him so he has to be a part of everything). pining, idiots in love. grief, and what you do after you've lost what you treasure the most etc u get it. reader is from an unnamed clan, has a younger brother. reader also wears skirts, dresses sometimes, character death + injury

word count. 11k! 😭 song inspiration. ditto — newjeans / 뉴진스 (2022) a/n. i wrote rough headcanons and posted them yesterday but i woke up thinking dang i should actually write something better about that lmao. update: i thought i'd finish this in a few hours, why did this take me like 2 days? update #2: dawg this is long as fuck...this kinda depressed me to write CROSSPOSTED ON AO3 <3 💙

mp3. do you think about me now, yeah. all the time...

✉️ — 1995. 💬 — gojo.

these meeting rooms were hushed, grand, and the kind of place that simply swallowed up any sound and echo; where the wood-panelled walls were lined with the tapestries and polished symbols of his clan.

and in the hush, gojo had sat cross-legged on the tatami mat, trying to listen to the conversation of the adults, with their low and steady voices that droned on. this was so boring. they were always speaking of things that he just couldn't understand, but his parents said these meetings were important, and so he was dragged along - much to his eternal chagrin. still, he shifted in place, glancing around at the detailed screens painting around the corners of the room, in varying shades of blue.

across the room, there was another kid. one who sat beside her father, fidgeting just as he was. and gojo could tell by the way that you kept glancing towards the door that you, too, longed to escape. your gaze caught his, and there was that flicker of mutual boredom that sparked between you two. you had scrunched up her nose, as if to say 'this is so boring, isn't it?'

gojo grinned, stifling a giggle. he had leaned back, just a little, surveying the adults who paid no heed to him, before letting himself inch across the rough texture of the mat towards the door.

"do you want to see the garden?" he mouthed silently, his words exaggerated and slow, so you would understand.

your eyes had lit up, and you nodded, just as your father (well, he assumed it was her father) leaned down to whisper something in your ear, his voice a low rumble that was far too quiet for gojo to catch. you were nodding obediently, but your eyes were now fixed with the glimmer of excitement, and he quickly held the door open for you as you scrambled out the door, following him quietly as they creaked down the long hallway.

and soon, they reached the back of the estate, where the garden stretched out like a hidden oasis, filled with the flowering bushes, the winding stone paths, and the pond that glistened in the morning light. suddenly, he stopped by the edge of the pond, brushing pale hair out of his stinging eyes, "i'm satoru, by the way."

you had sat down quickly, as though the long walk had winded her (gojo had barely needed to stop to catch is breath), and your robes dipped into the pond, letting the water seep up slowly, "i've heard of you. my parents say you're an only child."

gojo shrugged, trying to think of something important he could tell you, "it's not so bad. one day, i'm going to be the head of my clan," puffing up his chest a little.

you had nodded, "i would like to be too, but my younger brother would get it. because...you know."

gojo didn't quite know but he nodded like he understood, and he tried to think of something smarter to say, "well the job isn't that fun anyway. it's just sitting around reading papers, and telling people what to do."

you had pouted, frowning, "i want to tell people what to do all day. and i would get the nicest robes too as clan head."

and you had looked so unhappy at the prospect that you were being robbed of a stellar wardrobe that gojo made up his mind, right then and there, "tell you what, when i become my clan head, i'll make sure you get the nicest robes, how's that?"

your face had lit up, holding your little pinky up to his, "promise?"

gojo linked his finger with hers, sealing this silly vow and laughing, "why not?"

✉️ — 1996. 💬 — you.

when you're seven years old, you’ve resigned yourself to trailing behind gojo, watching as your friend takes on the world with the same reckless, eager energy that he seems to pour into everything that he does.

his voice has picked up a confidence that you haven't felt yet, and there's a permanent, flashy grin on his face that says he doesn't care what anyone thinks about him, not his parents, nor his clan.

and today, gojo's decided that the old shrine on the edge of your family estate needs exploring. you're a little less certain, especially since your father had told you that this shrine was haunted, but you find yourself following the boy anyway, and there's that silent agreement in place: he leads, you follow. you're alright with that, that's just the way it's always been.

he's dressed, as usual, in a loose grey hoodie that's two sizes too big for him, and his jeans have a hole in the knee; some small rebellion against his clan's strict sense of tradition. even his hair is awfully emssy, tousled and getting a little too long, and you know he hates it when his mother tries to comb it down, and you easily suspect that gojo just ruffles it on purpose to get a reaction out of those around him. he probably does everything on purpose for a round of reactions, honestly.

you, on the other hand, have your nicest lilac skirt on, and there's a small bow in your hair that the maidservants had pinned themselves (your mother had been too deep in her cups all morning). but you had fluttered around, feeling quite pretty in your skirt; like you were a fairy that would sprout wings and live in the clouds.

gojo glances back at you, and rolls his eyes, "you know, you look like you're going to one of the clan meetings," he mutters, but there's a playful glint in his eye. he's pulled a twig from the ground, and he's waving it around like a sword, slicing through imaginary enemies as he marches forward like an idiot.

you just shrug, quietly watching him cut through the tall grass ahead, "i like looking nice," you mumble, a little embarrassed. you can feel the careful way the sweet, old servant (she turned seventy last week!) had arranged your hair, and the press of the bow keeping it every lock in place.

"well, if you ever decide to look like you're not on your way to sit for a court painting, let me know," gojo says, smirking (he thinks he's funny) as he waves his 'sword' around, battling on the false frontlines.

but despite yourself, you laugh, and quicken your pace to keep up with him, and so, gojo slows just a bit, enough that you're walking side by side now, and his arm brushes against yours.

"did you know that they say that this shrine is spooked?" he asks, his voice falling to a dramatic whisper.

"i live here, satoru. obviously, duh," and the shrine comes into view, and it's small, weathered with age, but to you, it looks grand and mysterious, even magical, "do you believe it's haunted?"

gojo shrugs, unfazed, "nah, probably just an old rock. but it would be cool if it was. maybe, we'll see a ghost."

now you've taken a hesitant step back, but gojo just grins, grabbing your wrist and pulling you forward, and his hand is warm and steady in yours.

"c'mon, don't be a chicken," he teases, laughing as he drags you closer, and you plant your feet firmly in the ground, watching as clouds begin to roll over the sky, ominous and gloomy.

oh, this place is definitely haunted. your father was right, it's so over for you now. a massive, ugly curse is going to pop out and eat you alive, and steal your pretty hair bow. you mutter a small prayer under your breath. gojo satoru, you will pay for this.

✉️ — 2000. 💬 — you.

you'd always heard whispers about yourself from the other kids, how you were too quiet, or you tried far too hard to be perfect — unwilling to roughhouse the way they did. perhaps they were right, and it was true that you preferred to sit alone. you think it was the feeling of order you enjoyed, of a world you could control, even if it was just through lines on a piece of paper.

but today, their voices were louder than usual. a small group had gathered near the cherry blossom tree where you'd settle yourself, and they circled around like hungry wolves sniffing out something they could tear apart.

one girl wrinkled her nose and called you prissy (well, okay) and another boy had snickered and muttered that you were so boring, and it was a wonder that you even had a friend like gojo.

ouch.

their words felt like small, precise cuts, sharper than expected. you had heard these things before. after all, everyone had reached the age where they were aware of their abilities, their techniques as jujutsu sorcerers.

you didn't mind your own technique, making sure to channel time and energy to learn so you could grow up and be as good as your father one day (a well established sorcerer in his own right, if a bit out of shape).

but you didn't have to be very smart to know that gojo's abilities stood out entirely in a different way, and you heard your parents whisper in hushed tones at how lucky his clan was to have a child like that. with the right training and moulding, he could be the most powerful man to walk the earth.

how silly. gojo was all laughs, and smiles, and stupid jokes and bright, clever eyes. you thought it was dumb how they all spoke about an eleven year old boy like he was a weapon, kept in its sheath until it was ready to be drawn.

but of course, all the kids wanted to be friends with him instead. and today, these barbs hurt more — and you kept your eyes down, clutching your books a bit tighter, willing for these supposed 'friends' of yours to go away.

but before you could say anything, you heard his stomps.

"hey!"

gojo's voice was unmistakable, sharp and sudden as he clamoured over, all brashness and bravado. he had gotten a bad haircut recently (entirely his own fault for thinking he could put scissors to his own hair, but you had laughed so hard as he swore curses) so white tufts stuck out all over his head, making him look like he got stuck in a wall socket, even crazier than usual.

but gojo didn't look at you, just planted himself between you and the group, bruised fists clenched (they trained him too hard), and shoulders set, "what's your problem?"

the other kids stammered, clearly surprised, but that didn't stop him, he who looked like a small, lanky and angry polar bear.

"you think you're so funny? talking like that? say it again, and i'll knock your teeth out."

"ah, satoru -" you ran your tongue behind your teeth, the last thing everyone needed was another fight of bruised pride, and yanked hair, rolling around in the dust.

but one of the boys had muttered something under his breath, taking a half-step back. the others followed, shuffling, rolling their eyes and looking anywhere but at you and gojo.

and your best friend didn't move until they had scattered completely, leaving behind only the faint echos of their derision as they fled. and then he turned to you, his scowl fading into something kinder (good, you didn't like seeing him so upset) as he dropped onto the bench, beside you, pulling his knee up onto the bench so he could rest his chin against it casually.

"they're just idiots," he said, rolling his eyes, and his voice was softer, playful again, "don't listen to them."

you gave him a small smile, nodding, as the knot in chest loosened a little, "i wasn't really listening to them," you murmured, even though you probably knew that was a bold-faced lie.

gojo released a loud laugh, much too loud and forced, as he nudged you with his elbow, and he must have known it too, but he was smiling, "good, that's the spirit."

You managed a small smile, nodding, the knot in your chest loosening a little.

the world was quiet again as you both sat in silence, the soft breeze ruffling the grass and the cherry blossoms overhead. and then, with a shyer glance, you managed to look over at your friend, watching as messy tufts of his snowy hair moved ever so slightly in the breeze.

"thanks, 'toru," you said, quietly, but he just shrugged it off, brushing it away as though it was nothing.

"hey, what am i here for?"

✉️ — 2003. 💬 — you.

gojo was sprawled across your wide bed, looking at you as if you were the most ridiculous person in the entire world. his own suitcase sat beside him, already paced with the very few things he needed, and now he watched you with that eager, restless gleam in his blue eyes, like he could barely sit still.

"you're so overthinking this," he said, bright voice full of impatience, "just throw some stuff in a bag, and we're good to go. it's just tokyo, not the end of the world."

you scowled at the boy, holding up two sweaters; one sensible in a shade of pale blue, and the other thick, deep red and woollen, "but what if it gets cold? or rains?"

gojo rolled his eyes, throwing his head back dramatically onto your pillow, hands behind his head as he sprawled around like a snooty prince with all the time in the world.

"it's summer, it's tokyo, and it's not like we're moving to america," he smiled, "besides, if you pack any slower, we'll miss our first year."

you tried to brush it off, and something about his easy confidence made you feel a sharp twinge of nerve. this was really happening, you were truly leaving the bounds of your family estates, stepping out into the world, to attend jujutsu tech, a school in tokyo that you had heard so much about. well, there was another school here, in kyoto, but god, it would just be nice to get out of these ancient walls.

and yet -

gojo simply looked like he couldn't wait to shake the dust of his home off his sneakers, you felt something pull at you, like a sudden-appearing string that tied you to your home city, and it wouldn't let you go.

your best friend had caught the look on your face, and softened — just a bit, as he twiddled with a brand new pair of sunglasses, and he sat up closer, watching you carefully, "you're really going to miss it here, aren't you?"

and you shrugged, fidgeting with the sleeves of the red sweater, "i don't know. maybe, i suppose. don't you feel that way at all, satoru?"

he shook his head, resolute, "not even a little," but he saw your uncertainty, "listen, you'll be fine. you'll love tokyo. and hey," he nudged you gently with his knee, "i'll be right there with you anyway."

you appreciated that his confidence felt like a promise, something that you could at least hold onto, even in the big capital, and with a big, exaggerated sigh you tossed both sweaters into the suitcase.

"finally!"

✉️ — 2003. 💬 — gojo.

the both of you had arrived, bright-eyed and tired, as he clambered off the tall bus that had parked on the outskirts of tokyo, where jujutsu high was located.

gojo stood beside you, hands stuffed in his denim pockets, plastering a disinterested expression on his face. but he couldn't help how his eyes flittered to the sid,e underneath the dark shades of his glasses, watching you fawn over another new student, another boy who had arrived from some small town, who-knows-where, from a non-sorcerer family.

geto suguru.

well it was no lie that gojo liked him a lot too. there was no denying that he seemed polite, clever, maybe a bit shy. and effortlessly cool.

gojo had grown up in the stifling, grand estates of the big clans, constantly fussed over, and robed in fine silks printed with his clan motifs. all of those stuffy rules would sit, push around and make space in one's head, like a constant mantra from the elders.

he didn't need to look at you too closely to see what was going on, and he could tell right away, just from how you reacted. your smile stretched wider, and your eyes lit up like you were meeting someone who you really wanted to talk to.

geto who hadn't even changed into his uniform yet, with his stray strands of dark hair falling out of the knot on the back of his head, looking politely aloof, but cheerful, in worn black jeans and converse, and some baggy band t-shirt that would get gojo scolded by his mother for even wearing that inside the estate.

gojo noticed everything, especially the way your fingers slipped up to tuck your hair behind your ear when geto grinned at you (all because you’d recognised the band on his t-shirt, so what?) he saw how your eyes brightened, like geto suguru had unlocked some hidden code only you could decipher.

it annoyed him to realise that geto's calm, quiet charm was exactly the kind of thing you’d be drawn to. that’s what you liked, wasn’t it? the understated, thoughtful types who let the world come to them. not the loudmouth who cracked jokes at every opportunity, hoping to pull a laugh from his best friend.

well, fuck, he had to be a part of this too now.

✉️ — 2005. 💬 — both.

gojo's new obsession had a sleek, silver body and an olympus logo stamped on it in black, a camera that he'd been itching to buy; refusing to settle for anything less than the latest model. suddenly, he was determined to capture tokyo through his own eyes, and you and your friends had quickly become his reluctant muses on an impromptu day trip to the ameya-yokocho market.

"stop! stay right there, don't move! fuck, no! a little to the left!"

he waved his hands around, motioning for everyone to gather just as he wanted. you all exchanged amused glances, with shoko huffing around dramatically, as gojo crouched down on his long legs, then stood back up, and then crouched down again, as one of jujutsu high's most powerful sorcerers struggled to bring a camera into focus.

eventually, geto had laughed — raven hair falling over his beautiful face, and had gotten up to help gojo, fiddling with the lens as the rest of you milled around.

and then, suddenly gojo turned the camera directly on you. he pointed his finger your way, wide grin half-hidden but unmistakably earnest, 'c'mon, turn that frown upside down!'

he needn't have said a word, just seeing your best friend there, with his hair tousled and carefree grin, with the camera strap hanging off his neck, was enough to make you laugh, the kind that felt as bright as it sounded.

and so, you found yourself standing in the middle of the bustling market street, surrounded by friends and fellow students, and the lively hum of the weekend crowds, as you looked directly into the lens, with your smile softening under his gaze, as though the rest of the world had blurred into the background.

afterwards, gojo had taken a good look at the photo, and he didn't say much, but the look on his face lingered, almost like he was seeing something that he wasn't sure he was allowed to hold onto. you had shyly asked him later, coming up beside his shoulder, whether he had printed a spare copy of the photo, but he shook his head with the lie rolling off his tongue.

love was a selfish endeavour, to its core. he wasn’t about to tell you that he wanted to keep that photo for himself. and later, when no-one was looking, he slipped the small print into his wallet, right between his train pass and some spare change.

✉️ — 2006. 💬 — you.

your best friend, your dear satoru, had always been resilient; the kind of guy who threw himself at life with reckless energy, shrugging off injuries like they were just a part of the ride. he'd laugh off a scraped knee or a bloodied lip, flashing that cocky grin and a shrug as if pain was something for other people.

life for you went on, with your own routines and small moments. you learnt long ago that you didn't quite possess the natural, raw sheer jujutsu power that gojo had (or geto for that matter) but you could certainly hold your own in a scuffle. regardless, you had chosen to turn to academics, flitting between classes and study sessions, arm in arm with sweet shoko.

there was joy in sneaking off campus with friends, or scrolling through lists of new albums to download onto your mp3 player (you had been partial to the south korean boyband, tvxq!).

and so, life seemed both incredibly mundane and slightly electric, with days marked by shy smiles and inside jokes, with walks home on the streets wet from the spring rain.

but it had been late summer when gojo had returned from that last mission, when the days were still long and hot and the afternoons were bathed in a thick, heavy amber. and he had come back...different.

he moved carefully, as though each step was suspicious and took more effort than he'd let on, and his usual bright glimmer was dimmed, his laughter quiet, and his smiles withheld like a rare currency. he'd sit through the long evenings with you, in silence more often than not, hands stuffed into his wide pockets as he stared at a place that you just couldn't reach.

when you'd catch him alone in the courtyard after class, he'd be training hard, working through his cursed techniques with a relentless focus, perfecting each hand gesture as if he could shake off whatever shadow lingered behind him. and sometimes, he'd stay for hours after school, practicing beneath the dying and dusty light of the last days of summer, as if he could not afford to stop, to rest.

“gojo?” you called, hesitating as he finished a strike to some poor unsuspecting pile of soda cans, leaving them obliterated in the heat. “what's going on with you?”

he paused mid-motion, glancing at you, his face carefully blank. and you hated that, you hated how the flicker of distress would pass from his face before being schooled into that carefully constructed mask of 'the strongest.'

i love you, idiot. i love you, i love you, tell me what's bothering you and i will help, you're my best friend.

but these words never saw the light of day, always curling up and choking up in your throat, and instead being twisted into feigned, casual interest. losing the cloak of deep devotion that you held for a friend of ten years.

"oh - hey! nothing," gojo replied, too quickly, with that half-cocked smile that painted over his pink lips, "nothing that deep."

lately, this repeated lie had been hanging in the air between you, clear as the last streaks of summer sunlight that would soon give way to fall.

you crossed your arms over your uniform, dark fabric crinkling, "you're not fooling anyone, you know. geto told me about the mission, he said that you —," you swallowed, with the words just as heavy as the steadfast beat of your heart that you kept under lock and key, "he said you shouldn't have come back. what does that even mean?"

gojo's face flickered again, just for a second, before he barked out that irritating, false chuckle, "guess it's a good thing you weren't sent on tengen's fuckin' mission then," before reaching out and snatching your strawberry milk carton from your hands with a grin.

after a few punctuated slurps and lip-smacking (just to watch your face redden in fury, gojo would admit) he spoke again, voice strained, "you'd probably be crying about it still."

"hey!" you protested, grabbing for the carton again, prying his slender fingers off your sweet treat, "i don't cry that easily."

"could've fooled me. you cried during that american movie about zoo animals."

"madagascar was a sad movie about displacement and the loss of home! i know animal rights activists hate to see your ass coming to the zoo."

gojo snickered, drawing out the words, "fuck that zebra," but now, he was looking off into the golden haze of a beautiful sunset, with that frayed grin, "seriously, though. it's fine, it's all in the past."

over time, gojo never spoke many a word about what happened to the star plasma vessel, but he just seemed to move forward, like he always had. his resolve somehow sharper, tighter, and his laughter more intense when it finally did return. there were moments when you'd catch him staring into the great expanse of nothing, haunted (but beautiful), though he'd just shrug and smile when you prodded him about.

✉️ — 2007. 💬 — gojo.

gojo thought he was astoundingly self-aware, in his own humble opinion. he never let anything get to him, that was the trick, you see. to take life as it came at you, to carry that fire and stubbornness and throw it back in the face of the trouble.

and so he wanted to be angry, to be furious. why had suguru done this? why?

he had known that geto, one of his dearest friends (one who always been so sure of himself) had fallen into disquiet lately, and even gojo had prodded him on whether he had lost weight through sleepless nights. but suguru would have just turned his head back to his book, lost in thought, with his dark hair loose around his face.

had he been blind? how had suguru's silence been covered by what gojo (privately) considered his own loud, defiant return? no, he knew of ghosts. he knew that some spirits and spectres could not be shaken, and sometimes when gojo himself closed his eyes, he could feel the sharp sting of an assassin's blade ramming through his throat, leaving him for dead.

but to murder over a hundred innocent people...

you had found him alone that evening, where he had sprawled over the stairs as the sunset blazed, painting them aglow in dusky hues. but gojo could barely notice any of this beauty, and so he just stared, lost in his thoughts that wouldn't settle.

(are you the strongest because you're satoru gojo? or are you satoru gojo because you're the strongest?)

he didn't hear you approach, until you placed a gentle hand on his shoulders, causing him to flinch, surprised out of his sorrowful reverie.

the warmth of your touch steadied him, and he glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, and he wondered how you could always seem to know exactly when he needed you most.

but the thought twisted, sharp and bitter, for what if you would follow suguru the same way? had you not often looked at geto with light in your eyes? and you had never looked at him like that.

what if, someday, you left him the same way? what if you turned around and saw someone else worth following? he couldn't help his fists from clenching, tension rippling down his shoulders and painfully gripping his head.

"suguru..." his voice came out quieter than he meant, with a crack that he couldn't quite hide, and he heard you sharply inhale, "i can't believe he's gone. i don't know if...if i'll ever see him again. why would he -?"

you still didn't say anything, just tightening your hand on his shoulder. and satoru hated it. hated that he wanted to lean into the weight of your touch, hated that this is what being the strongest now entailed. that now he was plagued by fear, of losing you, of watching you slip through his fingers into another's orbit.

i'm only seventeen. what happened to my youth?

the thoughts are acidic, cynical and they leave him angry (with the world, with the higher ups, with himself, with his parents) and he can't help himself from blurting out the next question.

"did you like him?"

gojo tries to keep his tone light and casual, but he loathes how he sounds pleading, heavier. he feels the embarrassment of vulnerability shroud him as you meet his eyes, and he hates how your eyes are teary too.

you shouldn't cry. ever.

"like? as in like?"

"as in love," gojo mutters, "shoko said you did."

you sniff, and now your head is leaning on his shoulder and he can inhale the scent of your shampoo (apples? caramel?) and despite the crick in his neck, he lowers his shoulder further down so you are more comfortable.

"shoko talks too much sometimes," you laugh weakly, "but probably. i think i did."

gojo tries to tamper down the acrid lurch in his stomach, but you continue, "i think i did love him. but so did shoko. so did nanami, and haibara back when, -" you sigh, "and so did you. we all loved him. he was our friend."

his fingers had been hovering close to your hand for a while, almost as if he couldn't help himself, the pull. finally, he slid his smallest finger to let it curl around yours, drawing out a memory from over a decade ago.

"tell you what, when i become my clan head, i'll make sure you get the nicest robes, how's that?" "promise?" "why not?"

how silly that the hardest things in life had once been a bored child, and his new friend who fretted about her future wardrobe.

and when you clasped in hand entirely in its return, gojo's breath caught, his throat tightening. the words that he wanted to say, to spill from his throat, hovered in his mind but there was no infinite word strong enough to bring them out.

he wasn't an idiot, he wasn't daft and unobservant, he knew exactly what he wanted to say to you, to tell you from his lips to yours. but the way his heart laid itself bare in that moment unsettled him deeply, not the yearning itself, but how fierce it was. it disgusted him, the rawness of his desire, exposed right there in the open, where anyone could see it, including you. especially you.

with a realisation that was long coming, beneath the golden wash of the setting sun, he sighed deeply. if he ever lost you, if you ever looked at him with the same betrayal that he'd seen in suguru's eyes, he didn't know if he could survive it. it would cut deeper than his infinity could bear.

he tried speaking again, "if you ever -" but he doesn't get the chance to speak before you're leaning further into him, a quiet sniffle punctuating the silence.

"i won't."

✉️ — the next decade... 💬 — you.

"sweetheart, honey, my precious pumpkin pie."

you shot gojo a death glare, his attempt at flamboyant charm bouncing right off you, "i hate you. never speak to me again."

and your gaze dropped to what was left of your beautiful hermès scarf, once a beautiful concoction of cream-white silk, now reduced to tatters that fluttered pitifully in your hands, stained with some suspicious green goop.

you had cherished this pricey product, but gojo, in his infinite wisdom had decided to pick it up as a perfect blindfold right before a gnarly mission. and so, it got tangled with a nasty curse, and met its tragic, shredded end.

gojo raised his brows, feigning the innocence of a cherub, blinking his long lashes, "i'm sorry, i'll get you a new one, baby."

he drew out the pet name with exaggerated gusto that made you snarl, "enough with the pet names. you are a grown ass man."

and you gave him a first shove in the ribs that made the strongest sorcerer in the world stagger dramatically, only to catch himself with that easy grin still plastered on his face.

but before you could storm off and mourn whatever was left of your one-million yen possession, gojo darted in front of you, blocking your path with his ridiculously long arms. "come on, let me make it up to you, what if i had died on that mission?" he pleaded, looking at you with mock sincerity.

"i wouldn't have even come to the funeral," you sniffed, sticking your nose in the air, ignoring the fake choking sounds that came from the man as he clutched his chest.

months had turned into years, where you and gojo had grown up and graduated jujutsu tech together, carrying triumphs (you won valedictorian, out of a grand total of eight students), losses (gojo was a notoriously bad driver and almost crashed the car that the two of you were in) and countless moments in between.

the two of you had returned to your alma mater as teachers, and mentors, guiding younger sorcerers who were much like you'd once been; eager, impatient, and a little rough around the edges.

gojo took to teaching like he did most things, with his own reckless charm and devil-may-care attitude. he'd joke about skipping staff meetings, but he'd be there anyway, leaning back in his chair with his legs sprawled underneath him, mouthing snarky comments that only you could hear.

you'd like to think you'd grown more confident, no longer the uncertain teenager who used to glance at herself twice in the mirror. time had given you the chance to learn your strengths, and exorcising curses had left you all the more enduring.

gojo had noticed, though he'd never say it outright. he'd make some teasing comment about the way you would boss around a room, and you'd roll your eyes as you nudged him telling him that you had learnt from the biggest ego in tokyo. but sometimes, he'd watch you a little longer than he should, with that flicker in his gaze that he thought you hadn't noticed.

some things hadn't changed at all, and he still came back to you after every mission, every right. you'd hear him shuffling in from down the hall, his paper bags of desserts swinging as he tried to balance it along with his jacket, and whatever ridiculous trinket he'd picked up for you that week (you kept every single one).

and there the two of you would be, sitting cross-legged on your apartment floor, sharing sweets straight out of the boxes. he'd pass you a slice of cheesecake that he insisted that you simply must try, nudging your hand until your fingers enveloped his.

wouldn't it be a lie to claim that you didn't bask in the warmth of your best friend's gaze, even as he feigned interest in some story that he had overhead from the students on his way over from the school, with his low laughter filling the quiet around you.

sometimes, in the silence that would fall after the conversation ebbed, he’d reach over and trace circles absentmindedly on the back of your hand with his thumb, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. neither of you would move or speak. gojo would be looking anywhere but at you, yet his hand wouldn’t let go, tethering you to him in a way that made the apartment feel smaller — almost as if you’d already crossed some line neither of you dared to talk about.

what a pain to be haunted by someone who was already living and breathing right in front of you. sometimes, it left you nauseous, ill, and even screaming into your pillow after he left, and dialing shoko's number so she could give you an earful.

✉️ — october, 2018 💬 — you.

your car idled at the curb, the sounds of the city filtering in through the barely open window, with the faint chill of the october night brushing against your skin.

gojo looked up from his phone, tapping his fingers on the screen, and there was a sober look on his face that made your stomach twist. you watched as he ran his head through his white hair, and sighed, his eyes still on the screen.

"apparently i was summoned by name," he said quietly, "to shibuya. whatever curtain's been set up is only allowing sorcerers through."

you kept one hand on the wheel, "ijichi reached out to me too, but he wants me covering the perimeter on the other side, away from the metro. but who would summon you by name?"

"i know. do you think it's...?"

"the traitor everyone's guessing about? who else?"

gojo scoffed a little, "fuckin' surprise," he muttered, casting you a glance that spoke volumes of protectiveness, one that made you lurch ever so slightly. his eyes met yours, an unspoken worry passing between you. you bit the inside of your lip to keep yourself from blurting out the words that lived in the forefront of your mind.

and so, gojo reached for the door handle, and you saw him hesitate as his fingers drummed against the door, before pulling his blindfold up, "well, stay safe, yeah?"

you swallowed, trying to find some false platitude to offer back, "hey, i will if you will."

he gave a short laugh that must have not fully reached his eyes, but it softened the rest of his beautiful face in that way that you loved, "y'know, we could have been going trick-or-treating. dressed like idiots, stuffing our face with candy."

"tweedledee and tweedledum?"

gojo snorted, "next year then."

you hummed, "i'll keep that idea then, tweedledumb."

the bow of his lips quirked, and he looked away again before pushing himself out of the car, stepping out onto the suddenly cold, quiet sidewalk (too quiet, where was everyone?)

he paused, turning back to you through the window, as he lifted his hand up in a small wave, and you could tell he wanted to say something else — but the moment passed, and he closed his mouth, smiling instead in that way of his that said everything without a single word. and he pushed his hands back into his pocket, strolling away as you sat there, suddenly ever so lonely in your silent car, as chills went down your spine.

✉️ — october, 2018 💬 — you.

"gojo satoru has been sealed."

what the fuck?

the world has slowed down, every sound muffled as if you'd been submerged underwater. shibuya had left gojo sealed in the prison realm by...no. it couldn't be.

suguru geto was dead. dead, executed. had it not been almost a year? you had mourned, gojo had grieved. and yet, the impossible had clawed its way into reality, leaving you feeling like you were teetering on the edge of something dark and unknowable.

soon the shock twisted into dread, an icy grip that clenched tight around your chest, left the blood draining from your face. god, your hair must just turn as white as his from the stress alone. your best friend, the one who had been beside you in sickness and health.

it was cruel, you thought, to not even be allowed the time to fall apart, now now. there was little space for it in the chaos that had erupted the next day, when waves of curses crashed through the city like nothing you had ever seen. what fresh hell was this, you wondered as you nursed a nasty set of wounds, trailing after (tormented, sweet, far too young) itadori yuji, and his supposed older brother, some blood manipulation user that had done his fair share of damage throughout the night.

the culling games.

the brutality of it shocked you, and several times during the upcoming days, you had to blink back hot tears as sorcerers were summoned, drafted, and thrown into what was quickly a gladiator spectacle, some devilry concocted from geto's, no, kenjaku's mind. and the stakes were not just your own survival, but the students you had mentored — the young souls who had grown under your watch, and needed you now more than ever.

it quickly cost you an eye. a clash with a fierce, blood-thirsty wayward sorcerer had left you bloody and bruised with a clean gash that ran through your right eye, and you had screamed, taken a life even. only the baritone, dulcet tone of the yuji's half-curse brother (choso? a member of the kamo clan? since when did half-curses even exist?) had pulled you away from launching the contents of your stomach over the pavement, as you stared at the crimson dripping off your hands. were you supposed to be grateful that you had survived this, when so many others had not? yuji's tears had kept you awake in the night, his sobs when he thought that no-one could hear him.

gojo's absence had become a wound, raw, with a side of constant ache that you could feel with every waking heartbeat. and so you tried to fight hard with his voice echoing in your ears, remembering the half-smile he'd flash when you'd land a difficult hit, or the grateful look in his eyes knowing that his students were safe.

days blurred together, and nights bled into ceaseless combat, of the terror of being on the run, and still gojo was with you. the thought of finding him, the thought of him being unsealed from the prison realm almost had you blurting false, desparate promises to the sky that you would tell him exactly what you felt for him, bare your heart out in its entirety for him to hold in his hands.

like it had always been.

✉️ — november, 2018 💬 — you.

it was surreal seeing him again, unsealed and standing there against the burnt umber of the sky, rough around the edges but undeniably gojo. nineteen days of living with the ache of his absence, of waking every morning with a hollow flower blooming in your chest, he was here — alive, breathing, real.

but god, it had been so beautiful to meet his blue gaze once more, and that fleeting smile cross his face before he rushed to pull you into his arms, closing the distance and pulling you into his arms with a new strength that almost lifted you off your feet. and if you closed your eye, you could pretend that nothing had happened, nothing at all. that it was just you pressed against the warm, beating heart in gojo's chest, unrestrained and fierce as thick arms pulled you close, filling your senses with smoke, and earth, and long-spilt blood.

"don't you look eye catching?"

you huffed and leaned away from him, slamming your fist on hard muscle in exasperation, but if you hadn't turned your gaze away, you would have seen gojo's eyes twitch as he took in your battle-worn appearance, the scar that ran underneath bandages where an eye would have once been. if you had paid more attention, you would have heard his intake of breath as he ran his tongue behind his teeth, with a vow, a promise.

"guess who's going to kick sukuna's ass so far back to the heian era," gojo murmured, and you let out a shaky laugh that echoes all the way down to the marrows of your bones.

"yeah, i thought you were just all talk."

"i'm still alive, aren't i?" he shot back, cocky and boyish once more, and your eyes traced over him, drinking in every small change, the sharper clench in his jaw, the tautness in his frame, the way his shoulders seemed broader, like he had been carved up in the prison realm anew. and it leaves you melancholic.

in another universe, the two of you were still young, hand in hand underneath the blue sky as the cool breeze ran through your hair. but battles had turned to war, and the night had no time for what ifs.

"hey, don't go worrying about me," gojo murmured, almost as though he had caught the shadow in your heart, and he plastered a grin on his face, stretching his toned arms in some show of nonchalance, but his gaze lingered on the ruins too long, on the mottled group of assembled sorcerers who seemed to brim with new-found confidence at his return.

and when he finally looked back at you with a new dullness in your eyes, a heaviness you hadn't seen in a long time. it left a dead weight in your chest, but you forced yourself to return his own bland smile, playing along with the front he was trying to maintain, "well, i guess i'll have to keep you out of trouble from now on."

✉️ — november-december, 2018 💬 — you.

the month began to stretch and pass in a blur on the endless horizon, complete with the aching and unbearable waiting where you knew something was going to happen, and yet you did not know when and where. shoko had forgone her own exhausation to see to the rest of the wounds, the ones that had festered under bandages and grimes, leaving faint trails over your skin but she had shaken her head sadly when it came to the socket on your face, even she could not restore an eye.

gojo had swapped his suits and jackets for loose martial pants, and a tight black top that had clung to the muscular frame that he'd honed over the years, laughing off your concerns like they were nothing more than passing clouds.

"don't fret," he'd say, "how bad could this be? you know i told yuji once that even if sukuna was at his full power, i'd still wipe the floor with him. you believe me right?"

you weren't sure if his question was cocky, or a plea, and the fatigue had caused you to snap, "and now, yuji flinches when he hears loud sounds, and he's just another kid who can't fuckin' stop wringing his hands in blood! look what you've done to him!"

gojo's eyes had twitched afterwards, the corner of his mouth pulling down, but he hadn't gotten angry. and you hated it. you hated it all.

but you had wanted to believe in him, in his optimism. you wanted to let his smooth words settle into your bones like the warm comfort they should have been. but how could you feel at ease when everyone was now playing a role? each sorcerer in this building was feigning whatever mask or persona that they had painted and drawn across their face, just as you had. just as gojo did.

but nothing was the same anymore.

and neither were you.

the loss of your eye, the streaks of scars on your skin haunted you. it felt cowardly to say, but this was not the life you should have lived. you simply just didn't see yourself as strong enough, and your eyes watered thinking about the days when you dallied under a clear sky, skirts swaying along the grass as you trailed after your best friend, catching fireflies, exploring shrines, falling to the earth in child-like innocence.

the hollow space on your face, the empty socket served as a reminder of what you had survived, of the world that had fallen into pieces. was there anyone here who would recognise themselves in the mirror anymore?

some nights, the world felt impossibly still, and you would sit at the window and press your hands to the cold of the glass as you watched a scarred city sprawl ahead of you.

you didn't turn at the sound of footsteps at first, and you sat there, with your fingers still dancing on the edge of the window. you closed your eyes as you felt him approach, close, but not enough — you wished he would sit by you, press his soft head to your own, close enough for you to hold him in your hands, curl into his skin.

"satoru, can you make another promise?"

gojo's steps had paused, just a breath but it was enough to know that you had his attention. but when he spoke, "please tell me we're not doing theatrics right now," his voice was laced with that same dismissive edge that he always used when he was trying to push the truth far away.

"can't you shut up, just once? promise me you won't let sukuna kill you, i can't even imagine -" and how irritating, and how melancholic (fuck, this was like a bad soap opera) that your throat was already tightening, your voice wavering with tears that you had been holding back for weeks.

for a moment, gojo didn't respond, and he just stood there and you needn't have turned around to know that there was no trace of laughter nor joy on his face. no easy smirk to deflect the gravity of your well-founded fears. and the silence left you cold.

for the first time, you were suddenly hoping that he might say something blasé, to tell you to stop worrying, to brush it off and just reassure you. but he didn't, he was quiet.

and so you turned to face him, and you felt almost villainous for verbalising your future grief like this, to one who must already have carried such an eternal, heavy burden.

no longer did the blue of his eyes shine like a spring sky, with feather-like clouds that danced in his iris. now, there was only a fractured storm. and god, you loathed that for the first time in what must have been years, his own face was reddening, his eyes suddenly teary, clouds gathering torrential rain.

you knew he hated being seen like this. over a decade of holding him close to your heart had made you privy to his ways, to the way that he'd furiously rub at his face when upset, as if he could will the distress away and hide his tears.

gojo had outstretched his little finger towards you now, hooking it with your own, and your heart stuttered as he brought your finger to his lips, so quick that a ghost may have brushed your skin, with the seal of a promise.

"i will try. god, i swear, i...i promise, i will try." and you knew that gojo satoru was scared, terrified even of what december 24th would bring.

"i -"

you wanted to say it all, wanted to tell him everything. but the words stuck in your throat, love and want and need and ferocious, capricious grief all sat lodged within your beating heart that was so tightly bound in iron chains.

it was a shameful thing. you should have sat there, and comforted him instead. should have told him that it was alright, and you did not know a more powerful and capable sorcerer than he, that he'd leave sukuna in ashes. should have laid your hand on his brow to soothe the lines away from his pale, streaked face.

but you had always been selfish, held onto your heart like a being of folklore, guarded and self-assuming. you wept heart-aching tears, feeling them pool in your sleeves, and run hot salt trails over your lips. maybe it was a testament to how much gojo satoru loved you too, that he could not bear to see you in such grief, and he hesitated.

then he turned to leave you by the window.

✉️ — december 24, 2018 💬 — you.

the turn of the year felt cold, far too chilly, even though the night was still young. the city lights twinkled in solitary clumps outside, but they were just as dim as the heavy weight in your chest. the walls seemed to close in as gojo prepared to leave, to face sukuna — the king of curses. and you couldn't shake the feeling that something was slipping through your fingers, something that you would never be able to grasp again, no matter how tightly you gripped.

everyone had wished him luck, calling your their bravest words of encouragement as he walked past them, their voices echoing through the hall, as they slapped him on the back.

they all cheered the same platitudes.

"go fuck sukuna up!"

"language!"

"sorry, choso."

"show him what you're made of!"

"prove that you're not just a pretty face, gojo!"

and so you had plastered the same smile on your face, hoping that it would reach your eyes as gojo winked at you, "hey, before you start telling me off, now it's your turn to promise me something."

you had cocked your head up at him, ignoring shoko's narrowed, tired eyes, "yeah?"

"mhm," satoru nodded, pulling his arms around you, "after this, after all this bullshit, we get to take a vacation."

a barked laugh escaped you, before it collapsed into a giggle, "you want paid leave? that's all it is?"

your best friend's large hands gripped you, flat against your back, "yeah, that's all there is. we're gonna go take a holiday, sit by the beach, watch the ocean. keep it simple."

"a picnic too, eh?"

gojo nodded, humming, "we'll plan everything. about time we got to take a break. i'll be back before you even know it."

you felt his voice hitch against your ear, and your heart twisted painfully in response, he wasn't saying it but you both knew the cold truth, there was a real chance that he may never come back. before your vision could blur, you pressed his lips to his cheek, letting them linger for a moment on smooth skin (and you felt his arms tighten around you) and hoped that whatever you hoped to say, whatever spine you lacked, could be expressed so swiftly.

"come back then, please. i'll be ready." you whispered between his skin and your lips, the tremble leaving no space for air in your lungs.

for a moment, he didn't answer, just held you, and you tried to focus on the feeling of his chest rising and falling in slow, measured breaths. then, just as you were about to pull away, he spoke, the words falling from his mouth, so familiar and so effortless.

"of course i will. i always do."

there was a flicker of something raw there in his eyes, and you had seen it both before and after shibuya. his lips parted as if he were about to say something, but whatever it was, it never came. instead, he just nodded, a silent promise — unspoken, but felt deep in your bones.

without another word, he turned toward the door. and just before stepping out, he looked back one last time. that smile, that arrogant, confident smile that always made your heart race —i t was there, but it wasn’t the same. it was stretched thin, fragile. his blue eyes were tired, haunted, and for a moment, you saw the truth — the part of him he always kept hidden. the fear. the doubt.

"i'll be back," he repeated, but this time, it didn’t sound like a joke. it sounded like a prayer. a desperate, half-broken promise from the closest thing that the world had to a god.

you couldn’t speak. your heart was lodged in your throat, and the words that you needed to say just wouldn’t come. you wanted to tell him that you loved him, that you always had, that you were scared to lose him, that the world without him in it felt like a hollow echo of what it could be. but you couldn’t.

instead, you just nodded, your face a mask of emotions you couldn’t express.

and then, with one final look, a look that held everything neither of you had the courage to say — he stepped out into the cold, his footsteps fading into the distance.

✉️ — december 24, 2018 💬 — you.

gojo satoru was dead.

dead. killed.

for a moment, you stood frozen in the doorway of shoko's office, numbness seeping into your bones with a furious grief as you stared at the cold, unmoving form that was once satoru.

fuck, there was bile in your throat as a once lively boy now lay in four pieces, cleanly sliced by sukuna's unforgiving technique, and the sight was a nightmare made so real, something that you just couldn't reconcile with the man who had once been so vibrantly alive.

the warmth that had always clung to him had vanished, leaving his skin pale in the grasp of rigor mortis, and his lips were still flecked with dried blood that had painted a stark contrast against his stiff skin.

and his eyes, those striking blue eyes that used to glint with love and hope and dreams, were now dull, and still open. you had not the heart to close them, for once your hand pulled his eyelids down, you would never see them again, never look into his eyes until it was your time to pass from the circles of the world.

the last thing you’d seen of him had been that cocky grin, that wink that seemed so unbreakable, that laugh that lingered even as he left your embrace. he’d held you, promised you that he would come back, but now, as you stood there, that promise felt like a cruel lie, something that should’ve warned you but instead gave you nothing but hope.

you choked on a breath, your hand coming up to your mouth as you felt the weight of your unspoken words sink down like lead. i should have told him. you’d wanted to say it all, to let him know how much he meant to you, to tell him that he was your everything. but the words had died in your throat, held back by fear, by the delusion that there’d always be another chance, that he’d always come back.

you’d believed him. you’d believed, with every part of yourself, that he’d make it out alive.

but here he was, torn apart, the last shreds of life stolen from him by the king of curses. you had seen him being cut down, like a sheaf of wheat under a god's sickle, how sudden and gut wrenching it had been, and for the second time in a month, you had been on the edge of hurling onto the stone. but this time, the half-curse beside you, choso, hadn't stopped you from losing the contents of your stomach, as instead he had pressed his younger brother's cries to his broad chest, the grief swallowing the entire room.

gojo hadn’t been given the chance to fight back, hadn’t even been able to draw a breath before he’d been torn apart. and that final thought — that he’d been caught off guard, helpless, alone in his last moments — left you feeling shattered, grief clawing at you with merciless hands.

your knees felt weak as you moved toward him, your trembling fingers reaching out to touch his face, cold and unyielding beneath your hand. you traced the lines of his face, memorising every detail, as if somehow, through touch alone, you could keep a piece of him with you. a tear slipped down your cheek, landing on his lips, lips that had once murmured promises, had brushed against your skin in fleeting, unspoken moments. the tear brought moisture once more to the blood that splattered his face, but quickly, it disappeared, drying and taking away any life.

"i should’ve told you,” you whispered, your voice broken, raw, laced with the pain of regret, "i don't know if you ever knew how much i loved you."

you closed your eyes, the silence thickening around you, pressing down until it felt like you couldn’t breathe. your mind replayed every smile, every laugh, every word he’d ever spoken to you, each memory twisting the knife of grief deeper into your chest. the emptiness of the room swallowed you whole, and all that was left was the aching, unbearable reality that he was gone — that the man who had been your best friend, your confidant, your everything, was nothing more than a memory now.

you stayed there, your hand resting on his cold cheek, as if the warmth of your touch could somehow reach him, bring him back. but he was gone, and with him, he’d taken the words you’d never been able to say, the love you’d never been able to give.

and as the silence closed in around you, suffocating and absolute, you knew that part of you had died with him.

✉️ — not so long later. 💬 — you. it could only be you now, for you are the only one left.

the sun was beginning to set as you reached the shore, casting an amber glow over the ocean. the waves lapped quietly against the sand, as a gentle roll becoming a reminder that the world was still moving, even when the battles were done.

even though everything within you felt like it had come to a standstill. you clutched a folded piece of glossy card, and a box. two things that shoko said she found on him, things that she thought you should keep, she added quietly.

and so, you sat down on the sand, letting the evening wind sweep over you as you gazed out at the endless stretch of water. the ocean had always been something you had dreamed of seeing together, an endless horizon that was wild and untameable, just like gojo satoru had been. but he was gone, gone, and that promise would forever remain unkept.

you opened the folded glossy card, wincing as you tried not to press the faded creases further, brushing over the faded edges. it was dated to the fall of 2005, and you bit your lip as you saw your own image stare back at you. when the world had felt endless, and you had two wide eyes to see it with. there you were, that day in the market, laughing in the photo with your head thrown back sweetly, and you wetly laughed as you saw geto suguru's confused expression in the background, clearly exasperated with gojo's photography skills.

a choked sob escaped you as you traced your smile in the photo, so oblivious to what would come. you’d been so happy then, wrapped in a moment that had felt simple and whole. gojo had teased you relentlessly that day, snapping photos every chance he got, and you’d thought he was just being his usual, silly self. you’d never realised he’d kept this one one, never knew it meant enough for him to carry it all this time.

with a shaking hand, you opened the box, revealing the ring nestled inside. fuck.

it was beautiful, impossibly beautiful, as if he’d carefully chosen each detail with you in mind. the diamond glistened in the fading light, flecked with small blue stones that reminded you of his eyes, the eyes that used to light up every time he looked at you. this ring was supposed to be a promise, just as the ones you made when you locked little fingers — a promise he never got the chance to make, a life together that you’d both been too afraid to admit you wanted.

the first tear fell, splashing onto the sand below, followed by another, and then another, until you were trembling, the grief tearing out of you in waves, raw and unstoppable. you held the ring to your chest, clutching it as if somehow, by holding it close, you could feel him, hear his laughter, feel the warmth of his arms around you.

you could almost hear his voice on the wind, that playful edge mixed with tenderness as he called you by one of his ridiculous pet names. sweetheart, honey, my pumpkin pie, followed by your irritated huff telling him to drop those names.

but truly, here was nothing. just the sound of the waves, relentless and indifferent, echoing the hollow ache in your chest.

the what-ifs clawed at you, memories replaying over and over in your mind: moments when you’d almost reached for him, almost whispered the words, almost let your heart break free. but each time, you’d held back, too afraid to disrupt the delicate balance between you, too certain there’d be another day. but now, those moments were gone, scattered like dust in the wind, and the weight of those unsaid words felt unbearable.

you pressed the photograph to your lips, closing your eyes as if you could summon him back, if only for a moment. but when you opened your eyes, all that greeted you was the empty horizon, stretching out into nothingness.

"i love you,” you murmured, voice broken, barely more than a whisper. "i love you. i always loved you."

the words hung in the air, unheard, unanswered. it was too late, too late for confessions, too late for promises. the life you’d wanted with him, the life he’d carried in his pocket with a ring and a photograph, was gone, lost to the cruel twist of fate that had taken him from you.

you stayed there on the sand as the sky darkened, the weight of his absence pressing down on you like a storm. the wind whipped around you, cold and biting, and you shivered, clutching his ring, his memory, as if that alone could keep you grounded.

as night fell, the stars began to appear, dotting the sky with fragile points of light, distant and unreachable. and you sat there, letting the grief wash over you, lost in the silent, aching expanse of the ocean and the memories of a love that would remain forever unspoken, forever unfulfilled.

wasn't love the greatest curse of them all?

[andy-15-07]

His love for you

masterlist ! pairing Feyd-Rautha x reader

Summary: y/n is feyd rautha childhood best friend ,and he come to you and tell you that he is proposal for an arranged marriage but his in love with you

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the dunes of Arrakis. In the fading light, you found yourself standing at the entrance of Feyd Rautha's dwelling, the sandstone walls bathed in an orange hue. The bond between you and Feyd had been forged in the fires of childhood, and your connection had only deepened with time. Feyd was not just the nephew of the brutal Baron Vladimir Harkonnen; he was your confidant, your partner in mischief, and your best friend.

As you knocked on the heavy wooden door, a sense of anticipation settled in your chest. Feyd's footsteps approached, and the door creaked open to reveal his familiar, mischievous grin. His piercing blue eyes met yours, and for a moment, you could almost forget the weight of the world outside.

"Y/N," he greeted you warmly, pulling you into a tight embrace. "It's been too long."

You reciprocated the hug, feeling the strength in his arms. "I've missed you, Feyd. What brings you here?"

He motioned for you to enter his modest dwelling, adorned with fabrics and trinkets that hinted at a life beyond the ruthless politics of Arrakis. As you settled on a cushioned seat, Feyd took a moment before looking at you with an intensity that made your heart race.

"I have something important to tell you," he began, his voice betraying a hint of vulnerability. "My uncle, the Baron, has arranged a marriage for me."

Your heart sank at the news. The Harkonnen family's arranged unions were notorious for being strategic and devoid of any genuine emotion. You searched Feyd's eyes for any sign of discontent, and as if reading your thoughts, he continued.

"It's a political move, of course. But, Y/N, there's something you need to know. I'm in love with you."

The confession hung in the air, its weight palpable. You blinked in surprise, caught off guard by the unexpected turn of events. Feyd had always been a charmer, but this revelation went beyond the playful banter that defined your friendship.

"You're what?" you stammered, struggling to process his words.

Feyd ran a hand through his dark hair, a nervous energy emanating from him. "I've known it for years, Y/N. Even as the Baron orchestrates this marriage, my heart belongs to you. I can't go through with this arranged union knowing that I'm leaving my heart behind."

A silence settled between you, the gravity of Feyd's admission sinking in. You had always sensed a deeper connection between you two, but the idea of him harboring romantic feelings was both exhilarating and daunting.

"Feyd," you began, choosing your words carefully, "this is a lot to take in. I value our friendship, but this changes everything."

He nodded solemnly, understanding the complexity of the situation. "I didn't expect you to reciprocate immediately. I just needed you to know the truth. I couldn't keep it hidden any longer."

As the conversation lingered, Feyd's eyes searched yours for a sign, a glimmer of hope. His vulnerability was a stark contrast to the ruthless reputation he had acquired in the political landscape of Arrakis.

"I don't know what to say, Feyd," you admitted, a mix of emotions swirling within you. "But I can't stand by and watch you sacrifice your happiness for a marriage you don't want."

Feyd's gaze softened as he took your hand in his. "Y/N, will you help me? Will you be with me, even if it means going against my uncle's wishes?"

The weight of the decision bore down on you, and for a moment, the world outside seemed to fade away. In the dying light of the day, you felt the sands of Arrakis shifting beneath your feet, mirroring the uncertainty of the path ahead.

"I'll stand by you, Feyd," you finally said, squeezing his hand. "But we need to be cautious. The Baron is not one to be trifled with."

Feyd nodded, a mixture of gratitude and determination in his eyes. As the first stars emerged in the desert sky, you and Feyd faced an uncertain future together, bound by a friendship that had evolved into something deeper – a love that defied the harsh realities of Arrakis.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

“Have you ever had a Harveston apple before? They’re some mighty fine eatin’. Um I mean they’re pretty good. My meemaw just sent me a whole crate and I can’t finish it all myself so I’m passing them out. Want one? I heard from Ace you like apples.” - 🍎

So tell me, do you wanna go?

The boy held out an apple. He was smallish and delicate looking, with lilac locks and long lashes framing big, sparkling blue eyes. The collar of his uniform was gathered lace crowned with a necktie done up as a ribbon.

If Fellow didn’t know any better, he would have easily mistaken the boy for a living doll. He thought the idea laughable—a bitter reminder of his last gig.

Whoever he was, he was no nobleman’s son. No, he had opened with an accent Fellow recognized from somewhere rural and humble. Here was a common man, squished into a suit and thrown to the wolves to fend for himself. His eyes were not mistaken.

“Don’t mind if I do! Thanks for the grub, kid.”

Fellow accepted the apple with a broad grin. He could see his reflection in its shiny red exterior, even before he polished the fruit on his jacket.

Crunch.

His teeth cut into the apple, slicing its skin and revealing the crisp white flesh underneath. Sweet juice--sweeter than he'd ever tasted, almost candy-like--burst spilled his tongue. He hummed in satisfaction.

“Whoa, you weren’t pullin’ my leg. This stuff’s premium!” He hungrily eyed the crate of unclaimed apples in the boy's arms.

“Heheh. Harveston’s real proud of its produce." The first year glanced down, patting the top of his crate. "I should hand the rest of these out now."

"Hold on a second!" Fellow blocked his path--sights still set on the apples. It would be nice to bring some back for Giddie.

"Yes? What is it?"

"Why the rush? We've barely gotten to know each other! What's your name, champ?"

"It's, er... Epel."

"Epel!" He slipped a hand on the boy's shoulder. "And you're from Harveston, you say? I've been there myself during my worldly travels! Nice folks you got there. So warm, so hospitable!!"

(Fellow neglected to mention that the story started with he and Gidel sneaking onto someone's farm and liberating them of a chunk of their crops. It had been a particularly bad day and the vegetables had just been lying out there. A recipe of convenience, a risk worth taking.

They had been caught red-handed, been accosted by a flurry of frying pans and angry locals. It had taken plenty of groveling and sniveling to sort things out. When the locals' rage had simmered down, he and Gidel had been invited in to stay a while, given that they promised not to steal anymore. Some food and a bed, and they were all set for that night.)

Epel bristled, pulling away from Fellow. "Ah, no ya don't! Ace warned me that you're sneaky and to not fall for anything you'd try to pull."

He faltered. “What else has he said about me?! Fellow Honest-sama's got a reputation to keep."

It's going to be harder to scam these students if word about me gets around.

"Uh... Well..." Epel hesitated. "That you were kinda pathetic?"

"PATHETIC?! I'm not pathetic!!" Disbelief rattled Fellow's voice. He gritted his teeth, fingers digging into his half-finished apple.

Y-You're being pretty pathetic right now though...? Epel stayed tight-lipped for his own good.

Fellow released the Pomefiore student and stomped off, waving his cane in the air as if spearing an invisible man with it. Spit flew out as he cursed the boy with the heart over one eye.

"Why, that smarmy little...! MARK MY WORDS!! The next time I see that guy, he'll get what's comin' to him!!" Fellow swore loudly.

Epel awkwardly stared after him. "Wh-What just happened?"

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Off the Page 1

Warnings: non/dubcon and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: skinny!Steve

Part of the Bookstore AU

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

Maria brings you your travel cup as you acknowledge her with a quiet thanks under your breath. You try not to turn your attention from the person on the other side of the table. You keep your rehearsed smile in place, nodding as you open the cover of their book and write their name inside before leaving a message and your signature below. They ramble on but you don't mind so much, their passion is entirely flattering.

You still can't believe this is your life. You're a writer. Not that freelancer knocking out commissions for pennies, by an author. It's your second novel and by your publisher's declaration, a hit. You suppose you wouldn't be on a book tour if it wasn't.

You pause to have a sip of coffee. You've been here all morning. That there were people lined up before opening assured you of the long day but it just doesn't seem to stop. At the end, you're set to do a reading and giveaway a collector's edition of the book. Your longing for your hotel room only grows deeper as your hand cramps and your eyes sting.

The next reader steps up, his book well-worn and clutched in his slender hands. He's thin and short, with a swoop of blonde hair over his forehead.

"H-hi," he sputters as he goes to set his book on the table but it hits the edge and falls to the floor, "oh, s-sorry, I'm sorry."

He's almost frantic as he bends to retrieve it and places it in front of you. You smile at him as one of the store's branded bags dangles from his elbow. He has to buy a book to get a signature. You pull his well-read copy towards you, the cover wrinkled and the spine cracked.

"You know, I could sign both..." you offer, "since you spent the extra money."

"Oh, oh, n-no, that's... that's okay. Um, thanks. Just that one." He smooths his hair with a shaky hand, "sorry, I've been awake since two in the morning. Too much caffeine."

"Tell me about it," you kid as you hold his book open, "I can tell you really liked the book."

"Ye-yeah, yeah, so much," he seems ready to burst as his blue eyes light up, "you know, I really love Emeris. He... I don't want to be lame but... he's like me. You know?"

"Oh, yeah," you agree kindly, "he's one of my favourites."

"Most writers -- I read a lot -- they always have the typical hero. Big and brawny, but you mad Emeris strong in other ways."

"I tried," you reply. "Anything in particular you want me to put here?"

"I... I can't think of anything," his eyes go wide, "I've been looking forward to this forever and I didn't think."

"That's okay," you assure him and uncap your pen, 'Keep on the path, my brave Emeris,' you weave onto the page. You sign your name and slide the novel across to him.

He takes it and opens it, reading as his nervousness breaks into a smile. He peeks up at you, closing the book to bring against his chest.

"Thank you!" He beams.

"No problem, you sticking around for the Q&A?"

"Oh yeah, my friend wants to go get a snack but we'll be back," he proclaims. "Thanks so so much."

"Yeah, no worries," you subtly look to the line.

"Oh, uh, I won't keep you any longer," he waves his hand apologetically, "can't wait for your reading."

"See ya," you return and turn to the next person, a girl in deep red plaid, a brand new copy plopped down before you.

You just have another hour until you get to sit in front of all these stranges and try not to get tongue-tied. It should be easy by now but those butterflies in your stomach still flutter. More coffee, next book.

📖

The Q&A goes about as well as any other. It was good fun but entirely exhausting. You're ready to just go as the winter sky darkens fast outside the bookstore windows. Maria stops you to talk about your train ride tomorrow and the next venue. You beg her to let you go back to the hotel.

"I told you it was going to be a lot," she chuckles.

"You did. And just like you said, I'm tired, so please, I have a tub with jets waiting for me."

"Just make sure you don't stay up all night writing your next bestseller," she winks.

"You're telling me to get sleep?"

"I'm a great sleeper, I just happen to sleep best while commuting," she shrugs, "fine, go. I'm just going to talk to the owner quick."

"Alright," you utter through a yawn and cover your mouth, "I'll see you tomorrow."

You leave the bookstore and the chill air blows into your open coat. You shiver and clutch the strap of your bag. The bright sign of a Korean shop catches your eye. You're so tired of the bland hotel room service, you can spare ten minutes and a couple bucks.

You cross the street and enter the shop. The lights are low and the din is soft. You approach the counter, perusing the menu laminated on top and order some hoison noodles.

You hear muffled chatter from the corner and sway, trying to ignore it. After paying, you move over to wait for your take-out. As you do, you sense someone watching you. You peer over and see an eerily familiar set of blue eyes. It takes you a moment to recall the skinny man from the signing.

He's with another sat across from him. A bigger man with dark hair and wide shoulders. He shakes his head and catches the blond's hand before he can wave at you. He hisses something at him and you quickly look away.

You're still getting used to that. It doesn't happen too often but it's still awkward. You face the counter and take out your phone, a way to make yourself look busy.

You try not to hear but it's so quiet in the place, "Steve, quit, she doesn't wanna talk to you."

"I know. I just wanted to say hi," the hiss blows back.

Your order number is called and you grab it with a thanks, eager to flee before the situation can devolve. As you go to the door, you hear a groan under the jingle of the bell above you.

"Great, Buck, you always got be a buzz kill..."

You don't look back as you walk away from the shop, searching out a taxi as the smell of the noodles torture your empty stomach. You might just fall asleep before you can enjoy your prize.

[marivoid]

Entry 35

Day 228

Scott.

The same Scott who was supposed to no longer be here. The same Scott who had gone missing in our G.U.I.D.E.- The same Scott who had dark blonde hair the last time I saw him. Somebody who didn't have blue-tinted skin and an icy stare.

Somebody who didn't have ANTLERS of all things.

All I could do was stare. That was all I did. I just took in the face of the man who... that was my best friend. But it's been ten years. By the Watchers, I wish I knew what happened to him.

"You are not supposed to be here, Martyn."

His voice had changed too. Rougher. More defensive.

"And you are supposed to be in the G.U.I.D.E, but here you are. You're changed. You're not..."

"Not what? Not normal? Not that stupid, aloof boy who ran around the G.U.I.D.E with my head so far up in the clouds I couldn't tell reality from fiction?"

A sigh had escaped my lips back then. I wish it didn't. "You were never aloof, Scott. You were incredibly smart and witty and could do so many wonderful things- But then you left. You vanished in the middle of the night. You left the G.U.I.D.E! You left the people you were supposed to help- You left... You left me!"

"NOT WILLINGLY!" His hands slammed against his chest. "Look at me, Martyn! Does it look like I left willingly?! Those damned Watchers, feeding your brain- I bet you still believe everything they told you too!" The world around us had gotten quiet. People were looking.

And the "Jimmy" guy finally stepped in between us.

"Scott- Scott, hey, you don't need to tell him anything." He was definitely trying his best to keep the peace. But I've been told that I'm one stubborn bastard.

"No, actually, I think you do!" Jimmy's wing -Golden and soft and organic- stopped me in my path. "Scott, you left the night of your birthday! You left after freaking- You KISSED me, damnit! And then left! I thought you had died!"

"I WAS TAKEN YOU DUMBASS!" His hands got more blue with... With ice. Ice that he should have never had.

"Scott, you really don't need to do this, you know it makes you upset-"

"OH REALLY?! WERE YOU?! THAT SOUNDS LIKE A HELL OF A LOT OF BULLSHIT TO ME!" I shouldn't have yelled back then. Especially with Brian cawing the way he was.

"I WAS! THE WATCHERS ARE NOTHING BUT AN EVIL GROUP THAT JUST WANTED TO TORMENT US!" He was crying now. I, ME, I made him cry. Over ten years and I made him cry. But my anger was still speaking for me.

"And why would they want to hurt us, Scott?! They gave us everything!"

"They took away everything from us, what do you mean?!"

"ENOUGH!" Pearl's voice. I was pushed back from Scott while Jimmy stood in front of Scott like he was something that needed to be protected.

Needed to be protected from ME.

I should have been the one to protect him. I shouldn't have made him scared, but I did.

"Both of you are acting childish- You both are taking this out of my Emporium. Now!"

And that was how we got kicked out. And yet Jimmy was still protecting Scott.

Even when we left the Emporium and were finally in a quiet place... I still let myself be dumb. I wish Brian poked my head more often for my dumbass-ery at that moment.

"I thought you were dead."

"I'm not."

"They told me you left- That you hated the G.U.I.D.E and wanted to let yourself die in the wastelands. I... Didn't want to believe them."

"You did. Didn't you?"

My silence was the wrong answer.

"Martyn. You're a dumbass. You're a stubborn dumbass who never thinks things through. Why the hell would you even come out here?"

I held my arm up for him. His stunned expression... I wish it hadn't been with tears in his eyes. "A year after you left, a virus ran rampant. Killed everyone. Took my arm. I had to slice it off before it destroyed me." Scott's and Jimmy's shared silence let me continue. "Had to make a prosthetic. It was absolutely dog water. Held up for a while though. A couple of years. But then I had to make another one. And another... And another. It was okay for a while! Wish you had been there, Scott, would have been really nice to have my best friend with me to keep me sane but hey! Shit happens.

I made a fourth one when these... Bandits broke in. Took everything in there. I had to leave. I've been out here for almost a whole year now. Trying to find the Doctor. Give me an arm that will actually last." When I looked at Scott, his eyes were so... Empty. Void of anything. "When you left, everything changed. I became the Admin of the G.U.I.D.E. I got to read so many books- Things that I wanted to share with you!"

"I never said you had to be Admin, Martyn! I never even hinted at it!"

"I did it for you, Scott! Damnit, I did it so you and I could have been happy together! Unlimited access to everything, keep the G.U.I.D.E healthy and strong- We wanted that!"

"YOU wanted that, Martyn!" His hands collided with my chest. Gods I wish I wasn't so angry. I wish I had held his hands. I wished I hadn't gotten so headstrong. "Those were your dreams! I just wanted to be happy with you! That's why the Watchers took me away!"

More tears. His face turned an ugly shade of purple and ice crawled along my torso. I still have frost burn on my chest from it.

"That's... That can't be why. Why would they take you away just because you made me happy? That's stupid! That's absolutely stupid to even suggest-"

"Because you're too dumb to realize what they were getting at! We were just players in a game for them, Martyn!"

Jimmy stepped in. Again. And this time I didn't get a chance to speak. Not with a feathered wing shoved in my mouth.

"Scott. Enough. You don't owe this guy anything. Come on. Let's get home."

Two pairs of eyes glared at me as they walked away. One pair that I wish I'd been more calm with. I wish that I had just pushed down that rush of anger- Goodness-

His pen hit the paper with a loud shout. "GOD DAMNIT!" He held his head in his hands as he stared at the unfinished entry. "God damnit. I fucked up. I... Fucked up so much." A caw. "Yeah, I know. Big time."

Martyn didn't even bother to sign the entry. He shut the leather journey and tucked it away in his backpack. "I don't think I'll ever see him again either. He'll never forgive me. By the Watchers... What did he mean by that? Taken?? Nobody gets taken for making somebody else happy! That's just ludicrous!"

Another unamused caw.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Stupid." He collapsed onto the incredibly hard bed and let out a groan. "Ow... Forget these things are practically concrete..."

A cawing-like laughter from the bird.

"Oh ha ha. Very funny Brian."

Martyn rolled onto his stomach and stared at the comm. The reflection disgusted him. That reflection was him. "I need to find him again. I... I need to apologize to him, Brian. It's been almost fourteen years. I need to make things right by him. I need to hear him out, find out what happened to him. I made it sound like it was HIS fault for the G.U.I.D.E collapsing."

Another caw. Much louder.

"I know. Pretty shit of me. He's... He looks like he's been through a lot as well. He didn't have those antlers. Didn't have blue skin. He's... I've messed up so much."

Another quiet caw, followed by a trill. Martyn didn't bother to move as a weight made itself comfortable against Martyn's side.

"Didn't know you'd be a cuddly fella." His hand traced the bird's head while a quiet coo escaped its metallic beak. "Warning, I might move a lot in my sleep. Don't peck me if I end up rolling over."

Another caw and an unamused look.

"Just a warning, little fella." A yawn escaped his lips. "G'night, Brian. Sleep well."

Martyn was out before the bird could chirp again.

(@hermitadaymay )

[x-bee-x]

What's this? A fic from me in the DSMP category because there was canon lore? In 2024?

I was watching or getting ready to watch someone else, I had my follower list open at least, and saw Jack was live and there was something about logging onto the server later in his title and wait what. I knew as soon as I updated some friends about said happenings, I muted the Discord channel I sent it in in case people wanted to talk more about it and maybe sent spoilers later, and I was on here very little because I knew even though I'm not 100% in the fandom anymore and certainly not a fan of all the members, I would like to see it for myself. So I watched the vod the next morning and oh my god.

I did not expect to get literal chills the moment he logged on and the first thing we saw was the bench. And I almost cried when we saw Las Nevadas. And I did cry a bit when we saw Tech's house. Regardless of how much I care about the streamers who were part of that as of late, I did at one point, very much so. This was something I did not expect, it was so nostalgic and emotional and actually warmed my heart a bit seeing so many fans come together during and after it happened. This was a really unexpected and lovely way to tie things up, I thought they kind of were already in all areas for me at least, but I think that this was a good way to finally properly say goodbye.

Epilogue

No warnings

1,438 words

Tommy was. Somewhere.

He wakes up he thinks, he opened his eyes at least, running a hand through his blonde curls.

And.

He didn't think he was alone this time. Or well, he wasn't always, Tubbo was there sometimes, but this was a different sort of person feeling.

"H-hello?"

He typed into his communicator for the heck of it.

"Hey."

Jack?

"Wh-where have you fucking been?"

"Casino.

Been here for years mate.

Made loads."

He was.

He was in Las Nevadas?

This whole time. This whole time?

Tommy stood at the top of the hill at the entrance of the faux desert and sure enough.

Someone with one blue and one red eye, a head of buzzed hair with a headset on top, a blue short sleeved hoodie, and camouflage pants stood at the bottom.

"Let me bless you, my boy, it's been too long."

He threw a couple of diamonds at the feet of younger, who probably looked just as puzzled as he felt.

"Jack. Seriously.

What happened?"

"What do you mean? I've just been here. Playing roulette."

This whole time? This whole time.

"Wanna know where I've been?

Come with me."

"Hold on, can't leave on a loss, gotta get that big win."

Jack came out eventually, and they walked out of Las Nevadas and along the Prime Path together, he has somewhere to show him.

"It's good to see you."

"You too, man."

"I've been here."

"Here? Under the bridge?"

"Out in the distance. That way.

I've got a house. It's nice."

"I haven't seen anyone for a loooooong time.

Well, maybe Tubbo, every now and again."

Tommy and Jack walked, or well, Tommy walked, and all the sudden Jack's voice became quieter and quieter somewhere behind rather than beside him.

"Me either, casino's been empty.

Honestly, I just steal money from the safe's to gamble with. I could take it all if I wanted, but the thrill keeps me in there.

Gambler's addiction, they call it. One day I'll win big. 99% of people quit before then.

But not me. I'll make it. It's been years, but, it's coming."

He turned his head to the boy with heterochromia behind him, blonde waves bouncing lightly.

"You're not very good at catching up, are you?"

"Just telling my story, man."

Jack said while he jogged to be once again beside him.

"Never thought I'd be around these parts again. I moved far from here to get away from it.

It brings back too much. Joy, fun, sadness, pain. Too much of all of it.

But it's nice to see a familiar face."

The path they took to get to their destination was familiar, and this time he knew it was safe as well as convenient, no one with a mask he had to worry about being on the other side, or worse yet, chase him.

A bridge of cobblestone among the dark red brick and close to unbearable heat, from one swirling purple transparent gateway surrounded by obsidian to another, and they were spot out onto a soft cold white blanket.

"I don't live around here."

"Oh. I thought that's where we were going?"

"No, god no. Do you know how long it took for me to get back here?

I come here a lot though"

A house, a cabin to be exact, sat the same as them in the nearby distance.

It was cream colored with chestnut colored accents, a matching wooden roof and front door, and a chimney that stood tall and sat bare, no plumes of smoke emitted which once came from it.

"Cool. It's quaint. I like it.

Maybe I'll bye it when I win big!"

Tommy looked to the older boy with two colored eyes beside him, opened his mouth but decided against saying anything, then opened it again to say something after all.

"This is Technoblade's house."

"Oh. Maybe I won't do that then."

"How long do you usually sit here like this?"

"As long as I need to.

Sometimes minutes. Sometimes hours."

There were areas of fences close by on the surrounding property, the occasional bray or bah or grunt echoed through the air, and sat in the otherwise quiet.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure. Hit me."

Tommy fidgeted with the fingers on one hand in his lap as he found the right words and considered them being actually spoken.

"Do you ever.

Like, despite all the war, and the fighting, and all the- well, all the mess- how much it sent me a fucking mess.

Do you ever miss it? Those days? The people? Or, well, the way they were. The way it all was."

Jack looked at him, something like softness in his features.

"Sure. It was all a bit much at times, and I'm not sure I'd wanna do it all again.

But I miss it sometimes. It was fun, really."

"Yeah, I don't think I'd do it all again either. But. I don't know, I've tried to move on. My little cottage far away, my humble paradise. But that trails a lot into my mind."

"I think it trails onto all of our minds sometimes, wherever we all are.

But we all have to move on, find our own destiny sometime."

"Okay. Phew. I'm glad it's not just me."

"Chasing the win keeps me happy.

I like who I am now, probably more than I was. But that doesn't mean he was bad."

"You like being a gambler? Over an incompetent fight loser?"

Jack laughed, soft and genuine, and Tommy fidgeted a bit harder.

"I guess they're not great options are they."

"Sorry, that was a bit harsh, I don't see many people."

"One of them means I might win someday, I was never gonna win back then."

His face held that expression again, soft, almost sad maybe.

"I've still got my one life. One canon life.

And I intend to use it the best way I can."

"What do you mean? How do you wanna use it?."

"You know. I've not got a clue.

But I'll figure that out later.

For now, I've got my cottage, and my new pet! Oh she's adorable. Mareep, she's a little sheep I caught.

But you know, things are okay for me.

Tubbo and his fucking bees I see also every now and then. He's doing pretty well for himself. Selling fucking honey."

"Oh, that's good. I thought he exploded when I blew up everything.

I can't actually die I don't think, so I never know whether these things are bad for everyone else or not."

"I guess being the president of L'Manberg teaches you a few logistical things, aye?

Not that either of us would know anything about that."

"Well."

"Well."

"I haven't seen anyone else besides Tubbo."

"Yeah, you two are hard to separate."

"Tell me about it."

"I think I like it that way for now though.

The quiet life."

"Quiet is nice. This is nice."

"It's good to see an old face though. I know I said it before, but it really is."

Tommy pushed himself up and off the snow beneath them, a couple joints popped, Jack did the same, they stayed standing with the cabin behind them.

"Well, I can't stay for long, I've gotta do things like feed Mareep."

"Yeah, I got some places to see, now that I'm out.

Haven't left there in a while, probably should go check on some things."

"Is there anything else you wanna ask me? I have no questions for you."

Jack looked like he might have something to say, but was going through the roster of words in his mind, carefully considering them.

"Are you happy?

I guess that's really all I'd care to know."

Tommy opened his mouth to respond, closed it, gave a whisper of a smile, ran one of his hands along his pant leg in a partial fidget and a partial way to rid himself of the cold, then opened it again.

"Getting there."

They both nodded gently.

"I'm glad."

"It's good to see you, Jack."

"It's good to see you too, Tommy."

"I hope you get that big win someday.

Oh, and hey. Don't let anyone bye this house."

"I won't."

"I might not see you again. But I hope to lhear about it if you win big."

That's okay. You will. I can deal with just knowing that you're happy."

Tommy held out a hand.

"So long J Money."

Jack shook it.

"Bye Big T."

They both looked to the cabin once more, gave a two finger salute, and went their separate ways along the snowy path.

[starstruckzine]

A little AU lore...

"Your old man is going to lose it." Keigo chuckled as he watched Touya towel dry his freshly dyed hair. The snow-white locks were pitch black, and his white tee shirt was splattered with patches of purple that matched the scarred tissue covering the lower half of his face and arms.

"Like he'll even notice." Touya scoffed as he grabbed his guitar off the bed. "The only way Endeavor would ever pay attention to me is if I set the city on fire," he paused, a wide grin crossing his lips as he added, "or killed someone."

"Don't even joke about that, you psycho."

Touya played a few chords and laughed at the worry in his best friend's voice. "Don't get your panties in a bunch, Birdie. I've got a different plan in mind for the future."

🌟

Dabi read through the email he'd received a few minutes earlier from the band's manager. Their record label was putting together a tour; some big, fancy music festival that would travel the world over the span of a year. The details were being finalized, and Cremation had been invited to take part in the event.

A faint smile curled his lips as he turned and stared out the window of his penthouse apartment. The sky was dark, but the city was an ocean of colors: red and gold and bright white sparkling into the distant horizon. Maybe he hadn't become a hero like his father, but Touya Todoroki made a name for himself. And he did it on his own terms. Now, millions of people admired him, listened to his songs, and crawled over one another to buy his merchandise.

In a lot of ways, he'd surpassed Enji Todoroki, was living for it.

His phone rang, vibrating against the desk. He didn't need to glance at the screen to know who was on the line before he answered the call. "Hey, Birdie. I'm gonna guess you saw Compress's email."

Keigo chuckled. "World tour, huh?"

"That's what it says."

"Ever think we'd see the day?"

Dabi glanced at the display case in the corner of the room. A soft blue light illuminated the interior where a single guitar hung. It was just an old acoustic model, plastered with a collage of skulls and crosses. The brand name had worn off long before he ever touched it, but he never cared about labels anyway.

"Of course, I did. Everything worked out according to my plan."

A small blue flame lept from the palm of his hand. He watched it flicker as he listened to Keigo rattle off a list of places he wanted to visit during the tour. The bird's early childhood years  made him desperate to explore as much of the world as possible. Dabi's determination to succeed had almost as much to do with giving Keigo that freedom as it did with showing up his old man.

Now, all of their dreams were about to be realized on a scale he never dared to imagine.

"You're gonna run me ragged this entire tour, aren't you?" Dabi groaned as he extinguished the flame, but a grin stole across his lips. The social media opportunities would be limitless. So many chances to throw his fame in Endeavor's face.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you there's no rest for the wicked?" Keigo was laughing now, the excitement obvious in his voice.

Dabi chuckled, too. He'd strayed towards more nefarious paths when they were younger, considered actions that would have gotten him branded as something worse than "bad boy rock star". Somehow, Keigo always managed to drag him back in the right direction, kicking and screaming at times, but he was grateful for the support. Thinking about how things could have ended up without the bird made him cringe.

"Seriously, though," Keigo said suddenly, no trace of humor left in his tone, "I don't think I've ever thanked you."

"Thanked me? For what?"

"Are you kidding? For the music. The band. For making sure I didn't end up like my old man... Or yours."

"Like hell you'd - "

"Touya, shut up and let me finish. I'm just saying that my life could have gone a lot of different ways, but I'm grateful for where I ended up. I don't have a single regret about where I'm headed, and it's because of you."

Dabi was silent for a long moment, unsure how to respond. He glanced over at the desk and saw two new notifications on his phone. One was a text from Himiko, and the second was another email from Compress, titled "Please Review".

"If you're really grateful, you'll swear not to snore the entire tour. I need my beauty sleep."

"Don't change the subject. I'm trying to be vulnerable here."

There was a long pause before they both busted out laughing. Dabi sat back in his chair and took a deep breath. "We should go out and celebrate. My treat."

"Not gonna pass that up. Want me to invite the others?"

"We can plan something with them after we sign the contract. Tonight, we'll go haunt that little bar where we played our very first gig."

"You don't mean..."

"That's the one."

"No wonder you offered to pay."

The place was a small, hole-in-the-wall, dive bar where they'd played some gigs when they were still pretty young - too young to be in a bar - but the owner overlooked that little detail and paid them under the table. It was just the two of them in those days, but the money they made helped to pay for new equipment as their band and their popularity grew.

"You can pay then."

"Hey now, slow down. You were kind enough to offer, and it'd be rude of me to refuse. I'll let you pay."

"Sounds like a plan. You can pay when we take the rest of the band and Compress out to celebrate."

Dabi pictured the shift in Keigo's expression as he realized what just happened.

"Now wait -"

"Don't get your panties in a bunch, Birdie." Dabi interrupted, chuckling. "It was a joke. I'm gonna jump in the shower then hop on my bike and ride ovrr. Meet me there in an hour."

ZINE INTEREST CHECK

[tillthelandslide]

Same For You (12): June

Series Masterlist

(11) Ego

A/n: a huge huge huge thank you to @procrastinatinglikeapro for reading this chapter for me and editing it. You're amazing and I'm so thankful for you. I'm back because of you and I'm so happy about that ❤️ you're the best. Hope everyone enjoys this chapter - Lou

The walk back to her flat is surprisingly nice, neither Ross or Matty seem to be competing for her, they speak about things that interest all of them, never leaving the other out. Her hands are tucked into the pockets of her coat and both Ross and Matty walk a fair distance apart from her, but occasionally the path would narrow and their shoulders would graze hers, those were her favourite moments. She didn’t like it when an incoming person would force one of them away from her, they'd politely move out of the person's way but she'd wish they stayed with her. Even in those brief moments she missed the feeling of them near her, she swears she feels colder without them near.

When they reach her steps, steps that each of them know well now (Ross slightly more than Matty) the men share a quick look, not knowing what to do before she offers a solution. Neither want to leave her, but both wonder what it would be like if they both stayed. Surely they wouldn’t get the Y/n that each of them knew, very similar in ways but different in others. She didn’t change herself with each of them, she just presented different parts of her. It's a quick flick of her eyes to her watch before she's looking back at them.

"Want to come in? I've got a fresh bottle of red" she offers and both men smile widely, nodding at her with wide smiles. Both exhale a breath they didn't know they were holding, glad they didn't have to leave her just yet. She fishes out her keys before opening the door. They follow her in, walking through the corridor before reaching her kitchen backing out in the garden. 

Matty sees the familiar studio out back and smiles. It hadn't been long at all since he was in there, with her wrapped in his arms. They had argued and seemingly gotten over it now, and he swears he'd do his hardest to prevent it from happening again. Seeing her glassy eyes once was enough heartache to last a lifetime but he doubts it will be the last time he sees her cry. He silently begs some inner part of himself to never do that again but another part of him knows better.

"The guys are still at work..." She informs them, seeing the way their shoulders are squared, evidently on edge. They immediately slump and she chuckles, shaking her head. Ross stands by her fridge as she fumbles about the room, trying to find the aforementioned bottle of wine. His fingers graze the pictures covering the surface of it, smiling to himself as he takes them in.

Both men listen to her tell a story of how Charli had insisted she tried this wine she had tried and proceeded to buy her a bottle, all whilst still looking for said bottle. 

Ross' eyes find several pictures of her when she was younger, still wide eyed and smiley, dimples showing clear as day. He sees pictures of her and her friends, a few with Charli and her messing about. He knew they weren’t always close but the fact they’ve grown closer recently made him happy. 

Matty looks around her kitchen, noting various things about it, zoning out momentarily and simply taking it all in, until her voice rings around the room again, claiming to have found the bottle of wine and three glasses.

"Wanna go out back?" She asks and they both nod, following the woman out to her garden. It's the first time Ross has seen it, having only ventured into her room. Meanwhile Matty knows it well. It's edged with fairy lights which glisten in the dark, lighting up the garden.

Her hand finds the door to the studio and she opens it, flicking the light on, revealing the room. Ross takes in how professional it looks, like a proper studio and for a moment he doesn't know why he was expecting otherwise. He spots her light blue guitar wondering why it was in this room instead of hers. He walks over to it, his palm finding the neck of it and her eyes find his.

"I've been recording with it recently" she confirms and Ross nods, Matty doesn't know what the exchange is about, but for once, he doesn't really mind.

"Make yourselves at home" she says, opening the bottle of wine and pouring three glasses. Ross and Matty sit next to each other, leaving no space for her, but she didn't mind, it made the whole ordeal easier. She sits opposite them, thinking about what to talk about for a minute. That usually didn't happen, the conversation with each of them usually came easily, this felt slightly awkward, slightly forced. Should she have let them leave? Should she have not invited them in? She didn't know.

An idea suddenly springs to mind "Hey... I found something the other day when I was looking for a vinyl to play" she says, standing up, walking to the corner of the room, retrieving something from her vinyl box. She sees her pick up their record, "The 1975", self titled, the one Ross knew was signed. They both knew she was fan of their band, but the fact that she chose to listen to this album in her spare time still made them smile widely. 

She slides it across the table from them, but she holds onto something, eyes finding theirs before she begins talking.

"My brother got this signed for me in Australia one year" she explains, although Ross already knew "I was listening to it the other day and this slipped out" she says, sliding what she was holding across the table. Both men then stare at the picture, a picture of them with a tall guy, his hair curly like Matty but dirty blonde instead of his dark brown, and his eyes are a piercing green, just like hers.

"That's Dyl..." She says smiling widely, eyes flicking from the picture to both men looking down at it, both of whom are smiling.

"and us..." Matty confirms, smiling widely across at her, his eyes then find Ross' and he smiles at the man too before smiling at her.

"He looks like you" Ross smiles and she nods. Her hair was loosely wavy whereas her brother's was unruly curly, hers was slightly darker on top but the same dirty blonde at the ends, natural highlights ran throughout, their eyes were the same, they both had dimples on their cheeks and their smiles were identical.

"People used to think we were twins... Don't know what that says about me because he was 6 years older than me" she laughs and they smile at the noise.

"The day he got back from Australia he gave me this record and I almost hit him... He didn't call me and tell me he met you guys. I remember being so annoyed... And then he gave me that guitar" she says, pointing over her shoulder to the light blue guitar sitting in the corner.

"I forgave him after that..." They all chuckle. It was nice, hearing her talk about him, both men hearing the same things, at the same time, sharing the information together.

"He brought me the green one I use now too... just before he passed away" she explains and both men nod. It explains why she tends to use the green one more.

"Did he mention you when he met us?" Matty asks and she nods.

"Apparently he said how obsessed I was with you guys and how I'd kill him if he knew he was there" she says, and as crazy as it seems, Matty swears he remembers, he doesn't say anything though.

"And then he spoke to you about playing the bass apparently" she says, her eyes directed at Ross. They met tons of people at those kinds of events, it was hard to remember faces, but Ross swears he remembers too. He remembers having a particularly nice conversation with a guy about different bass guitars, he remembers him telling him the model he learnt on and the one he has now. He doesn't mention it either. She wouldn't believe them if they did. Or would she?

Both of their eyes fall on the man's face, it seems all too familiar now. They fall silent again.

"There's something I didn't tell you guys..." she says but she's smiling, the men share a look before they both give her their undivided attention. She stands again, walking to her computer, opening a drawer and pulling another photo from it.

She sits across from them again, the photo facing her and she smiles down at it. She looks back at them, seeing the way they smiled at her. She likes that her own visual happiness makes them happy.

"Dylan lived in Australia with his girlfriend at the time, her name is Olivia... we lost contact when Dylan died" she explains and both men listen tentatively.

"She contacted me about 2 years after he died... she had moved back here and wanted to see me, said she had something to tell me" she slides the photo over to the boys, Matty allows Ross to hold it. Both sets of eyes fall on a picture of Y/n, a little boy sitting on her lap, no older than 6, with a mop of dirty blonde unruly hair sitting on top of his head, piercing green and a huge smile, just like hers.

"Olivia was pregnant when Dyl died... she named their son Dylan junior... we call him June, he's not a fan of the name Dylan" she laughs at the thought. She remembers how sad it used to make Olivia, not wanting to be called by his dad's name, but now it makes them laugh, for it was so like his Dad.

"Dylan used to get weirdly frustrated that people had the same name as him… like it was something that should just belong to him… June's the same that way, didn't want us to call him Dylan because it belonged to his dad" she explains, shaking her head and the bizarreness of the idea.

They both smile at the photo, noting how happy she looked, the child clung to her and it was obvious they were close.

"When did she know she was pregnant?" Matty asks and y/n smiles as they slide the photo back to her.

"She found out two weeks after Dyl passed away... she hadn't been with anyone else so she knew the child was his... he would've loved to be a dad. But she's a great mum" both men nod at her words.

"He's a little rockstar too" she says, she smiles when both of their eyes light up.

"Just started learning bass" her eyes flick to Ross' who smiles widely.

"Just like his dad" Ross says and it makes her smile proudly, tears beginning to well in her eyes. Ross notices and leans forward in his chair, reaching out his hand. She takes his, smiling when his thumb runs along the skin. Matty watches the exchange and to his surprise he doesn't feel as jealous as before. Maybe it's because he knew she needed the comfort, maybe something has shifted in his brain, he was unsure.

"Sorry love... didn't mean to make you upset" Ross says, withdrawing his hand from hers despite not wanting to.

"You didn't... happy tears I promise" she says, wiping the tears from her cheeks.

“He’s only just started learning how to play but he’s already so good… it's funny because he’s so small and the bass is massive for him but he’s so determined y'know?” she asks, laughing at the visuals that flick through her mind. Both men nod. They knew what it was like to be determined when it came to music, for they all were. 

"It's hard to explain... but June is so much like Dylan... he's a stubborn little thing, and so passionate about music, he loves fiercely and... it's like I've got my brother back… in some way" Ross and Matty smile at that.

"They're coming to the next show" her eyes flick down to her hands and her next words come out hesitantly "I don't know if either of you are busy... but I'd love for you to meet him" she says, eyes snapping up to them.

"Of course love" Matty says, leaning forward slightly in his seat.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world" Ross says with a wide smile, she smiles back.

"Thank you... both, you've both become very important to me... and June is probably the most important person in my life" she confesses. The smile never leaving her face now she was talking about her nephew. 

Both men look at her lovingly. Knowing that she wanted them to meet someone so important to her, was indescribable. They were important to her. They liked that.

She showed the both of them some stuff she had been working on. Matty had left Ross' side, editing some of the tracks she showed them, inspiration striking. She trusted him and allowed him to do so.

Ross patted the space Matty left and she moved to sit there, allowing him to tuck her into his side, one arm draped casually over her shoulders, not so intimate that Matty felt jealous. He didn't know whether it was just tonight, or whether something had shifted, but he didn't mind too much. Looking at the pair made him smile, not jealous. It was a welcomed change, if not only for tonight.

Her own song played across the room, a gentle arrangement of soft instruments and no vocals, an ambient track that was peaceful. She found herself drifting off to it as Matty played it for the 6th time.

Had she stayed awake, maybe they wouldn't have had the conversation but maybe they would have, maybe she would've been involved. Instead, her head was slipping onto Ross' lap, legs tucked up behind her. She slept peacefully as his hand gently raked through her hair.

Matty pauses the track when he hears a soft chuckle from behind him, he turns his chair and sees Ross smiling at Y/n. His eyes never leave her and Matty sees something in the bearded man’s eyes he'd only ever seen a handful of times before and never quite that intense. Those looks belonged to his family, his married friends, to the couples he met that had fallen in love at their shows. Ross’ eyes are warm. He looks at her like she is the entire world. Matty hadn't seen Ross look that fondly at anyone before.

Matty then looks at the girl resting in his friend's lap. Looking at the way masculine hands drift through her hair, the most gentle he'd ever seen Ross be. His heart pangs in his chest, but he feels something else too, something new.

Looking at his best friend, clearly infatuated with the girl sleeping in his lap, he felt… warm and proud, and perhaps, most importantly: happy for him.

"You really like her" he says, his voice drawing Ross' attention towards him and his smile slowly drops. He's not any less happy, Matty can see that, but he's unsure what to do with the words. He looks over Matty for a few moments. Matty doesn't know what he's going to say. Will he admit his feelings out loud finally? Will he deny it once more?

"So do you…" despite his words, Ross doesn't sound annoyed, in fact he smiles, looking down at the girl again.

"it's okay Matty, you don't have to lie… it's pretty obvious, I mean… I've known you since we were kids mate… it's clear when you fancy someone" Ross says, eyes flicking up towards the man again.

"You're not annoyed?" Matty asks, completely thrown off by the entire conversation. He'd half expected Ross to try to fight him if he found out.

"You can't help your feelings mate… and I get it" his eyes fall back on her and he smiles again. "Trust me I get it". Ross had never felt this way for someone before, it was something nearly indescribable, it just was. He knew he couldn’t question it and he didn’t want to. Feeling this way for her made as much sense as breathing did, as playing bass. It was natural. 

"I do like her mate.. quite a lot" he's honest now, the first time he's been honest out loud to anyone else but himself "but nothing's happened… she won't allow it" Matty admits. Ross looks up at him again. Matty didn’t say he hasn’t tried or that he didn’t want to, but Ross doesn’t mind. 

"I know… she told me you tried to kiss her though" Ross says. Again, there isn't a single hint of anger or jealousy in his voice and Matty doesn't know how to act. He thinks it would be easier if Ross was an arsehole about it, accusing him of overstepping or something of the sort.

"She did?" Matty raises his eyebrows, eyes flicking to the girl again. He then realises that whatever was happening between her and the bassist was established, they told each other things that no one else knew. He didn’t realise it was that serious and immediately feels guilt for even feeling this way towards her. 

"She did…" Matty waits for some kind of response from Ross, for him to tell him his opinion but when it doesn't come he raises a question of his own.

"Has something happened between you two?" Matty asks, Ross nods. He wanted Y/n to be the one to tell Matty, in her own time, when she was ready. But he couldn't lie to his best friend.

"I kissed her… knew I shouldn't have to be honest… had a hunch that you liked her… so I'm sorry about that mate" Ross says and Matty shrugs. He's hurt, Ross can tell that, but he's also putting his guard up. He doesn't like that. Doesn't like that he caused it.

"Couldn't help myself to be honest" Ross says with a smile and a gentle caress of her cheek. Matty smiles too, happy for his friend. But he also knows the feeling all too well and he was fully aware that if she had allowed it, Matty would be in the same place as his friend, although things would've been much, much more complicated.

"Is that it?" Matty asks. Ross shakes his head. Although Matty already knew that, deep down.

"Nothing too extreme don't worry" Ross says, smirking at his friend. It doesn’t matter though, not really. It didn’t make a difference, Matty knew now, that Ross was hooked and so was she. He felt like he was just a problem, one in which she was trying to sort out. 

"Are you happy?" Matty asks, although he already knows.

"Very" Matty smiles at that, mumbling a "happy for you mate"

They fall silent for a few moments, Ross wants to tell him that she thinks she likes him too, but he also doesn't want to overstep like that. That was her business and whether she told Matty or not, was completely up to her.

"You know… I'm going to do anything I can to make her happy… I can't explain it mate but… I've never felt like this before" Ross says, eyes finding Matty's. He understands the bassist's words but he also senses that there's more to them.

"What do you mean?" Matty runs a hair through his curls.

"You… you get her. She gets you. I know that… think you understand her in a way that maybe I don't… in a way that I might not ever be able to… she needs you Matty… I'm not going to be the guy who denies that alright?" Ross says and Matty nods, although he still doesn't know what the man means.

"So you're saying what exactly?" Matty asks.

"Y/n and I… were not together, but I want us to be… eventually. But I guess what I'm saying is… don't- don't stop what you're doing now. Because I think she needs it" Matty is still as confused. Ross sighs.

"Don't get me wrong… if you kiss her without her wanting it, I'll be pissed off… and if she does want you too… I'll be jealous. You make her happy Matty… in a way that's different to how I make her feel. So don't" he sighs deeply "Don't just stop okay? Because I think we'd both lose her if you disappear or ignore her" Ross says. Matty nods slowly. 

"Are you telling me… that you like her so much, that if she was to want to kiss me… you'd allow that?' Matty says, completely perplexed by the whole confession.

"It would hurt like a bitch… but yes. I suppose so" Ross says.

"Jesus Christ" Matty says, running a hand through his hair again. He thinks over his friends' words trying to make sense of them. He knows if the tables were reversed he wouldn't allow that, he knows he'd be possessive, only wanting her to have him and him only, maybe it was a downfall, maybe that's just how he thought relationships worked.

But they weren't in a relationship were they? But Ross wanted them to be, he knew that.

He shakes his head, sighing deeply "na mate I can't do that… I can't kiss your girl, even if she asked me to" he admits.

"She's not my girl Matty"

"But you want her to be Ross!" There’s silence before Matty mutters, "this is crazy…"

"Matty, you like her… I don't know how she feels" he lies "but if she were to reciprocate those feelings… I would rather something happen between you two then lose her completely"

"That's wild" Matty says, shaking his head again.

"You're telling me you could bare losing her?" Matty shakes his head in answer. "Exactly"

"It doesn't make sense to me that you'd like someone so much you'd be willing to... to do this" Matty says, not quite knowing what he was actually referring to. "It doesn't make sense... None of it makes sense. It doesn't make sense that I met a girl 10 years younger than me that just gets me... it doesn't make sense that I've known her just over a month but I feel closer to her than I have to anyone else in my entire life... it doesn't make sense that I feel..." he pauses, looking down at her again, fingertips grazing her cheekbone. "I feel like this... so quickly.." his eyes then find Mattys.

"It doesn't make sense that I'd be willing to do anything to keep her... even if that means allowing my best mate to have her... in some sort of way... in whatever way she wants" his eyes fall on her face again and he smiles to himself.

"Love doesn't make sense... it makes you do wild shit Matty" Matty knows that's true. But he shakes his head again at his friend, still not fathoming his words.

Love doesn't make sense...

Boy did he know that was true.

Matty eventually leaves and Ross carries her to her bed, leaving a note by her bedside table before booking an Uber home. Neither men discuss the conversation again, it's as if it never happened. Y/n continues to be none the wiser, sneaking around in (not-so) secret with Ross and continues to deny her feelings for Matty.

But what would happen if something was to shift? What if Matty couldn't deny his desires any longer? What would happen if she finally, finally allowed herself to give in to the desires Ross had awoken in her, the way she so desperately wanted? What would happen if she allowed herself to be loved? By both of them?

(13) Take Me Higher

Taglist: @scooby-doodoo @thereisaplaceintheheart @promocodesorry75 @eaglestar31 @thefrontofmymind @fallingforel @partoftheairforce @procrastinatinglikeapro @poisonmedaddy13 @xthe1975 @all-things-fic @jstbeeingme @rossgirly @juliardk @you-muppet @moodyyyychickx @k4tie75 @insidemymind19 @zzzhealy @maybeiwouldlikeyou @at-her-very-foreign @not-alien-girl-v (add yourself using the link in my bio 😊)

[liquidstar]

april fools is over so now im going to be slash srs instead of slash j. im going to post a little excerpt from one of the oc writing practices ive been doing :) again im not super experienced for a variety of reasons but im doing my best here.

but im going to try and put my self conciousness to the side (thats probably an important part of the practice too, right?) since this isnt final version either way, i can just say im sharing a WIP! so for now it will go the way of most of my other oc stuff..... under the cut

the only context you need is that this would be the opening scene for the story. if i post others i'll have to give more context bc most of them are taken from the middle of something. anyway here goes:

-----

“I love you

I've loved you since the beginning

From when you were only stardust

To when you will rejoin the stars

When everyone will be together again

Understand, you don’t simply live in the universe

You are part of it, taking on a form uniquely alive

You are the universe giving love back to itself

I love you so much”

“Wait!!!”

A lone girl jolts awake, crying a plea into the empty air. Tears stream down her cheeks, as she calls for someone she doesn't know. Her heart aches with a nameless yearning that fades with the memory of her dream. Still, against her will, the emotions linger. A profound sense of love consumes her, an agonizing, grieving love, meant for her. She sighs and wipes away her tears. It was an absurd dream, a ridiculous notion.

As her conscious mind clears, she takes in her surroundings; a forest drowned in the pale blue light of dawn. Her sleeping bag, now encased in dew, was laid on the cold grass. She sits for a while, gazing at the faint sliver of the rising sun’s glow with an indistinct expression, and eventually stands up.

The lone girl begins her daily routine by braiding her hair. With a wave of her hand, she freezes dew on a rock, creating herself a mirror. Her fingers carefully weave her brown locks into a braid, now adorned with a snowflake clip and a scarlet ribbon. She throws on a long blue half-skirt over her shorts, matching her shirt. She forces on a pair of black boots and cuffs on her arm. Lastly, she grabs a moon-themed spear, and she's ready for the day.

Before setting off, she made sure to pack all her belongings, including her numerous hand-drawn maps and a compass. However, she also stops to look into the bag deeper, foolishly expecting to find something new. Instead, she only sighs, "Still no food."

She puts on the backpack and trudges forward anyway, ignoring the hunger pains as best she can. She hums to keep herself distracted.

As she walks, the trees tower above her, shrouding the horizon and taunting her. Birds occasionally fly into view, but seem to disappear in an instant. She wonders if her eyes are playing tricks on her.

The lone girl scribbles on her maps, trying to record a labyrinth of identical tree trunks and twisted paths. This proves useless, as this elliptical forest has her going in circles. Exasperated, she fidgets with her compass, only to see the needle is frantically twitching around. She presses it gently to her forehead and quietly complains, “Don't tell me you're broken…”

Her train of thought was cut short by the sudden sound of running water, so loud she can’t fathom how she’s only now begun to hear it. She decided to put off one problem for another. Following the sound through some shrubs, she quickly finds the source.

Her spear at the ready, she approaches the stream. Scanning its depths for signs of fish, she walks cautiously. Her posture was awkward, her expression was uncertain, betraying her lack of experience. She held her spear to her chest with both arms as she encroached the water’s edge.

She inhales in preparation, removes her skirt and boots, and enters the water with slow, careful steps. The very surface of the stream begins to freeze as it makes contact with her skin. Tiny, thin crystals of ice form as she steps further in. Breathing deeper, as she tries to control the frost, she makes her way to the center of the stream. She stands waiting for fish.

Rather than throwing her spear to hunt, like the intended purpose, she stabs at the water. She’s not good at this, however, and only ends up scaring other potential prey away. She makes several attempts at this but is unsuccessful each time. Refusing to quit, her repeated strikes become more desperate and uncoordinated with each failure. Her growing frustration only makes the water freeze deeper, eventually solidifying around her legs. She yelps, now in a panic, and begins to frantically stab at the ice to free herself.

A mess.

Escaping this ordeal, the lone girl abandons any further attempt at fishing. It probably isn't her calling anyway. She trudges on, lost, wet, cold, and hungry.

She looks at her compass again, her face reflecting in its glass. “You're broken,” she tiredly states, as she feels her eyes begin to well with tears.

“No! No no no! Don't cry! Don't cry Polaris,” The lone girl, Polaris, reassures herself, “Last time you cried you froze your eyelids shut, and that really hurt,” She whines aloud.

Polaris takes a deep breath, slaps her cheeks, and swallows her tears. She elects to follow the river, her only hope of escape, pursuing the promise of a village just beyond this enigmatic forest. She daydreams of a warm meal in a cozy restaurant, and maybe a cold desert too. A glimmer of determination returns to her stride, as she continues her hum from before.

[emma23]

Algorithme of the heart:

————————————————————————

Nathan Bateman had always been a figure of fascination and frustration in your life. As old friends from college, you had bonded over late-night debates about AI and consciousness. However, after Nathan founded Blue Book and retreated into his reclusive lifestyle, your communication had dwindled to occasional messages and rare phone calls.

One day, out of the blue, Nathan invited you to his secluded estate, promising an intriguing new project he wanted to share. Your curiosity piqued, you accepted, eager to rekindle the intellectual spark that had always marked your friendship.

Upon arrival, you were greeted by Nathan's familiar grin, though his eyes held a weariness you hadn't seen before. "It's been too long," he said, pulling you into a quick, warm embrace.

"Definitely," you replied, taking in the high-tech surroundings. "So, what's this secret project you couldn't tell me about over the phone?"

Nathan's smile widened. "Let's just say it's something that could change everything."

Nathan led you to his private lab, where he unveiled Ava, a humanoid AI with remarkable realism and advanced capabilities. You were stunned by the sophistication of her design and the complexity of her programming.

"This is beyond impressive, Nathan," you said, unable to tear your eyes away from Ava. "She's... extraordinary."

Nathan watched you closely, a hint of pride in his expression. "Thanks. I've been working on her for years. I want you to help me refine her, particularly her emotional responses."

As you delved into the project, your days were filled with technical discussions and debates, much like the old times. The comfortable rhythm of working together brought back memories and rekindled the deep intellectual connection you shared.

One evening, after a particularly intense session, you both collapsed on the couch in Nathan's living room, exhausted yet exhilarated.

"It's like old times," Nathan remarked, handing you a drink. "Remember those all-nighters in the dorm, arguing about the future of AI?"

You laughed, taking a sip. "How could I forget? You always had the craziest ideas."

Nathan's gaze softened. "And you always challenged me. I missed that."

As weeks passed, you found yourself growing closer to Nathan in ways you hadn't anticipated. The long hours and shared meals led to deeper, more personal conversations. Nathan revealed the pressures of his isolated life, his fears about the ethical implications of his work, and his lingering doubts about the path he had chosen.

"You know," Nathan said one night, staring into his glass, "sometimes I wonder if I've gone too far with this."

You looked at him, surprised by the vulnerability in his voice. "Why do you say that?"

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Creating something like Ava... it's a huge responsibility. There's a fine line between playing God and pushing the boundaries of science."

You reached out, placing a comforting hand on his arm. "Nathan, you've always been a pioneer. It's natural to question the ethics of what you're doing, but you've also shown a deep respect for the implications. That's why I'm here—to help you see all sides."

He met your gaze, his eyes filled with a mix of gratitude and something else you couldn't quite decipher. "I'm glad you're here. I don't think I could do this without you."

The more time you spent together, the more you became aware of the subtle shift in your feelings for Nathan. The intellectual admiration and deep friendship had always been there, but now there was a growing undercurrent of attraction that you couldn't ignore.

You often caught Nathan watching you with a contemplative expression, his eyes lingering on you longer than necessary. The air between you crackled with unspoken tension, a mix of curiosity and desire.

One night, after a particularly intense discussion about Ava's programming, you found yourselves alone in the lab. The room was dimly lit, and the quiet hum of the equipment created an intimate atmosphere.

Nathan leaned against a table, his eyes fixed on you. "You know, working with you again has reminded me how much I missed this... missed you."

Your heart raced, the implications of his words hanging in the air. "I missed you too, Nathan. More than I realized."

He took a step closer, his voice soft. "There's something I've been wanting to tell you, but I wasn't sure how."

You swallowed hard, your own feelings bubbling to the surface. "What is it?"

Nathan hesitated, then took your hand in his, the touch sending a jolt of electricity through you. "I think I've been in love with you for a long time, but I was too focused on my work to see it."

Your breath caught, the confession catching you off guard yet feeling strangely right. "Nathan, I..."

Before you could finish, Nathan leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a tentative, yet passionate kiss. It was as if the dam had broken, all the unspoken emotions flooding out at once.

You kissed him back, your hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. The world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you, finally acknowledging the depth of your feelings.

The transition from friends to lovers brought a new layer of intimacy to your relationship. The shared work and long hours in the lab became intertwined with stolen glances, tender touches, and moments of passion that left you both breathless.

One night, after a particularly grueling day, you and Nathan retreated to his quarters. The tension had been building all day, and as soon as the door closed behind you, Nathan pulled you into his arms, his lips capturing yours in a searing kiss.

The kiss deepened, hands exploring, bodies pressing closer. Nathan's touch was both urgent and gentle, as if savoring each moment. You responded with equal fervor, your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. The room felt charged, the air thick with unspoken desire.

Nathan broke the kiss briefly, his forehead resting against yours, his breath hot and heavy. "I've wanted this for so long," he whispered, his voice raw with emotion. "But I didn't know how to tell you."

You cupped his face, your eyes meeting his, seeing the vulnerability and longing there. "Me too, Nathan. I've wanted you."

That admission seemed to be the final barrier. Nathan's hands moved to your waist, lifting you effortlessly and carrying you to the bed. As he laid you down, his eyes never left yours, filled with a mix of adoration and hunger.

Slowly, he undressed you, each piece of clothing falling away with deliberate care. His lips followed the path of his hands, kissing every inch of exposed skin, leaving you trembling with anticipation. When you were finally bare before him, he paused, his gaze sweeping over you with a reverence that made your heart ache.

"You're beautiful," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "So beautiful."

You reached for him, pulling him down to meet your lips again. The kiss was softer this time, but no less passionate. Nathan's hands roamed your body, exploring every curve, every contour, committing you to memory. Your own hands were just as eager, tracing the muscles of his back, feeling the strength and warmth of his body.

When he finally entered you, it was slow, almost reverent. The sensation was overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and deep connection. Nathan's movements were controlled, each thrust measured, as if savoring the moment. Your bodies moved together in perfect harmony, each touch, each kiss deepening the bond between you.

The world outside ceased to exist, leaving only the two of you, lost in each other. As you reached the peak of pleasure, Nathan whispered your name, his voice breaking with emotion. The sound of it, the intimacy of the moment, sent you over the edge, your body trembling with the force of your climax.

Nathan followed soon after, his grip on you tightening as he buried his face in your neck, his breath hot against your skin. The two of you lay there, intertwined, the world slowly coming back into focus. But even as reality returned, the connection between you remained, stronger than ever.

The morning after, you and Nathan lay intertwined, the weight of the new reality settling in. While the passion and connection were undeniable, there were still challenges to face, both personally and professionally.

Nathan was the brilliant yet enigmatic CEO of Blue Book, while you were an AI researcher with your own aspirations. The project with Ava had been a catalyst for your relationship, but it also posed ethical dilemmas and public scrutiny.

As you lay in bed, Nathan turned to you, his expression serious. "We need to talk about what this means for us... for the project."

You nodded, knowing this conversation was inevitable. "I agree. We have to be careful about how we proceed, both for our relationship and for Ava."

Nathan sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I don't want to lose what we have, but I also don't want to jeopardize the work we've done."

You reached out, taking his hand in yours. "We'll figure it out together. We always do."

[utookapictureofursalad]

✨Here with me✨

Hi this little piece is kinda very personal to me cause it's kinda something I think about when I'm having a rough time and it really calms me down cause it makes me feel someone is actually there and really gets me. I hope you enjoy it. And please tell me what you think of it💓

I pull the door open and enter the apartment. My eyes scan the place quickly and I find you in the kitchen with your back facing me. The warm sunlight has covered the whole flat and I can smell the breakfast you're making.

'Hey' I finally dare to speak. You turn and look at me surprised 'oh there you are!' you say facing me. I start to adore the way you look silently. I adore the way your dark curly hair looks, a cigarette is hanging loosely between your perfect pink lips. A bad habit of yours but you always look very good doing it, just like everything else that you do. Which I don't find fair at all. You're wearing a black tank top, a blue shirt that you've left unbuttoned and blue Jeans. We haven't seen each other for a few months, you've been on tour and I've been busy with work and studying. Your thought however has not left my head even for a second. We both smile. Here we're again and it feels like life is starting to make sense again. We're both fully aware that it's not like this with other people. We're like one another's better half. We decide to leave those thoughts unspoken, cause that's probably for the best now.

You pull me in for a hug, I start to feel how much I really missed you when you were away. Being in your arms is as soft as being wrapped in feather, makes me want to spend an eternity there. I'm pulled out of my day dreams as you softly pull away.

'Guess you're hungry' you whisper pulling out a chair for me. I sit down and watch you as you set the table for us. You join me next and we eat silently, enjoying each other's company. We talk and laugh and I adore the way your face looks when you smile. We do the cleanings after we're done.

We are looking at the TV as your arm is wrapped around my shoulder. I smile resting my head on the couch, for some reasons I feel so safe and calm everytime I'm around you. I feel my eyes getting heavy slowly, I have put a long path behind before I get here. And I think now i am well justified to have a little rest. Somewhere between sleep and being awake I feel your arms wrapping around me and lifting me up from the couch. I open my eyes for a semi second just to have you wrap your arms tighter around me. 'Shh go back to sleep, I'm taking you to bed' I can barely hear you speak but it's enough. Few seconds later I can feel you putting me down on the soft surface. You cover me with a duvet and I feel warmer and calmer than ever. Low key wishing I could stay in the moment forever. A part of me is scared of what might happen in future. I try to shake that thought away. That thought however, fades completely as I feel you pressing your lips to my forehead. I want to open my eyes and tell you how amazing it is to have you around. I feel the mattress sink under your weight. After few seconds I'm finally brave enough to open my eyes. I see you sitting at the edge of the bed, right next to me.

You haven't noticed me yet.

Your head is down, looking at your hands. You're smiling which is contagious and makes me smile as well. You surprise me with turning your head and looking at me.

'Woke you up?' You ask now fully facing me and I shake my head. 'Nah I wasn't that tired anyway.' I say sitting up. You smile and i give you one back as I put my hair behind my ear. 'What?' I giggle looking at you and you shrug 'just missed having you around' you say looking down and then looking back at me. 'Yeah me too' I nod now looking at you with all the seriousness. 'It just doesn't make sense with other people ya know? Like I'm lost, always looking for something, like a lost piece of a puzzle. But when you're around it's all good. Like I'm complete.' You say as your hands reach to hold mines. 'I know' I look down at our hands, your thumbs are caressing the back of my hands, making my heart melt with every little touch. 'How do you know?' You ask looking into my eyes. 'Cause that's exactly how I feel' I finally confess and you nod.

You move closer and wrap your arms around me tightly which makes me lose balance and we both land on the mattress giggling at the same time. You smile and your eyes travel from my eyes to my nose and lips. You put a strand of my hair behind my ears. Your face is too close to mine. Your warm breaths caress my skin. In blink of an eye your lips are pressed on my mines, closing the gap between us fully. I close my eyes taking the feeling in. You separate your lips from mine for a semi second just to put them back with more force now. It's nothing sexy or lustful. No tongues involved just our lips pressing on one another. More like a way of saying I'm here, I get you and I care. You kiss me once more before pulling away and laying next to me. Wrapping your around me, you pull me closer and hold me tight from behind. 'Do you mind if I sleep here?' You whisper in my ear. This is the first time we're sharing a bed. 'You can stay' I smile putting my hand on your face. 'You sure?' You ask again, your hands now playing with my hair. 'You can stay for as long as you want.' I say holding your hand. 'Im staying forever then' You say and I nod 'I like that' I whisper before closing my eyes and you kiss the back of my head.

[ghostkingdoesstuff]

Here's the thing, I've seen WAY TOO MUCH Leah hate in this fandom, but next to no one talking about Percy and Luke's casting.

I've been thinking about this for a long time but want to make this explicitly clear: IT'S NOT THE ACTORS FAULT FOR LANDING A JOB!

Everyone is up in a tissy about Annabeth being black, but no one seems to care that Percy is white. Now I'm aware that his race was never explicit in the text but Rick did mention in an interview that Percy has a "Mediterranean complection" a description so vauge it could mean anything from a slight tan to very melanin blessed. I think many of us in the PJO Fandom with some melanin were disappointed if not expecting the casting to fall as it is. It's not uncommon in Hollywood for casting directors to choose the conventional Blone haired blue-eyed white dude to be the main character of the story. It's what's expecting, and the primary projected audience for the show is going to be early teens white boys who want to see themselves as Percy.

Now, with Luke, my problem is the exact opposite. Being a white dude is intrinsic to his character arc (I'm only kinda joking about that) Luke Castellan, despite his rough child hood, was born and raised in Westport Coneticticut, a place where the population is over 92% white. To me, his character arc reminded me of the white men who thought they knew what was best for everyone. Taking the path of violents and anger to get his point across while others, often POC (see Charlie beckendorf, Ethan Nakamura, possibly Michael Yew) were caught in the crossfire of what he thought was the best course of action. Innuendo Studios on YouTube has a series called Alt Right Playbook, and in the episode titled "The cost of doing business," he explains how marginalized communities are offten the pawns in the game of white supremacy. For Luke, the pawns of this game are underage, often unclaimed, or children of minor god who feel they have no place at camp. Maybe his intentions were good, but ultimately, he didn't care about the demigods he was claiming to fight for as much as he hated the gods and wanted revenge. The thing that made Percy Jackson different was how he acknowledged the problems in the system and used his one shot to create institutional change.

I'm not saying that Walker and Charles can't tell the same story, but the message is certainly different, and it bugs me. Remember that Disney isn't your friend for bringing your childhood to life. It's a carefully crafted money-making scheme designed to appeal to the largest audience possible. Stop harassing the actors, especially Leah Jeffries, poor girl has been through too much. Dedicate that energy towards Disney and the fact that they're sending money to Israel to fund a genocide. The time is now to be a hero, fight some titans to get the gods to listen. Remember the moral of the story you hold so dearly and see that the God's are corrupt, but that doesn’t mean you're powerless against them. Percy Jackson didn't defeat Aries at 12 years old for you to feel powerless. You're strong, your voice is powerful, and you have the power to change the world. Have a nice day.

[convexicalcrow]

The Copper King looked back over the caravan lining up behind him. A week had passed since he'd seen Cub off to Djesdjes. Normally he didn't dwell on itinerant guests he was unlikely to see again, but something about Cub had stayed with him. If he was indeed heading back to the Two Lands, he was probably already long gone from the oasis. Nevertheless, trading still needed to be done, and so copper and other goods had been gathered, ready to take to Djesdjes.

The Copper King rested a hand on the shoulder of the man before him. "Take good care of the place while I'm gone. I have a feeling things are going to get a bit restless around here."

The man nodded; his bright blue-grey eyes the only thing visible through the hood covering the rest of his face. He said nothing, bowing his head in deference.

"We'll be two days. Hopefully nothing bad happens in that time."

The gates of Djesdjes were not closed to them. The caravan passed through without even being stopped for questions, which the Copper King felt was not a good sign. He might need to speak to the governor about that. Djesdjes itself though seemed to be in good spirits as they entered the centre of the town. The markets were already up and running, and several of the members of the caravan peeled off to set up their own stalls. The Copper King, on the other hand, had other places to be.

He drove his camel through the streets until he reached the temple ruins, tying up the camel nearby. He washed his hands and face in the pool by the gates and stepped inside, carrying precious cargo as well as offerings. He knew where he needed to go, and made his way to the healing temple.

"I come bearing a god," the Copper King said as he entered, seeing a couple of priestesses preparing potions. "Is Ma'akhi around?"

"Oh, he is in with patients at the moment. I will tell him you're here," one of the priestesses said.

"Please do," the Copper King said.

The healing temple really was a lovely place. Cool, calm, and full of life. Perhaps, as he understood it, a little small for the type of temple it was supposed to be, but when needs must, he supposed. The statue in his hands was of a god he didn't know, because it wasn't his own, but that had never been a barrier. Bes, his name was, and he was a strange looking god indeed. A dwarf with leonine features, he had brought with him a fiery energy as the Copper King had worked on this statue. It was needed for the halls, to replace a broken statue. He had quite enjoyed the god's company and would be sad to see it go, but at least it wasn't anywhere he couldn't come to see him again.

"The High Priest will see you now," the priestess said, returning from the halls. "Please, follow me."

-

The Copper King wasn't expecting to be taken to a patient's room, but he understood why once he saw Cub lying there, with another man by his beside. Ma'akhi greeted him and invited him in.

"Come, my friend! It is good to see you again!" Ma'akhi said.

"And I, you, brother! I have the statue you requested. Do you have a space for him?" the Copper King said.

"Of course. Normally I would not bring you here, but Cub overheard and said he knew you so. I would be intrigued to know how you met," Ma'akhi said.

"Our paths were meant to cross. It seems your gods have taken a liking to me if they will send me to aid their followers," the Copper King said.

"Well you do such fine work with the statues, it's not surprising to me. Do you feel up to walking, Cub? I daresay you might like seeing the statue installed," Ma'akhi said.

"Yeah, that sounds nice. I didn't spend nearly enough time with you, Copper King, so I'm glad to see you again," Cub said. "Help me up, Scar, I'm still a little weak."

"I've got you, don't worry."

"Oh, is this the man you were looking for, Cub? I'm glad you found each other again," the Copper King said.

Cub leaned on Scar as he stood up. "Yes, yes it is! He got here before me. I should have listened to you about the uniform though, that was a bad decision, yeah. But I'll be okay."

The Copper King laughed. "Well, I did try to warn you! I am glad to see you alive, though. We must eat together tonight. I would love to hear more of your stories."

"There will be a festival of Seshat tonight at the temple as it is Her feast day. There will be plenty of food for you all," Ma'akhi said. "Now, come, let's get this god back to His home."

-

The Copper King returned home the next day, exhausted but happy, and with plenty of coin in his pockets. But something was nagging at him. Something he couldn't quite place. He was sure he'd seen someone he recognised in amongst the crowds at the festival. Or was it something about Cub and Scar? He didn't know. Just knew something was telling him to go to the Vigil, and so that's what he did once he returned to the mines.

The Vigil was in the centre of the mines in something like a large town square. It was in the middle of a fountain, and had been here for centuries. It was a place of power, of rememberance. The limestone walls around the fountain contained hundreds of candles, burning on top of the remants of hundreds more. The limestone was stained with wax in places. And one candle caught his attention as he surveyed the Vigil, one belonging to a dear friend of his.

The candle was ordinary, red, but also highly decorated with carvings. The blue flame flickered. It was halfway burned by now. The Copper King was used to this kind of divination. The candles called to him when he needed to talk to them, to remember those who needed his attention. And right now, this one did.

"Ahh, my old friend. It has been too many years now. But now I know why that face was so familiar to me. Your son lives, and he's going home, back to the Two Lands. Whether this is a wise decision or not remains to be seen, but you might want to keep an eye on him. I fear danger is not far behind," the Copper King said, gazing at the flame.

A burst of wind caused the flame to flicker and nearly blow out, though the Copper King understood. That voice he hadn't heard in so long was whispering to him. Grateful, but fearful. The Vigil felt uneasy tonight as the Copper King set the candle back. That boy had an ill wind following him. Perhaps he would do his own protections too, just to be sure.

[not-quite-there-myself]

A Long-Awaited Proposal

Synopsis: Mozus Trein proposes to you! What exactly does he have planned for you? Notes: 800+ words; established relationship; reader is well over 18; gender neutral reader; slight inspiration hinted from Cinderella and Emma: A Victorian Romance Tagging: @hipsterteller—thank you for recommending Emma: A Victorian Romance to me (whether it was your intention to recommend it or not)! I've watched a little bit and so far I think it's a great anime, definitely underrated. Thanks for your request :)

Mozus Trein is described as strict and scary from the students of NRC, but there are a few exceptions to this rule. He is stern, but he can also prove to be quite kind-hearted and extremely considerate... at least, when it comes to you.

For a while, he fancied you—it was obvious to NRC staff and students alike that both of you had a close relationship. Nothing was confirmed until you two made it official, establishing that you were, in fact, together.

A long while had passed by then, it was almost like a dream. He loved being around you and how you were so thoughtful and compassionate and bright, and each conversation the two of you had together was always a pleasure. You even managed to make him laugh on occasion. Your presence was almost enchanting.

Sometimes he would receive letters from you, and after reading them some students would notice a subtle smile on his lips when he entered the class. If you were able to make their scary, strict professor smile like that, you must've been quite an impressive partner.

He'd asked his daughters about you, too. What they thought of you, if they were happy at the thought of their father possibly remarrying...

It was on one particular day that the professor had made up his mind: he wished to tie the knot and spend the rest of his life being with you. As such, he has everything prepared in advance. And of course he does, what would you expect from a man like him? His plan is nothing dramatic or extravagant, and considering that he's rather old-fashioned, you can expect something more on the traditional side, something simple but no less meaningful and romantic. On a day as beautiful as you, he thought that now would be the perfect time to initiate his patiently awaited, carefully crafted proposal.

As soon as he finishes his last class, he comes to find you. Some students can't help but noticed how focused Professor Trein looked, his normally proper stride looking more like a speedwalk. Some students snicker after they see him leave, joking around and saying that he's probably in a rush to find you. Whether it was unbeknownst to them or not, their suspicions were right.

"There you are," he says, approaching you calmly when he finally finds you. He claims that he's made plans to take you out to dinner tonight, and that if you're willing to join him he'd be delighted. Of course you agree, and by the evening you are dressed and ready to go out.

He doesn't tell you exactly where you're going. Instead he poses it as just another night out, perhaps a date staged like a formal outing. Assuming he's taking you out to dinner, you're surprised to learn that your final destination is not a restaurant, but a place outdoors and secluded.

After he takes you to dinner, you follow him to an area in the Shaftlands, a bit farther away from the more busy streets in town. He lead you through a path amidst trees, shrubs and bushes, passing the flora and fauna and hearing crickets in your wake.

Finally you hear the sound of rushing water. He steps aside to let you into a small clearing, and in the center was a pale marble fountain, its stark white complexion contrasting with the dark greens and blues of the greenery and the sky above you.

You approach it, looking at your reflection in the water as your body leans forward to touch it. A cold feeling meets your fingertips as you retract your hand, water droplets falling away and back into the fountain.

"Love," he calls behind you. "Would you turn around for a moment, please?" You were so preoccupied with the fountain that you forgot to give any attention to your partner.

"Ah, sure," you reply, turning around.

He takes out a small box from behind his back and your eyes go wide. You knew what he was doing; he had a feeling you knew, too. He had this odd look in his eyes. Was he... embarrassed? That itself was a curious thought.

"...Are you sure?" You ask, almost hesitant as tears formed like small crystals in your eyes. "Are you truly sure... that you want to be with me?"

He smiles softly, his voice was barely above a whisper. "Don't be silly, I've wanted this more than anything."

He steps closer to embrace you, and you hold him just as tightly.

"You're one of the most dearest people to me," he says. "I love you." He finally opens the box. From far away, a bell chimed at the stroke of midnight.

"Will you marry me?"

The sparkle in your eyes and the way you beamed at him made his heart swell and soar. He smiled to himself, as childish as it was, and thought the same thing he did when he first realized his feelings for you: "So this is love."

[mirikitakato]

[Translation] Shylock 4th Anniversary SSR Card Story "Together in a World Adrift" and Card Episode “Shylock And The Door Of Days Bygone…”

Try my best to translate whatever I can for Shylock. I kinda like the Card Episode this time because I love Shylock's individual strength that makes even Northern wizards wary.

Characters: Shylock, Akira.

Episode 1: Herbal wine in Memory

Shylock: Welcome, Sir Sage.

Akira: Good evening, Shylock...Ah, it's unusual for no one to be here tonight.

Shylock: Yes, unfortunately, only the cuckoo is chirping.

Shylock: However, it is precisely because of this that I am fortunate to have the Sage all to myself. Please, come this way.

Shylock's beautiful finger gestured toward the bar seat in front of him. I gratefully settled into the special seat.

Akira: (Speaking of which, today has been quite eventful...)

The day had been busy since morning. The Northern wizards became angry, the destruction of Magic Manor, Oz's punishment. This was followed by the commotion caused by magic items...

Akira: (Thanks to Murr blowing the magic trumpet, a group of animals swarmed into the magic manor... I'm still a little tired after all this.)

Akira: Shylock, is this...?

Shylock: This is the welcome drink I prepared for tonight's first guest. Please enjoy it.

Akira: Thank you. The gradient from blue to green is very beautiful.

Shylock: It's a gorgeous color. The refreshing taste should brighten the Sage's expression.

Akira: Wow, now I'm excited to taste it, especially if it can make you say that.

I took a sip. The refreshing taste of herbs spread. Then came the aroma of ripe fruits, and the sweetness permeated my tired body.

Akira: It's delicious...it makes me relax.

Shylock: Glad to hear. The blue syrup here uses herbs that can relieve fatigue.

Akira: Eh...! Shylock, you noticed I'm tired.

Shylock: Of course. It only takes one glance to tell.

Shylock: Normally, you would smile like a blooming flower. Because I've been following you closely, I know the difference.

Akira: Eh, I feel a little embarrassed to hear you say that... But thank you very much.

Shylock: Hehe... During time like this, you chose not to venture elsewhere but instead graced my bar with your presence.

Shylock: Under such circumstance, I have believed then it is my responsibility to dispel any shadows that may be cast upon you. Please pardon my presumption.

While saying that, Shylock wiped the glass in his hand very clean.

If you want to continue the conversation, feel free to strike up a conversation. If you want to drink in peace, then just do that. Always maintain an appropriate distance.

Akira: (That’s why Shylock’s bar is so popular. Whether it’s the one in the Magic Manor or within the City of Nectar, it hasn't changed.)

Engrossed in the delightful ambiance, with a drink in hand, I gazed absentmindedly at Shylock for a brief moment.

Observing his calm and focused movements, my eyelids gradually became heavy.

Akira: ....Huh....

Episode 2: Herbal wine in Memory

Shylock: Oh dear.

Akira: Zzzz…….

Shylock: You're already asleep.

Shylock: Haha, a defenseless expression...They must be too exhausted.

Shylock: Thank you for your continued support of those of us who venture off the beaten paths.

Shylock:….

Shylock: (...When was it? Something similar to this seemed to have happened before...)

Shylock: Ah, right. It was...

Akira: (...?...This is...)

Shylock: Are you awake?

Akira: —Eh? Uwah!

Akira: No, I'm so sorry, Shylock. I actually fell asleep in the bar...

Shylock: You must be very tired today. I'm happy that you could feel relaxed in my bar.

Shylock: Thanks to this, I'm able to see your cute sleeping face.

Merely witnessing that enchanting smile sent warmth to my cheeks. I shifted my gaze to the counter, almost as if running away. Various fruits, leaves, and flower buds are placed on it.

A familiar scene.

Akira: Hey, Shylock. Could this be...

Shylock: Correct. I want to make herbal wine.

Akira: I knew it! I've seen it several times before.

Akira: Well, when I first came to this world...and also when I fell asleep from exhaustion in the meeting room.

Shylock: Do you remember how to make it? If you're willing, may I invite Sir Sage to join me in crafting it this time?

Shylock: Putting thought into concocting your favorite drink would bring joy to you.

Akira: ...My favorite wine...

Akira: (This way, I can also make drinks that others will enjoy.)

Akira: ...I want to try it! Please let me make it together!

Shylock: Gladly. The initial step is selecting the ingredients for the wine – herbs, spices, and flowers.

Shylock carefully introduced the ingredients of herbal wine.

Shylock: Take roses, for instance; they can enhance one's beauty, whereas lavender and chamomile contribute to a sense of relaxation.

Shylock: Of course, you can also select ingredients based on their fragrance and appearance, as well as experiment with combinations of other herbs and spices.

Akira: I see. Hmm...which one is better to choose?

Akira: This one has a strongly soothing effect, and the fragrance of the herbs here is truly captivating...

Shylock: Haha….You have plenty of time, so feel free to take your time in making your selection.

Episode 3: Herbal wine in Memory

Shylock: The final step is to choose the wine.

Shylock: Red or white, pick whatever you prefer. Afterward, the alcohol will be removed by magic.

Akira: Red and white…Well, if you want to try herbal wine, which one would you prefer?

Shylock: In that case, I like them all, but my mood right now leans towards white.

Akira: (Okay, white then...!)

However, Shylock unexpectedly reached for the red wine.

Akira: (Well, maybe red would be better...? No. He just mentioned that he's in the mood for white now...)

With a head tilt, he added herbs to the wine bottle. The leaves and flowers swaying in the wine were more aesthetically pleasing than I had imagined.

Shylock: After that, just wait a few days, and it's done.

Akira: Thanks so much, Shylock. I'm looking forward to the finished product!

A few days later, I learned that the herbal wine was ready, and I went to the bar...

Akira: Ah. There are no other guests today.

Shylock: Actually, I've already reserved the entire bar. I want the two of us to celebrate the completion of Sir Sage's original wine.

This statement stunned me with its grandeur. However, I was genuinely happy to hear Shylock say that.

Shylock: Let’s start with the Sage’s wine.

Akira: Wow, it smells so good...

Shylock: Indeed. The aroma has infused the wine wonderfully. It's a refreshing and comforting scent.

Shylock: I will remove the alcohol. Would you like to have a sip?

Akira: No, just keep the alcohol. Please let me give this to you as a gift.

Shylock: Huh?

Akira: Since I came to the Magic Manor, I have received a lot of help from Shylock. Even now...

Akira: I made it with gratitude. I'd be happy if you could accept it.

Shylock: ...Sage...I appreciate it greatly.

Shylock: In fact, the wine I crafted is intended as a gift for you as well.

Akira: Eh!?

Shylock: This bottle has the alcohol removed. Please take it.

In the bottle Shylock handed me, I could see lavender soaked in red wine.

Looking back now, it's likely that all the ingredients he mentioned to have a relaxing effect are infused in it.

Akira: (Although he said he wanted white, he must have chosen red because of me...)

Akira: Thank you, Shylock. If possible, would you like to celebrate with these two bottles of wine today?

Shylock: As you wish. Then, I'll begin with the wine presented by the Sage and then move on to the one I gifted to you.

Shylock poured wine into two glasses side by side. 

We smiled and raised our red and white glasses.

Shylock: Thank you for each day shared with you. I wish for moments like these to endure eternally.

Akira: Please continue to take care of me!

Note: Based on my research, there are studies suggesting that red wine is better at easing anxiety and stress. Resveratrol, a compound found in red wine and berries, could protect against depression and combat stress. I believe that's why Shylock deliberately chooses red wine to give to Akira. He is so thoughtful.

Card Episode: Shylock And The Door Of Days Bygone...

Akira: I heard that on the shores of Borda Isle, there is a door that allows you to see the past.

Akira: Speaking of the past, when I first came to this world, I still had a lot of uneasiness in my heart. But when I recalled a certain memory, I felt at ease.

Shylock: What kind of memory is it?

Akira: The memory of a trusted adult reading a book to me as a child.

Shylock: It certainly sounds like something Sir Sage would experience. I can almost envision that youthful figure before me now.

Akira: ...Haha, how embarrassed.

Akira: Is there any memories that would act like a talisman for you, Shylock?

Akira: I mean, memories that provide comfort to you.

Shylock: I see...

Shylock: Even amidst a certain level of chaos, I can still love in moderation.

Shylock: However, when swallowed by the dark uneasiness of not being able to see the future...

Shylock: I'd like to quietly congratulate myself for what I have accomplished.

Akira: Your accomplishment?

Shylock: That’s right.

Shylock: I may not be as powerful as the Northern wizards.

Shylock: But thanks to the skills and experience I have cultivated over the years, I can, more or less, present myself to be a bit challenging.

Akira: (I think you're already very difficult to deal with, actually...)

Shylock: In such situation, I somehow manage to live my life the way I want to.

Shylock: There are nights I wish to forget, and there are nights I can't escape the sparks that fall on me.

Shylock: Nonetheless, I haven't lost my soul.

Shylock: This tone, this gaze...and this smile.

Akira: (He's persuasive... I sense my heartbeat quickening.)

Shylock: Defeating those terrifying invaders and conquerors who were beyond my magic power...

Shylock: Or engaging in conversation with the world's most argumentative, dangerous, and difficult Professor, but never made him feel bored.

Shylock: Wouldn't recalling these moments feel satisfying?

Akira: Very satisfying. I believe only Shylock can accomplish this.

Shylock: Haha. Thank you.

Shylock: Each night, when there's no wind but clouds gather in my heart, I reflect on my past achievements.

Shylock: And afterward, I'll savor a glass of wine, wholeheartedly appreciating myself.

Shylock: After all, I have mastered a lot.

Shylock: It will be the same in the future, for sure.

Shylock: I am who I am. Because I am Shylock, a wizard from the Western Country.