#its in the black and white view of the world

[celestailio]

a long night ( gojo x gn!reader )

outline: it’s late at night, and you have a math exam tomorrow. the loud music from a birthday party down the hall is making it hard for you to sleep. frustrated and needing some comfort, you decide to call your boyfriend, satoru, for support.

contains: gojo x gn!reader, college au, fluff, lots of fluff, common uni problems, reader is going through something and just satoru being the best boyfriend.

wc: 3.2k

a/n: i am thinking of making this a series. as much as i hate colleges and uni, i am a sucker for the aus ahhh. what do y'all think? this is an old work. i wrote this back in august when i had exams and was going through a similar situation. anyway, enjoy as always i appreciate any feedback <333

muffled music. loud vibrations. blurry vision.

this was getting too much now. it's past two in the morning. you just came back from the library after a gruelling study session much needed for your math exam tomorrow. 

it's been three hours of you trying to sleep. no matter what you do, sleep always seems to evade you during this time of dire need to just slip away from everything. away from the waking world. you’d sure you had done everything you could to set yourself up for the long night.

you jumped straight into a hot shower after you came home. it was refreshing and relaxing, easy on your muscles, and left you feeling rejuvenated. and don't forget to eat a proper dinner. the simple vegan salad with roasted cauliflower, kale, and cucumbers which you brought from the local café was crunchy and fulfilling. after dinner, you revised the exam materials for half an hour before deciding it was time for bed. 

following your night routine, teeth brushed and mouth fresh, the cooling sensation of an expensive skin mask on your face was sufficient to set you in the mood for winding down. you quickly sent your boyfriend a good night message to which he, as usual responded with an unnecessary amount of kiss emojis and mwahs. of course, his evening delight was topped with a voice recording of his sweet, sweet voice wishing his baby a nighty night, which always made you laugh and left your heart full of love.

a sense of pride settled in your chest as you made yourself comfortable in your sheets and you recall how productive your day was. you felt more than prepared for the exam tomorrow, and the only thing left was to catch up on some sleep so wake with a fresh mind. ready to tackle the horrors of calculus. except not a single thing went according to the plan.

at first, it was the hotness. you felt like a frog being prepared for a slow boil. the puffy blankets came off first. they usually brought you peace and comfort during cold and lonely nights were starting to irritate your skin but right now its fabric no longer silky soft as it grazes against your already swollen skin akin to a worn out rag. 

next, turning off the heater and opening the window for some fresh air was a good idea, as you instantly started feeling better, the body slowly but surely radiating excess heat. it wasn’t long before you quickly slipped into the blackness. it was peace for a short time before a loud bang echoes through the corridors of your floor.

what the fuck was that?

you jump from your bed and glide towards your door before looking out from the peephole. a number of students dressed in flimsy outfits and party hats run across the hallway, their footsteps similar to those of horses, before vanishing from your view leaving behind the faint smell of cake and spilled drinks, and a mess of confetti on the carpet. gosh, can these people keep it cool? not only is it the quiet hours but an exam period too. keep it down for god’s sake. 

all the progress flushed down the drain. back at point zero. for fuck’s sake.

with heavy steps, you crawl back to your bed, once again laying on the white floral sheets. this time for sure. you were going to fall asleep. but little did you know, their sudden presence was a sign of impending chaos. 

immediately loud disco music started playing from the direction of the common room where you assumed the party people were the ones behind it. the high intensity of the volume was making your eardrums hurt, each beat drop like a hammer on your skull. the strong thumps of the bass penetrating through the walls were enough to make your heart throb. the thunderous applause and cheers were clouding your rationality. ears ringing and brain switching to meltdown mode.

you jolted up and quickly searched beneath your pillows and sheets for your earphones, looked up a noise blocker on the phone. the bright light from the phone’s screen is harsh on your eyes. picking the first one it came up with, you hastily plugged the buds in your ear, desperate to keep your calm and pressed play. you laid back on the bed and put your focus on the white static buzzing in your ears. 

in the beginning, it felt like a fresh breath of air as the loud disturbances faded away in the background, leaving behind the calm you were yearning for the last three hours. soon you became accustomed to the noise, and despite the white static, the thumping bass and vibrations still rang in your ears, gnawing at your last nerve.

you tossed and turned, trying to find a position that might bring some comfort, fiddling with the phone’s volume. even at the maximum, it was of no use. this blocker barely did a good job masking the noises. 

i can’t take this anymore. need to do something.

your patience was wearing thin. sitting up abruptly, you grabbed your phone and considered your options. reporting the noise to the dorm authorities seemed like the best course of action right now. you typed out a quick email, explaining the situation and pleading for some peace and quiet. 

as you waited for a response, you couldn’t help but think about how this lack of sleep would affect your exam. the anxiety was starting to creep in, and you felt your chest tighten again. a ping erupts from your phone, and there was a response.

hello,

we have looked into your request. unfortunately, no campus staff are on duty due to the weekend. rest assured, tomorrow anyone who has broken residence protocols will have to face proper punishment.

thank you and have a good night.

residence life.

you stare at the message, feeling a mix of frustration and helplessness before tossing your phone aside. 

so much for getting any help.

with a heavy sigh, you lay back down, trying to focus on the white noise still playing in your ears. the music from the common room continues to pound through the walls, each beat a reminder of your growing exhaustion. you feel tears brimming in your eyes before huffing out a laugh. 

can’t believe it, crying at such a minor thing. at this point, staying in your room seemed more like being in a torture chamber. maybe you should go to the library and spend the night there, but isn’t it close? another groan. you definitely need to advocate along with the student union for the libraries to stay open twenty-four seven.

what else? oh, you could certainly crash at your best friend’s instead? no wait.

satoru…

the thought of him brings a small smile to your face. satoru had always been your strength, your one and only. the one person who could calm you down no matter what. he always knew how to make you feel better with his silly jokes and innocent kisses, even in the worst situations. 

but it’s so late. the clock reads 2:58 a.m. and you don’t want to disturb him. still, the idea of spending the night at his place is irresistible, cuddled against his chest, cocooned in his strong arms with his heavenly scent surrounding you like a bubble. god's you miss him so much to care right now.

you grab your phone again. navigating to his contact. you hesitate for a moment as the affectionate name he had set on your phone, satoru with a big blue heart, stares back at you. you know he says to call him anytime, anywhere you want. you know he will always be here for you, but he’s already had many other troubles weighing him down. and what if he’s already fast asleep? 

it doesn’t help that you want nothing in the world right now but to be in his warm, loving arms hidden away from the cold world.

your hands tremble slightly as you try to come up with something. 

satoru, u awake?

sent: 2:59 am

you set aside the device. as hopelessness once again settles deep in your bones. you guess he’s already asleep. sighing, you bury your head under the blankets before a familiar ping rings in the room.

yeah, bby. what’s up?

read: 3:01 am

your heart skips a beat as you see his reply. you quickly type back, your fingers shivering slightly with anxiety.

can we call?

read: 3:02 am

almost immediately, your ringtone starts blaring through your room. as his contact name displays on your phone’s screen. you waste no time accepting his call, eager to hear his sweet voice. you switch to the speaker mode, and put the phone near your ear as you lay down once again.

“satoru.” you breathe out, feeling a wave of relief wash over you as his calm breathing fills the air.

“my baby.. why are you up so late?” his voice is hoarse yet soft.

you can hear him shuffling in the background, the loud rustling of the sheets drowning out the static. oh, he was definitely sleeping before you called him. guilt eats you up, and you bite down on your lips.

‘’what’s going on?’’ he speaks, concern seeping into his words. silence lingers in the air as you struggle not to cry on the call. 

oh my god, why am i like this?

“i can’t sleep.” you admit after a minute, your voice barely above a whisper. it remains quiet between the two of you before you start ranting.

“it’s just someone throwing a party around the corner, and it’s just so loud, everything is. i just feel like i can’t breathe properly, and it sucks that i got an exam tomorrow-’’

‘’hey, hey. baby deep breaths, yeah?’’

you follow his instructions, breathing in and out with his counting, matching his pace.

“you don’t have to explain anything.” you hear a zipper sound and clink before the locking and closing of a door.

“gimme a sec baby, i am coming to get you.’’

you feel a rush of gratitude at his words. “thank you,” you whisper, trying to keep your voice steady.

“anything for my darling,” he replies softly. “just hang tight, i’ll be there soon.”

he blows some kisses like usual, and you end the call. sitting up, you quickly made your way towards the washroom gathering a few essentials into a small bag. since satoru already had some of your clothes in his room, you’d reckon you need anything else.

he is always pleading with you to leave behind your shirt or a hoodie whenever you visit his place, saying that it helps him on the lonely nights when you can’t be with him. near him. constantly talking about the soothing effect of your scent while he sleeps. you always teased him about this, but he was unaware that you had stolen some of his sweatshirts for the exact reason.  

you chuckle at the fond memory as you finish packing up. the noise from the party still reverberates through the walls, but knowing satoru is on his way makes it more bearable. you slip on your shoes and hoodie, ready to leave as soon as he arrives.

a few minutes later, there’s a gentle knock on your door. you open it to find satoru standing there, his hair dishevelled as he has just woken up. a plastic bag in his hand and with a reassuring smile on his face. as soon as he sees you, he pulls you into a tight hug, his calming scent infiltrates your nose, and his warmth immediately melts away the tension in your body.

“my baby. i am here now, yeah.” you can’t help but cry at his caring words and actions. satoru holds back a coo and gently pats your head, threading his fingers through your hair.

“let’s get you out of here, mhm.”  

he murmurs, gently pulling away before planting a gentle kiss on your lips. you smile at his gesture, and he mirrors the same. you see his large hands coming up to cup your face caressing the skin softly before he kisses you again. he pulls away and pinches your cheeks. 

“stop it ‘toru!” you grumble against him, and he laughs hysterically. the sound a pleasant melody for your parched ears.

keeping an arm around you, he leads you down the hallway and out of the dorm. the snowstorm is still going on, but the cold night air is a welcome change as you take a deep breath, feeling a bit more grounded.

“i brought soda and pocky of course.”

“soda at this time?”

“heh. you never know, baby.” he presses a quick kiss against your hairline.

“you’re such a dork.”

“mhm.”

the walk to his car is quiet. unlike you, satoru lives in his own apartment complex away from all the hustle and bustle of the university. many times, he had asked you to move in with him, but you’d always come up with an excuse before changing the subject. well, you didn’t outright reject him. it’s just that you feel like once he starts living with you, his idea of you might change for the worse. and you don’t want that. even though you know it’s not fair, you kept giving him false hope until he stopped asking one day.

you lean into him, drawing comfort from his presence, as you both reach his car. satoru opens the car door for you and shoots you a wink. always the gentleman. you slide into the passenger seat. he follows quickly, leaning over you and strapping your seatbelt.

“need to keep my baby safe.”

“hey!” you snort.

he chuckles and pinches your cheek like he always does before putting on his own seatbelt. soon he starts the engine, the soft hum of the car providing a soothing background noise. throughout the drive, satoru keeps up a steady stream of playful commentary of a random movie he watched some time ago. his dumb jokes and dialogues make you laugh despite yourself.

“i’ve got you, baby,” he says softly after the playfulness has subsided, his eyes briefly meeting yours before focusing back on the road. he reaches over and takes your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

you squeeze his hand back as you nod, feeling the warmth of calmness settle over you. the drive to his apartment is quiet, the city lights casting a gentle glow through the windows. you lean your head against the seat, closing your eyes and letting the rhythmic motion of the car lull you into a state of relaxation.

when you arrive at his apartment, satoru helps you out of the car and leads you inside. he helps you with taking your boots off, sneaking in little massages on your feet before you yell at him to stop. you’ve told him countless times that it is ticklish, but satoru will never stop doing that if it meant seeing you laugh.

the familiar scent of his place is comforting, and you feel a wave of relief knowing you’ll be able to rest here. he guides you to his room, where he has already set up a cozy spot with blankets and pillows. his room is a sanctuary of repose, with soft luminescence seeping in through his curtains. the faint fragrance of his cologne dances in the air.

“when did you do all of this?”

“what can i say? i am just that good.” he hums, standing proudly by his little creation.

“no seriously, ‘toru.” you hit his head before shimmying out of your jacket and tossing it towards him, which he catches effortlessly. you jump onto his bed and slip under his fluffy blankets. a moan escapes you as the mattress folds under your weight, finally feeling a sense of relief.

satoru looks at you, his heart swelling up with adoration.

“comfy?” he asks teasingly as he smirks and takes off his own jacket. you stare at him as he's ruffling his hair to remove the melting snow from his white locks. 

“very,” you reply, your eyes closing as you sink deeper into the blankets. “you really saved me, ya know.”

he chuckles, moving to sit beside you on the bed. “like i always say, there's nothing i won't do for my baby,” he says, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. 

satoru takes in the sight of you looking so much at peace. he brushes a strand of hair from your eyes and slides in next to you. you turn your body towards him, shuffling closer, seeking his presence. he responds immediately by embracing you tightly.

the skin to skin contact is pleasant as he pulls you in even closer until there’s not an inch left between the two of you. you listen closely to his steady breathing as he resumes rubbing up and down, from your neck all the way to your waist. his warmth and presence are a balm to your frayed nerves, and you feel the stress of the night slowly melting away.

“get some sleep, baby. you’ve got a big day tomorrow,” he murmurs softly against your hair, lifting himself to turn off the table lamp.

“i’ve got you.” you nod, resting your head against his shoulders. he plants one last kiss on your head.

as you drift off to sleep, satoru watches you with a soft smile. he doesn’t mind getting up in the middle of the night to drive you away from the noise and chaos. for him, it’s worth every second just to see you smile and relax. he wants to do everything he can to make you happy, to keep you safe and comfortable in his arms forever.

he gently brushes a knuckle against your cheek, his heart vibrating with love and affection. seeing you at peace, knowing that he can provide you with a sanctuary from the world, fills him with a sense of purpose and joy. he places a soft kiss on your lips and prays that the night’s rest will help you perform your best tomorrow.

and when you come running to him after your exam, a big grin on your face, as you excitedly show him the bright red ninety-eight on your paper, his heart flutters with pride and joy. at that moment, satoru knows that all the trouble is worth it—that you are worth it.

[curtins]

GOO GOO MUCK #2 — jujutsu kaisen x reader choose a storybook to open. aka my mythos take on jujutsu kaisen.

you've turned the page to: CHAPTER II. GETŌ SUGURU go back to the table of contents.

why are they all trying to make me a saint? oh god! oh god! i want to do things. stop turning me into a saint! andrei tarkovsky, journal 1970-1986

prologue. → a mortal man wears the skin of a serpent and wields dark sorcery with a lover's ease. suguru geto promises you a throne, a seat by his side and a kingdom on its knees. you understand why cautionary tales are written about foolish gods who gave their power away for silken chains, for those who would tear them asunder.

pairing. serpent king!suguru geto x goddess!reader (sfw!)

song inspiration. goo goo muck — the cramps / little dark age — mgmt

warnings. geto is manipulative as fawk, kind of dubious, suggestive behaviour from mr. suguru geto, angst, very much the premise of a dark romance, ambiguous and tragic ending, kissing word count. 2.6k

a/n. daphne write a happy ending challenge failed again but i can't help it teeheehee

ask/comment/dm to be added to a taglist 🩵

mp3. when the sun goes down, and the moon comes up, i turn into a teenage goo goo muck!

how can man claim a god?

the ancient texts say he can chain them, bind them to his own wills and desires.

the world around you sharpens slowly, revealing an altar carved from stone as old as time, with dark mineral veins that run through it, gleaming faintly in the dim light. the chains that have bound you are wrought of a metal that you do not recognise — neither iron nor silver, but something darker. and it feels almost alive. an ancient and all-consuming magic. each link is inscribed with cursed energy, winding around your wrists and ankles, cold to the touch and yet searing with power, holding you fast with a grip that sinks through flesh and bone. it has tethered your form.

the air is thick with dampness, the heavy scent of earth and rot mixes with the subtle perfume of nearby flowers, sickening sweet. you blink as you focus on ghostly white blossoms hanging on twisted and skeletal branches, each petal aglow with an otherworldly pallor. to your left, a pool of water shimmers in the stone hollow, black as midnight, with a surface that barely ripples — waiting and watching.

then, a sound — soft at first, but unmistakable in the silence. the faint swish of fabric moves in steady, deliberate strides. the one who has dared to summon and call you onto this mortal plane? but the air grows colder as the figure draws near, and he steps into view.

it is no lowly feat to summon a deity in a shrine, and an even greater feat to bind them, with such chains of power. you have never paid attention to the tales of mortals, little and less truly, but the serpent king is known. suguru geto is known for interfering with the divine plans for humankind, determined to wipe them out for his own misguided gain. your captor's violet robes catch the faint light, shimmering dark as they brush against the damp ground.

he steps closer, and for a moment, your wrath stills — because of him. the ghostly glow highlights his face, the sharp angles and fine lines as though he were chiselled from marble. it is the kind of beauty that mortals sing of in legends, a face that the gods themselves must have blessed, sculpted by divine hands. you wonder, fleetingly, if one of your brethren sired him, some forgotten affair between a deity and a mortal.

he draws near with a slow, sinuous grace, his movements almost serpentine, fluid and deliberate, his violet robes brushing against the floor in rhythmic waves. even his eyes—narrow, predatory slits of deep amethyst — glimmer with a strange, hypnotic gleam, unblinking as they take you in. mortal he may be, but here's something undeniably reptilian about him, something ancient and unsettling that lingers in the way he tilts his head, his gaze unwavering and utterly still, like a beast considering its prey.

a fierce snarl tears from you, and the stone walls echo your wrath. "do you know the price of chaining a deity, serpent?" you hiss, your words laced with venom. "do you understand what fate awaits one who dares to keep me captive?"

the air shivers with your warning, cold seeping into the air, yet he only observes you with that same unnerving stillness, a flicker of amusement gleaming in his narrow eyes. suguru geto tilts his head, a subtle, slithering motion, and reaches out with long, graceful fingers to test the chains binding you, his touch deliberate and controlled.

without warning, he leans in close, his breath brushing against the curve of your ear, soft and almost hissing. "you misunderstand me, goddess," he murmurs, his voice silken, carrying a subtle, hissing undertone. "i do not fear the gods. i have spent lifetimes defying them, one whisper at a time, one spell, one ambition." he pauses, his lips curling into a dark smile as his fingers trace the chains that bind you, "i will never be a god. but with a goddess at my side," suguru geto smiles, almost sincere, "a queen, i will be as close as one could ever be."

the gall of him, the sheer recklessness in his claim, strikes you like a spark to tinder, a hot rage flaring in your chest.

the audacity of him, the nerve — a mortal man, no a creature of shadows and serpentine, thinking himself worthy of even whispering such a treasonous thing.

"how dare you," you snarl, and each syllable drips with scorn, "how dare a mortal, a mere man, even think to claim one of the great pantheon as his own! you think yourself a king, but you are nothing. i am beyond you — beyond the hand of any man," and you writhe in the cursed chains, "i almost pity thy foolishness, arrogance of the highest order."

but suguru geto's laugh is dark and rich, and he does not even flinch. no, he does not even blink. his robes have a strange and mesmerising ripple. the folds undulate like liquid, shifting and folding in ways that no mortal-woven cloth should. nay, it is no fabric at all. it is skin, serpent skin — sleek and glimmering, slithering in tune with the man who has draped himself in it.

despite yourself, you shiver and in that moment, suguru geto leans down, lowering his face to yours. and his breath is warm, and soft against your skin. this is the closest that a mortal has ever gotten to you in eons.

"do you know how long i have waited for you?" he murmurs, and his words are hushed, almost a whisper — dripping with desire and laced with honeyed sweetness, "how long i have searched for someone who could stand beside me, for power and beauty? you call me mortal, so you will not fault me for my weaknesses, then. is it not my nature to chase after perfection?"

his eyes have locked with yours, mauve and endless, "i am not a god, but i have still seen lifetimes pass, but nothing compares to the burn i feel when i kneel at your altar, for your worship."

suguru geto's hand grazes the chains around your wrist, a feather-light touch that is almost gentle in its caress, as if testing your resolve that you do not sear through his flesh, "do you not see that i offer you a kingdom?"

the air between you is thick, and it is a traitorous heart within your chest that continues to beat at a quicker tempo. you have not missed the hunger in his eyes, and it makes you furious. by what right does he find the courage to speak to you like this? you have heard of others like yourself, others of your kind. gods and goddesses who threw away their divinity to be in the arms of mortals, those who offered something that the cosmic simply could not.

you fight it, your pride flaring, but something in his gaze makes you hesitate. there is a flicker, just a flicker, of doubt. of wonder.

what is it like to be loved like this? to be seen as something worth so much, even by one so dangerous, so impossible?

geto moves closer still, his lips brushing against your ear, his words now a soft promise, a murmur of desire. "you will come to me, my queen," he whispers, "for no man has ever loved you as i will. you are destined for me, and you will know no equal but me. no one else will ever touch you the way i will, feel you the way i will. only i can give you the eternity you deserve."

a flicker of doubt dances behind your gaze, a single, fleeting question pulling at the edge of your mind.

what is it you truly seek, serpent king? you are no fool; the gods know of your sorcery, of your schemes, of the wars you have stirred, the chaos you've unleashed, and the suffering you've caused. what greater ambition drives you, to bind me to you with sweet promises and the touch of your smooth, serpentine hands? is it truly a throne beside you, or something far darker that you covet, something more dangerous than a queen at your side?

"you are a goddess,” he murmurs, his voice a soft purr, "but do you see what the gods have done to you? you, who should have had a throne at the heart of the heavens, have nothing. you were left to drift, to be forgotten by those who claimed to love you. they never gave you a seat, never gave you the respect you deserve. but i… i see you, goddess. i feel you. and I will give you a place, a throne, beside me, where you will be honoured."

the heat in his voice stirs something deep inside you. how dare he? how dare he imply that the other gods have wronged you? what does he know of the beginning of the world, of the start of creation where the gods ran free on the green earth? your anger flares again, and you draw in a sharp breath, ready to fire back, to unleash the words that will tear him apart.

but before you can speak, his hands move, slow and calculated, slipping along your sides, the burn of his touch sending a jolt of something electric through you. his fingers, like liquid fire, trace the curves of your waist, the pressure so gentle yet undeniably possessive. the sensation makes you tense, makes you forget, even if for a moment, the chains that bind you. you shift, instinctively trying to pull away, but he only tightens his grip, coaxing you back toward him with a soft but unyielding pressure.

you would never — never — be swayed by this mortal’s charms.

and yet, the heat between you, the pressure of his hands against your skin, makes your words falter. you don’t understand it, the way your heart quickens, the way your breath catches in your throat. his touch, slow and deliberate, feels like fire and ice, and your body betrays you, trembling under the heat of the sorcerer's presence.

his lips brush your ear, soft and tantalising. "you are mine. always were meant to be."

you want to pull away, to demand he release you, but his fingers now run down your sides, the delicate pressure almost tender, as if coaxing you into submission, his touch a slow, sinful caress. each brush of his fingers sends a wave of warmth surging through you, and your breath catches, unwilling to admit how much you crave this sensation.

but what you do not realize — what you are too distracted by —is the spell he is weaving. his hands are not just teasing, not just caressing. they are binding, weaving an ancient magic around you, a net that tightens with each passing moment, each whisper of his voice. his dark powers wrap around your divinity, subtly pulling at the very core of your being, drawing it from you, sealing it into a cage of twisted magic.

you are caught, and you do not know it.

his lips are now mere inches from yours, his breath warm and inviting, the heat of his body an undeniable force. he leans in slowly, deliberately, as if savouring the moment before he seals your fate. "no one will ever love you as i will,” he whispers, his voice barely audible, but it trembles through you like a spell. "no one will ever see you as i do. and when you are mine, completely mine, you will know what it is to be cherished."

and then, his lips brush against yours.

the moment his lips graze yours, it is not a kiss of gentleness but one of purpose, calculated and slow, as though he is savouring each second before claiming you fully. his breath is warm against your skin, rich with a subtle sweetness, like honey mixed with something darker, more intoxicating. it is an invitation and a command, both at once.

as he leans closer, his body shifting with a fluidity that hints at something serpentine, something unnatural, you feel the very air grow thick with tension, as if the world itself is holding its breath in anticipation. his long hair, now fully free, cascades like midnight silk over his shoulders, and as his breath fans across your cheek, you can almost hear the faint hiss of it — like the whisper of a serpent’s tongue.

it is a kiss that coils around you, not just in the physical sense but in a way that makes your very being feel entangled in him, in his essence. his mouth is soft yet firm, warm yet cold, and the subtle pressure of his kiss sends shivers down your spine, like the touch of a thousand slithering scales against bare skin. it is not a kiss born from affection, but from domination — an assertion that he will have you, body and soul.

his hands, those impossibly smooth, long fingers, still move over your sides, but now, they feel like they’re not just caressing — they are pulling, shaping you. as his touch travels over your skin, there is a sensation of something prickling just beneath your flesh, as though his hands are drawing magic through your veins, weaving it into you, entwining it with your very essence.

the kiss deepens, slow and unyielding, as his tongue gently traces your lips, teasing the edges of your resistance.tThere is a strange coldness to it, a chilling presence that seeps through the warmth of his lips, as though he is not merely a man, but something far older, far more dangerous.

and then, with a sudden press of his body against yours, you feel the full weight of his power settle over you, the coils of his magic slipping into your mind, into your heart. his kiss becomes possessive, desperate in its insistence, and just as you feel the last remnants of your will begin to bend, a sharp, silken flick of his tongue inside your mouth sends a jolt through you — a pulse of energy that feels like a serpent's strike.

it is then that you realise it. for the mortals will write tales about this, use you as a cautionary lesson on the want and greed of the gods. and how easily they fall.

geto's kiss is not just a kiss — it is the seal of your fate. his power, snake-like and subtle, unfurls within you, sliding beneath your skin, taking root. you feel your divinity, your strength, slip away from you like water through your fingers, each drop being absorbed into him, into the snake who has become your captor.

the spell is complete, as his magic entwines with yours, twisting it, stealing it, leaving you powerless against him. his kiss pulls away just as you feel the last trace of resistance drain from you, leaving you breathless, weak, and utterly bound to him.

as suguru geto draws back, his lips curve into that wicked, knowing smile, and you see it now — his pupils, once narrow slits, have widened, glowing with the faintest light, like the predatory gaze of a serpent preparing to strike. his skin, pale as moonlight, seems to shimmer in the dim light of his realm, like the scales of a great serpent, and for the first time, you realise that this man — this king — is the serpent he claims to be. how could the gods have been so naive? so foolish?

and you, now bound to him in a way far deeper than any chains could ever hold, are his prey. your divinity, your essence, your power — it all bends to him, to this mortal man who now stands as your captor, your lover, your king. the serpent has claimed his queen. and you, despite yourself, feel the chains tighten, forever.

[ricemommy]

[arcane s2 spoilers] a note to people who think Vi shouldn't have become an enforcer

its so interesting how many people are staunchly in the camp of "vi betrayed zaun", when really, since season 1, she has been the central character who stands squarely in the middle of, or even outside, this conflict.

when silco took over zaun, that immediately put a target on vi's back. enforcers killed her parents, but zaunites killed her adoptive family (jinx and silco). if anything, zaun betrayed vi. the only remaining connections she has there are ekko, and like vi, they're a group who is hunted by the main rulers of zaun, so they also don't fit neatly into this fight (and now ekko is working with Jayce and Heimerdinger, both members of piltover)

and as far as jinx is concerned- she effectively views jinx as the one who killed powder, and vi completely blames herself for that transformation. for abandoning powder to silco, to failing to save her in the finale, and being unable to stop her from destroying the peace plan between the two cities- vi puts all the blame on herself. to her, jinx is absolutely in the wrong for aiding silco and killing half the council, and the only way to bring justice is with jinxs death. and unfortunately, vi knows that now in a world with shimmer, chemtech, and hex weapons, she has absolutely no hope of doing that unless she becomes an enforcer (seeing as there's no way for her to get the atlas gauntlets otherwise).

despite all that, vi DOES resist initially, very staunchly. she gets openly upset at caitlyn and drinks her frustrations away for what looks like at least a day straight. i have to imagine that whole time she's trying to think of another way to stop jinx, but we know thinking up plans isn't her strong suit... maddie showing up is the first motivator, but the massacre at the memorial is what really pushes her over the edge. in that first moment before the attack starts, vi is stopped from helping by enforcers because she isn't one. and now she sees a whole war is about to start, she probably figures she has a better chance of minimizing damage by teaming with cait to steer the enforcers, than go back to zaun where she is completely powerless and in danger. despite all that, vi OBVIOUSLY ISN'T HAPPY to be siding with enforcers. she looks insanely depressed!!! but it's the only way she knows how to fix this mess of a situation she blames herself for.

anyways, i get why it's a frustrating development, but the ENTIRE POINT of arcane is that things are not black/white good/bad and the fact that so many people don't pick up on it is... disheartening

[bugbuoyx]

I think it's funny when people say trans men don't experience misogyny. I experience it alot as an out and proud and obvious trans person. Most folks are good, they don't blink an eye (even in the rural south) but for some you can see it like a switch. The biggest tell in my experience is they start treating you like the world's biggest idiot. Like you couldn't possibly know more than them about anything. I also tend to get babied, people stop letting me do things I was doing previously such as lifting heavy stuff and outdoorsy type work.

I just think it's ridiculous that the most basic elements of misogyny, elements that have been defined and discussed for years, no longer count as misogyny because it's directed at a trans guy. How do people even claim it's "misdirected" (which is such a bullshit word irt oppression) it's all very clearly directed at me for having formerly been a woman*. And what of my time spent living as a girl? Does all that misogyny mysteriously disappear, all of my former experiences rendered moot by the fact I'm now a guy*.

I haven't even gotten into how cis men can be misogynistic towards each other but rad fems and people who pretend they aren't rad fems but boil misogyny down to "woman only oppression" like to ignore that. What do you call it when a cis guy shames another guy by calling him a pussy? "You hit like a girl" anyone? You can't explain this away as "misdirected" because the intended target is not a girl, is not mistakenly being perceived as a girl, it is a deliberate act of misogyny in order to enforce the patriarchal status quo.

[harbingersecho]

I don't feel pain I never escape I'm under the bed I'm licking the floor

[kindaorangey]

dude assad zaman is a good actor. did u guys know this

[thornswoggled]

(ch 86, 74, 1, 3)

it took a long time for the manga to finally tell the full story of what happened to chises family, and i think it will take a while longer until we learn the full story of how seth met chise, and what led her to attempt suicide

i wont be "disappointed," per se, if we never see it, because it could come down to yamazaki feeling that the implication is enough, and maybe she just doesnt want to portray it explicitly for any number of reasons. but i think its important that we see her grapple with the memory of it, for the same reasons i rambled on about the dragon curse yesterday

chise is still unwilling to interrogate who she is as a person, for fear that she might not like the answer (see: "i think what i did was cruel, i wonder if im treating these people any differently than i would sheep?") its significant that when we learn of her past, we watch it as a passive observer - her memories are literally presented to her in the form of a tv with a vhs. shes able to watch without participating or being able to change anything. and thats all to be expected - she was a child without autonomy, completely beholden to the actions of adults. but when it comes to her attempt to "fly" - this is something still in fairly recent memory, and a choice she had the means to take. i believe we wont see the immediate events that led to her trafficking until chise reaches a point where she is able to wrestle with her identity and how its been informed by her ptsd. its probably why we also havent seen elias follow up on the above question from 74. if he asks her now, she wont be at a point where shes ready to answer

i think about seth and chises meeting a lot. do you think he followed her for a while before he decided to approach her? what was their brief time together like? its all very compelling to me

[dreamspring]

sigh. people putting oversimplified batman no kill rule discourse on the dash again...

[seariii]

She's showing her determination, she will use it to never let go of my hand <3

(look I'm struggling with this one, read the notes and suffer)

[gilliontidestriderchampionoftheu]

you dont understand everywhere that jayson's outfit is white, lizzies is black. literally black and white.

[chappybird]

anyone else get those rpers who make their character a constant victim, and who try to tell you what to do in the actions? or even folks who dictate traits about your character. woe. i may be desperate for rp a lot, but i am so sick of it.

not an uncommon problem but I would say it's much more common amongst immature rpers with very narrow black and white world views. If their character is a victim then they can't be a perpetrator. The other thing is a sense of entitlement and poor RP skills.

[femmefaggot]

ouhh the hypocrisy i love internet so bad

[mejomonster]

i’m not good with words so i probably won’t describe it right. but the black/white mentality online sometimes of things with any flaws being ‘pure evil/need to be destroyed’ and expecting the alternative to be whatever arbitrary things the person decided are ‘perfectly healthy’... does not do anyone good.

i mean yes, we could go into it being an extension of purity culture, of conservatism mindset etc but like. at an even more basic level, especially because online spaces have a lot of younger people:

its really bad to view YOURSELF that way. and when you’re viewing even things way outside you that way, you might be viewing yourself that way. that relationship in X novel is bad because person 1 didn’t communicate right away, and even if they learn and improve through the novel you’ve already decided they’re “too flawed”, or maybe the person 1 never fully improves since its a novel and ‘awful’ to ‘moderately decent at relationships’ is the arc instead of moderately decent to ‘perfect.’ 

But my point is, about yourself: no one is perfect. You will NEVER be perfect. Please don’t hold yourself to the expectation you MUST BE PERFECT and anything less makes you pure evil/irredeemable/awful and unworthy of being treated fairly. The best anyone can do in this life, is try their best, notice when they do happen to mess up or someone lets them know they have, and practice trying to do better next time. You can improve yourself for a lifetime, for decades go to therapy and do all the right exercises and work on yourself every time you slip up even a little AND give yourself breaks so you don’t work yourself to death being overly critical of yourself nonstop... and still by your death you won’t be perfect. 

When I see people get very intensely angry about fiction being imperfect, about wanting it ‘perfect,’ it makes me worry maybe they can’t take and accept their own imperfections. That they see themselves as pure good or evil too, and either naively think of themselves as “perfect” which leads to ignoring when you do actually harm others or yourself (which will happen sometimes), or think of themselves already as irredeemably bad and never able to fix it (since any imperfection even if working on it is “not good enough” according to such a thought process). And that’s an awful way to live. You need to be able to care for yourself NOW, think you’re worthy of respect and fairness NOW, think others critiques of you can be put to constructive use so you can grow, think of yourself as the sum of all the years of growing and improving you ALREADY DID and how that’s a wonderful amazing thing you’ve accomplished! 

This purity culture idea just seems like its very prone to making the people sucked into it self hate because humans just never can be fully perfect, or sucked into never improving and growing and rejecting times they maybe should for their own wellbeing because admitting they have any flaws makes them forever ‘awful.’ That’s not true. You’re not inherently bad, period. You’re not bad for having flaws, you’re normal and human and alive. It’s okay to have flaws, its okay to gradually work on them because humans can only improve so much at a time, its okay to realize 2 decades later that oh you still have this negative thing you do and then maybe work on it then. The reality is we will never be perfect, we will still find our share of some kinds of flaws when we’re very old and about to die, and we need to be able to accept ourselves and appreciate the progress we constantly make and recognize we are valuable and inherently okay as people even when there are still flaws or new flaws come up. 

[bluinary]

Reblogging this before everyone hops on the "you should've known better" train

I'm convinced I have the worst vibes detector of all time. I used to be a fan of Creepshow Art, iilluminaughtii, and James Somerton- all high-profile creators who got their careers tanked because they're bad people. Given the absolutely huge number of creators I subscribe to it's not surprising that this has happened multiple times, but still.

Then again, when I expressed this sentiment in the past and kicked myself for not being more aware of the red flags, someone told me that means I just want to see the good in people and am more willing to forgive faults than others are. I think that's spot-on tbh; I'm a very naive and forgiving person, which has often been taken advantage of. But it's just my nature, I can't help it.

This will inevitably happen to me again, but I'd rather not beat myself up over not constantly being attuned to every red flag people give off.

[and-this-of-all-my-hopes]

So, I feel like I’m losing my mind. I keep seeing metas about how Aziraphale wants Crowley to return to Heaven and be an angel again because he wants them to be on the same side/be good/change/etc., etc., etc. but I don’t see that at all. I actually see it as the very opposite.

Aziraphale loves Crowley just as he is. But there’s something more. Something huge.

Aziraphale loves Crowley and because he is an angel who is stuck in seeing things as black and white, he constantly praises Crowley for being nice. For being good. For being kind.

Aziraphale has watched Crowley on and off for 6,000 years. He watched him thwart the plans of Heaven and Hell because it was unjust. He spared the lives of innocents. He did small things that made Aziraphale happy just because (like making Hamlet successful and saving valuable books). And because Aziraphale sees things in black and white, he sees all the things Crowley has done as nice, as good, as kind.

Crowley vehemently attests he’s not nice or good or kind.

He’s not exactly wrong nor is he lying when he says this. When Crowley spares goats during a cruel bet over a righteous man and swallowing laudanum to prevent a suicide, when he prevents Armageddon by working with Aziraphale and stopping the Anti-Christ from being the Anti-Christ, he’s not doing the nice/good/kind thing.

He’s doing the right thing.

Crowley chooses to do the right thing without hesitation. He is better than all of Heaven and Hell who have callous and dispassionate view of all existence because he questions, because he makes choices. Crowley sees the world for all its messiness and he sees himself. He sees a place where he fits in. He sees the blurred edges.

And Aziraphale sees that, even if seeing the blurred edges is hard for him.

But here’s the thing that Aziraphale can’t voice.

It’s the reason why he told Crowley about being allowed to return to Heaven and become an angel again. He doesn’t want Crowley to change. He doesn’t think Crowley is flawed. Or not enough.

It’s something that is so monumental that it cannot be put into words. Because to put it into words would be more than blasphemy. It’s down right unthinkable for anyone in Heaven, Hell, or Earth to say what Aziraphale knows deep in his soul.

God was wrong to cast out Crowley.

Aziraphale believes Crowley can/should return to Heaven because he knows that Crowley should never have fallen in the first place. He wants him to be forgiven because when Crowley fell it was unjust. Aziraphale is trying to correct a mistake. He’s trying to do the right thing.

Yes, Crowley would never accept returning to Heaven. And Aziraphale was wrong to even suggest it (although that conversation is another can of worms to unpack).

Aziraphale loves Crowley. He loves him exactly as he is. He doesn’t want him to change. Aziraphale knows that Crowley the best of all of them. He wants to change Heaven because of it. Because God was wrong and Aziraphale knows it.

Aziraphale may have difficulty seeing beyond black and white, but when it comes to Crowley he sees everything crystal clear and in vivid color.

[spittingoutthebloodandscreaming]

People keep trying to rehabilitate radf*m ideology only to trip and fall into rancid ideas as a result, can we just stop trying please. Its not the seventies anymore and there are more than two available forms of feminism