#jeffrey scenario

[creepy-friday]

Bad Habits[Creepypasta]

Warnings: blood,violence,drugs and suggestive content

Jeff

Renewing his permanent smile whenever he feels he's getting better.Misery became his comfort.

"I'm getting better at it" he scoffed walking past you as you raised an eyebrow."I swear" a whisper not reaching your ears.

Toby

Hours of sitting in front of a screen watching people fuck each other.Pleasure might make him feel something yet the routine started to scare him.

"Nothing else is new." he stated as his head hit his hands.

Hoodie

Looking at old photos.There is a spark of hope in them,in the eyes of those faceless people,in the eyes of the boy he once was.He even had scribbled quotes on the back of them.

"Broken photos make the best pictures frames" a smile formed on his face as the man gestured to his camera.

Masky

Drugs.He has an appetite for feeling dizzy and faded whenever he has the time to.Overdosing on whatever he has and mixing it with personality switches.

"Are you fucking high again?" you asked him in a serious manner.

"Almost reaching Heaven" he dry laughed,knowing damn well.

EJ

Watching brutal gore videos whenever he feels the need to feel less bad about himself and about his actions.

"Perhaps all demons are human" he stated.

"All humans are demons". you shrugged.

[im-tired-404]

Me because I’m not mentally well:

[hashnna]

OKASHII; Fetiches.

Notas: Isso aqui é um completo surto baseado em vozes da minha cabeça sobre quais kinks eu acho que eles teriam porque eu precisava 😔 e tenho simplesmente muitas ideias com a okashii (principalmente com o jeff), honestamente eu e meus meninos com poucos leitores e ouvintes somos o quinteto perfeito. 🫂

Avisos: Conteúdo sexual, size Kink, overstimulation, smoking fetich, gagging, sex tape, cum play, praise kink, odaxelagnia, katoptronofilia.

Extra: O Matt não tá aqui por motivos de; sou incapaz de escrever coisas impróprias com ele, olho pro matty e vejo uma auréola e asas nas costas dele 😮‍💨

Jeffrey White

Size Kink - Jeff é completamente apaixonado pela diferença de tamanho entre vocês, seja a diferença das mãos quando você as compara ou segura a mão dele, ou a diferença de tamanho quando o corpo dele está sobre o seu.

 Jeffrey tem quase 1,90 de altura e ombros largos dignos de um ex nadador, a forma como apenas uma das mãos dele é suficiente para prender seus pulsos acima de sua cabeça ou atrás de suas costas é fascinante. Ele leva a marca que fica em sua bunda pelos tapas fortes quase como um troféu, a mão inteira desenhada em vermelho em sua nádega.

 Na primeira vez que você deitou na cama de Jeff, sequer parecia que ele iria caber dentro de sua buceta, assim como não coube inteiro em sua boquinha. E mesmo agora estando acostumada ao tamanho dele, ainda choraminga, sente o íntimo arder quando ele entra inteiro pela primeira vez. E ainda pede pra ele ir devagarzinho nos dias em que está mais manhosinha que o normal.

Overstimulation - Suas pernas tremendo em volta da cintura do Jeong enquanto ele enfia tudo bem fundo. Sua mão rodeando o pulso dele enquanto ele te toca, os olhinhos cheios enquanto mal teve tempo de descer de seu orgasmo e ele já está prestes a te dar outro. Suas pernas apertando a cabeça dele, as mãos puxando os cabelos e os quadris que só param quietos na cama quando ele te segura firme e a língua morna brinca com seu pontinho sensível.

 Isso é definitivamente o paraíso de Jeffrey.

Gagging - definitivamente ele não cabe na sua boquinha, talvez, exatamente por isso Jeff é obcecado pela visão de você engasgando no pau dele. As bochechinhas ficando vermelhas, os olhinhos tão cheios que transbordam sem que você controle, a saliva faz seus lábios brilharem e um fio ainda liga seu lábio inferior a cabecinha do pau dele quando você se afasta em busca de ar, só para que em seguida a mão de Jeffrey agarre seus cabelos novamente e te traga de volta para o que estava fazendo, esfrega a ponta em seus lábios, em sua língua, bate, só para depois enfiar tudo bem fundo de novo e ouvir o sonzinho molhado de seus engasgos.

Mason Home

Smoking Fetich - Ele vai acender um cigarro enquanto você mama o pau dele, um dos braços atrás da cabeça enquanto o cigarro pende entre os dedos da mão.

Quando você sentar no colo dele enquanto ele estiver fumando, Mason vai segurar seu rosto, te trazendo pra perto o suficiente para soprar a fumaça esbranquiçada em sua boca, e quando você tombar a cabeça pra trás, soltando a fumaça agora menos densa, ele se aproxima, sela seu pescoço devagar, mordisca a pele.

Cum Play - Mason é completamente obcecado por isso, a visão de manchar todo o seu corpo com a porra dele, brincar com isso, ver o líquido escorrendo em seus peitos, vazando pra fora de seu canalzinho apenas pra que ele suje os dedos enquanto espalha o esperma em toda a sua intimidade.

 Ele já fez as próprias iniciais com o esperma em sua nádega e sem pudor algum usou uma foto disso como wallpaper por meses.

Sex Tape - Ele tem inúmeras gravações e fotos impróprias de vocês em uma pasta privada que só vocês dois têm acesso. 

 São fotos suas ajoelhada mamando o pau dele, de quatro, fotos e vídeos de Mason com a cabeça no meio de suas pernas enquanto ele te chupa. Vídeos que ele grava em que dá pra ver perfeitamente a forma com o pau dele entra inteirinho em sua buceta. É quase um onlyfans particular de vocês.

Raf Sandou

Katoptronofilia - O que ele pode fazer se ver seu rostinho choroso através do espelho enquanto ele te fode por trás é uma das cenas mais lindas que ele já viu? 

 Sandou é completamente obcecado, já cogitou colocar um espelho no teto do quarto. Ele adora entrar no banheiro enquanto você faz sua maquiagem na frente do espelho, ele vai agarrar sua cintura, beijar seu pescoço, colocar a mão por dentro de sua calcinha, te tocando até que você perca totalmente a concentração e então te foder ali mesmo.

Odaxelagnia - Sempre vai ter alguma marca dos dentes dele pelo seu corpo, no pescoço, na clavícula, no ombro, nas nádegas, coxas. Ele adora te morder e te marcar. 

Normalmente ele se excita facilmente. Mas quando ele está sentado na frente do computador e você se aproxima, tira o boné dele, entrelaçando os dedos entre os cabelos escuros enquanto mordisca o pescoço dele...ele não vai aguentar um minuto inteiro sem querer te foder.

Praise Kink - Ele vai te chamar dos apelidos mais imorais e em seguida te chamar de "Princesa", falar que você é a garota bonita dele enquanto te fode devagarzinho. 

Depois de gozar na sua boca, vai segurar seu rosto com a mão, espremendo suas bochechas até um biquinho se formar em seus lábios, te dar um selinho barulhento e dizer o quando você é boa pra ele, o quanto é louco por você, te chamar de "minha putinha bonita", "princesinha do Sandou", "bonequinha do Seunghwan".

Morro de ciúmes dos meus caras e ao mesmo tempo queria dar a fama e reconhecimento do mundo todo pra eles 😔😔😔

[dodgeballstuckonthegymceiling]

Hiya how are you?? :DD

If you don’t mind me requesting this… but could I request Any of the Creepypastas with a GN!S/O who has a Ayano Aishi Personality from Yandere Simulator??

I hope this helps^^ feel free to research more and also have fun with this :) thank u!!

Yandere simulator has been in development forever. You think it's actually going to come out, or no?

Jeff the killer x Ayano Aishi-esk Reader

★ He's sort of the same, not with the whole "feels nothing except love for you" part. However he would kill people, violently, for you and gets a bit jealous when people talk to you (looking at Sully).

★ But after he sees how you act around him he starts to let himself be less hinged. It's because he doesn't need to worry about you being scared off. Truelove is beautiful...

★ He usually helps you hide/destroy corpses that you made. In return you help him with his, Slenderman has threatened to kick both of you out if you leave another bloodstains on the stairs again.

[grilledsnot]

The Ink Wielder - Cellar Dweller au

What if Colin survived the fire and ended up becoming an ink demon?

[sins0fthefather]

Wrath.

Jeff the Killer HCs:

General HCs:

Full Name: Jeffrey Alexander Woods (Only responds to Jeff though. Best case scenario if you call him his full name is he’ll ignore you, worst case scenario is him flipping his shit on you)

Age: 22-25 (Based on where in the story a character study/fic takes place)

Birthday: September 22 (Older than Liu by 2 years)

Wasian— Father is Chinese, mother is a born n’ raised Texan

Biromantic, Demisexual

Has autism, C-PTSD, BPD (contributor to his auditory hallucinations), NPD, ASPD, and BDD

Right Handed

6’1 (185~ cm)

Covered in burn scars, most noticeably on his chest, forearms, and back

He uses white facepaint, it makes his face’s silhouette look “cleaner” in his eyes

His cuts have healed up for the most part, although he’ll have moments where he relapses and cuts at them again. The ends will also sometimes tear if he does something like laugh too hard.

Very touchy with other people, but he despises being touched first. He prefers to initiate physical contact- both because of the control aspect of it and because of his general distrust of others.

His sense of humor waxes and wanes from extreme condescension to the most morbid sentences you’ve ever heard. Half of the time it doesn’t even sound like a joke.

Reckless driver, cursed with terrible road rage

Smokes cigarettes, his brand of choice is Marlboro

Drinks vodka straight as if it were water

I feel like his favorite band would be Tool or Slipknot. His music taste is just metal and dad rock.

Was brought up in a Catholic school for most of his life, although he obviously doesn’t keep up with the practice anymore. This is a big catalyst for why he develops a god complex however since he “has authority over life and death”— something unique only to gods from what he was taught.

Very observant of the people around him. He memorizes speech patterns, demeanors, even the way people walk. He’s gotten to the point where he can read people and their intentions well before they’re explicitly stated, making it much easier for him to spot a lie. However this also makes it much easier for him to tell when he’s truly pushing somebody’s buttons, and there’s nothing he loves more than pushing people past their limit.

Always stealing glances of himself in any mirror he walks past

He’s an opportunistic killer. Limiting himself to patterns clashes with the creativity and the thrill of the moment to him. However, there are specific elements of a kill he will often repeat if the mood strikes him. An example of this would be often including strangulation (albeit usually not the direct cause of death) to reflect his acquired need for control in all moments of his life. Sometimes he will also pose bodies in a “prayer” position to call back that god complex I mentioned.

He doesn’t always kill people immediately. If someone catches his eye, usually because he finds them beautiful in some aspect, he’ll take it a step further. He has no problem with being patient when the situation arises for it- stalking the person, learning their habits and schedules, the whole shebang. He’ll then slowly start to ruin said person’s life, isolating them through the slaughter of those closest to them and destroying any sense of peace and security they once had. He’s the sound that goes -bump- in the night. He’ll toy with his food until he eventually grows bored, disposing them like all the rest. After all, how dare someone else try to be beautiful in his presence- a punishment of the highest order is necessary.

His anger can be very… explosive. He doesn’t stick around very long for enough people besides victims to see it, but it can be as unpredictable as his own kills. It’s worse when he’s silent in his anger however, since with the former you at least have enough of a warning to brace yourself.

Backstory-Centric HCs:

(TW: csa, murder, mutilation, religious trauma, general stuff)

Takes place in college. Jeff is 22 at the start while Liu is 20.

Instead of being a one-off instance, Jeff and Liu have been subjected to bullying/borderline harassment since middle school. This builds up Jeff’s gradual distrust of others and leads to him shutting himself off from his peers.

Most of said bullying revolved around their mixed race situation. It only got worse as Jeff shut himself off and Liu became a people pleaser.

The two didn’t even have peace at home, since their parents were sexually abusive and excused it through their religion. It was “all apart of god’s love” as they said. This + the bullying leads Liu to develop DID and kickstarts Jeff’s resentment towards their parents. It also led Jeff to develop a twisted belief on what love and beauty is since god apparently “favored” the beauty of his parent’s form of “love.”

On one particular instance of bullying/harassment, a small group of people he grew up with planned on jumping and mugging Jeff behind a bar. Things escalated when Jeff retaliated in self defense, beating his aggressors with a nearby pipe found laying against a dumpster. He didn’t leave unscathed however, since one of the attackers dropped a lighter into the flammable materials (alcohol, trash, etc) that had been scattered in the fight, planning on making everyone go down in that moment. Jeff managed to survive (albeit with severe burns along his body) after being found by an employee who went to go check out the noise/smell of smoke, but the others succumbed to their wounds.

While in a heavy state of shock and psychosis (paired with being drugged up out the wazoo at the hospital) his usual unchecked auditory hallucinations worsened, leading his mind to trick him into believing this situation was a sign from god- that he was supposed to survive while his tormentors burned. Paired with his already twisted concepts of love and beauty, he began to believe that his burns were part of god’s plan to make him more beautiful- because he was favored.

This only gets worse when he’s released from the hospital’s custody due to a neglect in checking his mental state. After being sent home with his family and therefore being thrown back into the abusive environment he hoped to escape when going to college he ends up experiencing a psychotic break, mutilating himself in the process.

When his parents catch him, they attack him. In their eyes he had disgraced them, no longer upholding the “beauty” of heaven that they enforced. He ends up killing them in self defense, but furthers it by mutilating their bodies in an act of defiance induced by his break. He believes he’s outdone god in this moment, deluding himself into thinking he’s on the same level (or even better) than god.

While overcome by his psychotic break, he ends up severely wounding Liu after he wakes up to check out the noise. It becomes a conspiracy on if Liu survived or not since his body was never found by authorities.

The reason why Jeff continues on his spree after these instances is the feel of control he gets. After being forced into submission by those around him for so long, he finally feels a stable sense of power over those he deems as less than him.

He ends up wandering throughout the states after this, hopping from town to town. He never stays in one place for long, although sometimes he’ll revisit his home town to give the urban legend fanatics something to fear again.

[just-some-user-hunny]

I have this question

What if bastard! reader's brothers became knights or guards just so they could find reader and run away with her. Like they'll get inside the castle, find her, explain everything and then run.

Or like they work there to be finally close to their sister again.

How would everyone feel about it? Especially Luke, Jace, Baela and Rhaena

I've actually been pondering of what to do with bastard!readers brothers. I did have an idea that maybe once she manages to escape, she finally flies back home across the ocean on dragon-back and finds her home again. Her brothers are still alive, working as blacksmith apprentices or stable boys ever since their mother passed away not too long ago from illness :( it takes a moment for everything to click, it's been so long since they've seen one another.

But the idea of them becoming knights/guards is so fun honestly. They dedicate themselves to training till they become good enough to be sent somewhere important like kings landing, and set off to search for their sister. Once they reunite, it takes a moment for bastard! Reader to realise, but when she does she's in absolute tears and snuggles her baby brothers who she's missed so much 😔 I'd imagine that maybe their mother isn't around anymore, possible passing away from illness some years ago. As heartbroken as she was, she couldn't give up on her son's so she just kept on working till she dropped, the only comfort she's granted is knowing her boys will be able to look after themselves.

But yeah, if any of the readers 'siblings' would see, they would probably go frantic. Jace would stare in shock and jealousy, if Luke was to see, the precious boy would go as red as an apple in spite. I don't think Baela and rhaena would be as upset, but they would fear being abandoned by their sister.

The two boys would approach, Jace sternly yet unassumingly ask who they are, jaw grit taut, whilst Luke clasps at your sleeve and hugs you close to him. There'd probably be an all out glaring match between all of your brother's now. Bastard readers! True brothers would feel kinda appalled at the princes audacity, considering that you were literally kidnapped from them and that they're your true brothers. Jace would clasp his gloved hand in his yours, trying to keep you by his side as the two targaryen princes feel a little insecure for the first time in a good while. They are very attached to you, and aren't going to give you away like that so easily. You're their sister.

Also I know he's not mentioned here, but I think little Jeffrey would be very confused and not really understand what's happening. He'd cling to your skirt and look up at you with his rosy face and button nose, smiling and asking who your new friends are in his little voice.

This is such a good idea though, I'd love to hear anymore thoughts and scenarios from anyone!

[raythekiller]

Hi, I've been reading your works and I'm envious. Your scenarios and headcanons are so cool :D I was wondering if you could make a headcanon for the creeps living with a Latina recruit who is sassy but caring to the point she (or they) will aggressively take care of someone if they aren't feeling well. Hope it isn't too much out of your comfort zone. Have a good day and take care

<3333

🗒 ❛ Sassy But Caring Latinx! Reader ༉‧₊˚✧

Featuring: Jeff The Killer, Ben Drowned, Ticci Toby, Eyeless Jack, Masky

#Notes: as a dad friend sassy latino myself this one was right up my alley ty

pronouns used: none

˗ˏˋ back to navigation ´ˎ˗

꒰⸝⸝₊⛓┊Jeff The Killer

You definitely give him a lot of shit. When you first arrive he's all cocky thinking he has a new victim, but then as soon as you opened your mouth, boom, he got dragged. Since he's quite the troublemaker, you'll probably be screaming at him a lot.

"¡Jeff! ¿Que chingado estás hacendo?"

"Slender, the new recruit is speaking tongues again!"

Secretly thinks it's kinda hot when you speak Spanish. The rolling r's just do something to him. While he's absolutely not gonna try to learn it, he ends up picking up a thing or two just from hearing you and the context of the situation. Can't speak it to save his life, though. Still, he makes fun of your language all the time.

"What, you forgot English already?"

Also, he's like, terrible with self care. Not as bad as Ben, but still pretty bad. Doesn't shower for days and hates drinking water. You'll have to threaten him with a chancla to get him to actually take some care of himself.

"¡Jeffrey Woods, chingada madre, limpia tu habitación!"

"You can't fucking make me!"

꒰⸝⸝₊⛓┊Ben Drowned

Little mister Hasn't Showered, Slept Or Eaten In A Week over here. I swear, this guy is helpless. Spends all his time cupped up in his room playing videogames and eating nothings but trash like some kind of fucking raccoon. You'll have the hardest time trying to take care of him.

"Ben, how long has it been since the last time you showered?"

"Uhmm... I don't know, about 9 days?"

" *sighs in spanish* "

Genuinely terrified of you when you get mad and start cussing in Spanish. He'll clean his room, he promises, just please put the chancla down!

Will actually be really happy if you make him Hispanic food. Not only does it taste good, but you made it for him because you care about him, and that means the world. He can't handle spicy stuff though, so be careful.

꒰⸝⸝₊⛓┊Ticci Toby

Not too bad in general when it comes to taking care of himself, but he does just... Forget to eat. All the time. He will just suddenly get light headed and remember he hasn't eaten a bite of food in the last 3-4 days. Another one who loves if you make him Hispanic food, but unlike Ben, he likes his shit extra spicy. Probably one of the only creeps who will try to learn Spanish to understand you better, even if you're fluent in English.

"H-hola, Y/N. Como- como estás?"

"Estoy bien, pero no necessitas hablar conmigo en español, chulo."

Yes, you call him "chulo". He will also listen to the music and just try to learn more of the culture in general to make you feel more welcome. Overall, genuinely puts in an effort in taking better care of himself so you don't have to worry about him as much.

꒰⸝⸝₊⛓┊Eyeless Jack

I'd be surprised if he didn't know Spanish already, which was probably a bit of a shock to you, but a good one nonetheless. He's not normally into gossip, but there's something extremely funny about talking shit about someone while they're right there and they have no idea what you're saying.

"Jeff es tan jodidamente estúpido."

"Sí, ¿verdad?"

"The FUCK you two talkin about?"

You won't have to worry about him much, he takes basic care of himself unlike most of the others. If anything, he's scolding rhe others WITH you. You're basically the parents of everyone else at this point.

꒰⸝⸝₊⛓┊Masky

Has the biggest fucking crush on you and will forever be mad about it. I said this in the ideal S/O post - he needs someone who gives him shit but also looks out for him and the others. The fact that latino people are extra hot is just a bonus. Unfortunately, this also means he's extra mean to you.

"Tienes que dejar de fumar. Te va a joder los pulmones así."

"Sorry, doll, I don't speak 'freak'."

Like Jeff, secretly thinks it's hot when you speak in your language. Hates when you scold him, loves it when you scold others, especially if you get extra mad and start cussing in Spanish. It's just amusing to him. Plus, you make things easier for him now that he's not the only one parenting these weirdos and he's genuinely glad you came along.

[0nlythrowharrybeaux]

#4 with lots of angst but a happy ending!😭

Warning: Mentions of car accident, pregnancy complications, 4pre-term birth, hospitals.

Harry had been a bit hesitant to schedule any shows for when you made it to your 6 month of pregnancy. However, you assured him that you wouldn't even start your maternity leave until the 7 month mark because you wanted more time after the baby was born; you didn't want to feel rushed to say goodbye to her. You had a desk job, so you weren't doing anything strenuous and your job also wasn't all that stressful. So during a break in his tour he came home and after a few checks ups where Harry asked a bajillion questions, your doctor assured him that everything was perfectly normal and looking really great.

It's not that Harry didn't want to tour, he actually really did because after your baby came he intended to take at least a year or two to just be there with you both. But he also didn't want to be away from you just in case you needed him during this time. But you reminded him that your mom would be coming in from LA to help out soon and well, his mom was constantly around, doting on you, and other friends of yours and Harry's in town, so you had many people around who would surely lend a hand if you ever needed it. So with that information, plus your doctor's confirmation he gave Jeffrey the green light to add one more month of shows to his tour. After all, it would be the last one for a bit.

He was having a blast, he was making the most of these last few shows because he knew he'd miss it a lot down the line. And right now he was in the huddle with the band, pep talking them all right before they got on stage. They were just about to do their chant when he heard someone call his name loudly.

"Harry!" he turned around to see Brad running over with his phone to his ear looking absolutely panicked and scared and worried all mixed into one. He'd never seen him looking that scared and it made him start to worry. As soon as he was closer to the huddle he lowered his voice, "H, Y/N's been in a serious car accident. It's not good." He said and his stomach immediately sank. Everyone's cheerful and excited expressions shifted into those of concern and sadness, "Your mum just called Jeff, she just got to the hospital, they won't give her any details." he said as he said whatever Jeffrey was telling him on the line.

Harry was frozen though, he wasn't sure what to do. He just knew he needed to get there as soon as possible. People always overthink and ponder about bizarre or worst case scenarios to maybe know how to handle them when they arise, but this is not something that Harry would have ever even considered. He was in shock, he had no control, he had no idea what was going on. He couldn't even cry. His ears were just ringing as he heard the crowd cheering and roaring maniacally as the screens darkened, indicating he was about to go on.

"The show." he finally said flatly as he swallowed the lump in his throat, "I can't do the show."

"Yeah, Tommy's already taking care of that." Brad assured him, "Let's just get your things, we're trying to get you there as soon as possible. Jeff is on the other line with Kris. I guess Kim is in town for work, she flew on her jet." he said and Harry nodded, "C'mon". Brad said and guided Harry back to his dressing room. The band rushed after them and followed Harry to his dressing room. He needed to get changed out of his crazy costume... he was trying to get his shoes off, but his shaking hands were making the simple task almost impossible.

"H, I've got it." Mitch said to him softly as he stooped down and Harry nodded. Once his shoes were off he hurried to get changed into his casual clothes. The rest of the band started gathering his things, getting them into his duffle bag so that he could head out as soon he was done changing. They all frowned when they heard him start to vomit in the bathroom but it was understandable, there are just somethings in life that cause a visceral reaction.

Harry just couldn't believe that this was rally happening. He felt like he was outside of his body in a way, just disconnected. But all that came crashing when he realized that no one had any idea of your condition. No one knew if your baby girl was alright...or maybe they wouldn't tell his mom anything because neither of you had made it...the thought of that just made him feel sick to his stomach. He dropped to his knees and just started to hurl up everything in his stomach. He was coughing through his tears and he exhaled shakily as he wiped off his mouth. He then flushed the toilet and rinsed out his mouth before he finished changing.

"Here, H." Sarah said handing over his toothbrush when he opened the door.

"Thank you." he mumbled as he took it and quickly brushed his teeth.

"Yes! We got the jet!" Brad said to everyone as soon as Kim confirmed to Jeffrey that her flight crew was heading to the airfield as they spoke. Everyone sighed in relief at this news, "She told Jeff that they can get you there in 2 hours." he told Harry and he nodded. He wished he could teleport, but 2 hours was better than nearly three hours of flight, not counting the entire process he'd have to go through at the airport. He'd make it there after midnight if that were the case, so the fact that she was in town and was just letting him take her jet was a heaven ordained miracle, and he hoped it wouldn't be the last of the night. Not even ten minutes later they were off to the airfield.

True to her word, Kim's crew was ready to go as soon as his car pulled up. He and Brad hurried out and they had taken off not even five minutes later.

********

Back at the hospital Anne was in a complete panic because no one was telling her anything. No one was giving her any information or just brushing her off. She knew that you were on your way to get your mother from the airport, so she sent Michal and Gemma to go get her and bring her over.

She was more than relieved when Jeffrey called her to let her know that Harry had been able to borrow a jet and was in the air now. But as she hung up with Jeffrey she started getting a lot of text messages from friends and family asking if Y/N was alright. One person sent her a video that someone had taken of the paramedics wheeling her into the ambulance. She immediately called Jeffrey back and he got to work on making sure that those videos got taken down. But obviously, the internet spreads information like a wildfire and half an hour later there were even news reports on the television. People started to recognize her and come ask her questions and so eventually the hospital staff just let her stay in a private room while she waited for your mum, Gem, and Michal to arrive.

********

Obviously, Harry saw the videos. He didn't think he'd be riddled with messages about this; people were asking him questions that he didn't even have the answers to. The not knowing was the worst part. There was already news that he had cancelled his show and speculation that the rest of the tour was cancelled, which he hadn't even spoken to anyone about but that was true. Even if it was a good outcome, he didn't want to be apart from you after this.

He was afraid though because in the videos he saw your pants had blood on them and you didn't appear to be fully conscious as you were wheeled away. The accident had been bad; your car had been t-boned on the driver's side, so you surely had taken the impact, which he knew couldn't be good. He didn't want to think anymore, he just wanted to get there and do whatever he could to help.

********

Once your mother got there the hospital staff were far more collaborative as they shared information on your condition. And thankfully Harry had arrived shortly after everyone else. He asked to speak to the doctors straight away before anything else, he needed to know what was going on before he faced anyone else.

"Good evening, Mr. Styles-"

"Just tell me what happened please." he cut the woman off and she nodded.

"For now your wife is stable, we're just closing her up from the c-section. In terms of your daughter, she's in the NICU. Unfortunately we're not too sure if she'll make it on her own yet." she explained to him and Harry just felt his heart tighten up in his chest as his throat bobbed. "The impact caused very serious abdominal trauma to your wife. First responders determined that the placenta was moderately detached from the uterus because of the bleeding she had." she explained, "When we opened her up though it was completely detached." she said and he shook his head.

"OK, but what does that mean for my baby?" he asked, slightly aggravated. He didn't understand why these people just never said what they meant. He understood it could be hard to give people bad news, but beating around the bush was far more harmful in his opinion.

"When the placenta detaches it means the baby has no oxygen or nutrients. And in severe cases like this it's standard to perform an emergency c-section as quickly as possible to ensure that damage to the baby is minimal." she explained to him and his tears started to fall, "Unfortunately, we don't know long it was fully detached for...if it happened upon impact or on the way to the hospital. But this can lead to several complications for the baby, but given that your wife is just shy of 31 weeks the baby still has some growing to do and my biggest concern is brain injury, which can cause a lot of developmental delays. We just won't know until later down the line." she explained and he nodded, "We've got her on some oxygen for now since her lungs are not fully developed yet. But in normal, pre-term birth circumstances babies born between 31 to 34 week have a 95% survival rate, which is very good." she said and he sighed.

"But this is not a normal, pre-term circumstance." he said to her.

"No, but we're doing everything we can. Your baby seems to have developed really well from what I was able to see. These next couple of hours are critical though and if she makes it through the night I’ll be very optimistic about her recovery.”

"Can I see them?" he asked.

"I can certainly arrange for that. You might be able to see the baby first, but she's in the incubator and it'll be a bit frightening to see her hooked up to several things, but that's just what we need to do to keep her stable." she informed and he nodded, "Your wife had to have a blood transfusion, so she's out. And I believe they are also treating to her fractures. She may also be out for a few more hours since she also suffered a concussion."

"Jesus..." he sighed shakily.

"Your wife will pull through though. She's in great health, Mr. Styles." she assured him and he nodded.

"Alright, thank you Dr. Mehta." he said and she nodded, "I'll escort you to the room your relatives have been given and someone will come get you shortly to see your baby." she said.

It was about 15 minutes before a nurse came in to take Harry over to the NICU. He had to get into a full body paper suit, hairnet, mask, and gloves before he could get in. Once that was squared away he was led to the little incubating carriage that had your little girl in it. When Harry saw her he was shocked at just how tiny she was, he swore she'd fit in in his hand, she couldn't be bigger than his forearm. He was happy to see her, but like the doctor had said it was also scary to see her so tiny and defenseless hooked up to all those things. It was hard to know that she was fighting for her life.

“Can I touch her?” He asked the nurse.

“Of course. You just put your arm through the hole there.” She explained and he nodded, “Just mind the tubes and monitoring pads.” She said and he nodded, “I’ll give you a few minutes, I’ll be right out there if you need anything.”

“Thank you.” Harry hummed and then he was left alone. As soon as she was gone he started to cry. You two hadn’t even agreed on her name yet; but he was glad you hadn't because it might be more painful to name her and lose her. It pained him so much to think that she might not make it through the night and that maybe you'd never even get to see her. He hesitated before his gloved hand made contact with her through the hand opening, but he shook off his concern and just touched the top of her tiny hand. He saw the faintest little twitch in her fingers and he chuckled happily at her response as his tears fell even harder, "Hi princess!" he smiled through his tears, "It's me, your dad." he sniffled, "Please, just...just hang on for me, princess. We already love you so much, we can't say goodbye." he cried quietly. He prayed silently to the heavens that his little girl would make it. She had to make it.

********

It was about two hours later that he was told he could go see you. You were still unconscious but at least he got to see that you were alive. Your right shoulder, arm, hip, and leg were in a cast. He was glad that at least your mom was with him so that they could hold each other while they cried. She wanted to stay a while longer so Harry gave her some privacy as he stepped outside of the room. Letting out a sigh of relief that you were alive. A little torn up, but still with him.

It was undoubtedly a sleepless night. He couldn't risk missing anything. It was around 8:30am the next morning when Dr. Mehta came by the waiting room. He hurriedly woke everyone else up as she stepped into the room.

"Good morning, Mr. Styles and family." Dr. Mehta smiled. If she was saying that it meant that it was good news, right?

"Any updates?" he asked and she nodded.

"Your baby is stable. She remained stable all night." she shared happily and every let out a sigh of relief. He felt a weight lifted off of his shoulders, "now this doesn't mean she's out of the NICU, her stay will be a bit longer, I'm afraid, but she is out of immediate danger." she informed him and he nodded, "Your wife should be waking up in the next couple of hours."

"Thank you, thank you so much." he sighed and she nodded.

"I did want to show you something though."

"Of course." he stood and followed after her.

"I was reviewing your wife's chart and I noticed something interesting." she said and he nodded. Harry followed her down the hall and she let him into an empty room with an x-ray projector. She set the file in her hand down and pulled out your x-rays and powered on the projector before she placed them on the screen. "Look at the fractures. They're here on the shoulder, elbow, hip and femur." she said and Harry nodded, "That's why your baby's alive." she said and he turned to her.

"I don't understand." he said.

"I think your wife had enough time to react before she was hit. It looks like she tried to turn her body away was much as possible, which explains the way her shoulder fractured and she probably used her arm and leg to try to shield her stomach so that they took the brunt of the impact."

"That's...so incredible. Thank you for showing this to me." he nodded with tearful eyes and she nodded.

"Of course. My shift is over, but I'll be back again tonight. Your nurses from last night are still on shift."

"Thank you." he said before he headed back to the waiting room and shared with his family what the doctor had told him. He was so proud of you and he couldn't wait to tell you.

When you woke up a few hours later he immediately went over to see you. It all tears for the first few minutes before you asked about your baby. He squeezed your hand gently and sniffled.

"She's alright. I get to see her again later." he explained and you nodded in relief, "She's just a tiny little thing, this big, I swear." he smiled through his tears as he demonstrated her length to you with his hands, "Your doctor said you saved her life. S'why you're all broken, baby." he said and you smiled at him as you cleared your throat to speak.

"I just wanted to protect her as much as I could." you sniffled and he nodded.

"You did, my love. She's here because of you." he sobbed and kissed your forehead and you felt a weight lifted off of your shoulders, "I told you adding more shows was a bad idea..." he said and you chuckled before you winced, "Oh, I'm sorry, not making you laugh's gonna be hard."

"It might be if you were actually funny, baby." you croaked out and he pouted playfully as you smiled at him. "What're we gonna name our baby? We haven't even discussed it properly."

"S'cause we knew it'll get us in a tiff. But considering you're handicapped and all, I supposed your opinion bears more weight." he said and you chuckled again and he grinned, "And you said I'm not that funny..." he hummed as he ran his thumb over your knuckles.

"I'm concussed." you reminded and he chuckled and shook his head.

"Well, I told her that she was so loved...and well, she's our little love. So I think I want to call her Love." he said and you smiled.

"Love Styles sounds like a cheap lingerie brand." you wheezed as you tried to adjusted yourself a bit and he burst our laughing before reaching up and fluffing your pillow up a bit.

"Yeah...that's...definitely not what I'm going for." he smiled and you smiled back.

"We don't have to decide yet." you said and he nodded.

"I'm just so happy that you're still here with me." he said softly and you sniffled and nodded.

"Me too."

********

It had been a few days and Harry just needed to get home and get showered and changed. It felt good to be home and when he walked past the nursery he smiled, he couldn't wait to have you and your baby home. When Harry got into your shared bedroom he haphazardly dumped his bag out on the bed in search of his toothbrush before heading in for a shower. He took his time under the hot and soothing water. After he stepped out and dried off a bit he just dropped onto your bed and before he knew he passed out. He had maybe slept six hours in the the last 2 days.

"Harry." he heard faintly, "Hang on, he's passed out." he heard as he gained consciousness and slowly blinked his eyes open to see Brad hovering over him and he immediately sat up.

"Is everything OK?"

"Yeah, mate. Y/N wanted to ask you something." he said and he grabbed Brad's phone.

"I've been calling you." you said and he sighed.

"Sorry baby, phone's dead. What is it?" he asked groggily.

"Let's name her Violet." You said and Harry smiled.

"I like that a lot." he said with a grin.

"Yeah?" You asked.

"Yeah, it's perfect." he agreed.

"OK. That's all. Get some rest."

"I'll be back soon though, OK? I love you." he said and you nodded.

"I love you." you hummed back and he blew a kiss at the screen before you hung up.

"Love Styles? Really?" Brad asked him and he scoffed.

"Oh, shut up..." Harry huffed before draping his arm over his eyes.

READ MORE PICTURE PROMPT BLUBRS HERE!

[cimacally]

Dead Poets Society headcanons: what do they do when they can't sleep

Neil starts reciting theater lines in his mind because he remembers all of them. Sometimes he obviously can't recall some and he gets angry at himself cause he can't read the script without turning the light on, and he doesn't want to wake up Todd. Eventually, he falls asleep, after mumbling the line he was stuck at for 20 minutes.

Todd usually thinks of poems which he won't remember in the morning either way. When he really can't create any good work, he gets frustrated and doesn't sleep all night, thinking about his parents and Jeffrey, drowning in insecurities.

Charlie aggressively wakes up Cameron and complains to him. At first, it was really annoying to Richard, but he got used to it and now they both enjoy it (they will never admit it tho).

Cameron just stares at the ceiling and lets his mind wander off. He thinks about pretty much everything, and sometimes it leads to very weird conclusions, so he tries to sleep every night (he even stopped drinking coffee) (it does not help).

Meeks quietly hums some melodies and imagines various scenarios. He likes making stories so he often doesn't sleep on purpose, just to create them in peace.

Pitts almost never has problems with falling asleep, but when he does, he wakes up Meeks and they talk about everything and nothing. He feels guilty doing so, but Meeks assures that it's not a problem.

Knox gets up and walks around the room until he's at least a little tired. If it doesn't help, he thinks of Chris till morning. The Poets told him that it's kinda creepy but he doesn't give a shit.

I know it's not great, I have never written headcanons before and English isn't my first language but I always wanted to try it so here we are <3.

[livelovecaliforniadreams]

It was a learning experience for me because we're both cancers. We both have a hard exterior that sometimes people tell us is unapproachable or just maybe intimidating. Like, oh, you aren't someone who I would come to with a, you know, a problem necessarily. 'cause you'd tell me the truth and then you'd be stern about it. So what I learned from having a great writer script this scenario for me is that I have just as much strength in softness as I do in my prickliness. And that's been a big lesson for me in adulthood, is to understand that softness is also powerful and that's not something that comes naturally to me. Yeah. So, you know, even when Jeffrey and IS suffered our first pregnancy loss, this sounds terrible, but I already practiced this scene. Like I'd already played this scene. So I knew what it meant to let myself be upset to, you know, to try to be optimistic in the face of that, all of that. But Jeffrey hadn't, you know, he had never been given a script and he really struggled in what to say to me. And I wrote about that in my book and I don't think there's anything wrong with that. -Hilarie

[themattress]

“Remember, kids, if you’ve got a racist grandparent who espouses negative views toward an entire group of people, then you’d better listen to them because they’re right! Some entire groups of people are just collectively evil and can never be trusted!” - Ruby Gillman, Teenage Kraken

If there’s no discourse about this now, then I suspect there will be soon once more people see or hear about this movie because good lord. For those who don’t get it, the context is that in the film the main character Ruby discovers that she’s actually kraken royalty and this of course creates generational angst between her and her mother and grandmother because everything’s gotta have generational angst in it these days. She is told by her grandmother that mermaids, the long-time enemies of the krakens, are all evil and untrustworthy sirens who manipulate people and seek domination over humans. Ruby also befriends a mermaid named Chelsea, who specifically calls attention to this feud between the two species and specifically says that she wants to put a stop to it with Ruby’s help. And so Ruby naturally says “screw your bigotry, Grandma; I’m standing by my friend even if she’s a mermaid”.

......Which leads to the inevitable third act “reveal” that Chelsea was actually manipulating Ruby the whole time in order to acquire a source of power, doesn’t actually desire peace between the species, and just wants to assert domination over humans as is her kind’s wont. 

Look, if the bullshit about krakens and mermaids was not present in the movie, then despite what a hackneyed obvious “twist villain” scenario this is I still would have accepted it because it would just be an isolated incident between two individuals. Without the species feud, you could just freely respect Ruby for having such an open heart and positive nature, and freely hate Chelsea for remorselessly taking advantage of that for her own self-serving agenda.

But because this occurs against this specific backdrop, the movie is flat-out saying that racism is justified and that the teen protagonist should’ve listened to her racist grandmother! All mermaids ARE evil, untrustworthy sirens who manipulate people and seek domination over humans, and Ruby was a total dumbass to dare to believe otherwise about Chelsea!

Imagine if in The Little Mermaid, Ariel is exposed as a mermaid, Prince Eric immediately reacts with disgust before he and his followers harpoon her to death before cooking and eating her bottom half. Guess King Triton was right, all humans are heartless barbarians!  

Or imagine if in Luca, the townspeople accept all of the sea monsters at the end, only for the sea monsters to murder them all in their sleep and lay waste to the town. Guess all those fearful superstitions about sea monsters were accurate and should have been listened to!

Or imagine if in Zootopia....oh heck, do I even need to give this example?

If you think I’m overreacting here, then just swap everything said about mermaids in the movie and replace “mermaid” with “Jew”. Chelsea’s Jewish now. Ruby has the audacity to believe that her Jewish friend isn’t some heinous caricature made of her people, only to learn that actually that caricature is spot-on, so from now on she will never trust a Jew again and will accept her position defending humanity against the evil Jews. Sounds fucking horrible when I put it that way, doesn’t it? I recently said that it’s a good thing that kids have recently been getting more stories calling out how wrong prejudice is, so to see a movie aimed at kids that is actively justifying and encouraging prejudice is mind-blowing in the worst way possible. Who the Hell signed off on this? Did nobody stop to consider the unfortunate implications? Did they think making Chelsea a caricature of a pretty, popular, two-faced Mean Girl justified applying that characterization to her entire species? Or was this Jeffrey Katzenburg being a petty bitch (again) over the fact that The Little Mermaid was being remade without him and he just wanted to stick it to Disney? Whatever the case, I’d recommend giving this movie a pass.

[ericdeggans]

Why hoping Lily Gladstone won an Oscar does not equal valuing race over talent.

Social media is never a great place to have discussions about race and culture. The real issues at hand are way too nuanced and detailed for outrage factories like X/Twitter and Instagram to handle.

Still, I was disappointed to see so many people – perhaps willfully – missing the point online when discussion rose after the Oscars about Lily Gladstone failing to win best actress honors.

No doubt, a win for Gladstone – who would have been the first Native American woman to earn a major acting Oscar – also would have felt like a serious triumph for champions touting the power of diversity in film.

Feeling the love big time today, especially from Indian Country. Kittō”kuniikaakomimmō”po’waw - seriously, I love you all ❤️ (Better believe when I was leaving the Dolby Theater and walked passed the big Oscar statue I gave that golden booty a little Coup tap - Count: one 😉)

— Lily Gladstone (@lily_gladstone) March 12, 2024

Those of us who clock these things regularly knew that Emma Stone’s turn in Poor Things was most likely to spoil that scenario. Stone offered a showy-yet-accomplished performance as a singular character in an ambitious, creatively weird production. A much-loved past winner delivering a career-best effort, she was just the kind of nominee that Oscar loves to reward. And, as Vulture pointed out, modern Oscar voters seem to enjoy turning against expectations in big moments like this.

But when I expressed those feelings online – that Stone was marvelous and more than earned the award, but the Oscar academy really missed a chance to make history by overlooking Gladstone’s more subtle, quietly powerful turn in a better movie – the knives came out.

The gist of most negative reactions was the implication that I and others lamenting her loss were insisting that ethnicity should trump talent. As if the only or most important reason that an indigenous woman could be nominated for such a lofty award, is by people trying to bring social justice to the Oscars. (I guess Gladstone’s wins as best actress at the Golden Globes and Screen Actors Guild awards, among others, were also nods to diversity?)

As if it couldn’t be possible that perhaps -- just perhaps -- some racial cultural preferences were mixed up in Oscar voters’ attraction to the story of a beautiful, young white woman who has loads of sex while learning to define herself in a male dominated world.

What really disappointed me, however, was reading an analysis which reached all the way back to the 2017 Oscars to imply that one reason Barry Jenkins’ masterpiece Moonlight won best picture honors over La La Land was the pressure to bring social justice to the Oscars.

Talk about missing the point by a mile. What I’m driving at, when I advocate for contenders like Gladstone, Barry Jenkins and Jeffrey Wright, isn’t a finger on the scale to make up for past exclusion.

It’s a plea for Oscar voters to see these performances the way I and so many other people actually see them.

I still remember watching last year’s version of The Color Purple in a screening alongside lots of folks from Black fraternity and sorority organizations. And when the moment arrived where Danielle Brooks’ character intoned about her husband, “I loves Harpo — God knows I do — but I’ll kill him dead before I let him or anybody beat me,” it felt like the whole theater said those words with her. That’s how iconic those lines -- first spoken on film by Oprah Winfrey in the 1985 production – have become for Black America.

That same feeling came after I first saw Cord Jefferson’s brilliant American Fiction, centered on a frustrated, floundering Black writer who creates a stereotypical parody of a Black novel as a dark joke, only to see it become a best seller. I felt as if Jefferson had pulled the same bait-and-switch with his movie that his lead character managed onscreen – using the outrageous premise to draw us all into a more subtle and deliberately powerful story of a Black man struggling to connect with his family after huge losses.

I needed three attempts to get through watching all of Gladstone’s work in Killers of the Flower Moon. Not because the movie was so long I had to “get my mail forwarded to the theater,” like Oscars host Jimmy Kimmel joked. But because it was so hard for me to watch a film centered on the historic exploitation and murder of Native American people by white men.

It sounds like a simple idea, but it’s worth repeating: evocative moments in films will speak differently to different people.

Sometimes, when I’m pushing for a win in an awards category, or championing a particular project, it’s not because I’m putting a finger on the scale for the sake of equality. It’s because I’m more invested in that story than some others because of who I am. And I’m challenging some people, who might not see their cultural preferences as preferences, to consider exactly why they love one thing over another.

In many ways, it is sad to see great artists pitted against each other in these contests. Comparing the delightful, dangerous absurdity of Poor Things to the gritty, punishing tone in Killers of the Flower Moon feels like a fool’s errand, anyway.

But with so much that comes from an Oscar win – including proof that inclusion brings success, accolades and a great argument for more equity – it is important to understand why some people value some performances.

And part of living in a diverse society means valuing the wide range of opinions and reactions, not shrugging off those that don’t fit your worldview.

[20forty9]

I Didn't Mean To Haunt You

Chapter VI - Smiling At The Ground

Summary : Maheas is getting irritated from his lack of progress, meanwhile Venick is a natural at whatever she picks up in her hands. This time, he pushes things too far. A new player joins the game in your life! You find yourself getting attached to him very quickly. You share a moment of tenderness with Nanami and Haibara. Meanwhile, Gojo is haunted by nightmares.

Word Count : 7.8k

Contains : Vague representations/allusions of sexual abuse, disturbing imagery (?), gross scenes (descriptive vomiting), etc. Let me know if I missed anything

Pairings : Gojo Satoru/Reader, Geto Suguru/Reader, Nanami Kento/Reader, Yu Haibara/Reader, Everyone/Reader (Reverse Harem)

Cross-posted on Ao3

A/N : Vomiting will become more of a theme throughout the story, sorry LMFAO. Thanks Ethel Cain and Elita for that I guess. Also, good golly gee a quote that isn’t inherently about curiousity?? Fourty are you feeling alright???? Also I’m not a swordmaster so I apologize for any inaccuracies on my uh. sword swinging or whatchamacallit. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter, I put sweat and tears into this chapter. Sorry it's a bit late! I had planned to post it Friday or yesterday but half the chapter got suddenly deleted out of nowhere so I had to rewrite it from my memory and notes.

All bleeding eventually stops. ~ Jeffrey M. Goller M.D.

More time passes by for the spirit, Maheas and Venick without much excitement. Days seem to blur into one, the repetitive schedule rarely being interrupted ever since the rumours about defectors turned out to be true. Security around the area became more tight, and the ever watchful eye of Suliman never truly disappeared; to avoid punishment, the spirit continued the training of the two kids without any delay. 

It notices that they’re both improving their fighting capabilities quite well for such a short period of time – Venick especially. She has a natural aptitude for it, nearly immediately adapting to whatever weapon is given to her. Whether it can be attributed to her sheer will or the possibility of a technique, the spirit must admit she is talented. Though, even throughout all of this, her beloved bow is still her favourite weapon of choice. She doesn’t use it nearly as much as before, but it always lays in the grass with the rest of their belongings, not too far away from where they train. 

However, Maheas is slower to adjust to different weapons and scenarios. And ever since he was able to land that blow on the spirit that particular night, he hasn’t been able to do it since then. 

And unfortunately, he’s too aware of this fact. When he can’t get the weapon or scenario down correctly within the first hour, he considers it to be a complete failure, and gets incredibly irritated, then moves onto something else. Inevitably, the cycle continues, and the spirit notices that Maheas is stuck in a constant loop of anger and irritability. 

It all comes to a breaking point on a sunny day – one of the last overbearingly warm days that fall has to offer before the refreshing cool permanently sets in for the upcoming months. The spirit is sweating profusely from having both kids attack it at once; an exercise for them to learn how to work together as a team instead of individually. 

Venick and Maheas are both using a weapon neither of them have ever tried, but of course Venick is an absolute natural at using the katana, however the latter struggles to hold it properly. As Maheas brings his arms down to swing his weapon down, his grip on the handle wavers slightly, making it slip out of his hands and drop on the ground pathetically. The spirit notices, immediately moving out of the way to dodge the rest of his failed attack, quickly taking him by the arm and twisting it behind his back, pressing a knee against it and sending him into the ground face-first. 

Dust and dirt kick up around them from the impact, but before either of them can catch their breath, Venick runs up from behind and tries to land a blow behind the spirit’s back. With ease, it rolls out of the way and watches as the young girl’s eyes widen, the katana still held high as it now targets Maheas. Her mouth opens widely in exclamation, her lips forming his name, and thankfully, his reaction time is fast enough for him to move his head by an inch right as the blade pierces into the grass, right next to his ear. 

Both of them exhale in relief before Maheas suddenly kicks Venick in the stomach, making her drop down breathlessly on the ground next to him. He shouts obscenities, face going red with rage, raising his fists to punch her repeatedly like a madman. The spirit’s eyes widen, and it moves swiftly, arms wrapping around Maheas’ biceps and pulling him away from the poor girl. He kicks and flails around, going as far as to bite its right arm until his canines puncture its skin, drops of blood pooling and smearing across his lips and teeth. 

Suliman’s men rush over to control the situation, one of them pulling Venick away from the spirit and Maheas as the others try to calm the young boy down. 

“That’s enough!” One of them says, firmly grabbing him by the cheeks to make him look them in their cold eyes.  “What are you doing?!” 

Two other men pull the spirit away from the boy, each of them holding him by his arms as he continues thrashing against them. 

“I’m so sick of this! Why can’t this fucking work?!” He cries, tears of indignation running down his cheeks. “I can’t get anywhere like this!” 

He’s obsessed, the spirit thinks to itself. Nobody can learn so many different strategies in such a short span of time, Venick is just simply blessed – or cursed, depending on how someone views it. If anything, Maheas is still learning quickly; just not as quickly as he would like to. 

Its thought process is interrupted by the familiar deep, royal colours of Suliman’s favourite robes appearing in the peripheral of its sight. Turning its head to look at her, she approaches the group with a frown donned on her face. Her cold, calculating eyes take in the scene before her, and the spirit ponders if this is the most emotion it has seen from her since it got here. 

“What is going on here?” She asks them, her gaze locking onto Maheas, who instantly collects himself, straightening his back as he notices her attention on him. He can’t exactly meet her eyes, the look on his face bashful as he looks down at his feet. 

“...I got angry, Madame,” he admits. With a wave of her hand, the two men holding his arms back let go, taking a step back as she walks over to the young boy. “And I took it out on Venick.”

“Dear boy, why would you do that?” Suliman scolds him lightly, the look on her face not quite replicating anger, but trying to. “Look at her, the poor girl is terrified.” 

Admittedly, Venick is scared. She presses herself closer to the man who pulled her away, but as the spirit approaches her to offer some semblance of comfort, she launches herself into its arms. 

Maheas’ eyes become slits as he glares at the girl, feeling the hot rage boil underneath his skin all over again. He clenches his fists, trying to keep his temperament under wraps. A snap of Suliman’s fingers brings his attention back to her. 

“Answer me, why are you so angry?” She asks him once more. 

“I– I’m not improving fast enough,” he replies, looking regretful. “But– but Venick just has to be perfect and everything! It’s so annoying! I hate her!” 

He must be so used to getting everything handed to him on a silver platter, because no boy of his age should be acting that way or throwing a tantrum like this. And like always, Suliman gently places her hands down on his shoulders, her thumb rubbing comforting circles into his skin through the fabric of his shirt. Like always, she’ll comfort him with her sugar-sweet words in that motherly way she does. 

“I know, Maheas. You’re a failure,” she says. The spirit’s eyes widen slightly – it didn’t expect that. That crosses the line from being passive-aggressively disappointed into being genuinely cruel. “I’m truly disheartened by this.” 

“Madame…?” The boy’s face becomes crestfallen, eyes glossy with unshed tears, skin becoming sickeningly pale. His lips press tightly together, chin trembling. 

“But I can shape you into becoming something truly marvellous,” she continues, a small smile spreading across her painted lips. “Something people will fear. But for that, you have to work hard every second of the day.” 

He looks at her hesitantly, but manages to muster a weak grin of his own. “...I– I won’t let you down.” 

“No, you won’t,” Suliman says, her face immediately dropping to a neutral, far-away stare as she releases her hold on him, walking over to the spirit. 

“Come with me,” she completely disregards the young girl still clinging to it. “We need to discuss some things.” 

The spirit gives one last pat to Venick’s back, ushering her towards the man who had initially pulled her away from the scene earlier before walking away with the shaman. She walks it down along the gardens until they are a fair distance away from anyone who could listen in to their conversation. 

“You’re not pushing him hard enough,” she starts as soon as they’re out of earshot. “Are you trying to make a fool of me?” 

The spirit immediately shakes its head. Of course not. 

“Then, tell me why you have had no success in making him use his abilities?” 

“ Because that’s not the focus of their training. They have to learn how to work together and learn how to handle different weapons, ” it signs back. The sign language book that Suliman had given it had, unfortunately , proven to be incredibly useful. “If they want to get any further, that is how they will grow stronger.” 

“I’m telling you now to change it. If I don’t see an improvement within the next week, I’m putting you back in that room,” she threatens, subtle glare hardening. The thought of being put back between those four white walls makes the spirit stiffen up. “You’re weak, you’re too afraid to push him any further. Don’t hold back. He needs to learn somehow.” 

“ If we push him too far and too quickly, it could kill him. He’s still young.” 

“He’s more resilient than you give him credit for, spirit,” Suliman’s eyes drift to where the two of them came from, in Maheas’ direction. “I’ve changed my mind. If I don’t see any changes within the next three days, I’ll put you back there.” 

With that last warning, she shoos it away to go back to the kids, leaving her in the garden. 

The spirit takes heed, a constant frown pulling at its face the following day as Venick and Maheas approach it with their things in tow. The girl keeps a fair distance away from the latter, anxiously looking over at him every five seconds. As soon as they put their belongings down on the grass, they hear a quick snap followed by a bright flicker of light as cyan flames approach them at rapid speeds. With quick thinking, Maheas and Venick dodge the attack by jumping in opposite directions, rolling down on the ground before getting back up and staring at the spirit, baffled. 

“What the hell was that for?!” Maheas exclaims, raising his katana up. 

“ Train, hard, ” the spirit signs back simply, knowing that both of the kids are just starting to learn sign language in their other classes. 

“At least give us a warning!” Venick says, also raising her matching weapon in her arms. 

Usually, the spirit would use its polearm so that the fighting could be more balanced, but Suliman’s threat nags away at the back of its mind — it refuses to go back into that room, no matter what. With another fast flick of its hands, more fire spews from its fingertips, targeting both of the kids. They have to evade the attack again, unused to being on defence. 

“How are we supposed to fight against fire with swords ? ” Venick asks Maheas, bringing the blade up as a guise of protection. 

“I don’t know…” Maheas’ anxious eyes are locked on the spirit, who stares back at them emotionlessly. “We just have to keep fighting.” 

They prepare themselves to pounce, both of them launching at it at the same time, and the spirit easily sidesteps them, a wave of fire gusting around them all, throwing Venick and Maheas back without the flames touching them – just enough to feel the heat biting at their skin.

“ You have to synchronize together, or else I’ll be able to kick you back at the same time,” it signs to them. “ Get back up. ” 

Maheas gets back up first, the frown on his face deepening. His chest puffs out, spreading his feet apart as he clenches his jaw so hard that a vein bulges in his neck. His eyes are wide and gaze unwavering as he rushes forward, the grip on his katana tight. He slashes at the spirit, sending it staggering backwards from the shock. He swings again, blade continuing to cut into the air haphazardly until it catches on the skin of the spirit, who suddenly feels hesitant to fight back. However, Maheas continues to attack it.

“Come on, fight back! Give me your all!” He says, and as the spirit’s eyes focus on his mouth to lip-read, that distracts it long enough for Maheas to bring out his katana’s blade down onto the arm of the spirit, imbedding itself into the meat of its forearm. 

The only reason why its arm doesn’t end up completely chopped off is because he doesn’t put an incredible amount of strength into the blow, but out of instinct, the spirit rears back its other arm, harshly snapping its fingers to unleash a powerful blow straight at Maheas, violently throwing him backwards and rolling onto the ground, his body hiding behind a thick veil of steam. 

Oh, fuck. 

It immediately runs over to his crumpled form, waving the steam away to look at the damage. A large burn bubbles along the entirety of Maheas’ left forearm and neck, the skin red and raw. He clenches his teeth, and as the spirit gathers the young boy into its arms to check over any other damage, it feels him vibrate underneath its palms – it realizes he’s screaming in pain through his clenched teeth. Maheas clutches his arm in agony, foot stomping on the ground aggressively to distract himself from the pain. 

Completely focused on tending to the injured boy, the spirit completely forgets about Venick, who had been disregarded when Maheas tried to attack it. It isn’t until it feels a large slash against its back, so utterly excruciating that it immediately lets go of Maheas from the shock, feeling slash after intense slash against its back. It presses a foot against the ground, launching itself out of the way before another attack can hit it. 

Weakly looking back, its eyes lock onto an enraged Venick – a long whip made of pure cursed energy held tightly in her hand, knuckles turning white from her grip around the handle. 

“Get away from him!” She exclaims, preparing to rear the weapon back once more. 

The spirit raises its arms, hands splayed out in front of it to show it wasn’t going to hurt him. The commotion attracts the men standing guard near the greenhouse, one of them followed by Suliman. 

Her eyes actually widen as they land on the young girl, then move onto the injured boy until she locks eyes with the spirit, whose arms wrap around itself tightly to let its hands grasp at its back, trying to relieve the pain. 

“You did it…” Suliman mutters as she looks at Venick. The second the raven-haired girl realizes all focus is on her, the whip dissipates into nothing as she seems to retreat in on herself. “Girl, you’ve done it.” 

“D– done what? Did I do something wrong?” She stutters, hands coming up to her chest to  curl in further. 

“No, not at all, dear girl,” the platinum blonde replies, the smile on her face reaching the tip of her ears. 

Suliman walks over to her, a hand coming up to delicately stroke her hair. The spirit feels disgusted seeing the sickly-sweet affection in the older woman’s eyes. 

“You’ve just discovered your curse technique, darling.” 

As Suliman continues doting on Venick, the spirit’s eyes drift over to Maheas, who looks at the two from his spot on the ground, still clutching at his arm, with pure hatred in his glare. 

If looks could kill, Venick would be a dead girl standing. 

 

You're woken up by your phone buzzing underneath your pillow, violently vibrating against the sheets. The skin of your arms is uncomfortably itchy, having forgotten to take off your bandages the previous night before you passed out in bed. Soundlessly grumbling to yourself, you squint your eyes as you flip the phone open, staring back at the screen. It’s a Saturday, who the hell is waking you up at the ungodly hour of… 

Oh. One in the afternoon. 

Not so ungodly, after all. 

Yaga’s name greets you on the screen, followed by a sunglasses emoji. 

- Are you busy tosda [Sent 12:47pm] - *Today [Sent 12:48pm] - ? [Sent 12:49pm]

[One missed call from Yaga.] [1:03pm]

Your fingers move lazily across the small keyboard, the sleep in your eyes still clouding your vision. 

- No :P Why

It only takes a few minutes until your door suddenly swings open – you’re certain you locked that last night, by the way – revealing Yaga in his usual workout clothes, minus his sunglasses. 

“ Good, you’re up, ” he signs, hands going to his hips. 

You don't bother signing in return, simply waving him off and shoving your face back into the pillow. You feel the floor shake as heavy stomps cross the floorboards until the bright afternoon sunlight hits your eyes again, the pillow held high above the teacher’s head as he holds it out of your reach. 

“ Nooo…” you mouth, trying to give your best puppy eyes to Yaga. 

“I have someone I want to introduce you to.” 

“ Can’t this wait? ” You sign, hands moving slowly from how tired you are as you squint at him. 

“You’ve been in bed long enough,” he chastises you. He then proceeds to wrap the duvet around you, effectively cocooning you, before he grabs your legs and drags you out of bed. 

Your reaction is instantaneous – you claw at the ground, trying to thrash your body back and forth, but all you look like is a dying worm on the pavement when the sun finally hits after a long rainstorm. You try slapping at Yaga’s hands but can’t even manage to reach them, and you try one last ditch effort to escape which proves to be fruitless. 

“Nothing you do will make me let go,” Yaga turns his head to address you, mirth swirling in his eyes. 

Exasperated, you sigh out deeply and completely let your body go slack as the teacher continues to drag you outside of your dorm room and down the hall. As you walk past the communal kitchen, you feel dread run through your body as you realize there are people already in there. 

“Good morning, sen–” Nanami and Haibara’s mouths both close shut as they look at the scene in front of them. The blonde has a cup of coffee held in his hand, halfway up to his mouth but his body is frozen as his lips subtly quirk up. Haibara is sitting at the table with a bowl of oatmeal and fruit, a shocked look on his face. 

You look back at them in disdain as Yaga greets them normally, as if he doesn’t have a person wrapped in a duvet-burrito. 

“Um, w– what’s going on there?” Haibara asks, tilting his head quizzically, but he looks one step away from blowing up into laughter. 

“ S.O.S, S.O.S ,” you sign repeatedly, eyes wide as you give them a terrified expression. 

“Ignore them,” is all Yaga says. 

“ I’m being K.I.D.N.A.P.P.E.D,” you continue to look at them desperately, going as far as to mouth the words. 

“They’re a drama queen, did I forget to mention?” 

Yaga is about to continue trudging forward but is met with the doorway being blocked by three familiar bodies. You cringe, jaw clenching tightly as you bang your head against the floor to try and end your misery. 

Shoko leans to the side, peering past her sensei and giving you a good once-over before she bursts out laughing, immediately pulling out her phone to snap a picture while her shoulders violently shake from laughter. Gojo and Geto both follow along, looking incredibly amused. 

“ That counts as blackmail! Put that fucking phone down,” you glare at her halfheartedly, signing aggressively even though you know she can’t understand you. 

“Language, please,” the teacher speaks up. 

“ Are you guys seriously going to let him kidnap me like this in broad daylight?” 

“I really wish I knew sign language right now,” Geto admits, a wide grin spread across his face. 

“They’re saying how much they love this, it’s their favourite pastime, they aren't being kidnapped and this is all of their own volition. Also, they think you’re my most annoying students,” Yaga says, before slowly dragging you away as he walks backwards. 

“ I’ll remember this. I’ll remember this betrayal for the rest of my life,” you flip the group of students off, who watch and continue to laugh at you, except for Haibara who dramatically reaches out, fake tears streaming down his face.

“Don’t worry!” He exclaims your name. “I’ll find you when you’re back!” 

You continue to glare at them until you and Yaga turn a corner, finally disappearing from view. The teacher continues to drag you until you arrive at the front door of the dormitories, finally letting you go. You quickly scramble to your feet, dusting yourself off and watching as the teacher lets your duvet drop to the ground pathetically. 

“ Was that really necessary?” You sign to him, not bothering to pick it up – you’ll wash it when you come back from wherever Yaga is taking you to. 

“ Absolutely . ” He nods in reply. “You would’ve taken an entire hour to get ready, and I want you to meet him as soon as possible.” 

You relent, sighing dramatically as you follow behind Yaga as you both walk through campus until you go down the large flight of stairs, the teacher’s car waiting for you at the bottom. 

“ Oh my god, you really are kidnapping me, aren’t you?” You tease him, comically widening your eyes. 

“Put those hands down and get in the car, will you?” He replies, arching an eyebrow. 

Raising your hands up in surrender, you get in the passenger seat while Yaga gets in the driver's seat. The car starts up not long after, and you set off, weaving through the streets of the city. Eventually, the car pulls up to a familiar building. 

“ Why are we at your house?” 

Yaga doesn’t reply, simply turning the engine off before stepping out to unlock the front door. You follow obediently, going on your tiptoes to peer over the taller man’s shoulder curiously, trying to take a peek at whoever he wants you to meet. Yaga ushers you inside quickly, locking the door behind you. You take your shoes off, leaving them on the rack near the doorway. 

Once upon a time, with a fresh slash across your face and matted hair, this was where you stayed until he moved you to campus.

He doesn’t bother turning the lights on, instead leading you to another room. The door is shut, and there are colourful stickers randomly littered near the bottom of it, making you wonder why they were stuck on there, of all places. Your questions are soon answered as Yaga swings the door open, revealing a brightly-lit room with its blinds drawn back. 

A… baby panda? 

Said animal turns to look at you both, tilting its head in curiosity. It wears a baby diaper, with a toy train held in its paws. Upon further inspection, there are multiple toys scattered around the room with a comfortable-looking twin bed pressed in the corner. 

The cub speaks. You can clearly see it move its lips, but its fur is so thick it’s hard to read its lips. Your eyes widen, but you can feel a smile spreading across your face before you can stop it. It’s so cute! 

“Panda, this is…” Yaga slowly introduces your name to the panda. Then, he addresses you. “This is Panda, he’s…” he hesitates, but looks between the both of you and at the starry expression on your face. “Well, to put it simply, an Abrupt-Mutation Cursed Corpse.” 

Your eyebrows raise up in surprise, pointing to Panda. “ You created a mutated corpse? ” 

Yaga’s hands immediately go to grasp your shoulders, looking you dead in the eye. 

“I’m begging you, please don’t tell anyone. If word gets out, I could be killed for this.” 

You give him an unimpressed look. “Who would I even tell? The higher-ups? I’m sure they would definitely trust me.” 

“Good point. Sorry– I’m just so worried about this. I only want to give him the best, he’s my first successful mutation.” 

You nod your head in understanding. “I promise, your secret is safe with me.” 

Yaga’s attention is back on the baby animal, and they talk amongst themselves. You look over the teacher’s shoulder, waving at Panda with a smile. The latter raises his paw and mimics you in reply. Oh god, cuteness aggression is real, you think to yourself, having to turn away before you let the urge to squeeze the cub in your arms take over. 

A hand to your shoulder makes you turn back, and Yaga makes you crouch next to him to face the panda properly. 

“Would you mind introducing yourself to him in sign language?” He asks, telling Panda to pay close attention. 

“ It’s nice to meet you, Panda, ” you sign slowly, followed by spelling your name, fingers carefully shaping the words, repeating both Panda’s name and your own. 

“That is sign language,” Yaga explains to the young one. “You’ll be learning it.” 

Panda’s mouth moves again as he nods his head before giving you a full grin, shiny white fangs on display and all. 

“Eventually, I want to train him properly, but for now he has to remain here. If the higher-ups discover him, my career is over – and my life too, most likely,” the teacher turns to face you as he speaks. “But I’m worried he’s lonely when I’m not here, even with the babysitter. I’ve already attached a new set of keys to your keychain, so if you have the chance… would you mind dropping by sometime?”

You nod your head enthusiastically, which makes Yaga quickly pat your shoulder appreciatively. 

You both look back at Panda, who continues playing with his toys. You feel a sense of calm wash over you, and you situate yourself on the floor more comfortably, raising one of the toys to make playful chomping gestures at Panda’s cheeks, who’s shoulders shake as he laughs in glee. 

Unbeknownst to you, Yaga takes a quick picture of the two of you in your own world, a real smile playing upon his lips. 

You walk all the way back to the school, still dressed in your pyjamas. People send you odd looks as you stuff your hands into your sweatpants, a frown and pout on your face. Yaga sent you back on your own, claiming that you needed more fresh air and to enjoy the sunny day outside. All you really wanted to do was lay in bed all day and let your sore body recuperate for the upcoming week. 

As you trudge your body up the unending flight of stairs that lead back to the school, you are greeted with the sight of Nanami and Haibara talking amongst themselves, sitting across from each other at a picnic table with a bunch of snacks set up on the surface. The trees above them provide a nice canopy of shade, protecting them from the harsh glare of the sun.

Haibara’s brown eyes suddenly lock onto your own, and they light up upon seeing you. He enthusiastically waves you over, apparently yelling your name so loudly that Nanami grabs his arm, making a shushing motion at him. 

“Hi!” He greets you with a wide smile upon his lips. “You made it back alive!” 

“ No thanks to you, ” you sign in return, though it’s all meant lightheartedly. 

The brunette immediately pouts. “Sorry, I don’t really know what you said besides ‘ no’ and ‘ you ’.” 

You give him a light smile. “ It’s okay.”

Haibara proceeds to pat the empty seat on the bench next to him, motioning at you to sit down. “You should join us! We’re having lunch now.” Nanami looks like he’s about to contradict him, a small blush forming on the tips of his ears, but he concedes, nodding along. 

Apprehensive, you take a seat next to the brunette, signing a quick thank you in reply. Your bed is calling you right now, but there’s no harm in hanging out with the two men, either. 

“What did sensei want with you, anyway?” Haibara asks before taking a bite out of one of the small triangle sandwiches. 

Keep Panda a secret, Yaga’s words pop up in your head. Keep Panda safe. 

“ Nothing important,” you reply. 

“I think that’s… ‘ nothing’, right?” Nanami asks, immediately turning to rummage through his bag, pulling out a sign language dictionary. Your eyes widen slightly in delight, a small quiet laugh bursting past your lips. The blonde replicates the motion you made previously, palms facing you and Haibara before turning them to himself. You nod in reply, smiling. 

“He’s learning pretty quickly,” the brunette says, offering a sandwich to you, who takes it from his hand, proceeding to munch away on it gratefully. “I have to admit it’s a lot for me to learn. I’m still stuck on finger-spelling.”

“To be honest, me too,” Nanami admits, flitting through the pages of the dictionary. “Would you mind telling me if I’m signing my name right?” 

You shake your head back and forth, eyes locked onto his hands as he moves them to sign his name as accurately as possible. He stumbles over the motions slightly, but it is still understandable for you, albeit a bit awkward to follow along. You give the blonde an ‘ok’ sign before you wipe your hands on your pants, proceeding to lean over the table to gently grasp Nanami’s hands into your own and moving his fingers into the correct position. 

“ There, ” You mouth to him as you move them back and forth to help him memorize. “ Na-na-mi.” 

“I… see,” he replies, whole face flushing light pink. You quickly sit back down properly, grabbing a cookie, completely oblivious to the other man’s embarrassment. 

You see Gojo and Geto approaching the table before they can greet your group properly. You wave at them with a smile on your face, and the raven-haired man returns it with a tired one of his own. 

“What’s going on over here?” Gojo asks as he reaches you all, leaning over Nanami’s shoulder. The latter is already frowning in disdain, looking as if he’d rather be anywhere else but there. “ Ooh, sign language, huh?” 

“They’re just showing us how to sign Nanamin’s name,” Haibara says, eyes starry as his eyes are locked on Geto. 

“Cool. Anyways, we were wonderi–”

“Ohh, wait, show me how to sign my name!” Haibara interrupts him, shaking your shoulder back and forth to grab your attention. He completely ignores Gojo’s glare sent his way, attentively watching as you happily demonstrate it to him. The two of you go back and forth for a few minutes until he finally grasps it well enough. 

After your small lesson, the brunette turns back to his peers. “Sorry, you were saying?” 

“Uh,” Gojo looks awkward as he looks at the ground for a split-second before he gazes at you through his sunglasses, pushing them up the bridge of his nose absentmindedly. “We were wondering if you were going to… train with us today.” 

You look at them quizzically, eyebrows furrowed. Since when did you train together on weekends? 

Not that you’re against it, but– 

You look at the snacks on the table, then to Haibara and Nanami, who look at you almost expectantly. Well, you were already here, and they seemed to want to learn more sign language, so… 

You shrug your shoulders in reply, shaking your head back and forth. 

“Are you sure?” Geto asks – he seems disappointed. 

You sign an apology, sending him a nervous smile. “They offered me food. Plus, I would feel bad if I left them now because they want to learn sign language.” 

“Alright. See you on Monday, then,” Gojo says rather abruptly, lips pressed tightly together. “C’mon, Suguru.” 

You wave goodbye to them, which only Geto returns. It takes a moment for Gojo’s words to finally register in your mind. Wait, did he–? 

“That was weird,” Haibara says after an awkward pause. “Gojo was acting strange.” 

“When is he not?” Nanami asks rhetorically, still looking bothered. “He has a talent at butting his head into our business.” 

“Yeah, but not like that. Eh, whatever, it’s not that important,” the brunette eventually goes back to his food. After finishing off his own plate, he seems to pause halfway while brushing the crumbs away from his mouth with his thumb. He turns to you, who still continues to stare at where the men were once standing. He gently taps your shoulder which makes you snap your head to look at him. 

You tilt your head to the side in question, shaking your index finger back and forth. “ What is it? ” 

“Say, I forgot to ask. When’s your birthday?” Haibara asks. “I hope we haven’t missed it…”

You look at him blankly for a moment before giving him a shrug. Honestly, you don't remember the moment you appeared into existence. You were just… created, simply put. One second, you weren't, then you were. There were no big explosions or festivities, unless you counted the people who used to worship you, although that was centuries ago. 

Haibara looks utterly offended on your behalf. “Are you telling me you don’t know or you don’t have one?” 

“The second one. ” 

“Nanami, we can’t have this!” He turns to the blonde, who doesn’t seem too surprised himself. “We’ll give you a birthday then.” 

“Are you sure that’s appropriate?” Nanami asks, looking over at you, unsure. 

“ I’m sure it’s fine.” 

Haibara catches his chin between his forefinger and thumb, looking dead ahead of him, eyes becoming unfocused. Wow, he’s seriously thinking hard about this. You and Nanami share a look, the latter shaking his head back and forth, exasperated. It takes a few moments until Haibara snaps out of it suddenly, looking as if he’s been illuminated. 

“I got it!” He says, eyes sparkling from how excited he is. “October thirty-first!” 

“Okay, that definitely can’t be appropriate.” 

You just stare at them, absolutely confused. “Why not?” 

“Because you’re a curse, right? Those cursed energy levels coming from you are off the charts, more than any normal human being. Either that, or you’re cursed,” oh, so close, you wince. “But a curse is technically a spirit, right? And spirits are technically ghosts! It’s fitting, isn’t it?” 

In any other world, you would love to jump in joy – Haibara was so close to actually understanding what you are. You wish they could understand sign language or that you had your notebook to write in so you could actually explain the situation. However, decades of being dismissed and treated as less than others render you exhausted. There’s no point trying to justify yourself if Haibara is dead set on believing that you are a curse. If that’s how he sees you, then so be it. 

Instead, you steels your nerves, simply giving him a curt nod of your head. That’s perfect. 

Haibara and Nanami smile warmly at you. 

“October thirty-first it is,” the blonde says, going back to flipping through his book, the smile still plastered on his lips.

As you all finish your food in silence, you let your gaze wander up, peering at the sun through the leaves of the trees that create a canopy above your group. You grin to yourself, feeling a sense of satisfaction bloom within you. 

The kindest gift that you have received. A day of celebration for you. 

A celebration of life for a dead man walking. 

Lately, Satoru dreams of you. 

When he off-handedly told Suguru about it the first time it happened, the latter barked out a sharp laugh and asked him, “What, like a wet dream?” 

He finds himself wishing it were. 

At this point, Satoru would take that over whatever has actually been happening when he falls asleep. 

It starts off inconspicuously enough – when he drifts off, the next thing he knows, he’s standing in the middle of a road out in the countryside. He can’t actually pinpoint whether it’s a real location that he’s seen before or not, but the endless amount of wheat fields that lay to his right seem properly tended to. To his left, there’s a forest that goes on endlessly, thick fog permeating from it. It’s always pitch-black outside, and he’d like to assume it’s the witching hour, but something at the back of his mind tells him that’s not right. The shadows unnaturally stretch for miles across the road. 

There’s always a certain itch crawling along his skin, as if he’s being observed. But every time he looks over his shoulder, he is utterly alone. There are no other signs of life – no birds chirping, no cars driving down the gravel road, no farmers tending to the fields or horses gallivanting around behind the wooden fence. He can’t even hear the gravel crunching underneath his shoes. He doesn’t feel safe here. 

Satoru desperately wants to wake up, but something isn’t letting him. 

Eventually, his alarm clock will shock him awake, pulling him from the impossibly deep sleep he was in. And every time, the day starts then comes to an end, and after a long day of hard work and training, he has to let his mind and body rest, so he goes to sleep. And every time, he is always greeted with that same dream. 

As the weeks pass by, the recurring dream becomes more and more specific. 

This time, after standing in the same place for what feels like an eternity, his feet absentmindedly carry him forwards down the road, eyes snapping to every dark corner as the sense of unease grows and grows and grows. He feels a shiver run down his spine when he hears deep, breathless breathing right in his ear, as if someone is overexerting themselves next to him, body desperately pressed up against his own. His head snaps to the side, but there’s nobody there. 

Every muscle of his body tenses up, the hair on his arms raising. He feels his eyes sinking into their eye sockets, wide with fear. The Gojo clan does not fear anything , he hears the voice of his father tell his younger self after a thunderstorm that left him shaking like a leaf. 

The breathing is not his own, Satoru knows this for a fact. His hands are pressed up against his mouth and nose as he tries to take deep, quiet breaths, his heart clenching and making nausea tumble around in his stomach. 

The scenery stays exactly the same as usual – not a single thing changes, except for the varying height of the wheat fields. After another indiscernible amount of time, there’s a break in between the fields; a small church, made of old wood with its white paint chipping off, slightly elevated from the road. It almost resembles a backyard shack. The windows and front door are boarded up with thick panels, with weeds and vines growing along some cracks. It’s obviously been unoccupied for years, if not decades. 

Satoru’s blood runs cold as his eyes adjust to the dark even further, noticing a body laying on the cement steps leading up to the front door of the small building. The person is surrounded by small asphodels growing from the cracks in the cement, the small white petals a stark contrast to the darkness that envelops this dream. He keeps his eyes down– down, so he can at least pretend that the person is sleeping. 

The dark liquid surrounding them seems to scream otherwise. 

The stranger’s body resting on the stairs is positioned on their knees, stomach down, their head resting against the hard concrete and facing his way.

He stays a fair distance away, but Satoru feels even more sick once he realizes that the body isn't just a stranger, after all.

It's you . 

The unmistakable colour of your hair is splayed along the steps, mismatched eyes looking more faded and dead than ever before. Suddenly, the smell hits Satoru’s nostrils, making him gag. The stench of rot fills the air around him, unescapable. Not even the sweet, honeysuckle scent of the asphodels can cover it up. The fragrances mix together, producing something that just smells wrong. 

Against his better judgement, his feet stay firmly planted in place; something tells him that he can’t leave your body here. 

The sound of flies buzzing around your dead body becomes more obvious once he takes a few steps forward, but he halts immediately once he sees a shadow spreading, moving from the darkness that it casts along the cracks in the road, moving unnaturally; detached from reality. It stretches up, up, up , becoming more human-like until Satoru’s eyes can see the individual pair of arms and legs standing over your body. The rest of its features are muted – it’s just a shadow, after all.

It’s just a shadow, right? 

Right? 

Its hands reach out to brush the hair away from your face, and Satoru feels his body fill with disgust, but he doesn’t know why. His six eyes seem to tune into something that his mind refuses to process. His mouth opens to tell it off, to get it away from you, but nothing comes out; the words get stuck in his throat, as if it is impossible for him to make any noise. 

The shadow fades in and out as it hunches over you, getting closer and closer to your ear, and the heavy breathing in Satoru’s ear only grows in volume. This feels wrong on so many levels. It feels like an imaginary hand is wrapping around his throat, cutting off his ability to breathe in properly as his eyes are completely fixated on the scene before him. His heart pounds against his ribcage, and it feels like it’s about to leap out of his body. 

The shadow’s fading hand gently strokes your cheek in a comforting manner, its head brushing right against your ear. At that exact moment, uncontrollable warped words play backwards in Satoru’s head, putting the devil’s tongue to shame. He can’t tell anything apart, as if his brain is melting. None of the sentences make sense, the voice sounding anything but human, layered over itself, and the words meld together in a messy tangle. 

“ You… poor thing…” The single sentence that is finally managed to be unravelled, making his body run ice cold. 

The buzzing of the flies is suddenly so overwhelming, becoming the only noise that Satoru can hear – he finds himself thankful for a moment, finally being spared of the voice that sounds like iron dragging against concrete, but he realizes that it’s him waking up. His body becomes weightless, but his arms immediately reach out, hands grasping at nothing as he tries to claw through the air to your body. 

“ WAIT! ” He finally manages to shout, followed by desperately screaming your name, feeling his throat go raw. The flies are starting to surround his body, trying to take him away from his dead body lying along the stairs – but then his dream finally allows his eyes to focus on them, and they’re not flies. 

It’s hundreds of paper birds, ones that he used to see when he read children’s fairytale books. They’re semi-humanoid paper creatures, off-white in colour with a round circle as their head, with rectangular wings sticking out, and the rest of their figure angling inwards, turning into a sharp, acute point, forming a pointed tail. A representation of the body and mind of something that shouldn’t exist. 

“Wait, WAIT! Please!” He shouts your name again in distress. 

He’s not sure what he’s begging for, but he manages to push through the paper birds just enough to put his entire strength to take a few steps forward. I’m the strongest, he repeats to himself over and over again. I should be able to rip these things apart. Just when his hands brush against your shoulder, the birds seem to multiply in numbers, the buzzing turning into intense static ringing through his head. I’m the strongest , he thinks again. I’m the strongest. 

“ Let me go !” He screams over the sound of the buzzing, swatting a paper bird away from his face, but it doesn’t stop others from flying into his ears, up his nostrils and into his mouth, making him gag and choke. He feels them move violently under his skin, making his cheeks burn as he feels them slash and break it, blood drip- dripping down his chin slowly and smearing across his face from the chaos. 

Satoru’s hand manages to clasp around your bicep, but it’s too late. The swarm manages to break his hold on you as they take the white-haired man’s breath away, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he feels his grip on the nightmare slipping. The imagery fades, the looming shadow being the last thing he can clearly make out as the overwhelming sound of paper birds turns into the familiar one of his alarm clock going off. 

Satoru’s body jolts away, cold sweating spread all across his body, his clothes sticking to him uncomfortably. His hand immediately slams down on the alarm so violently that it smashes into pieces, but the urge to purge the contents of his stomach overshadows the dull pain throbbing in his hand. 

He runs to the washroom, nearly tripping over his legs before spewing everything up into the toilet. The nausea hits him more intensely as he feels the chunks of food creep up his throat, the acidic taste of bile overwhelming his taste buds and the intense smell invading his nostrils. His back heaves from the force of it, muscles tensing up tightly. His sweaty forehead presses against the porcelain seat as he tries to catch his breath, thick spit pooling from his lips and onto the cold bathroom floor. Once he feels stable enough, he raises himself on shaky legs, going to the small sink to rinse his mouth. As he bends down to drink the water pooling in his hands and swish it around in his mouth, his mind can’t help but remind him of the intense buzzing of the swarm of paper birds, almost as if they’re really there with him in the waking world. 

He reassures himself that it was just an incredibly vivid dream, that absolutely nothing can go wrong in the waking world. He is safe, and you are alive and well, probably already waiting with Shoko for him and Suguru to show up to class. It was simply a nightmare , nothing more, and nothing less.

After rinsing his mouth properly, he raises his head, his muscles becoming impossibly stiff. 

The buzzing returns tenfold. 

The hand around his neck is back.

The voice speaking in tongues is distant, but definitely there. 

And a familiar shadow looms behind him. 

[rising-psyche]

"Without knowing why, he will wonder and invent. His ability to deal with his emotional reactions to trauma and threat when he is alone is still very uncertain, and his understanding of it, of his body, of how it works and what can be done with it, is minuscule. "His knowledge of his own physiology and anatomy is scanty and is mixed with strange speculations about the inside of his body". Jeff Dahmer's own imaginings about the inside of people's bodies began with the hernia operation and the intrusion into his own. The atmosphere in the hospital cannot help but be frightening, because it is so strange. Add to this the anxiety of the parents and the prodding of strange men, the sense that something terrible, unknown and unspoken, is about to happen, and the imperative that in the face of all this he must be passive and compliant, and the child is overwhelmed. "He has fantasies about what has happened to him that far exceed the actual facts," writes a learned pediatrician, and he is even more convinced that "the injury will continue to grow and make him totally different from anyone else in the world." Both of these observations seem to apply with peculiar accuracy to the case of Jeff Dahmer. And there is a third, slightly frightening in its prophetic implications: "He may open up the fear by pretending that he is performing the operation on another child." The memory of the fear and fantasies that preceded the operation may then be repressed, with the result that the unconscious memories begin to infect the growing child's perceptions of the world and people, and each new experience carries the threat of a repetition of the old. This is a heavily concealed reaction, of course; one would not suggest that Dahmer thought that everyone he met was a surgeon in disguise, but since he never wanted to see or be touched by that surgeon again, he would assume that everyone was implicitly dangerous — his responses would be profoundly influenced by the experience. Emotional shock may not be expressed openly for some time... Just as physical shock can result in death, emotional shock can result in a lifetime of misery. It is often very difficult to see the connections between an adult’s unusual behavior and the surgery he underwent as a child, but in Dahmer’s case the path from cause to effect is surprisingly clear. The story of a four-year-old boy who underwent a meatotomy (to widen the urethral opening) without anesthesia shows some parallels. From then on, his play consisted of cutting people and cutting off his own face, hands, and penis, all clearly stemming from the fear of castration that the operation generated. Jeff Dahmer’s operation involved opening his abdomen with very deep incisions, feeling inside, exploring inside himself, at a time when his ability to rely on his mother, with his own insecurities and nervousness, was already in jeopardy. He later asked her if his penis had been removed (so he told Dr. Becker), and the postoperative pain would be exactly as if it had been. The fear of castration is not only, or even primarily, sexual, and here we must come to the most revealing inference. When Dahmer was cut open by the surgeon, in his mind he had lost control of his own body once and for all, and his crimes in adulthood were a belated attempt to reassert himself and regain control. They expressed a desperate desire to regain that power which, unconsciously, he thought the surgeon's scalpel had removed". (The Shrine of Jeffrey Dahmer, Brian Masters)

Note: Dahmer had double hernia surgery shortly before his 4th birthday. Jeff has been described more than once as a happy and outgoing child before the surgery performed by his parents, lending credit to the argument that this episode was quite traumatic and turned him into a quiet and melancholic child. In his crimes, Jeffrey also opened up to his victims and was always curious to know what they were like on the inside, possibly recreating the scenario of his childhood with other people. He felt invaded and powerless, something that continued for most of his life as he became a person without reaction to most situations. This operation changed everything, along with other factors.

[pillarsalt]

Seconding that last ask about pretending that gendies' straight relationships are gay ughhh one of my best friends is non binary and getting more aggressive about it lately (meaning that i have to bend over backwards every two seconds to use the correct pronouns, since our language literally doesnt have a neutral one) and i have to hear her rants about how MUCH she hates her disgusting female body and how shes different from a woman bc she doesnt align with feminity and that all her boyfriends have been actually gay for dating her AND pretend 1) that i dont take all that harmful discourse regarding being a woman at heart and 2) that i dont hurt from seeing her like this because i really love her. Its. Exhausting. SORRY this got long i just dk what to do 😭

oh my goddd the whole thing with nonbinary women and the fixation on the men they sleep with being gay because gender... it's crazy, the desire to control the sexual orientations of others seems like a pattern in the trans community, although obviously some are worse than others. I mean it matches the fixation on controlling how others perceive them in their private minds, ie. "we can tell when you're just using our pronouns to be polite and you don't actually SEE us as our stated gender" like anyone's private thoughts are your business? Controlling what we can say out loud isn't enough?

(Kind of a tangent: but a while ago I remember jeffrey marsh making a video with his male partner ((idr if they're married)), talking about how when jeffrey's identity changed from man to nonbinary, the partner's had as well, because he wasn't identifying as gay anymore. He had always perceived himself to be gay, it was a big part of his identity through his life, but he loves Jeffrey, and Jeffrey is no longer a man, and gay men love men, therefore he can't be gay. The guy looked so dejected and jeffrey kept having to persuade him to talk. Does anyone else remember this? I wonder if I can find the video. ((Obviously the straight girls with their gay boyfriends are a very different scenario.)) )

Anyway, I feel your pain, the thing with the pronouns I can't even imagine. The pure narcissism of complicating the simple act of speaking for everyone around you, making sure everyone expends a little extra brain power when talking to or about you... simply because you say so! Boggling.

Unfortunately, as I said on the last ask, not much you can do. It is very very hard to convince someone so entrenched in it to hear you out, and obviously you don't want to lose her, there's no great solution. The best thing you can do is to be there for her if and when she comes around to reality. It might be good if you guys could do some kind of activities together that have nothing to do with gender shit, ideally outdoors. The less time spent scrolling and ruminating, the better. But most importantly, take care of yourself, and don't take any shit either. You seem like a good friend, I hope things work out eventually.