#like you can't imagine them having a personal life outside of what they do for living

[hope-for-the-planet]

Trans person in the US. Bust some of the doomerism for me? Tell me it's going to be okay?

Hi Anon

Usually, I have boundaries for myself about keeping this blog focused on environment-related issues, because there are limits to what I can speak knowledgeably about. But now doesn’t feel like the time for that.

Anon, I will tell you that I live in the US, I am queer, my spouse is trans, and we have two young children. I am sitting right there with you in the fear and grief and every day when I ask myself “is there still hope” I find reasons to say “yes”.

They want us—all of us, not just queer folks—to feel overwhelmed and hopeless, because despair is a tool that keeps people from realizing their power and taking action.

They want us to feel so afraid that we lose our faith in other people and withdraw from our communities, because we are easier to conquer alone.

Do not give them what they want.

Hope is most necessary in the bad times. The ability to imagine a future that is better than things are now is exactly what gives us the power to begin making things better. Our community has been through terrible things before, and they did not lose hope or give up—otherwise we would not be where we are today.

When you start to feel like all the light is being blotted out, turn off the news, put away your phone, and go get in touch with something you love. Go outside and look at the sky, talk to a friend, listen to music, do some small thing to make something better even if it’s just cleaning your kitchen or picking up some litter around the block or returning an extra stranded cart in the grocery store parking lot. Remind your brain that you have agency to make positive change in the world through your actions.

I know it is really hard to pull out of the darkness sometimes. I know there will be days that hope seems like a foolish, naive thing, that despair and distrust seem like the only rational options. But hope is what keeps us alive. Hope is what allows us to save each other.

I wish I could give you a specific article or other source to reassure you that everything is going to be ok, but things are still too in flux day by day. I can tell you that people are already fighting back, in big and little ways, all over this country and the world. These orders and bills are being pushed by a loud but small minority—this is not how the majority of the country feels about trans rights.

Make a plan for staying safe. Reach out to your community. Find music, activities, podcasts, movies, whatever helps you feel uplifted and take mental breaks from dwelling on the news. If you can, find ways to get involved in making things better in whatever big or small way feels doable for you--it may help push back on the doomerism more than you think. And my inbox is open if you need to talk.

I wish I could invite you over for dinner. I wish I could look into your eyes and tell you that things may get hard for the next few years but that does not mean that your life can't still be full of joy and beauty and fulfillment in spite of that.

I’m right there with you. Let’s make it through this together <3

[canisalbus]

I heard a while ago that Machete was a nickname/codename, is this true? Will we know his "real" name?

Yeah! It's what some of his colleagues started to call him, initially behind his back. Something between a mean-spirited nickname and a backhanded compliment that stuck.

Machete is very competent at his job as the Holy See's Secretary of State, believe it or not. Even those that have something against him have to admit that he isn't a complete waste of space. He's hardworking and diligent to an obsessive degree, and has developed a sort of a cold, ruthlessly efficient no-nonsense work persona. He's known for getting results, and can come across kind of intimidating and impersonal while doing it. The less charitable parts of the Curia view him and his willingness to work himself to the bone for the benefit of the Church as a useful but ultimately replaceable tool. He doesn't come from a noble family so he isn't anyone's priced heirloom sword, but he's excellent for clearing out obstacles while he's here.

[a-most-beloved-fool]

for the wip title game, 1 and 2? 👀

but also aroace spock from the tags?? I know you haven't written much about it but i will eat every crumb 🥺

title ask game!

No One Can Read Spock: Newly-minted Captain Kirk has heard rumors about his soon-to-be first officer Commander Spock, and none of them kind. He braces himself to meet someone cold and uncaring - cruel, even - but when he beams aboard the Enterprise, what he finds... isn't that. Instead, he finds someone who is kind, compassionate, funny, and genuinely likeable - and he figures that if no one else is going to befriend this Vulcan, he damn sure will!

(Originally, this was conceived as something fairly lighthearted and silly, but... it's kinda turned into Kirk vs xenophobia, ft. Spock Making Friends.)

Everyone Can Read Spock: This one features a lot of POV Outsider, a very-obviously-in-love Spock, and a Captain Kirk who... doesn't seem to notice. Somehow.

At one point, I wrote an abridged version of a scene towards the end of this because i was going to make it a tumblr post and then i decided that there was a very real chance it would get a lot of notes and i would feel guilty taking forever to write it if that happened, but, because i do think it's a banger scene (even very abridged), I'll stick it below the cut.

Aroace Spock: This one was born because I came across a few too many pieces of media that featured asexual people """Becoming Normal""" and shippy things which acted as though it were The Worst Thing Imaginable to be aromantic (OR to be in any sort of relationship with someone who was aromantic) and i got mad. Very little of it is written so far, but essentially, the plot will be thus:

Spock accidentally walks in on Kirk and Bones discussing Kirk's feelings for Spock, and then immediately flees. Kirk panics, because ohfuckwhatifiruinedourfriendship.jpeg. Spock avoids Kirk for three days or so before finally appearing in his quarters to talk. Spock feels wildly guilty about not reciprocating Kirk's feelings (because Kirk is the most important person in his life, and shouldn't that translate to love? why isn't he in love with him??). Kirk assures him that it's perfectly fine that Spock isn't in love with him - their friendship is more than enough for him. The conversation ends, and their friendship is unchanged, and both are a bit relieved and a bit disappointed. Later, Spock learns about queerplatonic relationships and is like "hey wait a minute, this could be perfect!" He brings the idea to Kirk, who is like "are you SURE you want this, and you aren't just suggesting it because you think I want it?" Spock assures him that no, he wants it, too. Cue relationship negotiation while they try to balance their various wants and needs.

Eventually, after a great deal of watching Spock Blatantly Pining, McCoy says something offhand to Jim about how Spock is in love with him. And Jim just blinks at him, confused.

"Spock isn't in love with me," he says, as though it's simple fact.

Bones raises an eyebrow, incredulous. "Jim, there's no way you haven't seen it. The damn fool loves you. He's as near to head over heels as I've ever seen!"

Stubbornly, Jim shakes his head. "I'm telling you, Bones. He doesn't love me."

"He does!"

"No," Jim insists. "I'd know if he loved me!"

McCoy crosses his arms, scoffing. "Well, I'd have thought so, too, considering how obvious he is about it, but clearly not!" McCoy knows, though, that he won't convince Kirk of the truth by simply arguing well. So, instead, he asks, "Why do you think you'd know, exactly?"

"Because Spock's a touch telepath," Kirk declares, as though that solves the matter.

"Jim," Bones says, kindly, "touch telepathy only works one way. You can't feel a Vulcan's emotions by touching them - only they can feel yours."

Kirk doesn't look very impressed by that argument. "Yes, I know that, Bones," he says. He looks almost insulted that McCoy would feel the need to explain that to him.

"Well then why the hell do you think his touch telepathy would make a difference?!" McCoy snaps.

"Because Spock would tell me, if he loved me!"

McCoy can't quite follow the argument that Jim obviously thinks he's making. "What?" he asks, clearly baffled.

Frustrated, Kirk explains step-by-step, as though describing something basic to a particularly stubborn two-year-old. "Spock's a touch telepath. I touch Spock all the time. I always have. He picks up emotions from me frequently. Therefore, there's no way Spock hasn't realized that I'm in love with him. If he loved me back, he'd tell me. He already knows where I stand on the matter."

Kirk punctuates this declaration with a self-satisfied little nod, even as his composure cracks just enough to expose the old ache of unrequited love - one which had been remarkably well-hidden until now. But, his self-pity session is rudely interrupted by McCoy bursting from his seat, expression apoplectic. A blood vessel looks near to bursting in his forehead.

"WHAT?!"

And then McCoy chucks Jim bodily at Spock and the two fools finally figure things out.

McCoy is then gifted a very nice shore leave. He's put up with enough. He's earned it.

(and actually, because why not, here's a chunk of that scene in my real writing style (though bear in mind that it'll probably go through another three rounds of editing before it's Actually Done):

McCoy blinked at him, mouth agape. “You can’t have not noticed,” he blurted, incredulous. “Jim, the man is smitten. He’s as near to head over heels as I’ve ever seen!”  

Kirk just shook his head, a wry sort of smile sitting on his lips. “Yes, yes. That’s a very funny joke, Bones. Now, I’ve got work to do, you know,” he said, and made to pick up his padd once again.  

Without thinking, McCoy reached across the deck and slammed the padd back to the table. “Damnit, Jim!” he snapped, feeling angry all of a sudden, “I’m being serious! Spock’s got feelings for you. Real, honest-to-goodness, romantic feelings!”  

Kirk stilled, and looked at him more closely, expression shifting to something kind, and, oddly, almost sad. “You are serious, aren’t you?” he mused, voice gentle. “Well, I can see how you might come to that conclusion. But – you’re wrong, I’m afraid. He doesn’t love me. Not like that, anyways.” 

And Kirk, in spite of all the evidence he had been given over the years, clearly believed it. When Spock had been being obvious, having clearly made attempts to instigate a relationship in both the Terran and Vulcan fashions before settling into his current state of “plainly in love, but not acting on it.” Had Jim simply – not seen? Not noticed? Did he pay no attention to the man he claimed was a friend? 

“Of all the oblivious–” 

“Bones,” Kirk said, raising his voice just enough to cut him off. McCoy obliged, but glared at Kirk, mutinous. “I’m telling you: he doesn’t love me.”)

[beloveds-embrace]

Thinking about designationless reader...

Imagine how alone she must've been for all her life. It started since she was young, her parents pushing her to the corner of the home, away from the family, and naturally, her siblings would follow their parents' lead, pointedly ignoring her, and finding any excuse available to be out of her presence. She wouldn't understand them anyway, she can't tell the difference between noises nor could she even recognize scents. It just wouldn't work.

Reader thinks that maybe she could find someone, anyone in school, but kids are like sharks, except instead of smelling blood, they smell the lack of all scents on her. Most kids have a combination of their own and their family members' scents. Reader has nothing, so everyone continues the pattern, but now with more stares and jeers and hushed giggles. Reader knows that bullying is bad, but anything would be better than simply not existing to anyone. That's what the others say, at least, that she's nothing, nobody. Never to her face, though, just in the whispers shared between friends.

She eventually tries to find others like her through the wonders of the internet. There's maybe a handful more scattered in her country, but none are her age, and all have their own families who care about them. Was it just her who wasn't deserving of love, of connection? Reader reaches out to them, and they talk a little, but before long, through no one's fault, it falls through. She was bad at talking anyway, even if she doesn't have to worry about scents or sounds that aren't there, she never knew much about context or connotation. She never had the opportunity to learn about the intricacies in communication. Reader is back alone.

The military eventually scouts her, and it's the first time anyone has ever really looked at her. Sure, they look at her like a valuable tool, but a tool is better than nothing. Reader obviously joins, desperate for crumbs. She climbs the ranks, gets the job done. She is good at her job, so people respect her. She learns how to talk professionally, emails, texts, and so one, but no one talks to her on leave. No one invites her to the pub after a good mission. No one even talks to her in the mess. But people do talk to her when they have to, and that's enough. Maybe she even gets a callsign. Doe. After Jane Doe, the placeholder name for unknown individuals, and insult if anything.

Now there's the 141. They invite her to things. They talk to her. They touch her. Reader exists for them. She isn't just an unknown person stuck in the background and invisible to everyone else, and Reader doesn't know what to do. Her speech is awkward and overly professional, even in personal settings. How is she supposed to be friends with someone, multiple someones? How is she supposed to move? To act? To express? She doesn't know, but she really wants to learn. At least now she has good teachers.

ANON YOU GENIUSSSS okay but this? Perfect. AHHHH I ADORE THIS IDEA!! Esp the jane doe callsign omg yes

You weren’t used to being seen.

Growing up, you learned quickly how to make yourself small- how to exist quietly, without taking up space, without asking for too much. Because the few times you had asked- asked for a hug, asked to be let into the nest, asked why you felt so different- the answers had all been the same.

No.

Not now.

Not you.

It wasn’t that your parents didn’t love you. You were sure they did, in their own way. But love was hard to feel when your mother flinched at your touch like you were something disgusting, when your father sighed like he was tired every time you entered the room as if you were taking up space he was saving for his other children. When your siblings built their nests without you, curling into piles of warmth and safety while you sat outside the door, knees pulled to your chest and hands balled into fists to keep them from knocking, a cold ache burrowing itself in your chest.

You stopped knocking eventually.

You stopped trying.

You used to wonder if you’d done something wrong- if maybe you could fix yourself and everything would go back to normal. But it wasn’t something you could fix. It was just… you.

Scentless.

Designationless.

Invisible.

School had been worse, perhaps the worst. At least your family had pretended not to notice how different you were. The other kids didn’t bother pretending. They stared openly, whispered behind your back, laughed when you walked by. You’d caught bits and pieces of what they said- weird, wrong, broken, as if they hoped by having you hear their words, they’d convince you to leave at last.

You’d started keeping your head down after that, slipping through the halls like a shadow. No one talked to you unless they had to, and even then they either did it with a mocking, jeering tone that echoes in your nightmares or with a meek tone; as if your lack of everything is contagious. No one sat next to you at lunch, either. When partners were assigned, you always ended up working alone per your teachers’ instructions.

It was easier that way.

At least, that’s what you told yourself.

By the time you joined the military, you’d gotten good at being alone. You didn’t need friends. Didn’t need packmates. You had work, and work didn’t care if you were quiet or awkward or too stiff to laugh at the right jokes. Work didn’t care if you flinched when people got too close or froze when someone raised their voice. Work demanded to be done, and you had nothing and no one to stop you from that.

But the military also has the same teens who used to bully you so consistently. Rookies all to ready and happy to lord over you. It’s how you get your despised callsign, Doe. Jane Doe. A cruel mockery, comedy wherein you are the joke that has the world laughing.

Still, you wear it. It’s still an acknowledgment and that will always be better than never being seen. You flit from team to team, unit to unit, always an observer from afar, watching everyone around you speak a language you can’t.

But the 141 was different, when you eventually end up working for them.

They cared.

They cared in ways you weren’t ready for.

Soap was relentless, dragging you into conversations even when you barely knew what to say. He filled the silences like it didn’t bother him, kept talking for the both of you, lounging against you unbothered, until you started talking back. Gaz was gentlest, steadier. He never pushed, just lingered close enough to remind you he was there, waiting, whenever you were ready. Quiet, silent acceptance you’d never been given before, and you were yet far too afraid to so easily cling to it.

And the Alphas- Price and Ghost- were worse.

Price had a way of looking at you that made your chest ache, like he saw you, really saw you, and didn’t mind what he found. Scentless, with no designation and all. Ghost was quieter, sharper, but his eyes tracked you everywhere, presence wrapping around you like he was staking a claim you didn’t understand, like he was teying to etch every part of you behind his eyelids.

You didn’t know what to do with it.

They didn’t give you space. They sat next to you at meals, tugged you along when they went out for drinks, called you over during breaks like it was the most natural thing in the world. And it felt natural- until it didn’t, because sometimes you still felt like an outsider.

Like you didn’t belong.

You tried to hide it, but they saw through you. They always did, and they never shied away.

When you started avoiding the mess hall, it was Gaz who caught you, shoving a plate of food into your hands and dragging you to sit with him like it wasn’t a big deal. When you hung back during missions, letting the others fall into their pack dynamics without you, Soap was the one who looped an arm around your shoulders and pulled.

And when you flinched, once, at the sharp sound of someone’s voice echoing down the hall- when you tensed so hard it made your fingers tremble- it was Price who closed the distance, standing in front of you like a wall and letting Ghost linger at your back. Neither of them said a word.

They didn’t have to.

You weren’t used to being protected. You weren’t used to belonging.

But they made it hard not to.

[glow-in-the-dark-death]

A Week (He Will Take You)

~

Danny moved to Gotham for school, while there he noticed that Gotham's ambient ecto was really murky for lack of a better word.

This didn't really affect him too much besides a mild headache every once in a while but that also just might be stress from all his school work so maybe not.

Anyway

This murky ecto seemed to effect the people who lived there or more importantly the ghosts,

They were visible to the human eye like most ghosts back in Amity but instead of looking very much like a ghost they still looked like humans if a bit off putting.

They all seemed to be continuing their normal lives as if still fully alive, with the people around them none the wiser.

Danny noticed this and began approaching them to figure out what was going on.

Apparently the murky ecto in the city had made it so that they were strong enough to still continue a somewhat normal life but not be able to cross over to the GZ.

In other words they were stuck in Gotham

Danny was the Ghost King so he could easily fix this problem, all he needed to do was give them a bit of pure ecto for around a week to fully stabilize them them then he would just open a portal into the GZ and they could cross over with all their things also transferring into the GZ for their new haunt.

Unfortunately this looked rather worrying to an outsider,

Imagine you're used to your neighbor being very outgoing so you and others see them a lot suddenly this man seems to appear in their life out of nowhere an at exactly one week, your neighbor and all their belongings in their home disappear no trace to be found.

You tell people and they begin saying the same story they knew someone and them a man with black hair and blue eyes appeared in their life, then they and all their things disappear in exactly one week.

Of course the police in Gotham do the bare minimum so they're no help.

But it starts to begin a trend, especially online.

"Oh careful or the blue eyed man will make you disappear in a week"

This of course after time catches the bats attention, Gordon had already given them all the information he had.

"Young adult early twenties, dark hair, blue eyes"

That was it.

The bats look into it and from their point of view Danny is a serial killer.

But they can't find the connection between all of his victims, they range from young children and the elderly from different backgrounds absolutely no connection,

Worrying enough he doesn't just make one person disappear he has taken entire families up to over a dozen, without anyone figuring out how he's doing it or why at all.

The disturbing thing also being that he seems to take everything in their home, leaving it like it has always been empty

Like no one had been living in it.

People have tried to take photos of Danny get some kind of evidence of his existence, but when they try to do it, it either comes out completely corrupted or their devise simply shuts down fully.

Danny of course has no clue what is happening he's just happy that he's able to help so many ghosts, and is trying not to fail his exams.

~

Danny leaving the house he just helped: "That went easier than I expected!"

Neighbor peeking from the window: "Shit it's that guy! "

~

Red Hood marching down into the cave: " The fucker took many from my territory without me even realizing it!"

~

Tim: "I'm pretty sure his kill count is nearing the hundreds and he just started like maybe 4 months ago, this is bad."

Barbara: " I think I got a theory, this matches up with the new school year beginning so maybe their not a Gotham native which narrows down my suspect list."

Bruce: "Hn."

Tim: "Yes thank you B for the insightful commentary"

~

Danny trying not to fall asleep while on his way to class: "Strange I keep seeing shadows following me, oh well must be the stress!"

Bats who are pretty sure Danny is the killer: "Has he done anything suspicious yet?"

~

Just an Idea

[reshinless]

Imagine

Kinich with

With a breeding kink

Imagine him not allowed to finish inside at the beginning, but gods does he beg to

Eventually reader gives in and allows him to

Hhhhhhhhes so jekfmekdkfke😞

──── i wanna see some!!

⠀ ۪ ⠀✧ synopsis. baby fever & kinich (i cant think of anything aesthetic)

⠀ ۪ ⠀✧ pairings. kinich x gn!afab!reader !!NSFW CONTENT AHEAD!!

⠀ ۪ ⠀✧ director's notice. thank you all again for 1k, i might be a bit slow with posts since projects are going crazy at class rn sob

kinich who has to plead and beg to cum inside of you. even if it is in the heat of the moment; there's no shame in asking, you are his partner after all.

after a few times where stress gets to you and you both wanna relieve it (sex)- you might as well indulge into the activity, right?

but after a few more tries, you can sense how tempted your lover was to keep your hips attached to his before he came, literally having to ask you with that oh-so-whiny voice.

"ah- pretty, please- ahhn- fffuck let me cum in you- need it s'bad." you felt bad hearing how desperate he was, but no no no you both had lives outside of this. it could be a lot of hassle. jokes on you though because he already has baby names planned out for them ^_^

so in love with the way your hole just takes him so good he can't help but ask more and more, it'd be an honor to orgasm with you anyway, he wouldn't have it any other way.

kinich who already had your legs hoisted up on his shoulder, his gloved grip strong against the plush of your thighs, archons was he hot. "p- please.. c'mon i've been treating you real nice, right? let me breed you." he whispered into your ear as he leaned forward.

ever since he saw you with mualani's baby niece in your arms, cooing to her like how any parent would. making the small child in your arms smile, and giggle at your peekaboo attempts, or how you tickled her with a sense of gentleness.

what would your kids with him look like? shit he could already imagine.. his black-blue hair and your (e/c) colored eyes. or what if they had your hair, and his eyes? or maybe they'd be your little carbon copy, and take after their dad for personality. his mind hasn't stopped ever since seeing the situation unfold in front of him.

but when you finally let him, of course he has to build up the best orgasm for you both to share! fitting his head into the crook of your neck; "what do you think our kids would look like? or act like?" it felt like the more he talked, the faster he went. "mmph.. maybe i jus' wanna see you with a round belly. jus' wanna see you bearing our child."

he could already imagine life after you've given birth, what would he name them if it were to be a girl, or perhaps a boy? maybe a mixture of both of your names? or let you decide?

"ahh- u- uhuh? you like the way i thrust into you, right? i'd hate for you to be uncomfortable." he hummed as he continued drilling his cock into you. your hole was already so wet from the previous foreplay beforehand, well of course when you let him cum inside, he'll want a taste of your pussy before it's alllll gone!

he'll still ask you if he could kiss you right after. he wants to make what'll happen now special for you and him to look back onto in the future. laughing or not at the past, he'll make sureit's memorable..

of course by the evident, and growing bulge in your tummy. oh fffuck you could feel it coming already-

"d- don't cum yet, p- pretty. w'na do it together." he mumbles out, barely being able to control himself, he placed one of your stray palms onto the mark on your stomach. "you feel me inside you?"

you couldn't help but let out a loud moan, throwing your head back before he quickly pulls your hair to look back at him.

"don't look anywhere else, pretty, i wanna see the way you look when i make you cream on my dick while i cum too. okay?"

you could hear the loud sound of his shaft slapping against you loudly in the stray hallways of the outside lobby of the hotel you both stayed in- previously on a mission.

even what felt like the fifteenth time you've came on his cock again, it just seemed like it only throbbed, continuously hard throughout all your climaxes. each dominant vein on his cock you could feel, the way his grip tightened around your waist as he took the gloves on his hands with his mouth to make sure not to waste a drop.

"mmf- k- kin i'm g'na-" you try to close your thighs, but to no avail, as kinich's palm, previously on your hair, moves swiftly to keep them open. "i know y'can take me baby, don't worry."

kinich who wrapped a possessive arm around you as you came, holding your waist close to his as you came. as his warm load shot up inside you, letting you arch your back all you wanted on the base of his cock. your arms instinctively rang around his neck, still shaking, trembling almost from coming with him.

he slowly let you lay down on the comfort of the pillows.

he leans down next to you, his fingers still keeping themselves inside your hole.

"not a drop wasted, 'kay?"

he couldn't wait 'till the day came that he'd be able to see kids of both your descents-

"what's with all the-" ajaw's jaw drops at the scene of you cuddling, and kinich hand still inside your hole.

"..." "..YOU ARE DISGUSTING!!"

i kind of ran out mid way for ideas, so sorry if this isn't what you were looking for sob

[lawofangie]

not sure how many times i'll need to keep saying this. so, i am going to break down the law of assumption as much as possible (as much as i have the patience for lol). i need you guys to understand for once and for all. this is simple. manifestation is simple.

the law of assumption is a law that requires you to MAKE ASSUMPTIONS. not to hope, not to wish, not to want. to assume.

and what is an assumption? something you believe to be true without proof. in the context of manifestation, something you believe to be true prior to receiving the proof (your manifestation materializing) in order to receive the proof.

making an assumption is not restricted to just whatever you want to manifest. why? because "manifestation" isn't fundamentally real. it's a word used to describe utilizing assumptions in a conscious way in order to "make something happen" externally.

this means that assuming has no bounds. and it doesn't. if you can assume anything is true, then your belief has no bounds. therefore, you can manifest anything. not just your desires, but things being difficult, things taking time, needing something or else ____.

an assumption is just an assumption. all given meaning aside, it's just an assumption. something you believe to be true, the "without proof" is just used in the context of what we call "manifestation", and manifestation just means the appearance of something. we are making assumptions in order for them to appear. there are no conditions, restrictions, rules, etc. you can believe absolutely anything to be true.

this way of using this ability to assume in order to make something materialize was just given the name "manifestation". its not some magical thing. it's just done in a conscious way and someone chose to give it that name.

but anyway, you are always going to be the one doing the assuming. it is always going to be up to you because nobody outside of you is doing the believing/ assuming here. YOU have to be the one to assume. you can't ask someone else to do it for you. nobody else is physically capable of doing it for you.

trying to ask someone for their input is useless. they're going to be affected by whatever biases you had about them prior anyway (ex: "they're smart" "i have to listen to them" "this person is unreliable"). everything is affected by whatever bias, assumptions, beliefs you have about it/them prior to experiencing them in your reality.

no matter how much you want to, you can't give up the control you have over your reality. you can't look to someone or something for permission, control, etc. all you have is yourself. all you should want is yourself. could you imagine how scary it would be if someone or something else truly dictated the course of your life? you'd be like a sim. that person or thing could literally do whatever they wanted to you. they could choose what you do and don't deserve. they could choose what happens in your life. why would you even want this? why are you so adamant on deciding this is true?

you have to acknowledge the fact that you are willingly or blindly giving up control because you are a coward. you're too scared to take control of your life and accept the truth, so you basically delude yourself into thinking that all these things have some kind of control over you.

it's like you guys never realize that all these conditions have to first be conditions in order for them to be conditions. they don't fundamentally exist.

if something doesn't fundamentally exist, that means it isn't real. it was created by us with something we were given (ex: our ability to communicate using language and creating "rules", and instilling the rules into the minds of others.)

they have no reason to exist if there is nothing to condition. if these things were fundamentally true, you wouldn't need to be conditioned. you wouldn't be able to change your mind, you wouldn't be being told to change your mind and adopt a new way of thinking. you wouldn't have the freedom to choose what you want to believe. you wouldn't need to accept it as true. it would just be true. like how we all know we need oxygen to survive. there's no question about it. it's not drilled into your head. its a proven fact with actual consequences. logic tells you it causes immediate discomfort and can cause fainting, therefore, you need to breathe.

logic doesn't tell you that you aren't in control of your reality. it's just something someone got you to believe. and you'll realize that your beliefs feel so real, that you don't question them, even when you know logically that you're being a little irrational. it's because belief is fundamentally real. it's an ability we all have, that we all use daily.

belief doesn't have feelings or emotions. belief is indifferent. you, the believer, are the one believing and deciding things are true. you, the believer, are the one assigning meanings and feelings to each belief. you, the believer, are the one believing things are true without proof. you, the believer, are the one receiving the proof of whatever you believe (blindly or not).

what is there to believe without you? what is there to condition without you? what meaning is there without you? without you there is nothing. again, this is your life. your human experience. yours. not your mom's, not your teacher's, not your boss's. yours. without you, it doesn't exist. you must be aware of things first in order for them to exist in your reality.

you only have one awareness because you are one person. you are only conscious of being one person. you are only conscious of your own life. you only experience one reality because you have one consciousness. but it is not permanent. you have the freedom of choice to choose a new reality, to be conscious of something new. your imagination does not restrict you to feeling only what is in front of you. if it did, what would be the purpose of imagining anyway? why would you even be mentally capable of imagining?

since only you can be conscious, and since only you can be conscious, we are advising you to take advantage of that and "manifest" what you want. no one and nothing can stop you, again, unless you allow it to. but you'll realize, you always have the choice. we as humans aren't set in one way of thinking. we are human beings with depth, feelings, desires, emotions, goals, dreams, fears, doubts, and competence. we have the ability to take in new information, form new thoughts, and grow. we are perfectly capable of and competent enough to form our own beliefs and assumptions.

and you can't turn off this ability to imagine. you can't stop believing, you can't stop assuming, you can't stop being aware (except for when you're asleep). the "law of assumption" doesn't care about your feelings. the law of assumption isn't a living thing. it's just something that's there, that's a part of life. we just happen to be competent enough to have the choice to consciously use it and to be aware of it. nothing is being taken from you, maybe information is has been withheld from you, but that's about it.

so, what is manifestation? how do i manifest? assume you have it.

yes, i broke down that entire thing just to tell you to just assume, to just decide. why? because that's all there is to it. just assume it is true regardless of what you see. because your external reality is nothing but a mirror. it can't prove anything to you that you haven't already proved to yourself.

all anyone in this community can do (thankfully) is regurgitate the same information in different ways until you guys understand it. the law is simple. "the law" isn't fundamentally real, it's just a title created by someone.

also, please don't misunderstand me here. the law of assumption isn't fake. it works. the "law of assumption", referring to the title, is a "law", but is a concept that was built on, with terms that were created by others. this is just to say that you guys give external things so much power over you just because of some title, some created authority, when in actuality, it isn't fundamentally real. all these terms make it all feel unnatural. the law of assumption isn't an unnatural thing. it's simply making assumptions.

so, if you can follow, what i'm saying is: just because the law of assumption is called "the law of assumption" or mentions an instruction, doesn't mean it's some foreign, scary thing. there isn't any separation. this isn't anything new. don't treat it as something it's not. this is just to remind you, that while you abide by them, they aren't above you. they don't change anything about who you are as a person, there is nothing to fear, nothing to learn, nothing to put on a pedestal. it's just a guideline, if you want to call it that. a step. you should be indifferent to it. treat it as a necessary step and nothing more.

the law of assumption is simple. make an assumption. believe something is true and it will materialize. but don't wait for it, otherwise you aren't assuming it is true. you have to believe even if it doesn't physically look like it's possible. because anything is possible. the law of assumption promises you that it is. you have to have some faith in yourself. if you had to choose to do so, i would say this is something you should spend your time blindly believing.

and you should be grateful that the law is this simple, otherwise, your stress would be caused by something other than you.

[hwnglx]

pick a pile - what makes you attractive?

welcome back lovely reader! let's take a peak into what makes you so attractive. breathe slowly, take your time and use your intuition to go with the pile that speaks to you the most. remember to take what resonates, and leave what doesn't. 𓆩♡𓆪

˖ ࣪ ⊹ ꒰ঌ pile 1 ໒꒱ ⊹ ࣪ ˖

you're attractive, in the way you're interested in creating these meaningful and emotional connections to people.

you aren't the type of person who feels the need to place yourself above anyone, in order to feel good about yourself. your desire for balance and harmony in your relationships makes you highly attractive.

the way you're able to put yourself in other people's shoes, and approach them with empathy, is wonderful. you give them this precious feeling of being understood.

you're a person who has very comforting energy, and a soothing effect on others. someone who brings the calm after the chaos, and hope into situations that seem lost.

spirit keeps showing me this image of a bandaid.

your attractiveness lies in your gentleness. in your ability to mend and heal.

the fact that you've been through so much, but this inner spark of hope inside you still remained bright and dazzling in the end, makes you very special.

it's likely that a lot of you aren't fully aware of this, but your existence is dazzling, and extraordinary in many people's eyes.

you stand out. you're unique.

there's something about your presence that shines differently, compared to the people around you. it's almost like a butterfly that can't see the beauty of its own wings.

i believe a good amount of you, have gone through your own losses and heartbreaks in the past.

it's likely you went through different cycles, and various impactful stages in your life where you were forced to adapt and adjust. unexpected situations which caught you off guard and resulted in you needing to pick up the pieces by yourself.

but the way you've been able to bounce back, and still find this inner courage to keep going, despite the hurt, is impressive.

i believe you've come to a point where you've been able to move away from that state of sorrow, and turned it into something that fuels your power.

your ability to bravely deal with the things that life unexpectedly throws you head on, makes you very attractive.

you still have a more sensitive heart, and your core will always be a little soft and sweet deep down; but your character has gained a lot of strength throughout the years.

this is something you radiate to the outside now. your inner power makes you incredibly attractive.

you look at the things you've been through till now, as experiences which have shaped you immensely, and turned you into the person you are today.

a lot of you are also likely to be outspoken, and pretty straightforward. you like getting to the true core of topics, and aren't afraid to voice things others might shy away from.

your attractiveness lies in your ability to balance these two coinciding sides in you; one that is full of empathy, warmth and a kind heart, and one that is self-sufficient, ambitious and courageous.

˖ ࣪ ⊹ ꒰ঌ pile 2 ໒꒱ ⊹ ࣪ ˖

you're attractive, in the way you relentlessly work towards fulfilling your own dreams and goals.

you're willing to put in consistent effort, in order to build yourself the dream life you desire so badly.

i just don't see you liking to rely on anyone else to do the work for you. you're very self-sufficient, and recognize that in order to get to a place of satisfaction and contentment within yourself, you have to be the one to make the effort. there's nothing like enjoying the fruits of your own labor.

a lot of you are very sure of what you want for yourself. some of you might actively manifest, by imagining and picturing how you want your life to be.

creating moodboards on pinterest or something. creating folders of style inspiration, or interior design inspirations. this is how i want to be dressed, this is the place i want to live in.

you're not gonna be someone who throws the towel and gives in, just because someone else might label your dreams as impossible, or unrealistic.

it's almost like you'll tell them “well, i'll show you then”

you have high aspirations, standards and expectations towards yourself, as well as others, which makes you even more attractive.

you just do not settle for anything less than what you want.

people can't get to you too easily. you're guarded and careful about who you let in closely.

many people are likely to look at you as a person they can't quite decipher or fully figure out at first; someone whose facade they'd like to look beyond.

the fact that you aren't an open book who's constantly accessible and available twenty four seven, makes you highly attractive to others. you cautiously keep them at an arm's length, and people might have to work for your attention.

there might even be some people envious of you.

envious of the fact that you're so self-reliant, independent, and in no need of anyone's help or guidance in life.

and although you give off a more detached and colder vibe to some people on the outside, people who actually know the true you, are aware of how sweet and empathetic you can in fact be. you just have a genuine heart deep down.

you're likely to be someone with a lot of depth and layers, and the closer people get to knowing you in your entirety, the more they get to see of your more complex, introspective and sensitive sides.

you might be much more emotional, romantic and dreamy than what meets the eye at first; and this is likely to draw a lot of people to you.

like “wow, i didn't know you had this side to you”

there's this type of reversal charm, where you might pleasantly surprise some people with how soft you can actually be at times, compared to the first impression they had of you.

some of you might literally have an rbf, but a beautiful smile that brightens and lights up your face in a whole new way.

you also give me very very creative energy. i feel like you love to express yourself beautifully, in many artistic ways. and you see art as a way to live out your most authentic self.

˖ ࣪ ⊹ ꒰ঌ pile 3 ໒꒱ ⊹ ࣪ ˖

you're attractive, in the way you lead with your heart.

it's likely that you're a person who nurtures a strong connection to their vast and rich emotional world. you're someone who genuinely cares.

like.. i don't think you even know how to just not care about things, and go through life in a nonchalant “meh” way. most of the time, you're very chalant. (ㅜ same!)

this makes you much more attractive than you might realize.

you can easily get emotionally invested in plenty of your endeavors; whether that's your relationships, the choices you have to make, the different situations life throws in your way.

you feel everything in a deep and profound manner, and this makes you unique.

reason why i believe you might not be fully aware of this, is because you seem to have the tendency to see yourself as more lacking than you actually are.

you're likely to be a person who's very humble at their core. an eternal student of life.

someone who tries their best to grow continuously and better themselves through every situation they get confronted with; especially the disappointments, regrets, losses.

you're eager to pull the lesson out of every experience in life, and sincerely want to learn from your mistakes.

despite criticism hurting you sometimes, you're still trying your best to improve yourself through it all.

this hard-working, grounded, down to earth and modest energy makes you incredibly attractive.

i think you're slowly but surely trying to let go of certain limitations you habitually set yourself till now. you might've felt trapped in your mind and stuck for a good while, but you're progressively coming out of that place.

despite the exhausting struggles you've been through till now, you're still standing strong!

your endurance, resilience and inner strength makes you immensely attractive.

yes you're wounded, yes you don't see yourself as perfect, but you're still ready to fight. you are a true warrior.

even with your naturally modest character, i don't see you as a person who allows people to step all over them anymore. you're starting to learn to be more strict and clear with your boundaries.

people might see you as someone who's becoming more guarded and closing yourself off, but to you, it's what's necessary to protect yourself.

you're attractive in the way you're becoming more and more aware of your true worth and your value.

you shouldn't let people look at your inner softness as weakness anymore.

on the contrary, it makes you incredibly strong and attractive, if you confidently embrace that side of you. i can see you stepping into your true power, once you learn to acknowledge your qualities more.

it's very likely for the things you yourself see as your downfalls, to be your actual strengths. you might just see yourself in a negative light way too quickly.

for example, your emotionality and sensitivity doesn't have to be a flaw. it can be your asset. it makes you special.

not everyone is capable of emotional connection the way you are. not everyone has the ability to be so genuinely loving, caring and sincerely empathetic the way you are.

don't constantly see yourself for what you aren't, for what you lack, for what you can't do. but see yourself for what you are and what you have, what you can indeed do!

note; i was definitely the most passionate about this pile because i have to admit, i relate so much 🥹 sending you all my support and hugs sweet reader

[misssilversunny]

Ok wait i just had a funny idea

Why stop at just a yandere batfamily? Why not all of Gotham?

Like, imagine Bane kidnapping you, calling you his "firefly" or whatever because you're a fleeting light in the darkness or something, and you're more guarded than the actual thing he stole.

And despite that, Poison Ivy manages to nab you, her "little rose", while Bane is busy dealing with Batman. She takes you back to her apartment, where you greet the plants you recognize and introduce yourself to the new ones (There aren't many, you were here 3 months ago).

At some point you take a breath of fresh air through an open window, and Scarecrow grabs you, taking you to his lair, into a room which is also pumped with a special strain of fear gas that makes you cling to him for safety.

And then, shock of all shocks, the one and only, motherfucking Joker snatches you from the lair, leaving behind a dummy for Scarecrow to find. Unlike the others, Joker's obsession is in the fact that everyone else is obsessed with you. He finds it hysterical how one person can have all of Gotham in a spin!

Eventually, the Batfam grabs Reader from the Joker, since he's not actually obsessed so he has them the least guarded, maybe a short conversation with Batman, but even Joker knows he's in water too hot to joke about severe injuries, especially since he doesn't know if Red Hood is nearby.

Batman might not kill, but he cannot guarantee that anyone else wouldn't if he killed their favorite person, and he does not have the influence where he could get away with that.

You get returned to your nice cage room in the manor, where the Batfamily scolds you yet again for another failed escape attempt trip outside getting you shipped around Gotham for weeks!

At this point, you're pretty sure you not only can't leave, but also any attempts at a normal life are pointless. You mostly do this because humans are animals and animals need enrichment, and no, the cycle of games/quality time they're giving you are not a suitable replacement for touching grass and seeing new faces.

Even the brief moments of time between kidnappings, the short moments of normalcy that the other villains, the other heroes and vigilantes give you, are a welcome change of pace.

Bonus points if it's literally everyone in neighboring cities/Justice League, so Superman finds you and you're just like "Well shit" because now you're taken to his house, maybe his parents' farm, and you're kept there until someone catches on that Clark has you.

Also if you tack this onto Spoiled!Reader, this becomes infinitely funnier because In my mind I'm treating that AU as 90% a crack/lighthearted fic, and another thing is I think of them as being ~12 sometimes, so it's the entirety of Gotham fighting over a middle schooler.

If it's an adult Reader, it's more of a "This is fine" as they are carted from villain to villain to vigilante to hero because their family literally has a fan club for them, so their perception of what is "normal" levels of interest is severely skewed.

If you want to go for the Neglected!Reader, then it would be really interesting for them to try and figure out where is a good level of "interested in your hobbies", and doubts whether they're so uncomfortable because they're actually too invested in their day to day life, or if it's because they were neglected for so long that any interest feels overwhelming.

Btw all asks about Spoiled!Reader and this Reader are welcome!

[writing-nothing-but-spilled-ink]

Okay but like imagine Jason Todd living in Crime Alley and he has numerous safe houses in gotham some of witch just aren't for him and in fact are apartment complexes that he bought out for cheap possibly due to a little life-threatening scare by Red Hood and any time he's in crime alley and he notices that especially in the winter months that the kids are sick or don't have a dry place to live he just starts setting them up in the apartment complex, and none of the kids ever talk about where exactly that complex is because they love redhood... Also, I imagine that once a week Jason makes like a really big dinner and he just goes outside and serves it to the kids around crime alley, the kids all love him and feel safe with him. I imagine it gets to a point where if the kids are in danger or are worried or scared they just go running over to Red Hood some of the kids have taken to calling him dad, uncle, and other various family references.. And one day on the way back to one of his safe houses he just hears one of the younger street kids yelling dad and he turns to where its coming from and theres just this small kid holding another small kid in his arms and red's just like what happened and the kid just goes shes sick and idk what to do and red just kinda sighs and goes yeah alright follow me kid and he walks over to one of his main safe houses puts his bike away and gets the kids into the car but before continuing to the doc office he calls out through crime alley of if anyone's sick yall better come here i don't wanna do numerous trips and suddenly theres a small group of kids coming out of the shadows and he ushers them all into the car drives them all to gotham general and the receptionist doesn't bat an eye at the gaggle of sick kids or the fact redhood is checking them all in because he and the hospital have an understanding so he gets them all treated and seen and has to sit in with every nurse and doctor, at one point he gets a call from bruce asking why he's not on protrol and jason thinking nothing of it just goes i'm busy im at the hospital have dickface cover my patrol and then he hangs up to speak to the doctors and check on his kids..

bruce shows up at Gotham general just to find red surrounded by numerous children with various flu's colds coughs one of them has pneumonia and was just diagnosed with asthma and he's just taking notes while there's one child in his lap crying cause she's scared and he's just rocking her gently while writing down various treatment plans for each kid and what safe house he's putting them in because he'll be personally taking care of them... and one of the docs spot Bruce and is like excuse me mr. wayne you can't be back here patients only and redhood can be here because he's there acting guardian which makes Bruce's brain short-circuit entirely

Also alfred 100 percent knows about this and has helped red set up the rooms for the kids and everything and some of those big family dinners Jason has for the kids yeah he's using Alfred's recipes

How Jason got guardianship of these kids is because of Harvey dent he got the proper legal advice from Harvey

[woso-dreamzzz]

Injured (Alba's Version) III

Alexia Putellas x Teen!Reader

Summary: You wonder if it could have been different for you

*TW: suicide, death, depressive thoughts, overdose*

Sometimes, as you stare at yourself in the mirror, you wonder if you were always doomed to become this.

This shell of a person that no one can recognise.

This phantom inhabiting someone else's body.

You wonder if your life would have turned out differently if Alexia had given you away.

Maybe straight at your birth, to some couple that actually lived half a world away. Would you have even known you were Spanish?

Certainly given away to Jenni when you were younger. Would you have even been a Putellas anymore?

Jenni has faded from your mind a bit now. You used to see her regularly as a kid, back when she and Alexia were dating. But then she went to Mexico and the visits faded. You never went to Spain camp so you never saw her.

Jenni was firmly entrenched in the world of football.

You had always been an outsider.

You wonder if there's something you could have done to make yourself more appealing to Alexia. If something as simple as being good at football was enough to make her like you.

You didn't need her to love you.

You just needed her to like you.

That could be enough for you.

You didn't need a seat at her table or a home in her house. Just a warm feeling from her towards you could be enough.

Anything but the air of neutrality that you know she feels when she looks at you.

Anything but the non-committal hums when you spoke to her.

Anything but the way she so proudly showed off her son but left you in the background, the afterthought that only got brought up when people mentioned that they're sure she had a daughter too.

You don't recognise yourself in Alba's bathroom mirror. Whatever sad, fractured version of yourself that looks back at you can't possibly be who you are, can't possibly be what you look like.

Alexia's face clouds your version, like she's taken over your reflection, like she's trapped inside you every time you look in the mirror.

You wonder if she sees any of herself in you when you meet eyes.

You wonder if in another world, any world, she truly sees you as a daughter.

You wonder if you were always heading here, to this destination.

To the temporary refuge of Alba's home.

You wonder if you were meant to have jumped into the ocean that night. You wonder if your body was meant to have floated out to sea where no one could find you.

You wonder if outrunning your fate then meant it had worked doubly hard to catch up to you now.

The ocean would have been peaceful. You would have been rocked to salvation by the waves.

Now, it will not be so peaceful and you can accept that.

You have always been a runner, always sprinting away from your problems only for them to come back. Worse. Meaner. Holding you in a grip so tight that you suffocate.

You could have taken the easy way out.

But instead you are making everyone suffer with you.

Because of you.

You wish you had taken the plunge then. You wish you'd had the courage to take it all away then.

No one would have known.

You would have been written off as just another one of those people that randomly disappeared. You would have left things open for your family to imagine where you were, living a life better than this.

A runaway to greener pastures.

Not a dead body buried in a watery grave.

You suppose, now that you didn't do it then, that you'd have a proper grave now.

No one ever really thinks about how they're going to go, not truly anyway. People think about what will happen at their funerals, what kind of music they'd want, if they'd want to be buried or cremated.

But people rarely think of their deaths outside of falling asleep one day and never waking again.

You suppose that must be peaceful too, in a way.

You wonder if people at the end of their lives know they are. You wonder if they go to sleep one day knowing they won't awaken the next.

You wonder if they have such clarity like you do now.

Your reflection turns back into you now, not that twisted version of Alexia. You but not you but not Alexia either and there's peace in that.

You sink into the bath, the water rising to your shoulders.

It's only precautionary really.

You know what's really going to take you, the pills you'd swallowed a scant few minutes ago.

But this is reassurance.

This is to make sure it sticks.

You were never made to last. A portrait of a young girl, a snapshot that never ages. Made to look pretty and stand in the background of things. Made to be unimportant, unassuming until you're needed.

There is clarity in this, you think as you glance at the door.

There is peace.

But you could still get up now, go downstairs to your aunt and explain. Tell her she needs to take you to the hospital to pump your stomach. Tell her that you need her like you needed her as a child when she took you away from Alexia for those few days and you felt more alive than you ever did before.

Than you ever did again.

But you don't.

It's too late now.

In a few minutes, a few hours, however long it takes, she will find you.

She will find you and your note.

You thought about writing to others but you couldn't put words to paper, you couldn't work out what you wanted to say.

But Tia Alba has a note because you know she loves you and you know she will blame herself for this.

You know she deserves to be told why you've done this, why her love alone couldn't keep you from imploding on yourself.

You wonder if she will show Alexia. You wonder if Alexia will wonder why she didn't get a note as well.

You wonder if Alexia will even care.

You wonder if she ever felt enough love for you for this to be heart breaking to her.

You don't think it matters though.

This isn't her choice.

It's yours.

And you've made your peace with it.

It's as easy as falling asleep.

[rainynightmoonlight]

Punch To Love || Yan Delinquent x GN Reader

Characters: Bone

Summary: School Delinquent wants your attention

Warnings: Yandere themes, possessiveness, violence

a/n: He's a softy. This is Jesse's rival.

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦

Yan Delinquent who doesn't really go to class. Only goes when he needs to keep himself from getting expelled. He doesn't want to worry his mom. Or his sister. He manages to keep his grades up enough too.

Yan Delinquent who meets you early on in the semester when a group project was assigned. He honestly wouldn't have thought you would pick him to be your partner, especially when the pink weirdo is stuck to your side.

Yan Delinquent who ends up putting in more effort than he thought he would have when with you. He's even more shocked when you take interest in him after, wanting to stay and get to know him. He's usually alone, so this is a complete switch to what he's used too.

Yan Delinquent who after a couple of weeks when the project finishes, can't seem to forget you. You were different. He liked that a lot. Whenever he smoked on campus, he imagined what it would be like to kiss you right after. Oh god he's screwed.

Yan Delinquent who denies he has the biggest crush ever on you. Sure he stalks you from a distance. Sure he wishes he could punch the pink weirdo. Sure he fights behind your back when someone insults you. But that's just because he's repaying your kindness. Nothing more.

Yan Delinquent who takes a lot of time to accept the fact that he's completely whipped for you. It only takes one of his buddies to point out how puppylike he is when you're around. It's embarrassing at first, but he's so happy.

Yan Delinquent who finds himself coming to the classes you share more often. He often finds himself also seeking out your help to study and on topics he doesn't understand. Man he relishes the disappointed look the pink weirdo has when you tell him that you had to study with someone else.

Yan Delinquent who loves staying late in the library with you. The smell of his coffee is a lot more calming than his cigarettes, but he can't help the cravings. He's trying so hard to fight them back to look more studious in front of you.

Yan Delinquent who gets harassed by the pink weirdo you call your best friend the day after. The pink haired boy is taking pictures of him and saying he could never be good enough. Well that may be true, but he would treat you so much better than your pink loving best friend.

Yan Delinquent who watches your best friend showcase the pictures he took of the delinquent smoking, cutting class, and beating up a not so defenseless student. In awe, he watches you deny your best friend's claims and actually show your trust in the delinquent. He needs you to marry him right now.

Yan Delinquent who hangs out with you a lot more now. He invites you to ditch class with him and leave campus with him. He even feels more comfortable to smoke around you. You don't judge, and it makes him so fuzzy, though if you express your distaste for the smell then he'll try to avoid doing so in front of you.

Yan Delinquent who gets interrogated by his mom about you. He's so embarrassed when he has to explain why he's so smiley now and that he's been more motivated when around you. She's so happy that he finally has a good influence in his life though. His litter sister is even more curious.

Yan Delinquent who runs into you outside of school when he takes his sister to the park. He gets all blushy and lets his sister run around the jungle gym when he talks to you. He's so different outside of school. He's so much softer and less broody.

Yan Delinquent who has to stop his little sister from embarrassing him when she sees you. She asks you so many questions and if you're the person that he was telling his mom about. You were flattered, and she became so attached to you.

Yan Delinquent who is so good at hiding the fact that he gets into fights for you. Sure he gets a few cuts and bruises, but it's so easy to lie. Some bitch was encouraging on his area and he was defending himself. Your naivety is his best friend at this point.

Yan Delinquent who comes to you when he does get injured. Your hands are so delicate when handling him, he can't help but blush when your fingers feel like feathers against his skin. It alleviates all pain he feels. Even when it's just a small paper cut, and you're putting on a silly cartoon band-aid on it.

Yan Delinquent who becomes surprisingly whiny when you won't treat his wounds. What do you mean he doesn't need a band-aid and your gentle touch when bumps something against a door? Maybe you should kiss it better and he'll stop whining.

Yan Delinquent who threatens freely. He will glare and snarl at anyone who tries to get close to you. The only one bold enough to never back down is that pink haired weirdo. He can't stand him! Though he can't express his distaste for your best friend.

Yan Delinquent who introduces you to his mom after she pesters him enough. He brings you over to dinner and has to sit through so many embarrassing questions and anecdotes. He did not need you to know that he cried when he was 5 because Santa didn't bring him what he wanted for Christmas.

Yan Delinquent who is very clearly becoming your guard dog. Scary boyfriend privileges. He can't help but want to keep you safe. You're a pure rarity in his world, and he'll be damned if he loses it. Especially to that pink haired weirdo who is trying so hard to keep you two apart.

Yan Delinquent who finally throws hands with the pink weirdo. Both take and deliver punches like no tomorrow until you come to break up the fight. Now, they're both sitting in the nurse's office glaring at each other with you taking care of both of them. It would have been a dream if that cute prick wasn't here ruining his day.

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦

Do not repost or translate without my explicit permission! Reblogs are welcome!

[thelonelyshore-if]

Meet me at the cabin. Please.

You weren’t sure what to make of it. A cryptic late night text sent from your younger sibling, begging you to meet up at your family’s old lake home. The plea for help was as concerning as it was confusing. As far as you knew, neither of you had set foot in the cabin in a decade. You had your hesitations, but Willow seemed desperate. You couldn’t help but oblige.

Everything goes downhill fast when Willow's research into childhood ghost stories lands you in a town that doesn't exist. A town where people go missing at an alarming rate, where things that aren't quite human run businesses with hungry eyes, where time runs differently.

A town you can't leave. 

Something about Easthaven is wrong. A supernatural fog permeates the town, so thick you could choke…but you’re one of the only people who seems to notice it. You’re quick to realize the fog keeps the residents ignorant, keeps them passive, keeps them trapped. When people who have long since gone missing start coming back home, you realize Easthaven’s mysteries go deeper than you could have ever imagined.

Explore the magic and the horrors of the small town of Easthaven, team up with the few others who can see through the fog, and do everything you can to make your way back home.

The Lonely Shore is an 18+ supernatural horror story (and mystery) inspired by works such as Midnight Mass, The Mist, Scarlet Hollow, and Gravity Falls. A story about how sometimes places can feel like people, how easy it is to do terrible things for those we love, and how small towns have a way of eating you alive.

FEATURES:

Play as male, female, or nonbinary; trans or cis. Choose up to two sets of pronouns or input your own. Customize your appearance and develop your personality throughout the game. 

Romance or befriend a cast of characters. Options for ace and aro routes, as well as three polyamorous paths.

Customize Willow, your younger sibling. Select their gender and determine what your relationship with them is. Will you rebuild a broken relationship? Or let a good one go down in flames?

Explore the world of Easthaven, a town that exists outside of time, separated completely from the rest of the world. A place where tragedy is mundane and death is around every corner. Encounter the Fog, the source of all of Easthaven’s horrors.

Build up to one of five distinct magic styles as your character comes to life; including necromancy, clairvoyance, manipulating the Fog, becoming something monstrous–or suppressing your magic instead, having it come out in uncontrollable bursts.

Solve the mystery of the Returned: citizens who have been missing for months, years, decades but who have recently started coming back home.

CHARACTERS:

Jaylen 'Jay' Jones (M/F)

A veterinarian-in-training and member of the town's Search & Rescue team who has seen Easthaven's horrors firsthand. A kindhearted but wary person who cares more about keeping people safe than they do about solving the town's mysteries. They're tired of losing people.

Yasmin Bakir-King (F)

The local librarian, a fiercely clever widow with very little patience for nonsense. Very outgoing, she's one of the most well-known figures in town. She starts the story unaware of Easthaven's dangers but very quickly gets thrust into the middle of the town's latest mystery.

Amir/Amara "Croft" (M/F)

A reclusive, ill-tempered horror author who just so happens to be the town's latest newcomer…until you show up. Croft came to town with their share of secrets, and there's nothing in the world they want more than to escape Easthaven.

Beck Dawn (genderfluid)

Fun-loving and reckless, Beck is an adrenaline junkie who can't seem to stay out of danger…despite being completely unaware of the town's secrets. A magnet for trouble, it's no surprise Beck lands right in the middle of Easthaven's latest mystery.

Ravi Singh (M)

Easthaven's local mortician. Ravi is easygoing and quick to laugh; though sometimes his humor leans towards the macabre. But his easy smiles don't cover up his almost chilling comfort with the Fog; nor do they get rid of the pile of skeletons in his closet.

Perri Loveless (M/F/NB)

Runs one of Easthaven's three radio stations. In the day they play music, and at night they host a supernatural-themed call in radio show, The Lonely Shore. Perri is an enthusiastic (if a bit awkward) person whose theories tend towards the unbelievable. It's unfortunate that, despite all of their theories, Perri has no idea what's actually going on in Easthaven.

And…

"Willow" (M/F/NB)

Your little sibling. Flighty, impulsive, and outgoing; their fascination with the occult is what lands you in Easthaven. Your relationship can range from best friends to sworn enemies. Will they be able to save you from the mess they've made?

LINKS:

DEMO | ROs | Content Warnings | Extras

( current wordcount : 225,095 without code )

[prettyboykatsuki]

I can just imagine fujo neet reader practicing different sex position with rin to make sure she gets the proportions right.

✮ tags ; fem!reader, sexual tension, rin's pov, RIN IS KIND OF MEAN TO HER BUT HE WANTS HER SO BAD FDKJJS, reader is a fujoshi and bl mangaka, pre-relationship, they work together, part of a ficverse i haven't written yet Sorry, ONE JOKE ABOUT RIN WANTING TO OFF HIMSELF, SUPER SUGGESTIVE LOL 18+

✮ wc ; 3.5k (WHAT THE FUCK!!!!!!!)

✮ a/n ; i had to do this for my sanity. i promise i will write them a proper fic with them i promise.

You never text Rin.

Not really. Not first at least. It's a new... friendship. Kind of. Sort of. Most of your communication thus far has been through meetings and random in-person chance encounters. Outside of that, Rin will call you since it's faster. If you do "text", it's mostly through twitter DM's.

There's a discord server your fans run, and you pop in there often enough. He's had the invitation extended but declined unilaterally, since he'd rather not see himself fucking Isagi anymore than he already has in his short, miserable career.

It surprised him this morning, seeing your message flash across the top of his screen. Asking, specifically, for him to come over and help you with something related to the new manga you were writing. He had it in his right mind to decline, but after learning it wasn't a doujin for him, he semi-reluctantly agreed.

Rin doesn't know when exactly your relationship to him grew this...comfortable. Inviting him over to your house, begging him for favors, not wincing every time he talks to you. Rin isn't an extrovert but compared to you he's a social butterfly. And your aversion to people in general, Rin thought, would prevent you from doing anything more than squeak at him forever just like you did when he met you.

(Though nothing in his life has been normal since your arrival in it. He's not sure why you would remain unchanged when he certainly hasn't.)

He doesn't know what to feel when you ask him for a favor, and he doesn't know what force of nature compels him to go. If it's morbid curiosity or annoyance or something else even worse.

It was compelling enough to take the train all the way out to Machida - an hour long trip from his own place. His manager hounded him to take you something, so he has a bag of ginseng energy drinks and snacks with him as a gift. He took the bus with his mask on, and then walked all the way to your building.

Your apartment is tucked somewhere classically suburban - attached at the far end of a residential street and behind concrete support beams for a highway just overhead. Cherry blossom trees and other shades of white flowers grow around it in thick patches, making the entrance hard to find. Rin would've had trouble if you didn’t give him details on exactly where to go.

It's an older building, stone walls worn and grass-stained from age. At the gate are groups of old people talking amongst each other as they sort through recycling and trash. All visor hats and sunspots, they fawn over Rin for a long while before he goes in and interrogates him with questions. None of them know him, which is relieving. It quickly graduates to them asking who he's there to visit, if he has a girlfriend or not.

All of them ooh and aah when he mentions your name, say something about being relieved she's found a man so handsome and that Rin should marry you because even though you're a little strange you're a good girl. Rin does not have the time nor energy to correct them - only nods and bows his head and leaves.

On the elevator ride up to your floor, he can't help but think repeatedly that this isn't the kind of place he'd expect you to live. He thought it'd be out in the middle of nowhere, maybe in a damp and broken building.

But this is a nice place with nice people, vibrant and colorful. Totally opposite from what he considers your personality.

Suitable or not, Rin manages to make it to your floor without a hitch.

He finds you, then, as he'd expect. Down a long hall, behind an unassuming white door. When you open it, you're a mess. Your hair completely unkempt, face greasy, a wild look in your eyes and complete surprise in your expression as if you didn't invite him over. You do, however, manage to invite him in without stuttering or stumbling over your words foolishly like you did the first time you spoke to him.

Another surprise is how... clean your living room is. It's lived in but he was expecting more mess in there. Your bedroom is in a similar state, undoubtedly messy but not terrible. Your NEET tendencies finally end up showing when you drag Rin into your office where you draw your manga.

It's not dirty but it's cluttered. There's a pull out sofa on one wall, with a blanket and pillow littered about and pages upon pages of paper sheets with scrapped panels about the floor. One wall has a bunch of post-its with several notes in both English and Japanese, and another has tacked up pieces of art. Both yours and other peoples. He chooses to ignore the ones of him and Isagi, The walls themselves are cream colored and uninteresting and the wood floors are slippery. At the far end of the room is a spread of desks, a PC set-up and a professional looking tablet among various art supplies in stacked boxes.

It's this room you bring Rin into without explaining yourself at all, mumbling and muttering as you give him a place to sit and go back to your work for fifteen silent minutes.

When you're finally finished doing whatever the fuck you were doing, you turn yourself back towards Rin. Bluelight glasses fall down the bridge of your nose as you swivel around in your chair - your sweatpants half pulled up your leg with the other pulled down. You're wearing fuzzy socks with Naruto characters on them.

You stare at him, pulling your glasses off and rubbing your eyes - dark circles under them.

"Uhm," Your voice is clipped and thick with exhaustion. "You came."

Rin deadpans. "You asked me to come."

"I thought you'd say no."

He did too. He doesn't respond back. You chew your lips, already anxious and Rin resists the urge to say something about it.

"Okay. Uhm. Please don't get mad," You start with and then explain, looking away. Your hands pull your sleeves over your palms. "So. Like. For my new series, I'm finally getting to the sex scene but I've never drawn characters with an intense height difference like this. And I need... new reference photos.... and uhm," You rub your feet together on your chair where you sit "Well our height differences and size is the exact one my characters have. So."

Rin stares at you. "So?"

"SoIwaswonderingifyou'dtakereferenceimagesforsexpositionswithme,"

Rin feels his jaw lock. "Slower."

You frown and look away, tucking your chin with embarrassment. "I was uhm, like, wondering if you'd take... take the uhm, sex position reference photos with me, please."

"What?"

You clasp your hands together, immediately prostrating yourself by throwing yourself down the ground. He flinches back, wondering if you're gonna hold onto his leg next.

"Please, please help me. You're the exact height of my seme and you uhm have similar builds and he's doing the most of the legwork. The poses are a little bit hard but I want them to look good or Minami-san will eat me and I'm scared of her, please help me."

"Who is Minami-san?"

You sniffle, on the verge of tears just thinking about it. "My editor. She used to be my fan. She's scary. Please, Rin-kun, please."

"What the hell did you do before?"

You frown at him, big wet puppy-dog eyes.

"It was hard. Sometimes I'd pose with my big stuffed animals and make up the proportions. Oh and usually watched porn and stuff. Sometimes I'd get lucky with stockphotos. But I don’t get the angle exactly right unless I have good references."

Rin wonders if anything you have ever said has processed in your mind before saying it. He doubts it for some reason.

"So," Rin pinches the bridge of his nose and shakes the image of you humping your stuffed animals out of his head. "You're asking me to.. pose with you?"

You nod and chew your lip. "Please, I promise I'd never ask you for this if I wasn't s-scared of Minami-san! Please?"

"I should make you pay me for this," He sneers. You flinch back and close your eyes.

"I'm sorry." You whine wetly, but then open your eyes again anyway. "Please help me."

Rin doesn't know why he helps you. Maybe you're just too pathetic for him to ignore. Maybe he's a masochist. Maybe inhaling the same air as Bachira last week turned him stupid.

He pinches the bridge of his nose.

"Fine."

__

If Rin didn't believe you before when you told him you make your own references, he'd definitely believe you after you take him to your bedroom.

Your bed is in the center of your room, instead of being pushed against a wall. Large stuffed animals laid in one corner. On both sides of the room, are makeshift digital camera stands and remote-controlled lighting among another remote for said cameras. There's about 4-6 angles from what you explained to Rin, and a few adjustable lights. It's an elaborate set-up and takes the kind of dedication Rin can only imagine a hardcore fujoshi freak like yourself thinking up.

All of this to mostly draw porn of him and his rival. He tries not to think about it too hard because he thinks it's going to give him an aneurysm. Rin sits at the edge of your bed as you adjust each of the cameras individually.

"What do you do if it's not on a bed?"

You flinch like you aren't expecting him to talk. "Uhm. I either simulate as best I can o-or move my things and bed around. It's why I moved my desk to my office."

Rin stares at you. "You take it seriously."

You nod meekly. "Producing high-quality doujin is what made me money, so I have to work hard. Being poor is tough."

If Rin didn't find you so unbearable he might find that awe-inspiring in his own fucked up way.

"Okay. Everything is set-up. Now for the poses," You say, suddenly sparking back to life. Rin sits and watches. "They're having sex on a public beach so the bed and the way the seme sort of sinks into the sand will be good... I think the bridge one is the one we'll do first."

"The bridge?"

You nod, talking in short sentences. But Rin can tell this is where you're comfortable, doing things for this... hobby. Your usual constant embarrassment and shame seem to disappear when it comes to it. It's fascinating like a car crash. "Uhm. You have to stand on your knees and then, I'll lay on my back and arch my back up to meet your... y'know. It'll emphasize the height difference."

Rin stares at you agape. You take the remote control for your cameras in your hands and look at him expectantly.

Rin doesn't know whats wrong with him. Why the hell did he agree to this?

"Do you want me to take my jacket off?"

You nod, surprised. He shrugs the thing off of his shoulders and tosses it onto the floor.

Rin, per your instruction, gets into the position in the middle of the bed. He stands on his knees waiting for you. You join him a minute after, squinting at your phone screen beforehand. He isn't sure what he's expecting as a result of your ask, but he sure is shocked when he finds you placing your feet flat on the bed next to his knees and pushing yourself up for your crotch to meet his.

He knows that’s what you said but your shamelessness proves to be… shocking.

He tries not to let it show. His jaw ticks. His face feels warm but his expression remains neutral all the same. You shift and adjust and don't seem concerned at all - like it doesn't occur to you that this is in any way socially unacceptable. Or it's unfathomable Rin would take advantage of this. That this is weird, or could be interpreted in less than innocent ways. Rin knows you're so out of touch that it probably isn't. That this is, to you, just considered a favor which is partially why he even agrees.

But you're mid-brushing up against his bulge. The angle of your back forms a triangle, your arms laid flat at your sides as you squirm and push. And your expression shifts, deep in thought.

"Uhm, like, would you mind p-putting your hands on my hips? Kind of squeezing tight like it's," You flush this time, but Rin harbors doubt it's about him. "Like it feels good I guess? Like hard, and stuff so you can see the indent."

He's so astonished, he does it on autopilot. Neutral and even. He lets his hands grab your hips and holds tight just as you ask. Your long, loose sweatshirt falls down revealing the soft skin of your tummy. He can see the tops of your underwear, the thin cotton kind that come in 6-packs with a single bow in the middle in a grey color.

You don't seem to care about it. Rin shouldn't either, but his body does seem to care. His brain does. Something is happening in his gut. Anger maybe. Some cheap, frustrated desire to make fun of you.

Instead the words he's been wanting to ask since you proposed this tumble out of his mouth. He stares at you.

"Is this the first time someone's done this with you?"

You jump with a start, but remain in position. You take the pictures first, six clicks in a row before answering.

"H-huh? Why-why are you asking that?"

He doesn't know. Really. And he knows how it sounds. Rin doesn't say anything and you fold under the immense pressure of his gaze.

"S-stop staring," You say, and take a few more pictures, lowering your back just a little but still staying up right. "And no. No one tall enough or with the right physique."

There is another gnawing question, another burning curiosity. He makes his voice as even and unaffected and apathetic as he can. As mean as possible.

"Have you ever even had sex?"

Your eyes blow wide, but you seem to fall for the persona of apathy, curious boredom and cruelty. Worse, you seem a little used to it. You squirm this time and Rin holds you firmly in place. Your voice is small.

"Uhm, like, once I guess. I-it was with a guy, I didn't really date him but he seemed interested in me and I didn't think I'd ever have the opportunity again s-so I did it and I didn't uhm, it wasn't very good or anything." You reply, and he can feel your toes curl in your socks next to him and his brain feels like it'll melt from out of his ears. "Sorry, I don't-don't think you care about that, just uhm, felt like I should explain."

"Yeah," Rin feels dizzy. "Do you need another pose?"

You blink and then nod. "Yeah! Another one kind of like this, but with the legs like uhm, on your chest and my feet closer to your head. With you leaned back a little. Does that make sense? The butterfly position, I think."

Rin swallows something at the back of throat.

He nods, pulling you into position so easily he can heard you gasp. Your legs straighten against his clothed chest, and your sweatshirt falls far enough to let him see your bra. A fabric sports kind, a little worn - just the logo visible. He doesn't say anything about it, your feet resting near his neck. You make a little soft noise.

"This feels a little difficult to be in. Poor uke. Sorry if this one is kind of weird, but can you put your hands, I dunno, on my ass, I guess? I know that's probably too much but I think it'll be a good detail, so please? I'll pay you"

Rin stares at you, teeth gritting so hard he feels the back of his skull throb. "Fine."

Rin, per your request, puts his hands on your ass. It's easy enough, and he doesn't hold too tight. But it's too intimate, too stupidly fucking intimate, and he can feel you. You're hardly paying attention, caught up in your own head with whatever else. Rin is paying too much attention. Like how your sweatpants aren't thick enough to cover the outline of your frumpy cotton panties and how your soft all over. He's going to kill someone. Maybe himself.

Six more clicks and a little noise of satisfaction.

"Okay!!! I think these will turn out so great, and I can use them later too. Just one more. I have a lot of refs for this position, but uhm - I want to see if I can get the proportions correct, so if you'd please lay down," You tell him with such genuine excitement he can't find it in himself to say anything horribly cruel. "I'll be doing most of the work this time. I just-just need to see how uke will compare..."

You mutter something to yourself as Rin lets you down and lays himself down on your bed. You sit next to him for a long while, squinting at your phone. Rin stares at you as you. Wonders if he's gone completely insane, and tries to ignore the doom of the impending hard-on cozying itself in his pants.

Unceremoniously, you find yourself perching over Rin's lap. Not bothering to give him any pretense, it's the one thing about today that's really getting him.

"Oh, I need my hands for this," You give him the remote and stare down at him wide-eyed, over his lap. This has to be hell. "Could you take the photos this time?"

He closes his eyes and counts to ten and wonders if a concussion has made him insane. "Hm."

You brighten and Rin feels his chest go tight. "Thanks!"

Rin just nods, his mouth drying as you start to move and pose. A picture with your hands next to his head, and anothe r where you're sat up - your hands at your sides. Rin obediently takes pictures when you ask, his entire body tensing every single time you move.

"Okay, last one," You say. This time, you put your hands on his chest. Just the one. You must have something specific in your head that you're wanting to recreate. You bend down close, looking down at him as you do - your other hand clenched.

Rin looks up at you. He should not be thinking about you in any way. He's looking at the way your lips curve and plump and at your bare skin and your dark circles and your stupid licensed anime hoodie. He just gapes at you in confusion and mystique. He's around so many weirdos. It's not like there's anything special about you. You’re just another freak who makes porn of him. Plenty of people do that.

A loser and an idiot with no sense of self-preservation. There's nothing special about this, but Rin hasn’t been able to convince himself of that.

You stare down at him.

"Take a picture?"

Rin looks at you. Studies your expression. You seem like you're thinking. It's the only oppurtunity he has to pry.

"Did you want to ask something?" He says first. “You’re not hard to read.”

You startle, then nod. Your hand is on his chest. It's warm, and smaller than his.

"Oh, I-I guess I was wondering about what you asked me earlier. And uhm, like, I don't know. If you ever did anything. Your relationships aren't in the media and fans speculate but," You fall flat on your words. "I guess I was just curious."

Rin hates this question. It's why he never answers it. Why he hates being called a hearthrob, always too shallow and too personal for his taste.

"Nothing long term or serious. It was most for physical relief." Rin says, almost on autopilot. “Not that’d you know what that’s like.”

Your eyes widen. Rin feels his hands twitch, watching your expression finally grown conscious of him. Lust spreads through you like honey and Rin can see it in how you look. You squirm in his lap. He's not usually so aggressive, not usually one to care about sex in any important way. Not one to brag about something so unbelievably inane and trivial.

But it's bothering him, just how much he's fighting the urge to pin you down and fuck you. You of all people. It's not like him. Rough sex is whatever, but it's bothering him how little any of it seems to register in your head anymore like it once did. You could barely breathe the first time you met.

He doesn't know why he cares that you don’t anymore. He doesn’t give a shit about anything related to you

But the thought nothing seems to bother you anymore bothers him.

"Oh... I see. That's uhm, interesting. I b-bet you have a lot more experience than me. Maybe it'd be a good thing to keep you around for that kind of refernce too," You joke.

Rin lets his hand slip up to your hips without asking, not bothering to hide it anymore. His head feels with nothing but stupid useless thoughts. Thoughts of fucking you in your old, worn clothes and stained shirts and comfortable cotton underwear. Thoughts of your hands clutching at his shoulder all weepy with desire and need and stupidity - your big wide eyes bleary and sensitive. It's cruel how relentlessly he thinks about taking advantage of all your differences. Of how unathletic and awkward and unused to everything you are.

It's horrible just how much he's staving off his own arousal about it. Maybe you're strange habits are infecting him, making him strange too strange. All Rin can think about uselessly is how easily he could put you in your place. Fix you in some strange way. You’d be his to fix and you’d cry and weep and want to run away. Rin wouldn’t let you, keep you pinned and caged like an animal.

His throat feels tight. What is fucking wrong with him today?

Is he that pent up? He stares at you, and gets some passing feeling that there is more to it than that. He closes his eyes.

"Whatever," He says, letting go. You don't seem to notice it again, how thick his voice is getting "Are you almost done?"

You nod and smile. "Yes. Thank you."

Rin feels his heart tug and seethes. “You're welcome."

[delicrieux]

…TAKING WHAT’S NOT YOURS ! ⋆｡°✩

⋆.˚𖦹⋆✮⋆.˚ chapter summary. some things in life are unbearable, and in yours? they’re titled gojo satoru and trying to ruin you.

pairing. gojo satoru x f!sorcerer reader

genre. enemies to lovers, ‘my bully is actually in love w me,’ comedy, light-hearted romance, aged up characters (in college), gojo being touchy bcs boundaries do not exist to my king

warnings for this chapter. gojo is being particularly troublesome

wc. 3k

author’s note: HOW ARE WE FEELING JJK NATION?!

ੈ✩‧₊˚

masterlist | buy me coffee☕ | twny masterlist | next >

CHAPTER 1: imagine minding your own business undisturbed omg

tokyo jujutsu tech is big. real, real big. but no matter where you go, he's there.

gojo satoru has made it his life's mission to relentlessly annoy you for no apparent reason. it was hate at first sight, or something equally despicable as that. for three years now, you’ve had to endure jeers raging from your sorcerer's ability to the size (or lack thereof, as you’re often reminded) of your ass. yes, that does count as harassment. no, gojo does not care.

you don’t know why he can't just leave you alone. he seems to delight in your anger and misery. they say you need to stand up to your bullies and give them a taste of their own medicine, but that does not work on gojo. the angrier – the better. he wants a reaction. he wants attention. he wants your despair served on a platter for him to lick clean and mouth, “delicious, thank you, more please.”

it's the silence and ignoring he can't take. it's like a personal insult. some deep rooted fear you hope he'll choke on.

gojo claims to hate you quite loudly. boisterously, even. wears his spite like a badge of honor, keeps it nice and clean pinned to the lapel of his uniform.

yet everywhere you go, he’s there – by your locker, outside your dorm room, on every mission you’re sent on, and always in the places you frequent. it's not exactly stalking, but it's like...gojo's way of being just as clingy without getting called out. you have called him a stalker. he laughed, pointed, and said, "what kinda idiot would even want to stalk someone like you?”

out the women's showers, you waddle to the common area. there's a vending machine, and you’d like a bubbly drink to refresh yourself. first, from the moist heat of the showers and then from the humid summer just outside the window. it’s peaceful, despite the temperature. the water still clings to your skin.

you just to locate and rejoice the last bottle of cola before you feel eyes on the back of your neck. of course. of course he's here, and you didn’t even hear him. of course.

"ugh," you groan aloud, fingers stalling against the cold buttons

"your ugliest pj's?" you startle from how loud he is, right next to your ear. too close. he’s always too close.

he makes sure to whistle long enough to make you squirm away. fuck him, he towers over you. can’t see his eyes underneath those super expensive designer glasses, but you know they keen for your reaction. once, to shoko, he said he bought them because they looked cool. unprompted, uninvited, unwanted, you chirped that they looked dumb as hell.

"whaddya got there?" his fingers press into your spine, and maybe he uncovered a new technique to turn you into stone. there is absolutely no personal space in this equation. he has none, and he has no concept of invading yours. with anyone else, maybe you wouldn't mind.

keep cool. you’re cool. stone-faced, unmovable. you don’t care if he’s trying to claw into your marrow with his neatly trimmed nails.

you hesitate for a single moment before you punch in the number. the machine whizzes and thunk, “fuck off, please,” you say, bending down to snatch your drink. he hums, sounding too satisfied for your comfort.

"you're gonna fuck yourself up on all that carbonation. never thought you could get any more hideous, but alas!"

you turn to him, and he has the good sense to move back a step to avoid the mouth that’ll insult him. there's a twitch to his brow, and an ease to his smile as he regards you leisurely. the latter is almost never a good thing. it means he's really enjoying this interaction.

if you shake your cola enough, maybe you’ll be super lucky and the spray will land on his face. now that's an idea. but even if you caught him off guard, his cursed technique would likely be in motion and the soda wouldn't touch him. how troublesome. a waste of a drink. you decides against it.

gojo leans on the vending machine. his own personal attempt cower her into submission. for what exactly? no one knows. maybe getou would have an idea, if he’s merciful enough to share. when you don’t say anything or flinch away like ijichi often does, he sighs heavily.

"aw, are ya still mad about last time? that was days ago. c'monnn, kami-”

"don't say my name."

"i forgot. kawakami-chan doesn't like me, right?"

you thought about switching schools. kyoto tech is also very good. you’d be at peace there. utahime hates gojo just as much as you do, and you have already bonded closely over this shared distain.

it's likely gojo would transfer after you. just to spite you.

"don't you have anything better to do than harass me?" you question.

the most infuriating thing about gojo, and about this situation, is that he’s happy. when you’re like this – huffing, shoulders taut, and frowning – he seems to be enjoying himself the most.

"don't pretend like you don't like it, kami-chan."

this asshole has a god complex. he seems to truly believe the earth would have ended up in a heap of smoldering ruin if not for him. to be fair, he's probably right, but still. you would first bite of your tongue than admit to that. you have considered a lobotomy to get the idea out of your head, but in the joke that is your life, gojo would likely be holding the orbitoclast.

you resent him so much you find yourself burning in his presence. it's like he took a personal class to master the art of pestering.

"doesn’t this ever get boring?"

he laughs, pressing a hand to his cheek as if embarrassed, "i never get bored of you, kami-chan. when are you coming back to the field? been too busy hanging out with losers to do some missions?"

"how pathetic must you be," you snark, "to be thinking of me when i'm not there to torment."

gojo ignores you and moves to tug at your top. the audacity has you reeling, and you attempt to smack his hand away only for it to be stopped at the last second, "yup," he inspects the quality of the fabric, his teeth flashing and making his already smug features look haughtier, "cheap.”

you open the can so forcefully the contents fizzle and spray on your hand. gojo grins so hard you expect his face to crack in half. if only.

"can i have some?”

"stop touching me," you hiss, trying to slap him away again, "why are you always touching me?"

gojo sidesteps. the dodge and dash he does, coupled with his agility, is incredible. had you not seen his many victories in battle, or spent any amount of time with him, you might be enamored. impressed, even.

perhaps that lobotomy is still an option.

"just," his arms dart out to pin you to the vending machine and you immediately aim a high kick to his thigh. but, of course, his infinity protects him. bastard. he doesn't let up though, and those hands slide along the expanse of your thighs until they meet your sides, leaving a warm trail, "makin' sure i can see all of these pores up close."

gojo, as disgusting as you often think he is, does always have a bit of honesty in his insults. you want to scream, maybe, because your pores are fine. great, even, you’ve invested into a new skincare routine, and it’s clearly working. it even works on shoko’s dark circles. he’s so full of shit, it's nauseating.

"fuck off," you shove his hands away and gojo lets you, surprisingly.

"really gross," he comments.

"you're the gross one. self-absorbed stalker."

gojo, an absolutely foul looking monster if you’ve ever met one, waggles a finger at you.

"careful, kami-chan," there's no trace of warning, only amusement, "we wouldn't wanna accidentally bump into each other too many more times."

his meaning isn't lost on you.

you hold up a finger, too. right in his face. pause. take a sip of your soda. there's no reason you should indulge this maniacal sadist in any capacity. gojo has an aura. an attitude. he comes off as unrelenting, and for all intents and purposes, he is unrelenting. in and out your life, an unshakable constant, with a lopsided grin and piercing eyes. you hate him.

you try to sidestep and flee to your room, but he blocks you. step. block. step. block. step block. stepblockstepblockstepblockstepblock-

"god! you're fucking infuriating," you explode.

you want to clock him, strangle him, castrate him, kick his head through the concrete. he's ruining a perfectly nice evening. what is it about you that he just loathes to see, so much so that it drives him to see you hurt all the time? is he truly so bad off? does he live a miserable and joyless existence?

"thanks," he looks genuinely honored, "but how'd you come to the conclusion, huh? after a little brainstorming session or-"

"what do you want?"

"lately?" gojo taps his chin, his tongue poking out, "seemed like you needed some space, so i just waited around here till you were done."

christ, he really is a stalker. you’re starting to worry he's like, actually insane.

"but now we can hang out!”

"i'm going to bed," you declare.

gojo ignores your announcement. gojo always ignores whatever you have to say.

"where we heading? your place or mine?"

"you are not going anywhere with me!"

he reaches out to flick your temple. it's so juvenile it takes you by surprise. your hands immediately fly up to protect yourself.

"huh," his face softens as if you’re this small, pathetic thing. not pity exactly, but definitely a worrisome expression, "look,” he snaps his fingers, “look. look,” he snaps them again and you will tear your hair out in 83 seconds if he doesn’t go away immediately, “we both gotta take a mission, right? might as well go together."

"go with suguru,"

gojo sighs dramatically and his whole upper body collapses, like he's pretending you kicked his shin. you reel back a bit from the proximity.

"mmm, but suguru’s so uptight lately," he comments. that’s good. getou suguru, ever the diligent one, was the first person in your sorcery class who made you feel welcomed. you quite like him, but the fact that his best friend is gojo implies there's something deeply wrong with him. you really don’t want to know what.

"go with shoko then," you state.

"shoko's just..." his arms jerk violently as if he's pretending to smash a plate, "not really on board with my mission types lately. says she can’t leave our only doctor since the patients are dying before they have a chance to enter the trauma room."

sad news for shoko, but your mind works quick.

"go alone," you smile, tilting your head to the side. the motion seems to catch his interest, "and don't come back."

gojo clicks his tongue, clearly peeved. victory. you relish this tiny bit of triumph. he starts to walk away and you watch him retreat, hopefully from your life, "i can't,"

"no way you've fallen so far."

"suguru told me to check in with someone before going on my own. it'll just make him and yaga-sensei super worried!"

"oh no," you chime, "i think you should go alone. and die."

he laughs, "come on," a pause, "it'll be fun! team-bonding and shit."

team-bonding and shit is you having a cola and reading a magazine. not fighting alongside the man who torments you like you’re some sort of pet: ‘kami-chan, do a split,' ‘kami-chan, do a roll,' ‘kami-chan, how big is your cup size again?'

the most effective way to hurt him is silence. you turn your eyes away and hum. this must be done delicately. if he catches even a whiff of your intention to flee, he’ll barge right after you. get you in a headlock and make you cry, because maybe he’s grown demented and will enjoy the sight of your tears.

with as much ease as your taunt muscles can muster, you casually pad in the direction of your room. he hasn't tried to tear down your door yet, but that's likely because the senseis would have to reprimand him.

gojo won't leave you be though, will he? as if it's a struggle to keep pace with you, he follows closely and peppers you with requests:

"come with me."

"shut up."

"we can grab dinner and-"

"you can shut up."

gojo sings, "team-building exercise, you're supposed to make a comrade's wishes come true, so come with-"

"i'll kill myself if force me to go with you. stop begging. it's so lame."

he laughs so loudly and unexpectedly that you jolt. this asshole thinks your threat is baseless. it isn’t. you’ll do it, or so god help you. you aren’t one to bitch out on anything, and maybe that’s why he’s so intent about this.

you wish he'd just give up, but it's highly unlikely. he's stubborn, and you aren’t enough to bend him.

"are you implying you'd kill yourself in front of me? for what? to mess with me?"

your face is very serious when you say, "yeah."

"shit, and you expect me to not want to see that? sorry babe, i'll have to tag along," he grins wickedly and you find yourself fighting down a spring at nausea at the sickly pet name. that’s a new development.

you move to stomp away, but he's right there to cage you to the wall. no, please, you’re at your limit. you might crumble into a heap on the floor and never rise again, even if he consistently poked at you for days.

"come," his glasses slide down his nose a bit and you’re met with gleaming, impossible, revoltingly beautiful blue eyes, "on," and he leans down. this close his infinity is gone, and you can feel the hard planes of his muscles, "a mission with me."

"kill me," you bite out.

you don’t like this, nor the rising fluster or the scent of his cologne. he always smells fresh, even in the summer months where sweat sticks like second skin. the cool wall against your back has your skin prickling. maybe this is a new advanced torture method. much more effective than waterboarding, which you would willingly take if that meant he’d let you go.

why must he be so tall? the sunlight bleeding from the windows douses his hair in a halo. it’s completely deceptive to how absolutely giddy he looks. your breathing picks up. what a nightmare. you’d attempt to knee him again if your limbs weren’t suddenly immobile.

he leans forward and murmurs, "is that an invitation for some freaky shit? cuz i like where we are now."

"gross!" you lean back as far as possible.

"i knowwww," he's undeterred by your snappiness, "seriously," he tries, "what else are you doing tonight, huh?" and you wonder why he's getting closer as your neck protests, "don’t tell me," there's a lilt to his voice you don’t trust, "you afraid you can't handle me?"

"is sexual harassment on your daily agenda?" you bite.

he moves away slightly, looking perplexed, as if you’ve given the world's toughest question. his posture becomes defensively slouched. a frown pushes his brows together and for once, the smooth talker has no quip or response.

you’re not one to look a gifted horse in the mouth and scramble.

"hey, hey, you didn’t answer!” he calls out, rushing after you, "hey! kami-chan, where'd your manners go? i need a clear answer."

damn pride. damn self-respect. you’re fleeing.

gojo doesn't let you get away that easy. your path to sanctuary is obstructed again as gojo halts you by plucking at your shoulder. you shake yourself off like a wet cat and bail. yes, you’ve resorted to running, but your room is just within reach.

"why are you running?!" his whine echoes down the empty hall, "answer the question!"

just a bit more and-

he catches up with you and hauls you up by the armpits, spinning, laughing. you squirm, and there goes your drink, your damned, tasty drink. all his antics have been on the short side, but he's never done this before: cradle you against himself, as if he was going to play catch with you.

"let go, creep!"

"creep?!" his voice is scandalized but still mirthful, "for all my gentlemanliness, huh?!"

he tosses you and you can barely right yourself with a solid landing. that's new too, the physical handling. why today of all days has he decided to pick your fights with his hands? does it make you less immune? why are you wondering? you should be running.

"and anyways, where'd your manners go huh, huh, hu-uh? no thank you when a nice gentlemanly guy takes the time of his day, the greatest guy, the-"

you might go insane. actually snap and go coo coo coconuts. kill everyone. this might be the beginning of your villain origin story. your personal vendetta to kill gojo satoru.

"seriously?!" he yells, and you open your eyes (you don’t remember closing them. it's probably a last resort sort of deal. if you can't see gojo, gojo isn’t real), and gojo's much, much, closer.

"would you mind-" you hiss.

"really," he chides, not an ounce of his good humor on his face, and you’re unable to tell if he's taunting or sincere, "all those classes you went to when you were little, and you still can't pay attention to the first thing a good guy says? do i have to spell out your obligations for you?!"

"would you kindly go fuck yourself and allow me to exist in peace?!" you shriek.

a door down the hall opens, and someone, maybe a fellow student or maybe a teacher or maybe someone unrelated all together, pops their head out the crack of their bedroom. you see this in slow-motion, watch a silhouette tilt their head and stare. it's so stupid it could be considered a scene from a comedy.

"would you two keep it the hell down already!?" your would-be-rescuer screams.

gojo glances to the side, unbothered but maybe curious. you run. before gojo can pick up his wits, you slam the door to your room open, lock it, and even fumble a deadbolt for added assurance. your room is dark save for a nightlight plugged into the corner.

your legs are shaking. you feel like throwing up. you’ve never been so terrified in your entire life.

the news reaches you via a text from shoko a good few hours later. gojo goes on the mission alone.

'please die please die please die please die,' you pray.

he returns an hour later, unharmed and cheery.

[et7432]

Not Without Permission

(Klaus Mikaelson)

(Klaus Mikaelson x Reader)

Summary: Elena and Damon leave (Y/N) behind at the last untouched safehouse in Mystic Falls, the one place where the Originals can't just waltz in. It's a temporary peace, and they need her to stay put while they go after an ancient artifact that could change everything. Before they go, they make it crystal clear—no one gets inside, no matter what. The stakes are too high. But when a familiar, dangerous face shows up at the door—Klaus Mikaelson himself—(Y/N)’s calm is about to be tested. Charming, persuasive, and never without a few tricks up his sleeve, Klaus doesn’t take no for an answer. Will she keep the door locked, or will the deadly allure of the Original hybrid be enough to crack her resolve?

I pouted quietly, as I watched Damon and Elena leaving without me. It was my way of masking the yearning for adventure that I couldn't join in on.

"Listen carefully. Your house is the only place in town that the Originals cannot enter. No one can enter without an invitation, no exceptions - not even if someone is bleeding on your doorstep," Damon warns.

"I understand, Damon. Safe haven, magical barrier, invite-only."

Elena struggled with another duffel bag and hauled it to Damon's car trunk.

"It's true, (y/n). We can't risk it."

"Then let me come with you." I walked down the porch steps. "I've been researching those artifacts for weeks. I could be of assistance-"

"No." Elena slammed the trunk. "You need to stay here where it's safe. Plus, don't you have that history report about the 1920s due?"

"Seriously? You're using homework as an excuse while you're out hunting for ancient magical objects?"

"I'd rather do homework than hunt for ancient magical objects that could get you killed," Damon called out as he climbed into the driver's seat.

Elena gave me a quick hug. "We'll be back before you know it."

I watched them get inside the car, frustration boiling within me. The engine roared to life, and Damon rolled down his window.

"Remember - don't open the door for anyone!" His voice carried across the lawn.

"Of course, dad!" I replied sarcastically, putting all my teenage angst into those three words.

The car disappeared down the street, leaving me alone on my supposedly safe front lawn, feeling like a useless researcher stuck in some supernatural time-out.

The desk lamp cast a harsh glow across my laptop screen. The cursor blinked against the white document - mocking me with its steady rhythm. Only my name and the date stared back: "(y/n) Matthews, October 15th."

The cicadas droned outside my window, their endless chirping a symphony of late-night procrastination. I drummed my fingers against the desk, scrolling through my research notes for the thousandth time. Prohibition. Speakeasies. The Jazz Age. My brain refused to string two coherent sentences together about any of it.

I glanced at my phone. 9:47 PM. No messages from Elena or Damon.

"The 1920s represented a period of..." I typed, then deleted it. Too generic.

"In the wake of World War I..." Backspace, backspace, backspace.

The cicadas grew louder, their sound bleeding through my closed window. I pushed back from my desk and paced the room, my sock-covered feet silent against the hardwood floor. My history textbook lay open on the bed, its pages filled with black and white photos of flappers and Model T's.

"This would be so much easier if I could just interview an actual person who lived through it," I muttered, throwing myself back into my desk chair. The leather creaked under my weight. "But no - stay home, (y/n). Do your homework, (y/n). Do the responsible thing, (y/n). Don't get killed by thousand-year-old vampires, (y/n)."

The flashing line on my screen taunted me. I couldn't help imagining what adventures Elena and Damon were having - undoubtedly more exciting than watching an empty screen mock my progress.

I slumped forward, letting my brow make contact with the smooth desktop surface. Overhead, my study light buzzed softly, a constant electrical hum that matched my brain's static.

The peaceful stillness of the night shattered as three sharp knocks echoed through the house. My heart pounded in my chest.

More knocks followed, each one deliberate and measured. I knew it wasn't Damon's impatient pounding or someone in need of help.

I descended the stairs cautiously, avoiding the creaky spots I had memorized long ago. The atrium light cast eerie shadows across the hardwood floor.

"Who is it?" I called out, trying to mask the uncertainty in my voice.

"Good evening," came a refined voice from beyond the door. "Forgive the late hour, but I'm searching for Elena Gilbert. I was told she might be here."

As soon as I heard his words, the hair on my neck stood on end and a shiver ran down my spine. I immediately recognized that voice.

“Well, she’s not here,” I said firmly, glad my voice didn’t waver. "And even if she was, she wouldn't want to talk to a vampire like you."

The man's chuckle turned into a low growl. "You have no idea what you're talking about," he hissed through clenched teeth.

"I know who you are." I stepped back from the door, though the barrier spell made the distance unnecessary. "And I know you can't come in."

A low chuckle drifted through the wood. "Clever girl. Elena mentioned you. Haven't I seen you before a few times? - the studious one, always with her nose in a book. Tell me, what are you reading these days?"

"Nothing that would interest you." My fingers gripped the banister behind me, steadying my shaking legs.

"On the contrary, I find human persistence fascinating. The way you dig through dusty tomes and piece together fragments of the past..." His voice moved along the porch, closer to the window. "Speaking of the past, I hear you're writing about the 1920s. I could tell you stories that would make your paper absolutely..." A tap against the wooden door. "Riveting."

My throat went dry as I realized the truth - he had been alive during those times. He probably danced in speakeasies and roamed the gas-lit streets. But how did he know about my writing? Was he watching me earlier, lurking and listening to my conversation with Elena and Damon?

"I have no interest in your stories," I said, trying to keep him talking. I knew Elena would want to know that he was back in town, but my phone was upstairs on my desk, out of reach.

"No? Shame. I particularly enjoyed Chicago during Prohibition. The music, the fashion... the absolute lawlessness of it all. Your textbooks couldn't possibly capture the true spirit of the era."

Each word dripped with casual menace, reminding me of every story I'd heard about his victims. The countless lives he'd ended with that same conversational tone.

"Why are you really here?" I forced steel into my voice, channeling Elena's courage.

"Direct. I like that." Another tap, this time back at the door. "Very well. Since Elena's not answering her phone, perhaps you could pass along a message?"

My hand trembled over the doorknob. Every survival instinct screamed to run upstairs, but a deeper part of me knew - if Klaus wanted to deliver a message, he'd find a way. At least the barrier spell would protect me.

I twisted the knob and pulled the door open.

Klaus stood on my porch, hands clasped behind his back. The porch light caught the angles of his face, casting shadows that made him look more a statue than man. His lips curved into a smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"Brave little thing, aren't you?" He cocked his head. "Most humans who know what I am wouldn't dare."

I rested on the door frame. "The barrier spell works both ways. You can't get in, and I can't accidentally step out."

"Clever too." He took a single step closer, stopping just short of the invisible line. "Though I must say, opening doors to monsters - even with magical protection - shows questionable judgment."

"You said you had a message." I lifted my chin, fighting to keep my voice steady.

"Indeed." His eyes locked onto mine, and I fought the urge to look away. "But now I'm far more intrigued by you. Standing here, trembling yet defiant. Tell me, what makes someone choose to face their fears instead of hiding from them?"

"Maybe I'm tired of hiding." The words spilled out before I could stop them. "Maybe I'm tired of being the one left behind to stay safe while my friends risk their lives."

Klaus's smile widened, showing teeth. "Now that's honesty I can appreciate."

I swallowed hard, regretting my outburst. Every story I'd heard about Klaus started with someone letting their guard down, sharing too much.

"The message." I squared my shoulders. "What do you want me to tell Elena?"

"Straight to business?" He traced a finger along the door frame, stopping at the barrier's edge. "And here I thought we were having such a lovely chat about your academic pursuits."

"It's late, and I have homework to finish."

"Ah yes, your paper." His hand dropped to his side. "Though I suspect your mind's no longer on dance halls and bootleggers."

"Klaus." I forced myself to sound more direct. "The message?"

His expression shifted, playfulness vanishing like smoke. "Tell her I found what we discussed in Chicago. The item she's searching for? It's not what she thinks. And if she continues down this path..." He leaned forward, close enough that I could see flecks of gold in his eyes. "Well, let's just say some treasures are better left buried."

"That's cryptic, even for you."

"Consider it a courtesy warning. I do so hate to see wasted potential." He stepped back, adjusting his jacket cuffs. "Whether that potential belongs to Elena or yourself remains to be seen."

Goosebumps appeared on my skin from his words. "I'll tell her."

"My thanks for being such a reliable messenger bird." He gave a slight bow and turned his back to me walking away.

Klaus's silhouette started blending into the dimness of nightfall along the asphalt street, an impulsive need shot up my spine making my heart hammer against its cage; an acknowledgement of shared knowledge perhaps? Against all better judgement and advice whispering urgently for silence in my ear, I called out to him,

"Klaus!"

"Wait." As I called out his name, Klaus froze in place, his body still and tense as if carved from a block of cold, white marble. His face revealed a struggle, with furrowed brows and clenched jaw as he wrestled with conflicting emotions.

Finally, he took a deep breath and turned on his heel, his determined steps leading him back to my home.

The sound of his shoes crunching against the gravel path echoed through the quiet evening air as he strode purposefully towards me. Klaus was back on my porch as close to me as he could get this time without touching the invisible barrier.

"Yes?" His tone was casual, but his expression remained unreadable as he took in my call. Curiosity laced his low baritone voice. Despite the tension in his posture, he exuded a sense of grace and anticipation with a slight turn of his head and a raised eyebrow.

"I was wondering... if you could tell me about the 1920s?" I gesture helplessly. "But you'd have to stay on the porch, obviously."

His lips curved into an amused smile. "Curiosity wins over caution? How delightfully human."

"You can sit." I backed away from the door. "Let me just-"

I darted to the living room, dragging one of the heavy wooden chairs from our dining set. Its legs scraped across the floor as I pushed it through the doorway, over the threshold.

Klaus caught the chair with one hand, positioning it with casual grace. "Such hospitality."

"Can I get you something to drink?" My heart hammered against my ribs. "Not... I mean, obviously not blood, but..."

"Scotch, if you have it." He settled into the chair. "Your father keeps a decent collection, as I can tell."

I froze. "How did you-"

"The cabinet right at the end of the hallway," He looked straight ahead. "I make it my business to know these things."

I found myself walking to our alcohol cabinet, hands shaking as I reached for the crystal decanter. The amber liquid caught the lamplight as I poured a generous measure into a glass.

When I returned, Klaus looked almost relaxed and at ease—something I had never seen in him before. I felt ridiculous, but I couldn’t take any chances with the unpredictable original. I quickly put the glass down on the ground and grabbed an umbrella from near the front door, using it to push the glass past the barrier.

“Really, love? A bit overly cautious?” he remarked, accepting the scotch as he leaned down to pick up the glass.

“I don’t think it’s possible for someone to be too cautious around you, Klaus,” I replied, rolling my eyes.

I paused in disbelief as the reality sank in: an old vampire, let alone an original, was willing to help me with my school paper. "Hold on, I need to grab a few things," I mumbled under my breath before quickly climbing the stairs to retrieve my laptop and phone.

I also snatched a thick blanket, anticipating the cool air outside at this time of night.

Making my way back down the stairs, I bundled myself in the warm blanket and settled in the doorway, tucking my legs under for added coziness. With my laptop balanced on my lap, I turned to face him.

He sat across from me with a playful smile on his face, his words laced with flirtatiousness. "You are a most intriguing creature," he declared, his dark eyes sparkling mischievously.

My gaze traveled over his handsome features, admiring every detail - from the sharp angle of his jaw to the way his hair fell across his forehead.

Feeling a blush spread across my cheeks, I cleared my throat nervously. "Sh-should we get started?" I stammered.

"By all means," Klaus responded, raising his glass in a small toast before taking a sip of the scotch. "But where would you like to start? The Roaring Twenties were quite an eventful decade, after all."

I chewed at my bottom lip momentarily, scanning the information I had already collected on my screen. "Gangsters and speakeasies," I finally said. "Prohibition and the rise of organized crime."

His mouth quivered upwards slightly into a smile. "A fascinating period indeed." He leaned back in his chair, looking every inch the relaxed gentleman. Yet, there was an ominous stillness about him that contradicted his comfortable appearance.

He began to speak, describing the decadence and vibrancy of the 1920s with a vividness that only someone who lived through it could possess. His stories were filled with tales of moonshine and jazz, of raucous parties and hushed backroom deals.

As he spun his colorful narratives, I found myself increasingly drawn in by his storytelling, my homework temporarily forgotten. His voice wove a tapestry of the past so tangible that I felt as though I could almost touch it.

"There was this feeling in the air," he tried to explain with a far-off look in his eyes. "A desperation...a recklessness. It was as if everyone knew they were dancing on the edge of a cliff - but they were too caught up in their own enjoyment to care."

Then he shifted gears and tales of extravagance turned grimmer as he began narrating about the violent underbelly of the age - amoral gangsters with Tommy guns ruling cityscapes through fear and intimidation, corruption permeating every layer of society.

His violent accounts of the past made my blood run cold reminding me exactly who – or rather 'what' – Klaus really was - an ancient supernatural creature capable of unspeakable horrors, who had lived through centuries of human history, who had seen - no, done - the very worst humanity had to offer.

Yet, for all that he was and all that I knew him to be, in that moment, as he sat back in that old wooden chair recounting a bygone era with an almost nostalgic air about him – Klaus seemed startlingly human.

Hours passed and the moon climbed higher in the sky. The cold crept into my bones, stiffening my fingers against the keyboard. But I had too many questions and Klaus seemed more than willing to answer them.

A sense of camaraderie began to settle between us, one that made me forget for a few minutes about the inconceivable dangers associated with his kind. The night felt less threatening with Klaus’ presence - his tales from the past bridging the divide as we sat together under the chilling autumn wind sharing stories – his so supernaturally old and mine so humanly young.

As the night began to fade, a tinge of sadness crept into my heart, knowing that this evening was coming to an end. The weight of reality pressed down on me as I faced Klaus. His striking eyes, glowing like liquid gold in the dim light, were fixated on me once again. His eyes held a vast depth of knowledge, and for a moment, I was entranced by their mysteries.

"Is there anything else you'd like to know?" he asked, finishing the last sip of his scotch.

My eyes still locked onto his and I shook my head slowly, a soft smile playing on my lips. More than anything, I wanted to indulge in this moment just a bit longer.

"No," I replied, fingers absentmindedly tracing the edges of my laptop. "That...that's enough for now."

He chuckled softly, draining the last remnants of the amber liquid from his glass and placing it softly on the porch floor. Rising up from the chair, he stretched subtly, the muscles rippling under his attire creating a muscular silhouette against the glow of the approaching dawn.

"Very well then," he said, stepping towards me. He extended his hand to help me up from the cold wooden floor. As I reached out to accept it, a spark seemed to dart between us, potent and electrifying. I recoiled my hand before grabbing his realizing that he could pull me out from the protective barrier. I saw him frown for a moment but he recovered quickly as if it didn’t bother him.

“I should leave now, little creature,” he says almost endearingly.

"Wait." I scrambled to get him to stay in some way a little longer. "What about the message for Elena?"

"Ah yes." He paused at the edge of the porch steps. "Don’t worry your pretty mind about Elena’s business.”

"You're not going to explain what you meant about the item she's searching for?"

"Some discoveries are best made firsthand." He turned back, shadows playing across his features. "Besides, I've given you plenty to work with - both for your paper and for Elena."

My fingers clutched the laptop tighter. "Why help me at all?"

"Perhaps I enjoy nurturing young minds." His voice carried back through the darkness. "Or perhaps I simply appreciate anyone willing to look beyond the surface of history's official narrative."

My lips parted, ready to speak, but before I could even form a word, Klaus had vanished into thin air without uttering a simple 'goodbye'. The absurdity of the situation made me laugh, despite everything that had just transpired. I chuckled softly under my breath as I stood alone staring out at the vacant street from my front door. 

I remained motionless for a while, hearing the cicadas pick up their song again, questioning whether the strange meeting had been real.

His empty scotch glass remained on the porch, catching moonlight like a diamond in the rough. I stared at it, mind racing through every detail of our conversation. Klaus's words about speakeasies, the hidden rooms, the secrets, crimes - they painted a vivid picture of the 1920s . But something nagged at me.

I pulled my phone out and opened my messages to Elena.

"Klaus was here. Said he found 'the item' you were looking for claims it's not what you think. Warning you about buried treasures?" My thumb hit over the send button.

The response came seconds later: "WHAT? Are you okay? Stay inside!"

"I'm fine. He couldn't cross the threshold." I glanced at the empty chair. "Elena, what's this item he mentioned?"

"Don't worry about that. We're turning around and heading back home now."

"It's late, I'm safe. He's gone." I looked at my laptop proud of the notes I'd taken. I set it aside on a table by the front door.

Elena's response buzzed through. "Be safe. We'll talk in a little bit. Lock everything."

"I will. Don't worry so much." I picked up the blanket ready to close the door. 

But the empty scotch glass still sat on the porch I couldn't resist the urge to clean up.

"I really should bring that inside," I thought to myself, stepping over the threshold to grab it.

My fingers had barely closed around the glass when the air shifted. A rush of movement slammed me back against the house wall, knocking the breath from my lungs. Klaus's hands pressed on either side of my head, caging me in.

"Careful, love." His breath ghosted across my cheek. "Crossing thresholds can be dangerous business."

My heart thundered against my ribs. "You were waiting."

"Watching." His eyes traced my face with an intensity that made my skin prickle. "To see if temptation would overpower your better judgment once more."

"I just wanted the glass-" My voice sounded weak even to my own ears.

"Fascinating." His thumb traced along my jawline, the touch feather-light yet electric. "Your heart's racing, but you're not trying to run."

I pressed my palms flat against the wall behind me, desperate for something solid to ground me. "Maybe I know it wouldn't make a difference."

"Oh, it would make all the difference." Klaus's other hand slid down to rest at the curve of my neck, his fingers cool against my pulse point. "The chase always adds such... excitement."

"Is that what this is to you? A game?"

"Life's a game, love. The trick is knowing which pieces to move." His thumb brushed across my bottom lip, and my breath caught. "And when to take risks."

The wind rustled through the trees, carrying the sharp scent of autumn leaves. Klaus's body blocked most of the porch light now, casting us both in shadow.

He spoke softly, his accent flowing over the words like smooth silk.

"What fascinates you more - the monster or the man?"

"I-" The word stuck in my throat as his fingers traced patterns on my skin. "Both. Neither. I don't know."

"Now that's honesty." He shifted closer, until barely a breath separated us. "Most humans choose one or the other. They either crave the darkness or desperately seek the light." His nose skimmed along my cheek. "But you... you see both, don't you? The artist and the killer. The teacher and the terror."

One of my hands found their way to his chest, but I couldn't tell if I meant to push him away or pull him closer. The fabric of his jacket was soft under my fingertips, hiding the immortal strength beneath.

My head was spinning, my thoughts scattered as Klaus's proximity overwhelmed me. I wanted to push him away, to run inside and lock the door behind me. But at the same time, I couldn't deny that a part of me was drawn to him, intrigued by his words and his touch.

"You shouldn't be here," I managed to say, my voice trembling.

Klaus's lips curved into a predatory smile. "But I am."

I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. "Why? Why do you keep coming back?"

He leaned in even closer, his lips brushing against my ear. "Because you intrigue me."

I shivered at the feeling of his warm breath on my skin. "What do you want from me?"

"What do I want?" He pulled back slightly, studying my face with those piercing blue eyes. "I want to show you what real passion is, love. To open your eyes to a world beyond your mundane existence."

I couldn't deny the spark of curiosity that flickered within me at his words. But I refused to give in so easily.

"I know what passion is," I said stubbornly.

"Do you? Has anyone ever made your heart race like this?" Klaus's hand trailed down my neck and over my chest before resting on my waist.

I swallowed hard as he leaned in again, our faces so close that our noses were almost touching.

"I can make you feel things you've never felt before," he whispered against my lips.

His words sent a shiver down my spine, but I couldn't let myself succumb to him just yet.

"Who says I want that?" I challenged, trying not to let his nearness cloud my judgment.

"You do." His voice was low and confident. "You crave excitement and danger just as much as you fear it."

I wanted to deny it, but deep down I knew he was right. There was a part of me that longed for something more, something beyond the endless cycle of work, eat, and sleep.

"I'm not like you," I insisted, searching his eyes for some grain of understanding. Yet all I saw were galaxies of blue teasing me with unparalleled enigma.

His laughter echoed through the night, as soft and alluring as forbidden velvet. "Oh darling, nobody said you had to be." The fingers at my waist tightened slightly, pulling me inescapably closer. "All you need to be is... open."

"Open to what?" I whispered, my voice quivering, my heart hammered wildly against my chest.

His lips crashed into mine, fierce and demanding, with a passion that spoke of centuries of longing. The glass slipped from my trembling fingers, shattering on the wooden planks beneath us. My hands found his jacket lapels, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened, my fingers curling into the expensive fabric. His fingers tangled in my hair, tilting my head back as his mouth moved against mine with desperate intensity, every touch igniting fire beneath my skin.

My heart thundered against my ribs, matching the fierce rhythm of his immortal strength pressing against me. I could feel centuries of loneliness and desire in the way he held me, his touch alternating between gentle reverence and possessive need. The wooden porch railing pressed into my back, grounding me in this moment that felt suspended between reality and dream.

His hand slid down my spine, leaving trails of fire in its wake, each touch a dangerous promise that made me shiver. I arched into him, gasping as his teeth grazed my lower lip, the gesture both tender and predatory. The rough wood siding pressed against my back, splinters catching at my sweater, a stark reminder of reality that did nothing to break the spell of his presence.

"Such sweet surrender," Klaus breathed against my mouth, his accent thicker with desire. His stubble scraped my skin as he traced kisses along my jaw, each one deliberate and claiming. "And here I thought you were the cautious one, love."

My fingers clutched his shoulders, seeking anchor in a storm of sensation, feeling the immortal strength beneath his expensive jacket. "I am cautious."

"Evidently not." His laugh vibrated against my throat, dark and rich like aged whiskey. "Though I must admit, your recklessness is... intoxicating."

The word snapped something in my brain, cutting through the haze of desire like a knife. Intoxicating. Dangerous. Deadly. Every warning Elena had ever given me about Klaus crashed back like a tidal wave - stories of his cruelty, his manipulation, the trail of broken bodies he'd left across centuries.

"Wait." I pressed my palms against his chest, feeling his heart beat slow and steady beneath my hands. "Stop."

To my surprise, he did. Klaus pulled back just enough to meet my gaze, his eyes dark with hunger that wasn't entirely vampiric, predatory desire written in every line of his immortal face. "Having second thoughts?"

"I'm having all the thoughts." My voice shook, betraying the chaos in my mind. "Every single one I should have had before I stepped outside this threshold. Every warning bell that should have rung hours ago."

"And yet here you are." His thumb traced circles on my hip, each movement sending shivers down my spine. "Making choices that would terrify your friends. Defying every careful warning they've whispered behind closed doors."

"They'd be right to be terrified." I swallowed hard, feeling the weight of my own recklessness. "You're..."

"A monster?" His smile held no warmth, just centuries of dark promises. "We've established that love. Multiple times tonight. Or have you forgotten our earlier conversations?"

"No, you're..." I struggled to form coherent thoughts with him still pressed against me, his presence overwhelming every sense. The scent of aged whiskey and leather clouded my mind, making it impossible to think straight.

"You're Klaus. You don't do this - whatever this is. You have schemes and plans and..." I drew in a shaky breath, acutely aware of how his touch seemed to burn through the thin fabric of my shirt. "You don't get distracted like this. You're always ten steps ahead of everyone else."

"Perhaps this is part of a scheme." His fingers skimmed up my side, leaving trails of fire in their wake. The predatory gleam in his eyes made my heart stutter. "Or perhaps you've simply caught my interest. A thousand years on this earth, and still you manage to surprise me."

"That might be worse." My voice came out barely above a whisper, heavy with the weight of what those words could mean. The thought of being truly interesting to Klaus Mikaelson was more terrifying than any calculated plot.

His laugh was genuine this time. "Smart girl." He stepped back, leaving me cold in the autumn air. "Though not quite smart enough to stay inside, it seems."

I wrapped my arms around myself, looking down at the shattered glass as I shifted uncomfortably on the porch. "You orchestrated this whole thing." The realization settled like lead in my stomach.

"The history lesson? Yes. The kiss?" His eyes glinted dangerously in the porch light pleased. "That was all you, love. Crossing thresholds, chasing after crystal glasses... Such impulsive decisions."

"You could have just taken the glass with you when you left." Even to my own ears, the argument sounded weak, defensive.

"And miss this delightful demonstration of poor judgment?" Klaus brushed a strand of hair from my face, his fingers lingering a moment too long against my cheek. "Where would be the fun in that?"

My phone buzzed insistently in my pocket - probably Elena again, wondering why I wasn't responding. Klaus's eyes flickered down to the sound, a calculating expression crossing his features.

"You should answer that. Your friends are quite protective." He took another step back. "Though I doubt they'd approve of tonight's... extracurricular activities."

"Don't." Heat flooded my cheeks as my hand instinctively touched my still-tingling lips. "This was a mistake."

"Was it?" He crouched down, picking up a large shard of broken crystal, his movements deliberately slow and graceful. "Seems more like an education to me. History, chemistry..." The glass caught moonlight as he turned it between his fingers, creating dancing patterns on the porch walls. "A practical lesson in crossing lines."

My phone buzzed again, the vibration seeming to echo in the tense silence between us. Klaus straightened back up to his full height.

"Your friends are getting impatient." Klaus stepped closer, his boots crunching over broken glass. "Though I must say, their timing leaves much to be desired."

I backed up against the door, heart pounding. "I should go inside."

"Should you?" His fingers traced the invisible barrier at the threshold. "We both know that's not what you want."

"What I want isn't always what's best for me."

"Now that's where you're wrong, love." Klaus's eyes locked with mine, intense and magnetic. His gaze held centuries of dark promises, sending shivers down my spine. "Sometimes the most dangerous choices yield the sweetest rewards. Why deny yourself?"

"Because I actually want to stay alive?" My wavering voice revealed my hesitation.

"No." His smile turned predatory, revealing just a hint of fang. "You're curious. Drawn to the darkness, even as you pretend to fear it." He gestured at the door behind me, his rings catching the porch light. "A couple of words, (y/n). That's all it would take. Invite me in."

Heat flooded my cheeks, and I gripped the door knob. "So you can what? Add me to your list of conquests?"

"So we can explore this... chemistry between us." His accent wrapped around the words like silk, each syllable a caress. "Don't pretend you haven't felt it building all evening. The way your heart races when I'm near, how your breath catches at my touch." His words hit too close to home, making my pulse stutter traitorously.

"Klaus..." The name came out as barely more than a whisper.

"Say yes." His hand hovered near my face, not quite touching, but I could feel the heat radiating from his skin. "Give in to what we both want."

My phone buzzed a third time, insistent and grounding. The familiar vibration cut through the spell he was weaving around me. I closed my eyes, fighting against the pull of his presence. "I can't."

"Can't?" His voice carried an edge of danger. "Or won't?"

"Both." I gripped the door frame harder, using the rough wood to anchor myself. "My friends trust me. I won't betray that."

"Loyalty." Klaus spat the word like poison. "Such a human weakness." His fingers traced the invisible barrier again, testing its limits. "And yet, it's precisely that quality which makes you..." He paused, searching for the right word. "Fascinating."

"I'm not fascinating." The words came out sharper than intended. "I'm just trying to survive in a world that keeps getting more complicated by the day."

"You underestimate yourself." His hand dropped to his side. "Most humans would have slammed the door in my face hours ago. But you..." His eyes raked over me, intense and calculating. "You stayed. Listened. Learned."

"Maybe I just needed help with my history paper."

"We both know that's not true." Klaus stepped back, his boots crunching over broken glass. "You're drawn to power, to knowledge. To danger." He smiled, all predator. "To me."

My phone buzzed again, the sound almost angry now. Klaus's eyes flickered to my pocket.

"Answer it." He gestured dismissively. "Before they send a search party."

"They might anyway." I pulled the phone out with trembling fingers. "Elena's not exactly the trusting type these days."

"Can you blame her?" Klaus's eyes glinted with dark amusement. "After everything that's happened in this town, trust becomes quite the precious commodity."

The screen lit up my face as I checked the messages. Four texts from Elena, each more worried than the last.

"Tell me something." I looked up from the phone. "Was any of this real? The history lessons, the stories?"

"Every word." Klaus picked up another shard of glass, turning it in the moonlight. "Though I admit, my motivations weren't entirely... academic."

"You could have just asked me out like a normal person."

His laugh echoed across the porch. "Normal? Love, I haven't been normal for a thousand years." He kicked the glass shards. "Besides, where's the intrigue in that?"

My phone buzzed again. Elena's name flashed across the screen, this time with a call.

"You should answer that." Klaus nodded toward the phone. "Your friend's persistence is admirable, if somewhat inconvenient."

I swiped to accept the call, keeping my eyes on Klaus. "Elena?"

"(y/n)! Thank god. Are you okay? Why weren't you answering?"

Klaus's smirk widened at Elena's panicked tone. He mouthed 'tell her' with a challenging raise of his eyebrow.

"I'm fine." I turned away from his taunting expression. "Just got caught up in my history paper. Lost track of time."

"You're sure everything's alright?"

"Perfectly fine." The lie tasted bitter on my still-tingling lips. "I'll see you tomorrow at school."

Klaus's low chuckle carried across the porch as I ended the call. "Such a convincing liar. I'm almost impressed."

"Don't." I slipped the phone back into my pocket. "This doesn't change anything."

"No?" He crossed the distance between us in two fluid steps. "Then why lie to your dear friend Elena? Why not tell her I'm still here?"

My back pressed against the door frame as he leaned in, his breath ghosting across my cheek. The scent of whiskey and leather overwhelmed my senses.

"Because she'd try to save me." The words came out before I could stop them.

"And you don't want to be saved." His fingers traced the curve of my jaw. "Say it, love. Invite me in."His words hung in the air between us, heavy with promise and danger.

His touch left fire in its wake, each caress stoking the flames higher. My skin felt too tight, too sensitive, every brush of his fingers sending sparks through my nervous system. The rough wood of the house wall dug into my back, the only anchor keeping me from drowning in sensation.

"Please..." The word escaped before I could stop it, breathy and desperate.

"Please what?" His tone is dangerous and seductive. His thumb traced my bottom lip, pressing lightly. "Be specific, love."

Each feather light touch from his hand felt like a jolt of electricity, sending shivers down my spine and causing my muscles to tense in anticipation.

Each circle he traced made me arch closer, seeking more contact.

"I..." The words tangled in my throat as his lips found that spot behind my ear that made my knees weak. "God, Klaus..."

"Not quite the invitation I'm looking for." His teeth grazed my skin, drawing a gasp from my lips. "Try again."

The rational part of my brain screamed warnings, but it was drowning in a sea of want. His hands, his mouth, his voice - everything about him demanded surrender. And I wanted to give in, wanted it with an intensity that frightened me.

"Come..." My voice shook as his fingers tangled in my hair.

He chuckled deeply, his hot breath rolling down my neck. "Come what, love?" His voice was a soft purr, dangerously coercive. He was playing with me and we both knew it.

"Come...in." I finally managed, the words barely making their way past the lump in my throat. His lips drew into a triumphant smirk as he pulled back, meeting my gaze with an intense hunger in his eyes.

"That wasn't so hard, now was it?" He asked, his voice dripping with satisfaction.

Before I could gather my thoughts, he swept me into his arms, effortlessly crossing the threshold of my front door. A thrilling rush surged through me, igniting my senses and replacing any trace of fear with a tantalizing excitement that I couldn't resist

“You are mine now,” he growled, slamming the door with a loud thud that reverberated through the house. The heavy weight of finality hung in the air, a declaration that left no room for argument or negotiation. Everything had changed with those words, and the once familiar surroundings now felt foreign and dangerous.

As his words settled in, I couldn't help but feel a sense of foreboding wash over me. This was my new reality, and there was no going back to how things used to be.