#on the surface you’d interpret it as things going his way

[kentopedia]

carefully, i was going to live

FEATURING. past nanami kento x f!reader, gojo satoru x reader — wc: 2.9k

SUMMARY: you and gojo realize you share the same kind of pain.

CONTENTS: shibuya arc / jjk s2 spoilers, death, grief, depression, suicidal thoughts, references to disordered eating, implied satosugu, platonic gojo x reader, anger, angst, gojo isn’t sealed

note: reader & gojo’s relationship for the future is up to your interpretation. title is from a mitski song <3

The world was bleak outside your window.

With November came the death of all things beautiful. The trees grew barren, flowers wilted into dreary puddles, the sky turned a muddy shade of grey, and your house transformed into a tomb.

It was almost evening now. The streets were busy with people commuting home from work, children skipping along sidewalks after a tedious day at school. Each expression became the epitome of human nature, and through all their ups and downs, there they stood, alive.

You blinked at the scene, just enough to wet your eyes, trying to ignore the spiteful hatred that bubbled up in you against cheerful strangers.

When the women had a smile on their faces, your mind easily morphed them into miserable frowns, weaved a story of how their partners treated them terribly. Children’s loud giggles turned into wretched cries, sobs from spoiled complaints of not getting their way. Men’s casual conversations on their cell phones became a long-winded rant of how their job was slowly destroying them.

There wasn’t anything left for you in the world but misery. It should only be fair that other people received the same.

Perhaps that was an evil thought, but you didn’t care. The bed was cold, and it had started to smell of something awful from the sheets that housed your own grime and sweat. You shivered, bundling yourself up in the blankets more.

An ache increased in your stomach before it grumbled, breaking the silence. Though, it suppressed its own pleas, knowing better than to suspect sustenance after so many evenings of emptiness. Over and over, you ignored your hunger, a part of you hoping that your body would begin to devour itself from the inside out.

Perhaps, then, you’d finally achieve the peace that you’d been longing for.

From the world inside your mind, Kento scolded you, begged you to pull yourself out of the darkness that you’d crawled into. He’d be unhappy, that much was certain. One look at your unkempt hair would put a crease between his eyebrows. He’d recoil at the piled trash that you’d been too exhausted to take out.

Still, you knew better than to believe he’d be anything but kind about it. Stern, maybe, but uncompromising words would never leave his lips without soft eyes and a sad smile.

You swallowed down the nausea that erupted from within you, and buried yourself deeper into the pillow, wishing the couple in the distance would cease their affectionate embrace.

A tear collected on your lash line.

For a moment, you let yourself fall into the painful peace of delusion. A phantom touch rested on your skin, comforting fingertips dancing along your hip. Kento Nanami’s love pressed into every subtle graze. Please. Let me help you.

His voice was raspy, unfamiliar, and you wondered if you were starting to forget the sound of it, the exact inflection of his words, even though you listened to his painfully short inbox message every day, replayed the voicemails he left you more often than music.

A dry sob forced its way up, though no sound released as you squeezed Kento’s pillow tighter, digging your nose into the cotton. You were desperate for his lingering scent, but it had been two weeks since he’d been killed, and there was nothing left of him.

Still, you sprayed his old cologne on every surface, left everything as he had, and pretended that he was still around.

Grief hugged you tight, trying to embody the embrace that Kento had once given you. You didn’t hear the knock at your front door, muffled from two rooms away and the constant swirl of your heartbroken musings.

No one had visited you in two weeks. Itadori had tried, but you’d screamed far too cruelly at him, even though he was just a kid, and none of this was his fault. The list of guests had been shortened since then.

You didn’t blame them.

Someone said your name, though it was distant, and it was easy to chalk it up to your imagination. Though, the plea became a whisper through a grisly storm, then a scream over the fierce winds in an attempt to reach you.

You opened your eyes, shifting to face the noise. 

Satoru Gojo stood at the edge of your bed, his large frame towering over you with every ounce of power he’d been born with, his slack jaw unable to hide his horror at the mess you’d made of yourself. Blindfolded eyes flicked across the room, then, his lips curled into a grimace.

“You’ve been ignoring my calls,” he said. Another sound but your own breath was so unnatural in the stale room. It took you far too long to understand him.  

You blinked back once, before rolling over to return your attention to the window once more, the scene beyond it still playing like a television series. Kento had always hated that your bedroom had a view of the city, some illusion of privacy gone now that he could see the world outside. Though, it was the only thing you could be grateful for now, as that square panel of glass became your salvation.  

“Sorry.” Your voice was hoarse, raspy. You weren’t sure when you’d used it last. “Phone’s dead.” It had been for days. The slender device rested useless on your nightstand, and you wondered how many people had died since Kento; jujutsu sorcerers didn’t stop fighting just because you had.

Gojo shuffled around the room. You peered over your shoulder to see him sliding the charger into your phone, the screen lighting up later with a bright logo and a ding.

“Everyone’s been calling.” His back was to you, muscles taut with exhaustion and strain. “There aren’t enough sorcerers. We’ve lost so many people.”

You tensed and considered blocking your ears, humming a song like a petulant child. No part of you wanted to hear about Jujutsu. Satoru Gojo could manage on his own, and you didn’t give a damn about saving the world anymore.

“I can’t help you,” you said, realizing just how true that was. There wasn’t an ounce of energy within your body.

Though you had let yourself rot, you had grand plans of finding a curse you could never defeat. You would never be strong enough in your current state, and that was alright. You just wanted to go out with some semblance of a purpose, as Kento had. Maybe that way, it wouldn’t feel so much like a suicide.

“I know,” Gojo sighed, and you waited a minute before he spoke again. “That’s not why I came.”

You breathed; the process was no longer subconscious. “Then why are you here?”

Gojo came around the bed to stand in front of you once more, so close that he blocked your view of the window. His icy irises had been revealed, somehow warning you just how serious he was about this intervention.

The laugh you couldn’t muster up came out in a shaky exhale. You weren’t scared of Gojo, and you certainly weren’t impressed by him enough to listen to whatever wisdom he wanted to bestow upon you.

“I just want to help my old friend.” A twinge of pity in his voice irritated you, even though it was warranted. The scene before him couldn’t evoke any sort of emotion except for pathetic despair. “Is that so hard to believe?”

“No.” Your muscles were weak as you maneuvered your shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. “I just don’t care. Not even Satoru Gojo can fix everything. I thought you’ve learned that by now.” It was cruel, you knew that, but you spat the words without regret, rolling onto your back.

The stiffness in your hips alleviated, and finally, he couldn’t pin you with his gaze. You could only imagine the way he’d flinched at your comment, wondering when the shy, sweet girl from his youth had become such a bitter woman.  

Your eyes glued to the ceiling, and you imagined Kento there beside you, staring at you with a wistful smile while you merely blinked up at the white walls.

Gojo said your name again. Then he was tugging on your arm, and the clench around your heart unfurled, bringing you away from the desperate fantasy.

“Look at me,” Gojo said, and his words were harsher, exasperated, and you realized he’d been talking this entire time, minutes of one-sided conversation flowing in one ear and out the other.

“No, Satoru,” you growled, trying to resist, even though you didn’t have the strength. He pulled you to a seated position easily, forcing you to look at him once more, and never let go of your wrist. “Get out of my house.”

“Not until you talk to me.”

“Get out.”

“No.” Satoru stared at you, his eyes cold and unflinching, and for a moment, you realized just how fearsome he could be, why so many curses looked him in the eye and remembered that they didn’t stand a chance. Then, he blinked, and that image was gone, left with the picture of a broken man who had lost too many friends, and was trying not to lose you too. “You won’t talk to anyone; you won’t see anyone. You’re destroying yourself like this. I won’t let it go on any longer.”

The sympathy and disappointment in his voice disgusted you, and you recoiled with a renewed strength, slapping his hand away. “I don’t care if you want to be a hero now. You couldn’t help Kento, and you can’t help me. What good is being the strongest if you can’t even save the people that you care about?”

Gojo tensed, his jaw clenching like you’d slapped him across the face. That, at least, gave you some sort of satisfaction, even if it only lasted for a moment. A twinge of regret started, burning brighter and brighter until the weight of your comment came down on you.

There was a point to being angry at the world, to projecting your suffering onto strangers. They would never bear witness to every ounce of your misery. But Gojo had known you since you were a child, had cared about Kento too, and you were treating him no better than the curses that had killed the man you loved.

“Fine,” Gojo said more tersely. “I can’t help you. You have to want to help yourself, too.” He raked a hand across his face, revealing dark, purple circles, and sallow skin. The two of you were an ugly picture—the perfect personification of every struggle a jujutsu sorcerer could experience. “I just thought you’d want to know you still have a friend. Nanami and Haibara may be gone, and…” He looked away, mouth pulling down further. “Suguru, but I’m still here, you know?”

You swallowed, even though your lips were too parched to produce any saliva. They were cottony and stuck together as you spoke. “Don’t come back here, Gojo.” Though you swayed, lightheaded, you didn’t lay back down, only curled your knees into your chest, feeling small. “I don’t want to be a sorcerer anymore. I don’t want to remember any of it.”

Gojo hesitated, disappointed that his previous comment hadn’t hit as hard as he’d intended.

“What will you do, then?” he asked, his hands helplessly dangling by his side before he moved to sit beside you.

“Nothing.” The word felt like a punishment to say, even when that’s all you’d been doing, for days. Your life meant nothing anymore, so there was no point in trying. “I’ll forget I ever loved Kento Nanami and then I’ll disappear.”

Gojo’s face turned, his eyes narrowing, lips curling down. “No, you won’t.”

You almost came back with a childish retort—but it no longer seemed worth it. You turned back towards the window, wondering if it would rain soon. The sky looked like it might.

“Why not?”

“Because you’re the only person still alive who knew Nanami exactly as he was. There are people out there who cared enough about the both of you to not let you throw that all away.”

Guilt gnawed at you. Kento may not have ever respected Gojo for his decisions as a sorcerer, but deep down, he’d always known that he was a good man who tried to do right by everyone.

“What am I supposed to do, then?” you said, quietly at first, swallowing back the heavy emotions that weighed on you. Satoru watched you, never interrupting, though your pause was long and burdened. “I just want it to stop. It hurts so much, Satoru.”

“I know.”

“Everyone moved on like Shibuya never happened.” You twirled the ring around your finger as the heavy tears returned, ones that you’d thought had long been expelled. It seemed impossible that someone should be able to cry without end, yet, your grief was unrelenting, and your cheeks grew wet once more. “Everyone kept going, and I can’t do that. I can’t pretend like I didn’t lose my entire future. I’m never going to get married, Satoru. I’ll never be able to—”

You stopped, choked by your own emotions as a lump rose in your throat, sour like bile. It was the first time you’d said the words out loud. They tasted worse than they felt in your mind. You’d never be able to call Kento Nanami your husband.

Gojo’s eyes softened, and though he reached for you, you flinched away, swallowing over and over to bury your tears. Heaving breaths came, unsteady.

“Nanami wouldn’t want this for you.” It was cruel, too close to mockery to make you feel anything but anger.

You already knew that you were disappointing the man who loved you with every fiber of his being. The sight of you so weakened would wreck Kento, but you couldn’t get yourself to move out of the house. Not even when your skin yearned for a ray of sunlight, or your body screamed for something other than the stale convenience store snacks.

“Don’t say that. Kento’s not here anymore.” His name came out choked on your lips, the first time you’d said it since screaming it in misery. The word didn’t feel so much like love anymore. It was sorrow, wrapped into two tiny syllables. “What he’d want doesn’t matter.”

Satoru lowered his voice, treating you as fragile as you’d become, uncertain how to speak to someone who would never want to listen. “It does matter. He loved you so much.”

You covered your ears, squeezed your eyes shut. “Satoru, please. Stop it.”

“He’d want you to be happy—”

“I don’t care.” You spoke over his ramblings and pushed him away until you were certain he’d fall off the bed. Though, it did nothing to move him, strong and steadfast Satoru Gojo who would never be toppled. “You just don’t understand. I replay it over and over in my head, wondering why I wasn’t there, why you weren’t there.” You dropped your head in your hands, breathing into your palms like a paper bag. “It’s not fair.”

“Nothing’s fair.” Satoru said, the age-old cliché, a hand hesitant on your wrist. He was quiet when he said your name again. “I know how you feel.”

“No you don’t.” You slapped him away, even when he held strong, even when he let you see the anguish he usually hid away, let it erase the warmth from his expression.

You remembered dark long hair, kind brown eyes, a young man who had once held such a promising future. Two best friends that perhaps had been more, never sharing the secrets of their ill-fated bond.

“No, you don’t.”

Gojo was scooting closer, pulling you into his arms, the embrace tight, protective.

He was serious and sullen in a way that you hadn’t seen since Geto died. Gojo was a master at veiling his emotions in laughter, but it seemed now that your own emptiness was reflected back at you, the sheer desire to stop existing all at once.

“I know it better than anyone.” Nothing more than a whisper. The tears were too heavy and hot; there was nothing you could do to stop them. “You’re not alone.”

You were quiet for a moment, then another, before everything that you’d been feeling for the past two weeks crashed upon you like a wave, drowning you, and you were unable to breathe, clinging to Gojo like he was the only thing holding you above water.

You’d known Kento for ten years. You’d been strangers, friends, lovers parted by death before either of you had turned thirty, and though you weren’t the only person who had lost someone in Shibuya, you felt like the only one who was too weak to recover from it.

“Satoru.” Your voice broke. “I don’t know how to live without him.”

Gojo smiled. “You find a way.” Said so confidently, a man who’d been through it all before, and your heart shattered with sobs that came out uncontrollably, soaking Satoru’s shoulder.

Desperately, you clawed at his back, wishing you could wear his skin as a protective shield, could tear his heart out of his chest and trade it for your own, if only to gain an ounce of his strength. He held you tight in his arms, but nothing about him was the same, right down to the very blue eyes that had lost all their arrogance. Both had dimmed, and even the infinity within them seemed to end.

He didn’t smell like Kento, didn’t feel like Kento—but no one else had comforted you since he’d died, so you let him. Satoru kissed your forehead with an affection you’d already forgotten, reminding you to move on.

You never would.

[not-neverland06]

If requests are still open, how about headcanons of Heisenberg with a reader that is a fifth lord. Reader's Cadou allows them to manipulate sound (radio) waves, and go as far as sonic scream. No pressure or rush, just curious on your interpretation :)

Karl Heisenberg x GN!reader A/N: This is only the second time I’ve done HC’s and I’m still struggling to get a grasp on them. Thank you for the request, your prompt was interesting to think about. This is a little short, so if I didn’t give you what you wanted let me know and I’ll try again.

He really doesn’t give a shit about you at first

Unless you go out of your way to catch his attention he’s treating you the same as he treats the rest of the family

Whatever your powers are, he’s gonna assume you’re just as bad as the rest of them and dismiss you

You have to actively make him notice you

It wouldn’t take a lot, maybe one snide comment towards Mother Miranda and suddenly you have value

“You’ve got to be kidding me?” You scoffed, glaring down at the horde of Miranda’s worshippers that had surrounded the old church. You’d just been passing through town, picking something up from the duke before heading back up the mountain. 

Heisenberg happened to be there at the same time. You weren’t sure what his deal with the Duke was but it seemed to be complicated. His head perked up as you glared at the villagers. “What’s your problem?” He muttered, tone bitter. 

You nodded towards the villagers, “They are. All their Mother Miranda bullshit, I’m sick of it.” You walked back towards your lair, the old radio tower up in the mountain. It was the best place for you to be with the way your powers functioned, your strongest point. 

He watched as you went, staring at you contemplatively and wondering how he’d missed that hatred in your eyes. 

When he and Alcina start to argue, Miranda will just look at you and you’ll let out a scream so loud bits of drywall fall from the ceiling

It’s painful but it’s effective, you’re essentially used as a mute button when things get out of hand

You tend to avoid the others, keeping quiet and to yourself

When Miranda had first experimented on you, your experience with the sound waves had been less than pleasant

Learning to control them was difficult. The first time you spoke after waking up from her little experiment, you’d blown out your own eardrums. 

Even after you finally harnessed them, you figured that it was better to just be quiet. The times you did speak you kept your voice below a whisper. 

“You don’t talk a whole lot do you?”

You shrugged, “Only when I have to, really.” You sat in his workshop, mostly against your will. He’d invited you to dinner, though it felt like more of a command, and you’d tried to get him to make the journey up the mountain to you. 

He’d, of course, refused because he was a stubborn bastard. You didn’t even want to sit down anywhere, there was oil and blood on nearly every surface. And if it wasn’t covered in that, it was sticky with dried lycan drool. 

At least Moreau managed to keep his quarry clean.

Heisenberg hadn’t stopped staring at you since you sat down, it was starting to bug you.

You don’t normally speak with your family, mainly because you don’t really care for any of them. Having his attention on you was disturbing.

He sets his fork down on his plate and gives you an odd look, “How do your powers work, anyway?”

It was easier to show than it was to explain. You focused on the large pile of metal scraps on his desk and opened your mouth. The noise was nearly silent at first, a high pitched ringing that you questioned if you were actually hearing. 

Then it got louder, the ringing clear now. It was painful to anyone outside of the focused stream of sound waves, but it was lethal once you stepped into the stream. The metal shook, vibrating loudly against his desk. A few toppled over, the rest exploded in a violent display of clashing metal shards and sparks. 

Heisenberg clutched his ears, a small stream of blood leaking from between his fingertips. You want to apologize to him. You’ve always had a little difficulty controlling your powers in such close spaces. 

But he doesn’t look mad, he doesn’t even look like he’s in pain. Instead he’s grinning widely at you, something glinting in his eyes that had you feeling on edge. 

He sees the uniqueness of your powers, the untapped potential for violence and how helpful someone like you could be to his cause

He waters the seedling of resentment you already hold towards Miranda and helps it grow

He whispers words of hate and anger into your ear until you’re just as passionate about taking Miranda down as he is

You two work together, using your odd understanding of radio and sound waves to improve his soldat designs 

Slowly, your loyal followers from the village start to abandon you and move to different lords. Your connection to Heisenberg has soured your influence among the sheep in the village, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care

Your status as a lord meant little to you when you had him

He’s intrigued by your powers and loves to experiment with them, but more than anything there’s something soothed inside him because he’s no longer alone

He’s grateful for the support you provide when he feels like he’s just stagnant in his progress taking down Miranda

end. — I do not own the characters or the game Resident Evil Village, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[beemochi-art]

Does the Matrix do any fuckery with Prime's mind or body at times? Is the Matrix even sentient?

The matrix unfortunately does create some fuckery in primes life. But not as much as you’d think, it’s more ambitious than straight forward. it’s other… factoids related to it to Op’s deteriorating mental state.

The power of the matrix

The matrix is like the key to primus (cybertrons.) spark (Aw). It creates a deep connection with the holder and the planets core. The Matrix will attach itself to the new Primes spark, where then they will get a unique feelings and a special power. Feeling that come from the matrix is usually a calming sensation, some says it’s like a powerful fire, other primes reports an endless supply of energy. It depends on the person I guess. In Orions case, the sensation he got from the matrix was calming and gentle, the feeling of absolute comfort. He ended up sleeping. (Of course he woke up depressed but that an thing Orion probably.)

But in dire circumstances the Matrix will let’s out extreme burst of energy that can cause the older to become feral and incredible violent. This is pretty rare but as of recent times Primes have made it a focus of their training to harness this power.

Not only that, but the planet as well as it’s creatures seem to bend to the will of primes. The surface of cybertron is always shifting. At times the environment will change for the prime, and other times it falls completely still. Some primes have the ability to connect with some of the most dangerous creatures on the planet. It works in mysterious ways but will never be completely tamed.

It also connects all the primes to each other, both dead and alive.

A prime doesn’t have to actually die to have the matrix passed to another. If a Prime were to die and just anyone pick it up and tried to use it, the matrix is a glorified paperweight. No one really understands how the matrix chooses and when it leaves. How long all this is or anything for that matter. It’s a mystery. It is said to come at dark times.

Even tho the Matrix is gone from the holder the bond formed with planet and past/present primes will never go away. Leading a curtain level of entitlement.

The point is the matrix never had any specific rules of in place except a description that reads till all are one. The matrix isn’t inherently a good or bad object either. It chose both sentinel and zeta at one point, but it also chose Optimus.

Right of passage

Any Rules and Rituals set in place have all been written by past primes. Shuttle interpretations her and there over millions of years just became law.

In cybertron society to be Prime is to be the emperor of the whole planet. It is the highest class system you can on cybertron. But a prime must prove themselves worthy to the people first.

One of Sentinels lessons was, if you can conquer primus creatures you can conquer her people.

So he’ll take his knights to Uraya for a lil field trip. The idea is to find the biggest baddest creature and tame it. Normally these trips are unserious and unsuccessful. But when he took Orion he was completely serious.

Conquering different cities and cultures being the main focus of most of a primes training. A prime cannot be a stranger to killing.

A prime is supposed to be a representation of cybertrons strength and strike fear to their lessers. So before they are presented to the public modifications must be made to not break this belief. Optimus is heavily modified. Most of him was reconstructed.

Older primes will share parts of themselves with the new prime. Allowing them to have pieces of their own frame. Optimus eyes are not his.

By the time a prime has been presented to the public, they have killed, dominated and changed into something else entirely. Leaving their old weaker self behind.

In Optimus quest to become strong he realized he lost his way. He never really committed to being as horrible as Sentinel classest and a complete psychopath. But he has killed.

(I really didn’t do some of these rules in order but oh well!)

[gothgirlmahi]

Stocking Stuffer

Pairing: Violent Night (David Harbour) Santa Claus x Reader

Summary: Santa calls you into his office for a private meeting.

Warnings: breeding kink, size kink, unprotected sex, role play, use of “good girl”

Word Count: 1.7K

This was not good. This was not good at all. Never in your life had you been so behind on toy making! This year was insane!

Things weren’t like this a century ago. You could do dolls and toy cars and all sorts of board games with ease. But the kids today? It was Xbox and PlayStation and games you had never even heard of. iPhones and Fortnite and whatever else. It was never ending! It was like Santa wanted to work you all to death!

There was no possible way to keep up with it and he should have known that. You’d been meticulously checking the date and the time crunch was killing you. Every second closer to Christmas was another second you were running behind. You would finish in time, there was no doubt about that. Given that you were the leader for your team, you had a lot of pressure on you. Santa expected his elves to be hard working and pumping out those presents constantly. Normally you all could deliver, but this was obviously no normal year!

He had to understand that, right?

Apparently not. At least that’s what you suspected when you were called from your work station. One of the head elves came to collect you while you were working diligently at your desk. You couldn’t understand what could be so important to tell you during work hours. Then he dropped the bomb that Santa wanted to see you personally.

Look. You had seen Santa plenty of times when he was giving speeches and instructions, but never alone. What if he was mad at you? Oh god, what if he fired you? Could you all even get fired? Maybe you’d been watching too many human TV shows. Whatever was going on, it had your palms sweaty and your heart racing.

He led you to Santa’s office and left. Leaving you to stare down those big red and white doors you had never been inside without others to accompany you. You supposed it was now or never so you knocked.

“Who is it?” he responded after a moment’s silence. You said your name and he made a noise in affirmation before the door was pulled open.

You drew in a breath in awe as you looked up at him.

Of course you’d seen Santa plenty of times but hardly ever got this close to him. It was funny. None of the interpretations ever seemed to do him any justice. He wasn’t just some chubby old man with a white beard. He was, to your own admission, a very attractive man. With a grey beard and pretty hair that you sometimes dreamed of raking your fingers through. And he was so big. Tall, you mean. You of course didn’t know how big he was in any other areas.

Of course not.

“Just who I wanted to see. Come in.” He moved aside to let you in the door. You walked in and he closed the door behind you.

You’d been in his office before but never really had the time to look around. It was filled with little knickknacks and decorations, lots of red and white decor, and candy canes hanging from nearly every surface possible.

He gestured for you to sit in one of the chairs in front of his desk and you did, while he went and sat at his own chair behind the desk. The stern expression on his face did nothing to settle your unease.

“I hear your unit is behind this year. Do you care to explain?”

You were fully ready to grovel and beg. So you did.

“It’s been hard this year. You know, with gathering supplies and making the toys. I’ve never been late before! I’m certain we’ll have everything ready by Christmas Eve.”

He nodded, arms folded and a thoughtful look on his face.

“I hope you’re right. Everything must be ready on time. Wouldn’t it be tragic if we couldn’t deliver on our promises to the children? Imagine their sad faces.”

The thought of it made you want to cry. You’d never want to make a child sad! Your whole life revolved around creating things to make them happy!

“I’m sorry, Santa! We will have everything finished in time. We’ll do as much overtime as possible and get it done.”

He nodded before pressing his fingers to his temples, massaging them gently.

“This stress of this year has taken such a great toll on me. I’ve found myself in dire need of relief.”

Santa looked terribly stressed. You pushed forward in your chair, leaning over the desk.

“You shouldn’t feel so bad. None of this is your own fault. We’re all dealing with so many issues this year. Is there anything I can do to help you?”

“Well, there might be one thing. I was looking down in your section and you’re very productive. It’s just, that area isn’t great with stocking stuffers. We’ve had this problem with your section year after year and I think you need a demonstration.”

“A demonstration? On how to…make stocking stuffers?”

Santa shrugged folding his hands as he sat back in his chair.

“I was thinking more so a demonstration on getting stuffed.”

You blinked in confusion.

“I’m not sure I understand.”

Santa gave you a smile and a nod.

“Stand up and I’m sure I can show you.”

You stood up and carefully eyed the man in front of you as he rounded the desk, coming to stand right behind you. When you went to turn around, he held his hands firmly on your shoulders to keep you from moving. He pressed a strong hand to the middle of your back, slowly pushing you down until your upper half was flat on his desk.

When you felt him press his hips against yours, your eyes widened in surprise.

“I think I get it now,” you said, waiting in anxious anticipation for what he was going to do to you.

“You always were a smart one. Now just relax.”

He pushed your skirt up so it bunched around your waist then you heard him fiddling with the zipper of his pants. He easily ripped your panties off of you and threw them somewhere in his office.

You let out a gasp as the head of his cock pressed through your wet folds. He pushed into you slowly until his hips met your ass. Both of you groaned once he bottomed out. Santa took a firm grip in the meat of your thighs and slowly pulled out just to go back in with a vicious thrust that ripped a scream from you. He took up an absolute maniacal rhythm that had you moaning with each meeting of your skin.

“I needed this,” he murmured. His voice sounded strained.

You pressed your cheek into the desk, face staring at the wall but body fully immersed in what he was doing to you. One particular thrust had your back arching towards him and your nails digging into the wood below you.

“Oh, is that it? Is that your spot?”

Santa gently set one of your legs up on the desk and pounded you, making a wet slapping noise that echoed through the room. The change in position also enabled him to hit that spot again and again and again until your eyes were rolling my back.

“Santa, please! Fuck me! Oh my god, fuck me!”

He groaned, shuddering a bit when your cunt squeezed around him.

“Call me Nick.”

His cock felt amazing inside you. Thick and hitting every good spot imaginable. We’re you drooling? Oh, that would be so embarrassing. But you could barely form a thought past the thick meat slamming into your little pussy.

“This tiny cunt feels so fucking good strangling my cock. Fuck, with a cunt like this, you’ve gotta be on the naughty list.”

“No, no,” you begged, “I’ve been so good.”

“Shh. I know you’ve been good. You’re always so good for me. This cunt is mine. Only mine. You’re always so fucking good for me.”

“I’ll be so good,” you but your lip as you felt yourself getting close to tumbling off the edge, “always good for you.”

“Mmhmm. Good girls cum when asked. Are you gonna cum for me, gorgeous?”

“I—“ you couldn’t get your reply out before he was reaching under both of you to roughly rub at your clit. Your legs shook as you creamed around him. You were fairly certain you felt a little trickle of liquid come out of you while he kept pounding you, prolonging your orgasm and making you go absolutely stupid on his dick.

“I’m gonna give you your present a little early, honey. Shit, I can’t last much longer.”

“Please,” was the only thing you could manage to murmur.

“Santa’s gonna give you something special only you can have. But it’s gonna take nine months to get.”

You squeezed around him even tighter after hearing that, pulling a strangled groan from him as he filled you with his warm cream. The feeling of being filled by him had you coming again, writhing around and shaking while he kept your hips in place. He came so much it was dripping down your thighs and onto the floor.

When he finally pulled out, he stopped to press a kiss to your back. You were too exhausted to move.

“You were right,” he said, “I like the role play. It’s fun.”

“I told you. It’s nice to switch things up now and then,” you said, still with your cheek against the desk. He laughed and trailed his finger down your dripping sex, causing you to jolt a bit.

“As long as I get to fill you with baby batter, I’ll do whatever you want.”

“Fuck, Nick! I told you to stop calling it baby batter! It’s weird!”

“It is baby batter. Isn’t that’s the whole point?”

“Yeah, but I mean…” you trailed off, pushing yourself off the desk with some help from your husband. You felt your combined fluids steadily leaking out of you and crossed your legs uncomfortably.

“We are kind of behind on production, though,” he murmured, leaning down to get closer to eye level with you. You stood on your tippy toes to press a kiss to his lips.

“Back to work for both of us then,” you said, fixing your skirt. He nodded with a smile.

“Back to work, Mrs. Claus.”

[clangenrising]

Month 12 - Leafbare

Time was hard to hold onto these days. Scorch blinked and suddenly spring had arrived, cautiously thawing out the gardens and poking its flowers up through the soil. If she thought back, she could remember that she had spent the time studying to become an interpreter in between visits from Razor but the actual experiences of those moments tended to feel fuzzy and loose. She was grateful that she somehow managed to hold onto the knowledge of interpreting.

The act fascinated her. Each Name Charm was marked with symbols that the Folk used to convey meaning and slowly, she was learning to interpret it. Confined in her house as she was, Portia wasn’t able to do much teaching so she had put a young molly named Marmalade in charge of teaching Scorch how to understand the symbols. 

Marmalade took Scorch through the neighborhood, usually with another cat along to ‘escort’, and showed her the symbols in different places. Now that they were pointed out to her, Scorch couldn’t stop seeing them. They were on the corner poles and the fronts of houses and the sides of cars and nearly every wall in the downtown area had some cluster of them somewhere. Marmalade would teach her what they said and then teach her how each symbol made up a piece of the meaning. She learned how to recognize the individual symbols wherever they appeared in the clusters and how there were two versions of each symbol for some reason. 

It was honestly exciting. She couldn’t believe that all her life there had been meaning spread across the surface of the world and she hadn’t even known. When she was at home, when time was the most solid, she would wander around, discovering all of the different symbols in her home and trying to interpret them. They were everywhere, on the food boxes and her dish and flashing across the magic window that her Folk would watch and the pages in the kits’ rooms and the warm thing the adult human pawed at on her lap and even though Scorch didn’t know what some of the words meant, she knew their pieces and that felt like power. 

It wasn’t power that helped her much, though. Being an Interpreter did come with a certain amount of prestige. She and Marmalade were sometimes sent to deliver blessings from the Folk. They would go to cats who were ill in their homes or to new mothers and their kittens and bestow gifts upon them. Cats always thanked them and looked up at them with worshipful gazes. They parted to allow them through. Chaff asked them for blessings as they passed and thanked them profusely when Marmalade bid them “be well.” Yes, there was definitely power there, but it never did anything to get rid of the babysitters that followed her everywhere she went.

And it never stopped Razor from calling on her. 

Today, after an Interpreters’ meeting in Portia’s garden, he had arrived to collect her, all toothy smiles and pet names and suffocating touches. She purred and fell in beside him and let go of her grasp on time. He’d invited her to accompany him to another meeting, this one about the warfront, and she had agreed. 

Now she found herself draped against his side as he lounged in the grass of his own backyard. Several toms sat around in a circle, discussing strategy. All of them, except for Ghost, were Exalted. 

“Hunting operations are continuing as planned,” Oreo was saying. “We’ll have to increase our presence, though, if we want to account for spring prey numbers.” 

“Do you think we’ll still be able to starve them out?” Razor asked thoughtfully. 

“I do,” Oreo nodded. “The Chaff are hungry enough, the only problem is the risk of getting attacked by wild cats. We need to find a way to make it seem like the threat is minimal if we want them hunting in droves.” 

Ghost cleared his throat and said, “From what my cats have been saying, most encounters can end without bloodshed as long as we don’t antagonize the Clans. If a cat apologizes and leaves they’ll get a torn ear at most. If you’d like, I can spread the word about-”

“No,” Razor rumbled darkly and Scorch felt her throat tighten. “No, we’re not going to teach the Chaff that they should run from these savages. We won’t show weakness like that when that territory is our right.” 

“But, sir,” Ghost shifted uncomfortably, “most of my cats aren’t fighters.”

“Then pair them with fighters,” Razor said as if it were obvious. “If they need protection, give it to them.” 

Ghost’s throat labored for a moment before he said, “Yes, sir.” 

“I think it might also be a good idea to take a more proactive approach,” said Sardine, a younger tom who had only recently been allowed into these kinds of meetings. “You know what they say: the best defense is a good offense.” 

Razor smiled and nodded in his direction. “I’m listening.” Scorch listened too, with bated breath.

Sardine continued. “Part of the reason the Slaughter of Sycamore was such a decisive loss was because our position wasn’t easily defensible. The wild cats had the home turf advantage and, given their surprisingly large numbers, I reason they must have had somewhere to organize themselves before the attack. If we could take that location for ourselves, we would have a much stronger foothold from which to orchestrate our campaign. We could even move a number of chaff to the front full time.”

Scorch repressed a shiver as the image of Razor and his followers carving their way through RisingClan’s camp flashed through her mind. The calm, detached manner in which Sardine said it rubbed her fur the wrong way. It was almost like he didn’t care that he was toying with the lives of cats on both sides.

“And how would you propose we do that?” frowned Tiger, his muscles rippling under his pelt as he shifted forward. “We have no idea how far that location might be and clearly inching our way bit by bit doesn’t work.”

“It could,” Oreo countered. “Another big reason we lost that battle was because of the snow storm and we’ll have all summer to retake that ground.” 

“We’ll still be out in the open,” Tiger growled. “I don’t like it.” 

“Please,” Razor said, his chest rumbling smoothly against Scorch’s side, “I’m sure Sardine has a plan. Don’t you?” He tilted his head to regard the young cat and Scorch heard the familiar undertone in his voice that said ‘this is a test.’ 

Sardine smiled and said, “I do. I propose we form strike teams of three to six cats and wait for the ‘border patrols’ to come by then kill as many cats as we can.” Scorch swallowed. “Soon enough, their numbers will weaken and falter and we will be able to find and clear out one of their bases and take it for our own, thus acquiring a proper encampment from which to stage our own assault.” 

“Not a bad strategy,” Razor complimented and one of Sardine’s ears twitched in satisfaction. “What do we think, boys?” He looked around the circle, one brow raised. Scorch did likewise, trying to keep her expression passive as she judged their reactions. 

“It could work…” Oreo hummed skeptically. 

Ghost shifted, a grimace on his face, and said, “This all assumes that they have a fortified location we could use. There’s no way to know if that's the case. They could live in scattered nests or isolated burrows.”

“Who cares,” Tiger brushed him off. “Even if there isn’t some central location we can take over, I think the effort put into the strike teams would be worth it.” He smirked and looked at Razor. “I wouldn’t mind the opportunity for a bit of extermination.” Scorch’s blood ran cold. Tiger seemed to notice and his eyes twitched over to meet hers. She quickly ducked her gaze and leaned away to nestle her cheek into Razor’s fur demurely. 

“We would need to be careful,” Ghost said. “The wild cats are a lot stronger than we first thought. I’m not sure many of my cats could go blow for blow with them for long.” 

“They don’t need to,” Oreo said simply. “If we get enough of them in a group they’ll be able to wear the wild cats down even if they take losses.” Scorch spared a glance at Ghost to see his jaw working. He was furious. Still, he was hiding it well, she thought. It was only her experience with him that let her recognize the subtle tensing of the muscles in his neck and the way his tail tip was poised to start twitching if he let it. 

Razor seemed to notice too and said, “True, but there’s no need to be so wasteful if we can afford not to be. It’s our job to look out for the Chaff, is it not?” 

Oreo’s whiskers twitched and he looked down. Tiger huffed softly through his nose. 

Sardine nodded and said, “Indeed. Perhaps combat training could be provided?” 

Razor smiled. “Good idea,” he said. “Why don’t you and Ghost organize training for the most promising candidates. Once you both feel satisfied with their progress, we can start implementing these strike teams, yeah?”

“Sounds good,” Sardine said, glancing at Ghost. Ghost grunted affirmatively, his jaw still clenched. 

“Good,” Razor said, moving to stand. Scorch stood as well, pressing close to him and keeping her head low to avoid too much attention. “Is there anything else we needed to discuss?” 

“No, I don’t think so,” Oreo said, standing as well. Tiger and Ghost both shook their heads. 

Sardine took a step forward. “Actually, Razor, I was wondering if I could have a private word?” 

“Of course,” Razor said, jerking his head towards the rose bush in the corner of the yard. Tail brushing across Scorch’s belly, he leaned into her ear and said, “Wait here for me, would you, dear?” 

Scorch chuckled to hide the shudder of disgust that went through her. “Always.” His smile widened and he ran his tongue over her cheek and up her brow before gesturing to Sardine and padding off to the rose bush. She was tempted to try and eavesdrop but knew that she wouldn’t be able to get close enough without being seen. 

In addition, she had a more important task to see to. She looked over at the others. Oreo and Tiger had started off across the lawn together, talking amongst themselves. Ghost sat still, his eyes closed as he breathed slowly in and out. Scorch cast one glance over her shoulder to make sure Razor was occupied then slipped over to stand next to Ghost. His whiskers twitched as she drew near and he opened his newly scarred eye to look at her.

“What do you want?” he grumbled. His eyes also darted over her shoulder to where Razor and Sardine were talking. 

“I wanted to apologize,” she said softly, offering a smile. “I was under quite a lot of stress last time we talked and I did a lot of things that I am not proud of.” She held her breath, hoping he bought it. This part was integral if she was going to accomplish what she needed to.

He scowled at her. “You nearly got me in serious trouble, you know that?” 

“I do,” she winced, hoping she looked sufficiently remorseful. “I’m sorry, Ghost. Really.” He stared at her for another long moment before sighing, his gaze softening a touch. 

“I appreciate it,” he said, looking her over. She smiled and sat down. Good. He had never been able to stay mad at her for long.

“I did mean what I said about looking out for Smokyrose,” she whispered. “If you helped me escape, I could bring them a warning.”

Ghost shook his head. “And then what? My cats get killed instead? No, I can’t do that.” Scorch felt anger rising in her again. There was always an excuse with him, wasn’t there, some reason why he couldn’t do what she needed him to. She focused on keeping calm, though. Trying to threaten him hadn’t worked at all. She needed to use a softer touch. 

She shifted closer, her eyes big and sincere, and said, “Then I’ll tell the Clans not to kill the Chaff. Goldenstar would listen. She took in Scrap despite my warnings. If she can spare a life, she will, I promise.” 

“So Scrap is safe then,” he said as if he’d caught her in a lie. Scorch tried not to let her irritation get the better of her. Like he cared about Scrap at all. 

“Yes,” she said, smiling. “And I can make sure that she stays that way. Both her and Smokyrose.” Instinctively, she brushed her tail tenderly over his, satisfied by the way he tensed and then relaxed under her touch. “Please, Ghost. Won’t you help me?” She tried to make her eyes water as she held his gaze. Hopefully he would prove as predictable as always and be unable to resist the pleadings of a woman who needed him. 

She watched him thinking. His eyes darted down to her paws like he wanted to place one of his own on top of them. He leaned forward almost imperceptibly, their whiskers almost close enough to touch. His mouth opened, a hesitant word on his tongue, and she felt her spirits soar. Yes! She had won! She had-

His eyes flickered over her shoulder and a scowl returned. “Razor is watching,” he said. Bile swelled to overtake her lifted spirits and drag them back down to the pit of her stomach. She knew better than to look over her shoulder or quickly fix her posture. She licked her lips and very carefully sat back. 

“Think about it,” she said. “You know where to find me.” At this point, she could hear Razor coming her way. She let one ear twitch back, then stood and turned to face him, hiding all evidence that she had been touching Ghost. She smiled fondly at Razor and moved to meet him, butting her head against his chest. 

“Ghost,” Sardine said, a dubious tilt to his voice, “Shall we talk logistics?” 

Ghost cleared his throat and nodded, standing. “Yes. Let’s.” Stiffly, he turned and followed the younger tom and Scorch cursed him in her head. He was being too obvious! 

Razor curled around her, his brows furrowed, and asked, “What was that all about?” As he did, he nosed the fur on the back of her neck and she went rigid at the touch, heart suddenly hammering. 

“I was urging Ghost to have faith in your leadership,” she lied, trying to turn her head to look at him, but he opened his mouth and gently placed his teeth against her scruff and she immediately froze again. A purr rumbled through him and he removed his teeth. This time, she stayed exactly where she was.

“Is that all?” he murmured warmly against her skin. “It seemed like there was more to it than that.” He padded slowly around her, always keeping some part of him in contact with her. 

Scorch fixed her eyes on the rose bush as she spoke. “Maybe for him,” she said. “You know he never really got over me.” 

“Mm,” Razor hummed, unsatisfied. 

Scorch swallowed. “But I promise, things were strictly professional. I have no interest in any other kind of relationship with someone like him.”  

Razor came back around to look at her face again and she dared to turn her head to meet his gaze. “Not even a little?” he asked, “for old times’ sake?” 

“No, of course not!” She promised with a worried expression. “Razor, I’m yours now. That’s all I could ever want.” 

Razor looked her over and then sighed with a dejected glance downward. “I know. I just… after you went missing and everything…” He shifted his weight and sat down. “It feels like you sometimes don’t think about how your actions affect me. I do so much to make sure you’re taken care of and it’s like you don’t even care.” 

“No, Razor,” she swallowed and stepped in to wrap herself around him instead, “of course I care! I’m so sorry I’ve made you feel that way.” She knew his game. This trick was the oldest in the book. But she had no choice but to play along. “How can I prove how much I love you, honey?” 

Razor leaned into her touch with another sigh. “Just… promise you won’t talk to Ghost anymore?” he asked tiredly. “It would make me feel so much better if I didn’t have to worry about him and you.” 

“Of course,” Scorch promised, pressing her forehead against his. “If that’s what you want, I’ll try and avoid him.” 

“It is,” he purred. “Thank you, Gingersnap.” 

“Anything for you,” she swallowed. 

“Why don’t I walk you home,” he offered, pulling back to meet her gaze again. 

“Oh, that’s alright,” she shook her head. “I can get back just fine on my own.” 

“No, no, I insist,” he said, standing up. “I’ll feel a lot better if I know you got home safe.” 

Scorch sighed. It had been worth a try. Smiling, she tried to play her reaction off as fondness and said, “Alright then. Whatever you want, dear.”

[taurusvenusian]

what do you think about both partners having moon in the others 8th house in synastry?

Very intense, so it’s never for the weak. You both know that things are not just surface-level between you two. Your feelings for each other go very deep, so be extra aware and cautious of leaving a traumatic or painful impact on each other because you both have the capability of doing that (but just because you do doesn’t mean that you both will, right?). Triggering each other may be a common experience if both of you lack self-awareness and knowledge of this synastry aspect.

In the same way, when someone has a deep attachment and hold on your emotions, then there is also the capability for deep healing. You both have the emotional endurance to go through life’s best and worst situations. You are both deeply attracted to each other and you must know that this connection can be very addicting. It’s not everyday that you meet someone who knows your vulnerabilities and deep wounds, or has the power of doing so.

You will leave an unforgettable mark on each other, knowing that even if you part ways, you’d always have a big part of each other wherever you go. If pain may be something that comes up in the relationship due to faults or mistakes, this one will leave a lasting impact on you both and may take some time to heal.

Personally, with my experience having my ex-boyfriend’s moon in my 8th house, he knew how to get me, how to make me feel comforted, and ultimately, how to destroy me. It’s a conscious effort not to do the latter. His wounds also felt very exposed to me, like just from a few interactions, I knew what kind of pain he was dealing with and somehow it was easy to take on that kind of weight in trying to help/understand him that didn’t feel the same with others. I think he felt the same with me too. When we broke up, everything that happened between us changed me and that pain he left definitely transformed me into a better person.

Overall, this is a life-changing aspect. It may be hard to, but just try to enjoy it. You never know when you’ll be experiencing this kind of intensity and emotional depth with someone again. 🖤

Disclaimer: everything I said here can still vary and may not apply to all with 8th house synastry, depending on your individual charts and the synastry chart itself so I still highly recommend getting your charts analyzed and interpreted. Ü

[bigdealsgoddog]

Lookism guys trying to impress their s/o

Notes: gender neutral reader! This is just my hcs about how some of the lookism guys would try to impress their s/o(Jake kim, Samuel seo, vasco, Daniel)

Jake kim (kim gi myung)

Probably the least likely to feel the need to impress his s/o

Like he’ll absolutely do it if he knows it’ll get a certain reaction out of you but he’s pretty confident in himself

Maybe there’s a special hole in the wall place that he found or maybe he’ll take you to one of the places on big deal to be like “yeah I know this area really well, the people love me here and it’s amazing food”

He’d probably try to hide that he’s the leader of big deal for a while unless that’s how you end up meeting him/finding out about him

He’s more likely to try to impress you with things he found rather than material items and spending money. As is big deal doesn’t have a lot of money but he’s also not the type to just throw money around like that. Plus doing that attracts all the wrong people in his eyes.

Samuel seo (seo seongeun)

This man and his inferiority complex? You know DAMN WELL he’s gonna be dropping so much money on you to impress you

Fancy dinner dates, expensive liqour, his fancy car all the way back to his fancy apartment

See I feel like he wouldn’t like a gold digger as much as he wants to impress you with money I think he’s more likely to fall for someone who doesn’t give a shit about his social standing. Or who he even is for that matter

It’s the inferiority complex kicking in, he feels like he needs to get what’s not his, someone that doesn’t want him until he proves that he is the best option for them

So he’s gonna be a little disappointed when his attempt at impressing you doesn’t actually work out

He’d end up trying to impress you by finding out about a certain food/item that’s been discontinued and absolutely hunting that thing down and getting it for you. You’d be more impressed that he remembered that random niche thing about you but it’s honestly a little touching how hard he worked to find it for you

Please praise him that’s all he really wants

Vasco (Euntae lee)

He’d have all of burn knuckles memorize a performance or something like that, panicking because “he really needs to do this for s/o, everything is on the line”

It was like your fifth date and he heard something from vin jin that if you’re not spoiling your partner and showing them every moment why you were the best option then they might as well leave and poor guy took it to heart so now all of burn knuckles is getting ready to surprise you for what you thought was going to be a coffee date with vasco

Honestly suddenly being surrounded by all of burn knuckles while you were taking a walk in the park as they tried to do what looked to be interpretive dance? You honestly weren’t sure it was a little overwhelming

Actually a lot overwhelming

Jace thankfully was able to save the day rushing in and escorting the burn knuckles while vasco panics asking you what’s wrong and if there was something wrong with the surprise

You calmed him down and let him well the thought was nice but you didn’t really know why he went through all that trouble? He ended up explaining it all and you kinda just gave him that ‘Aw you poor thing’ look

“It’s ok vasco you don’t need to impress me just to keep me around” “i don’t?” It’s like a weight lifted off his shoulders

You also didn’t want to admit that when he works out seeing his muscles impresses you enough

Daniel park(hyeong seok)

I think he’s also one of the types to not want to try to impress his s/o?

Not to say that he’s super confident or anything but he knows how differently he was treated on surface level appearance alone so I think he would’ve probably fallen for an s/o who wouldn’t be all about impressions alone?

Like somebody he doesn’t feel like he needs to impress or act a certain way with but he’ll still try, he ends up asking Jay and joy what to get you, things he could do to impress you

He’s pleasantly surprised when you’re more impressed how he remembers your drink order at the nearby cafe and when he brings you your favorite pastry from the patisserie down the street

He ends up getting you some new clothes on occasion, like if he notices a specific hoodie or shirt you’d wear a lot he’ll try to get you clothes in similar brands/styles. And so long as you like it he’d get you a size up too because he noticed how much you like how big his clothes are on you

[5and3nevermind]

Mini & Moni Album Exchange: Part 2 (and other thoughts)

Part 1

My plan was to write two posts about the album exchange. Summaries, more or less, with a few of my own thoughts. But this second post is going to also incorporate some of the things Jimin said during the jacket shoot that I think also shed some light on how the album should be viewed.

First of all, let’s appreciate Joon’s smile while listening to Who:

Jimin says about Who:

He goes on to explain:

So…here’s where things get a little difficult because we might have to agree to disagree.

If you want to take a literal view of Who, then it’s pretty simple: Jimin is single and looking for love. So are his friends. And that’s that.

However, I would argue that there might be more here to consider based on some other things that were said by Jimin during his jacket shoot.

If we opt for the literal view of the lyrics of Muse as a whole, Jimin writes about love and then says, basically, “Wait! Actually I’m single. Who is my heart waiting for?” There isn’t much to misunderstand or interpret or assume in that case. It is a linear storyline with a surprise/twist ending.

If that’s your reading of Muse, that’s fine. I’m not going to tell you how to interpret Jimin’s art.

However. Jimin himself seems to want there to be various theories and interpretations. He is the “tailor of chaos” (photo folio) after all! I’m not going to pretend that I have all of the answers or that this is easy. But I do believe there is more here beyond the surface-level interpretation.

When Jimin tells Joon that he and his friends all feel this way—“flat”—I think that this could mean a lack of inspiration or excitement or purpose. Let’s not forget: the name of the album is Muse!

The word “muse” is defined as 1. (in Greek and Roman mythology) each of nine goddesses, daughters of Zeus, who preside over the arts and sciences. 2. the source of inspiration for a creative artist.

As I said in part 1 of the album exchange, I think love is being used as an analogy for artistic inspiration.

Back to the album exchange…

Jimin talks about the way the rapline inspired him:

Jimin talks about vocal training and how often he spoke about vocals with Jk. He tells the story of having drinks with Jk and Yoongi, and stepping aside with Jk so that Jk could demonstrate something related to vocals. You can read a little more about that here. (This was of course separate from the other numerous times Jimin and Yoongi have gotten drinks together, just so there’s no confusion. They are drinking buddies after all! +)

Jimin and Joon discuss the military and the future. Joon says glowing things about Jimin to close out the album exchange.

To summarize, I feel like we learned a lot about Muse and its meaning. I do not think we were provided with clear answers to some of our questions, but that is by design.

Any thoughts you’d like to share about Muse or about the album exchange? I’d love to hear them!

[dailycharacteroption]

Roleplay Ramblings: New Elements part 2

(art by global99 on DeviantArt)

Incorporating the New Elements

So, I went over the new elements in brief last time, but let’s take a further look at them today and talk about how you can work to help implement them into your games and settings. Obviously the writers at Paizo have done the work of writing them into the Lost Omens setting already, but there’s still some legwork to be done nevertheless when running the game in First Edition. So without further ado let’s get into it!

So let’s talk metal!

Prior to Rage of the Elements, metal was, at most, just a refined subset of earth. After all, where does metal come from? You dig it out of the earth, of course.

However, that’s not what metal is like in the original Wuxing interpretation, for while metal is extracted from the earth, the act of purifying and crafting it is a heavenly act, while it is also associated with death and grief, especially appropriate given the ease at which metal can be crafted into tools of death.

This isn’t to say that metal and earth have no connection, far from it. In fact, this association is explained in lore because Ayrzul the Fossilized King, the more sinister of the two lords of earth, actually broke into the realm of Laudinmio, elemental lord of metal as chemistry and and crafting, and stole from her several aspects of metal that he took and made his own, particularly poisonous and radioactive metals. The Sovereign of Alchemy was so upset about how her gifts were used she fell into an angst-coma where she remains unto this day, hopefully with someone snapping her out of it soon.

In any case, neither traditional elementalism nor Wuxing fully encompass what metal is as an element in the context of Pathfinder. So let’s explore those aspects. There is the Wall, which reflects metal’s density and strength; the Blade, which evokes it’s capacity for dealing death; the Conduit, which reflects metal’s ability to channel all manner of energies through itself, and the Spoke, representing how it can be shaped so readily into all manner of shapes, be they simple tools or the most complex mechanisms.

However, there is also an aspect of death and finality to metal beyond the sharpness of a sword or the velocity of a bullet, and that is for all it’s wondrous creations and their durability, they cannot last forever. Whether it be by oxidation, corrosion, or simply the stresses of time and repeated use, all metal eventually breaks down. Sometimes the remains can be salvaged to create new wonders, and sometimes it is beyond all but the most omniponent mages and deities to recover. Either way, even being nearly infinite, the plane of metal will one day succumb to entropy and rust, and be little more than a wasteland. But that is so far off into the future that even the Starfinder setting will be a distant memory by then.

All said, Metal is the element of creativity, strength, and inevitability, for wonders arise and wonders fall, and every moment before the end it worth experiencing, and who knows, maybe something else will rise up later?

As far as environments go, the plane of metal is pretty much exactly what you’d expect, landscapes made up almost exclusively of metallic elements with little non-metallic elements to go around. Forests of twisting silver crystals, mountains of iron, seas of quicksilver and glaciers of gallium barely holding their solidity, all of which is contained within the inside surface of a functionally infinite metal sphere. You’ll even find more mechanical environments in the places where civilized elementals live, forged from the world around them, as well as deserts of rust as things are slowly broken down by time and the careful guidance of the elementals that rule over that specific aspect.

Speaking of which, metal elementals typically embody two different poles of metal in aspects, either embodying the specific properties of metals, such as the liquid mercurial and zuhra genies, the magnetic and electical powers of pelogoxes and living lodestones, or even the quasi-supernatural properties of skymetals and other exotic fantasy metals with the likes of the skymetal strikers or abysium horrors. Meanwhile, on the other end of the spectrum are the elementals of metal as it breaks down, like rust scarabs, nanoshard swarms, oregorgers, and even the massive ramshackle melomachs. Among the most influential are the elemental lords, Laudinmio, whom we already mentioned, and Ferrumnestra, the Lady of Rust, who rules over and guides the decay of metal and makes room for the new when things have outlived their purpose.This list is hardly comprehensive, but there’s a lot of clever ideas that go into them.

Meanwhile, let’s take a look over at wood!

In Wuxing, wood is not just trees, but also covers air itself, which is a pretty impressive connection to make in a time before people understood exactly what oxygen was or the role that plant life has in the ecology of the entire planet. However, wood is also associated with growth, as well as frustration and anger, but also more positive emotions like kindness and generosity. It’s an element that feels a lot, which makes sense that it’s the one element that is made out of living material.

Of course, the idea of wood being an element is incompatible with western elementalism as they typically see living things, all living things, as being made up of elements, not being one themselves and certainly not existing by drawing upon other elements. To western elementalism, if something has to draw upon three whole other elements to even exist (earth for nutrients, water and air for important chemical processes), then it can’t be an element.

Not so with Wuxing, in which all the elements feed into each other, propping one up while undermining others, which makes wood make more sense in that context.

But what is Wood in Pathfinder? Simply put, it is verdant growth and potential cultivated by wisdom and discipline. Plants are grown and planted deliberately, trimmed back when they would crowd out other plants, and the very environment is shaped and carved, as are many of it’s denizens, from the living wood, always taking care not to needlessly kill even as homes are carved from trees on a truly colossal scale. Which isn’t to say that it lacks danger, for though discipline remains a core part of the plane, so does strong emotion, leading to plenty of furious or dangerously passionate creatures that might turn violent attention onto neighbors and visitors alike.

When I say that the Plane of Wood is cultivated order, I don’t just mean that the denizens put some effort into keeping their neck of the woods clean and pretty. I mean it’s a fundamental part of the plane. The whole plane is fractal in nature. While in theory the bottom border of the plane sinks it’s roots into the waters of the Plane of Water, everything is plants growing on plants all the way down and all the way up, from planet-sized trees with contienent size trees to country sized tress and you can see where I’m going with this. While these plants often don’t literally resemble the plants on the next largest tier but in miniature, they can, and it all keeps going down, potentially infinitely, but like all planes, perhaps not literally. As such, one can walk across a vast field which is just a mile-thick fungal mat stretched between two colossal branches, or walk around a massive tree city where streets and roads have been carved from the “dead” wood of the tree, leaving the living layer mostly untouched to keep growing and thriving. Seasons and time of day are partially determined by region and the bioluminescence of colossal plants a truly unfathomable distance above or below oneself. For that matter, in addition to plant matter familiar to denizens of Golarion, there are examples of plant life from potentially every planet across the universe as well as exotic fare that can only really exist on this plane. Of course, some environments are more hostile than others, such as the fungal denizens of the Nightwood or the areas suffering from the blight caused by Ayrzul (yes, him again. Turns out he’s pretty much an asshole to everyone).

And speaking of which, let’s talk denizens. Now some may wonder aloud what makes a wood elemental from your garden-variety plant monster, and the answers a little complex, but it boils down to how cultivation defines them. On the one hand, sure, some wood elementals are essentially mobile fruit or plant creatures such as moss sloths, pine pangolins, or harvest regiments, but others are shaped by careful cultivation, such as living groves, which the art of which expressly references the daisugi technique of Japanese logging, applying bonsai techniques to full-size trees to create perfectly straight logs. Others, however, are carved or grown into shape, such as carved beasts, painted stags, snapdrakes, or event the mighty twins of rowan, all of which are carved into shape from otherwise immobile wood (often with a still rooted base) and breathed new life into them by the rituals of either the Kizidhar genies or Shumunue, the Carved Lady of Mimicry herself, who represents wood as an art medium which imitates life as well as the ways that plant life draws in animals as pollinators or occasionally prey. Meanwhile, her counterpart is Verilorn, Custodian of Oak and Ash who presides over all agriculture, cultivation, and forestry. The two once worked together, but have grown apart in the eons of the planes isolation, to the pain of both.

And so now that we know all this about these two planes, we can actually get to the point of this entry and talk about integrating them within the pre-Second Edition setting and your own setting!

Firstly, let me gush a little about how these two new planes, which bring the elemental planes up to a whopping 6, defying both the assumptions of Wuxing AND Western elementalism in one fell swoop (not to mention all the others) also proceed to take the same basic concept of environment (i.e., being entirely made out of their element with barely any intrusion from the other elements barring those mixed-element outliers) and elevating it. Even without the illustrations from Rage of the Elements book, you can imagine an infinite fractal forest or a vast curved plane of gleaming metal and find that beautiful and awe-inspiring, and heck, they did a decent job of elevating the concept of the original 4 as well for that matter.

With that focus on elements returning and mixing, it’s also worth noting that not only are these new elements mixing with the old ones as they regrow into their old positions, but in their absence the other planes mixed as well. While it will take countless eons for them to be re-slotted in, no doubt also outstripping the cosmic era of Starfinder, eventually air and water will be mostly cut off from each other as will water and earth, but those vast areas of air-cooled ice and churning mud will never really go away.

But how will this affect your games? Well obviously if you never touch on it, it won’t, but if your 1e games want to touch on the elemental planes either directly or indirectly, it will. For the Lost Omens setting, perhaps metal and wood elementalists are gaining more respect and recognition outside of Tian Xia as anything more than a novelty, and maybe in the face of having two new pairs of elemental lords that don’t share the presumed dichotomy of good and evil will make planar scholars rethink the effects of how mortal assumptions about aspects of certain elements actually shaped the behavior of the beings that ruled them.

In a more general setting sense, having metal and wood be elements in your setting may change the sorts of environments your characters might encounter beyond the borders of the map. If they find a place where the element of wood is strong, they might think they stumbled onto some remote noble’s garden with how orderly it is until something like plants growing plants clues them into it being not quite natural, or maybe dwarves and other miners in your setting try to cultivate an elemental nexus of metal to turn a location into a motherlode of ore and valuable metals, and so on.

I’ve talked a lot about the new elemental planes in this one, but trust me, it’s all going to be very useful for the next two entries, and I hope you’re excited to see where that takes us tomorrow, starting with how character options change in a 6-element system!

[boundinparchment]

Dream a Little Dream of Me - XXXVIII

Celestia had a cruel sense of humor. He knew this, even before his days as a student. But to be given a soulmate? Now, when he openly blasphemed against the cursed island in the sky? He would outlive you and the dreadful fated bond that haunted your shared dreams. There was little point in this. He could at least put a Vision to good use. People were nothing but disappointments. He had no use for you. Until you pulled the bow across your instrument and awoke a part of him long buried by self-hatred and arrogance. Soulmate AU; Il Dottore/Female reader w/ established personality and backstory. Slow burn. Lore and world speculation and interpretation within; follows canon story where possible. On AO3 here.

So far, your combat trials were some of the most impressive sessions he’d seen in a while.   

You weren’t perfect.  Far from it.  Your aim needed work.  You had a hard time leveraging the claymore properly.  Such things only came with time, when one knew the weight and balance of a weapon as well as they knew themselves.  

A second shining blade made itself known with the first, pure Geo energy so refined that it passed for diamond.  Pantalone would be jealous, certainly.  In the first few trials, he speculated that your abilities mirrored his own, in that his claymore became unnecessary and he could freely wield his Cryo needles without a hand on his weapon.  

He was half-right.  You required the claymore in order to retain the Geo swords, however.  You had to direct the Geo energy somehow and despite the lack of familiarity with your powers, you moved as if you knew exactly what you were doing.  If he counted just right, it always seemed as though you were following a very specific rhythm when landing your blows.  Your claymore’s swing was accompanied by the lightest enhancement of a particular pitch, depending on how you swung it.

Your combat abilities weren’t the only thing subject to musical structures.  Silence that prevailed too long was filled with humming, sometimes fragmented until you found the right note and flow.  Occasionally, the repetition set his teeth on edge.  But when he addressed it and your head snapped up from the book you were reading (probably something left behind by a stray assistant), he realized from your expression that you had no idea you were doing it.

Music was as much a part of you as machines were for him.  He lived and breathed moving parts and systems and the perfection with which they operated; no doubt, music was as precious to you as your own blood, something he knew but never saw in practice, not even in your dream-shares.  Then again, you’d had a proper outlet for such energies and now all of that desire had nowhere to go.

Zandik looked down at the work table in front of him, the surface littered with parts and wires and drawings.  Omega was handling everything with Akademiya, as expected, which left him with time to look over the schematics for weapons manufacturing.  Easy work, really.  Boring work.

He’d given the plans all but five minutes of his time before he found himself examining the cello neck again.  You’d handed it over but not without several questions, all of which were understandable.  This remnant was precious to you, even if it only seemed like a chunk of carved and varnished wood to him.

You…directed…your elemental energy…almost as if you were conducting…

Something you’d never done, as far as he was aware.  If you had, it was an experience you did not impart to him in any way.

What if…

Ah, such a thing would be simple enough.  A receiver on both objects, intended for long distance, sensitive enough to acknowledge even the smallest nuance in motion.  He’d attempted something similar before he’d learned how to control his claymore without such interference.  The Akasha modifications were a more taxing option and he’d paid the price for it heavily before finding a more efficient solution.

A tool like this might make it easier for you to wield; better still, it might make you more sure in your strikes, confident in your abilities.

As for the other problem…

Zandik sifted through a few stray notes on the table.  He’d had to go by memory for the shape and the size, and it would require far more research, but this posed its own set of problems.  

Wood would, of course, be best.  He could hear Sandrone and Pantalone criticizing his prototype based on the material alone, let alone the notion of construction.  It would be more efficient to trust another in this particular area.  But the urge to create something unique, something no one else would ever be able to recreate, sat in his very joints and made his muscles itchy.  

So many of his advancements were attributed to others, his contributions pushed aside because of his moniker of outcast .

But this?

A cello so clear and radiant that it would only be rivaled by the Tsaritsa herself (and maybe not even then).  The material didn’t carry sound well on its own but an amplifier and a transmitter were easy additions.  It wouldn’t be possible to start until he returned to Snezhnaya.  Hard enough to keep you from spotting anything you shouldn’t as it was.

He heard a soft groan from the small lounge chair nearby and looked up to find you stretching, your nose still buried in whatever novel you’d found to occupy your mind.  Although your eyes had yet to leave the page, you were poised to get up, flex, find something else to do.

Case in point.

Zandik placed the instrument neck down and smoothly shuffled the various pages in front of him just as you came up beside him.

“Don’t stop on my account, Zandik.”

“There’s little to be done right now that cannot wait until I have proper facilities.”

“You heard a composition meant for you way too early; the piece you overheard was far from finished.  I always enjoy hearing you sort out ideas, what you’re working on…”

You were shrewd; you would still be in Omega’s dreamcycle if you weren’t.  Hiding this from you wouldn’t be viable forever.  

Especially when you looked at him like that .  Earnest, curious, encouraging and genuine in every aspect of it, despite everything you’d endured.  

He could deal with politicians looking out for their own self-interest.  He could deal with the other Harbingers just as vicious in their ambitions as they were towards one another.  The dreams had been nothing more than another experiment and he never anticipated they would truly result in you .  Finding you had been a happy coincidence, a pet project, an outcome he considered but never anticipated.

The plea at the end of your words had been slight, easy to miss if he were anyone else.  In your defense, you had little to occupy you for the moment and he was, for all intents and purposes, your only other connection for the moment.

That, too, would change upon your arrival to Snezhnaya.

A caged bird would never sing and he knew better than anyone what it meant to have the freedom required for creation.

Zandik turned and reached a gloved hand to brush your neck as he leaned down to whisper a teasing, “I don’t think so,” against your skin.

He heard your breath hitch but you didn’t pull away, didn’t move, and he longed to bury his nose in your hair.  You smelled of sweetness, of summer flowers, undercut by sensations that dreams could never capture.  He steadied himself with his other hand on the table and swallowed as you moved your head slightly towards him, cheeks brushing before you looked at him out of the corner of your eye.  His heart shuddered.

What if…

The distance to be crossed was negligible, so miniscule that neither he nor you needed to lean before your lips met.  He willed his heart rate to slow, not that it would listen, your lips soft and warm.  

It was over as quickly as it began.  His lips tingled and then burned, his breaths short but steady.  You had yet to move, to pull away, your hands seeking amongst the straps and ornaments of his coat.  He could not bring himself to step away, not yet. 

Zandik pressed the lightest of kisses to the corner of your jaw, just below your ear, where your pulse seemed to be thrumming.

 Everything was a delicate balance and while he never minded exploring opportunities, this was…precarious.

The sigh that escaped your lips was the closest sound to bliss he’d ever heard in his presence; the flip in his gut was unsettling, too unlike a moment of piloting a Ruin Golem, and yet he felt as if he would endure that sensation eternally if you…

Zandik caught the slightest movement out of the corner of his eye, the doors to the workshop open a fraction and a boot just barely through the doorway.  He flicked his eyes up to find Omega, mask off, ruin core spinning, hesitating .  For once, the Segment was acutely aware of itself, its place.  

Nothing from the Segment network, no attempt to communicate.

The Segment retreated, its boot disappearing from the doorway before the doors closed silently.

He felt your hands against his chest, seemingly smoothing out his lapels, tracing the decorative edges of his coat.  Eternity in all of a minute.

Oh, how he wished he could preserve this.

[shmothman]

hello buddy daddies fandom. today, i bring you kazurei drabble. tomorrow? who knows

(Kazurei, 373 words, rated M)

“Just like that, fuck, Rei, baby—”

And, just like that, Rei’s world goes topsy-turvy.

Kazuki—ever-worried, ever-perceptive Kazuki—notices immediately the way Rei stills above him; notices and interprets as hesitation, or worse, displeasure, and props himself up on his elbows with his brow so caringly furrowed. “Rei?”

But, god, what is Rei supposed to say? That he can’t breathe when words like that fall so easily from Kazuki’s lips? That he’s never felt so wanted—so loved—as when he says those things to him? If only he could put his feelings to words the same way Kazuki does. If only he could be more like Kazuki; Kazuki and the tenderness that so gracefully finds its home on his tongue, on the tips of his fingers that reach for Rei like you’d reach for the surface while drowning. Like he needs him. Like he can’t live without him.

“Rei, you okay? D’you not like it when I call you that?” Kazuki’s reaching for him that same way now, worried that he’s crossed some invisible line, that there’s something Rei’s not telling him. And Rei would tell him, he really would, but the words just won’t come. 

Because he’s not like Kazuki. 

But, there would be nothing worse than letting Kazuki think he didn’t like it when he called him baby, when he calls him love or darling, so Rei does what he can: he surges forward, recapturing Kazuki’s lips with a fervor that surprises even himself, open-mouthed, desperate, and wanting. 

Kazuki lets himself be pushed back onto the pillows with a laugh and clinking teeth, and when Rei finally pulls back for air, he’s met with waggling eyebrows and a teasing smirk.

“Ohhh,” Kazuki grins, sly as he is triumphant. “I see. You do like being my baby!”

And Rei would normally scoff, would give a haughty huff and insist that that’s not what’s going on at all—but a small smile is quickly taking residence on his lips, and it’s turning into a bigger smile by the second.

Because as it turns out, he doesn’t need to put his feelings into words for Kazuki to be able to understand him perfectly. Because Kazuki makes him feel like he doesn’t need to be anything other than Rei.

[urmomnsuch]

Hozier: Francesca • (Song Theory)

“Francesca” is about the demise of a relationship caused by a miscarriage—hear me out…

Hozier: “When this song came around, it started from personal experience and then I allowed those themes and some of the imagery from that character (Francesca da Rimini) in and then let the two mix. It’s an example of letting the song have a life above ground and resonate with a life below ground in regard to that character.”

Taking inspiration from real life figures, Dante’s Divine Comedy reimagines an adulterous pair in the second circle of hell: Lust.

Hozier paints a tragically beautiful image—stuck in a typhoon for all of eternity alongside the person you’d give your life for.

In Dante’s Divine Comedy, Francesca blames love for her agent of sin. Francesca's persuasive power derives from her language, which echoes that of love poetry, especially from Dante's early poems. In this way, Francesca becomes a reflection of Dante himself; much like Hozier portraying Francesca’s convictions of love as his own.

On the surface, this beautiful song is simply a testament of love to a lover lost. That despite all of the trials and tribulations that led to their demise, he would do it all over again without second thought.

But just beyond the surface of Hozier’s brilliant reimagining, is a looming darkness I can’t shake.

“Do you think I’d give up?

That this might’ve shook the love from me?

Or that I was on the brink?

How could you think, darlin, I’d scare so easily?”

• The narrator professes that he is fearless to the circumstance they are faced with—that his love for her will always overcome any hardship, including this one

“Now that it’s done,

There’s not one thing that I would change,

My life was a storm, since I was born

How could I fear any hurricane?

If someone asked me at the end,

I’d tell them put me back in it”

• Although this is not something the narrator and his lover planned for, he’s prepared to endure this difficulty alongside her—admitting he has no regrets

“Darlin, I would do it again

If I could hold you for a minute

I’d go through it again

I would still be surprised,

I could find you, darlin, in any life

If I could hold you for a minute

Darlin, I would do it again”

• The narrator expresses to his lover that he would experience the hardship of that moment all over again; because she was there to experience it with him

“For all that was said,

Of where we’d end up at the end of it

When the heart would cease,

Ours never knew peace

What good would it be on the far side of things?”

• The narrator reflects on the future plans they’d made together. He goes on to state, ‘when the heart would cease, ours never knew peace,’ indicating that the loss of life had caused unsettling turmoil within the relationship—questioning where they would be if the loss had not happened

“It was too soon,

When that part of you was ripped away

A grip taking hold,

Like a cancer that grows,

Each piece of your body that it takes”

• The life they lost took a piece of the narrator’s lover with it, which ultimately leads to her resenting him for it

“Though I know my heart would break,

I’d tell them put me back in it”

• Despite the pain of her resentment, he would still do it over again, (which is a common response to a trauma bond)

“I would not change it each time,

Heaven is not fit to house a love like you and I”

• The relationship was difficult and messy; it was a far stretch from paradise. But he wouldn’t change a thing about it because of the love he felt for her, and because of the life they almost had together

Just a song interpretation/theory that gives this beautiful piece a higher power for me

…Thanks for hearing me out.

•

•

•

[something-tofightfor]

Naughty List: A Pedrostories Secret Santa Gift Fic!

Pairing: Javier Peña x GN reader

Word Count: 2100

Rating: M We’re gonna go for an M rating for some language, some sexual content (though nothing explicit) and Javi being Javi. 

Author’s Note: This is a gift for @agentwhiskeysgf​ - whose request was “Javi or Whiskey, open to interpretation, and romantic fluff/smut. I went with a GN reader for this one, and I hope that you enjoy it! Happy holidays from your Pedrostories Secret Santa! 

To get alerted when I post new chapters/stories, follow @somethingtofightfor-shares and turn on post notifications - you can also ask to be added to my tag list (link in bio or at the top of my taglist reblog)

He sat at his desk, the fingers of one hand idly tapping on the surface of it while the ones on the other hand were wrapped around a ballpoint pen. 

The office was busy around him - men and women scurrying around with their noses buried in files, stacks of freshly printed paperwork moving from office to office … but he ignored all of it. 

He’d gotten good at tuning things out during his time in Colombia, and even after moving home - for good - and back onto his father’s Laredo property, Javier Peña was still good at it. 

In fact, he was so good at it that he completely missed the ringing of his desk phone, the man focused on the paper in front of him while it rang repeatedly. “Peña, you gonna get that?” The words accompanied with a sudden slap on the desktop made Javi jump, but when he glanced up and saw one of the other agents standing next to him, he relaxed. 

“Get… what?” He frowned, looking around. “What’s -”

“Your phone, man. You’ve missed two calls. Hope they weren’t important.” With a shake of his head, the other man rolled his eyes and walked away, muttering under his breath. 

“Shit.” Javi leaned forward and pressed his palm against his forehead, fingertips sliding into the messily styled locks on his head. Shit. He’d been waiting for a call from you, and with one more quick glance at  the paper on his desk, Javi reached for his phone, jumping again when it rang for what he assumed was a third time. 

“Peña.” Answering with his usual greeting, Javi waited - and immediately relaxed at the sound of your voice on the other end of the line. 

“Hey, you.” There was a pause, giving him time to lean back in his chair, but when you spoke again he knew you were amused. “Busy? I tried calling twice, and you didn’t pick up.” 

“Yeah, I’m…” He eyed the paper again, rolling the pen between his thumb and forefinger. “I’m working on that list we talked about.” 

“Oh?” He heard you hum, the amusement still there but the sound lower, much more similar  to what he was used to in the confines of your bedroom than on the other end of the phone line. “At work? Isn’t your desk in the middle of the room?”

“It is.” He grinned at the memory of the first time you’d come in to see him before a planned lunch. One of the secretaries had guided you through the busy space until you were standing next to his desk, an eyebrow raised as you watched him take a phone call. “Hasn’t changed since you were in here.” 

“You’re playing with fire then, Agent Peña.” At the words - and the way you said them, Javi groaned, sitting up straight and then dropping the pen, groaning as he rubbed at his forehead. “I approve.”

“I’m sure you do.” He sighed, a lick of heat in his belly at the way you were teasing him. “But don’t worry. There’s not much on it yet, so no one’s gonna …” 

He trailed off at the sound of your laugh, Javi’s lips twitching into what almost passed as a smile. But at the sight of his boss entering the room, the expression changed back into one of resignation. Shit. 

“I’ve got to go. Boss’ here, and it looks like he’s heading over to me.” He lifted one shoulder, securing the phone between it and his cheek, and then made himself look busy, flipping papers over on the desktop and attempting to organize it. He saved the list for last, folding it in half and then tucking it into the top drawer of his desk. “I’ll see you for dinner after I get outta here?” 

“Mmmhmm.” You nearly purred the word out, Javi gritting his teeth at the sound. “You know it.” 

He hung up moments later, replacing the phone onto the cradle just before his boss reached his desk, booming voice letting Javi know that not only was there an emergency meeting in ten minutes - but that his presence was mandatory. 

With one final look at the drawer containing the list, Javi stood, hastily gathering his own files. I’ll finish it this afternoon. 

— 

A week later, the two of you were sitting on the couch in the little house you rented, the TV on low and a couple bottles of beer open on the table in front of you. 

He had four days off - a rare occurrence for him in his line of work - and he planned on enjoying them all, spending as much time with you as possible since you’d also requested the days and had been approved. 

The nights in Laredo were chilly, but you had one of the windows cracked open, a light breeze blowing in. As he tightened his arm around your shoulders, Javi realized that for the first time in a long time - maybe since he’d gotten back from Colombia - he was entirely content. And it’s because of you. 

He turned his head to the side and leaned in, lips grazing over your temple. “Thank you.” He murmured the words, your attention turning from the TV and to him, confusion written all over your face. “I like this. The quiet?” Javi twisted his wrist, knuckles trailing over your shoulder. “With you.” 

“I like it too, Javi.” You were still shy with him - sometimes timid, and though he knew that you were working past it, it had everything to do with the way he’d approached the relationship initially - sticking to his Colombia routine and not promising anyone anything, telling you upfront what he was and wasn’t looking for. 

Javi knew that for you, time and tangible proof of his commitment to you were the only things that could eliminate those timid tendencies all together - and he looked forward to it happening. We’ve known each other long enough.

You’d broken his defenses down almost effortlessly - nights spent listening to music on his dad’s porch or driving around in his old truck, the two of you sharing beers and nachos while you caught up on the years that you’d spent apart. It was you that made the first move, though, a cautious kiss after a game of darts that had quickly turned into more … and soon enough it was Javi seeking you out. 

He called sometimes just to hear the sound of your voice over the phone, invited you over or out for dinner in the middle of the week after he’d had a stressful day at work, the nights resulting in nothing but conversation and you listening, doing whatever you could to ease the tension in his life, much the same way you had in high school before he’d met Lorraine and gone to Colombia.

The months passed and Javier realized that he’d fallen for you, though it took him a few more to admit it. But later, he was glad that he’d told you - thrilled that after the horrors he’d endured with his friends and coworkers south of the border, he’d been given a shot at something normal with you. 

“We should exchange our lists.” He cleared his throat, sitting up and then standing, grabbing for his mostly empty beer bottle. “If we’re going to have the next few days together, it’s a good idea to get a head start.” 

You agreed immediately, jumping up from the couch and telling him you’d be right back before disappearing into your bedroom, the light clicking on just as Javi’s hand found the doorknob, pulling it open so that he could step into he stillness of the Laredo night. 

He wasn’t running - his list was securely closed in an envelope in his glove compartment, waiting for the right time to give it to you. And tonight’s it. 

You popped your head out the front door just in time to see him turn away from the passenger side of his truck, envelope in hand. “Thought you were leaving. I …”

“Never. You’re not that lucky.” It made you smile and he was glad, Javi following you back into your living room and settling down next to you. “So. It’s a short list, but … I think you’ll like it.” 

“Mine isn’t that long either.” You chewed on your lip nervously and he reached out, using one thumb to pull it free from between your teeth, your name the only thing he said. “What?” 

“Stop. I’ve been thinking about this for two weeks and can’t wait to see what you came up with.” That seemed to help, you handing over your envelope and he raised his, a smirk on his face. :”How do you wanna do this?” 

“Open mine first.” You were breathless and the moment he took the envelope from your hand, you returned both of yours to your lap, fingers twisting together. “Read them, and then I’ll read yours and…” Closing your eyes, you nodded. “Yeah. That’s what I want to do.” 

He handed over his envelope and then slipped a finger beneath the flap of the one he held, tearing it open. 

There was only one single slip of paper inside, folded twice, and when he opened it and laid eyes on your familiar handwriting, Javi felt the desire in his chest growing right along with the affection that he felt for you - though that hadn’t ever wavered. “Well this is a …” He hummed, eyes scanning the paper. “Damn.” 

“What? I told you that it was short. I shouldn’t have -”

“Quiet.” It wasn’t loud - and it wasn’t forceful, but with the single word, he knew that he had your attention, the man’s eyes rising from the paper he held until they met yours. “We said that we were gonna do this, right?” You nodded - hesitantly - but when Javi continued, he watched you relax, little by little. “You made me a list of things that you want to try with me in our bedroom, and asked me to do the same.”

“Yeah, Javi, but -” He cut you off, pressing his lips to yours in a lingering kiss, your startled inhale enough to make him smile. “They’re not -

“Give me a few seconds. I need to read these again.” Your list wasn’t much longer than his, but as Javi’s eyes scanned the lines, neatly numbered, he felt his heartbeat quicken, the heat building in his belly. All of these are fucking good. “Hmm.” He wet his lips, nodding. “These are going to be fun.” 

“Yeah?” You sounded hopeful and when Javi set the list down and turned his attention back to you, he reached out, placing a hand on your knee and squeezing. “Javi -”

“You want to bring toys into the bedroom? We can try that.” He leaned in, lowering his voice. “You want to watch me get myself off? More than happy to make that happen for you.” You sucked in a breath and when he kissed you, you groaned into it, one hand reaching for his forearm, fingers wrapping tightly around it. “Outdoor sex? That’s what I’ve got a truck bed for.” You laughed at that, your hand trailing up his arm and toward his shoulder. 

“Yeah?” He nodded, kissing you again and letting it linger that time. 

“All you had to do was ask.” He straightened up, pointing at the paper. “We’re not gonna do the last one right now, though.” You laughed hard at that, head tipped back and Javi’s eyes on your throat. “I have no problem seeing how long we can tease each other before one of us gives in, but I’m not wasting four perfectly good days with you on that.” 

“That’s fine.” Finally getting yourself under control, you looked at him again, a contented smile on your lips. “Can I open yours now?”

“Nope.” He stood, holding out a hand, and when you took it, Javi pulled you to your feet. “We’re gonna go and cross a couple of these things off before you even look at what I gave you.” 

“What? Javi, I -” He urged you closer, his hands at your waist and his mouth on your neck. “Fuck, that feels good.” 

“I know.” He bit at your skin, teeth grazing it before he worked his way up to your jaw. “And I want to hear you tell me what else feels good, alright? Everything that you want?” Because that’s what you asked for, and that’s what I want to give you. 

It took you a second to answer, but when you did, your voice was full of confidence, eyes blazing as they locked with his. “Yeah, Javi.” You reached for him, trailing your fingers over his lips. “I’ll tell you exactly what I want.” 

—

Tag list reblog coming soon! 

[psychewritesbs]

Hola capaa~~ argentina y entusiasta de Clamp, JJK y Sonny Boy sos todo❣️❣️

I absolutely love all your psych analysis!! I was wondering if you’d like to write a little about Gojo’s relationship with Megumi, like what he views him as. I know there’s a lot of discourse about whether megumi views him as a father/brother/uncle/mentor/guardián but I’d like to read about Gojo’s probable view.

Saludos de CABA❤️

Hola hola! Mucho gusto ♥!

Dear CABAnon... I just need you to know that your ask is an amazing question that required so much fun and multilayered brainrot.

So thank you for the ask and thank you so much for your kind comments. I will write in English in case anyone else wants to read this word vomit but will say hello in Español at the end of this post.

I'm also so glad you're a CLAMP enthusiast too because I'm going to drop clamptastic moments to illustrate points. My heart rejoices in knowing you'll get it.

So without further ado...

Gojo + Megumi. Let's brainrot...

Also... I may or may not have written a whole analysis post only to realize that I wasn't necessarily answering your question so I ended up deleting most of what I had written.

Hence the delay...

Ok procrastination, attention deficit disorder, and my overall slow temperament might have had something to do with it too. So thank you as well for your patience! 😂

ANY-WAYS!

I've written about my thoughts on this relationship from Megumi's perspective in the past, but I feel like my thoughts could use some more nuance given everything we've seen of this dynamic as of late.

What I'll start by saying is that Gojo isn't a character I spend a lot of time brain rotting about, so I may only scratch the surface of my interpretation of him, or perhaps even mischaracterize him a bit *gasp*.

That to say that in order to answer your question, we kind of have to peel back the layers of this dynamic.

So let's start by taking an in-depth look at Gojo:

Gojo Satoru is human af

Ok so... names have meaning in JJK, right?

So given how popular he is in the JJK-fandom, I am assuming it is common knowledge that his name, and the kanji in his name, alludes to an enlightened being.

In other words, Gojo is a bodhisattva--an enlightened being who is able to enter Nirvana but delays doing so out of compassion for others and their suffering.

But here's the thing...

“One does not become enlightened by imagining figures of light, but by making the darkness conscious.”

Carl Jung

What is interesting about Gojo is that, despite his exalted spiritual status as the personification of a bodhisattva, he is actually VERY human.

For one, in relational dynamic to others he keeps others at a safe distance. Like that's literally part of how his Cursed Technique manifests, which is a beautiful example of how Cursed Technique can be a metaphor for the sense of self.

Second, Gojo CARES SO MUCH AND SO DEEPLY, it is actually shown how his emotional entanglements are one of his main weaknesses.

Now, for context, consider that emotional entanglements are a form of self-related attachment and that, in very simple terms, the goal of enlightenment is to transcend attachments that might hold the sense of self back from Nirvana.

Third, Gojo is a direct product of the society he is a part of since he does carry the burden of The Strongest / The Chosen One.

It's almost like Gojo's clown externalized persona is an attempt to add some much needed comic relief to the self-definition others have given him. An attempt to lessen the heavy burden of what it means for others to think of him and define him as The Strongest.

Now, what does strength/power mean in JJK? Overwhelming sense of self which is the byproduct of self-knowledge.

So I headcanon that it is precisely because he knows he is The Strongest, that, true to his character archetype as a bodhisattva, Gojo seeks to alleviate the suffering of others. Thus, his actions in an attempt to alleviate suffering are the result of his nature.

And here's the fun twist: Gojo seeks to do so through "power".

Now let's add Megumi to the mix.

Issai shujo to tomo ni

To answer your question, in addition to understanding Gojo's nature as a compassionate being driven by his attachment to others, we have to consider his actions and motivations.

Gojo bringing Megumi under his wing is an interesting rabbit hole for many reasons.

So let's start with the idea behind the theme issai shujo to tomo ni (“together with all sentient beings”—regardless of what hell one might fall into).

Consider that "it’s not enough for a bodhisattva of the Mahayana to just uphold the precepts. There are times when you have to break them, too. It’s just that when you do, you have to do so with the resolve of also being willing to accept whatever consequences might follow" (source).

To put it in JJK-words, how is Gojo abusing his position of power to further his own agenda?

Basically, it's a major red flag in terms of how Gojo might initially see Megumi as a means to pushing his own agenda for seeking power in order to fulfill his function as bodhisattva.

It's just that Gojo, as the adult in the dynamic, consciously and willingly manipulated Megumi into something that was beneficial for the both of them.

In other words, this is a red flag because Gojo, the adult, acted like a child and gave Megumi, the child, an adult choice.

This might loosely remind you of this fantastic meme and the context behind it:

(Source: noa-ciharu's fantastic talent for shitposting).

I just wanted to use the meme because it's about someone taking advantage of someone else's lack of psychological maturity.

As a side note, this also made me realize just how much JJK is exploring the idea that people's vulnerabilities get exploited by those who are in positions of power.

The thing is that Gojo could have just as easily ignored Megumi or reported him to the authorities. But he didn't do that, did he?

Instead he took Megumi under his wing and groomed him to become a tool that could help him change the Jujutsu-scheme of things. You could look at this and think "that's awful!" and you can also look at this and think "yes, it's shady, AND Gojo was also looking to help Megumi maximize his highest destiny and potential." More on this in a bit.

This is relevant because it says a lot about Gojo's "humanity" and the lengths he will go to for the sake of his goal and desire to alleviate the suffering of others.

Again, Gojo gave Megumi a choice Megumi should not have had to make. I have a 9 year old nephew, so I'm all for giving children choices so that they can develop their own sense of self. But the choices have to be age appropriate.

In other words, the adult in the room, Gojo, anticipated and used Megumi's innocence and love for Tsumiki as leverage to manipulate a specific response from Megumi that would benefit the both of them.

Which brings us to the next layer...

Noblesse Oblige

I think that because I come from a last name De los Reyes, I LOVE and deeply resonate with this term.

It's so...

"With great power comes great responsibility."

Voltaire

This is where the rabbit hole gets fun because, were it not for Toji's last words to Gojo, Megumi and Gojo might have never crossed paths.

And is there anything more clamptastic than the idea that inevitable emotional entanglements are the result of fate bringing people together?

The question this brings up for me is... even though Toji gave Gojo the choice (here we have choice as a theme again) to do as he pleased, can we consider this to be a curse that Toji put on Gojo seeing as these were his last words to him?

So the fact that Gojo chose to follow through with Toji's last words is the stuff of tragedy given we've already seen that Gojo's weakness are his emotional entanglement to others. And now that Sukuna has taken over Megumi's body... well... should we brace for tragedy?

But I digress...

The point of this layer is to introduce the idea that perhaps Gojo is someone who fosters strength / power in others through self-knowledge, both for the sake of his own agenda, and also because of the idea behind noblesse oblige--with great power comes great responsibility.

In other words, consider Megumi's theme in the sense that it would have been a complete waste of the talent he was born with, the prized family jewel worthy of one chosen by fate, to be squandered away in a lifetime spent fighting bullies.

Did Gojo see Megumi's worth only in terms of his family's name and his Cursed Technique? I think initially that might have been the case.

There's definitively something to be said about how Jujutsu society as a whole is a microcosm for the toxic Capitalist zeitgeist that permeates our world where our worth is measured against what we can do rather than for the mere fact that we are alive.

But... that's the thing, even if Gojo, as a product of his environment who is ironically seeking to upturn the very system that gave him the power that he has... Gojo is still Gojo, and Gojo is human af.

And for someone who is as enlightened as he is...

To blind himself to this truth about himself, to keep others at a safe distance in an attempt to lessen those emotional entanglements... well, it is kind of tragic, isn't it?

My precious student

I could have literally written this section only and called it a day but like... where's the fun in not word vomitting?

I have to say that I am loving how Gege is starting to tie loose ends. Promises he made early on in the manga are starting to unfold before our eyes.

For Gojo, the Hidden Inventory arc sets the stage for seeing just how much Gojo cares and the lengths that he will go through to alleviate the suffering of others because of how deeply compassionate he is.

So there is no doubt in my mind that Gojo CARES for Megumi deeply and holds Megumi in high regard both intellectually and emotionally.

Like... even if the way he recruited Megumi can be considered shady, I personally think it's in Gojo's nature to care deeply.

As a result I personally like the idea that Gojo came to care for, know and understand Megumi deeply. I should probably open a thesaurus to find a synonym for deeply, I've used that word like 5 times already.

I also think that Gojo sees in Megumi a mirror of himself given their fate has been somewhat defined by their respective Cursed Techniques. There's actually a lot of parallels in their behavior if you look closely.

Now, one of the biggest questions in fandom has been what life was like growing up in the Fushiguro household and what it was like to grow up under Gojo's tutelage.

So I love that Gege has finally given us a sneak peek at that dynamic because it sheds light into the answer to your question.

To me the panels above might show how Gojo approached fostering Megumi's talent. I could be wrong, but I get major "let's go for a walk so I can teach you something" vibes.

And like... I can't imagine how Gojo could have possibly avoided getting attached to Megumi if he basically saw him grow up. Whether he was around every day or came and went is the stuff of head canons.

But I definitively think there's a lot of love between these two characters and that Gojo sees Megumi not just as a student whose power he needs to foster through self-knowledge, but also as a protégé that was entrusted to him.

Now... given emotional entanglement is one of Gojo's major weaknesses, it makes me wonder what Gege is going to do once he lets Gojo out of the prison realm.

It makes me wonder what lengths Gojo will go through to alleviate Megumi's suffering.

Spanglish alert!

Merci a ma chérie (@justafrenchlondoner) for being a sounding board to help me answer this loaded question. We both loved the brainrot that ensued because of it.

Finalmente...

EAAAAA! Mucho gusto CABAnon!

Así es! Soy entusiasta de clamp, JJK, y Sonny Boy! Me encanta q t gusten a ti tb! The trifecta of perfection if you ask me. Lo único differente es q soy Mexicana pero al fin de cuenta, esa diferencia importa poco :)

Espero halla podido contestar tu pregunta... jeje... con eso d q me fui por una tangente q ni al caso me tardé un poco mas de lo esperado pero la vdd disfruté mucho contestando tu pregunta.

Espero escuchar de ti y tus pensamientos al respecto d nuevo!

Saludos desde mi pedacito en el Desierto de Chihuahua, victoria la psicoloca.

[mage-ical-character-person]

so after the playlist i’ve been looking for more fandroid energy songs and like. this is hey there delilah. imagine hey there deliah but in the same old fandroid robotic voice with slightly soul sucking instrumentals.

Got it? imagine that being posted. on the surface it seems like a cutesy love song, maybe put out for valentines. But strip away the instruments and look at the lyrics up front and it sounds less like a love song and more like a cry for help. (maybe the “♪ohh, it’s what you do to meee,♪” gets more and more discordant and shaky with every line, like someone on the verge of tears)

It’s no ordinary song. It’s a small way of expressing that aching sadness. It’s a stress ball. A vent post. He is holding back the floodgates, and yet some of that trauma still seeps through. But nobody bats an eye.

Add-ons to this:

Imagine how it feels to post something like that; something that you feel is revealing something very deep and personal to you, and people still enjoying it like a dog and a chew toy. To you, they’re benefiting off your pain. You’ve never shown anyone that side of yourself, and when you finally do, they clap like it was faked. Can’t even imagine what that would do to the psyche.

“what you do to me” can be interpreted in 3 ways: what the people coding him did to him—forcing him to feel pain for their viewing pleasure, what the audience does to him—ignoring, no, enjoying his one fleeting cry for help, or what he does to himself—scolding himself for crying for “no good reason.”

and don’t even get me STARTED ON “listen to my voice, it’s my disguise.”

Wow. Just.

I always wished Fandroid’s music channel and stuff reflected the lore and stuff like his gameplay channel did. You know? Like Fandroid always sort of felt like That Poppy or Dad Feels toned down and wrapped in lighthearted kids YouTuber. So even in like 2017 when I was first watching Fandroid, I had listened to Poppy and stuff and I wanted something akin to that? Something akin to how Poppy songs are both satires of shallow pop songs and relevant to the character of Poppy. (And a lot of stuff ended up going down with Poppy behind the scenes but let’s not get into that.) But Fandroid just sang about Bendy and stuff. I cared more about Fandroid content than Bendy. I wanted Fandroid songs about Fandroid that kept up the lighthearted robot YouTuber except maybe not so lighthearted thing you’d see in his streams and let’s plays.

And that’s exactly what this wonderful idea you’ve left in my ask box is!

I want to say that I don’t think the audience would be so cruel, that they wouldn’t ignore Fandroid’s pain, after all, that’s us y’know? We care, of course we do. But. We would enjoy it wouldn’t we. I was just saying that I would. Of course, I would still be concerned for him and I doubt I’d be the only one. But… I dunno.

[bubbleonice]

For your next Timothée reading.

Today, Kid Cudi unfollowed Timothée on social media and in the past couple months a friend from school unfollowed Timothée. Will Timothée’s association with K continue to have an impact on his longer-term friendships where they part ways on social media (if not more distant IRL)?

I think I heard about the Cudi unfollow was just a rumor? But I can take a look at wether this is going to have an impact on his longer term friendships.

2 or pentacles: The Two of Pentacles card in regards to friendship means things are okay. They could be better but your friends are helping support you, and you them. Are these friends true friends, and likewise, are you theirs? Is any party in the relationship parasitic, making it a one-sided relationship? It might be time to phase them out.

9 of pentacles reversed: The Nine of Pentacles Reversed can show cracks that are beginning to appear in your current, stable life. Perhaps things are not as solid as they seem, and you might not be seeing the symptoms or cause just yet. It can also represent an idyllic life you are aiming for, but something is stopping you from achieving it. It may be worth your while to think about why you aren’t already achieving your goal, identify any problems and work towards solving them.

The High Priestess reversed: It is important not to jump to depressing conclusions as this card is not a harbinger of doom. But she does point to all not being what it seems on the surface. The energies of the High Priestess reversed suggest the attitude of ���Trust, but verify,” will be extremely useful to you when it comes to agreements with others in general. Overall, however, the High Priestess reversed is not a bad card. She simply suggests that we look deeper; at everything and everyone, including ourselves and our own motives.

When the High Priestess reversed is significant in a reading about friends and family, it is an indication that people are at least somewhat vaguely confused. This is an important time to spell things out to your nearest and dearest but also for them to do the same. Communication can be unclear when she appears and so can the impressions that you are picking up from your friends and family members. Just, make sure you are all on the same page before doing or saying something that cannot be undone or unsaid. The High Priestess reversed also suggests that this may not be the greatest time to befriend new people and to try to bring them into your circle of friends. People may not be as open to that as you’d expect so don’t be pushy about that kind of thing now; it may backfire on you.

So in conclusion this is my interpretation. His friends are ok with it and tolerates it, but they are not liking it. They are confused and Timmy is not communicating with them about Kylie. They are all baffled like the rest of us, not really knowing what’s going on. In respect for Timothee they are not directly dismissing her, but they are not open to welcome her into their circle either. They feel intimidated and awkward about the whole situation, but they also love Timmy too much to not support him.