#why don't you jump on this di--
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my bosses want me to start playing around with midjourney and i’m just
#i thought moral work quandaries were supposed to be like#is it okay to smash that guy's kneecaps cos he owes you money#that one i could deal with!#they've also gotten into chat gpt#this is what happens when you work for tech people#'we have to jump on this new tech!'#why don't you jump on this di--
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did you watch tua s4 and if so what did you think :3
yeah i watched it
#crazy to be reminded that happened i've been trying to block it out of my mind since august but sure#honest thoughts: i've been kind of checked out since s3 was so mid but i didn't expect s4 to be THAT bad#i thought it was a terrible season with very few redeeming qualities especially when it came to five's storyline#pretty much completely nonsensical and removed from everything i liked about the first two seasons#also just lazy. like the plot doesn't make sense. why is jennifer in a squid. how did reg wipe their minds and why did he only do it once#why can you see other people's memories in the memory returning machine somehow#why did they hire a 13 year old in the fbi and how did he get such a high ranking position#what was the point of sewing all that irritation between diego and lila out of nowhere and why are they trying pretend diego was fat#what happened to sloane. what happened to allison's deal with reg.#if no one remembered ben's death why did they all talk about it like they did and how did klaus never notice that w ghost ben#why do they all care so much about a version of ben they didn't grow up with who hates them#how would five's initial plan for the subway fix everything if stopping the jennifer incident#would only save the ben who died in their timeline and not the one from the sparrow timeline who is causing the problem#if he knew they could timeline jump w the subway why wouldn't they just jump back in time to their original timeline#why is everyone in this world part of the jean and gene cult or whatever like there's no characters outside their circle who aren't involve#why does allison have new powers and why did she use them instead of her rumoring when she was trying to get info out of someone#and of course. what was the point of all that.#soundtrack wasn't even good. we used to be a society.#anyways. i liked viktor's bar and the implication that he still sucks so bad at dating#and five's ash ketchum haircut was fun.#i don't care about this season at all otherwise and i like to pretend it never happened so i can still enjoy the show and characters <3#which is very is easy bc it was so mindblowingly stupid it doesn't even feel real
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Since it's not going in my article due to space constraints, i'll share a bit about Jane Manning James here. It won't be superfleshed out atm bc it got cut. I plan to do more later. As I am *Reorganized*, writing this for a Community of Christ publication, i researched Ld-S shared history to the point of Nauvoo. my article doesn't follow west (technically). the main resource was an LDS one (thank you v much for your freely available archive) asking about her time with the prophet of the Restoration.
Jane Manning James
A significant Black Latter Day Saint from the early church was Jane Manning James. A woman from Connecticut notably made the walk from Buffalo, New York to Nauvoo, Illinois on foot, with most of her family. This was only after being separated from the group of recently converted latter day saints in Buffalo, possibly due to their race. Jane was baptized in 1842 by missionaries in her home state of Connecticut. She recorded these things about her journey and arrival to Nauvoo and her faith when asked to recall her life living with Joseph Smith in 1905.
“When I went there [Nauvoo] I only had two things on me, no shoes nor stockings, wore them all out on the road… They [Joseph and Emma] was looking for us because I wrote them a letter. There was eight of us, my mother and two sisters and a brother and sister-in-law, and we had two children, one they had to carry all the way there, and we traveled a thousand miles.”
She was sure in her belief of the Restored Gospel of Jesus Christ and Modern Prophecy. She says in her recollection, after seeing that Joseph Smith Jr was indeed the man in her vision in Connecticut, that “This is the Gospel of Jesus Christ and there will never be any other on earth. It has come to stay.” Sister James would later go west with the saints under the leadership of then Apostle Brigham Young.
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me tumblr posting again:
thank you for the example set Sister James on faith, dedication, and perseverance. She also had spiritual gifts, such as speaking in tongue and faith healing. She believed following the gospel, knowing it was a key to a better way of living life (for her.) it wasn't easy for her, and yet, i think the faith community i observe today (and mormonism in general) is better, just for her having lived it.
may she be at peace, and in a manner God, Sister Jane herself, and her family she led that meant so very much to her, see fit.
#the church of jesus christ of latter-day saints#latter day saint#afrostake#tumblrstake#mormon#mormon history#mormonism#religion#they dont mention anything about sealing bc we don't have it#most reorg saints don't know it exists nor that it was ever practiced#its simply assumed that will be the case. that your family will be there (and that there will be work to be done)#so i say it is unlikely that Sis Jane is actually eternally sealed to the Smiths as a servant bc God is no respecter of persons#who even said that Joseph is in the CK. he could be in the Telestial Kingdom rn as we speak. depending on how time / resurrection day works#Jane may be in the CK maybe having a sisterly relationship with Emma if that's how the afterlife works#i also don't believe the kingdoms are permanent. as a side note. if Joseph Jr ain't there i think he can be in God's time.#and josephites (reorganized saints) don't have a way to report card which kingdom they'll go too#and nobody talks about it bc its the afterlife and community of christ doesnt focus (or sometimes doesn't even care) about the afterlife#i've heard it talked about in depths twice and in general maybe 4-5 times. know a brother i meet with weekly who is newly widowerd#no one seems to think the work is over and that we well still be working and progressing in our faith helping others progress after death#that one is cultural - may come from common unwritten- early lds belief since L-dSaints have a new direction and more developed idea of thi#but for the sake of all sakes#can they not reseal her?#certainly a prophet could - listening to Gods call of liberation - see the symbolism and cultural moment that could be#or does post mortem sealing go off the rails? i don't go here. its often sweet and i think harmful in some ways too. JS Jr would Just Do It#but alas - i dont think emma should be involved with any of that. she wouldn’t want to do anymore sealing#i just think if you can do a baptism after death why not a sealing. but doing one would perhaps open a floodgate?#but perhaps its time for those many church generation Black families to be able to have that with they're bygone relatives#once i gave a mourning period & lively death procession & lively dance celebration on the alantic coast to#to honor all my ancestors/ predecessors who were killed and thrown into the sea or would rather die than be enslaved and jumped#danced in the same ocean they died in and dumped (state park approved) flowers into the sea
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I'm just spending this fine Thursday evening thinking about how I always see childfree memes about how nice it is to have extra money to yourself to travel and pursue hobbies and have nice things and how I live paycheck to paycheck often not having enough to cover my bills on time but at least I'm not paying for child related expenses on my paycheck which led to me thinking about how my sister told me my mom and dad got married because my mom wanted kids despite the fact they didn't love each other and apparently planned to have kids on purpose despite the fact they were poor and had only recently gotten sober (they met in aa lmao) and you know those families that can't provide financially for their children but love them to death and are emotionally there we weren't one of them so they just emotionally and physically abused me and my sister to the point we haven't talked in 3 months and I've only seen them 3 times in 9 years and what was the reason you wanted kids and couldn't provide anything for them I remember watching a tyler perry movie with my mom once and a character was talking about how how she was molested by her mom's boyfriend and my mom turned to us and said see some mom's are a lot worse like not allowing your children to be raped is not a flex I know it sounds like I'm coming down hard on my mom but long term followers also know I have smoke for my father this just isn't a post about him for once
#also I wasn't molested but I had a cousin say he wanted to rape me in the ass but he died so now I'm not allowed to tell anyone but y'all#lmao but the situation is not funny#don't mind me I'm just having a mental breakdown I could have avoided if I went to bed when I was sleepy#I'm literally professionally diagnosed pysch ward shorty traumatized#remembering the nurse that shamed me for going back to the pysch ward a year later the second time I was going to kill myself#because one why would you say that to someone in the er that was going to kill themselves#because that's exactly what my mother would have said to me if she knew#I should have did it#maybe if I did it big like jumped off a bridge and they wrote about how nice of a person I am she would have fet bad#I don't want to just die I want someone how treated horrible to for once feel bad about it#what is it about me that makes other people bring me down to this place where I feel like I'm unworthy of basic human kindness#like I'm less of a person#can some just tell me they love me like not romantically just like I'm a person that can be loved as friend and a daughter and a person#what was the reason what did you gain#actually cptsd#cptsd#rape tw ///#suicide tw ///#rants#stream of consciousness
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for me my meds are like my cane: i would like to not need them, but in my case they are objectively a net positive (i know this isn't the case for everyone) and i will use them because i want and deserve to feel better.
and honestly even then i've evolved with my personal feelings on my usage of both. gone from not wanting to use them at all ever to being thankful i have them when i need them.
it's a crutch in the same way a cane—or a fucking crutch—is a crutch. if you tell me not to use my cane when i know i need it because "i need to learn not to use it" as if I hadn't BEEN doing that, you're getting thwacked over the head with it.
there's a difference between advocating for not IMMEDIATELY overmedicating people (which is good, 100%, jumping immediately to especially high doses of or generally potent medications which could be dangerous for someone is a shitty practice) vs. shaming people for taking medication at all and some of y'all would do well to learn it.
“if you take medication for that, you’ll be taking medication all your life!!” yeah, and?? bud, i already put on my glasses every morning. it’s like. a condition of mine, not a side hobby i’m pursuing irresponsibly.
#; the citrus speaks#; mental health#; physical health#i'm growing bolder#i once again have Many opinions on this#especially being on adhd meds with the Problems around how instead of proper assistance combined with meds#they jump to overmedicating kids that are “too much”#fortunately i had a great T who put me on a bitty dose of concerta and helped me with strategies#but not everyone has that#but i'm not about to be shamed for taking meds that help me concentrate#or meds that help me not consider kickflip off of magnificently tall edifice#or that help me not have a panic attack at every waking moment#like if someone looked at me after smth that happened during my nyc trip#and said “well you can't rely on a CANE you have to learn to do it yourself”#like i don't have “physical activity makes the body go ‘fuck this’ [dies and kills me too]” disease#i'd do the old lady thing and hit them with it#yes the fuck i can i need Aid for my Mobility that's why i use a MOBILITY AID#i need aid for my concentration so i use a CONCENTRATION AID#i need aid for my depression so i have a DEPRESSION AID#i need aid for my anxiety so i need an ANXIETY AID#etc.#anyway#; lemon's inane ramblings#i feel normal about this topic and think about it a normal amount#clearly
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Headcanon that Shen Yuan was hotter than Shen Qingqiu, actually.
Like yeah SQQ being a cultivator gave him a boost to enough attributes + being in a stallion novel where everyone is either unrealistic hot or dog's butt ugly got the Shen Qingqiu body extra points, and he wasn't bad looking to begin with. Plus not being ill is vastly more important to the new Shen Qingqiu than those extra hotness points (Without a Cure notwithstanding). But part of the reason why he's kind of like, meh, at least I'm not hideous or anything, is because Shen Yuan's original body was a knock out.
I also like him as chronically ill, and, as many people know, beauty standards and sustained suffering are not as incompatible as they should be. Shen Yuan was conventionally attractive in part because conventional beauty standards seem to want everyone slowly dying all the time. But even setting that aside, the man had flawless bone structure, an appealing figure, captivating eyes, and the kind of voice that stopped people in their tracks.
All of which was a contributing factor to his antisocial lifestyle, actually. Despite the fact that Shen Yuan does enjoy company and requires a certain baseline of social enrichment for his enclosure, his internalized homophobia and closeting did not play well with overtures from interested parties (regardless of gender). The only way to minimize the odds of him being asked out on dates was to essentially become a shut-in, especially since even Shen Yuan can only make so many excuses before he himself starts to notice that he's going to a lot of effort to avoid specifically that avenue of socialization. Far better to just remove himself from any risk of it, and then vocally lament that oh no he's just too much of a nerd to get anywhere with women!
Anyway this largely doesn't matter much outside of sheer comedy potential for any situation where SY gets his old body/life back. Like imagine a reveal scenario where the System is going to transport them back to their old lives.
Shang Qinghua: well bro I guess this is gonna be the ultimate test of love, right?
Shen Yuan: what do you mean?
Shang Qinghua: our husbands are gonna see what we looked like back before we were glorious cultivators! they're going to have to track us down in our mundane, kinda shitty pre-transmigration lives! it's gonna be at least a little embarrassing, right?
Shen Yuan: *gets his old body back*
Shang Qinghua, normal human with average looks: ...
Shen Yuan, exemplary 11/10: ?
Shang Qinghua: what. the fuck?? bro what the fuck why are you hot???
Shen Yuan: don't make it weird
Shang Qinghua: make it weird??? why were you sitting at home reading my shitty novel when you could have been out there building your own harem???
Shen Yuan: stop exaggerating
Shang Qinghua: oh my god you've always been like this. this is it, isn't it? it wasn't even brain damage from the transmigration or something--
Shen Yuan: hey
Shang Qinghua: --you've just always been completely unaware, haven't you? every time I wrote a beautiful woman who didn't know her own appeal you'd be jumping down my throat--
Shen Yuan: because that's a stupid trope--!
Shang Qinghua: --JUMPING DOWN MY THROAT EXACTLY LIKE THAT but this whole time THIS WHOLE TIME it wasn't even a glow-up issue, you've just been that, personified, yourself--
Shen Yuan: look I know I'm not ugly but I'm not I'm hardly that good-looking
Shang Qinghua: YOU ARE NEVER ALLOWED TO CRITICIZE THAT TROPE AGAIN! oh my god. how many broken hearts did you leave behind when you died?!
Shen Yuan: none, I wasn't even seeing anyone--
Shang Qinghua: yeah full offense but I am nottt taking your word for that. I bet you had a harem you didn't know about in this lifetime too. I bet you had a fan club, like an anime prince
Shen Yuan: *mumbling*
Shang Qinghua: what was that?
Shen Yuan: I said... only in high school...
Shang Qinghua: oh my god
Shen Yuan: it wasn't a big deal!
Shang Qinghua: *frantically trying to see if he can find any trace of it on the internet now*
#svsss#scum villain's self saving system#scum villain#peerless cucumber#shang qinghua#shen qingqiu#shen yuan#bingqiu#moshang#and shades of#cumplane#binghe was ROBBED lol not really though#he likes shizun no matter what form he's in#mobei's also into whatever airplane has going on#cumplane have the kind of relationship where one turning out hot is just more ways for the other to roast him
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Tim, suddenlly looking up: Oh My God Dick: What? are you okay? What happened? Tim: I just realized why Jason keeps making jokes about how he died Jason: Yeah, because I died. It was a fairly big thing Tim: No, it's because nothing else happened when you were Robin Jason: What Tim: Dick's the original Robin and the first sidekick, not to mention Discowing, so he has a lot to joke about- Dick: Hey! Discowing was cool Tim: No it was not. Neither was Ric without a k. Never be anything but Nightwing Dick: Aw, you like it when I'm myself Tim: No, I'm less tramatized when you're yourself. Anyway, Steph started a gang war, Demon Brat died and came back to life and is still Robin, Duke's not Robin but he started We Are Robin and jumped out of a police car before being a vigilante and I have my own things that we don't need to discus- Dick: Saved the world in a intergalatic baseball game- Jason: Hid the purchase of your own batmoblie in the batarang expenses- Dick: Sunk around and took photos of vigilante at the age of 9- Tim: THAT WE DON'T HAVE TO DISCUSS! Back to what I was saying, Jason's the boring robin Jason: Rude- Tim: You were the good robin, the little crazy shit you did like steal the tires off the batmobile were kinda overshadowed by the fact that you like Jane Austen and you been red hood is because you died so everything you've done since then still has to do with the one thing that happened to you as Robin Dick: Oh My God. You said you were sticking to the same joke over and over again so it would have the same effect, but really you have nothing else to make jokes about Tim: Exactly! Jason: We really don't have to talk about this- Tim: I need to go tell Steph immediately Dick: I need to go tell everyone immediately
#tim drake#dick grayson#jason todd#stephaine brown#duke thomas#damian wayne#batfam#robins#robin#I am so sorry#this is so insensitive#but also really funny#i'm so sorry#i need to stop laughing
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Nikto who just doesn't let you leave his home after a one night stand.
You had a general idea of how one night stands went; you get in, you fuck, you get out. It wasn't really something you did often but when your neighbor who, in all honesty, has had your interest for a while asks... It was hard to keep your mouth from saying 'hell fucking yes'. Prior to this your interactions consisted of little more than pleasantries but you knew, from other neighbor's accounts, that he was more talkative with you than anyone else. And now you knew why.
Your neighbor did not disappoint. Nikto fucked the senses right out of your skull. Your clothes crumpled and discarded along with your inhibitions. You'd be feeling him for days; between your legs, in your mouth, in every bruise left on your skin and random twitch in your thigh. It was one hell of a good time but you knew how these things ended. Knew that once the breathing died down and the adrenaline left your senses it was time to put your clothes back on and skedaddle.
However Nikto finds every excuse for you to stay;
You shift to leave the bed but his arm casually wraps around you, pulling you back against him. You look back at him confused but his eyes are already closed and he only says one word. "Sleep."
The next morning you go to put on your clothes only to find they're nowhere in the room. Instead one of his shirts was left on the side of the bed you slept on. You tug it on and when you find him, he's doing laundry. "Hospitality. I clean them for you." He grunts. And so you end up chatting with him in the laundry room, helping out by seperating the clothes.
When that's all done you make one last trip to his room to double check you've left nothing behind. You announce your departure but Nikto stops you from in the kitchen, declaring he's already made breakfast for two. "Don't waste food." He says putting a plate in your hands. To his credit; it was a good hearty breakfast.
Another attempt to leave? He's rented a movie you mentioned, it has to be watched within 24 hours. "You wanted to see this, da. Come, we watch now?"
And another? "You've been wanting to learn how to bake, da? Let me teach you this recipe."
Another one? You can't leave without letting him show you one of his collections
Another? How about another movie?
And the final attempt? "It's too late to be out, better to just spend the night here." He says as if your home wasn't a hop, skip and a jump away from his.
You caught on, of course, but you don't really mind. It's been a while since you've felt wanted and the flattery had you beaming inside. You probably should be alarmed but he hasn't used any force, no intimidation, just a socially inept man trying to convince his pretty little neighbor to move in in the most roundabout way possible.
#kyumiwrites#cod nikto#nikto x reader#call of duty nikto#mwii nikto#nikto x you#andre nikto#I need this so bad rn#someone make this a bot on janitor ai
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Okay first off the first thing I realized like, 30 seconds after I made this comment was: Bruce and Danny had to realize themselves too that Danny wasn't aging. Which was a really bad night for the both of them, especially for Danny, who was basically inconsolable the whole night and got himself really sick in the morning as a result.
And Yes! The blood blossom extract just like, feeds off the ectoplasm Danny's body naturally produces. Which makes it impossible to just 'wait until it out of his system' because there is no 'system' for it to escape from! The blood blossom feeds on his ectoplasm, his ecto-levels get really low, the blossom extract then starts to "fade" away (for lack of better terms), which lets his ectoplasm regenerate, only for the poison to revive and latch onto it again.
It creates a vicious cycle of Danny getting really badly ill for a week or two, him recovering for a few months, and then when he's at a high, he crashes and burns again. It's really painful to watch and it's painful to experience. It gets a lot more manageable when Danny and Bruce create some "suppressor" bracelets for Danny to wear that helps manage his ecto-levels, so he crashes and burns significantly less often.
Which also means, yeah, absolutely he learns to be more like a bat in order to stay in the game. He can't -- well, more accurately he shouldn't -- use his ghost form or access his ghost powers. It causes the blood blossom in his system to just, surge, and the few times he has used his ghost powers, he's gotten terribly ill afterwards.
aaaa Danny just being an older brother to Dick. No notes other than Danny is both so jealous, so happy, and so sad when Dick turns fourteen. Then fifteen. Then sixteen. And suddenly Dick is the older brother now, and Danny is still fourteen.
Dick, even when he was nine, always having a sliver of doubt about his brother going out as vigilantes with them. But Danny is just as much of an unstoppable force as him and Bruce, and if he wants to help or go out, nothing except his own illness will stop him. He has a terrible habit of biting off more than he can chew, something they all have in common but it always seems the most prevalent in Danny; or at least the most noticeable.
It's not until he's sixteen, being sat down and having his brother and Bruce explain to him about Danny's lack of aging and the extent of Danny's illness does he find out why. What little video footage he can find on the Phantom of Amity Park reveals a powerhouse; a shooting star in his own right. His brother used to be larger than life, going toe-to-toe with beings on the same level as Superman and winning.
It's both very hard and laughably easy to see the similarities in supergiant star Phantom and the neutron star Nightingale. There's one thing that hasn't changed though; they both smile the same way. Looking at his brother feels like looking at a living tragedy now. He starts helping Bruce find a cure -- if this Vlad Masters guy can get his hands on blood blossoms in order to poison his godson, they can find it to make an antidote.
(which is another thing. Vlad Masters is a despised name amongst the Wayne Family.)
Once Dick knows the full truth, Danny lets him in on inside jokes once previously kept between him and Bruce. Little jokes from his time as Phantom and quips about his illness that wouldn't make sense without full context given. Danny one day nudges his elbow against Dick's side after a long patrol, and with an impish grin tells him; "I would take this over fighting Skulker any day."
"One of your old rogues?"
"Oh yeah. He was the Ghost Zone's "greatest bounty hunter", some bounty hunter he was. He routinely got his ass kicked by an untrained kid. He wanted my skin on his wall."
"What?"
"It's funnier than it sounds, trust me! He used to work with Vlad, but he cut all ties after he heard what he did to me. I guess there are lines even he won't cross."
A constant between all the kids is that they can get a little overprotective over Danny. It's a case of little siblings being protective over their older brother; general familial protectiveness; and Danny's illness. He, just like the rest of them, tends to neglect his health at times. They're all pots calling the other kettles black, but the consequences of Danny not taking care of himself feels a lot more real than with everyone else.
There's really not a sibling whose "worse" than the others, because it fluctuates. But Jason might be the worst if I had to pick; I wouldn't be surprised if he has illness trauma. When he was a kid living in Wayne manor he was Danny's little living shadow whenever his health took a minor dip. Danny spent a lot of time unsuccessfully convincing Jason that he wasn't going to drop over dead.
... i didn't go into it because i was distracted and i was originally just gonna leave it in the tags, but i think it deserves to be in post because I have more thoughts on it than I thought.
But i imagine it's like. genuinely terrifying whenever danny's health crashes and burns. Because before they got those bracelets (which look rather unassuming and cuff-like) Danny's crashes more often than not felt like someone cutting the strings on a puppet. Just. abrupt, scary plummets in his health because his ecto-levels quietly reached a point where the blood blossoms could kick back into full gear. There's few things more terrifying than Bruce watching his kid cough up blood, there's even less when he coughs up a blood clot the size of a golf ball.
They got those bracelets made shortly before or sometime after dick joined the family, but neither Bruce nor Dick will ever forget the awful dread of watching Danny slowly recover, be almost completely healthy and full of life, completely vibrant like a spring flower, only to collapse later and at random. It was easy to get caught up in Danny's charismatic magnetism, only to remember later that it was going to be nipped at the bud at any moment.
It's a lot like going on a rollercoaster and knowing when you'll reach the top, but never knowing when you'll drop. Just that it will soon.
One thing that stays the same, however, is Danny consistently bouncing back from it tho. Even while actively sick there's always an aura of hope around him, and how it's just a sick spell. He'll bounce back and be back on his feet in a week, he always is! It was either that or falling into a depressive hell.
Danny never got as badly sick after that until Jason's death. There have been a few scares where he got pretty sick after he was forced to use his powers, but he bounced back within a day or two. Beforehand it'd take a week at best, and then he was weak for a while afterward.
The rest of the family never knew how bad it got because Dick, Bruce, and Danny never talked about it. Dick and Bruce didn't because it was frankly just, terrifying and traumatizing. Neither of them like talking or thinking about it, and Danny doesn't bring it up because it sucked for him, and well... he never thought it was important to bring up. He saw no point in bringing it up because it felt like trying to garner pity points, there's never a good reason or time to bring up what life was like before his suppressors.
Which brings up a very angsty idea I've got that took this out of the tags, where Danny's bracelets break one day and he doesn't tell anyone -- just quietly alerts Lucius Fox that he'll need the parts to make new ones. And the thing about Danny's bracelets is that the way they 'suppress' him is by detecting when his ecto-levels reach a certain level, before then absorbing the ectoplasm he's producing until his ecto-levels have lowered to a safe level. The absorbed ectoplasm gets steadily released into the atmosphere with the rest of the ambient 'plasm in the air.
It's a rather elaborate piece of tech, and Danny's frankly a little scared of crashing before he can get those parts and make new ones. But it normally takes months for him to crash, and Lucius said the parts he'll need will be in by the end of the month at latest.
Murphy is very cruel -- or more accurately, my own entertainment is. Because of course Danny ends up aiding in a fight that hits all the check boxes of causing a crash: he's in a high-stress situation where he's tense up the wazoo, and forced to use his powers a few times -- intangibility being one of the worst offenders. Pair that with the physical exertion, and by the time they're done, Danny is trembling, nauseous, and in a lot of physical agony from the blood blossom extract.
"You alright?" One of his siblings asks, hovering, and Danny's mask is hiding his unfocused staring as he's hit with another hot flash, so he doesn't bother even looking at them to nod. He's staring over their shoulder trying to ignore the burn in his lungs.
"Yeah." He grits out, "peachy. Jus' took a lot out of me, y'know how it is." It's a lot of effort to not slur his words, and he ends up doing it anyways.
He manages to make it until Batman shows up before he finally collapses. Danny's lurking off in the corner, trying to keep an eye on things (somewhat unsuccessfully), but when he sees Batman an instinctive part of him relaxes, and that's when his body gives up on trying to keep itself together.
He's hit with a coughing fit that results in his head swimming, and a blood clot the size of a tennis ball sitting in his hand. "Oh. Shit." He says, blood dripping down his chin. "That's no good."
Batman's shadow appears over him, and he looks up as Bruce grabs his shoulders tightly. "M- my- uh-- m'bracelets broke." he tells him, and watches his dad practically stop breathing. "Bu- s'-- it's- 's fine. ll'be fff'ne."
(He won't be. But he'll live.)
I am loudly pushing the batdad agenda i am loudly pushing the— DPxDC Prompt
“Woah. You look like shit."
Granted, that’s probably not the first thing Danny should be saying to the guy that just bit the curb, but in his defense; he’s not running on 100% right now either.
The man -- tall, towering, and broader than Danny is tall -- whips around on his heel, black frayed cape flaring out impressively. Danny would've whistled in appreciation, but he takes the time instead to wipe the back of his hand across his mouth, smearing the blood running from his nose across his cheek.
"Sorry." He blinks widely, not even flinching as the man with the horns zeroes in on him. "That was rude of me. I have a really bad brain-to-mouth filter; Sam says its what always gets me into trouble."
And she's not wrong either, per say. His smart mouth is what landed him in this situation -- with blood blossom extract running through his veins and cannibalizing the ectoplasm in his bloodstream. Thanks Vlad.
The man grunts at him; a short, curt "hm" that shouldn't make Danny smile, but he does because he's somewhat delirious and probably concussed. The man keeps some kind of distance, sinking towards the shadows of Gotham's alleyway like he dares to melt right into it.
If it's supposed to scare Danny, it doesn't work. Danny's never been afraid of the dark; he's always been able to hide himself in it. He blinks slowly at the mass of shadows.
"You look hurt." The shadows says, blurring together around the edges. Danny squints, and licks his lips to get the blood dripping down his chin off. Ugh, he hates the taste of blood.
"I am." He says, "My godfather poisoned me. M'dying." The agony of the blood blossom eating him from the inside out looped back around to numbing a while ago, so all he feels is half-awake and dazed.
"Hey," Danny stumbles forward towards the man, a bloodied hand reaching out to him. "You-- you're a hero, right? You're not attacking me; which is more than I can say for most costumed people I've met." Maybe it's a poor bar to judge someone at, but he's already established that Danny's not in his right mind.
The man makes no change in expression, but Danny realizes blearily that it's hard to tell with the shadows on his face. He stays still long enough for Danny to latch onto the cape -- stretchy, but almost soft under his fingers.
He looks up blearily into the whites of the man's eyes. "Can you help me? I don't-- I don't wanna die." Again. He doesn't wanna die again. He blinks slow and lizard-like. "I mean- I'll probably get to see mom and dad again, but I told them I'd at least try and make it to adulthood."
There's a clatter down the street, and Danny's ghost sense chills up his spine and leaves a bitter, ashy taste in his mouth. He immediately knows who it belongs to even before the deceptively gentle; "Daniel?" echoes down the way.
"Daniel? Quit your games, badger, Gotham is dangerous for children."
Danny's mouth pulls back, and blood spills against his tongue. "Please." He rasps, and grabs onto the shadow's cape with both hands. "Please. He's going to kill me. Please--"
"Daniel? Is that you?"
His lips part, dragging in air to plead with the darkness again. He doesn't need to, the whites of his eyes narrow, and the cape whirls around him before Danny can blink. Soon swaddled in shadows, the Night lifts him up, and steals him away.
#IT DOESNT TAKE ME TWO HOURS TO GET KOOLAID JAMMERS BUT IT APPARENTLY DOES TAKE 2 HOURS TO WRITE THIS (???)#i have a lot of feelings about little siblings outgrowing one of their older brothers but i also have a lot of feelings on everything else#and ADHD to boot so i. jumped around a bit. this also made me wonder how Danny being there too would impact Tim's obsession with Robin#and i'm thinking he was equally obsessed with both.#Bruce does nothing to stop or intercept the siblings' motherhenning because frankly he does it too. Danny does it too. they all do it to#each other. Danny just in particular gets the worst of it because he turns into a sickly victorian child when he's not careful.#which perfectly brings me to my next point: danny's health was at its worst when Jason died. he was inconsolable and bedridden for weeks#danny has surprisingly good emotional control but thats because he naturally makes an influx of ectoplasm when he's in a high emotional#state. and given the stuff i said about the blood blossom extract and how i imagine it works... yeah. its better for Danny that he's got an#iron grip on his emotions. of course he's still fourteen but he's got good control over it nonetheless.#why did this take me two hours to write#you're not supposed to cough up blood thats a death sentence. but the DRAMA of it all. Danny only coughs up blood when he crashes#i love sickfic can you tell. it can be so terribly sad and scary#didn't go into detail again but danny's bleeding from the mouth. its fucking terrifying to see. and he leans his whole bodyweight into bruc#once he's holding onto him. his legs don't wanna work anymore. he's trying to comfort bruce that he'll be okay#its hard to believe that tho when its coming from the mouth of a runty 14yo kid who just spat out a blood clot and was actively collapsing.#i need to talk about babbling-babull's jason additions because i have THOUGHTS about those too but i will Later
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─ you're the sunflower ੈ✩‧₊˚
✶ pairing: miguel o'hara x fem!reader
✶ synopsis: everyone on the team loves you, expect miguel who seems to hate you more than anyone.
✶ warnings: angst!! major angst. sunshine!reader x grumpy!miguel. reader is nicknamed sunflower, mentions of death.
✶ notes: there's one spanish sentence in this, I'm not good with spanish so if I've made a mistake please tell me so i can fix it! part two is already up!!!
Everyone on the team loved you from the moment you joined, everyone, except Miguel.
You knew Miguel was cold towards everyone, but he was extra cold with you. Maybe it was because of how different your personalities were.
You were the embodiment of sunshine, always positive in any situation, putting others before yourself. Hence why everyone calls you sunflower, it fits perfectly, Miles was proud of coming up with it.
Miguel on the other hand was cold and distant but that didn't stop you from trying to get him to open up. You'd try to have simple conversations with him but nothing, all you would receive in reply was an eye roll or a slight grunt, but you wouldn't give up that easily.
Like today, you got him some coffee.
"Morning, boss. Got you some coffee." You said in your usual cheerful tone.
"Why?" He raised his eyebrows, looking down at you suspiciously. That's the most he's said to you all week.
"Because I wanted to." You shrugged, placing it down on his desk.
He steped down walking towards his desk, you couldn't help but stare at him, unfortunately for you, everything about him was so attractive, it's such a shame he hated you.
"This isn't how I like my coffee."
"Huh?" You snapped out of your daydream at the sound of his voice.
"The coffee, it tastes terrible. Get it from another place next time."
"Well, actually I made it-" But he had already walked away from you not listening to a word you said. "Alright, never mind, I'll just go back to work." You mumbled hurt by his words.
"Wait, hold on." You looked up, thinking, maybe he'll say something nice after all.
"Yeah?"
"Take the coffee with you, I won't be drinking it."
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
"Girl, why do you look so sad? Did Miguel do something again?" Jess asked with a frown, she did not like seeing you sad.
"No."
"Sunflower…"
"Okay, yes." Miguel being cold towards you was normal, he never spoke to you unless necessary. Out of everyone here, he probably hated you the most, even more than Miles.
"Sunflower, I've told you to stop trying." Jess sighed.
"I know, I know… why does he hate me so much, Jess?"
"That's just the way he is, don't overthink it. It's his loss, baby." She replied, gently patting your shoulder.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
Today was going to be a good day, you were so sure of it.
But, of course, you were wrong.
Everything was going great up until a few hours ago.
Miguel had assigned you on a mission to catch an anomaly, alongside a few other spider-people. His instructions were clear, stick to the plan and catch the anomaly. It was supposed to be simple.
If only you didn't disobey him. You screwed up badly, and because of that, you could have been killed.
"Why don't you ever listen?" Miguel shouted. No one had ever seen him this angry.
"I was just tryin-"
"¡Ay, por el amor de Dios!" Being yelled at by your boss in front of your coworkers was humiliating, everyone was looking at you with pity.
"I'm sick of this, why can’t you follow simple instructions? Is it that hard to understand?" He barked, towering over you.
"It's not a big deal." You tried to keep your composure, you didn't want to humiliate yourself further by bursting into tears.
"Not a big deal? You could've died! A simple mistake would have ruined the whole mission."
Don't cry. Don't cry.
"But we're all fine, aren't we?" You weakly chuckled. That was the wrong thing to say because it only made him angrier.
"Oh? If that's the attitude you have then you shouldn't even be on the team." Ouch.
"Miguel, I think that's enough-" Hobie said, quickly jumping in.
"Not now, Hobie." He growled.
Never once did you think that you'd be in a situation like this.
"If you put more focus on trying to be good at your job, rather than impressing me, we wouldn't even be here!" Oh, so he did notice that.
At this point, tears were streaming freely down your face and you made no attempt to stop them.
"Yep, you got it, boss." You smiled up at him through your tears. It was pathetic, but you did not care, you just wanted to leave and never come back.
"Next time make sure this doesn't happen."
"It won't happen next time." That's because there won't be a next time.
#📂 ‧₊˚ my works .ᐟ#miguel o'hara#miguel o'hara x reader#spiderman across the spiderverse#across the spiderverse#spiderman atsv#spiderman x reader#spiderman#spiderman 2099#spiderman 2099 x reader#oscar isaac x reader#oscar isaac#miguel o'hara x you#miguel o'hara angst
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“How did you know how to do it?”
“Do what?”
“Stitch me up.”
“It's just sewing.”
“And the IV?”
Jazz’s mouth opens, then closes as she also closes her eyes. He lets her think about the answer, a good enough lie. “A friend had a doctor phase a few years ago. We would try to do a lot of things on fake skin before she moved on to tattooing.”
“Yeah, right.”
“I am telling the truth. Look, I had- I had a weird childhood, so sometimes I had to improvise.”
“No, I believe you,” he says, and he means it. It's so stupid she couldn't make it up. There's also a part of his still light-headed brain that can translate weird childhood and improvise into what it truly means. Maybe she has lied, but not about the thing he thought she would, and it counts for something. The wind on the roof gives him shivers. “Why would you do it?”
“Do what?”
“Help me out. It's none of your business.”
Jazz watches him attentively and there's something about it that makes his muscles tense, body fully ready to jump. She tilts her head just slightly. “We live together,” she points out as if it explains everything. As always, it doesn't. Then she bites her lip. “I- I have never had anyone to catch me if I fall. I guessed you don't have anyone like this either.”
It hits him harder than the fucking bullet last night. “You think I would catch you.”
Jazz smiles and it's full of mischief. Then, like a fucking psycho she is, she leans back out the edge of the building.
He has her arm in an iron grip before he can think about it and pulls so hard, she stumbles forward and falls onto him, laughing, bouncing back like a tennis ball. “Are you fucking insane?”
Jazz just laughs harder, her forehead on Jason's chest, her arm still firmly kept in his hand. “Now we both know you would catch me.”
“You are so full of shit,” he grumbles, but the vibration on his skin manages to calm his heart back to a rational tempo. “You could have died.” It makes her burst out into a fit of giggles. “I got shot last night, you dipshit, I wouldn't be able to jump after you.” Not to mention the lack of proper equipment.
“Sorry I needed an outlet after literally saving your ass.”
Jason closes his eyes, trying to contain the laughter, “I will push you.” The wound was on his inner thigh, not his ass, so she can fuck right off for all he cares.
“I'd like to see you try,” she bites back. “You should have this checked out, by the way. Are you even vaccinated?”
“No need to.”
“I'll drive,” she gets off him, deaf to anything he says, and starts to climb down.
Jason follows. She doesn't even know the address. “Like hell, you will.”
#jazz fenton x jason todd#jason todd x jazz fenton#jazz fenton#jason todd#red hood#dc x dp prompt#dc#dc x dp#dc x dp crossover#dpxdc#dp x dc#i love them your honor#idiots in love#they were roommates#oh my god they were roommates#moving along ff#anger management#anger management ship
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"hostage situation"
series masterlist
nightwing, to his siblings: okay, so we have to be real careful because the joker and harley quinn are holding our baby sibling hostage and we can't put them in anymore danger.
nightwing, looks at red robin: i'm sure they have some traps laid around the lair so you'll be disarming it.
red robin, nods:
robin: then me and todd will be handling any spare targets, no?
nightwing: of course. cass, steph and duke will be guarding the entrance. babs?
oracle, speaking in the intercoms: this is the closest point of entry where (name) is being kept hostage.
red robin: security cams suggest there's more than just harley and the joker in the lair. a bunch of their goons are heavily guarding both the entrance and the exit. we should thread carefully.
oracle: there's no camera's where (name) is exactly at, but there's a specific room where it's shown that the two are often visiting.
batman, who had been lurking behind them: this is a priority mission. we can't afford to make mistakes.
robin, eyebrows raised: though, is it necessary to bring the entire family? me and my father could handle this entirely by ourselves.
jason, sighs: don't pretend like you weren't the first to suggest the entire justice league to come searching for them, kid.
batman: enough arguing, (name) needs all the support they could get after this. so on my count, we are to bust open the door.
dick: alright, everybody, prepare.
*meanwhile, inside the lair, in a makeshift "house"*
(name), sitting on a comfy chair whilst holding a cup of hot chocolate and a book in the other, sneezes: oh— did anyone mention my name?
harley quinn, already on her way to wipe their nose: oh my baby! is our baby sick?!
(name): no, i just suddenly sneezed?
the joker, in another room: i spy with my little eye, a child way past their bedtime~ c'mon babyboo, let's get you to bed!
(name): awe, but it's like, 10pm. i wanna read some more.
harley, about to pick (name) up: then let momma read the book for you in bed, cutesy pie—
*the door to the kitchen slams open*
dick, with his escrima sticks on-hand: surrender (name) to us now or—!
dick, absolutely befuddled: wait, what?!
damian, with bruce in tow: what's the hold up, nightwing?!
damian, about to jump right in front of dick before he was stopped by bruce's hand on his shoulder: what is... this?
bruce: ... explain the meaning of this, harley.
harley, holds (name) closer to her chest as she's equally confused: what do ya mean, bats? ain't it obvious i'm taking care of my child?
(name): uhm...
damian, visibly offended: what do you mean, your child? (name) over there is ours.
the joker, walks over to the room in a hurry: what's with all the commotion over here?! (name) is supposed to be in bed, harle— batman?!
bruce, with squinted eyes: don't act stupid, what is this all about?
nightwing, surveying the room: wait, why is (name) in pajamas?
(name), trying their best to shrug in harley's tight hug: i'm... supposed to go to bed...?
the joker, about to walk over to (name) before he's stopped by a batarang almost hitting the side of his head: hey! what's that for? i'm clearly not trying to attack my own child!
bruce: (name) is my child, not yours.
the joker, glaring at batman: well, it's not my fault they choose me over you!
(name) wayne, interrupting the two: uhm... i did technically disown myself from the family so—
damian: disown yourself?
(name): i have every reason to—
dick: look, baby bird, you don't know what's right for you, these guys are dangerous—
(name): i literally got nearly killed by some nobody criminals if not for harley saving me but okay, nightwing.
bruce, whose attention is now on (name): you almost got what now?
(name), rolling their eyes: i almost died, batman. now if you excuse me, i think i deserve a good night sleep tonight.
(name), looks at harley who still hasn't released them from the protective hug: can we?
harley quinn, facepalming in her mind as she stares back at (name): oh, i should've bought you to pam and selina instead.
#🧁... yael's misc.#series: again & again#a&a: incorrect quotes#yandere dc#yandere batfam#yandere batboys#yandere dc villains#yandere batman#yandere bruce wayne#yandere dick grayson#yandere jason todd#yandere tim drake#yandere damian wayne#yandere harley quinn#yandere joker#yandere#yandere x reader#yandere x gn reader#yandere x you#yandere x y/n#platonic yandere#this is so messy but it's so funny to think about at the same time#idek if this is accurate but i love me some messy family
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sweet angel agency
dark!joel miller x fem!reader
[18+] | wc: ~2.3k summary: Joel mistakes you for the escort he ordered. masterlist | AO3
warnings: dark!Joel, TLOU AU, noncon/dubcon (im so serious don't read if it makes you uncomfortable), older!joel/no outbreak, not proofread, no use of y/n or too many details on reader's appearance, reader has hair joel can pull, reader can be picked up by joel, fingering, squirting, unprotected sex, creampie
a/n: happy october! i have these three serial killer!joel WIPs i keep jumping between but idk which one to finish 😭 so i wrote this instead lol
“No, no, no. Shit!”
Your car emits a loud creaking sound and begins to shake. Thinking quickly, you drive into a small cul-de-sac, away from the main road and fast cars. It rolls to a stop with one final groan, shutting off completely.
“Fuck,” you mutter, “are you kidding me?”
You grab your phone from the center console, noticing the 3% battery, and shoot a text to your friend that you’ll be late to the Halloween party.
It dies as you press the send button and you throw it to the passenger seat in exasperation. You look around the rows of houses. There’s a Halloween event in the city, which probably explains the lack of cars in the driveways and the turned off porch lights.
Well, all except one.
A pickup truck with tools and materials in the bed, is parked in the driveway of a home. The porch light is on and you can see the flicker of the TV through the closed blinds.
You hope the family is nice enough to let you use their phone or even if by some miracle, one of them knows how to fix your car. As you step out of the car and smooth down your dress, you pray they aren’t judgmental of your outfit choice.
It’s a tiny, silk dress complete with angel wings and thigh high stockings. You pull the dress down in an effort to cover your thighs but it only brings it down from your chest, accentuating your tits.
With no choices left, you ring the doorbell to the house. There’s no noise aside from the crickets and the TV, until you hear the heavy thuds of boots walking towards the door.
It swings open, revealing a tall, older man. His hair and beard have streaks of gray and his brown eyes are lined with soft wrinkles. The button down he wears stretches over his broad chest and as he leans his arm on the door, the bottom of his shirt rises to show a slight belly and a happy trail.
In other words, he's handsome. A quick scan of his left hand shows no wedding ring.
You give him a pretty smile, not above using your looks to get what you want.
“Hi,” you say as you give him your name, “sorry to bother you. My car broke down and I was wondering if I could use your phone to call a tow truck?”
His eyes do a slow sweep of your body, lingering on the lacy band of your thigh highs, then back up to your eyes,
“Didn’t realize you came with a story.”
Your eyebrows pinch in confusion. “Uh–story? What?”
“And the angel costume… I guess that’s expected.”
“May I use your phone?” you ask again.
He pushes the front door wider, motioning for you to walk in. “It’s in the kitchen.”
You walk inside and accidentally brush against his body. Aside from his confusing comments, the deep rumble of his voice caused goosebumps to rise on your skin. You walk into the hallway, stopping at the entrance of the living room, waiting for him to lead you to the kitchen.
“Are you… home alone or–”
You feel his hand snake through your hair and pull you back into his chest. His other hand slips under your dress and cups your pussy, rubbing over the thin material of your panties.
“What the fuck–”
You lift your hands to scratch and push him away but he only holds you tighter.
“Stop playin’ games, little girl,” he growls, “we both know why you’re here.”
His fingers, rough and calloused even through your panties, glide over your panty-covered slit in rough strokes. You’re frozen in his arms, unsure of what to do.
Your heart pounds fast in your chest and you feel warmth spread through your body.
“I don’t–please, sir–” you stutter.
His fingers slip into your panties and you bite your lip to muffle your moan. He swirls his middle finger at your entrance, gathering the slick that’s dripped out of you, and drags it up to circle your clit.
You gasp, the sudden jolt of pleasure taking you by surprise.
“So fuckin’ sensitive,” he growls, “can’t wait to sink my cock in ya’, angel.”
Your hands try to dislodge his arms from around you, but he slips his hand around your neck and squeezes, cutting off your air supply. Your wings bend in his hold and the plastic middle digs into your back.
“I told them I wanted you to call me Joel,” he murmurs, loosening his hand to allow you to breathe, “but I like sir.”
“What are you talking about—”
Joel interrupts you again, ripping your panties in a stinging snap and spinning your around to face him. You teeter and almost trip on your heels, but he crouches and swings you over his shoulder.
He brings his hand down on your ass, ordering you to stop squirming, girl, while you feel the cool air brush on your naked cunt.
Joel walks you through the hallway and into a room, dropping you on his bed. You try to scoot away from him, but he grabs your foot and yanks you back down.
“No, please,” you cry, “I don’t know what this is–”
“We won’t be needing these,” he says as he slips off your heels.
“Sir–”
Joel grabs the top of your dress and rips it half, maneuvering your body so he can untie your wings, leaving you in nothing but your stockings.
You don’t like the way your belly tightens with each stroke of his rough hands over your heated skin or the way your cunt drips with need every time he calls you a pretty angel.
He laughs at your attempts to kick or shove him away, and easily overpowers you. Joel pushes your hands back and nuzzles your breasts, gliding his nose over one, sliding to the other, until he suckles a peaked nipple into his mouth.
It gets you to stop fighting and instead you whimper in his hold, pushing your chest up so he can get more of your plump flesh into his mouth.
He makes room for himself between your thighs, grinding down his bulge onto your bare pussy. The rough material of his jeans contrasts the softness of his mouth and your brain short circuits.
“Always the same with you sluts,” he growls, “beggin’ me to stop but look at ya’, soakin’ my jeans.”
Joel props himself up, giving a kiss to the tip of each breast, and holds your mouth open with rough fingers to shove your panties inside. With your now torn dress, he uses the silk to tie your hands together.
“Can’t get away from me now, little girl. You’re all mine.”
Your knees are bent and thighs spread open, giving him a perfect view of your cunt. He uses one hand to thumb your tiny hole while the other unbuckles his belt.
“Prettiest pussy i’ve ever seen,” Joel says, “gonna make a mess in it.”
Joel pushes his jeans down and fists his cock, squeezing the thick length in his hand. A pulse starts in your cunt at the sight and you unconsciously tighten your inner muscles.
You push the inappropriate thoughts out of your head, reminding yourself that this is a stranger, one that you wanted help from–but the dribble of pre-cum on his purple tip makes your mouth water.
His cock is thick, angry-looking, and curved slightly. A patch of curly hair, silver streaked just like his head, covers his base.
Joel slips a single finger inside of you and you both groan, him from the snug fit and you from the stretch. Your back arches and you cry out from behind the gag.
“So fuckin’ tight,” he murmurs, “how am I gonna fit in here, angel?”
He slides his finger out and notches the tip of his cock to your slick entrance. You cry, no, no, please, through your gag, but your resolve slowly slips.
Joel holds your thighs open and thrusts in with one firm push, lodging himself to the hilt. It takes you a few moments to react, but you scream behind the gag.
“Fuck, fuck,” he says, “that’s—fuck. You’re fuckin’ perfect.”
You flutter around his length, trying to accommodate his size, feeling every veiny and bumpy ridge on his cock.
He stills, clutching your thighs and sliding his fingers beneath the lace band of your stockings.
“Grippin’ me so well, angel,” Joel groans, grinding down. “Meant to be, yeah?”
No, you scream in your head, but your body quivers in excitement and you breathe in the scent of his cologne and sweat, wanting him but, at the same time remembering how you ended up here.
“Look at cha’,” he laughs, “impatient little thing. Already fuckin’ herself on my cock.”
You try to deny it, that you’re currently not swiveling your hips, bouncing with the little room you have, trying to get him to move, but it’s no use. You’re chasing the warmth that simmers in your belly and you purposefully clench around his length.
Joel moves slowly, sliding out, watching the flicker of emotions on your face.
It barely fits, and it borders on pain. But the heat in your pussy only grows with each growl or moan that spills from his mouth.
You’re embarrassingly wet, making it so much easier for him to pound into you. He watches your joined bodies, eyes half closed but focused on the way your inner lips grip him, on how your slick drowns him from tip to base.
“Should I keep you, little girl?” Joel groans. “Chain you to my bed so you never leave?”
The image flashes in your mind—you, naked and sweaty, covered in his cum and spit, completely at his mercy.
He doesn’t need a verbal answer to know the idea excites you. Little slut, he says, as your inner muscles tighten around him.
Joel pushes your hands above your head and presses his face into the exposed column of your neck. He stretches over you, trapping you under his heavy weight.
Even if this isn’t the first time you’ve been fucked—it is the first time you’ve been fucked like this. The sounds you make, whines, screams, pretty whimpers that have him holding you tighter and fucking you harder—it’s all new.
“Deep,” he whispers in your ear, “so goddamn deep.”
There’s something strangely intimate about this. He stays fully clothed, only giving you his bare cock to feel, while you lay beneath him, completely nude except for the thigh highs.
Joel, if that even is his name, is a complete stranger. Yet he pounds into you like he owns you.
His lips trail from your neck, licking the droplets of sweat that gather on your skin, leaving kisses on the corner of your mouth, uncaring of the drool from your gag.
Your thoughts jumble from the overstimulation and soon you’re sobbing, filled with his big cock, dominated by the sheer force of his entire being.
“So fuckin’ tiny,” Joel grunts, “take me cock, little girl. Take it, take it.”
His breathing becomes erratic and he thrusts harsher, hauling your thigh higher so he can move quicker. He’s close. It might be your mind playing tricks or, his cock could actually be swelling inside of you, ready to fill you with his cum.
His thumb swipes over your clit in fast circles and you ripple around his length, coming in sticky, wet spurts. Your scream, caught by surprise by the pressure of your orgasm. You tremble and cry in his hold, squeeze him hard enough that he groans in pain.
“Fuckin’ gorgeous,” he mutters, “gonna make this pussy mine.”
And he does. Joel fills your clenching, little hole with his cum, spilling his seed in your unprotected womb. You remember too late that you’re no longer on birth control, but it’s no use. You have no way to stop him from painting your cunt white, so you let him make a mess inside of you.
His hips piston with enough force to sink you into the mattress. You’re not quite sure if your orgasm ever ended, but your cunt pulses with another wave as Joel fucks the rest of his spend inside of you.
“All full of me, little girl,” he murmurs, dropping down to lay partially on top of you.
You won’t be able to walk tomorrow, or maybe for the next few days. Your entire body feels sore and your mind is delirious.
Joel gently slides out of you and places a kiss on your chin. He unties the silk from your hands and removes the wet panties from your mouth. You hear him walk out of the room, but fall asleep before you’re able to drink the glass of water he brings you.
-
Joel’s POV.
He’s glad he followed Tommy’s advice and switched to a new escort agency.
The others aren’t usually so responsive or reactive to his touch. They’ll play along to his fantasy, throw out a few no, please stop, but it never feels real.
You’re different.
You kicked, scratched him, drew blood from his skin. It felt real, bringing out the primal side of him that he’s so desperately tried to repress.
Joel walks into the kitchen to grab you a glass of water and his phone, intending to order you food, when he sees an email from Sweet Angel Agency sent almost two hours ago.
Dear Mr. Joel Miller,
We apologize for the late notice but our Angel will not be able to make it to your residence tonight. We will be providing you with a full refund. Please wait 2-3 business days to see that reflected in your bank account.
For any further questions or to schedule another appointment, please contact us.
Thank you,
Sweet Angel Agency
“Who the fuck is in my bedroom?” Joel says after reading the email.
But as he walks back into the room and sees you spread out on his bed, your inner thighs soaked with your combined juices, marking your heated skin in white and clear streaks, Joel realizes he doesn’t really care.
He strips out of his sweaty clothes and climbs onto the bed with you. Now that he knows you aren’t from the agency, there’s no reason to let you go just yet.
- - -
a/n: i know there are probably a few fics out there with similar tropes however if anything in this one is similar in plot to another, it is purely by coincidence! i would never steal someone’s work and i appreciate each and every fic writer out there who does these for free and takes time out of their day to give us amazing fics 🤍
#joel miller x you#joel miller x female reader#joel miller smut#joel miller tlou#joel miller x reader#hbo joel miller x reader#dark joel miller#dark fic
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ANGEL ON MY SHOULDER.
✧ PAIRING: gojo satoru x reader, geto suguru x reader (hinted) | 5k words
✧ SUMMARY: ghost!reader, major character death, jjk manga spoilers, so much angst bc you literally die lmao, longing, mutual pining, suppressed feelings, everyone sucks at love, some fluff, banter, might be slightly suggestive, lots of hinted feelings (read: suguru), arguments, overall this is painful so read if you enjoy angst !!
✧ RHEYA'S NOTE: this idea randomly came to me before i went to bed a few days ago and in the spirit of halloween, i figured why not? i live off of angst and need to share the pain with everyone lmao oops. this is late for halloween tho my bad !!
i. 2007
satoru brings one more flower than he did the day before. morning glories again, of course, but an extra one. he had added one more to the the bunch every day since the day you died. the first day, he brought three, wrapped with a cheap blue ribbon that he found in his desk drawer. it was hardly a respectable bouquet, but those three flowers were the ones he'd grown for you, so it only seemed fitting.
he didn't care much for gardening. but one day you asked shoko what her favorite flowers were so you could give her some on valentine's day. she asked you what yours were so she could return the favor.
satoru never forgot morning glories after that day.
he's not even sure if morning glories are appropriate to bring to a grave, but he knows you'd like them.
you would tell him it didn't matter anyway.
ii. 2007
(suguru did not cry when you died. satoru watched, intently, because there was nothing in the universe that his six eyes couldn't catch. he waited for it, even a sliver of emotion that would betray suguru's bleeding heart, but he gave nothing. he just stood in front of the stone that marked the end of your life with a deep stare. something had settled there in his eyes, cold and resolute.
a few months before you died, you had told satoru that there was something wrong with suguru. you said that he'd been distant, somewhere far away, and you worried for him. you always did, so open with your affection for him.
"don't want him to get lost." you had hummed, your shoulder brushing against satoru's as you raise the mango ice pop he brought you to your mouth. satoru watches your lips out of the corner of his eyes, his stomach flipping eagerly even as he keeps his face impassive.
"he said it was just the summer heat," he answers, ignoring the sweet mango juice dripping down his knuckles. "should be nothing."
you don't look all that convinced, turning your head to look up at him with meaningful glance. "you sure?"
he stares at you for a lengthy second, cerulean eyes darting over your facial features, before he reaches up and knocks his knuckle against your forehead. "yeah. he'll be fine." he assures, and your shoulders relax as you continue to eat the ice pop.
you were right about it all. four days after you die, suguru massacres an entire village.)
iii. 2008
satoru shifts in his bed, grunting quietly he begins to stretch his stiff joints. his eyes crack open, still heavy with sleep as he waits for his dark ceiling to come into focus. except it doesn't, because all he can see are a pair of very familiar looking eyes. unsaturated, but still so obviously the color he once knew. his own eyes snap open, all traces of sleep gone as he finally makes out someone who looks exactly like you, perched on his stomach with a confused and slightly panicked expression.
he shoots up, and you pull back a little. it looks like you're on his lap, and yet he can't feel you on him at all. he gulps.
"hey toru." you say quietly, and his stomach drops. the same eyes, the same voice. gods above.
"you're dead," he says simply, trying not to betray the way his pulse is jumping at even the smallest glimpse of you again. "you're not real."
"i'm dead," you confirm, nodding your head as you look down at your translucent palms. "but i'm here somehow."
he sucks in a breath, reaching out a hand as if to touch you. the disappointment he feels when it passes through your form is sickening.
you smile shakily, shrugging your shoulders as you attempt to make light of the situation.
"guess i couldn't stay away."
he stares at you for minutes without saying a word and you stare back, equally silent.
iv. 2007
(nanami had carried your body back, his teeth gritted as his blonde hair fell over his eyes. satoru never brought it up, but he knew that nanami remained bothered by it for the rest of his life. your death was bad timing, especially after they had just lost haibara a few weeks prior.
nanami had no reason to blame himself though. if anything, it was satoru's fault you were gone.
shoko had called him from the infirmary, her voice hard and pinched as she spat out three words: "get down here."
when satoru saw your body, he didn't say a word. just took a few long strides until he was at the table where nanami had placed you down. your eyes were shut, face resting in a way that seemed so unnatural. he opened his mouth to ask shoko something, but felt like he was choking on air, so he stopped himself.
then he grabbed your limp fingers, squeezed them gently. they were still a little warm, but not as warm as you usually run. shoko didn't say anything, just stood there with her hands clenched, short brown hair falling over her dark eyes.
satoru remained there for the next thirty minutes, waiting for you to sit up and laugh at the prank you were no doubt pulling. as if your blood wasn't still dripping all over the table.
shoko was the one who finally pulled a sheet over your body with shaking hands. she didn't look satoru in the eye, and didn't spare a glance when suguru burst into the room ten minutes later.)
v. 2008
it takes satoru a while to get used to the fact that you're not physically there. he has to bite his tongue when he moves to bump your shoulder or flick your forehead only to find that his skin goes right through yours. you always give him that same little rueful smile, and he sighs to himself.
he doesn't make an effort to figure out why you're there. he figures it's similar to how jujutsu users can come back as curses due to strong feelings. when he thinks about it though, guilt lodges itself into his throat, because the first thought he had when he heard you were entering death's door was no, don't you dare die.
every day he wonders if he's the one who cursed you to stay.
you act like it doesn't matter, hovering around him as he busies himself in his empty room. at first you're quiet, as though you've forgotten how to speak to him in your incorporeal form. but then you start asking him questions, and it's one question that satoru dreads to answer that you finally bring up.
"where's suguru?"
he's not stupid. he knows there's more you think of suguru than you've ever revealed. of course you'd want to know. but that doesn't mean he wants to be the one to tell you. you had died with nothing but a good impression of geto suguru. you'd probably died with your feelings for him still intact too.
it'd be selfish of satoru to ruin that.
"nothing, don't worry about it," he dismisses, voice clipped as he busies himself with preparing dinner. he knows that won't deter you.
you huff, moving to hover in his line of sight. you cross your arms as you glare at him seriously, and satoru hates how nostalgic your expression makes him feel. he tongues his cheek before sighing.
"he's gone." satoru answers simply. he tries to keep his tone even but it comes out bitter and strained. he can hear your quiet gasp, and feels your form move closer to him. if you were alive, he'd be able to feel your breath on his skin now.
"what do you mean, gone?"
satoru sighs again, turning to look at you completely. he hated everything about this. "he left school. went crazy. killed a bunch of people, including his parents."
he would've laughed at the comical way your jaw dropped if you didn't look so hurt. you sputter over your words as he picks up his bowl and moves to the table, trailing after him and demanding more information.
he doesn't hesitate to share, because he's always hated keeping secrets from you. you had this uncanny ability to see straight through him, and it never failed to make him feel unsettled. so he tells you everything that happened in the few weeks after you died. suguru leaving, their confrontation in shinjuku, his plans for non-sorcerers. he leaves nothing unsaid.
when he's done, he finally looks at you, trying to gauge your reaction. but you're just staring at his food with a bitter expression, brows pinched and lips pursed. satoru says your name once.
you glance at him, and it's too quick for him to look for any accusation in it. doesn't matter though, because he's ready to own up to his mistakes.
"you were right back then. about suguru." satoru admits quietly, turning to his food. he doesn't want to look at you anymore, because he's scared you'll show him how disappointed you are with him.
you don't say anything in response. but you sit down at the small dining table and watch him eat with soft eyes, one bite at a time. satoru doesn't admit it, but the whole time he imagines that you're gently rubbing his shoulder, and he thinks he hasn't missed you more than in that moment.
vi. 2007
(it was satoru's fault you died. if he hadn't been so selfish, you'd still be next to him, shoulder brushing his as the two of you walked through the streets of tokyo.
you had knocked on his door that morning before you had left for your last mission, rocking on your heels. he opened it groggily, still half asleep.
"you going on a mission?" satoru had yawned, drowsy eyes trailing over your uniform. you nod with a grin.
"mhm, with nanami. there are two separate areas with curses though, so we'll split up when we get there. should be simple enough." you shrug, toying with the collar of your uniform jacket.
satoru decides to be annoying. "then why are you here disturbing my sleep? get out." he groans dramatically, peering at you with narrowed eyes. you smack his arm, scoffing. you've stopped questioning why he keeps his infinity down for you do those things to him.
"i was gonna ask if you wanted to come with," you hiss, crossing your arms defensively. "but i'm taking it back, asshole."
he grins. "what? can't stay away?"
you roll your eyes, shaking your head with a sarcastic laugh. "don't flatter yourself."
satoru pauses for a second. "i was gonna go back to sleep." he admits, feeling a little guilty. he had just come back from a mission the night before, and he doesn't feel like leaving again. he doesn't know how to say that to you though.
but you see right through him, like you always do.
"you've been going on missions a lot lately," you smile earnestly, patting his shoulder. "no wonder you're tired."
"'m the strongest, i don't get tired." he protests, crossing his arms with a scoff. you roll your eyes again, sticking your tongue out at him as you heft your weapon over your shoulder.
"keep it up and you're seriously gonna fry your brain or something," you say with a shake of your head, eyes betraying your concern for him. he notices it, and tries to smother down the way it makes his stomach flip. "i'll be fine. you can come on my next mission with me."
fair enough, he thinks. he hadn't gone on missions with you or suguru in a while. he should remember to ask yaga to let him go on your next one. just the two of you. you and him. maybe he'd buy you a mango ice pop on the way back.
"fine." he acquiesces easily, not even thinking to protest. he'll see you later anyway, so he'll talk to you more when you get back.
you smirk a little, motioning to his bedhead, before gently kicking his shin. "go back to sleep then, stupid."
he rolls his eyes, reaching up to knock his knuckle against your forehead like he always does. "whatever. bring me some sweets on your way back, yeah?"
the laugh you give him as he shuts the door is the last thing he ever hears from you.
he should've gone with you.)
vii. 2012
satoru hates the way you're looking at him right now.
it was a stupid little mistake. he had gone to see little megumi and tsumiki earlier that afternoon, and as usual, you had tagged along with him. you'd watched him raise up the two kids over the last few years, never failing to tease about his newly acquired fatherhood, or how much he seemed to care about them despite his efforts to hide it. he didn't ever think to say that you'd helped him raise them up too. even in your incorporeal form you'd always been around to tell him what meals he could prep or to remind him that megumi liked black forest cake for his birthdays.
he'd gotten so used to you being around and he slipped up once. that afternoon when he had walked megumi home from school, teasing and poking fun at the kid, he'd made a stupid joke. megumi had rolled his eyes and told him to shut up.
and then without thinking, satoru had turned to you as you hovered next to him and groaned your name out dramatically before whining, "this kid is so mean to me!"
your eyes widened immediately, and if you were alive he'd probably see the color drain from your face. his stomach had sank and he couldn't tear his eyes away from you, even when megumi glanced at him with a raised brow.
"who are you talking to?" he asked, and satoru gulped, shaking his head as he broke eye contact with you to look down at the kid.
"nobody." he had answered.
he tries to ignore the meaningful stare you pin him with for the rest of the afternoon, hoping that you'll just forget about it. but as soon as satoru has left the kids and he's back in his own room, you're on him. he busies himself with making a cup of hot chocolate, even though he feels sick to his stomach.
"satoru you have to figure out how to get rid of me!" you plead, eyes so sad it makes his stomach churn. "i'm gonna drive you insane!"
"i'm fine!" he snaps back, shaking his head as he takes a sip from his mug, the warmth distracting him from whatever it was you were trying to remind him of. he places it down on the table in front of him and crosses his arms defensively. "it was a stupid mistake. won't happen again."
you shimmer in and out of focus, manifesting in front of him with a glare, though your eyes are still the same. wounded and hurt. "it wasn't and you know it! you can't keep living like this. i've been haunting you for years, toru!"
"well who asked you to go ahead and die?!" he yells without thinking, and it's like he sees your hurt bubble forth in slow motion.
"i went and died because i made a stupid mistake on a mission! quit blaming yourself, you dumbass!" you shout, voice raised higher than he's ever heard it.
satoru's mug shatters against the wall.
the two of you immediately turn to look at the mess with wide eyes, before slowly turning to each other to ensure that it really did happen.
"how'd you do that?" satoru asks quietly, his voice strained as he takes a few long strides towards you. you look down at your hand, the same one that you had lifted to swipe at his mug during your fit of rage. you look back up at him with wide eyes and parted lips. satoru's head is pounding, some kind of sick hope stirring within him. "you had to have touched it."
"i don't…" you trail off, voice filled with awe and a bit of fear. satoru reaches up a hand, ignoring the tremble in it, and moves to touch your face. he will never admit to the amount of times he begs in his head, please please please.
his hand goes straight though your skin, and your eyes soften. satoru lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding, hiding his disappointment as he takes a step back and turns away.
viii. 2006
(satoru thinks gardening is ridiculous. plants are so fragile, needing to be constantly monitored and cared for like children. he can't understand why anyone would choose to garden as a hobby when there were less stressful things to do in spare time.
even the process was time consuming, he realizes as he scoops out piles of dirt into the small pots he had set out on his windowsill.
he thinks back to the silly little grin you had on your face as you answered shoko's question.
"morning glory," you had said, leaning against her shoulder. "i like the way they open in the morning and close at night."
shoko hummed, staring at the sky even as satoru quietly eavesdropped. "you got a favorite color?"
"the blue ones," you answered. "they're the prettiest."
your voice echoes in his head as he places the seeds into the soil, and he sighs heavily. why he was doing this for you was beyond him.
the thought makes him annoyed, and he huffs in frustration the entire time he plants them. gardening had to be the stupidest hobby ever.
and yet when three blue morning glories bloom against his windowsill, he can't hold back his grin.)
ix. 2017
satoru's grateful that you don't watch him kill suguru.
he tells you to go, and you give suguru a long stare, face pinched and sour even though your translucent eyes are shining. it's a shame suguru can't see you though, because satoru thinks you look so pretty. suguru would've been lucky to have you be the last thing he ever saw.
you turn away and disappear without a word, and after one last exchange, satoru finishes the job.
it's only after he watches rika's final goodbye to yuta does he realize the extent of what a goodbye even means. he'd said one to suguru, and yet he can't help but miss him as he walks back home. he wonders if suguru wouldn't have had to die if you were still around.
satoru had never gotten a goodbye with you though. you're somehow still with him, but he misses you so much. it puts an ugly feeling in his gut, twisted and dark. it weighs down on his shoulders as he finally opens the door to his room, heavy and overwhelming as he sees you sitting on his bed, face vacant.
he says your name, and you don't move. he takes a seat next to you, and something about your sad expression makes him so unbelievably angry.
"quit being sad about it," he finally spits out, the truthful extent of his feelings coming out. "it's not like you're even alive that you'd be able to see him."
you scoff as you give him a sidelong glare. "what's that supposed to mean? one of my closest friends just died and you expect me not to be upset about it?"
"at least he'll find a way to you!" satoru hisses, clenching his fists so hard that his nails leave crescents in his skin. "you two can have fun together for all of eternity."
there's a tense silence that follows as he grits his teeth, turning away from you. he's so disgusted right now. with suguru, with you, with himself.
"i'm all by myself." satoru mutters bitterly, the words so foreign on his tongue as the truth hits him.
god he misses you so much.
he suddenly feels a sharp thwack on the back of his head and he's turning around with wide eyes.
"don't you dare forget about shoko!" you hiss, tears in your eyes as you glare at him, hand raised. "i'll never forgive you!"
his throat goes dry, because the smack you just gave him was the first time you'd touched him since the day you died. there's a storm in his throat that threatens to break free, but he tries to keep it lodged in his throat. even with your teary eyes, he thinks you look just as pretty as you did with life flowing through you.
he misses suguru. he knows you do too, because there are translucent tears dripping down your cheeks and he has never ached to touch you more. but he can't because you're dead.
you remain in front of him all night, barely saying a word in between your sniffles. he doesn't say anything either, just watching you.
he doesn't know what there is to say. the only thing he ever wishes he got to say to you was goodbye. but you're here, in front of him, so a goodbye seems pointless.
when the sun comes up, you wish him a merry christmas, and he swears you never left him.
satoru says it back to you. you smile sadly.
he misses you so much.
x. 2007
(satoru had cleaned out your dorm room three days after you died.
he didn't really understand why he was doing it so early. shoko had frowned when he told her that he planned to pack away your things, frowned in a way that made her look like she disagreed.
well even if she did disagree, it didn't stop her from sitting in your desk chair, chewing on her nail quietly as she watched satoru fold your clothes. he didn't even understand why he was doing this.
maybe it was because every time he walked past your empty dorm room he felt sick to his stomach. there was a twisting feeling in his gut when he realized that you'd never curl up in that bed again. never sit by the window with a grin watching him and suguru bicker as they threw playing cards on the floor. he figured the faster he got rid of your remnants, the quicker the feeling would go away.
that's what he's hoping anyway. but when he picks up your jujutsu uniform he feels something claw at his throat, and he unconsciously digs his fingers into the fabric. he hears a sigh from behind him and then shoko is at his side, wordlessly easing the cloth from his hand. she lays it on the bed, smoothing out the wrinkles before folding it carefully. when she places it into the box, satoru thinks her hands shake a bit.
there's a bitter expression on shoko's face that he's never seen before, and it makes his stomach twist.
they work on your room for the next few hours, until the sun has disappeared behind the horizon and the cool evening breeze bullies its way into your old space. neither of them say anything, save for the occasional nostalgic hum as they remember something that you did or they're reminded of the story behind one of the trinkets in your room. otherwise it's silent, and for a second satoru feels like he can hear your laugh.
it isn't until night has completely fallen that they are interrupted.
"what are you doing?"
satoru turns around just as shoko looks up, both of them finding suguru standing in the doorway. he hadn't taken a step in yet, eyes still trailing over the emptiness of your old room from behind an uncrossed line.
"cleaning." satoru answers, his voice oddly clipped.
"it wasn't messy…" suguru mutters back, his lips slanting in such an unusual way. there was an uncharacteristically determined look in his eyes, as though there was something in him that was struggling to burst forth. satoru didn't understand what it was.
"never said it was." satoru replies noncommittally. he hears shoko inhale deeply, shifting in your old chair as she watches the two of them stare at each other. there's a tense silence as he notices suguru frown.
satoru can't remember the last time he even had a full conversation with suguru. he remembers seeing you leave for your last mission, and he wants to kick himself for not asking earlier to be sent on group missions with the two of you.
even now, he doesn't really know what to say to suguru. all he can do is tighten his fingers around the edge of the box with your stuff neatly packed in, and watch his best friend sigh.
suguru wets his lips, eyes darting over your desk. there's an odd expression on his face, and his brows pinch as he notices something. then suguru reaches out to pick up an old polaroid, and satoru knows exactly which one it is. your arms slung around suguru's shoulders, smile so wide your cheeks probably hurt. suguru's expression was uncharacteristically gentle.
satoru remembers it so well, because he's the one who took the picture.
suguru looks at the polaroid without a word, rubbing the corner between his thumb and forefinger, and his expression suddenly mirrors the gentleness in the picture. his eyes remain stormy, deep and unsettling as he reaches conclusions that satoru will never understand.
the three of them stay quiet for a few minutes, even though satoru has so many questions that he can't figure out how to phrase. shoko toys with a cigarette between her lips, leaving it unlit because you've always hated the smell of smoke. suguru just stands there, silently eyeing your unfiltered smile through the lens of a camera.
satoru wonders if suguru's trying to say goodbye to you. he doesn't ask, and suguru doesn't say.
only after something had clicked in suguru's eyes, did satoru realize something was over. he couldn't help but feel like he had just buried you in that cardboard box with all your things, and he swallows hard.
then suguru clenches his fists, veins flexing as he looks around your room, almost like he was committing it to memory. satoru didn't understand why; it's not like suguru couldn't come see your room anytime he wanted.
then he turns away, hand lingering on the doorframe heavily, without another word.
just as suguru walks away, satoru thinks he hears your voice whispering in his ear.
"don't want him to get lost."
xi. 2018
something is wrong. something happened. something is wrong.
satoru knows he needs to wake up. but he's so tired, so exhausted from carrying on all by himself. he suddenly remembers the taste of frozen mango, sweet and chilled, and he wants to keep thinking about it for the rest of eternity.
but something is wong. he needs to wake up.
the minute satoru forces his eyes open, he can ignore the taste of blood in his mouth because you're there.
you're kneeling at his side, sunlight shining behind your head in a way that makes you look almost angelic. he'd believe it if you said you were an angel, because you've been dead for so long now.
you'd been a ghost for so many years, hovering around him and getting him through everything that had come his way. isn't that what guardian angels were supposed to do, guiding humans through their own trials? isn't that what you were doing to him since the day you died and came back to him?
you'd been a ghost. you'd been his angel. you'd been haunting him.
you'll always haunt him.
you seem to know it too, because the expression on your face is understanding, soft and yet so sad.
for what seems like the millionth time in his life, satoru aches to touch you.
he tries to move his hand but finds that he can't. synapses misfire. he can't feel his body anymore.
he wants to touch you. gods above, he wants to touch you so badly. please just this one last wish.
your translucent forms shimmers in the sunlight, and satoru can't tell if he's hallucinating or not because you suddenly seem to become fully physical. the particles of your form solidify, slowly filling with more color until you don't look quite so dilute. the saturation of your eye color comes back, and satoru can't look away because he's never seen a ghost so pretty before.
his breath hitches as you gently cup his cheek in your palm, warm and gentle. the melancholic look on your face makes his eyes sting.
"it's good to see you." he says with a weak smile, ignoring the metallic taste on his tongue. his breath is short, mind racing because your skin is on his again. finally, after so many years. you're so soft, just like he remembers.
"you weren't supposed to join me this quick." you sigh, eyes shining as you smile down at him ruefully. your thumb brushes over his bottom lip, and satoru's cerulean eyes flutter.
no. no more waiting. he'd missed you too much. he doesn't have it in him to stay away from you anymore. he'd done it long enough. your fingers tremble against his skin and he almost laughs.
no more haunting.
there's a resolute part of him that knows you'll be the first thing he sees when he gets to wake up again. he decides that, when he does, he'll get you a mango ice pop and plant some morning glories with you.
his eyes fall shut with a sigh.
"guess i couldn't stay away."
#[𐐪— rheya’s writings. 𐑂]#gojo satoru x reader#jjk x reader#gojo satoru#jujutsu kaisen x reader#gojo x reader#jjk angst#gojou satoru x reader#satoru gojo x reader#jujutsu kaisen angst#gojo angst#jjk season 2#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#geto suguru x reader#geto x reader#gojo x reader x geto#satosugu x reader#geto suguru#geto angst#getou suguru x reader#geto x y/n#gojo x y/n#satoru x reader#satosugu x you#stsg x reader
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David Gaider on Fenris, under a cut for length:
"Fenris. Now, DA2 is a story all on its own but I'm not going to go there other than to sum it up as "we had just over a year and a half to make this". It's why I only wrote one follower, Fenris, and although it'll make his fans mad: I probably shouldn't have. Let me explain. The way we'd approach making the followers is brainstorming a list of concepts covering first the array of gameplay classes (and sub-classes) and then making sure they each have some skin in the game when it came to the story's conflicts - ideally having characters on both sides of the major ones. Why? You can't make a player care about the world, but you can make them care about characters who care about the world. It's the easiest way to provide hooks into a conflict, outside of it knocking on the player's door. Heck, it's probably better than that. Players will burn the world for approval. After that, we'd decide things like romances/sexuality. Then the writers would pick who they'd write. I always let my writers pick first. I figured they do their best work when it's something they're inspired to write... and they got so few chances at ownership, I wanted to give it whenever I could It's why I (reluctantly) let Patrick wrest Cole from my grasp in DAI, a character I'd created in Asunder. It's also why I let Jennifer take Anders in DA2, who I'd started in Awakening. In this instance, it meant I was left with the angry elven warrior character who nobody else appeared to want."
"It should have been my first clue that something was up. The second was how the artists had zero clue what to do with him. The art concepts were all over the place - from mages to crows to... well, even weirder. No matter how hard I tried to explain the idea, the artists simply didn't seem to get it Does this mean he was a bad character? Not exactly. Just an idea that probably deserved some re-examining. You can tell when an idea has a certain spark, and part of that is being easy to communicate. Sadly, there wasn't time for any re-examining even if it'd occurred to me. And it didn't, not yet. If it had, if I had time, maybe I'd have re-booted him as a templar. Someone pro-templar rather than anti-mage, who could give a personal hook into Meredith and give the templars some badly-needed humanity. But this falls into the shoulda-woulda-coulda category. I had a follower to write. Quickly. I struggled, at first. It was hard to get away from "Fenris hates everything, all the time". It felt very one-note, and I didn't know where to take him. My third clue, I guess. I also wasn't sure if I was the right person to write a former slave. I did know that couldn't be the center of his story. I did know trauma, however. How it can eat you up. How the hate and resentment is like drinking poison and hoping the other person dies. How it can infect your relationships. Fenris's trauma isn't my trauma, obviously, but here I dipped into a more personal part of myself than I'd ever done before."
"It gave me the center of his story I was missing, but wow was it uncomfortable. In a good way, maybe. I likely wouldn't have, if I hadn't been so desperate. In a way, I think DA2 had some of our best writing *because* of the timeline. It was raw, with little time to sand down the interesting parts. I wouldn't have done the "Fenris doesn't talk to you for three years" thing if I'd known we were going to cut all the reactivity initially planned for the time jumps. When that call was made, I campaigned to cut the jumps to a year, but there was no time for the revisions it'd need. So, um. Awkward. I used to get asked where the name came from, and I... don't remember? Obviously it's derived from Fenrir, but I don't recall why we picked that. Someone pointed at Fenris the Feared from Joe Abercrombie's books... and I did read them, so maybe the name lodged in my head? Wouldn't be the first time. Casting Fenris turned out to be easy. He was the first time I requested a specific VA and got him. (The other times were Merrill and then Solas, my two "I want these specific Welsh actors, please".) Why? OK, if you must know, I'd played a bit of Final Fantasy XII. I heard Balthier. "Yes, that." 😅 And Gideon Emery was a delight, as it turned out. Consummate professional, and that lovely gravel in his voice... good god. Bite the knuckles. There was a struggle to find the voice at the outset where I did my best not to say "just pls do Balthier" but he found Fenris on his own and it was amazing. Overall, Fenris turned out better than he had any right to, considering the rocky start. He had a lot of soul, a vulnerability forged by pain that struck a chord with a lot of players, and I'm glad. Do I regret anything? Probably having him live in a corpse-filled mansion that would never update. That's a hindsight thing, though, as again the cut to reactivity over the time jumps came late. Outside of that, maybe letting the player give him back to Danarius? Poor shock value and a waste of resources because almost nobody took the option. Good evil options are ones that are tempting to take. And the lyrium tattoos. Interesting concept, but they're probably why you'll never see Fenris in a future DA. He requires a custom body, and the tattoos make that expensive. It's why I put Fenris in my 4th DA novel - the cancelled one. Don't fret, though. He died in it, so this way he lives on. 😉"
[source thread]
User: "Wait wait how does he die in [the cancelled novel]??" David Gaider: "Gloriously, after taking up a cause he didn't believe in at first but then made his own, one that allowed him to rediscover what it meant to be elven." [source] David Gaider: "I’m not sorry about the novel cancellation. I’m the one who cancelled it. I am kinda sad we couldn’t make it work, though. Considering it was after I left the DA team, it would have been my final DA hurrah." [source] David Gaider: "From my perspective, it was kind of "well if you're never going to use him again, let me at least give him a proper send off" and the story required a glorious death... but I get that's not the story his biggest fans would want (which is Hawke + Fenris 4ever), so it's just as well." [source]
User: "You all did some incredible work with such a tight deadline" David Gaider: "I'm of the opinion that even if we'd had only another six months to bake, DA2 would be remembered as a classic and not either a flawed gem or underbaked sequel, depending on who you ask." [source]
David Gaider: "Just to clarify the "they're probably why you'll never see Fenris" thing, as it's spawned commentary: 1. It's the reasoning as was explained to me back then. 2. Obviously, if Bio *really* wanted to, they'd find a way around it. But it was a complication that meant he couldn't be included casually." [source]
#dragon age#bioware#fenris#the fenaissance#video games#long post#longpost#cole#spirit boy#solas#dragon age 5
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you said you were stuck in a time loop, which was fine. i feel like late-stage capitalism has us all in a time loop, ammiright? you came barging in at 5:33. in the morning. i hadn't even processed the idea of coffee.
but you had this look of utter panic in your eyes. terror like the ocean. you grabbed my cheeks. im in a time loop.
i don't know why in movies the first reaction is to deny it. when someone is panicking like that, it's not appropriate to ask them to calm down. it didn't matter if i believed it, what mattered was that you believed it so much that it was consuming you.
so here we are. i pour you some of the dark roast. "you look like utter and entire hell," i say.
you push your fingers into your eyes. "you always say that."
i try to think of something funny to say that i wouldn't have said on previous time loops, but jokes don't land without the proper timing (lol). "remind me to think -"
"-yeah, of a joke that only works in the future. and before you say anything, i know you're pissed i just stole your punchline." you bolt the coffee, which is wild. it's very hot. you don't seem to notice.
i blow on mine to cool it down. i both am very pissed at you and also i can't see you in this amount of panic without wanting to help. but i'm also not really sure what we are, not since i saw you kiss her like that, no offense. it just was like, kind of rude when you knew i liked you.
and besides. i'm just like, barely a person. i write omegaverse fanfiction. i love the concept of a time loop, but what the fuck am i gonna do? send an alpha in there? i open my mouth.
you point at me. "you're about to ask why me. and then say some disparaging shit about yourself. i'm just a nerd who plays dnd or something. that self-own is slightly different each time." you sigh. "i know you think you can't really help me. i don't know who can help me. i only came to you because you fucking believe me." you check your watch, sigh, and throw your head back. you cover your eyes with one hand. "i've come here on 26 separate revolutions," you say. "you have believed me every time. and yeah, i have no idea how you fit into this but i just -" you sigh again. "i just like fucking talking to someone about it."
"do you need more cof-" i start, but you're already holding the empty cup out. i frown at it. "you're not getting any more until you promise not to bolt this one like an animal."
you laugh a little and sit up, pushing your hair out of your face. "okay, that's new dialogue. but to be fair to you, i'm not usually this rude. i'm still pretty new at all of this." you check your watch again. another sigh. i guess you're cruising for a personal best in the Sigh Olympics.
i almost tell you im not an NPC but i've played enough video games to know i'm very much an NPC. i pour you another cup. "so what happens in the loop?"
"really bad explosion." you mutter into the mug. you put your elbows on the table (rude) and bury your face in your arms like an angsty teenager. one hand floats up while you talk, because evidently you literally can't talk without your hands. "i have to save the day and there's this bomb and i have no bomb training and it keeps moving, you know."
"do i die?"
you peek up from your arms. "yeah. bigtime. you keep trying to run or stay or do anything and you always super die."
"oh."
"to be fair, like, everyone dies in it though.... so you're in good company."
i hate that you make me laugh. i hate that being around you always feels tingly and strange, this electric tension between us. something that is evidently (given how you stuck your tongue down a stranger's throat literally 3 days ago) (well. 3 for me) super one-sided. i take a sip of my coffee and close my eyes.
i die today, i guess. a little spark of panic starts at the top of my hands and starts whipping up my wrists.
"shit," you say. you look at your watch and jump to your feet. "i have to go. if i can come back, i will. i am still trying to figure out when is best to do everything, you know? the order of stuff. maybe morning isn't good for us."
i look up at you and think about how you keep kissing me in the back of my car and in alleyways and in the dark. and i can never fucking get a read on you. and i also think about how incredibly panicked you look. how broken. how long have you been doing this? "i don't want to die," i say.
you glance downwards. "well, you're not really dead, you'll come back in the loop."
"but i will have died." my hands are shaking. i am trying really hard to stay calm.
you push your hands through your hair again. "i really have to go. i will have this discussion with the next version of you, though. it is like, something i am thinking about."
"but i don't get a next version," i say. i don't really have the language for this, because i haven't had 26 tries with you. i only have my memories: you, a week ago. drunk and telling me you loved me in my ear. you, kissing her anyway. you, months ago, throwing up on my birthday, whispering to me i ruin everything i touch, always, over and over. please don't ask. i can't ever fucking have that be you.
i run my finger along the rim of the mug. "i don't want to die in this one."
you seem baffled by this. "i get that but - time will reset, you'll be fine, you won't even remember we talked about this."
"but i know now." i stand up too. "i have to live the rest of this day knowing i could die. knowing i probably am going to."
"you could always die, to be fair."
i feel my hands get out of control. "earlier, you said i always say a different insult about myself. what if you're just going through different parallel universes and those are all just different - but real - versions of myself? what if you're not in a time loop, you're in a fucking universe loop?"
"if it helps, i've wondered this too. also, you're hot in all of them. if that helps."
i point at you. "no flirting. i'm trying to figure out if i die today."
"who's flirting?" you catch my wild hands and give me that long, perfect smile. like we're in this together. "i won't let ya die." you check your watch and sigh again. "well. maybe not this time."
i grit my teeth. you are so not making quips at me while i try to explain the existential dread i'm having. "does the time loop reset if i fucking kill you?"
"honestly i don't know how long it continues after i die, because i just wake up. it could be that the loop goes until the explosion for everyone, and we're all in the loop, or it could be that when i die, the loop restarts. when i die i wake up, is all."
i pull away from you and stalk into the kitchen and start doing all 3 of my dishes. "okay, first, you know i was joking. and secondly, this is exactly my point. you don't know if this is just a parallel universe. maybe in the ones where you died, the explosion happened and nobody reset and it's just you travelling." i have to stop and push the heel of my palm into my eyeball. "... how often have you died?"
i look at you. you look at me. you give me this very sad, halfway smile and a little what can ya do shrug. something in that action seems so old and weary that i want to burst into tears.
"i have to go," you say. "really. for real. there's this family of five i save from getting into a car crash. and i know it's like oh but we're all gonna die in the explosion anyway, what's the point. and..." you shrug again. "it matters to me, is all. at least i saved them for now. at least i saved anything."
you pad over to me and wrap me in a tight hug. you always seem so tall against me. i feel your cheek rest against the top of my head for a moment. for a second, it's just us, and the space is warm, and my heart is a little broken hare.
you leave me there, and i stand in my stupid badly lit kitchen with my stupid mugs. i think about you. i start texting my mom that she needs to get out of the city, but it feels pointless.
i don't know what to do. tomorrow is the same day for you. but i have to prepare to die in my today.
#warm up#prose#i just realized that there's a horror film in there about being someone NOT in a loop.#if i wanted to make it longer i'd have them come back like SUPER battered and hellish.#on round like 999#like halfway through lunch like - YOU . I LOVE U . IM SORRY . I RUINED IT BC I LOVE U CANT U SEE THAT#but like. yeah man what happens when someone else in control of ur destiny#what happens to all the versions of u that DO die...#i also wanted a pre-redemption time looper - this person#(who in my brain is they/them)#is absolutelyyyyyy toying with the narrator bc the time looper is caught up in like#an emo angsty '' i can't have what i want bc i ruin things'' self harm spiral#and like literally the way out of that spiral is to TRY bud.#but this is a person pre-redemption. still kind of an ass. still not really listening to her#still a little bit ignoring that they kissed someone 3 days ago#still KNOWS she likes them and DOES like her back. but is just too chickenshit still.#we're talkin that person we've ALL dated that's like ''i can't be with u anymore bc i am Too Broken and I Can't Stand Hurting U"#... i imagine they grow up tho. eventually.
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