#but this is actually way easier than i thought it would be

[petew21-blog]

I'm the dad now

"Come on Dad, this is gonna hurt both of us. Just stop fighting and let go. You're not gonna win."

The hairy man was alone in the bathroom fighting with himself, screaming in pain, grabbing his neck and trying to comfort himself. He spoke to himself, which may sound schizophrenic, but this wasn't the case. He was being possessed for the first time by his teenage son, Joe, who had big troubles at school for skiping classes. Joe wasn't usually the type to skip school, but there was this bully he wanted to get back at. He found way to possess someone, but it took a lot of practice to do. You couldn't just possess someone asleep, but them being awake was the thing that made it so hard. They fought and the more they fought the harder it became to stay in the body. But after many many hours of possessing multiple students of his for just a few seconds, he finally felt like he could be ready to possess his bully now. If it weren't for the letter from school that came in mail this morning. Joe opened it and saw that they asked his father to come by for a meeting with the principal. "Oh, no. My dad can't see this. I have to do something." An evil and slightly reckless idea followed.

And as you guessed correctly, Joe's idea was to just possess his father and go to the meeting himself. Did he think about the consequences? No. But that didn't matter now, because his father still faught for his body pretty hard. The only lucky thing for Joe was that his father won't remember the process of possession.

"I win dad. I am stronger. You have to sleep now and let it go!"

Few minutes of fight followed and then quiet.

Joe laughed with tears in his eyes. Sweat all ower his body from the fight. "You could have atleast made my possession a bit easier than this, dad."

Now was the perfect time to hurry up, dress dad's body and meet the principal. But Joe's teenage mind went to a different place. His dad can be late. It's about Joe's life. Not him. He only has to show up

Joe P.O.V.

"Damnnnnn dad! You have really been hitting the gym recently, haven't you? Maaan look at me" I didn't expect this to be so hot. I was a bit grossed out possessing my own dad, but now I might actually enjoy this.

"I never noticed, how really handsome you are, daddy." Hairy pecs, beautiful biceps. You're a real man, I'd like to be some day. Well... not someday. Now."

"It's actually not your biceps now, dad. It's all mine. Just look at it. So amazing. The boys at school would be so jealous. No they WILL be jealous. Just wait till I show them who I am now."

"Oh dad. Why the hell have you been hiding all this from me. I would have never thought about possessing that fucker Bill. Why should I even bother now about some dumb school shit. I can be an adult man for fuck's sake. I am the man now. I am my DAD."

"These muscles are so firm and tight. I wonder how many times a week you have been going. Might get used to it now." Wait, am I really thinking what I am thinking? Do I want to stay like this. No, this must be the after efect of possession, not just a desire to be the hairy dad of mine.

"Haha, I'm so heavy now that I'd most certainly beat all the boys in the football club. Well maybe not the quarterback, but everyone else I might. Maybe I should get Trevor to possess him. We could enjoy being two studs together. I would be a bit older, but I'm sure he won't mind. Especially not while we are exploring our new bodies."

"Which brings me to this awful towel." I dropped it on the floor where it belongs

"Wohohooo, much better. Damn dad, the razor stays clean all the time for a reason right? I won't change that don't worry. I'm pretty sure Trevor likes his men hairy. Not like he would know what a man's touch is like or even sex. But tonight he will. I will let him scratch my beard, kiss my biceps, massage my back."

"Oh boy, I have to go take care of this beast now. Don't want to cum in the principals office. Haha, I love being my dad."

#male possession #body possession #family possession #gay to straight

[when-pigsfly]

// hello, neighbor

modern day arthur morgan x female reader. mdni. voyeurism (oops), masturbation (m & f). reader is in college. brought to you by: my phone! again!

“with the blinds open?”

“...with the blinds open.”

a two-way confessional on the campus plaza turns into a harsh spotlight the second the admission leaves your lips, though you suspect that the heat would have driven you down this road at some point.

the next page you turn in your textbook is a little harsher than necessary, and you take the slight tearing noise as a sign to shut it. you could hardly focus enough to digest it, anyway. you turn to your friend, their work long since abandoned next to the half-empty bottle of soda gone flat.

"i mean," and you pause, trying to build your next sentences with the utmost care. "it doesn't seem like he's got malicious intent. he's...he's a nice guy, you know?"

"did you come to that conclusion before or after you caught him jacking off with the blinds open?"

before, without a doubt. you're not sure you can bring yourself to dislike someone who'd helped muscle your furniture up four flights of narrow stairs.

running into arthur morgan on the street that day had been the closest you've come to justice in a while. he hadn’t made an offer to help—just pulled the cardboard boxes right from your arms and told you to point him in the direction of your apartment door, and you’d said yes, because the shame of knowing he’d seen you struggle for the last hour had been too much to bear.

after the first trip up, your reprieve turned to torture. not because of the tremor in your thighs, or the burn in your lungs, but something far more sinister: the trail of hair dipping into the waistband of his jeans. the rivulets of sweat dotting the back of his neck. the flex of his back each time his grip shifts to accommodate the weight of the boxes.

his cheeks, flushed with a pretty scarlet, had deteriorated any semblance of self-preservation you could ever buy off of amazon (pepper spray was getting rather expensive), and the lopsided smile he’d given you—a meek little thing—nearly sent the glass of lemonade you’d poured for him sliding to the floor.

it was embarrassing. and more importantly, pathetic. but the only feeling with the balls to surmount your shame is that eager throb of unadulterated lust.

it’d only grown worse once you’d started pestering him with questions. turns out, he lived in the apartment right across the street from yours.

“s’only temporary, though. just till an acquaintance of mine gets back from overseas.”

temporary. that was fine. though, you do feel a little uncomfortable at the thought of fucking him in someone else’s apartment. not that you were planning on it. but…his “acquaintance” would have to have some heavy pockets though, right? so you find out one relatively non-invasive question later that arthur actually worked as a security guard—because of course he does.

you think it might have to do with the way his fingers drum against the cold countertop as he speaks. the sag of his t-shirt collar doesn’t help much either. but some harebrained part of you convinces your synapses to fire just enough to ask for his number.

to help with…appliances.

it only hits you after he leaves that working in security didn’t mean shit when it came down to appliance repairs, but you thank your lucky stars arthur was nice enough to hand over his number anyways.

from there it’s straightforward.

or, it should have been.

flirting doesn’t exactly fall under your area of expertise, but you do know how to observe. not stalk—that would be weird.

observe and observe only. just until you can work up the nerve to talk to him again.

arthur couldn’t seem to close the blinds, which made it a little easier. he was a creature of habit: he’d leave in the early morning, returning just after the sun sends the last of its rays to cascade down the walls of the building. he always seemed to return more weary than the day before, which did at least put your envy of the condominium complex to rest.

but you weren’t quite sure just what you were getting into until around two weeks after your move in.

your apartment is submerged in darkness when you finally manage to jiggle the key into the lock. the only source of light comes from the warm glow of arthur’s apartment, the sun to the moon of your window, spilling out over your desk and onto the floor.

changing out of your clothes is a quick and efficient affair, as per usual; an oversized shirt and underwear are all you can manage with the faulty air conditioning. you’re about to shut your blinds when you catch familiar skin.

your pulse is tapping out a strange rhythm in your throat.

no. he couldn’t be, could he? but that definitely was—

you clap a hand over your mouth with a shiver. creep just close enough to the edge of your window to avoid being spotted without losing your vantage point.

arthur is splayed across the couch, one leg draped over the side while the other remains bent on the cushions. you can see how you’d nearly missed it—he looks strangely relaxed.

but you’ve committed that flush in his cheekbones to memory. the rapid rise and fall of his chest. his eyes are pinched shut, and you trace down the length of his body to where his hand works in languid strokes over his cock.

oh god.

this was wrong on so many levels. but you can’t help the way your thighs rub together, or the pulsating heat of your cunt.

you slide your hand away from your mouth, snaking it lower and lower till you’re pushing aside the gusset of your panties, paying no attention to the angle of your wrist. your fingers find you already wet, clit throbbing with assured interest.

a moan snakes its way out of you as you follow the pace of arthur’s hand. he’s still pumping lazily on the couch, but his hips have begun to undulate in slow circles, punctuated by the occasional jerk.

fuck, this was getting bad. but you follow his lead, stopping when he stops, exhaling when he exhales, and there comes a point when mirroring him is no longer a conscious effort. a lock of hair falls over his sweaty forehead and you nearly cry; you’d have been able to brush it aside in a heartbeat. it only reminds you of how long it’s been since you’ve been touched by someone else like this.

you reach a fever pitch when the two of you begin to increase the pace, and you have to brace a hand against your desk for support. your eyes haven’t left arthur once. wouldn’t leave even after you catch that scrunch of his crooked nose, the tightening of his fist. but your eyes flutter when his head tips back, and his mouth falls open (so wide you can almost hear him in your ears), and shit, you think you’ll be right there with him—

—until fingers snap in front of your face.

you open your eyes. turn your head.

"hey, you good? you're drooling."

#EARLY MORNING HORNY! #don’t ask me how i got here #it’s a long story #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x you #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 fanfic

[cinnamonest]

ohman ohman- listen-

I've been reading the kazu/scara/albedo/xiao posts (modern au or not) and it just got me thinking about how much stronger men are compared to women-

It's totally accurate how they end up dominating reader with their strength. Like I'm not weak at all irl, but god help if I can ever beat the skinniest dude in an arm wrestling match and these shorter and slim boys got me feeling all type of ways. Like OKAY, maybe darling still has a decent fighting chance with them vs with boys like childe etc but the formers' arms, hands, legs, fingers are still bigger and longer than yours dhdjsksj. For the incel ones (because they don't have that supernatural strength and all as in the canon AU) it might just be one of the few things that boosts their ego, lol!

So real omg I remember there was a point in time where like, I thought that guys were only stronger because they were bigger/worked out more and that if a guy and a girl were the same size and worked out the same then they'd be equally strong, and that scrawny guys were weak… as you can imagine I got humbled so fast lmao

(also thank you anon after the e-girl post I’ve been eager to make a post with all the modern AU boys :3)

-

Deeply in love with the thought of both parties having the gradual realization of just how drastic the male-female gap in strength is — a devastating slap in the face from reality for darling, and a euphoric power trip for him.

Especially with the modern AU for those boys, like… sure, you both know deep down that guys are naturally somewhat stronger, but neither of you realized just how much.

Society’s tendency to shy away from acknowledging the topic has perhaps left darling a bit naive…. dangerously so. Like, playing-with-fire levels of naive, cocky and bratty towards boys like them even after they’ve kidnapped you, thinking that well, they’re short, lean boys, so surely they can’t hurt you, and if they try you can just fight him off, right? It’s not like he’s a broad bulky guy, whom you’d actually have reason to fear…

You may get the chance to notice it more subtly at first — you watch as he picks up something rather heavy around the apartment and think to yourself how odd it is that there’s no strain on his expression, no grunting as one would do when performing physically strenuous tasks, in fact he picks it up and carries it over with a perfectly neutral expression, like it’s not even difficult… maybe it's just not as heavy as you thought…?

But it quickly proves to be what you fear — the reality is you have severely underestimated this aspect of sex difference.

Xiao actually has the most wholesome, tolerable version of this. He has a tendency for not verbalizing his thoughts, he just sort of… does things. One of the more common manifestations of this is that he just. Picks you up.

You’ve been sitting over there doing your own thing for a while like you requested, but now he’s lonely and sad and he wants you over there with him so he just walks over, locks his arms around you and suddenly your feet are off the ground.

He just sorta disrupts you from whatever you're doing and carries you like you're a limp sack of flour on a regular basis, setting (or throwing) you down wherever he wants you to be instead. It's easier than asking you to move. It doesn't even really occur to him that this surpasses your assumption of his strength capacity until you mention it… and at first he thinks nothing of it, but gradually, hearing you grunt in surprise each time you're hoisted upward and the way your feet kick outward actually starts to feel quite nice. A little ego boost, even if he's quieter about it than the others. He didn't realize he was so strong compared to you.

And then you start coming to him to get him to open jars and pick up things you can't, and while he does it all with the same fairly melancholy demeanor as always, internally it actually makes him very happy and prideful each time, makes him feel needed and important and all. He focuses less on the aspect of your weakness and using it against you (unless he’s mad), and more focuses on being strong and hoping that you like it, carefully coordinating efforts to show off in ways that he thinks are subtle enough to seem unintentional (spoiler: they’re not). Unfortunately, mixing protein powder into energy drinks does significantly impact their taste, but he views it as worth it. In the fantasies that play out in his head, maybe one day you’ll even outright tell him he’s sooooo strong in that cute voice like the girls in visual novels do.

Thankfully he's not too outwardly obnoxious about it, and he doesn't degrade you for it (again, except maybe a bit passive-aggressively, but only if you're being mean and hurt his secretly very sensitive feelings first, OR unintentionally due to his dense nature and consequent tendencies to make very blunt statements without thinking them through). He may or may not be deliberately tightening the jars each time he closes them to ensure you need him for it next time, though.

Scara is the inverse because he doesn't really see or emphasize it as himself being strong, more like you being weak.

But no, maybe he's wrong. At least in that case, he has his whole body weight to rely on keeping you down, so that's probably why it felt so easy…? Until then you're being whiny and bratty and he pins you to the wall instead, wondering why you're acting so upset yet not actually fighting him for real… then he realizes you are actually trying. You’re not just half-heartedly tugging in a whiny way, you’re like, actually trying to pull yourself out of his grasp, and giving it your all.

He's also caught off guard by it, early on. Here he had all these backup plans to subdue you if you managed to writhe your way out of his grasp or fight him off, but then in your initial struggle, he quickly realizes how incredibly easy it is to keep you pinned down, and no such plans are necessary.

…And that’s the best you can manage? Seriously? That’s how much weaker you are? It's almost astounding. The shock quickly transitions to pure amusement and satisfaction, and once this difference is discovered, he's going to use it to make your life hell.

He loves the newfound discovery, and actively exercises it at every opportunity. It scratches the itch of those sadistic impulses just perfectly and soothes any bruises to his ego, especially with how apparent it is that it upsets you, how you struggle harder and harder and your eyes prick with humiliated tears and you groan in frustration. So he just ensures he utilizes his superior strength constantly, always holding you down or grabbing you by the arm and keeping you in place, always holding you into uncomfortable positions in bed, and the more you struggle to no avail, the more he seems to enjoy it.

It's actually kind of hilarious too, how you can just be running your mouth and snarling at him one second and pleading and teary-eyed the next, forcibly bent over and held down with your face smushed against the countertop, begging to be let back up, trying with all your might to push your palms onto the surface and push yourself back up to no avail. Him mocking you the entire time doesn't exactly help you keep the tears in, either, but when you start crying it just makes things worse, since that's just used against you to tell you how emotional you are. Emotional and dumb and weak, girls are really such a handful to deal with, sigh…

You can tell how much he enjoys constantly reinforcing your awareness, reminding you of the difference, and it infuriates you — and the more it infuriates you, the funnier and more satisfying it is for him, and the more he does it, and the miserable cycle continues. The only way you were able to actually get some leverage was by insinuating that he only enjoys it because he needs the ego boost as psychological compensation for being so small for a guy… and while you know you're right, the resulting soreness was ultimately not worth the momentary satisfaction of saying so.

Albedo is the most obnoxious about it because one, he's the most acutely aware of it from the start and will make sure you are as well, and two, he finds the whole thing amusing. The man is whipping out the studies and Science™ to explain exactly why he has nothing to fear from you and why you'll never be able to overpower him. Blah blah skeletal muscles this, sexual dimorphism that, fiber size anaerobic muscular metabolic capacity something something… it's too confusing for you to understand, the only thing you know is how infuriating the smugness is.

It's cute to him that you initially have no concept of your inferiority. You still try and fight him and push him and take things from him, only to end up pinned down or hoisted up. Like a… dumb little animal of some kind, that walks right into an obvious trap or attacks its own reflection, is how he sees you. He has no issue telling you this either, he likes seeing how furious it makes you, knowing you can't do anything about it.

He's the worst about constantly applying this as much as he can specifically in bed, too. Keeping your hands pinned above your head, making a point to inform you that restraints aren't really necessary due to your physical inferiority. Telling you with that infuriating dry tone that if you hate it so much, surely you can summon the strength to break free… saying that always ensures you put on a funny little display of struggling.

He’s selective, though, about how he torments you, so the severity of how unbearable he makes the matter depends on how you react to it. His form of sadism is a quiet one, but still quite obvious with how he picks at your weaknesses — so if it’s something that doesn’t bother you that much, he’ll go for something else, but the more it upsets you to be reminded of how much stronger he is and why, the more outright insufferable he’ll be, ensuring you’re constantly reminded that it’s only natural — a smug gesture of faux comfort, disguised as reassurance of normality, but deep down you know it’s really intended to rub salt into the wound by reminding you that it’s essentially immutable, making you feel powerless. He’s a little bastard like that.

Although out of the four, it's by far the most amusing (or vaguely terrifying, for you) with Kazuha.

It's all so… subtle. He’s so sweet, so gentle in his voice and demeanor and mannerisms, and then you find yourself bristling as you watch him snap something in half, lift something, bend something, whatever, that you definitely would not have thought he should be able to. Something that makes you do a double take and sit there slack-jawed and wide-eyed while he continues to go about whatever he’s doing, talking about this or that in that soft voice.

And then when you watch movies laying in bed and try to wiggle away from his hold, the way you feel it tighten so hard you fear your ribs will snap, and he wraps his fingers around your wrist so hard your hand goes numb, you realize it’s not taking any effort on his end at all, he's doing it practically half-asleep.

Even though those incidents make you uneasy, he’s just so gentle-natured that it’s easy to forget and end up acting out at him yet again, getting mad and being a brat, you even go so far as to try and hit him — but he catches you by the wrist, holding your arm firmly in place.

Very firmly. So much so that, when you reflexively jerk backwards, you would have thought you were pulling against an iron chain. He doesn't budge. It makes your heart skip a beat, especially when you see the slight twitch to his smile.

And then you see his eyes widen just a bit. Perhaps surprised at how light your pulling feels, how little strain it causes him.

He never really addresses it out loud, but you can tell that he's increasingly aware from that point forward of just how big the strength gap between you is.

It's actually a bit insulting once you start noticing the shifts and changes — he doesn't tie you to the bed anymore when you sleep. Why would he? It'll be so easy to just pull you back down when he feels you move. You can easily tell that he's noticeably more at ease, he goes from having just the slightest detectable panic when you start to defy him or struggle to being completely unbothered, now that he's realized your defiance holds no weight. He starts a habit of giving you a little warning squeeze if you're making him too upset and being very very bad, just a light little tightening of the grip on your wrist or waist as if to remind you that you both know how much stronger he is than you, that your being very unwise to upset him… and you always notice how his smile grows when it shuts you up instantly.

It's honestly almost more infuriating that he does it all so quietly — you almost wish he would acknowledge it, but instead you get this quiet, unspoken realization and mutual understanding, a ‘you know he knows you know’ sort of situation, and with that mutual understanding comes your gradually increasing lack of defiance, a slow despairing acceptance… and you can tell it makes him very, very happy.

#.modern #I want to strangle them all #little bastards 😤😤 #.miso

[avydabby]

Three Doesn't Have To Be A Crowd

ethan landry x fem!reader x chad meeks-martin

words: 3.3k

summary: ethan and reader being caught encourages a new bucket list item being checked off

warnings: smut!, fmm!threesome, dirty talking, t!tplay, fingering, exhibition?, oral (f receiving), oral (m receiving), double penetration, overstimulation, a second of mxm, anal, handjob, squirting

MDNI!!!

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Studying with Ethan was quite useless when it came to Econ. He was a smart guy, but there was not a thing that he could comprehend in that class. That's why Ethan was lucky he had you in that class also. These two factors led to the two of you hanging out often, becoming more comfortable with each other, and more familiar with each other.

The familiarity between you two didn't just end as classmates and friends, but it led to a few more than a few hookups. No one knew of these hookups and you both wanted to keep it that way. It was just easier to not tell your friends.

However, keeping it from your friends also made it harder to hook up without being caught or having your friends question why you two disappeared randomly. That's why you and Ethan were so quick to skip Econ today, knowing that Chad would be out of Ethan's dorm.

It had been at least two weeks since you and Ethan had hooked up last, and you were feeling it. Maybe that's why both of your kisses were so sloppy and desperate. Ethan's mouth was working hard against yours as you both sat on his dorm bed. His hands were gripping your hips, pulling you closer and closer onto his lap.

Ethan lets out a low noise as you bite his bottom lip gently. His breath hitches as your fingers pull at his hair, sending tingles down his spine. You were both too enraptured in each other's mouths to notice the door knob into the dorm jiggle and open.

"What the fuck?" Chad's voice sends you and Ethan far apart from each other. Ethan flew so far that he fell off his bed and plopped onto the floor. Chad's eyes follow his roommate before trailing onto you. "What the fuck is this, and how desperate are you to go for Ethan?"

Ethan scoffs from the floor, "She actually made the first move, dick."

Chad's eyebrows raise as he looks to you for confirmation, which you nod to quickly.

While Chad and Ethan squabble about your hookups, you find yourself rubbing your thighs together to suppress your wetness. The two guys' argument trails off and you look at both of them expectantly. What you find is both Ethan and Chad staring at your thighs...which are bare. You forgot how you had eagerly discarded your pants in hopes of being put to work on top of Ethan.

"Were you guys going to fuck?" Chad asks, his finger pointed between the two of you. "I don't like this."

His confession threw you and Ethan for a loop. Ethan frowns, his brow raising at Chad's boldness. "Don't like what?"

Chad groans, rubbing a hand down his face, "I don't like how quickly you were ready to throw your virginity at her."

You giggle softly, bringing Chad's attention back to you. "That happened a long time ago, Chad."

"Oh my god, her voodoo seduction powers got you already? Jesus fuck," Chad groans out.

Ethan snorts and teases Chad, "Voodoo seduction powers? She's just hot, dude. You're just jealous, buddy."

Chad rolls his eyes at Ethan's accusation. Your eyes dart between the two of them, wondering how long this will last until you get what you want from Ethan.

You were getting impatient, "Okay, can we figure this out quickly? I would like to be fucked soon and I don't care how at this point."

Chad chokes on his own air and his eyes bulge. "Are you talking about a threesome?"

The room goes quiet.

You hadn't initially intended for this to become a threesome, but the way that Ethan's eyes fluttered as he thought about having a threesome helped you decide on it.

"I mean, it is on my bucket list," You shrug, looking between the two of them. Your tongue flicks out to wet your lips and you see both of their eyes dart their gaze to them. "And I don't hate the idea of being filled."

Chad's eyes widen, he looks at you with hungry eyes but a blank face. His roommate launches forward at you, his mouth attaching to your neck. A surprised moan escapes your mouth and your eyes connect to Chad's.

"Join us, Chad," you moan as Ethan sucks a sweet spot on your neck. His teeth scraped against the column of your throat. "Please..."

Your begging was all it took for Chad to move forward and kiss your lips as Ethan worked further down your neck. The two worked their lips on you, their hands following soon. Ethan's hands moved upwards to grope your chest above your shirt, squeezing and kneading the soft tissue.

"Such pretty tits," Ethan says softly, his lips kissing over your shirt. You arch your back so he has more space to do as he pleases. "God, I dream about your tits. Have you dreamt about this, Chad?"

Chad's hands wrap around your throat while he retreats from your mouth, "I've definitely thought about you more than a few times while jerking off. Had to get one off at Halloween with that fucking costume you wore."

You remember that night...it was actually the night that you and Ethan first hooked up. Your Halloween costume set Ethan off in a way that made him confess his sexual desires towards you. Who knew it would lead to this?

Ethan groans at Chad's comment, "I regret tearing that off you, baby. Wish you could wear it more."

Their hands continue to explore your body, gripping your body and smoothing across your skin. Your moans echo through the dorm room and encourage the boys to go further.

Ethan's hands pull at the bottom of your shirt until it's over your head. His eyes narrow in on your chest, Chad's doing the same. The former's hands attach to your boob and knead it carefully. It was as if he was waiting for it to explode.

"You should stop wearing shirts, baby," Chad groans, his lips going back to yours in a deep, lustful kiss. Ethan's mouth joins his mission with his hand at playing with your tits. "It would make the world a better place."

"But only we can touch," Ethan butts in before his teeth latch onto the fleshy part of your chest. Your back arches into his movements again, making Chad's mouth retreat from yours.

Chad moves his hand down your body, hovering over your hot core. He waits for a nod from you to place his fingertips against your clothed clit. Your body jolts from the contact and a desperate moan escapes your mouth. His fingers massage your clit in soft circles, giving you enough pleasure to almost cry.

Ethan unclasps your bra, taking away another layer hiding your intimate parts. His fingers roll one of your nipples tightly and his tongue licks a stripe up your neck.

The mixture of the two men stimulating you causes an orgasm to come embarrassingly quick. Your moans grow louder and your body jerks to their movements.

"You gonna cum, baby?" Ethan teases you, his fingers leaving your nipples. His fingers move your panties to the side and play with your hole. "Cum on my fingers. Show us how much you like it when we play with you."

Ethan's fingers penetrate your tight hole, pushing his fingers so deep that you can feel the single silver ring on his hand enter you. The amount of attention that Chad and Ethan are giving your cunt sends you over the edge. Your hands grasp Chad's wrist to stop his massage of your clit, but he doesn't stop.

"Chad, please!" You cry out, writhing from the stimulation. Ethan laughs at your overstimulation and quickens the pace at which he fingers you. "Fuck...Ethan, oh my god!"

If anyone were to listen to their door right now, they would be able to figure out pretty quickly what was going on. However, you weren't totally against the idea of it.

Chad's fingers leave your clit and move upwards towards your nipples. His one hand plays with your bud while his mouth tongues at the other.

Ethan watches your face contort with moans and pleasure as his fingers reach your G-spot. You hold his gaze over Chad's head and watch as his lust-filled eyes don't stray from yours as he moves his face to your cunt. His tongue darts out and flattens against your used clit.

Your hips jolt towards Ethan's face eagerly. He chuckles darkly at your reaction and continues to devour you all of you. His fingers continue working in and out of your cunt, pulling you to another orgasm that builds up.

"Eth, baby..." Your moan is loud as he hits a particularly deep part of you. Your hand reaches for his curly hair and tugs on some strands. "Baby, I'm gonna cum."

Your whines drive both men crazy.

"Cum on his fingers again, come on," Chad eggs you on, removing himself from your chest and reaching down to remove his own shirt. Your fingernails scratch against Ethan's scalp and your other hand moves to drag across Chad's obvious bulge.

You see the hunger in Ethan's eyes as he sucks on your clit, and he sees yours roll to the back of your head as he makes you orgasm for a second time. He whimpers loudly as you pull him off your cunt and up to your lips.

"Chad," you draw out, pulling from Ethan's lips. You look at the expectant man and reach for his hand. "Don't you deserve to taste me from Ethan's mouth?"

The two men hesitate until Chad makes the first move forward to meet Ethan's lips in a kiss. Ethan's tongue enters Chad's mouth and shares the taste of your cunt onto his friend's tongue. They pull apart and Chad leans to you for a kiss as well.

"You taste so good, ma," Chad groans out as he reaches down to unzip his jeans. He stands and drops them to the floor and removes his boxers. His cock springs out and slaps his stomach from how hard it is. "Wanna feel your lips on my cock."

You bit your lip and smiled at Chad with heavy eyes. Tucking your legs under you, your hand grasps Chad's girthy cock and you bring your tongue to lick up his cock to the tip. He shudders above you from the sensation and slides your hair to the side in a makeshift ponytail.

From behind, Ethan grasps your tits in both hands. You can feel his erection pressing to your back. You let your free hand maneuver behind you to rub against Ethan's boner. He takes his hands off you and he works to remove his sweatpants and briefs. You hear Ethan spit into his hand and stroke himself before guiding your hand to his member.

Ethan's hands continue to manhandle your tits as you work his cock in your hand and Chad's cock in your mouth. The three of you are a mess of moans, groans, and grunts as you bring the two to the brink of cumming all over you.

You can feel Ethan's hot breaths on your neck as he whispers the dirtiest things to you. "You just love all this attention, don't you, baby." "You gonna let Chad cum all over your face? Gonna let him paint you like I do?" "Should keep you busy like this more often."

Chad starts to groan from above you, and you can feel his dick pulsing in your mouth as your tongue works on his tip, flicking back and forth. His hands begin to pull your head further down onto his cock. He pulls you so far that you begin to gag on the girth taking up your airway.

Ethan gently pushes his friend's hips away from you and shakes his head, "Don't force that, man."

Your breathing is more of a pant with saliva dripping from your chin. Everything about you right now made you feel like a slut...but that wasn't exactly a bad thing in this matter.

You stop stroking Ethan and turn to face him. Your seductive gaze explores his face as you lay on your back and look up at the two of them. Your tits were on full display, and you slowly slide your ruined panties off your body.

You massage your own breasts as Chad and Ethan stroke themselves. A smirk graces your face as you instruct the two men, "Ethan, I want you to fuck me. Let me suck your cock some more, Chad."

"Condom or no condom?" Ethan asks, moving to reach for a box under his bed. You shake your head, "I'm clean, I know you're clean. Chad?"

"I'll wear one if I fuck you," Chad shrugs, bringing his cock closer to your mouth. "Now, tongue out baby. I'm not gonna last long."

You giggle at his words, "Last long enough to finish inside me."

Chad groans loudly and slides his cock into your mouth again. Your glossy eyes watch him and his hips move faster as he sees tears swell in your eyes.

Ethan uses the tip of his cock to spread your wetness around as lube for him to enter you. He places a hand on your bare hip to prepare you for him, and you tap on Chad's thigh to remove himself from your mouth.

You sit up partially to watch Ethan slide into you slowly, his long cock only halfway in when you feel like it can't go any further. Your mouth opens with an 'o' shape and you squeeze your eyes shut from the tightness of his cock inside your hole.

"Eth...Ethan, fuck," You gasp out, one hand gripping the back of Chad's thigh to anchor you. The man entering your pussy leans forward to capture your mouth in a searing kiss and then smirks as he quickly bottoms out in you. You scream at the quick feeling of being filled, "Oh my god! Uhn, Eth, so...so fucking big."

You can feel his cock twitch inside of you at your words as they stroke his ego. Chad watches the two of you intently, Ethan notices and inquires with his friend, "Come on, Chad. I'll flip her and you can take her from behind."

You nod your head, urging Chad to grab a condom and slip it on. Ethan peppers kisses over your body while you adjust to his length. He rolls you two over so he is on the bottom and you're on him from the top.

"Ride me for a little," Ethan instructs you. His hands hold your hips as he helps you bounce on his long cock. His eyes remain trained on your face as it changes with the pleasure you receive from riding him. Ethan softly whispers words of encouragement as you do your best to ride him better than ever before. "Doing so good, baby. Keep riding my cock. Yeah...just like that. Such a good girl."

His words only fuel your wetness and make your walls constrict around his cock. When you are oh so close to cumming, you feel Chad press on your lower back to lean forward. You whine softly at the loss of movement but do as he wishes. Ethan's cock is pulled out of your pussy so that Chad can use some of your wetness as lube for anal.

"Ok, ma, I'll go slow," Chad whispers, leaning to your ear. You feel his tip protrude into your even tighter hole and gasp as you feel him start to enter further in. "Come on, relax for me, ma."

Ethan's fingers trace along your bare back as he stares admiringly at your face. His brown eyes look emotionless but hold so much desire that you can't do anything but relax.

As his cock enters you further and further, you can hear Chad start to grunt at the feeling of your ass. His fingers dig harshly into the fleshy part and he slowly begins to thrust in and out of it.

The man on bottom guides his cock back into your pussy, and the two men slowly thrust in and out of you. None of you have felt a pleasure like this before. Everything was tight, hot, and wet.

"We aren't gonna last long, are we?" Chad strains out, his breathing coming out as pants.

Ethan chuckles airlessly and shakes his head. "I'm so fucking close."

Whines and soft cries emit your mouth as the feeling of two cocks fucking you hits. You're so full. Everything feels so much more sensitive and you have no idea if you'll be able to last a minute longer.

Ethan's lips kiss at your neck, and his fingers travel down to your clit. His wet lips trail to your ear as he whispers, "You're doing so fucking well, baby. Gonna make us cum so hard."

The mixture of it all Ethan's hands, cock, words, and Chad's cock -encourages your third orgasm of the night to hit you like a bullet train. Your scream of pleasure can definitely be heard by neighbors, but you can't even think of it being humiliating at this moment. Hell, you can't even think about anything other than the two men inside of you and Ethan's hand still working you through your orgasm.

Tears slide down your cheek as it all begins to feel like too much as the two continue fucking into your holes. Chad's cock slamming into you makes the sound of ass against his hips echo loudly, and Ethan's wet dick claps against your cunt.

"Come on, ma, just a little longer," Chad grunts out, slamming harder and harder into you. His thrusts become messy and soon still as he fills the condom with his cum. "Just like that."

Chad pulls out of you, but Ethan continues fucking your cunt. His thrusts are becoming faster, and his whimpers becoming louder. Ethan's thick fingers continue toying with your clit, even as you whine about how there's too much pressure.

"I want you to milk my cock, baby," Ethan's words were dominant, but his whiney voice made it sound more like a plea. "Not gonna stop until you're full of my fucking cum."

"Eth, it's so much-" Your words are cut off by a strong fluid coming from your cunt. Your squirt makes Ethan's eyes roll to the back of his head in ecstasy.

His thrusts become impossibly harder until you can feel his cum being spread against your walls. The mixture of his cum, your cum, and your squirt sits between the two of you. His thrusts come to a stop, and you can't do anything but slump against his chest.

Ethan's chest heaves with heavy breathing and his hands play with the strands of your hair. He presses sweet kisses against your forehead, and wipes smudged mascara from under your eye. "You did so good, sweetheart. So good."

A weak thank you slips from your mouth and Ethan chuckles. You can hear Chad come from the bathroom with what you're assuming is a towel. He wipes the sweat off your forehead and then helps ease you off of Ethan. The two men wipe the mixture of cum off of you and off of Ethan.

"You want some water?" Chad asks you, moving a strand of hair from your face. You nod softly and watch as the other boy goes to the hallway to fill up a water bottle.

Ethan pulls you back onto his chest and you snuggle closer to him. You two always laid together after fucking, it was a ritual at this point. His chest inflates with a heavy sigh before asking you quietly, "What did you think of your first threesome? Excited to cross it off that list of yours?"

You chuckle softly, almost dazingly. "It was good..."

"Just good?" Ethan asks, running his fingers up and down the side of your torso.

You nod, "Don't tell Chad, but I like one-on-one hookups a little more."

"Hate to break it to you," Ethan whispers back to you. "But this was me trying to share, and I didn't like it. Think we're gonna have to stick with each other."

"I can get behind that."

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

first post on here! might as well make it spicy 💥💥💥

#ethan landry x reader #chad meeks martin x reader #ethan landry x reader x chad meeks martin #scream6 #scream vi #ethan landry smut #chad meeks martin smut #smut #scream smut

[m1ckeyb3rry]

hi mira i’m going to rq for jjk (gojo specifically) :) kinda inspired by a fic idea of mine so if i see you post it maybe it’ll give me inspo to actually write too LOL — this is also a little long sorry, you can shorten as you wish 😓 maybe it’ll get the brain juices going idk

Y/N was really close to geto (i was thinking siblings but do whatever) and when he turned curse user and left, it made Y/N rethink why she was a sorcerer herself. she believed in geto’s ideals, but seeing his mindset 180 made her question if the same thing would happen to her since she was always weaker-minded than him. so she quit dropped out of the school and gojo never saw her since

skipping to the present, Y/N became a sorcerer again after having a conversation with geto some time before he died. with yuji being sukuna’s vessel, she goes to the school herself and sees gojo (their last convo was actually an argument leaving everything [him] behind). gojo’s just really stubborn, but he’s there when Y/N really needs him. from there they only keep encountering each other until they make up, their feelings are all out on the table, etc. etc.

── CHIAROSCURO

Synopsis: You don’t really know who you are without Suguru Geto. Satoru Gojo doesn’t know who he is without either of you.

Event Masterlist

Pairing: Gojo x Reader, Geto & Reader have something less than romantic but more than platonic going on

Chapter Word Count: 6.7k

Content Warnings: angst, mentions of death, flawed y/n character, major time skips, most plot events happen off screen, characters are probably ooc tbh i haven’t written for jjk in months

A/N: finally finished the first of the requests I’ve received so far!! it ended up being way more geto-centric than i had planned for it to be though i’m so sorry angel 😭 and it was also getting way too long so i decided to end it by just hinting the development of the rest of the story you mentioned LMAO i hope that’s okay 😫

Additional: part of my 500 follower event! see the event description and rules to make a request of your own.

Most people grew up with one shadow, but according to your mother, you had lived your entire life with two. The first was the same as the one everyone had, that darkening of the ground in the shape of your figure. The second was the boy who lived next door — or, at least, that was what she told you.

His name was Suguru Geto, and despite his dark features and darker clothing, he had a perpetually sunny demeanor, always quick to offer you a gentle smile whenever you glanced his way. He was polite even when it wasn’t required of him, and though your mother teased you for it, you knew she was secretly grateful for his presence in your life.

The greatest thing Suguru had ever done for you, though, was not teach you manners. It was that he gave you someone to follow. Perhaps it was true that he was your shadow, but it was his in which you cowered when you were frightened, when the brightness of the world was too harsh for your eyes, which, when it came to cruelties and horrors, were as sensitive and new as a child’s.

Suguru was always happy to take on that role. He would stand in front of you, his shoulder blades pinching together as he puffed out his chest and rebuked whichever neighborhood child had dared to tease you. They all ran from him when he was like that, when his brow grew heavy over his eyes and the corners of his mouth twisted into a scowl.

Not you, though. You stayed behind his back, blinking owlishly at the way the others scurried, laughing along when Suguru likened them to mice with a click of his tongue.

Suguru didn’t like those who hurt the ones weaker than them, so you didn’t, either. Suguru thought that the role of the strong was to protect the frail, so you did, too. Whatever Suguru believed, you did as well, because what else was there for you? It was easier for you to hold onto his hand and press against his back, to allow him to tell you where to place your feet, so that there was never even a chance of you falling.

That was why it wasn’t a surprise that, upon Suguru being scouted as a sorcerer, you were extended the same invitation. It was a natural consequence — where he went, you followed, and so when he packed his things and went to Tokyo, it was both of your bags that he was carrying, while you peered around the train station and wondered what kind of place you were going to end up in.

Your new classmate was the one that picked the two of you up. He was tall — taller than even Suguru, though the majority of his body consisted of his legs — and had an unearthly appearance, with pale hair carefully mussed into a seemingly thoughtless style and black glasses which slid down the bridge of his nose to reveal eyes like diamonds.

He was the most brilliant thing you had ever seen. Lowering your eyes, you stepped back into Suguru’s shadow, earning you a scoff from your classmate and a worried exhale from your friend.

“Blech,” he said. “You’re supposed to be my classmate, really? How’re you going to keep up, huh? I’m the strongest sorcerer in the world, you know.”

“I think we’ll manage just fine,” Suguru said pleasantly, though there was an edge to his voice, his teeth like knives when he smiled and offered his hand. “I’m Suguru Geto.”

“Satoru Gojo,” your classmate said, shaking Suguru’s hand firmly. “Looking forward to working with you.”

“Likewise,” Suguru said. “And this is Y/N L/N.”

“Hi,” you said, swallowing even as you said it, pursing your lips and glancing around, wishing for some kind of escape. Gojo hummed and then poked you on the forehead.

“Aw,” he said when you did not visibly react beyond furrowing your brow. “I thought you might fall over or something.”

“I see,” you said. “Um. Well, it’s nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said. “Come on. Let’s go before our teacher gives us all detention for playing hooky.”

Unlike Suguru, Gojo didn’t allow you to follow him around. He made fun of you when you were scared and poked you on the forehead if you cringed away from his taunts. The latter occurred so frequently that you were surprised there was not a permanent indent in your skin.

“One day I’ll get you, pretty Y/N,” he’d always promise you. “Seriously! I mean, you barely have a backbone in the first place, so it’s really a wonder you’re standing at all.”

At first, Suguru used to demand he stop, but as the months went by, his protests grew weaker and weaker. You supposed that it must’ve been nice for him, to stand beside someone for once instead of constantly throwing himself in front of them. You could not blame him, but you found that you missed him more with every passing day.

But what was there to be done about it? After all, you were nothing compared to the two special grade sorcerers. You did what you could and found it was, for the most part, sufficient, but sufficient would never let you exist beside either of them in any way that mattered. So you fell behind, and this time, it was not a conscious choice but an unavoidable circumstance. This time, when you hung back, Suguru continued forward without you.

Empty-minded and weak-hearted. That was what your teacher called you. He sent you on the simplest missions he could, and still you struggled. Sometimes, this meant you would sit alone in the classroom until it was long past dusk, listening to your teacher ramble and shout.

“You are not weak!” he would say, his hands clenched into fists by his side. “By all rights, your technique is perfectly serviceable. You are not weak, Y/N L/N!”

“Yes, sir,” you would respond meekly.

“At least, you should not be,” he’d say. “Yet somehow, inexplicably, you are. Even a Grade 2 curse nearly got the better of you. Your classmates are exorcising special grades on their own! Aren’t you disgusted with yourself?”

Suguru, and sometimes Gojo, would wait outside of the door for you, lingering until they heard the shuffle of your feet, the soft sniffles which announced your arrival. Then Suguru would wrap a casual arm around your shoulders and tell you that it was fine if you were weak, just as long as he was around to protect you, and Gojo would do that infuriating thing where he’d poke you in the forehead and pretend like it was a miracle you hadn’t toppled over yet.

Otherwise, you did not see your classmates. Shoko Ieri was far too busy learning to do things you could never hope to accomplish in your lifetime, and Suguru and Gojo were called on to complete assignments with such unhealthy regularity that their education actually suffered for it. 

You never knew what they did on their missions. You never cared to ask, either. The details would only make you queasy, and in this new world where you were not permitted to shudder and seek out the safety that Suguru so willingly provided you with, you tried to avoid things like that. Harsh things, brilliant things, cruel things — all of them you ran from at an equal pace. Without Suguru there to defend you, you turned into one of those children he had so-despised in your youth. Always running. Always hiding. Always shying away from anything resembling a challenge.

It was after one such mission that Suguru returned differently. You knew he had changed because he crawled into your bed that night instead of his own, drew the blanket up around his shoulders and pressed his weeping eyes against your collarbones.

“It’s no good,” he said after the third time you had asked him what was the matter, your hands nervously skimming over his shoulders, smoothing over his rough hair. “Everything’s been ruined, Y/N. Or maybe it was always like this. Maybe you’re the only one who’s ever understood the world to begin with.”

The next morning, when his feet touched the ground and he slid out of your bed, you were hit with the strangest feeling that you would never see him again. Not in the way you were used to seeing him, anyways. Sitting up in your bed, leaning against your pillows, you watched as he left, though when he went to close the door behind him, you reached out your hand.

“Wait,” you said. He paused, raising his eyebrows.

“Is everything okay?” he said, his knuckles growing white from gripping the handle.

“I want to look at you,” you said. You knew without knowing that the instant the door shut between the two of you, you would lose him forever. Your best friend. Your shadow. You wished that there was a way you could reach out and save him, but the thought of you saving someone was outlandish. Impossible. Laughable. 

“Yeah?” he said. There were heavy bags under his eyes, and it did not reach his irises, but nevertheless, he somehow managed to muster up a smile. It was not gentle as much as it was exhausted, but still, he smiled as best he could at you. “Okay.”

You hugged one of the pillows to your chest. “I miss you a lot.”

“I haven’t gone anywhere,” he said.

“Not yet,” you said. “I think you will someday, though. You’ll go somewhere far away, and I won’t be able to follow you there. You won’t even want me to.”

“What kind of place is that?” he said. “I’ll always want you to follow me around, Y/N. As long as I’m there, not a corner on this planet could be a place I don’t want you to follow me to.”

The door creaked shut. You stared at the blank expanse and thought to yourself that he had always been very good at lying.

From that day forward, there were two opposite phenomena which occurred simultaneously. On the one hand, that blinding radiance of Gojo’s was magnified by the minute, and on the other, Suguru withdrew further and further into a grey sort of monotony that, try as you might, you could not pull him from.

“Gojo,” you said one day, tugging on his sleeve and flinching when he turned to look at you. As per usual, he pressed his finger into your forehead.

“Yikes,” he said. “Seems like you’re still lacking in the spinal department, dear Y/N. But just so you know, I’ve cheated off of your math homework enough times that you really shouldn’t be scared of me.”

“Please help Suguru,” you said.

“Eh?” Gojo said. “What do you mean? Help him with what, his math homework? I’ll just give him yours to copy as well, so why don’t you cut the middle man and show it to him yourself?”

“No, not with — just, he’s going away, and I don’t want him to, but he doesn’t — you’re the only one,” you stammered. 

It was even more difficult to speak with Gojo now than it had been when you had first come to school. That was because it was only recently that you were realizing that that way he made you feel, that shyness, that apprehension, was not because of his gleaming, sharp countenance, but rather something else, something soft in your heart that thudded to life whenever he smirked at you.

“You want me to take his mission for him?” Gojo said, his nose wrinkling. “What, so the two of you can go on a date or something? Forget about it.”

“What?” you said. “No, what — a date — that’s not what I meant!”

It was too late. Gojo was gone, and with him, your last chance at helping Suguru vanished, too. In fact, Gojo avoided you until you went home from the summer break, making a face whenever you glanced his way, and by the time you came back to start the next year, it was too late for anyone to do much of anything.

“Y/N L/N,” Masamichi Yaga said, entering the library where you were writing a paper for your literature class. He cleared his throat uncomfortably, his cheeks a dark, flushed color, his teeth gritted together so hard that a muscle in his jaw twitched periodically. “Do you have a moment? It’s urgent.”

“I was just working on the essay that we were assigned, but it can wait,” you said agreeably, all too eager to give yourself a break from the work. Pushing aside your paper and pen, you stood up, massaging your wrist. “What is it, sir?”

“It’s, er…” His shoulders slumped. “I’m really sorry, Miss L/N.”

You tried to run through the list of things that he could be sorry for, but only one thing came to mind. You froze, your eyes widening. He had been on a mission, hadn’t he? 

“Suguru,” you breathed. “Is it — it’s not about Suguru, is it?”

“In a sense, it is,” Yaga said.

“Is he alright?” you said. “He has to be alright.”

“We believe his condition is fine, considering what he’s done,” Yaga said.

“‘What he’s done?’ Why are you being so vague? What’s going on, sir? Please say it plainly,” you said.

“It’s your parents, Miss L/N,” he said, spitting it out all at once like the phrase itself was poisoned. “They’re dead.”

Your stomach dropped. You had imagined so many things. In your nightmares, you saw your classmates dying, your teachers, even yourself. But never your parents. Your parents, who were so far removed from this awful world. Your parents, who only a month ago had sent you back to school with a pair of new shoes they had saved up to buy. You parents, who had never harmed anyone in their lives. What had they done that was so terrible it warranted such a sudden death? What were they being punished for?

“How — how did it happen?” you said. “Was it a curse?”

“Miss L/N…” Yaga said, his entire self deflating. “I’m really sorry.”

“What? Stop apologizing,” you said, tears gathering in your eyes. “Just tell me. Stop saying sorry and tell me!”

“It was most likely Suguru Geto,” he said, handing you a piece of paper. Your vision swam, and you could barely make out the words. All residents of the village were killed. Jujutsu High investigated. Based on residuals…all 112…the work of Geto’s curse manipulation. Sentenced to death. Sentenced to death. Sentenced to death.

“No,” you said, your voice cracking. “No, why would he do that? My parents loved him, and he loved them, too! We grew up together, so why would he do that?”

“Based on the evidence, he most likely killed his own parents, too,” Yaga said. Your hands wound themselves in your hair as you tugged.

“That’s a lie,” you said. “Suguru isn’t like that. Suguru is good! Suguru looks out for those weaker than himself! He protects people, Yaga. It must be a mistake. It has to be a mistake!”

“Miss L/N—” he began, but you were already running, sprinting as fast as you could. There was no way. There was no way. There was no way. 

Your house and the one beside it — Suguru’s house, a voice in the back of your mind nagged you, that’s Suguru’s house — were blocked off with yellow caution tape. Dozens of police officers were milling about the scene, barking into handheld radios, conversing tensely. One of them noticed you and extended an arm to stop your approach.

“Stay back, ma’am. This is an active crime scene. No outsiders allowed until the investigation has been concluded,” the officer said.

“That’s my house,” you whispered. “Officer, that’s my house. Why are there so many people here? It’s not true, is it?”

The officer didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to. The pitying frown on his face told you everything you needed to hear. It was true. It was true. Your parents, your parents were dead, and that meant —

What had it been like for them? Had your mother welcomed him? When she opened the door for him, had her eyes crinkled at the corners in greeting? Had she offered him tea, as she usually did, because she was so fond of him and he was so fond of the drink when made by her hand? And what of your father? Had he reached over to clap Suguru on the back, or had he tried to grab him in an affectionate headlock so that he could mess up his hair with all the zeal of a man half his age?

You threw up. Some of the vomit splattered onto the officer’s shoes, causing him to fold his lips into a thin, disapproving line. Taking a step back, he reached over to pat you on the back as you heaved and hacked, trying to expel the knowledge from your mind and finding that you were entirely unable to.

You walked back to the train station in a trance, your eyes reddened and glazed over, your mouth sour from the taste of the stale crackers the officer had handed you, your hands shoved in your pockets as you tried to remember to breathe through your nose. The officer had offered to escort you to the station, but you had refused. You needed the time to think, and anyways, what did it matter? No ordinary person could hurt you, and no sorcerer would.

“I didn’t think you’d come back alone,” a soft voice said from behind you. You turned around, your insides roiling at the very sound, your ears ringing as you took in Suguru’s casual posture. His hands, too, were in his pockets, and the streetlights cast misshapen, dancing shadows over his face, the effect worsened by the odd tilt of his head.

He was refusing to look at you. That was why he was standing like that. He couldn’t bear to look you in the eyes, and that was the only confirmation you needed. 

“So what?” you said. “I did. Are you going to kill me next?”

“What?” he said. Briefly, he glanced up at you in alarm, and then, like he had remembered he didn’t deserve to feel betrayed by that kind of question, he slouched back down into the same apathy of earlier. “No.”

“Just do it,” you said. “Just do it, you fucking asshole! Why would — you — you killed my parents! You killed my parents, and now you’re just talking to me as if nothing happened? Why? Why would you…?”

His expression did not budge again. “They were filthy monkeys who deserved it.”

“Huh?” you said. The statement was so bizarre that, for a moment, your anger was forgotten. “What the fuck?”

“This world doesn’t need more non-sorcerers running around,” he said. “Every single curse you’ve ever fought, it’s their fault. Those idiots who don’t know how to control the meager amounts of cursed energy they have, they’re the ones who cause curses to manifest. You should be thanking me, Y/N. This’ll make your life that much easier.”

“Do you really think that's the case?” you said.

“Yes,” he said. “With my entire heart, I think that it is.”

You had always, always followed Suguru. When he said to protect the weak, you did so. When he said to take care of others, you did that, too. Whatever he told you to believe, you believed. But how could you do that this time? How could you believe in the person who had murdered your parents?

“You killed my parents because of your stupid theory,” you said numbly. “You killed my parents. Suguru, you killed my parents.”

You didn’t care about the one hundred and twelve villagers. That was the most shameful thing: if it had just been that, then you might still have followed him. He could’ve convinced you — no. You could’ve convinced yourself that it was fine, that he really was looking out for you in that peculiar manner of his. It wouldn’t have been impossible. Even now, your resolve was so weak, and it was only the thought of your parents that allowed you to cling to it at all.

“They asked about you,” he said dully. “I let them. My own parents, I didn’t give them a chance to say anything, but yours…I let them ask. I guess you could consider it my last favor to you.”

The ringing grew louder. You pushed your palms against your ears in an effort to drown it out, but you couldn’t. If anything, it just grew louder and louder, more and more insistent. You couldn’t shake it off. You couldn’t make it go away, just like you couldn’t make Suguru’s words go away.

“It was the only thing they worried about. In their last moments, it wasn’t their own lives they begged for…it was yours,” he said, his gaze far away, his irises unreadable as he recalled that moment. “How strange is that?”

“Shut up,” you said.

“I told them you were okay,” he said.

“Shut up,” you repeated, though it was unsteady and unconvincing. “Shut up, shut up.”

“They were pretty happy about that,” he said, in a tone filled with dreamy recollection. “They didn’t fight much after I promised you’d be okay. What simple creatures they must have been, that even while dying they could only think to rejoice!”

You screamed. It was wordless and brittle, a symptom of your lungs’ collapse as you broke into sobs, fumbling in your purse for your phone. Suguru watched as you unsteadily punched in a number you had never bothered to save, not trying to stop you, maybe not seeing the point.

“Gojo,” you said when he picked up, before he could even say anything. “Gojo, please just — can you come get me? Please come get me.”

“Okay,” he said, to your surprise. He didn’t argue or call it a waste of time or point out that you were still bawling as you spoke. “Where are you? I can be there pretty soon if I steal one of the managers’ cars, I think.”

“By my house,” you said. Suguru did not move, showing you his hands, as if he was giving you permission to do what you wanted. It was your choice. If you just told Gojo that he was with you, then you had no doubt he’d be apprehended within minutes.

“I see,” he said. “I’ll be there as quickly as possible.”

You were the one who hung up, not him. You were the one who made the decision. You were the one who looked at Suguru and then turned your back to him so that, for once, he was the one behind you.

“I can’t reconcile it,” you said, using the ends of your sleeves to blot at your tears as you hiccuped. “I can’t understand it. Even after everything, I still want to follow you. I still want you to be my shadow. I still want to be yours.”

Don’t turn. Don’t turn. Don’t turn. You couldn’t turn around. If you turned around, then that meant your old teacher was right. Empty-minded. Weak-hearted. You could not turn around.

A dry breeze rustled through the leaves on the ground, sounding like footsteps against pavement. Don’t turn.

You turned. You should’ve known better than to expect anything different from yourself. You had never been someone who could stand in the front for very long. You would always turn. You would always run and cower and hide.

Anything you might’ve said died on your tongue as you saw he was already gone. You were alone. You had let him go. You had allowed that mass murderer, that criminal, to walk away from you. What kind of a sorcerer were you? Empty-minded. Weak-hearted. That sort, then. The horrible sort.

When the headlights of the car Gojo had borrowed swung around the corner, you had long since curled up on the grass, your cheek to the mud as you tried to grasp what you had done. 

“Hey,” Gojo said. “Y/N?”

He must’ve gotten out of the car at some point, because suddenly, he was crouching before you, pulling you to your feet, his limbs awkward and gangly as he cocked his head, still wearing those ridiculous sunglasses despite the darkness.

“I’m a piece of shit,” you said, and then you were clutching the collar of his uniform jacket. “Why am I like this?”

“What do you mean?” he said.

“He killed my parents,” you said. “He killed my parents, and I let him walk away.”

“Who?” Gojo said, but it was a rhetorical question. He knew who. You looked up at him miserably, and he shook his head slightly, like he couldn’t quite comprehend what you were saying. “You let who walk away?”

“I don’t think he was planning on seeing me,” you said, letting go of his shirt and pleading with him to understand. “We weren’t supposed to meet.”

“You saw Suguru,” Gojo accused, and now it was his turn to take you by the shoulders, his fingers digging into the muscle of your biceps, his eyes wild. “You saw him, and you didn’t tell me.”

Your lower lip trembled. “He killed my parents, Gojo.”

“That’s not true,” he said.

“It is,” you said. “It is, he told me it is, and I couldn’t even do anything when he said so.”

“Why?” Gojo hissed. “You only had to tell me! Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I just didn’t!” you said, and then you were crying again. “I couldn’t. Oh, they’re dead, and he killed them, he killed them, and they only asked about me when he did. Why am I the one who gets to live?”

His hands traveled from your arms to the nape of your neck, the heels of his palms pressing into your jaw as he tried to force you to look at him. But you couldn’t, of course you couldn’t, you hadn’t been able to before and you definitely couldn’t now.

“You know Suguru better than anyone. Don’t you think there’s something else at play?” Gojo said. He wasn’t asking for you. He was asking for himself. He wanted you to reassure him, tell him that it was alright, that his best friend wasn’t the monster you both knew he was. How was it fair? How could you be expected to reassure him?

You shoved him off of you. “No.”

“Then why’d you let him go?” Gojo said. “You must’ve thought that there was a reason, or else you would’ve told me. It’s the only explanation!”

“No, it’s not! The only explanation is that I’m shitty and weak and stupid, and I can���t help but rely on him. No matter what I do, I’ll rely on him! People like you don’t understand what it feels like. You can stand on your own, but I’m not like that!” you said, and then you were grabbing his hand — he always did that, you noticed, always turned his Infinity off for you even now that it was an automatic, constant process — unfurling his fingers and jabbing his index finger at your forehead. “Do you get it? You were right. I don’t have a spine. I don’t have one at all!”

“Pull yourself together, Y/N,” Gojo said. “He’s still out there. We just have to reach him before the others do, and then we can talk to him. If it’s the both of us, then he’ll listen. He’ll explain everything!”

“He already did,” you said. “You just don’t accept it, but that’s different than him not explaining at all.”

“So what, then? You’re just going to go back to the school and live your life as normal?” he said, scowling at you. “How could you even think of doing that? In what world does that make sense? You can’t go back and pretend like nothing happened!”

“It’s true. I can’t,” you said, because it was the fact you had been avoiding since the day you first set foot in the school, which you had always known in the back of your mind despite how you denied it. “I can’t go back at all. I can’t be a sorcerer.”

It was a rare thing to see Satoru Gojo speechless. If it were a lesser occasion, you might have laughed at the way his lips parted and his eyebrows knitted together in such a foreign way.

“Why not?” he said. 

“I’m afraid I’ll follow him,” you said. “No, I know I will. If I stay, then I will definitely follow him.”

“You won’t,” Gojo said. “Follow me instead. Follow me if you have to, but you can’t leave. Not you, too.”

Another rarity: Satoru Gojo was afraid. Not of your absence, but of the changes it would bring. With Haibara gone, Suguru vanished, and then you…what would even become of the school? When so many pieces were taken away from it, could it even be considered the same place?

“I can’t end up like that,” you said. “I can’t even risk it. I became a sorcerer because of him; I’ll leave because of him, too. Anyways, you hate when I follow you. You prefer people who can stand on their own two feet. I know that about you now.”

“If you run away, I won’t forgive you for a long time,” he warned me. 

“Then don’t,” you said, stepping away, though still facing him. “What good is your forgiveness, anyways? It won’t bring my parents back. It won’t bring Suguru back. I don’t even want you to forgive me, Gojo. I want you to hate me until you die.”

It was the last time you saw him for so long that his memory blurred away at the edges. The way he said your name, the way his hair shone in the sun, the slope of his nose and curve of his neck…once, these were things you might’ve been able to list with a great degree of accuracy. Not anymore, though. Now, if you thought of him at all, it was only that final image of him, framed by the headlights of that still-running car. It was not your name he had called out as you walked away from him, but something bitterer, a promise said with such sincerity it was all but a Binding Vow.

“Ten years,” he had said. “That’s how long I’ll hate you for. Not my entire life. Not until I die. Just for the next ten years.”

Life as an ordinary person was easy. Life without Suguru was harder. But you learned. You learned, through the years, how to stand on your own two feet. You learned how to live with only one shadow instead of two. You learned how to let your eyes adjust to light, gradually instead of all at once, so that it was an easy progression and free of pain. 

There were times when you thought you had seen one or the other of the two who you had run from. There, across the street, was it Suguru reading the newspaper? Or in the bakery you walked past on your way to work, was it Gojo who was admiring the displays? They always vanished before you could grow close enough to ascertain their identities, though, remaining ever out of your grasp, existing as nothing more than phantoms in your periphery, refusing to let you forget the past entirely.

The first time you called Gojo was a year after you left the school. You weren’t expecting him to pick up, and when the automated message prompted you to leave a voicemail, you almost hung up in resignation. Something stopped you, though, and despite feeling entirely ridiculous, you cleared your throat.

“Ah, it’s Y/N. But I guess you probably knew that, considering you didn’t pick up. Well, I don’t have anything much to say, but I just wanted to call and make sure you were doing alright. I’m okay. The anniversary of my parents’ deaths is coming up, so I was planning on visiting their graves. I got a new job. Somewhere that I never would’ve expected to work when I was younger. It’s nice. I like my coworkers. They’re nothing compared to you, of course, but they’re fine enough. Anyways. Um. I guess that’s it. I don’t think you’ll call me back, but I just wanted to let you know I’m doing okay.”

It was a routine. Every year, on that day, you’d call him and leave him a voice message. He never once answered — you doubted he listened to the voicemails at all, either — but it soothed you to leave them, to leave one last connection to the world that had taken up so much of your life, and for so long.

More often than not, that time felt like a dream. If it weren’t for the thorned mourner’s bouquets which left pricks in your fingers or the ten calls you had made to Satoru Gojo, you wouldn’t have believed any of it had happened at all. Sorcery, curses, shadows and killers, best friends who betrayed you and boys you ran from, these were all things better suited to storybooks than real life. 

Your mother’s favorite flowers had been roses, and you always made sure to bring some with you when you visited your parents’ graves. Roses for her and white chrysanthemums for your father, who had never had a preference for any particular flowers but was so sentimental that he would weep at any blooms being set by his headstone.

The roses were the ones that made the pads of your fingertips bleed, leaving bright red drops the same shade as their petals on the tissues you brought with you. You’d set the bouquet down and wrap your fingers with the tissues, watching as blood seeped through the thin paper, and then, without fail, you’d cry.

“It’s been so long without you,” you said, when enough time had passed that you could not be considered anything but an adult despite feeling like little more than a child. “It’s been so long, and I still don’t know what to do. Mother, father, I am grown now, yet constantly I wish I could ask you for advice. What was that song you’d always hum when I was tired, father? How did you make that tea of yours, mother? When did you know you loved one another? And a million other, sillier things. If I could think of nothing more pressing, I’d ask you about the weather, the time, and your plans for the weekend. I’d bid you a good morning and a good night. I’d complain about the rain and my job. Just as long as it meant I could talk to you again.”

You could not help it. You wept, bloody tissues fluttering to the ground as you ground your fists into your eyes, trying to stem the flow of your tears. Your breath came in quick, short gasps, and you rocked back and forth from your heels to your toes in an attempt to lull yourself into a state of calm. Back and forth. Back and forth. It was the only thing you could do, but it was not enough.

Someone’s hand settled upon your shoulder, and it had been so long since you had felt even a semblance of physical affection that you did not immediately bat them away. Instead, your own hands fell to your sides, your head hanging as you watched the newcomer set a bouquet beside the one you had brought. Orchids and lilies. Lovely, pale things that contrasted sharply with the red of the roses next to them.

“You said in your voicemail that you’d be here at this time. I hope it’s okay that I came.”

It was Satoru Gojo. He no longer wore the sunglasses you remembered him to; instead, a black blindfold was wrapped around his eyes and forehead, causing his pale hair to stick up like he had been shocked. He did not quite smile when he noticed that you were looking at him, but something resembling that expression crossed his face.

“Gojo,” you said. “Why are you—?”

“It’s been long enough,” he said. “You’re a really hard person to hate, Y/N L/N. I did my best, but it was difficult. I hope that you know that.”

“So you’ve come to, what, tell me you forgive me?” you said. “Thanks, but I don’t need it. It’s as I said: your forgiveness means nothing.”

“Nah,” he said, and then he was grabbing your hand and squeezing it tightly. “I’ve come to bring you back to sorcery with me.”

“What?” you said. “No. I quit.”

“You didn’t quit, you ran,” he reminded you.

“That’s the same thing,” you said. He grinned. It was the kind of grin that would’ve blinded you when you were younger, but you found that it was not so brilliant anymore. You found you liked it even more than you once had.

“Not in my books,” he said.

“Gojo, I’m not strong enough. I can lead a normal life without you and Suguru and the others, but if you throw me back into sorcery, I know I’ll cave,” you said. “I’ll turn back into that cowardly little girl I once was. I’ll seek out that shadow which I’ve spent so long learning to exist without.”

He sighed, and then he poked you in the forehead. “Not the case. See, you didn’t even waver this time! I think you finally did it, Y/N. You grew a spine.”

“Why do you want me to come back?” you said. “I’m not strong like you. I won’t give you anything you don’t already have.”

“It’s selfish,” he said. “I don’t want to tell you because it’s selfish, and you’ll laugh at me.”

“If you don’t tell me, then I won’t even consider it,” you said. Though his eyes were covered by the blindfold, you could sense him rolling them based solely on the way he pouted.

“I’ve spent the last ten years hating you for leaving us — for leaving me behind,” he said. “Everyone else was gone. I needed someone, but you left too, and then I really was alone. I want to drag you back into hell because I can’t face it by myself anymore.”

There were things left unsaid in that. Why you, for one? He could have anyone in the world, so why, after ten years, had he come to find you specifically? Why was it now that he could no longer bear the hell that was sorcery alone? But Gojo was not the sort who ever revealed his true self if he could help it, so you supposed those things would have to go unsaid for a little longer.

“Okay,” you said.

“Okay?” he said.

“Okay,” you said. “I’ll come back, but I have a condition.”

“What is it?” he said.

“The next time I leave, or run away, or quit, don’t hate me for quite as long,” you said. “Don’t hate me at all. I know I told you that I want you to hate me until you die, but I don’t anymore.”

“Okay,” he said.

“Okay?” you said, in a direct mirror of your previous exchange.

“Okay,” he said. “Come on, then. Follow me.”

“Oh, that, too,” you said. “I won’t follow you. If that’s what you’re expecting, then you can forget about it. I cannot allow myself to follow anyone ever again. I cannot be that weak, or I’ll become someone I despise. Someone I don’t want to be, ever again.”

His expression morphed into one of shock, and then he did something so odd as to be beyond all rationality and logic. He beamed at you before patting you on the head. It wasn’t condescending; it was the kind of gesture that was like a promise, or a warning, depending on who you asked. Maybe in this case, it was both.

“It’s alright. Actually, it’s better if you don’t,” he said. “I like you more when you don’t follow anyone at all.”

#gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo x you #gojo satoru #jjk x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #reader insert #canon au #m1ckeyb3rry milestone #m1ckeyb3rry writes

[xclowniex]

One of the most disappointing things about the past few years is how much it's exposed how much of a self-centered joke the online left has exposed itself to be.

I joined the left overtime as a reaction to the likes of Trump getting power, and his horrific desire to bring about his own dictatorship over America. I for quite a long time thought a lot of the problem stemmed from centrist types not taking his threat seriously enough (which was partially true in some ways), which only fueled my shift to the left more and more as I saw the end result of the pandemic and the lackluster reaction from the people who most supported the status quo in regards to many things.

I thought in many ways that would be the end of that; that progressivism was what society needed, and that we had to do everything in our power to pull society away from the problematic and deeply flawed status quo, and ESPECIALLY away from the likes of Trump and the Fascist GOP.

But then Biden got elected, and I started seeing the cracks.

The griping, the moaning, and self-righteousness just started popping up from the left. At first I didn't think too much of it, because Biden wasn't my first choice either, but I accepted the fact that it was better him than Trump, and frankly it was much easier to get things done under him than under a dictatorial asshole and egomaniac with too much power and support.

But the self-righteousness just would not stop coming from the left, mixed together with the realization that for every progressive who genuinely tried to make things better, there seemed to be far more whom only cared about their own image and brand of being "better than thou" without any actual substance, never mind the ones who actively seemed to go out of their way to support outright authoritarian regimes like Putin out of some notion it'd lead to Communism, despite the far right literally also wanting Putin to have more power for FASCISM.

It felt like people just flat out were falling into the same kind of conspiracy stuff as QAnon, where somehow they were loathed for their conspiratorial thinking, and yet somehow it became fine when "OUR SIDE" was dipping into that same kind of rhetoric and thinking. And for all that people constantly bayed for blood and for taking drastic measures, I never once saw them ever DO anything of the sort. I just started becoming warier and more thinking that people were just full of hot air, that for all of their talk none of them would ever willingly choose to fight for real because they didn't have any real courage, just a bunch of slogans and hot air.

And then Ukraine happened. And then I/P happened.

Honestly, those two things just fucking pissed me off, disillusioned me immensely, because it was like the mask just flew off. All of sudden, so called progressives were praising authoritarian behavior so long as it was under the pretense of socialism and communism. All of a sudden they started throwing around hateful slurs and propaganda like it was nobody's business. Actively and literally suggesting that we allow society to fall, for democracy to fall so that a fascist could destroy their enemies and push them towards their own ideology, despite the reality that THAT kind of thing has NEVER WORKED out for the people who are already suffering and broken.

It made me realize that a lot of so called "leftists" didn't care in the slightest about actually building towards a better world, only in wiping out the people they viewed as an obstacle to an easy utopia where they didn't have to care about other people as people. That everyone else was just their pawn, their prop for their own twisted egos of being against the eeeeeevil establishment, all while deciding to be just as monstrous as the evil they oppose.

I've honestly never felt so disappointed in my entire life, because I genuinely thought that people valued the idea of a better tomorrow, that even if having to work with the likes of Biden kinda sucked, that we'd have learned from the magical thinking of the Trump Cult and QAnon and recognized that progress would be a long, difficult, but necessary step towards a truly better future. That we would eventually replace the Bidens of the world with a better President who would slowly move things forward, and then replaced with their better successor who moved things forward as well, and so on and so forth. It'd be slow, but it'd be substantial, something we could work with.

Instead, it seems like a lot of leftists just wanted a left-wing version of Trump, where all their enemies are eliminated and they perch themselves atop their ivory towers to sneer down at the stupid liberal and conservative masses for not bowing to their greatness. Or they just burn everything and everyone else down while they skedaddle to the safety and comfort of their privileged lives to laugh and jeer at everyone for not submitting to their ideological zealotry, or just to escape the fallout of their heinous actions.

i 100% agree.

I feel like a lot of leftists (including myself back when i was a teen tbh) never worked through the right wing ideology they grew up with and saw values they thought were neat (are still are good things) such as queer rights and liberation, liberations for indigenous peoples, ending racism, etc etc etc, and instead of genuinely holding those values, they just used the same right wing authoritarian logic they claim to despise except backing that logic is leftist progressive ideas.

For example, leftists are supposed to be anti fascism yet, they want their politcal enemies to die or whilst they don't actively want a political enemy to die, they will gladly celebrate their death.

And like, there is a difference between celebrating the death of someone who has actually done harm due to their politics vs celebrating the death of someone who just holds opposing political ideas.

I also agree that there is a sense of being holier than thou from the left. There seems to be a pissing contest of who can be the most progressive to the point where it swings back around to being right wing either fully or to a point.

Whilst I still hold leftist and progressive values, I have definitely shifted away from calling myself a leftist as I do not want to associate with leftists who hold leftists values yet excecute them with right wing tactics. Maybe at some point in the future I will go back to proudly calling myself a leftist, but for now I am a bit ashamed of how quickly leftist values exit the room when talking about jews or other minorities.

#antisemitism #leftist antisemitism #politics #ask clownie

[lemon-natalia]

Harrow the Ninth Reaction - Chapter 51

Gideon just absolutely adoring the idea of her mother growing up, talking to her all the time … and Wake explicitly had her as a tool. to murder her. to unleash someone to kill Gideons biological father. oh this is so fucked 

this is a complete sidenote but i cherish every little bit of info we get about baby Gideon and Harrow, its so cute but so heartbreaking, and they hurt each other in the cruel ways only little kids can

also!!! Harrow had Gideon’s blood on her from their fight. so she really did unlock the Locked Tomb? but i’m still slightly confused since Mercy mentioned the blood ward needed ‘a thanergy burst’ from someone’s death alongside her blood to mimic the Emperor’s, which was to my understanding why they were planning to kill baby!Gid as well - how did Harrow get in with just the blood? did the 200 souls she has tagging along count?

A.L. is Alecto, and calling her a monster pretty much confirms that she’s the body in the Locked Tomb! also the Lyctors are hardly good, moral, people - what kind of person was Annabel Lee to terrify them so much, for them to consider her a ‘monster’? moreover what actually was she, that apparently John couldn’t even kill her again

and if those weird black eyes were originally Alecto’s … thats another hint she seems to be more than human

oh this guy is SUCH a bastard, he knew that there was a way to achieve Lyctorhood without killing the cavalier, and he still let them do it. and Harrow, through … whatever she did to her brain, achieved it. i’m guessing this is what Palamedes was talking about when he asked if Harrow had ‘finished the work’ 

which does beg the question as to why he didn’t tell them. he says that it was ‘easier’ not to, and he ‘thought he was doing the right thing’ - but given he’s asking for Mercy’s forgiveness here, i really don’t know if he’s being genuine. but if he is, i’m very curious as to what situation could warrant not telling them about this being in anyway close to what (at least, he believed) the right thing

'[Ianthe’s] expression was blank, no emotion at all’ i wonder how Ianthe feels about this. she didn’t seem to care much for Naberius, but still being lied to like that can’t feel good. or perhaps, upset with herself on an intellectual level for not realising that ‘true Lyctorhood’ could be achieved?

'Nobody has to be punished anymore for what happened to humanity’ who exactly is the Emperor punishing with this war, he doesn’t seem to be achieving anything at all with it, let alone any form of retribution 

oh shit this is the murder then! here we are finally, i really didn’t think Mercy would be the one to do it

'Leaving me an orphan again’ Gideon has gone through a ridiculous rollercoaster of revelations and emotions right now, she just met both of her biological parents for the first time and saw them both die in the span of half an hour. fun!

also Harrow has been privy to absolutely none of this information, i feel like if anything was going to break her faith in the guy it’ll be that there was technically no need for Gideon to sacrifice herself - it will be very interesting to see her reaction if she eventually finds out 

#lemon natalia reads the locked tomb #tlt #the locked tomb #the locked tomb liveblog #harrow the ninth

[crazyyluvr]

hi! Can I please please ask a kaz brekker x reader? I was thinking of reader being a blind heartrender. I headcanon blind grishas to have their abilities amplified, and a blind heartrender would be basically daredevil XD.

Thank you in advance for reading the request, I really loved six of crows!

I am the QUEEN of Hearts, Don't Tell Me Otherwise

pairing: kaz brekker x reader

summary: Having a blind Heartrender has its perks. For Kaz Brekker, having a blind Heartrender that can hear his heartbeat change around her has its disadvantages.

genre: fluff

wc: 3.4k

content: reader is blind, fem!reader with she/her prns, violence (some torture), reading is a bit clumsy, kaz's heart speeds up a lot

note: OMG I LOVE THIS IDEA <33 tysm for requesting anon. i hope this layout is fine, i just wanted to try something different. sorry if it's kinda bad, i wrote it in one sitting LMFAO. either way, hope u enjoy!!

oneshot under the cut :: not edited

Perks

1. You didn't need your eyes to see.

It was very useful in heists to have someone who knew that someone was walking towards them without having to actually see them. Being blind somehow enhanced your hearing and your touch on your Grisha powers, and that was why you could do a lot of things easier than other Heartrenders — even Nina — had difficulty with.

It was one of the main reasons why you stuck with Kaz when he had to crack a safe; you were basically his lookout.

"Someone's around three minutes out," you whispered to him, standing a few paces behind Kaz who was hunched over a safe. Your head was tilted to the side, your ears were focusing on a melody only you could hear.

"Scratch that, two minutes out, they're moving faster," you reported. "Are you almost done?"

Kaz focus on the complicated lock didn't break as he replied, "I need more time."

"Okay," You moved forward, hands in front of your thighs to guide you around the desk in front of you.

"Thirty seconds," You said, the heart beat of the approaching guard getting louder and louder. "How down?"

"Shut-eye," He replied.

You put your hand up in front of you.

The doorknob jingled a little, and you activated your power, drastically slowing the heartbeat of the guard before he could open the door. You heard a thud on the floor, and you knew that he was unconscious.

A few seconds later, the safe clicked open. Kaz reached in and grabbed the money that you came for. "You could have at least tried to soften his fall or something. Someone could have heard that."

You shook your head. "There's no one close enough to hear." You turned to Kaz's voice, a small smirk on your lips. "Besides, It's just the two of us. I didn't want to leave you alone, 'cause you'd miss me too much."

Kaz rolled his eyes. "Don't feed your ego. It's not a fitting sight for you."

You laughed a little. "Like you don't do that everyday."

You turned to get out of the room, opening to door to free yourself. The door opened halfway before it suddenly stopped, like it was blocked by something. You didn't expect the obstruction, which caused you to trip over something and fall to the floor with a loud bang on the wooden ground.

Kaz stood over you in concern. You had tripped over the unconscious guard's body. "I thought his body was facing the other way," you groaned.

Kaz didn't have time to reply before both of you heard shouts in the corridors. Looks like they could hear that. He used his cane to get hold of the back of your jacket and pulled you to your feet.

"Time to go!" You dusted yourself off, leaping over the body and speedwalking away from the thundering of more guards, Kaz right at your heels.

2. You could always tell if someone was distressed.

You didn't live in the Slat, since you preferred to have your own place away from the gang, but that didn't make you any less close to Jesper, Inej, Wylan, Nina, and Matthias. You visited the Crows often, whether it be in the Slat or Crow Club.

You knew how important getting together was to them, whether or not they'd admit it. In a life full of mistrust and traitors, it was hard to find a crowd that you could actually trust. Of course, your friends had their own secrets that they kept to themselves, like how you had your own, but being with them without the pressure of telling them those stories was precious.

You were able to loosen up around them, laugh with them without the fear of judgement or that these moments of vulnerability would be used against you.

Instead, you relied on them to just forget your current struggles as you talked about stupid things over drinks.

You also used it as a chance to check up on them. You couldn't see them but you could hear them. Being blind made you sharpen your hearing more, both with our without the use of your Grisha abilities.

You could tell when there was something bothering your friends, which is why you knew there was something bothering Wylan when you and your friends decided to share some drinks in the Crow Club.

Jesper was mid-argument with Nina about what came first: the chicken or the egg. Inej and Matthias were just listening to them, occasionally adding their own thoughts or laughing when either of the debaters made a particularly stupid point.

You noticed that Wylan wasn't talking as much as he normally did. You felt him fidgeting beside you, his arm or his leg twitching more than it usually does.

If those weren't enough of a sign that there was something weighing on his mind, then there was his heart that also proved that point. It never seemed to settle. His shallow breaths that occasionally came in huffs of frustration agitated the muscle in the middle of his chest, making it beat faster than normal.

"Hey," you whispered to him, breaking him out of his troubled trance. He looked at you curiously. "Are you okay?" You asked, your brows unknowingly furrowing in concern.

"I'm fine," Wylan said, smiling reassuringly.

You rolled your white eyes. "You do know that fake smiles won't work on the blind, right?"

Wylan's smile dropped, shocked. "How did you know I was smiling?"

"I didn't," you shrugged, taking a sip from your glass. "I just guessed. But seriously, is there something wrong? You seem more distressed."

Wylan sighed, leaning back in his chair. He looked around at your table, and when he confirmed that none of your companions were paying the two of you any mind, he answered truthfully. "My dad's still sending me letters."

"I hope you've burned those letters," you huffed, feeling your blood boil quietly at the mention of Wylan's horrible sperm donor. "He's just trying to provoke you, make you feel worthless."

"But —"

"Don't even try to tell me that you are worthless, Wylan," you said harshly, turning your head towards him despite your blank eyes not meeting his gaze, instead staring through him. That did nothing to lessen the defiance in them. "You may not be able to read, but who cares? I can read for you, Jesper can read for you. That's kind of the point of having friends, we'll make up for whatever you lack."

Wylan thought about it for a moment. You could tell that your words worked on him from the way his breaths eased and his heart steadied.

"Yeah..." A smile slowly spread on Wylan's lips, a genuine one this time. "Thanks."

"Anything to stop your very loud heartbeat from distracting me," you joked, making Wylan laugh.

Kaz watched the interaction from the bar, his eyes unreadable as he turned back to his drink, finishing it before heading upstairs without another word.

3. Lies couldn't hide from you.

Kaz swung his cane, the crow handle finding its mark on the man's knee, hitting it with a sickening crack. He cried out in pain, keeling over but not going that far due to his hands chained to the ceiling.

The man was a spy placed in the Dregs. You found him when you were having a private heist meeting and heard his heart lingering out the front door.

So now, you were both trying to find out who hired the traitor — well, more like Kaz was beating him up for answers while you served as his lie detector.

"Who are you working for?" Kaz said, repeating the question he's been drilling into the man for the past hour. Despite the way he was pathetically sobbing, he still refused to give up the name of his boss.

Not out of loyalty, but out of fear, you thought, taking note of the way his heart beat at a pace only set by fear. Fear not only for what Kaz could and would do to him, but also fear for what would happen if he gave Kaz what he wanted.

"Olek!" He cried. Kaz, blood splattered on his black vest that was exposed from his decision to abandon his coat for mobility, turned to you expectantly.

You shook your head. "Lie."

Kaz swung his cane again without hesitation, this time bringing hitting the man's chest. The man's scream in pain was worse than before.

Kaz probably broke a few ribs, you thought offhandedly, only flinching in disgust when you felt some of the blood from the man's mouth hit your cheek. You wiped it off immediately.

"I was telling the truth!" He yelled, sobbing. "I was telling the truth!"

Kaz used his cane to tilt the man's head up by the chin, forcing him to meet Dirtyhands' cruel stare. He would receive no mercy, as there was nothing that could be given in the first place.

"My Heartrender said you lied, so you lied," Kaz said through gritted teeth. "If she keeps saying otherwise, you will die for this boss of yours. Are you willing to give your life for someone who could care less about it?"

When he received no response other than cries, Kaz prepared to hit with his cane again.

"Karlos!" The man screamed, pausing Kaz mid-swing. "Karlos Drulak!"

Kaz didn't turn to you before you spoke, your smile heard in your voice behind him. "There's our answer."

Your satisfaction was mutual, as Kaz's shoulders let go of some of its tension as he straightened — well, as much as he could without relying on his bloodied cane. "Finally." He readjusted his gloves and turned around, limping away, only stopping to speak to you.

"Send him to the grave."

Your smile widened into a grin, your teeth flashing in the lamplight. "With pleasure."

Kaz left you to your business, the screams of terror fading into the night as he went to the Slat to formulate a plan with the new information he'd just gained.

—————

Disadvantages

1. You didn't need your eyes to see him.

You always knew it was him.

Whether he would enter the Crow Club to find you drinking with Jesper, or he'd knock on your apartment door with an important matter in mind, or even just passing by him in a busy market despite the noise and the multiple heartbeats.

You always noticed him.

It bugged Kaz. He knew that no matter what other disguises he may put on, no matter whether or not he had his cane to tap on the tiles of the road or the wood of the Crow Club or the Slat, you always knew it was him.

He stood in front of your door, staring at the number in front of him. The plan for your heist the next day had undergone many changes, and he had to inform you of them.

He took a deep breath, raising his knuckles to knock.

"Come in, Kaz," you called, voice muffled from inside the apartment. It always happened when he popped by; he'd inhale, prepare to knock on the door, only for you to interrupt him and just tell him to go in.

He let out a quiet huff almost fondly. Of course she knew.

He opened the door, letting himself in. "You knew it was me." It was a question said as a statement. That's just how Kaz normally speaks when he's curious but wants to hide the fact that he's curious, but you could always tell the difference.

"Of course," you said, not looking up from your construction of your beverage. Your hands had eyes of their own, moving to the familiar spots of your condiments. "Your heartbeat."

"Everyone has their own, do they not?"

You laughed, meeting his jab with softness. "Yeah, they do, but none of them quite beat like yours."

Kaz's heart sped up a little at the words, and he knew that he couldn't hide it from you. Your knowing smirk just made him feel warmer.

2. You could always tell when he was distressed.

Kaz wasn' the only one who had access to unannounced appearances.

You made it a habit of appearing randomly in his office just like him visiting you in your apartment, but unlike Kaz, you sometimes came there just for his company, to just sit down on the spare chair in front of his desk and read or draw or whatever your mood makes you do. Neither of you say a word, but you could tell that he was also content with the arrangement.

You found Kaz seeming more distraught than usual, the normally steady beat of his heart thundering like a skittish horse that was cornered by unwanted oppressors.

Kaz didn't look up from his the papers on his desk when your signature knock reverberated in his space, or when you swung the door open to let yourself in.

"Is there something wrong?" You asked casually, approaching your seat and sinking into it. There was something oddly comforting about the hard wood resting on your back, like an anchor in an unknown sea.

Kaz tilted his head to look at you, eyebrows raised. "What makes you think there's something wrong."

You playfully waved your hand in Kaz's general area. "You gave off a distraught aura the moment I stepped into the room."

Kaz scoffed, making you smile. That was the closest thing you'd get to a laugh from him.

You let your playful persona slip as your face blanked, your white eyes staring at him seriously. "Kruge for your thoughts?"

Kaz studied you for a moment, before leaning back in his chair with a sigh. He ran a gloved hand through his slightly messy hair in frustration. "Per Haskell gave away one of two of our storage units for twelve thousand kruge."

Your eyebrows shot up in shock. "Just twelve thousand?"

"Exactly," Kaz huffed. "I'm trying to get it back, but the buyer's refusing. They haven't even moved in yet, and I already told them I can return the money they gave."

Kaz intertwined his fingers with each other, thinking deeply.

His dilemma also put your brain to work, shuffling through the possible solutions.

"Who bought it?" You asked.

"Karlos Drulak," Kaz said. The name sounded familiar to you.

You snapped your fingers, pointing to Kaz's left side. Kaz lifted his cane and moved your finger to point directly at him like you intended.

"Ah thank you," you said before continued. "He's the one who hired the other dude! The one who infiltrated the Dregs."

Kaz perked up slightly at the memory. How could that have slipped from his mind?

"Do you think that him buying our unit can be related to his unknown issue with us?" You wondered aloud.

"That's certainly a possibility," Kaz hummed.

You grinned. "See? Your heartbeat has already slowed."

You stood up, hefting the book you never opened in the office with you. "Well, I'll leave you to your thoughts. I'm sure you can figure it out on your own."

"Are you leaving me because you don't want to brainstorm?" Kaz rose an eyebrow in slight amusement as you made a beeline for the door, your feet having already memorized the layout of the room.

Your chin hooked on your shoulder to give him a view of your grin. "Too much of something is bad. Even thinking."

You gave him a lazy salute as you left, but as you closed the door, you could have sworn you heard a laugh escape the man's lips over the faster beating of his heart.

3. He couldn't lie to you.

Kaz's hearing was muffled from the sound of ringing in his ears. He forced his eyes to open, blinking hard to try and shake away whatever spell unconsciousness casted upon him.

He saw you crouching over him, eyes staring down at his chest, where you had a hand over. You must've revived him.

He felt panic thrum in his veins, his hands moving before he could stop them from slapping your palm away from him.

"Kaz!" Your voice was oddly muffled as he tried to stand up. His bad leg didn't cooperate with his wishes as he fell back down on the rough ground.

He looked back at you, and now you kept a respectable distance from him, your form framed by flame with worry creasing your forehead and pulling the corners of your lips downwards. He barely heard your next words: "Breathe!"

He forced his chest to comply, inhaling the smoky air and exhaling with a cough.

Two more of those, and you held out his cane for him to grab, slightly askew. He hesitated, but grabbed on it, letting you pull him to his feet using his cane. He was swaying on his feet, and you could tell from his slowing heartbeat that he was close to fainting from smoke inhalation.

"I know you don't like being touched, but you can't walk out of here without me helping!" You shouted. You felt pity pinch your chest at the ay Kaz’s heart sped up at that. You didn’t want to force him but you had no choice.

You didn't have time to wait for him to regain his bearings as part of the flaming roof collapsed mere feet away from you two. You flinched at the bang, but you didn't hesitate to sling his arm around your shoulders and drag him out of the room, snatching Kaz's cane and using it as your guide to the entrance right before you felt the flames lick the back of your coat.

Kaz furiously patted the small patch of flame on your back to extinguish it. He felt the water on his waist slowly rising, but he tried to push it down.

It was just you, his Heartrender. He'll be fine.

"C'mon, Jes is waiting for us at the rendezvous," you said, your voice strained from carrying most of Kaz's weight. He tried to walk on his own, to lessen your burden, but his body was too weak for it.

You left the building, Karlos Drulak's brand-new bar. Hey, at least the color of the fumes complimented the brown...?

Jesper caught you two and rushed forward to help, but you stopped him with a single shake of your head. It took a lot for Kaz to just let you keep him upright, what more if Jesper added to that?

You both hobbled as one to a safe distance before Kaz collapsed inside an alleyway. He took deep breaths, trying to fight the black roses of anxiety that bloomed in the corners of his vision.

"Kaz, look at me," you spoke, feeling his heart rate spike, but you weren't sure what you could do to help. "Kaz, what can I do?"

"Talk," He strained. "Distract me."

"Uh — okay, okay," your brain scrambled for some story to pull up, so it decided to bring you a memory from your childhood. "There was a time where I revived a dog of my old neighbor when I was seven years old," you said, your eyes trained on his chest like you can see his heart. "My parents were off to work, so they left me with the neighbor, and his heart just stopped beating. The neighbors didn't know what to do, but I just put a hand on him and willed his heart to beat again. He lived for seven more years after that before he peacefully passed."

"You should have let that dog die," Kaz gasped, but his breaths were slowly evening out. "I hate animals."

You smiled lightly. "Liar."

"How can you tell I'm lying? My heartbeat's already all over the place," Kaz huffed.

"I don't need my power to tell that you're lying," you said, shaking your head fondly. "I know you Kaz. In the years that we've worked together, I got to know you. I know you feed your scraps of food to the strays behind the Crow Club, which is why they keep coming back for more."

"Didn't know anyone noticed," Kaz said, his breaths more symmetrical as his vision cleared.

You laughed. "You really expected me to not notice?" Kaz saw how you hesitated, how your smile faltered before you continued with seriousness lacing your voice. "I always notice when it comes to you."

Kaz sighed, gently grabbing the cane from you and hauling himself to his feet. "Let's go to the Slat. Better make sure that the others know we're alive."

"Wow, you want to tell them you're alive so they don't get worried?" You cooed, walking a few feet beside him and syncing your steps with him. "Soft is a good look on you."

"Shut up, Heartrender," He grumbled, but a small smile broke through his face.

"Your Heartrender," you sang, skipping slightly knowing that he can't deny you from the sudden speed of his heart.

He shook his head, the smile still not leaving his face as you both walked.

His Heartrender indeed.

#kaz brekker #kaz brekker x reader #six of crows #six of crows x reader #shadow and bone #shadow and bone x reader #crooked kingdom #crooked kingdom x reader

[enwifen]

my boyfriend’s a nail tech! (p.js)

pairing. boyfriend!jay x fem reader

genre. domestic, fluff, slice of life

warnings. jay wearing what he is in the photo (ofc that’s a very reasonable warning!), jay loving head scratches

wc. 741

Jay watches in awe as you paint your nails. His eyes following each swipe of the applicator against each nail, the pucker of your lips gently blowing the vibrant paint dry and most importantly, the cute furrow of your eyebrows in concentration. The harsh acetone smell made him feel a little dizzy but watching you was worth it to him.

“I can feel you staring you know.” You giggle, narrowing your eyes at your hand whilst cleaning up the edges of your nails with a q-tip.

“Sorry, watching you is just… interesting.” Your boyfriend admits.

“Interesting? Well, you’re cute when you stare so dont let me stop you~”

“I’m not cute.” Jay pouts, immediately contradicting his own statement.

“Sure, sure.” You smile. Being right handed, painting your right hand was something you never enjoyed. It always took way too long, your left hand always seemed to tremble for no reason…

But then you realise the handsome guy sat next to you, unbuttoning the first few buttons of his shirt. The acetone was really getting to him but he wouldn’t admit that, of course. “Hey seongie?”

He hums in response, smiling at the cute nickname. “Wanna help me? I’m not really good at painting my right…”

“Ah sure… but, baby, I can’t promise I’ll do a better job than you.” He chuckles somewhat nervously. You reassure him that it’s fine, plus, your boyfriend was a perfectionist so he couldn’t be that bad.

A kiss is pressed to his forehead, it’s easier with the position he’s in. Head ducked down to zero in on painting your nails, he just looks so adorable, how could you not?

“Am I doing okay? I think it doesn’t look too bad…” he mumbles.

“Mhm, you’re doing such a good job, seongie. Try starting at the top of my nail and slowly drag down instead of starting from the middle.” Jay nods, immediately responding to your feedback. For someone who was painting nails for the first time, he was pretty good. There was little to no mess on your nail folds.

Hell, you’re sure he was ready to become a nail tech if he wanted to. He wouldn’t, it’s a silly thought. You know well Jay would only do things like this for you and his only.

The process is actually enjoyable for him too, he can’t look at you but he can feel you. Your quiet but steady breathing, the soft skin of your hand, the warmth and love contained in each word of praise spoken to him.

“Done!” He beams. You mirror his happiness as you stare at both his and your own artwork.

“You did such a good job! I love it!” Jay smiles as he’s rewarded with a few complimentary kisses.

While you’re busy air drying your nails, you notice your boyfriend wincing out of the corner of your eye.

You frown at this, voice laced with concern. “Seongie? Is everything okay?”

He nods but his head being in his hands clearly states otherwise. “I’m fine, baby, I promise, it’s just… your nail polish smells really strong and… i Don’t feel so good…” he says, laughing it off in an attempt to ease your worries. It doesn’t work and you’re immediately getting up to open a window as well as clearing the table of all your nail products.

Pouting, you come back to sit next to him. “I’m sorry baby… I know you’re sensitive to smells, I-”

You’re cut off by another kiss. “It’s alright, love, I’ll be fine.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

Jay looks at you knowingly and a grin instantly spreads across your lips. “C’mere.”

A comfortable weight settles on top of you, Jay burying his face in your neck. The soft scent of your fruity body wash helps with his headache a little. Now that your nails are dry, you’re able to reach up and gently scratch at his scalp. Almost immediately, Jay melts into a puddle of mush.

The two of you stay like that for a while, silently relishing in each other’s company. You scratching Jay’s head whilst his thumbs gently caress the skin of your sides.

“I should get back to work…” he mutters halfheartedly. You know he doesn’t actually want to and neither do you.

“Mm… just stay with me a little longer?” You say, despite already having been laying with him for just under half an hour.

Jay chuckles softly. “Okay baby.”

#enha fluff #enha imagines #enha x reader #enhypen fic #enhypen fluff #enhypen x female reader #enhypen x you #enha jay #jay x reader #park jongseong #jay park #park jongseong fluff #park jeongseong fic #enhypen jay

[petew21-blog]

Charmed: Leo's jealousy

Could you believe her? I know we split up, but it didn't even take her that long and she found herself a new guy. Her neighbor, Dan. Oh piss off Dan. Me and Piper were amazing together, just the nature of me being a whitelighter and her a Charmed one got in the way sometimes. I was still their whitelighter so there was no way we would end up seeing each other. Which was even worse for me to see her with a new guy in his arms

Dan moved in few months ago. He was always observing Piper and the girls, just trying to seem like a sexy non chalant neighbor, who doesn't know that the three girl nextdoor are gonna observe him washing a car. Just get a life Dan

Deep in my mind, I knew that me and Piper were gone. Not to be a couple ever again. That's why I was so jealous of them. I made their life a bit of hell to be honest, not really fullfilling the duties of a friendly guardian whitelighter, but a bit of a crazy ex boyfriend. The elders wanted to take the girls away from me and ban me the entrance to their house. But I was faster. I knew what I had to do.

I arrived at the Halliwell house. Watching Piper in the window doing what she loved the most. Cooking. I always loved to observe her making her way in the kitchen. But Leo won't be going there tonight, no. My location is nextdoor actually.

I hid in his bedroom. I heard a car pull up and then the door. I was ready. The memory dust in my right palm, ready for Dan.

As he entered the room in shock, he couldn't even react. I blew the dust into his face. He coughed for a bit and then just stared blankly.

"You will forget everything about who you are. You have never lived in San Fransisco. You stole the car from someone in the city and you are on the run. The one you stole his wallet and money is me. I am Dan. You felt bad so you returned me my wallet, ID and everything you wanted to steal from me that is in your pockets right now. You will leave the shirt here too. You are just a thief, as you have always been. You will take only the car and you will leave to Mexico. There you will find a job as Mike, the surfer. You won't come back to the States. You love Mexico. You will never come back. Now go and leave."

His eyes blinked rapidly. Then he took everything out of his pockets as I told him so. He took of his sweather, that he got from Piper, and revealed his manly torso. "Damn, that's gonna be me soon." Then he just turned around and I saw him through the window driving away.

"Great. Now there is only one thing left."

I said as I put glamour on me to pass off easily.

Long hair appeared over my head, muscular torso underneath my shirt. His thighs were more mascular than mine. His dick looks nice, but I still think mine was bigger. Nevermind, if it pleases Piper, that's all good for me.

Now all I need is the girls to invite me to the house in case that they enchanted the house. If they invite me in I am allowed to. So there is one move I know from Dan that I'm gonna use

Just as I expected. Piper didn't even let me finish watering the lawn.

"Hey, Dan. Where is your car? Thought you were gonna wash it."

"I had to borrow it to a friend. But something tells me he might now give it back."

Piper laughed even tho it wasn't mean as a joke. This woman is so into him

"Hey, wanna come inside? I baked fresh cookies."

Haha. This was easier than I thought

The next morning:

"Wow, you prepared this all for me? Dan that's so lovely. Thank you."

"Well, I thought that maybe after last night you might be hungry. Or are you hungry for more of something else?" I crawled over to her over the bed.

I could se that she was really in love with him. She liked Dan. She likes me. Hahha. I am Dan now and I have Piper all for me. We are gonna be forever together.

"Hey, I was thinking we could go for vacation to Mexico. I always wanted to try surfing. Haha"

Fuck. Maybe I should get more of that memory powder

Anonymous story request in inbox:

Charmed: Leo is extremely jealous of the relationship developing between Piper and Dan and decides to take Dan‘s place by using memory dust (seemed somewhat like hypnosis from what I remember) on Dan to make him leave, never come back and leave everything he owns behind, including ID, wallet, etc. Leo then glamours into Dan, taking his place.

#male transformation #male shapeshift

[devastatinglygreen]

If im being completely honest there’s a big part of me that is afraid that the fallout from LW reveal will damage them to a place I won’t find myself rooting for them anymore. I mean what if he goes back to fake take Colin and there���s a whole Friends-esque ‘we were on a break!’ situation of him being with someone else? What if they call off the engagement entirely and all we end up with at the end of episode 8 is reunited Polin but nothing more? No wedding or babies or anything? I know it’ll be real bad and hurt and I know it needs to happen, I’m concerned about the journey they’ll take from the reveal to reconciliation. How bad do you see it getting? Broken engagement? Estranged until the last bit of episode 8 as other seasons have done? Would love to hear your thoughts!

i spent a while trying to figure out how to answer this without a bunch of spoilers and truthfully, the only thing i have is do you trust the story you're watching? what about the first part of season 3 made you think that's going to happen?

or did a bunch of the sky is falling blogs/twitter users/reddit threads give you anxiety?

and i mean that sincerely. even if they do something you don't particularly like, is your idea of the story stronger than the story itself and it hinders your overall enjoyment? those people are the ones who seem to be the most unhappy with season 3 so far.

also, i am pretty sure i know where the original freak out of the ross and rachel thing came about but luke newton said this:

i don't think he was talking about being on a break.

also they're following the book pretty well, or at least adding a good amount of it in there, and there's a whole plot/character growth for them happens after the wedding. a pretty important one at that.

i meant what i said in that i think the LW fight is going to be painful but i actually don't think the conflict will last all that long, tbh. not to bring up the book like it's gospel but seriously, colin is very aware of how society treats her and it colors the way he thinks of society because of it. he knows he's privileged and well liked and life is easier for him because of it.

eloise is still convinced that her every thought is the right one and overlooks penelope in a lot of ways which gives her sense of betrayal almost a prideful feel to it. colin is both in love with penelope and aware of her in a way that eloise isn't. i'm sure their fight will hurt and be angsty but love isn't a black and white proposition, it's got a lot more layers than that and colin's understanding and love of penelope would play into that i assume.

i suppose i'm just not worried about it. i don't have to like every part of a story to love the end result. i also don't think, after seeing how badly people reacted to every overblown spoiler/rumor, that people should take someone online on their word over the show itself and the people who worked on it.

#asks #anon #polin #did i put any spoilers in there #i do not think i did #spoilers #tho #just in case

[ming-sik]

Could you tell us more about your thoughts on the orphanage and what you hate about Rozemyne doing to it and if you were writing an au or something, how would you gix it?

my problem with the orphanage is basically what i said-- it's a company town. the orphans all have to work and they are unable to leave, plus the fact that they can be bought and sold as property; myne's "those who don't work don't eat" slogan being the first thing she says to them is pretty notable. at multiple points in the story, rozemyne hears someone saying that the grey priests are being treated too well, and her first response is to correctly point out that being an orphan means being a slave, which always ends up getting treated like an epic burn and is never followed up with "you're the high bishop, why are orphans treated that way?"

the story excuses this in a few ways. way one is that rozemyne is a nice master who pays for their living expenses/stops individual instances of violence or sexual assault/lets one of them one time decide if they want to be sold because she's worried about him being pressured into a marriage, way two is that the orphans are so grateful for this that none of them disobey her or demand better conditions, and way three is that ferdinand convinces her that this is just how things work and there's no point trying to change it which she accepts. also it's i think established that after hasse comes under her control the orphans there are allowed to become citizens after coming of age, but like the orphans who live in the temple are still slaves.

my main problem is that the idea of the nice slave master is an excuse that was used in real life to excuse actual slavery and the fact that it's so common in isekai including aob sucks, especially when the story explicitly endorses and argues for this being the best possible option, including saying that it's reasonable that citizens are upset that orphans are being treated better than them when they don't pay taxes which is the thing that convinces our protagonist. now the vast majority of the actual pro-slavery rhetoric comes from everybody's favorite character ferdinand, and the fact that it's in-story characters saying it could've been used as a way to establish that this is yet another horrifying aspect of life under feudalism, but instead it's treated as actually a very good argument that wins over rozemyne with its logic and then the story just runs with it and never touches on whether or not the orphans might be better off being made into citizens even when the improvement of the temple's image is a huge plot point and idk i think someone "going to the temple" not meaning they were becoming a slave might help that possibly, and if she really wants nobles to stop mistreating grey priests it could possibly help for them to be normal attendants that are being hired instead of bought and are citizens who it's illegal to assault might be more effective than very sternly telling them to be nicer.

also it's part of the thing aob does in general where it touches on an incredibly serious issue with systemic causes that is exacerbated by YS's society with characters being rightfully horrified by it.... before getting really scared of portraying the consequences of that in a way that might paint the good noble characters in a bad light, so an explanation is quickly invented for why the thing itself is actually super ethical because of another thing we just made up that means that it's different when they do it. many such cases. very weird to make a series set in a world that's repeatedly established to be this dark fantasy where the irl reasons that feudalism was a brutal, abusive system are outlined in detail that dares to focus on the commoners who are almost always ignored in favor of the glittery nobles, only to decide halfway through that glittery nobles are way easier to write about so you just have the protagonist join the nobility and retcon a bunch of reasons the world is fine actually.

as for how i would rewrite it, the most obvious fix is to have her free them. maybe ferdinand initially strongarms her into accepting it, but despite the other nobles telling her that she's a saintlike figure, the actual orphans, after learning that in hasse they become citizens after coming of age or just when they're more regularly exposed to the outside world, start to agitate for better treatment, no longer satisfied with being treated well by their master for now. if she doesn't, eventually some of them start to turn against her. she has to choose-- will she try to force them back into line, or will she put her money where her mouth is and actually fight for the commoners? and if she does try to make them citizens at their baptism or give them the right to leave the temple whenever they want or remove the barrier between the temple and the common people entirely(maybe allowing other people with the devouring to help the temple without having to leave their families), she should meet resistance! her trying to keep the commoners from being uprooted by the entwickeln would be an appetizer for this main dish, a situation where rozemyne is completely, totally unable to frame this as a weird pet project and instead has to try and convince a sympathetic noble character that a fundamental thing they've accepted is incorrect. i would have this be her and ferdinand's first real conflict, and an extremely difficult fight for her. she's right, but she has to overcome the fact that ferdinand is more confident, more connected, more mature, supported by the rest of the nobility, and just generally stronger than she is to convince him to help her, and in the process she has to convince the archducal family, all of whom are also against her. maybe she wavers at multiple points over whether or not this is even worth it and feels the desire to accept ferdinand's suggestions that she just crush the orphans who are rebelling, only stopped by the orphans themselves. probably have a named character be part of the rebels, i would go for gil and have him believe that myne's a good enough person to do the right thing, forcing her to deal with the weight of betraying one of her first genuine allies in the temple and someone she explicitly promised she would treat well. likely this would need a volume or two of rozemyne agonizing and things getting worse until a breakthrough where she convinces a powerful ally, idk she convinces giebe illgner who tries making the orphans citizens in his own province and it turns out well enough that it proves that both nobles and commoners can eventually accept the arrangement, and after getting the other paper-making giebes on their side, she has enough leverage to bargain with evidence. you could either have her successfully convince ferdinand or not. she does need to convince sylvester for logistical reasons, and generally this would be a moment in his arc of widening the divide between him and the abuse feudalism necessitates, but whether or not she convinces ferdinand would probably decide if he's getting a redemption arc or becoming an eventual antagonist, both of which could be neat if handled right. regardless it's important that the orphans aren't just a mostly faceless crowd of worshippers and are instead a group of people with their own needs and interests.

[ria-starstruck]

for something that i only just figured out how to add the audio to properly so i don’t have to play song on my phone with one hand and start animatic playing with the other, this animatic looks surprisingly synced up with the audio so far!

#who knew i could trust my hand eye coordination that much huh! #i wonder how most ppl do workflow w animatics...i did thumbnails first ofc because they r my besties and i cannot without them and then i #drew the first part which while it needs to be synced up to the music it's not nearly as important as the next part(s) #but instead of starting on the next parts i started messing around w the syncing and stuff? and the like...hold vs key frames or whatever #but this is actually way easier than i thought it would be #it gives me much hope for other animatics i want 2 do like the mili one!! #and ofc my personal oc animatics i am sooo excited to put my blorbos to music #it's funny bc one of them is literally what im doing a whole webcomic about go figure. i finish the webcomic then i'll post the animatic and #be like tl;dr hdsflsfdkjsdfj #anyway #not art #idk when i'll be able to work on the animatic again bc this was my rest day so i could get a lot done! but that won't necessarily be possibl #tomorrow

[ohmigoshiloveu]

So like, in VTM the story of Cain and Able is REALLY important, like Cain became the first vampire as punishment for killing Able, and Kindred can also be referred to as Cainites.

Allusions to Cain and Able in the Suckening aren’t particularly forthcoming, but we do have two brothers, with one who’s being postured as innocent and beloved and the other one is violent and considering war crimes. All I’m saying is that Condi was onto some good shit with trying to make Emizel resent Shilo.

#jrwi the suckening #emizel tucker #jrwi emizel #like at the heart of the Cain and Able story there was envy #Cain didn’t give god the best offering he could because why would he? god didn’t need to eat #Able did give god the best offering he could and won gods favor and Cain was envious #even if his own choices and demeanor made him be viewed the way he was he was still frustrated #and Able was easier to bash with a rock than GOD ALMIGHTY #Emizel being jealous of Shilo being more loved by vampire society as a whole? #especially if it was because of Emizel breaking the mascarade and turning people and eating vampires?? #with the added layer that Emizel’s transgressions might be the reason he and Shilo survive this whole mess?? #hoooooboy good shit good shit #jrwi spoilers #jrwi the suckening spoilers #suckening spoilers #also full disclosure I haven’t actually read ‘da bible’ so my interpretation of Cain and able is based on second hand info and vibes #suckening thoughts

[styxnbones]

throwing this out into the void here mostly just to test how i feel abt seeing it in words, but im starting to think the 100% aroace label is perhaps not serving me quite the way i want it to and maybe harper's Unlabeled Swag (As A Freak With Proximity To The Acespec) was me projecting just tiny bit

#personal bullshit #recent revelations have alerted me to the fact that there are some people i want #i just want them in ways that are Complicated #and in many cases would require a paramedic on standby #but also idk if like formally establishing this would actually make my life any easier #or more effectively communicate what people actually need to know about me #bc to the overwhelming majority of people i meet i might as well be aroace as far as theyre concerned #and the problem with labeling yourself as Unlabeled is that then people just assume that youre bi but a coward about it #which is even more untrue than the assumptions people make about me when i say im aroace #so like idfk man theres no winning here i dont think #or who knows maybe ive just lost the plot bc i havent slept in like 30 hours #so im having untrustworthy 3am thoughts at 1:42 in the afternoon

[andthebeanstalk]

Uh-oh! You are like, SOOO awkward!!

You're so awkward that it is occasionally mildly uncomfortable for people!

You're so awkward that sometimes people are confused by you and then there are awkward silences!

You're so awkward ...... that ultimately no one is harmed!!

Oh damn!!! What a vile crime you have committed! What an unforgivable thing it is to make a fellow human briefly confused!

Why, if *I* were ever briefly confused and kind of uncomfortable as a result, I'd be devastated.... by the absolute net zero change in my happiness and health! - From which I might never recover!! Yes indeed! No punishment can ever be enough for you!!

So you better absolutely hate yourself for it.

Better be SO MEAN to yourself about every single missed social cue so you don't forget your horrible crime! Meaner than you'd ever dream of being to someone else for the same thing! This is YOUR responsibility!

Better accept that idea that bullies carry like guns in holsters - the idea that people who have trouble with social cues should suffer. Better carry on the burden they placed on you. Aid the cause of the callous by enforcing shame and suffering upon yourself extra hard; try your best to do their work for them. They're very busy.

Better not recognize that you need patience and kindness to heal from your trauma. Better not find out that it was trauma rather than personal weakness filling your head with self-hating thoughts. Better not find out it wasn't your fault.

Better not find out that awkwardness is not inherently harmful or unkind, and, in fact, the people who act like it is *are the ones enacting harm and being cruel.*

Better not get righteously angry when you realize just how much unnecessary damage this has done to you. After all, if you get mad, you might realize you deserve better. You might even feel brave enough to DEMAND better! You might build boundaries that keep you safe! You might make other people think they deserve to feel safe too! And we obviously can't be having that, so...

Better not show yourself even a little kindness a little bit at a time.

Better not make a habit out of it after all that practice.

Better not get confident.

Especially if you can't first wipe out every trace of awkward. (And you probably never will. Because people who experience absolute social certainty at all times tend to be insufferable assholes that enforce the status quo. And you just don't have the stock portfolio for that.)

Better not be confident and awkward because then you might confuse and delight people

- you might accidentally end up making other people feel less shame for their social difficulties

- you might make isolated, traumatized, and shy people feel like they deserve to be included in social situations

- you might even make them feel they can be themselves around you

- you might start loving the effect you have on a room

- you might enjoy conversations more

- you might forgive yourself and bounce back from shame more easily and frequently

- you might come to enjoy some of those moments of harmless confusion you cause because NOBODY expects the Confident Awkward, and that can genuinely be an advantage in social situations

- you might stop apologizing so much.

- you might find that socializing is like a video game: it requires practice but also a safe space for it to be fun and positive.

Or if you can't become assertive and confident, better not remain awkward and shy and quiet, and then love and forgive yourself anyway!

Why, it would be carnage!!

In either scenario, you run the risk of finding out that it's not your fault that safe spaces full of kind people can be really hard to find, create, and nurture. You could end up building a skillset that helps you do those things!

- You might realize that it was never your fault that it took so long to like yourself.

- You might realize that you were always worth talking to, even when you didn't like yourself and communication felt impossibly difficult.

- You might realize that you'll still be worth talking to even if communication becomes harder as you age and/or experience disability.

- You might know that you deserve to be heard even on bad days when words come slow and blurry.

You might discover that you were always deserving of kindness, first and foremost from yourself.

So. As you can see, it's FAR too much of a risk to take to cut your awkward self some slack for your many heinous and harmless crimes. Better to just leave it there.

#social skills #i have a few posts now in my ' social skills' tag #original #maybe eventually I will compile them and polish them in some meaningful way. I know what I want to call the book title #in big text it'll say 'I'M AUTISTIC' and then beneath that in smaller text 'And I Have Better Social Skills Than You' #or something to that effect. and the cover of the book will be me making an exaggerated smug face like the little rascal I am #challenging the viewer to pick up the book and see if they can prove me wrong. #and then the entire first section of the book is about how actually the issue with our society's social skills is the harsh judgment #for people who have trouble communicating and not the other way around. I don't actually think I'm the #most charismatic person in the world by a very long shot. but i do know that I have put more thought into my social skills than #most allistic people and frankly i have surpassed most of them. not because i am more persuasive or smooth or funny #(tho i am persuasive and funny lol) but bc i have questioned which social functions are more restriction than utility. #and instead i have focused my energy on actively learning how to make people feel safe. i feel social rules would benefit all people by #being a little more autistic tyvm. i don't think every person should dedicate themselves to being better at communicating #i think people should dedicate themselves to being kind and patient to everyone regardless of their ability to communicate #I think our society wrongly links communication ability to intelligence and intelligence to level of humanity. #when in fact all three of those things are fucking unrelated and connecting them inevitably leads to #really fucked up views on disabled people that hurt us. and then with that aspect of the book firmly understood and established I would #go on to recommend some ways to make socializing easier and more fulfilling (and less shameful and terrifying) for all kinds of people #it wouldn't be a book about Leaning In To Succeed in Business or 'here's how to avoid being the awkward loner at a party' #it'd be a book about how if you see someone alone at a party here's how to invite them to join your group without pressuring them #stuff like 'hot tip! if someone takes a while to type or speak a full sentence - talking over them b4 they can finish makes u an asshole!' #I know that a lot of people cannot or don't want to dump a lot of skill points into socializing like i did and they shouldn't have to in #order to experience basic dignity and respect. if we treat people like that then we just validate that people - especially #autistic children and elders and disabled people of manu varieties - have to suffer unless they learn all these arbitrary bullshit rules #and a lot of them are arbitrary bullshit! one of the reasons I throw people off so much is because I harmlessly break a lot of social rules #but I know I'm doing it and I'm not ashamed and people just don't know what to do with that! but a lot of them like it actually!! #i think it's a relief to be around someone so openly and unrelentingly weird bc what am I gonna do? judge you for being weird?? #I only care if you're kind. not necessarily 'nice' or passive. Kind. Brave enough to care about people being treated well. Kind. #also I recognize that at least some of my ability to be openly weird is white privilege so that's important to acknowledge too