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#{but endless possibilities for lies}
godblooded · 4 months
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if you get an ask from me (probably from @clawsextended ) yes you absolutely did i have selina brainrot and i have for literally like three hours now.
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irritablepoe · 8 months
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bought a few more art supplies and my brain's going overdrive about what i could do!!!!!!
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jctaro · 2 years
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not me starting another wip for genya gnsadjkgndakjsah
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gremlingottoosilly · 5 months
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What lies within (Tentacle!Monster!Konig x fem!Reader)
It's mating season for monster hybrids. Unfortunately for you, the colonel didn't have time to dump his eggs everywhere. TW and tags: Non-con, size difference, oviposition, monster hybrids, forced breeding, belly bulging, yandere Konig, possessive Konig, tentacles, double penetration. Word count: 3278
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The brave new world of opportunities for monsters.
The illustrious life for those who are not afraid of being a hunter in the billion flocks of weak, stupid prey. 
There are endless possibilities for the ones who decide to serve in the various armed forces specifically tailored to monsters. 
And loads of other bullshit that König had to endure every day on the briefs. Propaganda, advertisement, and weak attempts to make a new generation of monster hybrids abandon their old ways and join either army or contracting forces, making them glorified mercenaries. Jaided and disillusioned, the colonel long abandoned the thoughts that service can be fun, that it can bring him something other than money and occasional bullets in various places. 
“Most inclusive workplaces for monsters,” his ass. They were fed bullshit on top of other bullshit, and he is already tired of war – but there isn’t much he can do besides it. The payment is nice, he gets to eat his enemies and tears through entire units of squishy, weak humans who make perfect snacks from their useless fucking bodies. 
— So. Abandoned by your team, ja? 
Unfortunately for him, sometimes war operations meant that he was not supposed to eat prisoners – he was supposed to take them, hoard them into rounds, and send them for either ransom or whatever higher-ups wanted to do with them. Sometimes, it’s torture for information, sometimes, it’s attempts to bring them to their side if they are worth it. 
Sometimes, he just looked in the eyes of a soft, squishy little prey and just couldn’t bring himself to pull the trigger. 
Well…” sometimes” is a very big word. He had never once thought about keeping the POW for himself before he met this stupidly beautiful, soft nurse with a perfect face, nice pair of legs in that ugly baggy uniform, and the most beautiful scent in the entire…
He never thought of keeping the prisoner for himself before he met you. 
It was supposed to be an easy mission for you – he can see it from your lack of normal armor. Either you had no idea that KorTac had their own plans for whatever you wanted to do here, or your contractor is extremely cheap. He likes either way – you smell like a human, and he likes dumb humans who would make perfect victims. You smell and look weak, trembling, perfect fucking pray for someone like him. König didn’t feel the need to transform for this battle. Your team ran away like a bunch of bunnies before he ever fired his first shot, but he could still feel his tentacles slowly stir under his hood. He can feel his body transforming without the need to – and he feels the pressure in his lower stomach. 
When was the last time he was able to put his eggs somewhere other that cold, unforgiving air? 
Even the bagginess of your uniform doesn’t obscure him from looking at the sway of your hips, at the perfect surface of your tummy, and feeling the smell of your ripe, fertile body. Having a strong sense of smell always came like a curse in the team of monsters where showering after a mission isn’t something that is done by many, buy König can appreciate his nose now – he can smell how perfect you are for breeding. How scared, too. 
Poor thing, probably terrified of his. König knows how he looks, even in his human form – tall, broad, bigger than any man you saw before, so much more muscular that even with your military training as a combat nurse, he could still break your spine with one hand. His size is something that made it impossible to find a partner normal ways – monsters are naturally too dominant to ever submit to him, and humans are simply too scared to deal with someone like him. He isn’t surprised, no – if anything, he understands completely. 
You sob, your voice is melting with incomprehensible pleas and little whines. You are shaking under him – a poor, dumb girl who wasn’t aware that her best shot at surviving was to try and shoot his crotch off before he pulled a gun out of your hands. 
— Pl…please, you can’t…you can’t do this! It’s a crime, I was on medical duty, it’s…
König likes humans because they are dumb. Civilian humans are even cuter – run around, thinking their lives are protected by sets of laws and rules that, in fact, don’t apply to the strong – and you, in your full half-military half-civvie glory, are fucking perfect. You whine and sib, tears running down your face when he presses you under him. Your hand hits the hard rocks of the ground, and he shifts slightly, dragging you closer to a softer patch of grass. 
He laughs when you are trying to scramble from under him, your lower half is pinned by his weight – he is surprised you can still move. You move your pelvis, trying to get out – and he moans quietly when you start rubbing your crotch against his. You freeze, fear spreading on your face – god, he missed that feeling. When was the last time he got to actually breed someone? Or even just have sex with someone as cute? 
— You really think so, Schatzen? That rules will protect you? 
He moves his crotch against yours, making you sob a bit more. You’re sweet and compliant, and he just loves breaking soft things like you – it’s a desire to break, to destroy, to make you his. He knows that, technically, forcing himself on women from enemy lines really is a war crime. He also knows that if he’d managed to breed you with his eggs, monster laws would never allow you to separate after mating. 
Besides, it's not like he is going to let you go, so you could tell on him. König never believed in love at first sight, but you would be a perfect vessel for his eggs and his tentacles – what else would he need from a wife, right? 
— You’re pretty. 
He says plainly, his hand goes to rub your chest through the fabric of your uniform. You won’t need those ugly clothes anymore – he’d make sure to buy you something nice and frail that won’t make you too uncomfortable to carry his eggs. Maybe a soft, frail dress or some of those cute maternity clothes when your body starts to change. He can’t wait to see his breasts swelling with milk – even if his unfertilized eggs won’t need it, he certainly would. Even if you’re too weak to handle his load, he’d make sure to get you a nice, firm plug and keep you on his tentacles constantly. 
You start to sob even more when you understand what he is trying to do – when he rips your pants to reveal the softness of your cunt and the fragility of your [anties, you actually manage to push your legs against his dick a good few times. He is too aroused to notice – if anything, he likes how fiery you are, your little yells and loud screams for help. No one will come to aid you – he barked the orders for his soldiers to go and fuck around somewhere else while he was busy devouring his little prize. Colonel doesn’t like having an audience – if anything, he is saving your dignity right now. If anything, he is remarkably soft when he pushes one of his long, red tendrils down your body, massaging your pussy through your panties. 
You’re moist already when his tentacle finds a way to your labia. What a slutty nurse you are – getting off the enemy colonel breeding you in the middle of the battlefield. Your tears mean nothing when he is too busy massaging and pressing and playing with your sticky, puffy folds – poor girl, so deprived of attention that even the weird texture of his extensions only fuels your desire. 
So fragile, so perfect – and so, so wet that your adorable white panties are already become transparent, sticking to your soft pussy. When he takes you home, he’d make sure to forbid you from wearing any underwear at all – you would meet him dressing in nothing but his shirts, a hand on your tummy to support the weight of your eggs. Walls of your pussy clenching on the plug he’d make to insert in you every morning. 
— Don’t…please, don’t, n…
You whine ever so sweetly, trying to close your legs so he won’t be able to touch you. It’s futile, just one of his tendrils is ten times stronger than your hands. He gets through your closed legs, buried in the moistness of your sweet, perfect pussy. You taste heavenly – just one minute enough to make him hungrier than before. König’s mating season was often postponed due to constant adrenaline rushes and things he takes to enhance his battle abilities – but he can feel eggs pressing at the inside of his body now, preparing to be released in the sweet heat of your body. But he has to prepare you first. 
— Quiet now. It won’t hurt unless you want it to. 
His tendrils are coming to moisten your pussy even more – sweet numbness filling your body from the lower stomach and right to your head. Knowing that you must feel dizzy and just a tad bit dumb, König can’t wait but chuckle. He likes you empty-headed, adorable dumbness in your eyes. He knows that he doesn’t know you, that you might even already have a boyfriend on the civil side of your life – but he doesn’t care. His mind doesn’t easily fall for just anyone,  but if he saw a perfect vessel in you, there is no escape. At least he is nice enough to be gentle. 
You whimper slightly when he pushes the first tendril inside of you. Too impatient to use his hands or tongue to make you feel a bit more at ease – after all, you are still on the battlefield, even if your friends abandoned you to get picked up by KorTac. Too impatient to soothe you with his words, he uses one of his smaller, thinner tentacles to push your pussy walls, make you squeeze him and milk for all his worth. You are wet, but not enough to take him without crying. Hot and soft, the cold texture of his extensions contrasts with your body too much – you are shaking, he can feel slight vibrations at the soft walls of yours. 
Fitting him like a glove, too perfect to exist – he just wants to take you with him, to flip you on your tummy and push all of his tentacles inside. You’re tight and warm, you make him go crazy from desire. It’s weird how a strong and mighty colonel can be so charmed by just some enemy nurse, but when you whine slightly and try to adjust your body to fit more comfortably under him, he just knows that he has to take you. That, no matter how much you are crying and praying for him to stop, you want to be used by him. Perhaps, with certain training, you would want his eggs, too. 
Second tendril caught you by surprise. Just when you started to adjust to the weird, slimy feeling of something writhing inside of you, spreading your tight walls around it and clashing with the heat of your insides, a second, bigger one started to press on your clenched folds. You wanted to beg, to ask him to stop – you’re too tight for this, too small, you would never be able to take even just one of his tentacles, you were…
But his tendrils press easily, he accesses lube spreading between your legs. You are sobbing from the feeling, and he is laughing. His hand goes to rip the upper part of your clothing, revealing your midriff. Fingers pressing on your tummy, just to feel his tentacles inside – he laughs when the skin of your stomach is tensed up, revealing the outlines of his extension. God, he can’t wait to make your body swell from him. Even though the eggs are not bearing his children, he can imagine you and a bunch of little ones – you’d look much better like this than pretending to be a nurse. Honestly, what were you even trying to do on the battlefield? 
— Stay still, ja? 
— Too much! Please, n…no more…
— Poor thing. You’ll feel so much better after I add the third one. 
He knows that he is overstepping a bit, that your body isn’t used to taking something as big as his tentacles – but König also knows that his pre-cum makes you feel dizzy warm. Acting like a natural aphrodisiac, you won't be able to resist relaxing under him. The lubricant is enough to allow his other tentacle to force himself in your ass – he isn’t going to breed that hole yet, but it doesn't mean that he can’t use it. 
He groans loudly when your asshole clenches around him – he had to stretch you quite a bit, that sweet numbness of his precum isn’t making you relaxed enough to take him whole, but he is managing, one agonizing centimeter after another. At the point you’re out of breath, with your face all flushed, he already knows he fucking won – he knows that you, poor, fragile thing, isn’t going anywhere. He would say that he feels horrible about forcing you like this – but this is the start of a new, better life for you. Being the bride of a monster of his rank is a dream for any lowly human like you. Can go as far as to say you’re lucky he ever laid his eyes on you. 
— Stop, please…’s too much. 
— You feel good, Katzen. Relax, and you’ll be even better. 
— I don’t…please, just let me go, I…
— Is this your first time with a monster? 
— Yes. 
— Gut. Would break you in for me. 
He laughs at your whimpers, his hand goes to cradle your face in an almost soft expression. He gently presses his fingers across your skin, making you all nice and warm for him – he wants to kiss you all over, but the only thing he can do in his more monstrous form is to press one of his shorter tentacles against your lips, mocking the way normal people kiss. You sob, but he presses the tip on your mouth, passing it through your teeth – you would feel better after ingesting his pre-cum, can even clench around him so more, chasing your own pleasure. 
König wants you to feel good, so he presses his hand against your face, allowing you to tremble and cry as much as you want. He wants to be nice to you, so his other hand presses on your clit, finding the tense bud and breaking the nothingness between your legs. You tremble even more when he starts to spread your folds around his fingers, both of his tentacles working to milk your holes and spread you as much as possible. 
He whispers sweet nothings in your ear when both of the tendrils working on your pussy suddenly change their direction – they start to spread your walls instead of just fucking it. You feel exposed and vulnerable, he can see the pink flesh and glossiness of your cunt. It’s embarrassing for you, and he knows it – but god, you’re too fucking perfect to pass. 
You don’t even manage to ask him what he is doing when you feel something much larger pressing against your pussy. The biggest of his tentacles – almost as thick as an arm, pushing inside of you. He had a purpose, a desire to do something with you that you could never understand – silly humans know nothing about his biological need to push his eggs somewhere, of course, but you’re just fucking perfect. Too perfect to pass on this opportunity. 
You plead and cry when he presses further, a little bump on your tummy is obvious now, with each centimeter of his tendril pushing. When he finally bottoms inside of you, pressing directly against your cervix, you are too fucked out to even think. 
It’s painful, you think. Three thick tentacles roam inside your pussy, pushing and grinding against your gummy, tight walls – and another one of his extensions in your ass, writhing and massaging your insides. 
It’s pleasurable, you feel. The tentacles are uneven, cold, each little bump makes you cry out from pleasure, the overwhelming feeling is something you could never achieve with a normal dick. He cradles your face and chuckles softly when you moan and cry at the same time when he gently presses his red tendril against your soft lips, and you part them because you don’t want to resist anymore. Because you can’t resist anymore. 
— So good for me. Such a good girl, liked being fucked by the enemy. 
— I don’t like it! He laughs at your misery, pushing his tentacles back only to fuck you harder. He can feel the tension multiply in his stomach – he feels the movement of eggs forming from inside and pushing down the biggest one of his tendrils. 
When you first feel the pressure of an egg in your pussy, you want to scream. 
You scratch on his hands like a wild cat, clenching on him like crazy. If he didn’t see horror and shock on your face, he’d think you wanted him. You are tight, tighter than you were before – your pussy is closing around him, not letting him go, and he can only smile to himself when he feels every little bump sending electric shocks right into your core when you feel his eggs traveling from the start of his tendrils down, to your soft, welcoming womb. 
God, you will look perfect, all swollen and helpless – he can bring you a fucking collar, maybe push you on his lap and parade you as his precious wife for everyone to see. His scent lingers on your body, no matter if you want it or not. Silly human, you try to fight him like you didn’t lose the moment you let him pin your body. So perfect, he thinks of where you were before he found you. How many partners do you have, and how well would you play the role of his little breeding machine.
 He massages your tummy, with each egg taking its place in your womb. Soothes tense skin and whispers sweet promises in your ear when you cry and try to push him away. So perfect, so sweet for him – he doesn’t know the fuck he lived without you. 
When the last egg takes its place, making you bulge from all the weight inside of you, he can finally calm himself down enough to bring his human form partially. When he finally retracted his tentacles from your tired, sensitive body, not forgetting to press against your clit a good few times to prolong your unwanted, exhausting orgasm, he could finally press a kiss on your lips. 
You’re a mess – torn clothes, covered in cum and thick transparent slime, trembling and crying softly. You close your pussy around every one of his eggs like a good girl, and he knows you would be a perfect mating partner – but god, you need a good shower and soft mattress so he can try to fuck you again in his human form, and steal all the hugs and silly affections he wanted. 
— Will you let me go? 
He laughs, picking you up swiftly. So fragile in his hands, he doesn’t even want to think about letting you roam freely. 
— Of course not, Schatzen. Just get used to it, ja? 
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yandere-writer-momo · 25 days
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Thinking about a Yandere Demon Lord. This is Part 1.
Yandere Head Canons:
Defying Destiny
Yandere Demon Lord x Isekai Saintess Reader x Yandere Hero
TW: Voyeurism, stalking, Somniaphilia, dacryphillia, dark content, etc
Part 2
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You were surprised to be alive after your cold fiancé pushed you into oncoming traffic when you got into an argument with him… all you had wanted was for him to show you that he loved you, but instead he killed you. Yet your life didn’t end… no. Far from it.
Rather than waking up in the supposed after life, you woke up in the Rerenth Kingdom. A fantasy kingdom in a magical world plagued with problems written in fiction novels. And the emperor explained to you, no, demanded that you to take on your role as Saintess to save them from the Demon King.
The demon king was now your enemy. Defeating him was the only way for you to go home… but did you even want to do that? In your last life and in this one, you were merely another unhappy pawn. The silk robes and dazzling abilities did nothing to shield you from the harsh reality of what your life has become once more… would you ever truly be free? Would you ever truly be happy?
The servants often spoke of the monstrous Demon King who controlled the forces of darkness that sought to destroy the light. A demonic entity none of the people in this kingdom had ever truly seen with their own eyes, but they believed him to be out there… how else were they to explain the supernatural happenings that plagued their kingdom? This entire ordeal made little sense to you since you hadn’t seen many disputes between humans and demons unless they were over territory. Vast majority of the time, it was humans that ventured into the demonic lands anyways. Was this perhaps some propaganda tactic? You didn’t know and you didn’t question it, you simply wanted to retire to a peaceful life.
It took a few weeks for you to be able to control your new holy power, but you were able to now harness it for barriers and for healing. Abilities that would be useless without a hero… a fact that the citizens soon realized so they began to devise another plan. To summon a hero!
Another few weeks passed by and they successfully summoned a valiant hero by the name of Reinhardt. His chiseled face was constantly covered by the taxidermied lion mask that adorned his face. The man was massive and intimidating, yet you couldn’t help but feel there was something familiar about him. You couldn’t place a finger on who he could possibly be since you didn’t know anyone else with an imposing stature like his but that gut feeling never left you.
Reinhardt would often glance you up and down when he thought you weren’t looking. His green eyes would bore into yours until you felt as if you’d be set ablaze. He was terrifying to you. Especially now that you were on a journey with him to defeat the demon king… along with a fox beastwoman fighter and an elven mage who had joined your party due to the emperor’s order. The Emperor didn’t see you to be enough aid to the hero on this important quest.
Both adventurers were quite rude to you at first since you had no offensive abilities. They often fawned over the hero who blatantly ignored their affections to instead watch over you like a hawk. A fact the two women didn’t really enjoy, but they accepted it as the weeks melted into months. And you still didn’t know their names since they never told you (and Reinhardt never spoke).
The three of them often fought and killed monsters and demons while you protected the supplies and healed their injuries. It upset you that your party ambushed them since the enemies usually were unarmed. Majority of the time, it was a one-sided slaughter. An endless bloodbath that you had no power to stop.
You often lied to your peers about monsters hiding, unaware that your small act of kindness would lead to a snowball effect in the future. You had now caught the eye of an entity much stronger than you and the hero’s party… all because you were merciful. You were kind and sweet. A true saintess.
Your softness had made your peers joke about you being a cry baby. The elven mage and beastwoman often jabbed their elbows into your side to joke about the tears you’d cry because they thought you were scared. The dense women never realized your tears were for the innocent monsters they slaughtered on a day to day basis too. You were never scared of the demons or monsters, you were scared of them.
Yet Reinhardt nipped the subtle bullying in the bud by shoving the other two adventures away from you with his strong arms. He always made sure you were safe before he offered his body for healing… which he’d just make gesture at you with his hands rather than speak. It seemed he was fond of you, a fondness you didn’t understand since he never spoke to you.
Reinhardt would often pick you up without asking you and tuck you into the crook of his large arm. It bothered you that he never took off his mask, but he had quite an attractive jawline with the slightest bit of stubble. There was not a doubt in your mind that Reinhardt was likely an attractive man, but that didn’t matter. Since he was creepy.
Reinhardt never uttered a word to you but would always dutifully stand by your side (or carry you like some sort of damsel). He often reminded you of your ex fiancé with his stoic demeanor and his bewitching green eyes. And the staring. You swore you felt bare under his gaze even if you had multiple layers on.
And it wasn’t just his eyes you felt on you, you swore there was someone else watching you in the shadows and the possibility of you having another stalker made your skin crawl. Had you finally gone insane from having Reinhardt be around you 24/7? Or was there something sinister amiss?
Maybe that’s why Reinhardt so dutifully clung to you? Whether his protection was out of obligation or simply because he lusted for you, his presence did little to ease the extra set of eyes. In fact, he made it worse.
Wherever you were, Reinhardt was never far. He was with you when you bathed to stand guard. He was carrying you if you couldn’t keep up with him and the rest of the hero’s party. Reinhardt even began to stay in your tent with you…
He didn’t utter a word when he watched over you whenever you had nightmares. Reinhardt never woke you up from the horrific dreams of the man with pitch black hair and sharp talons pulling you into his lap and having his way with you. No, Reinhardt instead dragged his tongue down your tear stricken face in delight.
Reinhardt knew his actions were wrong, but he couldn’t help but fawn over your helpless form. You were so weak without his protection… you were a lamb sent to a slaughter that luckily had a herding dog with you. You should be grateful Reinhardt had such an intense interest in you, otherwise you could have perished earlier on at the goblin camps. Or those other two party members would have likely broken a few of your bones from rough housing. You were a frail bird that needed to be locked up at all times and Reinhardt was willing to be the one to do that! He would keep you safe, even if it took you years to understand even an ounce of his magnitude of feelings for you. He was a patient man!
It wasn’t uncommon for you to wake up in your tent with Reindhart’s imposing form standing over you ominously. You’d cry every single time, but he’d make no move to comfort you. Only stare.
Over the last four weeks, you begin to receive little trinkets in your tent on the daily. Delicacies that Reinhardt would immediately pitch once he saw them, but it filled you with anxiety that he was not the one slipping you those gifts… who on earth could be gifting you such pretty rocks and wild flowers?
You were flattered, just the tiniest bit, by the small, temporary gifts. They were much more welcomed than the iron grip of Reinhardt’s arms. Even though the sender made you anxious, it was nice to know that someone took you into consideration. It was a small action that filled you with hope. Perhaps you would be saved from this fate?
Shame you didn’t understand just how much those tiny gifts upset the hero. Your eyes should only be on him. Your entire purpose should revolve around him. Reinhardt wanted to find the individual who sent you these gifts so he could rip them limb from limb. You belonged to him and he would show you that you had no way of escaping him. You were going to be his bride! Whether you liked it or not, the hero had chosen you as his destined one!
Recently, you’d wake up to him laying beside you in your tent with his large arms wrapped around you. His Roman nose buried into the crook of your neck. This was far worse than him lingering in your tent since he had become so physical.
And your peers did nothing about his harassment of you. To them, it was cute that the hero was so ‘enamored’ with the Saintess! You’ve even heard whispers of how the emperor will no doubt arrange a marriage between the two of you once the four of you eliminated the demon king. It terrified you even more because you knew you’d have little say in the matter… your life was spiraling out of your own control once more. This time, into the arms of some brute with attachment issues. You didn’t want to marry another emotionally constipated man! You wanted to have freedom!
You often cried yourself to sleep which only made Reinhardt even more overbearing. He now would press kisses to your cheeks and cuddle his body into yours. Even in your dreams, you couldn’t escape this massive man. If only you could be saved…
And when you drifted off into an unnaturally heavy sleep, your barriers deactivated. An action that allowed the Demon King to finally slip into your party’s camp and take what he wanted. You.
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honeynviscera · 1 year
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cannot stop thinking about an exchange i had with two of my roommates. 
i mentioned this in the tags of another post on my other blog and now i’m thinking about it again and honestly, now that time has past i’m like, yeah, that’s insane lmao
basically my roommate who makes a point of presenting themselves as being like The Most sexually experienced person in the household said that tgirl cock is nice bc the estrogen. and yes, estrogen does make skin softer and a little nicer. it does drastically effect the consistency of cum. but their ultimate point was that dick and balls are inherently and inextricably bad and stinky lmao. they said that shit about estrogen and i was like “mmm.... well... in some ways, yes that’s true, but... not really?” like my ex’s junk was bomb bc she kept up with her personal hygiene like nothing i’ve ever seen lol. and ofc they just talked over me (like they always do lol)
i just can’t help but think like - surely they’ve not had the experience they claim to have accumulated, because if they had, they would know that hormones nor biology have anything to do with the pleasantry of a persons genitals. it’s all about personal hygiene. like if you don’t brush your tongue, even if you brush your teeth, your breath is gonna be bad yk. doesn’t what you have, it’s what you do with it. i’ve gone down on ciswomen who’s junk stank lol like bro shut the fuck up, your immaturity and prejudice is showing lol. 
but to be honest, I’ve caught them in so many lies - both big and small - at this point I’m not really surprised. well, not by their behavior, but I am surprised by their ignorance. like there’s nothing wrong with not knowing and there’s nothing wrong with being inexperienced. but there IS something wrong with perpetuating bad generalizations that are the foundation for some of the most hateful ideology in existence towards trans women and cis men - literally hating phalluses and thinking they’re inferior and inherently bad and gross IS terf rhetoric lol. fucking stupid. 
but like... mostly???? I just am reeling so fucking hard because it was such a stupid statement, and for such a stupid argument! like WRONG. next 
dick and balls good bro, poor hygiene bad. i feel bad for you. idiot 
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headspace-hotel · 4 months
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College is good for several things. In the USA, it's good for learning facts about history and the rest of the world that high school either didn't tell you or flat-out lied about. Without college, most people would never encounter the academic resources necessary to unlearn lies and biases instilled by the overwhelmingly USA-centric, whitewashed viewpoint taught in most school systems, or the vocabulary needed to ask after those resources.
If (and only if) you are already extroverted and gregarious, college is good for making friends. It's probably good for some other things too.
But college is not very good for many of the things it supposedly does for people. College appears to be good for personal growth, but any environment with unfamiliar people, new experiences, and a large library would do. In fact, the academic rigors of college are probably mostly incidental to personal growth that occurs there. You learn about yourself in college in spite of, not because of, the rigid and demanding academic expectations, which serve to cement you further in what you think you already know about yourself because that is safer than discovering you might be something totally different.
It also doesn't prepare you very well for any other environment, because it is so different from any other environment you might encounter. At least in the USA, there are hardly any communities that are similar to college. College has an environment of communal living among mostly same-aged people, numerous public spaces, an endless hemorrhage of community-run events, and constant mother-henning by the institution as they encourage you to take advantage of all the services they fail to do a good job at providing. Authority figures are clearly delineated from peers and you have a clear hierarchical relationship with people that are not also students. It is an opportunity to practice adulthood, but one that supports you in the wrong ways and fails to support you in the right ones, both stifling and neglectful.
Colleges are brutally insistent on this peculiar style of community structure that you probably won't ever encounter again in your life, all the while being incredibly unforgiving if you fail to adapt to it. There are lots of rules, some of which are plain-attired descriptions of consequences as real as a granite wall, most of which reflect nothing except the fact that someone in authority would like to prevent a specific type of bad-faith exploitation of a more forgiving policy. The pure-hearted student is supposed to be able to ignore these rules and be judged according to the unspoken, more forgiving policy that is invoked when an authority likes your vibes.
This means part of surviving college is cultivating the right vibes, and part of cultivating the right vibes is being abled and not experiencing any extenuating circumstances ever. If you are having a mental health crisis that is stopping you from succeeding, the truth is as good as a lie; of course everyone struggles with mental health in college in these specific pre-cut ways, have you tried breathing exercises? If you are stressed and terrified all the time and whenever you sit still it feels like the universe is screaming through you, you will be abandoned because crisis is rare and interrupts otherwise normal life, and everyone claims to be having a crisis right now. "This system works!" and if we just repeat it hard enough the system will start to work.
If the truth is as good as a lie, then a lie is as good as the truth, and the ability to receive help when you need it is determined not by actually needing help but by being a better liar.
What if people lie to get accommodations they don't really need? I don't know the answer to this, because I find a different question more compelling: What if people lie to get accommodations they do really need?
Institutions are terrified of the possibility of a person that pretends to be disabled, and often they impress that terror into disabled people, who become terrified that THEY are pretending to be disabled, when probably almost all disabled people must pretend to be disabled because the raw Reality of what they experience as a person would be a brain-melting arcane and eldritch encounter for an Institution. Institutions don't see us. They see broad human tropes, masks worn by any number of actors. Some people are diligent students and some are lazy; some hone their potential and talent and others refuse, for whatever reason, to unlock it. This belief is so fundamental to our entire philosophy of shaping and educating students that if it directly encountered the Truth (whatever that may be), the truth would not survive.
If you want to be a good student (and I wanted to be and I was) the mask will become welded to your face and you will forget it's a mask partly because you will like how much better you were treated with the mask on. I sit in a therapy session, thinking, "Why am I framing my pain in a way that makes it seem less complicated and more solvable but doesn't cut to the truth of the matter? Which one of us benefits from that?"
The world is slowly, woundedly crawling into being a performance where everyone competes to pretend that they aren't dying. I have a version of me that struggles with school because I am autistic, but secretly I suspect successful, well-adjusted college students that manage their mental health and friendships and work do not exist in the way we think they must. After all, what of the numerous college students that cheat, that plagiarize, that make ChatGPT write their essays? My professors can all give examples of students that did, and their poor and shoddy attempts, but all this suggests is that the clever and cunning ones seldom get caught. In dealing with institutions, anything an honest person can do through their honesty, a good enough liar can do better with their lies.
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trensu · 8 months
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Steve had always wanted to be a skilled fighter. The schools that churned out the best fighters all happened to be schools for holy warriors. It was possible that Steve maybe sort of lied a little (with the help of his friends Robin and Dustin) to get into this school by claiming he was full to the brim of religious fervor but hadn’t decided who to pledge his sword to yet. It shouldn’t have worked, if he were honest with himself, but by some stroke of luck it did, and he finished his training as one of the top combatants. 
The issue now was that he had to pick a god whose crest to carry. There were all sorts of gods. Gods of water, gods of air, gods of agriculture, war gods, cat gods, plant gods...the list was endless. And while Steve was one of the best fighters around, he was most definitely not one of the best researchers. Thankfully Dustin and Robin were very clever and knew where to find details about the many gods in existence.
“So what kind of god do you want to follow? Maybe we can start there,” Robin asked.
“Uh…a good one?”
“You’re no help at all, you know that?” Dustin grumbled.
They suggested a local god known as Carver who stood for righteousness, but Steve turned that down. It didn't feel like a good fit. They suggested a love god by the name of Chrissy, who valued love of all kinds, romantic, platonic, familial...Steve had been tempted, very tempted, because Steve had always carried an excess of love in his heart. Robin had vetoed that one stating that Steve was already too reckless with his love and she wouldn't stand by and watch him break his own heart over and over again.
Dustin suggested a god of knowledge, Clarke, who blessed and guided those with curiosity, imagination, and a knack for invention. Steve shot that one down immediately. He was never one to be overly imaginative or curious; he preferred to deal with concrete things. Out of their quickly dwindling list, Robin reluctantly suggested Hargrove, a war god favored by a nearby kingdom, but if Carver was ill-fitting, then Hargrove was outright repellent to Steve.
"C'mon, Steve, you gotta pick someone!" Dustin huffed in frustration. 
Robin thunked her head against the table in the library where they were looking up deities. She was obviously at her wit's end too. Steve, however, just dug his heels in with a particularly stubborn scowl.
"I can't just pick anyone!" Steve said. "If I'm going to pledge my sword to someone, it has to be someone...someone good. Someone that, I don't know, someone I can believe in, even when--no especially when things go wrong. That’s the whole point!"
"Yeah, I get that," Robin sighed, a mix of fond and annoyed, "but this is the eighth book we've gone through and the only one left here is called the King of Darkness which is hardly going to--huh."
Robin paused mid-rant to look at the page more closely. Steve and Dustin both huddled around her to peek into the book as well. Dustin also made a sound of curiosity.
"That's weird," Dustin said.
"Right?" Robin asked enthusiastically.
"What? What's weird?" Steve didn't get what caught their attention.
"This god only has a couple of sentences," Dustin explained, "And they don't really make sense. Something about dark creatures and the undeserving? The grammar and structure is all weird though."
"It looks like a half-assed translation," Robin added with a nod. "We should find the original text."
"Yeah! And if we can make a better translation, we could get it added to the next edition and they'd have to put our names on the book," Dustin said excitedly. Robin's eyes lit up at the thought and they both rushed off to the stacks to track down any original sources.
"Guys! Guys, what about my..."
The librarian hushed Steve, irritated. Steve groaned in defeat.
"...godly choices. Yeah, fine," Steve slumped back on his seat. "I need to find non-nerd friends."
Two days later, Robin and Dustin finished translating a slim, dusty book. They were nearly vibrating in their seats as Steve reviewed their notes on what they found. Dustin gripped his arm and gave him a shake.
"So? What do you think?" he asked excitedly.
Robin slung her arm across Steve's shoulders. With more tenderness than Steve expected, she said, "I know it doesn't seem like it, he doesn't really fit with your whole style, but it could work."
"Yeah," Steve said with a hopeful smile. "Yeah, this feels right."
--
It took longer than Steve would've liked, but eventually he managed to track down a small, crumbling shrine. It was an alcove carved near the entrance--no more than a crack in the stone really--of a cave at the edge of a lush forest. He almost missed it, it was so drowned in overgrown crawling vines and weeds. It bore a modest statue, no bigger than Steve, standing atop an equally modest plinth. There was a spot that obviously held a plaque once, but it must’ve been dug out by thieves at some point.
The sight of it made something in Steve's chest twinge; a strange pang of melancholy at seeing a god so forgotten and abandoned. It surprised him as he had never been particularly religious, but there was just something about this one that drew him in.
It was the middle of the day, so Steve quickly made camp and took advantage of the light to begin clearing the shrine. He started where the plaque had been, scrubbing off the dirt and moss that had filled the indentation. He knew a good smith; he could commission a new plaque to be made. After that, he weeded the immediate area around the plinth where worshipers would typically lay their offerings and pray.
By the time he finished that, it was late afternoon and he decided that was good enough for today. He had to eat and get a few hours of sleep so he could be alert once night fell. When he curled up on his bedroll, he couldn't help the grin that spread on his face. He was going to offer himself to his god tonight, and with any luck, his god would accept him.
--
He woke to a multitude of high pitched squeaks and the sound of many, many flapping wings. The sun had just fully set, and the stars that could be seen through the canopy burned brightly. Steve took his time to fasten on his armor and scabbard properly, and fixed his hair so not a strand was out of place. He took a few deep breaths to calm an unexpected bout of nerves before going to the shrine and kneeling.
His god had no official prayers. Or rather, the prayers for his god were forgotten. Robin and Dustin did their best to find anything prayer-like but it had been in vain. They suspected that most of the god's holy items and lore were purposely lost. Lacking that, Steve decided it was best that he introduce himself.
"Um, hi," he started and immediately winced. "Sorry. I'm not used to...this. I couldn't find any of your…holy words? Prayers? The right ways to speak to you, I guess.
"I'm Steve. Steve Harrington. I'm a fighter. I finished my training a few weeks back. I was the top of my cohort when it came to combat. I'm good with my sword and I know how to take a hit. I can turn just about anything into a weapon if it's needed."
Here Steve paused for a moment, straining to hear but there was nothing other than the typical sounds of a night out in the woods. Steve took a breath and plowed forward.
"I want to be more than a fighter, though. I don't want to just wave a sword around for nothing. I want it to...to matter. So I spent a lot of time trying to decide who to wield my sword for. It took me a while, but I found you. I want to be your shield and sword, if you'll have me."
Steve stopped again to listen. Nothing. Robin warned him this might happen. Gods didn't always accept warriors who offered themselves to them, and forgotten gods weren't always reachable. It was fine, though; he’d try again tomorrow night. Steve turned in just before dawn, eager for night again.
--
Steve worked on clearing the vines tangled around the statue's legs and feet. He yanked out the thick, scraggly vines, and carefully picked apart the prickling thorny ones. There was a particular gnarl of vines that didn't seem like they had a stranglehold on his god's statue. They were healthy and strong, and the way they curled and grew looked more like a caress than an invasion. He decided to leave those on, though he gently rearranged them while removing the more invasive vines so they looked more decorative.
When night arrived with the sound of squeaks and wings, Steve went to kneel at the shrine. He introduced himself again, gave the same spiel as the night before. Still he heard nothing. He scratched the back of his neck in mild insecurity.
“I guess I should tell you I didn’t find you on my own. My friends Robin and Dustin helped me. They’re way smarter than me, you know? Total nerds. I can swing a sword like nothing, but books and research? Yeah, that never works out for me, so they helped me look up all sorts of gods.
“There’s a lot of them. Way more than I thought. Dustin and Robin both recommended me ones or vetoed others. They were getting frustrated with me because I kept rejecting the ones they gave me. 
“Then Robin found you. Kind of by accident, to be honest. But she did her research thing and I knew that I wanted to carry your symbol. It took me forever to find this shrine. Robin said this was probably the only shrine you had left, so I had to find it. 
“Dustin kept saying it was on the other side of the forest, but obviously he was wrong. Not that he’ll ever admit it, the little shit, but whatever. I’m sorry your shrine was abandoned like this, but I promise I’ll fix it up. I’m good with my hands, I can do it.”
There was no response to his admittedly disorganized ramble. It was fine, he told himself. He needed to be patient. He’d come back the next night.
Around the statue’s waist there was another tangled mess of vines, except these vines had died and rotted to dark sludge. There was fungus growing on it, and it reeked. It was gross. Steve scrubbed at it for hours because the rot had stained the stone. He was able to get rid of the rot and most of the stains before going to catch a few hours of sleep in the afternoon.
Night fell and Steve was kneeling for the third time. He repeated most of what he said the previous two nights. There was still no response. He thought maybe he was pushing too hard. He’d never been the super talkative type anyway. He could share the quiet night with his god, if that was what his god wanted.
A few hours passed when he was startled out of his near meditative state by the sound of snapping twigs. He leapt to his feet, hand on his scabbard. Someone–a man by the look of it–stumbled out of the woods. He was pale and dark haired, dressed in ragged clothes that were probably awful even when they were new. He looked like a vagabond. 
Steve stepped in front of the shrine, protectively. The stranger grinned at him and Steve could already tell he was not going to enjoy the conversation that was about to happen.
“Who are you and what are you doing here?” Steve asked firmly, cutting the man off before he could speak. The smile only grew wider.
“I could ask you the same thing, sir,” the man said, adopting the annoyed huff of a wealthy lord. Steve scowled.
“I asked first.”
“I asked second!”
“You didn’t ask me anything,” Steve responded, somewhat smug. The man paused and then snorted a laugh.
“Yeah, okay.” He raised his hands in mock surrender. “You got me.”
“So?”
“So what?”
“What are you doing here? Who are you?” Steve repeated shortly. The teasing grin was back, and Steve felt his scowl deepen.
“Nothing and no one, m’lord,” the man bows mockingly.
“I’m not a lord.”
“Huh. Could’ve fooled me. You’re certainly as demanding as any lord I’ve ever met.”
“Oh fuck you,” Steve snapped. “I’m a holy warrior.”
The man laughed at him outright.
“Well that doesn’t sound very holy warrior-ish. Are your type allowed to swear?”
Steve grinded his teeth and decided it was not worth it to continue this conversation for much longer.
“Look, if you’re here to steal, I’ve got nothing on me.”
“That’s exactly what someone with something to steal would say.”
“Well, I don’t! I’m on a pilgrimage and I don’t want to spill blood on holy ground. So.” Steve wrapped a hand around the hilt of his sword. “Leave. Please.”
“Holy ground? Here?” the man barks out a laugh. “Don’t you know what this place is?”
“Yes,” Steve says shortly, placing himself more firmly between the shrine and the man. “Please leave. There shouldn’t be violence done here.”
“Oh, it’s far too late for that. This place used to belong to the King of Darkness. It’s said he was so evil that nothing grew here until he was run out and defeated by the god of righteousness. You know the one. Really plays up the holier than thou thing by making his hair all gold and glowy? Gotta say, you could give him a run for his money though.”
“You’re wrong.”
“No really! Your hair is great. Way better than Carver, even with the glowy thing.” 
“Not that!” Steve said in frustration. This guy really liked the sound of his own voice and Steve was starting to get a headache. It was near dawn and all he wanted was to spend the last hour or so in the quiet night with his god.
“So you agree your hair is better than a god’s?” The man tsks at him. “That’s pretty blasphemous. Are you sure you’re a holy warrior?”
“No! I mean, yes. Wait,” Steve growls at his own bumbling. “No, I’m not better than any god. But I am a holy warrior. Kind of.”
“Kind of.”
“Look, I’m working on it so I need you to leave. You’ve insulted him enough already.”
“Your god is the King of Dark–”
“Call him that again, and I will draw my sword,” Steve said, voice steely. “He’s the Lord of Night, and I won’t let you insult him at his own shrine.”
The man goes quiet for the first time since he showed up. He looked almost surprised, his mocking grin gone. His eyes flicked over to the dilapidated statue and then back at Steve.
“Lord of Night doesn’t sound much different than what I called him,” the man said lightly.
“Well, it is,” Steve told him. “Now, will you please leave?”
The man stared at him for a moment before shrugging. “Yeah, alright.” And then he left as suddenly as he had arrived.
The tension that had built up in Steve’s shoulders drained away. He went back to kneel in front of the shrine again when he noticed the barest hint of sunrise on the horizon. He cursed under his breath then was hit with a wave of embarrassment at cursing in front of the shrine and the whole situation that had transpired.
“I’m sorry about that,” Steve said, abashed. “It won’t happen again, I promise.”
It happened again.
now with an additional snippet here and here
ps: i do not do those reader tag list things. if you'd like to keep up with my stuff, follow my writing tag: trensu tells stories
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go6jo · 7 months
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(love, as if it were carved in stone) s. geto
when he first lays eyes on you, suguru is fighting sleep, standing in the school’s courtyard at four in the morning taking languid puffs out of a cigarette to pass the time, deliberately dragging it out in hopes that sleep will come. however, these days, it hardly ever does.
it’s mid august and he has never been particularly fond of the summer or it’s heat — nor the endless stream of purging that inevitably comes with it.
you first walk into his life in nothing but a white nightgown — the sight so heavenly it’s almost impossible to forget. when you step outside the girls dorm, barefoot and weary, the smoke rushes to suguru’s lungs a little too abruptly, as if he were gasping for air — the material of your dress so flimsy that it's hardly appropriate to stare. suguru is sensible to a fault, many could agree that, unlike satoru, he is somewhat respectable. right now, however, against his better judgement, he can't seem to tear his eyes off of you.
he watches as you drop defeated on the ground before leaning your head against the wall and closing your eyes with a frustrated sigh that travels all the way through the soothing night breeze into suguru’s ears. he indulges himself for a little longer - you’re pretty, he thinks. had you noticed him standing there you would’ve made out a subtle fondness in the smile that grows, although tiredly, on his face. sympathy. he imagines the summer heat hasn’t been kind to you either. 
you seem younger than him, a first year and freshly arrived, your ingenuity still intact - untarnished. and perhaps its the white that engulfs you but suguru thinks you look much too clean, too pure for the swarm of violence that awaits you. something that has started to slowly but surely eat away at him too. he can’t quite pinpoint when it happened — somewhere down the line though, he had long since lost his innocence. he takes another hit, the bitter taste that lies on his tongue from today's purging spree starting to subdue — he wishes you got to keep yours.
it's only then that you notice him, standing inconspicuously by the boy’s dorm entrance but you can’t quite make out his face in the dark, the canopy under which he stands blocking the light. your hands reach with urgency for the hem of your skirt to tug down on the fabric that had ridden a little too high on your thighs and suddenly you’re wary of the fact that the material was clinging to your sweaty skin leaving very little to the imagination - however suguru had already looked away at the first hint of your discomfort, blowing a cloud of smoke skyward and maintaining his gaze towards the moon, wishing not to compromise your modesty.
you tuck your knees under your chin, shrinking in on yourself, an attempt to look smaller, invisible if possible. you felt so exposed, ready to be preyed on, but it was so late and you were so tired, you hadn't expected anyone else to be awake. at that moment, the moon shines on his face, illuminating his features and it’s like your body reacts on its own. your shoulders, no longer tense, fall relaxed by your sides and your hands turn soft, loosening the grip you had on the hem of your skirt. it’s him.
it’s just him. 
you had seen him many times before. you’re suddenly envious of the moon for luring him in with her beauty and holding him captive. you didn't mind him looking at you, you want to be object of his admiration, even if just for once. you want him to look back at you. you only. and then it comes unexpectedly, that feeling of revulsion. you become painfully aware that your skin is too sticky with sweat, the sole of your feet is covered in grim and you feel dirty, so dirty when faced with your desperation, your need. how could you crave such a thing - attention, from a stranger, nonetheless. how could you be so vulgar, yearning for someone’s affection and admitting to being starved. it feels like your belly growling in a room full of people - letting your hunger be known. you’re famished and everybody knows and it’s humiliating.
but it was him - you had seen him on the school’s halls before, so unapologetically gentle in the way he speaks to others, so serene in the way in which he carries himself and so so handsome. you think he’s even more handsome now standing there, sleepless and with his hair down, looking so much less intimidating than usual and within your reach. you see bits of yourself in him - on the bags carved under his eyes from countless nights without sleep, on his tousled hair from tossing and turning endlessly on his bed. when he looks this fragile it makes it so obvious, that despite being one of the strongest, he too can break. he’s not so different from you. 
and his hair… it reaches his shoulders. it’s longer than what you expected. you wonder if he’s one to hold on to his past. 
you let your eyes linger. he’s still too focused on the night sky to notice you staring anyway. he knows you are. nevertheless, he acts as if he doesn’t, as if the longer you stare at him doesn’t make it harder for him not to stare back at you, to surrender himself to you. even the moon, standing above with its infinite splendor seems to submit to you, shining its light on you as if in jubilation of your own beauty.
and although you try to be discreet, only peeking at him from behind your knees, suguru’s skin feels feverish. its too hot. and it feels even hotter under your gaze. he slips his hand under the white shirt he’s wearing to let the night breeze caress the skin of his stomach that is covered in beads of sweat that run from his chest downwards. he takes one last drag of his cigarrette and when he glances down to stub it under his slippers his eyes catch yours for the first time tonight. except, this time, you do not shy away from him, neither does he.
it is hesitant what you share, like hands brushing together, fingers that yearn to touch yet are too reluctant to entwine. suguru relishes in the innocence of it, welcomes it back into his life even if just for a brief moment. in fact, you make him realize that maybe he never really lost his innocence in the first place. its just been tucked away somewhere in a corner deep inside him. only coming out when it's safe. and its safe here with you. he feels like a boy again. one who doesn’t carry the weight of the world on his shoulders.
its hesitant yet thrilling like falling in love for the first time. 
suguru chuckles, thinking to himself that this feels nice, oddly intimate.
you were the first one to break, the sound of his laugh pulling you out of your state of reverie and making it hard to handle the tension that grows heavier the longer you stare at each other. you glance up and he follows suit, smiling, thinking that he wouldn’t have withstood the tension for much longer either. 
suguru waits and when you look back at him, he leaves with a wave. frozen in place, you let him leave without so much as mouthing a goodbye to him.
it’s the morning after when he sees you for the second time, sitting outside on a bench, hiding from the scorching sun under a pine tree and chewing on a popsicle stick. you’re wearing white again, he has got his black uniform on and no longer under the moonlight’s spell he’s all too aware that you’re worlds apart. still, he is greedy enough to think that even if decay spreads like poison inside him, you taste like salvation. still, he thinks that he wants you.
then you wave at him and its so full of hope. you’re looking at him so expectantly. like you don’t mind that he is rotten and he’s been pondering taking the seat next to you for the past five minutes. you’re turning him to a madman. had he known you for longer, he could’ve been on that bench eating popsicles with you.
for now, however, he’ll sit down with you and ask you for your name. ask you if you managed to get enough rest. 
“suguru!” he looks away in the direction of the voice that calls out for him, towards satoru who was running to catch up to him. when he looks back at you, you wave him goodbye, only shyly this time with a hint of disappointment in the way you let your eyes fall to your feet and pretend to play with your fingers. satoru is talking his ear off but suguru's eyes are on you.
sometimes fate disguises itself as coincidence. maybe the chance to get you alone has passed him by.
it’s early september and the weather has cooled down a little. suguru is laughing with his friends and you think you’re fine with it. the seat next to you is vacant but he waves at you with a smile and you figure that despite the distance that seems to stretch itself between the two of you with each passing day, you’re fine with watching him from afar. you’re once again sitting on that same bench and even in shade you still feel his warmth and that's enough.
until the incident happens. the news spread fast. riko then haibara. 
spring comes yet again and as the seasons change, so does suguru. he doesn't laugh as much anymore but then, whenever he crosses paths with you, he smiles and there's a tenderness to it that seems to be reserved just for you. you think it’s so unfair. how you didn’t get to meet suguru before sorrow had set itself so deep in the marrow of his bones that it was almost irreversible. but you’re glad to know that despite everything, he remains gentle. its valiant, in a way, that he chooses to stay kind besides having all the reasons not to. and somehow, it gives you hope. 
april arrives. his hair has now grown past his shoulders and suguru is contemplating the transience of things in the emptiness of the room he finds himself sitting alone in. suguru thinks its unfair that despite all the death the world keeps spinning. regardless of all the bloodshed, the sun still shines and he hates it. he feels sick. if the world won’t remember then he will. he will mourn and he will let grief be the thing that keeps them alive. 
he notices you standing at the door and though he wouldn't blame you if you left given the gloominess that hangs in the air that surrounds him, he finds himself wishing that you’d stay, that you'd sit with him and wouldn't falter like he had done so many times before. he was sure of you, has been for a while now but then there were times when he thinks he is so full of filth he wonders if the space that's left for you inside him is enough. if it is okay to be a little greedy. if it’s fair to want to fit you in such a tiny spot. but then you grab yourself a drink from the vending machine and take the seat next to him as if you’re saying. dont worry, ill make room for myself in you.
it's silent for a while. silence has sort of become the predominant language between you.  
“getou, right?” he flinches at the sound of your voice. he realizes this is the first time he has ever heard it. and its so quiet, slightly unsure like suddenly you’re afraid of taking up too much space. and it makes him consider the possibility of tearing himself open just to fit more of you inside - you could never take up enough space. 
“suguru.” he corrects you, albeit gently. he wants to hear you say it. his name. “yes.”
you whisper your name in return, still cautious as not to cut through the quietude that had settled between the two of you. as if this moment right here, with him, was so fragile and precious to you that you’re cradling it to your chest, handling it so carefully as not to break it. “i know” 
he had asked satoru and regretted it just as fast oh, the first year? heard shes the only one in her class. why’d you care? in that moment satoru must´ve found the answer to his question in his friend's face because his tone changes. dont get too attached, suguru. you know few make it past their first year. 
in that moment he had realized something. he had witnessed it himself, how life can be but a dimly lit star in the night sky, its light becoming gradually unperceivable. fragile, fleeting. his time with you isn’t certain. death is a mistress that's always looming around the corner, ever present, always threatening to come out.
he knows he’s still young but he hadn’t met you soon enough. its seems like time is always running out for him. he might be young but he could’ve been younger. could’ve spent more time with you. you could’ve been ten, twelve, fourteen together. he could’ve loved you for longer.
“i hope you don’t think that i'm being nosy.” you mutter to your feet “not too nosy at least. but.” there’s a pause in which you wonder if you imagined everything in your head. that thing that binds you together. but you’ll risk sounding stupid and you will risk rejection because that little sliver of hope inside you tells you that not all has been lost. and although you try to convince yourself you’re doing this with selfless intent you just wish to relish in his warmth again.
“i couldn’t help but notice that lately, you seem to be…” choose your words carefully. 
unlike yourself  “unwell.” coward. 
despite your vague choice of words he is looking at you with wide eyes and you find yourself avoiding his gaze so you won’t back away from it. from saying what you have been wanting to say to him. 
“it’s springtime” you find yourself speaking again. maybe you’re talking too much. “the sakura trees look very pretty around this time of the year. but- you should know that already. i don’t think they’ll last much longer, maybe a week or so”
you look so meek fumbling with the loose threads on your shirt that it hurts him. here you stood, presenting your vulnerability to him and placing it in the palm of his hand yet he's just staring at you wondering what to do with it. he had been so quiet and you were starting to doubt yourself. it hits him that he has made you feel this way twice already, although unintentionally. you looked just as defenseless as the night he met you.
he nudges his knee with yours, its playful and emphasized with a smile that shows the crinkles on the corners of his eyes. he had taken what you had given him, he is clutching your gift close to his heart and begging for more. and it fills you with courage.
“i guess what im trying to say is. geto- oh!” you slap your hand over your mouth in a way that is seemingly too dramatic. in a way that is you, he guesses. amidst your outwardly timidness, you allow him a glimpse of you and he just wants more and more. he wants to tell you that you do not need to make yourself smaller to make room for him or his sorrow.
“suguru” you correct yourself. “would you like to go and see the sakura trees with me? maybe it will help you feel better. even if just for a moment” you’re smiling at him and this is the first time you’re looking him directly in the eye since you sat down next to him, there is hope gleaming in your irises and suguru never would’ve thought he could’ve been the one to incite such a beautiful sight.
“im good company and i usually don’t talk this much either so you should be alright.” you giggle showing him a little more of you. but its still not enough. it will never be enough for him.
he looks away from you with a breathy chuckle, closing his eyes as if trying to prevent the sheer adoration that he holds inside him from spilling though it inevitably overflows and manifests itself into a smile so earnest, it’d be the most genuine anyone has seen in a while.
“there has been a lot of silence going on between the two of us, don't you think?” he stares ahead at the empty wall. you had lost enough to it already. you nod from the corner of his eye. “id like to get to know you, if you let me.”
he looks back at you.  “i don't mind you talking. i'd like it if you did.”
your eyes are wide with wonder. those are the first few words he has ever spoken to you and he has rendered you speechless. they carry so much honesty, the expression on his face so sincere they’re quick to shut down any doubts or insecurities you might have had. 
you had dared to let him peak at the heart that you keep tucked under your sleeve and he wanted to cherish it. he thought he owed it to you to be equally as open, as honest.
“should we go now? he gets up with a hand on his pocket, the other extending itself towards you. "we have a lot to catch up on.”
in the perfect scenario you would’ve wanted to put a little effort into looking pretty. you would’ve put on a dress and maybe a little makeup to impress him. but would that really be the perfect scenario when, right now, he is looking at you with so much adoration that you feel like the prettiest girl he has ever laid eyes on? 
you take his hand - you think you might melt into it.
you grab popsicles on the way. strawberry for him. some over complicated combination of flavors that he had already managed to forget, for you. you had made some light hearted joke about his simplistic choice of flavour, however, as you sit under this cherry blossom he can see the grimace that grows on your face aggravate with each bite you take. he had seen it coming.
“do you want to try?” a knowing smile on his face, somewhat teasing when he offers his popsicle to you.
a few strands of hair get in the way when you lean down to lick at the top and his free hand moves to swipe them away from your face. he holds your hair in place to prevent it from escaping again and guides the popsicle to your mouth instead. feeding it to you.
“should’ve gone with strawberry.” you sound so heartbroken that he wants to giggle.
“here, have it” and he’s not teasing you. its genuine, like he’s whispering i love you, whatever’s mine is yours to take. 
he shuts down your protests by grabbing the popsicle from in between your pinched fingertips and replacing it with the strawberry one, immediately taking a bite from the popsicle that was once yours to claim it as his. it’s bitter, he thinks, it stings on his tongue. but he won’t tell you that. 
you’re picking up the petals that have fallen on the ground next to you and placing them on your lap when out of the corner of his eye, suguru notices a drop of juice that got caught on the corner of your lips and has started to run down your chin. he moves the back of his finger to collect it and then wraps his lips around his digit.
you’re left to stare because you’re dizzy. he makes you so dizzy. you don’t know what to do with yourself. to do with him. you glance towards anything other than him. anything that will ground you.
“you know,” you trail off after a while. your tone soft and eyes still trained somewhere else. he worries that he has come off too strong. “the first thing i noticed about you was your hair”
“yeah?” 
“hm, hm…” you look back at him and nod earnestly. he is glad to learn there is no discomfort between you when you sit on your knees and reach forward with both hands to place the petals that you had picked up atop his head. arranging them in a circle, like a halo, you think. not a crown. “… it’s pretty. it suits you” 
pretty. it takes him a while to gather his words. you’re so close and smell so heavenly. “i thought you were pretty the first time i saw you” he confesses with a whisper.
it takes you even longer to collect yourself. because once again, you're at a loss for words. you busy yourself with the task at hand. the halo. fit for someone with a heart as good as his. 
“i mean it.” you recoil for a moment to meet his eyes and get your message across. “dont ever cut it!” you sound so demanding. like it’d hurt your feelings if he were to contradict your wishes.
“i won’t. it helps me remember”
your smile morphs into a frown on your face and you bring your hands to your lap. he misses you on him already. 
“you’re holding on to grief, suguru.”
if he doesn't, who will? who will remember them? gojo has already seemed to move on from it, nanami is gone. his grief is the only thing keeping them alive. even if just in memory.
“i guess i am” 
he doesn’t miss the way you avoid looking at him. you’re looking at your hands folded on your lap and he wishes he knew what it is that you’re feeling. pity or concern? 
“maybe you could take a little of the weight off”
“thought you didn’t want me to cut it”
“and i didn’t. but surely carrying the weight of all those curses on you and then another must be exhausting, suguru.” your tone raises just slightly, barely enough to be noticeable.
however, suguru notices and he wants you to be mad at him. he wants you to scream if you will because he knows, that right now, he couldn’t love you the way he thinks you deserve to be loved. you deserve a love that is abudant, steady and kind and suguru, with all his troubles and a heart that has grown so terribly worn out, thinks he has barely any love left to give.
but there is something that stirs in his stomach at the thought of somebody else loving you. he wants to be the one to teach you what love feels like. what it should feel like. he wants to prove himself worthy of loving you. he'd love you better than anyone else ever could. he'd treat you so right. you wouldnt have to wake up a single day in your life and doubt whether he still loves you. because he does and he doesnt think he'll ever stop.
“i'll let you trim the ends”
you take him to your room. you’re pacing around tidying the place, moving objects from one place to another and apologizing for the mess but to him, the clutter isn’t just clutter it’s pieces of you scattered everywhere and when he finds himself amongst it, amongst your belongings in their disorderly disposition he, too, feels like he belongs here, belongs to you. he wants to tell you he doesn’t mind he wants to thank you instead for allowing him to see the most intimate parts of you. 
but before he can manifest himself, you hush him into your bathroom while you finish putting things away. you join him shortly after and he watches you, from the toilet seat, searching the cabinets for your scissors while mumbling about how he doesn’t have to be nervous, you have cut your hair by yourself many times before. that he could trust you. but he does, and it goes beyond just giving him a haircut. you’re still rummaging through the drawers and suguru smiles to himself. he pretends he didn’t just meet you today (technically) and that this is what it feels like to share a home with you. 
“found it!” he spreads his legs that are a bit too big to fit in your tiny bathroom so you can stand in between them. he takes up so much of the space and it's cramped enough that you have to scoot your way through. you laugh at it together. 
“ready?” you’re more serious now. you understand he is trusting you with a lot here — his heart.
suguru’s nod doesn’t carry much certainty but he is not nervous, maybe just nostalgic. but he doesn’t regret it, not when you’re so careful even when tearing him open to look at what’s inside, disposing of what is rotten and lodging yourself in the cavity of his chest where his heart dwells. your hands are so soft, so tender as they weave through his hair. you’re handling him with so much care, so much esteem. 
he should’ve felt guilty. he thought it’d feel wrong. but it didn’t. letting go of his past meant welcoming you into his future.
“done.” you finish and he expects you to move so he can look himself in the mirror but there is a certain hesitance in you, in the way in which you purse your lips into a tight line, contemplating something. maybe you messed up the haircut. then you bend down and kiss the corner of his lips, pulling away in a blink of an eye. “there.” thank you for letting me in, suguru.
you look at him apprehensively. you’re nervous wondering if you had stepped too far. but you didn’t step even close to where he wanted you. “come.” 
he weaves all of his ten fingers with yours, he pulls you down and he kisses you. it's warm and its gentle. it’s so very him. but it is also hungry. like hes trying to fit all the kisses of a lifetime into this one kiss right here. he’s greedy, he’d been a fair man once but then you came along and made him so greedy. like the hole in his stomach has no end and he’s insatiable. he’d take more and then some until he is so full of you he could burst — you can take as many space as you want, can make a home in him if you wish to. 
he takes and keeps on taking, until he has to pull away or he might devour you.
“was that okay?” he is cradling your face in the palms of his hands, was it too much?
“it was good” you’re breathless. “very good.”
“it was good for me too” he chuckles and brings your forehead to rest against his. to be close. you shut your eyes to try to come down from the high, focusing on breathing him in while he breathes you out. “so pretty.” he whispers agaisnt your lashes, his lips kissing your eyelids.
“god, what do i do with you” his hands move to hug your waist and he buries his face in your stomach. he needs to be closer, though being close isn’t enough when he just wants to merge into you. to make a dwelling place in your bones. you tangle your fingers in his hair, massaging his scalp and it feels like home already. 
“i want to be with you, suguru” you tug gently on the hair on the nape of his neck to make him look up at you. you then lower your tone, whispering your next words into the air as if you were too scared to say them. you belonged to him but was it too much to ask him to belong to you? “i want you.”
he kisses up the expanse of your forearm. “you have me, baby. you had me from the moment i saw you.”
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sunnyaelia · 13 days
Text
Little Secret Part 2
Alexia is desperate to fix everything somehow 
Part 1
This is just Alexia grovelling to make up for the pure angst in the last part and also mother Ingrid saving the day once again 
I didn’t even make a poll because I KNOW you’re all down bad and want a happy ending with Alexia so you’re getting it 
More angst, fluff, comfort and then happy ending :)
-
When you showed up in training the next day it was like a switch had flipped. Your face was still a bit blotchy and swollen from the tears yesterday but you had managed not to cry the entire night like you’d done the past week, instead taking a few melatonin gummies to pass out into a deep sleep and be able to ignore Alexia’s constant messaging. You still couldn’t block her, seeing as she was the Captain and you needed to know if something was going on with the team, but you had her on silenced and ignored everything she sent. You wouldn’t have thought that you’d be so indifferent to her apologies, unable to believe one word of what she was saying. To be honest, you didn’t even understand why exactly she was so desperate to get you to believe her - it had all just been a fun little game for her, right? 
You were completely wrong in your assumption, Alexia a wreck as she showed up late to training that day for the first time in forever, her eyes now also swollen and red. Alexia never cried, she just didn’t do it and much less would she ever leave the house with the evident of a crying session still visible. But the thought of you not only thinking that she didn’t like you but also now avoiding her and refusing vehemently to hear her out had been enough to make her cry in desperation, frustrated as she watched all of her texts going unread and her calls being declined. She had stood in front of your door for half an hour, desperately trying to get you to open the door. You never did. You never reacted to her messages either, not even bothering to read what you were convinced were just lies.
You didn’t know that it was the truth actually and Alexia needed you to understand. She was incredibly ashamed of herself, remembering how Ingrid had snapped back at her in the changing room, had warned her not to talk about you like that. The Norwegian had said that it just takes one wrong moment and you’d actually believe her words, you were still so young and relatively new to the team compared to others. And Ingrid had been right, you did believe it. 
Alexia had thought about why, had pondered over an hour on how you could possibly believe her words. You were the greatest person she had ever met, there was a reason why she had been unable to leave you alone, why she had met up with you and tried to find out everything possible she could - despite the age gap and her more closed off personality. She had been enamoured with you from the beginning on, when you had shyly introduced yourself to her and it had not gone away over the next few months, the strong attraction and that feeling of being drawn to you only getting more intense as the time passed. She had felt so guilty for it, to be with someone who’s almost 10 years younger than her, someone who is so open and kind and happy - next to her, who was always seen as quite firm and strict. And Alexia was, she took pride in her discipline and in her endless endurance even as life took a few horrible turns. You had never seemed to mind her authoritarian attitude or how she was often rather stern, simply accepting that that’s how Alexia is and she appreciated it. If only she hadn’t failed at showing you how much she appreciated you and yourpersonality too. Not one word she had said about you to Ingrid had been true, she had just been so caught off guard by the Norwegian effortlessly catching the blossoming relationship between the two of you and in her panic she had done the wrong thing. 
And then again, when she had stood in your doorway, had the chance to apologise and get you to hear her out. She wished nothing more than to turn back time to that moment. If she hadn’t immediately gotten so angry, if she hadn’t been so focused on her own hurt feelings after you had ignored her - completely justified - maybe she would have managed to convince you to hear her out. It would be even easier if she hadn’t said those insults in the first place, something she was incredibly angry with herself about.
What also bothered her was how she had chastised you during the last training session before it all went to shit, how she had told you to stop staring at her before anyone saw - only for Ingrid to catch the relationship between the two of you because of her. The Norwegian had told her that she had noticed the way Alexia looked at you, how her eyes were always fixed on you for way longer than necessary and how she was always the first at your side when you scored. So in the end you hadn’t even been responsible for others noticing but of course Alexia had been stricter than necessary on you. She hated herself for it all, wanting to do it all over and better now. If she had another chance she’d ask you out properly, ensure that you know she’s interested. She’d admit her feelings, tell you openly how much she loves you and appreciates you. She had never said it to you, despite having realised a few weeks back that she was hopelessly in love with you. Too scared of how strongly she was feeling and the huge age gap between the two of you, she had been a coward and refused to say it - no matter how much it wanted to slip out when you woke up next to her, hair tousled and lips puffy from sleep as you smiled at her. She’d give anything to go back to that moment, to hold you close once more and cherish you. 
It was far from possible now, you acting like she was invisible and she didn’t want to bring too much attention to the two of you so Alexia didn’t really try to get you to hear her out. Her plan had originally been to corner you at the end of training and make you listen to her apology, try to get you to understand that it wasn’t the truth. 
But after a gruelling session where you were still uncharacteristically quiet and didn’t really talk - but did play absolutely fabulous - you were gone immediately, basically sprinting to the changing room and gathering your stuff before you were gone, deciding to shower at home. You couldn’t bear the thought of having to change next to Alexia again, still feeling so incredibly humiliated that someone who thought so badly about you had seen you completely naked and exposed. It hurt more than you’d like to admit, no matter how much you tried to act like you had cried it all out. You couldn’t help but overthink, wondering if she had secretly thought some less than nice things about your body as well. If she had been so good at acting like she enjoyed talking to you, maybe she had only endured the sight of you without clothes on so she could have her fun. The thought alone was enough reason for you to vow to never get showered and changed in the training room ever again if Alexia was also there.
You also decided that it was best to keep all your friends and teammates at arm length and barely say anything - too afraid others might also find you as annoying as Alexia did. Every single person had reached out and asked if you were alright and wanted to talk, most trying to respect your boundaries when you said you were fine and not to worry. Except Ingrid, who had an idea of what might have happened to make your personality switch from bubbly social butterfly to this. 
She wasn’t sure if you maybe had really overheard Alexia and her cruel words or if you had simply had a fight with the blonde - it was obvious that the team’s Captain was responsible for this either way judging by the guilty looks she was throwing you the whole day. Ingrid could only guess how you felt, but the way you tried to withdraw from everyone was incredibly concerning. She hoped that going to your apartment alone, without Mapi, would maybe help in you telling her what had happened. 
It took a while until you opened the door, thinking it was Alexia who was bothering you once again, the blonde desperate to get you to listen to her. The only reason you ended up opening the door was because of Ingrid’s text message that she needed to talk to you, not wanting to ignore someone you held quite dear to your heart. You were trying hard to keep the mask up as the dark haired girl stepped into your apartment and slipped her shoes off. 
“Sorry for barging in here like that, I just wanted to ask how you’re doing.” 
You merely shrugged, not wanting to break down in tears in front of your teammate - and friend. You had cried more than enough over Alexia already. 
“I’m good.” 
Though when Ingrid just sighed, seeing the dark circles under your eyes and your slumped shoulders, she decided to simply offer you a hug and it didn’t even take more than a few seconds before you were full on sobbing into her shirt. Your apology as you tried to pull away and get yourself together was waved off as the taller girl wrapped her arms around you and led you to the couch, encouraging you to just cry it out. It took a while, despite how much you had cried already these past days. The hurt was still sitting deep and you hated it, hated the way you couldn’t stop thinking about Alexia and her cruel words. Even worse was how you couldn’t stop thinking about the blonde in general, about her hazel eyes and the rare gentleness she had always had with you. It was far from the harsh words you had overheard. 
Since you had broken down in front of Ingrid now anyway, you willed yourself to tell her what had happened, explaining how you had overheard her and Alexia and what had happened between the two of you beforehand. The Norwegian was patient as your story was interrupted by tears and sniffles again and again, rubbing your back as she listened with a continuously darker expression. She had already been quite miffed with Alexia before that - annoyed that the blonde would rather lie and slander you like that instead of just being open and honest about her obvious feelings. Now, knowing that you had heard and how horrible you were feeling over it, it only got worse. 
It took some time for you to calm down again, the ringing of the door bell interrupting the story at one point as Alexia showed up again in hopes of getting you to listen to her. Ingrid was quick to ask for the power box and shut the entire door bell off to stop the noise, on one hand understanding that Alexia didn’t mean her words and is desperate to apologise, on the other hand annoyed how the Catalan is going about it. 
She reassures you that you’re well within your rights not to open the door and continues to hold you as you cry even more when you hear Alexia begging you to open and let her explain. She’s thankfully quite busy at the moment and therefore leaves after some time though Ingrid doesn’t break the hug, holding you tightly before she begins to explain. She tells you how she confronted Alexia about it and that the blonde didn’t mean her words, assuring you again and again that nobody thinks like that about you and that she always enjoys listening to you. It breaks her heart that you obviously don’t believe her, though you try to act like it’s fine. She knows how much you value the opinion from Alexia, someone with so much experience who’s so well respected within the team. It’s obvious that it broke your confidence to have her criticise you like that - you don’t trust Ingrid that she really didn’t mean it, certain that the Norwegian is just trying to cheer you up despite her constant reassurance. 
Not wanting to leave you alone after that heavy conversation, Ingrid asks if you’d be willing to eat at home with her and Mapi, the Spanish girl currently cooking for them. You don’t really get far with trying to refuse, Mapi apparently already having been notified that you’re coming. At the end you’re kind of glad, finally feeling a bit of hunger again at the absolutely delicious smell that’s waving through their home, Mapi’s cat Bagheera immediately running towards you and purring loudly as you pick her up also improves your mood a lot. You’re still awfully quiet during dinner itself, no matter how much the other two try to get you involved. But you’re eating and you’re smiling a bit again when the black cat rubs herself against your legs so at least something. 
Ingrid is reluctant to drop you off at home but she understands your adamant refusal at the offer of staying with her and Mapi, especially since a loving couple right in your view when you’re heartbroken is probably not the best idea. She makes a quick detour to Alexia’s home after she watched you safely enter the house again, ready to confront her on her behaviour but the blonde isn’t at home and so she goes home, pondering together with her girlfriend on how to help you gain your confidence in your playing abilities and yourself again. 
In the meantime Alexia is busy buying some stuff for you, trying her best to convey her apology into some gifts that she can give you. She knows that it’s not going to magically heal what happened but maybe it will at least make you hear her out for a moment as she tries to form a plan to get you to listen. 
When Alexia doesn’t show up to training the next day you’re puzzled, wondering if the blonde is on her deathbed right now since she never misses a training session. You try your best not to be distracted - where Alexia is, is none of your business anymore anyway. Though you can’t help but ask yourself if everything is fine and where the blonde girl currently is. You get your answer when you’re the first in the changing room again at the end of training, the first to leave by far as the rest was still on the pitch laughing and talking. Though you quickly came to a halt in the doorway at the scene in front of you. 
There’s a truly massive bouquet of flowers laying on your spot in the cubby. The at least fifty dark red roses are beautifully arranged, with a few different flowers in between to lighten up the look. There’s also a huge bag next to it - though way more important is that Alexia is standing there, looking directly at you. She doesn’t waste any time hurrying over to you and reaching out for your hands, something you accept mostly because you’re still shocked and a bit clueless on what’s happening. The blonde isn’t even in her training kit despite looking completely fine, did she just skip training to get everything? 
Your questions are answered when Alexia starts talking, not at all deterred by the unusual spot to have this conversion, simply desperate to get a chance to talk to you. 
“You didn’t open your door when I tried to talk to you and you’re not even opening my messages so this is the only way I could get you to listen. Not that I blame you - I’m so incredibly sorry for what I said. I didn’t mean a single word of it and I feel horrible that I ever even said it. I love listening to you, I love hearing your thoughts on everything and you telling me stories about yourself from earlier. I also love watching you play, you’re so insanely talented - do you really think Barça would have ever made an offer for you if you weren’t so incredibly good? I just panicked and I know that’s no excuse but I promise you, I didn’t mean it. I love everything about you.” She hesitated for a moment, aware that this might not be the best time to reveal her feelings but also aware that this might be her last chance to finally be honest with you. 
“The time I spent with you really made my days better, no matter how stressed I was. It made me realise that I’m falling in love with you.” Her eyes were fixed on yours as she said her next words, wanting you to know and feel that she meant every single word. “I love you. I want to have an actual relationship with you. I don’t care anymore if the rest knows, everyone can know now, I just need you. Please give me another chance, I promise I’ll do better. Nothing like that will ever happen again.” 
It was completely silent for a moment as you tried to gather your thoughts. You were completely caught off guard, Alexia holding your hand in public something she would have never dared to do before, too scared that anyone might see. Even less would she ever make any declarations of love towards you, especially in the changing room while you could hear the others walking down the hallway towards it right at this moment. 
Ingrid was the first to step into the room, the look on Alexia’s face along with the massive bouquet that was laying in your cubby telling her quickly what was going on as the rest of your teammates slowly walked through the door. 
“What’s going on here?” You barely even notice who’s talking, simply staring at Alexia as you try to make sense of the absolute mess your mind is right now. 
Ingrid steps in to save you once again. 
“How about you let her take a shower first, Alexia. We just had training in that unbearable heat for a few hours.” 
The blonde gives her a curt nod, realising that she might have sprung this a bit sudden on you. Though the fact that you didn’t immediately reject her gives her hope and the confidence to say her next words. 
“I’ll wait at your car for you. Whatever answer you have, it’s your decision.” 
She leaves and you can feel yourself already missing the feeling of her hands holding yours, having missed the blonde horribly in general these past days. 
“Come on, take a moment to just shower and think about it.” Ingrid’s voice is quiet as she tries to give you a bit of privacy, gently directing you towards the showers before she shuts the others who are quietly gossiping up with one sharp look. You’re incredibly grateful that you had packed your shower stuff and some extra clothes just in case, despite not really certain that you wanted to take a shower here. You took quite a while, just letting the water run over you as you tried to sort your thoughts and answer the main question. 
Were you willing to forgive Alexia? 
You have determined your answer by the time you push the door open that leads to the parking lot, already able to spot Alexia who’s leaning against your car looking down at her shoes. You’re honestly struggling a bit to even carry the quite heavy bouquet of flowers along with the bag that turns out to contain quite a bit of candy and other small stuff, grateful when she spots you and hurries over to you, grabbing it to put it into your car. 
It’s awkward for a moment as she turns back to you, clearly anxious for an answer as she looks down at you. You brush your wet hair behind your ear with one hand as you speak up, still feeling nervous  in her presence no matter how much you missed her. 
“Uhm, I thought we could just go home and maybe talk about it some more? I’m honestly a bit surprised still and I don’t really want to discuss all of that in a parking lot.” 
Alexia is already nodding before you’re even finished, incredibly grateful that you’re willing to talk to her at all. You quickly decide on meeting at her house, giving you a chance to leave if you get overwhelmed, both of you driving in your own cars there. 
The tension is still quite noticeable as Alexia holds the door open for you to walk in, though it’s quickly broken by an excited Nala greeting you, the dog getting a lot of pets as you feel yourself calm down a bit in her presence. Alexia is patient, a small smile on her face as she watches the familiar scene of you being so happy to see her little Pomeranian, often spending almost ten minutes here at the door petting her before you join the blonde on the sofa. 
Nala follows you two once you do get up and go to the living room, though to your disappoint the small dog makes a beeline for her bed and stays there instead of jumping on the couch. 
Alexia is meanwhile hesitant as she tries to search for the right words to say, wanting to convince you to give her another chance but also trying her hardest to not cross your boundaries again by being too invasive. She’s surprised when you end up taking her hands, the slightly calloused skin of hers touching yours doing wonders to calm your nerves. You already knew the answer, you just had to get it out correctly. 
“I forgive you for your words, I just don’t know how to forget them.” 
Your sentence hangs in the air for a moment as Alexia is relieved at the first half and then quickly becomes anxious at the second. She opens her mouth to say something, but you’re quicker, determined to do this right. 
“I’m not saying I don’t want to give you another chance, because I do. I missed you too Alexia, a lot and I do want to be with you. I just need you to give me some time to… I don’t know, digest what you said? Your words cut really deep and I know you said you didn’t mean it but,” you sigh as you don’t manage to find the right words, though thankfully Alexia seems to know exactly what you mean. She grabs your hands tighter, scooting a bit closer as she carefully checks for your reaction, relieved when you accept it. 
“I understand, I totally understand. I’m so glad you’re giving me another chance, truly. I’ll do better this time, I promise.” Her face has lightened up a lot, the dark expression from earlier gone as she allows herself to smile at you, the familiar crinkling of her eyes at the action, that you’ve watched so many times causing you to mirror it. Though there’s still more you wanted to say. 
“There’s something else. I want you to let me in more.” 
It’s clear that Alexia is a bit lost on what you mean, the older woman frowning slightly as she tries to figure it out. You take a deep breath before you start, trying to trust your own judgment that Alexia is still a safe person and someone you can tell about your insecurities. 
“What you said to Ingrid when I overheard you two was really hurtful. Not only because I’m already aware that I talk a lot and that it might be annoying but also because you never do any of that. I wasn’t mad at what you said, I was hurt. I bared my soul to you, telling you private stories, explaining my deepest fears and being vulnerable with you.”
You can feel yourself blush a little with your next words but you’re determined to try and make her understand and so you push through, focusing on what you’re saying. 
“I let you tie me up and dominate me in bed, all because I trusted you, you saw me completely naked in every sense again and again. But despite you taking your clothes off in front of me, I don’t think I ever truly saw you completely exposed. Do you know what I mean? You never cried  in front of me, you never told me a lot about what you fear and what you truly want in your life. You barely talk most of the time and always only ask me questions before you refuse to answer what I ask you. I’m not dealing with that again. You said you wanted an actual relationship with me, part of that is that you let yourself be vulnerable with me. I’m not expecting you to just blurt out your deepest secrets right now, but I won’t tolerate it any longer if you constantly try to get me to open up but you refuse to do so yourself. I gave you all of me, so I want all of you as well.” 
It was completely silent for a moment as Alexia digested your words. It was horrible for her to hear that you were still struggling with what she had said about you but it was even worse that you felt like you had been completely vulnerable with her and she wasn’t being that with you. You were right - she couldn’t deny that. Alexia was struggling sometimes with being vulnerable but even scarier was, that she had wanted to tell you more about her. On the anniversary of her dad’s death she had wanted nothing more than to run to you for comfort but she had decided against it. She was the older one in this relationship, she was supposed to be the stronger one. She had been pretty sure that that was what you liked so much about her, the stability and comfort she gave you. If she had realised that she was hurting you by holding back so much, she wouldn’t have done it. 
Alexia took a deep breath, knowing that she would have to follow through with what she promised now, no matter how scary it might get. 
“I promise I will open up more. It was never my intention to hold back so much, I don’t want you to think that I don’t trust you or that I don’t want to be vulnerable with you. I’m just not used to it and I don’t want you to think I’m weak, I’m the older one here, I should be the stronger one.”
You could only frown at her words, already shaking your head before she was even done talking. 
“No. And this won’t work if you see yourself as my guardian instead of my girlfriend. I might be younger but we’re still equal. I can take carrying your burdens as well, that’s what I’m there for. You’re not my therapist Alexia, you’re not just here to listen to me. And I want to hear what you struggle with so I can help.” 
Alexia took a second, clearly pondering your words as she tried to wrap her head around having to be more open with you and admit what she was feeling. Something she was more than willing to do if it meant giving you a healthy and equal relationship. 
“Okay. I promise I’ll do better. I’d do anything to make this work, I missed you so much amor.” 
It was the first time she had used the pet name again, relieved when a shy smile crossed your face at it. It gave her enough confidence to pull you into a hug, taking a deep breath of your familiar scent as she buried her face in your shoulder. The hug lasted a while, both of you trying to calm your still racing hearts down and also just enjoying the aspect of an actual relationship starting now. 
You were caught off guard when Alexia pulled away with tears in her eyes after a minute, grabbing your face with her hands as she reassured herself that you were there and that you two would be okay. 
“You’re really giving me another chance?” 
You reached out to her as well, your hands brushing her hair back behind her shoulders as you nodded, relieved to see that she was already being more open with her emotions, letting you see the tears that were about to overflow. 
“Yes, I’m giving you another chance.” 
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molinaskies · 7 months
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What We Get Wrong About Dark Sonic
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I find Dark Sonic incredibly interesting.
I’ve said this before, but Dark Sonic represents an overflow of Sonic’s negative emotions, the ones he usually suppresses: anger, sadness, and fear.
However, many people believe that Dark Sonic is somehow a betrayal of Sonic as a character (even Ian Flynn, reportedly, but I’ve yet to see an official source). Sonic is meant to be a beacon of optimism. Sonic is meant to be the pillar of hope when all else fails. Sonic is meant to be the last one standing, no matter what.
In this sense, sure, Dark Sonic contradicts the notion that Sonic is “uncorruptable,” but I think that depends on how we define corruption.
I see it two ways:
1) Corruption by way of losing faith, through dishonesty and fraud. 2) Corruption by way of a forceful shift from one state of being to another.
In the first sense, corruption occurs when someone’s paradigm is shifted through lies, cheating, or manipulation. It’s a conscious mental shift. In the second sense, corruption occurs when something (or someone) is co-opted and changed without its will or influence, like data corruption, or a shift in the meaning of a word or image. It’s a literal, physical and/or metaphysical shift.
There’s a saying that floats around the fandom that says, “Shadow is just ‘Sonic, if Sonic had one really bad day’,” and I think that makes sense. Shadow is jaded and cynical because of how the world has hurt him, but he still wants to do right by people—just like Sonic. What separates Sonic from Shadow, however, is Sonic’s tenant optimism and positive paradigm. Without those differences, Sonic has endless reasons to be as cynical as Shadow, or even more so.
So, Sonic doesn’t let himself feel those feelings for very long, and especially not when other people are around. He pours everything into a clean, neat bottle, with a tight screw-on cap, right?
What happens when something tampers with that bottle?
Dark Sonic is a forceful corruption of body but not of mind. Let’s talk about it.
How Dark Sonic Works
What I think people misunderstand most about Dark Sonic is that it’s not an intentional state of being. It never was.
Dark Sonic is the polar opposite to Super Sonic, which is achieved when Sonic harnesses the positive energy of the Chaos Emeralds. If Sonic wanted to harness the power of the emeralds for the wrong reasons and his heart accessed the negative energy rather than the positive, he could possibly bring about Dark Sonic willingly. This, however, would likely never happen because that is the betrayal of Sonic’s character that everyone worries about.
That said, the only reason Dark Sonic ever appears is because of a mix of Sonic’s pure rage over Black Narcissist physically assaulting Chris and Cosmo and the presence of hundreds of the Metarex’s fake Chaos Emeralds, which possess an aura clearly shown to impact Sonic and make him ill.
Sonic’s first interaction with negative Chaos energy from the fake emeralds is filled with discomfort and even disgust. Sonic reacting to the negative Chaos energy poorly is critical, as it showcases that it’s seeking him out, not vice versa.
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When Sonic was as triggered as he was, the negative energy from the fakes harnessed his emotions and corrupted him. It was a complete, freak accident.
This situation is very similar to Darkspine Sonic, the in-game equivalent to Dark Sonic from Sonic and the Secret Rings. Darkspine Sonic only surfaces when Sonic is severely triggered after Shahra starts to betray him, Erazor Djinn murders her (she sacrifices herself for Sonic), and he sees Erazor Djinn’s final form about to destroy the storybook world. In his shock and anger, the Secret Rings of Sadness, Rage, and Hate target him, painfully turning him into Darkspine Sonic. Once again, external energies corrupt him at the height of his emotional vulnerability.
Sonic never seeks out the negative energy of the Chaos Emeralds because his heart is good. When the negative energy seeks him out in such overwhelming waves, it corrupts his abilities, alters them, and pulls them out to play.
But—
If it’s simply a matter of fake Chaos Emeralds, then why can Sonic use Tails’ fake Chaos Emerald in Sonic Adventure 2 without any problems? I posit this to the fact that Tails might have a better understanding of the balanced nature of the Chaos Emeralds (in that they are powered by both good and evil), while Eggman and Dark Oak have only ever used (or desired to use) the Chaos Emeralds for evil.
Recall Eggman’s laser at the beginning of Sonic Unleashed and Perfect Chaos in Sonic Adventure. Both uses of the chaos emeralds drained them of their power—their negative power, that is. (Albeit through different means based on the lore of each game), Sonic is still able to restore and harness the emeralds’ power because he relies on the positive energy of the emeralds. As intelligent as he is, I imagine that Eggman (as well as the Metarex) has a hard time replicating the intricate nature and balance of the Chaos Emeralds because their hearts are filled with hatred and turmoil, so unwilling to heed the perspectives of others. The power is there, sure, but not the heart.
~Chaos is power. Power is enriched by the heart~
Tikal's Prayer
I think the difference between Tails’ fake emerald and every other fake emerald we’ve seen in canon is marked by the fact that both Eggman’s and the Metarex’s fakes disintegrate after excessive use (i.e., Chaos Control), but Tails’ fake remains intact.
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The Metarex's emerald disintegrates upon excessive use
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Eggman's fake emeralds can't hold their form upon excessive use
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Tails' fake emerald is intact and ultimately used to stop the Eclipse Canon from firing
In short, Tails’ emerald is simply a better fake, more accurate to the originals.
also, I refuse to talk about how dumb it is that Sonic was able to use a fake Chaos Emerald to do Chaos Control for the first time. However, it is canon, and therefore relevant to my point.
Another key problem cited in Sonic X is just how many fake emeralds there are. One emerald pales in comparison to hundreds. Sonic feels all the latent negative energy consume him because that energy is a corruption, itself.
It’s not that Sonic gets so angry that he just gives in to darkness, it’s that darkness captures him when he’s in extreme emotional distress and his guard is down. Dark Sonic is the result of negative, unstable, potent Chaos energy clinging to him, using his latent Chaos powers as a vessel when he least expects it and, thus, is powerless against it.
I think I can best prove this by contrasting Dark Sonic with Sonic’s other intimate encounter with darkness…
Sonic Unleashed, Dark Gaia, and the Werehog
I’ve spoken at length about this game and this specific scene, already, so kindly forgive my hyper-brief summary this time around!
When Dark Gaia’s “weight issues” cause its essence to disperse around the globe, many people fall influence to Dark Gaia’s despair, losing faith and hope in the world. Nothing like the influences of Chaos energy, but enough of an influence that much of the world feels it. A core aspect of the game’s plot is that Sonic, distinctly, does not. In the cutscene No Reason, Sonic asks Chip why he stays the same despite the darkness inside his heart while so many others change at night. Chip answers simply, saying that Sonic’s too strong to lose himself and that part of his good will is because he never doubts himself, even when he’s on his own.
The difference is that while Sonic undergoes a physical transformation, he never loses faith or gives up hope—made especially clear by the fact that Professor Pickle, once as hopeful as Sonic, eventually does lose hope.
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Also key to note that Amy also never loses hope.
Unleashed is just another fun, high-stakes adventure for Sonic; there’s never a moment where he’s aggressively triggered by something or when his personal morals are ever tainted. Irritated, maybe. Flustered, even. Never at a loss. The closest we see Sonic come to this is when he loses the werehog form to Dark Gaia before the final battle. He falls to his knees, worn and exhausted, and tells Chip to run because he doesn’t want him to get caught up in the mess. Yet even then he’s not giving up.
That’s why Sonic’s heightened emotional state is so important to the conversation. When Sonic’s will is intact, he’s much stronger, but when he’s triggered by something and his defences are down, it’s much easier for corrupting forces around him to take hold.
Mind over Matter
Even with the parameters for Dark Sonic’s appearance established, something that stands out to me about Sonic’s encounters with dark energies, and something I see as additional evidence that Dark Sonic is only a literal, physical corruption and not a corruption of his paradigm, is that Sonic is still in control of himself—to an extent.
Even as he seethes in his amplified rage, Dark Sonic never inflicts harm on the innocent. After Gold and Silver are destroyed, it’s not expressly clear if Sonic intends to stop or fight Black Narcissist, but Eggman implies that Sonic was fighting Gold and Silver until there was quite literally nothing left. Sonic was given a target to attack, and he kept his focus there, even when other enemies presented themselves.
This also goes for the Werehog and Darkspine Sonic.
He also has the mind to listen to reason—from Eggman, of all people—and stop when it’s clear that he’s finished what he set out to do. Sonic channels his anger to where it needs to be, and it’s clear that Sonic’s moral code and paradigm on life are thoroughly intact.
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The only thing that changes is that he’s no longer imposing his usual limits. Sonic is stupidly powerful, even without any power ups. If he ever wanted to kill Eggman, he would have by now. If he ever wanted to kill anyone, he would have by now (and technically, he has).
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Sonic throws Erazor Djinn's lamp into a pit, never to resurface, effectively trapping him and ending his livelihood indefinitely.
However, Sonic holds back because he doesn’t want to be an arbiter of justice—he doesn’t want to deprive someone’s chance to be good unless it’s been clear that they cannot be redeemed.
Why I Care About This
It is no secret that I believe that Sonic is a highly emotional character—far more emotional than many give him credit for. It bears repeating that Sonic’s emotions are very big and can be cataclysmic when left unchecked…
…but that’s just part of growing up—growing up as a hero and, damn it, even just a kid.
Dark Sonic isn’t a case of Sonic giving himself to darkness, nor is it a perversion of Sonic’s character. It’s an energetic, chaotically-charged version of Sonic when he is at his angriest—and even then it’s not enough to change his morals or make him lash out unjustly.
Dark Sonic is cathartic, in a way, and I definitely think it deserves its place in canon.
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Ascended Astarion Manipulation
I'm back on my dark bullshit. Now thinking of your "choice" to be a vampire spawn. Any sane person would refuse, and Astarion is aware of this. So he decides to convince you with some very not good tactics.
Tw: Obsession, manipulation, jealousy, ascended Astarion doing ascended Astarion things, bad, bad, man, toxic relationships
~
Astarion had developed a significant lack of patience ever since reaching Ascension. It was hard to entertain most things when he'd achieved the power to twist the vast majority of situations in his favor. But he was trying his damndest to be patient with you. Despite the fact that your constant refusals made him absolutely furious. You insisted that you loved him, that he was all you would ever want, but yet you still refused to undergo the change.
It's not like he was asking for much, if anything you should be thanking him for the opportunity. He was offering you the gift of immortality, with little to no drawbacks. Besides your unwavering devotion of course. But what was that in the face of absolute freedom? You would never have to worry about a thing again. He would keep you safe and cared for, all while you'd both be free to walk in the sun. He had endless funds now that he had taken over Cazador's estate, unmatched political power in a startlingly short amount of time, considering his work as part of the heroes of Baldur's gate, and the power to obliterate nearly any mortal enemy he could think of. Anything you desired he could give, if you would just let yourself take that final step.
But as much as he wanted to be solely angry at you, he really only had himself to blame. Why had he insisted on being so descriptive about the limitations of being a spawn? He had been such a cowardly moron back then, with no imagination to imagine a better future. And now he was paying for it. While it was true he would never make you a fully fledged vampire, it didn't mean he would mistreat you. He loved you. Adored you more than anything else in existence. And having you as his spawn, his official consort would be for your benefit just as much his. This was the only way he would have complete control over you, fully able to protect you from everything. Including yourself.
But you weren't buying his lies about eventually becoming equals. The offer of giving you everything you ever wanted also fell flat, considering how he was already doing that. He just couldn't help but spoil you.
He had started to wonder if he should just force it. He would prefer not to, but he would if it came to it. But he didn't get this far by not using his brain. Force wasn't the way with you, it never had been. If anything, turning you against your will would just lead to decades of fighting and bickering, something that Astarion would like to avoid if possible. He would hate to make the experience of putting you in your place unpleasant.
No, he would try to be reasonable one more time. And appealing to your emotions, to your guilt, seemed as good a bet as any.
He waited until you were comfortable and relaxed. You were dozing off against his chest in bed while Astarion contemplated the best approach to this conversation. If this didn't work, then he'd just have to bite the bullet and bite you without your consent. Then, he'd probably have to lock you away for a time until you came around to your new state of being, an idea that did send a shiver of excitement up his spine.
But not yet. He was willing to give you one more chance to do the right thing.
He ran the tips of his fingers over your back, taking the time to work up a couple of tears before fully waking you with a seemingly accidental shake. He sniffled loudly, barely managing to hide his smile as you blinked your eyes open. You blearily looked up at him, immediately tensing when you saw the sorrowful expression on his face.
You sat up quickly, concern knitting your brows together as you asked, "Star? What's wrong? What happened?"
Astarion looked away with a shake of his head, "I... I didn't mean to wake you darling. Ignore me, I'll be fine."
You shook your head. You gently turned him back towards you, both hands cupping the sides of his face, "None of that. Tell me? I'll never be able to sleep if I know your upset."
Astarion gripped your wrists as he spoke, his voice soft, "I don't want to upset you."
"You won't," You said, just like Astarion knew you would, "I promise. Just tell me what's wrong?"
He took a deep breath, his voice barely over a whisper when he admitted, "I'm so afraid of losing you, my love. I... I just can't stop thinking about it."
"But I'm not going anywhere-"
"For now," Astarion interrupted, his voice pained. He only had to take a portion of that, "But... one day you'll die. And I won't. I... I don't know how I'll ever live without you."
He could feel you tense up, badly enough for you to almost pull away, but he just tightened the grip he had on your wrists. You sighed, looking away with a guilty frown, "I-we've talked about this. I don't-I'm not ready to be... that."
Astarion could feel that same anger creeping back up at your rejection, but he stomped it down. He could tell that you were semi-buying the act. You were so much smarter then he gave you credit for, never failing to challenge him. Just one more thing he loved about you.
Astarion took a shuddering breath, nuzzling into the palm of your hand, "I know. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything. I just... I'm sorry."
"You don't have to apologize," You said softly, "I'm the one who asked."
"But I'm the one who woke you," Astarion argued, "I'm so sorry darling. I want to let this go. I do. But I... I'm scared. Of so many things. I'm afraid that you think... that you think I'm like him. That you don't trust me to take care of you like you deserve. I'm afraid of you dying yes, probably more than anything but... I'm nearly just as terrified of you leaving."
That speech was... a touch too honest for Astarion's liking, but it seemed to be working. He could see tears prickling in your own eyes, your resolve shaken in a way he had yet to seen.
"I-I do trust you. And I know you're not like him. I'm just... I'm scared too. What if... what if you get tired of me? What if you find someone better suited for you? Then I would just... be there. Forever tied to a man who doesn't want me."
That... actually hurt to hear. Didn't you know that you were it for him? That he would set the whole world ablaze if it meant keeping you safe? No one would ever get between the two of you, he'd slaughter anyone who would even dare try.
Astarion finally let go of your wrists, opting to pull you into a tight hug instead. He cradled you against him, whispering in your ear, "That will never happen. You're mine. There is no one else, nothing else, that will ever change that. And if you let me I'll prove it to you, for all eternity."
You were fully crying now, so, so close to breaking. You just needed a little more to push you over the edge.
"I love you," Astarion murmured, one thing that would never be a lie, "And I can't live without you. I won't. It's either forever with you, or my life ends the day yours does."
"Don't say that," You whimpered, "Please don't say that. I-I don't want that for you."
You were so close to him, so distraught. He could smell the siren call of your blood through your skin, calling out to him. He made the choice then and there, he was biting you tonight. Without or without your consent. It would be up to you if it would be a fight or not.
"Then give me this," Astarion pleaded one more time, his real emotions coming to the forefront, "Let me have this life with you. Please my love, let this happen. Let me change you. For me?"
This was it, your last change. Astarion could only hope that you wouldn't disappoint him.
And you didn't, perfect thing that you were. You were nearly sobbing into his shoulder, but you were nodding against him, your voice barely audible through the tears, "Y-Yes, I'll do it. For you. You... you can change me."
That was all the permission that Astarion needed. He was sinking his fangs into your throat before you could even process it, so, so ready to drain you dry.
You gasped at the unexpected pain, but you didn't fight him. You let it happen like the good pet you were, all you had needed was a little push. He could feel you start to fade away, your body becoming more and more lax as you started to die in his arms.
But that was fine. You were about to be reborn into something better, someone who would never be able to leave his side.
This was it. Now, you were his, in every way imaginable.
You would never be away from him again.
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abyssmalice · 2 years
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(thinking about how tol tonia has lived for eons beyond eons and has seen a multitude of worlds and alternate timelines pass her by, seen a thousand thousand versions of people, including those dearest to her,
and though she might have some opinions on how some have led their lives, ultimately - she loves them all, preciously and enduringly)
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lucysarah-c · 14 days
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Fifteen, what an age to be alive. Dad!Levi
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Summary: Steal your father's car! What could go wrong? Author note: Since the Marley world seemed to be around the 30s-40s, I’ll set this idea in a world that looks like the mid-50s. This is POST WAR. Warnings: Cursing 'cause Levi, obv. And slightly mention of a group taking advantage of a girl, nothing really happens and there's no graphic description at all. Word count: 3.9k Pairing: Dad! Levi x Mom! Reader
His hands gripped the big round wheel of the car as his eyes scanned the dark night with a nervous smile, quickly turning into clenched teeth. His attention shifted to the passenger seat, soft as if it was a scene from one of the horror pictures he saw at the drive-in.
A light blond girl lay unconscious, her head resting against the door, appearing lifeless. She wore a typical sleeveless red button-up shirt and very short white shorts, with white socks crumpled down to double-coloured loafers. Her hair was still in a ponytail, exposing her face completely. It was August, plain summer break, and he knew that most of his classmates wore shorts or even swimsuits at the pool or beach. But somehow, her exposure made him blush and feel ashamed, as if even staring felt wrong.
Turning to the back seat of the car, he picked up his letterman jacket and placed it on top of her, covering her as much as possible. It looked big on her, and somehow, Adrien blessed every deity mentioned; he probably was inheriting his father’s uncle’s height and not his father's, a fact becoming rather obvious every day, as he was only 15 and already almost 1.80m.
“Calm down, Adie… you got this,” he whispered to himself, “I’ve no idea what I'm going to do but I got it.”
How did he get into this situation? It was supposed to be a silly night out; one of his friends invited him to a party of the seniors who were graduating from high school that year. What was the issue if he was just a freshman? Fifteen, eighteen, it’s the same! Plus, it was some party at some old forgotten building, half destroyed during the rumbling around ten years ago, in the middle of nowhere. Nothing wrong with that.
Yes, perhaps he stole his father’s keys and car. Yes, perhaps he lied about sleeping in his room. Yes, maybe he stole a bit (a lot) of money from his parents. “I mean… deep down, it’s my father’s fault for not allowing me to come legally,” Adrien argued with his own reflection in the car's mirror.
But everything went downhill when he saw a group of guys dragging a girl who was clearly not feeling well and decided to step in. Now, here he was, the party had turned into a mess as the fight happened, he got kicked out with an unconscious girl, and who knew what they had given her. He hit his forehead against the wheel as time slipped through his fingers; he was supposed to be back home already.
“Fucking shit! Who told me to step in!” he cursed under his breath. Deep down, he knew stepping up for what he had been told was horrendously wrong, knowing he had the strength to fight those assholes back. ‘The curse of being a fucking Ackerman, man,’ he thought.
He had done the right thing, at least one right thing during the entire night, but now he had to face the consequences. Muffled cries mixed with distressed groans filled the car, “My father is going to kill me!”
His forehead kept hitting the wheel repeatedly as if that would knock some common sense into him or perhaps give him a concussion and fake that he had been kidnapped or something. Surrounded by trees in a dead-end road, it wasn’t even paved. Only the footprints of multiple cars to follow back to civilization. The distressed teen didn’t even know where he was; his older friend had guided him there and left with his girlfriend at some point of the party.
Slowly raising his head up again to admire the endless kilometres of dim nothing, contemplating his options, seizing his courage. “Come on, Adie. Be a man, be a man!”
The trees’ branches creaked in the middle of the night, the car slightly swayed under the strong summer wind. “I want my mommy,” he muttered.
Hand on the wheel and turning on the car, one step at a time, he took a deep breath and then decided to go out on the road again. Forgotten somewhere, his father’s car’s papers and driver's license. In them it read “Levi Ackerman.”
Each branch from the forest that scraped the car was a personal pain, praying to any god's existence that it didn’t scratch it. Of course, his father had filled up the tank, obviously he had. Levi was like that, always cautious. Adrien did a personal wish his father had a map stored in the glove compartment, but obviously, he didn’t. After all, Levi knew the streets of the city like the back of his hand. He drove a lot, especially since his legs weren’t what they used to be anymore. Perhaps he didn’t need any support for walking any longer, but walking long distances wasn’t in Levi’s plans anymore.
“Perhaps I can… drive to the hospital, leave her, and like run away,” he contemplated, before groaning loudly, “No, I can’t do that. God, I’m dead.”
‘I could have walked away, but no, Mr. Adrien Ackerman has to be a hero. Mr. Ackerman has to do the right thing.’
Adrien had driven twice in his life; this one was the second. The first was a few years ago when his father sat him down on his lap and let him do it for a little bit. He was happy he hadn’t encountered much traffic and only had to drive ahead because he wasn’t completely sure yet what the third pedal was for.
“I got it, do not worry,” he said, trying to sound reassuring to the unmoving girl on his right. Adrien’s grey eyes checked on her from time to time, but she seemed deeply asleep, or so he hoped. “I’ll get to the hospital in no time, and you’ll be alright,” he promised.
His smile created a couple of dimples on each side of his face, but it quickly faded as fear kicked in. “And if you’re not alright, do not worry. I’ll throw myself off a bridge, and we can be not alright together,” he kept joking as if, by some miracle, the girl would reply.
He didn’t even know her name, and somehow, that made him feel even guiltier. As civilization began to appear and the sky began to lighten up, he lost hope of not dying at the hands of his own progenitor, but he was also hopeful that at least he was getting somewhere without crashing. The sun hadn’t shown up yet, but the deep blue of the sky had a particular glow to it that made it imminent.
The streets were deserted, and rightfully so; it was the middle of the night on a Monday. Adrien tried to park the car as best as he could, finally reaching the only hospital he somehow remembered the route to. Rushing to the other door, he carefully picked her up.
When he crossed the doors of the main hospital, which was almost empty at those hours, the doctors on duty quickly took her in, some searching for identifications inside her clothes. The police officer at the front gates forbade him from leaving the place.
“Alright, please hand me your ID,” the front gate secretary asked after informing him that the girl was out of danger, but she would have to stay for monitoring. Adrien’s suspicious silence made the woman raise her eyes from the form she was filling out to look at him. “You know that carrying IDs is obligatory, right?”
“Yes, madam…” He felt his palm sweating as he feared being taken to the police station.
“How old are you?”
Her voice sounded calm but tired as she quickly understood the issue, “… eighteen.”
With a loud sigh, she took off her cat-eye red glasses and then slowly blinked back at him. “Look kid, I’ve been on night watch for three days straight. I’ve no energy to deal with this.”
Adrien’s eyes remained glued to the floor, feeling small despite his stature. “… fifteen,” he admitted reluctantly.
Her unpleasant groans echoed in the empty walls that reeked of disinfectant. He slowly turned to the gates, and the security guys began to chuckle as they drank coffee. Feeling the need to clarify, he said, “I swear it wasn’t me who hurt her.”
“Kid, people who drug girls don’t carry them to hospitals,” she replied disinterestedly, pouring the information into the typewriter, the typing echoing in the place. Finally, she picked up a post-it with a pencil and raised it to the top of the reception table. “Your parents' contact number, please.”
Her eyes quickly moved to him and then back to her writing as he hesitated to fill out the paper. “You know I’ve done nothing; can’t I just go?” Adrien insisted, trying to escape the situation.
“Kid, you’re breaking national curfew and walking around without identification. A responsible adult must come and sign for you to leave; otherwise, you’ll live here until you turn 18.”
“Could you at least wait until 9 am to call my mother’s work number?” He smiled awkwardly, trying to find a way to avoid his father’s rage. The secretary looked up at the clock; it wasn’t even 5 am and then back to him, deadly. Unpleasant complaining groans echoed as he reluctantly wrote his house’s telephone number. “Sorry.”
Sat down at one of those uncomfortable waiting room’s seats with a latte and chocolate donut he brought at the cafeteria, he waited as someone waits to be hanged. The doctors and nurses moved here and there attending to the few people that came in with emergencies. Until the secretary walked by and said, “Your father picked up the phone; he said that getting the car and coming this way.”
Adrien’s grey eyes quickly turned in fear to check out of the window, grimacing uneasily as he admired the family's car parked outside. “Great…”
The longer it took, the more Adrien knew he was in trouble. Pressing his eyes closed and clenching his jaw, as if he could already feel the kick in his ass. Despite the nerves, his head bobbed forward as he fell asleep, and the tug of falling forward snapped him back awake. At some point, he rested his head on the joined seat and fell asleep, mouth open.
The front gates snapping open woke him up, and he wished to make himself smaller so he could hide behind the back of the seats. But as he turned backwards, Levi was at the front desk talking to the secretary and security guards. His dark hair was a mess, and it seemed like he had just put on some shoes and a shirt because he still had the pyjama pants on. Outside, the cap that his father had probably been forced to take there.
As the secretary picked up the forms for him to fill, his father quickly raised his grey eyes to shoot him across the room the deadliest glance he had yet to witness. ‘Goodbye everybody, it was nice knowing you.’
Avoiding facing death, Adrien remained seated, giving his back, but he quickly heard the footsteps of his father, characterized by the slight hobble he had after the war. With his presence looming, he looked down at Adrien, who slowly raised his attention up.
Smiling innocently, “Hi, dad.”
Levi didn’t smile back; quite the opposite, he frowned even more and extended his right hand that was missing two fingers. “My fucking keys.”
The teen searched for them inside his jeans and quietly handed them over with puppy eyes. Levi snapped them, but his hand didn’t withdraw. “And my damn money.” Repeating the same action but with the bills, Levi grabbed them and began to count. “And the rest?”
Adrien mumbled some incoherent groans as he refused to make eye contact. “Tch,” Levi clicked his tongue and gripped his shirt neck, raising him from his seat, pushing him to the exit. “Get in the fucking car.”
The walk of shame only accentuated as his father's angry tone didn’t match the polite one he used to greet the secretary and guards on his way out. He cowered in the passenger seat, trying to make himself a tiny ball as Levi slammed the door shut. Loud sighs that didn’t withdraw the deep frown before he turned on the car again.
“You’re so fucking wrong if you think I’ll stand this type of behaviour; I'm telling you,” Levi spat the words as he drove back home. “What the hell were you thinking?!”
“Adrien!” Levi insisted as the kid didn’t even reply, looking to his right as he waited at a red light. “You don’t want to talk? Fine, fucking ungrateful brat. You know how fucking worried your mother was when we received a call from the shitty hospital? Eh?”
“The drive-in the other day, the supposed hang out at your friend’s house that you were never fucking there, and now this. Are you fucking proud?” the ex-captain of the scouts kept going as his eyes were glued to the road despite only one of them working anymore. “You’re grounded, you’re so fucking grounded that I’ll fucking die, and you’ll have to get a damn Ouija board to contact me to see if you can go out to buy groceries.”
The teen just silently rolled his eyes as the long list of unhappiness of his father about his behaviour couldn’t care less. “Don’t you dare to roll your eyes on me, brat. You heard me? Drop that fucking attitude.” Somehow his father always seemed to have eyes everywhere. “Happy now? You ruined your entire summer break; beg all you want later on. You’re not leaving the house.”
“As if you’d let me go out anyway,” Adrien murmured mockingly under his breath.
“What?” Levi demanded. “If you’re going to have the guts to steal MY car, MY money, and break MY orders, then grow the guts to speak the fuck up.”
“That you never let me go anywhere!” Adrien shouted back angrily.
“For what? To go to this damn party in the middle of nowhere to hang out with fucking rapists and get
shit-faced?” Levi argued back. “You think I was born yesterday? I know exactly which places I don’t want you to get involved with. You think you’ve everything figured out, but that’s not it, Adrien! You’re 14! Fourteen!”
“I’m fifteen!”
“You turned fifteen two weeks ago, for fuck’s sake!” Levi shouted, slightly turning to his right before focusing back on the road. “I’m telling you, better fix your attitude or this is not going to end well. You may be getting big and feel cocky, but you won’t play smart-ass with me. You can grow up to be as tall as the fucking Colossal Titan, and yet you would do whatever the fuck I tell you!”
“I did the right thing! I stood up for her; I’m not stupid enough to do whatever my classmates do. Why can’t you see that?!” Adrien complained as they reached the front of the house, and Levi stopped the car.
“’Cause you were stupid enough to steal my car even when you don’t know how to fucking drive!” Levi complained as he got out of the car, walking to the front door. He kept going with the lecture but lower as he didn’t want to wake up the neighbours. “You don’t like it? Choose another father in your next life; in this one, it’s me, and I’m not going to let my teenage kid not give a fuck about the decisions I take. I’ve gone through too much shit for a fucking brat to tell me what I believe is the best for them.”
They both walked in, and Levi locked the door behind them. The room was still dim for the early hours, and their dog greeted them enthusiastically. The keys dropping at the front plate echoed loudly, and the tuxedo cat of the family finally appeared to rub himself against the legs of the teen, who quietly picked him up. Y/N quickly rushed to check on her kid.
“Are you okay? Are you hurt? Did they hurt you somewhere?” She seemed clearly agitated, and Adrien remained with his eyes glued to the floor.
“No, mom,” he murmured, downcast. “I’m fine.”
“Oi, to your damn room,” Levi quickly ordered. “and clean it up; I won’t say it again.”
The kid left, cursing under his breath as he went upstairs and slammed the front door shut.
“What happened?” she asked Levi, who was preparing himself a tea to calm down, enveloping herself in a negligee.
“What happened? That kid is driving me nuts, that’s what's happening,”
Y/N sighed loudly, positioning herself behind her husband and running her hands through his arms, seeking to provide some comfort. She then switched to hugging him from behind. “He’s going through a phase… his new classmates are mostly kids who survived the rumbling, and some of them aren’t the best influence. He just wants to fit in, you know how important that is at his age.”
“Tch,” Levi kept facing the countertop, murmuring as the anger didn’t quickly wash away. But eventually, he closed his eyes and sighed loudly as the adrenaline slowed down. “The audacity of that kid, where the hell does he get it?”
Y/N couldn't help but chuckle against his back, “MH, I wonder,” she said sarcastically. “If they were still around, perhaps we could have asked some senior MPs… perhaps they could enlighten us on how you were as a teen,”
“I wasn’t like that,” Levi softly replied, almost ashamed of the point out.
“No haha you were worse,” Y/N was entertained as she kissed his shoulder blades tenderly. “Or do I have to remind you how you made me sneak out to meet you after curfew?”
“That’s different…”
Forcing him to turn around to place a kiss on his scar as she caressed his face softly, “He’s your kid,” she murmured against his lips. “He hates to be told what to do and has the strength to know he can get out of almost any situation. Asking him to be submissive is like asking him not to be an Ackerman; he got it in his genes,”
Levi just groaned, accepting the caress, her loving his face as if he was brand new and the residues of the war had never happened.
Days passed by, and while the mood in the house was slowly returning to calmness, the punishment still stood, and Adrien was reading in his bedroom, suffering the heat of summer without being able to go out with his friends. He couldn’t even play his record player because if in normal cases his father tolerated him to play his favourite bands loudly, now he was almost cursed to quietness. Levi didn’t seem to be very fond of Rock; perhaps Paradise music was too behind, and the period of adaptation was lacking. It sounded like loud noise to him.
A quiet knock at the front door was heard, mostly because the dog that was resting beside him in his bed raised hastily and rushed downstairs. The noise was almost imperceptible as his father was vacuuming the living room’s carpet while his mother prepared dinner. Adrien was about to raise himself from his bed and open the door himself, but the overwhelmingly loud noise of the vacuum stopped, so he guessed his father was on it.
Levi opened the front door without checking; he had faced so many adversities in life that he hardly doubted that anyone who rang his bell at 6 pm on a Thursday in their quiet family neighbourhood was a threat. “Yes?” he crossed his arms as he admired the young girl at the front gates. She was wearing the usual outfit of the time, white and brown loafers, crumpled low white socks, an inflated pastel yellow skirt that was tightly around her waist with a white blouse. The matching light cardigan was hanging from her shoulders, but she didn’t seem to put it on, another thing that Levi thought was some stupid new fashion trend from teens. That and his son’s imperious necessity to fold the sleeves of his t-shirts. High ponytail and blushed cheeks.
“Good evening, Mr. Ackerman,” The girl greeted him with kindness and politeness.
“Hello,” Levi replied, almost uninterested, his usual unfriendly nature not withdrawn even after years of not being on service.
“I was wondering if Adrien is at home,” she asked, and Levi wished he could roll his eyes at how almost immediately the girl blushed at the mention of his son’s name. “I’m the girl from the other night; I wanted to thank him…” seeing Levi’s slight frown at the memory of that early morning, she nervously added, “And you, of course, for what he did for me,” The young girl handed a package that was easily deduced to be a cake.
“He’s grounded,” Levi quickly replied. “And you don’t need to thank him; he did the only right thing to do. I don’t raise abusers,”
“Oh…” the disappointment in her voice was palpable, “Well, but please at least take the cake? For all the inconvenience,”
“No, kid, it’s alright-”
“Hi, sweetie! Adrien will be down in a minute!” Y/N popped behind Levi, slightly pushing him to the side and smiling softly at the girl. “Do you want to wait inside?”
Levi looked at his wife, confused and slightly offended by how quickly she overstepped him in the conversation.
“Ah, no, it’s alright; I don’t want to be a bother-”
Adrien appeared behind his parents, wondering what the whole issue was, and his mother quickly pushed him forward. “There he is!” She added while tugging Levi back inside. “Let’s give him some space,” she whispered to her husband, who was refusing to move.
“Oi,” Levi complained as he was forced back inside.
Both parents faking to be doing something in the living room to not be seen; Levi wasn’t spying, but his wife was. “She’s so cute,” she whispered, “and she’s crushing so much on him.”
Levi clicked his tongue, “He’s tall. All girls of that age crush on tall boys,” he argued back.
Y/N chuckled and turned to look at him, “talking from experience?”
“Ha ha,” Levi faked a sarcastic laugh. “He’s supposed to be grounded,”
“Shh, I can’t hear!” She hushed him back and then moved slightly as Levi joined her next to the window.
“Great,” Levi said annoyed, “she’s fucking bonnie,”
Confusion was written all over his wife's face as she grimaced dazed and raised an eyebrow, silently asking how those words could be said with such disappointment.
“Now I won’t only have to buy him all those stupid vinyl records, textbooks, and uniforms for the school team, but I’ll also have to start buying condoms; there goes my fucking salary,”
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liberalsarecool · 10 days
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He must post an appeal bond in excess of that amount — possibly more than $500 million to reflect the interest he will owe — to prevent Ms. James from seizing his assets on March 25.
Perhaps, hear me out, Trump is not a good liability. Refusing and/or walking away is the solution for business. Take note, GOP.
Sadly, bigoted voters have endless patience for the currency of Trump hate/chaos/abuse/lies.
#NotABillionaire
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dollya-robinprotector · 6 months
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The dads at the Farm
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One thing I love to do whenever I play a new dating sims game is think of the ENDLESS possibilities if the LIs interact with each other. Not just A vs B, C vs D, it's more like, if you throw all A B C D E F G... into one room, what would they do.
I tend to build my own world based on given characters and settings, and that's what I find the most interesting to do and to create for a fandom.
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