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lost-in-lamentation · 9 months

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Hello!

This is my first ask and I feel a bit shy 🙈 but I have been looking for some time now to find someone who could write an idea I had for a few weeks now. I could write it myself but I don’t feel comfortable about doing it and also I really enjoy your writing.

I was thinking about it a lot today and your posts appeared as an answer to my prayers!

There is a French song called « The Devil doesn’t wear Prada anymore » (Le diable ne s’habille plus en Prada). In the song they talk about Lucifer so I was thinking about Lucifer and Diavolo and maybe some of the other characters listening to this song in a club or a bar or while MC is listening to it in their bedroom and I would love to see what you think their reactions would be.

I’d be happy to do the translation if that is something you’d be interested in.

-L-

a/n: definitely, a bit of a challenge to write because it’s been way too long since i stopped learning French. thank you lala3244 for the prompt and the translations <3

content: lucifer, diavolo, and satan all catch you listening to a french human world song.

can technically be either platonic or romantic, but satan is a flirt. fluff all the way through.

lucifer, diavolo, satan x gen!reader. (separate.)

lucifer.

being the kind of demon to listen to the same cursed records on loop, lucifer has never commented on the music that rings out of your room into the hallway. occasionally, he even pauses in the corridor, trying to catch the way your voice swings in tune with the words (and he denies the claims when his brothers accuse him of this). today was no different. when lucifer heard the music through the door, he stopped his journey back to the study, leaning towards your room to hear clearly. it wasn’t long before he realised the song was in a different language, but the demon wondered if it was his imagination that had him thinking you had sung out his name.

inside your room, you knocked on your desk along to the rhythm, half singing and half humming along with the song you had put on repeat.

“oui l'élève a dépassé son maître,

"oui l'enfer est bien plus gros sur terre,

"depuis qu'les hommes font pire que lucifer, depuis qu’les hommes font pire que lucifer,” you sang quietly, head bobbing up and down in time with the music. reaching over to your d.d.d., you tapped the screen awake, making sure the song would play again before turning it back off. too engrossed in the song, you failed to notice the door behind you cracking open.

“MC-” lucifer called out to you, but was quickly cut off by you yelling in surprise.

“WHA- oh my goodness, lucifer! can’t you at least knock?!” your hand slammed frantically on the desk in a crude attempt to turn down the volume of your music.

he eyed your screen curiously, clearing his throat to catch your attention. “perhaps consider keeping your music quieter so you can hear people come in.” the corners of his mouth twitched upward at your guilty expression. “i only came in because i thought i heard my name. would you enlighten me about the song?”

you released a dejected sigh. “it’s just talking about how… hell is supposedly bigger on earth, and that humans do worse than… you.”

lucifer’s shoulders shook with stifled laughter. he turned his head away, taking a moment to compose himself before turning back to you. “well, i can’t say that the song is wrong.”

═ ˎˊ˗

diavolo.

the music from the speakers blasted through the club and into your ears, making it practically impossible for you to hear diavolo correctly. the two of you had gone up to the human world for some research, and somehow managed to get everything done early with a night to spare. in celebration, you took diavolo to a popular club in the area, wanting to show him a few more human world activities before heading back to the devildom. the two of you sat across from each other in a booth, drinks in hand as you discussed (shouted over the music) about how your trip had gone.

“is it always this difficult to speak to each other in clubs?” diavolo looked towards the speakers, an eyebrow raised in concern. “i fear that volume of this level might ruin your hearing.”

you shrugged at the question, swirling your drink around with a straw. “it’s alright, as long as you’re not doing this everyday.” the current song faded out, beginning to lead into a familiar electronic riff. immediately, you waved your fingers at diavolo, gesturing to him to listen to the music. “we should play this song at one of your parties one day.”

diavolo leaned onto the table, frowning slightly. “i can’t seem to understand the lyrics.”

“that’s cause it’s in french,” you chuckled softly.

“what is it saying?”

you listened for another chorus, piecing together the translation in your head. “says that the devil doesn’t wear prada anymore. and also that he has no job anymore, since the humans took it away from him.”

the ruler of devildom stared at you, eyes flickering around the room in thought.

“it also says that humans do worse than lucifer,” you finished off as the song did, taking a swig of your drink.

diavolo only gave you a confused look. “i think the only one who ever does better than lucifer is barbatos,” he said seriously.

laughing at his stern expression, you set your glass down. “only you would say that,” you mused, moving to stand up from your seat. “let’s play it in front of lucifer next time and see what he says.”

“a splendid idea!” the demon said with his signature laugh, following you out of the club.

═ ˎˊ˗

satan.

satan thought he was hearing things. after all, your room had no reason to be playing music that loud, let alone music that was in an entirely different language. he racked his brain as he stood in your doorway, trying to recall if you had mentioned knowing a language such as french. you weren’t in your room and had left your d.d.d. playing out loud, and even though satan wanted to respect the boundaries that were set for you room, he couldn’t help himself. curiosity killed the cat, after all. why not take after it?

satan shuffled over to your desk, lighting your d.d.d. screen up to reveal the music you were playing. “le diable n- ne s’habille… plus en prada. the devil…? prada? what is prada?” he mumbled the questions to himself, unaware that you had made your way back.

“it’s a human world brand,” you answered matter-of-factly. satan immediately spun around to face you, guilt scribbled across his face. “you know french?”

sheepishly, he rubbed a hand on the back of his neck. “that was going to be my question,” he muttered under his breath. “i’ve spent a lot of time learning different languages. i learned french a long time ago. how come you know it?”

you hummed softly, stepping around satan to reach for your d.d.d. and quiet the music down. “wouldn’t say i know it that well. took some classes in school, so i can pronounce french alright. can’t guarantee that i know what i’m saying though,” you replied.

satan plucked your phone out of your hand, turning it on to read the title of the song. “teach me then. how do you say the title correctly?”

a sly smile rested on your features. “as if i’ll teach you for free,” you purred at him, swiping your d.d.d. back. “what’s in it for me?”

satan’s eyes widened in surprise for a split second, but the demon was quick to control his expression. the blonde flashed you a smirk, taking a step closer to you and tilting your chin towards his face. “teach me the language of love, and…”

“and what?” you shivered at how gentle his touch was.

satan leaned in closer, his lips hovering just next to your ear. “and i’ll teach you a few things about love itself.”

a/n: polyglot satan >>>>

#obey me #obey me swd #obey me nightbringer #obey me lucifer #obey me diavolo #obey me satan #lucifer x reader #diavolo x reader #satan x reader #aris writes 🐈‍⬛#aris answers 🐈‍⬛#obey me fluff

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nocturnowlette · 4 months

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I have been recently diagnosed with a mental health issue and I have been trying to deal with it on my own .I think that it is not the best choice for me and I am curious about how you are dealing with this situation that you are so confident in posting and that is a good thing for you then you be you.

Content Warning for Mental Health Discussion

First, I’m very happy that you’ve decided to reach out to someone about this topic, as it can feel very alienating to do so, and to actively declare that you’re struggling with this. Even further, I’m honored that the person you chose to ask about this is me. I’ll do my best to help.

I suspect that I might be in a similar situation to you. I was diagnosed with ADHD and Autism long after my childhood unlike some others, and so I grew up with the idea drilled into my head that I was “normal”, while just being a little different from the other kids.

I would constantly have kids and adults alike get angry at and yell at me for reasons I didn’t understand, would be called rude or condescending or feel stupid for not understanding things that others seemed to easily. I would find it magical how other people would be able to just do things without issue, and have the only advice given to me to “just do it”. I’d be called lazy and scatterbrained and weird. Because I was supposed to be “normal”, it gave me the impression over time that something about me was just fundamentally wrong. Like I was broken.

The realization of me not being normal, that there might be something defined that actually explains all of these struggles was both enlightening and somewhat soul-crushing at first. It was nice to have an explanation after all of this time, but it felt at first like it reinforced the idea of me being “broken”. I was supposed to be “normal”, and now I’m not. Thinking back to my childhood (which was largely hard to remember for reasons I didn’t question at the time), every small wisp of a memory I would see now through this new lens. Every nice interaction was treated with paranoia, wondering what the person thought of me. Feeling vindictive towards how I was treated, feeling angry at my parents for insisting that I was normal, feeling everything tainted by this realization. I was angry at the world for “making” me this way.

I already had a strong sense of shame and self-hatred, and this only fed the flame of it. However, as time passed and I was able to reflect on it more, me learning about this has only served to help me. The first thing that is important to note is that neurodivergence is not an inherent good or an inherent bad. There are some things that concretely affect your every day life negatively, there are aspects of it that are occasionally useful, and the are things that feel wrong, but only under a societal context.

One of the things I’ve thankful about is having this realization lead me learning about the Social Model of Disability. It’s one of a few, but the simple concept is this: imagine there is a world identical to ours, except that the majority of people had the common grouping of symptoms one would associate with autism. If someone considered normal in our world was placed into that one, they would then be the one that is considered to have a “mental illness”, and there would be no name for autism because it would simply be normal. Architecture and lighting and social traditions and interactions would all accommodate those with what we call autism, and so it would be far easier to navigate the world because it was made for you.

While there are absolutely concrete struggles with autism, with ADHD, with bipolar, with BPD, with schizophrenia, they are made harder by the fact that the world isn’t built for us. There are symptoms and aspects of all of those that are only struggles because “normal” people don’t have them and don’t need to think about or accommodate them. That’s to say, you are not “fundamentally broken”. You are just different, and that can cause friction with a world that functions largely off of fitting in. You are okay, and you are not broken.

Specific to ADHD and other ones with Executive Dysfunction, it’s important to note that “productivity” is not some inherent human good. Capitalism values productivity highly, and that has bled into our culture, but humans are not robots and we were not built to simply produce. Take days where you force yourself to do nothing. If you constantly just think about needing to do something, then you won’t be able to get that relaxation you need to have the energy to do it. You’re kinda stalling yourself out. I still get like this sometimes, but it’s easier to recgonize when you’re doing it the more you’re aware.

Again, though, while many of these problems are due to just the society we live in, there are concrete issues you need to deal with, ones that would still be problems in that fictional world where everyone has what you do. Sensory issues and depressive mood swings and executive dysfunction are not something you can just will away, and they are things that you need to deal with. However, you still had to deal with those before. Now, you have a name for it. It’s a target, and something defined that you can work on now that it’s no longer some abstract struggle and has a name and known information around it.

And, to reiterate, you are not some fundamentally different person now that you have learned this information. You simply have a name for it now. That is exclusively helpful for you, so long as you don’t fall into the pitfall that I did for a while, which is “learned helplessness”. For a good while, this realization made it feel like I was destined to fail, to never succeed, and to always be different and alienated from others. The truth is that there will always, always be people that will understand and support you.

In my humble opinion, it’s best to avoid online semi-closed off communities that center exclusively around these neurodivergent struggles. While they’re well intentioned, what I’ve found is that it slowly becomes a place that functions like a crab in a bucket, everyone sort of convincing themselves that they will never grow beyond their struggles, and that any progress they make is in spite of them and not alongside them. In a more open, diluted website like Tumblr it might be better, but I haven’t participated much so I can’t tell you for sure.

It’s best to find communities that have people that struggle with the same things, but function as a general community of people rather than focusing just around that topic. Not only do friendships grow stronger that way, learning more about the person and being able to relate your struggles as well as count the small differences, but it enforces the idea that while this is a significant part of yourself, that it is only a part. It does not define you entirely, it is a texture to your mind. Important, but not everything.

The most important parts of growing as a person alongside your neurodivergence is both to accept it and to try your best to love yourself. Shame is a strong social motivator and it gets instilled into you early. My bullied and the uncompassionate angry adults that harshly corrected me started to form their own sort of critic in my mind, one that would always comment on what I’m doing without anyone else even needing to anymore. This is somewhat present in everyone, but it can turn nasty if it’s too strong and turns into self-hatred like it did with me.

The solution, for me, is to form a new voice in your head, one of rationality and self-forgiveness. I envision is as an owl, but most people simply feel it as an abstract voice. It talks over your negative feelings, over your self critic, reminding you that you are not worthless or broken. Reminding you of the simple facts, things you should keep in mind, even if you don’t feel them right now. As you grow and slowly change, that voice becomes more solidified. It doesn’t override or discount your feelings, but accepts them and tries to remind yourself of what’s true and what’s important.

It’s okay to feel bad, and you keep stay rational at the same time. You can forgive yourself even while you are doing something you perceive as wrong. Failure is the most important part of self-improvement, it could not happen without it. Real, helpful change happens slowly and systematically. You choose every day to do small things that help you, and sometimes fall off the horse entirely before getting back on. Change is not linear, it is not easy, and it is not fast, but it is very, very possible. The key is failure, acceptance, and forgiving yourself for failing and finding it hard to accept yourself.

Finding people that love you for you is extremely helpful, so while communities can have problems, I do highly suggest it. Even a few close friends or even just allies that understand you can make such a big difference. Even something private like a diary or journal or a private blog helps. Turning your feelings into words has some sort of effect. If people could see some of the things I’ve written down in my journal, they’d be extremely concerned for me. It’s a place that lets you get out your worst thoughts.

Lastly, understand that while some mental illnesses are concrete in their existence, others are simply names we give to a common grouping of symptoms. Both Autism and ADHD are just that, and they can potentially have multiple different sources or a combination of them, and also have many different individual nuances. Keep your ears perked to new ideas and always be willing to try them, it might take 100 before you find 1 that works, but every single one makes it a little bit easier.

And remember, you are so, so deserving of love. You are wonderful and complex and unique, while still close enough to others to resonate with them. You deserve happiness and contentment and joy and self-acceptance. You need to remember this, as hard as it is to feel it. You deserve so much love.

Those are all of my thoughts for now. My PC crashed after typing about 15 paragraphs of this and it didn’t save because it’s a response to an ask, so I dunno how good this rewritten version is or if I covered everything the first did. So, apologies if I missed anything.

#owlette #mental health #neurodivergent #autism #adhd #adhd things #adhd problems #mental illness

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local-flower-girl · 1 year

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Hi, I read your Seph x reader fanfics and I’m in love❤️

I’d like to request a nsfw where Sephiroth finally breaks his professional demeanor to screw reader in his office at Shinra👀 Either they’re a couple and reader’s just visiting, or we work with him directly. Up to you!

———

Hey @vioietta , thanks for your patience, I apologise for the wait. Hope you enjoy the read. Also just wanted to let you know how beautiful your artwork is… absolutely stunning! 🌸

———

NSFW - Mature Content

Professional Desire

“Y/N, can I see you in my office?”

Your fingers quickly scrambled at the mountain of paperwork upon your desk. Pushing the stacks aside you frantically slammed at the intercom to respond. “One moment Sir!”

“Now Y/N.” He demanded, raising his voice ever so slightly.

You rolled your eyes, sighing in exasperation. After a year of working as Sephiroth’s personal assistant you felt mere inches away from handing in your resignation. If it had not been for the extortionate cost of living in Midgar you would have gladly thrown in the towel months ago. The idea of slumming below the plate had never taken your fancy, and besides, working for Shinra had its perks. For one, your wages were more than efficient, and it was not everyday someone could say that they worked for a renowned hero such as Sephiroth. However, with the passage of time you found that the excessive workload was gruelling, likewise was tolerating the man’s unpredictable mood swings. His cold, professional superiority made him frustratingly inscrutable. Yet despite his standoffish indifference, there was something about him that sparked an air of intrigue.

The illustrious First Class Soldier was an uncompromising creature of habit, who routinely prepared black coffee every morning. Fascinated, you would watch him discreetly as he would read through a mission report while gently, and almost therapeutically, stirring at his ebony liquid. You often found yourself distracted, inexplicably observing his unique solitary mannerisms. The defined side profile of his face, the way the straightened bridge of his nose would meet the curved arch of his pronounced lips; he was captivating. From your observations he appeared meticulous in every aspect, from his refined image, down to the methodical way he would organise the stationary upon his desk. Ultimately, it was his stern gaze meeting your own that would jolt you back to a mundane reality.

You approached Sephiroth’s office; the rich uplifting aroma of roasted coffee blended with the earthy scent of leather rousing your senses. Your arms faltered carrying the weight of a precarious stack of documents. Whilst balancing the paperwork and simultaneously opening the office door, the bundles within your grasp fell, scattering across the floor. He peered at you from behind his desk with a blatant sigh and narrowed eyes.

“I ask for one simple thing.” He spoke.

You crouched down quickly scrambling the papers together while also trying to maintain a mere ounce of dignity. You searched Sephiroth’s face for signs of approval but you got the sense that his furrowed brow was simply a permanent feature. As you placed the forms upon his desk, you glanced down at his open diary, the pages filled with notes and each day marked with an abundance of meetings and missions. Beneath Sephiroth’s calm composure, it appeared that the stress of work had been taking its toll. The shadows beneath his eyes were a clear sign of sleep deprivation, and the deep knit of his brow was an obvious indication of stress. Out of genuine concern you felt obliged to offer him some words of advice.

“You know it wouldn’t kill you if you took some time off once in a while.”

“How can I… when there’s so much to be done.” He replied matter-of-factly, raising his coffee cup to his lips.

“Take some pressure off yourself… There’s plenty you can do to de-stress.”

“Oh?…” He paused, knowingly tilting his head to the side. “Do enlighten me.”

Unresolved sexual tension permeated the air, thickening, ready to be sliced with a knife. Sephiroth smirked, appearing pleased that he was able to fluster you so easily. You raised your hand to hide the growing warmth of your face. Observing the room, you imagined an array of scenarios; one where he took you over his desk, another with you straddling his lap - that being a particular favourite of yours. You shook your head before your absent mind wandered further.

“Did you need me for something?” You asked, breaking the intense silence.

“Hmm…” He eyed you up and down in deep thought. His cryptic features almost impossible to read. “I need you to gather the files from last week’s mission.”

“Is that all?” You questioned.

“Surely you are capable of retrieving them without scattering them across my floor?”

You scowled at his backhanded remark. It was a simple task that seemed an unnecessary waste of your time. You raised an eyebrow but compliantly made your way over to the filing cabinet. Incoherently you muttered and tutted to yourself out of frustration.

“Is something wrong?” He asked condescendingly.

“Would it kill you to show me some praise once in a while?”

There was a lengthy pause as you wondered if you may have overstepped the mark. Your working relationship was already at the edge of its boundaries with the constant back and forth of dry but somewhat flirtatious comments. You turned to look at Sephiroth who had risen from his seat.

“Is that what you truly want?” His voice softened, almost laughing to himself in a suggestive manner.

“I…” Your mouth felt dry and your heart began to race.

You backed up against the metal drawers as his body inched closer, his tall stature towering above you. His arms slamming onto the filing cabinet as he leaned and rested his weight around you. The files within your grasp dropped to the floor with a heavy thud. He tutted ironically, kicking the mess aside with the edge of his boot. You closed your eyes for a moment, breathing deeply to take in the floral notes of his cologne. Carnal want and desire filled the narrow space between you. The density of the air feeling heavier upon your lungs as you struggled to catch your breath.

“Tell me what you desire most.”

Impatiently waiting for your answer, his hand quickly reached under your chin, firmly raising your face, insistent that you held his gaze. His sharp ocean eyes bore into you. His stern frown from before reformed into a seductive smirk. You wondered if he was testing you, intentionally remaining silent for a moment longer in case he were to back down.

“Well?” He queried in a suggestive tone.

He was assertive and dominant as his body pressed closer to yours. Confusion, fear, excitement - you felt all emotions at once. Was it really so wrong to fuck your boss? Your mind was reeling, the realisation of just how much you yearned for him. His look intensified, searching your face, with no intention of backing down.

“What I desire… is for you to fuck me.” You replied brazenly, seductively biting at your lower lip.

A low hum escaped his mouth as he watched you intently. His thumb slowly traced at the edge of your jawline, and his voice became huskier than usual. “That can be arranged.”

As he leaned in to capture your lips, the sudden jolt of the office door shook you back to reality. Initially unaware of the scene that was unfolding, Zack Fair traipsed into the room holding a bundle of papers within his grasp.

“Hey Sephiroth, could you…” Zack paused, peering up, his eyes shifting between the both of you. He retreated his gaze, backing away slowly and fumblingly rubbing at the nape of his neck. “I can see you’re busy… I can come back later.”

The heavy look of frustration upon Sephiroth’s face was evident as he glared intensely at the young, innocent boy. Feeling an immense surge of embarrassment, you brushed yourself down and retreated in a hurry towards the door.

“There’s no need! I was just leaving.” You interjected.

You fixated your eye-line towards the floor, unable to make eye contact with either of them as you abruptly left the room.

———

Towards the end of the day, everyone had already left. The low drone of electronics and monitors hummed throughout the deserted room. The cold glow of your computer screen illuminating blue light into the inky darkness blanketed around you. You tidied your desk with every intention of leaving, yet the events that had transpired earlier that morning were still firmly rooted within your mind. Sephiroth had made no attempt to speak to you, likewise you had made the conscious decision of avoiding him. You looked over towards his office, a faint light spilling through the crack of the door suggesting that he also had not left. It seemed peculiar since ordinarily he would leave much earlier. You shyly approached his door, internally debating if you should broach the topic. You raised your hand to knock but your hesitancy and coyness was besting you. You turned to walk away but the sudden clutch of arms around your waist captured you in, pulling you back.

Sephiroth pulled you into his office and not long after shutting the door was he pinning you to it. You gasped, heart threatening to leap out from your chest. His fingers grasped tightly at your wrists, restraining your movement. With the window blinds half-drawn, the city light from outside tinted his moonstone hair with a lavish shade of emerald green. His eyes locked onto yours like a hunter asserting a vicious dominance. His narrowed features manifested his internal battle of professionalism and restraint, for no longer was he able to repress his hungering desires. The way he looked at you was simply delicious. He needn’t touch you and already you felt as if you were soaking through your underwear. He forcefully cupped your face, finally seizing your lips, filling your mouth with his tongue. Breathless kisses, that robbed you of all thought and apprehension. Your fingers clawed at the tough leather of his jacket, undoubtedly eager to explore the bare skin below his clothing. Intermittently his teeth latched upon your lower lip, grazing your delicate skin with fervent bites. His saliva was laced with an aftertaste of vanilla and coffee that lingered even after he had regrettably pulled away.

You lifted your head as his fingers travelled down the slender length of your neck. He stopped at your chest, grabbing each side of your shirt and tearing the fragile material open. You kicked off your shoes and without hesitation, his hands impatiently tugged at your waistband, dragging your skirt and tights down to your feet. He ran his gloved hands up the length of your leg, the smooth leather gliding sleekly upon your skin. He soon realised that the material upon his hands was a hindrance as he placed the tip of the glove between his teeth, removing the garment and methodically repeating the action with his other hand. With that he kissed you once again, reclaiming your mouth as he cleverly nudged aside the cotton of your underwear with his bare fingertip. As his fingers reached the pooled warmth between your thighs, a blissful whimper escaped your lips. He explored deeper, hooking his fingers and finding the sensitive spot almost immediately. Your back arched, leaning your weight against the hardness of the door. With each pulsing sensation, your legs twitched, knees buckling and your feet stumbling as they struggled to keep you standing. Knowing this he removed his hand, permitting you with a moment to breathe. You began frantically uncoupling the straps across his chest, removing his long jacket and then proceeding to unbuckle his pants. Free from his restraints, you stroked at the large bulge within his boxers. Each tactile brush of your hand eliciting carnal growls from the back of his throat. He wound his arms around you, tightly grasping his hands around the plump flesh of your backside, lifting you up. You wrapped your legs around his hips, pressing against him. He peppered you with passionate kisses, pressing your back into the filing cabinet before plunging down into his desk chair, and lowering you into his lap.

You rubbed against the hard, length of his erection before positioning and slotting it between your thighs. You hovered above him, slowly lowering yourself down to accommodate his generous size. You rhythmically rolled your hips, prompting sweet moans from his lips. He tilted his head back, closing his eyes with a pleasure warped expression. The exposed skin of his throat appearing as an open invitation for your mouth to devour. Your hands flattened against the solid definition of his abdomen as you lifted and lowered your weight.

He shifted towards the edge of the seat, leaning forwards and recklessly pushing the contents upon his desk to the floor. He coaxed you down upon the cold surface. Hot and heavily, he leaned over your vulnerable body, his bare chest heaving as he caught his breath. His silver mane cascaded over you, enveloping your skin in a silky embrace. His hands grasped at either side of your pelvis, lifting your hips and positioning himself against your sex. The sodden material of your underwear pushed aside once more. Slowly easing in and out of your wetness, he increased the ferocity of his thrusts with each blissful sound you made. He watched attentively as your breasts bounced beneath the lace of your bra. Out of breathless desperation he tore at the padded material, revealing the pointed mounds of your nipples. Your pelvic muscles clenched tightly around his cock as his hand clutched at your bare breast.

Soon his breathing became more erratic with each pounding thrust. His dulcet moans next to your ear became almost deafening, as were your honeyed cries of satisfaction. His grip tightened against your breast and you sensed the impending waves of climax. In tandem you rode through the rocky release of orgasm together. Your body writhed and contorted until every muscle became limp. After the fluttering sensation within your lower abdomen dissipated you felt a weightless sense of euphoria.

#oneshot #submission #readerinsert #headcanon #requests #sephiroth fanfiction #sephiroth x reader #fanfiction #ff7 #final fantasy #ff7r #final fantasy 7 #ffvii #ffvii remake #sephiroth

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camelliagwerm · 5 days

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15 lines of dialogue

Rules: Share 15 or fewer lines of dialogue from an OC, ideally lines that capture the character/personality/vibe of the OC. Bonus points for just using the dialogue without other details about the scene, but you're free to include those as well!

Thank you for the tag @dragonologist-phd! I had to go with Valerius on this one because he is actually the only character where I wouldn't be struggling to find material to choose from.

“In time you will come to understand why I must keep certain parts of myself locked away in Mendevian territory.” — May You Dine Forever

“I'm not your responsibility. Your brother needed — needs you more than I do.” — If She Loves Me, Why Do I Feel All Alone?

“I served Her hunger, not her domain of undeath and as such – I will dedicate to her a feast even she cannot ignore.” — If She Loves Me, Why Do I Feel All Alone?

“You might not be my sister in faith, but there might even be some insight in there you’ll find…enlightening.” — Curiosity

“My word is my bond,” he replies, taking her hand and bringing it to her lips. The reverence in his words come as natural to him as breathing, a new oath to replace the shattered divine bond. “As long as I still draw breath, you will not come to harm with me, nor will I judge for who you are.” — Bloodied Petals

“That sounds like how the chronicles will tell it, certainly. We both know the truth is far bloodier." — My Strength and Comfort

“May your goddess have mercy on your soul, because I certainly won’t.” — Her Grace's Chambers

“If they see me as a monster, then I will make sure that is the last thing I send their way.” — Savour Its Sweet, Bloody Taste (Chapter 2)

“Hells, Lillanthe! You, especially, should have known. Are you not my damned diplomat?! I should send you to the scaffold for such an oversight.” — Savour Its Sweet, Bloody Taste (Chapter 3)

“You would do well to remember that no one holds dominion over my fate but me — not Vorlesh, not Pharasma —” a phantom scuttle up his spine. How dare he even utter her name in here “— and certainly not you; and I’d sacrifice a thousand souls or more to keep it that way.” — Savour Its Sweet, Bloody Taste (Chapter 5)

“So I took Iomedae’s way out. Selfish of me, I suppose, to love you so much that I committed heresy and brought shame to my congregation.” — Addicted to the Taste of You(r Blood Red Lips)

“But food is important to me, to my people. Cooking isn’t something we do to survive, but to celebrate the bonds with one another and as a demonstration of trust and service.” — Favourite Food (Owlcatober 2023)

"And now, start praying," her lover had intoned to the Count, "that is, if you have anyone to pray to." — Slow Kisses (Something I Gained Nonetheless (Us) prompt #2)

“But is it so wrong of me to wish to keep something - someone - I hold so dear that I wish to indulge in all life’s pleasures with her, if possible? Is that not what our priests preach?” — Something About You (Something I Gained Nonetheless (Us) prompt #10)

“If you wish to hear your Commander’s recommendation, I believe that a general should always be in view of his forces. An elevated vantage point would suit us well.” — Strategy (Something I Gained Nonetheless (Us) prompt #17)

I'm never sure who to tag for these sorts of things so consider this an open tag :')

#oc: valerius #*writing

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jeweled-blue-eyes · 7 months

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hello! Sorry for barging in like this! (also sorry for my poor english too)

First I’d like to thank you for the recents posts bringing some very welcomed nuance to the character of Iklies I’m VADD. After the release of the new season cover, I felt like there was a significant wave of hate directed to the character - and, well, kinda for the wrong reasons? I mean, it’s absolutely understandable to not like him and call out the toxicity, but there were some readers who actively spread misinformation to get the character in a very bad light? And using some colonising rhetoric?? Guys??? This is not the take you might think this is???

I think I might’ve wanted to vent a bit with someone more open to a nuanced discussion, since I think the whole work is too well crafted to be reduced to a ‘black and white’ interpretation.

First what really caught my attention was using the description seen in the novel about how “Delman’s are savages” like?? 1. the poster themselves recognises that it’s a description used by Derrick (if I’m not mistaken), who is anything BUT a trustworthy source; 2. I bet the colonising, slaving country won’t have nice things to say about the people they just conquered? Not to mention is a description frequently used to even justify such actions, as it was in our own world (colonising nations having the “duty” to bring reason, advancement and enlightenment to such poor, barbaric people, who couldn’t know any better); 3. even if all of that was true, who is to say that every single countryman is like that? Are they not allowed to have their own individuality? Should we judge every Eorka citizen using Derrick as the standard then? Would that be fair?

Then what most caught my attention was the description that “He had a nice childhood, despite being a bastard (???), therefore he had it easy and by being such a violent man it only shows how much of a monster he’s always been”. I don’t even? Aside from the argument itself not making the slightest sense, from my reading of the novel the whole “bastard-lost prince” (a very beloved common trope for MLs in any other case, mind you) seemed pretty vague, and I thought it might’ve even been the result of Leila’s manipulation/mindcontrolling - since this way, with Iklies having some sort of “pedigree”, he would seem himself as “worthy” of Penelope, like Callisto (the Crown Prince) is. Was that part of his backstory truly confirmed? It could just be a wrong interpretation of mine, since it’s been some months since I’ve read it (thought, quite sincerely, I don’t think it being truth or not would change anything - the story starts with him being already a slave, being sold in an auction after fighting hungry dogs that would devour him to show his prowess for potential buyers, no amount of happy childhood will make this less f up).

Sorry for ranting so much! I was just really happy to see your posts and analysis!

Hope you have a nice day!

I remember that post! The pro slavery and colonising rhetoric was very uncomfortable to read and I think I blocked them after they tried to "educate" me in the comments of my posts and eventually used insults to force me to change my opinion.

I'm interested to see the passage that says Iklies allegiently had a good childhood when he was an illegitimate child of the King, because manhwas traditionally show the struggles and trauma of being a bastard. Princes often didn't have a good relationship with their half brothers. See the Ottoman Empire where they eventually legalized systematic fratricide. Furthermore if Delman is a warrior nation as implied and Iklies was really treated as a prince then wouldn't he have been expected to fight in the Livius war and gain combat experience? If he was then he's a child soldier and still didn't have a good childhood. If he was not then it's likely that he was just treated as a nobody. And no matter how good his childhood was it's not going to become an armor that can protect him against the trauma of having his rights stripped off him and treated like human garbage. What kind of logic is that anyway. Penelope didn't have a good childhood but Iklies had one that's why he deserves to suffer in the future, because he never had to suffer before?

"such a violent man it only shows how much of a monster he’s always been" I have huge issues when they call Iklies a psychopath or claim he was born evil. Together with them claiming that the people of Delman are thieving, murdering savages consumed by greed and violence. It doesn't only sound like stereotyping but also as if the root of the evil is in their genes. Which we know was historically used to justify ethnic clensing. They echo the words of Derrick who believes in the superiority of the Eorkan military power and the intrinsic evil of the Delman's that is defined by colonialism ideology. Why should we trust the words of someone who treated his own stepsister as a subhuman because she was of commoner blood? His family owns a diamond mine, he directly benefits from slavery. Of course he would defend it with every breath.

Certain Callisto stans/Iklies antis say the Delman people had it better in slavery than in freedom. How can the country of Delman be poor and uncivilized when the Eorkan military suffered huge losses due to Delman's archery skills? For Delman to last for years in a war against an Empire, the country would had to have an organized and well trained army, a food supply and a functioning infrastructure. The farmers would have lived comfortably enough that they could work hard and keep sending their army supplies throughout the years. The war would have been won in a week if Delman was really just a bunch of unwashed savages who didn't know left from right. Moreover if Delman wasn't a wealthy country and rich in natural resources the Eorkan Empire never would have invaded it. I even question the claim that Delman had been plundering from smaller countries, because if they had an army that could damage the Eorkan Empire that much why did they never annex the smaller countries? The plundering at the borders might have been done by thieves that had nothing to do with the army of Delman. Or it might have been just invented and used as an excuse to conquer them. Either way even if it was true, as you said, does that justify what happened to the cripples, the wives and children at home? "Your father was killed, your mother raped by soldiers, your younger sibling tortured to death and you were sold into slavery but you should be thankful because now you get to live in a civilized society serving your family's murders until they decide to do the same to you."

#anon #answered asks #thank you for the message 🌸#vadd #death is the only ending for the villainess #villains are destined to die #ditoeftv #anti cha siyeon #iklies khan delman

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dreams-and-drabbles · 1 year

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hello! would you write a scaramouche argument fic with lots of angst and comfort? thank you!

I’d be happy to write this for you, anon!!! Tysm for the ask!!! Apologies for the late response, and I hope you have a wonderful week!

[F/N] scowled at their traveling partner, their gaze falling to the now scorched grass.

“I told you—! I told you to wait for just one second!! Did you listen?! No! Look at all this!! It’s totally ruined!!!” They hissed, their gaze trailing to the embers flitting across the trees in the distance.

The two of them had taken on the job of clearing out a few monster settlements in the area, at the request of the nearby villagers.

[F/N] and Scaramouche had discussed it beforehand— [F/N] would go in, use their pyro, and ignite the barrels to clear out most of the monsters. After the explosion, Scaramouche would clear the rest out with his anemo.

Scaramouche scowled, gripping his hat in frustration. He threw an agitated glance towards the smoldering trees, his gaze narrowed.

“So? They’ll live. Grass grows back quickly. The monsters are dead, and we’ve fulfilled our end of the deal. Who cares about a few singed plants? The fire’s not that bad.”

[F/N] stared blankly at the trees and the large black patch on the ground— After a few moments they clenched their fists, before angrily flinging their catalyst to the ground.

“Not that bad…? What the hell are you talking about, huh?! What part of burning down part of the forest doesn’t look that bad to you?! Tell me!! What am I missing?! Do your eyes even work properly?! Seriously?! How the fuck does this not look BAD to YOU?!!”

[F/N] bit out, their eyes wide with disbelief.

Scaramouche glanced at the forest, his expression sour.

“It could have been the entire forest. I was more than capable of burning it all down, but I didn’t. I controlled my element, and averted long lasting damage.”

He retorted, his tone dropping an octave.

[F/N] ran their hands through their hair, their expression shifting into a more flabbergasted anger.

“What the fuck? Seriously? I’d thought you’d reformed? Long lasting damage?! You wiped out a good chunk of the forest with that burst!!! That’s not long lasting enough?! If you had stuck to the plan then everything would have been fine!!”

[F/N] shouted, their voice cracking.

Scaramouche looked down, clenching his fists.

“It wouldn’t have been fine.” He spoke, his tone slow and harsh.

“Oh, yeah?! How would it have not been fine, then?! What reasoning possessed you to do that?! Enlighten me, oh great and mighty Balladeer!!”

Scaramouche’s gaze snapped up and his eyes narrowed in a mix of hurt and rage.

“Don’t call me that. It wouldn’t have been fine… One of the Hilichurls fired at you, if I hadn’t have used my anemo then… You’d have been shot. Of course, since I’m such a horrible being— Obviously, burning forests must be fun for me, right? Well, you’re fucking wrong!! I wanted to travel with you because you were different! You looked past everything I’d done in the past and actually saw me for who I am now! That’s what I thought, at least! You’re just like everyone else I’ve met… You’re a liar.”

Scaramouche hissed, and the expression on his face caused [F/N] to recoil in shock—

“Wait… I’m sorry…” They spoke, their tone barely a whisper.

Scaramouche glared at them, unclenching his fists. “I don’t want to hear it. Your apologies are worthless to me…”

[F/N] sighed, running a hand through their hair.

“You said it wasn’t that bad… I didn’t see the arrow. I didn’t know you were protecting me… All I knew at the moment was that you didn’t follow the plan, and that the forest was burning… I was entirely out of line throwing your past back at you… No matter how angry I was, I should not have said that. There’s no justification for my words. I understand completely if you want to travel with someone else…”

Scaramouche halted, turning around slightly to glance at [F/N]—

“It’s better than me… I’ve killed others before… People… For the Fatui… All because I was mad that I wasn’t wanted… I wasn’t needed. You, you don’t really need me here do you?”

[F/N] stared at Scaramouche, their eyes widening at his words, before a sad smile made its way to their face.

“I don’t need you to travel with me, no— However, I do want you to… I enjoy your company and while I could look after myself, it’s nicer with you here. We look after each other. Maybe mishaps like this happen sometimes, but…”

Scaramouche sighed, before turning around, and moving to stand beside [F/N].

“Life, right…?” He asked, his tone weary.

[F/N] nodded, their expression softening.

“Life,” [F/N] agreed, offering their hand to Scaramouche.

He stared at in momentarily, before huffing out a sigh, and lacing his fingers in theirs.

“I hate life… I hate people… There’s a lot that I hate…” Scaramouche muttered, his tone bitter.

[F/N]’s gaze fell to the grass, their expression sad.

“There’s plenty of reason for you to, though… I hope one day you can find something that makes you happy. I really do…”

Scaramouche’s grip tightened on their hand, and he let out a soft sigh.

“That’s it, though… No matter what we fight about it… I don’t think I could ever hate you… It’s annoying… You’re annoying… Why am I like this..?”

The Wanderer bit out, his tone frustrated.

His traveling companion laughed, their cheeks slightly flushed. The two of them sat there, the earlier argument not forgotten, but both of them feeling lighter—

Ahead of them, the last embers flitting across the tree line fizzled out.

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #thanks for the ask!#send asks #genshin reader insert #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche

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liberty-or-death · 1 year

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"What’s wrong or right lies within me; slander or praise derives from others. Let us not discuss about what has been gained or loss. " - The significance of Wei Wuxian's proclamation.

This is one of the major lines in MDZS, and it has been brought up for discussion recently. I thought I’d chip in and bring something more to the table

In Chapter 75, Lan Wangji meets Wei Wuxian in the Burial Mounds and there was a conversation that went as follows:

He (Wei Wuxian) said, “Could someone give me a bright sunny path that’s good to walk on? A path that allows me to protect myself and others without using ghost cultivation?”

Lan Wangji stared at him without replying. But they both knew it in their hearts.

There was no such path.

There was no solution.

Wei Wuxian replied slowly, “Thanks for spending time with me today. And thanks for telling me about the news of my sister’s wedding. However, what’s wrong or right lies within me; slander or praise derives from others. Let us not discuss about what has been gained or loss. (是非在己，毁誉由人，得失不论) I’m accountable for what I should do in my heart. I also believe I can control myself.” - Translated by me.

An alternative translation from @fwoopersongs: ” Thank you for being with me today, and thank you also for relaying the news of my Shijie's marriage. But right or wrong - that is mine to discern, ruin or acclaim - that outcome lies with others, whatever may be gained or lost, I will not pursue. I have the measure of what I should do. I also believe that I can maintain control.”

What’s really interesting is the phrase “wrong or right” and the way “slander” as used in this phrase has historical roots.

Wrong or Right 是非 - The Book of Rites

This is a specific term that refers to the rights and wrongs or a particular topic, or discourse. It originates from the “Book of Rites”, a compilation of Confucian ideology during the Waring States to the Qin and Han Dynasty. The original phrase in Chinese is “夫礼者，所以定亲疏，决嫌疑，别同异，明是非也” which means, “rites are used to determine the closeness one has, to discern any doubt or suspicion, to differentiate and to perceive right from wrong.”

The Origin

The entire phrase was likely inspired by a couplet that’s located in the Yuelu Academy in Changsha City. The Yuelu Academy was established in the 976AD and it’s an institute of higher learning since the Song Dynasty. It has become a university since 1926 and it was changed to Hunan University.

youtube

Written by Kang Minben (the head of the Yuelu Academy), the entire couplet goes like this:

是非审之于己，毁誉听之于人，得失安之于数，陟岳麓峰头，朗月清风，太极悠然可会。

To judge what is right or wrong by oneself, and to hear praise and slander from others; what has been lost or gain is fated. To ascend the peak of Yuelu under the radiant moon and admist the gentle breeze, Taiji would be achieved in due time.

T/N: The peak of Yuelu is the highest peak of the mountain at 300m above sea level.

Analysis: The couplet instructs students to distinguish between right and wrong, and make light of what is gained or loss. Students should seek to ascend to the peak of their knowledge, and it hits them, it will be like the clear moon and the cooling breeze. They would then be naturally enlightened about the origin of all things.

(I've highlighted the parts hat kind of correspond with the original phrase in MDZS)

君亲恩何以酬，民物命何以立，圣贤道何以传，登赫曦台上，衡云湘水，斯文定有攸归。

How should we repay the kindness of our leaders and our parents? How do we uphold the lives of the people? How does the sage pass one his ways? When one steps onto the Hexi Terrace and overlooks the drifting clouds and the River Jiang; the learned shall bear this responsibility.

T/N: 赫曦台 Hexi Terrace is located at the front gates of Yuelu Academy.

Also, if this topic interests you, @fwoopersongs’ post goes into more detail about the historical context of this couplet. Please check her post out and give it more love! Without her encouragement, I would have shelves this meta lmao 😂 (I had to retrieve it from the recycle bin to work on it again lmao)

#Youtube #wei wuxian #lan wangji #cql #mdzs #mdzs meta #cql meta

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themirokai · 1 year

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Let's have a bit of Emotional Support Raven fluff to start off the year, yeah? I combined a few different prompts for this story:

@mashumaru sent me this dapper bird.

@janimoon @altair214 and a sweet anon all sent me this lovely video.

@10moonymhrivertam tagged me on this fantastic post.

Thank you all for the inspiration, I hope you like the result!

“Matthew. Attend me.”

“Oo. Gotta go,” Matthew said to the dream he was chatting with, and sprang into the air. He gained elevation quickly then angled himself toward the palace, where he felt Lord Morpheus’s pull.

Matthew swooped through the ceiling and into the throne room. He landed on the steps and looked up at the dais.

On the throne sat an enormous raven with eyes like the night sky.

Matthew felt his jaw drop. “B-Boss?”

“Matthew.” Lord Morpheus’s voice came from the raven’s mouth.

“You’re a bird?”

“I have, at this time, taken the form of a raven, as you can observe.”

“Oh. Okay.” Matthew tried to think of a more delicate way to ask his next question, but came up short. “Uh. Why?”

“Lucienne has suggested that it would be good for me to take some time away from the library and draw my inspiration elsewhere. Perhaps visit the waking world in a form I do not normally use.”

Ah, that made sense. Lord Morpheus had been spending days in the library lately, looking for inspiration for new dreams and nightmares. Matthew figured he was probably driving Lucienne to distraction.

“So you picked a raven?”

Lord Morpheus shifted from foot to foot. “I thought perhaps that we might visit the Waking together. You could give me a ‘raven’s eye view’ as it were.”

“Sweet! Yeah, I’d love to!”

Lord Morpheus flapped his wings. “Shall we depart then?”

“Sure! Where do you want to go first?”

“I leave that decision to you.”

Matthew tilted his head to the side. “Do you like poetry?”

Matthew cawed as they approached the huge old oak tree. He had learned that it was polite to give a warning before just landing in someone’s tree. Matthew alighted on a branch and paused to catch his breath. He’d had to fly fast to keep up with the beat of Lord Morpheus’s huge wings.

“Crrronkponk?” Matthew called. “Are you home?”

A caw came from another part of the tree and the old raven hopped down from a higher branch.

“Dream Raven!” Crrronkponk cawed happily. “To what do I owe-”

The old raven cut himself off with a gasp as he caught sight of Lord Morpheus and he bowed deeply. “Draumr Konungr!”

Lord Morpheus blinked and cocked his head to the side before speaking. “Hello, Crrronkponk.”

“Crrronkponk, this is my boss,” Matthew said. “But it seems like you’re already acquainted?”

“I have heard tell of the Draumr Konungr from my elders,” Crrronkponk said, keeping his head bowed, “but I never thought to have the honor of encountering him myself! Forgive me, Lord, if I had known you were coming I would have had a great feast prepared! If you don’t mind waiting, I can retrieve some fresh voles!”

“Oh, Boss, have you ever had vole?” Matthew asked. “They’re great!”

“Your offer is most kind, but I prefer not to eat in the waking world. I believe you had intended poetry, Matthew?”

“Yeah, Crrronkponk is the best raven poet I know. Crrronkponk, would you maybe recite something for us?”

Crrronkponk raised his head with wonder in his eyes. “You wish to hear my poetry, Lord?”

Lord Morpheus gave a slow nod. “Please.”

“Oh! My grandchildren’s grandchildren shall hear of this! The honor!”

“That was most enlightening, Crrronkponk, thank you. I particularly liked the interspersing of the car horn sounds with the sound of doors closing.”

“Thank you, my lord! You have an excellent ear. I am quite proud of that section.” Crrronkponk bowed deeply.

“I do not frequently travel the waking world in this form,” Lord Morpheus said, “but perhaps Matthew can bring you to me sometime when you are in the Dreaming. I believe I would enjoy hearing more of your poetry.”

“Oh, Draumr Konungr, it would be my immense honor! I will compose a new piece for the occasion! It will be my very finest work!”

Lord Morpheus inclined his head. “I look forward to it.” He turned to Matthew. “Shall we?”

“Sure, Boss. Thanks, Crrronkponk!”

“Thank you, Dream Raven!”

With that Matthew leapt from the branch and Lord Morpheus followed.

“You made him really happy, you know,” Matthew said when they were out of earshot. “Thanks.”

“There is nothing to thank me for, Matthew. You were correct that he is a gifted poet.”

They flew in silence for a moment before Lord Morpheus spoke again. “Where are we going now?”

“Have you ever tried snow bathing?”

“Snow bathing? No, I have not.”

“It’s the best!” Matthew enthused. “You’ll love it, I promise. We’ll just cut through the Dreaming to get to a good spot.”

They landed in an open field covered with a few inches of snow and more falling.

“And what does ‘snow bathing’ entail, Matthew?” Lord Morpheus asked.

“You just do this!”

Matthew flopped onto his side and began rolling around in the snow. Once he had a good coating on his feathers, he looked up to see that Lord Morpheus had not followed suit.

“Come on, Boss.”

Lord Morpheus tipped his head to the side. “I am not generally given to writhing on the ground, Matthew.”

“Yeah, but you wanted a ‘raven’s eye view’, right?”

“Well, yes, but-”

“This will feel awesome on your beak and your feathers, I’m telling you. You’ll be able to make a great dream out of it!”

Lord Morpheus tentatively ran his wing through the snow.

“No, Boss, you’ve gotta get your face in there. If the body you’re wearing is a raven body, I promise you will like it.”

Lord Morpheus gave an aggrieved sigh and gingerly lay down in the snow. Matthew rolled around some more to demonstrate. Finally, Lord Morpheus dipped the side of his head and neck into the snow.

“Hm.”

Matthew thought that “hm” might be pleasantly surprised.

Lord Morpheus rubbed his head and neck into the snow more enthusiastically, then flopped onto his side as Matthew had done and began rolling around.

Matthew lamented his inability to grin.

“HRR HRR HRR.”

I guess a raven body didn’t do anything for the laugh, Matthew thought before joining Lord Morpheus in basking in the snow.

When they had both been thoroughly doused, Matthew and Lord Morpheus ended up beside each other, laying on their backs, watching the snow fall.

Matthew felt something touch his foot, and looked up to see Lord Morpheus’s enormous talon grasping his own.

“Thank you for today, Matthew,” Lord Morpheus said.

“My pleasure, Boss. Seriously. You make a pretty good raven.”

“HRR HRR HRR.”

Matthew loved the guy but there had to be something they could do about that laugh.

Check out this fantastic art of the raven poetry recitation!

Thanks for reading! The name "draumr konungr" came in part from this post and based on the translation website I used, I think it means "dream king" in Old Norse.

My Master Post for the Emotional Support Raven Series is here and most of the stories are up on AO3.

#matthew the emotional support raven #matthew the raven #dream of the endless #lord morpheus #mirokai writes #miro does sandman #the sandman #the sandman netflix #I spent a lot of time writing and tweaking Loverboy #and for this I wanted to do something quicker and less refined #just some good ol' fashioned domestic fluff #they take a field trip

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nobodysdaydreams · 7 months

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get loved, nerd

Again? I see. One of three things has become abundantly clear. Either A) I know the person behind this account, B) someone I know is friends with the person behind this account and keeps asking them to message me or C) the person behind this account has singled me out for some reason.

@get-loved-nerd, oh mysterious spreader of joy, would you please enlighten me as to who keeps asking you to send me these wonderful messages? I’d like to be able to thank them.

Oh and get loved! 💕💕💕

#Bods Answers

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copperbadge · 2 years

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Hi Sam! I’m a few years younger than you, and like you (iirc) I struggled with a good deal of depression in my 20s. In the decade+ since then I’ve always just thought of my inability to do tasks and frequent lack of motivation as like a “background depression” kind of thing. I didn’t have any of the depressed feelings, but I’ve always just associated that kind of mental fatigue with being depressed.

In the past couple of years I’ve really started wondering more about adhd as I’ve seen more people talking about it and found myself identifying with a lot of it. I’ve thought about getting evaluated, but I always just keep coming back to writing it off due to my history of depression and keep thinking a doctor would probably do the same. So I was just wondering if that’s come up at all for you, either in your evaluation process or getting medicated or anything. This whole process has been really interesting and enlightening to read about, so thanks for all the partying you’ve done!

It actually did come up, because here's the thing: ADHD is apparently frequently misdiagnosed as depression. Particularly in women, who have lower ADHD diagnoses overall (for primarily sexist rather than biological reasons) but not uncommonly in men, as well.

They share a lot of traits: depression causes lethargy (lack of executive function), and you can feel numb (depression can manifest as numbness rather than sadness) because your brain is trying to shut out the constant stream of inputs you're receiving that you either can't sort or are sorting too efficiently. If you "act weird" socially because you're wired a bit different, that can lead to isolation, and if you “can't seem to get your shit together” because of your disability, that can also lead to low-self worth, and both of these things cause depression.

I think we sometimes forget that depression can exist as a result of actually being sad about something, not just as a condition on its own. You can Have Depression for no reason but you can also Have Reasons To Be Depressed.

So especially if you haven't been extensively treated for depression -- I've never been medicated for it and left therapy (voluntarily) at eighteen -- but even if you have, whoever is diagnosing you for ADHD may see your depression as evidence of ADHD. And honestly, any specialist that automatically rules out ADHD or Autism because of a diagnosis of depression is not a specialist you should be trusting. Maybe you don't have ADHD, but it shouldn't be ruled out just because you have a diagnosis of depression.

I don't know if I ever actually had the depression I was diagnosed with. Maybe I did! Maybe I do! What I know is that there came a point where I felt like I kinda had life figured out, I was looking after myself and holding down a good job and doing okay socially -- and that’s the point at which I stopped having severe depressive episodes. The episodes I did have became progressively milder. Even when I was really, really struggling in early 2022, I didn’t feel depressed. I was just not doing very well and aware that something was really wrong with me.

And that too stopped the week I started taking Adderall.

My standard dose is 10mg per day, sometimes 20 if it's a long work day, and even on that relatively low dose my to do list is the shortest it's been in years, my home is cleaner than it’s been since I moved in, and I'm doing better at work than I have in about six months. I don’t know what the long-term effects will be, since my depressive episodes were down to maybe twice a year if that and I’ve only been on the drug for two months, but even if they do come back I’m radically more prepared for them now.

So I’d say talk to a psychiatrist who specializes in adult ADHD and/or diagnosis of neurodiversity, and if they rule you out automatically due to depression, talk to a different psychiatrist. I’m not saying shop around until you get a diagnosis, just talk to someone who’s not willing to automatically say no. Good luck, however it turns out -- depression is a real thing too, and should have compassionate and effective treatment, so even if you don’t have ADHD it’s good to know what your options for depression are.

#sam has adhd #adhd #depression #neurodiversity

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vacantgodling · 5 months

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Genji Shimada, for the send a random character headcanon asks?

(I'm only on the second chapter of Cage, so sorry if you mentioned this info later)

--@ceph-the-ghost-writer

(haha no worries i don’t really mention any of my “specific” headcanons in this story cuz i’m more worried about the plot lol—but thank you for reading actually i’m touched 🥺🥺)

Sexuality Headcanon: bisexual or pansexual — perhaps gray or demiromantic cuz before cyborg-ness i can’t see him wanting to be tied down to anything, after cyborg-ness i feel like finding someone he can connect with on a deep level due to this whole situation is more precedent for him wanting to be with someone. he’s down to fuck tho; maybe a little less eagerly than before but in general he’s dtf in my mind lol

Gender Headcanon: cis boyo but i feel like being a cyborg does like. affect how he feels about himself generally so i’d almost lean into calling him slightly nb because of that, if that makes sense

A ship I have with said character: for genji i have varying ships but the two most prominent tend to be genji/baptiste or genji/lucio. neither of them appear in cage properly but in a different fic that’s on hiatus, storm chasers, he and bap are a thing (i also just ship bap with a lot of people LMAO)

A BROTP I have with said character: him and cassidy! from canon they technically have a more ambiguous relationship. it’s said that genji didn’t communicate with other blackwatch members after he went into regular overwatch (so this would include cassidy), however i Highly Doubt that the two of them would’ve had a completely terrible relationship the entire time he was in blackwatch. plus, with the recall i feel like it’d be a chance for them to sort of reminisce about the bullshit. so idk—in my mind they’re better friends than canon maybe wants them to be but just because they’re best friends (to me) doesn’t mean they don’t butt heads.

to expand on this, i feel like cass is the only person genji can be completely candid with. with zenyatta he’s focused on healing and being a better person and being one with himself (with occasional teasing), he and angela have a complicated relationship (**to me), and he’s not very talkative towards other people now that he’s older (and he’s much more serious). i feel like cass would be able to break down a lot of his barriers and they’d appreciate each other’s dry sense of humor and in some ways they hold each other accountable to things.

this was a whole rant and a half but their bro-hood means a lot to me.

A NOTP I have with said character: gen/cy. i don’t ship anyone with mercy (for the most part. i’d really have to think if i wanted to ship someone with her but idc that much) but i specifically hate this ship because like. idk. it’s the doctor/patient power dynamic that i don’t like. like she knows his cybernetics, she built him and saved his life and i just feel like that uneven ground to start a relationship at all. i feel like in general, the canon and most people don’t develop angela enough and i feel like she’s kind of an overbearing type but also extremely certain and stubborn of her own morals and values and kind of thinks she’s right over everyone else. i feel like at a certain point she and genji wouldn’t be able to connect or relate to one another—between him wanting to reconnect with hanzo, to finding enlightenment with zen etc etc. so like idk i feel like people who ship this are kind of in a fantasy land where the characters are just perfect and happy and don’t actually like. take into account potential friction.

plus the savior complex is just 🤢

A random headcanon: it’s small but i don’t think genji likes sweets. i got hella headcanons about his tastebuds and how they don’t work (which does show up in cage—chapter 5 i believe). but i think it’s funny the juxtaposition how genji is viewed as more of the sweet/open/fun brother but his tastes are more umami and bitter, but hanzo is seen as more cold/standoffish/mean but he really likes sweets :3

General Opinion over said character: it’s thanks to @valeffelees that i actually have a more nuanced opinion of genji. ngl i used to HAAATE him back when i first got into overwatch because the fandom was so hostile towards hanzo and hanzo is my fucking blorbo so that it irritated me that genji got preferred treatment. however, these days, i don’t think you can have one without the other and i think he’s a really deep and interesting character that people don’t actually put effort into exploring. like even though cage is about han and cassidy it’s also VERY MUCH about genji and putting some goddamn effort into exploring him and his emotions in a way that i’m satisfied with

#ff: cage #about renjamin

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lovedrunkheadcanons · 6 months

Text

Chapter Contents

(Arranged Marriage Fic) Read on AO3

RATED M

Cressida Thames sat with her legs crossed in the velvet chair, dressed down in beige-colored chinos and a white blouse, several gold chain bracelets tumbling on her wrists. “So, what should we call each other?” she tested, eying her host. “Cousins, I suppose.”

“We don’t have to call each other anything.”

The Thames heiress sensed her error and tried a different tactic. “Alright then, what about married life? How have you been treating our dear Hannah these last few months?”

“A hell of a lot better than your family ever did. Thanks for asking.”

The acidic bite in Satoru’s tone made it evident he wanted no part of Cressida’s company, despite inviting her into his home, prompting the Thames heiress demeanor to sour at his blatant ill-contempt.

“Splendid. I’m so glad to hear it,” Cressida strained through gritted teeth. The heiress was not used to being un-welcomed by strangers. By now, she’d usually have them gobbling out of her well-manicured hands, but knowing she was treading on very thin ice, the English woman averted her focus away from the Six Eyes wielder and back to Nanami and Hannah, who were sitting side by side on the opposite couch. “Sorry, why have I been summoned here again?”

Nanami's patience was rapidly depleting. He wasn’t fluent in English like Satoru and Hannah, but even he knew when someone wasn’t getting the memo. The three of them - mostly Hannah - had spent the last hour and a half informing the Western sorceress of the Sukuna finger in the Gojo’s living room, or at least, they tried to. The proceedings had been less than stellar.

“And you’d like me to help?” Cressida asked after Hannah repeated their predicament for the millionth time.

“Will you?” she piped squeakily.

Cressida glanced at Nanami and then Satoru over by the door. “I don’t know, Duch,” she lamented. “This seems like a tall order. Even for me.”

Hannah frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Yes, what do you mean?” Satoru rudely butted in. “Enlighten us.”

Cressida rolled her ocean blue eyes. “Do you really expect me to sit here and pretend jujutsu and Western sorcerers have always gotten along?”

“But surely that’s changed.” Hannah insisted. “The Association and the jujutsu higher-ups are cooperating with each other now. It’s a new age.”

Cressida shook her head. “That may be so, but I’m not part of the Association. Despite what people say, diplomats and aristocrats don’t mix, Duch. If word got around that I was helping and abating ‘jujutsu scum,’ I’d be the talk of the county. My image would be tarnished.”

Satoru shrugged. “Not that we’d care.”

“Satoru, please.” Hannah issued her husband a begging look. He was making things difficult, but her plea went ignored.

“No, this is bullshit.” Still leaning on the doorframe, Satoru crossed his arms and eyed the Thames heiress shrewdly. “There’s a Sukuna finger hiding somewhere in the underwater trenches of Itsukushima Shrine. Hannah says you have a curse technique that’ll help us fish it out.”

Cressida acted as though she hadn’t heard him and flopped her black and gold Chanel bag onto her lap. She opened the lambskin clasps and pulled out a silver cigarette case and lighter. “So what if I do?” she stipulated, slotting a clove cigarette between her teeth. She flicked the lighter.

“Then you’ll go fishing.”

She lit the end, pressed her lips to inhale, and blew out the first tobacco puff. “And if I refuse?”

“You won’t,” Satoru snorted. “A lot of people are gonna die if this thing isn’t apprehended in time and someone will have to take the blame. I don’t know about you, but being the ‘talk of the county’ for helping and abating ‘jujutsu scum’ sounds a lot better than being the ‘rich, whiny twat’ who couldn’t do the right thing if her life depended on it,” he shrugged, “but that’s just my opinion. I’ll let you make the call.”

He watched the Thames heiress curl her upper lip. “My, such a compelling argument,” she groused, exhaling another breath of smoke. “Tell me, are all you jujutsu sorcerers this irritating, or is it just you?”

Satoru’s mouth arched into a smirk, hands stuffed in his pockets. He said nothing.

The burning white hatred on Cressida’s face could’ve melted diamonds. She eased herself back into the velvet armchair, crossing her legs, cigarette in hand, and stared challengingly at the Six Eyes wielder, looking more like her father than she’d dare admit. “You know, if it wasn’t for that Infinity of yours, I’d have you kneeling at my feet.”

Satoru barked out a laugh. “Is that a proposition? Cause I’ll have you know I’m happily married.”

“Are you? Thank heavens. I was beginning to wonder.” The heiress took a long drag, and uncrossed her legs, slinking from her chair to coily saunter up to the Six Eyes wielder like an alley cat. Fearing a fight, Hannah made to get between them, but Satoru silently waved her off - it’s okay - and so she remained seated where she was on the couch. The two sorcerers, West and East, now stood nose to nose, Cressida’s height shorter than Satoru’s by no more than an inch thanks to her high stilettos (which she still hadn’t taken off). The heiress blew a puff of tobacco right in his face, voice dropping to a low whisper. “I have it you like to get around, Mr. Gojo. Can’t say I’m surprised. After all, plucking the blooms off the rose tends to be your demographic’s idée fixe.”

Satoru’s eyes narrowed. “Watch it,” he warned.

Cressida didn’t hide the immense satisfaction from smiling up her lips. “But don’t be too discouraged, love,” she quipped. “I’d never betray Hannah like that and fortunately for us both,” she gave him a once over, “you're not exactly my type.”

The two sorcerers kept eyeing each other down like MMA fighters at a press conference, while Hannah and Nanami observed on the couch. Neither were able to catch what the other had said, only that it wasn’t friendly or polite. Hannah felt the knife in her heart twist. She was hoping the two of them would get along and might’ve voiced this wish had Nanami’s impatient Japanese not broken through the silence first.

“So is she helping us or not?”

The island of Itsukushima, or simply “Miyajima” (Shrine Island), was about an eleven hour drive from Tokyo, rooted in the prefecture of Hiroshima. Only accessible by ferry, visitors would depart from the Hatsukaichi harbor and arrive at the island where the famous 12th century shrine resided within an inlet. The sacred buildings encompassing the shrine were connected through a series of boardwalks, granting people safe passage without them needing to take a dip in the Seto Inland Sea. The shrine’s main attraction of course was the red “floating gate” facing the ocean. Visitors could walk up to the grand o-torii at low tide when the water drained out of the bay, which fluctuated day to day.

It smelled strongly of fresh fish, ocean, and salt. A colony of wailing seagulls ringed the cloudless blue sky. Fishing boats put-puttered down the island coastline and nosed their way into shipless wharfs, men yelling at each other to grab the nets under the eternal surveillance of Mt. Misen. Hannah, Cressida, and Nanami had departed Tokyo by plane and arrived in Hatsukaichi two hours later, 12:05PM on the dot. They took a taxi to board the quickest ferry, which then sailed them safely across to Mijajima, exactly as planned. There was just one problem, and Nanami wasn’t happy about it.

“I should’ve expected as much,” he lamented, glowering at all the people. “They were supposed to clear this place an hour ago.”

Hannah checked the time on her phone. “We are a tad early,” she pointed out and began searching for a familiar head of white hair and a moxie Indian woman. “Satoru and Kumari said to meet us at the entrance.”

The two sorcerers in question had already left for Miyajima before sunrise to secure the area, but there were surprisingly more tourists than anticipated; old ladies holding their umbrellas to shield from the sun; gobs of cheesy couples snapping selfies; a child throwing a major temper tantrum over his toppled ice-cream cone, now a melted chocolate puddle on the stoney hot ground. Tour guides hooked to microphones lead processions of people up and down the stone-blocked path bordering the sea, next to streets of gift shops, townhouses, and traditional ryokanwhere visitors could rest their heads for the night, as families of sika deer dozed peacefully under the pine trees, unperturbed by the throngs of camera-wielding humans passing them by. A small number of Fly Heads were buzzing around the vicinity, but all in all, the atmosphere was calm.

Nanami and Hannah kept a slower pace behind Cressida who was already four leagues ahead. It wasn’t lost on them how seemingly every grown male’s concentration would pivot away from their nagging wives and high-maintenance girlfriends towards the sensual foreign woman strutting up the boardwalk in a bright red sundress and floppy hat. Wearing impractical sandal-wedges and big rimmed Prada glasses, Cressida oozed sex appeal wherever she went. Anyone would’ve mistaken her for a supermodel. Except Nanami. His agitation was thick enough to spread on toast.

“She’s doing this on purpose,” he grumbled to Hannah under his breath. “We’re supposed to be blending in.”

Hannah looked over her shoulder at all the star-struck (male) tourists fawning behind them. She was also wearing a sun hat and shades, but sported a more mauve colored dress instead with white trainers. “Actually, I don’t think she means to,” she said in her cousin’s defense. “It sorta just happens.”

Nanami huffed, rolling his eyes. “Of course.”

Hannah smiled at the quasi-businessman, himself donning a well-tailored grey suit, which wasn’t too eye-catching as many other men were wearing similar suits, though surely the sun and humidity made it uncomfortable. “You’re not much for excitement, are you Nanami-san?” she chimed.

The quarter Dane released a vexed sigh, dabbing his neck with a handkerchief and balancing the unique sunglasses on his nose, cleaver knife concealed in its holster. “I’m not much for spectacles, I’ll give you that.”

“Are you sure you need me here?” Hannah added. “I don’t want to get in the way.”

“Any clues to the finger’s whereabouts would be appreciated,” Nanami answered, coiffing back his wheat-blonde hair. His cleaver knife was in its sheath. “Being present might spruce up your memory, and as long as Satoru’s around you should be fine.” He spoke under his breath. “Might even keep that overpowered nitwit from doing something abnormally stupid.”

Cressida ushered them to get a move on. “Come along, you two. We’re almost there.”

They soon spotted Satoru and Kumari waiting for them at the entrance in front of the floating red gate. Sunglasses over his eyes, Satoru waved them over, and without thinking, Hannah raced for her husband’s open arms as fast as her legs could run like nothing else mattered. She could hear him chuckling the closer she got. She must’ve looked ridiculous. Satoru didn’t mind. There was no greater feeling in the world than her running to him.

“What’s cookin, good lookin’?” he teased cheesily in English, stretching his arms real wide. His little wife barreled into him and Satoru responded by lifting her up off the ground and swaying her side to side, legs swinging, prompting Hannah to laugh. Satoru grinned like a total sap, but soon frowned upon realizing the dress she had on. “Where’s the flowery one?”

Hannah peered up, face apologetic. In want of some late night entertainment, Satoru indulged himself yesterday evening by selecting her outfit, though apparently the plain mauve substitute wasn’t cutting it. Hannah tried reassuring him. “The flowery one was too bright and Nanami said we needed to blend in.”

Her husband couldn’t omit the whine from his voice. “No fair, I liked the flowery one.” He propped his chin on her soft auburn crown to hide his disappointment. “It was cute.” His turquoise blue eyes flicked over to Nanami fiddling with his phone while Cressida picked the dirt off her fingernails, both ignoring the other. He sighed. “So how was it flying with Miss Sassafras and the Danish curmudgeon?”

“Good,” Hannah replied, nuzzling into his navy colored shirt, glad to be reunited. She loved the smell of his morning coffee and his comforting solidness. “But I missed you.”

But I missed you.

Satoru felt his heart and soul quadruple in size. Could she repeat that? Someone actually missed him? The flowery dress forgotten, he squeezed her tighter. “Aw, I missed you too, Prin — ”

Kumari barged in. “Yes, yes, we all bloody missed each other - hugs and kisses - now can we please get this over with? I have a sick toddler who needs me.”

Quite so. Out of the five of them, Kumari’s reasoning to leave was the most justified. Abandoning her apron, the native Delhite opted for breathable palazzo’s and a peasant blouse, rapunzel raven hair braided down her back, but the makeup and glasses hid her exhaustion. Suffice it to say, the young mother was not happy to be woken in the middle by her toddler son burning a 39°C fever and a cough. Ichiro kept sending her texts throughout the morning, sharing status updates, but little Kichiro’s condition showed no signs of worsening or improving. Her separation anxiety was through the roof. Kumari simply wanted to find this accursed finger, box it up, and take the quickest flight straight home to her baby. She didn’t care for much else, especially the English airhead standing beside them dressed in an offensive red frock that was reminiscent of a wannabe Flamenco dancer. (It was worth mentioning that the Indian arms-dealer also had a 98 cm, double-edged khanda strapped to her back, and was not afraid to use it if provoked).

Nanami exhaled tiredly through his nose and placed his phone in his pocket. “Satoru, what was the hold up? I thought you’d have this place cleared by the time we arrived.”

“Oi, don’t look at me,” Satoru moped, holding his wife. “It's not my fault the police are slow. We notified them two hours ago.” He buried his nose in Hannah’s hair, muttering to himself, “and I better be reimbursed for those plane tickets.” He heard his wife giggle, her small, dainty fingers massaging the taut muscles on his back. He felt sleepy all of a sudden.

“It was your idea we should fly,” she soothed.

“Yeah, I know,” he yawned, closing his eyes and relaxing to her touch. “My own damn fault.”

They didn’t wait too long for the police to arrive. The alibi was that the shrine was closing for religious purposes; a special ritual was to be performed and no tourists could be present. Within twenty minutes they had the area cleared of civilians. Satoru made a quick scan with his Six Eyes to check the place was deserted (police included). He gave a nod to Kumari and the arms dealer rolled up her sleeves and in a quick chant activated a curtain over the entire shrine and beach so the townspeople couldn’t see. The sorcerers were obstructed from view. Cressida stepped up to the plate.

“Right then,” she said, seeing no reason for delay, Latin flowing off her tongue like a river. “Mare benedicta, da mihi instrumentum tuum…”

In a twirl of magic, a bronzed lyre materialized in her hand, though it bore closer semblance to a miniature harp. The memory came quickly to Satoru like a light switch; him sitting in Wasserton House, waiting for Lord Thames and the elders to strike up a deal, surrounded by glittering jewels and hoarded treasures. One of which was a lyre mounted on a wall next to an old grandfather clock. Shiny black strings, too thin in diameter to be copper wires or horsehair. So his hunch had been correct. That lyre or harp, or whatever it was called, was no decorative instrument, but a cursed tool. A cursed tool with Cressida’s matching black hair tithed as strings.

Satoru was holding onto Hannah’s hand. She felt his arm tense and looked up, moss-brown eyes filled with concern. “Are you alright?”

Satoru assuaged her with a quick smile. “I’m fine.”

The four of them watched Cressida strum the first glissando, all twenty twined threads of ebony black provoked by their mistress, switching her thumb and forefinger in circles to create a continuous scale up and down the harp. Up and down. Back and forth. Give and take. Twenty. Forty. Sixty strings it sounded like, their musical notes steadily layering on top of each other, ringing all at once.

The waves along the dock seemed to sway around them, rising to ten-feet swells and then falling, responding to the harp’s melodic enchantment. When Cressida’s hand strummed back, the waves went back. When she strummed forwards, they beckoned closer, edging the shore, amassing to great height with each finished glissando. Cressida thus removed her fingers and soon the harp began playing alone. She soon broke into song, not with words, but with the musicianless harp, her aria accompanying the dancing sea like she were a snake charmer, a moon goddess controlling the tide. And it was something; Perhaps one of the most ethereal sounds they had ever heard, if “sound” was the definition for such a thing.

Satoru and the others watched the sloping waves, climbing higher and higher, though they did not crash into the shore like expected, but rather gently ebbed. Like the water had a mind of its own, choosing to forgo the laws of physics, building without spilling over. Waves only got that big when sailing miles out at sea amidst a powerful storm with no land to stop them from growing bigger. Satoru hadn’t witnessed a curse technique quite like this, or perhaps he had? Music was not new to jujutsu - Utahime and Gramps were proof of that - and yet despite its alieness, something about the sound was familiar. He could hardly feel his own two feet on the ground, song traversing through his ears and into his bones. His brain felt numb to the harp’s playing and Cressida’s hypnosis, drowning out his other senses. Strange. He only ever felt this way when Hannah —

Cressida stopped singing. Everything became calm. She splayed out her hand towards the sea. Water, music, humans, frozen in time.

“Recedo,” she commanded in a voice not solely hers.

Pleased by her song, the water showed its obeisance and began rolling back the direction it had come, back, back, back to the sea, more so than it did at low tide. Given how far the water receded, Satoru feared the locals would think a tsunami was underfoot, but the water only drained from a specific area in the bay, not the entire Miyajima coast, and there was no earthquake. With any luck, Kumari’s curtain would prevent people from thinking anything was amiss.

Nanami glanced over to Hannah to translate. “How long will the water hold?”

Hannah relayed the question in English for Cressida. “I’d say about an hour. An hour and a half. Not very long,” the heiress said with a shrug.

Hannah repeated her answer in Japanese. Nanami grunted. With a curt nod, he turned to face his other comrades. “Technically it rests on Satoru to retrieve the finger, but for the time being we’ll divide and conquer. If anyone finds something, text it in the group chat and wait for Satoru to give the ‘all clear.’ Once he has the finger, it’ll be handed over to Kumari for proper sealing. We’re following protocol. No exceptions. Is that understood?”

Nanami kept his tone neutral like he were reading percentages during a business meeting. Hannah paraphrased his speech as best she could to her cousin.

Done listening, Cressida offered her hand. “Shall we go together?”

“Sure,” Hannah obliged, but felt a gentle tug on her arm.

“Nope, I don’t think so.” Satoru snatched his wife and twirled her around, wiggling his snow-white eyebrows flirtatiously. “You’re comin’ with me.”

“O-Okay.” Hannah's face grew warm, letting him weave their fingers together and pull her in the opposite direction. She didn’t see the triumphant smirk he shot Cressida’s way as they passed by. Nor the heiress’ blatant disgust. He had won this round.

The group split. Nanami to the east, Kumari to the west, and Cressida taking a route in between. Satoru continued walking north with Hannah along the bay, looking back over his shoulder every five seconds till the others were out of sight.

“Finally. Thought we’d never ditch ‘em.”

“Ditch ‘em?” Hannah tilted her head, not sure what he was getting at. “Why would we — ”

At once Satoru’s mouth was on hers, capturing it in an all-too-happy kiss. Hannah was startled by the impromptu lip-lock but soon found her eyes closing, kissing him back, body melting as his arm looped protectively around her waist to draw her inwards. He had left for Miyajima that morning before she’d woken up. They hadn't been separated for five hours, yet it felt much longer.

“Mmm, no reason,” he answered, as he broke from the kiss, lips smacking, and wove his fingers in hers again. Couldn’t keep the shit-eating grin off his face even if he tried. “Okay, now we can go.”

Hannah's profuse blush spread more to her neck and ears, all while not relinquishing his hand.

The underwater trenches of Itsukushima Shrine were deep. Not Mariana Trench-level deep, but deep. On the surface, their depth seemed to exceed no more than three meters before gradually marrying with the ocean; enough for an average person to plunge head first into the burnished saltwater and dive to the bottom. But the island shrine, with its rocky bluffs and pine covered shoals, actually stood atop a valley of gash marks embedded within the reef-beds like troughs, measured at about four fathoms. Once swimmers reached the very end of the bay, they were met with a steep twenty-four feet drop and risked being swept away by the heavy current, the Inland Sea punishing them for their hubris. A more experienced swimmer wouldn’t make it.

Hannah and Satoru stopped where the bay ended and the chasm began. Curious, the Six Eyes wielder lackadaisically kicked a pebble in the hollow trench and watched it disappear. Didn’t make a plop.

Drip, drip, drip.

The jagged rock was slick and slimy from being drained of its watery enclosure. They were high above the seabed. Satoru thought of helping his wife climb down the slippery rock on foot till they reached the bottom, but then hatched an idea. Without warning, he got behind Hannah and bent his knees. “Alley-oop,” he hollered and hoisted his little wife in his arms, bridal-style. She let out a gasp. Much like the kiss, the auburnette wasn’t given time to prepare and nearly had a mini-heart attack when Satoru spun on his heels, grinned real wide, and jumped off the edge like he was at the local pool and not a thirty-foot long chasm.

So they fell.

Hannah managed to eek out a yelp, burying her face in his shirt, clinging onto him like a frazzled squirrel. In seconds they were floating to the ground for a soft landing, Satoru’s Blue and Red manipulating gravity to slow their descent. Falling no more, he set Hannah back on the ground.

“That wasn't funny,” she chided, freckled cheeks glowing red, this time for an entirely different reason. The reprimand hid the fact her knees were buckling.

“To you, maybe.” Amusement twinkled in Satoru’s turquoise blue eyes. “I thought it was hilarious.”

His wife pouted adorably at being laughed at and the Six Eyes wielder couldn’t resist leaning his tall, masculine frame over to plant an “I’m sorry” smooch on her blushing cheek. All forgiven, they webbed their hands together again and continued on.

The carpet of dark green seaweed spurted beneath their shoes, shells and fish bones crunching and cracking. Located in the epipelagic zone, the trench was deep, but not nearly so deep as to prevent sunlight from shining below. This particular kelp forest had thrived under Itsukushima for millennia, nourished by the warm sun and years of “marine snow,” teeming with an ecosystem of diverse wildlife, but Satoru found it weird that there were no flopping fish on the sediment-covered ground, frantically puffing their gills for breath, or other aquatic animals, or cursed spirits for that matter. Had they been swept away with the water?

Those that could exist on oxygen remained. A cast of Chinese mitten crabs skittered across the exposed mudflat, pinching their claws at the trespassing humans, ambling to get away. Hannah thought they were cute and gave them a wide berth, sidestepping the exposed coral, the anemones, the seaweed, the shards of glass and plastic that had drifted because humanity didn’t care. Thank goodness she’d worn trainers, who knew how well Cressida was fairing in those awful sandal wedges?

Hannah wasn’t aware she had voiced this aloud for her husband to hear, receiving an earful about what he thought of the Thames heiress.

“I don’t understand why you feel the need to be nice to her,” he groaned bitterly. “After how her family treated you.”

Hannah squeezed his hand as she narrowly avoided crushing another mitten crab. “She’s your family too.”

“Yuck, no thanks. Tell ‘em family is overrated.”

“People can change, Satoru.”

“Which I’m not disputing, but you said you hadn’t seen her in years and then suddenly she shows up on our doorstep to hand you tiaras? As wedding presents?”

“Cressida’s going through a rough phase right now,” Hannah disputed. “She’s suffered a terrible loss.”

Satoru’s snort conveyed his doubt. “Whatever. I still don’t buy it.” He scanned the ground for clues. “Anything look familiar?”

Hannah sighed and shook her head. They were luckier than when they’d been stuck inside the curse’s Domain at the opera. Here, they could see where they were going courtesy of it being in the middle of the day, making the excursion less foreboding, less unpredictable.

Thames.

Hannah became alert. “What’d you say?”

Satoru turned to face her. His brow framed into an arch. “Nothing. I didn’t say anything.”

“Oh, sorry. Nevermind then.”

But it called out again. Raspy and ominous. A whisper.

Thames.

Hannah looked to her right. At the base of an inner wall was a postern, slim and narrow, chiseled out of the rock.

Satoru felt a pull on his arm, his little wife leading him towards the wall. “Princess? You okay?” She kept mum, not saying a peep as she walked him down the narrow path, assuming the lead. Her grasp was firm for someone so small. He didn’t fight and allowed himself to be conducted by her guiding hand. The chasm split in two like a cleft palate. She chose the left fork and pressed onward, past the small seamounts amassed from centuries of seismic activity and magma, past the forests of teeming seaweed and coral. Another left turn. Made a right. Walked through the mouth of a cave, dark and sinister, stalagmite-like protrusion jutting downwards like rows of carnivorous fangs. They became swallowed by the dimness where sunlight couldn’t penetrate.

And there it was.

You could’ve read it straight from the page of a movie script; the third Sukuna finger, shriveled and spindly, lying flat atop a sediment slab like a tribute, a film of skeletal-white sealing wax gauzed around it, perfectly intact. Staying submerged in the saline water seemed not to have altered its appearance whatsoever.

That was all there was inside. No cursed womb. No eighteen missing bodies, their flesh splitting open from being under thirty feet of saltwater like soft-boiled eggs. No hoard of hungry ghouls or freakish beings lurking behind, waiting to pounce. Just the cursed object. Just an index belonging to the strongest sorcerer-turned-curse who ever lived.

Satoru huffed out a laugh. “Well, that was easy.”

Way too easy. Gojo paused a minute for something to jump out at them, block their exit, or both, but neither happened. The finger stayed put on the slab. He leaned over to pick it up.

THAMES.

Hannah also reached out, and Satoru, half spooked, immediately seized her hand.

“Woah there, Hoss, leave that to me.” Hannah wasn't listening and reached out again. With more force, Satoru pulled her back from the undisturbed finger. “Oi, what’s gotten into you?” She looked out of it almost, hazel eyes listless and vacant, reaching for the cursed object the more he tried pulling her away. He grabbed her by the shoulders. “Hannah?” Started shaking. “I said enough.” He could see perfectly in the dark. Her pupils were fully dilated, indicating the lights were on, but nobody was home. She wasn’t paying attention and hadn’t spoken a word the whole time, hand grappling for the finger. “Hannah!”

“Huh? Wha?” Hannah came to, snapping out of whatever stupor befell her. She rattled her head and blinked confusedly. “Oh, um, sorry. I'm not sure…I thought I heard…” She swung around.

Perplexed, Satoru also spun himself around, but saw only the cave. “Heard what?”

“Nothing,” Hannah said, hand on her forehead, perhaps feeling a tad dizzy. “I can’t remember.”

Satoru cupped a palm over her cheek and took a moment to study his young wife. Her pupils were back to normal and she appeared unharmed, but her recent behavior left a bad taste in his mouth. A constrict of worry tightened around his chest. He couldn’t relay what just happened, but he knew the sooner he got Hannah out of there, the better.

“C’mon, let’s leave. This place gives me the creeps.”

Hurriedly, Satoru took the finger and stuffed it in his jean pocket, and encouraged Hannah to grasp his hand.

She did.

Kumari painstakingly examined the newly found Sukuna finger, flipping it over at every angle, searching for any indication it wasn’t the real thing or a fluke; decoys weren’t outside the realm of possibility. However, the sealing wax encased around it would’ve been near impossible for non-humans to replicate. No signs of crackage. No tearing. Oh yes, this finger belonged to Sukuna alright. She could practically smell the evil on it like raw sewage.

The cursed object specialist showed her displeasure, glaring daggers at the infernal thing. Kumari didn’t want a repeat episode the last time she brought a Sukuna finger inside her house, and had raised hell in getting the higher-ups to approve her research at Jujutsu High. “This isn’t your grandpa’s grade-4 level sorcery. What’s wrong with you people?” Good news was she didn’t have to take them home with her anymore. Bad news was she’d have to drive down to Jujutsu High to study the damn object at the risk of bumping into her in-laws. Well, beggars can’t be choosers. Her family’s safety was most important. All there was left to do now was box the finger up and pray no surprises trickled in.

Kumari placed the digit inside and closed the lid of her sealing box, clasping the latches, utilizing her cursed technique to “lock” the compartment, only for Satoru to intervene.

“Actually, give it to me.”

She blinked, holding the box. “You sure? This doesn’t exactly make a good table centerpiece.”

“There’s a room in my house meant for keeping cursed objects like this under wraps. The sealing wax hasn’t peeled off yet, so it shouldn’t cause issues. I’ll give it to the higher-ups first thing in the morning.”

The arms-dealer eyed him coolly but nodded. Satoru showed no signs of concern. He was right, of course, the Gojo estate was imbued with powerful protective charms and spells, capabilities far exceeding those in her modern, three bedroom townhouse. It was designed for housing dangerous artifacts. Plus, he was the strongest. Though that didn’t explain what Satoru planned on doing with it.

“Why not give it to them as soon as we land?” she inquired.

The strongest took the box from her hands. “I want to check something,” he answered, tucking it under his arm like it wasn’t a problem.

Kumari didn’t question further. When Satoru had an agenda, there was no sense in arguing. His eyes were fixated on Hannah standing beside her cousin, both their backs to them, staring out into the wide, endless sea, chatting as Nanami maintained distance. Hannah’s long auburn hair shone like shimmering waves of amber silk in the pretty sun.

“It'll be fine,” Kumari heard the Six Eyes wielder whisper.

He’d regret those words for the rest of his life.

Chapter Contents

#gojo takes a wife #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #jjk fanfic #gojo x oc #satoru x oc #japan

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