#it became about pushing them individually to their limits

[himbohargreeves]

Anyway idk if anyone else has said it but the reason the Umbrellas had such a different outcome compared to the Sparrows is because Reggie gave up on them the minute he realised he couldn’t control Viktor. He needed seven to complete his plan. The Umbrella Academy was already a failure before it had even really begun.

#I also think this is why they’re so much less of a team and so much more of a family #because the sparrows were trained as a unit.. Reggie NEEDED them to be a cohesive team if they were gonna make it in oblivion #which meant they already had that sense of comeradery among one another but in a much less personal sense #whereas for the umbrellas it was never really about being a team.. that ship had already sailed #it became about pushing them individually to their limits #and their bond was a solidarity through shared trauma.. they were there for each other emotionally rather than physically #anyways I’m going to bed night guys #the umbrella academy #tua3 #tua3 spoilers

[hallowpen]

The Influence of Thai Culture on Attitudes towards Disabilities as it Relates to Last Twilight

(This is a combination of personal experiences/observations having lived in Bangkok and my learned academic knowledge/own personal research. I am not an expert by any means, but I wanted to offer some insight from my own personal point of view.)

While Thailand has certain provisions in place to prevent disability discrimination, it is still very much present in Thai society. Disability legislation is not strictly enforced and accessibility is extremely limited. That is not to say that efforts aren't being made to promote education and inclusivity, just that views and attitudes toward individuals with disabilities have been slow to reform. As such, there is a negative stigma that exists in Thailand where disabled individuals are, for the most part, seen as a burden or an inconvenience. There are certain cultural aspects that, unfortunately, contribute toward this outlook:

Collectivism and Tradition - Thailand can be labeled as a collectivistic society. What that means is, there is a tendency to favor the 'grouped' majority over individual interests. As a result, individuals with disabilities are less likely to be integrated into their communities. The urge to conform to group rules and traditions hinders Thai society from accepting "disruptive" change. Communities prefer to avoid the uncertainty and ambiguity of the unknown, which reduces the amount of conversations centering around disability education. I stated in my review of LT, that there needed to be a deeper conversation surrounding the experiences and realities of the disabled community in order for the series to have the impact it intended to. And this is why. It needs to be talked about, otherwise nothing will change and, much like the last part of that final episode, ableist views/language will prevail.

Religious Influence - At this point (if you are a fan of Thai dramas), you probably already know that Buddhism is the predominant religion in Thailand. We are taught to be merciful towards the weak and to give of ourselves to those who are less fortunate. While helping others should absolutely be seen as morally good, these viewpoints can also give rise to societal stigmas surrounding disabilities. Receiving unsolicited assistance as a disabled person became a constant question of: are you genuinely concerned out of kindness OR because you somehow see me as 'less than' and therefore feel you have a moral obligation to step in. In LT, I understood Day's insistent worry of being on the receiving end of someone else's pity. There was a reason why it was so prevalent in his story and why he questioned the motives of others' actions so frequently. Because Thai culture has inadvertently labeled disabled people as being 'frail' and 'in need' and who should, therefore, be met with sympathy.

Caregiving - While there are social welfare programs and services available in Thailand, generally, it is the responsibility of the family to care for and provide for their disabled relatives. Intergenerational care is a big part of Thai culture, but in this instance it's not entirely positive. The broader Thai society infantilizes people with disabilities, which means they are often disallowed from making their own decisions by those who care for them (sound familiar?). As a result, they live under less than ideal conditions that exclude them from being active members of their communities. It's upsetting that people with disabilities exist largely out of the public eye, when opportunities to be present in society and engaging with their community could potentially change their status and offset stereotypical attitudes. One of the best parts of LT that I will continuously praise it for, is Mhok's version of caregiving that completely turns these views on its (their?) head. He's not afraid to stand up to Day (or how Day's been conditioned to feel toward his blindness) and gently pushes him toward self acceptance and engagement within his community. Mhok is subtle in a way that he does what is required of him as a caregiver without ever taking away Day's agency. And that was extremely important to see against Day's mother's more 'traditional' care.

Treatment - I'm not well versed when it comes to Thai healthcare. I do know that outside of traditional medicine, access to more advanced modern treatment is highly dependent on income and social standing. Other than that, it is a disabled person's prerogative to seek treatment if a treatment exists for their disability and is accessible to them. It is also their prerogative to refuse treatment. Neither decision should be judged or actively swayed by outside perspectives (though this happens more often than not). It is highly plausible that someone in Day's position, coupled with his mother's status, would have both the access and the desire to receive a corneal transplant surgery. The outcome of Day's vision being restored was never the issue for me. The fault lies in its execution and what was implied in the aftermath.

...that's all I got. I don't really know how to end this...I'm tired.

(Please note, this is not at all meant to paint Thailand in a bad light. Thai society is fairly accepting of individuals with disabilities and positive attitudes do exist, but certain perspectives need to change!)

tagging @lurkingshan @waitmyturtles @shannankle

#last twilight #thai culture #thai attitudes toward disabilities #some of this can be overlapped with MLC #as i was writing this i kind of realized #the reason i never like to share the specifics of my nerve disorder is because i've been conditioned not to #oof...that was a hard pill to swallow

[sonic-oc-showdown]

ROUND 2

Coke belongs to @lunapegasus

Zenyx belongs to @grimsdeadb0nes

Find out more about them below!

Cocaine "Coke" the Bear:

Cocaine the Bear, formerly known as Cain, grew up with parents who were crippling addicts and after seeing what drugs did to them he vowed to make a difference. When he was old enough he became the president of the D.A.R.E. program and inspired others to stay away from drugs. …But then one day, he found himself lost and hungry in the woods with little chance of survival. That is until he came across a large duffel bag of "sugar", desperate and delusional he ate all 70+ pounds of it. And he's never been the same since.

Zenyx:

Zenyx is a(n Offcolor) Zeti hailing from the Lost Hex, hidden from the eyes of all but a small handful for her own safety.

Described as exceedingly versatile and a fairly composed wild-card, she acts as The Deadly Six's secret Seventh member! The full extent of her outwardly behaviors is dependant on who she may be around or the situation at hand. She can be quite sweet and very caring to those she likes or is loyal to (which is a very limited list), but can otherwise be just as malicious as the rest of her Pack tend to be towards outsiders. However, unlike the other six, she won't always go out of her way to cause harm or misery UNLESS given proper reason to or provoked. She can be alittle hissy at times, but she's not inherently hot-headed like some; she just doesnt like her buttons being pushed or being lied to- or worse yet, her Pack being messed with.

Zenyx is extremely loyal to the Six and may be described as "caring alittle too much", as she enjoys keeping an eye on/spending time with each and every one if possible and making sure they're okay. She's very keen on stealth and being observant, a quick thinker that thinks ahead, and maybe a slight bit of a people pleaser towards certain individuals- but she isn't afraid to give her two cents either and often lacks a filter at times, offering a touch of sass and attitude. She can be very performative (to an extent) and likes trying to make things fun, being ultimately much more (surprisingly) pleasant than the rest of the Six.

In my Lost World Rewrite (currently still being worked on as of this Poll, yet to be properly revealed!), she is the main inclusion-difference and is by all means another rough obstacle for Sonic and Tails to get through. She managed to remain hidden while the rest of the Six were "conquered" by Eggman for a time, staying out of sight and scheming or helping behind the scenes- as well as working on a way to aid in their freedom before Sonic inevitably kicked the Cacophonic Conch from Eggman's grasp, speeding up that plan tenfold. Eggman was none the wiser to her existence until much later in the story, even going as far as aggressively denying the existence of a seventh in the stretch of area he had taken over when asked about it by Tails, because "If there was, I would have conquered them too!" or something.

She appears in much further stuff planned but thats all hush hush rn ;3!

#socs 2 poll #socs 2 round 2 #socs 2: coke #socs 2: zenyx

[evenmorefatallyobsessed]

Manami Aiba/ La Brava AU Concept

Manami Aiba was alone… She had been for a long time, born small and stunted little had been expected of her. Though despite that, her intellect was not to be shrugged off, her skills less so. She had what it took to be someone great, Atlas had made her multiple offers when she was still in middle school and up until she dropped out of high school all those years ago…

So why had she… Love, love was a powerful, but cruel force for Aiba, it drove the young and older, experienced and naïve alike to do foolish things. She was no different, she fell in love, he wasn’t anyone special, not really, but to her that boy had been the world. She could hardly remember what it was that drew her to him anymore.

She had wanted to know him to be closer to the person that made her heart beat so fast, that lit her soul with joy and desire. She’d followed him, learned about him… Stalked him, she was young, naïve… Dumb. Of course he would notice, and unfortunately for her, he would not view it positively.

Creepy, freak, midget psycho, those were a few word he tossed out, and then those became her titles to the entire student body… People avoided her, and in turn she begun to avoid them in kind.

She denied her scholarships, she pushed away teachers, her parents and anyone, everyone else. Eventually she left it all behind, leaving Mistral to go to Vale, but nothing truly changed, every time she was outside, she felt people stare, heard them call her names…

She didn’t want anything to do with people anymore, after all, the rejection had crushed her, not simply because it broke her heart, not because it ostracized her… But because it denied her very soul, her semblance, she had aura, her parents opting to awaken it when her dwarfism had been identified, hoping aura would help her growth which given her more capable state it had.

But with it came the manifestation of her soul, Love, the power to amplify every facet of a individual’s capabilities, the sole limits being that she can only activate it once and that the only person she can use it on is the one she loves….

Could it be blamed for her powerful emotions, for her need to know the person she felt love for, did she stalk and obsess over that boy because of her semblance, or did she use her semblance as a excuse to do so. Was she sane, or desperate, pathetic or pitiful. She didn’t know, she didn’t want to know, because she refused to fall in love again.

So she avoided it, avoided the world, the outside whenever and however she could.

She used her talents to secure a stable living. She was a hacker like no others, able to break through any firewall, or program to secure what she needed.

She sold info, to the highest bidder, made false documents, traded information for favors. The Xiong proved a valuable client. That was how she secured her life, as a cyber sleuth, a hacker with the alias, LA BRAVA.

And that was how she lived her life, alone, there was no Gentle Criminal in Remnant who became her light in the dark. Nobody would come and pull her from her loneliness, she would live this way forever, committing cyber crimes to survive and sustain her isolation…

Junior then contacted her with a request, to falsify some Transcripts into Beacon, she may have been criminal, but Manami was not without morals. She wouldn’t just pave the way for anyone to access Huntsman level training. It was such a person who had done so for the Branwen twin several decades ago and even Mistral still suffered under the hands of the bandit queen.

So she requested info on the individual, she would commit her own background check on them, and then decide.

His name, was Jaune Arc and he was… Handsome. He was from a village outside the kingdom, there were few records past his birth certificate. Not nearly enough, her heart beat with every picture of him she saw. She requested more information, Junior didn’t have much, so she dug deeper, found out where he was living at the time. It was just for her to decide…

She… She left her home, her small apartment, the Arcs weren’t to renowned but to those in the know they were taught the familiar were as honorable as they came, knights outta fairytales. So why was her here, asking to fake his way into Beacon, she had to know.

She almost was able to ignore the stares on her, the pit in her stomach being in public caused, she felt dizzy, she wanted, no needed to go bac-

“Are you okay?”

And then by sheer coincidence she met him, Jaune Arc kneeled before her, a worried look on his face. Things happened rather fast, she found herself walking beside her target, the boy so friendly, so open to talk to her. Not making a huge issue of her form, of her condition, but also not ignoring it.

He slowed to walk with her, but never once drew attention to her size, and when someone not noticing her bumped into her he defended her. Made them apologize… When asked why he approached her, it wasn’t a painful excuse or cruel misunderstanding like that he thought she was a lost child or that he wanted to ask directions.

“You looked sad, so I figured I’d try to see if I could fix that.” He smiled, it was bright, kind and inviting.

“After all, if I wanna be a Huntsman I should be able to at least cheer up a pretty girl right?” Her cheeks flushed, her chest tightened as he went on with his silly simple but honest words.

That time couldn’t have lasted though, people approached her, junior’s men, they didn’t recognize her, couldn’t have, they’d never met in person after all. Everyone back away as they did, it made sense, junior liked to be in the know, and she was a new face he’d never seen.

Despite how it looked everything should’ve been okay, would’ve been okay, but Jaune didn’t know that, and stepped between.

He wasn’t skilled, not huntsman level at least, but he was strong, she was sure he could kill grimm, even without aura. It shocked her seeing that, seeing him bleed, but he stood tall and strong, defending her until police showed up. But she could see it, the despair in his face, he must’ve realized they were Hei’s men. That he’d thrown away his chance to go to Beacon…

Or so he thought, but she thought different, because despite all that he prioritized her, his friend, one he said didn’t matter that he just met because.

“Strangers are just friends you haven’t met yet.” She’d said it on reflex.

“Love you…” If he hadn’t burst into a dazzlingly, blinding white light he might’ve heard her instead of freaking out. She had to explain what Aura was to him, what it meant, and then convince him to not give up… She, she might’ve told him he shouldn’t sleep at his hotel, that Junior’s men might try to hurt him. They wouldn’t, not so soon, but he didn’t need to know that.

He hadn’t cared until he thought they might go after her… She, used that to have him stay with her, to keep him in Vale. Hacking Beacon was easy, falsifying transcripts easier, they looked more legitimate then the actual ones. Jaune, her friend would be a Huntsman, she’d make sure of it.

Several weeks he stayed with her, cooked for her, and spent time with her, they talked, they grew close, he, he was so amazing, so nice and kind… And hot, he was beefy under his hoodie, like a actual farmboy.

But it all had to come to a end, he thanked her, and promised to visit, to call and made her promise to do the same.

And then he left, but she wasn’t done, hacking Beacon’s security cameras she watched their Initiation saw him partner with a celebrity, a tall, leggy celebrity, but even then he talked about her. About his best friend in Vale, which made his best friend in Beacon, Ruby Rose Jealous.

Then the Grimm attacked, he charged a giant Death Stalker, and her heart froze in fear, she didn’t hesitate, knowing it’d activate.

“I Love You!” She said it with desperation, and even so far away it activated, and the world exploded with bright pink light as Jaune was amplified by her semblance. Moving faster then the Rose Girl, hitting stronger then the blonde, red-eyed bimbo or the ginger hammer wielder. He was confused but not still, determined to act.

Every swing of his blade tearing trough he thick armor and flesh of the Death Stalker alike it’s claws, tail and then legs before he cleaved it in twain. And then… He jumped into the air, not thinking for his safety, or about what he’d do if the power disappeared.

Only about killing the second Grimm, tackling into the giant Nevermore and shooting straight through it. He fell hard but survived given his already immense aura being multiplied several dozen fold.

And it was over, and he called a hour later, people celebrating behind him as he told her the good news, unaware she’d seen it all. The only misunderstanding being that he thought her power was his semblance. He thanked her for unlocking his soul and promised he’d visit her that weekend.

Only for someone to visit her only a hour later, someone she knew, but solely by reputation, the man in charge of Jaune’s fate. The headmaster of Beacon academy, something about having a good grasp of detecting Aura and it’s sources… Then pointing out how while Jaune’s transcripts were flawless, his history was not.

She expected her life to be over but instead.

“Manami Aiba, I believe Beacon could use someone of your particular set of skills, how would you feel about assisting our Stealth and Security Professor Ann Greene? You are around the age of a fourth year. I’m sure we can… Work something out.”

I think their ship name should be 'Amour' (French for Love)

#au concept #la brava #jaune arc #amour

[peeves-gurl]

Fic based on this request!!

Here we go!! This was the first time I got a request, and the first time I wrote a fic based on a request, so I hope you like it!!

Warnings: My weird imagination, fluff, family argument, use of Y/N, idiot Ron

“You look beautiful Ronnie!” The twins said in unison as they walked into the common room.

The place was nearly empty, except for a few first and second year students, who weren’t yet allowed to go to Hogsmeade on weekends. The twins, on the other hand, had been banned from going to Hogsmeade for a month as a punishment from their mother for the a recent prank that McGonagall had written to her about.

“That’s literally not funny,” Ron moaned, covered in tiny porcupine quills that he grew after eating a cookie his older brothers offered him.

“We think it’s hilarious,” Fred smirked back.

“Bloody comical,” George supported.

“Fuck you! You’ve always used me as some kind of lab rat for your experiments.” Ron said, his temper rising.

“It’s because you didn’t let us use good old Wormtail,” Fred mocked.

“Oh shut the hell up George! Get this rubbish off me, and keep your worthless experiments limited to yourself.” Ron shouted, turning a few heads in his direction as everyone in the common room became interested in this fight. “Do you think it’s funny, troubling others for your entertainment? You’ve always done this to me, right since I was a baby!”

“No we haven’t. And I’m George, not him.” George corrected. “We only got into pranking after we turned seven.”

“C’mon mate, at least own up! You were the one who turned my Teddy Bear into a spider when I was three, weren’t you?”

“Are you actually still mad over that?” Fred asked amusedly.

“I’m actually mad over the audacity that you have, to think you’ll make a living out of this.” He said, pointing to the still growing quills. “I’m bloody sure you’ll end up as nothing, probably having to marry rich girls like Y/N to have a decent life!”

“Stay within your limits Ronald.” Fred scolded, and George quickly stepped in between his brothers to put an end the argument.

“Move, Fred, or George, whichever one you are!” Ron shouted, trying to shove George out of the way.

“What do you mean ‘whichever one’? Can you actually not tell the difference between your own brothers?” George said, immediately forgetting that he was trying to maintain peace.

“How does that matter? You’re both exactly the same, pathetic and useless.” Ron rolled his eyes. “Now get these stupid quills off me before I stab you with them.”

“No,” George said angrily.

“No?” Ron repeated.

“No. Not until you apologize for what you said about my girlfriend,” Fred agreed.

“I will not, because it’s true.” Ron said back.

Fred pushed George out of the way, angrily stepping up in front of his younger brother, towering over him. Unbeknownst to the three of them, Y/N had walked into the common room, having just returned to the castle from Hogsmeade. She paused in her steps, shocked to see the Weasleys fighting in this way.

“Do you know how much it hurts us to realise that our own family can’t tell us apart? None of you lot, not even Mum and Dad know us as anything other than ‘the twins’.” Fred shouted, and Y/N’s heart broke when his voice cracked with emotion.

“Y/N is our best friend Ron,” George said. “She’s the only one who’s ever been able tell us apart. You don’t know what your saying when you tell us Fred’s with her for the money. We love her because she makes us feel like we’re individuals, like we have a personality outside of just being twins.”

Before things could get worse, Y/N walked up to the boys, intending to end the debate. She marched up to them quickly, engulfing Fred in a hug, and she could feel the anger ebb out his body as his shoulders relaxed. She reached up to slightly peck his lips, before stepping away to hand a bag of his favourite sweets from Honeydukes.

She moved towards George next, giving him a little squeeze and handing his bag of sweets to him.

“Ron,” she said calmly yet strictly, finally turning her attention to the younger Weasley, “It’s really not nice of you to not be able to tell your brothers apart.”

“It doesn’t matter, love. Let’s go outside.” Fred insisted.

“Just give me a minute Freddie.” She said, continuing to look at Ron, who was now beginning to get nervous.

“Can you guess the sweets in those bags, by any chance?” She asked.

“Treacle Tart, Chocolate Frogs and Pumpkin pie.” Ron replied, slightly more tensed than before.

“Yes, but whose bag has which ones?’ she asked again.

“I don’t know,” Ron said meekly.

“I’ll give you another chance, Ron. Everyone knows these two love Purple and Orange,” she said, pointing to the bright ‘Weasleys Wizard Wheezes’ logo on a flyer lying in the common room. “But do you know who added which one?”

“No,” Ron said again, his ears turning red with embarassment, and there were a few snickers passed around the others in the room.

“Do you lot not have homework?” she said, addressing a younger students, who immediately ran off at being addressed by a prefect. “You don’t know anything about them individually, do you?” she asked, turning her attention back to the guilty Weasley boy in front of her.

“I’m really sorry,” he said softly, and his voice did indicate the truth behind those words.

“You should be,” Fred said finally.

With a quick swish of her wand, Y/N made the quills disappear, and began to lead the twins outside the common room.

“I’m sorry,” Ron repeated, this time to his brothers, “I should have made an effort to know you both better.”

“I suppose it’s not too late,” George said, giving Ron a small smile.

“And don’t you dare talk shit about my girlfriend again.” Fred warned.

“I won’t, sorry!” Ron smiled back, and Y/N quickly dug out a bunch of chocolate frogs from her pocket for him.

They walked out of the common room together, before George bid them goodbye and headed off in the opposite direction to look for Angelina.

“Thanks love,” Fred whispered, placing a quick peck onto her lips. “I really appreciate you, have I ever told you?”

“Yes, but keep going.” She whispered back, stealing another kiss, and it felt much better when she finally felt him smile against her lips.

#fred weasley #fred weasley smut #fred and george #harry potter #weasley twins #fred wealsey fic #fred weasley fic #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley fanfics

[bibibbon]

Tsumiki fushiguro's wasted potential

I will say this once and for all but tsumiki fushiguro was done so dirty by the narrative.

Tsumiki fushiguro is a character who is basically almost non existent when we talk about the fushiguro family and the fact that we only see her from megumi's pov is just sad. Megumi and tsumiki never had a good relationship to begin with and this is further highlighted when we see their interactions as a whole.

@twenty-qs definitely has a pretty amazing analysis talking about megumi and tsumikis relationship so I suggest you check it out if you want a more depth idea of what Iam talking about 👇

Point blank is that they aren't close and you can even assume that tsumiki (overtime) may of developed a slight hatred towards megumi for her own reasons. Both of them could of been depicted as very flawed individuals with megumi shutting everyone out and acting cold towards anyone as his own way to not get hurt by anyone or abandoned again. For tsumiki she had to take on a parental role at a very young age and she also had to cook, clean, manage school, take care of herself and take care of her brother since toji left. Tsumiki was quite older than megumi (2 years I think) but that means she can probably remember what happend and how, why and when toji left which is just a whole lot more packet of built up emotions that her character could of gotten to explore (but didn't). Tsumiki probably wanted to be close with her brother but due to both of their circumstances it just wasn't possible. That isn't to say that megumi didn't care for tsumiki considering that his whole motivation was to help his sister and that's why he became a sorcerer in the first place but he didn't appreciate or value her when she was around and as we see in the manga he viewed her as a nuisance.

We only see megumi change of attitude towards his sister when she falls I to a coma and he realises how ungrateful he was for the things he had. He promises to himself that once she wakes up again that he will try and amend their relationship but as seen in the culling games arc he continually pushes his sister away stating that she should go back to sleep and not worry at all. No offence but telling someone who has been in a coma for 1 year and 7months to go back to sleep is such a rude comment and goes against what megumi wanted which was a to fix the frail relationship he had with his sister. I think that this is one of megumi flaws and I wish it was explored a whole lot more but sadly it isn't. We are obviously shown that tsumiki is acting weird but this is something that we easily pick up on (we don't even know tsumiki that well but we still notice this detail) compared to megumi who easily dismissed this and I think this is very telling of how distant they really are and how they're not on good terms.

To cope with tsumiki going into a coma megumi ended up looking at what his sister did to him and put her on a pedestal letting this perfect version of tsumiki become his moral compass and by doing that he limits any actual humane feelings of negativity that tsumiki may have and ends up dehumanising his own sister unintentionally. This is seen when he calls her the perfect example of a good person and when in the culling games she is the only reason why megumi doesn't kill remi because he imagines her telling him "no megumi".

I feel like the tsumiki plot point should of been handled somewhat similarly to junpei and have the two situations parallel eachother which would add to the stories theme of history rhyming or repeating itself and to the parallels that megumi and itadori share. In this rewrite (if that's what you want to call it) I would have tsumiki gain a CT and cursed energy and have yorozu be in a completely different body. Tsumiki should meet yorozu when she wakes up from the coma and the two can get to know eachother. Tsumiki (lonely,scared and vulnerable) will tell her feelings to yorozu who slowly becomes interested in her after hearing that megumi is a sorcerer. Yorozu will become someone tsumiki can trust similar to what happend with junpei and mahito and to manipulate tsumiki yorozu will make tsumiki think about things that she wanted to avoid thinking of like the little amount of jealousy and hatred that she has of megumi that she shoved at the back of her mind. Tsumiki will probably be jealous of megumi for how he was toji's favourite, how he was going enough to forget about their early home life, for how megumi had an escape that tsumiki could never have, for how megumi never had to take care of another human being and for other things. All these feelings build up and tsumiki tries to see the good in this but she slowly loses herself to darkness and yorozus relationship without anyone realising it until it's too late.

Yorozu presents a plan to tsumiki one where tsumiki will finally stand up for herself and be acknowledged by people. This plan ,(tsumiki tells yorozu about info that megumi gave her) consists of tsumiki taking the points that will be given to her and making a new rule probably the same rule that yorozu made or something else. This is where tsumiki herself betrays her brother and yorozus enters the stage mocking megumi for his lack of observation and how badly he has treated his sister. Here we can have tsumiki confront megumi about how she felt and the slow hatred and jealousy that she has towards megumi can be revealed. Megumi tires to chase after his sister and yorozu but before he can do anything sukuna uses the binding vow.

As yorozu and tsumiki are fleeing they seem the scene that is sukuna making megumi eat his finger and this is where yorozu feels like she hit a gold mine and has a new goal of using tsumiki as bait to get sukuna to come near her. Tsumiki on the other hand is horrified she only wanted to be acknowledged and confront megumi about the things he did but now she looks at the scene below and feels like this isn't right for her. She tries to go and help megumi but yorozu grabs her and tells her not to however tsumiki insists and yorozus intentions become clear to tsumiki and how tsumiki was played and used.

Same few chapters go the same until sukuna in megumi body confronts yorozu and asks where tsumiki is. Yorozu doesn't respond and goes on about she loves sukuna and power of love blah blah. Tsumiki on the other hand was near she watches the battle hoping that she can help her brother but she can't. Yorozu loses and ends up dying she still gives sukuna kamotuke but sukuna doesnt really care.

As sukuna was about to leave he spots tsumiki and megumis soul starts fighting to help and protect his sister in anyway he could. Tsumiki puts up a bit of a fight trying and failing to get megumi to regain control. She is killed with her last words being directed towards megumi. Megumi snaps he is now trying harder then ever to regain control and for a minute sukuna lets him (Iam trying to make it mirror the thing sukuna did with yuji in shibuya) nos megumi si confronted with his sister's dead body and he naturally reacts with anger and sadness overcoming him. Without sukuna needing to do anything megumi loses control and his soul sinks to the abyss. Megumi ends up blaming himself for not understanding tsumiki for not being able to see her pain and his whole pedestal view of her is shattered. Megumis own moral compass is shattered and so is the last person he considered family he has basically lost everything he cared for.

Tsumiki fushiguro should of been treated with more respect by the narrative and I feel like making her situation mirror junpei would of done wonders to her arc it would of also been a very effective way to show jjks themes and a beautiful way to tackle feelings that she must of felt that we never got to see from her character. This idea would of also finally given us character development for megumi as his image of tsumiki is destroyed and he blames himself for not seeing the pain that she was going through. This would also be an interesting direction to take megumis character in and would emphasis on just how hopeless megumi feels after her death and we would be given more emotion which is something that I think this arc lacked between the two of them.

#jjk ramblings #jjk manga #jjk #jujutsu kaisen manga #jujutsu kaisen #fushiguro tsumiki #jjk tsumiki #tsumiki deserves better #jjk critical #jjk rant

[twisted-wonderland-but-gayer]

For the angst.When Yuu throw themselves in to finding a way home.No one knows how the comfort them.There all about tough love or don't know how.Kailm or Rook or Trey will possibly know how but the rest is up in air.The can all tell something is wrong (less eating, sleep deprived, shutting themselves out,) wither Yuu will keep pushing them selves to the limit or they give up.

Yuu has No Way Home

Platonic as this got dark and I do not want this to be interpreted as romanticization. Gn Yuu. Reader is called Yuu. Reader has no description. Yuu is very depressed and touches on some very dark mental issues. This became like 3k words dude

I recommend listening to the song Hansel-Sodikken before/while reading.

Being taken to another world always seemed like it would be adventurous and fun. Where you are the heroic MC that saves the day. There is a reason the isekai trope was popular anyways. A romanticized idea of found family and freedom. Adventure, starting fresh, learning new things.

At least, that's how it’s supposed to go. Most of those stories never considered the fact the heroes don't always get the recognition they deserve. The MC is a background character, and despite you being the protagonist, they fade away. Even when they save the day. Even when they starve so others can eat. Even when they fought blots with nothing but their fists to save the day. They are forgotten, with not so much as a thank you.

Even their friends, though kind, were unreliable. Even when you felt like you were losing it, they never caught on. Even when you were screaming for help or a thank you. Nothing.

The idea of being able to explore and adventure was taken away from you. No new friends. No new sights. No new start. Just trouble at every corner. To add insult to injury, the world you originally came from was awful. It was an apocalypse in the making. You weren't even sure if there would be anything to return to.

And what was sadder, is that it was better than here. You weren't from this world, and this world keeps trying to suffocate you. Food was a luxury, despite everything you do. You had nothing to call your own. You work just to earn the right to work harder until you give out. You had no ties here. It was crushingly lonely. The sadness never ends.

At least at home, you can actually relate to those around you. Even that was taken away from you. It was a fateful day that Crowley came knocking on the door, making fall over on its rusted hinges. I have some most important news! You remembered him saying. He sounded so happy, so proud of himself. Then the news hit you.

Hold it together. Don't fall apart. You are only allowed to be useful. The second you stop being useful, you will be replaced and left to starve. This cant be true. You ended up in this world, surely there should be a way out? A door goes both ways. Liar, you thought. He's a filthy fucking liar. He didn’t even try, you can't trust him when you’re here doing all his work.

This isn’t fair. You did everything you were supposed to. Where's the reward? And like that, you fell apart. You were going to die here. Alone. With no record of you existing. With no one to remember you. Locked away for damn near weeks in a room without Grim, away from ghosts. You doubt anyone would notice anyway. With how much you were used anyways. No one bothered to stop your impulsive self-injury spree that was fighting, so no one would bother to check on you. No one cared about you. No one would mourn you. You have become useless,

Kalim 

It took a bit for Kalim to fully register your absence. The fun-loving teen was usually around other extroverted individuals, and most of his time went to the music club and socializing. Funnily enough, that's how he learned of your absence.

He didn’t mean to eavesdrop, he didn’t! Cater was just super loud. “I overheard Trey lecturing the freshies yesterday. Yeah so like, apparently Yuu has been missing for a few weeks and no one can find them. Yeah, I know! Crazy right? Not even Grim knows. Apparently, before they disappeared Trey said that seemed really down and no one checked on them…”

Eh? The nice Prefect is gone? The Prefect that helped him and Jamil? That Yuu? Well, that's not good. Sure they weren’t too close, but Yuu has always been kind to them. Hell, Yuu’s been good to everyone, even the ones to try to kill them. Kalim never got to properly thank them, so maybe when he finds them, they can throw a feast to celebrate!

After informing Jamil that he was going to Ramshackle, he took his carpet and flew. The decrepit dorm felt more… dark than usual. Perhaps that was just because of the broken door that hung open. “Yuu! … Yuu! Hey, are you there?” Kalim called out into the dorm, only being greeted by his echo as he stepped into the dorm, wood creaking as he walked.

Was no one home? Carpet shivered slightly, making Kalim pause to soothe it with a few pets and hushed words. “Hey, hey it's okay, this is our friend's home, remember?” Kalim’s smile lit up the room as he continues to explore. Upstairs he comes across a lot of locked rooms. “Yuu?” “Hoho! It looks like we have a guest…”

Kalim jumped at the sight of the ghost phasing through the walls. “Oh! it's just you guys!” Kalim laughed a bit, his apprehension dying down. “I'm looking for Yuu, have you seen them?” “Oooh, that poor kid…” A long, skinny ghost muttered, “They’ve locked themselves away in that room o’er there…” the ghost gestured to the end of the hallway. “They ain’t looking too good… I heard them cry themselves to sleep a few times…”

Kalim frowned at that. “They haven’t let us in there and were quite worried for our roommate yknow? We were originally gonna mess with you, but well… Good luck getting through to them…” The ghosts went to the sides of the room, allowing Kalim and his carpet through. Floorboards groan beneath his feet as he makes his way to the end. “Hello! Hellooo? Yuuu? Are you there?”

Kalim tapped on the door at the end of the hall, trying the knob a few times. “Hey! People are really worried about you! Yuu!” Kalim knocked a few more times, his cheery attitude dropping to worry. “We were gonna throw a feast for you.” Nothing. “Your friends missing you!” 

Kalim sighed, wondering how he would get through to you. Suddenly, Carpet started to flatten itself, pressing itself against the ground before inching under the crack of the door. “Aw right, Carpet! I knew it was a good idea to take you!” The doorknob wiggled for a moment, before being opened by the carpet, and floating up to let Kalim in.

He didn’t know what to expect. He never had to experience this. He was hoping to see you sleeping, maybe hunched over a desk. You were instead leaning both your hands against a wall, hunched over, and breathing heavily. The walls around you were filled to the brim with notes. Open books are scattered everywhere. He swore there were dents or scratches across the walls. 

Tears ran down their face as they kept murmuring under their breath. “Useless, useless. useless. useless, useless…” “… Yuu? What are you doing?” “It's all useless!” you screamed out, slamming your fist on the wall and letting out a strangled sob. Your vision blurred with tears. “I want… I want to go home! I miss my trash oceans! I miss the smog in the sky! I miss my friends!” 

Kalims eyes widened as he froze. Your tears make his eyes glaze over with tears of his own. “Yuu?” “I hate it here! I hate it so much! No one stays with me, no one cares about me! I hate everyone! But it's a pain. I don't want to be alone… I want friends! It's not fair…” Your body shook as you turned around.

Kalim’s breath caught in his throat. Your eyes were bloodshot, with bags piling under them, your arms bruised from how hard you've been squeezing them. You looked dehydrated, and your face was thin. “I can be your friend!” Kalim tried to interject. “I care!” Kalim held out his arms to invite you for a hug, ugly tears building up in his own eyes. What does he do? The last time he tried to comfort someone— Jamil— he made it worse.

You just stared through him, turning away to look back at your walls of scribbled notes. There's no way home. Kalim stuttered not knowing what to say, before he slowly walked up to you, reaching out to touch you. Carpet zoomed past Kalim, making him spin around and stumble for a moment before looking over. Carpet was wrapping you in a hug, squeezing you tightly into a cloth burrito.

You froze, then embraced the rug around you, sobbing into it. Kalim approached you, placing a hand on your shoulder, before helping you sit down as he watched over you. Your lip quivered as you leaned into Kalim, allowing him to hug you. Soon your sibs came to stop, and you became quiet again.

“So… Um… Your home! Can you tell me about it? I mean you seem to miss it…” Kalim soothed, making your shaky breaths stabilize. You smiled a bit before talking of home, Kalim enraptured in every word you said. “Oh! I know what if we throw a party with food and customs from your world! It'll makes you feel better, like a piece of your home here!”

You chuckled before nodding. “That… that sounds nice…” Kalim smiles at you. “Wanna go on a carpet ride? It always makes me feel better after a bad day, especially looking back up at the stars…” Kalim helps to pull you up, the carpet unraveling from you as it stands beside you, proudly. “Come on, I know a nice place around here!”

Stepping onto Carpet with Kalim, you are taken out of the window to the sky above. And for the first time in months, a genuine smile crept to your face.

Trey

Trey noticed your drop in mood immediately. As the eldest sibling and honorary dad of the dorm, he is used to peacekeeping and reading through the lines. Trey is one of the very few students that has looked out for you, honestly. He would always nag the braincell trio about how they occasionally treated you and has probably pulled Ace’s ear after hearing about what he said to you in your first encounter.

You’ve been pretty dull the entire week, he hoped it was just exhaustion from dealing with the most recent problem on campus. Trey planned on giving you a pastry when he sees you again, and hoped to check in on you. He’s aware of all the unfair expectations and work placed on you, surely it had to be dragging you down. 

One day passed. Then 2. Then 4. It’s been over a week and no one heard from you at all. Not even Grim. Ace and Deuce said you seemed fine and then just left. Trey was ready to give a lecture to his underclassmen on awareness among other things. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “I am going to go check on them myself, stay here. When you see them again I expect you all have something to say them?”

He swears he's going to put them on grocery runs. Packing up the pastry he made you, Trey made his way to Ramshackle. He just hoped you were okay. The walk made a gnawing sense of dread grow in Trey's mind, as the worst scenarios played through his head. You did seem down, I mean really down…

Quickening his pace, he made it to Ramshackle. A few knocks to the door and call of your name later, there was nothing. No response. “Yuu… Yuu!” Trey's knocks became a bit more frantic. The door was unlocked, and he made his way inside. “Yuu!” Trey placed the box he carried on the closest flat surface as he made his way up the stairs.

Has the Ramshackle dorm always been so long? He swore it looked smaller on the outside. Why were there so many rooms? One door stuck out to him the most. It was locked and looked to be blocked by furniture on the other side based on what he can see through the crack of the door. It felt ominous.

The floor creaked as he walked. “Yuu?” No response. “Yuu!” Trey attempted the doorknob. Surprisingly it was unlocked, but the door wouldn't budge in the slightest. “Yuu! Open the door!” “… Just go away, Trey.”

“Go away? We’re worried about you, you know?” “Just go away.” Trey sighed, then sucked in a breath. He could use some magic to break down the door, but it didn't seem urgent, furthermore, you may not want to talk to him if he brute-forced this.

“Yuu, please. What's wrong?” Deafening silence. “Do you want to talk about it?” Nothing. “I want to understand you.” Trey was pulling out everything he knew from being Vice-Housewarden. Problem solves, keep the peace. Trey sighed, pressing his forehead against the door.

He could hear you shuffling along with the papers being blown away by the draft in the dorm. Trey sat down next to the door. “You know, Ace is actually worried for you. Don’t worry I made sure to lecture him for the both of us.”

More silence passed. “Riddle was thinking of making you a guest for the next Unbirthday party.” “Even Leona seemed a bit surprised by your absence. He cares for you more than he’d admit.” Trey tapped his foot. “I'll stay here for as long as you need. Until you’re ready.”

A few more minutes passed before he heard the click of the door opening. He got up from where he sat, adjusting himself. “There you are. It's good to see you, Yuu. Let's go downstairs and talk, you'll feel better on a fuller stomach. Made your favorite."

Rook

Oh? Little Trickster, gone? Rook wasn’t actually too surprised. The hunter is quite perspective, after all. He knows of all the responsibilities on your shoulders, and how Crowley uses food as a leverage point for you. You were bound to break eventually. 

Rook may not show it but he is worried about the little trickster he had come to enjoy. You always were quite a charming trouble magnet. You were always so bold and happy, he never realized just how much quieter it would be without you. The freshmen’s chatter was dulled, and softmores and juniors no longer had someone to but into their business.

The silence was accompanied by stagnation. Boredom. Every day felt the same now, routine clockwork. There were no more fun surprises to be had. Surely you should be back by now, what happened? 

“Oui, Monsieur Hearts, Monsieur Spade.” “By the fucking seven you scared me!” Ace quipped, relaxing from his stiff pose, his cheeks puffed out in a huff. “What is it, Rook?” Deuce asked. “I noticed you have been without the Trickster for some time now.” “Oh… That…” Ace went quiet and sighed, both freshmen looking away awkwardly.

“Look the thing is…” “We don't know” Deuce cut off the ginger.

“Deuce!”

“We don’t! They just locked themselves away with no explanation!”

“Well, you can't just say that,, it looks bad!”

The two bickered for a bit before Rook cut. “Ah, so the Trickster has been locked away in their room, yes?” Like a storybook, Rook thought. “Then I shall go and see if I can save them.” The duo stared at Rook in disbelief. “You will?!” “Oui, Monsieur Candy Apple has also been down about their absence.” “Ah but, last time we all went, they didn't budge…” Ace hummed in agreement.

“Then, allow me to scout it out for you both. I will go alone so as to not overwhelm them.” The duo agreed, asking for Rook to tell them anything he finds and if you were okay. Rook is a talented tracker and hunter, if he can’t find out what was wrong, then no one could.

An easy sweep of Ramshackle and a few inquiries to a trio of ghosts later, Rook went upstairs to the farthest locked up room. A few wraps of his knuckles on the door were enough to get you to stir. “Trickster, are you in there?” You were, he knew you were, but for now, it’s best to try a gentle, yet direct approach. 

“Oh… hey Rook… Please leave me alone…” You croaked, going back to rip another page out of your notebook. “But Trickster, your freshmen friends are worried about you being locked away like this. Please, come out.” Rook's voice was gentle, soothing, it had to be. There was no response.

“Trickster,” Rooks tone took a serious turn. “I know you feel like no one sees your struggles, believe me, I do, however, I can attest to that. Everyone is worried, even if they don’t show it. The school has gone dim since you left. Everyone can feel it.” You started to tear up.

“And I also suspect you feel quite homesick, yes?” “Yeah, it’s a lot of things actually. All these stupid errands and just…” your voice cracked, “so much stuff.” Rook frowned at that, such a sad sound. “Then let's unpack it, together. Open the door, please?”

The lock clicked and the door opened to reveal you. You looked tired and malnourished, with dark circles and tear lines on your face. Ink was all over your hands and legs, and you twitched a bit with a blank stare. The room was a mess of paper and books. More tears ran down your face and you were ready to just curl up and die again, until you felt a comforting weight on your head.

"Here take this. There is no reason to be ashamed of crying.” You felt your head to recognize he put his hat on you. “Let it all out, I will be here when you are done.”

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #rook hunt #rook hunt x reader #angst #gender neutral #trey clover #trey clover x reader #kalim al asim #kalim al asim x reader

[passivenovember]

You know what? 

Necromancy for Dummies, Harringrove Week Day Two!

--

So, yeah.

It had been ten years since his last real relationship. A decade since Nancy Wheeler dumped him at Tina's Halloween party and Steve had heard opinions from everyone in his life about his refusal to move on.

Dustin thought there was no time limit on heartbreak. Told Steve he shouldn't be ashamed of taking time for himself, of taking a breather to work through his abandonment issues.

It made Steve feel good to have it reaffirmed, like he was getting a gold star for standard participation.

Robin, on the other hand, was of the belief that Steve should fuck anything with a pulse. Given that the thing could consent. She preached constantly about the therapy of the blowjob (both giving and receiving) and Steve thought it was a little odd for a lesbian to condone pegging like that but who was he to judge?

At least she was supportive, if a little brash, but he'd rather hear it from her than his Nonna, anyway. .

Dustin always rolled his eyes and repeated, insistently; that Steve should do what made him feel comfortable, not adhere to peer pressure or goading at the hands of a certain crowd favorite lesbian, and for a decade Steve had agreed.

It was his life. His lack of love, his mental breakdown, and Steve would experience it any way he saw fit.

Dustin was ecstatic. Told Steve he was proud of him--inspired, even, that sex and relationships weren't the hottest topic on his mind, but.

Dustin couldn't have been more wrong.

Steve thought about love constantly. Thought about holding hands and baking cookies on rainy Saturday mornings with someone who saw beyond what Steve presented to the world, and as the weeks turned into months that turned into years, it became impossible to ignore the aching in his chest to be completed.

He was good at hiding it. The want. The need for connection.

And sure, it was a primitive construct that everyone needed someone. Sure, it wasn't an actual necessity and Steve knew his worth as an individual wasn't defined by his access to a romantic partner and yada-yada-ya, but.

Then Nancy and Jonathan got Married.

And Dustin got Married.

And Mike and El moved in together.

And everyone was moving forward with their lives, even his Nonna, who had started dating new men every Saturday night after the death of his grandpappy Ralph.

And, maybe, Steve started to feel like a loser.

Just a little.

Like he was defective and unloveable and he tried not to mope his way through life, as a rule.

At least he still had Robin--the last single girls, the two of them.

But then, two weeks before Halloween, Robin got engaged and Steve didn't know what to do.

--

“You know that weird little friend of yours is getting married.”

”I know, Nonna.”

”The lesbian.” Which. Steve didn’t know why she kept calling Robin that. As if the two of them weren’t thick as thieves, best friends who played bag gammon together and smoked pot to quell Nonna's rising blood pressure. “And I don’t hold anything against the homosexuals, Stevie—“

”I know.”

She kept right on talking. Swallowing smoke, cough rattling the receiver against Steve’s head. “Hell, even I had my adventures back in the day.”

And. Yeah, Steve pushed his food to the side, suddenly overcome with queasiness.

“Did I ever tell you about Margot?” She asked. He could feel a story coming on.

”Nonna, I really don’t—“

”Breast’s like candy apples, for Christ-sake--"

"Please stop." He begged. Steve could barely handle the stories about grandpappy Ralph. 

"Alright Stevie, I get it. Once a woman turns fifty she stops being human. You know, for a witch you have incredibly narrow views of sexuality." Nonna leaned away from the phone, the tiny plastic tops of her hair rollers rattling when she yelled at Bride, her asshole cat.

Steve bristled. "I don't have--"

"You're kind of a prude, honey bunch." She was mostly kidding. Steve had spent the majority of his childhood learning the difference and he could tell that Nonna was grinning, somewhere on the other end of the line. "I blame your father." She said.

And they always did. He was mortal, practically puritan by the way he ruled over Steve's childhood with an iron fist.

"Can we talk about something else?"

"What, like how Robin is worried about you?"

Steve nearly dropped the mug in his hand. "You talk about me?"

"Of course we do." 

He was mortified. Nonna didn't seem to notice, chuckling as she poked and prodded. "What else would we talk about? Besides candy apple breasts, of course."

"Oh my god, Just." Steve groaned, burying his head in his hands. "Stop it. I swear to God I'm gonna--"

"God?" She chuckled again, that raspy smoker's laugh reaching through the phone to pull a smile out from Steve's chest. "Honey, if God were real don't you think he'd take pity on the desperate?"

He opened his mouth to argue--

And then closed it again because she was right. As usual. 

Steve was, well and truly, desperate in every sense of the word. He sighed and got up from the couch to pour himself another cup of coffee, his third for the night--sleep was out of the question.

Nonna took his silence as an opportunity to clear the air. "Robin also said you're her best man."

"Mediocre is more accurate, I dunno about Best--"

"And you know it's tradition for the best man to have a date, right Stevie?" Nonna paused, clearly trying to gauge his reaction. "It's bad luck for him not to."

Steve snorted. "You definitely just made that up. Right now. On the phone." He could practically see the swipe of her manicured hand in his minds eye.

Could feel her taking a swig of gin, blotting her mouth with a napkin as she said, "Details. The point is, honey bunch--the homosexuals are getting married. Hell, Nancy's been married for three years to that patient stoner boy." The distant flick of a lighter filtered through the receiver. "What was his name again?"

"Jonathan," Steve said around a slice of pizza.

"Yup, that's the one. And even that scrawny kid with the law degree--"

"Mike," He scrubbed a hand across his face. Nonna tried to remember the names, but. In her words: there were too many fuckers to take seriously.

She snapped her fingers at the realization. Smug little shit.

"Uh-huh, even Harvard has a live in partner. Point is: they can get married. All of them in their nerdy, scrawny, pale faced glory. And if they can somehow find love, why can't you?"

Steve felt his checks go pink with embarrassment. Here he was, gobbling pizza in his living room though no one was around to see it, and.

There were about a trillion and one answers to that question.

Why can’t you.

As a rule, Steve tried not to mope his way through life. That's not to say that there weren't things to complain about--Steve kept an itemized list in his sock drawer, for Christ’s-sake, and liked to pull it out for a refresher when things were moving a little too well.

He was so uncool. The absolute lamest, whenever shit got hopeful.

For starters, he was twenty eight and still afraid of the dark. Call it the result of phantom trauma, call it good sense--he had to use the tiny flashlight on his phone when moving about his house after the sun fell from the sky.

Setting appointments over the phone was his worst night mare. He let the trash get smelly before taking it out to the bin and spiders took up entire rooms when they made an appearance in Steve's apartment. He slept in front of the T.V. most nights because his bed felt too big and too empty but perhaps the worse thing of all--dweebiness and general child like wonder aside--was that his Nonna had started to notice.

And Nonna was a powerful witch, but she wouldn’t be able to pick up on a rotting corpse if it was dead in her living room

Steve shrugged, remembering again that no one could see him. "There aren't any hopefuls on my list."

"None at all?" Nonna said in disbelief. "Come now. My grandson is strapping--handsome and smart and a wiz with potions and brews." Nonna fell silent for a moment, the soft puff-puff-puff of her cigarette reaching through the atmosphere like limbs from a tree.

Finally; "We could always find you a love spell, slip an elixir into someone's tea. Someone you fancy."

Steve snorted. "Right, because that'll do wonders in quelling the rumors that I'm a stage five clinger."

"Who's saying that?" Nonna demanded. "Give me a lock of their hair and I'll make sure they stop saying anything."

And Steve knew she would.

Nonna had hexed three kids for stealing his lunchbox in the fifth grade for a whole lot less, and he had no doubt she'd do it again.

Still. He was reluctant to spill the metaphorical beans. "Just, kids in high school,” Steve clarifies. “When I was with Nancy--"

"Doll, that was ten years ago. Ten years." Nonna said, her smoky voice cresting the height of annoyance. "Besides, clinginess is just another term for loving selflessly and fearlessly, even when it's inconvenient."

She lit another cigarette. "What would Nancy Wheeler know about that?"

--

There were rules that came with being a witch. An etiquette, you could say, specifics that sucked all the fun out of having unlimited power. In many cases witches weren't exposed to higher magicks--either for lack of skill or self-control.

Steve's family colored outside the lines, so to speak. 

Nonna believed that there was no such thing as white or black Magick--just spells.

Just desire and intent and power. Truckloads of it, all waiting at the tips of his fingers if he knew where to look, and Steve never got in trouble for following his gut instinct. Not when he turned Tommy H. into a frog, not when he used magick to cheat on tests, and certainly not when he hexed people who deserved it.

Thus a culture of independence emerged around the young witch. A steely belief that there was no right or wrong, only his will.

His design.

You could say that was the first mistake.

--

The first time Steve reanimated a corpse was the day his lizard died.

Corncob was his familiar, which made it immensely difficult to wrap his head around the possibility of death. Steve's mother said it was a bad omen, that he hadn't properly sorted his intent before casting and thus the energies had taken something from him as payment.

Nonna said it was just the way of life.

All God's creatures pass on, Stevie. God notwithstanding.

But it was a fact he refused to accept. Steve didn't eat for days after Corncob's passing, refraining from drinking water, even, as he figured out what to do.

No right.

No wrong.

Only his will.

So Steve broke into the attic. Wrapped himself in a corner stacked with books and manuscripts on darker subjects, read until it felt like his eyes were melting out of his skull. 

There among the cobwebs Steve got his answer; necromancy.

The world felt slippery in his mouth. Steve knew it was mostly forbidden, especially for younger witches, but the thick, leather bound volumes had said it was rather simple to reach through the veil and breathe life into those one couldn’t bare to part with.

To bend the rules to fit his will, Steve was desperate; familiars weren't supposed to leave their masters, and he missed his friend dearly.

So, a life for a life.

That was the price, the books said. Steve made sure to iron out his intent this time.

He planned for days; gathered supplies under the guise of mischief--simple spells like making someone's hair fall out--until the moon was waxing and he convinced his mother to let him cast during the witching hour--his first of many. The incantation was to be said right as the clock struck midnight. Thrice thine and thrice mine, and thrice again to make up nine--

Steve sliced his palm and let an offering of blood feed the energy of the night.

Come morning corncob was eating flies like nothing had happened. Talking, like always, like before. The books said sometimes the soul got trapped in the in-between, but. Steve didn't notice a difference and Nonna didn't ask questions.

She told him he was powerful.

She told him it was rare that a witch of his age had the fortitude to reach into the veil, and he should be proud that he had been given such a precious, valuable skill.

Nonna told him that death was his gift.

You could say that was the second mistake.

--

Steve couldn't get the conversation with Nonna out of his head.

Robin was getting married and he was desperate. Single and restless, undesirable and frumpy--a whole list of things--stuck in a big Scooby-doo house with manuscripts on Wichcraft and Embalming that definitely were no help in getting him laid. 

After Nonna turned in for the night Steve poured himself a glass of wine, which he drank over a book on potions.

He poured himself another to make it through an embalming session; the corpse had started to smell and it was gravely unpleasant.

Steve took a shower and drank another to help him fall asleep.

It didn't work.

He poured a fourth glass of merlot and sat in front of the fireplace with the bottle cradled to his chest.

It was true. 

Everyone in Steve's orbit had moved on. Found love and success beyond running a Mortuary and Steve had thought about returning his gift so many times. Apparently botany and hearth witches were hot on the ticket of romance; everyone wanted flowers and tea cakes from their lover but the gift of death--helping spirits cross over, providing relief to grieving families, reaching into the veil in his search for lost spirits--while practical in use, was too weird for many.

For most. Of the people Steve had dated, at least. 

No mater what, witch or mortal, the same complaints always arose; Embalming fluid is not a valid form of cologne! Reanimating dead opossums on the side of the road is Creepy and Gross when they start following us around, asking for food! Conversations with dead people are not appropriate when I take you to meet my parents!

All the attributes Steve possessed weren't high on most people's lists when looking for a suitor. It's not like there were many witches running around, and even then.

Necromancy could be frightening. 

What with the vengeful spirts and the gaping hellmouths ready to swallow unsuspecting mortals, but Steve's gift was useful. And valuable. He felt whole and helpful and good when he could help people process complicated topics like death and he felt.

Powerful.

So powerful when he could fix it for them; bring back a child who had died too soon, or a man who had passed before the birth of his son. The kind of rush he received--Steve was taught never to fear power but to take it. Wield it. Forge his own path, create his own story--

"I should build a boyfriend." Steve said suddenly. 

As wine dribbled down his chin, Corncob awoke from his terrarium in the corner, cocking his head to the side like ‘Pussy won't.’

"Pussy will, you fucking dick." Steve rose on shaky feet and pulled his manuscripts from the book case. Leafing through them recklessly even as the words slipped around the page, he ached to find the answer. Five glasses of wine would serve him well tonight. 

"I can't believe I never thought of this before." He stared at Corncob. "Why didn't you think of this before?"

The lizard stared at him, glassy eyes quizzical. ‘Don't look at me, I'll have none of your necromancy.’

"You choose now to harness a sense of mortality?" Steve tossed the first manuscript to the side and propped open a second, biting his lip as he scanned the index for his favorite passage.

‘What are you searching for?’

"The Abi-Dalzim passage." Steve lamented distantly. They knew it well, had employed it when the Markson twins died of cancer before their fifth birthday.

Corncob wasn't on board with it that time, even though the children's mother had stopped eating.

Corncob was never on board with anything.

He was a terrible familiar. ‘Is that really a good idea?’ The lizard reasoned.

Steve closed the second manuscript and opened the Demonomicon. Volatile energies worked best, sometimes. "Every idea is a good one."

Corncob's tongue flicked out to lick his eyeball. ‘We haven't exhausted our other options.’

And that.

That was laughable. "I haven't had a partner in over ten years, Corny." The light from his lamp flickered once. "If I was capable of meeting one the usual way I'd be married with kids by now.”

‘What's that round friend of yours always saying?’ Corncob feigned interest. “’Self worth is not determined by outside factors...’”

Steve couldn't believe he was taking advice from a lizard, Goblin or otherwise. "You eat arachnids for a living. Hardly one to judge."

‘Something could go wrong.’ Corncob lamented. ‘The air. It worries.’

Steve opened a third manuscript. "Worries how?"

Corncob fell silent. Thoughtfully brooding as Steve copied the specifics from the Abi-Dalzim passage.

A graven image.

A list of attributes.

A lock of human hair, and. An orb of Thesula.

‘We don't have access to a spirt orb.’ Corncob concluded. As if that would somehow stand in the way. ‘They're extremely difficult to locate--’

"Difficult but not impossible." Steve pocketed the list and shrugged on a coat. Fall in Hawkins was brutal, the leaves paving a way from unrelenting cold. "I'll go see Keith. He always has the hook ups."

‘You despise Keith.’

Steve shrugged. "I despise you as well, but here we are.”

Corncob stared at him thoughtfully. ‘You are a powerful and kind master. Perhaps love will find you.’

Steve was almost moved.

Almost touched, to his very core, but he had grown tired of sleeping in this house alone. Had grown weary of filling out dating profile after dating profile only to be rejected for oozing outside a rigid set of standards, and.

Why wait?

The last of the single girls was leaving him. Marrying the mortal love of her life and Steve didn't see a reason to show up to the wedding without a date, when he could build one for free.

Why leave it to fate when Steve had the power?

Steve shrugged. "Yeah, and perhaps not." He held open the lapel of his jacket, exposing the pocket Corncob lived in when they ran errands together. "Now are you coming or what."

The lizard sighed. Big and dramatic and so bratty that Steve almost regretted bringing him back to life.

‘Alright, have it your way,’ the lizard told him, ‘But I'm going to complain the entire time.’

--

Keith was insufferable and not just because he was a vengeance demon.

They had done business together countless times. Keith always came to Steve whenever he needed payment from a recently deceased customer and Steve kept Keith’s Cart of Mysteries in business by purchasing all of his stolen goods. 

The guy had everything loaded into the back of his Dodge Neon; from enchanted rabbits feet to vials of blood from the holy lands, Steve's least favorite underwordling was the hottest ticket in Hawkins for any and everything Dark Arts.

And he was an asshole.

A stingy, self righteous asshole who just so happened to have exactly what Steve needed and of course was choosing tonight to be difficult.

On a full moon.

During the height of the witching hour.

"How do I know you won't break it?" Keith snatched the orb to his chest, eyebrows drawn in a grimace.

Steve so didn't have time for this shit. "What?" He was freezing, hugging his arms to his chest. "It's made of solid glass, you're telling me this thing is--"

"Yes. Thesula's are fragile. Practically shatter when placed in the wrong hands, and this is my only one 'til Tuesday, so." Keith polished the thing on the lapel of his jacket, just to be an even bigger dick. "How do I know you'll use it correctly?"

Steve blinked. "Because my incantation requires a--"

"Do you even know a Thesula's intended purpose?" Keith preened. "To retrieve souls from the veil. Any ol' soul you want or happen by and Thesula will call it fourth, no hidden fees and no take backs. Easy peasy."

Keith blew a raspberry and Steve? He wanted to scream. "Just sell it to me."

"Ask nicely."

"No." Steve concluded. Absolutely not. He gestured to the sky, eyebrows lifting in mock humor. "Kinda running on a clock, here, so--"

"What're you using it for?" Keith leaned against the trunk of his car.

"Like fuck I'm telling you."

The vengeance demon grinned. “If you want my orb bad enough you will."

And.

Shit.

Steve ran a hand through his hair. "Robin's getting married."

Keith immediately brightened. The two of them were friends, though Steve didn't really understand why. Vengeance demons could turn on you at the drop of a hat but he assumed the guy liked Robin's wit. Her spunk, maybe, and she was the spunkiest witch by far.

"Oh, Mazel Tov." Keith told him.

Steve held out his hand. "Yup, I'll pass along the message, so--"

Keith smirked. "Riddle me this." He tossed the Thesula in the air, catching it with a rough crack to his palm. "A satanic necromancer owns a morgue and comes downtown in search of a sprit orb. He finds one, thank his lucky stars, and discloses that his best friend is getting married."

"I don't uh." Steve was humiliated. "I don't think--"

"This warlock has a knack for raising the dead. Solving the inconvenient issue of mortality, the whole town knows it. Hell, the whole world knows it, I mean." Keith whistled, low and hard as he pocketed the orb again. "Guy's a big wig. But he has trouble with romance."

The vengeance demon stared at him. "What are you planning to do."

And Steve was desperate.

He sucked his teeth. "I'm building a--"

"You're building yourself a boyfriend." Keith said hysterically, like it was the funniest thing on Earth, and.

In a way it was.

He tossed the Thesula to Steve without warning, laughing harder when he nearly dropped it on the ground.

"Fuck," Steve winced. It was lighter than he had expected, glowing bright blue in the palm of his hand. "What's that mean?"

Keith looked away from packing his stuff, pushing the hair out of his eyes with another whistle.

"Means the God's are guiding you on your journey," the demon said casually.

Like the whole thing was casual.

Steve felt every bit like King Arthur as he fumbled for his wallet.

Keith stopped him. "Free of charge."

Which.

"Nice try," Steve chuckled. He fished a couple hundreds from his wallet, handing them over with a wink. "I'll be sure to credit you."

"Nah, no way." Keith pocketed the money with a vigorous shake of his head. "When your little boy toy goes wacko and eats half the town I don't want it getting out that I'm the one who made it happen."

Steve slid the orb into his pocket, forcing Corncob to shuffle in his perch. "Thanks again."

Keith waved dismissively, returning to the pile of garbage he was trying to fit in his trunk.

"Oh, and Steve!"

He turned around, confused.

Keith grinned. "Give him a smooch for me."

--

Steve had thought a lot about what he wanted in a boyfriend. Who he'd like to come home to after a long day and it was easy to envision the man he was going to create.

A being who was smart and strong, beautiful in the sense that it was insulting. Kind in a way that wasn't overt--sweet in a way that complimented himself and as he sat down to sketch an image Steve knew exactly what he was going for.

He made a point in outlining his desires.

Thought for hours about his intention--true love, someone to share his life with--and the orb glowed blue.

The Gods were smiling down on him and Steve tried not to let it go to his head as the the clock struck three. He situated himself in the embalming room. Lit candles, laid out his supplies for the evening and began.

On a metal slab he had fashioned a man made of clay.

The shape was vaguely human. Shorter than Steve but stockier around the middle--beefier.

Corncob chortled. ‘Twink.’

"Shut up," Steve mumbled. The lizard quieted instantly as Steve pressed the orb through the center of its chest, watching as the bluish hue lit the clay man from the inside. "His essence consume." Steve said.

Corncob swallowed, movement palpable in the thick air.

"Ready?"

As we'll ever be, I suppose.

Steve spoke in a loud, clear voice.

--

He awoke in bed. Sunlight streaming through the open window, birds singing--the whole nine yards. Steve tossed a pillow over his head and burrowed deeper under the covers because fuck this.

Fuck all of it, until--

Something was laying next to him in bed.

Something warm and solid, a thick wall of muscle shifting closer and closer still; "You are done sleeping, now?"

Steve peeked out from behind his pillowcase.

Blue eyes the color of high noon stared right back at him. Blonde ringlets spread across the bed tickled Steve's neck as his creation smiled, plush pink lips curving with secret warmth. His eyelashes practically touched Steve's from where they were pressed together, and. Holy shit.

Holy fuck, he was beautiful.

So beautiful it hurt, and. 

The clay man pried the pillow from Steve's hands and sat up, his muscular shoulders catching the sunlight in a frilly of sculpted ridges. He blinked his pretty blue eyes, taking in the bedroom as he turned to watch Steve fall apart against the mattress.

Steve swallowed. "You. Um. Gorgeous. Very, um. Hot." Nice. Very smooth.

The man smiled, soft and sweet. "Thank you.”

Which.

Steve scrambled into a sitting position, back hitting the headboard with a painful Crack.

"You can talk?"

"I learned how, hearing your thoughts," The clay man said, blue eyes rolling to look at the ceiling. "You made me in your image."

Steve snorted. He gestured to the guy's whole thing; the muscles and the long blond hair and those pecks, Jesus Christ.

"No, um. I wish." Steve chuckled.

The clay man grinned wider at that, eyes sparkling like Steve was something special.

Something beautiful.

He sat on his knees, the silk blanket falling in a heap around him and--

"Holy shit, you're." Steve covered his eyes. "You're naked um. Do you--"

The man started climbing up the mattress.

Holy fuck.

Steve could feel the bounce of it, the jostling of his weight as he settled on Steve's thighs with a coo, and.

Holy--god, in heaven--

Steve was instantly hard when the man tugged at his wrists. When blondie pulled Steve's hands away to show his face.

Steve peeked at him through one eye. "Do you want some? Clothes, or."

The man was watching him. Just staring, eyes wide and cheeks pink as Steve tripped over himself to get a grip. He brushed his fingers over Steve's mouth softly. Pressing to make him stop, to shut him up.

"You are good." The man said.

"Huh?" Steve wished he had the vocabulary to understand this moment because it felt heavy.

Massive, as the Man's fingers moved to cup his jaw. To tilt his face toward the light.

His brow furrowed around the thought. He parted Steve's lips with his thumb, eyes glued to the tender pink muscle of Steve's tongue as he muttered, "Let me kiss you."

And.

Steve tried to speak around the finger in his mouth. "I don't--"

The man inhaled at the feeling of Steve's tongue sliding over the pad of his finger. He shushed him, hinging Steve's jaw open with more force than necessary.

Steve thought distantly that he liked it.

"Let me taste you." The man said.

Holy fuck.

Holy-- "I don't even know your name." Steve whimpered pathetically. Because it was important to him. That this creature, this man, had an identity.

A personhood.

The man frowned. "I am yours." He leaned forward to mouth at Steve's neck, as if to prove it.

He only succeeded in making Steve think with his dick.

"Right, but I could, uh." He moaned softly at the sweet drag of teeth against his throat. "I could be yours, too--"

"You are mine."

"Yeah, that's um. That's alright with me, no complaints here, it's just--" Lips on his chest. His stomach. His thighs. Steve couldn't think straight.

He yelped when the man licked at the cotton of his boxers.

Right over his cock, teeth hot and breath warm, and--

Steve pulled him up by his shoulders.

The man frowned, hurt flickering and cracking on his face like candle light. "Do you not want me to claim you?"

Holy fuck.

Steve swallowed. "No, I. God, I want." The man leaned in again, eyes hungry on Steve's mouth. He stopped him with a gentle hand to the chest. "I have to get through this part, okay? Will you. Could you listen to me for a moment?"

The man nodded, sitting back on his ankles to reveal a thick, pink head trapped between the skin of his legs.

Steve forced himself to press on.

"It's important to me that you have a name. Because you aren't mine." His face fell. Steve grasped at him, desperate. "I mean you are. We belong to each other. As equals. You can live here, with me, if that's what you want. And I can help you see the world. I don't own you. That's what I'm saying."

"Maybe I want to be owned."

And Steve hadn't expected that.

"You're ten hours old, you have a lot to learn." He swallowed thickly, ignoring the ache between his legs.

"Did you not create me so I could be of service?" The man asked.

And. "Yeah, so I wouldn't be alone."

It was pathetic, admitting it out loud. Steve felt tears swamp his vision--he bit his cheek to make them go away. "I wanted to prove that someone could love me. My friend's getting married and I didn't want to show up without a date, and." Steve looked up, into those pretty blue eyes and felt like the worst kind of person. "Shit, this was a bad idea. I was being selfish."

The man shook his head. "It is not selfish to crave love and companionship."

"I don't want to take advantage of you," Steve said thickly. "I never should have--"

"You do not have to worry about that." He leaned forward and placed a hand on Steve's chest. "Your heart is pure. Clean."

As if that explained it all. Steve watched him, tracking the movement of those eyes across his face.

"I was made in that image," The man concluded.

Steve hung his head.

It was true, what they said about him. Steve was power hungry, pathetic, clingy. The worst of the worst and add God Complex to that list; you could create a clone of the worst person alive. Steve wanted desperately to disappear as a gentle hand moved his face toward the light once more.

The man smiled. "You are kind and fair and good. Let me be yours. Please."

"It wouldn't be right."

"I am giving myself to you because I love you." Those lips said. Steve relished the sweet slide of skin over skin as the man climbed into his lap. "What will it take for you to give yourself to me?"

Steve sighed. Opened his mouth to accept gentle, sloppy kisses from a gentle creature.

Steve pulled away. "We could start with names? I'm Steve," He said, reaching out a hand. The man kissed his knuckles.

"Who should I be?"

Steve shrugged. "Anything you like."

He allowed himself to be lowered to the mattress. Allowed the man to suck and kiss at his neck until, with a breath as soft as summer air;

"You can call me Billy."

#harringroveweek #day three #nercromancy because i said so! #harringrove #halloween #fluff and humor

[azurewishing]

Okay I’m so so sorry if this ends up pestering you but

i wanna know your depictions of the colossals, idk, headcanon s or whatever

possibly their relationship with the epic wubbox as well 👀

I'VE BEEN ENABLED AAAHAHAHAHAAAA!!!!!!!!

The colossals, to me, are a bunch of people who focus on the big picture but end up skipping over important details. A big example is not thinking about how to make sure the continent exists forever and the argument that led to the end of the dawn of fire. They rely on the celestials to refine details of their work

Once they went into their slumber, they became a bit unstable with the fact they were constantly thinking despite being asleep. Currently they are trying to regain stability

They are eldritch beings and contacting them without proper preparations can lead you to madness

Their existence is based on faith, basically no worshippers = death

For them individually...

Grennitch- A serious one who loves nature. They look over the land with appreciation of the hard work of others

Frigil- So sooo sad. They are shy and clingy, as well as easily moved to tears. They try to act strong though

Zeffree- Machine liker. They like taking on big projects and showing them off to others, and enjoys teaching others too

Hyddryd- Adventurer. They hate staying in one place. They bring materials from the places they explore

Sollum- Doesn't exactly enjoy doing work, they rather do things solo. If they have to work then they'll work, well only after being forced to

Fire colossal- Sweet but also very strict, a bit too strict...

Zarroë- Just likes to be there. It grew an attachment to the prototype monsters so it decided to stay behind in the pocket dimension. Very creative and was close to galvana

For the epic wubs, here's something to note... the colossals weren't that good to them. It varies on which colossal, but they hurt the wubs

Plantie has very complicated feelings with Grennitch. It worships them but curses their name. It loves but hates them

Coldie was traumatized severely by Frigil. But frigil doesn't realize that and still tries to talk to it

Airie likes Zeffree because they're nice, but the colossal tends to accidentally push air to its limits

Waterie doesn't know what to think about Hyddryd, so it doesn't think anything about them. It doesn't like them all too much though

Earthie worships Sollum a lot and wishes they'll notice their efforts one day

I should mention, the gold island epic wubbox forgot who their colossal was

#asks #this is all i remember from my headcanons

[dangans-ur-ronpas]

Chapter 6

ooh...drama.....

also happy 2024. im posting this on new year's eve in my time-zone tho so consider this the last update of 2023

SEE HERE FOR GENERAL WARNINGS AND FIC SUMMARY

Some pre-chapter notes:

lovingly named this chapter 'the naegami pre-divorce fight' in my head

was incredibly worried about how the characterization would work out here. shoutout to @moonlighttogami for beta-reading this one!

Byakuya is an asshole here. But it's in-line with how he is in canon anyways

Reminder that this fic is a slow-burn. For both naegami AND togiri. Which includes conflicts abound

Content warning tags: canon-typical assholery from Byakuya, mention of previous character deaths

< previous - from start - next >

Things are quite tense after that.

It doesn’t help that Monokuma has no intentions of taking any of it seriously. He toys with them openly, seemingly delighting in the collective misery. But he at least opens up the next floor and some other facilities, which offers a wide new variety of options to them.

The first floor warehouse and bathhouse are now unlocked. On the newly available second floor, there’s a pool, some more classrooms, and most importantly, a library, though no kind of technology that could access the internet or the outside world. Even despite all that, it’s a welcome change; Byakuya was beginning to grow bored with the routine of the first floor, and the limited spaces he could occupy to eavesdrop on people.

He found painkillers and nausea medication in the first floor warehouse, which was a veritable boon to him. It’s cheap over-the-counter stuff, but he recognizes the obvious branding labels and has Naegi confirm it for him before he takes some bottles for his own use. Naegi also recovers a bottle of eyedrops, which he accepts, though they prove to have no effect whatsoever; at the very least, they made him feel like some progress was being made.

The real treasure trove, however, was the second floor library. 

It’s nothing compared to the library in the Togami residence, of course, but it seems that whoever was librarian here at least had good taste. He runs his fingers over smooth leather spines and finds titles that he recognizes, old favorites that he once tore through with eagerness and newer ones that he had always been planning on reading, and even ones that he had never heard of before. He felt almost pleased by it, though it was quickly accompanied by a note of bitterness.

Not like I can read these myself, however. He thinks, clicking his tongue and making Naegi jump besides him. And listening to someone else read was always irritating, especially when he could usually read faster by sight than they could speak. But he has little choice now, as he pulls Naegi to his side.

“Come to my room tonight,” He says in a low voice, with no uncertain terms. Naegi’s face flushes, and he begins to stammer out something ridiculous before Byakuya smacks him lightly over the head with a copy of Tolstoy.

“Don’t get the wrong idea,” He scoffs, pushing a sizable stack into Naegi’s hands. “Go take these to my room. Then come back.”

“Oh, o-okay…” He walks off, tottering a little underneath the weight. He was listless after the trial, gloomy and less responsive, but he still followed orders well enough.

Byakuya watches him go, before turning his attention back to the shelves. Much as he’d hate to admit it, he was loath to be out of Naegi’s company nowadays. The atmosphere after the first death was palpable, thick with tension. Plus, it didn’t help that some certain, purple individuals, had taken up a new interest in stalking him.

One of whom was Fukawa. He’d noticed Ultimate Writer had taken up some kind of habit of following him around, as told by the slightly harrowed sound of her breathing in his general vicinity, and the general smell. And the other of which was Kirigiri, of whose presence he became uncomfortably aware of recently.

Maybe it was their few, clipped conversations with thinly concealed aggression. Or maybe it was simply her actions during the trial, which now put her at the forefront of attention - she had gone from being someone who the others were prone to forgetting, to a sort of secondary leader. Someone whose advice was asked for, though she was rarely around to give it. But regardless, he now found himself looking for white as soon as he entered a room, tensed as if ready to right. Though, after their first few, hostile interactions, all other conversations were relatively civil.

At the moment, neither of the two girls were posing any real danger. Fukawa, while off-putting, was more importantly boring and therefore relatively harmless (and furthermore, currently involved in some inane argument with Yamada). And Kirigiri was too involved in exploring their surroundings to pay him any real note; he turns just in time to see her pulling something flat, gray and rectangular out of a desk.

“What’s that?”

She shakes the thing, hard enough for him to almost be worried that it’d fly from her hands and smack against the floor, and a cloud of dust flies off. “A computer.”

“Oh?” Now this was interesting. He approached nearer, curious. “Does it work?”

In lieu of answering, she sets the device on the central desk and flips open the lid. After clicking and holding a few buttons, she shakes her head. “Doesn’t look like it. That would’ve been too easy.”

A shame. But she was right; it would have been too easy, considering all the mastermind’s attempts to cut them off from the outside world. “Send it to Fujisaki. She should be able to figure something out from it.”

“I was already planning on that.” She sounds mildly miffed at the suggestion, as if affronted that he would think she wouldn’t come to that conclusion.

“Good. I’m glad you have half a modicum of common sense, then.” He sniffs. It was more than just about anyone else here, at least.

She faces him for a moment, long enough for him to wonder if she was glaring at him, before turning away. “Did you find anything of note?”

“Not particularly. Some interesting volumes to pass the time with, but nothing obviously relevant to our situation as of yet.” From what he could tell, and what he had Naegi explain, the shelves held more than just good books. There were also case files for crimes that never reached the public eye, documents of incriminating evidence and then some regarding some of the most powerful names in the world. He would have to pore through those individually later. And some medical textbooks - he made a mental note of their location, and a reminder to go back for them.

Kirigiri steps past him to run a hand across the surface of a low shelf, sending up a cloud of dust. He wrinkles his nose and steps back. “Do you mind?”

“Sorry. I was just reaching for this.” And she holds up a thin rectangle of parchment, sealed by red wax.

___

The letter creates some interesting revelations.

For starters, the school had supposedly been closed down for nearly a year by now. And secondly, it was due to some circumstance outside of anyone’s predictions or control, that the school shut down in the first place.

There was no other elaboration, and nothing could really be gleaned from it other than the mastermind possibly having more control than they originally thought, provided that the letter was real. It was a frustrating loop back to where they first started; nothing was gained from the loss in morale.

If circumstances were different, he would’ve chosen this moment to break off from the group. He found a new source of entertainment and information with which to use, and with Maizono breaking some unspoken promise, there was now no telling who might strike next. If circumstances were different, he would take this opportunity to try playing a more active role in the game, to see how much he could push his limits, to prove the value and right of his blood.

But with his current situation, he had no choice but to continue to participate in the inane routine that everyone agreed to partake in. Waking up at six AM sharp to dress and clean himself accordingly, taking extreme care to ensure nothing was out of place, and then walking to the dining hall to enjoy breakfast. Ishimaru was usually there at this time, as timely as ever and preparing breakfast alongside whoever’s turn it was to handle the meals that day, and could usually be coerced into making a half-palatable cup of coffee. Then was the usual waiting around as the others made their slow, meandering ways in, exchanging yawned greetings and calls for food.

He sat apart from everyone else, as usual. Sometime around seven, Naegi would show up, and bring over a plate of buttered toast and some cut fruit for Byakuya and move on without another word. At first, the others had exchanged curious, barely concealed whispers, wondering at the nature of their dynamic - now, they hardly paid any mind.

“Today, we should split up and look for clues!” Ishimaru declared, after they had eaten.

“Isn’t that what we do every day, anyways?” Asahina muttered under her breath. Her head was resting in her arms, sprawled on the table. “I wanna go to the pool…”

“Yes, I don’t see why we can’t take a day to enjoy the new facilities.” Celeste interjected, hands folded primly over her lap. “I doubt any of it is going anywhere. And we have endured quite a lot, have we not?”

“Yeah, we should take a break! For like, morale and stuff!” Yasuhiro agreed heartily, nodding emphatically.

As Ishimaru tried to regain control over the table, Byakuya silently agreed right along with them. By his calculations, it would take at least twice as long for him to read anything if Naegi was helping him. Any free time was valuable.

“Well- it’s better to get work done before leisure, you know!” Ishimaru tried again, voice raised. “Otherwise, how will we be dedicated students!”

“We’re hardly students at all though?” Naegi’s quiet voice piped up. “I mean, considering why we're here...”

The previously light-hearted atmosphere vanished instantly. Over the course of just a few days, they’d witnessed the deaths of three of their peers. As much as Byakuya respected the entirely logical reasoning that Naegi had offered, he also felt that it was rather mistimed.

He debated whether or not to offer his own input, before Kirigiri beat him to the punch. “Why don’t we do both?” Her tone was calm and clear as always. “I imagine we will all be in different locations anyways. If every person just makes note of something that’s interesting and worth remembering where they are, we can come together later and combine that information. Everyone who wants to investigate on their own is welcome to do so.”

There’s a chorus of agreement to that suggestion. Ishimaru seemed relieved by Kirigiri’s attempt to boost the group’s cohesion, though Byakuya doubted whether that was her real intention. Bit by bit, people began to split off; predictably, Asahina half-dragged, more-led Ogami away in the direction of the pool, and Celeste began demanding Yamada to make her some tea. Byakuya stood up, watched as Fukawa swooped in and took his empty cutlery, and beelined towards Naegi.

He reaches him just at the same time as Kirigiri, both of them placing a hand on the young man’s shoulders at the time. Byakuya locks eyes (presumably) with the girl, frowning. “Is there something that you need?”

“...No.” She releases him, and walks away. It takes both of them by surprise; Byakuya had been expecting a bigger fight.

“...What was that all about?” Makoto asks, bemused. Byakuya had no good answer to that question.

“You’d do better to stay away from her.” Is all he says instead, before dragging Naegi off.

He had a selection of books he wanted to read for his leisure in his room, but had left anything potentially case-relevant in the library. It is for this reason that he pulls Naegi into the room and positions him directly in front of a shelf of all case files, and points to the one on the right. “Start from there. If there’s anything in there mentioning ‘Hope’s Peak’ or crimes of passion, or killing games like this one, tell me, and we’ll go from there.”

“...Wait, for all of these?!” His voice is a little reedy still, presumably from last night - while he was slow at reading, he was decent at it, and not unpleasant to listen to - Byakuya had made him read aloud nearly half of a translated copy of Atlas Shrugged.

“Is there a problem?” He looks down on the other boy. “You said you’d be my eyes. This is part of what I need my eyes to do. Get started.”

He watches as Naegi wobbles for a moment, turning between him, the shelf, and the door, before reaching for the first file on the far right of the shelf and starting to skim through it. He’s slow, taking a good few moments to look through each page, so Byakuya sits down in the large leather chair by the desk, sinking comfortably into it.

It’s quiet in the library, silent if not for the distant hum of the building’s internal machinery and the occasional flip and shuffle of Naegi going through a folder. Not for the first time, Byakuya wishes for a radio, or a music player. Boredom was a dangerous thing - as Pennyworth had taught him, it dulled the brain and made for delayed, clumsy reactions - and Byakuya had already exhausted the few tricks and games he knew to combat it on his own.

Maybe, it’s for this reason that he decides to initiate conversation. With Naegi, of all people.

“What do you think of her?”

The commoner takes a little moment to respond, and when he registers the question, he predictably begins to sputter, fumbling with the papers in his hands. “I-I-! …Um, w-who…?”

Byakuya rolls his eyes. “Kyoko Kirigiri. Who else?”

Kyoko Kirigiri. He was hoping that, if this school was the Hope’s Peak Academy they were meant to enroll in, that there would be more information eventually revealed about her as well. But for the time being, she was a wild card, and a mystery. These were two things that made her dangerous, and a possible threat.

“Sh-she’s…well, she’s nice…I think?” Naegi tilts his head to the side, unsure about his own answer. “I mean…she helped me out a lot with the trial. I don’t think I would’ve been able to get through it without her help.”

Interesting. That was true from what Byakuya could tell, but it also seemed that Naegi had been doing most of the talking, with occasional interjections from Kirigiri to help push him in the right direction. It was a demonstration of clever manipulation, and one that irked him. If Naegi was going to be working for him, he needed to be free of outside influence.

“Keep looking through the files.” He nods at the shelf, and Naegi fumbles with the folder with his hands, flipping it closed and sliding it away. “I saw you and her talking the other day after the trial. What were you discussing?” He asks, voice casual and almost bored.

“Oh, that? That…” He trails off. He seems to almost visibly deflate, his form drooping over like an unwatered plant. “That was…about Sayaka. She wanted to reassure me that Sayaka still cared about me, at the end.”

Still cared about you? The notion was so preposterous that Byakuya couldn’t help stifling a laugh, instead snorting at the thought.

“...What’s so funny?”

“Sorry. I simply find the idea of it ridiculous, is all.” Sayaka Maizono, caring for him? Perhaps, but the entire plan that she had prepared was, albeit hastily executed, commendable in its elaborate design, considering the short time period in which it was concocted. Trying to derive small comfort from such an assumption was like trying to squeeze water from a stone; a pointless, frivolous task.

“Why?” Naegi’s voice is raised now, and he sounds angry. “It’s not ridiculous. We really were good friends-”

“Oh, please. Were you friends back in middle school? Or did you only watch her from afar?” Naegi shrinks back at the words, which meant that Byakuya had been spot-on. “And she only reached out to you after we found ourselves trapped here, and said all the right things to get you to follow after her like a starving dog.”

“Shut up.” Naegi says, voice so quiet he almost missed it.

“She could’ve used any of the half-witted fools in this class, but she used you because she knew you were unlikely to betray her.”

“Shut up.”

“Did you happen to make a promise to ‘help her no matter what?’”

“I said, shut UP!”

The sudden shout is accompanied by the rustle of papers hitting the ground, as Naegi drops whatever was in his hands to the floor. Byakuya remains carefully composed, though he suddenly feels incredibly wary.

“I’m only telling the truth.” He keeps his voice level, calm. Naegi was standing up, and somehow seemed bigger than before; though that was perhaps due to how Byakuya was sitting down. “It was obvious that she was trying to pin you under her thumb. She was going to betray you eventually, so it’s better to forget about her and move on.”

“You don’t get to say that stuff about her.”

“And why can’t I? Everything I say is simply meant as advice. Advice that you clearly need.” He continues anyways, trying to hide the unease creeping at the edges of his voice. Why did he feel so threatened? The only one here was Naegi. “You know it’s happening again, right? That Kyoko woman. She’ll do the exact same thing as Sayaka and you’ll be none the wiser.”

“She’s not like that.” His words are a low whisper now, barely audible. It seems to fill up the entire room.

“And how do you know? What do you know about her that no one else does?”

At last, he’s met with silence. A question that can’t be answered. He watches the realization sink into Naegi, watches his demeanor change, shrinking back to being small and meek again, and without realizing it he lets out a breath he’d been holding.

“...I don’t know.” Naegi says aloud, at last, and his voice is so small again. “I…I don’t know anything about her.”

“Right.” Byakuya nods, while feeling an inexplicable rush of relief. “So-”

“But I also don’t know anything about you.”

“...Excuse me?”

Not for the first time, he wishes he could discern facial features. He hadn’t realized how much he relied on them before; how telling they were to a person’s character, their emotions, their whims and ideals. Even Naegi, someone who should’ve been inconsequential to him, was capable of becoming dangerous. A treacherous link in a chain. 

But Byakuya had no choice but to rely on him anyway.

Naegi turns around, and Byakuya suddenly realizes he was about to leave. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Sorry, I…can’t really think straight right now. I probably won’t be able to help you for a little bit.” There’s a tremor in his voice. Anger? Grief? “But I don’t know anything about you either. Yes, I know your talent,” He adds, as Byakuya opens his mouth to correct him. “And your secret, but…that’s still not enough, right?”

“This-This is different, though.” We’re built on more stable footing, he thinks. Naegi knew his secret and would help him navigate as needed. In return, he would use his authority to ensure the lives of Naegi’s family. That was their deal.

“Maybe, but still. There’s a lot I don’t know about you. And you’re right - I don’t know if I can trust Kyoko’s words, because she could just be trying to use me. Just like Sayaka did…” His voice trails, and he shakes his head. “But I also don’t know if I can trust you. Aren’t you just using me, like you say Kyoko wants to?”

Was he stupid? “Like I said, this is different.” He stands up, steps forward - and hears the crunch of papers beneath his feet, but there’s no time to worry about that now - “I’ve already sworn on my family’s name - there’s nothing else in the world that means more to me, not even my own life - and look at me. Do you really think I’m capable of anything when I’m like this?” He holds his hands out, gestures towards himself. This wasn’t turning out the way he wanted - all he had wanted was respite from boredom, and reassurance that Naegi wouldn’t betray him, and to get some sense into the damn peasant - “Makoto.”

Naegi turns away again. “...I’m sorry.” Byakuya can hear his hand on the doorknob, trembling slightly. “I promise, I’ll keep up my part of the deal still, but…please, let me off for now. To think for a bit.”

He still doesn’t move, however, and Byakuya belatedly realizes that he was waiting for permission. He hears the papers beneath his shoes crumple, as his heels dig into the carpet.

“...Fine, then.” He spits. “Get out. Go play with Kyoko, or whoever you want, and get your pathetic heart broken and betrayed all over again.” He watches Naegi cringe under these words, shying away as if they were physical blows. “Don’t come back to me until I say so.”

< previous - from start - next >

#thpff chapters #thpff #danganronpa #danganronpa fanfic #byakuya togami #makoto naegi

[sannylity]

thinking about the president of the qsmp and head maid slimeriana au. imagine them being so fucking fruity and hidden and its hotttt. charlie is bubbly and silly but he gets pretty tired out and stressed from work. he falls asleep at his desk sometimes and mariana- not being as strong as him- will usually put a pillow under his head or drape a soft blanket over him. he didnt know why he always woke up comfortable and cared for if he passed out on his paperwork for a while.

charlies the first president of the country to not be in a romantic relationship (dating, engaged, married) when he is sworn into office. he won because of his strong morals and caring for everyone, along with his general charm that could (unintentionally) get laughs and swoons out of people.

mariana was originally from a not well-off family, leading her to hiding his identity as a transfem individual. to help them out he became a private maid for some very wealthy peoples, gaining a bit of a reputation. she got hired by the qsmp to be a maid for them and so he worked for the last president, and stayed for the next- and charlie came along.

the thought of her going into his room to "clean it" and charlie walks in when marianas been in there for five minutes. they snicker and the curtains are drawn, locking the door and pushing the maid onto the bed. you know. they do slimeriana stuff. then i imagine them lying there together, charlies head on her chest.

they have a talk about leaving together, about running away, about going where nobody can find them. but they decide against it. charlie would drop it all for mariana, he'd cast aside life for her. but mariana wont let him- he knows the qsmp is pretty fucked up from the last few presidents, and she knows charlies the best guy to fix it.

but you know once his term(s) end they leave together for cancun and adopt a trans girl and live together happily in comfort :3

- 💫 

Yes! Hello again 💫anon! I like your ideas as per usual <3 and yes, this AU is written to be either heavily suggestive or may even include smut.

Their relationship would revolve around a secret arrangement, strictly very physical. At first. Maybe Charlie has been pent up and stressed over being the president and nothing has been working to keep him in check. Maybe Mariana lacked some adventure in her life since her life’s been on schedule to clean up and prepare for someone more important, so she seeks the thrill of going off course.

And maybe they could give each other what they want. Charlie has an outlet for his stresses and frustrations while Mariana for once feels a thrill in her life, even if it’s being a dirty little secret.

It was bound to be hot and magnetic and there’s so much tension with so very limited time and even less places to be alone together. Their lack of opportunities is almost something that drives them to be more reckless.

The first few times were in public. A door, a wall or a window away from being found out, on the president’s desk, under it, in the conference room, a supply closet. They lacked the caution to be careful until they almost got caught.

That’s when they decided that lessons were learned.

Which they didn’t think that having to be careful amounts to putting themselves in more intimate positions. In the president’s bedroom, even on Mariana’s bed, his balcony, his bathroom. There’s a shift in how they handle each other. Much softer and more delicate.

They know things have changed when they stay on each other’s beds. They know something’s different when Charlie starts drawing his memorized speeches on his maid’s skin, while Mariana lulls the president to sleep with Spanish love songs.

I can imagine them acknowledging that their happiness is pocket-sized and limited. That’s why they can only daydream what could’ve been if Charlie isn’t the president and Mariana isn’t his maid. Their what ifs were mostly lighthearted and unserious.

Until Charlie can’t imagine being married to anyone else but Mariana, while Mariana can’t imagine starting a family when it doesn’t involve Charlie. But it’s all impossible while they’re enclosed with responsibilities that keep them apart.

In my head, I imagine Charlie would willingly go through a resignation and to put Mariana’s worries to rest of not having a good president running the office, Charlie would make sure his vice president is capable and ready.

With his resignation gaining obvious public attention of reporters and people asking questions and making rumors, Charlie would keep Mariana safe by moving him as far away from the palace and making him work someplace else.

“Just until things calm down. Until things settle and then we can do whatever we want. We can go to Cancun. We could get married and start a family!”

Those words would keep Mariana going, even if it would take years and years. He fiddles with the ring clasped around his neck, hoping that one day Charlie will come back for him and they could fulfill all their wishes and love each other freely and openly.

[turbo-virgins]

Last night I received the following concerning anonymous message:

When I first read it I was immediately suspicious and thought this was a malicious attempt to start in-fighting while everyone is on edge over the sock-puppet oc-stealing individual that has been hovering around the fc5 community for some time now. However, at least one mutual I have in common with the blog named in the anon has since blocked me, which leads me to believe that the message above might be true and I am being accused of plagiarism. I have left that blog name covered up in case this is all some huge misunderstanding.

In the midst of these accusations, no one (aside from the anon) has reached out to make me aware of the situation or even what I am being accused of plagiarizing. I have reached out to the person who is supposedly accusing me to confirm whether or not they are actually accusing me, but have not yet received a response.

In the meantime I'm providing my limited perspective of the situation to (hopefully) clear the air.

When I first became active in the fc5 community on tumblr (about two years ago, I think?) I was mutuals with the redacted blog in the anonymous message. This person is a long-time prominent member in the community. Their oc and their deputy/john fanfic is well loved and very popular. Not too long after I joined the fandom I began writing my fic, Holy Roller which is a deputy/joseph fanfic centered around my oc, Delilah. It was inspired by a deputy/joseph fic on ao3 called To Build A Home (and I have an old message with a different mutual that I can dig up if requested in which I discuss the premise of that fic and how it inspired me).

In an attempt to be more active in the community, I started reading a few of my mutuals fanfic (including this person's fic). From time to time I would send asks/dms/leave tags in WIP posts leaving encouraging and positive feedback and just enjoying someone else's writing in general. I believe I only read up to chapter 3 or 4 of the fic of the person that is accusing me of plagiarism.

The only similar thing I am aware of between their fic and mine is that we both make allusions/references/allegories (whatever the correct term is) to the biblical book of judges and specifically within that book - the story of Samson and Delilah. When I realized that both of our ocs/other characters in the fic make a reference to Delilah, I remember sending them an ask about it because I thought their take on their oc being a stand-in for Delilah/Samson/some amalgamation of the two was neat. At the time I believe they referenced some biblical academic debate about several different accounts regarding Delilah - some in which she is painted as a victim rather than a seductress. If I recall correctly, they offered to send me a link to their reference material, but I don't remember if I ever got the link - all I know is that I never actually read through whatever reference they were using.

Shortly after this exchange (maybe a few days, maybe a week or two, I don't remember) this mutual blocked me (and I think I was blocked maybe a year and a half ago? I don’t remember; I don’t think I’ve interacted with this person in over a year though). At the time it did not occur to me that the Samson and Delilah references might be why they blocked me. I reached out to a mutual we had in common to see if I had done anything or reblogged anything that hurt or offended this person because whatever the issue was I wanted to apologize make it right. It is my understanding that this mutual we had in common asked this person directly and the reason I was given via a dm back from this mutual in common was "[they] are feeling Some Kind Of Way." I didn't know how to interpret that, so I assumed that by blocking me, this person was setting a boundary of some kind and didn't want me interacting with them. Since I thought they didn't want me interacting with their stuff, I didn't push the issue further and blocked them in return so that I wouldn't see their stuff cross my dash anymore. I also never read any further in their fic.

If I am correct about my assumptions and the accusations in question are regarding the Samson and Delilah references in both of our fics, I am not sure what to say other than it is a complete coincidence. I don't know how this person has been interpreting my own work, all I can offer is my own perspective and decisions I made about my oc, Delilah.

Below I have done my best to outline aspects of Delilah's character and my personal reasoning behind why she is the way she is:

When selecting Delilah's name I knew I wanted a biblical name since the fictional cult in fc5 is a christian-based cult. I briefly researched female biblical figures and I decided on Delilah because the name didn't strike me as super common and I wanted my oc to be a character who may be misunderstood and villainized by some but is still sympathetic - much like the biblical Delilah based on how you interpret/read into the biblical narrative. I believe the name Delilah also means "fragile" or "delicate." I liked the meaning behind her name because my oc is physically resilient which may at first glance seem at odds with her name, but she is emotionally and mentally very vulnerable which is NOT at odds with her name.

As far as physical appearance the closest thing Delilah has to a face-claim is Maya Hawk specifically from Stranger Things. I liked her hair style and some of the 80s-esque fashion she wears in some of her photoshoots. Delilah has kind of dark red hair and my line of thinking there was that Wrath = anger = red. In my fic, Delilah is at times an embodiment of Wrath much like the in-game fc5 deputy. In my writing she is frequently associated with the color red (to tie back into Wrath symbolism) while Joseph is associated with the color gold (based on a long character analysis post I wrote about his glasses a long time ago).

As previously stated, Delilah was intended to have some minor association made between her and the biblical figure. There is a scene early on in my fic where Delilah calls Joseph over the phone only for him to accuse her of being a spy attempting to get close to him and betray him which would (he says) ultimately lead to his downfall. I personally see Joseph as someone who projects himself and his experiences onto the biblical narrative and then uses that biblical narrative as evidence to justify his actions (sort of like an endless self re-enforcing confirmation bias feedback loop... thing). This is a pattern of behavior of his that is referenced in other places in my fic - specifically his in-game references to the book of revelation and then later in my fic to the book of job. It is my reasoning that, when Joseph encountered Delilah by chance at a bar, learned her name, and learned of her connection to the Hope County sheriff, that he was ready and willing to connect her to the biblical Delilah based both on their shared name and their specific circumstances. I believe that Joseph himself even hints at that in their dialogue.

The only other instance I can think of where my work sort of alludes to Samson and Delilah is a few hints and conversations where Delilah explains that she had a traumatic experience as a child where her hair was cut off against her will. Honestly the Samson and Delilah symbolism potential there is secondary to the fact that it was intended to reference my own childhood fears and insecurities. For reasons I won't get into, my hair has been a major part of my identity and how I present myself my whole life. There was a time where I did not have autonomy over my appearance and that manifested itself in this fear of having something so crucial to how I present myself taken away against my will.

This feeds into my next explanation: I have stated before that Delilah is not intended to be a self insert, however there are major aspects of her character and the way she is written that are pulled from my personal experiences. Her religious trauma, her toxic relationships with the maternal figures in her life, her self-doubt, her self-loathing, her deeply ingrained religious guilt, and the symptoms of her anxiety/panic attacks are all pulled from my own deeply personal life experiences. Delilah is a character who keeps everyone at arms length because she believes there is fundamentally something wrong with her - that her flaws are something to be covered up rather than accepted. And the point of her dynamic with Joseph in my fic was for her to find a source of unconditional love that she'd been craving, but to have that love come from someone incredibly fucked-up, dangerous, and manipulative.

As for how well I have executed these concepts - that is a matter of every reader's personal opinion and they have a right to that opinion. This fic I have been working on for approximately two years is the longest work I have ever written. I am inexperienced and still developing my style and skills as a writer. There are approximately four more chapters I have outlined before it will be complete.

I would like to reiterate that I have not yet received confirmation from the person supposedly accusing me on the specific details of what they think I plagiarized. The purpose of this post was to explain my thought process behind my oc and the plot of my fic - I wanted to demonstrate that there is real creative reasoning and intent behind my writing, that my interpretations of Joseph and my characterization of my oc Delilah are based on my own thoughts about fc5 canon material, and that any similarities between my work and someone else's is a coincidence and there is no malicious intent behind any fandom related content I've ever put out on my blog or on ao3.

If this is all a big misunderstanding, then I apologize and I would like to keep in place the boundaries that were set before I was ever made aware of any potential accusations.

[springfallendeer]

Frayed Wires

A wireplay fic involving my oc Ayala and @twistedviper's OC "Jho", set in the Fazbear universe (as well as an unspecified AU).

fic includes wireplay as well as human on animatronic intercourse, and is over 8k words (ergo it is a bit of a read).

This was bad.

He had just charged. As in he had just now woken up from charging. But for some reason, he could barely move.

His whole body felt heavy, and sluggish. Despite being fully charged, the stored energy was struggling to move throughout his body.

Every minor movement felt forced. Merely flexing his fingers required a lot of concentration. Not because he was in decline cognitively; every message that needed to be relayed was being relayed just as quickly as before. The problem was that his body had suddenly lost the ability to respond accordingly; and as reluctant as he was to admit it, he knew exactly what the problem was.

He was in dire need of maintenance. The wires and cables that kept his body functional had finally been worn to the brink of breaking. He was effectively pulling energy through a few hair-thin copper strands, which were at risk of snapping from the force of the strained electrical current.

His wires had reached the point where the slightest twist or bend could completely ruin them. No amount of electrical tape or jerry-rigging the individual cables could keep him functional in the long run.

Something needed to be replaced.

Given how long it had been since he had last been repaired... Chances were that quite a lot of something needed to be replaced. Which made it all the more terrifying for him to have to reach out in search of aid.

No one liked being subjected to these invasive procedures. Humans certainly didn’t. And they were often unconscious throughout their operations.

Oftentimes, the animatronics were given no such luxury. They remained somewhat active throughout most repairs, just to assure that everything was going smoothly.

The process was unpleasant and far from perfect. There had been many incidents in the past where human and animatronic alike had been left worse for wear, due to a mishap. Those unpleasant mishaps were exactly why he had gone out of his way to avoid maintenance for so long.

But now, he had no choice but to seek repairs. Failure to do so now could and likely would lead to him suffering lethal malfunctions. If he didn’t get fixed now, then he would undoubtedly wind up being decommissioned. And if that happened, then the best case scenario was that he would simply turn off and never come back on.

Worst case scenario? He would wind up trapped beneath the plex, conscious and barely functional. Doomed to waste away into nothing, surrounded by nothing but the rusting remains countless other decommissioned animatronics.

Animatronic Hell is what that fate would be. The idea of it managed to terrify him more than the idea of being sent to parts and services.

But that did not mean that he would simply bow his head and allow just anyone to work on him.

Making the arrangements proved incredibly difficult, given his limited mobility. More so, because the issues also affected his ability to speak. So little power could be pushed through his body that even his voice box struggled to emit the words that he wished to say. The fact that his desired help decided to seek him out became less the result of having been asked, and more the result of her immediate concern over his obvious malfunctions. Which only solidified the idea that he could trust her with this important task.

Waiting for her to arrive was still unpleasant and anxiety inducing. But the idea of having someone by his side who cared about his well being brought him immense comfort.

When help arrived, most of his anxiety just... Washed away.

The concern on her face. The hushed, worried tone of her voice. The gentle way that she brought her hands up to cradle his cheeks as he struggled to speak. Everything mixed together to solidify the fact that she meant him no harm, and that she would do everything in her power to help him.

Were he capable of it, he would have cried. Her touch alone brought so much comfort. Her presence lifted a weight from his shoulders that almost made him believe that it was easier for him to move.

It wasn’t. But it was nice to feel less restrained, even if it was only an illusion.

“Jho, what happened?!...” The woman asked. Her hushed, gentle voice kept him grounded as he attempted to force the words from his voice box.

For a while, his voice box could do nothing but produce static. His voice struggled to even resonate through the unappealing sound. But eventually, “Wires” could be heard through the distorted sounds.

“Wires?...” She repeated in response. He could tell by her tone that she was confused. But he couldn’t explain. Try as he might, his voice just couldn’t do for him what he needed it to do.

All that he could really do was glance to the side past her to stare at a specific shelf. There was a book there. An old, worn out book that contained all the necessary blueprints and instructions on how to repair him.

She would need to go and get the supplies from parts in services, because he did not have them. Because he could hardly move, there would be no getting him to walk there, and she certainly lacked the strength to move him.

With her focus on him, it took time for her to figure out that he was trying to guide her. He tried to say “Book”. He tried many, many times. But the whisper of his voice could not be heard through the static.

Bless her heart. She did her best to listen. She brought her head right to the source of the static, and ignored the unpleasant sound as it blared in her ear. But for all the effort she put into listening, all she really managed to do was give herself a headache.

For as frustrated as the inability to communicate made her, it was obvious that she just wanted to help. While her eyes watered and she grew restless out of worry, she never once snapped at him.

This does not mean that she never snapped. Far from it. Jho was helpless to do much more than anxiously sit and watch as the poor woman worked herself up into a bit of a frenzy out of panic. She cursed under her breath. She fidgeted in place and even stomped her foot in frustration.

He watched as her chest heaved faintly from what must have been a developing panic attack. He listened to the sound of her blowing air through her mouth in long, slow breaths as she attempted to ease away the panic. He watched her comb her fingers through her hair in an attempt to calm herself.

It made him feel guilty, knowing that he was the reason that she had fallen into this state of distress. The inability to actually comfort her and apologize made him feel worse.

Honestly, it was a stroke of blind luck that she took interest in the shelf.

As she paced, she glanced around the room. Likely in an attempt to calm herself, or find something, anything, that could be of help.

Inevitably, she spotted the shelf. He watched as she glanced at it, then locked eyes with her as she glanced back at him.

He watched the theoretical gears in her head turn as she began to speculate whether or not he was staring at the shelf.

Eventually she paused, took one last deep breath, and made her way over to the shelf.

He watched as she began to rummage through it. As he did, he found himself grateful for the fact that he had so few personal belongings. Anything that was not obviously a tool or a book was ignored. Which meant that it did not take long at all for her to happen upon the old book that he needed her to find.

She picked it up, likely drawn to the cover. It depicted him. Or rather, it depicted animatronics of his type. He watched as she opened it and skimmed multiple pages.

The instant that she realized that she was holding the key to aiding him, she closed the book and turned to face him.

“Jho, sweetie. Stay right there. Don’t move. I’ll be right back, I just need to go and get some things.” She stated.

He was so relieved that he almost rolled his eyes in response. Not because he was annoyed, but because of the redundancy of her statements.

He could not move. There wasn’t a chance of him getting to the door, yet alone making it out of the room.

Then again... It was obvious that she was just trying to communicate with him. She was just making sure that he knew what she was doing. The last thing that she wanted was to risk him misunderstanding her actions.

Imagine if she had just left without saying anything, and he had interpreted it as abandonment in his time of need? Best case scenario, he would have spent some time alone with intrusive thoughts.

Worst case scenario? He would have done exactly what she did not want him to do. He would have tried to get up. Which could have ended poorly.

He cannot even verify to her that he understands what she has asked of him. So he can only imagine how terrified she must be when she turns and leaves. Because she does not know for certain if he can even understand her.

She doesn’t know how extensive the damage is, or if he even recognizes her in his damaged state. She just has to hope that he does, and trust that he can listen when she leaves.

Once she is gone, he is naturally alone. Trapped in his room and unable to do more than glance around the room as he anxiously awaits her return. All the while aware of the fact that, if anyone or anything was to seek him out with intent on doing him harm, he could do nothing to defend himself.

That alone was enough to send him into a mental turmoil.

No one liked the idea of being helpless. As someone who had already experienced utter helplessness more than once in the past, he was all too familiar with it.

The slightest sound, imagined or otherwise, was almost enough to make him jump with unease.

He was alone. Unable to move. Reliant on Ayala’s speed and determination to help him. At the complete and utter mercy of anyone or anything that might happen across him while she was away.

He hated it. He hated being so helpless and afraid.

It was such a relief when she finally returned. He had no idea how long she was actually away for, but given the amount of supplies that she had brought along, it must have been a while. It appeared as though she has grabbed anything and everything as recommended by the book, just because she did not know what the exact problem was.

“I’m back!... I’m back.” The woman exclaims as she bursts back into the room. She is quick to calm herself once she arrives to find the animatronic still awake and... About as functional as before.

She then drags the heavy cart of supplies over to where he sits, so that she can get started on repairing him.

“A-alright, I uh... I’m gonna need to open you up, alright? I’ve grabbed everything we should need. So... Hopefully I won’t have to bring you up to parts and services.” She murmured as she approached.

While he could not relay his understanding to her, he did appreciate that she was trying to communicate with him. She clearly understood how uncomfortable this situation was for him, and so she was making an attempt at easing away his discomfort. She was just trying to help.

He trusted her to help him. He just wished that he could make it clear that he did. But for the time being, all that he could do was sit and wait for her to patch up the issue.

He doesn’t like not being able to see what she’s doing. Nor is he a fan of not being able to walk her through what needs to be done.

But still, he does trust her. She is a smart woman. Compassionate. One who has gone out of her wait to get trained on animatronic care, just so that she could be of use during emergencies such as this.

She has helped others in the past. There is no doubt in his troubled mind that she can help him now.

Still. He is anxious. He cannot help but be anxious.

Especially when he feels the woman press her fingers down on the specific pressure points around his temple, triggering the release of the plate that covers the back of his head.

The brief silence proves palpable. He can tell based off of it that she is... Appalled, by the state of him. Disturbed and overwhelmed by how years of abuse and neglect have left him completely and utterly broken, inside and out.

He feels how her hands tremble as they brush against the open edges of his metal skull.

As much as he wants too, he cannot even offer a reassuring word.

It doesn’t hurt. At least not the same way that it once did. He has long since grown accustomed to the constant discomfort of his body as it slowly falls apart on the inside. So much so that he can no longer remember a time where something inside of him did not feel... Off.

He can hear her when she takes a long, deep breath.

Then he finds himself startled by the sound and feel of air as it blows into his open skull.

Canned air, specifically. He can hear the familiar hiss as it escapes the can.

But still, the unexpected sensation startled him. He had only really anticipated the feeling of wires being disconnected so that they could be replaced.

His anxiety only increases when, after a few seconds of being aired out, he hears the woman start to cough.

Shortly after which, he sees a cloud of dust particles and mystery fibers start to drift into the air in front of him.

No wonder the poor girl was coughing. With the amount of dust being blown out of him, it would have taken a miracle for her to have been able to breathe at all.

Despite being the one with his head opened up and in the process of being cleaned, he cannot help but worry about her.

She should have a mask on. She should have grabbed any and all PPE that was at her disposal, for her own sake.

If anything inside of him breaks, it can be repaired. But fixing an issue inside of her body was not nearly as simple, and somehow, it would cost more than repairing him.

He would be gently scolding her for being so foolish, once his voice was back in working order. She should know better than to put her own health at risk for his sake. Because truly, she was irreplaceable. He would not be happy if she went and hurt herself for his sake.

Eventually, the canned air either runs out. That, or it was put away once the debris had been thoroughly cleaned out.

The woman takes her time once she actually starts to deal with his damaged wires. He can feel as she lightly pinches each individual wire between her fingers to follow them to their connection point. Probably so that she can keep track of which wire leads where, so as to keep from damaging him further.

The big issue is that his wires are rather... Disorganized. Previous technicians failed to keep him properly maintained, and so there is no doubt in his mind that all of the wires in his head have transformed into tangled mass.

The patience that the woman shows in carefully sorting through the wires puts him more at ease. It is a relief to learn that she will not just pick a random wire and tug it haphazardly out of place.

He can feel everything that is done. Every touch, every tug, and every disconnect; on top of the ensuing consequences of a disconnected wire.

Previous technicians never bothered to take his pain into account when working on him.

It was honestly touching to be shown so much care now. Soft touches like the ones he was being given now were few and far between for the animatronics. Especially during times of maintenance.

One by one, the damaged wires are disconnected so that they can be untangled, removed, and replaced.

With each disconnection, some part of him is momentarily taken out of commission. His limbs will lock up, or go limp. He loses the ability to see, or to hear, or even to feel. His voicebox is shut off entirely with one disconnection.

Previously, he would have been distressed each time one of his senses or abilities was taken away from him. But the gentleness of the woman’s actions and her slow, calculated efforts make the experience a lot less stressful than those prior.

She only takes one thing from him at a time, so long as she can manage. He can feel how she carefully arranges the wires and secures them so that they will not get tangled as easily in the future.

Bit by bit, she repairs him.

His eyes flicker off with the disconnection of a damaged wire. She goes through the process of working a replacement into place, and then his vision is restored. The wire is secured, and then she moves on to the next one.

Gradually, he regains the ability to move. He occupies himself by testing his mobility while she fixes him up. He lifts and flexes his fingers. He stretches his jaw, and works his tongue to assure that all is in order.

Eventually, he can feel his voicebox come back into working order.

“Ay-a-la?...” His voice croaked as he attempted to say the woman’s name. As broken as the words sounded, he at least confirmed that he could speak again. There was no more static. Each syllable could be heard loud and clear. It would just take some time for everything to be recalibrated through use.

He can feel her jump somewhat in response to his voice. Most likely because she had become so engrossed in her work that she failed to anticipate that he would inevitably speak.

“Yes?” She quietly replied.

He could feel her hands as they continued to work. She was very nearly done replacing all of the damaged wires in his head. Soo, the procedure would be over and he would be back in top shape. He just needed to be patient for a while longer.

“... Are you al-right?” He asked.

For a split second, he can feel how her fingers falter as they follow a wire.

“I’m fine. Just... Trying to concentrate.” She eventually replied.

“You were cough-ing...” Jho muttered in turn. He can tell that she is intentionally being vague with her response. She knows why he had asked her if she was alright. She just chose to interpret it as him asking her because she was being uncomfortably quiet.

“You were really dusty.” She responded.

At last, she finishes working on him. Or at least she finishes working on the wires in his head. After what she’s seen, she fully intends on opening up his torso to see how bad the poor bot is internally.

Jho remains quiet for a moment as she carefully closes the back of his head. He also makes sure to hold nice and still, just to make it easier for her to finish up.

“... I uh... I-I have not been checked in quite some time.” He awkwardly states. Now that the stress and anxiety of the moment had passed, he was actually quite embarrassed. She had just seen him at his most vulnerable. She had been made witness to the horrible reality of his existence.

Broken and dirty.

He struggles to find the will to turn and look her in the face once she’s got him closed up.

He also flinches somewhat when he feels damp cloth being rubbed against his body. Mostly because it is cold, but also because of how awkward he feels after having been seen in this state.

He remains quiet as the woman cleans him up.

For as awkward as he feels... It also feels nice, being properly maintained. Ayala is gentle with him even as she wipes the dust and debris from his neck and shoulders. The animatronic even finds himself leaning somewhat into her touch when she brings the cloth up to clean around his head and face.

What a surprisingly relaxing sensation. He never found this much comfort in cleaning himself off.

“Must feel a lot better now. Having all the gunk cleared out.” Ayala hums. She brings the cloth around to clean under his jaw, just to be thorough. He finds himself arching his head back to give her more room, unintentionally leaning back to rest his head on her shoulder as he does.

The contact is only maintained for a few seconds. But it does work to ease away the lingering tension.

“Much better.” He sighs.

He then finds himself glancing over his shoulder as the woman puts her hand on top of it.

“I’d like to have a look in the front.” Ayaka asks.

After having seen how horrible of a state he has fallen into just in terms of his head, she could only imagine how bad the other access point might be.

“... If you wish.” Jho replies.

He then shifts somewhat so that he can awkwardly lay himself back atop the table.

While he does not personally believe that he is in any further need of assistance, he certainly won’t be turning the woman away. She has been a great help to him so far, and a great comfort to him in his time of vulnerability. If there was anyone that he would trust to work on him further, then it would be her. And he would rather not wake up tomorrow to find fresh problems brought on by lack of care.

The woman made her way around to stand beside him once he was comfortable. The book came with her. She had already turned it to the needed page, detailing the inner workings of his torso.

She finds the pressure points to unlock the latch, and she opens him up.

This time around, the poor animatronic can experience the full embarrassment that comes with having the woman see the poor state of his body. Because just like her, he can see how horrible the interior of his torso looks.

Layers of thick dust and grime cling to the wires haphazardly strewn throughout his body. Frayed rubber that was meant to cover said wires sit in a tangled mess of filth. She could run her finger through it and then turn around to write on the wall, and the words would stand out clear as day.

“... Jho. I love you. But how the fuck do you still work?” Ayala comments after a long, almost stunned silence. She is legitimately surprised seeing just how... Filthy and damaged, the animatronic is on the inside. And baffled by the fact that he is still functional, despite it all.

“Uh.... I’m built different?” Jho replies, admittedly trying to make a joke to ease away the awkward tension. He could tell that Ayala wasn’t trying to judge him. She understood why it was that he had fallen into such a state of disrepair. It wasn’t as though Fazbear wanted to spend the time or money to fix something if it did not appear to be broken. And as it were, he had been able to perform his duties just fine up until now. He had also been more than happy to just let himself steadily grow worse as he went out of his way to avoid being sent to parts and services.

She understood his situation. But that absolutely did not mean that she had to be happy seeing him in such a horrible state. She wanted nothing but for him to be happy and comfortable. And it was obvious that she was now questioning just how happy and comfortable he could have possibly been while in such a horrible state.

“You must be...” The woman replied, before she began to reach across his chest.

The animatronic is quick to grab her arm. He can tell that she is trying to retrieve another can of compressed air. After her earlier coughing fit, he absolutely will not allow her to put her health at risk. Especially not for him.

“Mask.” He calmly, but sternly states, prompting the woman to roll her eyes a bit. But she does not argue. Nor does she ignore what he’s asked of her. She simply steps away from him once he lets go of his arm, and she finds a bandanna that she can wrap around her face to keep the dust out of her lungs.

Once her health is secured, he allows her to do what needs to be done.

Ayala gets started on blowing the dust and grime out of his torso. It flies out of him in a thick cloud, accompanied by clumps of debris that drift high into the air, before dropping heavily onto the floor.

It is shameful. A little embarrassing. But admittedly, it tickles a bit this time. To the point that he cannot help but squirm faintly as a little giggle escapes him.

“Jho~” Ayala lightly scolds him, though the squinting in the corners of her eyes make it clear that she is smiling underneath her bandanna. She finds his squirming amusing and can tell that he isn’t in any pain. But she still needs him to hold still so that she can work. There’s a lot of dust and she might need to go through extra canned air if he moves around too much.

“Sorry~ Sorry. It tickles~” Jho chuckles in turn, smiling up at the woman.

Honestly, this was the most pleasant that maintenance had ever been for him. He was nice and relaxed. There wasn’t any obvious discomfort. At least not any that hadn’t been there since before the repairs started. He certainly couldn’t recall a time in the past where he had laughed in the middle of being fixed up.

It was nice, not needing to be afraid. He might have to ask the woman to be the one to do repairs on him in the future, seeing as she had done such a wonderful job so far.

Eventually the dust is cleared out and the damage beneath is fully revealed. As expected, there are a lot of exposed wires. There are also a lot of frayed wires with little strands of sharp metal poking out in every which direction.

Completely unprompted, Ayala takes the time to put on some rubber gloves. Two pairs, to be specific. To reduce the likelihood of being given a jolt, but also to make it less likely that she would jab herself in the finger on one of the frayed wires.

The animatronic is glad that she goes out of her way to do this. He absolutely would have insisted on her doing so if she hadn’t decided to do it on her own. So it made him happy, seeing her make sure that she wouldn’t needlessly get hurt.

Once she’s properly gloved up, Ayala gets started on the actual repairs.

Just as before, she starts by following a singular wire so that she can determine where it leads. The connection points determine its purpose and how it is supposed to be arranged inside of him. She is careful and precise with her movements, intent on making the process as painless as it can possibly be for him.

Oddly... This is when the animatronic starts to feel strange.

Each gentle tug of a wire stirs something within him. Something familiar, and yet so incredibly foreign, given the circumstances.

It starts with a tingle.

Not in the typical unpleasant “I can’t fully feel my limb and yet sensations are being amplified” manner, that he usually associated with repairs. But in the... “I am being given sexual stimulus” sort of way, much to his disbelief.

At first, he legitimately has to convince himself that he is imagining things. Because there is no possible reason for this situation to be arousing him.

It is such an abnormal reaction that he has to clench his jaw and grip the sides of the table in order to keep from squirming. Particularly when the sensation escalates from a slight tingle to jolt.

A strong, powerful jolt not unlike the sensation of having his genitals stimulated. One that somehow is creating the illusion that all of those erogenous zones in his pelvic region are being given attention at the same time, despite the reality being that nothing is touching him at all.

He cannot help the faint whimper that escapes him as the woman works.

At first, she does not appear to notice it, because she is so engrossed in her work that she is mentally tuning out the quieter sounds of the room.

As a result, she remains oblivious to the effects that her actions are having on his body.

As she carefully works a cable out of a connection point, he clenches his fingers around the edges of the table.

When she runs her fingers along an individual cable to separate it from the clustered mess in his torso, it sends pleasant jolts coursing through him. Specifically through his pelvic region, bringing him to the point of near orgasm each time.

The jolts only get more intense when she installs a replacement cable. To the point that he knows that, if he were capable of producing his own lubricant, the table would be completely and utterly soaked between his legs.

The sensations only grow more intense the longer that she works. And it would seem that Ayala cannot help but take her sweet, sweet time.

She’s no perfectionist. At least not with matters more trivial, like sweeping or cooking. But right now, when she’s working on him? She is determined to do everything in her power to get the job done correctly.

And it is slowly driving him mad.

She’s not even halfway done by the time his voice escalates in volume. Enough so that she inevitably takes notice of the unexpected sound that had escaped him.

Her hands falter and her gaze moves from his chest compartment to his face.

He locks eyes with her. Half lidded and desperate. All the while he struggled to keep still, because her hands are still inside of him, and her fingers are still lightly clasped around a wire.

“... Does it hurt?” Ayala quietly asks. She sounds concerned, as she rightly ought to be. But she also sounds confused. Which she also has the right to be, given the unusual way that Jho is behaving.

She could not tell if the noise that escaped him was one of pain or of... Something else. But she naturally does not want to continue as she is if she is somehow hurting the animatronic. Surely there are ways for her to finish without it needing to be unpleasant.

“N-no!...” Jho groans in response.

Fuck. He was so close. If she had removed one more wire, he probably would have made a fresh mess. One that would be a little more difficult to clean up than the dust all over the floor.

A barely audible whimper escapes him as the woman’s hands shift ever so slightly inside of him. Another faint jolt rolled through him in response, adding to the unintended torture of the circumstances.

“Are you sure?... I can stop for now if you need a break.” She replies. Obviously she is starting to feel uneasy, given his strange reactions to the stimulation.

She even goes so far as to release the wire so that she can withdraw her hands.

Never before has Jho reached out to grab someone with such speed. The movement would not even properly appear on film, if the scene were to have been recorded.

“No!” He exclaims, desperation in his voice as he prevents the confused and mildly startled woman. Thankfully he realizes right away that he has come on too strong, and so he releases her from his trembling hands. “I-I’m sorry, I just... Please. Please, don’t stop.” He groans, his voice quickly transforming into a pathetic, pleading whimper as he speaks.

Regardless of the amount of shame he feels for behaving in such a way, he cannot help but beg her to keep going.

For a moment, Ayala seems hesitant. Unsure of whether or not she should comply with what he’s asked of her. But she does inevitably place her hands back inside of him so that she can resume her work.

The difference now is that she has been made acutely aware of his every reaction to what she is doing.

Every groan. Every minor twitch or tremble in response to having his wires touched, removed, and replaced. She takes notice of it, and it slows her progress even more. Thus this sweet, delicious torture is drawn out even more as the animatronic lays helplessly atop the table.

Inevitably, as Ayala replaces one of the few remaining wires, Jho reaches orgasm. And it is the most intense orgasm that he has ever experienced in his life. The sort which makes his whole body briefly spasm, as if suffering from an electrical discharge.

The woman rightly pulls her hands out of his chest as he rides out his orgasm. The 3 in 1 sort of ecstasy that cannot be described in any way, outside of complete and utter euphoria.

It is wild, intense, and bewildering in nature. Never would he have anticipated that he could achieve orgasm without being given some sort of overt sexual stimulation. Either by having his parts touched, or by getting lost in the sensation of touching someone else.

Maintenance was an entirely non-sexual situation. One that, up until now, he had only ever associated with pain and stress. Something distressing and traumatic. Not erotic and intimate, like it has so unexpectedly become.

His fans kick on in response to the intensity of his orgasm, flooding his open torso with a rush of fresh air in an attempt to better help him cool down before he can overheat.

By then, the remnants of his mind slowly flicker back into reality and take notice of the fact that Ayala is staring at him. Her flushed face and wide eyes make it clear that she has finally been made fully aware of what her actions have brought about. She is very obviously flustered, and a little unsure as to how she should react. Rightly so! Jho himself wasn’t even sure what to make of this bizarre situation, despite being the one that had just ejaculated in response to having his wires pulled.

“Uhm... Are-... Are we good, bud? All done with... Whatever the fuck that was?” Ayala squeaks out, her voice quiet and awkward due to how flustered she has become. It is the same tone that she develops when caught off guard in the midst of a sexual situation. The sort of tone that reads as “I don’t know what just happened, and I need a minute to figure out if I was into it”.

The animatronic lets out an awkward chuckle in response. One that admittedly sounds like more of a pathetic, desperate whine.

“Y-yes.” Jho replies, his voice admittedly glitching out somewhat due to the lingering effects of orgasm. He quickly does what he can to settle himself back down, so that the woman can finish replacing the few remaining wires.

Ayala, meanwhile, needs a few moments to get her mind where she needs it. She is very clearly a bit bewildered by what just happened. Not disgusted, mind you. Just obviously caught off guard by this unexpected turn of events.

Within a couple of minutes, she is fine to pick up where she left off.

All that she needs to do now is replace the few remaining wires, and then attach the proper restraints to keep them secure and organized.

It is obvious that she’s a little distracted, though. For as gentle and precise as her touch remains, there is the faintest tremble in her hands. A slight hesitation in her every touch. Shy and awkward from the inexperience, but eager to get the job done, and to get it done well.

Having already had his otherworldly orgasm, Jho is able to hold relatively still for her. Though now that she is aware of how aroused this situation has made him, he has no intention of hiding the fact that her efforts are affecting him.

“I am going to ravish you.” He murmurs as he watches her work, his voice deeper and more hungry than it has ever been before. To which he hears her squeak out a flustered “Oh?!” in response.

The pleasant jolts resume as she finishes up with her task. Not because of her tugging at his wires; though that still plays a part; but because he is able to clearly see the tremble of anticipation that rolls through her in response to his promise.

She has thoroughly but unintentionally gotten under his metaphorical skin, and he has every intention to repay her in kind.

Not just to pay her for that delightful orgasm that she gave him, but to thank her for the tender love and care that she has shown him throughout what would otherwise have been a nerve-wracking experience.

Eventually, the maintenance reaches its conclusion and she closes him up with gentle, trembling hands. At which point he sits himself back up and impulsively reaches for her, eager to savor the delights of her soft, human body.

He can hear her breath hitch in her throat as he tugs her closer for a kiss. Slow, and intimate.

He keeps his eyes open and locked on her expression as his mouth dances against hers.

She’s so cute when she gets flustered. So adorable and bashful when he lightly drags the tip of his tongue against hers. Instinctively shy and too embarrassed to hold his gaze, despite being unable to keep from locking eyes with him every so often. Which only manages to rile him up further.

He breaks the kiss to taste her skin.

His tongue lightly glides along her cheek, towards her ear. He knows that her ears are sensitive. So he takes a moment to indulge by gently licking the shell of her ear, before carefully nibbling on the lobe.

She trembles in response. Not from fear, but from an inability to keep still as his antics rile her up in turn.

Once her ear has been left damp and pink from the stimulation, he moves downwards to her neck. He wraps his arms around her tighter as he practically creates a collar with his tongue.

Her skin is so soft and delicate. Especially when compared to his body. He adores how malleable it is.

The faintest of growls escapes him as he mouths her neck.

Not a threatening growl. But a growl of arousal in response to movement. He can feel her subconsciously grinding herself against him as he decorates her neck in marks of his affection.

He can’t tell if she’s wet, or if the ejaculate from his earlier orgasm is just adding to the sensation.

Either way, her clothing has become something of an annoyance. He wants to feel her skin. He wants to spoil and treasure her body just as she did with him throughout his maintenance.

These clothes need to go. And they need to change locations. He won’t be laying her down on this dusty table.

“Jho!?” A quiet, startled squeak of his name escapes her as he unexpectedly adjusts his arms to hold her against him while he stands.

He comforts her with an affectionate nuzzle as he makes a beeline towards his personal workbench.

It is a bit cluttered, but he otherwise keeps it nice and clean. There will be more than enough room for him to sit her down and worship her the way that she deserves.

She squeaks again as he sets her down.

The surface of the workbench is cold and startling against her bare rump. He has wasted no time in working her out of these annoying clothes as he places her upon her temporary throne.

Startled as she is, she clearly understands the game plan.

As he works her pants and underwear down her legs, she responds in kind by working herself out of her shirt and bra.

He gently scrapes his teeth against the skin of her knee as he kneels to get her fully freed of her clothing. In his haste, he had nearly forgotten about her shoes. But he takes the time to properly untie the laces so that he can slide them off, and he stuffs her socks inside of each shoe so that they cannot lose them in the chaos.

Once her lower half is bare, he cannot help but take a moment to admire her legs.

Slender and soft. Her thighs have a fair amount of meat to them, compared to the rest of her. He gently works his way between her legs and encourages her to squeeze his head between them. Just enough for her thighs to flatten against his metal cheeks.

He loves the way she feels.

Once he is done indulging in the feel and weight of her thighs, he coaxes her legs apart so that he can better indulge in another of his favorite pleasures.

She’s already nice and wet. Her skin is nicely flushed with arousal.

Beautiful. But he can make it more so.

He makes a show of getting ready. She isn’t afraid of his dangerous looking maw, and so he takes advantage of the fact to better arouse her. He opens wide and allows his tongue to snake out of his mouth, all the while maintaining eye contact.

He can feel her tremble with anticipation.

She leans back somewhat and spreads her legs further for him, inviting him to spoil her just as he deems fit.

Still, he cannot help but tease.

Gently, he scrapes his teeth against her inner thighs. She spreads her legs even further, silently pleading with him to hurry up and taste her properly.

He works his tongue along the inside of one thigh, lapping up the thin layer of sweat that formed at some point throughout the day. He cleans her thigh all the way up to the very edge of her vulva, before abruptly withdrawing so that he can repeat the process on her other thigh.

Ayala whines. She squirms. She bites the inside of her lip and lets her head fall back as a delighted tremble takes hold of her when he licks that sweet spot near her pelvis.

Once he’s thoroughly enjoyed the taste of her thighs, he gives her what she’s been waiting for.

He brings his hands up behind her legs to them around her hips. As he does so, he presses his face fully between her legs.

A delighted gasp escapes her as he drags the full length of his tongue between her folds.

He can feel her tremble against his tongue.

Unable to help himself, he lightly nibbles on the delicate skin protecting her clitoris. Just to coax it out of the way so that he can properly stimulate that sensitive little lump.

“God~!... Jho~...” Ayala sweetly mewls his name as he eats.

He purrs in response, giving her his usual loving look as he curls his tongue to usher it inside of her.

He fucks her with his tongue. There is no better descriptor.

He presses it in as deeply as he can and withdraws it time and time again. Sometimes fast. Sometimes slow. Sometimes he adjusts the positioning of his tongue so that he can drag it along her exposed clitoris as he sucks it out of her vagina canal.

She gasps. She moans. She squirms in his hold and desperately places a hand on the back of his head just to find some sort of support.

Wet, loud, and messy. The evidence of this adventure will undoubtedly leave a stain on the surface of his workbench, and he will gaze upon it fondly whenever a bad day has left him sour.

He works her gently to each orgasm.

Some hit her slowly, but with intensity. Others hit her quickly, but subtly. He moans at the feel of her inner walls spasming dramatically around his tongue regardless.

Neither of them keep track of how many orgasms she has. There is only the delight of the peak and the excitement of building back to it.

He withdraws his tongue to bring the oral adventure to a close only when she meekly strums the back of his head.

The “safe word”. The sign that she has gotten overwhelmed and needs time to settle back down before they continue.

Gentle kisses are placed on her thigh while he waits for her to move her hand so that he can stand up.

He places additional soft kisses along one side of her body once he is given the room to move. A trail of wet kisses form a path all the way up to the nape of her neck.

One there, he brings his hands up to gently cradle her face.

The poor girl really did get worked up.

He affectionately presses his forehead against hers as he thumbs her tears away.

She’ll be fine. He overwhelmed her with the pleasure. Nothing more. She just needs a few moments to catch her breath and settle back down.

In the meantime, he is more than happy to wait. He enjoys cuddling with her just as much if not more than he enjoys working her to orgasm. So he has absolutely no issue showering her face in kisses or just holding her while she calms down.

When she is ready to continue, she tentatively wraps her legs around his hips to guide him closer to her.

No more oral. No more teasing. As much as she enjoys it, she wants him to feel good right along with her.

Another light growl escapes him as he ushers her closer to him. He reaches down to guide her hips with his hands, encouraging her to lay back just a bit more to give him the room to lock their bodies.

One hand moves around to press against the small of her back. The other wraps around to support behind her shoulders as he leans forward and encourages her to lay back.

He nuzzles the top of her head as he closes the distance between their bodies.

Ayala gasp proves all the sweeter as he slips inside with ease. She’s so warm and slick, delightfully so.

“A-Ayala~” He quietly moans her name as he begins to rock his hips against hers.

It's faztastic, being with her like this.

The needy whimper of her moans. The trembling of her body as he guides her through this R rated dance. The heat of her body. The dampness of her breath. The slick, yet perfectly sticky feel of her insides swallowing him up.

Wonderful. Addictive, even.

He cannot help but kiss her. Touch her. Cradle her against him as they ride out their shared orgasms.

The stains that they’ll leave on his workbench will never wash out, and he doesn’t care in the slightest.

In fact, he welcomes the stains as a reminder of these newly created, positive memories.

Memories that will remind him of more than just the pleasure. They will remind him of the intimacy of the moment, and of the relief he felt when she first stepped through the door to rescue him from his plight.

Memories of her tender touches, and the care that she put into helping him in his time of vulnerability.

Memories of the first time that being repaired had ever made him feel fixed.

She fixed him, and she did so in more ways than she could ever realize.

He loves her for that.

#Frayed wires #not osha approved #Ayala #Jho #wireplay #wire play #twistedviper

[dragongutsixofficial]

Number 8 for the ship ask game: Edeleth! What do they argue about?

Thanks for the ask !!! ^^ That one was really hard, ngl.

I think that as individuals who have both been defined by their breaking away from the expectations that were put on them - and who did so together- they really respect each other's agency and input. As such, I do think they usually have a calm communication style -where each one of them feels comfortable voicing their opinion and concerns. So it would be incredibly rare for them to get into a shouting match, and they would instantly both regret it.

However, they might disagree on some things and find themselves stuck. A part of this might be because of Edelgard's iron will. I'm pretty sure Byleth has a pretty good sense of when to take a break from work in order to stay in shape and have time to enjoy themself, but their partner definitely doesn't, and she and Hubert just encourage each other to keep working at unreasonable hours. In my opinion, it isn't rare for Byleth and Ferdinand to team up in order to ground their significant others and just get them to bed- or just to relax. Try to get them both to understand that it's okay to delegate. On a similar note, they would encourage them to be more honest towards their allies - although Byleth understood why Edelgard hid the truth about Arianrhod, having to lie to their found family left a sour taste in their mouth.

Conversely, I do think that as a result of their heart having never beat for the first years of their life, Byleth's heart is weaker- and that forbids them from exercising or fighting as hard as they used to, at least until they rebuild their stamina. The issue is, their role not only in the relationship, but as a professor, has always been that of protecting their students- so they form a tendency to physically push themself beyond their limits both consciously and unconsciously. They feel the need to overcompensate in order to get back to how they were before. The thing is, that can be dangerous for their health- and Edelgard has already almost lost them twice. She's not ready to lose them again and so would be pretty strict about Byleth going more easy on themself.

Another subject of disagreement would be dressing. And I don't mean that either of them tries to control the other's way to present themself- however, since Byleth is autistic (who are we kidding), I firmly believe that they have sensory issues, including regarding fabrics (for instance, they stay in their usual outfit during the White Heron Ball). So they would have an intense dislike of any formal attire, that they would feel is impractical, restrictive, and just plain uncomfortable. Which can quickly become an issue when you're the Emperor's spouse and as such, a public figure. They would agree to try it for Edelgard's sake, but quickly give up- and they would both come to an agreement that just armor is fine. They would still occasionally struggle with Imperial etiquette, since they would feel trapped just like they were back when they were supposed to become Sothis and thus, lose their newly-gained freedom of choice.

Actually, Byleth would do a lot to try and accommodate Edelgard, but that would be another issue in and of itself. Making their partner happy makes them happy, so they tend to forget about their own pleasure a bit. This is just my personal headcanon, but I love the idea that they don't actually like the taste of bergamot, but always drink it in their wife's company because it's her favorite. As soon as she finds that out, Edelgard goes on a crusade to try and find Byleth's favorite tea.

Another thing would be that, well, Edelgard doesn't have the highest self-esteem and struggles to believe she deserves good things. Byleth wants her to see what they see in her. Wants her to love all the things that made them choose her at the Holy Mausoleum, then fall in love with her; wants her to rejoice in the person she became and her own skills. As @ninadove pointed out while we were chatting about this, Byleth would want to hang every single one of their wife's paintings up, and keep loving her art so much in hopes that El can start to see the beauty in them too. Meanwhile, they would also try to get Edelgard to a point where she'd be comfortable with her own body and what it has lived through- such as getting her to accept that her scars are not things to be hidden in shame.

Lastly, while Byleth did give up their divine powers, that doesn't mean they resent their Nabatean heritage (just the pressure to become someone else), and they would try to reconnect with it on their own terms. While Edelgard would be wary of the idea at first, she would support them in that endeavor; in the end, they would strive to build the new Fodlan to be a safe place for all- not only for surface-dwelling humans, but also for Nabateans and Agarthans (i firmly believe that not all Agarthans are evil. that's not how people work. my take is Agarthan society is an authoritarian regime ruled by TWSITD).

Wow, that was lengthy. Thanks for giving me the occasion to delve into this very interesting topic ! 💙❤️

#fe3h #edeleth #edelgard von hresvelg #byleth eisner #ask #thanks so much !! #the otp 💙❤️ #crimson flower

[justalonelybitch]

Luxurious Love, Lust & Lies

Chapter One ~ Perfect Shot

~ Series Masterlist ~

A twisted tale of the young and rich attending an elite private academy for academic scholars, the finest athletes and aristocrats. Follow these upperclassmen on a journey to uncovering the dark secrets their academy has fought tooth and nail to conceal from the public. No one will make it out unscathed, for everyone is at risk of falling for the deceiving facades of those around them.

Multiple K-pop Love Interests x F!Reader

Your lungs burned as you kicked your legs in a desperate attempt to rise to the surface. ‘Just a bit further,’ you thought, pushing your aching muscles to their limit. Your eyes fluttered shut in relief as your head rose above the disturbed body of water. Tiredly reaching out to the tiled floor, you heaved yourself out of the pool, planting yourself on the edge as you caught your breath. Your shoulders slumped in exhaustion as an obnoxiously loud whistle left you wincing, while reluctantly rising to follow the source of the sound.

“Y/n!” A voice called from behind you, followed closely by an arm draping loosely over your shoulder. Looking up to the girl who towered over you, a brief smile flickered across your face. She reflected it with a brighter one of her own, tinted red lips parting to reveal her perfectly straight pearly whites. “You’re getting faster every day, you’ll be winning gold before you know it.” Sooyoung praised you, effectively pulling you from your daze. “We both know I’ll never be as good as you,” you dismissed her claim.

“Alright, enough chit chat!” Your swim coach shouted now that everyone had gathered before her. “As I’m sure you all know, next week we’ll be selecting the participants for the relay race.” Hyoyeon paused, gaze flickering over the group, ensuring that she had everyone’s attention. “The top four individuals with the fastest time for the one-hundred metre races will be selected. You should all be training more than usual given the circumstances, I expect the best from each and every one of you.”

With that, she turned on her heel, dismissing the team with a lazy flick of her finger. The tension among the group left idly standing there was so thick that one could slice it with a knife. It became abundantly clear it was every person for themselves by the darkened gazes of the swimmers. ‘So much for being a team,’ you thought, rolling your eyes as you resisted scoffing. “I’ll leave the pool unlocked tonight for those of you who would prefer to get some practice in after classes.” Bang Chan, you swim team captain said, ushering everyone into the changing rooms.

You followed the girls into the changing rooms, keeping quiet as they chucked about god knows what. Brushing past them, you made a beeline for the showers, the chill of the droplets that lingered on your damp skin leaving you shivering. You breathed a sigh of relief as the steaming hot water cascaded down your body, rinsing the chlorine from your hair. Blocking out the muffled chatter from Sooyoung and Yves, you shut your eyes, momentarily succumbing to the darkness your body longed for.

The faint ringing in your ear alerted you of the start of class, huffing, you begrudgingly turned off the steam of flowing water. You swiftly pat your body down with a white towel, rushing to pull on the fitted uniform. Stumbling out of the changing room as you fiddled with the last few buttons of your shirt. You were so busy fiddling with your tie that you almost failed to notice the discarded duffle bag atop one of the benches. Glancing over your shoulder, you searched for any lingering teammates. The sight of an eerily still pool greeted you, no one in sight.

Upon closer inspection, you instantly recognised the bag, now able to identify its owner. A shining metal in its side pocket catches your eye, shimmering in the luminescent lights. Groaning, you gazed at your watch, ‘I’m gonna be so late,’ you accepted defeat. Giving the area another once over, you decided to make your way to class, leaving the duffle bag in its place. Enjoying the peaceful silence of the academy without any students in sight, you took your time strolling to class.

Arriving in front of the door of your class, you knocked softly on the large oak door. It swung open not a minute later, the eyes of your peers burning holes into the side of your head. “Mr Kim,” you greeted with a nod, arms hanging loosely by your side. “Is there a reason for your tardiness, Miss Kim?” He questioned, raising an unimpressed brow. Peering over his shoulder, you caught sight of your teammate Sooyoung, who’d managed to make it to class perfectly on time despite practice running late.

Sighing, you simply shook your head, crossing your arms over your chest. “I’ll let Headmistress Kim have the pleasure of dealing with you,” he said, handing you a slip of paper before slamming the door in your face. You narrowed your eyes, glaring at the place he once stood. Your eyes skimmed over the scribbled handwritten note on the paper, addressed directly to your Headmistress. ‘Inability to be punctual and breaking the school dress code,’ you scoffed at the words, scowling as you shuffled down the hall.

Upon reaching the Headmistress’s office, you made your way over to her secretary. “Name and note,” she said monotonously, not even sparing you a glance as she continued to tap at the keys of her computer. “Kim Y/n,” you stated, sliding the slip of paper across her desk. “Have a seat, Headmistress Kim will be with you shortly.” Following her instructions, you dropped your bag by your feet, plopping yourself down on one of the several empty chairs. Scanning the room, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at the sight where dozens of pretentious awards hung on the walls.

You strained your ears at the sound of muffled shouts, unable to fight off your curiosity. Much to your disappointment, no distinct words could be made out through the school's thick walls. Just as your interest began to fade, the double doors dramatically slammed open, revealing an extremely displeased Jennie Kim. As if sensing your gaze, she snapped her head in your direction, glaring daggers at you. “What are you looking at?” She growled, seething with anger as she stormed off without another word. The Headmistress then peaked her head out, eyes finding you in a matter of seconds.

“Miss Kim, to what do I owe the pleasure?” the Headmistress spoke politely, leading you through the same doors a certain brunette has just charged through. “My apologies for keeping you waiting,” she sent you a smile, closing the doors behind you for some privacy. Pearching herself on the edge of her desk, she motioned for you to sit down. “What’s got her all riled up?” You questioned, refusing her offer to be seated. “I’m afraid I can’t disclose that information,” Taeyeon said sternly, a frown forming on her face.

Glancing at the slip of paper her secretary handed her, the Headmistress looked at you with furrowed brows. “It says your disobedience caused a scene, interrupting Mr Kim Heechul’s class.” She read the note aloud, crumpling it up before carelessly tossing it in a nearby bin. “I’ll let you off with a warning this time, just make sure it doesn’t happen again.” She ordered, leaning over to tug on your tie, adjusting it to sit neatly around your neck. Her actions urged a flurry of repressed memories of the past to swarm your mind.

“Please stay out of trouble, Y/n,” she begged, chocolate eyes swirling with concern. “Whatever you say Headmistress Kim,” you recovered, the light stutter going unnoticed by the older women. “Don’t call me that,” she frowned, hurt reflecting on her features. “What else am I supposed to call you,” you began retreating, ignoring her hopeful stare. “You used to call me Taeyeon unnie,” she reminisced, suddenly blinking back tears that threatened to fall. “That was a long time ago, Headmistress Kim,” you muttered emotionlessly, slipping out of the office wordlessly.

~~

You lay aimlessly on your back, arms floating by your side. Gazing up at the night sky, you couldn't help but admire the shining stars. The moon illuminated the swimming centre, its dull glow glimmered against each ripple of water. Letting your head fall back, the water began to engulf your body as you sank to the pool floor. It was always peaceful down here, granting your mind a rare moment of peace from the world. The silence gave you an escape, allowing you to let your guard down.

Feeling your throat begin to constrict from the lack of oxygen, you blow out a puff of air, bubbles rapidly rising above you. Kicking yourself off the tiled floor, you follow the bubbles to a source of life, gasping a breath of air upon reaching the surface. Paddling to the edge, you clung onto it for dear life, your heavy breathing echoing throughout the empty swimming centre. Finishing up evening practice, you swam over to the ladder, the cold air of the night sending a chill down your spine.

Far too exhausted to complete your usual routine, you skipped the shower, knowing you’d regret it when you would awake with tangled hair the next morning. For now, your mind was set on diving into nothing but your bed as you tugged a hoodie over your head. Your damp hair tickled your neck, a puff of air passing through your lips as you pushed the glass door open. The breeze left you shivering, stuffing your hands into your pockets in search of warmth. To make matters worse, the dorms were on the opposite side of campus.

Increasing your pace as the temperature began to drop, you followed the dimly lit path across campus. The trees waved in the wind, leaves rustling as they shook on their feeble branches. The sound of hushed whispers and faint giggles drew your attention away from nature, straining your ears to better make out the voices. Stepping off path, you followed the murmurs, coming to a stop near the languages building. Peaking around the corner, you caught a glimpse of two people, before quickly retreating, eyes wide in shock.

Mr Kim Heechul had a young female pressed against the building's wall, their lips locked in a passionate kiss. Fighting the urge to gasp at the scandalous sight, you covered your agape mouth. What caught you off guard wasn’t your teacher partaking in such acts on school grounds, but the person he was with. Although you couldn't make out her face, the familiar plaid skirt paired with the academy's signature blazer was a dead giveaway. Mr Kim was having an affair with a student.

Giving the area a once over, you quickly found that there were in fact no security cameras behind this particular building. Unfortunately, they weren’t smart enough to keep quiet and hadn’t accounted for curious students much like yourself. If you were anyone else, this would’ve been captured on camera and spread through the school like wildfire. ‘Knowledge is power,’ you thought to yourself, a sinister smile spreading across your face. Oh the things you could do with this newfound information, the only problem being that you had no proof.

Inconveniently, you’d opted not to bring your phone with you this morning, leaving you deviceless for the day. ‘Lucky them,’ you thought, they’d be glad to know their little secret was going nowhere. You chuckled at the thought, whistling cheerily as you strolled away from the scene with a pep in your step. A new found interest in Mr Kim sparked within you, he’d always irritated you, but you had a feeling that would soon come to a halt.

“Do you hear that?” Mr Kim’s mistress whispered, pulling away from his embrace with a look of panic reflecting in her eyes. He quickly shook his head, too caught up in the moment, rushing back to press his lips to her once more, addicted to her taste. But she pushed him back, sinking her lips into her bottom lip in concern, glancing around the area. The faint whistled tune in the distance alarming her, eyes widening as she shooed him, forcing him to take a look.

His mistress squeezed her eyes shut in fear, heart beating a mile a minute as she anxiously awaited the results of his inspection. Heechul sauntered back to her, laid back a smile on his lips as he affectionately pecked her cheek. “Nothing to worry about, darling.” He grinned, his mistress breathing out a relieved sigh. “Now, where were we?” He questioned, connecting their lips once more, but she just couldn't seem to shake off the lingering feeling of unease.

~~

The buzz of your blaring alarm jolted you from your deep slumber, heart racing in your chest. Huffing, you snoozed it, rolling onto your side and tugging the covers over your head. “Come on. You’re going to be late again,” all warmth was suddenly ripped away rather harshly, your blankets lay strewn on the floor. “That’s not fair!” You whined, rubbing the sleep from your eye before turning to glare at your roommate. “Don’t give me that look, I’m only saving you from another scolding from the Headmistress.” She held her hands up in defence, going back to making her own bed.

“Why do they have to make class so early at private academies?” You groaned, reluctantly rising from your comfortable mattress. “You better get ready, or I’ll leave without you again,” Sooyoung threatened, tossing a clean uniform at you. Catching it with your face, you scowled at the tall girl before scurrying off to the bathroom. Quick to finish your morning routine, you stepped out of the bathroom, checking your watch with a triumphant smile. “I think this is the earliest I’ve ever been!” You cheered, a chuckle escaping Sooyoung’s lips as your antics.

“No time for chit chat, you know how Professor Jung is about punctuality.” She stepped out the door swiftly, leaving you to stumble behind her like a lost puppy, scrambling to lock the door and keep up with her. “How are you so fast?” You complained, jogging to catch up to her. “It’s the long legs,” she grinned, smoothly wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “Shall I start referring to you as a giraffe?” You joked, yelping as she pinched your shoulder. “Call me babe instead,” Sooyoung leaned down to whisper in your ear, her breath leaving goosebumps on your skin.

“You’re such a flirt!” You groaned, pushing her away, hoping that the heat rising to your cheeks wasn’t visible to her. The pleased look paired with the smirk that rested on her lips, told you she knew the effect of her words. Laughing at your miserable attempt to act unfazed, she linked her arm with yours pulling you along to Professor Jung’s class. She managed to get you there a full ten minutes early, excusing herself to greet some of her friends. You lingered in the hallway outside the class, two figures in the distance catching your attention.

Mr Kim was alone with a student, it only brought you right back to the night before, you squinted your eyes to see if she shared any similarities to his mysterious mistress. Upon closer inspection, you realised just who it was, Yoo Jimin. Although she shared similarities to his mistress, her hair was considerably longer, shinier even. Besides, she looked uncomfortable just speaking with Mr Kim, you noted. “Jimin!” You called her name without a second thought, seeing a look of relief wash over her face. Smiling, she waved you over, ignoring the look of irritation on Mr Kim’s face.

“Come on, class is about to start!” You reminded, pulling her away from Mr Kim without another word. ‘He sure does have a type,’ you thought, shaking your head in disbelief. Jimin uttered a small ‘thank you’ before entering the class, ashamed to be saved from such a situation. You merely sent her an assuring smile, waiting for her to leave before glancing over your shoulder. Your eyes met Mr Kim’s from across the hall, his eyes narrowed as he openly glared at you, a look of disgust plastered on your face. Rolling your eyes, you turned on your heel, entering the classroom just mere moments before Professor Jung arrived.

~~

The day breezed by in the blink of an eye, before you knew it you were taking the familiar path back to your dorm room after yet another late night swim practice. The faint hum of music from your headphones was briefly interrupted by a buzz of your phone, alerting you of an upcoming schedule. Slowing to a stop, you took a seat on a stray bench below a cherry blossom tree, your favourite. Withdrawing your phone from where it resided in your jersey pocket, you glanced at the screen lit up with notifications.

Huffing, you silenced your phone, ignoring the rapidly flowing messages regarding grades, test dates and more. Instead you focused on the untouched natural beauty of the academy, your seat giving you a perfect view of the campus gardens. A smile graced your lips at the sight, it was so captivating, allowing you to forget about your troubles for a fleeting moment of peace. You could’ve sworn it was hypnotising, finding yourself unable to look away. Adding to the picture perfect scene before you, the stars twinkled brightly in the cloudless sky, moon lighting up the gardens with its dim glow.

A sudden blinding flash of light pulled your attention from outer worldly sight, blinking in confusion as you turned your head in search of its source. Kim Yerim stood awkwardly, camera in hand and blushing profusely. Tilting your head, you raised an inquisitive brow, watching with an amused grin as she realised what she’d done. “I’m sorry, it’s just.. You’re really pretty and the cherry blossom petals are falling around you..” She rambled, your body shaking with a mirthful chuckle.

Yerim’s cheeks reddened further at your melodious laughter, ducking her head in embarrassment, eyes glued to the stone path, insistent on avoiding your gaze. Calming down from your fit of giggles, you rose to your feet, taking a step closer to the abashed photographer. “What brings you here at this hour?” You changed the topic, feeling remorseful. Taking a moment to compose herself, the flustered girl before you finally looked up to meet your gaze, a pink tint lingering on her cheeks.

“It’s the best time to take photos since there’s usually no one about this late,” she answered, anxiously fiddling with the straps of her camera. “My apologies for interrupting,” you teased, Yerim immediately shaking her head. “No! You didn’t interrupt at all, if anything I should be glad I saw you, this is by far one of my best shots this week.” She began to ramble once more, only pausing once she noticed the smirk that tugged at the corner of your lips. She sent you a sheepish grin, running a hand through her hair at the thought of embarrassing herself further.

“So you’re always out here taking photos this late?” You questioned, looking at the photographer with curiosity dancing in your eyes. “Yup, same time every night,” she nodded enthusiastically, passionate about pursuing photography. “So, do I get to see this ‘best shot of the week’?” You questioned, leaning tauntingly closer to her. “I have to develop the photos in the photography club's darkroom, which isn’t unlocked this late. If you don't mind waiting, you’re welcome to stop by anytime..” Yerim offered, a shy smile adorning her features.

“That sounds good, I’ll stop by after class. Are you heading back to the dorms now?” You asked, lifting your finger to point to the nearby building. Nodding in affirmation, Yerim gave you a questioning look as you began walking off. “Are you coming?” You inquired, looking over your shoulder to witness her scrambling to catch up with you. Slowing your pace, you waited for her to fall into step with you, stuffing your hands into your pockets. Entering the building side by side, you took the elevator, discovering that you shared the same floor.

“Well, this is me,” Yerim mumbled rather begrudgingly, stopping before one of the numerous identical doors. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Yerim.” You said, amused by the way her face lit up at the mention of it. “Goodnight, Y/n,” she waved at you, a giddy smile stuck on her lips. “Goodnight,” you replied, beginning to walk towards your own room. “Yerim!” You called suddenly, catching her just before she closed the door. “One more thing..” You started as she gazed at you, curiously awaiting your continuation.

“You’re also really pretty.”

~ Series Masterlist | Next ~

Important: Joy will be referred to as Sooyoung, while Yves will be referred to by her stage name Yves, as they both share the same real name and it will be easier to tell the two apart this way. There is also another reason behind this, which will be revealed later in the story.

#girls generation x reader #snsd x reader #twice x reader #red velvet x reader #bts x reader #blackpink x reader #loona x reader #nct x reader #itzy x reader #stray kids x reader #dreamcatcher x reader #gidle x reader #aespa x reader #apink x reader #Luxurious Love Lust & Lies #yeri x reader #joy x reader #taeyeon x reader #hyoyeon x reader #eunji x reader #karina x reader #ryujin x reader #momo x reader #jihyo x reader #jennie x reader #jin x reader #taeyong x reader #sua x reader #uves x reader

[astroa3h]

Astrology Observations: Titan Sub Implosion

For Personal Readings Visit: astroash.net TikTok - astroa3h

The tragic event of the Titan submersible implosion on June 18th, 2023 at 9:45 AM rocked the world. The Titan, a submersible operated by OceanGate, was undertaking an expedition to view the wreck of the Titanic when it imploded due to a failure of the pressure hull. All five people on board, including OceanGate CEO Stockton Rush, were killed in the incident. Let's take a look at the death chart of this deeply heartbreaking moment in time.

The first thing I notice is Leo Mars in the 12th House, at an aggressive Karmic Debt Degree (16). Mars, the fiery planet of action, resides in the watery realm of the 12th House, a domain of secrets, hidden things, and the unconscious. It's like a fierce BLAZE of passion, plunged into the depths of an ocean. However, this fiery sign isn't built for the water, and its strength can become its downfall when out of its element. This intense Mars placement is Square a Taurus Midheaven and a 10th House Uranus. Suggesting sudden changes that impact public standing. In hindsight, we see the echo of this aspect in the controversies that arose about the safety of the vessel, and the decisions made by OceanGate's executives, including CEO Stockton Rush, who unfortunately was one of the fatalities in the implosion​.

Let's go a step further with Mars, their is a conjunction of Mars with the Ascendant and Venus. Which hints at a deep emotional connection, perhaps a burning desire to connect with history and the human narrative, as embodied by the Titanic? The Titanic, once a symbol of human ambition and innovation, became a tragic reminder of our vulnerability in the face of nature's might. Stockton Rush's ambition to visit shipwreck sites wasn't just about making headlines, but about touching a part of our collective story that continues to resonate with us even after a century​.

Now, let's turn to Pisces Neptune in the 8th House, squaring the 11th House Sun and Moon. Neptune, the Lord of the Oceans, in its home sign of Pisces in the house of mystery and transformation, seems almost too fitting for this tale. Neptune was there in the silent depths, as the Titan made its fateful journey. The Square to the 11th House Sun and Moon speak of the tension between individual ambitions (OceanGate's deep-sea explorations) and the collective (our shared interest and emotional connection to the Titanic). The resulting implosion had a profound impact not just on the victims' families, but on the collective consciousness as well, a shocking reminder of our human limitations and vulnerabilities​.

Chiron in the 9th house adds another layer of depth to this astrological narrative. In astrology, Chiron represents our deepest wounds and also the path to healing them. It's named after the centaur Chiron from Greek mythology, who despite being a healer, could not heal his own wounds. The 9th house rules exploration, higher learning, philosophy, and long-distance travel. This placement may signify a deep collective wound related to our pursuit of knowledge, particularly knowledge that takes us far from our comfort zones or deep into the unknown. It's like we're all collectively on a long road trip, and we've hit a pothole that's forced us to pull over and take stock.

In the context of the Titan submersible implosion, Chiron in the 9th house resonates with the pain resulting from the pursuit of knowledge and exploration. This tragedy was born from a quest to delve deeper into the ocean, to revisit a significant piece of our shared history. But it also revealed a painful lesson: that our pursuit of knowledge and the desire to push boundaries can sometimes lead to devastating consequences. This placement of Chiron also invites us to reflect on the importance of learning from our past. We can't ignore the lessons of the Titanic disaster, and now, the Titan implosion adds a new chapter to this narrative. It's a stark reminder of the risks inherent in exploration and the importance of prioritizing safety when we venture into the unknown.

It's as if Chiron is urging us to take a step back and reflect as a collective: How do we balance our thirst for exploration with the need for safety? How do we honor the past while forging ahead into the future? These are painful but necessary questions that the Titan implosion has brought to the surface.

I also feel a strong pull from SPIRIT. I hear a whisper of the echoes of the past resonating with our present. The story of the Titanic and the Titan submersible are more than just historical events, they're stark reminders of human courage and our insatiable desire to push beyond our boundaries. Spirit warns us to respect the forces of nature and to proceed with caution and humility when approaching the ocean. Strange occurrences will continue to occur with bodies of water while Saturn and Neptune are in the sign of Pisces.

What stands out to you?

#astrology #astrology readings #astrology aspects #history #natal chart #pop culture #astrology degrees #pisces #the titan #the titanic #titan submersible #stockton rush #psychic