#oh well i'll manifest it myself

[magicpotatomaster101]

advice from the gang, how nice :)

#i wished they focused on this friendship squad instead of that love triangle! #eugene was done dirty ): #oh well i'll manifest it myself #*holds writers at gun point* #wednesday netflix #wednesday addams #thing addams #eugene otinger #enid sinclair #wenclair #i guess? #tater's art stuff

[venusoracle]

pac: winter wishes from your future spouse

this winter, what message does your future spouse have for you? pick a card for a message and chanelled christmas song from your future spouse <3

take only what resonates, this is a general reading

reblogs and likes would be really appreciated! :) i would love to hear which one you picked!

PILE 1

♫₊˚.🎧 ✩｡ come out and play - billie eilish

hi, my love. how are you? i wanted to let you know -  i wish you could see your full potential. your shyness is cute and i love that you’re introverted because we get along so well (and i actually keep imagining us going on dates and your cheeks being all flushed... so cute) but i wanna encourage you to be more confident sometimes. you are beautiful and strong and i love you. i understand that when you were younger, people were harsh to you when they spoke to you, but i want you to know that it’s okay to stand up for yourself. i’m proud of you and i’m proud of you for wanting to heal your inner child. i know it’s scary and it feels difficult to face your fears… but i promise that your life will change for the better. don’t be intimidated and don’t listen to other people, you’re stronger than you think. i love you, you’ve got this, hang in there, the cold will be over soon.

PILE 2

♫₊˚.🎧 ✩｡ santa tell me - ariana grande

hey darling!! you’ve been working so hard recently and been so focused, i really admire it. but baby, please don’t get too obsessive with academic / work validation - you are so much more than that, especially to me. i feel like you’re my soulmate and i know that it’s part of my destiny to meet you, do i sound cheesy? anyways, you inspire me to keep working on my goals and to be resilient when i want to give up. your kindness and loving heart already support me during tough times. i can’t wait to meet you, i’ve been waiting so long and i’m so excited to build a future together with you.

PILE 3

♫₊˚.🎧 ✩｡ love to keep me warm - laufey and dodie

oh baby, i’m sorry that people have betrayed you in the past. you don’t deserve that at all. you’ve been manifesting me and i’m glad that i’ve been helping you in a way… when we meet, i'm gonna feel complete because i know we’ll accept each other for who we are. have you been shutting yourself off from meeting people, love? i feel like you are for some reason :( i know it’s daunting to think that you might get treated badly again but you are a beautiful person who deserves to make meaningful connections. don’t hide away, you’ve got this. also this is hella random but you remind me of a princess :) do i sound creepy? possibly but whatever, don't forget to wear your scarf.

PILE 4

♫₊˚.🎧 ✩｡ christmas tree farm - taylor swift

i feel kinda shy tbh… hello, i hope you’re doing well. i’m normally not an emotional person but i’m learning how to communicate better recently. i want to change myself for the better cuz firstly, i wanna be successful and also cuz i’m probably gonna have to fight for you lol. anyways, i’m not giving up. take care and stay warm, don't get sick and i'll see you around.

#tarot #pick a card #pick a card reading #pac reading #pick a pile #pick a pile reading #pac #pac tarot #tarot reading #tarot readings #kpop tarot

[infiniteko]

https://www.tumblr.com/illusionaurie/743221144282398720/hey-mystic-i-was-gonna-link-an-ask-from-earlier?source=share

👁️👄👁️ why is correcting misinformation / contradictions / massive over complications considered "mean"? these people realize they’re on the internet, right? if you’re still learning about ND/AV, you can literally just write down your thoughts in a private journal so you’re not responsible for spreading myths and false info on the internet to confused, vulnerable people. i’m sorry to be harsh but so many young people enjoy the title of being a "blogger", but without any accountability or experience in what they’re actually claiming to "teach". people are allowed to publicly criticize other people’s public claims, it’s the internet and it’s part of having a platform. 🤷 any ounce of criticism doesn’t equate to bullying or hatred. be open to discussion that’s not always positive and don’t take it as such a personal attack…

when people are tagging their posts with ND/AV, but aren’t using these concepts at all accurately, it’s totally fair to correct them. the same way if i came on here talking about how jewish theology considers jesus to be a messiah, i’d expect someone to tell me otherwise. it’s just blatantly untrue lol. it’s harmful and also extremely pointless to talk about things you don’t know anything about as if you know, when you can just take a tiiiny break from the internet, go within and… actually know it for yourself?

it’s veryyy transparent who here speaks from experience of knowing themselves (you + RW mainly, also i think Ada was mostly right just massively over conceptualized) versus who simply says whatever words they think sound good lol. it’s a shame to see people be wilfully ignorant but oh well🤷 it’s only themselves that they’re keeping seemingly stuck and unhappy, forever chasing (as that anon themselves said) "manifestations" and "desires" that bring about no meaningful or lasting happiness. 👎

sorry btw ik you probably can’t post this because of 🫨the controversy!!!1!1!🫨 but i had to indulge myself just a lil in the pettiness… i was bored, and i’m so tired of hearing people label SHORT + SIMPLE sentences as "riddles" just because they don’t want to put on their big girl pants and know this for themselves

Oh Anon you're speaking from the depths of my soul. I couldn't agree even more. Most of these "ND/AV" "bloggers" talk nonsense and get extremely defensive whenever they are corrected. They enjoy having people who listen to them and you can always tell who is talking from straight direct experience and who isn't. It's considered rude and "bullying" because they're asleep. But I'll be quiet🙆🏻‍♀️

#ask

[lains-reality]

hello! i rlly love your blog and the way you explain things

how do i just apply? whenever i do i stress that i’m doing it wrong because i feel overwhelmed by the amount of info and things i have to make sure i’m doing right then i spiral and over consume again. i don’t want to rely on tumblr anymore.

what’s the simplest way to apply all of this and just “manifest” (i don’t rlly like this word bc it implies there’s a process or that i’m trying to get) my dream life? thank you

hi! ty!

it takes some courage! i also read a lot as a way to feel secure, but eventually i just got tired and just decided 'i have no more fears from this day on! done with this!' and i made it a practise to stop avoiding myself whenever something comes up

its all very natural, i can't say how you'll just finally decide that your over this lol

"whenever i do i stress that i’m doing it wrong because i feel overwhelmed by the amount of info"

well, learn how to stop yourself in the moment. you're putting too much pressure on your character! it only know what it knows now, it will not accept anything outside of what it already knows! thats why you leave it alone. read all you want to read, but stop when you feel like you have to. like you must. let yourself relax.

"i don’t want to rely on tumblr anymore."

good! keep going!

"what’s the simplest way to apply all of this"

just do it. try it and see. something that is a recurent theme in all the posts and book i read, is to try it. experiment. just for this one moment, let all the worries go. promise to never make problems for yourself again. you've given up troubles now, no more. just test it and see. surrender. let the mind cry and scream, for this moment, you won't allow it to deter you from freedom.

i'll give a list of stuff that helped me

theres only now -> stop bringing the past to now, learn to sit in the present moment

stop avoiding emotions, sit with the fear, discomfort etc

you already are Self! nothing can undo that!

be patient

non attachment (or detachment)

experiment - take something you already know and test it

question everything

find out what are the stories you want, what the desire will supposedly give you

it is not necessary to get rid of thoughts or images just stop deriving identity from them

"am i arguing for my limitations?"

soon more lovely thoughts and images will appear in your awareness and you can choose what you want

can you outgrow it? not you. observe it? not you. in the absense of it, you don't dissapear? not you.

be okay with not having it. get to a place where no one and no thing can disturb you (and your happiness and peace)

just see how absurd all this shit is. like i was born? what was it like before i was born? why is it normal to hear your voice in your head? no one knows what tomorrow is but we all worry abt it, where tf does the voice in your head come from? how can we actually identify feelings, what if the feeling pride isn't actually pride and you've been lied to? do you know how crazy this is for an infant?! we say we are an [x] person and that changes and so we say we are an [y] person, so who are we?? if we can change like that? being a human is confusing, seek the truth out and question all

just start to disidentify as the body-mind. when you disidentify as the body-mind you'll start to feel better as all the pressure you put on your character falls away. this will intice you to keep going as you feel freer!

have fun!! go and live life!! appriciate what you have now - this is all expressing the character, omnipr3sence, perfectly! you'll start to see "i barely thought abt x 2 days ago and now i see it here lol" "i was worrying about y and now i see it here too" "oh so this comes along with being the character too, maybe i should change that story"

you're in your own dream, see it as your dream and you'll start seeing the connections.

no need to convince the character, just move on. let yourself doubt this 'reality'

disclaimer: i'm still learning too! so please keep practising and have your own epiphanies!

reading

habit

no need to convince

behaviour

#lainsmail #to the other anon who wanted to start applying: here u are

[luckykiwiii101]

oh ok I don't know if it's considered a success story, BUT I THINK I ENTERED THE VOID, ok ok I know I do every time, but this time I think I woke up consciously, I'll tell you how it was:

This afternoon I was going to take a nap (I always do this in the afternoons so I take the opportunity to manifest Myself) so I was lounging around and creating scenarios in my head until I started to affirm the void, it took a while because it's difficult to focus when you're euphoric but I affirmed until That I fall asleep without realizing it, when I was becoming aware everything was black and for about 3 seconds or even less I couldn't hear ando even feel anything,Until my annoying brother came to wake me up saying that my cats had made a mess in the yard (I wanted to cry)

Well, I didn't say anything before because I was processing it until now (it's literally 1 am here) and I finally realized it, but is it really considered that I entered? I prefer to believe so, my classes start in 1 month and I'm sure I'll do it before 😼

I will continue my journey then, kisses from Brazil 🇧🇷💕

YOU DID!! CONGRATS 💓💓💓

#void state #void

[eldritch-spouse]

[Part 4 of Gifted. Fem reader.]

Previous poll winner: " I think I'll... Thank the chef, yes. " (37.1%)

TW: Violence; Descriptions of cannibalism; Slight gore; Knife play; Extremely dubious consent.

New choice! [VOTE]

" I think I'll... Thank the chef, yes. "

Do you really have a choice anyway?

You recall him, his voice mostly. A southern drawl that sounded almost goofy, but imposing. Which is fitting, you suppose, he's an intimidating cinder block of a monster. A mushroom monster, you've seen one or two of those before, they're generally quite pretty in your opinion. The chef in particular struck you, the dotted patterns on his arms glowing faintly in the cavernous dark of Sybastian's mouth when he reached in for you.

In truth, you're not too sure how to feel about him. And that insecurity manifests when you purse your lips, possibly regretting your cooperation regarding these two's lascivious suggestions.

" My my, she really is tame. " Vesper fans himself. " Oh how I regret handing her over! You and I would have had so much fun back in Lust, honey. "

You shudder, believing every word he says. Maybe a bit of fear here is healthy, you can only imagine what kind of animal you'd become in his hands.

" Well then, go! " The Icon urges, facing away from you and Santi dramatically. " I won't let myself stare a second longer, lest I ruin this game. " This guy is such a theater dork, you can't believe you sucked him off. And so happily too.

Nevertheless, Santi takes the warning to heart, ushering you up as soon as you have a couple more forkfuls, not enough to last you long. It's a waste of perfect cuisine, frankly. The incubus walks you through the crowd, hand locked with yours, ever determined to soothe you via gentle touches. You appreciate that about him, this demon's been very kind to you so far, for whatever reason. Maybe because you chose him... Well, it was a good choice, you reckon.

Speaking of choices, you're still not too sure about this last one. Every step through the crowd makes your heart beat a bit harder, a bit faster. Will things work out here too?

" You're so tense, love. Is it butterflies? " Santi teases. " Don't worry, keep up this precious attitude and everything will be fine. "

Encouraging...? Not really.

The doors to the kitchen are tall, a brilliant white, and although there's supposed to be windows in each one of them, the glass there is obscured, meaning the inside is a mystery to you. You can hear the sounds however. Nothing too suspicious, chatter and clinking, mostly.

When the two of you reach those doors, your back is basically glued to Santi's front, fear and dread keeping you stock still. The demon is unbothered, simply pushing the large doors apart and edging you inwards.

Now this... This is what you call a real kitchen.

It's absolutely massive. Then again, that's a theme here. You do understand why things need to be larger in general, after all, many of the monsters here are bigger than humans by a considerable amount, their comfort must be catered to- However, this place tends to exaggerate in the dimensions of its overall floors. This entire kitchen is like a house, it's furnished with all sorts of equipment, reminding you of a world-renowned establishment. The brightness hurts your eyes a little, but you suppose it's necessary. How come you've never even once heard of this location?

The first thing your adrenaline-sharpened mind notes is the blood.

On what you very clearly recognize to be some modernized chopping block. On the ground, like something bleeding and squirming was dragged from said block to another huge set of doors, leading lord knows where. A large scarlet handprint you can only guess belongs to the chef on one of those doors. Then there's that cleaver, a scary-looking thing, embedded in the cutting block, some form of viscera and tissue still clinging to it. So he's not just a chef, yes, he's definitely also a butcher. And yet... You know, deep in your soul, whatever creature possibly lost its life here was likely human.

God help you.

That's not all though. As soon as your gradually panicking mind looks at anything but the trails of red present, it quickly finds ambulating creatures. Small. Smaller than the waiter, totally black but reflecting some sort of pigment, their heads floating as they work, each one clad in white kitchen garbs with varying designs. The first thing that crosses your mind nearly makes you vomit. Children?! You blink several times. No. No, they can't be, just because they're small doesn't mean they're infants, you haven't seen a single child here. Besides, you're fairly certain these aren't monsters, whatever the Hell they could be, they all look the same physically speaking, only their color accents and facial expressions distinguish them. This is some sort of clone fest. What are you looking at?! What is this?!

" S- Santi?... " Are you going insane?

" Oh right, you've never seen one of those before. " The demon reminds himself, chuckling at his own antics. You don't question why he's okay with the shady blood stains. " Those things are called bobbles. They're made here, sweetie, think of them as extra helpers. "

Things... They're things. Uhuh.

You watch silently for a couple of seconds. Most of them appear to be absorbed in their own tasks, moving efficiently between each other. Cutting vegetables, passing utensils, cleaning dishes, shouting for ingredients. Some of them occasionally glance at you two, the gray-colored ones completely neutral, the blue ones with a hint of trepidation. They're a bit cute, you'll admit, if you don't question the logic of their mere existence too much. You wouldn't mind having one of these. After a minute or two of watching these "bobbles" work in fast-paced harmony, you relax enough to detach from Santi, standing by his side warily.

Soon, one of the things, with a tall hat and slightly ripped garb, stomps over to you two. Its eyes narrow over pink-freckled cheeks, and he frowns at Santi specifically. A wooden spoon is slapped onto the demon's stomach.

" Ya hav'ta knock! Sir doesn't like it when people don' knock! " It drawls at the snickering incubus, who merely takes the hits without flinching.

" Whoopsie... Can you find it in you to forgive me? "

You muffle an amused noise as well, watching the small critter's face puff in annoyance for a couple of tense seconds. How can anyone take them seriously, with that adorable look? Finally, it gives Santi a bright smile.

" Okay! " Big pink eyes settle on you, after a concerning pause- Like it genuinely hadn't seen you all this time. " Ooh! Ya brought a piggy, sir's gonna like her! "

The bobble grabs your hand with its four-fingered one and starts trying to lead you somewhere, but you stand your ground. Santi's eyes widen and he flicks that intrusive limb away.

" Hey-! "

" No no Turnip, this one's not for the warehouse. " The look on his pale face is serious, making the bobble tilt its perfectly round head. " This one's for sir. He knows her. "

" Ooooohh... " The pink and black bobble waves its hands excitedly. " Special piggy! "

Wait, hold on- It's name is literally Turnip? What.

" Yes, exactly, I need you to get Morell for me, okay? "

" Yessir! "

Funny, didn't Grimbly say that too? Irregardless, the small being trots away, pushing past those heavy-looking doors with great effort and disappearing from sight entirely. You couldn't get a good look at what lies beyond, which is disconcerting.

The incubus begins looking around, and though you can't really tell what he's after, you don't struggle too much when he beckons you over to an empty marbled counter, and sits you atop it. O-Okay. Satisfied, he goes back to waiting, some form of excitement in his gaze, although it mixes with something else, dampening it.

" Am I... " You start quietly, some of the adrenaline crashing, permeated by uncertainty. " Going to be alright? "

The demon faces you, reading into your expression with a carefully neutral one as he ponders. You don't like that he hesitates, that he's thinking about his answer. That in itself should be telling enough. When you look away, defeated, he grabs your hand, a much smoother smile on those handsome features.

" You're tough. " He begins. " I can tell. Trust in your sixth sense and keep it up. "

He meant to be motivating, but truth of the matter is that was neither a confirmation nor a denial. You can see through it, he doesn't know, but the probably doesn't want to scare you either. Fuck.

The humdrum of the kitchen workers chattering to each other and utensils clinking around becomes an indistinct buzz while you recess into the confines of your mind, adrenaline diminishing in the face of relative inactivity. What is the world outside these walls up to, right now? With you missing, your responsibilities unaccounted for, has your family noticed your absence? Is anyone coming for you? Do they even know how you got here? Will you ever see th-

A sudden woosh snaps you back into alertness, the bloodstained doors leading to who knows where parting smoothly. And he powers in. Him being, of course, the chef.

While not nearly as large as monsters like Vesper, he's towering in his own right. You've never been one to realize how much body language matters, but looking at... Santi called him "Morell", you think- You feel more on edge than you ever did around the massive demonic lord. It's his stance. Shoulders always squared, always flexed and tense, he constantly looks as if moments away from lunging towards something or someone. The few minutes of indirect interaction you've had with this monster were enough to transmit an idea of volatility, as if violence is always just one blink too late away.

The white garb he dons can no longer be called white by any stretch of the imagination, coated in splatters featuring varying shades of red. He looks mildly tired, and angry. You're not sure if he's shining from sweat or some differing condensation- The breeze you felt as soon as those doors parted suggests what lies beyond is cold. Like a fridge room.

A crimson-stained towel hanging from his shoulder is used to wipe bloodied hands rather poorly, before the thing is tossed away, a bobble catching it before it can hit the floor.

" This better be worth mah fuckin' time demon, ah'm two seconds away from- "

As soon as those curious cyan hues bounce up to regard the demon, they instantly dart to you, and he stills. Oh yes, he definitely recognizes you. You're being stared down.

" Well then... " The way bold bright teeth poke above that chunky scarf doesn't bode well with you.

" I take it this is worth your 'fuckin' time'? " Santi jabs.

The large mushroom crosses his arms over his chest, not moving from his spot. " Wha's this all 'bout? " Although he makes an effort to glare at the incubus, he keeps looking back to your figure on his counter. You wonder if he might be mad that you're sitting on it.

" Oh relax, I just brought the minx here to see you. " Santi does a placating gesture with his palms, though you feel a slight sting of betrayal when he opens his mouth again. " See, we just had dinner. Our present here loved your work sooo much she said she'd like to personally give her regards to the chef, and who am I to stop her, hm? "

Morell looks straight at you. Nerves force you to gulp, scratching at your arm and face lightly, better to stay silent than say something even more embarrassing.

Eventually, he relaxes slightly. It's a minuscule change is demeanor, but you don't miss it. " ... That so? "

When the demon doesn't reply, you realize it's a cue. What are you supposed to say here? You did agree to it. Besides, if not him, then they'll just toss you at someone else. There's no easy win, might as well do what's kept you alive thus far- Being polite.

" Y- Yes. " You look him in those cyan eyes, oddly shrunk pupils swimming in a sea of black. He seems like the type of guy that values eye contact.

Slow, evaluating seconds pass.

" Aight... Tha piggy can stay with me. " He says it with a chuckle, looking a lot brighter than he did not even a minute ago.

Santi nods, then quickly turns to you, rubbing a clawed hand on your cheek. His face betrays sadness, a little bit of resignation, disappointment. " Sweetness, it looks as if this is where we part. " He leans down, nibbling softly at your bottom lip, before brushing through your hair and taking several steps away. As if forcing himself. " For now, of course. " You can't really tell if that's good or bad.

" Ya done? " A decidedly not amused voice rings. For such a large man, Morell moved quietly, having closed some of the distance between you. " Git tha fuck out already. "

Santi only chuckles, making his way out to the main restaurant area. " Have a great time, love. " One last cheeky wink is all you get, before the demon is out of your sight.

For the first time in a while today, you feel truly alone. Santi had given you a sense of security up until now, even if said sense was erroneous. Here however, you're entirely on your own, feeling hunted, feeling cornered. There's no telling what this monster might want from you.

Keep calm. Breathe. Smile a little.

You'll make it through this.

Morell stares at you intently.

You seem to be faring well for someone who got thrown to the wolves, all things considered. No longer encased in lace, sporting clothes he swears he's seen before, not trembling in fear with your tail tucked between your legs like earlier. Tsk, Santi's been treating you too well, you ought to have some fear if you're staying here for a while. Fear keeps you alive, keeps you sharp.

Point being, you're clearly the clever type, you wouldn't have made it this far in such an intact condition if you pushed the wrong buttons with the demon. Sure, the shroom's certain you had to pay some sort of price to acquire these accommodations, but you probably knew that prior. He can tell you're not like most of the pigs he gets here, the kind that squeal and kick as soon as he nears them. No, it's in your eyes, you're so much smarter than that.

Doesn't matter, you're about to sing to a different tune with Morell now.

The monster moves once Santi leaves the premises, to the sink only a small distance away from the counter you're perched on. Though his back is mostly turned to you, Morell is confident you wouldn't try to bolt out. You know that you can't, know that without the staff's protection you're just mince meat for the crowd. His hands are rinsed and the towel atop his shoulder is wrung dry of the last pig's blood. He's glad to be rid of that one, they were troublemakers since the time they got dragged in to the very last breath- But you gotta appreciate the consistency, at least. If it was a calmer day, he'd play around with them some more before bringing down the hatchet, so to speak.

Ridiculous, here he is saying he's so busy, about to damn it all just so he can fuck with you. But how can he not? Look at you, just politely sitting on his counter with that fat fucking ass. Looking around, occasionally smiling briefly at his bobbles' antics. It's like you fit here already.

" Well pumpkin- " He starts, giddy that your spine straightens immediately. " 'S a pleasure ta have ya 'ere in mah lil' kitchen. "

The mushroom turns then, wiping his hands, cracking his knuckles. " Ya like tha food? "

You study his face for a moment, confused by the hint of mirth there, but eventually deem it correct to nod. Morell doesn't really care, he knows his food is good. Though he's a little upset you didn't get to try the best parts. When Grimbly dashed into the kitchen, the waiter told him everything. You, tangled between Vesper and Santi- To think that you've gotten an Icon of Hell's attention this soon! What kind of honey is up your ass?! Santi specifically requested something without human, and now he knows why.

Out of genuine fondness. Because really, you don't know what human tastes like. His dishes can oftentimes make that meat blend into other types, visually. If he arranges it well enough, you'd deem it a regular old steak, eat it, and call it delicious. All the incubus had to do is stay quiet. But he went the extra length to make sure you didn't obliviously consume your own kind, the sap.

" Good... Tha's good. " He says, after a pause. " Stop by whenever yer hungry. Ah'll get'cha somethin'. " Something worth eating.

" O- Okay. " Yeah, you're starting to click some things together by now, aren't you?

" Y'know, I'm real hurt, piglet. "

You blink, likely wondering if "piglet" was meant to address you -It was- Unsure where he's taking this. The chef paces several steps your way, ending up looming by your side, enjoying the way you immediately cast your gaze to your lap. He twirls locks of your hair idly.

" Mah memory's blankin', who got ya outta that mimic's jaws again? "

Looking up, searching his face for clues you won't find, you answer hesitantly but truthfully. " It was you? "

Morell snickers. " Yeah, sounds right. After all, who knows what could'a been o' you by now if ah hadn't? "

A sour expression crosses over your smooth features. Yes, think about it. Linger.

" An' still, ya pick the fuckin' demon. " The chef shakes his head, ruffling your hair. You shiver beneath him, likely realizing, just as most others do, that there's a great deal of strength behind his spongy-looking hide. " Ya can't make this shit up. "

" ... But- " What could've been an attempt to defend your incorrect choice is swiftly ignored.

" But what, sweetie? I was tha only one who could'a freed ya there! " The shroom points to himself, as if it was obvious.

Maybe he was, maybe he wasn't, you don't need to know that. Morell stands and watches a myriad of expression race on your complexion. Fear, confusion, dread. " I'm... I'm sorry? "

Hah, oh that's so cute!

His guffawing nearly shakes the kitchen walls, rocking his chest. You're adorable, he'll give you that much. Is this your attempt at placating him?

" 'S not a big deal anymore. " He waves, eventually stopping his fit of laughter. " C'mere. "

You hesitate a healthy amount, he can understand it. Though eventually, when Morell makes it clear he's not going to drop it, and that his patience isn't limitless, you plop down from the counter, taking careful steps his way.

" Closer. " He beckons when you refuse to stand in front of him. " Ya spooked? " Of course you are, he's been around your kind for so long, you're all like mindless gazelles, deers in headlights, pigs squealing to the skies and running around in circles.

It's when the chef places a heavy palm on the counter, and it rattles, that you zing to action and get just as suffocatingly close to the monster as he was hoping. " There we are, was it hard? " It was rhetorical, but he's delighted that you shake your head anyway. " Thought so. "

Morell takes a moment to appreciate the sight of you.

All humans are petite, and although there's something dainty about your demeanor right now, he can see your muscles tense like coiled springs, ready to snap, ready to run. Fight or flight is a beautiful look on you. You have a good amount of meat on your bones, he can tell with a couple of hearty gropes to those bare thighs. Hmm yes, fine cuts, good stuff. His fingers knead at you like dough, and Morell feels a sick little twitch in his pants when you start trembling.

" S- What are- "

" Sshh, quiet naw. " He warns, letting full hands roam around. The chef thrills himself with your obedience, going from calves to back of the thighs, gripping your ass firmly and snickering at your choked noise.

You're a lovely little thing, the kind he feels sorry for when he butchers, because they could last so much longer. Demand here is crazy, which is good for his pockets, but also saddening at times. Morell doesn't get to fool around with the pigs as much as he'd like to anymore. Especially not tonight! When his hands move to your front, palping at your belly, he shakes his head, clicking his tongue.

Practically empty. As he suspected. You haven't eaten anything properly yet, certainly not with those sluts, they probably think feeding you jizz will work out just fine, typical. They don't know how to care for a piglet at all! And to think you willingly chose him, how dim are you? You wince when he grabs at you more firmly, and it's enough for Morell to give it a rest.

" You don' look so full, piggy. " The chef tuts, patting your abdomen. " Knowin' them types, you prolly didn' get ta eat much since ye got here. "

He watches you squirm briefly, either tickled by the softer touch or wanting to stop it. " I'm... It's okay, I'm not that hungry. "

Liar. You're small and weak, you should be eating anything you can in this environment. So dumb, so naïve, it's a wonder luck has been on your side thus far. " Ya sure? " He squints.

" Y-Yep, thank you. "

Cute.

" Welp, in that case- " Morell lets some of his anticipation show, shrugging and moving to be mere inches away from your form. " We can skip right to tha good stuff. "

The whites of your eyes widen and you give him this puzzled, anxious look. Oh come now, don't play dumb. " Ya wanted ta thank me, right? " The shroom grabs your tiny hand in his and puts it to his chest, a lidded, much more playful and relaxed expression on his face. " Don' lemme stop ya, sweetie. "

Oh, the gradually rising panic in your face is just precious. He's a lot, not to toot his own horn, but Morell gets your nervousness. He's been called "an absolute unit" a couple of times and it strokes his ego. Speaking of, you need to be stroking something else right now. He's been pent up these last couple of days, preparing for this event hasn't been kind to Mori's libido.

The chef is starting to think he's going to have to do things the hard way until you finally move. While your palm shakily slides down his chest, feeling slightly excited breathing, he busies himself with untying the long sash around his waist. Much to his disappointment, you don't grope, not that he expected you to anyway. Chuckling, Morell corners you further against the counter, spotted arms on each side corralling your body. His cock jumps in his pants when you give him a doe-eyed look full of uncertainty. You're purposely lingering on his abdomen, avoiding what lies beneath. The chef responds to this by flexing slightly, allowing you to feel his well-built constitution. Yeah sure, he's showing off, let him have this.

You don't look him in the eyes when you eventually relent, fingers sliding down. He's impatient however, roughly grabbing your hand. He reaches for one of the torn sleeves of his white smock and parts it, shrugs off the other one, letting the outfit fall to the floor, kicked aside by heavy-looking boots. You're apparently fascinated, studying his upper body openly, visibly flustered. Morell smiles when you focus on a particularly dark mark on his arm, stare all you want. He rips you back into focus by firmly smoothing your hand over the raging hard-on tenting his black pants, unable to conceal his laughter when you audibly gasp. Aw, don't flatter him like that.

When Morell drops his grip, your fingers remain static, and he rolls his eyes. " C'mon, ya scared? " He parrots.

Scared is an understatement.

This guy puts you off. Plus, he's packing heat.

At the risk of sounding filthy, you'll admit he's not the biggest you've seen, that title now falls squarely onto Vesper. The Icon's size didn't strike you as something note-worthy- He's already gigantic in comparison to you, of course his junk would be appropriately huge as well. Not to mention your mind was a little clogged at the time. Morell is a whole other story, you might very well have to take him, and he's bigger than Santi for sure. It's cause for some alarm, but then again, this whole situation is.

He seems to have taken your shock as a compliment, though it's very clear the monster's patience is waning the longer you stall.

Shakily inhaling, you give the chef what he wants, stroking generously through the fabric and occasionally squeezing at him. It... It doesn't feel like he has anything on beneath these pants. Your efforts get the monster to sigh in pleasure, looming over you and adjusting, giving you more to work with. There's nothing left to the imagination, the shape imprinted on his clothes lets you know exactly what you're dealing with. And frankly, a part of you is oddly flattered by how much he appears to be getting into it, pressing back against your hand, throbbing, humming lowly.

He seems frustrated, stressed maybe. You don't know how much of a good idea it was to let those two basically nudge you into this.

" Mmf, they teach ya some or are you jus' excited fer me already? " Morell drawls.

Declining to answer, you merely keep going. Part of you was worried he'd call you out, as you're very clearly trying to rile him up so he'll settle for a sloppy clothed grind- As if.

The ring of a zipper coming down is predictable to you, a flushed blue cock already stained by its own precum bouncing free. Fuck, he's really not packing lightly. The look on the chef's face says you better resume, so you opt not to test his patience too much. He's heavy. To be fair, you don't doubt he's dense in general, but the warmth of his member on your hands has you gulping for what might come next. Nevertheless, you try not to look at your own motions while you work him, gaze scanning the kitchen instead.

It's incredible. All this time, the group of bobbles hastily working hasn't casted a single glance at you two. It's as if... This is normal to them. Like they know better than to gawk. You can only wonder what types of obscenities go down here.

You're still staring by the time Morell groans, reaching for your top. The surprise of slightly cold fingers edging up the hem of said cloth has your motions faltering, resigning yourself to letting the cook remove that oversized shirt. What's the alternative? Make him angry? You agreed to this, might as well try to get into it.

Nipples pebble in the cold air near immediately, and the chef laughs quietly to himself at the sight of your breasts, a discolored tongue wetting his teeth. " Everythin' about ya is jus' tha cutest, ain't it? " He grins. " Lookit 'em... "

Big palms frame your tits, and it's only now that the expression "baker hands" takes on a whole new meaning. Morell kneads at your chest in a confident and strong manner that has your breath catching. You're ashamed to admit no one's given your tits this type of attention before, feeling goosebumps rise in the wake of your unexpected pleasure. A high-pitched noise escapes when he plucks at one bud, and you realize your hand has been merely wrapped around him all this time when the monster thrusts impatiently.

" Oh? Did'ja like that? "

" N- No. " Yeah, super believable.

" Lyin' piglet. " The soft scolding is quickly followed by him bending to kiss and lick shamelessly around your tits. You can't help gulping when teeth glide and catch slightly on skin. Fuck's sake, if he actually- He nibbles slightly, spare hand forcing the one around his dripping shaft to work faster. When you look down, seeing a teal shade on his dark cheeks and most of your breast in his blunt-toothed maw, you almost panic.

" D- Don't-! " Did he just fucking throb in your hand? " Please- Don't bite! "

That bright flush intensifies, hot puffs of air wetting your skin as he all but steams, teeth flirting with your pain tolerance, forcing a frightened keen out of you, before he peels back, panting.

" Fuck yeah, yer a good catch. " Morell groans, zipping his pants back up in a vaguely uncomfortably manner. " Don' move a muscle, ya hear me piggy? "

When you don't answer immediately, he gives you an "are you testing me?" glance that installs the fear of meeting the maker into your bones.

" Y- Yes, Morell. "

Why did you say his name? You didn't need to that, you just added a personal touch into this. God damn it. Perhaps it's for the best, because the chef seems appreciative, smiling before hastily cramming himself through the bloodied doors he came from.

You have no idea what he's doing, what he'll return with. And frankly, part of you doesn't really want to know. When Morell's footsteps become distant, instincts beckon you to look towards the opposite direction, to the second pair of tall doors, the one you entered from. It's only a matter of putting on your shirt... Where is it? Who took it?! You look around frantically, but the thing has apparently vanished. Fuck's sake...

Regardless, you can just step outside the kitchen, maybe take your chances... It would be risky, but if you get in that fucking elevator! You know that's the ticket to leave this dump. You just have to figure out which floor leads to the ground level, it's that simple.

You don't even realize you're walking towards the exit.

One of the bobbles, a blue one with a shorter hat, stops next to you, some others giving you side-glances. Although she doesn't utter a word, you can see the silent warning in her face. A cautious shake of the head is all you're given, and then the doors part. Not the ones in front of you though.

" ... Where d'ya think yer going? "

It's as if your lungs collapse for a moment, air refusing to fill them. " No- Nowhere, nowhere, I- "

" And 'ere I thought ya'd behave. Tsk. "

When you zip around, you get to see the large mushroom power towards you, a sturdy-looking rope on his hands. Of course, the thing is adorned with aged red marks. There's a sadistic sort of glee on his dark face, making you take several steps back. His chest puffs, the monster bellowing out.

" Hah! Try it, piggy. " Morell taunts. " Ya take a single fuckin' step outta those doors an' ah'll hunt ya fer sport, pertty baby. "

You don't doubt him.

All you can do is gulp and hope for the best, feet rooted to the tiled ground in spite of the screaming voice that begs you to haul ass. The monster's still snickering to himself when he reaches you. You're no longer spared a hint of gentleness, as the chef grabs your arm tight and drags you to the center of the kitchen, towards one of the horrid, blood-stained chopping blocks.

You're flipped around and slammed face-first onto the wood, assaulted by the sensation of residual, cold viscera on your face. The metallic scent mingles with a woody aftertaste and you start to panic under his hand, very aware a huge cleaver lies only centimeters away from your person. Is this it? Is this the end? Is he going to cut your fucking head off?

" I'm- I'm sorry, please God- "

Your flailing, although definitely amusing to the cook, is halted when he squeezes exceptionally hard on your arm. Your limb grows numb from the sheer force, he's cutting off blood flow. A little more and he'll break your humerus, you can feel it. Getting the message, you go entirely limp, near hyperventilating.

" Easy piggy, easy- " There's a condescending pat to your head. " I'mma jus' tie ya up, 'kay? Don' make me hurt ya. " You can feel the weight of him poised on your back for a moment. " 'Cause ah'll fuckin' love it if I hav'ta. "

You whimper.

" Gonna be good for me? " He tests, already nudging your arms onto your back. You can feel the rope being weaved between them in certain patterns, movements rushed but expertly practiced. You nod rapidly, full of fear, and he hums while tying knots behind your back. One. Two. Three?! Oh, you're not making it out of this one on your own. For sure.

When the chef lets go of your bound limbs, not too tight but not too lax, you give them a test, making the shroom chuckle. " Mm, fine work if ah do say so myself. Good ta know I still got it. "

When fat fingers tug at the hem of your shorts, you can only try to focus on your breathing, shivering when the fabric is dragged down to barely hang by your knees. You still ooze remnants of your slick from prior activities, and Morell doesn't seem to miss that either, because he uses it as lube to jam a digit into you. The insertion is sudden enough to have you jump, leg jerking.

" Ey naw, don' buck at me. " The monster snorts, curling his finger and testing the waters.

You don't know why, or how, but your body warms regardless of the circumstances, walls tightening around that sole digit as if to encourage the chef. And all you can say to yourself is that it's a result of Vesper and Santi's influence. Residual effects, probably. It must be! You wouldn't be into this otherwise, right? You wouldn't find it hot that you're helpless, being molested by a gross butcher on his own filthy chopping block. No... God please no, you don't think you can face yourself after this.

The mushroom monster, oblivious or uncaring of your inner turmoil, simply forces a second finger in, without much resistance. Fuck him and his deliciously thick hands, the familiar stretching sensation sends sparks flying behind your eyelids and you close them. You're not the only one enjoying themselves it seems.

" Damn piglet, lookit that, ya needy girl. " The chef starts eagerly fingerfucking you, giggling and moaning quietly to himself when you reflexively tighten. " The Hell were you tryin' ta run if ya needed me this bad, hm? Too much pride in that lil' noggin'... " He teases, panting.

Unfortunately, no matter how hard you may want to will it into reality, closing your eyes won't simply make this unrequited pleasure fade away. It won't make you any less wet and inviting for the chef, it won't quiet down the shlick of his lurid fingerfucking that somehow manages to ring louder than the humdrum of the constant cooking around you. All that effort is rendered moot when you let out a fevered moan and flex hard around the cook's hand, wanting more.

" Hhn- Fuck yeah. "

Far too jarringly, your cunt is emptied, there's some frantic rustling behind you, a ziiiiip, you know exactly what it is that slaps onto your ass. He doesn't seem very calm.

" M- Morell. " You hope using his name will sweeten your request. " Please be gentle, please. "

" Aww. " He chuckles, stray hand reaching to tickle under your chin, the tip of his member lines up perfectly against you. There's a gentle push, and you do your best to relax, glad he's at least doing that much for you.

Tickling becomes a solid hold of your neck.

" You'd like that, wouldn' ya? "

Morell slams home with a brute strength that not only knocks the wind out of your lungs, it feels like he's shoved your guts up to your throat. It's such an intense feeling that you believe you're sick for a moment, vision blurring as you sob out a mangled cry. For a couple of seconds, you just gasp, pussy spasming and legs shaking erratically, staring straight ahead at the grayish wall.

The chef grunts and sighs loudly, canting his hips to make sure he's fully sheathed inside you, his balls tighten and he shudders in total bliss. " Fuuck, ya wanna milk me dry, don'tcha piggy? "

You really don't care for his taunts, but it's hard not to squeal when a palm strikes across your left asscheek with the fury of a thousand suns. He amuses himself with this, it appears, stroking over the sore spot while he rocks back and forth inside your pulsing walls. He seems to struggle with your tightness, and you struggle with his girth as well, the two of you locked until he thinks to torture your poor clit. " Real fuckin' tight fer someone who's been foolin' 'round with demons. "

He won't let you squirm your way out of his hard rolls, continuing the torture until you're sufficiently relaxed for Morell to establish a slow back and forth, every thrust making you dig your nails into the flesh of your own arms. " Ya oughta stay 'ere fer a while longer. This cute an' this hot? Ah can't jus' let ya out. "

You're just trying to adapt to the cook's size, but he's far too eager, not giving you enough time to adjust before he's speeding up, jostling you. A tongue tries to wet dehydrated lips, tasting nothing but smeared blood while the scent of exotic spices clogs your nostrils and his lewd panting rattles your ears.

You're sure you must have paled like the cauliflower he has laying around when the monster stops to yank that gruesome cleaver out of its groove in the wood you currently lay on. You're not sure whether to cry, scream or simply accept things as they are. Morell grabs a firm handful of your hair, pulls your head back, and allows the blunt end of the blade to flirt with your throat.

" Naw then, do me a favor- " The blade flips, pressing dangerously against frail skin as Morell starts drilling into your small figure. " An' oink fer me, piglet! "

Oh you do.

Even if you wanted to be quiet, you couldn't.

It's everything at once. The absolutely merciless pounding into your pussy, reaching deeper than it should -Why doesn't it hurt?- Dragging hellish waves of bliss through your poor overworked brain, the terror of that cleaver possibly sinking into your body, slitting your throat open so you bleed out while he happily fucks you till your dying breath, becoming nothing more than yet another ambiguous red stain in this morbid kitchen. Nothing could ever prepare you for this, so you moan, whimper and squeal like the animal he wants you to be, doing your best to hang onto anything, tears and drool cascading down your face.

You can't tell left from right anymore, shivering at every bestial noise Morell makes above, feeling his balls slap against you with every hard piston, it's really no wonder your confused body couldn't keep up, and you truly screech in the wake of your jarring orgasm, seeing dots swimming in your vision.

" Atta girl! Nice an' sloppy... "

In spite of his confident tone, Morell's rhythm falters at your clenching. And, much to your relief, he lets the cleaver fall to your side, focusing instead on using both hands to frame your head while he bends to be flush against your back. It's a humiliating position, but you've long since stopped giving a shit about dignity here. In fact, you just want to make it out of this hellish kitchen mostly in one piece.

There's not much room for thinking when he grunts like a bull into your eardrums, gasps turning into silent gasps the second he starts slamming home deep and hard. One, two, three, four and-

His deep growl shakes you from head to toe, legs kicking instinctively as his cock flexes and he fills you like an obscene bucket. It's an uncomfortable sensation that applies too much pressure everywhere, and even if you can't be sure, you think you came again from it, very briefly. The sound of cum splattering to the floor rings in your mind while you simply wait for Morell to milk the last of his orgasm so you can come down.

" Hm, didn' have this much fun in a while, piggy. " He finally mutters, massaging your hips calmly as he rises. " Gotta say, I'm real glad ya chose ta gimme your 'regards'. "

You just groan senselessly. Your legs feel like melting jelly.

You're not sure what he's about to do next, and neither of you get to know anyway, because a group of short pitch black bodies scram in through the front doors.

" Sir! Sir please, you have to help! "

" It's serious! "

" The giant snake woman swallowed Alfredo!! "

... What?

Staring vapidly at the creatures, nothing happens for a couple of static seconds. Then the cook sighs, exasperated, before sliding out of you slowly. He shushes you when you wince, patting your sore thighs before fully laying you onto the large chopping block. You can't muster the energy to care, merely laying there and hissing at the increasing discomfort from having your arms tied this long.

" Ah'll be right back, pumpkin', promise. "

The last thing you hear is stressed murmuring, a zipper sliding up and boots stomping away, another woosh signaling the doors have closed and you're now mostly alone.

Yes, finally, some peace... A smile of relief almost makes its way to your lips before your consciousness fades entirely.

...

" So this is where she's been all this time... "

" Geez, can you believe it? I bet they just threw her in here to fend for herself. "

" In all honesty, I am appalled she has lived this long. "

" She's special, can't you tell Nebul? "

" You're much too prone to theatrics. "

Distant voices lull you back to reality, tired eyes blinking open, adjusting to the lights in the kitchen once more, before appraising the two studying your curled up form. One being the waiter, and the other that guy wearing a cloak, with the strange-looking head.

" Oh here she is, hi! " The smaller one waves, smiling bright.

" You cannot stay here for long. " The other warns. " If you intend to live, that is. This floor has fallen to total calamity. "

Yeah, you bet.

" I'll take care of this, you can go back up! " Grimbly hastily cuts in.

" You misunderstand, I'm not leaving without the human. " Although monotone, even you can sense the warning implied. Not that his coworker seems to care.

" Yeah right, like that's happening. Who knows what you'll do to this poor girl, you freak. "

" It would certainly be better than becoming an impulsive vampyre's bloodbag. "

The waiter's eye twitches. " ... How fucking dare you. "

Alright, back to square one it is. You need to leave before Morell comes back, and these two don't seem like they'll reach an agreement anytime soon.

You'll have to pick again.

Sighing, exasperated,

#Morell oc #Santi oc #Nebul oc #Grimbly oc #monsterfucker #terato #terat0philliac #yandere monster #yandere teratophilia #monster x reader #monster smut #monster boyfriend #minors dni #not sfw

[eamour]

This isn't really a question or success story per se, but, I've stopped being obsessed with the void. I'm not sure if this is worth even saying but, around a month ago, I used to rely heavily on the void to manifest my 'dream life'.

And the phrase "the void to manifest my dream life" sort of shows what was wrong with my mindset at the time. I used to think that the void could manifest anything, that it was something to reach and work for. But, in recent weeks I decided to drop the void. And instead to focus on myself, and my perspective.

My obsession with the void led to me wasting time thinking "oh well, this isn't that bad I'll enter the void later" then I would procrastinate, see something I don't like, then think "oh well, this isn't that bad I'll enter the void later" and repeat. This means I wasted so much time i could've used to do things i wanted to, and should have done.

It really restricted my ability to recognize that the void doesn't manifest but I do after coming to this realization, I realized that all I was doing is wasting my time. And so i decided that if I want my 'dream life' I'll use methods I've already used (like SATS, visualization etc..) to 'get' what I want. (Ik the methods aren't manifesting for me, it's me who does it obv)

No hate to anyone who uses the void, this is just my personal experience. I still have certain things I have yet to understand but I'd thought I'd put this out here as a reminder that you're the one who manifests, no one else (and nothing else!)

♡

(I hope I made some sense lol)

hello dear!

this is definitely a success story per se. actually, this is such an important realisation… i‘m honestly glad that you decided to share this. i‘m sure many people can relate to this and hopefully, it will reach the right people and inspire them to finally start considering a different way to manifest their desires ♡

and yes, you made a lot of sense. i‘m patiently gonna wait for your success story, no matter what it is. you can do it!

#success story #law of assumption #neville goddard #loa success #manifestation #manifesting #loa #loassumption #the law of assumption #manifest #spiritual #spirituality #manifest it #manifesting it #master manifestor #reminders

[keouil]

root yourselves beside me

yaga finds out the hard way his third years have no concept of personal space. 4k. gojo/shoko/getou. fluff. also on ao3.

It starts with someone getting sick in class.

"So like I was saying last week," Yaga gestures to the blackboard containing a small-scale map of downtown Tokyo. Sniffle. "There are still some areas in Nippori and Mejiro prone to winter curses, no matter how outdated they’ve become in this century." Sniffle. "It mostly has to do with the rapid temperature drops and most of the area being residential condos, meaning a younger workforce," Sniffle. "But generally speaking, jujutsu sorcerers are disposed every December to do an annual cleaning of the—" 

A sneeze.

"Oh my god, Shoko! Are you trying to inhale the entire room?" Gojo snaps at the same time Getou turns to her and asks, "Are you feeling okay?"

They exchange looks. Gojo only barely manages to dodge the smack to his head.

Yaga didn't mind his students, maybe even tolerated them from time to time. He'll admit he wasn't necessarily jumping for joy when the school board delivered the student packet to his office a month before orientation day, frowning at the familiar last name and worrying over the two that weren't. Tokyo rarely took in female sorcerers, most of them fleeing to Kyoto the moment their cursed energy manifested in favor of a kinder teaching environment. Tokyo always lost the betting pool on taking in clan kids, Kyoto and Hokkaido making a strong case for their traditional curriculumn fitting them more.

Their test scores were all over the place too—a mix of highs and lows—not to mention the disproportionate level of raw cursed energy within all three of them and the almost unnatural way they wielded it. A six eyes user, a cursed spirit manipulator, and a reversed curse technique healer. Safe to say they were an unpredictable bunch, and Yaga was the one tasked to soldier them down into a passable team.

Only at the rate they were going, it was highly unlikely.

Shoko sniffles again. "Shutupgojo," she tries to say, only to slur the words because of how muffled her voice sounds. "m' sick, yu idot." 

"Is that the same cold going around the school?" Getou asks, brows furrowed in concern. "Nanami called in sick last week. I had to take over his mission."

"It is flu season right now," Yaga remarks, not bothering to scold them for interrupting him for the nth time. Instead he gestures to the three of them in warning. "And sorcerers or not, your third year is the most brutal. So make sure not to catch anything."

Shoko sneezes again, looking the most miserable and scrawny they've seen her.

Gojo turned to look at her then. "Why don't you just heal yourself?"

Shoko just sniffles some more, looking pointedly—if not a little accusingly—at Yaga.

"We're still studying her technique," Yaga says lowly, suddenly all too busy with himself and the blackboard and making a pointed attempt to ignore Gojo and Getou boring holes down his back. "It's—ah—well, we don't get an RCT user very often."

"And so?" Gojo prompts. "What's that got to do with her healing herself?"

"She is right here," Shoko mumbles, wiping her nose with the tissue Getou passed her. Sniffling, she adds tiredly, like she's already made bed with it, "They just don't want any unauthorized use of the RCT if they can help it."

Gojo scoffs. "Well that's bullshit," he's already waving his hand around and bringing her chair closer. "Shoko, I'll heal you myself."

Now it was Yaga's time to smack him over the head.

"You can't even heal a bug yet!" Yaga waves at finger at him threateningly. "Let alone heal your own bruises. Like I said, RCT is an extremely polished technique that needs the utmost concentration and control. If even Shoko can't get it right just yet, there's no way you're allowed to even try healing Megumi's skinned knees."

Gojo pouts. "But—"

Getou faces him. "Yaga-sensei is right, Satoru," he placates. "If we can't understand Shoko's technique and get in under control, there's no telling what you could do with yours. You could do more harm than good."

Shoko let her head fall on the desk, groaning and making incoherent sounds of death. They think they can hear her murmuring something along the lines of feeling like death, until she says exactly, "I feel like death."

Getou inches his chair closer. "Do you want anything?"

Yaga notes the sincereness in his tone and has to school his expression into something more neutral. That’s… new. He knows the third years had gotten somewhat acquainted ever since the Okinawa incident, always insisting on doing group missions then and almost never letting anyone—juniors included, much to Nanami’s chagrin—go out alone and without a buddy system. He had to reason with the higher-ups that they'd probably just felt shaken somehow, and to give him as much grace period as possible until he felt they were ready to get back into the swing of things.

It's easy to forget, Yaga thinks when he looks at Getou rubbing a consoling hand on Shoko's back and Gojo trying to peek out from under where her head was buried in her arms: how young they were. 

If he had to come up with however many bullshit lesson plans he had to make to justify the in-person classes in lieu of field work, Yaga didn't mind staying up late every night to catch up with.

And when he sees Gojo and Getou getting into another ill-timed bet on who can make Shoko laugh first, Yaga notes, maybe it's all worth it in the end.

All for the good of the team.

-

Taking the Tokyo Metropolitan Subway is a mandatory rite of passage for any student in Jujutsu Tech.

Yaga insisted they use public transport as much as possible, arguing about its unrivalled efficiency in getting to places faster than any chartered car ever could no matter it’s convenience. Navigating the subway and monorails took some getting used to, but once mastered, any self-proclaimed Tokyo-ite should be able to walk the bustling Asakusa station with their eyes closed. 

Only Yaga didn't trust the third years not to push each other on the rails for whatever immature reason they came up with on the spot. They were all temperamental and teenagers like that. 

Enter Ijichi.

"Um," Ijichi starts, looking around the busy station and fidgeting with the straps of his bag. It was more packed than usual for a Tuesday afternoon. "Don't you already have a PASMO card, Getou-san?"

Getou glances at him briefly. "I do," he holds up the familiar pink commuter pass, before gesturing to Gojo behind him, who was trying to drag Shoko into a tanghulu stall. "But Satoru doesn't. And he doesn't know how these machines work, either, so."

When they arrived at the station a few minutes ago, it was glaringly obvious just how much of a sheltered life Gojo had lived. Ijichi tried his best not to let the incredulousness on his face show out of respect. It was hard not to, though, when Gojo really did not know shit about anything: the queues, top-ups, line transfers, etc. Ijichi's almost entirely sure he saw smoke coming out of Shoko's ears when he proudly declared never having been on a train in his life and why should he even get a commuter pass when he has a chauffeur. Getou only just about stopped her from slicing him in half in the nick of time.

Now they were queueing up to get a one-way ticket for Gojo on the shinkansen. His senior who should have been listening and taking notes and maybe learning a thing or two about commuting in the busiest area of Japan. But instead, he's dragging Shoko from one confectionary shop to another, buying every hypoglycemic pastry he can find and forcing her to tell him which one she likes.

"Suguruuu," Gojo whined in a high voice when they came back, arms full of take-out bags. "I wasn’t sure which one you liked, and Shoko was being a brat and wouldn't tell me, so I got you one of everything! You too, Ijichi!"

Ijichi expected Getou to chastise him for the waste of money, time, resources, his patience, etc. But instead is surprised when Getou just looks up from the machine and gives him a small smile. 

"Thank you, Satoru."

Gojo's grin only grew wider. "Not a problem!"

Getou turned back to the ticket machine and double-checked the train times. Only Ijichi noticed something was slightly off. He wasn't as focused as last time, now that he'd secured the ticket and was waiting for the machine to dispense it. He had one eye on the screen, while the other kept glancing at his side, at Shoko who was inching closer to the ticket gates. She doesn't get a few steps in before Getou nods his head firmly in her direction.

"She's doing it again," Getou warns. "Gojo, grab her."

Gojo didn't have to be told twice. "Gladly," He reaches out and catches Shoko just as she was about to scurry away, trapping her in a back-hug that rendered her completely immobile. Gojo rested his chin on the top of her head and sighed dramatically. "Always like this with you. Like clockwork."

Ijichi must've looked as confused as he felt, because Getou turned to regard him with mild amusement.

"Shoko has this rather annoying habit of going straight for the female-only train," Getou explains, turning back to exit out of the machine portal. "Completely understandable, of course. But it's annoying when we get off at the station and can't find each other right away." 

"Yeah, Shoko, what's that about?" Gojo looks down on her. "You worried about perverts on the train or something?"

Shoko tries to shove his arm off. "I'm a sixteen-year old girl living in Tokyo," she hisses. "Of course I'm worried about being groped on the train."

"Like we'd ever let that happen," Getou mutters under his breath, and Ijichi notes, with a tone of annoyance. They must've had this conversation before. Fishing the loose change from the machine, he stands up and flicks her forehead playfully. "How many times do I have to say it? You're safe with us."

"Don't worry," Gojo winks down at her. "We're the strongest."

"Please come up with a new catchphrase," Shoko elbows him on the side. "It's getting old."

The train ride back to school is.. something.

True to their word, Gojo and Getou immediately planted themselves in between either side of Shoko, to her obvious and verbal dismay. Grab my ass one more time, Gojo, and you won't have a hand to jerk off with next time. Ijichi stood by their side, hands clasped firmly around his backpack and looking up at them in thinly veiled awe. They stood so tall and imposing and just.. grand. It was even more obvious mixed in with the corporate slaves, nondescript suits and heels doing nothing but emphasizing the undeniable.

It's moments like that where Ijichi is reminded how some people were just born for this:taking the local train home but somehow still looking like they weren't cut from the same cloth as everyone else. Gojo and Getou nearly always turning heads where they went and Shoko so effortlessly exuding the very embodiment of a cool girl.

Gojo turned to him from time to time, making sure he wasn't suddenly being crushed into the rush hour crowd of Asakusa. "You good there, Ijichi-kun?"

"Y-yes," Ijichi stammered gratefully in return. "All good, Gojo-san. T-thank you."

Getou tried not to let it show, but Ijichi saw the subtle looks he kept throwing at anyone who so much as inched within five metres of their space. Gojo was busy chatting Shoko up and talking about his latest progress in Zelda, hands going a mile a minute demonstrating his different battle strategies. Shoko rolled her eyes but Ijichi heard her indulgent follow-up questions. 

Every time the train hit a bump, he saw Gojo and Getou instinctively reach out to steady Shoko. She glared at Getou's hand on her back. 

"Off."

"No," Getou insisted, but the conviction in his voice didn't feel as strong as it usually did. He must not be used to saying that to her. "Unless you want to start actually holding on to the railing this time?" 

Shoko grimaced. "Do you know how many bacteria are passed on to those things every day?" she points to the handle on top of her. "And you want me to subject myself to that?"

"Exactly," Getou looked at her knowingly.

Shoko huffed, crossing her arms and staring straight ahead in defiance. She hears Gojo chuckling by her side, shutting up when she shoots a glare his way. 

"Then just this once."

Ijichi shuddered at the thought of crossing any of them. He wasn’t an undeniable, and when he sees the kind of attention they attract on this random nondescript day he was tailing them, decides he doesn’t want to. 

The text message Ijichi shoots Yaga as they find their way to the school is riddled with so much question marks and asking—nearly begging—him not to shadow his seniors ever again, ending it with only the vaguest alludement to a possiblequestionablemaybe homoerotic dynamic between them. 

Yaga sees the last line of the text and deletes it just as fast as it came.

-

"Whose jacket is that?" Yaga asks.

They're in the morgue for Shoko's private lesson. Reverse Curse Technique users only spawn once every few generations, if at all, and so the higher-ups were on his back to train Shoko to be the most competent she can be. If only she wasn’t wearing an oversized uniform that was nearly drowning her.

"I'm not sure," Shoko looks down. "We all share clothes."

Yaga pauses. "Why?"

"Makes it easier on laundry day," Shoko shrugs, reading over the medical textbook.

Yaga eyes the length of the uniform. It had to be at least five sizes larger than her usual. 

"But don’t you guys do separate days?" Yaga inquires.

Shoko held up a hand. "Hold on, sensei," she reaches behind her and feels around for the name tag stitched into every student's uniform, tugging it out to read it. "It's Gojo's. Makes sense. I already found at least five candy wrappers just in his front pocket alone."

"Do you need more uniform sets?" Yaga asks, laying out the gauze pads and alcohol. A body ripe for examination lay before them. "I thought we gave you enough during the summer."

"I have enough," Shoko answers, picking up a cavity injector and turning it over in her hand. "But they just aren't as warm."

Yaga opened his mouth to clarify, before a loud clang of metal on metal alerted them of another presence in the clinic. Yaga already felt them before they even made a noise, hovering just outside the door for half an hour. Really, he should commend them for being able to hold out that long.

"Oi, you two," he calls out tiredly, not even bothering to look up from the body on the table. "Come out now."

The doors to the morgue creak open slowly, hesitant footsteps pattering in. Shoko took one look at the intruders and was already reaching for something pointy to throw at them.

"Not this again," Shoko curses under her breath, curling her fingers on a particularly sharp-looking scalpel and aiming it their way. "I said no intruding on private lessons!"

Getou missed being skewered by half a margin. "A dart scalpel again? Really, Shoko? It's getting old." He parrots back to her, holding his hands up in surrender when she picked up a needle. The silver glinted under the fluorescent lights. "We just wanted to make sure—"

"Oi!" Gojo interrupts them both, going straight for Shoko and Yaga. "You can't just casually say you’re going to excavate a transfigured human over breakfast and walk away just like that! Like what does that even mean?

Shoko directs a glare his way. "It means exactly what it means, idiot."

"Don’t call me an idiot!" Gojo flares, gesturing to the decaying corpse and turning to face Yaga. "Yaga-sensei! Are you sure she can do this?"

"Excuse me?!" Shoko bristles, standing up and directing the needle at him. "What did you just say?!"

"Shoko," Getou starts, softly at first, well-timed caution clinging to his voice. "You barely eat at the cafeteria because you don't know where the meat comes from. You won't touch anything on the train. Utahime has to beg us to take you out into the city every now and then. Are you sure you can be around all this blood?"

"I'm gonna pretend you didn't just somehow patronize and doubt my competency as a medic at the same time," Shoko breathes once, twice. "And ask you guys again, while I still have all shreds of my patience, to kindly fuck off."

Gojo plays with some of the tools in the shed. "Honestly we really would," he accidentally nicks himself on a lancet and drops it, metal on metal vibrating against the sterile room. Shoko winces at the sound. "But if this is anything like last time and Yaga had to call us in the middle of the night because you fainted in the morgue, why not just save everyone the time and crash now?"

Getou smacks a palm down his forehead. "Satoru, that's not—"

But Shoko was already on her heel, making a beeline towards him with nothing but female rage and the sharp end of a surgeon's knife. "Say that one more time pretty boy—"

"Oi, you three."

Gojo only narrowly avoids being sliced in half by the equally menacing timbre of Yaga's voice. Getou snaps to attention right away. Shoko is still looming close over Gojo, who looked like he shrunk about a foot shorter and was now clinging and petting her hair. Yaga felt like putting a stop to whatever this was growing into. The third years had this rather annoying habit of talking over each other and overpowering whichever conversation they were having, and it wouldn't do to become a habit.

No team of his was going to be this disorganized.

"Yes, sensei?"

Getou. Really, at least he had one kid who had a good head on his shoulders. 

"Are you guys done?"

Shoko at least had the decency to put the knife down and look sheepish, Gojo snuggling up to her closer in return. Getou smartly shut his mouth.

"You know for someone so concerned with hygiene," Gojo tugs at the neck of his uniform, trying to fashion it into a hood on Shoko. She slaps his hand away. "You wear my clothes a lot."

Getou coughs in the back of his hand. "Like you don't wear mine."

And then Yaga could only look on in horror as all three of them monopolized the conversation again, idle comments morphing into on a full-on debate about the etiquettes of clothes sharing and the potential hygiene crisis it might cause. Somehow, someway, the conversation morphed into culprit blaming of who was in charge of which chore on which days and really, gojo, that clan kid excuse will only get you so far.

It ends with Gojo all but picking Shoko up from the stool and hoisting her over his shoulder, her protests be damned. Getou just smiles at Yaga patiently, like this was the most normal thing in the world and his students had absolutely no regard for boundaries whatsoever.

"Gojo," Shoko warns in a low voice. "Remember what I said about grabbing me again and not having a hand to jerk yourself off with if you did?"

Gojo only smacks her behind playfully. "I'll show you mine if you show me yours, babe."

The door closes with Yaga's jaw permanently drilled into the floor.

-

"Shoko, do you have another cigarette?" 

This is the first thing Getou says as he opens the door, eyeing the one on Shoko's lips. Yaga really, really discouraged his students to take on vices that were detrimental to their health and competency as sorcerers, but God knows trying to tell Shoko to do anything was like arguing with a brick wall. Gojo failed multiple times but kept trying. Getou was smart enough not even to attempt.

But Yaga knows Shoko at least held some semblance of begrudging respect for him, as their principal and the only authority figure in her life who was capable of signing off on her admission papers to her coveted medical school, and so tempers down to at least one stick in his presence. 

It's why he keeps her in the morgue half the time, no-smoking rule strictly enforced. 

He knows it's more a solitary thing for her to do, the smoking; and so when Shoko does that thing and tries sneaking away to smoke one out, all three of them are already standing up and following her. 

Shoko blows out a puff. "Nope. This is my last."

"Give it to me then." 

Getou stalks closer, stopping just a hair's breadth away from her. Ringlets of smoke marry with the air, Getou breathing it all in and not once breaking eye contact with her. He nods again at the cig on her lips. 

“Can I?”

Yaga observes them closely. Shoko wasn't known to be someone exceptionally affectionate. Of the three of them, she was the only one who probably valued—and encouraged—that line of demarcation the most. He's almost entirely sure a beating is coming for Getou to be so all up in her space without warning. Even Gojo is looking at both of them patiently.

And so it came as a complete shock to Yaga, then, when he sees Shoko slowly get up on her tiptoes and stop just an inch away from Getou's lips. They were so close it looked almost like they were—

"Oi," Gojo snaps his fingers at them, sulking. "None of that."

Shoko just smirks into the cigarette, before pulling it out and placing it directly in Getou's mouth. The same cigarette. Then she winks at Gojo when she lowers herself back down. Gojo immediately intrudes and gestures wildly at the offensive cigarette, protesting the indirect kiss they just shared and none of you would even give me a peck on valentines day. Yaga glances at Getou and notices nothing but amusement—maybe even a little pride—playing in his eyes. 

My god, Yaga looks on in horror, He actually enjoyed it.

"And you," Gojo spun on his heel, facing Getou who looked far too satisfied polluting the air. "Enough with the smoking. It's hard enough we have one chain smoker in this relationship, do you have to be the second?"

Yaga very nearly throws himself off the rooftop. 

Jesus Christ.

-

Yaga finds out the hard way his third years have no concept of personal space.

The signs came easier for him now that he can brace himself for it: Gojo constantly needing to have some part of his body surgically attached to one of theirs, Nanami telling him he overheard Shoko in Getou's room early in the morning, Getou's almost constant protectiveness over them both. 

But it's not until he visits the dorm, rather, that Yaga gets the most brutal awakening. 

For safety purposes, the female and male dormitories were separated into different buildings. There's enough scare of cursed spirits to go around, and the school really didn't need the extra headache of trying to contain hormonal teenagers with growing bodies and temperamental outbursts in one area. It was better this way. 

It took two semesters into their first year for the complaints to start.

"But sensei," Gojo says in class one day, when Yaga is busy drawing figures on the blackboard for their upcoming lecture on oni and Gojo is impatient. "Isn't it more dangerous for her to stay in that building all alone?"

Shoko twists the soft flesh on his elbow. "Again, she is right here!"

Getou is no help. "I agree with Satoru," he admits, already rummaging through his bag for a pain-relieving patch. "There's like 6 of us in total here, Shoko. It's safer if we all stick together."

"Oh shut up, you two," Shoko snaps, glaring at them both. "You just want me in the bedroom next to you so someone's there to bail you out when you guys break curfew."

Gojo's eye twitches. Getou has a vein in his forehead threatening to pop.

Yaga turns around slowly, so painfully slow, that it seemed almost an eternity passed by the time he levels both of them with a look that communicated barely restrained patience. 

"You what."

Shoko leans back further into her chair, smirking. She was looking too pleased for their comfort. Gojo had half the mind to tip her chair back if only he wasn't sure Getou would tip his for even thinking of doing it.

Yaga looks at them coldly. "Someone explain right now."

So that was that. Gojo dropped the idea and Getou stopped insisting on moving her into their dorms, Shoko reasoning that she much prefers a break from all the "testosterone" and "masculinity" she's already being subjected to every single day. Yaga's sure he's seen both of them walk out of the female dormitory building well after midnight more often than not, but let it be because good companionship always bred good teamwork. They were being trained as a three-man cell after all, and far be it for him to get in the way.

Or so Yaga thought.

Yaga rounds the corner into the common area of the male dormitory, mission packets at hand to distribute to Gojo and Getou, when he hears a distinctly female voice coming out of Getou's room.

Laughter. Giggling. And maybe even—

"What the hell is going on here?"

Yaga forces the door open, bracing himself for the worst.

Gojo was lying on his stomach all over Getou's bed, too-long-limbs falling off and taking up more than half the bed. He had his head buried in Shoko’s middle, hands wrapped around her waist. She was busy flipping the pages of a book on Getou’s bedside table, judging by the archaic cover. Getou was on the floor, arranging bags of take-out food.

Getou is the first to spring into action. “Yaga-sensei!”

"It's not curfew yet!" Gojo bristled right away, leaping from the bed and pointing to the clock. "It's only 7PM!"

"I know that, Satoru." Yaga eyes them cautiously. "I mean.” He takes a calming breath. “What is all this stuff? "

"This stuff?" Gojo looks down at the discarded clothing on the floor, looking far too relaxed at the prospect of multiple undergarments haphazardly thrown about and Yaga is so scared to confirm if any one of them belonged to Shoko. "They're clothes."

Getou swears under his breath. "No shit, sherlock."

Yaga counts to three in his head. "I'm only gonna ask this once,” he breathes out. “But what is Shoko doing here?"

"She's helping us choose outfits for our date tomorrow," Getou replies casually.

Yaga deflates. Oh. That he knew. "I see—"

"Have you made the booking, by the way?" Shoko finally says, reaching for Gojo's phone and bringing it up to his face to unlock it. "We need to let them know we’re a party of 3."

"T-three of you?" Yaga stutters.

"Yes, sensei," Gojo looks at him unsurely. "Didn't we tell you?"

"Tell me what?" Yaga shrieks. 

Gojo loops his arms around Getou and Shoko, grinning. 

"We're finally official now."

#sashisu #satoshoko #sugushoko #satosugu #gojo satoru #getou suguru #ieiri shoko #jujutsu kaisen #fic

[chaisshitposts]

I've been doin' my own challenge with the affirmation, "Regardless of everything, I have all that I desire." I have my long ass list— I'll share a couple of ss but this isn't everything.

soO, the progress so far has been very good, I've been manifestin' things instantly without much thought (I won't talk about those bc apparently they're 'ridiculous' and 'small' 💀) I've already crossed off some shit on my list. as for my thoughts towards the void —> amazingly enough, I have been thinkin' more from an 'expecting' mindset instead of desperation.

for instance, I know that one of these nights I'm gonna wake up in it and I feel excited for the surprise, and I don't feel disappointed//sad when I don't 🫡 although I do often find myself waking up and remembering that while my consciousness was asleep I was in the void state, that happens a lot but I'm not frustrated about that anymore 🌚 Ive been wanting to experiment with this as well, such as telling my subconscious to manifest things for me while I'm in the void but without needing for me to be conscious bUt I need to do some very specific scripting

oh and I have been gettin' lots and lots of tarot readings that all include similar messages and the same pulled cards, it's kinda scary tbh but also exciting bc I love surprises. I did also get reminded of some stuff about myself— originally I wanted to use the void to manifest a buncha shit all at once. but then I remembered— ayo??? I love surprises, what the hell? 🤨 sO, when I do wake up in the void soon I'll prolly take just a few affirmations from my void list and use them instead of the entire list so I can watch the other things unfold in front of me 🕵️

#— chai's void updates. !!

[xoxomoonlightxoxo]

P&C | Ch. 6: You Can Be My Baby For Tonight

➪ Playlist (Spotify) l Series Masterlist

“Okay, that’s going to be an hour,” I say, pressing the power button. Finally, I made eye contact with Jungkook, who was now busy smelling the fabric softener in my basket. 

“Hhmm, peaches, that’s why you smell so nice,” he grins softly, meeting my eyes. I hide my flustered state with a giggle and pack up. Hoping that something comes up so he can leave, I ask if he has any plans for tonight. He shakes his head. 

“Nope, which reminds me, there's going to be a welcome party at one of the frat houses, you should come,” he says, his doe eyes sparkling under the basement lights. I genuinely try to give it a chance, but the mere thought of another party is making me nauseous. 

“Oh no thank you, I really should just stay back and focus on school,” I reply with a soft smile, hoping he would get the hint. 

“Come on Mira, it's only the second week. Plus, Jiah and Jimin will be there as well.” Jungkook says, not breaking our eye contact. 

“Well, I'll think about it, but thank you again for the invitation. Anyways, why are you so determined to make me go?” I laugh, flipping my hair to the side feeling my ego rise as we speak. 

“Have you become obsessed with me already?” I tease. 

“Relax Kenough, I want to redeem myself from the last party. That was sleep-deprived Jungkook,” he scoffs, leaning back on the laundry machine. 

“Ok ok well, can't wait to see your redemption arc,” I tease, sticking out my tongue as I make my way to the exit door. Jungkook follows behind.

--

When Jungkook said he didn't have any plans for tonight he really meant it. For the next hour, we just walked around campus and talked about our life before university. He was in a band with Tae and Jimin when they were in high school called, Bulletproof Boys. I had to laugh. 

“And you dared to make fun of my shirt?” I cackle, trying to maintain my composure at the goofy name. 

“YAH! That was the best option, be glad we didn't go with Tae's idea, The JJV” he quickly scoffs back, stuttering from frustration. I can't help but begin to hiccup from all the laughing. 

“JJV? That sounds like a disease … or a cult. Did you guys even want to attract girls or …?” I giggle, looking him dead in the eyes. He pushes me gently before sitting on the bench in front of the dorm building. 

“So, have you decided yet?” Jungkook quickly changes the subject as I take a seat beside him. Amid the giggles, I look up at him with confusion. 

“Oh, you meant the party? I mean sure, I guess, I'm feeling better now. Anyways, who would want to miss out on the opportunity of seeing a not sleep-deprived Jungkook?” I smile at him, sticking out my tongue. 

“Be careful Miraya, you might manifest something,” he leans in, giving me a grin. I pretend to puke and walk to the entrance. Again, Jungkook follows like a puppy, teeth peeking through his soft smile. 

--

7:00 p.m.

Jiah: Hey lovely, are you almost ready? I’ll pick you up in about 15 mins. 

I look down at my phone, hair still in rollers as I touch up my makeup. My body tenses up, nerves are at an all-time high. I’m still not 100% sure about going but evidently, it’s too late now. What’s the big deal? It’s just going to be me and Jiah, Jimin, Tae, and Jungkook. Stop it, Mira. I dismiss the tension and quickly fix up my hairdo with a layer of hairspray. 

We were at the destination within the next hour, both of us looking great as usual. Jiah wore her new mini silk dress with a sweetheart neckline. Hair in a half-up, half-down style she was giving sexy princess vibes. I was contemplating between two options but decided to go with a black ruffle mini-dress with my knee-high boots, leaving my hair down in soft curls. Borderline looking like I planned on cosplaying someone from Pirates of the Caribbean, but hey, it looked good so who am I to change? 

The welcome party was set at a huge frat house. Very surreal as I’ve never seen one in real life, let alone stepped foot into it. After leaving our Uber, I could see the mob of people flowing in through the entrance door lit by bright neon lights. Jiah gives me a reassuring smile as we blend into the madness. 

“Hey, girls!” I hear Jimin’s voice waving from across the room. Jiah waves back as we try to make it through the crowd of people, some of whom are already tipsy while others are too busy busting down moves on the dance floor. The whole place smells of alcohol and a mix of every perfume you can think of.  

“Hi baby,” Jiah melts into Jimin’s embrace as I say hi to the rest of the guys. 

“Hey Flip-flops, don’t you look nice?” I hear Tae’s tease as he salutes a hello. My eyes can’t help but roll, as I giggle at him. 

“Hey Tae, you don’t look too shabby yourself,” I grin with a soft smile. We spend some time catching up before I ask about Jungkook’s whereabouts. 

“He should be by the food table, said he was going to get us drinks,” Tae replies as I nod and excuse myself before heading to the said place. 

It was like looking for Waldo, everyone looked identical under the dim lights. Before heading back to the group with a plate full of various snacks, I’m halted by the feel of a hand on my shoulder. 

“Hi Peaches” Jungkook whispers into my ear. My eyes widen as he smiles back, his doe eyes somehow still sparkling. 

“Oh, peaches?” I giggle raising my right eyebrow. 

“What? Tae can call you flip-flops but you draw the line on peaches?” he grins, leaning back on the table, taking the plates off of my hands. I try to talk back but he is already walking back to the group, looking back at my appalled state. 

--

So far the party was nice, we talked, or should I say gossiped, ate lots of food, and drank. I am not intrigued by the idea of alcohol, but it fits the theme tonight so I let loose. However, from the few instances that I did consume it, I can definitely say I’m a light drinker. The phenomenon proved itself once again, as I found myself swaying on the dance floor after two tequila cocktails. Jiah and Jimin decided to take a breather outside, while Tae was busy playing beer pong with his other buddies. 

“Please don’t stop the music … music … music,” I muttered under my breath as Rihana blasted on the speaker. With my hands in the air and eyes closed my body gave into the ambience. Before I could mutter the next lyric I was interrupted by Jungkook’s presence. 

“There you are, baby,” he says, his body filling the space between us. His hands pretend to rest on my waistline, cautious to not make actual contact. 

“Baby?” I question, looking up at his concentrated face. My eyes are hazed, lids heavy as I try to make out what is happening. 

“It was either that or some random stranger disturbing you,” he whispers into my ear, as I feel his lip ring on my skin. I was too drunk to even notice the guy in question, but something about Jungkook’s protective side made me step closer. 

“I like baby more than peaches,” I tip-toe, trying to reach his ear, placing my hands on his broad shoulders. Within a split second, my sober consciousness revokes my action, backing away as my gaze lowers to the floor. I try to shake my head before letting out a soft sorry. 

Jungkook steps closer and lifts my chin with his index finger and thumb, his eyes meet mine as he lets out a little chuckle. 

“You can be my baby for tonight,” he reassures, knowing dam well that he would be dead on a stick if I was sober. However, right now, neither of us protest the tension as our bodies groove with the music. My hands are once again on his shoulders, as he gently pulls me closer by the waist. Eyes locked on each other, the room becomes silent. For a moment, it was just the two of us. 

“You look beautiful by the way,” he whispers into my ear as I lean my head on his chest, feeling the fatigue build up. I try to reply with a soft thank you before feeling my heavy lids close. Jungkook’s hold on my body becomes firmer, as I melt into his embrace, the smell of his cologne blending in with my perfume.  

Before he could check on my state, Jungkook was interrupted by a bright flash coming from Tae’s phone camera. His boxy smile grows wider when he analyzes the situation on the dance floor. Pocking out his tongue he teases Jungkook with the photo, before taking a sip of water in hopes of sobering up. 

“How did this happen?” Tae chuckles, trying to see if I was still awake. His hands inches away from moving some stands of hair out of my face before being interrupted by Jungkook tsk. Tae shakes his head, raises his hands and backs away with a wide smile, rolling his eyes.

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#bts #bangtan #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook x yn #bts x yn #jungkook fanfic #fanfic #jungkook smut #romance #young love #college love #slow burn #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook x female reader #jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook imagine

[nohoperadio]

Here's a little breakdown of my personal relationship/non-relationship with various types of aesthetic self-modification (?, I feel like there might be a word or at least a more elegant phrase to denote this category). The point is not to offer my "take" on each thing but to express the different feelings/desires/inhibitions my psyche manifests around them. Some of these will approach awkwardly personal territory, fair warning! You may notice that basically none of them are especially positive; I'm going to leave off from analyzing that pattern for this post.

Tattoos -- I think tattoos as a concept are extremely cool, frequently they're cool in practice also and I like seeing other people's, but I don't think I've ever had even the smallest urge to get one for myself. I'm not totally sure why. The lack of an obvious thing to get is one factor, I feel like "band tattoo" would be the most likely thing for me to have but I don't like the idea of directly lifting a band logo or album art and I really don't like the idea of a lyric tattoo (I offer no justification for these prejudices), so I'd have to get clever with it if I'm doing that and I'm not very clever. More broadly, I predict that my enthusiasm for any artwork I put on my body would fade through overexposure in a matter of weeks if not days--other people describe "barely knowing it's there" after a short time--which on top of making the value of the project seem dubious, I feel like having a permanent image on my skin that I don't actively love would be something I'd feel bad about rather than neutral. Like "man, that thing's on my arm and I don't care about it at all, that sucks" rather than just not noticing it. Maybe I'm wrong about that.

(Tattoos are the one that got me thinking about this whole subject I think, it feels like they're reaching a ubiquity in the culture where it's almost like you're expected to have a reason not to have one rather than a reason to? Maybe that's just a people-I-know thing, anyway it got me thinking about why I don't want one.)

Piercings -- An interesting thing about me and piercings is that it's virtually impossible for me to notice when somebody has them unless I'm like, actively consciously scrutinizing their face (or whatever it is). When I was about ten months into my current job I asked my co-worker who I worked closely with almost every day "hey when did you get that septum ring" and she was like "well way before I met you". That is simply how it is with me and piercings and I make no apology.

If my inability to perceive piercings (perceirvings...) makes me indifferent to the idea of getting one, what makes me actively hostile is the total certainty that I would fiddle with it constantly if I did. I know these hands and their ways and there would simply be no dissuading them, it would be so bad you guys, oh my god. This is probably the hardest no on the list I think, although I haven't finished the post yet so idk maybe I'll think of a worse one.

Makeup -- There's undeniably a lot that's very beautiful in the universe of makeup and there's also the weird dark side, I have dabbled a little in this area and in my heart I feel more positively than not about it, but it's just never going to be a sustainable part of my life because (not unrelated to previous para) I am a perennial and unrepentant face-toucher. I will be itching and rubbing my face-skin and also inflicting other hard-to-characterize punishments upon it (is this "stimming"?) until the day I die and anything that wants to be on my face has just gotta deal. It would probably be better if this was not the case but I don't make the rules, sorry.

Haircuts -- When I was a child I haaaaaated getting my hair cut, like the physical sensation of it? Was so horrible and would usually make me cry and always ruin my day (is this "sensory overload"?), I didn't understand why I was being made to go through this ordeal and basically as soon as I reached an age when I realized my mom couldn't literally force me to do it if I just stubbornly refused hard enough--that age was 13 I think--I stopped. I haven't had a professional haircut since that time although I'm sure I could cope with the sensory aspect at this point, it's just not a habit I ever picked up again (I've had a couple of non-professional ones from my ex who just kind of wanted to try it, in a not particularly ambitious or dramatic fashion). Sometimes I feel like I should, but idk. My hair as it stands is not optimized for making me look hot but I don't think it looks especially horrible either, it's just kind of whatever I think.

Complicating factor here: I've had trichotillomania since I was 15/16, and it's hard to imagine it going away at this point but it's a lot more under control than it used to be, to the point where you can't really tell just from my appearance that something's up now. I say "under control", I have very little conscious control over it and usually no conscious awareness that I'm doing it, but over the years the compulsion seems to have unconsciously settled into a routine where it's just kind of... sculpting my hair into a more-or-less normal silhouette? Like I sort of have a fringe and stuff despite no haircuts. Oh I guess this doesn't make sense unless I clarify that I mostly break rather than pluck the hair nowadays, that's a big part of the gradual unconscious shift that's occurred.

A fun thing about trichotillomania is that it often makes people really uncomfortable when you talk about having it, which sucks for me because it makes me feel lonely, but I guess it sucks for the person feeling uncomfortable too in a smaller way. If you're one of the people who feel uncomfortable around this topic, sorry! Quite genuinely.

Gender transition in general -- I feel like I'm just, just on the boring side of cis-by-default. I think about transitioning shockingly often for someone who's never gonna do it, like it's not searing a hole in my heart or anything like it is for a lot of people but it occupies that "it would be cool to learn an instrument" kind of niche in my thoughts, if that makes sense? (Probably a bit stronger than that analogy makes it sound, it's on my mind frequently but not with a massive sense of urgency attached I guess is what I'm getting at.) I can see myself taking the plunge if the medical technology was like 10% better, or the social technology was like 20% better, or with some medium-sized changes in how my personality was configured, but this life being this life there's no way in heck the juice would be worth the squeeze. If I had one fifth of the executive function required to do all of that lying to doctors and learning how to clothes shop and having awkward conversations with people in my life and all the rest of it, well I can list like ten things I'd rather spend it on first. And I don't!

Glasses -- Love wearing glasses, 10/10 no notes. I knew since I was like 11 that my face should have a pair of glasses on it and I was very smug when the optician agreed (I did not cheat on the eye test in any way for what it's worth). The only times I'm not wearing glasses are sleeping and showering. I don't even carry a case because there's no point because I simply don't ever take them off. This is probably overkill, I think as a kid I was instructed to only put them on when I need to see something in the distance, ignoring that and just wearing them permanently has probably led to my vision weakening to the point where they're now pretty much mandatory in every situation, but I don't give a shit about that because just let me wear my goddamned glasses okay, fuck off. It's actually crazy how much I like wearing glasses, this is the only true thumbs up on the list.

I remembering trying to explain how I like my glasses to a then-close friend of mine many years ago when the subject of laser eye surgery came up in conversation, he said I should get the surgery and then just wear glasses with non-prescription lenses. When I tried to explain why that wouldn't be the same at all he was adamant that I was just being stubborn. That guy was a wonderful person in many ways and I loved him very deeply, but man what a dumbass thing to say.

Facial hair -- There are so many great beards and moustaches in this world, there are few more cheering sights than someone bearing some swish whiskers who's pleased about it, but personally I don't wish to be involved in that business at all.

I never learned how to ride a bike -- Obviously this one doesn't belong on the list, it doesn't fit with any of the other categories, and yet I feel compelled to include it here. And why should I resist that which compels me? This is my post. Yeah, I'm the oldest of four siblings, we were all given bikes at the appropriate kid-on-bike age, the others picked it up but not me. I liked it when I had stabilizers on my bike, then they took them off and I started falling off the bike, and after a very short amount of time I gave up. Like I didn't get mad injuries or anything, it just felt like I wasn't improving at it quickly enough and I didn't feel like keeping it up so I didn't. Early indication of my bad personality.

Fashion in general -- Clothes shopping has always been extremely aversive to me for whatever reason, it's gotten a little better in recent years, I have been able to exist inside clothes shops for long enough to purchase a small thing or two, but eh. Most of my tops are band t-shirts I bought at gigs, most of my bottoms are exactly identical pairs of jeans, there's just not much going on you know? But unlike with most of the items on this list I would really like to be doing this properly. I would like to wear cuter things with prettier colours and designs. This one's an actual goal. But so far I haven't really made progress. The aforementioned shopping sucks thing, plus a fear of being so aesthetically clueless that I just make myself look like a big idiot if I try anything risky, plus the fact that doing things that are not my established routine is tricky in general--these are barriers for me. I guess another barrier is that the things that would be most interesting to try out and therefore most potentially motivating fall into the wrong-gender-clothes category and therefore bring into play some of the barriers from that other category a few ones up. I did actually somehow get myself to dabble in that area some years ago to a modest but positive degree of satisfaction. It'll probably happen again. The patterns and causes that determine whether I can or cannot find motivation to engage in a thing--they are mysterious indeed.

Like horn implants or whatever other crazy miscellany -- I don't want anything in this category and don't have any non-trivial thoughts about it either. Including this section for completeness only.

---

Well, there you have it, that's the post. Now you know a bit more about some of my little weirdsies. If you actually made it through the whole thing, a) how interesting and b) why not tell me a little weirdsy of yours in return, whether it pertains to the above list or not? Why not get all antiphonal on my post, that way I'd get to know a thing about you as well, it might be a whole fun kind of deal. You don't have to though, I didn't make this post to try to snare people into letting themselves be known, I just kind of made it to be a post mostly. I make all sorts of kinds of posts you know? And so I thought I'd try one that's like this.

#selfposting #uninteresting #more uninteresting than average #and a bit too long #and yet putting it in a readmore didn't feel right for some reason; sorry all! #have you ever tried listicle oversharing? it's weirdly freeing

[666writingcafe]

Some Time Later

Lucifer (The Angel)

I've been assigned to patrol the woods alone this afternoon, and I have to say, I'm grateful. I don't get to be by myself very often. Some of that is due to choices I've made; after all, I've taken six angels under my wing, pun half-intended.

But there's something on my mind that none of them would be able to understand. Or rather, a person.

The Demon Prince is trying to fix the relationship between our realm and his. Originally, Michael was going to be the representative that went down there, but it got assigned last minute to me. After spending time with the prince, it makes me wonder if Michael would feel the same about him as I do if he were in my place.

The prince is kinder than some of the angels. I originally dismissed it as him simply practicing diplomacy, but he seems genuine in his efforts to get to know me as a person. He doesn't care about titles, instead focusing on character. Despite my less than stellar behavior when we first met, he still insists on becoming an ally.

Not just the Celestial Realm's, but my ally.

"I don't know what happened back there. I haven't felt that way about him in a really long time."

Great. Someone else is in the woods. I hold back a groan, knowing that I'll have to confront them. So much for my alone time.

"I think this place is doing weird things to all of us." Another voice.

"Did something happen to you, too?" The first voice...it sounds familiar.

"I feel like I'm behaving more like a demon than a human. First, there was the cover story for our appearance that I pulled out of my ass, and then I very nearly went all Asmo on Simeon when we were looking for Belphie earlier."

"Like, are we talking sexually? Magically?" The second voice sighs.

"Magically, Satan. I'm pretty sure having sex in the Celestial Realm is akin to heresy." I mean, they're not entirely wrong. But that's not important right now.

Satan...that's the name I've given to the anger that's become a permanent fixture inside my head. At first, it was just an emotion, but then it started talking. Or rather, screaming. At first, its noises were incoherent, but then I started hearing words in a voice that was not my own.

A voice that sounds eerily similar to the first trespasser.

"We have to get out of here," he tells his companion. "There's no telling what will happen if we..." He trails off as his eyes meet mine. Immediately, he tenses up, appearing to freeze in place.

"What's wrong?" Satan maintains eye contact, and the human follows his gaze. "Oh. This is bad. Really bad."

I step out of my makeshift hiding spot, making myself fully visible to them.

"Well, this is rather interesting," I remark, putting on an air of authority. "I should capture the two of you and not release you for a good long while."

"Please don't," the human quickly replies. "We don't mean any harm. If you can just help us find Simeon, I'll promise we'll be out of your hair." They seem terrified, but at least they're moving. Satan, on the other hand, hasn't budged an inch.

"If I was Michael or Raphael, your pleas would mean nothing. Thankfully, I'm only interested in talking." I focus my attention on Satan. "After all, it's not every day one sees the physical manifestation of their wrath."

"I was there even back then?" Satan whispers, confirming my earlier suspicions.

"You've been around from the moment I took Mammon in." My statement shocks Satan. "Your presence implies our separation at some point in the future. Assuming that you're a demon, that means that I must have fallen all the way down to the Devildom, correct?"

After a moment's hesitation, he nods his head.

"Along with the five angels you consider part of your family."

"Six," I correct.

"One doesn't survive the journey. Not entirely."

"What do you mean, not entirely?"

"If you knew who it was, then you'd end up altering the timeline," the human interrupts. "As it is, you know way more than you should."

"That's one way of looking at it, I suppose," I tell them. "I see it as preparing for the inevitable." They groan at my response.

"Barbatos is going to kill me," they mutter. Before I can question how they know the prince's butler, they take a deep breath and look straight at me.

"We can answer any questions you have, but you need to help us find Simeon. Not your Simeon, but ours. He and Satan got in a heated argument, and he went off in the opposite direction to hopefully try to calm down. Is there a spot here that he feels comfortable hiding in? One where he feels he won't be found easily?"

"There is a place, but it's a bit of a hike from here."

"Good enough. Let's go."

#obey me shall we date #obey me lucifer #obey me mc #obey me satan #obey me simeon #4/23/2024: edit to correct numbers

[harryforvogue]

how about FAYE taking care of HARRY because he’s got a COLD because he ALWAYS bundles HER in HIS hat/scarf/gloves while they’re walking to the bus cause he needs his girl to be WARM but that leaves his little ears and nose all cold & red which leads to him getting SICK. & she’s living her best life making him soup & tea & cuddling him & watching his favorite movies <3333

( and don’t come at me because it’s summer i’m manifesting cooler weather tnx <3 )

“So I’m not saying I like it when you’re sick,” Faye says, very concentrated on bringing the tray of food to Harry without slipping. In fact, she stops talking altogether until she’s in the living room, placing the tray very slowly on the table. “But I do like taking care of you. After the whole freak out thing of course. I am much more calm and level headed now.”

Harry’s resting with his head back against the couch, his face flushed with fever. His chest rises and falls with labored breaths. “If I said that, I think you’d cry.”

“I do not cry anymore.”

“Please,” Harry says weakly. “Don’t make me bring up all the examples from the past two weeks.”

She sits beside him. “Anyways, I didn’t have chicken on account of being vegetarian and all and I didn’t have chicken stock either so that soup is more of a miso and tofu noodle soup, okay? I probably should have asked if you even eat tofu.”

He awkwardly sits up, pushing the layers of blankets down to his lap. Instead of reaching for the food, he takes Faye’s hand. “I love you. As my dying wish, I ask you to find happiness. Date and marry the man who makes you happy. All I ask is that you don’t date any of my coworkers. They’re too mean for you.”

Faye smiles. “So thoughtful of you. Want me to feed you?” But the way she says it actually makes it seem like she’s demanding it. “Good.” She takes a spoonful and brings it to Harry’s mouth.

“Love,” he says tiredly. “It’s too hot.”

“Oh right. Um, do you want me to blow on it?”

At that exact moment, Timothée walks by. He looks at Harry on the couch. “What the hell happened to you? Who’s blowing what?” He holds a hand up. “Don’t answer that.”

“I got him sick,” Faye says. 

“She didn’t,” Harry croaks. “It was basically on me.”

Timmy looks at her. Then Harry. Then slowly puts his arm over his face and steps back. “Er, alright. Well. I’m going to work so … you’ve got the house to yourself.”

“Yeah yeah,” Harry says.

“If you need anything, just let me know. I’ll grab it on my way home.”

“Tell the guys I should be back by next week.”

With that, Timmy is gone. Harry’s eyes are closed again. Faye decides she shouldn’t blow on his food, so she just awkwardly waves the spoon in the air until it’s cooled enough. Then she holds it to his mouth. “Ready?”

Harry’s eyes flutter open. “Yes. Sorry.” He drinks it. “Mm that’s good.”

“Really?!”

“Really. Thank you, love.”

“Let this be a lesson for you. No more giving me your hat and gloves when we’re out, got it?”

Harry tries to laugh. “How about you start bringing actual warm clothing, especially during the winter?”

“Sure. I'll do that too.”

“No, I’m not so sure that you will since you like taking care of me so much. You’ll get me sick on purpose.”

She gasps. “I’d never.” She gives him another spoonful. “Maybe your body is just weak because I’ve never gotten sick from the cold.”

“Weak?”

“Yeah. I mean before you, I always went out in the cold like that and never got sick.”

Harry opens his mouth for more soup. “It’s some medical thing we can’t explain.” He frowns. “I don’t like that nobody took care of you before me.”

“Well in their defense, I’m a grown woman and should be able to take care of myself. It’s really a fault on my part.”

“You were sad,” he argues. “You needed someone.”

“Well then I found someone.”

Harry perks up. “Yes. You did. And you know what? I’ve changed my mind about the whole dating after me thing.”

“Oh yeah?” Faye smiles.

“Yeah. I’ll just come back as a ghost so we’ll never really be apart.”

“What made you change your mind?”

He says, “The thought of you spoon feeding another man.”

“Really?” she laughs. “That’s what got you? There are far other romantic things I could do with someone else.”

“Being spoon fed is at the top of my list of romantic actions. It’s a love language I think.” She gives him another spoonful. He sighs deeply and then shuffles over to rest his head on her shoulder. “Your boyfriend is a mouth breather. How does that make you feel?”

“I don’t mind,” she tells him, patting his cheek. “I love you.”

“Despite the sweatiness.”

“Despite.”

“You're my baby."

She lays her head on his, kissing his sweaty hair. “Despite me never dressing for the weather?”

He takes a very deep breath and stays silent for longer than necessary. He finally says, “Yes” and then opens his mouth for more soup.

#harry and faye #harry styles blurb #harry styles fic #harry styles #timmy cameo for da win

[biteghost]

State of Affairs: oh, it's not good. Bad, in fact!

listening music (lol)

Greetings, all! I apologize for not much communication, art or comics this month, but things were a bit out of my control! I'll cut right to the point: I had a big oopsie at the start of May, and the situation overall has not gotten much better since then.

Here's the scoop as plain as I can explain it: I dropped my external hard drive, and it no longer connected to my computer. My computer has a very tiny amount of memory (the OS capacity is less than 120GB), so I have used an external hard drive as the brain of my computer for years now. I have no back-ups either on another hard drive, older computer, or cloud service.

This external hard drive housed everything I have created and brought with me between computers since 2013. It stored all my art. All of it. My comic pages, my working files, my works-in-progress, my commission pieces, as well as gifts from friends and other artists. It had all the sessions of my at-home tabletop game 'Blueshift', which is a pretty big hit for me as I had only just finished the game. I didn't even have time to be happy the game was finished until I had to mourn a loss of it I had not anticipated.

I sent the hard drive to a data recovery company with good reviews. It had nearly 2TB of data on it, and I tried very hard not to get my hopes up that they'd be able to retrieve most of my data. Despite this, I still was disappointed by what they sent back.

To be blunt: they did not retrieve most of my data. In fact, I'd say in total they only recovered about 40%, if I am being generous. They were unable to recover any of my in-development projects (A Cure for Athanasia, Super Manifest: Steward Cycle, The Tenth, The Sword of Hours, etc), and unfortunately BACKLASH didn't make it out unscathed either. Old art files that I one day wanted to make Prints off have been lost, as well as small doodles and secret sketches which never made it online.

While reviewing the files that they managed to recover, I also noticed that whole chunks of BACKLASH's working page files have been lost or corrupted. This isn't a huge setback for the comic itself since all of BACKLASH is online to read. But it is hard and heartbreaking for me, because despite everything I did one day want to make a printed edition of BACKLASH. I wanted to hold my comic in my hands.

That dream is not impossible, but it is now much further away. I can recreate my old pages with what I currently have, but it will be a lot of extra work, and there is no getting around that.

Losing this much of my history, artistic journey, relationships and formative time as an artist has been really hard on me, emotionally and mentally. I'm very sad. It's hard to draw right now for myself. Commission work comes easily, since I am given a prompt to draw for someone else, but creative ideas are not flowing for me at the moment. My hands are frozen and dejected.

I am now waiting to get back the files that the data recovery people managed to retrieve for me (probably by tomorrow, they said), and I am looking into other places in order to get a second opinion of sorts. At this point there really is no harm in trying, and maybe a different operation might have better luck. Who knows? It may be grasping at straws, but at this point things can't get any worse than this.

When I get my data back I'll be able to finish up BACKLASH chapter 7. I want to finish it off - there are not very many pages left, and miraculously the few remaining pages are among the ones that were recovered! So that's good. I will be finishing up the chapter, and afterward BACKLASH will be taking a bit of a break. I don't know how long the hiatus will last, and I won't be making any kind of estimate. It'll take as long as I need until I feel I can put one foot in front of the other again. Maybe I'll work on something else for a while, maybe I won't draw anything. Who knows! I don't, haha.

Eventually I'll be okay, and I'll get back on the horse. Even in the midst of all this turmoil I really just want to be making comics ;_;

Until then, I just need some time. It's the only cure for this kind of problem, I think. So, I thank you for your patience, and I thank you for the love you've shown me, my work, and my characters. I couldn't be where I am and I couldn't have made all the work I have without your support and love. Thank you, thank you, thank you!!

I'll see you when I get back! Much love and many kisses, xoxo 💖💖💖

(cross-posted from patreon)

#state of affairs #not art #long post #UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGGGGGH #RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUGHHH #BRR:URUUURHHHGHGUURHHGNNGH #HRNNNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGG #UGH. #i didn't really proofread this so if it's bad or rambly sorry but also ughghhghhsklgajdl;kgLKSgjlsdgjdlkj

[sunny6677]

There's four of us!

A RED GUY X MALE! READER

Chapter 2: Jobs PART 2

TW: None, I believe.

---------

Red looked to a speaker on the wall, and took it, putting it close to mouth so they could hear loud and clear. "Um.. sorry to interrupt, guys.. have any of you s-- seen a strange, uhh.. box person?" He asked through the speaker.

"Box?" Said one of the employees, pointing to a green bag with a white plus symbol on it. "No, no, he's more of a business bag.. just a brown bag." Replied Red to the gesture the employee had made.

...

...

They only stared back intensely. Yellow then took the speaker and said; "He eats breakfast! He's one of those ones with one of himself!"

...

...

"Oh-- uh-- also, I think the phones ringing.." Said Red after a long minute of silence.

"Um.. maybe I should try, hold on.." Y/N fumbled with the speaker that was formerly in Yellows hands, and placed it up to to his mouth. "He-- he was singing, he went into that closet right over there a minute ago.."

...

...

"You need to be more aggressive, Y/N! I say, letting them walk all over you is not going to do the trick!" Said Duck suddenly, grabbing the speaker away from him. "Hu-- Huh? But they didn't even say anything--"

Loudly, Ducks voice blared from the speakers; "Attention, freaks! It's me! We're supposed to be starting our new job any moment! How do we get out of here or away from you immediately?!"

...

...

They went back to work.

"How strange, they're pretending they don't respect me!" Scoffed Duck, rolling his eyes at their mocking behavior. "And the phones still ringing, guys, isnt..." Red began to walk towards the door containing the phone ringing.

"Isn't anyone gonna get that?" He asked, the workers only dismissively glanced at him while still doing their work. "Um.. I can answer it for you if you want." Softly offered Y/N, walking up to him.

"Huh? Oh, no, no need.. I'll get it." Replied Red.

"Oh.. well-- I can still go with you if you want." Y/N offered once more, averting his eyes.

"Um.. sure, I guess you can."

"Good!.."

Y/N followed Red into the office where the phone was ringing, but stopped upon hearing Ducks voice say something behind him as Red entered into the office.

"I say, that Y/N fellow always just let's people walk all over him! He's really got to stand up for himself sometime!"

"Um.. yeah. He sure does." Replied Yellow, seemingly not knowing what to say to that.

...

...

Y/N closed the door.

Red picked up the phone and spoke into it softly, "Um.. hello.. your through to.. Petersons and Sons and Bits and Friends.. huh." He read carefully off the wall as Y/N stood stiffly next to the chair behind the desk that was inside the office.

Y/N didn't bother to pay attention to what Red had to say to the person on the phone, only staying alone in his thoughts that had manifested upon hearing what Duck had said. He didn't let people walk all over him, he wasn't weak like Duck thought of him as. So why did Duck treat him like that?

After a few minutes, Red put down the phone and said; "Alright, Y/N-- let's go."

"Oh, um, right.." Softly replied Y/N, being immediately pulled out of his thoughts. It was only when he took one step when a sudden female voice with a Scottish accent spoke from below.

"Wow! Nice work! Your a real go-getter, arent ya?" The Printer was speaking, which was not really strange considering what it was like around this world, but was still a bit freaky nonetheless. Y/N caught himself flinching back in fear, a little startled.

Red took a step in front of him and got in front of him, knowing full well how he felt about random talking objects randomly appearing. "Am-- am I? I don't really think I am, most people say i--" "Well I think you are! And you've got such a beautiful telephone voice if I may say so myself!"

"Oh.. thanks, thats very kind."

"Thank YOU! Why don't you sit down and--"

A pair of hands randomly pulled Red into the chair, Red appeared very uncomfortable with the position he was now in. Y/N slightly flinched, now a little afraid for Red.

"--make yourself comfortable?"

"Oop! I got a fax coming in for you!" As she(the printer) said that, she grunted as it came out of her and made noise. The fax in question read; "Hello, you're doing well. I like you."

Y/N swallowed his spit and felt a chill run up his spine.

"Oh, that's nice.. who's this from?" Asked Red.

"Me~" The Printer answered.

With the combination of Reds very clearly uncomfortable demeanor and aura, and Y/Ns fearful face, he(Y/N) couldn't help but shake the feeling that he was going to regret ever coming here with his friends.

And as much times as he tried to deny it inside his mind, he couldn't help but feel as if it were true.

#dhmis #dhmis x reader #red guy #red guy x reader #red guy x male reader #dhmis tv show

[igot-sarang-ggg]

Meeting Heaven's door (Rohan Kishibe x Reader)

Masterlist

Small Summary: So this was a small idea I came up with a few days ago. What if Rohan used Heaven's door to let you (a non-stand user) be able to see his stand?

Small mentions: gn!reader, there are none

Rohan called me over to model for some posing references for his manga. I knocked gently on the door waiting for a response, "Come in," a faint voice could be heard from somewhere in the house, I slowly opened the door and walked in. "I'm upstairs y/n, just trying to finish some of my work here."

I walked upstairs and into his office, I stood by the doorway so as to not disturb him while he was working. "Rohan sensei you're pretty fast at drawing. I never asked, how are you so fast?" He stopped drawing; standing up, taking the papers in his hand, and putting them away, on a nearby bookshelf. "It's all thanks to my Heaven's door... Oh right, you can't see stands can you?"

"No, I can't. Josuke and the others have tried showing them to me but I can't see them, unfortunately." I'm not a stand user, most of the time I see random items floating sometimes or feel something touching me when I'm with my friends. He looked in my direction, "Why don't you try with my stand?" I walked towards him, "I'm sorry, I don't think I quite understood you, Rohan?"

"I could try with my stand. If you've tried with the others then maybe mine will work." I didn't know what to say, he rolled his eyes at me, "I'll try and show you my stand." He said as took out one of his sketchbooks, and sat back down at his table, "Heaven's Door!" Rohan shouted causing me to jump slightly, "Rohan sensei this isn't going to... work...?"

Before me stood a figure It was wearing a long overcoat, closed to the end of its torso, a bow tie, and a flat-topped hat. It has lines emanating from the bottom and the bottom outsides of its eyes, "Woah this is your stand?" So, this is what it looks like, "What did you do?" I looked at him and then at his stand. I have to admit Koichi was right about some stand users not matching their stands, Heaven's door is adorable.

"I made it so that you can see and interact with my stand Heaven's Door. You can now do the same with everyone's stand as well." I smiled at Rohan, "Thank you, Rohan." I bent down to get a closer look at Heaven's door. "You look adorable." He handed me a paper, I looked at Rohan who was busy sketching something as he watched us both. "Hm? What's this?" I took the paper in my hands smiling to myself. He gave me a drawing of a rose one of my favorite flowers. "Thank you." I hugged him, and Heaven's Door smiled at me.

I stood up looked at Rohan and walked over to him, "So a stand is a manifestation of one's soul, am I correct?"

"Yes, it is. why do you ask?" Rohan stopped sketching and looked at me I showed him the drawing Heaven's Door gave me. He covered his face and looked the other way, I giggled at his action, "That doesn't mean anything y/n. Heaven's door was simply giving you a drawing we've been working on, that's all."

"Sure it doesn't," I rolled my eyes jokingly, "So you called me here to model for reference, are we starting soon?" Rohan showed me the drawings he was working on. "It's already done. While you were having your small interaction with Heaven's Door I took the liberty to draw you. I wanted to get that raw expression from you when you first meet my stand... Seeing that genuine smile of yours is as raw as it gets." He smiled to myself while looking at the drawing and then looked at me our eyes met and a light blush spread across his face.

"A-Anyways thank you for coming today, I'll call you again when I need." He stood up and walked me down the stairs towards the door, "I'll see you around Rohan." I waved him goodbye and made my way home. On my way home I bought a picture frame for the drawing he gave me.

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