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bunny-lily · 3 days

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Tether Me - Chapter 2

Pairing(s): Geto/Gojo/Reader

Summary: “Hey! Didn’t keep you waitin’ too long, did we?”

“No, not long,” you assured, fighting hard to keep your eyes off his friend for however long possible, vainfully clinging to your sanity. You knew that as soon as you centered your vision on him, your ability for conscious thought would evaporate.

You wanted to present yourself as at least marginally normal as a first impression, though you doubted you were achieving that by avoiding the obvious third presence. You were surely coming off as rude, you really should–

“This one's Geto Suguru,” Gojo introduced the noiret by his side, nipping your overthinking at the bud.

At last, your full attention was guided to him.

Oh.

Oh. That was a mistake.

AN: there's a couple mentions of emotional eating (in thoughts). Degrading words towards self (slut, whore, etc) but not self-degrading. I think that's it? Lemme know if I missed something, it's 5:50 am at time of posting and I am eepy, so I'm sorry if I did ♥

Ch: Prologue | Ch: 1 | Ch: 2

WC: 12.9k

The scent of something marvelously delicious wafting through the air had you groggily rolling over from your stomach to your back in bed, stretching your arms above you and practically vibrating the way a cat would as you eased away any sleep-induced tension from your muscles.

You honestly hadn’t slept that well in a long while. You were bleary-eyed, sure, but refreshed. You didn’t have any heavy bags under your eyes, you didn’t experience any nightmares of being hunted. Just calm, good, dreamless sleep.

As much as you wanted to laze around in bed all day, though, the watering of your mouth couldn’t go ignored. Or the rumble in your stomach, for that matter.

With a sleepy groan and big, feline-like yawn to match your stretch, you shuffled out of bed and rubbed the crusties from your eyes as you pulled on some comfortable clothes. Hell if you knew what you were going to do for the day, you could figure that out after you sated your appetite.

You were downright drooling when you left your room to do your morning routine and groused like a toddler that didn’t want to brush her teeth before devouring her weight in breakfast. But you were a grown ass woman that quite preferred to have good hygiene, thank you very much. The intoxicating call of sustenance would have to wait until after you scrubbed your face and polished your teeth to perfection.

Catching sight of yourself in the mirror made you choke when you saw how chaotic the nest of hair on your head was. You felt like a cartoon character that got zapped, your tresses sticking in every direction.

You must have slept really well, then.

You combed your fingers through the messy strands, trying to smooth the misbehaving locks. It took some effort to tame them into a somewhat presentable fashion, which was the most you cared to do when you were dying to eat already.

Your eyes flickered towards the remaining bottles you left on the sink countertop from last night and you nearly lost your shit.

Just what did Satoru put Ijichi through to get you high end skin products like these? And in such a short amount of time? You guessed the poor man broke a few speeding laws to get these in time for you to use. That, or maybe Satoru had informed him earlier, when you initially agreed to take him up on his offer to stay at his place. Or he already had them and was keeping them around for this kind of situation? Did he use the same brand?

Well, whatever. You were going to use those zealously, so help you god.

And, by the heavens above and seas below, they were fucking incredible. Your face was baby-skin soft. Lustrous, dewy, you were glowing, and certainly felt like it, too. You couldn’t stop touching your cheeks and forehead, they were just so smooth.

No wonder rich people always had the clearest skin. If you had these while growing up, you never would have had to deal with getting acne in your teens and into your adulthood.

So fucking unfair.

Lamenting how Satoru was born with a silver spoon in his mouth while you were robbed by the universe, you followed the delectable wisps of the tasty aroma in the air like a drunk cupid with tiny wings and a dazed veneer on your face. There you found the man himself in the kitchen, humming an unfamiliar song to himself.

You continued to be baffled that he knew how to cook. It seemed almost unnatural, in a way. He was the prime example of a rich boy that you could find reclining on a poolside chair, hands behind his head as a servant hand fed him grapes. Yet here he was, cooking away, an apron tied around his neck and waist (with frills and little hearts, too, the flashy ass). You wouldn’t be surprised if it had ‘Kiss the Chef’ written across the front and oh, would you look at that, you were right.

“Goooood morning!” Satoru exclaimed, turning away from the stove to greet you. The apron was even flashier than you thought. For fuck’s sake, it had sequins on it. “How’d you– whoa. Nevermind, your hair answers that question.”

You subconsciously tried to flatten down your frizzy tangles once more, grumbling and pulling your gaze away from the atrocious fabric covering his chest that you would totally wear as well, gods, it was horrific. Your morning hair never liked to cooperate with you. “Morning.”

Yawning against the back of your hand, you climbed onto one of the barstools at the kitchen island and veered your body to the side, trying to see what he was cooking around his arm. It smelled sweet, the kind of sweet that was almost enough to make you nauseous, but wouldn’t actually cross that line. Kind of like dessert after you’ve filled yourself to bursting with dinner.

“What are you making? It smells really good,” you said.

“Pancakes!” He exclaimed, sliding an already finished plate to you, soufflé pancakes stacked high atop, drizzled in chocolate and syrup. He even added fruit slices in an arch around the back, just to make it extra fancy.

Someone had a sweet tooth, it seemed. That, and it was obvious he was trying to show off his culinary skills, having the perfect reason to do so now.

But who were you to point that out? You were getting free food, and not even for the first time! Of course you were going to stuff yourself sick with these. Because, honestly, they did look incredible. You would have felt bad about devouring such art if your stomach wasn’t going nuts.

“Wow, these smell amazing,” you said, scooping up a bite with the fork he passed you. You admired it, tilting it a few degrees in the light, then chomped down on it.

The noise you made was downright unholy. Straight to the Second Circle with you, don’t even think about looking at the pearly gates of Heaven.

“Fuuuuck,” you keened as you immediately shoved another piece into your mouth. You savored the delectable meal with chubby cheeks, letting the sugary and fluffy delight overtake your senses. “This is so fuckin’ good.”

He cackled at your reaction as he finished cooking and styling up his own plate, ditching the eye-bleedingly ugly apron, and you realized a trice too late that you just stroked his ego considerably. “I didn’t know you could make those kinds of sounds,” he quipped. The sunlight pouring through a nearby window caught the lenses of his glasses when he slid into the seat beside you, making them glint the same way his eyes would if you could see them unobstructed. “Makes me wonder what other noises you can make.”

You almost choked on the pancake you were greedily wolfing down.

Okay, he was not allowed to say things like that while you were eating. And especially not in that voice, the one that lowered a couple octaves and had you squirming in your seat. Barely 10 minutes into the morning and you were already struggling to keep your composure around him.

You swallowed down your food stiffly and patted your sternum with a wee cough. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

“I’m not opposed to that.”

“You promised you’d let me use your hot spring first.”

“I can be patient!” Exclaimed the man who very much could not be patient.

You deadpanned, but your lips quivered as you tried to restrain a grin. “Somehow, I doubt that.”

He moped like he was told he couldn’t go to the park today. “You’re so mean to me. How could you? And right after I graciously agreed to house you, too.” Wow, he wasn’t kidding about not letting you live that down.

To make up for it and bring the whiny baby back into a good mood, you let him have a few bites of your food, and he lit up like a damn firework, scarfing them down without a second thought. He had this sort of boyish charm that was difficult to resist in a way that made you want to tease and taunt him endlessly. His statuesque features certainly aided his charisma.

“By the way,” Gojo began, speaking around a piece of syrup-covered strawberry from his own dish. “There’s someone I want to introduce to you later. You’ll like him.”

You gave him a sidelong glance. Was this the second ‘someone’ Granny mentioned the day before? You shuddered at the thought of dealing with two Satoru’s. You barely knew the first one, and he was already a handful and a menace. You chewed quickly and swallowed to answer.

“Is he anything like you?” You asked, doing your best to be ladylike and eat the way a normal person would. You weren’t really succeeding.

He grinned wide. “He’s the best! Second to me, of course.”

“That does not answer my question,” you pointed an accusatory fork at him.

“Pshh, don’t worry. He’s cool. Well, not as cool as me, but very close.”

That still didn’t answer your question. More so, it put you on edge. You were already mentally preparing to get acquainted with this potential twin, doppelgänger, and/or clone.

“Can you at least tell me his name?”

“Geto Suguru,” he responded.

Geto Suguru, huh?

Same initials as Gojo Satoru. Same amount of syllables, too.

You were so fucked, weren’t you?

The thought of having two copies of the gremlin beside you had you preemptively putting your hands on your nape to ease the tension. Figuratively, but possibly literally, depending on if height was something they shared.

“Alright,” you said. “When do you want me to meet him?”

“Oh, the time will come, you shouldn’t worry your pretty little head.”

Well, if that wasn’t the most cryptic shit that definitely had you worrying your pretty little head. Asshole, he was doing that on purpose, confirmed by that cunning expression he had as he observed you with his temple resting on his fist, elbow on the counter. He liked toying with you.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Don’t look at me like that.”

He raised his brows. “Like what?”

“Like you’re planning some shit.”

Satoru pressed his fingers to his chest, feigning innocence. “Why, I’d never!”

He was absolutely planning some shit. All you could really do now was brace yourself for whatever was to come, though you were certain that no amount of readying yourself would keep you from getting swept off your feet. “I’ve got my eye on you.”

That was the wrong thing to say, considering he fucking swooned and tipped over, resting his head on your shoulder and closing his eyes, sighing like a schoolgirl. “I knew you thought I was handsome.”

You gave a long-suffering exhale and poked his cheek. “I said no such thing.”

“Yeah, but you looked it.”

“The hell does that even mean?”

“Just keep your eyes on me, pretty baby,” he directed and sat back up, reaching for his fork. “What’s on the agenda for you today?” He asked as he scooped up the rest of the syrup on his plate with the last bite of his food.

You coughed to cover your blush, grateful for the topic change. “Well, I guess take stock of all I’ll need to do with my house. I got a job at Granny’s store, so I’ll start working there in a few days.”

“Shit, really?” He gaped at you. “That fast?”

You nodded around your final piece of pancake, closing your eyes to savor the sublime flavor. You’d have to make him teach you to cook like that sometime, too.

A ‘whooh’ sound left him. “Impressive.”

“It’s weird,” you said. “Everything’s worked out so far, and I’ve barely been here for two and a half days. I’m getting suspicious.”

“Why?”

Your shoulders lifted and dropped. “Seems too good to be true. Gotta stay on my toes, y’know?”

Satoru ruffled your hair as he stood to stack your empty plates into the dishwasher. “You think too much, sweetheart.”

You crossed your arms over your chest. “Let me be paranoid.”

“You’ll just give yourself worry lines like that,” he cautioned, returning to press his index finger between your brows, “riiiight here. You gotta relax, princess. Chill out, do something fun.”

It was hard to, after spending so many years escaping metaphorical ghosts. Old habits die hard, you supposed.

He was right, you could really use a break from non-stop wariness. This was supposed to be a fresh start, after all. You washed your slate, unmarked of everything on purpose, keeping next to nothing but your name and the clothes on your back. No contacts, nobody waiting for you somewhere, no responsibilities or obligations holding you back. Who knew how long you’d get the chance to let go like this? Might as well take advantage of it.

You weren’t sure what would qualify as ‘fun’ here, but you were a new sprout, after all. What better way than to learn firsthand?

“Alright,” you agreed. “Recommend anything?”

“Hmm,” he lolled his head side to side. “Go to the bakery. It’s not far from Granny’s store, a couple streets north. Hard to miss, it’s got a big sign. We saw it on the way to Granny’s yesterday.”

You scratched through your memory, trying to remember exactly where it was. You had a fuzzy idea, but the benefit of living in such a small locale was that it wouldn’t be too difficult to find. “Will do, thanks. I’ll go after I check out my place first. I’ll need the emotional support after that.”

“Fair enough, I saw why,” he chortled. Oh, the exterior was nothing compared to the interior, sweet summer child. “You want a ride there?”

You considered it, then shook your head. “Nah, it’d be better for me to walk there to get more familiar with the town.”

“You sure?” He raised a brow, a teasing, lazy smirk crawling up his lips. “Won’t get lost?”

“Probably,” you snorted, “but experience is the best teacher, eh?”

He chuckled low in his throat. “If you do get lost, don’t be afraid to call me. I’ll be your prince in shining armor.”

You made a ‘pffft’ noise and glared at him. He just smiled back like the dork he was. “It’s knight in shining armor.”

“Prince is better. I’m not some lowly knight.”

Drama queen. “Alright, whatever you say, prince. I’ll see you–” In the midst of slipping off the stool to get ready to leave, you stopped, remembering a key piece of information. “Hey,” you spoke up, rotating to scrutinize him with a squint. “How did you know my back door doesn’t have a lock?”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “My friends and I would go there on dares when we were younger. Believed it was haunted, dumb kid shit, you know how it goes.”

Oh.

That– yeah, that sounded way more plausible and understandable than whatever ghost stories about kidnappers and serial killers you came up with. But he still could have phrased it better than he did, he didn’t have to go creepy-mode to convince you to stay with him for the time being.

“Why?” He chortled. “Thought I was gonna kidnap ya?”

“Yes,” you replied automatically, scratching the spot behind your ear sheepishly. “Sorry about that.”

He snickered at your expense, bending down and lowering his voice into a rumbling murmur. “You never know. Maybe I will.”

“Har har,” you replied flatly. “Very funny.”

His lips curled further, eyes gleaming behind his shades. “Better keep your guard up, princess. Someone might just come and snatch you up when you least expect it.”

You scoffed as you swiveled and headed towards the front door. Satoru followed you in a way that reminded you of a puppy, or a mischievous cat, observing you as you tugged on your shoes. “I’m sure I’ll be fine. I can scream really loud.”

“And if they cover your mouth?”

“I bite,” you grinned toothily.

He crooned. “I’ll keep that in mind. You sure you don’t need a ride?”

“I’ll be fine,” you dismissed his uncertainty and double checked your purse as you put it on. “I’ll catch you later.”

“Ah, wait, before you go,” he halted you, reaching out to search through a bowl on the console table pushed up to the wall. After a second or two of digging around, he pulled out a key attached to a ring and held it out to you. “Here, in case nobody’s home when you get back.”

You took it from him and turned it over in your palm, evaluating its untarnished sheen. “Thanks,” you tucked it away safely into a pocket in your purse. “Is it new?”

“Just a spare,” he stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Put it to good use, yeah?”

“Sure,” you agreed.

He patted your head and you scowled at him. “I’ll be awaiting your call for when you need to be rescued.”

You stuck your tongue out at him as you opened the door and stepped out of it. “Dream on.”

His rolling laughter was the last thing you heard as you closed it behind you. The purity of the air awed you again. It was like a medium between you and nature, tickling every one of your senses. There was this certain liberating power in this valley, one that swelled behind your heart and spread out like hot tea on a cold winter morning.

It swirled in your stomach and radiated from your chest in time with your pulse, lulling and salving. Why had you never considered going to the countryside before?

You were a city-hopper, bouncing from metropolitan hellscape to metropolitan hellscape, where the streets of downtown reeked of anything sickly, apartments were expensive to rent, and you only ever felt like a side character.

Restaurants there were always jam-packed, cafés were less of early day respites and more places of palpable depression. The bars were grimy and boozy, ear-piercingly loud and sweltering with the body heat of dozens of people pressed too tightly together, but at least they were good for one thing.

They were good for shutting down your brain. When it got too loud and too full, when the alcohol burned too much and the people were too touchy, that was when you went into autopilot and thrived in the bliss of silence created by the endless droning of the bass vibrating from your feet to your scalp. You hated liquor, just the thought of it made you queasy, but you craved the buzz it gave you back then.

You didn’t have that luxury now, but you didn’t need it. You hadn’t so much as thought about partaking in that vice since moving, actually. Had you known about the kind of life you could find here, you would have ditched the neon streets a long time ago.

The placidity of mostly untouched vegetation and of the tightly knit community provided a different kind of solace, one that distracted you with things far more interesting than paranoia and anxiety-driven overthinking.

You didn’t feel lost here. Not in the metaphorical sense. Literally had yet to be seen. It remained unfamiliar, but your panic had smoothed out from the first steps you had taken off the train. You could breathe without feeling like there were matches being held too close to your lungs, or needles aimed at your heart.

You didn’t hold onto hope, though. The pattern remained the same. Once you got used to this place, you’d hop on the next train and be on your less-than-merry way.

Will I ever stop running? You asked yourself frequently.

Nobody ever answered.

That’s alright. For now, you were okay.

Choosing not to indulge in those ideologies, you followed the curving road back down the incline, noting that the car Ijichi had brought you in was gone. You’d need to find a way to thank him, as well as Granny. You didn’t like being indebted to people, especially if it put you at risk of getting tied down.

Satoru was a different problem entirely, since he was letting you live with him. Chores, rent, maybe another thing or two to keep the score level. You weren’t great on brainstorming ideas on how to return favors, but you’d figure it out. A good walk always helped make the creative juices flow.

You ruminated on who he wanted to introduce you to later, coming up with ideas about what he might be like. Hopefully a counterpart and not a duplicate, you weren’t sure how much you’d be able to handle if that was the case.

If he was friends with Satoru, though, the likelihood of him driving you insane in one way or another was highly likely.

“I bet he’s disgustingly handsome, too,” you muttered cattily under your breath. “I’m gonna see him and the last brain cells I have are gonna explode.”

It didn’t help that you had no idea when you were going to meet this ‘Geto Suguru’. Would you have time to anchor yourself mentally? Would it be today, or a week from now? Could you even prepare at all?

Ugh.

Satoru was right, you thought too much.

As you roamed around, the shrine caught your eye once more, and you stopped to take it in. You hadn’t been to a shrine before – not this kind, anyway. The bigger ones in Tokyo didn’t count. You vaguely remembered how to pray, though you weren’t sure if you should. Paying respects, though, that was fine.

You nibbled on your bottom lip, debating. In the end, it wasn’t a hard choice. You would take any chance to procrastinate and delay facing the disaster awaiting you as much as you could. Except for the bakery Satoru recommended, you were saving that for after you made a plan for your house. You figured you’d want to stress eat afterwards to balm your troubled heart.

Besides, you weren’t sure if you’d have the time to visit after you got started on everything. You had a few days to use up, why not use them to check things out?

The trail leading up to it was easy to find, and though clearly well-traveled and requiring some exertion to traverse, it was clear that it was loved. The flowers on either side of the path were tended to with a compassionate hand, blooming and fragrant. You took a break on several occasions just to sniff a few, admiring them.

Usually, you were picky about flowers.

Most were less redolent and more bitterly pungent for you, such as roses. They were elegant, no doubt, but their scent always bordered on perfume-y in a way that reminded you more of an old folks’ home rather than pleasant and subtle beauty. Generally, florid notes made your face scrunch up like you ate something unexpectedly sour.

These flowers were just right, though. They still had those floral undertones, of course, but presented salubrious and fruity essences atop it. It made you mull over why every other flower you smelled before wasn’t palatable.

Soon, the shrine entrance was in clear view. You traced your finger along the edge of a petal one last time before standing up from your squatting position and making your way over to it. The tower itself was mostly vertical in terms of size, decently small in contrast to the typically larger ones scattered about Japan, but it fit in perfectly with everything else here.

There were two stone benches on either side of the archway leading in, pressed up to the sturdy cobblestone foundation, and lanterns situated at the corners of both, reminding you of a few animated movies with similar designs you’d seen in the past. They were slightly shaded, turned a few degrees away from the sun, and you imagined it would be nice to read there and watch the sun fall asleep beyond the horizon.

The doors were open, guarded by dog-like statues, a bit crudely carved out. Satoru had mentioned it was a shrine dedicated to the wolves that used to roam the mountains, so the statues were likely meant to resemble them. You were curious about the interior, wanting to see the altar up close, since each place of prayer had their own uniquely made one, but the sight of a person clad in white and red kneeling in front of said altar within had you nixing that idea. You could do it another time.

She must have noticed your approach as her head lifted and she peeked partially over her shoulder. She rose up and rotated to face you, and you withheld your exasperation.

Right, this was just fucking ridiculous now, what the fuck.

Why was there another criminally attractive person in this godsforsaken valley? You got scammed, you wanted your money back. Everyone here was so out of your league, you felt like the dog that caught the baseball bat after it’s thrown rather than a player in the game. What, was there going to be an additional good-looking person, ready to knock the wind out of you?

Probably Geto.

If any of these people told you to get down on your knees and bark, you would have without question.

Seriously, why?

You should have been relishing existing in the presence of so many charming folks, but in reality, it just made you feel self conscious.

“Hello,” she greeted as she walked over to you, bringing you out of your internal raging monologue. “May I help you?”

“Oh,” you fluttered your lashes and stammered minutely, trying to recollect yourself. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to distract you. I just wanted to see the shrine.”

The shrine maiden’s lips tilted up politely. “You’re fine, don’t worry. Are you a tourist?”

“No,” you fidgeted with your thumb and index finger on your right hand. “I moved here recently. I’m checking around to get more acquainted with the area.”

Her brows rose a millimeter short of being comical. “Really? That’s surprising. Did one of the villagers leave that I didn’t know of?”

“Also no. I bought the house on the outskirts, uhh,” you twisted to scan behind you and pointed in the general direction of it. “That way.”

“That house? I thought they’d torn it down a long time ago. Why that one?”

You lowered your arm. “It was cheap. Gave me an excuse to move here properly.”

“I hope you’re not staying there, it’s dangerous,” she frowned, using a stern yet caring voice.

“I’m staying with Gojo Satoru while I fix it up.”

Immediately, the woman’s face twisted into a sneer of repulsion. Scorn shadowed over her honey-brown eyes, causing yours to widen as hers narrowed. “Run away while you still can,” she told you firmly.

Well, that’s not worrisome at all.

What the hell did he do to her?

“What? Why?” Your brows furrowed.

She sighed as if the mere mention of Gojo had stripped a few years off her lifespan. “He’s the devil in disguise.”

Was anyone ever going to give you a straight answer about him? “Did he…do something?”

Her scorn turned to ire and agitation in a snap. “He’s so obnoxious! And arrogant, I can’t stand to be around him, he pisses me off to no end,” she downright snarled, heat rising to her cheeks from her anger. “He acts all high and mighty when he’s just a spoiled brat that refuses to respect his elders!”

“Oh–”

“Me!” She pointed harshly at herself. “I’m his elder! Well, I mean, not the only one, but still! He was raised like a golden child, given everything he wanted. He loooves getting on everyone’s nerves, especially mine. Get away from him or he’ll send you to an early grave, miss.”

You didn’t know what you were expecting when you came to view the shrine, but a rant from a peeved miko definitely wasn’t anywhere on your list of possibilities. His name alone sent her into a tailspin, and you would have regretted it if seeing her go off about the man wasn’t more entertaining than it had any right to be. You did feel bad, but madly interested, too.

“I…see,” you reacted stiltedly, stifling a laugh. “Are you, like, exes or something?”

She gaped at you as if you had informed her of her puppy’s passing. “What? No! Absolutely not! I– how could– never even mention–” She abruptly stopped herself, took a few intensely deep breaths to calm herself, then she was smiling kindly again as if nothing had happened. “Where are my manners? I’m Iori Utahime, a miko. It’s a pleasure to meet you. And you are?”

Left reeling from her unexpected 180 in demeanor, you stuttered out your own name in response, to which she nodded in approval.

“A lovely name. You said you moved here recently? How fun! What brought you to this valley?”

Satoru had several questions to answer for the next time you saw him. If you had a notepad and pen, you would have been writing them down like a P.I., bobbing your head with a solemn face as you asked Iori to recount her history of events.

“I came to study abroad in Tokyo a few years back, and fell in love with the country,” you said. “I’m not big on cities, though, so coming here seemed perfect.”

Maybe you were embellishing your story a bit, but in all fairness, you didn’t know her. Besides, clean slate; you had no story before this, why not paint one now that you had the freedom to?

You weren’t going to whip up some grand tale about how you were this astonishingly intelligent, leading programmer in your country that did impressive work for science (that was your mother), but it didn’t hurt to fib the truth a small amount. The part about studying abroad was true, anyway.

She appraised you with an interested visage. “I see, I see. Where are you originally from?”

Man, people loved asking that, huh?

It’s not like you could blame them, you’d do the same in their place. You were a foreigner, they were going to treat you like one.

“Ah,” you told her of your place of origin. “It’s nothing special. I mostly traveled.”

“Oh? How did you make money?”

“Freelance,” you answered. “Odd jobs here and there, enough to keep myself afloat. Have you traveled before, Iori-san?”

You could see the overjoyed spark in her eyes that someone was finally respecting her. “Only within the country,” she responded, somewhat somber. “I’ve always wanted to see what it’s like outside Japan.”

You tilted your head back to see the sky and think of suggestions. What do the stars look like here? “Depends on where you go. Some places are very packed and have lots of things to do no matter where you go, like Europe. Other places are more sparse, like the States.”

“But the States have more people,” the woman pointed out.

“Yeah,” you confirmed, “but that country is massive and people there tend to group into major cities, rather than be spread out. California is technically bigger than the entirety of Japan, but has way less people.”

Her eyes bulged in surprise. “Really?”

“Yep. It’s why you might hear Westerners say ‘there’s nothing to do here’,” you glanced at the structure behind her. “You guys revere wolves here, right?”

Utahime clapped her hands twice eagerly. “That’s correct! How’d you know?”

Based on her reaction to you merely mentioning Satoru, you figured it’d be best if you didn’t tell her the source of your information. “I’ve heard about it. I was curious, I haven’t been to a smaller shrine like this one before. Only the bigger ones in Tokyo, but those were part of my assignments, rather than for leisure.”

“Oh, it’s not much,” she espied at it from over her shoulder, but you could see the pride in her eyes. It was well taken care of, with love and chariness. It easily passed off as something constructed more recently, given its meticulous maintenance.

“How long ago was it built?”

“Around the same time the settlers first came here.”

This time, your eyes were the ones that opened wide. It had to have been at least 350 years old in that case, based on a rough estimate. “That far back? Wow, it’s in seriously good shape.”

The woman puffed up her chest. “Though the wolves have long since died out here, we still honor them. They helped us with hunts and allowed this village to thrive when we needed it most. They protected us from cursed spirits, as well. It’s only right we treat them and the bounties they’ve given us with respect.”

Oh, there was that term again: cursed spirits. “Could you tell me more about cursed spirits?”

Enthusiasm bubbled up in her the way it would in a child about to tell their parents about the story they wrote up. She skipped over to one of the stone benches and plopped down onto it, patting the spot beside her. You slid onto it, a chill shooting up your spine from the cold temperature. Being shaded from the sun made the rock gelid, go figure.

“Now! Let’s start from the beginning as we know it,” she cleared her throat and took on the role of a teacher. “The origin of cursed spirits and jujutsu sorcery as a whole is largely unknown. It’s speculated that spirits have lived alongside humanity from the beginning of it, as cursed energy is formed by negative emotions, and cursed energy is what spirits are born from.”

She was very animated when teaching, you noticed. Lots of hand movements, facial expressions, and a bouncy attitude to boot. It made for a very entertaining show, and did well to keep you engaged.

“Curses were invisible to humans. Only a select few could see them, and even fewer could actively interact with them in some way or another,” she continued. “Smaller curses would typically leech off of people without them knowing it, feeding off their bad emotions. Stronger curses, however, could be incredibly powerful. Sometimes to the point of standard weapons being completely useless against them, which is why jujutsu sorcery came to fruition. We needed some way to fight back against the spirits, so we developed a way to do just that by manipulating the natural reserves of cursed energy we had within us.”

Folklore from other countries always captivated you. From the creator of mankind in some Chinese mythos named Nüwa, to the counterpart of the equivalent of Santa in Germany, the origin of Halloween and turnip lanterns – even the oddly terrifying ones without nefarious intentions, like Mari Lwyd.

You adored hearing about legends, stories, and tales passed down through oral and written history over the centuries of life existing in each respective land. To say she had you hooked would be an understatement.

What were curses like? Assuming they were real, of course, and that jujutsu sorcery didn’t follow the same ideology as hanging witches. Were they ugly? Bipedal? Humanoid at all?

“Many natural disasters are blamed on curses, even to this day,” she began lifting her fingers as she counted off a few examples. “Earthquakes, tsunamis, droughts. Pretty much anything you can think of.”

“Were they kinda like demons?”

“Eh,” she tilted her hand side to side a few times. “Yes and no. Depends on who you ask, really. They could be different from demons of hell, or they could be one and the same.”

“I see,” you pinched your chin. “So, where’d they go, then?”

She grasped one of her pigtails, running her fingers through the open and loose portion at the top of it. “Nobody really knows. Some think that sorcerers were able to eradicate them at the source, and died off since they weren’t needed anymore. It could be that the curses have simply lost power due to the progression of mankind, and particularly therapy, though it’s…still kind of taboo. Some claim they’re still around, we just don’t notice because we aren’t able to see any of it.”

Satoru’s words on the matter echoed in your mind. ‘Even if they are real, there's no way they'd beat me.’

You bit your cheek to hold back an unwitting snicker. Leave it up to Satoru to say some brazen shit and have it pop up in your head at random.

“What about you? What do you think?” You asked.

Utahime flicked a piece of invisible dirt off the front of her hakama. “I believe they exist. It’s part of why I’m a miko, and one of the reasons I maintain this shrine. It’s my duty. Curses may not be the same now as they were back then, but that’s no reason for me to slack off. Complacency breeds contempt.”

It was heartwarming, in a way, to see someone still holding onto traditions like these, working to keep her friends, family, and home safe, upholding the rules within and outside places of prayer. You admired her for it.

Not that you would personally want to be a shrine maiden, but you held them in high esteem nonetheless.

“And you?” She peered at you. “Do you believe in the supernatural?”

You closed your eyes for a moment, stretching your legs in front of you and idling back on your hands. “I’m agnostic, neither here nor there. I respect spaces that are considered sacred, I’d rather not get hexed, but I don’t go out of my way to hunt down, let’s say, ghosts.”

“I commend you, many could stand to learn a thing or two from you,” as she spoke, she stood up and brushed off the back of her kosode. “You are good company, though I fear I should get back to work soon.”

“Ah,” you got up as well and bowed to her. “Thank you for sharing your stories with me, Iori-san. I’m sorry for disturbing you.”

She waved her hand. “You didn’t, don’t worry. Come visit me again soon, okay? I’d love to hear stories of your travels as well.”

“Sure,” promised easily, more than content to exchange tales with her. “Stay safe.”

“Likewise,” the noirette disappeared back into the shrine with a final word of parting, leaving you to your devices.

While you didn’t get to see the altar inside, you considered the visit worthwhile, and got a new acquaintance out of it, too. You could come back to check it out another day.

Having burned through all the reasonable amount of procrastination time you allowed yourself, you voyaged back down the path, appreciating the blooms the whole way down the same way you had when you went the other way. You had to ask Utahime if she was the one tending to them next time you saw her.

You were proud to say that you only got lost twice. But you did find the bakery on the way, and memorized where it was once you located the path home. Not bad, not bad at all. You managed to find your way around, and you didn’t need to embarrass yourself by calling Satoru to come to your rescue.

It’s sad how low your standards for happiness had fallen, but you’d take any crumb of serotonin you could find.

You noticed the trip to your house was shorter whenever you actively didn’t want to go there, as if it was a living creature that purposefully made you arrive faster, just so you had to give it attention.

It stood, looming, mocking you. Taunting you, the monstrosity. What an asshole.

The outside matters came first, the less time you had to spend inside, the better. You pulled up the notes app on your phone and began the task of drafting everything you needed to deal with, denoting it as the ‘Outdoor’ section in your native tongue.

Fence, you typed down, scribbling sporadic thoughts as you went. Tear down? Repair? Replace?

You checked the ends and noted that the fence only went back about halfway into your property, leaving the back uncovered. Covers only front. Built like that? Collapsed/removed in the back?

You felt the stalks of yellow-ish green leafage with your palm, the tips reaching your hips. Cut down grass and weeds. You should plant pollinator flowers if the yard was ever cleared out well enough. It’d be nice to have some butterflies and bees around to help everything grow nice and healthy.

You lightly nudged a piece of a busted plant pot with the toe of your shoe. Dispose of broken pots. A slight stumble had you leering down to see a strangely shaped tile. You tilted your head in confusion, then peered up at the edge of the roof, deducing it was a shingle that had fallen off. You stepped further away from the roof, just in case. And fallen & loose shingles.

Rounding the side, you waded through the overgrown flora, poring over the condition of the rundown house’s environment. Remove ivy from walls. Set up trellises. Lattices to form a backyard/patio/garden/thing?

Angling your chin up, you placed your hand over your forehead and assessed the roof. From on the ground, you wouldn’t be able to completely acknowledge the damage done to it over the years it sat untouched, but you were reluctant to climb on it to see first hand. You didn’t have a ladder, for starters, and you liked having unbroken bones and working shins.

Get a ladder.

The back of the estate was in the same condition as everything else. Which is to say, disheartening.

“What’ve I got myself into…” You muttered.

You spotted a narrow garden plot built into the back of the house. Overgrown, yes, but it’d be perfect for planting stuff when you got it all cleared up.

It wasn’t a question of ‘if’, unfortunately. You had no other real choice besides mending what was left in your hands.

You were still miffed at the real estate agent. You likely wouldn’t have purchased this piece of land had you known what was ahead. Or if you were in a better state of mind, honestly, rather than being in the middle of your fight-or-flight phase of living.

“No good dwelling on the past,” you whispered to yourself as you circled back to the front. “Can’t change it now.”

You took a deep, long, full breath, enjoying the fresh and crisp air while you still could. You savored the temperate hints of nature and the clement weather, treating it like it would be your last time experiencing such comfort. You didn’t know if your nostrils (or you) would survive the excursion into hell you were about to go on, so you weren’t risking taking the breeze for granted.

Exhaling all in one big puff, you steeled your shoulders and pushed open your front door, your free hand covering your nose in anticipation. Replace hinges and/or front door.

It managed to punch you in the gut regardless.

New section in your notes open, you got to work typing. The most obvious issues came first, such as the floors, the peeling walls, and exposed boning and pipes. A lot would possibly need to be replaced, such as the counters in the kitchen, cupboards…

Floor rotted(?) and sticky. Wash?

Spackle for holes in walls? New drywall instead?

Check insulation.

Your spirits fell more and more with each additional item of note you wrote onto the list. Could any of this be salvaged? Were you better off tearing it down?

Remove tatami. Replace? Don’t?

Stepping into what you assumed was the master bedroom, you made your way over to the sleeping bag you left behind and cautiously rolled it up, maneuvering around the grime stuck to it, and placed it against a corner. You’d toss it when you got the chance to.

M-bed closet missing doors and shelf.

Seeing the window, you tip-toed to it, hoping to open it to air out the room. Your nose formed bunny lines at the cobwebs littering the sill and edges. While there weren’t any spiders – as far as you could see – you still did not enjoy touching them in the slightest.

Pushing up from the center of the window proved to be futile, the frame wasn’t going to be budging anytime soon.

Windows stuck.

Remove spider webs.

There was litter here and there – torn pieces of paper, a ripped open baggie, fabric – that you decided to leave as is. Along with not having gloves to pry them off the ground, you didn’t have anything to throw them away into. They got to live another day.

Toss out trash.

The shower and bathroom had a cupboard tucked off to the side, but opening it showed the middle platform separating the top and bottom within was crumbly and would break if you put any weight on it. Replace shelf in bathroom cupboard.

The tiles were all fucked up, too. Some were chipped, others were outright broken or missing. Rust had gathered around the tap and drain in the tub, likely from years of having a leaky faucet before it ran out of water to drip.

Clean out rust in bath/pipes. Throw away broken floor tiles. Replace.

You pulled the left handle of the sink faucet and waited for a few seconds to see if the plumbing was functional.

Which was a big, fat no.

Plumbing. Faucets.

Limescale on shower head, wall tiles.

You scrolled through what notes you had already created and chewed on the corner of your bottom lip, thinking of what else you might have needed to write down. You fixated blankly on the wall in front of you as you went over everything, then quickly typed out a few more things.

Electricity.

Check for asbestos, lead in paint.

You figured the tasks you needed to do would pop up as you went along, considering your notes to be a simple skeleton outline. You could jot down other things as needed, and work through them one by one.

Having done as much as possible while staying inside for as long as you could tolerate, you walked back outside and dug around in your purse for the piece of paper Granny had given you, the one with names and numbers of people that could help you in this endeavor.

To say you were beginning to panic would be an understatement. You already bought the damn thing, and doubted you’d be able to resell it and get all your money back. You also didn’t want to subject anyone to repairing the thing when it was both a health hazard and an embarrassment.

You had some reserve money, but it wasn’t a whole lot, so you required that job Granny gave you.

Gojo said you could stay with him for however long you needed, but that was with the expectation that you’d leave once your house was fixed up. Given the village’s size, it was unlikely that you would find another place within it to live in, even after saving up some money working for Granny. You didn’t want to piggy-back off anyone and be an imposition; the only reason you felt less guilty about staying with the moon-haired idiot was due to the sheer amount of space he had in his mansion.

You were swiftly running out of options.

Your lips paled as you pressed them tightly together, trying to wrack your mind for ideas. You couldn’t sell it, and you didn’t want to deal with the humiliation of having strangers work for you. In such a small town, word spread like fire on a dry wick. Who knows what they would say about you?

Realistically, it wasn’t your fault, you knew this. The house hadn’t been built under your name and, hell, was likely older than you by at least a decade or two. It didn’t fall to ruin because of you, but you were the owner of this house now, the responsibility rested on your shoulders.

You read through the list of handymen under your thumb, the paper shaking slightly from the death grip you had on it.

Repairing it on your own was technically an option, but you would be basically begging for severe injuries or even death by attempting that. You wouldn’t even know where to start. Foundation? Floors? Structure? Roof? You didn’t fucking know how to do any of that shit!

…Or you could just burn the damn eyesore to the ground ‘til there was naught but ashes left.

No, that was a stupid idea, but you were out of any good ones.

The thought you had previously of tearing it down and buying a garden shed to reside in was feeling more and more tempting by the hour. It was unreasonable, you knew, you simply…didn’t know what you were supposed to do.

You were used to doing things alone. You relied solely on yourself, trusted only your own words and intentions. Letting people in was not something you did for many reasons. Maybe you did crave closeness and camaraderie at some point in the distant past, but the concept was out of the question entirely now. It made uncomfortable butterflies sit heavy in your stomach, the urge to vanish into the treelines and never be seen again increasing with each extraneous person you invited into your life.

You sighed. “I should have just moved into the woods and turned into a witch,” you grumbled low, then scoffed sardonically. “Right, as if I wouldn’t accidentally poison myself with a weird mushroom on day three and die a horrible, painful, slow death.”

The two lists you had remained in your somewhat reluctant hands. You knew you were way in over your head, and you’d probably unintentionally curse the house sooner than you managed to make a positive change, but…you weren’t used to asking for help. Always the type to manage shit on your own, get things done yourself, be independent. Could you really be faulted for having a hard time reaching out to anyone else?

Especially since you hadn’t even met any of them yet. That would be disconcerting, asking folks you’d never seen – let alone spoken to – before to work for you.

Your phone singed your fingers. You did know someone, and knew that he was just a phone call away, but did you really want to deal with him of all people? He would take this chance to rub it all in your face and then some.

You carefully weighed your choices.

Rebuild the house yourself with no former experience with anything beyond shitty popsicle stick bird huts.

Call someone on the list, explain your situation, and ask for help.

Call the prick.

…By the gods, you really hated making calls to people you didn’t know.

Shamefully carping to yourself, you dialed Satoru’s number, trying to ignore the contact name he had set up for himself. It was so glitzy, the ✨❤️ Satoru ❤️✨ sitting at the top of the call screen making you stifle a short laugh, ironically lifting your spirits. “Here goes nothing…”

He answered within three rings. “Yo, been a while, princess” Satoru purred as if you hadn’t seen him that morning, and you rolled your eyes, despite not being there in person for him to see.

“You greet every girl like that?”

“Nope, just you,” you could hear his grin. “Whatcha need?”

Now came the part where you set aside your pride and voiced what you very much did not want to. Again. You’d known this man for barely 24 hours and he already had several wins over you. In…whatever game you decided you were losing. “Look, I…I need your help.”

“Oho? What’s this? Is the princess finally admitting how much she misses me?”

Smug dick.

“I did not say that,” you immediately berated him.

He simply hummed, unaffected. “Same thing.”

You ran your hand down your face, already exasperated just 30 seconds into the call. “You– ugh, just, can you help me or not?”

“Depends on what you need, sugar plum. Did ya get lost already?”

This man was going to be the cause of your madness. The bridge of your nose ached where you pinched it. “Granny gave me a list of people to call to help me with my house and I really don’t want to call any of them.”

“Then don’t.”

“And, what, do everything by myself?”

You could envision him shrugging. “Why not? I could help you.”

“Satoru, I trust a wild forest fire more than I trust you with a hammer.”

“Ouch,” he sucked air through his teeth, faux whimpering. “You’re such a bully. Fine, I’ll help you with contacting everyone.”

Oh, that took less fighting and groveling than you expected. You exhaled in relief. “Thank you–”

“On,” he interrupted you, “one condition.”

There it is.

Your skin began to sting as you dug your nails harder into it, leaving curved indents between your eyes. “Y’know what, I think I’ll be fine–”

“Ah-ah-ah, hang on a second there, pretty girl. Hear me out.”

Conceding, you sighed and urged him to make his request. “Fine, what is it?”

"Cook something for me,” he requested. “Consider it evening the score.”

Your face scrunched up into a question mark. “Wait, that’s it?

“What, do you want it to be more?”

“No, no, I can do that,” you quickly declined, biting on the edge of your thumbnail as you tried to think of something to prepare for him. “Do you have any preferences?”

“Sweets.”

Sweet stuff. Okay, you could work with that. You could bake some pretty killer macarons. You didn't know what ingredients he had at home, or how to operate his oven, but you'd just figure it out, right?

“Alright, I can do that,” you answered.

“We have a deal, then?”

You took a moment to consider. You could back out, but your introverted personality made that notion null. It was only baking, too, rather than the ghastly demand you were expecting him to make. Baking it is. “Deal.”

“Great! We’ll be over in a flash!~”

“Okay–” wait. “‘We’–?”

He hung up before you could ask. You groaned and contemplated smashing your phone against the ground, but decided against it. You needed the thing, unfortunately.

Since you had to wait for however long, you chose to add in some thoughts to what you’d already written down, brainstorming how you wanted to proceed. It was difficult to tell at this stage, before you started on anything. But you could pick out what you might want to plant; flowers, vegetables, a fruit tree or two. So what if you were fantasizing? It helped keep you calm. Escapism was a valid coping mechanism.

It was too hard to picture anything given the state of the house, though. You’d need to snip down the field first and go from there, when you could see everything clearly.

How much did contractor services cost in Japan? What about the people Granny knew, how much did they charge? What kind of services did they provide? Your toe tapped repeatedly as you stepped outside your fence, trying not to pace.

Would you need one, or multiple? Were you going to have to get materials from the nearby city by yourself, or would they do that? If the former, how?

“I need an adult,” you lamented, your shoulders slouching and arms folding over your chest. “I wanna die. I’m not mature enough for this shit.”

You recalled what your mother told you often when you were younger: ‘not everything at once.’

Easier said than done. Sleep on it, one step at a time, break it down into shorter tasks, nothing was taking the edge off your stress.

“I’ll just start with the grass,” you muttered, eventually succumbing to the need to pace. “I have to start somewhere, and I’ll need to get rid of that before anything else can be done. Oh, but, fuck, there’s so much of it…not to mention debris, rocks…do they still make scythes? Can’t launch a pebble with a scythe. No, wait, that’d be so much more effort and take more time…”

A flicker of alabaster down the road caught your eye, halting your hurried back-and-forth roving and hushed bleating.

Satoru was always easy to spot from a distance. It was hard not to see him when his hair redirected the sun like a mirror, blinding anyone who saw him from the wrong angle. He was the angel on your shoulder with the personality of the devil, urging you to dive into your most heinous and blasphemous thoughts. The light bouncing off his head created a glowing aura around it, resembling a silver halo, further pushing that deceptive angel motif.

Would the halo turn gold in the light of the crimson rays of fading day?

You uncrossed your arms, ready to greet him, only to notice the man beside him. They were conversing, and the latter must have said something funny, as the former guffawed hysterically. It echoed off the mountains on either side of the valley, reaching you with no concern for distance.

Did such bellows reach across the entire settlement, or was it localized, feeling louder than it actually was due to an echo chamber effect?

Gojo’s cachinnation dissipated when the pair were close enough to you, at which point he waved his hand high in the air to greet you avidly, like you weren’t only 20 feet from them.

“Hey! Didn’t keep ya waitin’ too long, did we?”

Truthfully, the fifteen or so minutes you had been waiting for them had gone by in a flash when you were so deeply buried in your spiraling thoughts while remembering dumb shit sprinkled into your internal ranting. The only evidence of your anticipation for their arrival being the barely present ache in your heels from where you rested most of your weight on them.

“This one's Geto Suguru,” Gojo introduced the noiret by his side, nipping your overthinking at the bud.

At last, your full attention was guided to him.

Oh.

Oh. That was a mistake.

‘This one’ was breathtaking.

His midnight hair caught the sunlight in a scintillating iridescence that shifted between the deepest phthalo blue you’d ever seen and a mesmerizing sheen of violet when the light caught it just right, like the feathers of a raven. It struck you how glossy and luxuriously silky it was, and you wanted to pull it out of the high bun he kept it in to run your fingers through it endlessly. That one loose section of his bangs that hovered over his eye was just so cute, your digits itched to tug on it.

And, speaking of, those eyes.

Sharp enough to cut diamonds and make you stand straighter. Heat rose to your cheeks as he observed you, head cocked to the side with a smooth and sweet smile that absolutely melted your insides like soft-serve ice cream, lily-livered and defenseless against the blazing sun incarnate in the form of a man.

They were dark, yet warm; a rich chocolate in hue that you could swear had flecks of gold within and rings of wisteria coiling around his abyssal pupils.

He was tall and foreboding, just like Satoru, but in a completely different fashion. He was the radiant Sol, pacifying and precious heat licking at your skin, soothing away the frostbite of winters long past.

Beside him stood the Moon, reflective and brilliant and so goddamn cocky that it made your cheeks hurt – whether from biting the insides of them to hide back a smile, or to prevent yourself from smacking that shameless attitude out of him, you didn’t know. It didn’t matter.

Satoru’s pearly locks contrasted sharply with Suguru’s obsidian lace, providing a striking visual. These godly beings towered over you, imposing and otherworldly and too good to be true, yet you knew your imagination could never come up with men like them.

And you?

You poor, dear, sweet, dumb little lamb. A pathetic speck caught in the gravity they created. Two black holes, eager to suck you in and rip you to shreds, and you were tempted to let them, practically falling into them without their overwhelming influence affecting you.

Their presence, their power, their very existence that demanded you drop to your knees to worship and beg like the tragic whore you were dominated your consciousness, filling it with fantasies you hadn’t experienced in…gods, ever. Nobody exuded the same aura they did, nobody made you weak-kneed and aching between your thighs, not like this. They created a desire in you that you wanted to have fulfilled – needed, even.

The pop of your knuckle in your fist that you had subconsciously created managed to snap you from your revere and back into the present, reminding you that, perhaps, you should do something, rather than drool like an idiot.

You’ve gone fucking crazy. That was it, the last straw, the last hauntingly magnificent person. Why, oh, why did you move here?

With no small amount of embarrassment at the realization that your panties were a bit more damp than they were a minute ago, you clenched your jaw hard enough to anchor yourself, and made a mental note to get rid of the problem between your legs as soon as you were alone and could succumb to the pleasure, the yearning, you hadn’t experienced in ages.

As well as pretend it wasn’t caused by them, the iconic duo that had you in a mental fit.

Hoping you hadn’t made a total fool of yourself, you turned and bowed respectfully, saying your name in return as you stared at the ground in an attempt to clear your mind of the filth it created on its own, unprompted. “It's a pleasure to meet you, Geto-san.”

Suguru studied you for a few seconds (don’t look at me like that, please, I’m begging you, spare me), then faced the male beside him with an amused expression. “Are you sure this is the same girl you were telling me about? The brat?”

Oh, heavens, that voice.

Fire exploded across your cheeks and pooled deep in the lower pits of your stomach when you heard him say that word; enunciate it clearly, croon it in that damned tone that had electricity jolting up your spine.

Not now, slut. Focus.

It was significantly easier to ignore the unholy fantasies plaguing your sanity when you centered all that pent up energy into being annoyed at Satoru, questioning your already questionable friendship when you learned of what he called you in private. Your eyes narrowed into an icy glare, primed and deadly. To your agitation and further chagrin, he only smirked boyishly at you.

“That’s the one,” he replied with a widening grin as he tucked his hands into the pockets of his pants.

“She's far too polite,” Geto countered.

Satoru snorted. “Trust me, she's a spitfire.”

“Is that so…” The onyx-haired man bent down to come closer to your face, and your breath hitched in your throat, refusing to come out properly. His scent embraced you. Mild, pleasant, like warm chai and jasmine, making your muscles instinctively loosen.

His eyes softened into closed curves as he beamed at you. You really hoped he couldn't read your mind. There was nothing holy or sane in there.

“Your name is lovely as is,” he murmured as his voice lowered into a roguish octave, “but I think I have a better one in mind.”

“W-What?” Your own vocal cords strained just to get the one word out in a wimpy squeak, and of course you just had to stutter. Whereas the air Satoru emitted naturally made you want to tackle him to the ground, Suguru’s wrapped around you like wisps of incense smoke, soothing and gently demanding your obsession with its fragrance. It inexplicably made you want to thaw into a puddle, to give him your full and undivided focus.

His canines peeked through from the way his lips curled further, entertained by your sudden timidness. He remained quiet, merely viewing your reactions as he lifted a hand to loop a strand of your hair around his finger and by the gods, don’t look at his fingers and how long and big they are and how perfect they’d feel–

“Angel,” the man said, practically cooing it at you.

You stifled a croak, verbally cuffed out of your totally, positively, very wholesome thoughts. “What?”

If you could die from embarrassment and be let out of this hell hole, you’d keel over on the spot when he simpered. “Angel,” he so graciously repeated for you. “I believe it suits you quite well. Wouldn’t you say so, Satoru?”

Satoru was having the time of his life, you were sure of it. You could feel him staring into you, see that stupid sexy fucking smile on his face from the corner of your eye as he teased you and, shit, why were you in the middle of this? Had you committed some heinous sin? Was this your punishment?

“I don’t know,” he hummed in deliberation. “I prefer bunny. Or mochi.”

“Mochi?” You and Suguru questioned at the same time, swiveling to regard the alabaster man.

Gojo nodded. “Small, probably tastes sweet, squishy.”

“Squishy?” You gaped incredulously, relocating your befuddled scrutiny to Geto when he burst out into laughter.

“I can see it,” Suguru coincided, earning himself a pretty nasty glare, too.

You groaned and tilted your face up, pleading with the sky to give you strength. “Don’t you start, too. One Satoru is enough, thanks.”

He hummed and smirked, something mischievous twinkling in his eyes. You didn't like that countenance. Not one bit. “Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, too,” he bowed his head towards you, changing the subject. Thank fuck. “You moved here recently, yes?”

“Yeah,” you affirmed, molling the racing of your heart that was just a few beats short of being uncomfortable. “Technically the night before yesterday.”

“You had a safe trip, then, I hope?”

You sent the stone stepping path partially hidden by the overgrown grass a particularly scathing grimace. “I almost ate shit and died on my own porch, but I did, yes.”

His husky laugh was messing up your insides. “Glad you’re in one piece. It was the stepping stones, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, oh, my god. They’re out to kill me, I swear.”

“They’ve gotten me a couple times, too. It’s good to see this house will finally be getting some love.”

“I think you’re the only person that’s been positive about this so far,” you scratched your cheek with your index finger. “Everyone else has told me it’s grossly dangerous. Wish I’d known that before I skimped out on finding a place to stay for the first night…”

Suguru’s browline furrowed in disquietude. “You slept in there?”

You exhaled harshly and hung your head. “Don’t remind me.”

“You aren’t feeling sick, are you?”

You shook your head and patted his arm reassuringly. “No, just humiliated.”

His expression relaxed, the hardness in his deep maroon eyes tempering. “That’s good. If you do feel ill, don’t brush it off. Excess activity can worsen your health and prolong sicknesses.”

Aww, a mother hen? He was in your good books now, you felt all fluffy, being cared for by him. “I’ll keep that in mind, thank you.”

Satoru pushed his way between you two, resting one arm on Suguru’s shoulder and the other on your head, coveting your attention. “So, what’s the plan, mochi?”

“Good question,” you said.

There was a brief pause, as if you were all waiting for someone else to speak, before he leaned down towards you. “Well?”

“What?”

“The plan? What’s the plan?” He lifted a brow.

“Oh,” you darted your eyes between them. “Oh, no, I don’t have one. I just said it’s a good question.”

Suguru frowned. “Nothing at all?”

You pulled up your notes app and scrolled through it. “I guess cut the lawn, and call up the folks on Granny’s list for starters.”

“Can I see her list?”

“Mm,” you held out the paper to him, cringing when you saw how your fingers wrinkled the corner of it out of stress.

A crease in his forehead formed, deepening the more names he read, making you nervous. On top of how nervous you were already feeling. You were nervous-squared now.

“What is it?” You asked.

“It’s nothing. Just…I don’t think any of these guys will have enough free time to help you out. Not for a while, anyway,” he returned the sheet to you. “However, I grew up assisting them, so I know a thing or two. Mind if I go inside?”

Well, if that wasn’t soul crushing. “If you have a gas mask, go ahead. The smell inside could knock out a grown man. I don’t want to trouble you, though.”

“It’s no trouble at all. I’ve been needing something to do these days, this could be the perfect excuse for me,” he assured you. “I’ll be quick.”

“Oh– hang on, there might be asbestos in there,” you warned.

“There isn’t,” he assured confidently.

Satoru narrowed his eyes. “How do you know? Huh? Were you there when this house was built? Didn’t think so.”

Suguru leveled him with a vacant lour. “Asbestos wasn’t used in the construction of any houses here. Besides being expensive to import, our village was constructed with traditional methods. This building was Western inspired, but it wasn’t built with Western methods.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, nervously picking at a spot on your forearm. “Who built it?”

“From what I know, it was someone from either Kobe or Osaka that visited a state in America on vacation and fell in love with the architecture. First thing they did when they came back was buy this plot of land and build an imitation house on it,” he answered.

“Why’d they leave?”

He raised a hand, then dropped it in a half-shrug. “Any number of reasons. Some of the older folks say that their spouse fell ill, and they had to return to the city. My mom says they moved out because they got sick of driving an hour and a half one way to get to work every day. Dad says their sister gave birth and they had to return and assist her since she worked full time. Who knows.”

“Eh?” Satoru’s expression twisted into one of confusion. “I thought the owner just died or something. Hence why the house is haunted.”

“The house isn’t haunted, Satoru. Don’t scare her.”

You cracked your knuckles one-by-one. “If it is haunted, I’m gonna give that realtor hell. He promised it wasn’t. He also promised it hadn’t been touched in only ten years, so he’s already on my list,” you growled, then deflated and wilted. “I suppose I’m not in any rush, I’ll need to save up anyway. I’m bumming off Satoru for now, but I don’t wanna prolong that.”

“I already told you,” he patted your upper back. “Stay as long as you need.”

“Thanks, Satoru. I really owe you,” you said. I hate owing people. “Oh– be careful, Geto-san.”

He gave a pacifying hand wave as he pushed past your open gate, heading towards your house. Satoru hopped up and hurried after him. “Oi, wait up! I wanna see, too!”

“Satoru, you’ve already been in there before,” Suguru reminded him as you followed them about halfway, wanting to steer clear of the inside for a while.

Satoru twisted the door knob and pushed inwards. “Yeah, when we were kids. Imagine how much it’s changed!”

“I doubt it’s changed much,” their voices grew muffled and eventually silent to you as they disappeared into your home.

You began counting in your head. If they were gone for more than two minutes, you were going to assume they died. Then you could officially label the house as haunted and hunt that realtor’s ass down. After you set up a prayer altar for the boys who so bravely sacrificed their lives for you, obviously, they deserved that at the very least.

You’d have to check with the villagers to see if either of them practiced any particular faith to ensure you provided the correct funeral services for them, and to know if you needed to follow any specific spiritual rules when it came to the deceased.

Should you leave their bodies in there? Probably not, no, but it wasn’t going to be you fishing them out. You were tiny compared to them, you wouldn’t be able to drag them out yourself, even if you wanted to and tried really hard.

Your peculiar funeral fantasies were cut off then Suguru came back outside, still very much alive and well – from what you could tell.

“You lived,” you congratulated him.

“That I did,” he affirmed and stopped beside you, turning to face the house as his arms folded neatly.

“Is he still alive?”

“Last I checked, he was. I’m surprised he didn’t leave as soon as he went in. I think he’s trying to out-man me and impress you,” he teased, making you laugh.

Out came Satoru right then, dusting his hands off, acting like he did anything more than recce. “Alright, I’ve got good news and bad news. Which d’ya want first?”

“Good news,” you requested apprehensively.

He clapped his palms together. “Good news, the interior condition isn’t as bad as it seems.”

Well, that was good news. But you were wary to celebrate. “And the bad news…?”

“There are, indeed, a shit ton of spiders.”

You squealed, racing to hide behind Suguru’s tall frame. The man himself chuckled at your reaction, his arms still crossed over his chest as he tilted his head back to peer at you from over his shoulder, way too relaxed for the situation. “Not a fan of spiders?”

“Fuck no!” You cried out, clutching the back of his shirt in tight fists as you buried your face against his spine. “Fuck that! Burn the damn thing down!”

Gojo grinned darkly, eyes lighting up with mischief. “All you had to say, princess.”

The noiret (the only reasonable one among you) sighed and shook his head. “No, we’re not burning her house down.”

“Boo,” Satoru whined. “You’re no fun.”

“You aren't afraid of spiders?” You peeked around Suguru's arm to leer up at him, still using him as your shield.

“Nope.”

“You monster,” you hissed.

His best friend snorted. “Look on the bright side. It means he can get rid of spiders for you.”

You paused to consider his words, squinting up at the poised man you hadn’t let go of.

“Okay, nevermind, I take it back,” you declared, doing a complete flip in behavior, “you're my god, now, Geto-san.”

He showed you that shut-eyes smile that had hummingbirds dancing the tango in your stomach. “Don’t worry, angel. I’ll protect you.”

Blush dusted your cheeks at his pledge and you averted your eyes. Having either of them in your field of view for too long was not good for your heart.

Satoru wouldn’t be Satoru if he didn’t go and embarrass you further. “Aww, she’s blushing!”

“I am not!” You barked back.

“I think it’s cute,” Geto’s cheek dimpled and you were flashbanged by the faces of not one, but two ethereal beings.

Mama, you thought, if you can hear me, send help. I don’t think I’m making it out of this one.

You gulped, the noise far too loud in your ears, and tried to subtly cover your face with your hand to retain some dignity while releasing Suguru’s shirt from your death grip. “A-Anyways, uh…should probably start calling people.”

“I’ll handle the calls,” Suguru announced, already pulling out his phone and dialing numbers. “I know these guys well. I’ll try to work something out with them.”

“Oh, you really don’t–” and there he went. You knew you asked for help, but you felt bad inconveniencing Suguru. Satoru, not so much.

“What’d I say about worrying?” Speak of the devil, the milk-haired boy bent down to your height and nudged his pointer finger between your brows. “Relaaaax, princess. It’ll work out.”

You worried your bottom lip as you watched the other man chatting some distance away. Detaching yourself from your perpetual anxiety was…difficult, to describe it in the least amount of words possible. Your guard was stuck to you, pinned, screwed, and soldered into place over time. Letting it go meant undoing years of work.

It was there to shield you. You needed it to hold your untempered heart and keep it safe. If it got hurt, you weren’t sure you knew how to recover.

But you weren’t really letting them in by allowing them to help you, right?

Yet, as you sized up the small incline and the shack falling apart on top of it, you couldn’t shake the impression that the world was about to tilt on its axis. The tides were receding, tectonic pressure was increasing, the winds were stirring, and you were in the middle of it all. Mama, you reached out one last time. I think it’s too late.

banner by cafekitsune ♥

#jjk x reader #gojo x reader #satoru x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #geto x reader #suguru x reader #geto suguru x reader #suguru geto x reader #satosugu x reader #chimera writes

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joels-golf-club · 10 months

Text

Exhaustion

A/n: So this turned out way more angsty than I originally planned it to be but whatever. I also kinda hate it but I just wanted to write a little bit to get back into the swing of things.

All my work is 18+ MDI

Word count: 1.7K

Warnings: Lowkey angsty but fluff at the end, kinda established relationship, reader doesn't know how to cope, miscommunication, implied traumatic past, mention of nightmares, post outbreak! Joel, no use of Y/n, swearing, self harm in the form of sleep deprivation if that's a thing. Please don't read if any of this is triggering to you.

When you were out on the road it was easy to avoid your nightmares. You would barely sleep in between watches with Joel, and when you did it was a light enough sleep that you wouldn't ever dream.

But in Jackson it was different. It took a few months to get adjusted to the new way of life, the somewhat normal life in the commune. Once you, Ellie and Joel had gotten used to the new town you had quickly fallen into a routine. Ellie would go to school while you and Joel took patrols with each other before coming back home to share a bed. For a while you would still sleep light enough that your dreams, or rather nightmares couldn't reach you in Joel's strong embrace, but eventually you got comfortable and your past crawled it's way into your subconscious.

On more than one occasion you had jolted awake in a panic not knowing where you were while Joel was forced to calm you down. It was these moments that filled you with guilt and shame. Joel had been through just as much, if not more than you had and he didn't need you ruining what little sleep he got just because you couldn't handle something that you had escaped from over a year ago. It was then that you decided to push through and suck it up. If Joel could handle a little trauma, then so could you.

So as the days went on you forced yourself to sleep as little as possible. Sure it made you a little jumpier on patrol but so far Joel hadn't noticed and you hoped he would just chalk the bags under your eyes up to long patrols nights and 'waking up' earlier than usual. You had made it almost a month sleeping just enough to keep you functioning, which meant about an hour or two a night, before Joel decided to corner you during patrol.

"So you gonna tell me what's going on with you?" He spoke one day while you were hiking up to a abandoned hunting cabin that had been shaped into a patrol outpost you two occasionally spent a weekend on patrol at.

His words caused you to momentarily freeze up during which he sent a glance over his shoulder at you, eyeing your reaction. "What do you mean?" The words left your mouth carefully with no emotion as you tried to focus on anything other than your pounding headache and the way Joel kept glancing back at you. Just another mile and then you would avoid Joel at the cabin. You've held off this conversation for a month, you could do it for another 30 minutes.

Joel, however, seem to think otherwise. He scoffed at your response and stopped walking, causing you to pause for a moment before walking past him towards the cabin. Just a little more...

"Don't bullshit me, darlin'. You're shaking and sweating right now just walking when you can usually do this hike without breaking a sweat. You're pale and you've had bags under your eyes for the past month. So tell me what the fuck is going on and why you won't talk to me."

Shit.

He noticed. Those weeks you had gone laying in bed awake while we slept at your back and you tried to play it off hadn't gone unseen like you had hoped. Now he was mad at you and you were just causing him more stress, the opposite of what you hoped your efforts would do. "It's nothing Joel. Just drop it, alright?" you kept walking and ignored the ever growing headache pulsing behind your eyes as the exhaustion caught up to you after not getting a wink of sleep the past three days and then hiking with this conversation thrown at you. Joel called out your name angrily and stormed up to you forcing you to stop walking and face him. The cabin was only a quarter mile up now.

"I'm trying to have a serious conversation here!"

"Yeah, and I'm trying to avoid it!" You regretted the words as soon as they left your mouth because they only confirmed that something was wrong.

"And why's that, huh? What aren't you telling me?" His expression changed then and he dropped his gaze down to his hands for a moment. "Did I do something wrong? Is that why you won't talk to me?" His fears broke through you just a bit and you could feel your throat tighten up against the tears building up. When you spoke your voice came out thick and brittle.

"Jesus, Joel, no it isn't you. Shit. You didn't do anything wrong, it's just me, okay? It's just something I have to handle." Joel met your eyes again then and stared into your glazed over gaze. He only nodded then and started walking again. Thank fucking God, he was dropping it.

It wasn't until you thought Joel was fast asleep that your exhaustion truly hit you. You knew that if you slept now you would be out hard and it would be impossible to avoid the memories of unwanted grasps against your skin and cries of pain as you were struck would reach you. So instead of laying in bed with Joel where you knew you would be out in seconds if you stayed any longer you slowly climbed off the dusty bed and downstairs to sit by the fire place where a few glowing coals remained from your earlier tense dinner.

You sat there for what could've been hours or minutes just rubbing your temples with shaking hands, trying to physically force away your pounding migraine. You hadn't even noticed Joel appearing in the doorway until his voice caused you to all but jump out of your skin.

"This is you handling it then?" His voice was raspy with still and you couldn't help but be jealous at the precious hours he had to sleep in peace. "Jesus christ darlin, when's the last time you slept?"

His words immediately brought tears to your eyes and the walls you had spent weeks building high came crashing down. You crumbled as the first sob tore through your body, your entire being shook and you brought your hands up to cover your face as shame and pain ripped into you.

Joel was upon you in seconds and wrapped you up in his strong embrace as he slowly rocked you back and forth, trying to calm you down. "Breath, darlin', just breath. Listen to me okay? In...and out," when you only continued to shake and sob in his arms he lifted one hand to your face and used the other the grab your own hand and place it against his chest, forcing you to feel his deep breaths. "Come on you gotta work with me here. You feel my breaths? Yeah, you do, just match my breathing, I know you can do it. In, and out. Yeah, just like that, good job." When your breathing had finally evened out and all that remained was a few sniffles you began to speak.

"I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to, uh, I didn't mean to wake you up. You can go back to bed." Joel just grabbed the back of your head and pressed you into his chest while shaking his head.

"Don't do that. Don't apologize, you did nothing wrong. I just need to know what happened so I can help you, alright?"

You shook your head and mumbed against him, "I don't wanna tell you." When you looked at his face he had a deep frown and concern etched across his features.

"Why not, darlin'. You know I'm here to help you, that's how this thing works." He gently pulled you away from his chest and made you look at his face while he spoke.

"I don't want you to think I'm weak..." You avoided eye contact when you saw his face crumble and realization flood his gaze. He had finally figured it out.

"It's your nightmares isn't it?" You just barely nodded and continued staring at the ground you sat on. "You've been forcing yourself to stay awake? Sweetheart, you can't do that, it'll get you killed out here if you aren't able to function properly. Why didn't you just come to me?" His words were spoken quietly but still firm in your ear.

"I didn't want to be a burden. You've been through so much as well and you don't wake up screaming every night. You're so strong. I didn't want to make you see how weak I am, so I figured if I just didn't sleep then they wouldn't be able to hurt me again." You shook your head in disbelief at yourself and scratched at your arms anxiously. "God I spent so long getting out of there and trying to heal and I'm still just the dumb little slave. Nothing's changed." Joel grabbed your arms and forced your scratching to stop and looked you in the eye with anger behind his eyes.

"Hey. Don't say that shit. What you went through is unspeakable and it doesn't make you weak to be affected by it." You opened your mouth to speak but he cut you off before you could get any words out. "No, I'm talking right now. You are so incredibly strong, darlin'. You've been through so much and you still manage to push forward and live. So don't you dare call yourself weak because that is absolute bullshit and we've promised not to lie to each other. How about we go upstairs and get you some sleep, and if you have a nightmare you wake me up, I don't care how often or what time it is and you tell me what you need me to do, okay?"

You nodded your head and leaned forward to press a soft, barely there kiss to his lips that he immediately reciprocated. "Thank you. For everything."

"You don't have to thank me for anything, darlin. This is what I'm here for. Please don't ever feel like you can't tell me stuff like this, alright." You just nodded again and allowed him to help you back upstairs into bed where you fell asleep in his strong embrace within seconds of your head hitting the pillow.

#x reader #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel tlou #joel x reader #joel x you #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #tlou hbo #the last of us #the last of us hbo #tlou #tlou series #joel #joel the last of us #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff

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la-bruja · 10 months

Text

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Fanfiction Reccomendations

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hi im a little insane and i read way too many fics 💖

here are some fics I've enjoyed this week! so far it's mostly batman, danny phantom, and crossovers between those two! haha I need some variety I swear.

everything under the read more because I have fifteen (15) listed! <3 okay thanks for checking out my recs!!

(if the formatting is a little ugly, it's because i did this on the app on my phone <3)

(tumblr (app) is a peice of shit and deleted some of the fics i had on here. aaaaaaaaa) (i will try again next week)

»»———-DPxDC-———-««

Wait, I'm a What? by @atiyasnake

based on a tumblr post

Incomplete. Multi-Chaptered. 31k+ Words. Last Updated June. 5k+ Kudos. Misunderstandings. Ghost King Danny. Accidental Crime Lord Danny. Cryptid Danny. Sentient Gotham.

He kept taking the cash from the assholes (and damn there were a lot of assholes near where he lived) messing with the residents who lived in the area. He kept accepting their offers of food. So because of this new routine that kept him able to afford to rent out his shitty (and possibly illegal) apartment and the hunger pangs sufficiently satisfied, rumors grew.

Like and Survive - Phantom’s Guide to Young Hero Survival by @robinasnyder

based on a tumblr post

Incomplete. Multi-Chaptered. 73k+ Words. Last Updated July. 3k+ Kudos. Youtuber Danny. Ghost King Danny. Adult Danny. Good Parent Clark Kent. Therapist Jasmine Fenton.

Phantom is considered an old timer who deals with a small city and nowhere else. When he begins uploading videos with advice for young heroes, he hopes a few new heroes might avoid some of the pain he went through. He's shocked at just how popular his advice suddenly becomes.

Bus To Nowhere by @precarious-hermit

Incomplete. Multi-Chaptered. 98k+ Words. Last Updated July. 20k+ Kudos. Ghost King Danny. Bad Parents Jack and Maddie Fenton.

After being on the run from his parents and the government for a couple of months, moving from town to town, Danny ends up in Gotham City and decides to risk staying in Batman's territory. He'd take the wrath of Batman over live vivisection via beloved parents or being studied and torn apart by the government. Besides, he's not a meta. Being dead is a medical condition.

The Firstborn Son by @faeriekit

Complete. Two-Shot. 7.5k Words. 1k+ Kudos. Ghost King Danny. The Infinite Realms. Dimension Travel. Accidental Child Acquisition. Child Endangerment. Mind Control. Horror.

Danny Phantom, a somewhat established ruler of the Ghost Zone, has unwittingly acquired a baby.

And. Well. He can't exactly keep it in Pariah's Keep. He's no parent, not to mention the huge problem of how the air and sky destabilize human cellular structure. There has to be a way to prove that the man is safer than the home the baby comes from.

...But the man has his own ward.

Hm. Danny can exploit this. What's an assessment without a little test?

Amity In The Ghost Zone by @ghostboybrainrot

Incomplete. Multi-Chaptered. 7k+ Words. Last Updated March. 1k+ Kudos. Good Parents Jack and Maddie Fenton.

The city doesn't return on its own after Pariah Dark is defeated. Without knowing how to get the whole city back to the living world, Danny tries to evacuate the residents but most Amity Parkers don't really want to leave. Some people do, but many decide to stay. After all, Amity Park is their home, and the idea of having to start over somewhere new isn't very appealing. So the town, for the most part, continues on like normal.

Holding Me Now In Hand by @disillusioneddanny

Completed. Multi-Chaptered. 67k+ Words. 4k+ Kudos. Death Defying. Dick/Danny. Ghost King Danny. Teacher Danny. Bad Parents Jack and Maddie Fenton. Miscommunication. Identity Reveal.

After Tim Drake tells his family about his new insane chemistry teacher, Dick Grayson decides to do some investigation himself.

What he wasn't expecting was to instantly fall in love with the chaotic science teacher.

Our Empty Graves by @nabtime

Incomplete. Multi-Chaptered. 63k+ Words. Last Updated July. 3k+ Kudos. Graphic Depictions of Violence. Dead On Main. Jason/Danny. Slowburn. Bad Parents Jack and Maddie Fenton. Hazmat AU. Mute Danny. Hurt/Comfort.

They say that Red Hood has a loyal mutt. The man rules his territory in Crime Alley with an iron fist and a guard dog at his side. No one's ever heard him speak. Anyone who's ever seen him says he looks like an experiment gone wrong, that Hood picked him up somewhere unspeakable. They say he'll do anything Red Hood asks of him and he'll do it well. Rival gangs say he's vicious, that he'd sooner rip your throat out than let you go.

death echoes by @redskyeatnight

Incomplete. Multi-Chaptered. 38k+ Words. Last Updated June. 9k+ Kudos. Account Locked. Ghost King Danny. BAMF Danny. Creepy Danny.

Cold air on the back of his neck. Skeletal fingertips skittering up his spine, barely there and yet pressing so hard they would surely leave indents. A sound like an iceberg cracking apart echoing in his ears and through his head, pain following in its wake.

His throat went cold, his tongue suddenly numb.

And for a second - just a second - he smelled nothing but the stench of death.

"Oh My God, I'm Becoming My Father." by @fanfiction-artist-prototype

Incomplete. Three-Shot. 22k+ Words. Last Updated June. 1k+ Kudos. Account Locked. Misunderstandings. Angst and Hurt/Comfort. Blood and Injury. Accidental Child Acquisition. Implied/Reference Underage Prostitution. Protective Jason Todd.

Dani needs money, there's only so long her human body can last without food, and she lost the credit card Sam gave her when she crash-landed in Gotham city bay. So, she decides she's going to go the one guy she knows exists in Gotham that will help a kid down on their luck no questions asked - Red Hood.

Last time she'd seen Danny, he'd told her that there were rumours the Red Hood was undead, so he was the safest option for a halfa like her.

Hatred At First Sight by Sagoberattare

based on a tumblr post

Complete. One-Shot. 1k Words. 4k+ Kudos. SoulHate AU. Danny Phantom is a Little Shit.

Until the Joker looked at the skrunky kid in a ratty hoodie that looked like he could be a Wayne adoptee. And they both froze for a good minute.

And like some kind of demented switch got flipped the kid snarled and (still with his hands tied behind his back mind you) launched himself at the Joker.

Back to the World, In the End by @akela-nakamura

Incomplete. Multi-Chaptered. 9k+ Words. Last Updated June. 800 Kudos. Halfa Jason Todd. Heavy Angst. Supernatural illnesses. Jason Todd is Not Okay. Eventual Comfort.

Jason's been sick for weeks and nothing he does seems to help. He's not ready for his confrontation with the Bat. He's not ready for his plans to fall apart when they've barely begun.

But his illness isn't stopping. One warm Gotham night, he hits a metaphorical wall.

Nightwing finds Red Hood on a rooftop. It's been a long night, but it might be looking up. After all, finally capturing the Red Hood will make Gotham that much safer.

Inquisitive by @oliveofvanders

Completed. One-Shot. 1k+ Words. 2k+ Kudos. Journalist Danny. Danny is a Little Shit. Damien Wayne Loves Animals. Crack Treated Seriously.

Damian has a very specific way of dealing with reporters – show them the animals, that usually scares them off.

Danny, however, has seen weirder shit in his lifetime.

Like Betta Fish Do by @clockwayswrites

Incomplete. Multi-Chaptered. 48k+ Words. Last Updated July. Updates Bi-Weekly. 7k+ Kudos. Dead On Main. Jason/Danny. Ghost King Danny. Halfa Jason. Canon-Typical Violence. Jason Todd Needs a Hug. Danny Fenton Needs a Hug. Lazarus Side Effects. Identity Reveal.

Danny had ended up trespassing in Jason's haunt. He didn't mean to. Total accident, he swears. (He blames Johnny.) So he bought the other halfa a basket of bathbombs and chocolate as a 'sorry, please don't disembowel me' gift. It was the proper thing to do, alright?

Everything was going to be just fine.

Then things got a little out of hand.

»»———-Batman-———-««

Send To All by @cairoscene

Completed. One-Shot. 3k Words. 5k+ Kudos. Emails. Epistolary. Poison Ivy Adjacent.

I, _____________, hereby acknowledge that this form represents my wishes should I contract phytoaphrodisiac-induced delirium (hereafter referred to as “PAID”) during engagements with or while apprehending Dr. Pamela Lillian Isley (“Poison Ivy”).

»»———-Danny Phantom-———-««

and they were roommates by @captainbrookeworm

Completed. One-Shot. 9k+ Words. 400 Kudos. ChatFic. Humor. Memes. Crack. Crack Treated Seriously. Post-Canon. Identity Reveal.

Mr. Lancer’s English Class Group Chat

Wes Weston: FINALLY

Wes Weston: INDISPUTABLE PROOF

Tucker Foley: For the last time the moon landing was NOT faked!!!!

》。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • 。。° 。。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • 。。°《

#batman #danny phantom #dp x dc crossover #batman fic #danny phantom fic #fic recs #dc x dp crossover #dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dp x dc fic #dc x dp fic #fanfic #fanfiction #ao3 #archive of our own #thinking thoughts #i don't know what im doing

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luffyvace · 4 months

Text

Chrollo Lulcifer x outgoing reader

no gender specified here so i guess you can count it as gn. btw this is separate from my phantom troupe hcs i’m planning on grouping those :)

(for the record I will still do the rest of the poll results just wanted to post some hxh content as I haven’t in a while <3)

enjoy<3

seeing as though your outgoing if you didn’t meet from the troupe you probably came up to him first

but for these headcanons im gonna go with a reader who’s in the troupe

and childhood friends troupe too :)

ngl your special

your just as important to him as pakunoda

and canonly she was dear to him

so when you came up to him all excited about those tapes they were doing

something sparked in him and he wanted to be your friend instantly

back then you had to be careful who you trust

so he didn’t rush in and become best friends with you overnight

but he definitely enjoyed the time he spent with you

you even got a few episodes in the tapes!!

that was the happiest moment of your childhood

back to present 😋

Chrollo doesn’t mind your need to be active and in fact it’s motivating to him to be as well

he takes you out to as many events and outings as you want

although i’ll say he’s more reserved so your doing the talking and he’s doing the nodding and smiling

he doesn’t mind when you have plans with your friends but just make sure to make time for him

it’ll make him feel lonely if your out having fun and he’s just sitting around with the realization that he has no friends

that’s not in the troupe anyway

its like despite being in the troupe you’d still manage to find a somewhat normal life

he kind of envies that

to be able to still have a sort of morals and such

and not be alienated, y’know?

having a sense of self, in a way.

he does suggest more indoor or private dates and activities

and as much as you love him you just would prefer going out and doing something fun

so he finds loop wholes :)

mounting climbing! your still out and about but your alone!

and since your in the troupe he doesn’t worry about falling much

seeing as though you can handle your own

still keeps and eye out for you though

especially if your not the strongest physically

you also put forth effort for more one on one dates

like watching movies in the bed

its perfect for when your sleepy especially

like you have a whole routine of fun yet tiring mini adventures

and then you get to come back and cuddle with your lover 💗

isn’t that sweet?!

your probably a physically affectionate person

you can give him as much affection in private as you want

with just you two, you can kiss on the cheek, lips, forehead, hands, neck, hug him, cuddle, whatever!

in public it’s more so just occasional cheek kisses, holding onto his arm and holding hands

sometimes you turn things into a game or your just really playful

splashing in the supposed to be a romantic bath

hoping on his back and making him give you a piggyback ride on what was supposed to be a romantic walk

he loves you though, so he never says anything about it

it doesn’t really irk him like that anyway

its another one of those

‘it’s you, so it’s endearing’ moments

buys you all kinds of gifts

typical for chrollo headcanons but i just had to mention it

oh did i say buy?

i meant steal

its not like you don’t know or anything

especially since your in the troupe yourself

i will say pda is hands off in front of the troupe

hes the boss, and your boss, and needs to keep up a reputation

he’s cried in front of the troupe before in that one scene

so it’s not really him being afraid to be vulnerable

it’s just that this is business

he needs to focus

not kisses and cuddles right now. okay honey?

he talks over the troupe’s next moves with you before telling the other members

even more so if your highly intelligent or good at planning

alr im gonna end it here<3

it’s a little bit short but i think it’s a decent length🧍‍♀️. anyway i’m gonna work on some more drafts now cyaa! hope you enjoyed💓

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divijohm · 10 months

Text

Reader babysitting the child pastas

(Sally, Lazari, Cassiel the child demon and Lily Kenneth)

A/N: ANON I'M SORRY I GOT SO EXITED TO WRITE MY FIRST REQUEST THAT I POST WITHOUT FINISHING AND DELETED OUT OF PURE PANIC AND IMPULSE I'M SO SO SORRY. AHEM, Anyway I hope this is good enough :3 it's the first time I've heard of Cassiel, Lily Kenneth and Lazari so I did some research on them and I hope you like it

🍼 For starters, you do this often. I headcanon that if someone more "common" went to the slender mansion it would be to the sole purpose of maintenance (cooking, cleaning, babysitting etc) so the kids are used to be with you by now

🍼 TEA PARTYS!! Y'all LOVE to do tea partys. You'll help the kids rampage the kitchen in the search of sweets, juice and any other tasty food. And sometimes you'll even bake cookies

🍼 if you are male/masculine presenting Sally will take a lot of time to get used to you and trust you. Although if you're female/feminine presenting she'll trust you much more easily.

🍼 Lazari got attached to you pretty quickly, she loves spending time with you coloring and you're an older sibling to her. Due to the circumstances you'll help her get ~food~ from time to time

🍼 When you're feeling a bit more lazy to babysit, you gather them all in your room and y'all watch lots of movies in your bed, popcorn and other snacks included. This usually ends up with all of them asleep on top of you

🍼 I hc that all of the girls are between the ages of 6 and 9 so is pretty easy to make them get along but when they don't you do your best to entertain them separately, it's hard but rewarding

🍼 When enough trust is gained, you'll be part of their bed routines. You know, helping them out on choosing and putting pijamas, making sure they brush their teeth, tucking them in bed etc. You like this peaceful moment of staying by their side while their slowly fall asleep

🍼 THEATER SHOWS! Sally and Lily and particular LOVE throwing shows for you guys to watch, sometimes other pastas like LJ, Slender, Toby and EJ will join the public but normally it's just you and the child that didn't want to participate in the show

🍼 Because Lily likes to make dolls, you ended up teaching the other kids to sew some things too, now all the dolls will have a fashion show by the end of the month

🍼 You help homeschool them along with Ej

🍼 The four of them share a room and one time you helped them put glow in the dark stars in the ceiling of the room, now when it's raining and you can't go outside, you'll just close the room, turn off the lights and watch the ceiling stars :3

🍼 Picnics are a BIG thing for this girls, after a stressful day or if they behaved really well through the week you'll gather some stuff and make a cute picnic in the forest. They love it

🍼 TREEHOUSE???? TREEHOUSE!!!!! You ((with the help of Masky and Hoodie)) build the girls a treehouse near the mansion and it's HUGE, you made sure that it have electricity, 4 swings near the stairs, keys that the girls (and you ofc) could keep with them to lock the house, mattresses so they could trow a slumber party, a small chest to put toys and a small wardrobe so the mattresses and stuff could be stored so it doesn't get dust. Basically any children dream treehouse. Of course the girls helped build it too, landing itens to you and painting the house. Is a dream :)

🍼Despite everything, they are children and they do deserve a somewhat normal childhood and you'll do your best to ensure that they have that, creating fun memories and making sure they have someone who they can REALLY trust and look up as a parent of sorts

#sally williams #sally willians headcanons #sally creepypasta #lazari #lazari headcanons #lazari creepypasta #creepypasta headcanon #creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #Cassiel the demon child #Cassiel the child demon #Cassiel the demon toddler #Cassiel the demon toddler headcanons #Cassiel the demon toddler creepypasta #Lily Kenneth #Lily Kenneth headcanons #Lily Kenneth creepypasta #Sally willians creepypasta #sally headcanons

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femlesbianbarbie · 1 year

Text

Oh Babygirl

Pairing: Tess x Reader x Joel

Warnings: Non-sexual Mommy/Daddy kink, Lactation kink, David,, canblism, Gore, Immune reader

Summary: Reader Takes Ellies place in episode 8.

Proofreading: Yes/No

Wordcount: 3.4k

Notes: I lowkey hate this but im going to post it anyways.

As soon as you saw Joel's wound you knew you were fucked. It was already beginning to fester Joel could barely talk as you and Tess bed down. There was a storm rolling in and this was the safest thing you could do right now.

“What do we do?” You haven’t seen Joel like this. He is normally the one helping you or Tess. “Tonight we can't do anything but tomorrow. I will go and patrol the area” Tess explains. “We can’t do anything” Your eyes drift over to where Joel lies incapacitated on the floor. ITs hard seeming him like this.“No, I don’t know this area. I will go out tomorrow and you can stay here with Joel but until then you are going to get some rest” Tess has pulled out her domme voice and you know you aren't going to be able to convince her of anything right now.

After pulling out a couple of blankets from around the house. You cuddle up next to Tess No matter how cold it is outside she always manages to be warm. It's an unspoken tradition. Almost every night Tess feeds you until you fall asleep. It's comforting to have somewhat of a routine. It's a form of intimacy that you will never have with anyone else, not even Joel.

“Here “ Tess pulls down her shirt and bra giving access to her breasts. You latch around one of her nipples and let your hand wander under her shirt to feel the skin of her stomach. This is the most comforting part of the day. When Mama just holds you close and lets you listen to her heartbeat. You can tell it calms her down aswell. Tess never wanted another kid but having someone she could take care of but who could also be capable when needed.

You let go as your hand finds blood. She had not lead you to believe she was injured at all. Your eyes dart up to Tess looking for any sign of pain. As soon as you see her face you know her wound is bad. “Mama is okay” Her voice is shaky as she pulls your hand away. She sounds more like she is trying to convince herself. “You need milk” She holds your hand and uses her free hand to push your head back to her breast. As much as you want to see the wound you know that She is done for the night. You might be able to push her on it tomorrow. Mama will not do anything mama doesn't want to. You slowly begin to suckle again and Mama pets at the back of your head in encouragement.

When you wake between Tess and Joel the first thing you notice is how slow Tess and Joel's breathing sounds. Joel is a mouth breather meaning you can usually hear breathing from the other end of the room. “Tess” You shake her gently hoping for her to get up. You have no idea where you are or how to help them. “Tess I need you to get up now” you shake her a little bit harder your breathing becoming more panicked. Her eyes flutter but other than that nothing happens. “Mama you need you to get up” You press your head down against her chest. Her heart is beating noticeably fainter than it was last night.

You need to head out and look for help. Maybe there are some people nearby that might have medicine. Its not really a good idea to leave them here by themselves but there isnt another option. “I'm going to patrol, I will come back as soon as I can” You press a kiss to Tess and Joel's foreheads before grabbing the rifle and heading out into the snow.

You would do anything to keep them safe even if that means you are out here in the cold tracking this deer so that you can keep them alive. You level the rifle and pull your glove off. The bullet lodges in the deer's leg and it limps off at a fast past. You grab your glove and race after it. You can’t let it get away. They need this meat.

When you see your kill there are two men standing near it. There is no way you can let them take it. You level the rifle and step out of the woods. “Back up or I put one right between your eyes” The words carry across the field quickly as the men stand and back away. “You are quite the hunter, we didn't even hear you coming.” There is something about the man's tone that sets you on edge. “Turn around and walk away” You shout trying to channel as much of your Tess's commanding town as possible. She is good at making people listen to her.“ We will but all I ask for ten seconds of your time.” you walk closer your rifle raised.

“My name is David, this is my friend James. We come from a large group of women and children and we are all very hungry.” This man's voice has hints of manipulation you recognize from your time in the Boston Qz. “My Friends are sick, they need this food” You barely recognize your own voice. “What kind of medicine do you need? We have lots we could trade you.” The man steps closer but you don’t move. “The kind for infections.”

“We have some back in our village, you could follow us there” “I'm not going anywhere with you. James can go and get it if anyone else comes I kill all of you.” David turns and they begin to talk just loud enough that you can hear. You watch as James scampers off into the woods. “Back up” You approach the rifle aimed at his head. “Is that your Husband's gun he is the one who is sick” You don't answer as you unload their rifles. “It's a four-mile round trip so it's going to be a while before James gets back. We could have a fire.” You can already tell he is trying to manipulate you again. “Bring it with us” You gesture to the fallen deer.

“You really shouldn’t be out here on your own'' David's new found closeness sets you even more on edge if that's even possible. “From what I can see you really shouldn’t be out here alone”. “So what's your name? I know it's hard to trust a stranger but I mean you no harm and for what it's worth there is room for you in our group”. “Thank you so much for inviting me to your hunger club” You wouldn’t be going with this man anywhere. “We are hungry but we are still here. I'm just trying to take care of the people who rely on me.” He sounds power-hungry. Most men these days that's why Fedra has so many soldiers. “So you are their leader. “ The words barely leave your mouth before he is trying to justify his actions. “I didn't make that decision. “

“So you're a cult” You've heard about groups like this from Tess. “Well you kinda got me there I am a preacher. but just the standard bible stuff.” You roll your eyes. “I can't believe people still believe that garbage” “I actually started believing after the outbreak before that I taught math to kids” You tune him out as he continues on his garbage. You are not in the mood to listen to the rambles of a desperate man.

“Only three of them came back. The one that didn't was a father. He had a daughter a bit younger than you. Her dad was taken from her. Turns out he was murdered by a crazy couple. Get this crazy couple traveling with a girl about your age.” You jump up as the bushes move behind you. ”James lowers the gun”. “You're the one who killed Alec” His voice is filled with venom. “She didn’t kill anybody, lower the gun” James lowers his gun slowly but you hold yours as steady as you can. “Throw her the medicine” David orders. “David.” James reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small wrapped package. “ Back up” He follows your command and you pick it up, securing it in your pocket. You turn and sprint into the woods. Not even worrying about the trail you are leaving.

As soon as you make it back to the house. You tear open the package to find two small vials as well as a needle inside. You tilt the vial and extract some of the liquid. You pull up Joel's shirt. You have no idea where to apply this. Near the wound has to be the best place. You inject it just above the wound before moving on to Tess You remove the rest of the liquid and inject it just above Tess’s wound. She groans and you watch as her eyelids flutter. You force sips of water and bits of rations down their throats. After that, there isn't much you can do until tomorrow morning. You cuddle up between them the rifle held tightly in your hands. Now that those men know you are here you have no doubt they will come looking for you.

The first thing you do when you wake up is give them both another round. After some water and rations, you grab the rifle and head out. You need to patrol the area and keep an eye out for those men no doubt they will have followed your trail. The sun blinds you as you weave between houses. They will be on the main street which means you need to avoid walking in the open as much as possible. You hear them first then they come into view trailing down the main road guns in hand. You can already tell they are here to kill them. Those are the faces of people who want revenge and they will not stop until they know that they're dead. You've seen it on Tess and Joel’s faces way too often.

You race back to the house and down to the basement. No matter what happens you need to keep them safe. They are your only family, the only thing that matters. “You two need to pay attention there are men coming here to kill you. I am going to lead them away but if anyone gets down here you kill them” You press a knife to each of their chests and sprint up the stairs.

Your plan so far is to run to David and tell him that the medicine didn’t work; that they both died in the night. So smear some extra deer blood on you for added effect. It isn't hard to find them, the hard part is making yourself cry beforehand. Not silent tears, it needs to be ugly snotty tears. It has to be tears of grief. As soon as they start to fall down your cheeks you run out at them. He catches you and you can feel the surprise from the entire group. “It didn’t work” You sob clutching at him. “The medicine didn’t save them” You bite back a gag as David wraps his arms around you. Your tears sock into his jacket as he speaks.” It's going to be alright we have you now” You groan as something hard hits the back of your head.

When you come to you are in a large cell. I started worrying that you were going to wake up” David's voice makes you push yourself up. You don't want to be in a vulnerable position with a man like that around. “Let me out” You use your softest little girl voice. “That is certainly the goal. Hungry'' You don’t want any food he could offer. “Why am I in a cage? '' You whisper, crawling towards him. “It's just a precaution. My people want to make sure that you are safe before we let you out after they say what your friends could do.Im sorry about what happened to them. I thought it would work.” He trails off as you stand up. You can tell he is lying and he wants them dead. “The others want you dead for what they did. But I stopped them” He sounds too proud of himself. As if he feels he deserves something from you

“Why don’t we start with your name” You need to get him to trust you even if that means lying to him about your name. “It's Veronica” You feel no guilt about lying to this man hes already lied to you. “That is a good start if we can keep this up I will be able to let you out soon” And with that he heads out of the room. Leaving you alone with your thoughts.

He returns near evening with a tray of food. He slides it onto the floor in your cell. You sit down near the edge and lean down your eyes darting around until they land on a strip of the floor a couple feet away. There lies a bloody ear you want to throw up. Sure you had heard the horror stories in the QZ but you never believed them. David follows your gaze and lets out a low chuckle when his eyes meet the ear. “ for what it's worth this is just deer meat” He gestures to the tray as you back away slightly. “Are you going to eat me too?” The words get caught in your throat? “I would rather not but if you can't find it in you to trust me.” This was a terrible idea.

“How could I you trust you, you are eating people.” You shout. “There are only a few that know but I would have told you. This was a last resort. You think it doesn't mean to me” You don’t know what to think other than that you need to get out of here. “What was I supposed to do? Let them starve these people who rely on me.” He shouts right back. “Yes this is inhuman I would rather starve then eat another person.” You scream grabbing onto the bars of your cell. “I'll come back for your sake I hope you can change your mind” He storms out his footsteps echoing around the room.

The next thing you know James is running into your cell and grabbing you. He grips one arm and David grips the other. You lean down and bit into his forearm. They drag you out and slam you onto the table. “Don't do it please” You shout as David raises the knife. This has escalated really fast. “You had your chance” He shouts. “I'm infected. I'm infected” You scream. “And now you are too” You look down to where you bit him. ”Roll up my sleeve and look at it” He slams the knife into the table and harshly rolls up your sleeve. You know the sight all too well the tendrils under your skin the outline of teeth. There is no doubt it's an infected bite.

“She would have turned by now this isn't real” He has to believe this is your only out. “It looks pretty fucking real to me” He isnt going to belive you wich means you need to take matters into your own hands. You rip the knife out of the table and slam it into James' neck before running away. You burst into what looks to be a kitchen. Before running out into a sort of dining room. You make for the doors but they're locked.

You need to find a weapon and run back into the kitchen and grab a log from the fire. You wait as David's footsteps grow closer. You jump up and huck it at him before running away. “There is no way out.” You crawl along the floor trying to stay as far away as you can. “Those doors are locked and I have the only keys. Come out” His footsteps come closer but there is nowhere left to go. “No one infected would fight this hard to stay alive.” You race back into the kitchen and grab a knife “You have no idea what I could have given you” You sneak back out of the kitchen the knife held tightly in your hand. You have to do this; it's the only way out.

“I changed my mind. I am going to keep you. Come out “You run out of the kitchen and tackle him to the ground. The first stab goes into his throat and after that, you just stab until he stops moving. There is no way you are letting this fucker come after you. You don’t stop until you can’t even recognize the body anymore.

You pull the keys from his belt and run towards the food. Your fingers slide as you try to unlock the door but eventually you get it. You can’t run but you walk as fast as you can away from the building. You need to get back to Tess and Joel. They can’t be doing well without you. You never should have left them. This whole thing was an awful mistake.

You let out a terrified scream as strong arms wrap around your chest. You use your nails to claw at their skin. “Oh, baby girl” You keep screaming as the person forces you around in their arms. “It's Mama it's going to be alright Mama got you” You finally look up to see the person holding you is Tess. “Mama “ You sob. “Yes it's mama baby it’s gonna be okay” You relax into her as your tears grow. “JOEL…” Mama shouts. “JOEL I HAVE HER” Mama shouts again. Then you see daddy stumbling out of a building. Looking almost as bad as when you left him. He sets both of his hands on your cheeks. “Daddy here baby girl” You only sob more. “We have got to get out of here. The horses are just outside of town. Can you walk” You manage a good and your three stumbles out of town.

Your tear has long since dried up by the time they are getting prepped for the night. The house itself isn't bad but it smells awful. “C'mere” Tess calls to you from where she is stoking the fire. You creep over and crouch down by her side. You are so tired after everything that happened that all you wanted to do was eat and sleep. The thought of eating after seeing what David was doing makes you want to vomit. You can’t imagen ever eating again the thought is revolting.

Tess turns to you and takes your face in both of her hands. She has been trying to comfort you since you got to this house. She opens her mouth to speak but she gets distracted as Joel comes stumbling down the stairs. “I've got a mattress” He says panting slightly. A mattress slides down the stairs landing next to Joel.

“Let me help you. They begin to push the couches out of the way to make room for the mattress. You stand up to help them but Joel just pushes you to sit back down. “Relax baby”. They drag the mattress close to the fire and toss some pillows from the couch onto it. “I'll go find some blankets” Joel heads back upstairs. An overwhelming wave of exhaustion overtakes you. You want to lay down and never get up.

Tess comes to rest on the mattress. She opens her arms and you crawl into them. You burrow close to her as the tears gather again. You have no way of explaining to her how you feel. If she trys to feed you real food right now you might just die. It’s almost as if she can sense your unease beacuse her next words calm your nerves.

“We saw the bodies we know that he was eating people. If that means you need milk and not real food that is perfectly okay.” Tess explains her hand rubbing large circles over your back. “We never should have let that happen. We are going to make sure nothing like that ever happens again” Tess runs her finger through your hair more to comfort herself then to comfort you.

There are no more words spoken after that. She just lets you drink until Joel comes down to join you and even then her words are spoken in a rushed whisper. You are just so happy they both made it. The thought that they almost died because you didn’t know how to help them is an awful one. For the first night in a long time you fall into a deep sleep.

#tess servopoulos x reader #tess servopoulos #joel x reader x tess #joel miller x reader #joel the last of us #tlou hbo #tlou one shot #tlou imagine

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toinfinitywinning · 4 months

Text

this is get to know you time. the cringy name game at every camp in the world you do with toilet paper. enough.

Conversations and thoughts resembling the same level of random and incongruence of my Apple Music library. like Josh Groban is to Eminem: Mercy Me. a lot about everything that’s not a hashtag bc it just needs more attention.

Let the first (post) be first:

Hi. I’ve never done this before (like a seriously grown up blog on purpose. Just when just followed sad somewhat desperate poetry with a random live-laugh-love meme in there somewhere.) and Pitch Perfect.

BUT.

For 2 years I’ve had Long-Haul COVID. It’s a different kind of lonely

Thanks so much, amirite? —Gen-Z apologies if I didn’t use that jumbled acronym-word correctly.

It’s hard to keep up.

See? What am I talking about now and how did I get there…

Due to a very common symptom of LHC…

Again—hard to keep up. It’s there. Tho

And I have a lot of quirk so it’s possible I think you’ll “get” but are just nice not to tell me

BUT.

It’s already gone. Train left the Station yesterday.

Slipped on a penny.

Not Good. not even funny.

Teens with the gorgeous graffiti have to Go elsewhere. I’ve always been jealous of that kind talent.

Whole lot better than something else shiny thrown on the track and it’s derailed. There’s at least some innocence in a paint can.

WOW.

I have major attention and Brain Fog hurdles to conquer or shortly bypass. You might not be able to tell b/c of how My writing jumps around so infrequently.

Not true but still easier.

Mostly innocent and playful.

Sadly the attention part is this many years young.

Writing comes naturally. As it always has, strangely...

And why is healing so exhausting? Writing is therapeutic but My body says—can you not?

i know im not the only one asking that!

As if I have time for that too.

find a community of people suffering just as similarly and gain strength, tips and tricks.

Just, speak-screen edit my writing for me. Maybe a clarification fact-✔.

Just not wherever Tr*mp gets his.

Could be Truth Social. Monthly fee tho will cost you your Red Hat.

MYGAbad

Speaking I struggle with processing w/e skills I must have held onto.

BUT.

Since 2 years is quite. some. time.—I’ve shared many struggles and victories.

Like a Bell curve. Or a punk Domino falling then lining them up takes longer just to go down again in half the time. Repeat.

It’s very likely I Will try to talk about many things at once.

I really can’t help that. LOL.

Jury’s still out but I get most of my writing and miscellaneous musings from mom.

Dad can write the best, longest, and precious prayers and notes.

Almost delicately but like you KNOW he’s giving you a hug.

A Good mix tape’s paper Version.

Enter Run on sentences. Truly a stream by now.

Although my brain muscle is weak I’ve been encouraged by several people to Start a blog. Someday I’ll include the past 2 years of w/e pics are on other SocMed.

I can’t think of anything worse.

Yea, okay LOL.

Judgment free. Occasionally… like normal doses then have to work through that.

Mostly that’s because I knew nothing about anything before I opened My computer and started sharing My thoughts under zero context ridden or form at all.

More likely as well to offend and piss someone off. Well done you’re now one less friend popular. There’s an App for that tho-tracking people Who don’t like you.

Not sure where I’ll land with this. It may not land you either.

Because like a lot of us. Sometimes you don’t get to talk actually. No Room.

I like routine; that’s out. So it gets dull.

I’ve learned I hadn’t yet given myself the space to see all of things I can do sitting down.

But. By “given” I mean to say that perhaps I didn’t know it was there.

One Good thing I’ve gathered from this Hell.

Hell fresh by the Day! Never frozen.

So at that time and in this case of my life; sitting is fine.

Some of it isn’t too bad. The writing. You will find questionable punctuation. Run on sentences that I was running.

Relevance at all.

All around Confusion…altho connect the dots could have been seen as practice.

Or annoying even. I’d have no words.

I truly don’t set out to be funny. I could never do stand-up or improv. Or act.

Humor forced just takes and receives too much energy that might come off insincere.

Nothing on command.

Like Matt Perry’s brilliant improv wit it just doesn’t hit the same.

B/c it was scripted.

A syllabus for it Imagine.

The horn to jump off the swim block.

It’s when Life feels more scripted a lot of people close up.

That’s because you’re not in charge anymore. I’ve lost the Power.

Don’t prefer caring about whether someone likes me like I used to.

I believe you can snooze me for 30 days or say ‘I’m done w/ her’ and send Me to the cyberarchives.

Okay. Okay.

So—90% of the time I’m witty and sarcastic with a bit of cynicism, discomfort (for you), and pettifogging.

I write primarily about the questions of intersectionality.

How do things fit.

Let’s Fit it.

Until I figured out physics and calculus and basic math were behind a career in architecture and the classes I would have to take, I enjoyed taking things apart to make something else.

Not always pretty.

Could be Good what I took apart was the best thing we can’t see.

Like I’m writing questions but with wisdom not meaning to do that either,

A lot of people don’t like that. You do you! Baby.

I don’t mean to be at all harsh or hurtful. I try not to say that anything vainly.

I say it b/c a lot of what I’m writing is all of every piece of stream of consciousness tallied.

And it was a synapse connecting another.

Maybe that’s the creative part? The other side of My Brain is telling Me to ✔ on the other side so I’m like…crickets.

What I write is stream of consciousness, brutally honest and to some might be lightly offensive. In College writing this Way would’ve absolutely driven Me crazy.

Then life steps in and bonks u on the head with a newspaper but 15 years later returns the favor with an iPhone.

Or too blunt. And comes across as harsh. And that’s mostly because if I don’t have an emoji to match my real-life broken ღ I’m breaking up with you.

Self reflection: impulsive

I used to journal so much growing up.

When did I lose that innocence?

We can’t talk about folding paper into cranes and witchcraft finger fortune games anymore?

No more MASH?

Huh, maybe you weren’t born this Way. Ur Parents just drew circles nearest each other or your apple stem twist broke too soon and you want a partner whose name starts with P.

Very often I overshare. If you’re reading this this is not brand new information. No ability to say things simply. Think I’ve already. That can put me really vulnerable to more bitcoin hacks.

And then you need to figure out what bitcoin is. And whether Mario can collect coins as well in place of the hackers.

I’d say ask Tom Brady b/c of his investments but since retirement he’s been pretty deflated.

Mean people that mean to hurt.

First of all I feel sorry for you. Not in a poor you tho.

People Who hurt on purpose don’t often have any Way to vent or get a rise other than evoke feelings in and deflect toward a schoolmate.

Skip back to the part I tried talking about vulnerability. It truly is the invisible cloak and no one can see you but nothing makes sense still and you’ve only fixed what’s on the outside. Now you’re peeved AND cloaked.

At this conjunction junction next I’d suggest try shopping at Target opposed to Abercrombie then.

Feet in the water right above bankruptcy to see how things could be different only what…if?

Good ♧ seriously.

So there’s more grace given when you fall. When it’s not your month Day or even year!

Nobody is there for you!!

And My cloak is getting rained on.

Maybe gathering strength from falling will come a common sense with a 6th one but with seriously meaningful things I’ve learned and less hard knock’s Life for us.

The hard Way.

The bottom’s still there and it actually stinks stinks. Discouraging b/c there are two sides to the bottom of the cave full of stalagTITES and mites.

All the up’s and down’s. Right there. And the COVID-19 bat OMG!

You know you may not be able to fall any further further but once you’re up again you’re wondering whether you should get some cement to close that thing off.

Choose to live! But welcome to the real world—it sucks—ur gonna Love it.

Almost 4got. In the cave you dont always have to wait for Jesus to be resurrected if that metaphor comforts you but if change comes and it requires a whole new worm can of Life we already can’t handle that gets us outta the dank I don’t think we need to ask permission to the rights of that Bible passage.

BUT.

Until YOU are ready for change...

Forget it. At least you meant well. Someone can guide that horse to water but it stays pretty hydrated, so he says he’s Good. Promise. The only talking animal and it was Me Who got to hear it. More importantly, who’s gonna ☊? Care? There’s a country song finding out Who your Friends are. A lot stay lost and it’s not helpful all our Friends aren’t the same.

Missing a Good chance to find out if you’re in a similar predicament and that not always a bad thing.

At times I have literally had to be lifted off the floor.

I don’t do this at all for pity. As you read, My Pride is the biggest obstacle to let Go.

When you do?

The hard way through this.

I am angry and irritable for bouts. Sometimes I’m silly and invite karma punishments.

Go all Brimstone and every type fire and the Old Testament has nothing New-thinking and no one new to add to it. SMH. Nail a list on the wooden church door reading it is nearing endgame. Or, Just open your hotel drawer and tear out the back half.

So change then— If it were Me and it has been just not an actual hole I’d be outta there due to the spiders and crickets alone. Jiminy’s Cool.

If u can’t change and just stay a novice bunny hill—fine! Stay there. Build some confidence through experience.

And isn’t that another thing? Something specific motivates the fire under your (cuckoo!) and before you’d see the dark without any End of the tunnel and more importantly with the light aspect. All the sudden you care b/c what? It applies to you of course be selfish. Fascinating yet humbling.

Then there’s the ‘Why Me’ (?) phase? Not fully pitiful but just pretentious enough to resume the trailblaze. Bad attitude with a healthy dose of are we there yet and trying to Balance whether someone is saying …’they get it; you always feel bad’ so…KY Basketball banter? Ashamed accompanies too bc thing is a few times I did kind of scoff at phrases like I always feel bad. Like, here’s 2 Extra strength Tylenol.Alright, Ok, come test for Covid 1/29/22. It shouldn’t take going through something to empathize with or change but you could’ve listened for longer with a clear mind. Just cannot wrap your head around it and I think sometimes that’s okay. What’s next I’ll try so hard.

+ It’s 12:01am of 1/29/24 (so last night), you still can’t do math and/or struggle to add or subtract 12 so aren’t entirely sure its your sophomore year orientation, and you already surrender to what you didn’t want to get up for in the first place. Kind of silly u set the alarm! B/c Pain, confusion, Discomfort and a Deep loneliness that has very little to do with people awaits. That whole scenario is a disaster but look who’s standing and GOT. UP. period. 15 years ago that’s where I’d be. Just defeated.

THAT. Is enough some days. I say that to you struggling to believe the same but know Deep down.

Year 2 longhaul and youre wondering why there are anniversaries at all given about half are always sad or tragic. Evoking the worst on what could be the best. Might be something To think 2 minutes ago you’d ended your prayer to have a better Day. Of anything is true about everything happens for a reason I’d say having to chooose how to respond given you have the privilege at all to that just means were normal. B/c ill be honest I would not

I’m angry. WHAT is so complicated about your lack of Faith or belief prayer must go into an encrypted iCloud even the FBI can’t retrieve or interpret. Never had a chance! But I’ll add that it’s worth noting prayer doesn’t deal with its existence in transaction currencies..

Feel less Pain but feel more with it or stronger now. Or, just plain ‘ol numb. Similar to Addiction I suppose people get so used to being healthy one Way or another they don’t even notice better OR worse and no one is getting married.

Truth is.

Yea.

I’m in Hell, but I’m not on a ventilator. I’m not without relentless Support.

I still can smile but laugh just a bit before it hurts.

Something is always worse.

SomeONE is doing worse.

Somewhere and definitely rn.

I never knew I’d be dealing greed of perspective for this Long.

Something you’ll never find out about that changed your life’s trajectory where an explanation would have only confused things.

Then we still have the chance to be astonished and then genuine bc of that. Thankful. Expectant. With Faith somehow. Maybe carrying someone else’s Hope for a while might burden you less for a short time.

You dont need to see eye struggle and suffering. You dont need examples. You just know. There’s a fleeting peace u might not see again for 2 days but in knowing it’s not just you with the same bs going on.

Like here. Here is someone who needs support but in a different Way but how unique it could be to trade just for a bit. It’s not leg day this time remember u agreed a temp trade.

We don’t have to know everything. Most of the time I don’t give God the time to keep up w/ Me let alone do anything miraculous before I just hang up.

Although My Life was headed in a completely renewed direction in so many ways of recovery—

I got sick. Not because it was meant to be.

Because COVID. Possibly a rabid bat. Cracked vile or petri-dish

Everything does not happen for a reason and ppl dont like hearing that bc its an easy out. Says time might go on but this thorn wont ever heal. How do we respond? that’s the most authentic and a strength yes or no wand.

I hate cliché. Thing is tho…I think we all hate it b/c it doesn’t hold us accountable. Eh it’s fine.

Unfortunately we wouldn’t have the pretty, surprise, one of the Walk to Remember walks. All up to the of healing and forgiveness individual to each of us.

If for Me that means ive healed all I can and I’m counting on research to help Me out some more maybe I just keep going. Trust Me nothing is forgotten but you do know now that at least you were strong and capable enough to figure all that at all. And—I can do that. Some days aren’t that kind.

Maybe it becomes a goal we never anticipated but ✔ your resilience at the ticket line and saddle up, honey.this donkey only holds ____ lbs. let some things Go. That thing will still only walk in a circle but you’ve evenly distributed your baggage.

The feeling of pure joy. Which btw does still require a thesaurus b/c it is NOT the same as joy. Like a preventative Med to an acute one.

Then feel Accomplishment.

Not knowing what’s next but trying to be prepared.

It’s a surprise party we never RSVP’d and don’t regret it.

And it’s a Good thing u got outbid for that yacht.

Hell, tho, you won’t be forgotten but pushing helps the donkey move faster for now that is acceptable.

Unshun. Reshun. (This will make sense if you Watch the Office)

Flee fly. Be gone. Thankfully we hope to come out more resilient after the rip and tear and often not fully repaired sewing lessons.

But perhaps the biggest trait I’ve had to work on is My Pride. I want to do it.

I’ll give myself 3 strikes. 4 balls.

Then I walk to First.

Please do not get Me a gift.

I Love you and that was so sweet.

Would I be as generous?

Do u work, yea. It’s just one really hurts more and being tough isn’t tough at all if it’s not helping the worst hurt.

Those are sitting down, timeout thoughts.

The compression socks need to breathe.

But once the Pride slides over, let go, I get to know how it feels to very tangibly be taken care of and watched over.

Patience. The other side of a rant.

Later on that.

My main goal is to learn. Connect. Be called out if something comes off really tasteless.

Laugh at things that don’t have anything to do with being chronically sick. Laugh about what Medicine u had to administer and royally failed.

Sometimes all coupled with a handicap car-tag. No crutches either b/c I don’t like hearing I Will get better. It is a nice statement but it is impossible to be sure. Ive struggled with that b/c I know everyone believes that and means well I’ve just taken prior sick Gentry’s generalization and multiplied.

I am not making light. I think part of me is using the sarcasm as a coping mechanism.

Praise God there is something that does help the pain or at least distract from that Pain just not the one in your legs.

A codependency just a bit less severe. Embarrassing. Reason for judgment. Too easy.

If you can believe it—-I am not the same person I was 2 years ago.

For now I truly don’t know how. Pain can leave, anything traumatic can be worked on. You’ve got your scars.

I actually really think a scar is just unique as a snowflake or fingerprint. Telling so many stories. B/c a scar does mean something has healed. And it never forgets at one time it was painful. I’d prefer to see what I accomplish but I see wonder and beauty in them.

Things get pretty deep, complicated and downright pitifully sad. Vulnerable. Frighteningly true and relevant.

So I take what Good I can get in that day and pray those with LHC (Long-Haul COVID-19)

Be released.

However. On the flip tail’s side.

I’m 35 years aware there are some people who just don’t like me.

Until recently I wouldn’t have meant ‘sorry not sorry.’

I do now. To a respectable extent.

Reader discretion is advised. I promise I never set out to hurt anyone.

definitely not on purpose.

Because. Idgaf. Not bars being held. Que sera, sera.

complete transparency and seriously tho this doesn't mean i dont care. i wear my heart on my sleeve like a ding-dong ready to get hurt.

call it a diversion. we were on a break.

i just might take all of whatever hits wrong and turn that in to whatever ounce of assurance I can with the openness and to the best capability to learn new things and grow with compassion.

And back to writing—may already be just engrained but I don’t ever have a thesis, 3 supporting ideas or a better word then a conclusion.

You might find yourself confused. Reading it again prob won’t help.

Some will be really bad. Ugly. Waste of time. it was at least therapeutic for me.

Already is.

Even more might not make sense.

Read at your own risk, basically.

I have confidence but not really. Just enough not to care to change.

But I think about it. Because I’m wrong a lot.

challenge me. ill try to get through the fog.

But a lot of things have changed. in ways i might not even know Beauty in the Mess.

To sum up the above (sorry, there won’t be another summary after this disclaimer’s commercial intermission.)

I want to be as positive as possible.

Be in control of what I can. Ask for help for what I cannot.

I’m so ready to get My Life back. Trust Me and trust anyone Who tells your theyre in constant pain.

Really embarrassing I used to kind of scoff and be empathetic.

Funny how youre so sure of things.

Until it happens to you.

Suddenly it’s back to the drawing board and humility.

I wear my ღ on my sleeve. My greatest superpower and kryptonite.

What you read is as close to what you get as possible.

Balance can be unfair.

Please know that I care. I try harder than I ever had before. There are things I didn’t even Imagine could happen to someone when sick.

In all the ways I want to come out of this even better than what I envy I was entering into when I got sick.

There will be a WIDE range of thoughts similar to how i write. Mostly Sports and public figures and the politics I can comprehend.

B/c I know there’s someone out there who’s homeless because of this diagnosis. Or was deadly. Fired.

Divorced.

Ive become a bit of a nerd. Childish in some ways b/c you have to be creative…to be creative.

How do I even Start philosophizing that? So I don’t.

So I try My best to be the best I can. Inspire. Elicit laughter and new ways of thinking.

Questions.

Really tho? I just wanna be me.

thank you so sincerly to anything fromn a meme to a gift to a hug a prayer a smile, company, vibes if they can travel

but most of all

for holding hope when ive not been strong enough to.

For better or worse

for loving me.

making me feel heard.

idk what tomorrow holds but if its the same as today ill know at least i can make it and i am still beyond blessed and cared for and loved unconditionally.

even if forever.

wanna feel free, free.

to be me unabandoned.

changed for the better without knowing it.

some people dont have that option.

or even less the resource or safety to write about it.

Lastly mostly—I’m thankful for Insurance and the ability and privilege to work from home. And. Still have a job in general.

A Family and Family reserves holding me.

gentry.gonna.gents/g3

next. and if you made it this far, bless you.

thank you.

you mean more than you know to me. to anyone miscellaneous thanks as well and to my family and extended family and friends and job and insurance.

im in better shape than a lot. perspective sucks in the throes. selfish not selfish but my gosh turn the lights off. each journey is sooo different, but idk find the goodness and inspiration inbtw. There will be a rainbow soon enough, I wont make the bold claim and promise you one tho,

semi lastly and vulnerably, we've all been hurt. all going through something.

I say this every time something really bad happens. Ya know the ‘this is even worse,’ talk.

This one holds every candle.

Funny not funny none are the same and you’re never fully prepared.

and no one knows what it is you’re dealing.

give grace when I can’t sometimes.

cliché’s be damned lets just golden rule it b/c that one’s hard to do too but it sounds cute and Idont see a periodic table saying A! U! Be nice and welcoming.

I know I’ve forgotten something.

So I’ll fight.

But I still get to complain.

Feeling so entitled to this ill.

Sincerely,

Gentry

no ps you're welcome

8 notes · View notes

mcyt-peach · 2 years

Note

Hey there, Peach! Can I request a drabble/imagine for cc!Schlatt where he's holding Reader very close, close enough to smell their hair. He whisper into Reader's ear: 'I don't like your new shampoo' please? 😂

picky

·˚ * summary: staying over schlatt’s meant post-shower snuggles were a must, but a change to your routine leads to your boyfriend pouting into your hair

·˚ * pairing: cc!schlatt x gn!reader

·˚ * warnings: reader uses they/them pronouns, no hair texture mentioned (friendly to all hair types)

·˚ * word count: 549

·˚ * genre: fluff, romantic

·˚ * note: omggggg this was so cute I absolutely can see schlatt doing something like this, hope it lives up to your expectations :)

The steam from the shower, the knob turned to the highest setting, was just what you needed after a long day. You could physically feel the tension draining from your muscles, the warm spray of water hitting your shoulders and running down towards the drain. If you could stay in your haven forever, you would but…

“You better not be running up my hot water bill! If it’s over again this month, I’m making you pay!” Your lovely boyfriend’s voice peaks from under the closed bathroom door as he smacks the frame a few times for good measure.

Huffing a smile behind the curtain, you finish up washing the suds from your hair and body before turning off the water. Stepping out, you manage to wrap a towel around yourself before the knocking starts up again.

“Alright, alright!” You swing open the door, the mist curving around your form as you come face to face with the man who ruined your shower. “You miss me that much?” Your question is entirely rhetorical, evident with the smirk you’re giving Schlatt.

“Nah, just had to shit.” He pushes past you with a smile of his own, unceremoniously pushing you out into his apartment as he commandeers the bathroom.

Well, if he’s going to leave you alone with his closet, you’re going to steal as many items of clothing as you want. Choosing a pair of his comfy sweatpants and a soft shirt, you make your way to the couch, queuing up something for you and Schlatt.

You don’t hear his footsteps, too focused on finding the perfect thing to watch. But Schlatt dropping all his weight on top of you sure gets you to notice him. Before you know it, he’s pulled you to lie against him as he flipped to be on the couch.

Continuing your search, you’re somewhat aware that your boyfriend is snuggling himself into your hair. His deep breaths in certainly makes you frown into the remote. “If you’re doing that mustache sniff thing, I’m going to lose my mind.” You’re threat is thinly veiled humor.

“I don’t like your new shampoo.” It’s muffled, barely audible with how quiet he says it, an embarrassed admission. It catches you off guard, pulling a soft gasp from you before you turn to face him.

He’s still not looking at you, instead grasping at invisible strands of your hair. “No offense babe, but I wasn’t going to use your 3 in 1. I just bought whatever I could at the convenience store.” He smiles at your mention of his less than impressive hygiene products.

“You better keep that quiet or I’ll lose my Manscaped sponsorship.” He looks at you now, of course, with some emotion you’re not able to understand until he speaks again. “Why can’t you just bring over your normal shower stuff?”

“Umm, because I need it for my house!” It’s almost a question, confused as to why he asks such a simple question. “Besides, I don’t think there’s any room for me.”

“I’ll make room.” He says it without question. A statement of fact, undeniable. “I’ve had an empty drawer with your name on it for the last month.”

Now it's your turn to look away from his eyes. “Well, maybe I’ll just have to fill it.”

182 notes · View notes

hphmmatthewluther · 4 months

Text

Bringing Good Tidings, Part 2: Childermass Goes Awry

Here's my first part of this collab between me and @endlessly-cursed ! Apologies for the slight delay! Continuing from her last post, we rejoin Lachlann and Henriette as strange goings-on begin to threaten the holiday...

(Featuring ocs from @endlessly-cursed , @camillejeaneshphm , and @that-scouse-wizard )

The next few days passed with much merriment from those in attendance, though Lachlann continued to worry about the nagging feeling that he was about to be caught off guard by something. As he mingled with the other guests, he was able to pass off any of his nervous glances as “Serf’s Intuition”, which always got a polite laugh from the other guests. But, of course, there was one person he couldn’t keep it hidden from. His wife, Mathilde, looked up at him in a way that only someone who’d studied his entire biology to know how best to poison him could know.

“What is it?” she asked at one point late on the 27th of December, the children already in bed by now (if not asleep, at least in their bedroom). “Is it about the Lord of Misrule business in a couple of days? I doubt you of all people would find it too humiliating, you always have been quite good at dismissing any funny looks.”

“It’s not that.” Lachlann said bluntly, shaking his head for a moment before shuffling closer. “And it’s not even about who that Lord of Misrule is going to be…if anything, I wish that were the explanation…”

“But it’s not, is it?” Mathilde raised an eyebrow at her husband. “You don’t get nervous when dealing with Betwixt. More…mildly irritated.”

“Can you blame me? They cursed our bloodline because of what happened back then…and whenever it comes up I try to tell them how I tried to find another way, but…”

Mathilde placed her hand on his shoulder. “You really can be quite stubborn sometimes. It would take a miracle to get Betwixt to like you, so I suggest moving on. Even they’ve learnt to do that, from what I’ve heard.”

“Oh yeah, that Spaniard woman they married. I honestly can’t believe they settled down after the strop they pulled when Hen- what?”

Mathilde pointed to the woman standing in the door, who had a friendly smile on her face as if recognising Lachlann’s utter embarrassment. “You are somewhat right, Lam.” Henriette began, walking forward and sitting down with the other two. “Betwixt never was one for mortal traditions…or monogamy. Still, they took the time they needed, met a nice immortal, and now they’ve got a family. In fact, I hear that Lady Sancha is expecting her 4th child, hence why Betwixt is only coming for one day.”

“Oh, how lovely for them!” Mathilde exclaimed, Lachlann detecting no amount of her normal snark. “The child must be due soon, in that case.”

“Quite soon, I imagine so, yes.” Henriette confirmed. “Seeing them will be a wonderful change from the routine of these feasts…not to mention tomorrow.”

“Don’t remind me.” Mathilde chuckled, looking over at the corridor that led to their children’s room. “How do your children deal with it? I think Caitílin is just about growing out of being fully terrified by it now, like Sam and Simone are, and Fèlix is still too young to fully understand what’s happening, bless him.”

Henriette smiled as Mathilde recounted their children. “I’d say it’s the same with us, yes. It’s always interesting to see who tries to act all tough and unafraid and who still voices their fears. Speaking of, we ought to get our sleep if we want to be ready for the Mass tomorrow. Still, it’s only for one day. How bad could it be?”

Lachlann bit his tongue and refused to comment on how dangerous it was to ask questions like that. “I suppose we’ll see. Goodnight, Henriette.”

Henriette made her way back to her room, where her husband Frederick was already sleeping. She didn’t blame him, considering how restless the children could get during Childermass. She laid down next to him, shuffling close. As she closed her eyes, she found herself thinking about Lachlann and Mathilde. To say they weren’t a traditional couple was something of an understatement, after all, he was a former serf and she was a former assassin who’d been tasked with killing him. They talked and acted like all the other couples in attendance, of course, but then there were moments when they’d mention what happened during the Mage Wars, and it was obvious how it had given them such a different perspective. They seemed almost untouchable, seeing as most other nobles were terrified of this new clan, too afraid to try to interfere with their matters. This was where Henriette’s mind settled as she drifted off: that her role in maintaining a noble family was one thing, but to get one started was an entirely different beast.

***

The morning silence was broken by the sounds of bickering from the next room. Lachlann leant forward, gently moving Mathilde’s arm from his side, giving her a brief kiss on the forehead. “I’ll handle it, darling.”

Mathilde hummed in relief, trailing her hand down his chest as she settled back in the bed. “Bless you, Lam.” she whispered, Lachlann smiling for a moment before getting dressed and heading out into the other room. Inside, he instinctively took a head count of his children. Caitílin, the oldest, was currently trying to force Fèlix, still very much an infant, into the arms of Sam, the second oldest. Simone, meanwhile, the second youngest, was seemingly content to watch this play out. Lachlann took a seat next to her, waiting for the others to notice him.

“Morning, Daddy.” Simone said, smiling up at him in that way all siblings do when they’re the one not in trouble.

“Morning, sweetie. What’s all the fuss about?” Lachlann whispered back. Simone simply chuckled and pointed to the others.

“It’ll be good for you!”

“I have no clue what I’m doing!”

“Time to learn, then! You’re inheriting the Line, after all.”

“Line, Line!” Fèlix laughed, clearly enjoying the rocking motion, before looking up and seeing “Daddy!”

Caitílin and Sam looked up and finally noticed their father, both stepping back leaving Fèlix staggering in the middle for a moment before Lachlann caught him, picking him up and holding him.

“All up and early, I see. Cait, didn’t your mother say it was your job today to look after your brother?”

“But why? If I’m not inheriting the Line, surely I shouldn’t have those responsibilities!” She said, sounding out the longer words in a way that suggested they weren’t originally hers.

“But I don’t know how to do all of it!” Sam pleaded.

“Neither do I, but you have to do it anyway.” Caitílin said, as if that ended the matter, her face dropping when she saw Lachlann’s expression, which made it very clear that it didn’t.

Lachlann cleared his throat. “Here, Sam. I’d like you to take your brother over to your mother’s room and she’ll get you something to eat. Simone can help you. Can you do that for me?”

Sam thought out the process in his head, before nodding. “Yep! I can do that!” Simone looked over and nodded as well.

“Excellent. Now, Caitílin, out here please.” Lachlann said, pointing to the balcony overlooking the snow-covered fields. The youngest three Doherty children looked at each other, shrugged, and left the two in the room.

They walked over to the balcony, Caitílin sighing as she leant against the wall. “I’m the only one who can see over the wall, the others need me to lift them up.” she said, proudly.

Lachlann smiled at her, before looking out over the fields. “Cait, where’d you hear about all this line stuff?”

She shrugged, tracing a pattern in the snow that had fallen onto the very edge of the wall. “Dunno. One of the other children at the feasts was talking about how since he’s the oldest and a man he gets to inherit the Line of his family.”

Lachlann nodded, understanding perfectly. “And you thought that meant we’d be giving this “Line” to Sam instead.”

Caitílin looked up at him. “Well, aren’t you?! You need a strong line to keep the family going, and that means choosing someone suitable. Well, I’m far more capable at most things than Sam, and I actually want to do it!”

Lachlann shook his head. “Cait, you do realise what a Line is, right? It’s a continued legacy going all the way back through noble families, all the history and betrayal and fighting.” He traced a line in the snow, all along the windowsill. Then, at one end of the line, he put a very tiny dot. “We…don’t really have a Line yet. Your mother and I are the first Dohertys. That’s what you and Sam have been bickering about.”

Caitílin leant over, staring at the little dot in the snow. “...That’s our Line? That’s all it is.”

Lachlann nodded. “Pretty much, yeah. Not so important now, right?”

She shrugged, leaning back from the wall. “I guess not. Can we get breakfast?”

He smiled, taking his daughter by the hand. “Of course. Come on, let’s go and find the others.”

They left the room only to hear more yelling from the others, though this time it was not bickering.

“Mum, Dad! Look! It’s the Lord of Misrule!” came the yelling.

“On Childermass?” Caitílin asked, confused. Lachlann, however, looked more afraid.

“Cait…don’t let go of my hand.”

***

For Henriette and Frederick, the morning seemed oddly quiet. She’d been expecting more arguments between Juliana and Denefigu. But no, there was nothing. At least not until there was a loud knocking at the door. Frederick shuffled in his sleep, clearly assuming it was one of the kids, but it was far too heavy for that. Henriette moved out of bed and got dressed quickly before opening the door, seeing someone who definitely was not one of her children. They were dressed in an incredibly odd costume, consisting of a large green overcoat, matching stockings, a bright gold and silver-covered shirt, and an olive wreath wrapped around a large jester-like hat. It could only be the Lord of Misrule, and that meant…

“Betwixt?” Henriette asked, surprised, watching them breathing heavily as if they had run all the way here.

The Monarch of the Changelings looked up at her, nodding. “A-Apologies…M-Merry Christmas, I…I wish I could say I’m here early for a good reason.”

“I’ll say. It’s Childermass, you know, the day when all the kids are hiding, hoping Herod’s ghost doesn’t come back and get them.” Henriette explained.

“Yes, that’s what I mean.” Betwixt said. “But that’s Catholic tradition. While that and the Fae sometimes are intertwined…and by that I mean they stole from us and our worshippers….sometimes there are differences. Childermass is one of them, and it means that we have to go now.”

Henriette nodded, suddenly aware of how deafening the silence was. “Explain, Betwixt. If something has happened to my children…”

“Your children will be fine, I’m sure…provided we hurry and deal with this as quickly as we can and get them back inside before it’s too late.” Betwixt held out their hand to her. “Come on, we’ll Apparate.”

Henriette looked back at her husband. “Darling, there’s a bit of a problem. Get dressed and meet us down there, alright?” Turning to Betwixt, they took their hand. “How’s life now you’ve settled down, then?”

Betwixt couldn’t help but smile. “It doesn’t feel like settling down, I’ll tell you that much.” With a loud crack, they were gone, as Frederick prepared to bring certain non-magical elements to the fray.

They arrived outside in the snow, Betwixt taking a moment to adjust their tall hat as they surveyed the frost-covered area. “There!” they exclaimed, pointing out at a group of children surrounding someone who was wearing identical clothes to Betwixt, albeit with a strange mask covering the face. The two set off through the snow, their path bringing them past the castle gates. As they ran past, Lachlann and Caitílin emerged. Lachlann saw Betwixt. Betwixt saw Lachlann. The two slowed as they approached each other.

“Don’t tell me you think I’m responsible for this?” Betwixt asked incredulously.

“I wasn’t sure at first. I heard the Lord of Misrule was here on Childermass of all days, and you’re dressed as him, and we all know you’re not exactly a fan of Christian traditions like these.”

“I most certainly am not, that’s true.” Betwixt said, shrugging. “But even I am not enough of a fool to mess with the bizarre magicks of the Yuletide season. However…it would seem that someone is.” They pointed over at the other Lord of Misrule. The two looked back at each other for a moment, before sharing a brief nod, sprinting towards the False Lord.

Henriette followed closely behind, finding herself next to Caitílin. The eldest Doherty looked up at her. “Merry Christmas, Lady Henriette!”

“Merry Christmas, my dear child.” Henriette responded, noticing her children near the Lord. “Though it would seem someone is conspiring to take that merriment away.”

Eventually, they arrived before the False Lord, the children looking very confused as to why there were now two Lords of Misrule. The Fake looked like they were about to say some in-character nonsense to keep the children entranced, but only managed to get out “Well, well, well-” before Lachlann and Henriette blasted them with their wands, Lachlann using a lightning spell and Henriette using an orange and red hex that burned through the air like a flame. The Fake skidded through the snow for a moment before coming to a stop.

Betwixt blinked a few times. “Hmm. I’ll have to tone down what I had planned.” they muttered to themselves. “Still, we are in luck. For a second there I thought the real Lord of Misrule was there, and…” they paused, looking around at the children. “But that couldn’t be right, because I am the real Lord of Misrule!” they began, before catching themselves. “Apologies. It is still Childermass.”

The Fake slowly got to their feet, their mask having fallen away. Lachlann squinted at the face for a moment before raising a moment. “Hang on a second…weren’t you one of the Silver Kingdom’s Royal Advisors?”

The other changeling’s face contorted until the eyes were blank and the skin pale. “I assumed you wouldn’t recognise me, seeing as you were so callous with destroying our home. I am indeed Advisor Pridestone, and do excuse me Monarch, but I thought it fitting to try and teach these insipid mortals a lesson.”

Betwixt had their hand in their arms. “Oh, god, Pridestone, this does not help matters. Firstly, I have already dealt with enacting revenge on Lord Doherty, which means you don’t need to do it, nor do you need to get Lady Henriette’s family involved too.”

Pridestone sneered at her. “She worked with those abhorrent sorcerers that sealed our Kingdom, and helped build a school on top of it!”

Henriette simply sighed. “I apologise if my actions displeased you, my good sir. But I find your method of dealing with grievances to be rather heavy-handed and crude. Not to mention unoriginal, seeing as we all heard of the fascinating tale of a Piper in Hamelin who did something rather similar.”

Pridestone floundered for a moment, their blank eyes staring daggers at Henriette. “Crude?! Unoriginal?! How dare a mortal speak to me like that, I-”

They took a step forward, but were repelled by two more volleys from Lachlann and Henriette. Pridestone went flying into the snow, landing headfirst. Before anyone could say another word, the children erupted into a chorus of cheers, crowding Lachlann and Henriette as Pridestone got up and fled the scene. Lachlann found his own children had made their way closest to him.

“Dad! That was amazing!” Sam yelled, holding Fèlix in his arms who had taken to yelling “Dad! Dad!” over and over. Lachlann picked Fèlix up, nodding at all of his children, watching as Henriette did the same to those that were hers. At this point, a crowd of the other parents were coming out too, Mathilde and Frederick at the very front. But at that moment Lachlann’s eyes were on Betwixt, and their eyes were on the trees of the area, which formed a large forest. Mist seemed to be falling in. Betwixt turned to Lachlann.

“We played right into their hands.” they said, scowling. “I told you, bad things can happen when certain magical energies mix…Let’s just hope it goes away, and we can enjoy the festivities in peace…well, relative peace.”

Caitílin tugged on Lachlann’s arm, grinning, all thoughts of inheritance and family lines forgotten. “This is the best Childermass ever! Why couldn’t we do this every year?”

Lachlann shrugged, ruffling her hair, though he had a nasty feeling that by the end of this they were about to find out why exactly that was.

#bringing good tidings #lachlann doherty #henriette of wessex #mathilde of coventry #frederick of kent #hp founders era #founders' era #sovereign betwixt

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