#and even he says things that are absolutely bonkers | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ms-demeanor · 5 months

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i’m curious what your opinion is on the finer points of the case mentioned in the JSTOR post you reblogged earlier. the two sources in the post say that JSTOR didn’t press charges against him and had already settled with him by the time he killed himself. from what i read on wikipedia, the concern seems to be that JSTOR complied with a subpoena, which i don’t believe they have a choice to ignore? if anything it seems like the us government had reason to want him dead for wikileaks and public court records reasons, so they took a terms of use violation and blew it up into a dozen federal crimes.

is there more context i should be aware of? i have no particular affection or malice for JSTOR but the sources i found don’t exactly implicate the database or its employees in murder.

That's from page 175 of this document. This line: "The activity noted is outright theft and may merit a call with university counsel, and even the local police, to ensure not only that the activity has stopped but that - e.g. the visiting scholar who left - isn't leaving with a hard drive containing our database" is where I think the culpability starts.

If someone is downloading 1000s of articles (what seems like reasonable threshold for us to take action), what's wrong with us - or the university in collaboration with us - alerting the cyber-crimes division of law enforcement and initiating an investigation, having cop search dorm room and try to retrieve any hard drive that contains our content, etc. Our content is extraordinarily valuable and hard to replicate by the sweat of one's brow, but can be duplicated by savvy hackers and who knows what they want to do with the content?

Page 379: "Does the university contact law enforcement? Would they be willing to do so in this instance?

From page 1296:

I think the important thing to note here is that JSTOR had worked with MIT and had plans in place to prevent future similar downloads, but remained focused on identifying the person responsible for the downloads and ensuring that their data was deleted.

"I might just be irked because I am up dealing with this person on a Sunday night, but I am starting to feel like they need to get a hold of this situation right away or we need to offer to send them some help (read FBI).

And there it is. Page 3093 of the document.

JSTOR can hem and haw about it all they want, but you can't un-call the cops.

MIT was working with JSTOR on preventing future incidents of pirating, but JSTOR repeatedly said that they weren't going to let it go, that it was unacceptable to drop the issue, that they were going to continue to pursue the pirate.

You can scroll through the document and see the JSTOR tech department and abuse team talking about Swartz as a script kiddie, and a hacker. You can see someone talking about how this was real theft - making the comparison to stealing books even while admitting that piracy doesn't close others out of access.

You can see the thread starts with a joke about punching someone in the face for hacking their system, and includes the tech team ominously considering whether they should threaten the MIT librarians with the FBI.

There's something really important to note here which I don't think that people who aren't PRETTY DEEP into hackery shit aren't aware of: US law enforcement is absolutely rabidly feral about prosecuting hackers. People may be more aware of this now because of Chelsea Manning and Edward Snowden (and perhaps a bit on tumblr because of maia arson crimew), but people who work in tech and who are in infosec - like the people joking about calling the FBI in these emails - would be aware of the bonkers disproportionate punishments faced by hackers. And knowing that, they kept pushing and pushing and pushing for identification of the hacker. They kept digging with MIT, they kept saying that simply preventing future incidents wasn't enough.

Early in the exchange someone from JSTOR asked "what's wrong with us - or the university in collaboration with us - alerting the cyber-crimes division of law enforcement and initiating an investigation, having cop search dorm room and try to retrieve any hard drive that contains our content, etc." and the answer is what happened to Aaron Swartz.

It is absolute bullshit for JSTOR to say "we arrived at a solution privately and didn't want to press charges" after law enforcement has gotten involved with a hacking case, especially one where they're talking about "real theft" and are attempting to quantify and emphasize the amount that was "stolen" from them.

The *public* may believe that private individuals or institutions are the ones who "press charges" but that's simply not the case. It's prosecutors who decide whether or not to go ahead with charges; they do it based on what cases they think they can win and what their office's perspective is on the crime. When you hear about people choosing to press charges it simply means that they decided to tell the prosecutor they wanted the case to go forward. It's up to the prosecutor whether or not that happens.

And the tech team at JSTOR had to know that law enforcement wasn't just going to wag a finger at an academic hacker.

There's a parallel here that happens sometimes when people have their identities stolen by their parents. If you mom takes out a credit card in your name, that's identity theft. That's fraud. That's illegal. If you reach the age of 25 and realize that your credit is ruined because your mom has been defaulting on cards in your name, you've got two choices to fix that: one is to accept the debt and pay it off and build up credit, and the other is to report the identity theft - which will end up with your mom in prison for a decade or so. Ruin your own personal finances, or your mom goes to jail for ruining your finances. So if you find out that your mom stole your identity you can't just call the cops to pressure her into transferring the debt to her name or something. That's not an option. The cops are not a threat to wave over people, they are not a way to get people to fall in line or act right. They aren't someone you can send to a college student's dorm room to retrieve a hard drive and have the matter drop.

When you call the cops on someone you are sending the full force of the law after them, and the full force of the law falls really heavily on hackers, and how heavy that blow can be is something that the JSTOR team must have been aware of when they were making snide comments about calling the FBI because they were frustrated with the noncommittal responses they were getting from librarians.

Ultimately it was the carceral state that killed Aaron Swartz, but they would not have been involved if JSTOR didn't think that what he did constituted theft.

Taking an *EVEN LARGER* step back from that, the idea that information can be owned and locked behind a paywall is what killed Aaron Swartz, someone who fought for information to be free.

Like. JSTOR is a licensing company. At the end of the day, cute social media posts and all, they're the same as the RIAA and ASCAB. They exist to extract a fee from people attempting to access information.

Aaron Swartz and all that he stood for are an existential threat to their core function.

Are JSTOR's hands as dirty as the federal prosecutors? Absolutely not. But they operate on a model that puts them in opposition to open information activists and it ended up with a hammer falling on Aaron Swartz that they dropped.

#long post #very long post

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saltpepperbeard · 8 months

Text

OBLIGATORY COMPLETE OFMD SEASON 2 TEASER THOUGHTS AND SPECULATION POST™

Okay, to start off, I cannot BELIEVE we got this. I cannot BELIEVE we got a voiceover of Stede's note to Ed. We were all thinking it. We were all hoping for it. I CANNOT BELIEVE WE LEGITIMATELY GOT TO SEE AND HEAR HIS LOVE RIGHT OFF THE BAT. HE LOVES HIS ED SO SO MUCH.

Followed by this shot right as Stede is narrating. It's difficult to tell, but it seems like Ed??? The one-armed jacket and the fact that it's layered with Stede's narration makes me quite certain it's him. But ALONE??? AND COMING OUT OF THE SURF??? (There's a shot later that has me PARTICULARLY raising eyebrows at this moment. I'm thinking that he fell off the boat/was lost in that one storm shown later, and Stede of course is going to dive in after him or attempt to get to him in some sort of dramatic way. Which makes me think he and Stede are going to potentially talk feelings/reconcile on the beach)

And the fight choreography of this. Are you actually kidding me right now. ARE YOU KIDDING ME. GETTING TO SEE ED ABSOLUTELY KICKING ASS IN COMBAT??? NEVER IN A THOUSAND YEARS DID I EXPECT TO SEE A SHOT LIKE THIS BUT I'M HOLLERING SO HARD OVER IT (NOT TO MENTION, AGAIN, LOOKING AT THIS AND A LATER SHOT..........I'LL SCREAM ABOUT MY THOUGHTS WHEN SAID SHOT APPEARS HSKDLS)

Oh, they're PINING pining. They're YEARNING yearning. They're GAY gay.

They want to be back with each other so so so bad I'm losing my mind <3

"Fuck you, Stede Bonnet." The way he's JUST as dramatic as we were all thinking. The way he's hurting in a way WE ALL ANTICIPATED. LIKE, YOU HATE TO SEE IT, BUT MAN DSJKLDSSDKL. Also, the contrast of him saying that vs Stede's voice over is so so insane. The editors are INSANE FOR THAT ONE.

AGAIN, GOING BONKERS OVER ED'S CHARACTERIZATION BECAUSE HE SEEMS EXACTLY HOW I ANTICIPATED. Outwardly, angry, hardened, and cold. Inwardly, heartbroken, desperate, and wanting nothing more than to be back with Stede. Because hello, HELLO, HE'S NOTCHED WHAT I ASSUME TO BE HIS NUMBER OF DAYS WITHOUT STEDE IN THE WALL??????

HI OLU HELLO OLU MY DEAR DARLING OLU

but also screaming and crying and throwing up because this is ALSO what i was anticipating/hoping for. the crew being like "ummmmm lmao captain?? you really think you've got this under control???"

"You think Blackbeard's going to murder you?" I THINK NOT BECAUSE WHAT IS HE EVEN SHOOTING AT JSLDKS. OFF TO THE SIDE??? A WARNING SHOT????? Also the lighting of this and his look matches the ending shot so I'm very eyes emoji at this entire thing.

HOWEVER...

"MURDERER THRICE OVER?????????????"

Like sorry, that sign won't stop me because I can't read. Look at him. LOOK at him. You're telling me he stole the wedding cake toppers so he could PAINT HIMSELF ON THE BRIDE??? SO HE COULD MAKE HIMSELF INTO THE BEAUTIFUL BRIDE HE WANTS TO BE????? SO THAT HE COULD PLAY PRETEND MARRIAGE BETWEEN HIMSELF AND STEDE???????

INSANE!!!

INSANE FOR THIS!!!!!!

Again, bonkers editing. The split screen. The CONTRAST between Stede's hopefulness and Ed's depression. The WAY THEY LINED IT UP TO MAKE ED LOOK LIKE HE'S TAKING AIM AT STEDE. THE WAY THIS PROBABLY PERFECTLY ENCAPSULATES THEIR CHARACTERIZATION IN THE FIRST FEW EPISODES HSDJKLSDS LIKE BITING THE EDITORS BITING THEM BITING THEM

ALSO ED AND ALL OF HIS GUNS,,, NINE GUNS???????

It kills me because he's probably being exactly what he thinks people see him as. He's probably like "Oh, you want a monster? I'll give you a monster."

WHICH,,,, NO, HONEY. YOU'RE A SWEETHEART, SORRY ABOUT IT.

AND THEN LOOK AT THEM. LOOK AT OUR DARLINGS!!! FANG'S FUCKING SPIKES ARE SO METAL. FRENCHIE'S WOLVERINE COSPLAY SHDJKLSHDLKS. JIM!!! JIM JIM MY BELOVED JIM, AND THEIR PAINTED BEARD. THEIR GENDER!!!!!!!

Honey hsdksjds the drama of it all. THE DRAMA. CRASHING WEDDINGS TO DISRUPT LOVE BECAUSE YOUR OWN WAS DISRUPTED??? SIIIIIIRRRR THE THEATRICS, THE SPICE OF IT ALL

excuse me ma'am that is a gay man shdkjshkls THAT IS A GAY MAN. WHAT ARE YOU EVEN DOING,,,

kiss me instead like wtf

OKAY NOW THIS,,,

THIS.

PRESIDENTIAL ALERT: THE BABYGIRL IS FIGHHHTTTTIIIING

BUT IZZY WATCHING ON??? IZZY????????????

I have Genuine Thoughts™ about this. I have a feeling that the big arc/character development Con mentioned might pertain to him like, REALIZING what's important, and what Ed actually wants and needs. And a good chunk of that will be him realizing the consequences of his actions, and maybe potentially wanting to undo the damage. And also, in his Bitchy Izzy Ways™, he might also get very very tired of Ed's sulking/theatrics and want to rectify things for that reason too.

So I feel like he's going to sort of team up with Stede and show him the ropes for that reason?? So they ALL can work towards betterment???

WHICH IS NUTS LMAO. NEVER EVER EXPECTED THAT.

REGARDLESS, GO STEDE BABY GO!!!

HI REVENGE HELLO REVENGE PLEASE DON'T DO ANYTHING DRASTIC LIKE EXPLODE OR ANYTHING PLEASE BABYGIRL <3

yeah yeah the titties we've all seen them.

BUT AGAIN, AGAIN, STEDE OFF TO THE SIDE. STEDE WATCHING. STEDE LEARNING THE ROPES FROM THE MOST UNEXPECTED PERSON EVER SHDJKSDS LIKE WHAT!!!

AND HEEEEEEERE WE GO. HERE'S THE SHOT I WAS REFERRING TO EARLIER.

THE SAME BLACK SAND BEACH. FIGHTING THE BRITISH. ED AND STEDE. ED WITHOUT HIS MAKEUP ON. STEDE IN A DIFFERENT OUTFIT.

ARE THEY BOTH,,, FIGHTING TO GET TO EACH OTHER??? FIGHTING THROUGH CROWDS AND ENEMIES TO GET TO EACH OTHER'S SIDES???????

WHAT IF THEY FIGHT TO EACH OTHER AND THEN KISS HUH???

WHAT THEN.

HIIIIIIYYYAAAA JACKIE <33333

ALSO HELLO IS THAT THE SWEDE BEHIND HER???????

EXPLOSIONS FIRE EXPLOSIONS EXPLOSIONS FEELING VERY WEE JOHN CODED RIGHT NOW!!!!!!

AND THIS IS YET ANOTHER SHOT I WAS REFERRING TO EARLIER,,,

LIKE UHHHHHHHHHHHHH

WITH ED ON THE BEACH, AND THIS SHOT OF SOMEONE FALLING INTO THE WATER,,,,,,

I HAVE A FEELING THAT ED IS GOING TO DO SOMETHING THAT ENDS WITH HIM FALLING OFF THE BOAT. MAYBE HE TRIES TO SAVE SOMEONE???

if he fights to save stede from going overboard or something equivalent i'm going to eat all the tiles off my floor <3

LIKE IT'S BAD BESTIES. IT'S BAD. IT'S DIRE. THE WATER IS SO FUCKING HIGH AND THEY'RE IN A STORM AND JIM IS SCREAMING AND I AM ALSO SCREAMING!!!

But then also, LOOK AT FUCKING WEE JOHN!!! IN DRAG!!! HE'S A FUCKING MERMAID!!! JIM ISN'T A MERMAID???? WELL, THAT'S FINE--WEE JOHN IS!!! LIVING HIS BEST FUCKING LIFE!!!!! AND WHAT IF HE MADE THAT COSTUME HIMSELF SJDKSDJLS <3

AND THE FINAL SHOT I'M CHOOSING, THE FINAL ONE OF THE SET,,, MATCHES UP WITH THAT LIGHTING EARLIER.

WHO ARE WE FIGHTING, ED BABE. WHAT'S THE TEA. WHO ARE YOU CLOBBERING.

IS IT US?

IT'S PROBABLY US.

BECAUSE THIS ENTIRE THING HAS ME SO SO SO DEAD Y'ALL

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ellievenus · 9 months

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Saw that your requests were opened and I can’t stop thinking of having sex with Lyney in his bedroom in the house of hearth trying not to get caught by a none and him putting his hand on your mouth to keep you quiet 🤭🤭

Songbird

Characters: Lyney x Gender Neutral!Reader

A/N: .. went kinda bonkers about this. no i am not favoring lyney requests, i am not, nope. not proofread!

NSFW under the cut.

“Lyney… here?”

You signed, folding your arms over your chest and looking at your boyfriend with an irritated look, which he returns with a wink.

You guys were flirting after one of his shows and things got… way too heated. You weren’t about to fuck backstage and get caught by Lynette, that would be a fucking nightmare.

He smiled and lightly touched your arm, you hated how easy it was for him to just… make you listen. He slowly and gently takes a hold of your hand, admiring the way your hand looked intertwined with his own. Then he looked at you with those eyes you know that screams ‘I’m up to no good.”

“Awh, c’mon love, it’s not like it’ll be our first time here!”

He purred, making sure to lower his voice to the tone that he knows gets you going. You blush and avert your eyes, though your hand tightens its hold on his, making him smile.

You sigh and look at him again,

“I know that, and I also recall us almost getting caught.”

There’s no venom in your words, you both know you want to do this, Lyney just has to push one more button and you would become putty in his hands.

His free hand went to your lower back, tracing a star shape, looking up at you with a teasing expression,

“Well that was because a certain somebody couldn’t stop making noises.”

He just knows how to push your buttons a little too well.

“Fine. You’re lucky you’re cute.”

He’s being unfair. He’s gripping your waist and digging his nails into your skin while pounding into your hole so fucking rough the sensation overwhelms you with pain and pleasure at the same time so deliciously you feel like you’re gonna burst any moment.

Your breaths are quick, whining and moaning Lyney’s name over and over as his thrusts become even faster, more rough, and he watches you with a small smile on his lips.

You writhe under him when you cum, cry out so loud let alone the house of Hearth people in the court must have heard you when he doesn’t stop, his thrusts don’t relent, fucking his own cum into you when he shivers and just keeps going, his breathy and whiny moans of your name that fall off his tongue like a prayer just adding to the absolute pleasure and pain he’s drowning you in.

“Lyney- fuck- ah fuck- too fast- you’re going to fast, Lyney-!”

He moans and buries his cock inside you, still for a moment as he catches his breath and his slowly travels from your stomach, leaving a scorching feeling in their wake, and he taps your lips.

“Open up, baby.”

It’s sudden, his voice, the way his body glistens under the moonlight and the way he just fucking says that makes you obey like a fucking dog. He coos as he pushes two fingers inside your mouth, rubbing the tips of them on your tongue.

He starts moving again, now snapping his hips and making sure that every inch of his cock is inside you before pulling out again and doing it over and over again until you’re a crying mess once more.

He pushes his fingers deeper into your mouth. Dropping his voice to a sweet whisper,

“Hush songbird, you don’t want to get us caught do you? be good for me.”

You whimper pathetically and both of your hands find his arm, you start sucking, which helps with muffling your sounds. He looks pleased and resumes his pace, he isn’t going to stop until he’s had his fill of you, until you’re dripping with so much of his cum that it starts to run down his dick and he fucks it back into you. He missed you so much, after all, so be good and take it.

“There’s a good songbird…”

#its 3 am i couldnt sleep so i… man im down so bad #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin #lyney x reader #lyney #gi lyney #lyney genshin #genshin lyney #genshin smut #genshin x reader #genshin impact x gender neutral reader #genshin impact x you

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bunny-yan · 3 months

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I love reading all your works and although I miss giant man heavily- THIS DUKE GUY IS SERIOUSLY MAKING ME QUESTION MY SANITY 0_0!! I just really want to know more about this story, it sounds so interesting and I can't deny I want the reader to either escape this situation entirely or find a way to survive in these awful conditions ;-; I need to know what's the king's deal with his brother and I do hope that when reader gets out of their confinement they can go back to being distant and aloof to their abusers (I mean, in that same air of "I'm technically not doing anything wrong to our agreement, so you can't be mad at me for just doing my "job""), they can do what they're told (unwillingly) but Duke better not expect some lovey dovey treatment anymore-

Being the masochist I am I would even go as far as to say that reader would barely acknowledge the duke's presence after this betrayal, but the second the King is said to be coming inside their home for a "friendly family visit", reader actually express an immense amount of fear and stress- It's the only time they're able to express genuine emotions without faking politeness and serenity for their sake of their "dear" husband.

SORRY I'M JUST CRYING AND VOMITING AND BARKING, DROOLING, GOING ABSOLUTE BONKERS-

i think it would be interesting to write a story where the darling is absolutely horrified whenever the King plan to visit and the duke is distressed between making you stay and subjecting you to his brother's attention or allowing you to leave, knowing that he'd have to go to his in-law's house to drag you back. but his relationship with his brother is what i want to dive in headfirst

TW: mentions non-con, pretty tame overall, general angst

—

He was intimately familiar with his brother’s things.

Things he couldn’t touch. Things he couldn’t imagine would ever become his own because he was the second son and second sons had to pave their own path since they weren’t meant to take over and couldn’t be given away as easily as daughters.

His brother was used to receiving everything he could never have.

His parent’s love and affection, their time, the teacher’s unimpaired praise, the latest toys when they were younger, the best clothes growing up, and he even had his pick of the most beautiful women from all of nobility.

When his accomplished brother eventually succeeded in something no other ducal household had done, rising to become the monarch of the kingdom, the position he could only dream of having was given to him as a consolation prize. There was no pride in having attained the duke’s title. It was simply another of his brother’s hand me downs that had been sapped of all gratification and sentimentality. There was nothing he’d experienced that his brother hadn’t already conquered.

Until he met you.

Unimpressive you.

Hailing from one of the diminished baron families that only had a title to separate them from everyday commoners, his brother, his king thought it prudent to choose a partner that would keep his brother humble considering his newfound status.

There really was no point in resisting. No one piqued his interest enough to fight for and he wasn’t stupid enough to imagine a life with someone that could ever gain him recognition significant enough to stand by his brother’s side.

Getting engaged without his say in the matter was simply a reminder of where he stood, a reminder that wasn’t needed considering his apathetic stance on the direction his life went. But after meeting you, for the first time he’d actually been grateful to his brother.

Timid reluctance on your first meeting quickly changed to hopeful curiosity after a surprisingly passionate wedding night. You began to seek him out, interested in getting to know your husband. Interested in getting to know him.

Not the second son.

Not the King’s younger brother.

It was hard to wrap his head around at first, but the more he received this attention that he’d never gotten the chance to receive before, the more he’d crave it. Irritation quickly turned into easy intrigue when you would visit him simply to ask how his day was going. How he felt. If he was interested in discussing the duchy’s current issues. If he wanted to vent about anything and everything. So great was your interest in his worries. It caught him off guard for someone to be so concerned about his wellbeing.

It was unfamiliar.

He wasn’t used to the bleeding concern that would fill your eyes whenever he was injured during training and though it happened rarely, a part of him felt a sense of urgency, wanting to behave a little more reckless just to see that look in your eyes. To feel your soft comfort and care.

Even more surprising was the way he could completely let his guard down around you.

Taking off the constant edge, he often found himself lying in your lap, arms encircling your waist as you caressed his hair or allowed a thumb to brush against his cheek when you weren’t carelessly messing with his ears or tracing the shape of his face with your fingers. It was an intimacy he could've never hoped to imagine. To dream about and yet he did. He’d often drift off in moments like these, waking when you’d shake his shoulder to rouse him from his dreary state and if you’d managed to fall asleep as well he was overwhelmed with feelings he couldn’t describe at the sight of your peaceful face, sleeping beside him.

It was easy to fall in such a tranquil rhythm, living while being needed. Wanted by someone who had no obligation to be with you. He remembered just before your engagement was finalized, his brother offered him the opportunity to divorce if the relationship didn’t last. It would’ve been a huge blow to his pride, but he wouldn’t be stuck with someone he couldn’t stand to be around. He tried to treat you indifferently, refusing to allow you to become a stain on his perfect record, but you blew through his defenses so easily. It could’ve been your easygoing personality or the fact that his walls would’ve crumbled at a touch, had someone cared enough to destroy them and now that you had crossed to the other side he didn’t want to return to that emotionally destitute solitude, knowing what genuine companionship felt like.

You’d changed him.

From a man alone, seemingly content in his sole authority, to one that smiled on occasion with eyes that warmed to the things you said, grateful to have someone treat the rare laughter that’d erupt from his lips as a sacred treasure.

You changed him… And the King noticed too.

The Duke shouldn’t have been surprised. It never took his brother long to pick up on things like this. He was partly to blame for making it so obvious that he wanted to return to his manor, to return to you. And anything that interested the King’s younger brother was sure to pique the King’s interest.

He felt at odds when the King raised the proposition.

On one hand, he hated the idea. The thought of allowing him to touch you in the same manner that he had was repulsive. It aroused every rebellious instinct the Duke possessed which was surprising considering he never once thought to deny his brother anything. It wasn’t the second son’s place to deny the eldest what he wanted. He’d been reminded of that time and time again regardless of what it was. Even the gifts he’d received for his birthday, his favorite model cars that his older brother had no interest in would be snatched away if he spared them even a glance. The young Duke, scolded if he protested.

On the other, he didn’t want to appear as a greedy child who couldn’t share. His brother often showed an interest in the things that he liked, but if he pretended they didn’t really matter, that interest would wane to the point of nonexistence. So he’d play nice and share. No matter what his brother did, he was sure you wouldn’t develop an interest in him. You wouldn’t stroke his hair like you did his or whisper sweet nothings in his brother’s ear. These things were parts of you that were reserved for him and knowing this only gave him a sense of pride that grew when he noticed the signs of irritation on his brother’s face. For once, he relished in the fact that he had something that his brother never would.

He’d forgotten how much his brother didn’t like to lose.

The Duke sensed that things had changed after his brother’s visit.

You’d looked at him with sad, eerie eyes, mouth opening to say something you couldn’t quite put into words. Something you dared not to voice.

But you didn’t have to explain. He knew everything.

Petting you, he held you tight before going to handle his business as usual. Except you usually interrupted his work to bring him a snack or force him into a conversation over tea. Neither of which happened that day. Or the next. Or the day after that.

Concerned, he asked if you were okay and to his surprise you began to cry. You tried to explain to him what happened, but he shook his head, confused as to why you were bringing it up. You’d done your part and the King was sure to lose interest now that his curiosity had been satisfied.

The Duke didn’t understand the look of betrayal in your eyes.

He didn’t understand why you no longer invited him on trips to walk around the garden that he’d filled with flowers that reminded him of you. A section with his and your birth flowers tangled together where the two of you would linger felt distant. It felt strange being there by himself as he traveled in search of you, wondering why it was so hard to catch a glimpse of you these days.

You had dinner in your room, not the one the two of you shared. The bedroom, that you’d all but lived in since your wedding, felt empty and unused whenever he set foot in there now.

You went out, sometimes earlier than he woke up and you didn’t come back until the sky was dark and the only sound that greeted him in the pounding silence were cicadas and the sound of a pen attempting to scratch away the dread, the worry that built after not seeing you, the concern that this wasn’t something that would simply go away.

You couldn’t look at him, let alone touch him when he did manage to track you down and he couldn’t bear that disgustingly familiar sting he felt whenever you’d move away from his outstretched hand, avoiding the touch he’d attempted to share. Balling his fist, he’d pull away and attempt to convince himself that you needed space. It was normal to have hiccups in a relationship and space was something, along with time, that helped.

But with every passing day, every moment, the distance between the two of you seemed to get larger. Any attempt he made to bridge the gap only seemed to push you farther away and he hated the smug look on his brother’s face as he poked and prodded his brother on how married life was going.

As if he’d known this would happen.

Finally having enough of this, he asked you. What was wrong? Why had you changed? How could he get you back to how you were before, is the question he didn’t get a chance to ask because, to his surprise, you’d gotten angry.

You’d never been angry with him. Frustrated with his nonchalant behavior or confused with his hard to read moods, always. But never angry.

At least not like this.

You looked at him as if you were searching for something and something surged in his lungs when you drew away, unable to find whatever it is you were looking for. It felt like he had failed, recognizing those eyes that plagued him his entire childhood, and he couldn’t even be certain of what.

He couldn’t understand why you were claiming that you were leaving him!

You’d become an irreplaceable existence in his life and yet you were so ready to rip that away from him. To leave, abandon him to the crushing loneliness he didn’t realize he endured before. Now that he’d gotten a taste of happiness, he was hesitant to let it go.

More than hesitant.

The thought of you being anywhere but by his side felt appalling to even imagine, an incomprehensible idea.

He couldn’t let you go. Not if it meant returning to that time. But why is it that the words he’d been desperate to express, words that became harder and harder to say as soft pudgy hands became calloused and hard, were impossible to tell you?

Don’t leave me.

“You have a duty to this duchy.”

I don’t want to be alone.

“A responsibility to uphold.”

Please.

“If you’re so willing to view what happened as a shameful act regardless of my permission, then maintain it as a personal defect and don’t let it interfere with your obligations.”

Don’t go. Don’t go. Don’t go.

Hold me. Touch me like you did before. Look at me as if I’m the only one, the only one, the only one.

He couldn’t bear to imagine you on the arm of another. To think of you looking at anyone else the way you did when you were happy, concerned, in love.

He grabbed at his chest, begging for something, for anything to alleviate this torment, for someone to tell him what he’d done wrong.

“So, how is married life?”

His brother wore an easy grin, calmly laid back with a woman on his lap and a man at his side.

Ever the pious ruler.

He’d rather die than admit that things weren’t going well. The Duke couldn’t bear to see his brother’s smug grin.

“You were so excited to show them off to me, I couldn’t help but be curious. But they’re rather boring aren’t they?”

The Duke stilled himself.

“Even in bed they seemed content to just lie there and it was hard maintaining an ere-”

“Please excuse me, Your highness. I have matters to attend to at home.”

He got up and began to walk out, not having to turn around to see the shit-eating grin on his brother’s face. The look of superiority as if he’d always be below him.

“Oh, baby brother. When will you ever learn?”

Those words stayed with him. Even as he pulled out the key to unlock the door to your shared bedroom. It was relieving not having to search the entire manor to find you, but you had become quiet. Despondent to his words or touch. Even now as you sat on the bed, you didn’t move when he sat next to you. You didn’t spare a glance in his direction when he placed a hand on the small of your back and you said nothing when he asked you to speak to him.

He should’ve known.

In their younger days, his brother couldn’t bear to see him have anything that he hadn’t already played with.

How could he forget that his brother only lost interest in those model cars that he’d been so proud of, that he shined everyday, that he treated more preciously than himself, after he’d pulled the wheels off of them?

#yandere #yandere oc #yandere x you #male yandere #yandere x gn reader #yandere x darling #yandere x reader #ask #yandere male #gn reader #yandere duke

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raz-writes-the-thing · 5 months

Text

Tenth Doctor NSFW Alphabet

Tenth Doctor x GN!Reader 18+ ONLY / requests are open

DW: @nyxiethesimp @quickslvxrr @midnight--raine @blueberry-sunshines @stevekempscocktails @go-bonkers-go-foolish @peytonpenguin37 @yeethaw13 (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

TENTH DOCTOR NSFW ALPHABET

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Ten is the cuddliest being in the entire universe after sex. Cuddles, kisses, snuggles. He’s basically a barnacle. He adores giving you cuddles just as much as he receives them. I also feel like he’d absolutely adore nuzzling his nose against your jaw and/or neck.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His favourite body part of his own are his teeth/hands.

His favourite body part of his partner is their eyes. One of the most important things for him in a partner is their eyes. Being able to see compassion, kindness- love in someone’s eyes. There’s nothing that makes him fall in love faster.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Ten can cum a lot. Something to do with Time Lord genetics. When they mate, they mate to conceive (biologically speaking) so whenever Ten ejaculates, there can be a lot if he’s not had any for a while or if he’s been edging.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

A dirty secret of Ten’s is how much he fantasises and thinks about rubbing his cock against your clit/dick. It’s one of his favourite things, and he thinks about it way more than he should. He has- on more than one occasion, rubbed his thumb over his sonic screwdriver and thought about putting it inside you too.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Ten is experienced. He’s lived for 900-odd years. He hasn’t had a plethora of partners, but he’s had enough (both longer-term and one-night) but he’s experienced enough to know what he’s doing and how to get his partner exactly where he wants them.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Missionary. He’s not fancy about it, but he adores being able to look into your eyes as he brings you pleasure.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

It depends on the circumstance. Generally speaking, he’s more romantic than goofy, but he also believes that if you can’t laugh with your partner during sex- they’re not the one for you.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He’s not shaved, but he’s not unruly either. He’s neat. Trimmed.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Ten’s all about the intimacy. He’s all about soft loving looks, hand-holding, and adoring caresses. He’s so romantic (most of the time) that it’s almost sickening. Even when he’s rough, he’s still romantic. Check-ins, kisses, reassuring touches and smooches.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Ten tries not to jack off too much since he has you, but he’s not opposed to jacking off in the shower if you’re not in the mood. He also has a bit of a thing for you watching him jack off. There’s just something about it that gets him hot and bothered.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Hair-pulling. The man is OBSESSED with having his hair pulled. He’s pretty sure he could cum untouched from that.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

TARDIS console room or his bedroom are his two favourite places to do it, but he’s not picky.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Teasing touches and sultry looks will get Ten going faster than anything. A brush over his shoulders, a light pat on his bum. If he’s feeling dominant, teasing him will definitely get him going. Behaving bratty and ignorant of how your words, looks and touches impact him will definitely have him all over you as soon as possible.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Knife or gun-play. It’s not for him.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He prefers to give, but he enjoys receiving, too. Mostly when he’s feeling submissive.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Again, depends on the circumstances. If he’s feeling submissive and is receiving, he wants it loving but fast. He wants toys or cocks jackhammering into his ass. If he’s feeling dominant, he likes to make it slower and more sensual in order to tease you.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Ten isn’t huge on quickies. He enjoys them, but he’d much rather be able to take his time and really enjoy the moment with you.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Ten is open to experimentation, but at 900 years old, there’s not much he hasn’t done that isn’t a huge no-no for him.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Ten can last about five to seven rounds before he starts to tire. That Time Lord biology does not quit.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Ten likes toys. He likes to use them on his partners more than receive, but having you fuck his cock with a fleshlight? Well, lets say that did something to him that he was not expecting.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

When he’s dominant, he’s very unfair. Or he can be. It depends on how naughty you’ve been. When he’s submissive, he’s only teasing when he wants to be punished.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Ten isn’t super loud, but he’s not opposed to making some noise, either. He’s louder when he’s being edged, for sure.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Ten loves to have you ride him. He adores watching you on top of him and taking charge.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He’s not super thick, but he is quite a bit longer than the average human.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Ten’s sex drive is moderate. He’s not jonesing for it all the time, but he likes a good fuck at least two or three times a week. More if he’s really in the mood.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Ten doesn’t really fall asleep very quickly after sex unless he’s gone about eight rounds. That will tire him out like nothing else. Because he doesn’t fall asleep quickly, he likes to brush your hair and lull you to sleep on his chest for a while.

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sh1-n0bu · 10 months

Note

hey hey!! new anon here,,

not sure how to write this but I'll try

could we get a scara x amab reader, with praise, overstimulation, and if you're comfortable body worship? (for scara ofc) i wanna make him cry 🛐

also !! can i be 🍷 anon?? <3

♡︎ 𝙮𝙤𝙪, 𝙢𝙮 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙩 ♡︎

characters: sub!scaramouche x dom!AMAB!reader

warnings: praise, overstimulation, body worship, dacryphillia, overall very soft and fluffy

notes: of course you can be 🍷anon! slowly but surely clearing out my inbox and thinking on holding a 3k followers event. if you guys have any ideas, lemme know!

wanderer — formerly known as scaramouche, balladeer and the sixth of the eleven fatui harbingers — has always been a shut in type of person. always preferring his own space, solitude and of course, a bitter tea to go along with everything. so when you, his assistant since day one, had suddenly proposed your affections for the angry gremlin he rejected at first.

but that never deterred you. you would try over and over again. asking him out on dates, offering him some help, cuddles if he was being restless and stressed, holding his hand while he undergoes the painful weekly tortures of il dottore — you did it all for him.

and one day, scaramouche did indeed cave in and decided to accept your nth suggestion for a date. it wasn’t like he had liked you or anything, he just wanted to make you shut up quickly. he’s lying, he loved you way longer than you did him.

since then, going out on “dates” had become a usual thing between you two. you two would meet up in certain places, hang out for some time, talk for a bit, hold hands if scaramouche is feeling gutsy enough and say your goodbyes.

it had continued on for so long until it suddenly came to a stop when scaramouche had to go to sumeru with il dottore to take buer’s gnosis. of course the plan worked and the second harbinger came back with the gnosis but no scaramouche.

for some time after that, you seriously thought you were tripping absolute bonkers. everyone kept saying the sixth seat of the harbingers had been vacant and the name scaramouche or balladeer doesn’t ring a bell. you even held an audience with her majesty, the tsaritsa as well and yet she said she doesn’t remember!

that was until you decided to desert the fatui and go to sumeru yourself to find out just what the fuck was going on. it took incredibly long time — sumeru’s rainforest and desert aren’t the most hospitable places for someone so used to the cold like you — but after a whole half a year of searching, you managed to see him again.

him. the one who stole your heart. the one who caused you to desert the fatui despite knowing the punishment would be death. the one that cradled your heart gently in his hand since you’ve been assigned to be his assistant.

and by the archons was it worth the whole thing. to be chased down by the people who were once your comrades. to suffer heatstrokes in the hot desert of sumeru. to continuously get pelted by the rain and thunder in the rainforests of sumeru. by the archons was it all worth it when the moment you two locked eyes. it was as if your first meeting all over again.

by the archons was it worth it when he recognized you, dropping the scrolls in his arms as he runs up to you. it was worth it when he came to a stop in front of you — hesitating. waiting. wondering. before finally muttering “fuck it” and getting on his tip toes to plant a kiss on your lips. it was worth it all — even as you gently broke him down and rebuilt him again a whole new in your arms in the comfort of your now shared home.

scaramouche has always been a shut in type of person. always preferring his own space, solitude and of course, a bitter tea to go along with everything.

but wanderer was a bit different. he preferred to be alone, alone with you. a bitter tea and your voice going “yuck!” whenever he made you take a sip, lying and promising he put sugar in it this time. a shy stolen glance at each other and a peck or two followed by the silence of each other’s presence. “lonely together” you once called your relationship. he couldn’t agree more.

even as his first time is taken by you — the doll couldn’t be happier.

even as he whimpers and whines whenever you praise him, planting kisses on his skin as he blushed a beet red. weakly thrusting his hips back to meet yours under the dim lights of the lit candles. desperately reaching back, tangling your hair in his hand to tug you down for a sloppy kiss to try and hide his moans when you called him your “good boy”, “pretty doll” and your “one and only”.

a weak sob and sniffles resounding in your shared home as wanderer comes on your cock for the nth time. how many times had he cum by now? he’s too hazy and lust ridden to even keep up count.

tears kept falling down his face as he unconsciously grind back into your cock, wanting more. a cacophony of keens and moans and shrill sound resembling a squeal coming out of him as he feels your tip hit his prostate again. archons, he wanted to feel that again and again. feel himself get broken down by your hands, by your lips, by the soft praises coming out of your mouth, by your dick just fucking into him so good to the point his mind becomes a mush.

when you gently put him back together again — wiping away the sweat and cum staining his skin, when you cradle him gently as you two share a quick bath together, when you wrap your arms around him and hug him close to yourself — the pupet couldn’t help but smile.

a genuine, unadulterated smile of happiness spreading on his face as he hears your words of affirmation. in soft moments like this, the puppet couldn’t help but whisper out weakly in a hoarse voice.

“you, [name], my heart…” before slipping off into a dreamless state.

#nobu.writes #sub genshin impact #sub genshin #sub!genshin impact #sub!genshin #sub scaramouche #sub!scaramouche #sub wanderer #genshin impact x reader smut #genshin impact smut #genshin x reader smut #genshin smut #scaramouche smut #wanderer smut #🍷 anon

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astronicht · 18 days

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Since finishing Fellowship I keep seeing references to LOTR as a sweeping heroic tale etc and this is now confusing to me, both in terms of story structure (hero tale or Romance; immram or exile tale) and the level of fantasy. The thing I’m learning about the art of writing swords and sorcery is that — to me, personally! And I get that this sounds bonkers! — Tolkien mostly feels like low fantasy. He just made the magic that was already there real. To the point where it takes a long time to even notice when people are doing magic, and whether it’s magic is sometimes debatable. Sam even complains about this briefly in Lorien (that the Elf magic isn’t dramatic) which is funny bc he’s utterly surrounded by small magics the whole time. Hell, in a story that stresses the power of words, quite literally to protect, I think that in of the fellowship plus Bilbo, only Aragorn, Bilbo, Legolas [edited to add Legolas sorry for forgetting u my guy], and Sam have actually composed their own poems and songs. And most of Aragorn and all of Legolas’s was Boromir’s funeral song.

I’m mostly asleep and have effectively only read Fellowship so far but idk! My point is that it doesn’t feel like it’s so influenced by the structure of later high medieval and onwards hero stories all that much. WAS Tolkien influenced by French Romances and Shakespeare and modern novels like oh absolutely! But lotr isn’t the Green Night or even Melusine, and it is only Macbeth for special occasions.

I know it’s considered a model hero’s journey or whatever but in-universe (and again, maybe just to me!) it’s not? it’s an exile story. Like The Wanderer or Erik the Red or Deor. Frodo et al say it at the beginning a bunch of times: the hobbits have exiled themselves. Gollum we’re told was exiled by his matriarch long ago and has lived as an exile ever since. Where I am at the beginning of Two Towers, Aragorn just saw the mountains that hide Gondor to the south and sang to them because he cannot yet go home. And there are a lot of those exile stories to draw on, in the time period and languages from which Tolkien was drinking deepest. Exile was a legal state and also a favourite story-frame.

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lenaellsi · 19 days

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it's honestly a bit odd to me that so many people have jumped on the 'aziraphale will be pulling all the strings and playing politics in heaven' train. like I think it's true that the metatron is underestimating aziraphale's intelligence and ability to disrupt the second coming even while separated from crowley, but I also think the idea that aziraphale is going up to heaven with a clear idea of how he's just been lied to, an understanding of how much danger he's in, and a plan to stop it is a huge reach.

frankly, aziraphale is very vulnerable to manipulation. I'm thinking now of neil’s post with the diary entry from before the edinburgh minisode where he was duped by two humans, the whole thing with the nazis in 1941, and his sponsorship of shadwell's various obviously fake agents (sergeant milkbottle, etc.). he's not nearly as savvy as fanon tends to portray him. he takes people at face value, especially people he thinks of as Good. (that's not a dunk, btw--I find these things endearing, and a sign of aziraphale's innate wish to see the best in people. I just think that sometimes the BAMF protective aziraphale of fanon overshadows the slightly more naive aziraphale of canon. and honestly, I also think TV aziraphale is just a bit softer than book aziraphale, though he is capable of stepping up when it counts.)

and he's a bad liar! I know it's a meme in the fandom that aziraphale lies all the time, but he doesn't like it, and he's bad at it. he gets nervous and comes up with terrible excuses and the only reason he ever gets away with it is because the people he's lying to are idiots (gabriel), have their own agendas (god, the other archangels), or trust him to be honest (crowley).

aziraphale's real strength is his ability to take sudden, completely unexpected action. that's one of the things that crowley admires most about him. "he's unpredictable," is what he says to nina, and it's true! aziraphale's greatest moments of rebellion have always come from spur of the moment decisions, not intricate plans. (if anything, crowley is the planner--the arrangement and the thwarting of the apocalypse, their two longest cons, were both his idea.)

aziraphale gives the sword away because when he is forced to make a decision under pressure, he tends to land on the side of rebellious kindness. shielding crowley from the rain in eden, lying to gabriel to protect job's family, defying the quartermaster and returning to earth via possession during the apocalypse, blowing up his halo--he does these things because he's following that same impulse. when aziraphale has time to over think, he frets and fusses and is paralyzed by indecision. (or worse, he falls back on what heaven has taught him.)

TL;DR: I don't think aziraphale has any sort of grand plan other than a generalized "make things better," and I certainly don't think he is planning to betray heaven. he might try to come up with a plan once he figures out how bad things are going to get, but my bet is that what will actually disrupt the second coming is an absolutely bonkers off the wall decision that no one, crowley included, could ever predict. and I think it’ll happen, as it usually does with aziraphale, just after he accepts a difficult truth that fundamentally shifts his worldview—in this case, his final rejection of the idea of “good” and “bad” people, and of the entire morality system of heaven and hell.

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens meta #final fifteen #aziraphale #long post #been in a meta mood lately sorry #to be clear people can write whatever they want. playing with characterization is fine and good in fanworks #but also I do wonder if the fanon built over four years between seasons is seriously impacting the way people read the final fifteen #and because I suspect it will come up: his smile in the elevator reads as Aziraphale’s denial smile #the one where he plasters it on as a ‘this is fine this is what I want I am a Good Angel’ reaction #‘I’m not trapped in here with you you’re trapped in here with me’ is not a thought aziraphale would ever have about himself #he doesn’t think about himself that way #crowley thinks of him as a force to be reckoned with for sure. but aziraphale is not that sure of himself

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stellamancer · 8 months

Text

(though we may) fall apart - reader x satoru gojo

notes: uh. so this started as a vent fic and it kind of evolved into this. in some ways it kind of feels like a character study, but writing from gojo's perspective is uh. a ride. additionally, this is meant to be a companion fic to between the moon's divide, though it's not required reading (especially since this fic takes place before that one).

contains: fem!reader (no gendered terms, no physical descriptions, but implied to be smaller than gojo if you look closely enough), gojo's absolutely bonkers pov, hurt/comfort, physical violence (in which reader punches gojo), mentions of anxiety and mental breakdowns

wc: 4.3k -> [read on ao3; account required]

Satoru has good eyes.

Not just in the sense that they're beautiful— because they are: clear as the daytime sky and bright as the stars in the night. His eyes, a breathtaking shade of blue, have been a source of admiration and envy all his life, captivating and entrancing people left and right, but their sheer beauty isn't even the best thing about them.

It's the fact that his eyes let him see, let him really see.

Perceptiveness is not a skill that Satoru Gojo has ever had to learn, but one that's been thrust upon him, branded into the hue of his eyes. There's very little that he doesn't notice– that he doesn't see. From subtle shifts in body language to the ebb and flow of cursed energy, there is almost nothing that isn't laid bare before Satoru's Six Eyes.

That's how Satoru knows that something is wrong.

To your credit, you’re very good at hiding it— years of practice paying off in full. Everyone seems none the wiser when you smile and say you’re fine. Satoru wonders if they actually believe you or if they just don’t want to open that can of worms, but he can tell— from the faint, yet dissonant undercurrent in your voice that you are anything but fine.

The fact that your cursed energy is wound tightly around your form, like a protective cocoon doesn’t help your case either.

But that’s probably something only Satoru, with his Six Eyes, can discern.

He makes it a point to not call you out for your deception in front of everyone— you like to wear a brave face, so he’ll be nice enough to not tear it down in front of everyone to see. Besides, if he did that, he would lose major brownie points with you, and he can’t be having that.

Satoru watches with careful eyes as you take the first chance you possibly can to dip from the conversation the other sorcerers have roped you into about recent missions. You say you’re going to go find food, but Satoru knows that you’re really saying that you’re going to go find somewhere to fall apart in peace, in solitude.

He’s nice enough to let you have your lies, but letting you have that is going way too far.

Satoru follows after you at a distance, feeling generous enough to let you have some semblance of space as you amble down the hallways of the school. Must be looking for some secluded classroom or something. It would probably be better for you to go home— that would probably be the best place for you to cry your little heart out, but you’re probably not thinking straight.

Lucky him.

You arrive at your destination, a classroom tucked away in the corner of the building and scurry inside, not even looking back as you slide the door shut behind you. Would you have even noticed Satoru standing there if you had looked? Or would your despair have clouded your vision? Satoru’s eyes narrow just slightly at the thought of that; somehow, he doesn’t like it.

All the more reason to rip that facade right off your face.

It takes everything in him to not march straight into that classroom and terrorize you until you forget whatever it is that’s upsetting you. Satoru reminds himself that he’s being kind— being generous and letting you have a few moments for yourself. Not that he’d really know, but he’s heard crying is cathartic, so it’s probably best to let you shed a few tears before he swoops in like the dashing leading man that he is. For now, he’ll just wait at the door and give you a few minutes.

But then he hears it— the sound of a soft, strangled sob, and before Satoru knows it, the door is flying open and he’s entering the threshold of the classroom.

You glare at Satoru and he knows you’re trying your best to look as furious as possible, but the watery eyes and wobbly lips really dampen the heat of your gaze.

He shuts the door behind him before he speaks, “It’s kind of creepy to cry alone in a classroom.”

Your eyes grow wide for a fraction of a second and you scowl at him before whirling around to turn your back to him. “If you’re going to be an asshole, then you can walk right back out that door and pretend you never saw me.”

Satoru can’t help but chuckle a little. No chance of that. Not in a million years. He steps toward you, circling around so that you’re facing one another again. Leaning down, he grins and says, “Now why would I do that?”

Stubbornly, you refuse to look at him as you struggle to answer. Satoru is well aware of the fact that you and he both know that he wouldn’t do that, but he’s interested in seeing what you have to say.

Finally, you answer, expression twisted and almost unwilling as you speak, “To prove that you are the nice and awesome teacher that you claim to be?”

“Oh, but I am,” Satoru says, rising with a laugh. “You see, the students were all scared because they heard crying, and thought maybe this classroom’s haunted. Naturally, being the very brave and super cool teacher that I am, I came to check it out.”

You stare at him, looking completely and wholly unimpressed as usual. “Do you just enjoy lying?”

“It hurts me that you don’t believe that I’m concerned about the students’ mental well being!” Satoru bemoans dramatically.

“Because you’re not!” you shoot back. Something flickers in your eyes, and looking embarrassed, you quickly add. “At least not right now.”

Satoru smiles, pleased at the implications of your addendum. He's well aware that his easy-going demeanor makes it hard to believe any claims of sincerity. Most people, which sometimes includes you, think he's full of hot air— but he really does have the students' best interest at heart and he's glad to know that, deep down, you remember he does too.

"You're right," he says nonchalantly, his smile only widening as the surprise makes itself apparent on your face. He bets that you thought he would stick to the usual script: insist that he's always concerned about the students. You should know better though since Satoru revels in making unpredictable plays. "Right now, I'm concerned about you."

The completely stunned look on your face is priceless. Your lips are slightly parted, your eyes blown as wide can be, still a little red from the tears you shed before he walked in. Something about your expression is softer and Satoru wishes he could immortalize it in a more tangible sense, but for now he decides to settle by committing it to memory.

Quickly, your shock gives way to your typical annoyance, your defenses rising in response to Satoru’s earnestness. There’s something about it— about the thought of tearing them back down that's almost exciting. “You really do like lying, huh?”

“I’m not lying,” Satoru says plainly. “You are my favorite colleague, you know.”

It’s not a lie. Your eyes narrow in clear disbelief though. He would expect nothing different from you. “You know, I’ve heard you say the same thing to Nanami.”

Satoru smiles, unshaken by your accusation. “Okay, so maybe I have. Who says I can’t have two favorites?”

You give him a pointed look. “So what am I, the flavor of the day or something?”

“Sure,” Satoru agrees with ease. He likes that analogy— reminds him of ice cream. If you were a flavor, what would you be? Something with a lot of different textures? Definitely something that’s subtly sweet, though. Not that it matters, it would be his favorite all the same— his only favorite. “So what’s with the waterworks?”

There’s a split second of hesitation before you respond. “Nothing. It’s— I’m fine.”

If Satoru wasn’t sure before, he is now, more than ever; you’re not fine. In the stillness of this otherwise empty classroom it’s easier to hear the strained notes in your voice, the lie weaved into the melody of your words. He tilts his head, a wry grin playing at his lips. “So, who’s the liar now?”

A scowl blooms across your features and the sight of it stirs something in Satoru’s chest. Satisfaction, maybe? It doesn’t seem quite right, but he is pleased that he’s read you so effortlessly.

“I— just— it’s nothing,” you grind out. It looks almost as if you’re going to add something else, but you don’t, as if you think better of it. Can’t have that. Your reticence is kind of annoying, but Satoru doesn’t care all that much; he’s sure he can coax it out of you.

He leans back down so that he’s at eye level, reaching up to pull his blindfold down and reveal his eyes. Your entire body goes tense, but Satoru ignores it as he places a hand on his chin, making an elaborate show of examining your face. “You sure about that? You seem kinda agitated.”

You don’t respond right away, your gaze transfixed on the hue of his eyes. Of all the weapons at his disposal, Satoru’s eyes are the most effective against you. You’d never admit it, but you’re weak against them; the brilliant blue of his irises never failing to entrance you. It might be a little mean of him to wield them against you, but Satoru is known for being ruthless.

“That’s—” you start, the words catching in your throat before you force them out. “That’s because you’re all up in my face right now, Gojo.”

Another lie. Mostly. Some of your agitation is definitely proximity based right now.

“Then let me rephrase; you’ve been kinda agitated since you got back from your mission earlier.” His hand moves from his chin to his ear and he taps it lightly. “Could hear it in your voice.”

The revelation leaves you looking absolutely mortified. Satoru is almost delighted because he can practically hear you asking if you were really that obvious. He plays with the thought of telling you that you were. It’s not a complete lie, but not a whole truth either, after all, not everyone is as adept at reading you as he is.

You recover fairly quickly, shoving your embarrassment aside as you say. “Don’t worry about it.”

He grins a little. “Worry about what?”

Your expression shifts to the very definition of exasperation. Satoru thinks that if you were intent on keeping whatever it is to yourself it would have been better for you to just double down on saying it’s nothing and that things are fine. Unfortunately, you just gave him something new to latch on to pry you open with. Of course he’s going to use it. In clear frustration, you sigh, “Just… just drop it, Gojo.”

“I really am worried though, you know.”

You eye him warily, not bothering to conceal your suspicion and doubt. “You don’t look very worried. In fact, you almost look like you’re enjoying yourself.”

Satoru’s eyes widen just a tiny bit. You most definitely don’t realize it, but his persistence is wearing you down. Even though you’re still denying him the words he’s trying to wheedle out of you, you’re no longer handing him the absolutes of ‘it’s fine’ and ‘it’s nothing.’ You’re giving him something he can work with, something he can use, like a puzzle he’s just started to figure out, so of course he’s enjoying himself. And of course, you caught him. He grins at you, guilty. “Maybe a little.”

You rip your gaze from Satoru, jaw clenching as you bite back whatever foul words you want to hurl in his direction. It’s pretty obvious that you’re pissed by what he said and while he could have lied to you, he doubts you would have believed him. Besides, Satoru’s trying to show that he’s the honest one here.

It takes you a second to wrangle your rage back under your control as you defuse yourself with one deep, deep breath. Even though you lash out at Satoru all the time in response to his antics, he doesn’t think he’s ever seen you explode in actual anger. You’ve gotten close dozens of times, sure, but each and every time Satoru has seen you swallow your feelings, forcing them down into parts unknown. It’s not like he can blame you; as sorcerers, you’re trained to control your emotions because losing control could very well be the difference between life and death.

He can’t help but wonder: what would happen if you lost control? If you let your feelings— all the sorrow and all the rage, burst from your body? Would you feel better? Would you fall apart? Would you—

Would you let him see?

It’s not until that very moment that Satoru realizes how badly he wants that— to see you come apart at the seams, to be the one to stitch you back up again. The realization brings almost all thought and emotion to a startling halt, a split second of silence before Satoru’s mind is back online, the thrum of desire running hot in his veins.

“My feelings aren’t for your entertainment, Gojo,” you say coolly.

You’re right. You’re wrong. You’re misreading this entire thing. “That’s not it. Not entirely anyway.”

It's obvious you don't believe him. Rolling your eyes, you say, "Gojo, you are such a—"

"I'm not lying."

The interruption stops you short, drawing your gaze to him and finally, finally the two of you are actually seeing eye to eye. Your pupils are blown wide, defenses demolished in the wake of Satoru’s earnestness. He watches as your eyes dart around, your mouth gaping wordlessly as you try to find something to deflect, to deny him.

Eventually, a scowl returns to your face, agitation at its very peak. “You are just—! Look, I’ll be fine, okay? You don’t need to worry about it.”

There’s a note of finality in your voice that makes it obvious that you do not want to have this conversation any more. Satoru doesn’t care, even though he knows at this point the two of you will just end up talking in circles. It’s kind of annoying, and even though he could do it all day, it’s time.

It’s time to rip that mask of yours right off.

“It doesn’t matter if I need to or not,” Satoru says, his tone serious. “Because, whether you want to believe it or not, the fact of the matter is that I am worried.”

You don’t challenge his words. In fact, you don’t say anything at all, but there is a shift in your energy and something about it doesn't seem quite right. Something in Satoru’s stomach shifts uncomfortably and it takes him a second to realize why.

Your silence reminds him of Suguru.

Of all the things Suguru didn’t say. Of all the things that Suguru swallowed— his curses, his feelings, his worries, forcing them down, down, down into parts unknown until he just couldn’t any more, until they came bursting from him, like bile, like vitriol consuming Suguru, twisting him until even Satoru could not recognize his best friend any more.

Satoru had seen the signs, after all, there is almost nothing that isn’t laid bare before the hue of his eyes. He’d seen the exhaustion set in Suguru’s face. He’d seen the way his cursed energy would wind so tightly around his form. He’d seen something was wrong.

But Suguru had said he was fine. That it was nothing. And Satoru—

Satoru had accepted that. Perceptiveness is not a skill that he has ever had to learn, but what to do with that which his eyes see, to comprehend that information, understand it, and act accordingly— those are skills he’s still working on. He saw Suguru was struggling, but Satoru thought that it was fine because Suguru said so. If something was really wrong, then Suguru would have told him because—

“We’re friends, aren’t we?”

Satoru is quiet. You are quiet. The room is quiet. Everything is too damn quiet.

So, Satoru does what he does best: he fills the air with the sound of his voice. He prattles on and on, knowing somewhere in his mind that it might not make you more amenable to opening up to him, but he can’t stop the words from spewing his mouth, like bile, like desperation, begging you to not turn out like his best friend. “Friends talk to one another, they rely on one another, so you don’t have to feel scared or shy about it. So—”

“...shut up.”

“Huh?” Satoru pretends he didn’t hear you. Your voice is quiet enough.

“I said ‘shut up!’” you repeat, your voice far louder. You take a half step back, one of your arms winding back, your hand balled into a fist like you’re about to punch him.

Satoru lets you.

The loud smack of skin on skin contact echoes throughout the room as your fist collides with his cheek. He reels back a bit, it didn’t hurt all that much, but… “Man, you really know how to throw a punch.”

Satoru rubs his cheek a little. Now that he thinks about it, maybe he really did need that for a second there. He looks down at you and the look on your face is absolutely horrified. It looks like someone just dumped ice cold water and now you’re frozen to the spot, scared, soggy, and surprised. There’s no doubt that you thought that your punch wouldn’t connect, that you thought the hit would get lost in the infinite space between you.

Your fist drops to your side like a sack of potatoes. As it does, your energy finally begins to unravel. Like a puppet whose strings have been cut, your entire body wobbles, and Satoru steps forward, wrapping his arms around you before you crumble to the ground.

He expects you to complain about the fact he’s holding you.

You don’t.

Instead you grumble, your voice muffled by his clothes, “You are such a dirty hypocrite, you know that? Do you talk to people? Do you rely on them?”

“Excuse me, I—”

“Yeah, fine, sure, you talk so damn much that people can’t get you to shut up. But you and I both know that it’s not like you’re saying anything of actual substance most of the time.”

He smiles wryly, though you can’t see it. “And what about right now? We’re talking, aren’t we?

“I’m talking.”

“But are you saying anything?”

You scoff a little bit. “About the same amount as you, I guess.”

Satoru hums. Sounds about right. “I do rely on other people, though. You don’t see me taking on every mission, do you? Not like I can do everything on my own.”

“People act like you can.” Something in your voice sounds almost bitter and for some reason Satoru’s chest aches at the sound. “I just feel like everyone depends on you too much because you’re the ‘strongest.’ Like, what are they going to do if you’re not around?”

“Your lack of confidence in me is kinda rude, you know,” Satoru says dryly. “Do you think something’s going to happen to me?”

“...no,” you answer, reluctant in your honesty. “But I don’t want to be one of those people, not if I can help it.”

He can’t help but laugh. “Don’t think I can handle it?”

“I don’t want you to,” you admit and Satoru frowns, silent as you continue, “I feel like you’ve got enough to worry about already. I don’t want to be adding my crap to it.”

He is more than aware of the burden on his shoulders. Carrying the weight of the world is no easy feat, but Satoru has always been up to the task— accepted it, embraced it even, his waiting hands ever ready and willing to take on more.

Satoru wouldn't mind if you gave him something more to hold.

“What if I want to?” he asks, sounding a little cheeky.

You start to push on his chest, trying to free yourself from his grip. He doesn’t let you. “I don’t care."

Satoru's arms tighten around you in retribution. Your body is a pleasant sort of warm and in the back of his mind Satoru thinks that he wouldn't mind basking in it a little. "Now, that's not very nice at all."

"I don't care!" you repeat, voice still muffled as you struggle against him. "I’m not going to be responsible for contributing to any of your possible mental breakdowns.”

“I don’t have mental breakdowns," Satoru points out. He’s not sure if you realize it, but he’s very good at compartmentalizing, prioritizing his thoughts, his feelings. And more than that—

“Yeah," you say, that bitter sound saturating your tone once more. "I imagine the strongest sorcerer can’t afford to.”

“...something like that, yeah,” he says with another laugh, loosening his grip on you. But he doesn’t let you go completely. Not yet.

You pull back enough so that he can see your face, and your frown almost looks like a pout. It’s kind of cute. “Maybe you should think about it some time. I think it would do you a world of good.”

Satoru pretends to consider it. He sees what you’re saying, and maybe you're right, but he can't. He's built different from you. Different from Suguru. “I thought about it and sorry, but no can do.”

You snort, but you don’t seem all that upset by his refusal; honestly, you probably figured as much. “Must be nice to be you."

"Could be nicer though." Satoru gives you an exaggerated sigh.

You eye him suspiciously, but ultimately take the bait and indulge him. "How so? Do you want everyone to worship the ground you walk on?"

He frowns. He's almost insulted. Almost. "You really think I'm that conceited?"

"Sometimes," you answer with a sassy sort of smile.

Satoru cannot help but stare at you— at the face you're making. Committing the image to memory is just not enough. Taking a picture wouldn't be either. Satoru's fingers twitch, desperate to reach out as if your smile is something he can grab— something he can hold and keep all to himself.

He pouts, "Well, you're wrong."

"Uh-huh…"

"What would make my life nicer," Satoru enunciates slowly, mostly for dramatic effect, "is a nice sorcerer friend who relies on me, tells me their problems and thinks I'm very cool."

You gawk at him before you start laughing. Hard. So hard that tears start forming at the corner of your eyes— that, by the time you're done your breaths are labored and heavy. Satoru is a little offended because he's being honest, but that pales in comparison to the relief he feels seeing that whatever was bothering you seems all but forgotten now. It's less likely now that you'll tell him what that was but Satoru thinks it's a small price to pay to know that you're feeling better.

Besides, he has a feeling about what it could be and so there's next time.

For better or worse, there will always be a next time.

"I'm afraid you're a little shit out of luck there, Gojo," you say once you've caught your breath. "I think your standards are a little high."

He grins. "I only deserve the best, you know."

"Then maybe you should be better first."

"I'm a great friend," Satoru insists. He knows it's not quite the truth, there are ways he could be better, could have been better. For you. For Shoko. For Nanami.

For Suguru.

But he's trying. Here and now. He's trying.

"Are you?" you ask.

"Maybe you should tell me," Satoru retorts playfully. "You know, you never did answer my question earlier."

You blink and then look away, looking a little ashamed.

"You didn't forget, did you? I'm hurt!" Satoru exclaims, exaggerating as he always does.

"I didn't forget!" you say.

"You so forgot!" Satoru shoots back. "But you can make it up to me by answering me now. And no lying this time, got it?"

You scowl at him, looking petulant and it's adorable enough that Satoru is willing to consider giving you a pass if you refuse to answer. Because, even if you don't say it, Satoru knows— no matter how rude you are to him, no matter how much you bicker with him, no matter how much you deny him, he knows the truth.

He doesn't think you'll admit it.

But to his surprise, you do.

Your answer is barely audible, a quiet sort of grumble. "Of course, we're friends… I can't believe you're actually asking me."

Satoru can't help the smile that spreads across his face, elated to hear you acknowledge the friendship between you however reluctant you may be about it. Despite that, there's something, clawing at the back of his mind, demanding and insatiable. You've just admitted to friendship, but Satoru quickly realizes that that's not enough. His fingers twitch again, striving to grasp something else, something more.

"How am I supposed to know that if you don't confide in me a little more?" Satoru asks.

You don't answer. He knows that you know he has a point.

"Listen, you don't have to tell me everything." Even though he wishes you would. "But, if something is seriously bothering you, don't go running into a classroom to cry alone. Just come to me instead."

You groan. Reluctant as always. But it's not a no, and that's good enough for Satoru.

At least for right now.

"Promise?" His voice is soft and gentle, almost a plea.

Satoru couldn't be there for Suguru, but the least he can do is be there for you.

"Okay," you answer, your voice matching his and Satoru wonders if you know, if you realize. "I promise."

extra scene/epilogue

#satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #gojo x you #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #nikuniku fics #infinite loop!verse

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