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The crushing | joel miller x f!reader, 5.2k

Summary: This is the story of a man who had everything in the palm of his hand and traded it all for an empty space in the hollow of his heart. Or This story follows Joel, two to three years after he cheated on his wife.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, ANGST, cheater!Joel, Joel's POV, this is NOT “The Falling” from Joel's POV, brief mention of smut (p i v) but nothing too graphic (I think), self-loathing, depression, therapy, flashbacks and memories from the past, alcohol consumption, Tommy being a supportive brother (eventually), as always let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: Ok, so, Joel gave me a whiplash on this one, he was either staring at me through the screen giving me nothing, or he was mumbling unintelligibly in my ear while I was trying to keep up with him. It started out as a final chapter, but I really think that this part should be Joel's POV and the next and -probably- final one should be the resolving, however that may come. I guess it can be read as a standalone, but if you're interested, it's a sequel to “The Falling”. I edited it seven thousand times because I kept adding things along the way, so I hope it all makes some sense and there are not too many mistakes.. Thank you for taking the time to read anything I write! Love you all! 🥰😘

P.S.: I just wanted to take a moment and let you know that I really appreciate everyone who has read, liked, commented, reblogged and asked about “The Falling”. I honestly didn't think a single soul would take the time to read that kind of story. It means more than you know and I didn’t take lightly how close to home this fic hit for some people; yet you’ve given it a chance, sharing some of your own experiences with me. I love you all, take care and I'll see you -hopefully- in the comments! 🥹🫂

Dividers by @cafekitsune & @saradika-graphics

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...need your reassurance...

...your only focus…

...for the foreseeable future...

He did make it his sole focus. Because of course, he closed the deal, even after he left that damn table like a madman. He still found a way to get what he wanted. That's the man he was. And he wasn't sure if he hated himself for it or not. But self-loathing was a daily occurrence now, so one more reason added to the list was nothing he couldn't handle.

For two years he would wake up every day, is it called waking up if he doesn’t sleep at all?, he would work his ass off, he would go home, he would sink into despair and then he would start all over again the next day. A vicious cycle consisting of 730 days in a row. The deafening silence within the walls of the house was excruciating, the loneliness was unbearable. Even the light penetrating through the windows seemed different than when you were there with him, a dullness surrounding every corner of the now barely lived in space.

You. He hadn’t seen your face in 730 days. He hadn’t smelled your scent or touched your soft skin. He barely listened to your voice anymore, any form of unavoidable communication, you preferred to be conducted by the lawyers, or via text messages, at the most. At the 731st one, he finally knew, something had to change. He couldn’t repeat another day, like all the others that came and went. He simply couldn’t.

Tommy suggested that therapy might help Joel, a few times, but he refused every one of them. Maria was keeping her distance, her place was delicate, being his brother’s wife but also his wife’s best friend. Surprisingly, she was the one who finally got through to him.

“Are you gonna stay a recluse for the rest of your miserable life, then?” Maria wonders, switching her gaze between Joel and the dining room. Everything was untouched, as you left them when you moved out, but the place felt empty, depressing, probably mirroring Joel’s existence.

Joel sighs, closing his eyes briefly. “I’m not a recluse..”, he snarls through his teeth, rolling his eyes at her. He was more than eager to be done with the dinner his sister-in-law insisted on having in his house and be left alone, in his natural state. Alone. Infuriating woman.

“What do you call that?”, Maria persists, goddamn lawyer to the bone.

“What?!” Joel spits back pissed off, looking at his brother next, for support.

“That!” she gestures around his body and his surroundings. “The way you go on for the past two years! Either get over it or do something about it!”, she doesn’t hold back, even when Tommy proposes a gentler approach. Yeah, look where it got you, is the paid answer, so Tommy steps back, shaking his head and raising his hands up in surrender.

“You’ve got him on a leash, hm?”, Joel jokes absentmindedly, “Can you breathe alright, Tommy boy?”, earning himself a hard glare from Maria.

“Maybe the wrong Miller is on a leash..” Maria mutters, causing Tommy’s eyes to widen in horror.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”, Joel retorts doing a double back at her.

“Means that freedom is for those who can bear it.”, Maria throws her napkin on her plate and leaves the room. Joel remains silent, pondering the meaning of her words. It would be a long time before he understood what she meant.

Therapy was hard.

Therapy was hard because he had to do it for himself. He had to concentrate on himself. He thought, being the contractor that he was, that he would walk into the room, get the answers he needed and fix his marriage, just as he rearranged the bricks and the wood and the steel on the construction sites.

But this wasn’t about his marriage. His marriage and the way it crumbled down was the aftermath, he came to learn. It was the outcome of insecurities, selfishness, lack of communication, ungratefulness.

He got it all wrong. Everything. Every little thing. He had to rewire his brain and change every point of view he was holding onto. Honesty. Honesty was the key.

“Why didn’t you reach out to your wife after that night?”, his therapist insists.

“I respected her boundaries.”, Joel was quick to respond.

“And what were those?”

“She didn’t want to see me.”

“Did she say that?”

“No-, I mean-, the way she left that night, she didn’t say much in general. But she blocked my number, so.”, he shrugs in defence.

“So, how can you be so sure that she didn't want to see you? Even if you're right, it doesn't mean that she didn't expect a reaction from you, or that you weren't allowed to try, if that’s what you wanted.”

“Why would she? I upset her, she needed time to think, work things out.”, Joel explains.

The therapist swipes her fingers over her lips, contemplating her approach. “Joel, you walk into your bedroom, into what is supposed to be a safe place and you see your partner with another person in an intimate moment. How does that make you feel? Just say the first words that come to mind.”, his therapist changes the point of view.

Joel shudders just at the thought of it. You, naked, flushed, lips parted and swollen, skin sweaty, breaths short and pupils blown wide, coming for anyone other than him. It would utterly destroy him. “Furious, pissed, betrayed, heartbroken.. I think I would lose it, if I’m honest.” he admits instantly, in his haste to throw the abomination of this image from his thoughts.

“I see. But in her case, you think your wife was just upset?”

“No, of course not.” Joel slightly frowns, shaking his head.

“Do you think she felt all those feelings that you just described to me?”

“I believe so, yes.”, god this is so hard.

“You believe so?” the therapist pushes, again.

Joel’s nostrils flare from the sharp inhale, “I know so.”

“So, she wasn’t just upset.” the therapist concludes and Joel agrees without meeting her eyes, “No, she wasn’t.”

Over time, Joel came to realize that his choice of words was a subconscious attempt to diminish the seriousness of his actions.

“You said in a previous session that you gave space to your wife to work things out.”

“Yeah, it was only fair.”, Joel confirms.

“So, it was hard for you to give her that space?”

“Yes, of course, I missed her every day.”

“Was that a constant in your relationship?”, the therapist wonders.

“I’m sorry, I don’t follow.”

“How did you work things out as a couple, before? I assume you had difficult times as partners, no?”

“Nothing major to be honest, my wife was a very calm and reasonable person. If anything occurred she would talk to me about it.”

“And how did you respond to that?”

“Uh, I was there to listen, we always found a solution together as a couple.”

“Hmhm, so, what changed this time?”

“What do you mean?” He knew exactly what she meant.

“Why didn’t you talk to her? Communicate with her? Maybe help her see your side of things, like you did before, find your way out of this together, as partners.” his therapist explains. “And even before the infidelity, did you let her know that something was bothering you, that you felt differently?”

"I didn't feel differently about my wife. My feelings for her never changed.", he immediately corrects her. "My love for her was never the problem," he confesses and it's the first time since his therapy began that he's shared something so personal, so private.

“But there was a problem, something was wrong if you felt the need to be intimate with another woman. So, why did you keep that from her?”

Joel opens his mouth already knowing he does not have an answer. Or that he doesn't want to give one. He shakes his head, raising his brows in a silent admission that he can’t answer that. Or he won't. His gaze is fixed on a loose thread on the fabric of the couch, his fingers keep picking on it.

“Joel?”

“I- I don’t know what you want me to say, I don’t know.” he keeps shaking his head. He can’t answer that. He won't.

He was so angry when he left the session that day. He was so angry at you. He was angry at your honesty, your clarity, your courage to have a mind of your own and to speak it freely, knowing full well that probably no one else shared the same opinions as you did. That's what he loved most about you, but now he hated it.

“Own it, Joel. Own what you have done. At least that way it will be worth something. Otherwise it was all for nothing.”

This was one of the last things you said to him on the phone, while he was trying to persuade you to change your mind about the divorce. You were always so brave about those matters. Matters of the heart, of integrity. He remembers you always talking about things that he found admirable but utopian. Easy in theory, hard in practice.

“I need to be able to sleep at night. I need to own my decisions; not because I’m always right, far from it, but at least I know I’m being honest with myself. And that matters.” he recalls one of your late-night talks.

You usually found it easier to share your most vulnerable thoughts once you were thoroughly fucked and satiated. When Joel held you in his arms, your breaths almost shared over the same pillow, your scents and your fluids mixed together.

“We’re all imperfect beings, flawed; we all feel embarrassed when we fuck up,” you continue, “it’s hard to admit our mistakes to others, I get that. But deep down we always know what we’re doing and why we’re doing it. Admitting it only helps us to be present in our lives.”

“Be present?”, Joel seems fascinated by the way your mind weaves your thoughts together into deeply rooted beliefs.

“Yes, my love, there's no greater freedom than to live your life truthfully.” you smile at him, softly. Your sleepy eyes roam his face affectionately. Your fingertips caress his jawline, your thumb pressing lightly against the bare patch of his beard. He can feel your devotion pouring from your fingers and sinking into his skin at that moment.

“That’s one of my greatest fears, you know. Living my life in ignorance, in a lie.”, you whisper your deepest insecurity against his soft lips. His hold on you tightens as he rolls you onto your back, nestling his hips between your welcoming thighs. You are safe in these arms. His arms. You surrender to him, body and soul. You can feel his growing erection pressing between your folds, already wet from your combined releases. He tenderly brushes his lips against yours and slowly licks his way into your parted mouth, as he intertwines his fingers with yours. He enters you in one fluid, slow thrust, his warm exhale cooling your wet lips. “Then let me give you something real.”

Thinking back to those moments, Joel couldn't reconcile himself to the fact that he was the one who had brought that fear of yours to life. What broke him was that it was not a lie. Your life together had not been a lie. He loved you. In fact, he was burning up for you. He was a man of control, but not with you. Never with you. You consumed his every thought; being around you for too long made his lungs constrict in pain, begging for a deep breath. Sometimes he was worried sick that if he completely let himself love you like he needed to, he would suffocate you. He loved you. And it killed him that his actions suggested otherwise.

But at some point he had to be honest with himself. He was just protecting his ego. He was trying to get the upper hand out of a shitty, compromising situation. He wasn't being thoughtful, he was being selfish. He was biding his time. He thought the longer he left ‘it’ untouched, the less it would hurt when the inevitable time of confrontation came. He was scared out of his mind that he would lose you forever. No second chances, no redemption, no reconciliation.

No lingering scent on his pillow as your hair pools there, under his chin, as you nestle your face between his neck and shoulder, breathing him in. No laughter through the enormous house, damn, why did he build it so big; you never clarified what the disbelief in your eyes meant when he said he built this house for you, while he pulls you up on your feet for a silly cowboy dance.

No more gentle touches, no more noses brushing together as a silent goodbye in the kitchen before you rush off to work. No more turning around just before you open the door to leave, running to him like a little girl, giving him quick, hungry pecks on the lips while he laughs on your mouth, squeezes your butt cheek and slaps it playfully to say goodbye. Later, baby, he would promise you, his teeth nipping at your earlobe and he could feel your skin crawling with anticipation.

No more I love yous, either breathed, either whispered, either panted, as he makes a home for himself inside your warmth.

When did he fuck you last? He used to have you every day. You craved it every day. You craved him. Why did he stop telling you he loved you every chance he got? When was the last time you said it?

A week before that fateful night, when you touched him longingly, aching for him to touch you back and he told you he had work to do, he wasn’t a teenager anymore. Why the hell did he say that? Why did he sit there and watch the light fading from your eyes? I love you, you said with a sigh against his temple and walked out of his office defeated. Why did you say that? Did you know? Did you suspect? Why didn’t you fight him? You should have said something, anything, pushed him, punched him in the chest, woken him up. Would he have woken up? Or did he need that to come to his senses? Does he have to fall? Does this falling ever stop? Does he have to let you go? Will you come back to him? Does he deserve you?

Days blurred seamlessly into one another. Joel drifted further and further away from everyone. The house haunted him, all the progress he was making within the therapy walls was dissipating once he stepped inside the cold space of his empty house. Leaving the confines of it was his first thought in the morning, while he hurriedly dressed to go to his office far earlier than necessary and his last when he closed his eyes, as he laid his weary limbs on the couch, chasing still your now long gone scent on its fabric, knowing another sleepless night was his only companion until the first rays of sunlight hit the floor-to-ceiling windows to announce the beginning of another day.

People at work tiptoed around him, not knowing how to act. It was as if he was there, but not really. He was focused solely on the Marks project, mechanically going through board meetings, paperwork and supervising the construction site. He. Just. Wasn’t. There.

Joel, will you please sign the papers?

He simply stares at the text message for a good full minute, his thumbs hovering over the screen of his phone. This was one of the rare occasions you had initiated communication with him, always about the progress of the divorce.

No, no, I won’t, the little toddler in him screams, stamping his little feet on the ground.

The papers are not ready.

Joel texts back. He keeps it simple, frightened he might not get an answer back.

Joel, we both know they are. I don’t want any of your assets or your money; this is an easy signature, please.

An easy signature? You think he cares about the houses, or the cars, or the money?

You know I can’t accept that. The house is yours and so is a good part of the money.

The point was to share this house together, Joel, don’t you think us splitting up kind of defeats the purpose? And what on earth makes you think I would ever want to go back in there?

So, there’s nothing I can do to make this easier for you?

Easier? You think money or property can make up for what you’ve done?

Of course not, I wasn’t implying anything like that. Just wanna do something for you, anything.

Can you turn back time?

Of course, he can't. So, he doesn't know what to say to that. He just keeps staring at the screen, lost in thought. After 2 minutes another text follows.

You know I can’t..

Sign the papers. Please.

“Is there anything in particular you want to talk about today, or should I take the lead?”

“Actually I’ve been thinking a lot about that night.”, Joel suggests for the first time. He usually lets the therapist decide where to steer the conversation, then simply refuses to elaborate until he feels ready to talk.

“What about it?”, he shifts his gaze from the window to the direction of her voice.

“I should probably rephrase that. I’m always thinking about that night, repeating it in my head again and again and I’m troubled by something I realized.”

His therapist nods to signal that she's listening.

“Why did she just leave? The more I think about it, the more it doesn’t make sense to me. She just left. No shouting, no breaking things, no attacking either me or-”, her. “Why she didn’t stay? Why she didn’t insist that I leave? She was just- so quiet.”

The therapist smiles in recognition of Joel's near breakthrough. They were beginning to get somewhere, his empathy nudging him under the surface.

“I'm really glad you mentioned that, Joel, so I'd like to take you back to that night and try to understand what might have been going through your wife's mind at that moment," she explains.

“So, she walks into the house, finds her safe space violated by her husband, and she chooses to handle the situation calmly and quietly-” Joel tries to stop her, but she already knows what he's going to ask. “I can't tell you why she chose that path, that's for her to answer, only she knows why.” His therapist continues, “She is making one request of you and one request only, can you tell me what it is?”

“She asked me to leave the house.”

“Hmhm.” the therapist looks at him expectantly.

“I just wanted to talk to her.”, Joel elaborates, “I thought that if I refused to leave, she would accept to listen to me.”

“So you forced your needs on her, while she was in a particularly fragile state of mind.”

“I should have made my intentions clearer, you mean?”

“I mean, that maybe you shouldn’t have had any expectations in the first place. Why do you think was so important to you, to explain yourself right at that moment?”

“Because I knew it was probably the last time I would see her for a while, I just wanted to ease her pain, why is that so wrong? Should I be indifferent? Would that be better?”

“Did it ever occur to you that you might be depriving her of her right to choose?” Come on, Joel, break some eggs.

Joel now begins to make connections. He rubs his hand over his face, the realization of what has really happened crushing him. “Oh, god, I-” He's been so selfish from the start. He hasn't shown you any respect, not even at this delicate moment. He didn't give you a choice as to whether you wanted to listen to him or not. He didn't even let you choose where you wanted to stay. He just made you leave the house. Did he make you believe he wanted you to leave? That he wanted her to stay? Because he didn’t. Fuck. “-I never thought about it like that.”

Fuck.

How could he be so blind? Why was he so blind?

His therapist insisted on it. Because no matter how much progress Joel made over the course of a year, he never revealed the true reason behind his infidelity.

“Joel, we’ve talked about a lot of things; you’ve tried really hard to make this all about your wife and about understanding what she was feeling and how your actions have affected her, but as I keep reminding you”, she smiles understandingly, “you’re the one in therapy, you need to heal your wounds before you even attempt to heal hers. And although it is in fact a really noble thought, this” she gestures between them, “can only work if you do it for yourself. I know it may sound selfish, but I promise you, it is not. It is the exact opposite.”

Fuck.

“Yeah?”, his voice hoarse from sleep as he answers the door after the insistent knock at it. Tommy looks at him surprised once he opens it, “You’re sleeping, already?”. No, he wasn’t. He wouldn’t call it that. But when he goes almost a week without any proper rest, passing out is the right word for what he’s doing. “Yeah, I guess I dosed off..” Joel lies. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to see you.” Tommy responds as he squeezes himself through the door to enter the house. “Yeah, sure, come on in.”, Joel mutters under his breath. “You just saw me at work this morning, is everything all right?”

“I just came to check on you.” Tommy confesses uncomfortably.

“You could have called.”

“Would you have answered?” Tommy deadpans.

Touché.

“Tell Maria I’m fine, Tommy, no need to worry about me; go spend the night where it counts.”, Joel replies in an attempt to push him away, as he walks farther into the house, rounding the kitchen island.

“Hey, brother, I’m here, I am here for you.” Tommy’s eyes narrow in pain and concern as he stares at his sibling's back, following behind him.

Joel exhales hard through his nose, his grip tight as he grabs the edges of the counter, his head lowering between his shoulder blades.

“You shouldn’t, nobody should.” Joel sighs, rubbing the pads of his fingers across his forehead.

“Ok, that’s enough.” Tommy snaps at him. “Enough self-loathing, enough resignation. Enough. You’ve punished yourself enough.”

Joel laughs at that. “Is that right? Is it enough for you? What about her?” he asks, his head turned to the side, looking at his brother over his shoulder.

“What?” Tommy is genuinely confused.

Joel turns his back, resting his waist on the edge of the counter, now looking straight at Tommy. “I should have what? Just get on with my life? Let it all be water under the bridge? Disrespect her even more?”

“Jesus..” Tommy mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose with one hand, the other resting on his hip, his eyes shut in frustration.

“Are you doing this for her? Does she even know that?”

“It doesn’t matter, Tommy!” Joel raises his voice, exasperated. “I’m not doing this for her, I’m not doing anything for her, apparently and that’s the problem.”, his voice breaks, the lump in his throat too big to push down. “She’s not here anymore, Tommy.” he’s standing fully on his feet now, pushing himself away from the counter, leaning slightly forward, like he’s trying to make his brother understand; his eyes are glazed, Tommy had never seen him so devastated before. “She’s gone. I’ve lost her.”, his palms clenched in fists in front of his chest, resisting the urge to wrap them around his shirt and rip it to shreds, as he wants to do with his heart.

“I thought therapy was working..” Tommy whispers, his eyes dropping to the floor beneath him.

“Oh, it’s working, all right!” Joel chuckles in irony, sniffing his nose. “I’m getting a front-row seat, witnessing what a piece of shit I am-”

“Hey!” Tommy tries to cut him off.

“-what on earth was she doing with me to begin with, is beyond me.”

“HEY!” Tommy's eyes bulge out of his sockets, angry at his brother's self-deprecating words. Joel bends his waist forward, puts his elbows on the island in front of him and lets his head sink in again.

“Ok.” Tommy breathes deeply to ground himself, his hands in a position of a prayer in front of his mouth, “Ok, we could both use a drink.” he realizes, as he moves to open the cupboard to grab two tumblers and the whiskey from the shelf with the drinks. “..or five.”

The two brothers drink their first round in silence, both calming their nerves down. Tommy refills their glasses without asking; he knows this is going to be a long night.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.” Tommy begins, pushing Joel’s drink back towards him. Joel wringles his brows in confusion, “What are you talking about? You’re always there for me.”

“No, I haven’t, not really.” Tommy admits, “I let Maria take over when all this happened and I’m sorry.”

“There was nothing you could do, Tommy, don’t sweat it.”

“Let me say this, please.” Tommy raises his hand, his palm facing his brother. “I was just- fuck, we all knew how much you loved her, how much you loved each other, so when it all went down, I just didn’t know how to deal with it. What to say to you, how to comfort you. I didn't know how to deal with you.”

“You blamed me.” Joel says matter-of-factly.

“No-”, Tommy weakly refuses but Joel shakes his head dismissively, interrupting him. “It’s ok, Tommy, you should.”

Tommy looks embarrassed, his cheeks slightly pinkish, not only from the whiskey. “It’s just that I- I couldn’t reconcile the image of the man you were with her, with.. you know..”, he stutters.

“..the image of a cheater. Say it.” Joel adds.

Tommy shakes his head, like he still can't believe what's happened. “Besides, while she was staying with us those first few weeks I saw how devastated she was, man- she was a shell of a woman, so I was confused, I didn’t know how-”

“Tommy. Tommy, it’s fine.” Joel feels his skin crawl visualizing you like that in his head, cutting his brother off once again; he deserves every ounce of mistrust and he knows it.

“No, it’s not.” Tommy insists. “Yes, you fucked up. Brother, you really did. You did a number on her-”, Joel’s body tenses instantly at his brother’s words, his jaw clenching as his eyes darken, moving down to his hands, his grip on the tumbler tightening, his knuckles turning white and Tommy stops abruptly, “shit, sorry, I didn’t mean-”, his face twitches with regret.

“It’s the truth. That’s exactly what I did.” Joel’s gaze seems detached as if he's somewhere else right now.

“What I meant to say, is that I should have been there for you in spite of what has happened. I can see you're suffering, it's taking its toll on you, it has been for some time now; tell me what I can do. How can I help you?” Tommy seems almost desperate, like he’s the one in need of redemption.

Your text flashes through his mind, can you turn back time?, making him smile bitterly.

“Can you turn back time?” Joel's repeating your question and as the words leave his mouth he can feel your presence next to him. That's the most he felt of you for the last three years. He's almost blissful.

“You know I can't.” Tommy sighs. Joel laughs earnestly, the irony of the moment too good not to appreciate.

“Joel, brother, please, just talk to me. Help me understand. You act like you’re the one who’s been cheated on. So, what happened? Why did you do it?” Tommy is pleading with him to give him anything.

Silence fills the room for much longer than either of them would like. Joel feels torn between telling his brother everything or keeping his mouth shut. He wants to tell him, he hasn’t told a soul, but he’s not sure he can get the words out. He’s not sure he can bear to hear the words coming out of his mouth. He’s not sure he can substantiate it, make it real. Because that’s how it feels. He talks about it and it becomes real.

But maybe this is the right thing to do. That’s what needs to be done. He needs to talk about it. He needs to tell the truth and admit the pain he’s caused. Make it real for you, too. Perhaps it is time for him to give you what is rightfully yours. Acknowledgment.

Joel’s made up his mind. He’s gonna talk to Tommy. He lifts his glass to down his drink for some liquid courage, freezing his hand in mid-air as the next words fall from his brother’s mouth. “First of all, who was it?”

“What?” Joel's eyes search Tommy’s through his glass for an explanation.

“Who did you do?”, Tommy clarifies.

Joel feels like he’s been struck by lightning. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Who did you fuck, Joel?”, Tommy begins to feel confused, are they not on the same page here?

“You don’t know?”, Joel can barely speak now, his voice low in shock.

“No one does, not even Maria; she never told anyone.”

You told nobody? Not even your best friend? Why on earth would you do that? Did you feel ashamed? Was it just too much to talk about?

But his brain takes pity on him, helping him for once to understand. He’s connecting the dots while your voice fills the corners of his mind through his memories. His head is swarming with images of you standing in that walk-in closet, remembering what you said the last time he saw you. You’re the one I married, not her. I expected better from you, Joel, not her.

You were right.

It didn’t matter who it was. That is why. He was the one making the choice. He was the one breaking his promises, breaking your trust, breaking your heart; breaking you. He was the one who should have known better. He was the one who should have been honest. Easy in theory, hard in practice.

He feels a fresh wave of pain scattering through his body. He welcomes it. Damn, he’s craving it. He’s glad you chose to withhold the identity of the woman. Not because somehow it’s making it easier for him to defend himself, on the contrary.

There’s no one else to blame. Nobody. Just him. All of the anger, the resentment, the disappointment, all of them on him. He embraces them all. Everything. He will take it all, swallow it down and let it rot inside of him.

Joel tells Tommy everything. Everything, but her name.

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Taglist: @southernbe, @orcasoul, @auteurdelabre

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ohimsummer · 4 months

Text

DARK RED ft. BULLY!SATOSUGU

— minors dni, angst w/comfort, mostly bully!satoru x reader, ft. bully! suguru, one implication of male masturbation, some fluff, also one (1) kiss

summary; bully! satoru manages to seriously upset you, and now he’s scrambling to give you a genuine apology

wc 2.8k

"I thought love was supposed to be easy."

Geto pauses mid-sip. "Oh, is that what you're calling this?"

Satoru leans further into his hand. His cheek smushes against his palm, muffling his grumbles. "Duh. What else would it be?"

"You being a dumbass."

Gleaming, white hair sways over Satoru's forehead, brushes his skin. "She wasn't supposed to react like that." You don't usually react like that, he thinks.

He toys with you all the time. The constant teasing and insults towards you is a regular occurrence, as much as you seem to hate it, but you always end up angrily leaving Gojo in the dust, and then the cycle repeats the next day. Only it was different last time; they’re your usual cries and shouts, but it’s a different type of outburst. Real tears in your eyes, your choked words of 'you suck!' and 'why can't you ever take anything seriously for once?' piercing through Gojo's heart and leaving a still-bleeding wound. They don't have your usual, pissed-off bite to them, but instead sound miserable. Heartbroken and disappointed, like the victim of a betrayal. Your expression shriveled any incoming words up in Satoru's throat, leaving him wide-eyed and dumbfounded as he watched you messily wipe away flowing tears and shove past him. That was last Wednesday, and he hasn't seen you since, not a glimpse or even a whiff of you on campus. It's like you never attended this college to begin with.

Satoru looks at his text messages with you, the last one being a dismal 'princess?' that you hadn't even read. He'd thought about threatening to leak one of the many sex tapes he had of you in his phone, but usually those coercions were bluffs, as Gojo nor Geto would dare leak their precious videos of you like that to anyone else. Besides, somehow forcing you into showing yourself made Satoru's stomach queasy. Like he'd vomit up his own heart.

"There."

He looks up at the sound of Geto's voice, following his pointed finger to the drink machine in the cafeteria. After loitering around for 2 hours, you'd finally shown up, alone and looking a little worse for wear. Even from a distance, Satoru can spot the dark circles under your eyes.

You stand idly in line, awaiting your turn to fill your cup. Eyes flitting from person to person, looking out for a fray of white strands or dark hair. It's hard to discern when the cafeteria is so busy at this hour, though you're not too concerned. Gojo and Geto don't usually frequent the cafe, not unless they're here to cause trouble. And you've been avoiding Satoru for about a week now with no complaints from either of them, so you're hoping you can get in and out without being spotted.

It’s an easy walk out of the cafeteria building, and you’re on your way back to your dorm when a familiar nickname stops you in your tracks. "Hey, princess!"

Fight or flight kicks in, and unfortunately your feet cement to the ground. His presence grows stronger as he draws near, until you can sense Gojo right behind you.

"Been avoiding me, Y/N?"

It feels off. He never really calls you by your actual name. "Why do you care?"

A few seconds of silence pass. Then, "Guess I missed my pretty girl is all."

Your heart aches for a second, before you scoff. "Sure you did. What, it's not the same making some other girl cry?"

Gojo doesn't answer, and you finally force your legs to pick up, heaving yourself towards your destination.

"Sorry."

Aaand, they're stuck again. Blinking, your head eases to the side, catching sight of Gojo in the corner of your vision. He looks awkward, staring at you with hands in his pockets and scuffing the ground as he kicks at the concrete. A knot forms in your stomach, hearing him utter an apology without his usual sarcasm or malice. It almost makes you want to talk things over, until the pain of your previous encounter comes flooding back, and you leave him standing there by himself. Rejected.

Day turns to darkness, and Satoru is stuck with another night of humping his fist like a desperate virgin. Suguru’s out, no telling where, leaving him alone with regretful thoughts to torment him. The next day passes. Then two. Then three. Satoru feels like he's going insane, and it's not just because he misses fucking you on the daily. He never realized just how much of a constant you were in his life until suddenly you weren't. Fuck. He groans into his pillow.

"Maybe give her a non-half-baked apology, like a normal person.," Geto complains. "And stop making so much noise, you're distracting."

"Fuck off."

"Fine, she can stay mad at you forever for all I care. You're the one who can't get in her pussy, not me."

Satoru jolts up, jaw falling slack as he glares at who was supposed to be his best friend. "Wha–, you're still fucking her? I just saw her for the first time again like three days ago!"

A smile stretches across Geto’s face. "Do you think our darling is stupid? Why would I get punished for your wrong-doings, she knows I’d fuck her up for that. "

Gojo flops face-down back onto the bed. "Not fair. We should be suffering together."

"Hell no, this is a personal problem between you and Y/N."

He groans again, legs kicking in the air. "Suguruuu, what do I do?"

"...Give her a genuine apology? I coulda sworn I just said that.”

"I already said sorry!"

"Genuine, I said. Not lazy. Give her something she likes."

Satoru turns slightly, brows furrowed. "What, like flowers? I don't know her favorites."

"Sunflowers."

Gojo pauses, directing a curious stink-eye towards Suguru. "And how do you know that?"

"Because I asked?"

Satoru rests a cheek against his arm, thoughts wandering off as he thinks of all the things he knows about you. Small things he's noticed. Like how you wear necklaces more often than any other jewelry, what certain colors catch your eye, things you've mentioned in passing when arguing with him. And now he does remember offering you a random weed he plucked from the ground as a joke, and you muttering 'what the fuck? for future reference, i like sunflowers’ before walking away from him.

"Suguru!," the mentioned man jolts at the sudden bellow of his name. "I'm making Y/N a bouquet!"

"Right." Geto rolls his eyes. "Do you even know how to do that?"

"Do you?"

"Not really–“

"Excellent, cancel your plans tomorrow, we're going out to get flowers!"

Suguru sighs. "Fine."

Both men, well Satoru, and a very grumpy Suguru after being shaken to consciousness, get up bright and early the next Saturday morning in search of a florist.

"Are these vibrant enough, ya think?" Satoru questions Geto, rubbing a hand over his own chin in contemplation. These flowers needed to be perfect, he wanted only the best for his ba–, you.

"These for someone special?," the lady behind the booth inquires. She smiles politely as she admires the golden petals. "A girlfriend, or wife, perhaps?"

"Uh–“

"Wife.," Satoru cuts Geto off. "So yes, very special, indeed."

He narrows his eyes at Suguru, who poorly muffles a chuckle behind his hand. "What?"

"Nothing. Didn't know you were married, is all."

Satoru shrugs, turning to examine the sunflowers again. "Hmph. That just shows you know nothing about me."

“I know you’re a jackass.”

“Anyway,” Gojo brushes him off. “I think these look terrific, perfect for my girl. I’ll take them all!”

Silence passes. The florist’s lids flutter in astonishment. “All of them?”

“Yep! This bouquet needs to be huge!”

Suguru places a hand on his shoulder. “I think that’s enough for several bouquets.”

Gojo’s grin widens. “Even better! Give ‘em to me.”

The looks both men get as they walk the streets with giant armfuls of sunflowers are…peculiar, but Satoru is too busy firing off his own praises on how he’s going to give you the best apology of your life to notice.

“I’m gonna make her cry!,” he beams, pauses, before adding, “Happy tears this time, though.”

Shoulders bounce as Suguru laughs, unable to stifle it with his hands full of shining yellow flowers. “She might just tell you to piss off.”

“Would it kill you to have some faith in me?”

“A little, yes.”

Geto curses under his breath. ‘Shit!’ as he goes stumbling forward right over Satoru’s foot, almost loosing his grip on the assortment in his arms.

“Hey, don’t you dare drop those.,” Gojo pouts. “These are for my wife, and they’re her favorite.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

It takes Satoru hours before he’s happy with the final product. Along with countless tutorials on how to organize a bouquet properly.

“Hold it this way.,” he commands Suguru, who rolls his tired eyes, ready to catch up on the sleep he missed this morning. “There, perfect! Wait, hold on, let me just redo this.”

“Can you hurry up?,” Geto frowns at him. “You’ve redone it like a million times already, damn.”

“Hey, my marriage is at stake here, excuse me for trying to make this look like the best bouquet she’ll ever see!”

“I’m letting go.”

“Nonowait! Okay, I’m done, promise.”

The bouquet comes out stunning, given the fact it was whipped up by two college boys who’d never created a bouquet in their lives, and especially when one of those college boys was Satoru Gojo. He boasts to Suguru, who’s yanking a blanket over his head, how it’s “his best work yet”.

“Maybe be a little more humble when you give it to her.,” Suguru grumbles as Satoru heads out, eager to present you with the display of his apologetic affections.

There’s a certain pep in his step, an excitement Gojo doesn’t often feel unless it’s to see your pretty face. Elated can’t even begin to describe it. The image of your soft lips curling into a smile, eyes sparkling as you see the large array of your favorite flowers, pushes Satoru closer and closer to your dorm building, which stands tall before him. He can’t help but mentally pat himself on the back. Heart swelling, Gojo can see it now, this surprise is going to make you ecstatic–

“Gojo?”

He halts mid-stride, foot hovering in the air, arms loosening around the bouquet. Satoru turns towards the sound and there you are, standing ten feet from him. Your mouth is open in a small ‘o’ as you notice the gift in his hand. Both of you stand there for a moment, eyeing each other, before you eventually break the silence.

“What’s that?”

Satoru snaps back to life, fumbling terribly to stuff the large bouquet behind his back, and he damns himself for making something so awkwardly huge. You watch, biting back a giggle, as he tries to hide what you’ve so obviously seen already. He stutters “u-uh, nothing!’ as a few petals flutter down from his hard work, and he curses ‘fuck!’.

It's easy to sneak up on Gojo when he's so busy floundering with the bunch of flowers. Your mouth threatens to grow into a smile, teeth sinking into your lips at the outlandish sight of him struggling to completely conceal the massive bouquet from your sight. The sharp pinch of your fingertips on his shoulder snatches Gojo from his frantic thoughts.

“Is this your way of apologizing again?”

“No!,” is his instant reply, startling you until Gojo averts his gaze to the concrete. “I mean...yeah. You ruined the surprise.”

This interaction feels more routine, less delicate. The way his lips jut out in a pout, his teasing banter. Crossing arms over your chest, you give Gojo an unamused look. “Ummm, it’s huge. How did you plan on hiding that from me?”

“…”

Satoru thinks his heart stutters as you hold out your arms, hands gesturing for the bouquet, and he slowly reveals the assortment of flowers behind his back. Through his panicked, rushed efforts to hide them, the paper has torn, some of the flowers are missing petals, and some aren’t in the exact position he and Suguru had so meticulously arranged them.

“Dumbass.,” you huff, wrapping fingers around the stems, which are adorned with a crinkly, cream colored paper and a dark green bow. “I’m still mad with you.”

Satoru’s breath hitches as your fingers brush his, as if it's the first time he's ever touched you. He relinquishes hold of the bouquet. “You like ‘em, though? Don’t lie, I can tell.”

“Just shut up.”

He flashes you a toothy, boyish grin, one that makes your heart beat a little faster. “It’s all for you, my pretty Y/N.”

Eyes rolling, you intently study the bouquet, raising it to hide your flustered expression. A warmth creeps over your body at the way Satoru utters your name, like if he says it too loudly, it will break apart into glass pieces. The paper creases under your restless fingers.

“Thank you, Satoru.”

The flowers are striking, but Gojo doesn’t think they compare at all to your beauty. Blue eyes admire you, at the way you marvel over the bunch of sunflowers, beaming at how fresh and vibrant and downright captivating they are. You glance up to meet Satoru’s eye, and he rubs at the back of his neck.

“So, uh,” he starts, avoiding your gaze. “I’m sorry about what I said. Really didn’t mean to upset you that much.”

Your eyes narrow. “That much?”

“Well, you know you’re really hot when you’re mad, but I didn’t mean to do that–“

“And did I look hot then?”

“No! Well, you weren’t ugly, but I didn’t like seeing you so upset–, usually it’s a turn on when you’re all angry but it felt different that time and Suguru didn’t tell me until later you were having a super rough day so I figured I might have hit a nerve–“

You cradle the bouquet to your chest, thoroughly enjoying the clumsy flow of his words, determined not to dig himself a deeper hole or upset you all over again. His lips pause, and then Gojo interrupts another sentence with a new one, before the downturn of his brows as he catches your gleaming eyes.

“My point is that I’m sorry.” He spots the twitch of your frown. “I know you wanna smile, let me see it.”

You can’t help but grin as your mouth opens. “No I don’t. And I guess you’re forgiven, now get away from me so I can enjoy my bouquet in peace.”

“Wait, that’s not it!” Before you turn away, Satoru reaches into his back pocket to pull out a small, white, silk bag with a white ribbon securing the opening. “I got this too. Here.”

You recognize the design of the tiny sack from a rather expensive jewelry store, one you could only dream of buying from. And now here you were, in possession of something from that same store, mouth gaping open as Satoru snickers.

“You just gonna stare, baby, or…?”

The fabric of the bag is soft in your hands, smooth and easy on your fingers. Hugging the bouquet to your side, the ribbon loosens to reveal a dainty, silver necklace inside, adorned with a small, heart charm engraved with your initials.

“Oh, wow . .” You’re awestruck at how delicate and pretty it looks. Turning it over, you find a “G.S” on the other side of the heart. “And Suguru’s initials on the back? How sweet.”

“Don’t play.”

“Whatever.,” you giggle at his downturned lips. “It’s very nice, I like it.”

Satoru can’t help pat himself on the back. “Yeah, it is, isn’t it? Cost a hefty chunk of change, especially since I wanted it so quick and on such short notice–“

“Uh huh.” This big dummy. Your smile grows at the thought.

“–and you know I just had to get the best for my pretty girl, plus I got kinda hard at the thought of my initials on your chest–“

Gojo’s words catch in his throat at the soft press of your lips to his cheek. Blood shoots to his face, instantly, and you can’t help bursting into a round of giggles, barely gasping out ‘you look like a strawberry!’. He’s so embarrassed that the realization that you willingly kissed him of your own accord doesn’t even register. All Satoru feels is a burning heat on his cheeks and a tightness in his chest, desire squeezing a fist around his heart as you smirk up at him through a fit of laughter.

“You are really somethin’ else. Bye, Satoru, also learn to stop talking sometimes.”

All Gojo can do is wave as you depart, leaving you with a ‘see ya, princess’ as you disappear into the building, sparing him one last glance. His phone vibrates as you leave his line of sight, announcing a text from Suguru.

asshole🤮: you give it to her yet?

s: i thought the sleeping beauty was getting a nap in?

asshole🤮: she told you to fuck off, didn’t she?

s: stfu

#bully! satosugu #bully! satoru #satoru gojo imagine #satoru x reader #Satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #satoru gojo x reader fluff #jjk x reader fluff #satoru gojo angst #jjk angst

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dat-physics-boi · 8 months

Text

A leap of faith and physics

We thought for a civilization to form, one needed liquid water, a stable planet with a hot core, and tardium crystals. Apparently, this is not so.

Because we just received a vibromessage over the tachyon network from an unknown source.

Which in itself would not be too unusual. Plenty of newly realized civilizations figure out how to configure tardium to send tachyon messages across isospace. Hoping someone will answer. We always do. It always takes some time to go from simple repeating messages to understanding one another. Most civilizations don't come up with the galactic standard modulation on their own. Nor do we know their form of communication all that well, language, culture, all of that.

First contact is always a lengthy affair, until the new species is integrated into the intergalactic community. Then follows the exchange of knowledge and culture, the setting up of historical archives and sharing of starcharts. Since light travels only at luxionic speed, the charts provide a valuable look at the past. Once the new civilization has been caught up to date, things tend to settle. Updates are fewer and far in between, and culture tends to somewhat homogenize. Not completely, of course, as everyone has different living circumstances, but with all the exchange between us, some settling is bound to happen.

But we know where tardium reserves are, have felt the reverb of our scans, we know where civilizations could potentially pop up. The message we received was unusual not because its source was unknown, but because it came from a sector without any sufficient tardium deposits.

That... shouldn't even be possible!

The signal is also a bit noisy. Strange. Usually, the bigger the tardium array, the more self-stabilization should occurr. And for interstellar communication, you tend to need quite large arrays. So then why was there so much noise?

It was clearly a signal, and according to the triangulators, it came from the outer third of a dark spiral galaxy. We call them that, since they were never really observed, at least not with any isocartography. We only know they're there due to shared star charts. No idea what's going on with them at the current isotime. We can't know, without any tardium resonance to pick up.

Anyway, of course we answered. Their signal had been prime numbers, if we demodulated it correctly, followed by things we couldn't really make sense of. It was standard practice to begin communications with mathematics, and fundamental harmonics. It's strange that they did that right away, but not unheard of. We sent back primes, and then a couple of playful harmonics. Music. What we received back was weird, because we thought it was music, but it wasn't.

It turned out to be a starchart, and not just any kind. Pulsars. We sent back a chart of their galaxy, as reconstructed from several older starcharts. Then, we waited for their answer. And waited. And waited. An entire solar cycle (of our species) later, we finally got another answer.

And it just would not stop. We recognized it was a series of images, or rather, rapid successions of images, together with harmonics on a different band as well. This was video! The footage depicted a bipedal species, with symbolics next to different features. The images cycled through different body parts, with different descryptions. We had a really hard time catching and saving all the data, a task which had to be offloaded to the communal computation grid, as our own planet simply did not have the capacity to do it alone. This should have tipped us off to what we were going to be dealing with, but it didn't.

We continued, almost business as usual, just a fair bit faster. Then objects were being shown, often together with the bipedals, and their corresponding glyphics were depicted right next to them. Also, each image was accompanied by a sound file. They really made learning their language easy for us. We learned that they called themselves Humans, and their home was Earth, a planet orbiting a yellow star. They were a surface dwelling species! Those are pretty rare, as most can not survive the exposure to open space for some reason. We then sent back images and glyphics of our own, matching them in their intent. We sent images of life forms, images of our own body parts, images of objects and always accompanied by isostandard glyphics.

Usually, once communication has come to a basic understanding, the exchange of culture would begin.

But the Humans had started out with primes and starcharts, so of course, their next communication wasn't about culture. We... honestly didn't know what exactly it was, for a while. Until some of the mathematicians from across the network found patterns. They were sharing mathematics with us!

Eager to help, we sent back entire databases full of insights. They requested more soon. So we sent more. And more. And more. We wondered how they could even store all that we sent them. We asked. They sent back something we didn't understand. We hoped the mathematicians could figure it out, but nope.

Eventually, we sent steam engine configurations, as well as the corresponding heating and shunting tardion-arrays used to power them. They sent back their own designs for steam engines. And other engines that seemed similar, but shoudn't work with steam. The machine configurations, piston layouts and such, were fairly primitive. As was to be expected from a new species. But they never sent us schematics of their heating or shunting arrays. When we asked how they kept things cool without shunting arrays, they sent back another steam engine. But, when we called it that, they corrected us. What they had shown us was a heat pump. They used the opposite effect, instead of creating movement from a temperature difference, they created a temperature difference from movement. We asked them why they wouldn't just use shunting arrays. They asked what those were.

And this is how we found out why they were in dark space. Why their signal was so noisy. And why they had never depicted heating or shunting arrays in their schematics.

They had practically no tardium. They simply did not have enough of it to make arrays, as we thought all civilizations do. The largest piece of tardium they had was the centerpiece of a gigantic machine. It was about the size of a human "nail", which is a vestigial claw originally used for superior grip on one of the native plant species of their planet.

We did not know how to respond. We could not comprehend how a civilization could form without tardium crystals. They asked us if we knew where more could be found, preferably near them. We didn't understand what they meant. Then they asked us how to locate reserves. We gave them the modulations that we use to scan for the crystals' tachyon resonance.

They thanked us, and ceased their questions. Then, communication became choppy. Only occasionally would we receive an exchange of culture. Their questions about mathematics and tardium crystals ceased.

---------------------

When we first received back an answer from the deep space tachyon dish, we were extatic. And shocked. And kind of in disbelief. Nobody had really known if it would work. Still, everyone in the control room agreed that we should make sure it was really a signal, before we dropped that bombshell to the public.

We focused a couple more dyson collectors onto the dish, and changed the signal. Instead of primes and harmonics, this time, we encoded the pulsar chart, multiple times, in every encoding we could think of, and sent them all.

Only a few hours later, we received another signal from the previous location. The encoding was our own, easily recognized. With shaky hands, i pressed the 'open image file' button.

When i was greeted by a picture of the Milky Way, everyone in the room lost their collective shit.

"Holy Fuck!" "Oh my god." Someone fainted. Multiple people cried. Nobody minded any of that.

~~~

The prime administrator creased her brow. The direct line was ringing. This better be important. "Hello? Prime administrator here." From the other end, she could hear someone suppressing tears, and whimpering: "Tachyon dish project operator here. We... we."

"Everything ok over there?", she asked. What could possibly have happened that had the scientist crying? Was there an accident with the dyson swarm or something? Did people die? No, she trusted the operator of that experiment to not call unless it mattered to the entire human race.

A wet chuckle. "Better than ok. Maam? We... We're not alone."

Not alone? What does that...? Oh. OH! oh

"Are.. you sure?" Dammit. Now even her own voice was shaking.

"We sent a pulsar chart and got a beautiful image of the Milky Way back, in the same image file type. Pretty sure at this point."

~~~

The following year was downright insane. The mere confirmation that we weren't alone in the universe spurred us all on. Artists did their best to show all sides of us, scientists got together to determine what questions we should ask, even the long obsolete military awakened from its slumber, churning out tactical analyses of possible tachyon based weaponry, and how to defend against it.

Some people were panicking, others in denial, but most relished the opportunities that might open up.

Policies were made, on how to handle aliens that would come to the solar system. Tachyon mechanics, an until now unproven theory, made leaps and bounds, scientists working as hard as they could to understand it better.

The dyson collectors were turned to multiple new research projects, powering large machines that channeled vibrations into the tiny crystals we had found to pick up on tachyon vibrations. The largest one that we had discovered while asteroid mining was still in the communication dish, but the smaller shrapnel, a couple millimeters in size at the most, were being utilized.

Eventually, after a year was up, communications resumed. The linguists sent data, and worked closely with the astronomers that had made the initial transmissions. We also received back data, and the scientific community devoured every piece of information. We learned their language as fast as we could.

But our requests for the sharing of scientific knowledge appeared to fall on deaf ears. Whenever we sent natural constants, or physical laws, we got nothing back. Well, almost. Our prodding did yield one answer: How to locate the crystals. Which were apparently common? Though our scans painted a different picture. We did have some scattered about the asteroid belt, yes. But the largest one we detected was only 3cm in diameter. A little bigger than the one in the communication dish, sure, but not that much.

We came to accept this, figuring that maybe there was some kind of prime directive that forbade the sharing of further technology. Actually, perhaps we leaned a bit too far into our Star Trek analogy. Because most of us would not get it out of our heads to try to build a warp drive. Well, not really a spacetime bending drive, but something that could go faster than light. Because, obviously, thanks to our discovery, we now knew that while the speed of light may be finite, the speed of information was not.

-----------------------------

After ten cycles of cultural exchange, the humans sent a request for isocoordinates of the nearest known civilization to their own. This request kind of drowned in the noise, we didn't really think about it much, we just transmitted our coordinates. Turns out, the nearest ones were us, in what the Humans call the Andromeda Galaxy.

Shortly after the request, they went totally vibrosilent. We tried and tried to contact them, but to no avail. This, while tragic, was a reality of civilization, though. Extinction events could always happen. Sometimes the affected civilization would realize in advance and send a couple warnings, but nobody could help them from afar, of course. So that's what we figured happened to Humanity. Maybe their sun blew up, or they got knocked away from it by a passing object, anything could have happened.

Many cycles passed. I had aged, my once young and springy exoskeleton now wobbly and soft, though my mind was still sharp enough to crew a communications array.

None of us were prepared for the schockwave resonating through our sensor grids. Multiple arrays straight up shattered. Luckily, as big as they were, there was nobody close to them, so no deaths. What the rest of them picked up though made no sense. We could determine there was a pulse, but no normal communication had that level of power, nor resonance.

Then, half a planetary rotation later, there was a new luminance in the sky. We were about to renew our arrays and update our starchart, when the light source moved. Toward the planet.

What?

And then, my assigned communications array resonated.

"This is the Human vessel Enterprise, calling anyone on the planet. Can you read us?" the crystal sang in choppy English, the language of the Humans. The ones we thought were extinct.

I scuttled to my post at the resonator, tuning it to reply:

"This is communications, we read you, but i don't understand? We are recovering from an unprecedented resonance pulse that shattered multiple arrays, sorry if the modulation is a bit off."

The answer was swift: "Sorry about that, our engines are a bit out of tune at this point. That pulse might have been us. Glad to hear you all down there, is anyone injured?"

"Your engines? And uh. No, nobody injured."

"Yes our engines, again, we apologize for that. But glad to know everyone is alright.

Requesting permission to land on the surface."

This was a momentous occasion, which i didn't realize until later on. The entire tachyon network would eventually refer to this exact communication as a reference time. This exact moment would come to be known as 0:0 PFJ

0 Cycles and 0 rotations Past First Jump.

The only thing i remember is absently giving permission, not quite understanding what exactly they were requesting here. If i had, i would have convened with the councils beforehand.

Then, the cave began to shake. It wasn't coming from any of the arrays. It was coming from the surface.

~~~

They. They were here. The Humans were here. On the surface. Of. Of our planet. What? How?!

Most importantly, why?!

Then i remembered the stories about their exploration of the surface of their own planet. How they had sent people to their poles, despite their biology not being fit to survive there. And several did die! How they climed mountains. Made pressurized vessels to dive below the surface of their open ocean. We asked them why. They told us.

I realized at that moment, not how they were here. But why.

"Because we could, and no human had been there before," they had answered back then.

#humans are space orcs #haso #fanfic #long post #my writing

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balkanradfem · 1 year

Text

Holy practices and tradition that are okay and universally good:

making trees, forests, mountains, rivers, seas and springs holy places

protecting them and going there for special occasions

planting holy trees as a religious practice

making animals sacred and protected

promoting the communal instinct to help others who need help

solving the housing and starvation crisis

promoting peace

promoting the freedom of choice, human rights, healthy boundaries, freedom of thought, and survival resources and safety for everyone

meeting up to listen to stories and legends of the past, which come with wisdom and promote healthy morals and community

meeting up to sing together

celebrating life, freedom and happiness

creating art in celebration of life and happiness

connecting with cycles in nature, celebrating natural occurrences

acknowledging that women are the source of human life and that they have the sole right to make decisions over that sphere

rituals and decorations to cheer people up when the seasonal depression is up due to the lack of sunlight

Holy practices and traditions that are absolutely unacceptable:

promoting suffering, subservience, poverty, starvation, sacrifice and endless servitude as the only ‘correct’ and moral way to exist

rituals where everyone has to listen to a man speaking for an hour or longer

repeating stories where the moral is to submit, to give away your personality, identity, even friends and family, in order to serve ‘the greater good’, promotion of ‘don’t think, don’t doubt, don’t ask questions’, or, stories talking about the horrors that would happen to non-believers, where the goal is to terrorize children who ‘don’t believe enough’

promoting the depictions, statues and art, of suffering, body harm, slow and torturous death, glorifying such images as ‘holy’, celebrating torture and death in essence

promoting an idea that the only humans who are ‘pure and saint’ earned their sainthood by being brutally murdered or tortured

limiting what women can and cannot do, punishing and shaming women’s bodily functions, or telling them that certain body functions must be used for the sake of ‘god’ or cannot be intervened with because of ‘god’

shaming women’s normal and healthy feelings, emotions, urges, desires, sexuality and appearance

telling women that their rightful place is to be ‘property’ or ‘servants’ to the other half of population

suppressing women’s freedom of thought, women’s freedom of mind, women’s bodily autonomy, and the important decisions of her life

joining a man and a woman to live in an isolated private space where the man is in control of all major decisions, and the path of her life, while she gets to be in control of nothing

putting women’s sexuality under men’s control, allowing men to violate it or ignore it at their own will

telling women they’re responsible for male’s predatory and perverse urges, telling women to take steps to ‘prevent it’, in which the goal is to make men not accountable for their own actions, and women ashamed for being unable to control something beyond their control

making rape of women mandatory, or normal, or acceptable, or permitted or something that should in any world be going on

threatening women and children that god can ‘hear their thoughts’ and that they are to be punished if it goes against god’s ideals

encouraging people to bond and communicate with an imaginary ‘father figure’ who takes credit for the creation of human population (which women actually did), who then argues that women should suppress themselves and be convenient and pleasing to men if they want to reach the imaginary afterlife

promoting the beliefs of any book that men wrote

claiming to promote peace while having a history of religious wars and spreading the idea that people of all other religions are ‘less’ or ‘sinful’ or ‘needing to be saved (converted)’

putting men in charge of anything

equating male desires to god’s desires while female desires are condemned and punished

equating purity, innocence and value in women with inexperience with physical intimacy

punishing and shaming women both for accepting and refusing physical intimacy (if they accept they lose value and are seen as tainted, if they refuse they displeased the man who wanted it, she doesn’t get any agency and whether she wants it or not is irrelevant to religion, except if she does she’s sinful)

failing to promote well-being, satisfaction, health, freedom, human rights, bodily autonomy, natural rights to administrate or refuse to administrate a human life, and overall safety and happiness of women

#radical feminism #radfem analysis #christianity #paganism #holy rituals #religion #anti patriarchal religion #spirituality #religious traditions #radfem #religious oppression of women #spiritual oppression of women #cultish bullshit #religious abuse #spiritual abuse

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ike-bana · 1 year

Text

Fragments (Dabi x reader)

Pairing : Dabi x fem! reader

words: 1.9K

Genre: Angst

Content warning : Toxic relationships/unhealthy relationships, arguments, alcohol use, smoking,angst,mentions of abuse, swearing, mentions of violence,pregnancy,mature/adult themes,no clear spoliers except you squint really hard,manupilation(if you squint). Minors DNI

Summary: All that's left of your relationship were tiny fragments, tiny little fragments you were trying to put back together yet even you were reaching your limit.

Songs to set the mood: Been like this by Doja cat / I hate everything about you by three days grace. If you have your own playlist,it's fine as well!

A/N: I was in a angsty mood and this came up so suffer or enjoy whichever. I also used the British past tense of burn cause that's what I use. I view the reader as female but I don't think gender was stated here so do with that what you wish

You sat there on the cold tiled floor as your back was leaning on the kitchen wall. You covered your face with your trembling tear stained hands. Your eyes were red and puffy and your head was throbbing. Your body was worn and weary from all the crying that you could no longer let out a proper sob. You let out a shaky sigh as you were terribly exhausted. This wasn't new to you, you were used to situations like this, often times you'd lock yourself in the bathroom hugging yourself and sobbing uncontrollably until he calmed down. It wasn't like it was an uncommon occurrence .All couples fought at some point in their relationships,it was always bound to happen

but damn, this was the fifth time this week.

You folded your legs under your thighs in a cross-legged fashion kicking a ceramic shard in the process. That was your brand new plate you got for 20% off at the store

or at least what was left of it.

You scanned the kitchen carefully, taking in the blatant state of complete disarray. Broken plates and cups flooded the room ,chairs toppled over and one of the table's legs had come off, knocking it off balance. you had to replace the good as damaged piece of furniture the next time you went shopping. As saddened as you were,a small part of you was grateful he didn't burn the place down with his quirk.You knew very well what he was capable of and you wouldn't stand a chance with your subpar quirk. You could turn small items into powder. It couldn't be used against people or animals and it wouldn't work on anything larger than small notepad.You wouldn't want to call it useless as it has helped you quit the number of times but you knew it couldn't hold a candle to your boyfriend's flame quirk.

You grimaced as you heard a blunt being lit in the next room followed by the clanging of bottles from the cabinet. His usual routine after a fight like this, you could count the number of times you had told him to stop but he'd always snap at you so you gave up trying. It helped him keep calm since he couldn't burn the place down. He had never raised his hand against you,something you were once again grateful for but he almost burnt you with his quirk.Almost. It was just that one time and he apologized. That was what you kept telling yourself. Dabi did indeed apologize and he went above and beyond to make it up to you both physically and emotionally,in more ways than one.

"Y/N"

your train of thought was disrupted as you heard him call your name,you were so deep in thought that you didn't even notice him come in. You stood up from the kitchen floor abruptly and dusted your skirt. He stood there towering over you with a cigarette between his middle and pointer finger and a rocks glass on the same hand.

"Y-yes" you stuttered trying so hard to fix your composure but failing woefully.

"Get out" He said plainly and clearly

"what?"

You stared on in disbelief ,your lips parting slightly gripping the hem of your shirt tightly , tears long and forgotten threatened to repeat their cycle.

"Don't make me repeat myself"

"B- But Dabi I live here,I paid for this place "

He had moved in with you a couple of months ago after you insisted. Although he wasn't always around due to his work in the league,he did stop by and sleep over. He deemed it unnecessary seeing as he already stayed a couple of nights and slept in your bed. You said you just wanted to feel closer to him so you urged him to move all his belongings here

"Fine , guess I'll leave" He stormed out of the small building, slamming the door in the process.

The sobs came out naturally and the salty tears like the gushing waters of Niagara falls. where did it all go wrong?.Oh you wanted to fix this so badly but what more could you do?.

You used to be so happy together,so,so normal. But now everything was all in shambles. All you had done was call him out on his secrecy and urged him to be more open and honest with you. you knew he was hiding something about himself. Instead of being calm and understanding he snapped at you and this led to a full on world war 2 in your kitchen

You leaned your back against the wall and slid down to the floor. You let yourself cry once more but now with less restraint. You sobbed,sniffiled and whimpered until nothing came out. You don't know how long you sat there but you were sure hours had past. You couldn't properly tell as it had already been dark out long ago. You couldn't do this anymore,you loved Dabi with all your heart as strange as it was. You don't know what exactly attracted you to the raven haired villain.Whether it was his bad boy persona or the undeniable urge you had to "fix" him, you could never tell. But love works in strange ways. That's why it was hard for you to do this but you had to end this. For your sake and theirs

Gathering the last ounces of strength, you had left in you,you stood up from the floor,stumbling slightly. You walked into your shared bedroom and pulled out a black duffel bag from the closet drawer by the door. You took every item of clothing he owned and hurriedly folded them into the bag. Knowing him,he probably wouldn't be back till the next day or week,it was impossible to predict. But either way it gave you enough time to prepare yourself. You didn't know how he was going to take this but you had to stand your ground,you weren't going to take this lying down.

And just like that as if fate was trying to play some cruel sick joke on you,the door flung open and Dabi came sauntering into the bedroom.

"Listen Y/N I-"

You stopped in your tracks and turned around to face him looking like a deer caught in headlights , clinging desperately to the black t-shirt you held in your hands. He looked you over,carefully processing what was going on. He narrowed his sapphire eyes and clenched his fists tightly

"What the fuck are you doing?" he asked surprisingly calm

"Dabi,I'm tired. I can't do this anymore. I'm done" you managed to let out

Just as that was said,he let out a warped hysterical laugh. A look of fear in accordance with pure confusion was evident on your face.You always knew your boyfriend was off his rocker but you weren't expecting him to react this way. Your lips were quivering and a chill ran up your spine.He calmed down and wiped the non-existent tears from his stapled eyes.

"You know what's funny? I came back all the way here to apologize and this is how you repay me"

"Dabi,I'm serious,we can't do this with you anymore" You finally found your voice once more although it didn't come out as assertive as you wanted it to.

" Wait,we? The fuck are ya talking about"

"I-" you paused.

You had managed to hide this for a span of two weeks now. He'd been going in and out lately so it made it a lot less tasking to conceal it. But now it seemed futile to keep this up any longer especially since he was putting you on the spot like this

" Dabi I" you exhaled

"Dabi I'm pregnant"

His face visibly softened when you told him that. He stared blankly at you as if you had grown a second head. You glanced at him when he hadn't said anything,his silence made you apprehensive. It wasn't something that was planned so it wouldn't surprise you if he was upset. You could have sworn you had used protection but alas these things do fail.

"Wait,are you serious?" He asked,forehead creased

"Yes,I am" you avoided his questioning gaze

What he had done next after had shocked you. He pulled you into a warm embrace. His charred hands combed through your strands of hair.

"I'm so happy,this is good news" His voice was muffled as he had buried his face on your shoulder

"Wait,what?"

"I said I'm happy Y/n,this is good news"

"No,I heard what you said,I'm just surprised that you're not upset"

"Why would I be upset?,you're carrying my kid in you"

You broke out of his embrace and stared at him with your eyebrows furrowed. You were confused as to who this man was and what he had done to your rather abrasive boyfriend

"Hey earth to Y/n" he waved his hand in front of your face

You gave him a hard look before glancing around the room like a patient with amnesia. Your eyes caught the half-open duffel bag that lay long forgotten on the floor. It was then that you recalled what had brought you to the bedroom in the first place .If he thinks you'd sweep that under the carpet then he had another thing coming.

"Babe,are you OK?. You look tense" he spoke up when you hadn't said anything casting you a worried look.

"Dabi,I'm glad that you're happy about this whole pregnancy and all but that doesn't erase what's going on. Having a baby doesn't make this situation suddenly resolved,we still need to end this"

The look he had given you was one you had never seen before. It was a perfect blend of remorse,anxiety,sadness and you could could have sworn you saw fear in the mix.Nothing like the scowls he had given you that night

"I know I haven't been the best boyfriend lately and I know I've done nothing but fuck things up but please give me a chance" he had reached out a hand to you and placed it on your shoulder but you shrugged it off

" Dabi,shit isn't that easy,I've given you more chances then I could conceivably count. You've gotten even more aggressive than usual lately and it's concerning. I can't keep placing myself in this kind of toxic environment,it's not healthy for me or the baby"

Your back was turned away from him now.If he kept staring at you like that, you might change your mind. His broken expression made you want to run into his warm embrace and break down right there but you knew better than that.

"Y/N, come-come on let me fix this"

"No Dabi,you've done more than enough" You said bitterly looking down in regret

" OK Y/N,i know this is probably a joke and you got me good,I won't lie. Now stop playing around,I get it"

His forced chuckle made you grimace,he was being persistent and this was making it harder for you.

"Dabi,look if you don't leave then I'm afraid I have to"

You made your way over to the closed closet to pick out your clothes, passing over the discarded duffle bag on the floor. Before,you could fling the closet doors open,you felt a tight hug on your waist from behind. You wanted to protest,to shove him away from you but you knew he was stronger than you,so you just stood there. Dabi was never the clingy type so his actions made you perplexed but not as perplexed as the words that left his mouth not long after

"Please don't leave me,Don't take everything away from me,just like-just like they did"

what exactly did he mean by that?. His words made you further realize how little you truly knew about your villain boyfriend. He had never spoken of anything like this .But then again,he never spoke about himself or his past. That was part of the various reasons why you were even in this situation in the first place.This was definitely out of character for him so you wanted to press further

"Dabi, who is they? what are you talking about?"

"They took it all away from me,my life,my childhood. It was "his"fault,he did it to me. Please don't treat me like he did. Please you're all I have,you're the only person who could ever love me" He kept pleading keeping whoever he was talking about in question anonymous.

You had never seen him like this,it broke you to say the least. And just as if a fragile cord had snapped inside your brain,you let tears flow out once more that night,returning the villain's embrace. He sounded so distressed and you couldn't take this any longer. You weren't sure whether it was the hormones or a genuine sympathetic response that made you lose your resilience,but all you knew was you wanted to hold him and tell him everything was going to be alright.

"No Dabi I won't" *sniff*" I won't leave you" what were you thinking?,he needed you,you couldn't just leave him.

"Really?" He broke apart and gave you a crestfallen look.

"Yes Dabi.Really. We can work something out this time" you stroked his cheeks, devoid of skin and replaced by open flesh and staples.

His little rants had deeply concerned you but you knew you would have to pry about it some other time.

He dove back into your arms and squeezed you tightly,not enough to hurt you but it was still a tight grip. You returned his embrace and leftover tears fell from your eyes as you smiled.

" I promise you,you won't regret it" The staples near his cheeks rose as his lips formed a malevolent smirk

" You won't regret it at all"

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bodiesbodiesbodiesx3 · 1 year

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Lesbophobia and transmisogyny in fandom: the favouritism towards m/m media and the false idea of escaping misogyny by embracing a world without women.

This discussion and thus, this piece was first mentioned on Twitter with a mere note apps picture and thread talking about how f/f media will always be seen as second fiddle to m/m ships and artwork even in fandoms where there’s a female-oriented or non-gendered cast. The response was worrying, to say the least, with transmisogynistic, misogynistic and lesbophobia rhetoric being slung left and right to justify this occurrence.

One, in particular, was that it was to “escape misogyny” but that reasoning to say the least is heavily problematic. By enforcing the idea that women cannot exist as the focus in, say, a manga or a fanfic is giving into internalised misogyny in a sense. Annihilating women from the narrative does not necessarily get rid of misogynistic gender roles such as “smaller is submissive”, “the strong protect the weak” etc, it just delegates to the male characters and in any case where there is a female character, she’s treated as an obstacle or underdeveloped for the sake of the male leads. She’s still treated with misogyny regardless. It’s disturbingly and eerily similar to men declaring that they don’t write women because they don’t know how to write them. If you read BL/MLM fics to escape misogyny, it’s not to truly escape, it’s simply to import it to more “suitable” targets without actually combatting or analysing the societal misogyny we face.

Another defence is the mere idea that criticising this ideal is going against “queer afabs” (actual wording). This is blatantly and very obviously transmisogynistic. Including the context that this argument was used against a trans woman, the idea that to criticize the disregard of WLW relationships is to criticise “AFAB people in fandom” as a whole is a gross assumption that sapphic transfem people (who were the ones mostly criticising this aspect in fandom) do not experience misogyny and that’s blatantly incorrect and a way of enforcing TERF ideology as misogyny being something only AFAB people can face and be affected by. This strange separation of “queer afab population” and sapphic transfems is disturbing as we’re not seen as “woman enough” to be able to spot issues and misogyny in fandom.

In fact, this entire “discourse” revealed how transmisogyny-exempt people (TME) cannot choose between calling sapphic transfem people criticising the clear chasm between MLM and WLW fan content “man-hating TERFs” for calling out misogyny or “dirty misogynistic males” for daring to say anything that hurts their feelings, that they themselves feel disturbed at an accurate analysis of their behaviour. That, because we are AMAB or intersex, that our opinions come from a place of HATING them instead of concern of repeating the cycle.

In relation to this argument, the massive and most upsetting defence is the belief that wlw media, especially the Japanese medium yuri was created to cater to men and was written by men. This is falsely equated to the majority of western “lesbian” pornography and BL, often written for women by women. This is ahistorical and troubling, to say the least. Yuri as a medium was created by sapphics, especially lesbians, for other sapphics in Japan and while not without issues (the strange lack of butch women in the medium), it’s just as abundant with variety as BL and often closer to the sapphic experience.

However, another reason for the disdain of yuri/wlw media is the belief that women straight up cannot exist in fan content or media without a reason.

To use terminology that originated in fandom, female characters and therefore female-oriented casts were approached with a “Doylist” mindset while male characters are approached with a “Watsonian” mindset. The woman has to have a real-life justification for being that way, for having certain traits and is disregarded while a male character can have the exact same traits and role but fandom will see it in an in-universe sense, “he’s like that because of [in story explanation]” while the female character would be “she’s like that because the writer hates women or wants to subvert expectations”, it’s bizarre and an obvious point towards misogyny but it’s ignored because acknowledging it means acknowledging the problematic way to criticising writing women.

This very reasoning also extends to fan content where fans will refuse to write women for this exact reason: they see a woman have the same trait as a male character and wave her off as badly written for daring to even have it. Many traits male characters are applauded for, and female characters are degraded for having even unknowingly by the audience.

This goes doubly so for any lesbian character existing but instead, the disdain comes from a self-righteous idea that she exists to please men by being sapphic (lesbianism as a fetish) rather than being created for the sake of women. She has to exist for the pleasure of men and men alone and any qualities she has is immediately degraded for the sake of the male characters even if she exists beyond them. Out of the need to defend women from misogynistic characterization, it further inflicts it by assuming all female characters are written with this in mind and thus strips them away in favour for the male characters.

In fact, even blandness is accepted with men within media when it comes to fandom while a common criticism of WLW media is the “blandness”, seeing the same old trope play over and over as if it isn’t extremely common in BL and especially heterosexual romance. Although, this point is slowly being rectified as BL and heterosexual romances have also began facing criticism for overuse of cliches.

In conclusion, most of the defences for wlw media being frankly unpopular and disregarded are founded on transmisogyny, lesbophobia and a misguided yet failing attempt to absolve oneself from misogyny which only allows fandom to reinforce the ouroboros that is the societal hatred of women, both in real life and online spaces.

#long post #tumblr version of article #rikka.txt #queer discourse #yuri

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scaryhaven · 6 months

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I could be charitable to David and say that he misspoke when he said that Izzy was a father figure to Ed. It's possible that he meant that Izzy reminds Ed of his father, and he was comfortable with Izzy because he was used to such a toxic relationship, but i'm not quite sure even that is right. Even if it was the case, being a reminder of his father is still very different from saying that Izzy was a "father figure" to Ed. We all know what a father figure entails, its usually a phrase used to describe someone you respect, who's opinion you value, that teaches you lessons, and skills, and even someone that can be there for your emotional needs, now that's not to say that Izzy doesn't fit into any of these categories, I definitely think that Izzy tries to be there for Ed in his own way, and he tries to guide him, but the key word there is tries, more often than not Ed disregards Izzy's opinion, his advice, his worries, and his attempts at soothing Ed's moods have absolutely no affect on Ed. So how is it exactly, that Ed views him as a father figure when he isn't interacting with him in the manner you'd expect a son to engage with his father? I say its possible that if Izzy has to represent anyone, it might be Ed's mother, but in that same vein, Ed would represent his father. Izzy and Ed fight and injure each other like his mom and dad did, and yet they stayed together, like his mom and dad did, they have that same toxic codependency, and their communication skills are about as good as his mom and dads ever were. Its more like their dynamic was mirroring his mom and dad's toxic and abusive relationship, he was raised to think that this is what love looked like, and he was following in their footsteps, Izzy isn't his father figure at all, if anything, Ed is his own father, and with Izzy as his mother its as if they were playing mommy and daddy together... If you've ever heard the phrase "oh god, I've married my mother/father" you know that this is a common enough occurrence, its not a weird incesty thing, rather its just a matter of growing up around a certain type of love and accidentally emulating it when you grow older, its a cycle that is often repeated, and is hard to break. All of this wasn't some attempt to say that i think Ed had romantic or sexual feelings in return for Izzy, more than likely that's not the case, but they definitely were in a marriage of sorts, it's just a shame that both of them probably grew up with fucked up ideas on what it means to love someone, so a lot of their partnership ended up being unstable. So yeah, i veto "father figure" entirely, and posit "wife" instead.

#hopefully this makes sense? like if eds his father and izzy is his mother that then makes izzy his wife confirmed? pls tell me u get me #either way thanks for coming to my ted talk #my names ted and ive just talked. please forward any complaints to my secretary who i pay in cheese slices and pats on the ass #ofmd #our flag means death #ofmd spoilers #ofmd s2 spoilers #izzy hands #ed teach #blackhands

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kanene-yaaay · 1 year

Text

MORE RANDOM OMORI TICKLE HEADCANONS

Because why not am I right ahcwfvwjbej.

During all of this I am waving at the Canon and smiling and looking away while it shouts at me.

So, just like Sunny kind of "follows" Omori during his adventures in the dreamspace, Omori is also able to follow Sunny in real life. Never did before because honestly, Sunny's life didn't have a lot of excited stuff, but now that he is again friends w Aubrey, Hero, Kel and Basil a lot of interesting stuff tends to happen

Sometimes the rest of the Gang can catch glimpses of Omori, a little bit like a ghost-y thing, but it's never for too long (even tho Omori COULD become visible for some time if he really wanted too)

And at this point, Sunny is already used to the gremlin Mini-version of himself that follows him around and keeps trying to get him to point a knife at people when they get in his way

So, technically, he should be used to the white and black boi trying to make HIM get tickled but it's DIFFICULT. Because it happens OUT OF NOWHERE

A few times, he can discover the reason, like when Omori gets tickled on the mindespace and - being the gremlin he is - refuses to be the only one to become a mess of smiles and giggles.

Other times Omori will simply wait for those calm and quiet moments when Sunny is with his friends to claw his fingers close and closer to his tickle spots, getting his fingers to almost touch the target before changing to another spot and repeat the cycle, showing him tiny smirks everytime he gets Sunny to squirm or snort with a fake sudden tickle attack or a quiet "tickle tickle tickle..." tease

More often than not, just the picture of Sunny blushing, smiling and wiggling around for apparently no reason is already enough to get Kel or Aubrey to ask what is the deal with a playful shine on their eyes because few things in life are cuter than a Giddy Sunny. And since Sunny refuses to say what is happening, his friends have no other option than try to get a giggly answer out of him, really.

Rip our dear bean

When, for some reason, the plan of GET Sunny Blushy and Smiley doesn't work, Omori will appear behind Sunny when he is distracted and wave to get Hero's or Basil's attention and then wiggle his fingers and point to Sunny, repeating the gesture until his point gets across and an recognition shines on their expressions

Rip our dear bean²

(Omori will also try to do that when Sunny is feeling down for some reason and fish a few cheer up tickles for him but shhhhh no telling anyone)

I have no idea what are the gang's first reactions to Omori are, but nowadays, it's a normal occurrence for him to randomly appear, so they are v chill about it

Also on a totally random note, Omori holds a grudge/respect for Kel because on those days that Sunny was reconciling w everyone and the lines between who was Sunny and who was Omori was blurry Kel had the nerve to take his knife from his hands so out of nowhere Omori will glare at him, poke da boi and disappear. Sometimes, Kel swears that he can hear a faint "Give me my knife, Kel"

#last headcanon 100% inpired by my fav youtuber who during his entire let's play of Omori at ANY mild inconvenience kept saying:#'I know how to solve this. Kel. Give my knife back Kel let me let me take care of this real quick just GIVE ME KNIFE BACK'#this is literally such an especific and indulgent scenario if u read until here congrats ajvstfsjvstvsjs #omori tickle headcanons #omori tickles #omori tickling #Lee!Sunny #Ticklish!Sunny #kanene's fanfic #kanene's headcanons #Omori is the tiny gremlin full of chaotic energy lil brother and Sunny is the tired calm elder sibling

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acutiewithagun · 5 months

Note

I have an idea-! How about Platonic yandere rottmnt neglectful! bro's x villain! sibling reader, they are a western pond turtle, with a yellow mask age is 11-12 years old

The story goes like this, like, reader was ignored most of the time or just left as a problem to other brother, it's like a constant cycle, like if one brother doesn't wanna deal with her they'll give her to another and this repeats or they will give an excuse as to not deal with the little turtle, and this gets bad enough in any possible reason, the neglect gets worse and worse and it's enough to make the reader feel like an outcast of they're own family, more like you don't belong here kind of type

Later on reader runs away and then somehow ended up underground new York city(I forgot what it's called), the reader explore under as they never been there before, the reader arrives in a suspicious place, full of treasures and valuable items..but one catch her eye a statue holding a small broach glowing in the dark, something was...intriguing them and bringing them closer to this thing, and they touch it and felt...a painful shockwave, it was hot at first and the chest of the little turtle hurt for a second before it felt...so cold, but the reader felt something...some overwhelming sense of power it felt..so good., that's how the feeling of corruption is, her anger merging in with the artifact's effects,(it sounds cliche but let's go with it) after this event..the little turtle went Missing, so ofcourse the brothers didn't noticed at first thinking that reader would come back and thought they are just being in a phase or something, but...the reader never came back.. So they grew worried and so they began their search, time went on and on and then..they soon knows that there is a newcomer in the new York city, not friendly, residents saw some ice covering some parts of the city, some people included police investigates but this..strange occurrence were never solved...where was this strange ice and frozen ice towers parts coming from? Who was causing it? Was it for fun? Was it for a reason? Who was causing these deaths? And so the turtles began to grew curious, and incredibly suspicious of this new villain, so they went out to find this mutant..and perhaps put an end to this, so that they can continue searching for their sibling..but when they finally met the figure, they froze, there..stood their missing sibling on top the tall ice tower, the yellow jacket that their sibling always wore standing there, but it was like splattered with some snow, and their sibling was a little pale...the reader still was wearing the mask but it was like it was covered in snow...then the reader looked at them, with a cold stare, the reader turns to fully face them, as the reader took out a scythe from behind their back, ready to fight them.

I wonder how it would go in your own story! Can you please make it long?

I wonder how they're reaction will be?

This sounds so fun, but I don't really do specifications on the mc. I find it's harder than just writing out scenes. I can recommend a few other writers that do work with this type of thing if you'd like.

It's really interesting and if I didn't give that rule to myself I would absolutely write for this.

You sound like you could write this if I'm honest, you have the ground work. All you need is a name for your character and to write it out! I'd read it.

Sorry for not doing this request, I'll make sure to make the rules clearer because I feel bad that you went through all the trouble to share your amazing idea and I didn't write it.

And thank you for asking! I know how hard it is to request something and I feel simply awful for not answering.

I hope you are having a glorious day or night!

#a cutie with a gun asks

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tlexx · 1 year

Text

Anthem of The Angels: The Knight

The Spartan

Warnings: Talk of grief

In Collaboration with @streamsofstardust

Evangeline sat on the couch of her apartment, sipping on her favorite tea while reading through her books again. It was a daily occurrence leading up to the blessed day where she crossed paths with her beloved. A repeated action that kept her focused, while simultaneously taking up time she couldn’t bear to think about. In all those years after Joshua’s death, she’d spend time grieving profusely, a lot of time, if she was honest. While she didn’t necessarily love most aspects of the way mortals lived, she found a bit of calm in acting as though she was one, even if it was brief.

The problem, Eve found, was that centuries had passed and she still had yet to find anything that would help her. Not a single book in her possession had any insight into how to break this wretched cycle. It hurt her deeply, the fact that she was somehow blessed and cursed with having a mortal soulmate. If there was someone she hurt in the past, someone who felt the need to burden her with this pain, she didn’t know. She didn’t understand why she was the only one going through this, why no other angel had been in her position.

Sometimes she wished it would end, the cruelty of repeating the same sole week over and over and over. Sometimes she spoke to her father, pleading on her knees with tears in her eyes to make it stop. But everything she prayed for fell on deaf ears. No one was going to help her. No one was going to explain why it was happening to her, and only her.

She felt a heavy weight in her chest, her nose tingling as a sign of impending sobs. She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself as best as she could. Her tea had gone chillingly cold while she was lost in her thoughts. The words on the page she had been reading were bleeding together and she swore she had read that very page at least ten times. Frustration overtook her and she resented the feeling. She hated how agitated she had become over the years, seldomly finding any peace or comfort. When the moments of anger and bitterness seeped through to the surface, she felt less and less like herself. Envy and wrath were deadly sins. She felt more like the mortals she observed.

Eveangeline placed her tea on the coffee table and slammed her book shut, dropping it next to the cup. She tossed her head back onto the couch, rubbing her hands over her face and willing herself to find peace. As she counted her breaths, a repeated action of extremely slow inhales and exhales, her phone rang, causing her to jump. Modern technology was still one of those mortal things she hadn’t gotten completely used to.

She roughly sat up and grabbed the phone, flipping it over to see the notification and smiling when she saw Joshua was calling her.

“Joshua.” She greeted him, immediately finding the calm she had been desperately searching for throughout the night.

She heard his sigh of relief on the other side of the call, her hearing being well beyond the average mortal’s.

“Good morning, Evangeline. I hope I didn’t interrupt anything.”

Her lips twitched into a smile, though it dropped immediately when she glanced back at the books spread out on her coffee table. She shook her head, willing herself to remain relaxed by the sound of his voice.

“Not at all, I was just reading.” The subject matter wasn’t an important detail to include, she wouldn’t be able to explain the issue to him anyway. Her finger absently slid down the leather binding of the book while she listened to his even breaths coming from the other end. They were exactly like she remembered, she was just thankful that it was no longer a heart wrenching memory.“What can I do for you, Joshua?”

“Nothing, nothing I just, I know we have plans for this evening but I really don’t want to wait that long. I don’t think I physically can.” He chuckled as he spoke. She could hear the nerves in his voice, but it was endearing. “I was wondering if you’d like to meet up sooner? There’s a park nearby on the lake with a beautiful view. I was thinking we could go for a walk?”

She smiled at his words, basking in the joy that he had the same pull to her that she had towards him. If only he knew why.

“Yeah, uh. It’s kind of last minute but I might be able to make it.” She had been waiting for twenty-five years, but she knew he enjoyed the chase.

“C’mon! I promise I’ll make it worth your wild.”

“I think the phrase is worth your while.” Evangeline chuckled at his sureness. Joshua never had to be correct in what he said, he was so charismatic that anything that fell from his mouth was charming.

“Tomato, potato.” The two laughed together lightly, before it phased into a comfortable silence. “So… is that a yes?”

“I don’t think I could say no to you even if I tried.”

“That’s what I like to hear. See you in an hour?” She could picture his smile in her head as he spoke, recalling the small gap between his front teeth that she found to be precious.

“Make it forty-five minutes.” She quipped back, knowing he’d appreciate it.

“Anything for you, Eve.”

“Eve?”

“Is that alright?” He rushed it out, embarrassed by the nickname he gave her.

“It’s more than okay, Joshy.”

“Good.” There was a short moment of silence, yet she knew he was smiling. “See you in forty-five minutes?”

“Make it thirty now.”

“Demanding, it’s kind of cute.”

“Bye, Josh.”

Evangeline hung up before he could say anything else. There was a deep shade of pink lovingly strewed across her cheeks. No matter what century, Josh was able to make her feel butterflies and blush with just the mere thought of his smile. He was inevitable, the only thing keeping her pressing on year after year without him.

It didn’t take long for her to get to the park, but she did have enough time to grow anxious. Even knowing that this date would go well, knowing that the two would quickly fall in love, she was extremely nervous to see him again. More so because she knew this could be the last of firsts.

The thin paved path was shaded by large oak trees while being outlined with bushes and flower boxes. It was already a romantic scene, but seeing Josh sitting on the light brown park bench twirling his thumbs while anxiously looking around, made it appear out of a golden aged romance novel. Josh looked around the park, craning his neck back and forth to look for the girl he couldn’t stop thinking about. Every time there was the slightest of noise or movement behind him, he’d whip around looking to see if it was his Evangeline.

She, on the other hand, took her time. Even with the limited amount she had, Evangeline felt the need to observe every detail that made Josh himself in this time. She had seen him clean shaven, but in this era he chose to have the cutest facial hair. His style was more relaxed than it had been before, in all honesty he seemed more relaxed than he ever had been. There was something so peaceful about this Josh, something that told her he was truly happy. Which made her stomach drop. This Josh felt complete. He was fully aware of who he was and wanted to be, and that made her sick to her stomach. He only had six days.

“Evangeline!” His sweet, smooth voice called for her. Instantly picking her up from her deep worry.

Josh came running over to her, a wide smile taking its natural place on his face. He stopped a few steps short of her, not knowing exactly how to proceed.

He put his hands out for a hug, quickly dropping them, and then raising them just as quickly. Evangeline closed the gap between the two, pulling Josh into a hug for the first time in twenty-five years. She hugged him as tightly as she could, relishing in the feeling of his arms around her once again. His arms tightened in response, as if he too subconsciously missed that same feeling. He smelled the same, he always did. A sweet musk that only he could pull off.

“Good morning!” Evangeline giggled while squeezing him back.

“It really meant a lot that you met me so early.” Josh broke the hug, shyly smiling at the ground.

“It’s no problem at all.” She waited for him to look up again before continuing. “I wanted to see you.”

“Really? I mean, um, yeah me too.”

The pair started down the path, silently, allowing their hands to bump one another’s a few times. Evangeline tried her hardest not to just grab his in her own, but she wasn’t sure if that was too much too soon for the modern boy who, as far as he was aware, was meeting her for the very first time.

“So, tell me about yourself. Where are you from?”

“Up north.” It wasn’t technically an incorrect statement.

“Oh me too! I’m from Michigan.”

“A bit more north.” She smiled at his excitement. He was always so joyous no matter the occasion.

“Ah, a Canadian.” Josh took control of the conversation, telling her about his favorite sights to see in Canada and all of the things he got to experience while visiting. This was not news to Eve, she had been following this version of Josh Kiszka for as long as she could. The instant that his name started popping up online, she had been his biggest fan.

“I don’t know how you guys did it, poutine, it’s like something from heaven.”

“I’m not sure I would go that far.” Evangeline purposely bumped Josh’s hand once more, this time he took the bait. His soft slender fingers intertwined with hers, gently swinging back and forth as they continued down the path. “If it’s alright with you, can we skip the small talk?”

“Sure, but uh, what do you have in mind?”

“I don’t know. Tell me your biggest goal in life.”

“Oh wow. Okay.” Josh took a moment to think. She could tell he already had an answer with how quickly he smiled, yet he took his time to articulate his point. “I think my biggest goal is to give joy to as many people as I can. To give people a place they belong, some comfort, even if it is just for a moment. See, my brother's dream is to make music and inspire others. I love making music, but I love the connection with the fans even more. I like knowing that I’ve done something to help someone.”

“That’s quite beautiful, Josh.” His looks hadn’t changed all that much, yet this Josh seemed more conscious and caring than those before. The thoughtfulness and love that this Josh seemed to have for life was something that Eve knew was going to be even harder to say goodbye to. She pushed that thought away just as fast as it had appeared in her mind.“Do you have a favorite part?”

Josh stopped at a large rose bush that was on his left. It was fully in bloom, not a rotten or dead rose on it. It was perfect, and it should be, as Eve had willed it. She knew she should not have used her divinity, she didn’t have much left, but this seemed like the perfect moment to put a divine rose bush in his path. Like a miracle.

He looked around, finding the fullest one, carefully picking it from the bush. It was white rose on a long stem that surprisingly had no thorns. He handed it to Evangeline with a soft sensitive smile.

“When I hand someone something as simple as a rose and it makes them so excited that they may even cry. Something that little can make one person forget about all of their troubles. And even if it’s for just a moment, I know I made them happy, and that’s all I could ask for.”

Evangeline gently took the rose from Josh, looking up at him through her lashes as she did so. His eyes were glazed, nearly wet with emotion, and she couldn’t bear to look at him. Rather, to save herself from crying, she focused on the pristine rose between her fingers. It was as beautiful and meaningful as the one he gave her thousands of years ago, when he courted after the shy peasant girl she pretended to be.

______________________________________________________________

The weather was gloomy. A sky covered in a vast overcast, fog flooding the space around her, and a slight mist taking the place of rain that had previously been falling. Despite her surroundings, Evangeline felt calm. She felt a slight presence of peace knowing what was soon to come.

She had been walking around for quite some time that day, dressed in tattered clothing and shoes that were barely staying together. It was a facade, of course, but she needed a look that would be inconspicuous. Her hair had been curled loosely down her back, a braided crown pinned to the top of her head.

Evangeline casually observed the space around her, noting the drooping branches and rose bushes that looked so out of place. The flowers were mostly dead, some of the buds dried up before they could even blossom. It was simply too dark, too melancholy, for her. It was supposed to be a happy day for her, and yet, it seemed someone above had decided to taunt her and ruin her excitement.

The forest had quickly gone from a place of peace to a place of sadness, and she refused to remain there. Collecting the skirt of her dress in her hands, she made her way out towards the village where she could hear the bit of commotion from the common folk. She didn’t know a single person in the village; she wouldn’t be there long enough to make any connections outside of the one, so it hardly mattered to her anyway.

People watching was what brought her joy in the moments she was forced to wait. She loved seeing the children chase stray dogs in circles, the young women dressed in their finest - at least finest to the extent it could be when money was minimal - and the sweet elderly women selling homemade jewelry. She even enjoyed seeing the men huddled in groups with overflowing mugs of mead in their hands, cheering and laughing about the happier days of their lives.

But there were also parts of this life that filled her with a profound sense of emptiness. She found that in watching families gathering in their homes, seeing husbands and wives looking at each other with adoring expressions and a clear sense of love on their faces. The same look that extended to their children. They were complete, they had each other forever. Evangeline was not so lucky.

As she walked amongst the villagers, blending in as best as she could, she heard the sound of hooves coming towards her. It wasn’t an unusual thing to hear, but it felt different this time, and Evangeline smiled knowing what was to come. As the men on horseback approached, she stepped closer, striving to get a better look at each of them. She took notice of the crests on their shields and armor; they were the King’s knights.

One man at the front of the group sat atop a horse whose hair was black as night, his chestnut brown hair flowed just below his shoulders in somewhat of a tangled mess, but it worked on him. He looked strong, a determined and proud look on his face that told Evangeline he was the leader of this group. It wasn’t until she looked at the man behind him that she found herself entranced.

He, of course, was perched on his own horse, one with snow white hair and gold armor protecting parts of its extremities. The knight sat up straight and looked around, his curly hair bouncing as he moved his head. He bore a striking resemblance to the first knight, but Evangeline found him to be so distinctly different. This was her beloved, her Joshua. If she didn’t know better, she would say there was an aura of white light behind Joshua, making him look like a gift from God himself. Perhaps, in a way, he was.

She took more time to get a look at her love in this era. It wasn’t the first time she had seen him in armor, but this version was much better. This Joshua hadn’t been covered in his own blood and on the verge of death. No, in that moment he looked like the strongest warrior she’d ever laid eyes on, and he was beautiful. The shield strapped to his side was polished, but marked by scratches and minor dents; proof of its use over the years. In the center was the King’s crest- three golden crowns stacked on top of each other, one for the King, the Queen, and their son, who had perished at birth.

The sword sheathed on Joshua’s belt bore the same crest on the handle, though significantly smaller. Each of the knights possessed the same weapon, but it fit so perfectly on Joshua’s belt. It appeared to be an extension of him, not fully complete without the weapon. His armor, silver with gold accents, looked marvelously wonderful on him, sculpting every muscle with the metal. It was comforting to see him in this way, so incredibly magnificent.

Many of the knights had been speaking to the people in the village, informing them of changes in taxation from the kingdom, or promising to get messages back to the King. Joshua, though, had dismounted his horse to walk amongst the people. He shook their hands and gave them the brightest smile he could. It was that smile, one that shone brighter than any star she had ever seen, that first had her falling for him. It hadn’t changed once.

As Joshua continued walking around, Evangeline felt it was time to make her presence known to the knight. She moved towards him at a moderate pace, ready to make their second meeting look like a coincidence. The two met yesterday, talking while she sold her bread, and she had been awaiting his return ever since.

It was as though he could sense her, perhaps in the same way she could always sense him. Josh’s head whipped around, almost appearing to be against his will, to face her, the smile on his face never faltering. His wide brown eyes sparkled as he stared at her. She sent him a smile to match and a small wave.

Evangeline had stopped by a small cart where a kind looking woman had been selling flowers. Joshua was already walking directly towards her and she felt no need to meet him halfway; he always found his way to her. She looked down bashfully once he was no more than a foot away from where she stood, her hair falling just slightly into her face.

“Good morrow, fair lady. How fare ye?” His voice was just as smooth as it was in her dreams, the words falling off his tongue and gracing her ears, bringing a chill to her body. The sound was pure silk, and she’d never tire of it. The smile that graced his plump lips never failed to take her breath away.

“Wonderful, now that you are here, sir.” Her smile matched his, it was an involuntary reaction she found he had on her. It was an inescapable fate that the two wouldn’t be enamored by the other. The dreary weather ceased to exist when her sun was before her. He was the light in the darkness.

The knight reached forward to gently grasp her hand, the two of them looking down at where they were connected before glancing back up at each other.

“I must say, Evangeline, I had not planned to see you again so soon.” His thumb softly brushed over her knuckles, a path of goosebumps following the movement. “Though I cannot say I am disappointed to bump into you, quite the opposite actually.”

For a moment, there was a brief silence between the two, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. They simply enjoyed the time together. It was Evangeline who spoke first.

“I was thinking about taking a stroll, would you like to join me, Joshua?” She grinned at him, looking up through her long lashes to find that he was already looking directly at her.

He nodded immediately, extending his arm for her to wrap her hand around. “I’d love nothing more.

Walking through the village, Evangeline and Joshua made their way to a small pond, one that she had found solace in as she waited for her love in the previous days. They once more walked in silence, not needing to say anything to fill the space. The two observed their surroundings, looking at the weeping willows and the various plants that lined the path they traveled on.

There was a small bench just on the edge of the pond, one that Evangeline had conjured a few days prior. She and Joshua took a seat, his hand quickly taking hold of hers, not wanting to let go. He couldn’t help but take advantage of the proximity to her; her skin was unbelievably soft and warm, just like her personality. He could feel himself falling for her rapidly, and he knew nothing could stop it.

Joshua closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath and releasing the air slowly. As he did so, Evangeline watched him, enjoying the sight of him looking so relaxed. She valued his peace more than she could put into words, especially because she knew how little of it was left.

“Joshua.” Evangeline spoke his name as a question, grabbing his attention.

His eyes opened and he looked over to her. “Yes, darling?”

“What do you believe brings you the most happiness in life?” She wasn’t entirely certain where the question came from, but it tumbled off her lips without a second thought. She almost took it back until she watched as his face contorted in thought.

“I would say doing things that bring those around me happiness and peace. That has always been what makes me feel best.” She didn’t comment, waiting to see if he would elaborate, and he did. “Not enough people understand the simple pleasures of life, the way the smallest things can lift them up.

“My father taught me at a young age to play the mandolin and I’ve always loved to sing. I remember when I was younger performing for my family members during gatherings. Seeing them smile and sing along and be so outwardly happy… that always made me happy.”

Evangeline found herself smiling along with him, enjoying the fact that he was being so open with her. As she prepared herself to respond, he spoke once more.

“There’s something about nature too.” She looked at him inquisitively, not knowing what he meant. He moved his thumb over her forehead, smoothing out the crease that had appeared out of confusion. She blushed at the action and when his hand shifted down to cup her cheek, she found herself leaning into his touch.

“There’s such beauty in the earth around us, in the trees, and bushes, and plants of all kinds. In the sky amongst the sun and the stars. In the warmth of summer rain, or the chill of the winter snow.” He paused, looking to his left and finding a rose bush, a frown taking place on his perfect face at the sight of most of the buds being dried up and dead.

Evangeline couldn’t stand to see that frown, and in a split second decision, she used her divinity to bring life back to the roses, the buds shifting from a tragic brown to a bright, milky white. Just as quickly as it had appeared, Joshua’s frown had dissipated.

He hadn’t asked how Evangeline was able to do such a thing, it hardly mattered to him. He plucked a rose from the bush, carefully picking off any thorns from the stem. Joshua held the flower in his hand, twirling the stem between his long fingers and taking in its appearance.

“Take this rose, for example. Most people find red roses to be the most appealing, but I disagree. There’s simplicity in white roses, a sort of purity and innocence. It reminds me of a time where I could enjoy being carefree as a child, before I knew anything about what the real world held in store for me and others. And that makes me happy.”

He broke the stem off of the bud, leaving just enough to give the rose a foundation to stand on. The knight moved closer, his knee pressed against Evangeline’s, and the angel looked down at her lap in an attempt to hide her blush. Joshua’s free hand lifted her head by her chin, his eyes instantly finding hers, and he gently brushed her hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear. She felt her breath hitch at the slight touch and his lip quirked up at the sound. He took the rose and delicately placed it behind her ear, smiling at the sight.

Their eyes never left each other, both of them far too entranced by the other to pay attention to anything or anyone else. Evangeline watched as the sun shone in her beloved’s eyes, the warm, chestnut brown hue seeming to glow in the light. He was the personification of light and joy and she felt as though she would be content just sitting quietly for the rest of their days, or well, his days.

Her smile faltered ever so slightly and although she tried to hide it, Joshua picked up on the shift in her mood, though he was uncertain as to what had caused it.

“My angel, my sweet Evangeline.” He cupped her face in his hands once more, unable to stop himself from touching her. “You make me happy. In this life and any others, you are my happiness.” Evangeline smiled at his words, finding it funny that he had no idea how true his statement was.

She shifted closer to him, not being fond of the space that remained between them. “Joshua?”

“Yes, angel?”

“Kiss me.” It wasn’t a question, and he knew that. She simply couldn’t help herself. She had missed him beyond what mere words could explain and she needed that touch, needed to feel connected to him.

He wasted no time, pulling her into him and bringing their lips together, both of them sighing in relief at the feeling. She was in love with how soft his lips were, how gentle his kiss was while still being so full of passion and desire. He, too, found himself getting lost in the feeling of her lips. To him she felt like, well, heaven. He didn’t push for anything more, nor did she, rather they both basked in this feeling of being complete, being whole, being together again.

Joshua’s tongue swept over Evangeline’s bottom lip just a touch, deepening the kiss the slightest bit without going too far. One of her hands had wrapped around him, her fingers playing with the tiny curls at the nape of his neck. He hummed contentedly at her touch, smiling into the kiss.

______________________________________________________________

The couple had walked around the park for hours, talking about dreams and memories of his childhood. It felt like they only had spent an hour, maybe two, together but when Josh’s youngest brother called asking where he was, the two realized that it was past time for their dinner plans.

“I may have messed up.” Josh chuckled after hanging up his phone. He awkwardly rubbed his neck, insecure over how Evangeline would take the canceled plans. “We missed our reservations.”

“Oh! I don’t mind. Truth be told, fancy restaurants aren’t really my scene.”

“Really? Awesome!” His wide excited smile and cherry toned cheeks were back. “I actually know this diner, it's kind of a hole in the wall, but their food is just amazing. The cook, Deano, is a magician. Crafted from angels!”

Evangeline brushed off his blasphemous comment, becoming desensitized long ago. She took Josh’s hand in hers, keeping the white rose safely in her other. “Take me there, Josh.”

“Evangeline, stick with me and I’ll take you everywhere.”

“Promise?”

“Of course.”

She knew this not to be true. He only had a few days left, unless she could figure out why he was the one chosen to be cursed. There was nothing more that Evangeline wanted than to spend years upon years with Josh, and though she supposed she already had, she wanted them to happen without quarter of a century heartbreak.

The couple was in a comfortable silence on their short walk to the diner. The sunny day was quickly turning into a burnt orange night. The dinner was being lit by neon signs and harsh overhead light, yet Josh still looked soft and peaceful.

The read vinyl covering of the booth seats were cracked and peeling, a definite sign that the food was going to be delicious. The table was black with faded glitter scattered over the top, a menu with only two pages haphazardly thrown in front of them.

“Okay, this may be weird but can I order for you?” Josh looked too excited for Evangeline to say no. And albeit him not knowing it, she trusted him more than anyone.

“Yes, Joshy.” His cheeks got even pinkier with the use of the nickname.

Evangeline wasn’t expecting the large order that was placed in front of her, the whole table covered in food not leaving any room for her elbows. Josh was bouncing in his seat, carefully deciding what he was going to dig into first.

“You’re cute.” It slipped from her lips before she could even process it. He looked up at her, not blushing, but with a confident smile.

“I know, but you’re cuter.”

The flirting continued throughout the night, the food quickly disappearing. Fries were thrown at one another, and of course two straws were put in the chocolate malt that Josh couldn’t stop raving about.

“I could explode.” Josh laughed off, but the only thing that Eve could think was ‘not again.’

“Well then let's roll you out of here.”

“Not yet. One last thing.” Josh put money down on the table, a lot more than the bill justified, and grabbed Eve’s hand. Holding his hand all day still was enough for her, she needed him closer.

Her wish was granted when the two ended up near a dusty jukebox in the corner tucked behind the scrapped bar. Josh must have known the number of the song he wanted to play, because it only took him about thirty seconds to return back to his Evangeline.

He wrapped both arms around her waist, pulling her tight to his body. She breathed in, taking in the same scent she has for memories. The times could change, but she could count on Joshua always being a constant. Swaying back and forth, flooded her mind with painful memories, yet she worked to push them away so she could focus on the present.

She needed to be here with him. This may be the last time. In that moment with Josh, she promised herself that she would no longer spend time trying to find the answers as to why this kept happening. Eve could no longer miss out on hours of time with Josh trying to research, she would just be with him. Take in all she could, and make every moment she could count.

“Josh?”

“Yes, angel?”

“Kiss me.”

He stopped for a moment, surprised by how forward she was. Staring in her eyes, he smiled. Josh leaned forward, pressing his lips to Evageline. The first kiss in twenty-five years, and she could feel her body come alive again. As if electricity flowed through her body, she lit up. Her love was back.

However, the excitement was taken by dread as Evangeline felt another feather fall from her back. Both her and Josh’s time was fading quicker than it had begun.

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#gretavanfleet fic #greta van fleet fanfiction #greta van fleet imagine #greta van fleet #josh kiszka fic #josh kiszka fanfiction #josh kiszka

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therapy-familiar-reports · 9 months

Text

REPORT #Q@&$ DATE: !& | ! | In the œth Year of the ß§rd Cycle REPORTER: Loch | Mimi (familiar) CLIENT: Aidan Corcoran (wizard)

NOTE:

Starting this year, the Department of Familiar-Wizard Relations is requiring working familiars and all of their wizard partners to document their work for historical records. The records will be sealed. All of the following information in this report will remain confidential until records are made public at the beginning of the next Cycle. This report and any other reports made by the Familiar Therapeutic Service Agency, due to its status as a healing center and thus subject to the Healing Privacy Act, will be handled with even further care to ensure absolute confidentiality. If a client would like to request for their records to be destroyed, they should contact their Agency liaison.

TW: Memory loss, dementia, wizard death, pet death

BEGIN ENTRY:

Today, Earl told me I had to write down a report for each of my clients due to a new law from the Department. When I asked him how the report should be formatted and written, he responded with, “Eh? I don’t quite know — write whatever comes to your mind, I guess.”

So, here I am. Writing whatever I want with these gross opposable thumbs.

Yes, you read right, gross! Taking forms with opposable thumbs is my least favorite. It makes me feel all squirmy inside, ya know? Alas… I digress. This report is about my most recent client and Pact companion, Aidan Corcoran.

I started working with Aidan two years ago, in the &@th Year of this Cycle. Aidan’s long-time cat, Mimi, had passed away that year. As a 90-year-old wizard with some memory and cognitive problems, Aidan was struggling to adjust to the loss. His daughter Cynthia recommended a therapy familiar. Aidan said he would give it a try. They reached out to my Agency and after a few scheduled visits, it was determined that I would be a good fit for Aidan. Cats are, after all, one of my favorite forms to adopt.

My Pact with Aidan was established, and I came to live with him in the Zochek neighborhood. It was a quiet area, right along the shore of Loch Realtra. He lived in a little brownstone townhouse with a bright red door and a creaky front porch. The porch was clogged with potted plants of all kinds that made me feel like I was walking through the great forests of Murk again when I passed under their shade. Aidan was a passionate amateur botanist, you see.

“Mimi, did you know that most tree species are not even related to each other? They’re entirely different plants who just evolved into the same structure in order to survive,” He once told me while he was pruning the olive tree in his small backyard.

I loved it when he told me those random botanical facts— even when he repeated the same ones.

Now, for you future readers, yes, he called me by the same name as his old cat. This was part of our agreement. Some familiars will choose their own name and stick to it, but I love having multiple names. When I make a Pact with another being, I let them choose a name for me that marks the beginning of our unique relationship. I carry every name I am given with me. I am Mimi, I am Harold, I am Diamond, and I am many more. My Agency coworkers, though, mostly call me Loch because that was the first name I was given when I started working here. But that’s a whole other report… back to Aidan.

Aidan was a stocky and short fellow with a big personality. He was lively, loud, and always quick with a string of curses when he accidentally knocked something over. Such occurrences were common. Aidan confided to me that he had been clumsy since he was a boy. The only difference now was that his magic wasn’t quick enough anymore to fix his missteps. To make up for it, he had replaced the convenience of telekinesis with “just as magical” words, he often joked. As a familiar in a Pact, I could have drawn on our combined pool of magic to catch the objects, but Aidan was adamant that I didn’t.

“Don’t do that now,” He said to me after I had caught a glass that he had elbowed off the kitchen counter, “I can very well take care of my own messes, thank you very much.”

He was stubborn in that old man way which I never quite understood, but I respected his wishes. Too many times had I seen my elderly clients be denied their fully deserved autonomy. I just made sure I was there to watch as his shaky hands grabbed the broom and swept up the shards of glass.

…Damn Earl! I’m not even sure what else I should write down for this report. I could theoretically write absolutely everything down about Aidan, but I fear that this report would be far too long. Perhaps, then, I should speak of his standard routine.

Aidan spent most of his days with his hands in the dirt or around a cup of tea as he watched birds and people fly by his front porch. He loved to read in the mornings. Many nights, he listened to the Bards of Ole runewave station on his old magic stone, singing along loudly and mostly off-key. He would tell me all about how this song was the one he would often hear playing on the stones in his hometown’s alchemy store and how that song was the one he played on his lute for Cynthia’s first birthday.

Cynthia, of course, was all grown up now. She lived just down the street with her two partners. She came over every day to check in and spend time with her dad. Sometimes, her partners came, too. These full family visits often turned into a rousing game of Parcheesi. Cynthia was extremely competitive, and it was clear that she got it from Aidan. Curses were hurled across the board and laughter would fill the air as Cynthia’s partners chuckled at the intensity with which Aidan and Cynthia played. By the time the game was over, whether Aidan had won or lost, he would always have a big, languorous smile across his face — his eyes soft with weariness and joy.

Of course, there were hard moments, too. He would frequently get confused, asking when Cynthia was coming home from school or when he needed to be at the office (he had been retired for nearly 3 decades). Sometimes, he got sad because he knew he couldn’t remember all the details.

“I know you’re Mimi but not really Mimi,” He would say, frowning at me.

I sat with him through each of those moments. Sometimes, all I had to do was jump into his lap, rest my head against his chest, and purr. Other times, when I felt it was necessary, I would speak with him to remind him of details, to reassure him that Cynthia was safe in her own home and would be coming by tomorrow. Only a couple of times did I have to call Cynthia to help support.

The days continued much like this for two years. Quiet mornings, lively afternoons, and cool nights curled up beside Aidan’s pillow as he muttered softly in his sleep.

One of the most striking things about Aidan, I will say, was the way he could fill your heart with just a few, simple words. Maybe it was the old bard in him. Maybe it was wisdom gained through his many years. Or maybe it was his dislike of fancy, suffocated words. However it may be… in moments of quiet, when it was just me and him and it felt like the rest of the world was frozen, he would turn to me and smile.

“Mimi… you make me feel like a million gold coins.”

Yesterday, Aidan died. Peacefully, in his sleep.

I felt the magical bonds of our Pact dissolve and return to the Murk.

I think I will take a break from work for a while.

~END ENTRY~

#reports from a full-time therapy familiar #familiar #magic #wizard #wizardcore #familiar therapeutic service agency #therapy familiar #oc #oc rp #oc rp blog

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sinkat-arts · 1 year

Text

It’s 5am and I can’t sleep… so, I wrote a Daisuga Drabble about… not being able to sleep. Completely unedited and tapped out on my phone, so apologies if it reads terribly.

—

3AM

Daisuga, sexytimes implied but not written out

Insomnia struck at the worst times. If you asked him, Daichi would deny being an insomniac - it wasn’t a daily, weekly, or even monthly occurrence. But every so often, there were some nights when all he could do was lie in bed in a quiet rage, furious that he wasn’t sleeping... which, of course, only made it worse. He couldn’t sleep, so he was angry, and he was angry, so he couldn’t sleep - the insomnia ouroboros, repeating into eternity. Or at least until it was time to get up and get ready for work.

Those nights had sucked when he lived alone, but now that he shared his bed, he was discovering that they were somehow worse. Tonight marked the first time insomnia reared its ugly head since he and Suga had decided to move in together, and it was like the sound of Suga’s measured breathing was taunting him. Somehow, the sound of someone he loved so dearly sleeping so peacefully next to him only added fuel to the fire. It wasn’t an entirely logical reaction, but logic was in short supply at 3:00 am on a weeknight. Especially when you needed to be awake in 4 hours.

It wasn’t for lack of trying that he couldn’t sleep, either. He’d cycled through so many strategies: white noise, rain sounds, meditation, hypnosis, melatonin, even those asmr recordings that Suga swore by but Daichi secretly thought were kind of creepy. Nothing really did the trick when his body, mind, or both just up and decided that he wasn’t sleeping that night. The best thing he could think of was simply to accept the situation. Instead of lying in bed angry at the world and becoming increasingly resentful of the fact that his boyfriend apparently came equipped with an off switch, he just gave in and decided to get up. There were plenty of things to be done - work to look over, books to read, something in the kitchen always needed cleaning - he could at least be productive.

Which was how Suga happened to find him on his hands and knees, wiping down the hallway baseboards at 3:30 am on a Monday morning.

“I can’t say that I hate the view… but I have to ask… what the heck?” Suga’s voice came from somewhere behind him.

“I’m… cleaning the baseboards?” Daichi answered, a little pinch of guilt for waking Suga up added itself to the heaping helping of embarrassment at being found doing something so damn weird in the middle of the night. He turned and saw Suga watching him, one hand on his hip and a look on his face that landed somewhere between puzzled and amused.

“Yes, dear, I can see that. But why? Did I miss the memo that said the emperor was stopping by for breakfast?”

“You didn’t get it?” Daichi asked, sitting back on his heels and giving Suga his best look of wide-eyed innocence. “7am sharp. You’re in charge of the table settings.”

“Then I guess we’re in trouble. Unless the emperor finds mismatched chopsticks quaint…”

“Afraid not. It’s a fine china affair… damn, at this rate we’ll be the shame of the whole country. Maybe even the world…”

Suga laughed. It never failed, even after all these years - the sound of Suga laughing always made Daichi’s heart thump… and when he was the cause of that laughter? There wasn’t anything better in the whole world… not even 8 hours of sleep.

“But seriously… why are you cleaning the baseboards, you big weirdo?”

“I can’t sleep,” Daichi answered, folding the cleaning rag neatly into a little square and setting it down beside him. “Figured I should get something done,” grinning, he shrugged, “You know, instead of lying there plotting your murder because you, my love, snore.”

In an instant, Suga’s face screwed up with indignation. “Don’t you ‘my love’ me - I do NOT snore!” Both hands were on his hips now. “And if you’re gonna murder me, at least do it for something less pedestrian. I deserve some scandal. If they don’t make a Netflix documentary about my death, what even is the point?”

“You know… you’ve got me there,” Daichi said, chuckling as he pulled himself to his feet. He took the few steps needed to stand in front of Suga and wrapped his arms around his shoulders. Still smiling, he pressed a kiss against his forehead. “You deserve the best four-part true crime miniseries money can buy.”

“Four-part minimum,” Suga sniffed. He looked thoughtful for a moment, and then that mischievous twinkle sparked in his eyes. He sidled in closer, both hands dropping to grip Daichi’s hips, pulling the two of them together so there was no space in between. Biting his lower lip, Suga looked up into Daichi’s eyes. “Maybe you just have a little too much energy. I could… help you burn some off, you know.”

“Mmm,” Daichi hummed. His voice was cast low… in spite of the long hours he’d been awake, having Suga this close, with his fingers pressing into his hips like that? He was feeling the first spark of heat. Suga had his attention - it didn’t take much, not from him. He lowered his head, cocking it a little for a better angle, but stopping just millimeters short of the kiss Suga was most definitely expecting. Daichi could feel the anticipation coming off of him. “I could go get another cleaning cloth, if you really wanted to help…”

“Shut up,” Suga breathed and crossed that millimeter gap to press their lips together.

An hour later, coated in a thin sheen of sweat and utterly spent, Daichi was back in bed, lying on his back with the love of his life slotted in next to him. Suga’s head rested on his chest, and Daichi pressed a kiss into sweat-damp hair as he listened to the sound of his breathing as it settled. His own breathing fell into rhythm naturally, and they rose and fell together.

He still couldn’t sleep. If anything, he was worse off than before, but… he couldn’t say he was still angry about it. How could he be mad when his heart was so full? The sun would rise soon, and their day would carry them apart to their separate destinations, but right now, this moment together in the dark, set to the sound of his sleeping lover’s breathing… it was peace and fulfillment and so much more love than he ever thought possible. It was everything.

Well worth one sleepless Sunday and a miserable Monday, he’d say.

#Daisuga #sawamura daichi #sugawara koushi #daichi #suga #haikyuu #haikyu #Drabble #what even is the accepted length of a Drabble #fanfiction #or just delete it because late night writing on the phone is probably bad

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