#'Oh I didn't want to kill you but really I had to :('

[tossawary]

The fun thing about Luo Binghe potentially NOT being pushed into the Endless Abyss at the Immortal Alliance Conference, imo, is that he's still a forcibly outed heavenly demon stuck in the middle of the cultivation world after a deadly invasion. There are so many different fun ways to play it.

So, Shen Yuan groggily wakes up and the first thing he sees is that traitorous asshole Shang Qinghua's relieved face and disheveled appearance. Ugh. And then first thing that the An Ding Peak Lord says is: "Wow, and I thought the System hated my ass. It had it OUT for you, bro."

What the fuck.

At which point, Shen Yuan sits bolt upright because what the hell happened? The last thing he remembers is not moving, the weight of the sword in his hand, the thunder of his heart in his ears, not being able to go through with it, hoping against all reason that this was all some sort of sick test and that the System wouldn't really-

"Where's Binghe?" Shen Yuan demands.

Shang Qinghua winces. "About that..."

And Shen Yuan's heart falls because Binghe ended up in the Endless Abyss anyway, obviously. There were apparently two transmigrators all along and neither of them could truly change the story.

"He got arrested for your murder and the invasion of the conference," Shang Qinghua says, scratching the back of his neck. "It was ugly. So ugly. I probably would have died if Liu Qingge hadn't shown up to put him down. The Palace Master is saying that this is obviously revenge for Tianlang-Jun's sealing and Yue Qingyuan has pretty much stopped talking-"

"What."

"Oh, you were super dead, bro, and the protagonist freaked the fuck out. I was there, so he started yelling about why I hadn't done something, irrational with grief and all that, it was pretty scary."

And Shen Yuan can see how a surprise heavenly demon kid would get blamed for his shizun's death and the invasion of the conference. There was nothing a drama liked better than an innocent person somehow caught red-handed in the middle of an inexplicable disaster.

"Wait, the invasion IS your fault!" Shen Yuan says, pointing an accusatory finger. He feels like shit still, but his righteous, trembling anger is going mostly in the right direction. "Why didn't you speak up-?"

"What, and I was going to admit to that in front of all of those peak lords and sect leaders? Get off my dick, bro."

"I meant blame Mobei-Jun!"

"Oh, yeah. They'd made up their minds, though! And shit got really violent really quickly! Liu Qingge is still itching to kill someone here, you know. Ask yourself why you're not still dead first, huh?"

That's an annoyingly good question. And Shang Qinghua annoyingly answers himself without waiting for an input.

"You're so fucking lucky that I've been here for like forty years now and I have so many useless points. Enough to pay off YOUR debt! They can be transfered, apparently? Be grateful! Anyway, I don't want the vengeful protagonist thinking that I hold any blame whatsoever in you fainting to death there, even if he is locked up in the Water Prison right now, so don't say I did nothing for you, got it?"

"...He's WHERE?!"

"Water Prison. He's going to be put on bullshit trial for the Immortal Alliance Conference and also for existing as a heavenly demon. Keep up, bro. Also," Shang Qinghua says with an urgent look over his shoulder, "you have to back me up when I try to explain to Mu Qingfang and Huang Qingheng that you were only mostly dead, they must have missed something, and I was just hanging around paying my respects when you miraculously recovered. I don't know anything! Ready to go?"

"No."

"Well, that fucking sucks for you. Let's go!"

[yandere-sins]

OMFG I absolutely LOVE your writing and the overall creepyness of it💕😩 May I request a yandere childe with a crybaby s/o who Gets scared way too easily? Ik this might be basic but I really wanted to interact with you 💗🥹

Aah, thank you so much, you're so sweet! Sorry it took me so long, but thank you for requesting and interacting with me, I appreciate it! I gave the reader a good reason to be scared this time, hope that is okay! ♥

Extra Warning for Murder, Blood Mention

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

"Shh, babe, what's wrong? You don't have to worry about them anymore."

A calloused hand caressed your cheek, the other arm wrapping around your body as Childe drew you close to him. You were shivering, sobbing in his embrace. Still, he didn't seem to mind at all, a gentle smile on his face as he cradled you, having had more than enough practice with comforting his siblings to know how to comfort you. With the weight of his head on top of yours, you were nestled perfectly in the crook of his neck, his hand wandering back to brush down your hair while the one at the small of your back rubbed its thumb up and down. It was a perfect hug for a perfect darling, as Childe liked to call you. But there was one thing off about it.

The stench.

The squishy, wet feeling smeared all over your cheek and soaked into your clothes, together with the biting, iron smell of blood that stuck to him. Or perhaps it came from the corpses that lay behind his body, shielding the view. Or maybe you were only imagining it. It was hard to believe that you had just watched people die, their deaths caused by this almost stranger's hands. These people were your friends, and yet you couldn't believe it was real.

"I-I'm scared," you stammered, barely able to get the sound out of your throat. "They- They're d-dead."

"Oh, that's true," Childe replied, his voice full of pity and gentle reassurance. As if it hadn't been him who killed them. As if it was a coincidence, you stumbled over the bodies when, really, your friends had been laughing and talking next to you just mere seconds ago before Childe struck them down out of cold-blooded malice.

More tears dripped down your cheeks, countless of them. You were in too much shock to scream and run, but the flow of tears seemed endless as regret, guilt, and horror mixed. You felt nauseated, and yet you couldn't throw up, couldn't do anything. Frozen in place, you listened to the rapidly beating heart of the monster comforting you, feeling Childe take a deep breath, letting it out with a content sigh.

Whatever he was feeling, he seemed... proud of it.

You whimpered miserably as he pressed you tighter against his chest, swaying you side to side before pulling away a few inches. Not enough to let go of you, just so much that he could look into your eyes. Instead of pupils, there was only endless darkness, the moonlight dimly reflected in them, causing swirls of infatuation in the madness that was his gaze on you. Even with barely any light, you could see your own scared reflection. The blood stain on your cheek, the shock etched in every inch of your features.

"You need to keep it together, babe," Child whispered, the same broad, boyish grin on his lips that he had the first time you met him. Where you still thought he was a good guy, helping you carry some groceries home and inviting you to see the festival with him. You had to tell him "no" back then, since you already made plans with your friends. But now, they were no more, and he remained. Only now, that grin was nothing short of psychotic, standing in stark contrast to his eyes so devoid of emotions and the gore on his clothes.

"The guards will be here soon. You wouldn't want them to find you covered in the blood of those people, would you? They might think you did it."

Humiliating as it was, you could see your features grow desperate as a sob escaped you, your eyes crinkling as more tears fell. Childe hushed you again, pressing his lips to your forehead and kissing it over and over as he told you everything would be alright. That he wouldn't let anyone take you or take the blame for him. You could only listen half-heartedly as your feelings threatened to take over your whole body, controlling it and cementing you in place.

It had always been this way for you; the tears were your lifelong friend. Crying was the reaction your body knew best, whether in good or bad situations, and there wasn't much you could do. As a child, you had been mocked for being a crybaby, and as an adult, you were pitied for not having better control over your emotions. Fear had been your constant companion. Whether it was about making a mistake or not feeling like you were good enough to finish a task. You soon began fearing your own incapability, but no one—sometimes not even you—understood that this fear was a force to be reckoned with, one you were completely helpless against.

Unless there was another person stronger than it.

"Aaand up!" Childe proclaimed, having stood up and gripped your hands in the time you spiraled into anxiety and desperation, the overwhelming guilt not helping. But suddenly, you were on your feet despite the tears still falling. Even though you didn't know how to move or act. First, he had comforted you for the crime he committed, and now he did what you had never managed before—pull you out of the trance of your fears.

"Let's go!" he announced chipperly, a slippery, bloody hand gripping yours so tight that it hurt. Jerking you forward, you could only watch Childe's back as he began to run, laughing carefreely as if the death of your friends didn't bother him. As if he was free, unbound by laws and those feelings, you felt so strongly.

Only when you looked down did you notice your own feet moving—rapidly, swiftly. You didn't need to look up as Childe led you through the labyrinth of people who were so occupied with the Lantern Rite in Liyue Harbor that they didn't notice the two blood-soaked individuals passing through.

Breathing was hard, moving was straining, and his grip on you was relentlessly painful. Yet, neither of you stopped until you were already partway up on a mountain outside the harbor, Childe panting just like you, trying to catch his breath. He collapsed with a groan on the dirty trail up the mountain, and with your hand still in his grasp, he pulled you down with him.

It should have hurt when your body was forced to give out, but you landed cushioned in his chest and on his lap. The vibrations of his laugh against your skin felt weird, your senses not yet having returned fully. Lifting your head, you saw the countless lanterns rise to the sky, illuminating it beautifully with the people's memories of those they lost—and you should have been there, lightning lanterns for your friends.

"There we go," Childe muttered, catching your attention as he wiped over your cheek, sticky skin against more sticky skin. Only now did you realize that your tears had dried up, and you looked at the monster that had both made you cry and took care to run them dry—literally.

"You're a pretty crier," Childe sighed, the glow of the lanterns returning some life to the blue in his eyes. Or perhaps the sight before him returned his emotions to him, making him almost look normal despite the red stains. "But I like you better when you're happy. One of us has to."

Leaning his head on your shoulder, Childe reached for your hand, giving it another tight squeeze. Above you, the night sky was filled with beautiful lights, the view even better than from the harbor itself, but you couldn't forget even a second of what had happened that day. That you weren't enjoying this view with your friends, but with some murderer you barely knew, who had pulled you out of the sadness in your heart, only to leave it empty, no feelings able to fill it.

"I'll keep you happy," Childe promised, a faint blush on his cheeks that reached up his ears. "Everything will be the way you want, so you don't have to cry anymore."

Only then did you realize what it truly meant to be afraid, sitting on the lap of someone who thought manipulating the world to his liking would make you happy. Someone who didn't bat an eye before killing an innocent soul. Someone determined to make you feel as empty as he was, just to keep you by his side.

And when Childe looked up grinning, you managed to wipe the smile right off his face, a tear dropping down your cheek.

[nanamisgirly]

PLEASE, STAY

↪ ( ˶ a part of you wants to scream that yes, you did care. you still do. that you were just too afraid to stay. but you do none of that. instead, you do the only thing you're good at, you walk away. and he lets you. for mere seconds, he lets you leave— again. and then you hear him “don't you fucking do this again.” his voice isn't a plea, it's a command. for a moment, you think that he won't let you go. that maybe—just maybe—he'll grab your wrist, yank you back, force you to deal with this. but he doesn't. because he still wants you to choose him. and you never do.˵ )

pairing ᥫ᭡。richman!Gojo x bodyguard reader. they had a sort of situation ship before.

content ᥫ᭡。fem!reader, no curses au, they're both around 30, smut at the very end, very provocative gojo (?), mean reader ig, a lot of cursing, angst, oral sex, unprotected p in v sex, mention of blood, fights scenes, broken bones, pet name (mostly sweetheart and once baby), sexual tension, slow burn, explicit language, explicit content, power dynamics, military mention (mild ptsd), gun mentions

word count ᥫ᭡。13k

notes ᥫ᭡。this is for my 200 followers 🥹 thank you for all the reblogs they are very very much appreciated!! I didn't know where I was going with this fic lmao, I just hope that some of you will enjoy reading it! I'm always open to feed back :))) be mindful this is my first long (?) fic, I threw some stuff together and hoped for the best oops

you were assigned to gojo saturo. of all the men you could possibly protect, it had to be him— you're ex-friend with benefits. 

you sat across from him at a table that probably cost more than your entire apartement, fingers twitching under the weight of irritation. the upscale place was dimly lit, the kind meant for quiet luxury. 

“you both understood?” your superior asked, sharp gaze flickering between the two of you. Gojo grinned, the same playful smirk on his annoyingly handsome face. the past nine years had only done him favors, he'd grown taller— making him tall like a damn tower— his features sharper, his frame broader. 'maybe he'd been training' you thought. ‘or it’s just life sculpting him into something even more irritatingly perfect.'

you left him when things started to be serious. back then, Gojo had some difficulties to understand he was just a sex friend. but it didn't really matter, you had to leave for the military anyway.

for a long time, you didn't want to process feelings, attachments— that was just bullshit. and now, nine years later, somehow, you were right back where you started.

you retired from the military after sustaining severe injuries. but you still craved the thrill— fights, missions, the adrenaline rush. it kept you on track. like drugs, you were addicted. so you became a sort of bodyguard. over the years, you had protected royals, rich heirs, celebrities— anyone with a target on their back. it owned you the reputation as being the best in your field. you were ruthless, cold-blooded, killing without hesitation if needed. 

your face remained stoic, your gaze locked onto gojo as he held yours. “yeah, got it. babysit the rich brat until the gala's over.” you mocked, leaning back against the chair. 

satoru chuckled, he couldn't help but tease you “oh, come on now. you make it sound so boring” tilting his head like a cat toying with its prey. “i thought you'd be happy to spend some time with an old friend”

you scoffed. “friend is a strong word, Gojo” that response only fueled his mischief. “you're right” he crosses his arms as he continues “we were never just friends” insufferable brat. “i'm here to do my job. nothing more” you said without a hint of emotion in your tone, fixing him with a glare that should've shut him up.

it didn't.

his piercing blue eyes gleamed with amusement “of course, sweetie," he purred, resting his elbows on the table, leaning in “just admit you missed seeing my beautiful face.”

you exhaled sharply, already exhausted 'maybe a small knife pressed against his throat wouldn't hurt— just a little warning.'

“what i miss, is protecting some quiet person who knows their limits and let me do my damn job in peace. this, is what i truly miss”. Gojo hummed, shamelessly dragging his gaze over you “personally, i missed that sharp tongue of yours.”

“alright, enough,” your superior cut in, his tone serious— a clear warning that he had no patience for the ridiculous back-and-forth between you two. “stay close at all times. there are threats left and right against him leading up to the gala.” he turned his attention to gojo “you don't act up, and you listen to whatever she tells you.” the rich man was clearly enjoying himself “don't worry, i love when she bosses me around” he winked at you before standing up and leaving the restaurant. like this was all a game to him.

your superior exhaled heavily, already bracing for the headache to come. then, he dropped the next bomb. “you need to stay at his place.”

you try your best to keep a straight face. “what?” 

“gojo is already informed. you're moving in tonight.” and with that, he left the table, leaving you seething.

your fist met with the surface with a dull thud. “damn it,” you muttered, frustration curling hot in your chest.

this is going to be a long, long week.

──────-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

you rode to gojo's house, spending the time to talk yourself down. you had spent years perfecting your composure. you had survived war zones, assassinations, and high-profile threats. there was no reason for gojo fucking satoru to get under your skin.

and yet.

his house— no, his mansion— was perched high above the city, a fortress of sleek glass and security. the driveway alone was bigger than some of the safe houses you'd stayed in.

when you pulled up to his gates, the night was well-advanced, the cold biting at your cheeks as you lifted up your helmet. you met some guards at the entrance stating that gojo was expecting you. of course, he was.

the second you stepped through the doors, the place smelled ridiculously expensive. the living room was massive, with a sunken seating area surrounding a glass-enclosed firepit. there are floor-to-celling windows stretched across the space, offering a panoramic view of the glittering cityscape below. a massive, curved staircase led to the second floor, the railings lined with soft, glowing, light strips, guiding the way up.

the place screamed luxury— unapologetically extravagant, but with taste. just like satoru gojo.

you sighed, rolling the tension from your shoulders as you tugged off your gloves. the ride had been long. your muscles ached. your motorbike uniform clung to you, slightly damp with sweat. all you wanted was a shower and some sleep.

“you're so sexy in that uniform” his voice came from above. you looked up to find him leaning against the railing, messy white hair, sleeves rolled up to reveal toned forearms, collarbone peeking through his loose neckline of his shirt.

and that goddamn smirk.

“gojo,” you warned, voice firm. he ignored it entirely, blue eyes twinkling as they dragged over you with zero shame. “seriously, bending you over in it wouldn't be so bad.” your fingers twitched. satoru in all his splendor. 

“wouldn't be so bad if i curb-stomped you into the floor.” you respond. gojo restrained a laugh, eyes sparking with mirth. he fucking loved this— pushing your limits. “actually, i wouldn't mind that either” you grit your teeth at the comment. “just show me where my fucking room is." 

when you reached him, he let out a dramatic sigh, “not even a little peck before sleep, sweetheart?” you blankly stared at him “alright, no need to look at me with so much love” he ironically says as he turned around, leading you to your room.

──────-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

4am. the digital clock glowed dimly as you pounded your fists against the heavy bag. you slept only two hours— which, honestly was decent considering you never slept well. the military had drilled into the art of light, vigilant rest, training you to snap into action as the slightest disturbance. and staying here, with gojo just down the hall, only worsened that already unstable peace.

“fuck it” your fist connected with the training bag, a loud thud echoing through the empty gym. you did a home tour by your own after gojo dropped you to your bedroom— and to your relief, you found a fully equipped training room. exactly what you needed to burn off frustration time to time.

sweats dripped down your temple, muscles burning from exertion as you moved with precision and force, the heavy bag jerking with each impact. your t-shirt had been abandoned long ago—tossed to the side as the heat from training built up—leaving you in nothing but sports bra and low-slung sweatpants. 

“gojo, are you going to stay there for long?” you snapped as he stayed put in the doorway, thinking you hadn't noticed him those past fifteen minutes, arms crossed like he had all the time in the world. he grinned, unbothered “was testing if you could notice a threat even while distracted” you snorted “well, now that you oh-so-sweetly reassured yourself, could you fuck off?” your fist slammed onto the bag harder, sending it swinging violently.

you felt gojo's eyes on you, it almost burnt holes on your skin. his eyes darted at the sweat slipping on your back. “damn," his voice was low “i think i prefer you like this— hot, sweaty, breathless.” he insisted on the last word. your eyes flicked to his figure as he took slow steps forward. “i think i like you gone.” he clicked his tongue, tilting his head as if you disappointed him “why always so hostile? i could be way more helpful than that punching ball.”

you were too fucking exhausted for this, your next punch sent the bag flying so violently it nearly knocked over the weight rack. you caught it with one of your wrapped hand, fingers tightening around the worn leather. you exhaled sharply, preparing yourself to face gojo and his bullshit. “i swear satoru—” you stepped closer to him, closing the space between you. only to realize how stupidly tall he was up close. you weren't small but standing like this— with a solid eight inches between you— made you feel very tiny next to him.

“satoru," he repeats “it's been a while since you've said my name. say it again” he leaned in, eyes lazily tracing your lips, the small hairs at the back of your neck sticking to your skin, your full breasts pressed tight against your sports bra. a strong desire lingering in his eyes as he imagined licking every drop of your sweat. he tested your patience “you know,” he murmured “i really love this view.” 

and that was it, you had enough. in no time you grabbed him, hooked your arm, and flipped his ass over your shoulder— slamming him onto the floor. before he could react, you were on him, your thighs straddling his hips, your hand wrapped around his throat. gojo eyes widened in shock— he did not expect that. but the surprise was soon enough replaced by a slow curl of his lips.

“fuck,” he chocked out “that was hot, sweetheart.” you tightened your grip around his neck “gojo, you're a fucking perv.” you felt something hard pressing between your legs. “i'm just a man." he lifted his hand, acting innocent "you kept bouncing around that bag, how could i not get some ideas?”

the worst part of all those stuff is that you were turned on by all his teasing. your panties dampened any time he made a comment over the little talk you both had in those past ten hours.

“gojo, you're a total pathetic man,” you mutter rolling your hips down harder, closing your thighs firmly around him just to hurt a little more. his pupils blown wide and his lips part sightly— that fucking bastard was loving it. “y-yeah, pathetic” he chokes out “i- i'm a- a very p-pathetic m-man." your panties were so damn soaked by now as his length presses sinfully against your core. you refuse to acknowledge the feelings, you don't need it, you don't need him, you don't need to go back to him.

you release his throat with a final squeeze, eyes heavy, dragging your fingers down his heavy chest— feeling the hard ridges of muscle tense under your touch, before you push yourself up and off him. you see his hips twitching up, as if he was chasing the missing heat of your pussy. gojo let out a broken— needy whimper, as you adjust your waistband and roll your shoulders back, trying to gather your thoughts. ignoring the aching pulse between your legs. 

your feet leading you to the door. you throw one last glance to gojo, you can see his erection straining against his pants from where you stand, aching to be taken care of— gojo's features twisting in desperation. “be ready at eight a.m. We've got recon to do.” and with that, you leave him there, fighting the urge to go back inside and kiss him senseless.

──────-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

the ride to the venue is longer than necessary with gojo whom insisted on riding with you. you should have known better than accepting his demand. he can not keep his hand to himself.

at first, his hands rested innocently on your stomach, but as soon as you took off, he let them slide lower, palm resting on your inner thighs— fingers tracing circles way too close to your core. the vibrations of the bike only make it worse.

at the next red light, you snap your hand down, gripping his wrist. “keep your hands to yourself” you warn him “either way i'll have to cut them off” his chest rumbles with laughter against your back. “what if i don't want to?” you hear his teasing voice through the speaker of your helmet “you're never asking about what i want, sweetheart.” his hands squeezing you through your pants. “i think i'm gonna kick your ass off the bike. go to hell that damn mission” your jaw tightened, ‘why does he have to make everything so difficult’ 

the light turns green and you don't hesitate to accelerate like a damn crazy— earning some curses from gojo, his arms wrapping around you, his thighs locking firmly against yours. once he accommodate to the speed, he's laughing, slightly enjoying the way you speed down the street like you're trying to outrun the heat pooling between your legs.

you parked in front of the luxurious hotel, one of the most extravagant hotels in the city by the way. the gala will be held there, a beautiful place— a perfect representation of gojo's wealth and arrogance. “gorgeous place, huh?” he muses. “maybe we should get a room after the mission, to celebrate our teamwork.” you swing your leg off smoothly, ignoring him as you unbuckle your helmet.

when you step inside, multiple people are working on the preparations— setting up tables, adjusting lighting, and fussing over floral arrangements. you walk straight past them, heading toward the ballroom where the gala will take place. the room is massive— high ceilings with floor-to-ceiling glass windows, multiple balconies. it's beautiful, but a logistical nightmare for security. too many places to hide, too many potential vantage points for a sniper.

gojo lets out a low whistle, walking a step behind, hands in his pockets— acting like a damn tourist instead of a man with an actual bounty on his head. you walk past the ballroom, letting him doing whatever he is. you head toward the back corridors, checking the service entrances, mapping out the security offices. The staff is too busy setting up to pay you much attention— except for the occasional glance at gojo, probably wondering if he's some high-profile guest.

then something shifts. a group of security personnel moves in, just a little too fast. too coordinated. you recognize the stance immediately— trained, disciplined. not just the hotel staff. your instincts scream at you, your feet move before your mind fully catches up— you step toward gojo to warn him…and that's when you see it. a figure in the hallway, gun raised. aimed directly at gojo's head.

your body moves before your brain processes. you twist on your heel, muscles coiled, and throw your knife. it slices through the air, and the second it buries itself deep in the shooter's forearm, he lets out a sharp yell, his aim faltering. it's all you need. you charge.

your combat boots barely make a sound as you sprint toward the shooter. you're on him before he even recovers, grabbing his wrist and twisting it outward— hard. 

POP. he screams, his shoulder socket dislocating from the brutal angle, the gun slipping from his fingers. your knee flies up, slamming into his sternum. you feel his ribs shift under the impact, his breath leaving him in choked gasp before you shove him aside like trash.

“holy shit—” gojo starts, but you don't hear the rest as you see three more attackers already closing in. one of them lunges with a knife— fast, trained. but so are you. you shift sideways at the last second, grabbing his wrist mid-swipe. then in a brutal motion, you twist. his own blade sinks into his thigh. a strangled gurgle leaves his lips as he stumbles back, collapsing to his knees, clutching the handle buried in his leg.

suddenly you feel arms wrapping around your waist, lifting you from the floor. you snap your head back, cracking the nose of your opponment with the force of a fucking hammer. blood sprays onto your shoulder and the wall. your fast to slam your elbow into his throat, his air supply instantly cut off, his body jerking as he crumples to the floor.

the last guy is bigger, stronger— seems to be military trained from the way he moves. but that doesn't matter, you've had to deal with fiercer men before. when he's close enough, you drop low— leg swings out in a sweeping arc. CRACK.

his legs are ripped out from under him. he fall onto his back, gasping for air. you don't let him breathe, your fist driving down, once.

twice, three times.

the last punch bursts his lip open, blood dripping down his chin. your fingers wrap around his throat. you lean in close, sweat dripping down your temple, eyes heavy of the need to kill. “you fucked with the wrong person.” you hear a broken noise coming from his lung. you tighten your grip.

and then— clapping. 

you whip around, chest heaving. and there stands gojo, grinning like the devil himself “well, well, well.” he whistles, stepping over the bodies of the men you just demolished. “i gotta admit, that was fucking sexy” your brain is still catching up, heart pulsing with adrenaline “what the hell is wrong with you?” you snap. “we almost got fucking assassinated.”

his grin deepens. “sweetheart…” he crouches down, tilting his head. “that wasn't an assassination.”

you freeze. you hope it's not what you think it is.

he gestures lazily at the unconscious men. “that was a test.” he lifts his shoulders, unbothered. “wanted to be sur you still got it” he winks, amused.

your blood runs hot. “a test?” gojo shrugs, way too casual for someone who just watched you beat the absolute shit out of four men. his gaze drags over you— knuckles bloodied, chest rising and falling hard— and his smirk only widens.

you don't think much as you launch at him, fury taking over— fully prepared to knock that smug grin off his face for good. but this time, he's ready. he catches your wrist mid-swing. “no, no,” he purrs, his grip tightening just enough to make you aware of his strength. “play nice.” your free hand grabs the collar of his shirt, yanking him closer “fuck you and your stupid games," you spit "i can't wait for this week to end.” you see red. 

gojo's amused eyes faded into something darker. his eyes once playful, turn sharp, dangerous. “and what?" his voice is low, cold— jaw clenched so tightly it might break. "leave like you did nine years ago?” his face inches closer, his warm breath hitting your skin. “leaving without a second look?” your stomach twists. he's standing too close— looking at you like he wants to rip you apart.

your chest rises and falls sharply. your body is still burning from the fight, but this— this is worse. you rip your wrist from his grasp, shoving him hard enough that he stumbles back a step. and he laughs. an empty laugh, far from his usual cocky, full-bodied laugh. “that's all you ever fucking do, huh?” his voice is sharp. “run.” you flinch, ever so sightly. but he sees it. and he seems satisfied ‘i finally got a reaction out of her.’ 

"i didn't have a choice". you force the words out, voice controlled. gojo's expression darkens. “bullshit, you always had a choice.” he steps forward, and this time, you don't move back. if he punched you, it will be well-deserved. you wouldn't dodge it. his fist on your face would hurt less than the words coming out of his mouth. 

“you just didn't choose me.” your heart stops, feeling something inside you cracks. but you don't want him to see it. so, as much as you hate what you're about to say, you steel yourself and let it out “what, you think i owed you something?” the words taste bitter, burning your tongue even as they leave your mouth.

gojo's lips parts, but nothing comes out at first. then quietly— too fucking quietly “no.” his voice is ragged, raw. “but i thought you cared.” you feel it like a punch to the gut. gojo never says things like this. he surely is all teasing remarks and well-placed avoidance but never is he a looking like you ruined him. like you destroyed a part no one could ever rebuild— except… you.

a part of you wants to scream that yes, you did care. you still do. that you were just too afraid to stay. but you do none of that. instead, you do the only thing you're good at, you walk away. and he lets you.

for mere seconds, he lets you leave— again. but then you hear him “don't you fucking do this again.” his voice isn't a plea, it's a command. for a moment, you think that he won't let you go. that maybe—just maybe—he'll grab your wrist, yank you back, force you to deal with this. but he doesn't.

because he still wants you to choose him. and you never do.

──────-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

the ride back home is fine. if fine meant quiet, tense, and filled with too much unsaid shit hanging in the air like a storm waiting to break. then yeah, it is fine.

gojo didn't pull his usual antics— no wandering hands, no teasing remarks. just silence. his hands stay firmly on his own thighs, gripping the edges of the seat. and somehow that irritates you even more. 

you can feel the weight of his gaze the entire ride back, burning into the back of your head like a brand. he doesn't speak, but his presence is suffocating.

by the time you pull up to his estate, he gets off the bike before you can even kill the engine. his movements are sharp, jaw clenched, shoulders tense. for a moment, he just stands there, staring at you, like he's debating something. you stare back, chest rising and falling with the remnants of adrenaline still buzzing through your veins.

but then, with a low scoff, he turns on his heels, and heads inside without a word. you don't follow. not immediately. taking a moment for yourself. trying to gather back your composure. 

you stay seated on your bike, hands tightening around the handlebars, knuckles white. heart pounding like a war drum against your ribs. the wind bites at your skin, but it's nothing compared to the cold settling in your chest.

──────-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

the next day is spent preparing for the gala. you go over the blueprints of the venue again, double-checking entrance and exist, every potential blind spot. 

the chaos from yesterday has been cleaned up— not a single trace of the fight remains. the bloodied bodies have been taken care of, the shattered glass replaced with pristine tables, the blood smeared across the walls scrubbed away as if it never existed. as if it was nothing more than a fever dream.

you analyze the guest list, looking for possible threats. you argue with gojo about security placements, mostly because he doesn't take anything seriously. “take a look at this. tell me if you recognize anyone shady.” the tall man barely glances at the screen before muttering, “they're all shady.” you roll your eyes "that's not helpful." he shrugs, stepping toward the grand windows. “i don't really care.” that pisses you off. “gojo, could you at least pretend to care?” you put a hand on your hips, patience thinning. 

he exhales through his nose, barely sparing you glance over his shoulder. and then, with a calmness that cuts deeper than yelling ever could, he says, “you're the one who didn't care, remember?” and that shuts you up. 

he doesn't wait for your response, doesn't push, doesn't linger. just clasps his hands behind his back, taking a slow tour of the ballroom, his gaze dragging over the chandeliers, the polished floors, the extravagant decor— all while completely ignoring you.

the gala is tomorrow. 

and you don't know if you're ready.

──────-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

morning comes too soon. you barely slept, torn between the looming mission ahead and the cold, unbearable silence that had settled between you and gojo. since that night at the hotel, it had been nothing but tension— thick, suffocating, unspoken. a battlefield of sidelong glances, clipped conversations, and empty spaces where words should have been. especially your words. words of regrets.

and now, as you sit stiffly across from gojo on his sleek leather couch, arms crossed so tightly your nails bite into your skin, it's clear nothing has changed. he doesn't look at you. he hasn't since that night. since those words left his mouth, cutting deeper than any blade you took.

your superior clears his throat, dragging you back to the present. his voice clipped, all business. “you'll be attending as a couple.” the words slam into you like a wrecking ball.“you're kidding” you say flatly, glaring at your superior. “no,” he says simply. and you hear gojo letting out a laugh. the sound sends cold down your spine. 

“it's the best cover. gojo is a known public figure, and he's expected to bring someone. you, on the other hand, aren't on anyone's radar. it's the perfect excuse to keep you close and avoid suspicion.” you shake your head. “there has to be another way.” you bite the inside of your cheek, gripping your own arms as if that'll keep you from exploding. this is a fucking disaster. “there isn't.”

fucking hell.

how are you supposed to play lovers when everything between you is broken, shattered, and stitched back together with nothing but avoidance? you can feel gojo's eye on you, but you refuse to meet them. you already know what he's thinking. that you well-deserved that. that you were the one who ran away from him nine years ago, without any explanations.

your jaw locks as you finally risk a glance at him. he's watching you, studying you. blue glacial eyes pinning you in place. then slowly, he tilts his head. lips curling into a grin. “well,” his voice low, with something dark. “this should be fun.”

the moment your superior is done talking, you push yourself off the couch and stride toward your room, your pulse hammering too fast. it's too much.

the air is still charged, like static before a storm. even more now that you know you're going as a couple. behind you, gojo doesn't say a word. he doesn't try to stop you either. of course, he doesn't. 

you try to convince yourself it's easier this way. easier to act like none of it matters. like the past isn't clinging to both of you with bloodied, desperate hands.

the second the door clicks shut behind you, you let out a breath you didn't even realize you were holding. the tension in your shoulders lingers, pressing your forehead against the door. 'focus' you tell yourself. tonight is business, the mission comes first. it's not about him— not about your feelings.

you step into the bathroom, turning the shower knob. water rushed out, steam filling the space almost instantly. hot, scalding— exactly what you need. you peel off your clothes, letting them drop carelessly to the floor before stepping inside.

the first touch of water burns, but you don't move away. instead, you welcome it. let it wash over you, over your skin, over the lingering heat still trapped in your body from the way gojo looked at you earlier. your hands slide over your arms, down your sides, over the curves of your body, the pressure firm as if you could scrub away the past— him. 

the water runs through your hair, down your back, down your thighs, and still, you can't shake the way your body remembers him. the way it still reacts to the mere idea of him. it pisses you off. your fingers tighten into fists before you force yourself to exhale, resting your forehead against the cool tile. you stay like this for a while. letting the water scald you, hoping it can burn out the thing still curling inside your chest, still whispering his name in the back of your mind. 

by the time you finally step out, steam curls around the mirror, the bathroom thick with heat. you wrap yourself in a towel, sighing as you push the door open. as you step closer to the bed, you notice a box on your bed. black, sleek, expensive. your breath catches for a second, it's not hard to guess who left it. you approach it slowly, a wary sort of anticipation buzzing under your skin. 

on the box, a note. a small, folded piece of paper with gojo's handwriting.

‘’ sweetheart,  i can't let you ruin my reputation with those cheap dresses you own. i have an image to maintain, after all. a rich man can't have people thinking he's poor. wear this. — satoru ‘’

your breath stutters for a second. sweetheart. something in your chest tightens, flutters, pounds. you crush it, fight it. with steady hands, you set the note aside and lift the lid of the box— and you freeze. 

the dress inside is breathtaking. it's a shade of blue so deep, so striking— the same as his eyes. you swallow, fingertips ghosting over the fabric. it's impossibly smooth, slipping through your fingers like liquid, designed to mold to every curve, to hug your body like a second skin. a dress that demands attention. you take it out of the box and immediately notice the back. or rather, the lack of one. the fabric dips dangerously low. with a sort of thin white belt that wraps behind your neck, fastening at the nape before cascading down in a delicate, tantalizing line. tracing your vertebral column. a seductive dress, yet functional enough to fight in case.

you return your attention to the box. your eyes widen as you see a pair of underwear. a soft filthy shade of blue, slightly lighter than the dress delicate and teasing. the panties are sheer in all the wrong places, practically see-through, the thin straps barely qualifying as fabric. offering little to the imagination. there's subtle glittering embellishments, catching the light just enough to draw eye. 

just enough to drive a man insane. your throat runs dry. that fucking bastard.

you dig further into the box, only to find jewelry. a necklace so fine it barely feels real, elegant enough to steal attention. earrings that shimmer subtly, matching perfectly with the delicate bracelet nestled beside them.

everything about this is so intimate. you hate that your heart still reacts, that your fingers tremble slightly as you lift the necklace, as you let the fabric of the dress slip between your fingers. every single piece was selected with intent. this isn't just a gift, it's a statement.

gojo satoru is back at it again. back to his games. back to this push and pull. he's testing your limits once again. you need to show him, you need to keep your bold cold. mission. mission then next… gojo.

──────-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

8:17 p.m. you see as you finish getting ready. adrenaline rushing through your veins. your hands move on mechanism, fastening the holster around your thigh before slipping the small firearm into place, the slit of your dress perfectly concealing it. since gojo is the host, there won't be any security checks for you at the entrance.

you allow yourself one final breath, steadying your pulse as your hand move to the door handle. tonight, your job is to protect him. nothing more.

you push the door open, and nothing could have prepared you for what is waiting for you. in front of you stand an anxious gojo, fixing his suit jacket, smoothing the fabric before his fingers nervously reach up to adjust his tie.

your breath hitches. the tie he's fumbling with is the exact same shade as your dress— his signature blue, the color of his eyes, the color that haunts your dream more often than you'd like to admit. his scent hits your nose, flooding your senses. something fresh, subtly spiced. it messes with your head, makes it hard to focus. his hair a little bit messy, like he's been running his hands through it while waiting for who knows how long.

and when his eyes find yours, everything in you freezes.

gojo stays still. his usual teasing remark falter, no lazy smirk, no arrogance. just… silence as his gaze consumes you. it's like the weight of the last few days of distance disappears, and all that remains is the way the dress clings to your body. 

“i-” he starts. “that's…you- i mean,” he shakes his head, trying to gather his thoughts. he takes a slow step forward, his hand reaching out. you don't hesitate, taking it in yours. his fingers are warm against yours, his grip tight, like he's afraid to let go. to let you go. 

he gently turns you, his eyes trailing over the open expanse of your back. he swallows hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. “what's happening, satoru?” you tease “you finally dare to look at me, after all the ignoring these pasts days?” you tilt your head back, lifting your chin to meet his eyes. even in your heels, you remain towered by him, his presence overwhelming. gojo's eyes betray something deep— pain, maybe regret. 

“sweetheart…” he murmurs, pulling you closer by the hand that holds yours. the sudden motion takes you by surprise, a gasp leaving your lips as your body crashes into his. “you have no idea what you do to me.” gojo growls softly. the heat of his body pressing against yours, makes you weak. you can't stop the way your breath hitches.

the word mission keeps echoing in your head. you shouldn't give in, not when he got so defensive, not when you still had walls built around you. “gojo,” you whispers as his eyes flickers to your lips. he leans in, his forehead touching yours, closing his eyes. “we need to figure it out.” he says simply. “give me a chance.” his hands grip your waist, molding your body to his. “tell me why you left, please.” his voice filled with a raw, aching honesty that make your heart drop.

your brain is racing at a thousand miles per hour, your pulse drumming in your ears. the connection between you two is palpable, undeniable. your hands go to the back of his head, tugging sightly his hair, making gojo groans. you breathe out his name, your lips just brushing against his “after the gala,” you murmur. “but let's go for now. we're running late.” you pull back but the heat remains. a pretty shade of pink creeps onto gojo's cheeks. the sight of it makes you smile. 

you both reach the bottom of the stairs, and before you can move toward the door, gojo's voice calls out, low and filled with something close to mischief. “wait.”

you stop in your tracks, turning to look at him, and that playful smirk makes its comeback. he lifts your hands, then loosens his grip just enough to intertwine his fingers with yours. his eyes fixed on your face, watching for your reaction. “it's better like this,” he says, his voice mix of teasing and seriousness. “if we're playing couple, let's do it right,” he adds. you shake your head in disbelief, unable to suppress the smile tugging at your lips. “satoru, let's go now." he opens the door, the cold night air hitting your skin “i love when you call me saturo, sweetheart.”

──────-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

the streets blur past, neon lights casting fleeting glows over his sharp features as he drives through the city. Gojo insisted on being the one to drive, choosing one of his luxurious car— not without making a comment on how it'd be nearly impossible to ride your bike in that dress but he'd gladly let you ride him in that dress. 

the ride is quiet. not the comfortable kind, but the charged, suffocating kind. you can feel his eyes flicking toward you between red lights.

the hotel appears, tall and grand, its golden lights illuminating the massive entrance. unlike when you came checking security, the driveway is packed with luxury cars, men in tailored suits, women in gowns worth small fortunes. there're even photographers lining the barricades, flashes firing like relentless lighting. 

despite your superior's briefing, you still feel nervous. of course you have attented events like this before to protect your clients, but never were you the center of attention.

suddenly, dodging bullets in a batteflied seems far less stressful than whatever the hell this masquerade is. at least, the car windows are tinted, giving you some more minutes.

gojo feels you tense up as he stops in front of the entrance. he turns to you, bringing a hand to cup your face, tilting your chin so you meet his gaze. “it's okay, sweetheart," his thumb traces soft, reassuring circles on your cheek. “i'm with you. focus on the job, okay?” then, with an easy smile, he steps out of the car.

the moment he does, you hear people calling his name, cameras clicking furiously. and gojo being gojo, steps out with that infuriating confidence, adjusting his cufflinks like he owns the damn place. pretty fucking bastard

gojo makes his way to your door before the valet even moves. he opens it himself, hand extended, waiting. and you can feel this is not only for the show. you let out a sharp exhales, taking his hand to get out of the car.

the moment your heels hit the ground, the flashes explode even brighter, voices pitching higher, demanding your attention. gojo's fingers intertwine with yours—firm, possessive—as he pulls you closer, leaning down just enough so only you can hear. “wanted to let you know,” his breath tickling your ear “knowing what's under this dress is no helpful to hide my boner in front of these photographers.” 

before you can react, he presses a slow, deliberate kiss to your temple. then with the smooth ease of a man who knows exactly what he's doing, he lifts your hand to his lips and plants the softest kiss against you knuckles. “also, don't forget to smile.”

──────-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

inside, the gala is exactly what you expected— crystal chandeliers spilling molten gold over the sea of designer-clad elites, laughter too polished to be real, and conversations laced with unspoken agendas. the air is thick with expensive perfume and quit power plays.

gojo moves through it effortlessly, magnetic as ever. he plays the perfect host, flashing easy grins and exchanging pleasantries with people you couldn't care less about. you, on the other hand, remain sharp, scanning the room, keeping your senses on high alert.

or at least, you try.

it's hard to stay focused when you're super-aware of gojo's warmth. his palm resting low on your back, fingers tracing lazy, absentminded circles against your spine. his lips graze your temple as he leans in, voice low with some meaningless observation, but his breath is too warm, too deliberate. a shiver runs down your body.

the hours stretch on, an endless cycle of fake smiles and calculated small talk. the weight of the night starts pressing against your ribs, exhaustion creeping in. you need a moment.

“i'm getting us drinks,” you murmur, pulling away from gojo's touch, ignoring the way your body immediately protests the loss of warmth.

“how thoughtful of my wife” he teases, lips curling into something wicked. you almost fall to the floor, headfirst. 

wife. the word comes too easily from his mouth, like it belongs there. you catch yourself liking it.

shaking off the heat starting to take over you, you weave through the crowd, reaching the refreshments table. your mind still lingers on gojo, your thoughts are full of him. you're convince you need him. you don't want to run anymore.

a shadow of a smile tugs at your lips. 

when you turn back— two glasses of champagne in your hand— gojo is gone.

your pulse stumbles. your breath quickens, eyes scanning every corner, every exit. nothing. where the hell is he? 

you shove the glasses onto the nearest table, ignoring the startled look of a waiter. your training urges you to stay calm, but panic claws at your throat. gojo isn't just your responsibility. he's—

focus.

you spot one of the security personnel near the ballroom's entrance, a stocky man with an earpiece and a sharp gaze. you stride toward him, voice low but urgent. “did you see gojo leave?” the man frowns slightly “he stepped out a few minutes ago. took the private elevator up.”

your stomach knots. “who was with him?”

“not sure. a few men. well-dressed.” fury spikes through you. 'and that didn't alarm you?' you could beat his ass off if it wasn't for gojo right now. where did they find those incompetent men.

spinning on your heel, you move fast, heart hammering. the gala's noise fades behind you as you push through the discreet hallway leading to the private elevators. the display shows it stopped on the roof.

your pulse spikes. you slam the button. nothing. locked.

“fuck” you mutter under your breath. you don't have time to wait. without hesitation, you head for the stairwell, heels be damned. you rip the gun from its hidden strap at your thigh and climb two steps at a time. the adrenaline burns away any exhaustion, pushing faster.

by the time you reach the the top, your breath is ragged. hand tight on your gun, you push the rooftop door open just enough to see—

and your blood turns to ice.

gojo stands near the edge, bathed in city lights, his white hair a stark contrast against the night. the wind howls between the buildings, the breeze fluttering his tie— the same shade of his eyes, the same shade of your dress.

his usual carefree stance betraying nothing, hands in his pocket like he's discussing business over whiskey rather than staring down the barrels of guns. 

four men surround him. they're dressed too well to be common thugs, but you know better—real danger rarely looks the part. one of them, a broad-shouldered man with a jagged scar curving at the corner of his mouth, has his gun aimed directly at gojo's chest.

your grip tightens around your own gun.

and then gojo speaks. “i suggest you let me go,” he drawls, voice laced with amusement. “or my wife's going to rip you apart.” he smirks “also, we arranged we talk after the gala, to make things clear, i don't think she'd be very happy that you keep me for the night.”

the men exchange glances, unimpressed. scar-lips steps forward, a cruel smirk twisting his scar. “you're worth a lot, Satoru Gojo.” a ransom situation.

gojo pinches the bridge of his nose like they're giving him a headache. “look,” he starts, tilting his head slightly. “i don't know who sent you, but this is embarrassing. four of you? to handle me? if i were you, i'd start running before she gets pissed.”

they barely have a second to process his words before you make your move. you can't risk any longer. and gojo is doing perfectly at distracting them.

one breath. one shot. 

you step out. aim. fire

the bullet buries itself into the shoulder of the man nearest gojo. he stumbles back with a pained grunt—

and gojo moves.

he moves faster then the wind whipping through the rooftop. in the time it takes for scar-lips to turn toward you, gojo there. a sickening crack echoes through the rooftop as gojo drives his elbow into the wide man's jaw with enough force to send him staggering. without pause, he pivots, driving a brutal kick into another's ribs. the crack is sickening.

you react instinctively, ducking behind an industrial vent as one of the men pulls a gun in your direction. another shot rings out— gojo's this time. he moves like liquid shadow, disarming one of the attackers with terrifying efficiency. the man barely has time to process that he's slammed into the ground.

scar-lips, despite his disoriented state, reaches for his gun again.

gojo doesn't let him. he's on him in a blink, gripping his wrist with an almost lazy ease before twisting it violently in the wrong direction. the man screams, his gun clattering to the floor. gojo doesn't let go. instead, he leans in, voice sickeningly sweet. “told you she'd be mad.”

you freeze. you've seen trained fighters. you are one. but this? this is something else. the speed, the precision, the sheer control— it's unsettling. suspicious. 

the last man standing tries to flee, you take aim and fire a warning shot near his feet. he freezes, hands trembling in surrender.

the rooftop falls into silence, only the labored groans of the fallen men breaking the stillness. the adrenaline still surges through your veins as you lower your gun, stepping closer to gojo, who brushes nonexistent dust off his sleeve like he didn't juts annihilate four men in less than two minutes.

“you good?” he asks, eyes flickering over you, concern hidden beneath his usual playful tone. “i should be asking you that.” 

“what? you think a couple of suits can take me down?” he winks, but there's something unreadable in his eyes. something he doesn't want you to see. you don't press. at least, not now.

instead, you step forward, pressing your heel into scar-lips' injured arm. he yelps “so, who sent you?” scar-lips stay still, unwilling to say anything.

the other men groan on the ground, the sting of their broken bones keeping them from trying anything stupid. gojo sighs as if he's bored. as if this whole thing is an inconvenience rather than a threat to his life. he reaches into his jacket, pulling out his phone. 

“you know,” he hums, tapping the screen with a lazy smirk “i could call someone. but they wouldn't be as nice as she is.” he gestures at you with a tilt of his head, his tone light, but his eyes? glacial.

scar-lips doesn't flinch. you press down harder on his arm. “fuck! alright, alright!” gojo grins like you just made his night. 

“contract” he grits out. “someone put a price on your head. it's big. too big to ignore.” gojo clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “that's vague. who?” scar-lips looks like he's debating wether answering is worth the consequences. “not local”

“international” you press. he nods, slowly. “someone wants you dead, gojo. badly. all we got was a time and place.” his gaze flicks up to you, sharp despite pain. "and instructions to take you too".

the air grows thick. “me?” the man on the floor exhales “whoever hired us knew you'd be with him. they want you alive.” something cold settles in your stomach. gojo, however, laughs. it's quiet, then louder, echoing against the rooftop.

scar-lips looks at him like he's lost his damn mind. “what the fuck is wrong with you?” gojo wipes at the corner of his eyes like he actually found that funny. “man, you guys must be new do you know how many times someone's tried to put me in a body bag?” he leans in closer, voice dripping lower. “and not one of them ever succeeded.” gojo nods toward you, lips quirking. “someone wants her alive? buddy, you should be more scared of that than anything else.” 

you glance down, they want you alive. that means whoever put out this hit isn't just after gojo— they're after something he has. the implications make your blood runs cold. but you don't have time to dwell on it.

one of the men on the ground— one you thought was barely conscious— lunges.

it happens fast. too fast.

a blade glints under the rooftop lights, aiming straight for gojo's ribs.

your gun fires before you think. the gunshot rings out, echoing accross the night.

the man crumples.

scra-lips yells, trying to scrambles back, but gojo's hand shoot out, grabbing him by the collar and yanking him up. “i'd be annoyed if this wasn't so damn prediactable.” his voice has lost its amusement. it's cold now. deadly. “you made a big mistake touching what's mine.” gojo's fingers tighten. for a second, you think he'll kill him.

but instead, gojo sighs—a sound full of tiredness— and his grip loosens. “i'd love to drag this out, but we have a gala to return to,” he says, and with that, he lets go. the man collapses to the ground, coughing violently.

gojo steps over him like he's nothing more than a discarded piece of trash. he reaches for your hand, gently pulling you away. “someone's coming to pick you up.” he adds, his tone far too casual for what just happened “be grateful. i called someone to take care of you, buddies. i only do that to my special guests.” 

he slams the rooftop door shut behind them with a sense of finality, cutting off the chaos that lingers in the air.

as you make your way down the stairs, you abruptly stop, questions swirling in your mind. “what's wrong?” gojo asks. you meet his gaze, searching his eyes, trying to figure out what he's hiding from you. he steps closer "you okay?” you should nod. should brush it off like you always do.

but you don't answer, and you feel the weight of silence settles between you. it's suffocating, you don't know how to break it. so you shake your head. you want to ask him why he hired you. why he needs you when he could've handled everything alone. you want to know if there's more to this—more to you—than just being his bodyguard. the questions burns at the back of your throat, but you swallow it down, afraid of what the answer might be.

gojo's hand pulls you from your spiraling thoughts, his touch gentle—like always when he touches you—making you gasp. his palm cups your cheeks. “hey.” his eyes are full of concern, worried. his tumb brushes over your cheek, a fleeting touch, as if he's trying to ground you. you're not sure if it's for your sake or his. 

“you're acting weird,” he murmurs, tilting his head. your throat tightens. “and you're acting like this is normal.” a short laugh escapes him, not a single hint of humor in it. his grip on your face loosens, but he doesn't pull away. “what do you want me to say?”

“i want you to tell me why,” the words come out quieter than you intended, but no less desperate. “why hire someone to protect you?” something flickers in his gaze, quick enough that you almost miss it. his fingers twitch against your skin. “you really think i need a bodyguard?” the way he says it sounds wrong—too light, too easy. 

“exactly. you don't." your voice is unwavering now, the certainty of it strengthening you. “not after i saw what you did tonight. the way you fought— it was effortless. you're better than any soldier i've ever seen.” you hesitate, the memory clicking into place. ”better than me.” and now that you think about it, you remember your punch he blocked that night, back at the gala preparations. the sheer force he used. you should have realized then.

gojo is quiet for a moment. then, finally, he sighs, letting his hand drop from your face. the loss of his warmth makes your chest ache. “i thought it'd be obvious by now,” he mutters, looking away.

it isn't. 

it's not obvious at all. and the fact that he won't just say it outright makes your frustration curl tight in your chest. 

you take a step back, shaking your head. “well, as you can see… it's not.” you cross your arms, the hurt leaking into your voice. gojo's head snaps back toward you, eyes narrowing. “you overthink too much.” you scoff, anger bubbling up despite your exhaustion. “then give me answers. if you did, i wouldn't have to.”

his jaw clenches, and for a second, you think he's going to throw out some flippant remark, something to brush this all under the rug like he always does. 

but then— 

he takes a step forward.

and another.

until there's barely any space left between you.

“maybe i don't want you to know,” he says, voice low, almost quiet to hear. the words send a sharp pang through you. he's never been this blunt before— not like this. “why?” you whisper, almost afraid to ask, but you need to go through this. together. “once you know, you won't look at me the same.”

your heart clenches at the quiet honesty in his voice.

“satoru," you murmur, refusing to back down, “you dressed me tonight. you brought me here as your date. you even called me your wife.” your voice shakes, but you keep going. “and i was scared to lose you tonight.” the words slip out before you can stop them, raw and unfiltered, the weight of them hitting the space between you with unbearable force. 

gojo stills. his breath is uneven, and his eyes—those brilliant blue eyes—widen just slightly. you close your own, exhaling shakily before continuing.

“i ran once. nine years ago.” your voice is barely a whisper now. “i was young. i was afraid. and it was a mistake.” his entire body tenses. “Satoru,” you open your eyes, meeting his. “i want you. all of you. and surprisingly, i'm willing to stay. to stand next to you. to kill for you if that's what it takes to keep you safe.” you pause, your voice thick with emotion. “i'm not afraid of threats. i don't want to run anymore.”

gojo looks wrecked. completely and utterly undone.

you step closer, pressing a hand to his chest, feeling the rapid, unsteady beat of his heart beneath your palm. “nothing you could ever say will change the way i see you.” your voice is firm “nothing.”

he swallows hard, his hands twitching at his sides like he doesn't know whether to pull you in or push you away— to protect you from people that would want to hurt you, only to hurt him.

but then— he breaks. 

his arms wrap around you, crushing you to him, his grip almost desperate. his forehead drops to your shoulder, his breath warm against your skin. and for the first time, gojo satoru—the untouchable, unshakable man— trembles.

“making me go through all that," he says against your hair, "being irrefutable with me and letting me beat the hell out of four men—" his fingers gripping the fabric of your clothes like he's terrified you'll disappear. “it took you all that to finally tell me what's on your heart?”

you let out a watery laugh, wrapping your arms around him just as tightly “i'm sorry.” he lets out a shaky breath, his lips brushing your temple. “stay,” it's not a command, not a plea— just a confession. you close your eyes, letting yourself sink into his warmth, into the way he holds you like he's never wanted anything more. “i'm not going anywhere.”

and just like that, nothing else matters.

the gala, the stares, the whispers— none of it exists as you slip out through the back entrance, hands locked together, ignoring the world you're leaving behind.

gojo doesn't let go.

not even when he open the car door for you, not even when he slides into the driver's seat. his hand stays on your thigh, fingers warm and steady, tracing idle patterns against your skin. every red light is an excuse— an excuse to lift your hand to his lips, pressing slow, deliberate kisses on your knuckles, the pads of your fingers, the inside of you wrist.

you shiver, watching him through lidded eyes. “you're being soft.” gojo hums, a lazy grin pulling at his lips. “you love it, don't you?” and you don't deny it.

the drive is quiet, heavy with something unspoken. when he pulls up in front of his house, fingers still tracing slow, burning circles on you thigh, the weight of earlier comes crashing back. you shift in your seat, eyes flicking toward him. 

“what were you going to say earlier?” his hand pauses for just a second— just long enough for you to notice. then, instead of answering, he leans in, his breath hitting your jaw as his lips ghost over your skin. “you really want to talk about that right now?”

the air is charged, thick with frustration and need. his lips press against the corner of your mouth— featherlight, teasing, but you can feel the restraint in the way his fingers grip your thigh. you tilt your head, giving him more access as a sigh leave your lips. “i need to know.”

gojo groans, low and deep. his hands move— one sliding up higher up your thigh, the other tangling in your hair as he pulls you toward him, his lips finally crashing against yours.

the kiss is messy, heated, all tongue and teeth and pent-up frustration. you don't even remember shifting onto his lap, only that his hands are on your hips, gripping tight enough to leave marks. his breath is ragged when he pulls back, forehead pressed against yours. your lipstick stains his lips, smudged, messy, sinful.

“you really wanna do this now?” his voice is rough, uneven. his fingers slip beneath your dress, brushing against your bare skin. “because if i start talking now, i won't stop. and i'd rather have you like this, falling apart in my hands. or my tongue. begging for more.”

your pulse is wild, but you don't back down. “satoru.” you lift a hand, softly wiping the lipstick from his lips. “tell me.” his sigh is one of defeat, his head falling back on the headrest. “i didn't hire you to protect me.” his voice is quieter now, raw in a way you've never heard before. “i hired you because i wanted you close.”

your breath catches. gojo chuckles, but there's no humor in it. “you ran from me nine years ago,” he presses open-mouthed kisses along your neck— wet, lingering. “did you really think i was going to let you do it again?”

your eyes burn with emotions— ones you don't have time to process because gojo's lips trail lower, his tongue flicking out, teasing, tasting. "being an influential young man got me some enemies. I had to know how to fight like a soldier— if not better. as the years went by, I became even more influential. and with some quick calls, I was able to find you."

“i don't think i deserve you, gojo.” the words spill out, breathless. gojo clicks his tongue, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze. his hands frame your face “sweetheart,” his voice barely above a whisper “let's go inside,” his teeth graze your skin “i'm going to show you just how much you deserve me.”

──────-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

you barely step through the threshold before gojo's hands are on you again, pushing you against the wall. his kiss is devastating, all-consuming, a plea and a demand in one. his hands roam, sliding down your sides, gripping your hips hard enough to bruise, like he's afraid you'll slip through his fingers again.

“you're killing me,” he groans, voice hoarse, “i need you. need to taste you.” your dress is barely hanging on, undone but still covering you like some cruel temptation, and that makes it worse for him. he doesn't pull it off— not yet. his fingers skim the fabric, then push it up, bunching around your waist. that's when he sees them.

your light blue panties— delicate, sheer, adorned with tiny pearls. the one he meticulously chose for you earlier. he fucking loses it at the sight.

“sweetheart.” his voice shatters, his breath stuttering as his thumb brushed the pearls, the fabric already damp. a pretty little thing wrapped up so nicely just for him. his hands shake when he presses his palm flat against your cunt, cupping you through the soaked fabric. “you're so wet. you wanted me this bad?”

you whimper, nodding, your knees already weak.

he drops to his knees so fast it's almost embarrassing. he doesn't even push your panties aside right away. instead, he leans in, kissing up your thighs— not just to tease, but to worship. his lips press against every scar, every mark, each one a silent promise. “my pretty strong girl,” he murmurs, his fingers squeezing your legs. “i will take care of them later.”

“satoru—”

his mouth finds the inside of your thigh first, biting down hard enough to make you whimper before soothing the mark with his tongue. then finally, finally, his mouth is on you. a hot, wet, messy kiss pressed right against your cunt, sucking you through the fabric of your panties. you gasp for air, your hands tightening on his white hair, earning a moan from him, an actual moan.

his tongue pressed flat against your cunt, teasing you through the pearls and lace. you gasp, body jolting, thighs trying to squeeze together, but he won't let you. his strong hands hold you open, force you to take it.

“f-fuck—" you breathe, fingers diving into his hair.

gojo grinds his face into your pussy like a possessed man. “god, you taste sweet even through this,” he slurs, drunk on it, his voice muffled. “missed having my mouth on you.”

his tongue dragged over the fabric, lapping, teasing, sucking, his fingers slipping underneath to pull them to the side. “Gojo—” your head slams back against the wall.

he didn't let you finish as he spreads your pussy open with his thumbs and buried his face between right into your core, eating you out like he was trying to ruin you for anyone else. like he needed to prove something.

it's sloppy, desperate, obscene.

he's licking into you with long, deep strokes, his nose bumping against your clit. his fingers dug into your ass, yanking you closer, forcing you to grind against his mouth, fucking his tongue with every rool of your hips.

“t-too much—” your body is trembling.

“been too long, huh? missed me eating your pretty little pussy?” sliding his tongue down to fuck into you, groaning when you clenched around him. you were so wet, so fucking wet, dripping down his chin as he worked you over, puling moans out of you that made his cock throb painfully against his zipper.

his arms wrap around your waist, locking you in place, forcing you to take everything he gives. his moans vibrate against your skin, needy, delirious, he's getting off on this as much as you are. “taste so fucking sweet,” his voice is muffled by your heat. “could stay down here forever.” he doesn't stop, doesn't let up— not even when your thighs squeeze around his head, when you're shaking so hard you can barely breathe.

your body locks up, pleasure tightening, so close it hurts. his fingers dig into your flesh, his lips wrapping around your clit, sucking just right, and that's all it takes— you break apart with a cry, shuddering, coming all over his tongue.

gojo groans like he's tasting something forbidden, something addictive, lapping it all up, refusing to let a single drop go to waste.

by the time he pulls away, his lips and chin are glistening, his pupils blown wide, his chest rising and falling like he just ran miles. your dress is still on, but your panties are pushed to the side, and gojo is a wrecked mess between your legs, staring at you like he's ready to die for you.

 “come here.” you grabbed him by the collar, pulling him into a flithy desperate kiss. his hands scrambled to get his belt open, shaking so badly he barely undo it. “l-let me help,” you whisper, your hands brushing his as you pull his belt free, undoing his zipper. “i want to make it up to you” you look at him in the eyes “for running away.” your hands slide over his thighs, palming the thick outline of him through his pants. he's already rock-hard. gojo let out a pathetic whimper. “s-shit, you don't have to—”

the second you slide down his boxers, his cock slaps against his stomach, thick, flushed, dripping. “f-fuck—” he lets out when your hand wraps around him. he's so hard it must be painful, a bead of precum leaking from the flushed tip.

you dropped to your knees and looking up at him through your lashes “i need to, satoru” 

gojo chokes “fuck— yeah, please—” with nothing more you took him in your mouth. his hands immediately flying to your hair, not pulling, just holding, like he needs something to ground himself

his entire body jerked as your tongue drags up his length, flicking over the tip before you sink down, taking him deep. tongue pressing against the thick vein running along his dick. you hollowed your cheeks, bobbing your head, your hand stroking the rest of him. it's slick and obscene, the sounds echoing in the hallway. your lips stretched around him.

“f-fuck— sweetheart,” gojo is a mess above you. a whimpering, panting mess. his thighs tensed, his whole body shudders. “fuck, f-fuck— too good, it's too fucking g-good—” he wants you to let you continue. he wants to watch you take him apart. 

but he wants to feel you. it's been nine long years for fuck sake. he just needs your pretty little cunt wrapping around his cock. “i-if you don't stop— shit— if you d-don't stop r-right n-now, i'm gonna—” he grabs your wrists, and you pulled off with a sinful pop, lips swollen, eyes gleaming.

“bed. now.” 

except… you don't make it to the bed…

you get as far as the couch before you're shoving him down, straddling his lap, gripping his shoulders. his cock is still out, flushed, leaking, twitching against his stomach. and your soaked panties are still on, pulled to the side, teasing him.

“reverse cowgirl.” you say, full of tease. his brain short-circuits. “w-what?” you don't answer. you just move, shift until your back is to him. you give him a full view on the open dress, the curves of your body, the barest glimpse of your soaked panties sill clinging to your folds.

“oh, fuck— ohhh fuck.” his head drops back against the couch. his hands finding your waist as you took his base and let your hips ever so slowly sink down.

you both are drowning. “t-toru— ahh, ‘s big—” your voice breaks. you forgot how fucking big he is. surely the biggest cock you’ve ever took. “th-that's okay, s-sweetheart,” gojo is hardly holding on, shaking beneath you. “you're d-doing good— fuck— your walls are sucking me i-in. i— fuckfuckfuck—”

inch by inch, you take him, stretching, gasping, feeling him pulse inside you.

sweat drips down your back. gojo leans in, licks it up. and then— 

he loses his patience. 

he grabs your hips, slams you down, and fuck, you both scream. his fingers are bruising, his breath wrecked against your spine, and you're already a trembling, cock-drunk mess in his lap. “t-toru— please—”

“shhh, sweetheart,” he pants, barely coherent. “let me make you mine again.” 

he drags you down onto him, thrusting up to meet you, filling you so deep you can feel him in your stomach. “ohhh— fuuuck, toru—” your hands scrambling for purchase against the couch as you rock back against him.

“that's right, sweetheart,” his forehead pressed against your bare spine. “take me— please, take all of me.” he pulls you back onto him harder, a desperate, needy little sound escaping his throat when he sees the way your pretty blue panties cling to you, your pussy stretched around the base of his cock, underwear soaked. “s-shit, your panties— fuck, that's so—” gojo can't even finish his sentence. his hands slip under your dress, his fingers finding your hard nipples and pinches them through your bra.

“satoru, i—” you sob, rolling your hips, grinding down. “that's it, ride me,” he begs, his hands palming your soft breasts. “you feel so fucking good, s-so tight—” you lift your hips just to slam back down, picking up a rhythm, and gojo loses his fucking mind. his moans spilling out in rapid desperate gasps. “fuck, baby—”

his length throbs inside you, his hips bucking up uncontrollably. he grabs at you, at your dress, your thighs, anywhere he can touch, his lips pressing frantic, open-mouthed kisses along your back. 

“d-don't stop— please— ohh f-fuck, please don't stop—” he sounds so ruined, so completely fucking gone.

somehow you grind down even harder, sending the poor guy's body jolting. he's straight-up choking, his moans turn high-pitched, pathetic, whimpering. “sweetheart, i-i can't— oh fuck, i'm gonna—” his voice breaks, shaking “i can't hold it— i can't, i can't—” 

you lean back against his chest, turning just enough to catch the sight of him— his head thrown back, eyes squeezed shut, mouth parted, his entire body trembling beneath you. “t-toru,” you whimper, tightening around him. “cum for me.”

that's it. that's all it takes.

Gojo slams you down onto him one last time, a ragged, broken cry ripping from his throat. His cock pulses deep inside you, his grip on you almost bruising as he spills into you, moaning like he’s coming apart at the seams. his chest rising and falling erratically, his entire body completely ruined.

and even as the pleasure fades, he doesn't let go. “you're mine. not letting you go again.” he doesn't give you time to respond as he suddenly grabs your wrists, shoving you face-down into the couch. “but that doesn't mean i'm done with you.” his body is still trembling, his cock still throbbing inside you, slick with both of your release.

“one round isn't enough,” heavy voice in your ear. he rolls his hips once, slow and deep, dragging his dick through the mess he's made of you.

your whimper is swallowed by the cushions, fingers clawing at the fabric as he strats moving again. his pace is slow at first, torturous, letting you feel every thick inch stretching you open again. then he pulls out almost completely—just the tip remained inside— before slamming back in, so deep your vision blurs.

“mhhh— satoru!” the force of it knocks the breath out of you, makes you choke on your own moan. his hands are everywhere—gripping your hips, sliding up your back, fisting your hair.

“look at you, sweetheart,” he pants, voice slurred, filthy. “so wet—so messy—fuck, listen to yourself.” and oh, you can hear it. the lewd, obscene squelching of your cunt sucking him back in with every thrust. it's dripping down your thighs, coating his cock, soaking the couch beneath you.

“s'dripping” he groans, pulling out just to watch the way your hole clenches, fluttering around nothing. your slick mixed with his cum spills out. glistening, pooling between your legs. “fucking— shit” he grits his teeth, fisting his cock, slapping it against your swollen cunt. “such a pretty mess."

“p-please,” you sob, wiggling your hips, trying to push back against him. you're so sensitive, already teetering on the edge again. “please what?” his grip tightens in your hair, yanking your head back so his lips brush your ear. “use your words, sweetheart. beg for it.” your brain is mush, squirming beneath him, but you give him what he wants.

“please— please, t-toru fuck me— use me. w-want you s-so bad— need you so bad—” his breath shudders “you're so hot,”

and he slams back into you, deeper, harder, faster. you scream, your arms giving out as he fucks you into the cushions. his pace is wild, frantic, desperate— his cock found your g-spot. hitting it over and over again. until you're body is nothing but raw nerves and white-hot pleasure.

“y-you like this?” gojo struggles finding his breathe, sweat dripping down his temple. “like getting fucked stupid? like being ruined?” you can't even speak— just babbling his name.

“sweetheart, im not gonna last— fuck, i wanna feel you cum again, i need to feel it—” he moans, he swears your cunt was made perfectly for him and only him. one hand slipping between your legs, fingers rubbing at your clit in messy, quick circles.

“come on— cum on my cock, wanna feel your cum all over me,” your whole body seizes, pleasure ripping through you so hard you think you black out for a second. you scream his name, back arching, legs shaking, walls clenching tight around him he nearly collapses. “ohh— ohhh ‘s gooood— wrapping around my cock aghn,”

his hips snap forward, his voice breaking as he lets out white long hot creams. he cums so much, it leaks out around his dick— balls.

for a moment, the only sound in the room is your ragged breathing, the lewd, sticky wetness between your legs, the faint creak of the couch beneath you. gojo breaks it with a breathless, shaky laugh. “you're a fucking dream,” he mumbles, pressing lazy, wet kisses to your shoulder. his arms wrapped tight around your waist.

“satoru…” you whisper his name, running your fingers through his damp hair. he exhales and lifts you into his arms. he carries you like you're something sacred, irreplaceable. something he'll never allow to slip through his fingers again.

"bedroom," he murmurs against your temple. “i need to love you properly.” your breath catches, a lump forming in your throat. this is different. you wrap your arms around him as he carries you through the dimly lit house, his body still inside yours, still pulsing, still clinging to every last bit of warmth you give him.

tonight, he took you like he was desperate. like he had something to prove, like he needed to reclaim you after all these years apart. but now…

now he's looking at you like you hung the stars in his sky.

when he lays you down on his bed, it feels like the world stops. like you both exist in your own universe. gojo hovers over you, his hands tracing over every inch of you. he maps your body with his touch, memorizes you with his lips, presses soft, reverent kisses over your skin.

and he pauses when he reaches your scars. trembling hands ghost over them, his expression unreadable. his eyes, impossibly blue even in the dim light, flicker up to yours. his fingertips linger on your scars, tracing them so gently it make your breath hitch.

“nine years,” his lips press over each mark, worshipping. “nine agonizingly years without you.” your chest aches. you cup his face, wiping the single tear coming down his cheek with your thumb. gojo closes his eyes, leaning into your touch like he needs it to breathe. “you don't get it.” murmuring it more to himself than you.

he looks down at you like you're everything. like he doesn't believe you're real.

you don't get a chance to respond before he's kissing you—slow, deep. it's not just hunger, not just lust. it's grief, it's relief, it's the kind of love that breaks you open and remakes you all at once.

when he finally pushes into you, it's not desperate. it's deliberate— he's trying to mold himself to you, he wants to leave an imprint of himself inside you forever. “satoru—”

“i know, sweetheart,” he kisses the corner of your mouth, your neck, your collarbone. “let me love you.” 

you do. you let him take his time. let him move in deep, slow thrusts that leave you breathless. let him pull every last moan from your lips until your nails dig into his back. his name falls from your lips like a prayer, over and over again.

“feel that?” satoru takes your chin in his hand, making you look at him. “feel how deep i am? how i'm filling you up?” there's no rush, just the overwhelming feeling of being connected— having each other the way you were always meant to.

“toru, please,” you gasp into his mouth. “i've got you,” he mutters, nose brushing against yours. his fingers lace through yours, pinning your hands above your head, your legs wrapping around his waist, your body arching into him. 

“you're everything,” he whispers. “you always were.” your chest tightens, you feel yourself shatters as heat coils in your stomach, winding tighter and tighter.

you're so full of him, of love, of longing, of everything you've spent nine years trying to ignore.

“i love you,” and it sets something free inside you.

gojo chokes on his breath. his rhythm stutters. his fingers tighten around yours. his lips tremble against your skin. “say it again,” he begs.

“i love you, Satoru.” his hips snap into you harder, pace remaining slow as if he's trying to commit every part of you to memory. “say it again, sweetheart.”

“i love you—” his body tenses, his release crashing over him at the same time you hit yours. his lips find yours as you both shatter together.

when he collapses on top of you, he doesn't let go. doesn't even try. you're still tangled together, still connected when he speaks. “i was serious,” you hum, sleepy, completely boneless in his arms. “about what?” his fingers stroke over your hip. “about calling you my wife.” 

you tilt your head, searching his face. he's looking at you like you're his entire world. he's never been more sure of anything in his life. “i don't just want you here tonight,” he says softly, kissing the tip of your nose. “i want you here forever.”

tears sting your eyes, but you smile, brushing his hair out of his face. “then start calling me that now, satoru.” gojo grins— that beautiful, bright, devastating grin.

“come here, wife.”

( ˘͈ ᵕ ˘͈♡)

[quesocheeso]

3am AU

Shadowpeach edition

I'm enjoying having this AU be written posts while I'm also working on comic strips for it, it's fun👍

Okay okay, since the au is based on what happens in canon/ canon present time I'll be referring to stuff from there

Okay so Shadowpeach is complicated in 3am AU (when are they not?) they're by all means rivals who are still hostile to each other, they have just extremely reeled it back when raising their kids, so although Xiaoxing knows they're in somewhat okay(?) terms, he doesn't know what really happened between them. Shadowpeach really went from enemies to co-parents, and they never spoke of their own issues, just an agreement to raise the kids without hostility to each other. Although at the time they shook hands on this, they only had Xiaoxing and the plan was to raise him to adulthood before going back to trying to beat each other up,,,but then they had Xiaoyue which monkey wrench moment fr

I also want to clarify, Shadowpeach aren't together in this AU, they definitely hook up with each other whenever they want, but they aren't together. Do they have romantic feelings for each other? Oh boy they definitely do, I just find it hilarious that Macaque knows he does, while Wukong is kinda oblivious or thinks he has indigestion.

Which brings me to the main topic: Love.

No matter how much Macaque says he hates or despises Wukong, he still goes out of his way to help him. No matter if his own life is in danger he is always there, and isn't that care? One could even say love? Maybe even...Unconditional love.

Hate is born out of love that has rotten, especially between two people like these monkeys.

Just like Peng said, my favorite little instigator, "is there anything wukong can do that will break his hold over you" like wow doesn't that sum it up

In the 3am AU, Macaque has always known that he loved Wukong romantically, even before the journey or brotherhood.

Wukong never really figured out his own feelings, and most likely didn't have a sense of unconditional love for the other, doesn't mean he didn't care.

He just didn't feel as intense as Macaque did, and that's fine.

I do think he was the first to fall out of love with the other (even before he realized he was in love😭) and I mean after the events that transpired in jttw it makes sense and is valid.

I just find it hilarious that the guy who died from his mistakes, got revived and hated the other, still fell in love again first like brother pls

Like dude you died?? You weren't supposed to come back, that was it. You got killed with the knowledge that that was the end, only reincarnation could bring you back and yet your back to being a simp???

Although kudos to him for his love being converted to hate ig

And yet here they are now, with two kids and a home in the island.

I think people in the outside can see how down bad Mac really is, which is hilarious when they look at Wukong and he's like ya that's my "rival", he's also a lil more hostile in their everyday lives which guys pls just talk like yeesh

Doesn't mean Wukong isn't down bad too, my guy just won't realize how much he really cares until it's almost too late😊

Shadowpeach just starts to figure out themselves after Season 3,,,like finally

[butterflydm]

WoT rewatch thoughts (1x5-1x08)

Still has spoilers through the s3 information that we have so far and book spoilers through a memory of light.

1x05

Both beginning and ending this episode on funeral rituals worked so well. Great structure.

Time skip for traveling! Mark a month off on the calender.

We can really see how Mat has deteriorated in the last month by the way he snaps at the kid who runs into him.

Love the shot of Dragonmount looming behind Tar Valon. They exist always with that reminder of what the Dragon did.

Mat has no appetite. Poor sad wet cat.

The betrayal of there being Two Beds in this inn room, lol. Why are we not respecting the classic fic tropes?

Rand reassuring Mat that he didn't kill that little girl or her family. Rand believing so hard in Mat's goodness maybe partly because he can see that Mat is having a difficult time seeing it in himself.

Even with Nynaeve's coat off, she's still half Green and half Yellow.

Moiraine trying so hard to mentor Nynaeve and she Does Not Want It.

Man, Perrin and Egwene had a much more cheerful journey than either of the other sets. But they get plenty of trauma right now, so they don't need to be jealous.

Once again, the show does such a good job showing us the strength in the Tuatha'an. And this thread will continue into Perrin's storyline in s3, with both Whitecloaks & Tuatha'an. They've done a solid job of tying Perrin to them both.

Loial shows up and immediately calls Rand an Aielman, lol. Poor Rand!

Oh, I see you, Fain!

Oof, people throwing food at Logain and mocking him. Baffled at the people who say the downsides of being a man who can channel weren't shown.

The promise scene between Mat & Rand is so good. Ultimate sad wet cat Mat. I really do love everything about this scene.

I really like our exploration of Stepin's utter and compete grief and emptiness after Kerene's death. How much the other Warders try to help him, how Nynaeve tries to help him but it isn't enough.

Love love what they did with the old rings being melted down (to create new).

Between what happens with the Whitecloaks here and then the Seanchan in s2, Egwene reacting by being as fiercely independent as possible makes all the sense in the world.

The Whitecloaks and Tower novices both wearing all white seems like it might create some emotional dissonance for Egwene, but I understand why the show didn't go there. That's just down to Jordan making too many groups of people wear white.

Oof, the Whitecloak stuff with Egwene & Perrin is hard to watch.

But our first hint of Perrin's golden eyes.

I note how Valda feels about all channelers similarly to how Liandrin feels about male channelers. And then we can get into the Seanchan's dehumanization of channelers as well.

Liandrin trying to bond more with Nynaeve. Has she been having ta'veren dreams? Ishy has had a month to try to figure out at least some of the places where his potential ta'veren have gone.

Our first reunion! It's always such a relief when any of them get to reunite. Man, Mat really does look on the verge of death.

Nynaeve can now join Rand & Mat in the Not Trusting Aes Sedai or Moiraine squad. Oops.

She tells Rand a story about Egwene to reassure him of Egwene's strength, never realizing that it's also the moment when Nynaeve likely channeled for the first time (to heal Egwene).

Perrin shares his deepest shame and secret with Egwene here - that he killed Laila by accident during the battle. So Perrin & Egwene's journey ends up being also very traumatic but the trauma was concentrated into the last day or so of the journey.

And just like was hinted at with the fire, Egwene & Perrin are finding their power at the same time. I wonder if this will happen again with their TAR training in s3? I really hope they run across each other in TAR. Let the characters stay connected!

Liandrin definitely got shot down by Moiraine at some time in the past.

Love the whole "shrine to ward off the Forsaken" thing. Great touch.

Siuan has been off in Caemlyn - was she talking to Elaida about Elayne, or was it about politics?

Moiraine: the White Tower's Woman of Mystery. Everyone wants to know what she's up to!

Alanna got such a glow-up in the show compared to the books. She's great here.

We get another nod to accepted poly relationships (amid the Green Ajah, at least).

Great conversation between Stepin & Lan. And a heartbreaking conclusion to Stepin's little mini-arc of grief and the Warder bond.

1x06

Little baby Siuan! ❤️ ❤️

Our first look at Tear as well.

Such a great way to introduce Siuan, considering they wouldn't have her for more than one episode this season.

And we learn in some places that it's dangerous for a woman to learn to channel - it's not only the Whitecloaks who assume that everyone who can channel is a Darkfriend.

Given that we know now (as of s2) that Moiraine & Siuan are older here than in the books, I wonder if that means her dad has already passed on.

Much like Egwene, Siuan is strongly associated with the water.

(This scene made me tear up too. I've cried three or four times today, I think)

Leane wearing light colors here vs the darker colors she wore in the s3 sneak peek to bash a Darkfriend's head in.

Another scene that gains so much depth on rewatch- knowing about Moiraine & Siuan's relationship & knowing about Liandrin being Black Ajah.

We just saw Stepin choose death in the previous emptiness of losing his bond, now Logain seeks and is refused death while suffering the emptiness of losing his connection to the One Power.

Everyone does still look good here, but the costumes definitely got a glow-up in s2 & again in s3.

The only main player in this scene not playing an elaborate game is Alanna. Siuan and Moiraine are pretending not to be in cahoots, Liandrin is pretending not to be Black Ajah - Liandrin trying to fracture the divides between the Ajahs, and also throwing Moiraine under the bus. A lot of Daes Dae'mar going on.

I also feel obligated to note that around this time frame is the jumping off point of my (now over 500k!) fic series: voice in the back of my head (archiveofourown.org/series/2688649). It is Cauthor-focused (Mat & Rand romance), though it does bring in the canon romances for Rand later on and we have some fun poly relationships going on, and it is currently spoiling through the twelfth book, but each fic in the series says how far that particular fic goes with regards to spoilers. The fic premise is: Liandrin found Rand & co instead of Moiraine finding them, and Rand is motivated enough to instinctively Travel himself, Mat, and Nynaeve to Tear because he wants to escape her.

This fic has been a lot of work and I am pretty proud of it so if you feel at all inclined to read an AU of the series that starts with the idea of "what if we gently slid Mat into Rand's romance situation?" and is a mix of show and book canon... give it a try. If you like it, please let me know your thoughts. <3

Anyway, Moiraine be spying on Rand & co., waiting for Nynaeve & Loial to leave to go talk to Rand & Mat.

Rand's protectiveness over Mat on this scene is really what threw my shipping switches on for them. He pulls a sword on Lan, despite knowing he had no chance against him!

"The world doesn't need a Dragon like me."

But Moiraine has figured out this is something else, not going mad from saidin, and Mat gets healed of the dagger's sickness.

So... was Rand using the One Power to help keep Mat from succumbing to the dagger's pull? Moiraine thinks that Mat shouldn't have been able to resist as long as he did.

We get some Tower politics, and we get the first hints of the Seanchan.

Moiraine is just encountering so much weirdness with these kids. Now there are wolves, she must be thinking to herself. Wolves!

The romance reveal scene! I like this change for several reasons- it's better romance than either gets in the books, it follows naturally from the NS relationship setup, and it adds drama for Moiraine, who did get a bump from mentor figure to being a protagonist.

It also gives the show a chance to show softer and warmer sides to both Moiraine & Siuan. Plus the nice play between duty & love bodes well for other romances.

I love how they reunite and only afterwards does Moiraine let Siuan know about the Dragon. Priorities!

And it makes so much sense that Moiraine has been doubting their prophecies after all this time on the road, while Siuan hasn't been out there with disappointment after disappointment.

This conversation also (unintentionally, given that it was a last-minute change) sets up Moiraine deciding she'd rather have the Reds potentially gentle the Dragon than risk Mat choosing to join the Shadow, because she thinks he's not strong enough to resist.

Ishy deliberately sent Siuan that dream. 😭

Liandrin knows too much. She definitely has been getting Ishy dreams.

Another reunion!

And the convo with Siuan is great. Nynaeve not bowing still cracks me up. Egwene going "wtf, nynaeve can channel? and she's stronger than I am?" with just her face is also hilarious.

Egwene & Nynaeve get a much kinder pep talk from Siuan than poor Rand gets in s2.

Moiraine's exiling is another great, emotional scene. And it also teaches us more about how the Oath Rod works, and sets some reasons in place for the Hall to be wary of Siuan. And sets up some precedents for the future.

And Moiraine trusting and giving more to Siuan than she was asked to give in the Oath - not just exile but obedience. That's gonna hurt a lot when we get to s2.

Even though she literally asked for it, it's obvious how hard it is on Moiraine to see her Sisters turn their backs on her.

But now we do (briefly) get our full Two Rivers reunion, and that is lovely. Hugs all around! Fond teasing! They love each other!

So we know that it wasn't actually the Dark One who was trapped at the Eye, so... it sounds like the knowledge of the location of the Dark One's prison is lost to time. It does make sense that Darkfriends would target that info specifically.

Moiraine not able to tell them that she trusts them, due to her Oaths, is a. so funny and b. makes it mean so much in s2 when she is willing and able to say that she trusts Rand (this is the real reason why it's difficult for me to get on board with The Ruse (TM) theory - because it feels like it would retroactively ruin that 2x07 moment between Moiraine & Rand).

Now that he's pretty sure Mat can't channel and isn't the Dragon, Rand knows deep down who it really is.

But then we lose Barney-Mat at the Waygate and I'm sad!

You can tell this very last scene was shot after the post-covid shutdown, because Maddy (Egwene) lost some roundness in her cheeks during those in-between months and it makes her eyes look a lot bigger.

I adore Donál's Mat but also miss Barney's. The feelings are both very present.

1x07

The Blood Snow! So epic. I love everything about this scene.

I will say, given that we have a stabbed pregnant Tigraine in the side here and it looks like we're getting a flashback to pregnant Morgase in s3, it does feel fairly likely that we will get pregnant Elayne as well, later on in the series. Tigraine gets stabbed the same way that Elayne is described as being stabbed in one of the super-late books (can't remember which, so I'll tag through AMoL) iirc.

Tigraine really did give every ounce of herself to her destiny, and I'm so glad the show version of her got a moment of kindness and compassion at the end.

Moiraine's cynicism about Mat vs Rand's rose-colored glasses about Mat: fight!

Nynaeve doing her job as Wisdom to keep all the kiddos together and make a promise to find Mat later.

"The one thing that we cannot afford is for the Dragon to turn to the Shadow."

Lan trying to cheer Nynaeve up is very sweet.

Egwene wants to sleep near Rand and he lets her this time (contrast to 1x02, when he pushed her away).

I like negging Machin Shin better than the version in the books, I admit it. It's more personal! Just relentlessly dunking on everyone's deepest fears.

Everyone looks so haunted. Poor kiddos.

I don't understand the people who don't understand the big fight. Everyone is so on edge from what they just went through! They are all overly emotional and vulnerable right now. The fight could have been MUCH uglier and still been valid tbh.

Uno! Congrats on your s2 upgrade to Hero of the Horn!

Another confession: I find this Lord Agelmar & Lady Amalisa much more interesting and memorable than the ones in the books. And I was kinda relieved that the show took the whole Five Great Captains thing off the table right away.

I also love their outfits.

Oh, hi, Fain! I suspect we'll get to see more of him in s3.

Min is so much better in the show than the books, omg. Just... on every level. She actually is jaded and world-weary.

"There is a man they must find. A boy, really."

Given that we saw Mat visibly recoil at hearing the Red Ajah mentioned in that s3 clip, I wonder if we're going to see him & Moiraine actually talk about it. I mean, it's in character for both of them to avoid that particular convo, so we will see!

Egwene's little quip at Rand's cooking is cute but I bet contributes to that feeling of Rand's that she doesn't see him as a man but as a boy.

I like how Min's visions were used here. And that she does what Moiraine blackmailed her into but holds back enough to protect what she knows would be the biggest secret (that Rand is the Dragon) because she doesn't feel like it's hers to reveal.

I really love how the shot with the three kids is framed to show the empty chair at the back to emphasis Mat's absence.

Anyway, I like the fight. Characters should be allowed to be messy and argue. Each of them has a perspective and is stubborn about that PoV.

Egwene is right that Moiraine can't lie, but the others are right that she can mislead or withhold.

And I love that the tipping point for the actual fight is Mat & his absence.

And then Nynaeve lobbing a bomb into the conversation as soon as it gets heated enough that she's getting uncomfortable. I mean, they aren't arguing about Mat anymore, at least?

Perrin's super-close "the only woman I've ever loved is my wife" and the hot five seconds that I shipped Perrin & Rand (but then Mat was mentioned in Rand's 1x08 fantasy world and I was right back to Cauthor lol).

I like that Lan had Malkieri friends alive in Fal Dara & I'm pretty stoked about the s3 Melindhra spoilers as well. Very cool to dive more into those relationships than we did in the books. Nynaeve getting an introduction to Lan's people & culture! After he got to know hers in 1x01! Very nice.

Jump-scare Lan does crack me up.

Anyway, good for Nynaeve and Lan for hooking up when they think there's a chance they might die in the morning.

Rand struggles with coming to terms with being the Dragon but Egwene thinks this is all about the big fight earlier. So they are having two different conversations right now.

Hey, in light of this convo- Rand is going to go to, well, Tar Valon anyway. Maybe not the White Tower itself. We'll see if he gets a doorway visit or not.

But this is Rand's big final burst of denial before he goes and talks to Min, confirming to himself that he's the Dragon, as he's tried not to believe that he is. So we've now had two instances of Randgwene sex used to delay or avoid an important conversation.

I am... very curious if the pattern continues in s3. Pretty sure they'll sleep together again, from what we've gotten in the trailers & such, but I am curious about the framing & context.

This montage of Rand accepting the truth about himself gives me chills.

Min's exhaustion here makes her so relatable.

I am so glad Tigraine had someone to hold her hand at the end. That she saw that her son would be taken care of.

"Rainbows and carnivals and three beautiful women." 😍

Elayne only three episodes away (2x02, right?), and Aviendha a little bit after that, but they are on their way! And this is our first hint about them.

1x08

3000 years ago, whoo!

Love their outfits.

Love the choice to have the AoL scenes in the Old Tongue.

LTT is perfect. Genuinely so good.

And the gut punch of seeing how technologically advanced the world used to be. It was a magitek utopia (or at least seemed that way to them).

I do wish that Rafe & co could have brought their original vision of this episode to life, because it is so devastating to go over all the things they lost (a principal actor! Their original Blight location! Their stunt team! Even more that I can't recall at the moment too I bet) but they did so much with what they had. I am so fucking impressed.

"I love him, Perrin." And then she thinks he died to save all of them. Yeah they do need to finish things off properly in the show.

Lan 100% thinks that going after Moiraine right now means his death, hence the sweet but flowery speech to Nynaeve here.

Ishy and Rand come face to face. I wonder who Ishy thought the Dragon was (he says he didn't expect it to be Rand). I love the reveal of Ishy's true face. And trying to touch Rand's face right away lol.

"Stubborn as ever, Lews."

The convo between Moiraine & Rand is interesting (all of them are) but partly because Moiraine doesn't actually say that she believed it was Egwene. I think she hoped it was Egwene but that's not quite the same. And Rand doesn't ever really think it was Egwene either, except maybe at the start, because we know he was worried it was Mat during that month of them journeying together.

Hey, the horrible bully from Moiraine's story! We're gonna meet her in s3. Because that story is about Elaida. She beat a novice with the One Power to force her to channel.

Min is very amusing in the show. I like her a lot. I really like that we get to go on an emotional journey along with Min about the downsides of having her viewings in s2, instead of it all happening before we show up in her life.

Again, really like the relationship between the siblings here - Lord Agelmar & Lady Amalisa. It's sweet.

"Let us hope we will buy the women and men of this world enough time to stand a fighting chance."

Rand recognizes the place where he locked Ishy up years ago. Love that we get to see that moment in s2.

Moiraine talking about the Tower's histories getting destroyed by Darkfriends. Very important note, I feel.

And Ishy springs his win-win trap. There was no actual way for Rand to win here, because he didn't know who he was fighting.

I've mentioned this before but I love that the show split up the battle into philosophical (Rand) vs physical (everyone else) because that's the Last Battle too. Rand's fight is a philosophical one and it always was. The Power is there to get him to where he needs to be to make that choice.

Our mention of Mat in Rand's temptation world, where Egwene is clearly being fondly exasperated but not truly annoyed. So, you know, like how Rand feels about Mat.

Ishy plays with his food, taunting and shielding Moiraine.

Perrin and Loial's friendship being a throughline for all three seasons, getting to know each other here, spending more time together in s2, and Loial going home with him in s3.

Rand struggling against a hollow perfect reality. Major, major foreshadowing for the endgame so I'm glad I already listed amol spoilers.

And Rand also needs to forcibly let go of Egwene and his dream of their life together in order to wake up from his encounter with Ishamael, something that Egwene doesn't get the opportunity to do, because the boyfriend she recently reunited with heroically died in order to save the world (to her understanding). So Rand and Egwene go into s2 (and presumably s3) with very different contexts about where their relationship left off.

You know, in retrospect, it's so appropriate that the Horn was being guarded by one of the Heroes.

Ishy is so smug here because he really does win no matter what. Tbh I feel like waking up Lanfear was his big mistake in s2. Because her agenda is different enough from his that they ended up conflicting, even though they share an LTT obsession.

That being said, even though this is a win-win for Ishy, what Rand learns here can/will help him win the Last Battle. So it works out in the long run.

Rand & Moiraine believe that the Last Battle is won, so she's willing to let him wander off to die in the wilderness if he wants... and then she kicks herself forever when she realizes how wrong she was. Like, it's Moiraine & Siuan's plan that fully releases Ishy. They thought they could do an endrun around the prophecies (which Moiraine has to be fully aware that Rand has not accomplished!).

As Moiraine might say "the arrogance".

Love the setup here at the end by Fain.

"Rand may be the Dragon but all five of you have a part to play."

And Moiraine. "This wasn't the Last Battle. I fear it was the first."

And our great intro to the Seanchan and how wildly different they are to anything we've already seen.

Tomorrow, I'll start rewatching s2 and see how far I get!

[archiewantsheetmetal]

Phantom Railway Rambles!!

so im gonna yap before the first chapter comes out!! Which should be by tomorrow or the next day.

So! As you know, the two bugs (layton and luke) are going to be travelling together after losing everything they know. I wanted to really highlight their codependency and their jarringly similar situations in canon but in like. a different font.

In phantom railway. Hershel has literally EVERYTHING taken from him. Like it's more than just the evidence of the accident and nearly his life. They take his money. They take everything he owns that's of any interest. Oh and now that I'm thinking about it. Maybe they didn't beat his ass into a coma but maybe he had to drag himself away from the scene. Run hershel run. So now he's got poorly healed injuries and breaks.

I've had a conversation with someone and they mentioned Hershel having trust issues developing in the years following. Like he's definitely going to have seen how dark humanity can be and how dark is actually is. The world is a very dark shade of gray to him now. Things are never going to be given to you, especially if you have nothing to give in return. People are always going to take, and if they're desperate enough for something, they'll kill you for it.

With that being said, I think he would never let himself become too attached to anyone. He'd never stay in one place for too long, either. He doesn't want to get attached to anything, really, because he knows that nothing is permanent. Things that hold love are fleeting. Love sharpens the claws of grief. Also he never stays in one place because of something else too but yk. that's mostly it.

Luke!! However. I'm thinking of having him seeing the brighter shade. I want him to take after his mother in seeing the good in things. Maybe even to a fault. I want him to parallel Hershel that way. They're going to get on each other's nerves so so so bad at first.

Siiiiigh. I want Hershel to start seeing a little bit of past loved ones in Luke. And I want him to be a little reclusive to have anything to do with him because of that. Like the bare minimum would be all he does at first. Makes sure he doesn't freeze. Makes sure he eats. That sort of thing. But Hershel "I crave the company of another person" Layton is obviously. going to get attached to him whether or not he likes it. Sorry buddy. He's your godson but now he's your boy. Go root through trash together.

Luke's also gonna lie to him. Lie his fucking heart out btw. Luke your ass is not lost. He's going to find out soon you stupid boy. He hears you crying in your sleep.

AND!!! about their clothes. Because I've been thinking about it a little. I think Hershel would have learned to sew from Lucille and so he knows how to patch up his clothes. But he ALWAYS. makes sure. the hat is ok.

Also Herhsel. patching up luke's shirt. for him. scratches my head.

Okay sorry. Thinking out lioud here. I think it might be out by morning or sometime later in the afternoon. I hope you guys like it. Grin!

[bouncypickle]

here's a Roach drabble AU where he joins tf 141

Cockroaches are basically indestructible. They can eat anything, live through some serious radiation, and even survive getting their heads chopped off! Cockroaches are cool even if some people think they’re pests.

Gary doesn’t mind being Roach. His team gave him that moniker after surviving a grenade being thrown at his helmet. It bounced off and blew up the building he was in which then collapsed on top of him. Gary came crawling out of the rubble like a cockroach, alive and unharmed. He’d had a few close calls before so the guys in his squad coined him Roach–an indestructible little fucker, they’d said.

Sometimes, Gary wonders if that’s the only reason his squad decided on that name. Gary is the perpetual weird one, the freak, the guy who always says too much. So he feels like a pest sometimes too.

Ever since he was a kid, Gary has learned to stay quiet and keep to himself. He wears his helmet and balaclava and goggles–to keep his expressive face hidden–and lets himself be a mystery to his squadmates. They don’t ever care about him enough to ask Gary about himself though. So maybe Gary is less of a mystery and more of a background character.

It doesn’t matter anyway because Gary gets passed from team to team, completing missions with one team only to be transferred to a different team in need of more bodies. Gary is basically target practice for the enemy, an extra hand to hold a gun, another nameless G.I. Joe to be killed for his country.

Then Gary is transferred to Task Force 141 to serve under Captain John Price. The squad he’s to join is small with a focus on infiltration. Not usually Gary’s type of assignment. More often than not, Gary is put in front of a bunch of people with guns and told to shoot. This new team might be a refreshing change, honestly.

Gary is surprised to be greeted upon landing on the new base. His welcoming party actually looks welcoming. Usually, Gary is greeted by a grunt or two who bitterly show him the mess, the dorms, the gym and then leave him alone. This evening, two men who are clearly not recruits are waiting for him.

Gary has to do a double take, making sure some admiral isn’t landing instead of him. But the men approach and greet him with kindness.

“Sergeant Gary Sanderson, welcome. I’m Sergeant Kyle Garrick but you can call me Gaz.”

Gaz extends a hand in greeting and Gary shakes it eagerly. Then the other man reaches out and Gary shakes his hand too.

“Aye, welcome. Yer a bit shorter than I was expecting. Ghost made ya sound like a bleedin’ tank but that's alright. We short kings stick together, aye? Name's John MacTavish, call sign Soap.”

Gary has no idea what Soap is talking about but he nods anyway. Better to just agree than ask all the annoying questions on his mind. Like: Who is Ghost? Why are you two greeting me instead of some recruit? Don't you know to call me Roach? Do you like bugs?

Gary frowns at himself under his balaclava. Of course they don't like bugs; no one in their right mind likes bugs.

“Ghost really did talk you up though, mate. We're expecting to see some moves out of you.”

Gary just nods again.

Soap folds his arms, frowning, “Not much of a talker are ye? No wonder Ghost likes ye so much.”

Gaz elbows Soap playfully, “Jealousy is a bad look on you, mate.”

“Roach,” Gary pipes in, unsure whether or not he should interrupt but wanting to get his introduction out of the way, “That's what everyone calls me.”

“Cause of yer helmet?” Soap asks, flicking one of the radio antennas on Gary's helmet.

Gary ducks away from the teasing a bit.

“I'm an indestructible little fucker.”

The other two men burst out laughing. Gary hopes they're laughing with him, not at him. Well, he's not laughing. Anyway, he tries not to read into it too much. People laugh all the time, Gary doesn't always have to get the joke.

“Oh, Simon was right about you,” Soap tells him and suddenly Gary knows who Ghost is.

Only Gary didn't know him as Ghost, he knew him as Simon Riley. Si, actually. Si was his only friend back in the day. He liked Gary, actually listened when he talked about annoying shit like bugs.

What do you call an anxious bug?

A nervous tick.

Si used to make jokes like that over the radio. Then one day Si went MIA and Gary was transferred to another squad and he never heard from or about the man again. He knows this Ghost must be Simon Riley because no one else is weird enough to actually enjoy Gary's company.

[reneesghostinthelivingroom]

Requestion: New girl Cady flirts with reader which makes Regina jealous as fuck. When reader tries making it up to her, bringing flowers to her house and stuff, she discovers that Regina is actually a little insecure and feeling threatened by Cady.

Thelping

|| Regina George x fem!reader

|| Warnings; Cady trying to flirt with reader, awkward moments, jealous Regina, brief threat of killing but it's more talk than bite, insecure Regina, fluffy ending

|| Summary; when Cady talks to reader in the halls, Regina isn't too happy.

Requests open!

Started; March 2nd

Finished; March 2nd

~~~

Finally, Calculus was over for the day. As the bell rang, you gathered up your things and headed for the door. Not hearing the hurried footsteps behind you. You had just made it into the hall way when you heard someone trying to get your attention.

"Wait, wait, wait! Y/N!" Cady caught up to you, grinning and walking beside you. Struggling to get her school bag over her shoulders, because of how much of a rush she had been in to get to you.

"Need help?" You asked.

"I think I got i-" the words weren't even out of the new girl's mouth before her bag had fallen, spilling everything inside," dang it.. okay, I need help."

Cady hadn't been at the school very long, but from what you could gather she was an awkward mess. Something the two of you seemed to have in common.

You bent down with her, helping her gather her papers and binders.

"So um- I heard Aaron's friend is hosting a party.. are you going?" Cady asked, hoping to make small talk with you. She really liked you, more than she cared to admit.

"Yeah, Regina told me about it yesterday," Cady looked like she was almost deflating at the mention of Regina. She had heard that the two of you were dating from Janis, but Cady had hoped it wasn't true.

"Oh, Regina told you? Are you two close?" She replied, her eyes looking to yours. Seeing how they seemed to almost sparkle with an unspoken passion about the blonde.

"She's my girlfriend, why?"

"Um- no reason, just curious," She awkwardly laughed, picking up the last of her papers and getting her bag sorted.

"I'll see you later, Y/N, thelping-" She paused. Thelping? C'mon Cady..

You also happened to pause when you heard her, raising an eyebrow as a smirk tugged at your lips," thelping?" You repeated.

"I was trying to say thank you for helping- but it came out thelping...." Her cheeks were bright pink.

"Okay, yolcome," you nudged her shoulder in a playful gesture. Saying yolcome instead of you're welcome.

Cady couldn't help but smile as she watched you walk away and over to Regina, who had come around the corner not too long ago. Yeah, that interaction definitely did not help her growing feelings for you.

"Absolutely not," Regina stated. Arms folded across her chest while she glared at you. She didn't like the way that Cady was looking at you.

"What?" You weren't sure why Regina was so upset with you all of a sudden. You hadn't done anything wrong, had you?

"She was flirting with you, God are you blind?" That made you stop and think for a moment. It hadn't felt like Cady was flirting with you... you were only helping her gather her stuff and had a light conversation.

"Regina, I'd hardly call that flirting."

"So, blind then. Got it," she scoffed and started walking away from you, you tried to catch up with her.

"Regina, c'mon- that wasn't-"

But the blonde completely ignored you. Figures.

It was later now, sometime into the evening when you arrived at your girlfriend's house. Determined to make things right with her. You made your way to the door and knocked, holding her favourite flowers and chocolates in your hands. Normally, you would have just walked right into the house. However, Regina was mad at you. So, you didn't want to make things worse by just showing up.

It was Regina's mom who opened the door, smiling when she saw you with the stuff in your hands," well aren't you adorable. She's just up in her room, dear."

"Um- thanks, Ms George," you replied, clearly feeling awkward by the compliment. After all, all you did was bring flowers and chocolate. It wasn't much to praise over.

You made your way through the familiar home, up the large stairs and to the bedroom you'd been in 100 times. Gently, you knocked the back of your hand against the door.

"Regina?"

There was silence, before the door opened. Revealing Regina, who looked as though she had been crying moments before.

"G..." you murmured, setting the stuff you had brought to the floor in her room and immediately wrapping your arms around her. You could feel as her body tensed against you, before her arms made their way around your waist. Her head in the crook of your neck.

The two of you stayed like that for what felt like a long while, then Regina let go. Her eyes going to the stuff you brought, followed by a scoff," you're such a simp."

You couldn't help but laugh, bumping your hip to hers in a playful manner," duh. Who wouldn't be? Have you seen you?"

She rolled her eyes and pulled you into her bedroom, you happily followed and kicked the door closed.

"And you're stupid."

"Stupidly in love with you? Yes, I agree," the two of you fell to her bed, you hovering over Regina and looking into her eyes. Wiping her tear stained cheek with your thumb," I only have eyes for you. You know that, right?"

Regina was quiet for a moment, before she spoke up again," I guess I was just... scared to lose you. But if you tell anyone I will kill you."

"Oh, I don't doubt it," you laughed, snuggling up with her," you're not going to lose me. Especially to Cady. I'm yours. Okay?"

She nodded, pulling you into a deep kiss that you more than happily returned.

[glitter-stained]

Stephcass as some of my platonic relationships' most intense moments :

Cass: what are you doing?

Steph: oh, writing a play!

Cass: cool what's it about?

Steph : it's a tragedy about lesbians being burned at the pyre. The main character is kind of a self-insert. I mean, not that it means anything, lol, I'm straight.

Cass: oh.

Steph: also don't take this the wrong way but can I say something weird?

Cass: uh, sure.

Steph: I feel like since I've met you, the lesbian love interest has started resembling you more and more -she's mostly based on you, now. Not that that means anything.

****

Steph: You couldn't dom me if you tried.

Cass: the fuck I couldn't?

Steph: No you couldn't!

Cass: The only reason I'm not domming you because I don't want to!

Steph : You couldn't even if you wanted to!

Cass: I so could!

Steph: oh yeah? Prove it.

Cass: You don't even want me to!

Steph: But you couldn't. If I did want you to.

****

Steph : It's like... You know, I'm never really this tactile... It's hard for me, even with friends, to touch or hug them... You're different, though. I don't know why, what's different about you, but the way it feels hugging you... It just feels right with you.

Cass: You smell nice. Do you wear perfume?

Steph: oh? No, it's probably just my shampoo.

Cass: Your hair smells really nice.

****

Cass: Yeah, so I went to that lesbian bar and it was such a disappointment... I was hoping to get fucked in the bathroom so bad!

Steph: and you didn't invite me??

Cass: I didn't expect you to want to be there!

Steph: of course I did!

****

Cass: I think you're my soulmate... I never met someone who completed me so deeply before.

Steph: like, romantically?

Cass: It's more like, you're a star, and I'm the moon. We should get matching profile pictures.

Steph: whenever I look at the moon I think of you.

Cass: I was going to name a plant after you, but I thought if I gave it your name it would break my heart when you died, so I named it after a goddess that made me think of you.

****

Steph: I wish we had broken up.

Cass: We would make such good exes.

Steph: We would be so bitter about it!

Cass: so toxic...

****

Cass: your eyes are so beautiful... Did you ever notice they change colours with the light?

Steph: you... um, you've already told me that.

Cass: I know. I just really like looking at them.

*****

Cass: You think if we were fictional characters people would ship us?

Steph: oh my god definitely. The ultimate otp.

Cass: people would cancel us for queerbaiting.

Steph : you know what would be really funny? If we wrote a show with our self-inserts having the same relationship as us.

Cass: both canonically sapphic.

Steph: one of them dies tragically and the other just loses it. Tries to summon her back to life.

Cass: goes on a killing spree.

Steph: friends to lovers except they never kiss. They have a child together.

Cass: you get it.

Steph: Even I am starting to ship them.

****

Timsteph!era steph gets an eyelash stuck on her cheek: *looking deep into cass's eyes*

Cass: make a wish

Steph: *closes her eyes and guesses wrong*

Cass, gently wiping the eyelash off her cheek with her thumb: what did you wish for?

Steph: that I were dating you instead of Tim

Cass: *looking away so steph doesn't see the tears brimming in her eyes*

****

Steph, playing with her hair: hey so I really like you and would love to know you better. Would you like to grab coffee sometimes, as a date?

Cass: oh, of course, I'd love that!

[sass-ruby]

Alright, so we shall talk about these two videos and the new channel :DD

First off all, for the new channel, me and my friends noticed they used MASM to make it

Understandable honestly, it's probably easier that way- since MASM already had subscribers and all

I was so confused on how I was already subbed 😭

Also don't mind the MASM logo for the second picture, I dunno how to make it go away

ANYWAYS ONTO THE EPISODES

Ah, usual moon things.. making robots that end up wanting to commit genocide ☠️ (reminds me of that one MASM episode with the raccoon)

Sundroid is so silly. THE SINGING AFTER EVERY SENTENCE GOT ME TBH

He's just a silly innocent guy :33 that wanted to pull a ruin but that's unrelated

I find it kinda cute that moon made sundroid based off of sun, adding the things sun usually does- it's just sweet in a way djdjjs

Sun was SO done with moon tho- WHICH WAS FUNNY

"you are a genius, but you are so SO STUPID AT TIMES" I LOVED IT FR

I was laughing my ass off 😭😭

Also KILLER SUN MENTIONED ‼️‼️

when sundroid entered the void/a dimension (idk I don't remember), there was a certain voice at minute 14:00.. it sounded A LOT like killer sun, not just by voice but by the way of talking

I love killer sun, I hope he gets more attention on the channel.. because ngl I like the dynamics-

Sun cannot STAND killer sun, bro would kill him in an instant. HE LITERALLY SAID SOMETHING LIKE "should've thrown a firebal-.."

I like how sun and moon kinda switched places- before moon was the one wanting to kill anyone who's a slight annoyance, but now sun seems to be like that. Like, when they first met killer sun, sun immediately told moon if he doesn't do anything, he's gonna kill him with NO hesitation

They really remind me of this picture (not my art!)

The amount of change they've both been through, holy..

IT MAKES ME A BIT SAD THINKING ABOUT IT

Back to killer sun and the dynamic-

Killer sun seems to be a huge annoyance to sun.. it sort of reminds me of past nexus and past ruin, the ruin who acted insane

Past nexus HATED ruin, sun was the one who tried his best to not intervene and probably tried to get past nexus to not kill ruin (?? I forgot)

Now, moon is the one staying quiet.. that killer sun himself mentioned

Meanwhile, killer sun? He's just a silly guy, alr? 😭 HE'S JUST SILLY AND I SUPPORT HIS RIGHTS AND WRONGS

(totally not contemplating deleting this part because I'm scared I'll get backlash for my observations being wrong or something)

TO THE SECOND EPISODE!!

(pic again because yes)

This was- one way to introduce the new channel ☠️ (In a good way!!)

I'm really looking forward to this channel ^^ it'll be neat! And it will most likely become another one of my new hyperfixations <33

I'm glad it's this and not lunar and astrals or something.. I don't really like the star power thing, plus, why would they make a channel?

No offense to those who wanted it tho! We all have our preferences, it's completely normal

I thought it would be called sunny and moony show- I didn't expect femme nights at freddy's but oh well, that's probably to make it easier to differentiate since when shortening it, it would be the same-

TSAMS (the sun and moon show)

TSAMS (the sunny and moony show)

Can't put moony first either, that would be MASM then. It'd be really bothersome- so the shortened version of this show would beeee...

Insert deep thinking

Help- it'd basically be FNAF 😭 um- I'm sure people will find a shortened version that'll fit good enough! Maybe like- FMAFS? I DON'T KNOW 💔

I wonder if they'll get traumatized though.. or if it will just be a silly show

I'M SO EXCITED FOR NEW VIDEOS OF THIS SHOW EEEEEE >:DDDDD

Tsams answered my prayers frfr (I did hope that they wouldn't just be a one time thing)

I like them, they're silly!! Their models, voices, personalities.. EVERYTHING. I LOVE IT ALLLL

And I like how chaotic they are with sun and moon 😭

LIKE IN THE VIDEO- THE BANTER MADE ME LAUGH SM

AND THE STRESSING-

"I HAVE THE NUKES READY :3"

"WHAT????"

Also monty in that universe having a bunch of nitroglycerin in his room.. ☠️ I LOVE HOW THEY'RE BOTH LIKE "that's just a monty thing!"

I didn't know nitroglycerin was used to make bombs!! THANK YOU FOR THAT INFORMATION DEAR EPISOD- /J

Another thing.. The mention of sun's adaptability is fascinating to me

Sun always seems to be the outcast/dumb one, but there's always ONE thing that surprises the others. I HAVE NO IDEA HOW TO EXPLAIN IT BETTER

Example is in that simulation- sure it's only a simulation, but the way merged sun+eclipse was surprised about sun's emotions

"I feel the need to kill that- thing! Yet I have this.. unending thankfulness.. is this what it's like to be sun?!"

I'm not sure if the need to kill moon in that simulation was a part of eclipse's or sun's emotions, but I think it could be both.

I always headcannoned that sun does feel a bit of resentment towards moon. I came to that conclusion by some of the things he says sometimes. They're brushed aside by most, but not with me :3

Example is when sun said to himself smt like- "two moons?? I can BARELY deal with on- okay no.. stop." Or something like that, I can't find the episode so not sure of the exact sentence.. but the way he STOPPED himself, it was like he was telling himself to stop being angry or to not hold a grudge

Yet, as the merged fellow said, he feels unending thankfulness at the same time which is seen by a lot of things-

That's just one of my personal headcanons, I feel that feeling too and I see myself A LOT in sun sooo

But YEEEE

I hope the new channel doesn't end up like MASM 😭 I doubt it will tho

These two episodes were fun, and got a really good laugh out of me jdjdjsj

THAT WOULD BE ALLLLL

TOODLESSSSSSS <3333

Edit:

I just realized- sun calling moon a genius yet telling him he's so stupid reminds me of that one meme-

"there's a thin line between being a genius and being an idiot... Sebastian uses that line like a FUCKING jump rope!"

THAT MOMENT WAS SO THEM 😭🙏

I love their brotherly dynamic frfr

[shanblackrx]

Ok, first of all, I have just rewatched the special episode and although I already knew how it'd end, the moment the credits went up I literally buried my face in my hands and SOBBED. It's not that hard to make me cry with media, but I usually just tear up and nothing more. The last time I remember sobbing like this was with the end of Chimera Ants arc of Hunter x Hunter manga, which is a completely different type of story and media whatsoever, back in 2012. And I didn't know the end. Spectacular manga btw go read it

That said, I'm freshly out of it so here's a few of my considerations, personal opinions and also my theory. I'm not diving into the analysis of the episode itself for now, as I like to make these for more specific things I find in the work so they deserve a separate post for each, though I will be analyzing the post-credits scene because we don't have answers so we need to speculate.

Looooong text with almost no pictures ahead, just my yapping:

I expected the special episode to be really just Jack and Joke's cute little established relationship, which we did get to see (they're so disgustingly sappy, oh my god. I love them) for a good chunk of the episode. But we all also expected the wedding which, technically, did happen, just not how we wanted.

I think a lot of us just wanted only the happy part of it, maybe just a small conflict that would resolve within the story, which is what special episodes usually offer, especially because the original series wraps up perfectly and doesn't really give that much room for a continuation. And I think that because a lot of people expected this, they were utterly disappointed with it, even mad (that and also killing off one of the leads, like. Yeah I get it lol).

And I understand. Jack & Joker is perfectly balanced, with a nice and perfect ending. If I could choose, I wouldn't want a continuation either - you know, the chances of ruining a perfectly good show increases if you extend it for more than it should, and J&J is already perfect the way it is.

But I was offered the special episode, and now I have to work with it.

The first time I watched it I thought it was a bit rushed and confusing, albeit very intense (in a positive way). In my much calmer (as one can be), much less stressed out and anxious mood of my rewatch, I could feel it better. And I think it's way more seamless than I thought at first. Curiously, I also had the same feeling with the og series; it got so, so much better once I've rewatched it, and it kept getting better with all the small details I caught in every new watch.

It still has all the essence of J&J. The absurd comedy, the action, the romance, the heavy angst, the visuals, the lack of canon tattooaran even if it's heavily hinted. So all in all it was still a complete J&J experience.

I really do like the fact Save is not a perfect boss - he's basically just a math kid. He's not prepared to take care of a whole neighborhood like he did with bank accounts. Variables - people - were not in the system of his little bank computer. Taking care of a whole community is no easy task, especially since he is no mafia, he doesn't have the kind of experience and intimidation to keep bad apples in check. And even so, he still worked his hardest; and even so, it's still not enough.

So having criminals that were under Alice's thumb but now scattered like cockroaches searching for another ditch make having control over these fires they set even harder. I think it's a nice and coherent touch, and stuff happening because of it makes sense.

Also, although the uwu language JackJoke used throughout the moments they were out and about making everyone unwilling witnesses of their disgusting love was extremely funny and cute, it was really nice to see their heartfelt conversation when they were alone in Jack's room. It felt much more like they were baring their hearts for the other to hold, a genuine moment of intimacy, especially since they were making their wedding invites individually and by hand. It bore such a huge significance to their relationship I really can't begin to tell you how much I loved this scene. (they're also wearing shirts of complementary colors 😭💚)

I wasn't really expecting Carbon to make a comeback. But his explanation on why makes sense, and once again it hints that money and power walk together. It also gives him a more definite end (dying, finally. bitch) to take him out the picture for good since he could just eventually walk out the prison and go after them once again.

The casino mission was SUCH a delightful surprise to me! It's such a heavy wave to the pilot episode and it was really thrilling. Joke playing and cheating on poker was one of the sexiest things he could've ever done in his life lmao also even when he's cheating he manages to be gay af with his little ace and jack cards.

Admittedly, I was a bit underwhelmed with the fighting scenes. A lot of them were subpar compared to the ones in the og show, it not only lacked intensity but it was also awkward to see people in the background waiting to join the fight instead of throwing themselves into it, much like Jack's rampaging into Boss' office, which is one of my absolute favorite scenes in the og show, that's what I was expecting of them. However it was super nice to see the other piggies fighting with what they had, showing they were better prepared. Aran here takes the cake for me.

After that it was downhill. Joke not letting other people decide his destiny is one of the most Joke things in the entire show. With all that was happening it was rather predictable, but then again J&J does its thing and takes the predictability for a twist. "กูรักมึงที่รัก" ???? Using tirak in this situation when every other situation it was used was extremely, sickeningly sweet? Devastating. These words in that tone will be branded on my brain forever.

The whole thing with Jack going through the stages of grief and the ghost wedding destroyed me, even more so in my rewatch. Once again I'm here EATING UP Yin's crying scenes (one of my most favorite scenes in any BL ever is Vee crying under the rain at the bridge). I know everyone talks about War's acting when it comes to crying and obviously he always nails it, but I still think Yin should have more recognition in these kind of scenes too, because he always manage to make it so heartbreaking, and it wasn't different here.

The swings scene with him hallucinating Joke to be able to accept his presumed death was one of the most beautiful, most heartbreaking 'endings' I've seen in a Thai BL.

HOWEVER. I absolutely refused to believe they'd actually end in that note. It could be as devastatingly beautiful as it gets but I genuinely thought if they ended it like that it'd be SUCH a huge stab in the back of fans. Jack and Joke barely managed to live a happy life to then be yanked from it. It really didn't feel fair, that they gave us such a perfect little ending in the og show to then just say 'how about no?'. I was honestly in shock and denial. I was really thinking like 'I really, genuinely don't think they'd do this. I will only believe it ends like this when the episode reaches the end and stops playing by itself.'

And I'm glad I thought like that because they really didn't let me down. Some Marvel level of post-credits scene this is. The relief to see Joke isn't actually dead. The enormous cliffhanger.

I still am of the opinion that J&J didn't need a continuation, but now that it's out there, I just hope it's as good as the og show. And that maybe we don't have to wait for another 2 years, although I will gladly do so if that means they will deliver another sublime experience.

But I also hope it ends with that and they manage to move on to other, new things, because they've already proven they can do anything they want and it will be good. I really, really want them to take over the Thai BL world as a power couple with their independent productions, because they showed everyone they can.

Now, to the post-credits scene. Here goes my theory:

Reading all theories and also frying my brain to come up with what will they do with that cliffhanger, I thought of something that might make sense. This, however, would only work (well) in a full 10-12 eps season rather than another special episode or movie.

First of all, I think it's a new character (and that's why I think this will only work with a full season, because introducing a new character just for a short episode will give no substance to it). It's no one we know and I tell you why I think that: Joke had someone specific in mind. I don't think he's talking about Carbon here. Especially because everyone in the conversation knows Carbon very personally, he could just say his name.

So having this in mind, he might've been referring to this new character. So the fact this person is the one... 'housing' Joke, and who tended to his wounds, and also for his shock, this person might be either an old cellmate or someone else that's been incarcerated and Joke knows about or personally. Maybe a rival thief. So he's talking about this person here.

Also, VERY important missing information in the subs: Joke says "someone like me" in the sense of 'has the same abilities/did/does the same things'. This is crucial information that is in several other subs but not in the English one. Because the English subs on this ep are dogshit, lbr.

So I think one option that could happen:

This person wants Joke to either work for or with them. After all, you can't just wipe an alias like "legendary thief" in a year. Whatever it is that they want him for, it might be convenient for them that Joke's deemed dead, or they actually needed Joke to "die" for it to work. They might be in cahoots with someone we already know, or they might be acting alone.

This can be a double-edged sword because the person can be good, neutral or evil and we might not know until the very last minute.

Now one thing that caught my attention: The black shirt in the background.

Absolutely nothing when it's about clothes is Just There in J&J. There's always a lot of subtle storytelling in their clothes, especially when it comes to black and white. And specifically a black shirt hanging in so openly there and no other piece of clothing while Joke is wearing white? This is deliberate.

Do you remember Jack's red ticket? When the joker turns black to white, etc? This might be the opposite of that. This might mean starting from square one, undoing everything up to that point, or it might also mean Joke's darkening arc. Joke's wearing white, so washing this away to taint it black. It might also mean someone who's opposite of him if the shirt is referring to this new character, but I'm not too sold on this idea since black is mainly Jack's motif, especially in relation to Joke. Also, maybe this is the 'enemies' Nang was talking about.

And maybe because Joke has no choice but to do what he's told, whether if it's under threat or because maybe Jack would be in danger if he doesn't because that's their thing, or both, probably both, he can't show up to Jack or any of the piggies, and that is the main conflict of the season.

This can tie with the whole 'moving on' thing about Jack that everyone is terrified of. I don't think that even if it might seem so to add to the tension, Jack will ever actually move on; not FROM Joke at least. He can move on from the pain, make peace with the idea he's not coming back, but not from what he feels for Joke. If Joke appeared in front of him be it tomorrow or in 10 years, he'd probably just resume their lives together (after coming back from the shock of seeing him alive which can take some time). He himself said Joke is the one he loves the most. And some people change you so viscerally and completely that they'll always mean the same to you, forever, which is definitely the case for both.

Maybe if we're going through this route because J&J's classic angst and pain, Joke's gonna watch him from afar going on with his life, then that lack of self-worth he has that I'm pretty sure doesn't just vanish in such a short time even if he's found love and some healing, might keep him from approaching Jack even if he wants to and can do so; he wouldn't want to ruin whatever Jack has built without him so far.

If that's the case, if this really happened, I'd want Jack to find out and tackle Joke on the ground when he's being watched just like their first encounter after the 5 years. It'd be one of the most poetic cinema cycle closing one could pull off with this possible new season. But that's just my wishful thinking.

It can also be something completely different and I'm all for it as long as it retains J&J vibe, quality and unpredictable turns.

And also many more YinWar kissies, there's never enough of those.

[dvrylgal]

⋆༺𓆩 kehetu: chapter eleven 𓆪༻⋆

synopsis: while you're paying your respects, you and daryl have an awkward interaction... but quickly pull it together once randall escapes.

cw: canon typical violence, gore, profanity, mature themes, cannibalism (zombies), zombies (obviously), racism (Merle), reader is black, reader is from jersey, reader is a mechanic, reader was raised native (ish), reader's a bit of an atheist

Sitting down on top of Dale's grave, you placed an empty beer bottle at its head, swallowing the lump in your throat as you tucked a Cherokee Rose inside.

"S'crazy, right?" you chuckled, dryly, looking down at your lap. "All that talk of death 'n' killin'... an' the one guy that wanted no part in it ended up gettin' killed himself."

You scoffed, brows furrowing.

"How the hell does that make any sense?"

Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, you shook your head, swiping a hand over your mouth.

With it being around noon, it was almost time for the others to take the young man—Randall, you had finally learned—away from the camp.

In honor of Dale's memory, Rick decided that the boy shouldn't be killed, and settled on driving him far, far away. 

But you couldn't care less about that now.

All you could care about was Dale, and how horribly you'd talked to him before his death.

"Imma be honest... I don't know what the hell m'doin'," you started up again, solemnly. "I don't know where you are... I don't even know if you can hear me."

You sniffled, quickly swiping at your nose.

 "I never believed in that heaven so for all I know, I could be talkin' to a patch of dirt."

 Once again, you chuckled, heart hanging in your chest.

"But I... I really hope m'not... 'cause despite all this bullshit, you deserve to be happy... and whether I believe it or not, I hope you are."

Glancing down at your neck, you carefully picked up the cross resting atop your chest, gently twisting it between your fingertips.

These last few weeks had forced your to really reckon with the faith—or lack thereof—you thought you had.

You believed that the Catholic church was stupid, that it was full of hypocrites and liars and profiteers.

Yet, when it really mattered, you couldn't stop yourself from saying a Hail Mary, from clutching your cross with an iron grip.

Was it comfort?

How could you find comfort in something you didn't believe in?

Did you truly not believe it?

What would change if you did?

These questions hadn't stopped swirling around your head since last night, and you found that the more you asked, the less was answered.

"(y/n)," Daryl called, snapping you out of your stupor.

You nearly jumped out your skin, drawing your knife and whipping around with wide eyes only to find his familiar face standing before you, crossbow slung over his shoulder.

"Oh, shit," you exhaled, allowing your shoulders to sink as you quickly lowered your weapon. "Sorry... I didn't hear ya."

"S'all right," he assured, shifting his weight on his hips. "I, uh... I wanted to letchu know we're 'bout to take the lil' shit."

'Crap, Randall...'

"Shit, I completely forgot," you stood up, dusting your hands off on your pants. "You guys need any help?"

"Nah, T-Dog's grabbin' 'im. We just gotta toss 'im in the trunk 'n' go," he shook his head.

"Well... I'll still see you off," you assured.

Moving to his side, the both of you started back toward the cars, an awkward silence settling in the air as the two of your refused to look at each other.

Things between you both were already rocky given what happened at the stables and in the chicken coop, but to add last night's rather intimate display was just the icing on the cake.

Looking back on it, you had no idea what possessed you to cling to him like a goddamn koala, nor did he know why he held onto you so damn tight.

It was such unknown territory for you both, neither of you even knew where to begin.

But maybe an apology was a good place to start...

"Look, about last night—"

"You were grievin'," he quickly finished for you, glancing down at the ground. "I didn't take it t'heart."

At his response, you clammed up slightly, a heavy feeling sinking in your chest.

For some reason... that wasn't the answer you wanted.

Even still, you swallowed it back, squaring out your shoulders before turning to look ahead.

"Good."

But at your response, he fell, too, a momentary flicker of hope quickly snuffed out.

Because, in actuality, he had taken it to heart... he had taken it completely to heart.

The man had never been sought out for comfort for anything before, andto see that he was the first body you went for, the very first person you clung to, with Glenn and Lori right there.

It did something to him... made him realize a truly horrifying fact.

He loved it.

"Y'all!" T-Dog shouted, running over as you two approached the trucks. "He's missin'! He's not there!"

Eyes wide, both you and Daryl turned to each other, you drawing your knife and him taking his crossbow off his shoulder before you both broke into a sprint for the barn.

"Fuck you mean he's not there?!"

"What's wrong?"

"Randall's missing."

"Missing?! How?!"

"How long's he been gone?"

"What's goin' on?"

"It's hard to say."

"The cuffs are still hooked," Rick sighed as he exited the shed, joining the crowd outside. "He must've slipped 'em."

"Is that possible?" Carol asked.

"It is if you got nothing to lose," Andrea answered as she came out from behind him.

"The door was locked from the outside. Why the hell would he close up before escapin'?" you asked, brows furrowed as you crossed your arms over your chest.

"Cover his tracks?" Rick suggested.

You shook your head, "Boy didn't look smart enough for that."

"RICK!" 

Quickly, you all snapped your heads to the woods, only to find Shane emerging from the trees, nose dripping with blood.

'The hell?'

"What happened?!" Lori asked, worried.

"Rick, he's armed! He's got my gun!"

"Are you okay?!" Carl asked, scared.

"M'fine. Little bastard just snuck up on me. He clocked me in the face."

"All right, Hershel, T-Dog, Glenn, get everybody back in the house!" Rick barked, quickly. "(y/n), Daryl, come with us."

Without hesitation, Daryl loaded a bolt in the chamber, and you snatched up your bow and quiver from the side of the shed.

"T, m'gonna need that gun," Shane held out his hand.

"Just let him go," Carol shook her head. "That was the plan, wasn't it, to just let him go?"

"The plan was to cut him loose far away from here, not on our front step with a gun," Rick denied, sharply, before turning to start toward the woods, the rest of you following suit.

"Don't go out there. Y'all know what can happen!"

"Get everybody back in the house! Lock all the doors and stay put!"

Breaking into the trees, the four of you looked like a death squad bent on destruction, the cock of Rick's gun punctuating his orders to the others.

Your expressions were stony, the weepy girl paying her respects long gone as you sheathed your hunting knife in your thigh holster.

It was time to get down to business and do what should've been done from the start.

'Sorry, Dale...'

"I saw him head up through the trees that way before I blacked out," Shane stated as he led you all to the eastern side of the woods. "M'not sure how long."

"He couldn't have gotten far," Rick added. "He's hobbled, exhausted."

"Armed," you reminded.

"So are we."

Quickly, he turned to Daryl, moving to stand by his side.

"Can you track 'im?"

"I don't see nothin'."

"Hey, look, there ain't no use in trackin' 'im, okay?" Shane huffed, a little more pushy than necessary. "He went that way. We jus' need to pair up. We spread out, we jus' chase 'im down. Thas' it."

"Kid weighs a buck-twenty five soakin' wet," Daryl scoffed, turning to face him. "You tryna tell us he got the jump on ya?"

"I say a rock pretty much evens those odds, wouldn't you?"

"All right, knock it off," Rick shut down, before returning to Daryl. "You an' (y/n) start headin' up the right flank. Me an' Shane'll take the left. Remember... Randall's not the only threat out there. Keep an eye out for each other."

"Likewise," your brows furrowed, eyes sharply sizing up Shane as he stared at Rick with an odd look.

You could feel it in your gut that something was horribly wrong.

But even still, you pressed on, following Daryl in the opposite direction.

If only you knew how right you were...

"This is pointless," Daryl grumbled, holding out his hand. "You got a light?"

Nodding, you tugged your flashlight out your satchel, plopping it in his palm.

Originally, you both had tried using the moonlight to search for tracks, but with such limited visibility, it was just as bad as walking around in the dark.

"You don't find none of this suspicious?" you asked, genuinely, as you surveyed the trees. "Big manly-man Shane taken out by a scrawny kid wit' a bum leg?"

"'Course it's suspicious," he scoffed, keeping his eyes on the ground. "But Rick ain't stupid. If he got us out here, then he got us out for a reason."

"You really believe that?"

"I do."

"Well, then," you sighed, stepping over a large log. "Looks like we're just back t'square one."

"If you're gonna do a thing, ya might as well do it right," he shrugged, still pressing forward. "Now you gonna keep complainin', princess? Or you gonna help me track?"

"Fuck you," you fired back, fighting off the burn of your cheeks at the nickname.

 Picking up the pace, you moved in step next to him, continuing your surveillance of the flora.

"There's two sets of tracks here. Shane must've followed 'im a lot longer than he said," Daryl noticed, brows furrowing. "An' there's more. Looks like they were walkin' in tandem."

You nodded in agreement, carefully taking the flashlight out of his hand before pointing it at a nearby chunk of bark.

"There's fresh blood on this tree," you reported, squinting your eyes. "Wit' the amount, can't have been more than two or three hours ago."

"Yeah, there was a little dust up right here," Daryl agreed, walking a few more steps ahead as he examined the scuff marks in the dirt.

"Think somethin' went down?" you asked.

"Know somethin' went down," he nodded.

You shook your head, that ominous feeling returning as you looked around the dark landscape.

"Daryl, I don't like this... shit's gettin' weird."

"C'mon, don't start pissin' yerself now. All those damn huntin' trips you always talkin' about."

"Huntin' trips... Not mystery solvin'. M'not not Scooby-fuckin'-Doo."

"Looks like they had a lil' trouble," he continued, biting back a smile at your funny remark as he picked up Randall's blindfold.

Just then, something rustled not too far away and the two of you jolted, quickly ducking behind two nearby trees.

'Fuckin' Christ...'

Quieting your breathing, you peeked out from behind, taking notice of a walker shuffling around not too far away.

'Looks like jus' one... manageable...'

Daryl let out a soft whistle, and you turned to him, catching the flashlight as he tossed it to you, understanding the memo pretty quickly based off the look in his eyes.

Holding your positions, the two of you lied in wait, allowing the walker to draw closer before you struck.

Silently, you drew your knife, prepping yourself as its footsteps became louder and louder.

Until finally, it was close enough, and you flashed the light on it for Daryl to take the shot, grimacing at its loud snarl.

Just as he pulled the trigger, it shoved you to the ground, forcing the arrow to hit its arm rather than its head.

With a roar of anger, it moved to attack Daryl, grabbing at the crossbow before taking them both to the ground.

'Shit!'

Quickly, you scrambled to your feet, running over and looping your arms under the walker's armpits, pulling him away enough for Daryl to kick him in the face.

The force knocked you both back, landing the walker on top of you, but you didn't miss a beat and flipped the both of you over before stabbing your knife right through its forehead.

Panting, you stood up, Daryl doing the same as he shined the light on its face, you both finally realizing that it was Randall.

"Oh, shit," you caught your breath, resting your hand on your hip.

"Nice," Daryl commended, a small smile rising to his lips as he gave you a pat on the shoulder.

Your brows flattened, and you leveled him with a deadpanned look before stepping on the walker's face, pinning it down as you ripped your knife out its head.

"Looks like he broke his neck," you remarked, rolling him over with your foot before crouching down, cutting up his shirt to get a look at his back.

"He's got no bites," Daryl noticed, lifting up his pant legs to see nothing.

"None you can see," you scoffed, leaning over to check his neck.

"Nah, m'tellin' ya. He died from this."

Meeting his gaze, you shook your head, unable to believe it.

"How's that possible?"

[the-stove-is-divorced]

Wishing your skull some cushions and an ice pack, I am shaking Powerplex in my head to keep my sanity intact. Powerplex, save me, Powerplex SAVE MEEEE

I didn't even realize we swapped the SUF thread, lol, truly immaculate on our part. Every thread is the other thread, continuous and looping, at this point. Jasper and Steven make me so fucking ill. She really would conquer galaxies in his name, why aren't I your liege, your knight, your solider, your commander gifting orders in your name, gleefully violence, victorious, and would take it heart he isn't, you know them SO WELLLLLL UGHHHHH. Steven refusing to touch this with a ten foot pole, like please just drink smoothies with me and watch the sunset. Please. Can we not, today?

I'm screaming, Nolan suddenly becomes SO eager about college because Mark can be a journalist, oh my goodness. He figures how to apply for colleges suddenly, fuck scholarships, Nolan will send Mark to college himself, even colonization is put on pause because spite filled hobbies are all consuming lol. Peter and Aunt May hanging out with Mark and Debbie would be everything to me, omg, I NEEEEED IT. I can't quite think of any specific dynamics for them, but I feel May and Debbie would be friends at the very least, and Mark wouldn't mind helping around, though I can see Peter feeling very weird about his new Petty ass Nemsis's kid around the house lol. Like what kind of emotional manipulation fuckery is Nolan up to and why is his kid in it? Mark having to explain he doesn't mean anything by his Dad despite his Dad actively antagonizing Peter would be so funny to me, like, yeah explain whatever the fuck your Dad is doing.

OMNI-MAN WAS FRAMED WOULD GO CRAZY OMG. I literally GASPED at JJ and Powerplex, omg, JJ screaming about how finally, someone to actually doing something about that Invincible brat, or something.

Powerplex opening the season would've had me losing my shit in hype. And honestly, that'd be such a solid framing for the season, I have no idea why they didn't mess with the order so it actually flowed well, they had a solid s1, it was cohesive, what are we doing now??? Like, Mark holding back after he killed a guy would make PERFECT sense! Cecil having the ammo about future!Mark leaving a tyrant in charge giving credit to his concerns, while Mark has the very same ammo about GDA incidentally making a whole new villain, LIKE IT COULD HAVE WORKED BEAUTIFULLY. Now they both have solid points! Now there's a buildup on both sides, souring the respective dynamic on both sides.

Oliver opening about what he remembers and thinks, and having Debbie counter about her opinion on Nolan would've been GREAT! POV'S! Counter POV'S! WHY THE FUCK DON'T WE GET DEBBIE'S OPINION??? Like, okay, if we're going to have Debbie raising Oliver, which fuck that noise oh my god, please can we not, Mark is so single teen Dad coded, please, it'd give him even more issues, I'd never wanted to throw a child at someone so inexperienced, knowing it'd make him worse/not better.

If we're gonna have Oliver, and I feel like I can outright enjoy brat, low empathy Oliver, because that is interesting to explore! That's such a fun twist on a concept of a young hero! Like, it's a young, eager hero who fundamentally has to learn how to empathize, which only demonstrates how Nolan and Vitrum Empire, do not have do the shit they do, if they just bothered to care about others. Oliver has so much potential to be compelling, not only on his own, but compared to others, and AGAIN, if he used to say something about Debbie and Mark! Let him view Nolan harshly because Debbie does, and he picks up on it! The lost potential for Oliver will always make me violently ill, I'll be dry heaving on the pavement at the very thought. You rob me??? You rob me of the arc of a super powered child learning to care about not killing people, that a three going on twelve year old can learn something an entire empire refuse to????? JAIL. FUCKING JAIL. The potential for Oliver learn restraint while Mark is consumed by the very thought of killing others, the contrast of Mark's guilt + desperation and Oliver's apathy + annoyance, how they could be two extremes that need to strike a balance!

Like, again, excellent points here because why should Debbie's dating history go from nearly colonizing asshole, certified supervillain, to the blandest man who needs to be coddled. Like, if she must date, give her someone more interesting? Or, better yet, let her have fucking friends?

AND YES THANK YOU? I am so fucking bewildered Debbie not mean to him. We have Mark shouting at Oliver, fucking stumbling on even explaining why killing is wrong, and I am screaming NO, you have Debbie be screaming, shouting, disappointment so palpable it fucking stings. She would see Nolan in him and be repulsed, maybe even guilty so, and Oliver notices. Like, yes, she shouldn't be mean to him, he doesn't deserve that, but she should be able to think about she also shouldn't have to raise Nolan's affair baby, because she doesn't deserve that either. Let her sit in a boiling resentment, leaking in sharp remarks and little patience, that fucking explodes when Oliver is a pro-murdering child. I know in my soul Mark would spoil that child, at least I find it interesting to explain Oliver being a brat is by Mark spoiling the shit outta Oliver, guilt driven because gimme guilt magnet Mark back, while Debbie is more distant or resentful. LIKE IT IS DESERVED. IT WOULD BE DRAMA. IT WOULD BE INTERESTING. IT WOULD GIVE HER SOMETHING. LIKE GODDAMN WHY IS SHE SO COOL WITH THIS??????

Like have Mark and Debbie's CONTRASTING reactions show and impact Oliver, so he SAYS something about them, while also having his own thing going on. Have Oliver realize Debbie is sharp, and open about how she dislikes Nolan, how rightly fucking betrayed she feels, insulted and wounded, while Mark is quiet, or even romanticizing Nolan, cherry picking stories to share, because he's not ready to unpack everything Nolan has done, let alone that he was used like a battering ram, or so proven to be EASILY replaceable. Have Mark grab onto the good parts of Nolan like a fucking life line, because he is not ready to think about what he went through, while also avoiding trying to be like him. And then have Debbie be angry and resentful, and also guilty but shows in a completely different way, maybe she's more external, she bites back at Cecil/GDA, like you said in another post, why didn't you guys figure out what he was going to do? While Mark is conflicted, contradictory, he's blaming himself and closing his eyes. Have Debbie be casually reckless and bold, with a bitterness or sharpness that Oliver picks up, so if he's a little sharp mouthed prick, it comes from somewhere and says something about her.

I've told you, I can go off about Oliver for hours, because he is GREAT OPPORTUNITY that they actively spit on AND FOR FUCKING WHAT. He can say something about Debbie, about Mark, about the whole fucking Empire + Nolan, but NO. FUCK ME I GUESS. Thinking about powerplex to calm me down and it's not working, I will join you in bashing head against wall. hnghhhhhhhh.

Begging Invincible saved the budget and will be fun. Like, please. Guys please. PLEASE. I am once again asking for episode 6, 7, 8 to save me, spare my sanity, have mercy.

DEBBIE AND POWER PLEX WOULD GO CRAZY. You see I have Mark Grayson in my mind at all times, and unsurprisingly, I see nothing else but my pookie of the year. BUT THIS IS GOLD. Like, it can tie into so much we've talked about too. her being pissed someone screaming asshole interrupted an important moment of mourning, of remembering such a wretched day just to blame her fucking son, not even Nolan, plus for having the audacity to ruin this, and knowing Cecil can't let her get hurt and the fact she's casually reckless anyway, marches fucking forward and shouts at him. Nolan Grayson, Omni-Man was her husband and she isn't threatening people about it, she lost everything, had it ripped away from her, pummeled into the ground six feet under, life shot in the fucking chest and she had to keep going, but do you see her throwing the most ridiculous tantrum you've ever seen? If it gets recorded somehow, that's how other villains know Debbie Grayson was Omni-Man's husband, GDA/Cecil stop the news from spreading too far, but it trickles down the grape vine until villainous partners/exes know, and boom, My Exe Tried To Take Over the World Club invites! I just want it so bad. Or maybe Art tells her about it, mister hero/villain/vigilante network, IDK I WANT IT.

Let Debbie be mean. Let her be bitter and bold and resentful and guilty and angry, LET HER BEEEEE. LET HER SNAP AND BE RECKLESS AND BE FOUL. Like yes, let her be a fucking menace, certified, verified, Problem, there's powerful people in her corner, and a gray morality Debbie would be incredible! I'm due for a re-watch, proper, and not seeing the Mark and Nolan battle again for the 238928392th time lol, but her telling him to make choices he can live with is EPIC. It's swerves around that power-responsibly mindset, and says do what you want to do, and can live with. Whatever that is. Truly let us get a sequel to that conversation!!! How does it change!!!

Eve business thing just gave me more questions. Like, girl, first of all you can print yourself some money if you wanted to, you can make gold, you could make diamonds, expensive products, and sell that, and be set for life. But, so skipping out the GDA does have consequences and the consequence are not getting paid then, no? Why not??? Say that?? Earlier??? ALSO YEAH? How are they qualified for any government contracts? That's a government contract. Like, truly let them have to job through hoops to even get it! Job interviews, professionalism, and exhausting tasks to get there, or even apply. Outright have him be rejected for shaky public image. Mark make decisions challenge. Mark what do you want to do??

TRULY WHERE IS MY CHARACTER DRAMA? Where's my character conflict, that's compelling? Where's Debbie, the real one, idk who this new lady is? Also why the fuck is Rae quitting? Why isn't that Kate? Like what the fuck. Why ISN'T that Kate's thing, and she goes to see her brother and tell him she quit, and that's when we learn about him? Also, GDA using you is again a conversation for Mark to have! Stick Mark in that convo oh my goood. Heck, have Mark overhear or have that kind of convo before or after Cecil confrontation, to give further ammo for the conflict, or stop him from regretting it if he does!

Truly why are we ignoring the fact she actually quit and let EVERYONE, apparently including her brother, think she was dead? Is that not crazy???? WHERE'S THE DRAMA IN THIS? WHEREEEEEE.

Powerplex save me, episode 6 save meeeee (╥﹏╥) What happened to my shooooow.

While I'm not too familiar with the DCU- your batfam meta posts are intiguing- so in transfering some of the broader strokes from them- I think you tackling a 'Mark isn't Nolan's biological son' fic would be fascinating. Sort of a step to the side of the 'what if Mark never got his powers' fic that sometimes pop up in the fandom

OOOOOO chewing on this currently, hm, the much a distinct flavor of exactly what you’re talking about, but the potential for more family drama depending on WHO knows. Does Mark know?? Is he waiting every day only to be crushed? Does he confused non-Debbie features with Nolan’s? I suppose I’m not the most enthusiastic about non-power AUs, but I think there’s something very fun to explore about Mark having to settle with, if he knows all his life, he will never have powers? I think the trajectory of his dreams will obviously shift, I can see him still having that distinct fatherly idolization, but perhaps embraces being useful to the GDA? Cecil’s number one intern—only intern—curtesy of nepotism, ha! There is something tickling me about Mark taking the Robin Route/Role for the Teen Team in terms of having no powers, just insane skills, BUT there’s something way more delicious about intern Mark when s1e01 happens and Mark tries snooping around to find out the truth about what happened to his Dad.

I wonder if, with Mark having a whole another father, if they’re more or less distant relationship, depending on WHEN Nolan entered Mark’s life? Like if Debbie met Nolan later for this, or just for fun, they dated once, separated (Mark being born during then), then they happened to stumble into each others lives again and Mark’s already been born, anywhere from tween to teenager so there’s a gap in how close they are. I feel like one important aspect of the whole Family Drama is how close they’re supposed to be, a functional, loving family turned upside down? So I wonder what more distance does. I wonder how Nolan copes when his family is entirely human and he can’t project onto Mark.

I love thinking about these, omg.

[adahlenan]

But I'd rather not remind myself and leave it all behind And I've tried so hard to fix it all but nothing seems to help

[maliciousalice]

Hear me out (or don't... it's fine I'm just venting and mean) yeah um I don't believe Chakotay was saved in Prod*gy s2.

[thedawningofthehour]

Unfortunately for Leo, the government knows who he is. I'm still on the fence about how long they've known, but they haven't exactly kept a low profile in the past two years.

(this is off-topic, but I really do love the subtle storytelling of the turtles slowly dropping their secrecy act as time goes on and more people get mutated, because New Yorkers just don't give a shit)

Gale also didn't built nukes, that is slander from Leo's side. Draxum doesn't think weapons of mass destruction should exist (his logic is that you're also screwing yourself since weapons of that caliber can't be controlled and then you inherit the ashes, not to mention it doesn't distinguish between enemies and civilians) and if he has to threaten mutually-assured destruction to not lose, he's already lost. Now, Gale has made lasers that can preemptively detonate a nuclear warhead, so the effect is somewhat similar to if Draxum was sitting on a nuke like a hen incubating a very radioactive egg-the US launches a nuke at Gale, a nuke will blow up somewhere other than NYC. Gale plans to do so over a national forest in Pennsylvania to minimize casualties, if it's ever necessary, but the EPF doesn't know that. Now that I'm thinking about it, they 100% don't know for certain that Draxum doesn't have WMDs, and I mean-the US has literally gone to war over imaginary WMDs before, there's precedent for this to the tune of $8 trillion and 4.7 million people dead, they would absolutely treat Gale like the weapon of mass destruction he is.

#Sure Gale is more valuable than Leo to them so he might get treated better#but#I am pretty sure that Gale is getting all types of medical shit done to him#…#on the other hand#if Leo IS put in a concentration camp or something he is very fucked#Like Auschwitz had over 800 people who tried to escape; some of them insanely clever#but of those only around 140 made it#did u know they wouldn’t separate children from their mothers in auschwitz#that would have been too much forceful work so they just told the mothers they would need baths#and send them with their kids together in the gaß chambers#my sisters class also had to visit the crematory and her friend got in trouble for puking#ok I mean Doth is very dark sometimes but I don‘t think you will go Joseph Mengle with it right?#Like the guy who experimented on Tiger Claw as a kid but that wasn’t graphically shown; just told from TC as a memory#oh I remember Mengle had an obsession with experimenting on twins#given that Leo and Gale couldn’t be further from twinship rn I doubt that’s relevant#Idk how you will write Bishop but the 2003 version is very pragmatic#but yeah no Gale is in for a horrific time#with Leo it depends I think#I wanted to ramble more but I looked up articles about Mengle and now I feel sick#I‘m going to watch cat videos now#love u fai#where ever you take the boys I‘m excited to read your writing

From my understanding, Mengele was only interested in identical twins. (or at least twins that looked identical-I don't think they knew the difference between monozygotic and dizygotic twins in the 30s and 40s, they just knew sometimes they looked alike and sometimes they didn't) He liked to experiment on them because one would serve as the perfect 'control' while he did horrible experiments on the other, and then he'd kill them both to do the autopsies and compare. Though I feel like I remember one instance where he took a male-female pair of twins and tried to graft the brother's genitals onto his sister, but that might have been the Japanese who did that. (the shit the Japanese did during WWII and the Cambodian genocide, reading about those subjects marked two of the very rare times I've ever read something and gone "okay, I mentally cannot handle any more of this today.")

But yeah, even if Leo and Donnie were the same species from the same clutch and could therefore be considered twins with only a bit of stretching the definition, they'd still be fraternal twins so that wouldn't apply. It is interesting that you mentioned it though.

Yeah I'm probably not going to put in an equivalent to Mengele, I haven't wanted to spoil much about Bishop but one thing I think is really important in this story is that all the warmongers have understandable motives. Because that's overwhelmingly how it is in real life. I feel like the constant dehumanization of Nazis and harping on only the most evil, horrible aspects of the genocide has been more counterproductive than anything else, because we end up distancing ourselves from the reality of it all and the choices that went into it. You can't relate to a man like Mengele. He's too horrifically evil, his sadism and complete lack of humanity is just incomprehensible to most people. The things he did, it's hard to wrap your head around the level of suffering and cruelty, it almost doesn't feel real at times. It's too hard to conceptualize.

We focus on the monsters like Mengele because-well, let's be real, partly morbid fascination, but also because he is an easy figure to hate. He was an intrinsically evil person, there's no debating that. His own son wouldn't accept his remains and refused to bring them back to Germany. It's easy to denounce him, because there's nothing about him that would hit close to home.

The vast majority of Nazis were not Mengele. They did not wake up one day and suddenly go "I hate Jews because they're smelly and I'm going to kill them now." Yes, there was an antisemitism problem in Germany already, but not like that. There were plenty of people who weren't antisemitic before Hitler rose to power. Hell, there were Jewish Nazis. They were some of the first people loaded up on trains, incidentally. (tokens get spent, after all) Nobody flipped a switch and turned these people into frothing antisemitic monsters overnight, it was a long process of exploiting people's fears, scapegoating 'others' and manufacturing hatred, eventually conditioning people to accept and even aid in increasing levels of violence against them.

And for total clarify, fuck these guys. I'm not trying to sympathize with fucking Nazis here. They did terrible shit, they deserved what they got in return, and they deserve to have their names dragged through the mud. They were horrible, depraved murderers. But most of them weren't born that way. They were radicalized. And that matters because the same methods that were used to radicalize them can be used to radicalize again.

To me, Mengele is not representative of the horrors of Nazism. Nazism didn't make him evil. He was already like that. He was an intrinsically evil man on the Nazi side, just as there were 100% intrinsically evil men on the Allied side. The difference was that Nazism gave Mengele the platform to carry out his evil and supplied him with victims. That's what makes movements like Nazism evil, not because evil people exist within them but because it allows evil people to flourish, encourages neutral people to do evil, and keeps good people from stopping them. Nobody reads about Mengele and learns how not to be Mengele. They need to read about the father of three who became a Nazi because he feared for the future of his children and Nazism told him there was an easy solution to all his problems. They need to read about that because that's going to be the thing that clicks and makes them go "I need to have a fucking talk with my dad about his attitude towards immigrants."

There are definitely people like Mengele in the EPF. I don't foresee myself writing about them. There is nothing to learn from them.