#I like them a lot :33
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tai-janai · 6 months ago
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all of the Guys being confused as hell when stubborn and skeptic are like tearing each other apart for fun when they spar but are both very respectable, kind guys who are very supportive and caring
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twinklelittlesky5 · 7 months ago
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Drew my main six troll designs teehee!!!
Here are my thoughts on their classpects and roles!
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hinamie · 3 months ago
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spiraling
#my art#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#jjk fanart#jujutsu kaisen fanart#jjk art#megumi fushiguro#fushiguro megumi#gojo satoru#jjk spoilers#jjk manga spoilers#the minute i realized how tg coded the composition n colours were i decided to turn it up to 11#i was racking my brain trying 2 figure out how to get the layered tissue paper look tht i talked abt ishida's cover art having#cycled through all my usual layer modes n nothing ws Quite right#until wouldnt u know it . divide n subtract!!!!! i NEVER use divide or subtract bc theyre impossible#but fr this??? its like they were made for it oh my god#it makes the greys look translucent n all my textures pop in a way that makes them appear splotchy n Bruised#which ws the whole point thts the Look god i am so PLEASED#when the layer modes tht notoriously get No love finally find their niche <33 peace and love <333#filing this away fr later i am going 2 have a lot of fun with this new information i think#im very happy w how the colours look n i dont think anything else wld have kept the right Mood#but i am always so >:/ when i have to use a palette tht forces me into giving megumi blue eyes#had to set aside th green eyed megu agenda fr the Aesthetic unfortunately#anyway i knew from the minute i saw it that i wanted to do smth involving the opening panel of 268#bc that panel is S tier#i figured tht if nothing came 2 me i wld just redraw it as-is bc it's alr so good but as i ws sketching i was like#u know what u havent done in a while? art tht looks like u r going Insane#art tht makes ur family ask whether everything is ok#so i once again tucked megumi's knees up 2 his chest and apologized insincerely to him fr making the third megumi angst piece in a row#:)
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buwheal · 3 months ago
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Mr. Spamton, have you ever tried sewing before? The patterns some people draft up are bamboozling to the mind, for sure...
-Silly woman who tried, but only managed to stitch together lopsided "pillows" from t-shirts and stuff them with cotton balls
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lyxchen · 4 days ago
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Oh how I have missed them <333
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gojo always seems to be off in a world of his own.
a little detached, you think. awkwardly long limbs constantly on the move, eyes stuck in a direction no one else can follow, a trajectory you don’t think even he knows. one blink and he's gone, just like that. too far ahead, too far above, even on the occasions he slows down and lets you catch up.
flimsy, maybe. like he’ll get carried away by the breeze when spring rolls around. like he’d turn into seafoam if you reached out and touched him.
satoru gojo is an anomaly, a blurry cluster of stars. or maybe more like a planet, big and blue, spinning around its own orbit, out of reach for every single star in the sky. high and mighty, cocky and cool, silly and bright — but there's a softness to him when he's alone. something that almost seems fragile, under the light of the moon, when the dark sky casts a shadow to obscure the contours of his face — and no one’s around to notice if his smile isn't as big as it should be.
no one except for you, anyhow.
(you wonder if your presence is really that inconsequential to him.)
the beach is entirely empty, save for you and gojo. and summer’s ending, burning into little cinders, sputtering out before your very eyes.
tokyo is just beginning to dip its toes into autumn, the frost and chill, the hiss of the biting wind. the rusting of leaves, contaminated by a muddy hue, turned orange and brown and red beneath your heavy feet; littering the murky, empty streets of the rainy towns you cross. smelling of rotten apples and cinnamon, old books and burning wood.
it’s dark out. painted a thick gray, the sky is blanketed by heavy clouds, the entire world hidden behind that coating of wool. not a single sliver of starlight slips through, but there's a comfort to it, that feeling of being cocooned — safe and warm. a feeling cruelly stripped away by the nipping of the wind at your bare skin, but you digress.
everything smells of saltwater. a little like rotten fish. every breath you exhale turns into a flurry of vapour, mingling with the breezy seasalt of the open air; scattering away into the thin layer of mist all around you, until you can’t tell which is which. 
and a sense of foreboding sinks into your veins.
(you look out at the jagged rocks piercing the surface of the sea, and dully wonder how they’d feel piercing your skin.)
something shivers, to your right. a flicker of movement, a barely audible chatter of teeth. and then, a white puff of vapour.
”man, it’s cold.”
gojo looks displeased. 
only vaguely, a little crease between his eyebrows as he stuffs his hands into the pockets of his puffy baseball jacket. moving his feet a little, to warm up, snowy tufts of white hair tousled by the ocean breeze. his shoes are muddied by the wet sand, but he doesn't seem to mind.  
a soft scoff leaves your lips, mostly harmless. maybe just a little smug. ”told you,” you click your tongue. 
gojo whines. his sunglasses are starting to fog up, you notice. ”it’s still summer!” he pouts. ”i thought the sea would be nice and breezy!”
an unimpressed look smooths over your features. gracing him with a raise of your brow, you don’t fully manage to bite back the soft smile that follows. don’t even really attempt to.
it’s been a long day. evidently not long enough for gojo, seeing as he dragged you down here — even though he knew it meant missing the train you were supposed to board after successfully finishing your mission. he just had to get a closer look at the sea. just for a moment or two. 
and he was insistent, persuasive. awfully whiny. assuring you that he’d be quick, that you wouldn’t miss the next one. 
(what made you agree was simply the thought of spending some more time with him. not like you could ever tell him that, though.)
so there you stand. two juveniles, shivering and shifting from foot to foot, on the brink of nightfall, the edge of summertime. watching the sea stretch out into infinity, across the gap between this world and the next. a murky blue. easy on the eyes.
the noise of the sea fills your ears; waves crashing into sand, the whistling of the wind, seagulls crying out in the distance. and faraway, the chatter of a rattling train. a cacophony of sounds, buzzing and crackling, melting together. scattered across the beach are countless tiny white seashells, and the occasional green glimmer of drift glass — mermaids’ tears, shed for lost sailors, or so you’ve heard.
you wonder if the mermaids ever shed tears for lost sorcerers. probably not.
a shiver runs through your body, down to your cold hands, the tips of your fingers. reddish and itching for warmth. you tuck them into your pockets with a breathless exhale, still shaking a little. 
in truth, you and gojo aren’t very close. you’d like to call him a friend, but it's kind of hard; when he's so enamored with suguru, so animated around shoko. with you, he always seems kind of —
stiff? 
or maybe more like bored.
he doesn't laugh as loudly, doesn’t act as cocky. doesn't flaunt his knowledge on sorcery, and isn't as clingy as he is with the other two.
(you've never liked people touching you. it's not hard for others to discern, with how you flinch away when they get close.
still, you can't help but feel a little jealous when you see him tugging suguru and shoko around.)
deep within your chest, like a stunted seaweed, sprouts a tiny pang of disappointment. it’d be nice if you could grow closer, you think.
just a little would be fine. 
”i like the sea.”
you turn your head.
gojo looks a little lost in thought. gaze trained on that expanding ocean before you, those splotches of blue and gray, the waves that bruise the edge of the sand. forlorn, maybe.
a hum buzzes in your dry throat. ”do you?”
”mm.” little white breaths slip from his lips. you wonder if they’d taste as salty as the air. ”’ts nice.”
a silence stretches out before you. delicate, like a sheet of glass. gojo picks at a piece of lint on his sleeve, and you shift from foot to foot. then he closes his eyes — a flutter of his dewy eyelashes.
”kinda makes you feel like everything’s about to end, huh?”
you look at him, but don’t see anything. a single glimpse of his closed eyes is all you gain from the glance you cast his way, but it’s not enough. not enough blue to fall into, no expression to savour. he looks the same as always.
but you’ve never heard his voice sound like this before.
”… end?”
and with that, they flicker open. there it is, you think. that vibrant blue. only to be obscured once more, when he turns to you fully, a smile playing at his glossy lips. ”don’t think so?”
a second passes. you look forward.
what you see is as follows: waves upon waves upon waves. the same blue and gray, as far as the eye can see. a sea big enough to drown each and every one of your worries. 
something comes over you. a sensation of loneliness, something close to longing. a feeling of being rather lost. searching for something. your heart feels heavy, an anchor sunk to the bottom of your gut. little fish nipping at your ribcage. your eyes trail over those jagged rocks, again; the mermaids’ tears, that all-consuming sea, right in front of you. like it could open its maw and devour the world.
you think of the lost sailors.
(one jump and it’s all over.)
a breath. salty on your tongue. ”… i guess i get it,” you whisper. a soft murmur, mingling with the mist. 
silence.
out of the corner of your eye, you see gojo shift. one moment he’s looking at you, the next he’s staring at the sea. in tandem, the two of you, stuck within that shade of blue. and you think he looks a little mesmerized, like he’s seeing something not even he can fully comprehend.
(maybe he just hasn’t had many chances to go to the beach before. something to do with being a clan kid, maybe?)
but then he clears his throat, hands moving to brush some sand off his puffy jacket and jeans. turning on his heel, hair ruffled by the breeze. he tries to sound chipper, but there’s something else there. you don’t know what it is, but…
”anyway,” he chirps. ”let’s go. we can still make it to the next train if we hurry.”
you look at him. his retreating figure, a head of white hair, surrounded by mist. a little like an apparition. then you turn towards the sea.
”… nah, that’s fine.”
a pause.
gojo stills, just about to take the first step forward. but you stay rooted in place; unmoving, staring at the blue before you, a deep longing reflected in your eyes. 
”let’s stay a little longer,” you hum, unsure of where the words came from. but you know you aren’t ready for the moment to end, just yet. that you aren’t quite ready for summer to pass.
all he does is stare, for a second or two. attempting to find some humour in your voice, you assume, any signs that you might just be joking. but he doesn’t find it. uncharacterstically silent, gojo stays frozen in place. 
then he puffs out a breath — amused. 
”you wanna freeze to death?” he grins, and you can hear it in his voice. you turn to face him, almost smiling. a little cheeky.
”you’ll warm me up, no?”
the words fall from your lips before you can think to reel them in. meant to sound a little snarky, you think, something akin to a chuckle — but instead come out sounding a little too much like an honest request. 
the tips of your ears feel a little warm, suddenly.
a sense of surprise smooths over the contours of gojo’s face, and his grin falters. you can’t see his eyes, can’t tell if they widen or not, but his lips part, and you note that they look soft. 
and it’s back. that grin. toothy, boyish. his cheeks are rosy, from the chill of the air, or so you assume. then he’s taking a couple strides forward, broaching the distance between you.
he throws an arm over your shoulder. a heavy weight against you, grounding, causing you to stumble. friendly, tugging you close. into his orbit.
(no infinity, you note. you can feel his body heat seeping through the fabric.)
it's nice. he's tall, and he's warm. cozy, protecting you from the bitter cold, like your own personal furnace. no wonder suguru never catches any colds, with someone like this draped over him all the time.
gojo speaks. there’s a sweetness to his voice, a mellow kind of contentment; bubbling up like seafoam, spilling from his glossy lips. you can feel his warm breath on your skin.
”well, duh.”
when your gaze falls on him, he's already looking at you. leaning closer, sunglasses slipping a little further down the bridge of his nose — enough to expose the blue of his eyes, the tiny splotches of white scattered across his aquamarine iris. like a cracked marble. or a summer sea.
he’s speaking again, and you almost don't hear it. distracted by those cracked marbles, the strawberry red of his cheeks, the warmth shared between you. the pitter patter of your heartbeat, like waves crashing against the sand. mesmerized. not daring to look away. almost like you’d cease to exist, were he to close his eyes. like your existence hinges entirely on the blue of those eyes.
(and maybe it does.)
he nods towards the sea, and grins. a mischievous glint in his eyes. ”wanna take a dip?” he asks, and you can’t tell if he’s joking or not.
it makes you laugh, either way.
”do you want to freeze to death?” you raise a brow, exhaling amusedly. subtly angling your body closer to his, hoping he won’t notice.
gojo honest to god giggles, at that, and you fear your knees might give out beneath your weight. fuck, has he always had dimples? why are you only noticing them now? 
”hehe. i just think it'd be fun!” he chirps, still draped over you like an overgrown cat, and you almost find yourself saying yes. just to keep the summer from ending, keep him from being swept away by the breeze.
but summer is ending. slipping away, second by second, like two juveniles drowned by an ocean wave. never to be found. and in comes autumn, the smell of rotting apples, the crunch of sand beneath your feet; an arm over your shoulder, an intake of breath. the taste of nice, crispy air on your tongue. 
a chuckle flows from your lips. all you see before you is blue, a murky shade, a vibrant hue. you think you could drown in it. you’re not sure you’d mind.
”maybe next time,” you whisper.
gojo’s eyes widen. ever so slightly, barely enough to even notice, until they bloom — with a kind of bubbly excitement. unconcealed giddiness. there’s something awfully precious about it, like a child buying cotton candy at their first fair. it makes you want to tuck him into your pocket. keep him safe.
you like him, unfortunately. inevitably. you think you may even like him a lot, a little more than you should. a little more than he could reciprocate. 
satoru gojo. high and mighty, cocky and cool. silly and bright. a seaborne boy with his very own orbit, born to carry the weight of the world, spinning so close that you can almost delude yourself into thinking he feels the same. 
almost.
(gojo glances at your lips. he wonders if they’d taste as salty as the air.)
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justgleekout · 8 months ago
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Sunday morning sleeping in <3
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robinfollies · 8 months ago
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happy ace day to THEM SPECIFICALLY!!!! 🖤🩶🤍💜
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tunastime · 17 days ago
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hiccuping tears into the shoulder + ranchers by chance?
hiccuping tears into their shoulder (1087 words) (x)
For the first time in a good, long portion of his life, Tango despises how silent the night gets. It's not without its natural noise—the balmy, sticky humidity and breeze in the grass, or the crickets, the cicadas quieting down, the sounds of animals rearranging themselves to a comfier sleeping arrangement. He should be doing the same, but he's sitting on the edge of the bed, his spine a rigid line. He can feel the blood in his body, he can feel the spaces where his muscles connect to each other, with every breath he can feel his lungs separate out the oxygen. It's at the very least startling, and at the very most, he feels like he might dissolve on the spot if touched. 
Tango knows how death feels—painless respawn and a few seasons of a life game behind him, but to feel someone else die, too. The echo of death alongside your own. He didn't like that! Not good at all. All his blood and heartbeat-y things are rushing around in his ears. He doesn't even hear Jimmy the first time he speaks up from the other side of the bed, with how his voice scrapes out.
"I didn't know they were aiming for us," Jimmy says.
"Of course not," Tango says, furrowing his eyebrows. "I know you didn't."
He's still looking at his hands, running his thumb over the lines in his palm and pushing into the tiny bones and muscle there. Jimmy flexes his hands like he can feel the pressure and bones moving around. He watches him fold his hand tight around each other and slump, pulling his shoulders to his chest. His breath squeezes in his chest as Jimmy deflates tiredly.
"I just don't want you to think—"
"I'm not gonna think this is your fault, alright?" Tango says, frowning at him. "Why would I?"
Jimmy sighs. His jaw works.
"Cause it usually is," he grits. Tango scrunches his nose on instinct, recoiling out of habit before he manages:
"That's not fair, man."
"This whole game isn't far!" Jimmy huffs, waving a hand about.
"Sure but—"
"But nothing, Tango. I just—I can't lose and drag you with me. That's more than not fair."
"I don't care."
"I care."
Before Tango can argue, though, he tastes the faintest hints of anger and frustration at the back of his mouth fade. He watches Jimmy's face contort as he tries to come up with a better sentence, something he probably thinks Tango deserves. Maybe an apology. 
Tango just looks at him. He kind of feels bad, that little bit of gut wrenching cold that trickles in, but mostly he's just confused. Jimmy's words bat around in his brain like dust particles. Dust bunnies. He definitely assumed they were done with this. That maybe Jimmy made peace like he did—though really he hadn't had that much time to make peace, if he's being honest. He's still bitter. He's sure a lot of people are still bitter. But in terms of Jimmy's whole situation? It's not like it could be helped. They just had to be careful. So Tango was being careful, and Jimmy was taking what Tango thought was a calculated risk, so he was mad, sure, but he couldn't really stay mad for a long time. So he takes a long breath and sighs it out his nose. It still tastes surprisingly reminiscent of smoke.
"So what are we going to do?" he asks softly. Jimmy inhales.
"I don't know," he says. "Go to bed? Wake up and start planning?"
Tango hums plainly. He likes that idea. The small spool of feeling in his chest that must belong to Jimmy gives a little tug, like it wanted to take him down with it. 
"Yeah," Tango says, voice coming hoarse. "Yeah, I think so."
For a moment, Tango runs his tongue over his teeth, runs his thumbs over the seams of his knees. He sighs, and then he leans into Jimmy's shoulder with a definitive huff. He's tired. From the ache in his bones, to the breathlessness of dying, to just taking in Jimmy's stress. Man. He's exhausted. Jimmy snorts quietly. He feels him press his cheek against Tango's head. The hand Jimmy had been fiddling with in his lap ends up at the base of his spine, splayed over the fabric. Tango squeezes his eyes shut.
"Thanks Tango," Jimmy says shakily. He sounds like he's on the knife's edge of crying, so Tango fumbles out a hand and lands it solidly on his knee. It's not a terribly comfortable thing to stretch one of his achy shoulders or biceps that far but he does anyway, and Jimmy huffs out a damp laugh. "Guess I'm just... pissed off."
Tango snorts.
"If you think you're pissed, just wait until they rile me up," he says into the fabric of Jimmy's shirt. Jimmy laughs. Tango tries to hold in a grin that he also smothers into his shoulder, but fails. Jimmy's hand skips over his knuckles and squeezes the hand on his knee.
"Sure thing, Rancher," he teases. Tango makes a half-suppressed noise of indignation, squeaking as he bolts upright. He nearly knocks into Jimmy's jaw as he untangles himself with all the grace of a cat trying to weasel out of someone's arms. 
"I'm just sayin'," he grumbles, crinkling his nose. "You seem like you're in a better mood though."
Jimmy sighs, rounding out his shoulders. 
"Think so," he says, working his cheek between his teeth. Tango feels the sensation of prodding in his mouth. Bleh. "Think so."
"Probably a good idea to make good on that sleeping... thing,” he says, reaching up to scrub at his eyes. He barely stifles a yawn as Jimmy stretches, twisting his tall body around in a way that feels surprisingly pleasant to Tango’s stiff muscles. He can’t imagine, especially with the way Jimmy holds all his emotions in his shoulders, that his upper back is doing him any favors. Jimmy makes a little noise in confirmation as Tango turns, attempting to make ample space for him in the small bed. He knows they’ll end up back to back at some point, but as he lies down, shoulder to shoulder, an easy comfort rolls over him. Sure there’s all the red blood rushing around in his ears, and sure he feels it right up on his skin like a bad rash, but for now, next to Jimmy, he shuts his eyes.
They’ll make this time count for something, at least.
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littl3d0ll-art · 2 months ago
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If you’re doing requests again, can I ask for something pretty odd, you know how people ship the goat and the lamb together, but the goat is an alternate version of the lamb? Yeah???
Puprinder and Narinder, kissing maybe?
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So I got a bit carried away…
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whaliiwatching · 3 months ago
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sorry hobie those are hideous
prompt: thrift store
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the-enby-bird · 8 months ago
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meowmeowmeowmoew :3
felt like doodling some ravage and deadlock amica content but deadlock's root mode escapes me so i drew @blighted-lights's beastformers deadlock design. becausee i love him. i love him so much
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thedeadthree · 5 months ago
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𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐎𝐍 𝐀𝐆𝐄: 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐕𝐄𝐈𝐋𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐃 ➸ irulanne . the rook .
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✧ ― 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 (ask to be added or removed or interact 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞!!):
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#oc: irulanne#leg.ocs#leg.edits#*myedits#*ocedit#dragon age rook#da:tv#datv#my necromancer !!!!!!! my baby she’s here!!#teehee the first of the rooks !! so far i have 4 on standby for the fall the brainworms are brainwormingg jnhdkhnsk#spot the lucanne reference hehee twas a must to add something of luca in there he and lanna have had me in a CHOKEHOLD all a week hehe <3#colorings by cavalier remainn ICONIC andd SPEAKING OF WHICH THIS TEMPLATE GOLLY HOLLY#ty tyy orion this template was SOO good *screams* i had SO much fun working with it!!!!!#alsoo the official tarot for necromancers / mages / sidony from inky youll always be loved by MEE.#i am not sure if i want to go too much into her lore yet as its so early but the brainrot is brainrotting and i have SOO many thoughts!!#her history her lore how i see her interacting with the world and the world with her lanna's personality and her dynamic with luca AHHHH#*rattling the bars of my cage* FALL COME SOONER !!#lanna has had the braincell for the week STRAIGHT hdbjh <33#the high stakes tennis match between dragon show and dragon game brainrot hehe <33#ill hopefully have something for them too soooon I MISSED THEMM SO MUCHH#her lighthouse outfit + luca's outfit hehe couples that wear *almost* matching outfits thats soulmates or something (im normal) HEHEE#her name (hopefully the last time i change it djksncks) is inspired by i*rulan from d*une !!#an arcane prodigy entering her girlfailure era <33 girlbossed too close to the sun if u will JNDKJDSN#seemingly puts on an air of confidence but hides BIIIG time nervous wreck energy shes gonna take messing things up well i can feel it :')#i feel like a lot of clothes for her are sort of reminiscent of her time in the mourn watchers? all based on aspects of the dead??#like bones or etc?? but i also love that she could be a lightning learning mage with other magic so she takes to that more ethereal nature#to her style !! she’s also a BIG fan of the opera and was sort of praised as this golden child an arcane prodigy#the gifted kid to burnout adult pipeline she is really feeling it now 🥀🤧#hi hi moots if u read all that i am baking you cookies as we speak THERES SO MUCH MORE LOREE on her i have im screaming she’s everythingg#AHH IT WORKED IT POSTED <33 so so happy i can yell about her now HEHE 🥀💌
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khattikeri · 5 months ago
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i don't think enough people talk about how the backbone of nie huaisang's plan hinged heavily upon jin guangyao's low birth, and the jianghu's willingness to dogpile on such people.
nie huaisang is upper class. he's specifically stated in the novel as behaving more like the idle rich than like a distinguished second young master of one of the five great cultivation sects, but he's still an heir by birth. even if nie huaisang had been more openly caught, who would do anything to him?
wei wuxian notices that bicao's testimony was bought with a few shiny baubles— that nie huaisang was the one who bribed her with a nice bracelet for her testimony. he intentionally kept his own sect half dead, barely afloat for years, just to keep up the guise of an incompetent loser!
but the only actual consequence he's faced for such poor leadership that probably hurt a lot of common folks in his territory over 13 years is that people think nie huaisang is an annoying, useless crybaby. nie huaisang has a level of protection from consequences that jin guangyao had to fight much harder for (and that jin guangyao ultimately never truly got).
nie huaisang knew his own class and social position extremely well, and he knew how most people of that position behave and think. he was more than willing to use this in his revenge.
we know lan wangji is the type to use his wealth and position to do good for others. nie huaisang is the opposite— he's the type to use his wealth and position for himself and his own personal goals.
and this wasn't just something that started after his brother died! avoiding responsibilities, never carrying his sword, ignoring the fact that he wasn't honoring his sect or ancestors the way others wanted��� his underground ring of selling porn as a teenager even got him out of the worst part of the wen indoctrination camps, because he bribed the wen cultivators overseeing everyone else.
my point is, nie huaisang is self-aware enough to know he doesn't really ever do the "right" thing! at no point in the story does he delude himself or others with grand ideals of how one ought to behave. he doesn't care.
unlike almost every single other upper class cultivator in the story— jiang cheng, jin zixuan, nie mingjue, lan xichen— who all think of themselves as righteous in a way, who are always able to justify their thoughts and actions, rarely if ever able to conceive of those thoughts and actions as flawed or wrong... nie huaisang KNOWS his own selfishness.
like lan wangji, nie huaisang recognizes that his class can easily be used as a shield to do whatever he wants. while lan wangji at worst uses this nifty privilege to silence people he doesn't like, refuse to explain himself in inconvenient situations, and bring wei wuxian along with him everywhere, nie huaisang uses it to shirk his duties for decades and tear jin guangyao apart in revenge.
jin guangyao being the son of a prostitute automatically amplifies bad rumors around him. bringing to light his incestuous marriage and the gruesome way he murdered his upper class father, however deserved, is obviously going to impact him in a way that someone higher class wouldn't be as hurt by. combining that with a final lie to get his sworn brother to stab him in a flash of doubt, and well...
is that good or righteous or just? no, of course not. nie huaisang doesn't spend any time pretending that his actions were conducted based on morality, or that he "had no choice".
nie huaisang just wanted to destroy jin guangyao, and damn did it feel good to finally do it.
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mono-socke · 1 month ago
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kleine hurt/comfort Geschichte für Rhun, ft. die anderen vier Brüder. (der Fokus liegt zwar mehr auf Fips und Zeke, aber die anderen zwei sind auch da)
request von @rhuns-zahnseide ! hoffe das ist okay so !
Rhun konnte nicht schlafen.
Der Tag war anstrengend gewesen. Sehr anstrengend. Seitdem xier und xiers Brüder die ersten Andeutungen magischer Kräfte offenbarten, waren die Nonnen ungefähr zehnfach so streng zu ihnen, als sie es früher waren. Natürlich wurde dies um einiges schlimmer, als diese Anzeichen deutlicher und ausgeprägter wurden, und die Nonnen begannen, sie Experimenten zu unterziehen. Qualvolle und schmerzhafte Experimente, um die Magie zu untersuchen und, im Idealfall der Angestellten, zu unterdrücken.
Der Fakt, dass die Kräfte der Brüder nicht im Geringsten zu schwinden schienen, und stattdessen nur stärker und mächtiger wurden, war ihnen offensichtlich nicht von Vorteil. Stundenlang mussten sie sich Qualen unterziehen, bis die Nonnen sie endlich gehen ließen, um zu beten im Gottesdienst or sonstige Arbeit zu erledigen.
Es machte Rhun zu schaffen. Nun, es machte allen zu schaffen. Aber Rhun gab es ungern zu. Wenn keiner der anderen standhaft bleiben konnte, musste xier es eben. Klaus gab zwar sein Bestes, einen auf unbekümmert zu machen, jedoch hatte auch er gelegentlich Zusammenbrüche. Keiner der übrigen drei hatte besonderes Interesse an einem Gruppenzusammenhalt. Rhun selbst auch nicht sonderlich, aber allein und durch Streitereien oder ständiges Zanken würde sich ihre Situation auch nicht bessern.
Jedoch konnte auch Rhun nicht für immer ruhig bleiben. Xier ließ zwar niemals äußerliche Schwäche vor xiers Brüdern zu, bestand darauf ihnen bei ihren Aufgaben zu helfen wenn diese besonders schwer waren und schenkte ihnen ein offenes Ohr und Trost, sollte es einer notwendig haben. Rhun war zwar nicht der Älteste im Pack, aber im Vergleich deutlich am Vernünftigsten. Und so sehr Rhun auch Zeit allein liebte und sich nach dieser sehnte, lagen xier die eigenen Brüder doch sehr am Herzen.
Sich um sich selbst zu kümmern fiel Rhun im Gegensatz jedoch relativ schwer. So einfach es war, einem der Anderen zuzuhören und Zuspruch zu geben, so schwer war es allerdings auch, selbst mal um Hilfe zu bitten. Oft genug fraß Rhun lieber alle Sorgen und Zweifel in sich hinein, als dass xier jemanden bat, mit xier darüber zu reden.
So kam es nun eben, dass Rhun öfter mal wach im Bett lag, die anderen alle schon am schlafen, und die Decke anstarrte. Einfach nur nach oben sah, und vor sich hin schwieg, in der Hoffnung, doch noch einzuschlafen. Wenn sie tagsüber müde waren, waren die Nonnen besonders streng.
Ab und zu wurde es dann doch zu viel für Rhun, und statt nur stillschweigend da zu liegen stand xier auf, verließ das Bett das xier sich mit den anderen teilte und setzte sich an einer entfernten Ecke des Raumes hin, die Knie an die Brust gezogen und den Kopf in den Armen. In dem Wunsch, xiers Brüder nicht zu wecken tat xier alles um so leise wie möglich zu bleiben. Manchmal konnte Rhun die Tränen, und die darauffolgenden schweren Atemzüge um ja nicht zu weinen, nicht unterdrücken.
Rhun wollte nicht weinen. Weder in Gegenwart anderer, noch allein. Xier musste die Fassung behalten, egal was geschah. Ohne den nötigen Vernunft würde nichts funktionieren, wie es sollte, und dieser würde sicherlich von niemandem sonst kommen. Aber Rhun konnte weder den merkwürdigen Druck in xiers Kehle, noch die verschwommene Sicht, noch sonst irgendwas unterdrücken, und so saß xier einfach da, und spürte wie langsam der Stoff von xiers Ärmel nass wurde.
Zu vertieft darin, auf Krampf leise zu bleiben, hörte Rhun nicht das Geräusch einer sich bewegenden Decke. Sowohl dass einer der anderen vier scheinbar aufgewacht war, als auch dass dieser Rhun seine Aufmerksamkeit schenkte, bekam xier nicht mit. Erst nachdem wer auch immer aufgewacht war sich aufgesetzt hatte und langsam aus dem Bett stieg, wurde Rhun auf seine Präsenz aufmerksam. Das Knarren des Bodens ließ xier fast zusammenzucken, und Rhun traute sich kaum zu atmen.
Logisch gesehen wusste Rhun natürlich, dass es niemand war, der xier verletzen wollte. Es konnten weder die Nonnen, noch sonst irgendwer von außerhalb des Zimmers sein. Und doch war xiers Adrenalinrausch so hoch, dass xier angespannt und nervös wurde.
Die vorsichtigen und langsamen Schritte gingen auf xier zu und Rhun's Atem stockte, als sie zu einem Stehen kamen. Die andere Person hielt scheinbar einen Moment inne, bevor er sich neben Rhun auf den kalten Boden setzte und der fast zitternden Person neben sich eine Hand auf die Schulter legte. Die sanfte Geste und die Wärme neben xier, schienen Rhun zu beruhigend und xier sah endlich auf.
Neben xier saß einer der jüngeren Brüder. Der jüngste, um genau zu sein. Fips.
Und Fips sah xier besorgt an, so ehrlich besorgt, wie Rhun ihn schon lange nicht mehr erlebt hat.
“Alles okay bei dir?” fragte er leise, damit keiner der restlichen drei aufwachte. Rhun nickte zwar nicht, versuchte aber trotzdem rasch ihn zu beruhigen und abzuschütteln. Xier hatte nichts dagegen sich mit Fips zu unterhalten, aber nicht jetzt und nicht hier und nicht über dieses Thema. “Geht schon. Alles in Ordnung.”
“Du siehst nicht wirklich ‘in Ordnung’ aus,” beharrte Fips, und die Hand auf Rhun's Schulter hielt unmerklich etwas fester. Xier wischte sich schnell über die Augen und blinzelte frisch aufkommende Tränen weg, doch xiers Stimme klang beim Besten Willen nicht so gelassen wie sonst immer.
“Ich komm klar, keine Angst. Geh lieber wieder schlafen, sonst bist du morgen früh müde.”
“Nur wenn du auch schläfst."
Mit Fips zu argumentieren war schon immer ziellos.
Er war stur und dickköpfig aber seine Aktionen und Aussagen kamen meistens dann doch aus Empathie und Sorge, auch wenn er dies natürlich nicht zugeben wollte. Vorallem nicht vor Zeke und Klaus. Klaus würde ihn behätscheln bis zum geht nicht mehr, aber Zeke würde ihn regelrecht aufziehen damit, ihn peinigen und verspotten bis einer der anderen ihn aufhalten würde.
Rhun schüttelte nur den Kopf, absolut nicht in der Stimmung, jetzt eine Diskussion anzufangen, und fragte stattdessen, “Warum bist du überhaupt wach?” “Hab leise Geräusche gehört und als ich gesehen habe, dass du hier alleine sitzt, konnte ich nicht weiterschlafen,” gab Fips achselzuckend zu.
Danach verfielen beide erstmal in unangenehmes Schweigen, da keiner wirklich wusste, was sie sagen konnten oder sollten. Fips’ Hand blieb auf der Schulter seines Bruders liegen und begann beruhigende Kreisbewegungen zu machen. Rhun wusste, dass xiers jüngster Bruder noch nie sonderlich talentiert mit tröstenden Worten war, und wurde schnell, unabsichtlich schroff oder aggressiv. Deshalb vertraute Fips seinem Mund in solch ernsten Situationen nicht und schwieg.
Rhun hingegen fühlte sich nicht sonderlich nach dem Reden. Xier wäre lieber wieder alleine, aber solange Fips nicht versuchen würde, jegliche Informationen aus xier herauspressen, wäre es ertragbar.
Nach einer Weile legte Fips vorsichtig seinen Kopf auf die Schulter seines älteren Bruders, extrem langsam und zögerlich, als ob er erwartete, dass Rhun jede Sekunde zurückweichen und ihn anmotzen würde. Was xier allerdings nicht tat. Xier akzeptierte die Nähre xiers Bruder einfach, denn eigentlich war die Wärme die er ausstrahlte überraschend angenehm. So angenehm, Rhun's Gedanken verwandelten sich langsam von einem wirren und überwältigenden Durcheinander in etwas Ruhigeres.
Schon bald begann auch xiers Atem wieder zu entspannen, was auch Fips zu bemerken schien. “Weißt du… Du musst mir nicht sagen, was los ist, aber wenn du mal reden willst…,” fing er an, immer noch etwas unsicher. Jedoch merkte Rhun, dass das Angebot vollkommen ehrlich gemeint war. Rhun hatte ihm zuvor mehrfach geholfen, von Aggression und Reizungen herunterzukommen, also wollte Fips nun sich offenbar revanchieren.
“Werde ich mir merken, danke,” gab Rhun ihm als Antwort, und xier konnte schwören ein leichtes Lächeln im Gesicht des Anderen zu sehen. Fips nickte und hob seinen Kopf wieder hoch. “Nur so als Vorwarnung, ich hab keine Ahnung, wie sehr ich als Psychologe tauge. Ich kann zwar viel hören, aber ob Hasen gute Therapeuten sind, bin ich mir nicht ganz sicher.”
Rhun musste leise kichern, was auch xiers Bruder dazu animierte zu grinsen. Mal kein genervtes Augenrollen zu bekommen, war etwas, an das sich Fips gewöhnen könnte. “Ach, das ist schon okay.”
Wenige Momente später, als wieder Stille einkehrte, musste Rhun sich die Nase hochziehen, als Nachwirkung des Weinens. Dieses Geräusch weckte allerdings einen weiteren von xiers Brüdern. Die beiden sitzenden Brüder beobachteten wie Zeke sich langsam aufsetzte im Bett und eine Hand über die Augen rieb.
“Klaus, hast du schon wieder Albträume?” fragte Zeke, halb genuschelt, und schaute zu dem Ältesten der fünf, der jedoch friedlich am Schlafen war. Verdutzt schaute sich Zeke im Raum um, versuchte den Ursprung des Geräusches zu finden und schaute stutzig auf die zwei die vor dem Bett saßen und gerade zurückschauten.
Schnell fiel auf, dass Rhun derjenige mit leicht geröteten Augen und Nase war, und sogar xiers Wangen glänzten leicht mit dem Überbleibsel einzelner Tränenspuren.
“Rhun…?” fragte Zeke ungläubig. Der Fakt, dass es Rhun war und nicht Fips, welcher emotional geworden war, schien echt eine Überraschung zu sein. Naja, es war schließlich mal eine Abwechslung von anderen nächtlichen Szenarien. Immernoch etwas verblüfft wandte sich Zeke zu dem jüngsten, der sich nicht von seinem Platz neben Rhun bewegte und sich fast schon unter dem strengen Blick zusammenkauerte.
“Hase?” Auf einmal war Zekes Stimme fern von besorgt, stattdessen angespannt und wütend. “Ich schwöre dir bei allem was dir heilig ist, wenn du xier auch nur im entferntesten-”
“Zeke, stopp," unterbrach Rhun, bevor es eskalieren konnte. Zeke war immer schon beschützerisch xier gegenüber gewesen, und hasste es, Rhun traurig oder verletzt zu sehen, wodurch Zeke auch selten zurückwich davon, dem Verantwortlichen mal ordentlich die Meinung zu geigen. Vorallem wenn es sich auch nur im Entferntesten um Fips handelte.
Zeke saß bereits am Ende des Bettes, ließ die eigenen Finger knacken und war im Inbegriff aufzuspringen und auf Fips loszugehen, welcher unter Schock zurückwich.
“Lass ihn in Ruhe,” nahm Rhun den Jüngsten in Schutz, und glücklicherweise war xiers Stimme inzwischen wieder autoritär genug, um Zeke innehalten zu lassen.
“Aber wenn er-”
“Hat er nicht. Es ist alles okay.”
Zeke sackte in sich zusammen und verkreuzte die Arme, eine Augenbraue war zwar noch gehoben, jedoch kamen keine weiteren Gegenargumente mehr. Nach einigen Momenten der Stille in denen Zeke scheinbar einen inneren Konflikt mit sich selbst austrug, kletterte Zeke über das Fußende des Bettes und gesellte sich zu den anderen zwei. Instinktiv setzte sich Zeke auf Rhun's andere Seite und hielt xiers Arm fest, fast gewillt xier von Fips wegzuziehen, allerdings nicht interessiert an einem möglichen Streit. Zumindest nicht mit Rhun.
"Sicher, dass alles okay ist?” fragte Zeke, immer noch leicht besorgt.
“Mach dir keine Sorgen um mich.”
Zwar waren Rhun's Sorgen nicht vollkommen gelindert oder verpufft, allerdings war xier auch nicht mehr danach zu weinen und Trübsal zu blasen. Die Anwesenheit und zumindest der Versuch des Aufmunterns hatten deutliche Auswirkungen auf Rhun, aus welchem Grund auch immer. Gemeinsam Zeit zu verbringen wirkte beruhigend auf xier, und so gern Rhun auch Zeit allein verbrachte, desto verrückter konnten xiers Gedanken werden.
In der Stille konnte xier sich zwar am Besten konzentrieren und logischen Denken, aber zu lange ohne Ablenkung gab es viel zu viel zum Nachdenken was definitiv nicht logisch und ruhig war.
“Bist du sicher?” meldete sich Fips erneut, seine großen Augen, die sich inzwischen an die Dunkelheit gewöhnt hatten, trauten sich kaum in Zekes Richtung zu schauen, und fokussieren sich stattdessen auf die wenigen Dekorationen auf der Wand ihnen gegenüber.
“Ich bin mir sicher,” bestätigte Rhun und brachte eine von xiers Händen auf seinen Arm um Fips zu beschwichtigen.
Als Rhun wieder aufschaute, trafen xiers Augen direkt auf Klaus’. Keiner von ihnen hatte bemerkt, dass die schlafenden zwei inzwischen ebenfalls aufgewacht waren, und während Eos nur schweigend zusah musste Klaus gähnen, sichtlich träge von Müdigkeit. Als er jedoch realisierte was dort vor ihm vor sich ging, hielt er inne.
“Was geht denn bei euch drei ab? Alles klar bei euch?” fragte er, sichtlich verwundert, dass Zeke und Fips sich nicht in den Haaren hatten.
Zeke winkte schnell ab. “Jo, alles klar soweit.”
“Dann kommt wieder ins Bett. Es ist mitten in der Nacht,” forderte Klaus sie auf, rutschte sogar etwas zur Seite, um ihnen den benötigten Platz zu verschaffen. Nach kurzem Zögern stand Fips langsam vom kalten Boden auf und bot Rhun und sogar Zeke seine Hände an, um ebenfalls aufzustehen. Rhun nahm sie, Zeke starrte ihn zwar kurz ungläubig an, willigte aber kurzerhand ein und sprang rasch mit seiner Hilfe auf.
Auf dem Weg zurück zum Bett gähnte Zeke, streckte den Rücken und ließ sich schließlich rückwärts auf die Matratze neben Eos fallen. Rhun und Fips gesellten sich zu ihm, jedoch langsamer und vorsichtiger. Rhun endete in der Mitte der fünf, Zeke mit einem Arm um xiers und einen um Eos’ Schulter, Fips traute sich zwar nicht Rhun zu umarmen, lag aber extrem nah an xier, und Klaus legte selbst einen Arm um Fips, um nicht ausgeschlossen zu werden.
“Gruppenkuscheln!” verkündigt Klaus, was Fips überraschte, fast mehr als dass Klaus halb auf ihm lag. “Ey! Erdrück mich halt gleich,” beschwerte er sich, was wiederum Zeke zum Lachen brachte.
“Ach Hase, nicht immer gleich so abweisend,” kommentierte Zeke und verwuschelte ihm die Haare, bevor Fips die Hand wegschlug. “Das sagst du nur so lang, bis der alte Sack auch auf dir liegt!” Klaus umarmte ihn als Antwort nur noch enger und grinste.
“Ist ja schön dass ihr zwei Spaß habt, aber ich und Rhun würden gerne weiterschlafen,” warf Eos ein. Rhun nickte, “Ich stimme zu.” “Na schön…,” gab Klaus nach.
“Gut. Dann schlaf schön,” sagte Zeke und bevor Rhun irgendetwas antworten konnte, wurden xiers Augen zugehalten und xier konnte das eigene, leise Lachen nicht unterdrücken. Rhun kicherte und versuchte halbherzig, Zeke wegzudrücken, allerdings ohne Erfolg, weshalb xier nachgab und einfach versuchte sich zu entspannen.
“Mhm, dir auch gute Nacht.”
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zu-is-here · 2 years ago
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