#I miss them so much and it kills me. it causes me physical pain to not have them with me

[emometalhead]

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[tanoraqui]

Dungeon Meshi Liveblog: I thought I wasn't going to have strong opinions about the Laios-Shuro fight, but...

Laios was right about this! Yes, they had 2 physical fights first, but it's important to note that Laios was right about this!

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^ -man who would literally kill to stay in this room and observe this private conversation.

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Sir, your unfaltering little wide-eyed, amiable smile while seriously considering topics that are obviously un-smile-worth has charmed me utterly. I wish to study you like an climate-entomologist yearns for the butterfly that causes storms.

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She seems fine.

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If I start screencapping Laios's and Marcille's faces in this fight, I will never stop because literally every panel is devasting.

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Kuro has done distinctly the most damage so far this fight, just stabbing and gnawing, and I think we should recognize and appreciate that fact.

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I really miss the animation we got of Rin's lightning blast slicing narrowly past Laios.

I love how fast, if reluctantly, Laios accepts that if - not, that Falin is a true "monster", inhuman and hurting people relentlessly and unapologetically, and thus she needs to be killed before she kills them, like any other monster. I also love that Marcille doesn't accept this. Characters!

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+1 to qualification to kingship! Kabru is one again surprised (you can tell by how he's not smiling) (though this might also be due to the significant injuries he just took).

I do have several emotions about how Falin immediately yanks away and kills Kabru, without touching Laios. That's her brother!!

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I really like this little cluster because it says to me that Shuro still has very good "do what Marcille says when she abruptly shouts magic-related directions in combat" instincts. He's a mirror of the "You're already on the Christmas card, buddy" meme - more like, "You're still on the Christmas card." Just like Namari: no one really stops being fond of, and battle companions with, these weirdos.

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I think the most painful part of this probably is that Marcille isn't certain. Maybe this IS her fault. At minimum, she knows she might have mixed the dragon's soul into Falin's, which enabled this even if it didn't create it. But she can't 100% rule out the possibility that it's more her fault than that - which is, of course, the absolute worst thing to say to all of these people looking at her violently askance for using dark magic.

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yeahhhhhh "Lunatic Magician" REALLY lacks the oomph of "Mad Mage"

ANGRY LAIOS! It's such a rare expression on him, it's exciting to see.

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Yesss look at my man Chilchuck use available tools in his environment and save this little goober who thinks it's cool to resent adults.

I really like how they show the social consequences of dark magic. Much beyond Shuro's anger: the other mages are now shutting Marcille down, especially where resurrection magic is concerned. She's made herself untrusted by her peers, whether or not the magic she used on Falin is truly "evil."

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I really enjoy the, like, narratively obligatory, not actually real (well, maybe to Rin) "will they-won't they" between Kabru and Rin. In the story that this isn't, where Kabru is the protagonist with his quirky gang of found family who are helping him save the island and prevent another bloodbath like in his angsty backstory, she IS the One (Human) Female on the Team who is obviously his love interest - often the first to challenge him, battle mage rather than healer ie a Strong Female Character who nonetheless doesn't use unfeminine brute force, forced by happenstance to kiss...

Alas! Kabru is not the protagonist of this story, so Rin shall remain disappointed.

Also this montage of people healing and reuniting while in the background Laios and Shuro whale on each other remains SO funny. Flawless comedic timing.

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Alright, hot take time: I feel like all the debate I've seen about the Shuro/Laios fight depict it as revealing the friendship basically shattered, and never real in the first place. Whereas I'm mostly warmed by how real it clearly was despite everything that just happened?

Shuro is operating on no food and less sleep, desperate to save the woman he idolizes without truly understanding her loves, who is now apparently a monster who nearly slaughtered his most loyal followers. In the past like 2 weeks, Laios has: watched his sister die to save his life (his little sister, whom he is supposed to protect), walked headfirst into a nigh-unwinnable fight to get her back, held her skull in his hands, got her back and held her in his arms, lost her again about 6 hours later in an even more unwinnable fight, which was proven even more unwinnable when the Mage twisted the dungeon itself against them, saw her again but as a murderous monster now (which might be due to the magic he agreed to use to resurrect her), swiftly and sternly resigned himself to fighting and potentially killing her (his little sister! whom he is supposed to protect!), had her recognize him (and no one else!) despite her monstrosity, watched her be killed (again!) in part thanks to him distracting her, except it didn't work and then she fled.

This is an immature, ignoring-immediate-needs (ie, food, healing) knock-down drag-out fight between two men at the absolute ends of their ropes, who, sure, have built-up resentments against each other and the world, and an inciting incident pushing them over the edge - but mostly neither of them can punch in the face the fact that they can't save Falin. So they punch each other instead.

I won't even address the prologue to the fight, where Laios tells him about the black magic and Shuro promptly tries to strangle him then levels a sword at him. Kabru already nailed that: Shuro was worried about Falin - that the magic had hurt her, that the social consequences would be worse. Laios knew this enough that he didn't fight back, then. But now?

The first shove is Shuro demanding, Don't you fucking DARE give me false hope.

I cannot emphasize enough how hard I would also slap someone for suggesting that I wasn't taking the death and monsterization of my younger sibling seriously.

Shuro knows it, too. He doesn't respond to this, he just punches, and Laios punches back. Shuro doesn't speak again until Laios knocks him all the way down, and

Shuro is at his absolute depth. The lowest point he (feels that he) can go. He cannot save Falin. He's shamed himself as a leader and heir by getting his people killed (they got better, but that's beside the point.) He's been beaten in hand-to-hand combat by this idiot northern peasant. He lets down his guard and pride enough to mutter this self-deprecation aloud...and the idiot northern peasant hears, compounding every shame - and it's infuriating especially because he doesn't even hear properly, just like he never hears properly - he's so frustrating in his friendly but oblivious constant irritation and THIS, Shuro can still be furious about, to avoid his grief/hopelessness/self-loathing/shame. This, he can still fight about!

So he does.

They're both wrong in this fight. They're both right. Laios was consistently inconsiderate; knowing this about himself - because it's not like by his early 20s he didn't know that he didn't Get people the way most people Get people - he should've made more of an effort, and picked up any of the hints Shuro was laying down. Shuro was too caught up in his own pride and out-of-place manners: when it was clear that Laios wasn't going to pick up on even the strongest "hint", he should've said something plainly instead of just letting his resentment build until he was effectively lying to Laios about, if not their entire friendship, certainly the shape of it.

But they were friends. They are friends. This isn't the posture or conversation of two guys who don't like each other.

It's two guys who are still, in fact, fucking exhausted, physically and emotionally - but they just got rid of a lot of extra, furious, helpless energy, so they're finally satisfied to just sit. Their posture is relaxed and casual; their conversation straightforward and companionable, if serious.

This is two guys who've sat like this many time at a campfire, in just these poses. Who've kept watch together late at night and stayed awake by talking.

Laios cares about Falin more than anyone in the world, and even after the words and blows they just exchanged, he's still willing to put Shuro's suit to her. Shuro didn't tell Falin he was interested in her until he proposed to her, but he's telling it all to Laios. Admittedly, this is because Laios is, Shuro assumes, the closest he'll ever get to being able to tell it all to Falin...but still. And he admits vulnerability, which he clearly wouldn't have done before, even to his most loyal and loved companions as they urged him to eat and sleep.

Yeah, they're buddies. If I had to describe it, I'd say: their relationship was built on unsteady, false foundations, but they built something sturdy on it anyway, and the sturdy thing survives even when the foundations shake and re-settle.

Lol at Shuro. "I'm going to report you to the local authorities for your crimes because it's the right thing to do. But if you survive, I'll totally use my power and influence to help you flee the country, and live peacefully on my estate beyond where an extradition treaty can reach you."

[oepionie]

—"GOTTA ESCAPE THE VOID." overblot mc!

SYNOPSIS: The Ramshackle prefect has a reputation for frequently encountering fatal magical mishaps. And when a magical accident involving Crowley almost kills them, Crewel resolves to take matters into his own hands. But it appears that his impulsive decisions cause the prefect to reach their limit and go off the rails.

⊹ [ cw ] — heavy warnings, please read before you proceed. arguments with father, self-depricating thoughts, mentions of blood, protective parent, thoughts of offing self (only once), overblot mc!, miscommunication w friends, crying, physical fights ◞

⊹ [ tags ] — angst! gender neutral reader, crewel really embodies the 'cruel' in 'cruella', ace gets mad at you :(, deuce tries to comfort you through it all, crowley feels guilt (wow), crewel is vry vry angry and punches crowley, crewel has a mother gothel moment<3◞

⊹ [ w.c ] — 2.5k+◞ | 🦇masterlist◞

YOUR VISION WAS NOTHING, but a myriad of colorful blurs and shapes. Muffled voices spoke to you, but everything was practically just incomprehensible, panicked babbling. The heavy pressure of metal was pressed up against your windpipe, restraining your breath as it wound tighter and tighter. Though, a few seconds later, it vanished as if it had never existed, bursting into bright magical sparks.

The gush and pool of blood surrounds your dirtied, tangled mess of hair, a dark scarlet seeping into the knotted strands. Kneeling before your body, Crowley felt his heart skid to a stop. The sight of your fatigued form writhing around the ground tore at his chest, claws of guilt digging in deep and dragging across thick tissue.

"Prefect…Can you hear me?" The crow murmurs, clawed hands pressing against the side of your pounding head as he guides it to rest atop his lap. Vibrant blooms of red stain the dark fabric of his pants, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

"Dad…it hurts s'much." You slur in hushed tones, your eyes wringing shut from the pain. That was enough for Crowley to put his arms around you.

He shielded your body with his torso, hands clawing at your back as he wracks his mind of what to do next. Hastily turning round, he shifts his gaze to the surrounding students, all of them looking equally mortified.

"What are you standing around there for?! Call the nurse!"

"Y-Yes, sir!"

Drip. Drip

The pungent smell of alcohol and medication fill your senses as you groggily blink awake.

The familiar creaky wood of Ramshackle's ceiling greets you as you pull yourself from dreamland. Looking over both sides of your bed, you smile once you see both Deuce and Ace seated on a nearby couch. Both of them were quick to jump up and approach you, fussing over your bedridden form.

"Thank Sevens." Deuce murmurs, tenderly combing your damp hair back. You roll your head to the side to face him, but wince at the sudden throb of pain in your spine. Ace darts over and hushes you, gently repositioning your head to face front once more, making sure your neck was supported by a pillow. "Hey…It'd be great if you don't move so much…"

“Right. Makes sense. 'Nways…how bad was my injury?” You mutter, your recollections of the past event still foggy. All you could remember was that Crowley had fired a spell, and you somehow got into the crossfire.

“Fucking horrible.” Ace scoffs, looking at you sternly.

"Yeah, take it easy for a bit. The injury was…pretty serious. It was a miracle that the spell missed your head by a thread…" Deuce murmurs as he presses a gentle hand on your bandaged forehead.

Strands of blueberry hair fall loosely at the sides of his face as he stares down at you with worry. "You were out for three days."

"Ah…well—you know, me and my dumb non-magical ass. Always getting into trouble," you giggle, a cheery grin stretching over your cracked lips. Though it rapidly drops when you realize your two friends aren't laughing with you.

Ace shifts his gaze to the floor, hands clasped into a fist. "You're not dumb, prefect…"

"Well—I kinda am," You snort, tugging the blanket closer to your chilly form. "I really have to stop being around the old man's magic shows."

Unconvinced, Ace only shakes his head and scoffs at your jokes. The ginger reclines back into his chair, hands vigorously tugging and pulling at his hair. "You aren't. The real issue here is that deadbeat crow. I mean...hasn't he learnt anythin' from last time? What kind of idiot treats his child—"

"It wasn't his fault, Ace." Pushing yourself off the bed, you immediately interrupt him, voice stern as you rush to defend Crowley. "He didn't mean it. I got in the path of his magic. And—I'm pretty sure he's already beating himself up over this."

Sinking back into the bed, you clasp both your hands together. "It wasn't his fault. Sure, he's reckless and all but…but he's still my dad."

Silence washes over your room.

Ace was visibly frustrated, the blunt tips of his nails dug deep into his skin, nearly piercing past skin. With a final scoff, he stands from his chair and quietly excuses himself from the room.

The door slams shut with a blaring bang as both you and Deuce were left alone.

Sighing, the freshman takes your trembling hand in his, clasping it tight as his body temperature warms the cool skin. He draws your right arm up to press your palm against his cheek, eyes looking deep into yours.

"Professor Crewel is pissed," Deuce whispers as you trace gentle circles on his skin. A pair of shaky cyan eyes meets your concerned ones. "He was planning to—"

Deuce's mouth parted open and close and yet he couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence. You cast a questioning glance his way, but Deuce shakes his head, disregarding your questions.

"…nothing."

Surprise washes over you as you stare down at Deuce's hunched over form. It…wasn't like your friends to be so dismissive.

You, Ace, and Deuce had always been good friends. Sure you had your differences but you always communicated openly with one another. Nobody has ever been this...secretive.

Just…what was happening?

Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip.

The sickening crack of a bone echoes through the faculty room as the rough knuckle of Crewel's fist connects with Crowley's face. The headmaster reels, mask flying off as his hands fly to his bloodied nose.

Everyone in the vicinity quieted as the only noise heard was the potionology professor's labored breathing.

Then, without hesitation, Crewel surges forward. Loud commotion and screaming could be heard in the meeting room as everyone quickly circles around the two. A couple of hands seize Crewel by the arms, but the professor only grows more agitated, attempting to fight past the herd.

"Let me go!" Crewel roars, tugging his arm free as he attempts to swing a fist at the headmaster. "Dire! This is your fucking fault!"

"Divus! Calm yourself!" Trein scolds, arms locked tight around the man's torso. A few more pairs of hands restrain the professor as he is forcibly pushed down onto a couch.

His face was the epitome of unrepressed rage: With his cheeks drawn back in a deep sneer, eyes bloodshot red, and hair a knotted mess.

Trein stands before the younger man, looking down at him with disgust. "Have you no shame? What will the prefect think once they hear of this?"

Across the room, Crowley spits out a little blood, blinking fresh tears out of his eyes. For the last three days, the crow has been suppressing all of its emotions; however, all of a sudden, he is overcome with an unfettered and unhindered flood of shame and rage.

When the headmaster finally turned around, he fixed Crewel with an expression so scathing that the potionology professor felt compelled to charge at him again.

Once, coldly, sharply, and bitterly, Crowley laughed. "It's my fault, you say? You think I don't know that?"

"Oh please—Dire. I couldn't care less about what you think." Crewel seethes, venom practically dripping from his lips. The alchemy professor strides forward, heels clicking against the floor as he grabs Crowley by the collar.

"You're a failure of a father. All you've ever brought their way is danger." The professor cackles kicking the crow's skin.

Digging deep into his red handbag, Crewel snatches out papers and jams it into Crowley's chest. The crow unravels the creased pages to read the text on the document, eyes ripping wide open as he realizes what it was.

"You…can't possibly." The headmaster sputters, hands shaking as he reads the texts again and again.

"Oh, but I can." Crewel sneers, taking pleasure in the look of fear Crowley sends his way. He snaps around, coat billowing up behind him as he briskly walks towards the entryway. "I expect those papers to be signed by tonight."

Before walking out of the room, Crewel spares the headmaster one final glance. "The prefect departs this Monday."

Days after the event were all followed by violent storms that appeared to go on forever. Every night and day, the rain endlessly poured down from the bitter grey skies and roars of thunder echoed through the dewy clouds. Some days, it was nearly impossible to go to school.

It was almost as though Mother Nature herself was upset.

Just like how everyone was.

Crowley and your other friends shunned you like you had the plague. Even bright Kalim greeted you with a deep frown, a flimsy excuse slipping off his lips as he ran away. Only Deuce stayed by your side through it all.

The blueberry had told you everything was alright—that everything was normal and fine— but you couldn't help but be skeptical.

So when Crewel came to visit, you welcomed him right in. Eager to hear what he has to say.

The clatter and click of your father's heeled boots echoed through the walls of the dormitory as he examined the premises, comparing it to his own much more lavish flat back home in the city.

Finally, after an excruciating 5 minutes. his gaze flitted over to your bedridden form.

And the words he utters out next shatter your entire being.

"I'm withdrawing you from NRC."

What.

The glass clasped in your bandaged hands slips from your grip, smashing onto the oak wood of Ramshackle's flooring. You raise your mortified gaze to scowl at your professor, jaw dropped open in shock.

"What?" you breathlessly utter. "What do you mean?!"

"I'm transferring you to another school." Crewel replies, pushing himself off the fireplace and slipping his thick fur coat off his shoulders. The scant light emitted by the candles atop your study table did nothing to help you navigate his form as he strode around your bedroom.

"Now. You might be asking why? For one, look at the…accommodations Dire provided you with."

Crewel kicks a piece of splintered bark aside while making a gesture towards the disorder and wreckage all around you.

In the evenings, you had to use candles because the ceiling lights seldom ever functioned. The flooring had so many tears and holes that they were virtually falling apart. On occasion, you could even see the scuffle of rats beneath. The roof leaked, horribly; You had no money to fix it so you placed a bucket below instead. The front door was broken, barely hanging on its hinges, evidence of all the times your friends visited and never bothered to knock.

All of these problems and so many more were present, but this dorm was with you since the very start. It provided you with a roof over your head…it helped you survive.

"So what?" You retort, leaning back into your bed and sinking deep into the scratchy yet familiar pillows. "I don't mind it!"

"A foolish decision." Crewel sneers, running a hand into his hair. "Your accommodations aren't the only problem. Your self-destructive habits endanger you as well!"

There it was.

Groaning, you wring your hands through your hair, tangling it up. "When are you gonna stop saying that I'm self-destructive!?"

"When you start acting like somebody that actually cares about their life!" Crewel barks out, hands grasping your shoulders. The sudden increase in volume makes you recoil, but you were stubborn and refused to give in just yet.

"But I do care about my life!" You sputter out. "Why can't you just—"

"Remember what happened when Rosehearts overblotted?" He reminds you, "You charged towards a bloodthirsty tyrant with no protection, no magic, and no plan." Crewel then crosses his arms over his chest, addressing you with a pointed glare. "And you have the nerve to tell me you're not self destructive?"

"Riddle is not a tyrant!" Crying out, you slam your hand against your bedsheets, face twisting into an unsightly sneer. "I was trying to save my friend!"

Crewel gets right in your face, returning the expression of anger you sent his way. "Those friends of yours only care about you when you're useful!" he thundered, jabbing a finger into your chest.

That comment immediately silenced you.

Your hand was clasped over your mouth, jaw dropped wide open in disbelief as a sharp gasp escapes your dry throat.

A poisonous and dangerously harmful feeling gripped at whatever remnant the professor had of a heart. It colored his thoughts with regret as he began to feel a twinge of guilt, the weight of words sinking in.

There was a deep sigh of resignation from Crewel before he put a hand on your shoulder and looked you deep in the eyes, voice lowering to a softer lilt. "Why is it that every other person in that dorm had the sense to run away from the blots, but you didn't?"

Kneeling down, your father gazed at you with such vulnerability in his eyes as he murmurs, "Do you know how terrified I was every time I'd get the same message from Dire that you were out fighting overblots again? Putting your life at risk for those rabid dogs?"

The recognition of your destructive habits hit you like a splash of ice cold water. With a guilty and uncomfortable grimace on your face, you averted your attention to the floor. "I just wanted to help."

Slowly rising to his feet again, Crewel casts a deep frown your way. "I know you do, but you're careless with your life and if you're not careful…one of these days, you're gonna die."

"I will not hear anymore disagreements about this, do you hear? I've allowed you to run rampant around these past few months. You will so as I say and I'll have you transferred by the end of this week." He says simply, dropping a pristine sheet of paper clasped in a clipboard before you. Your dull eyes flicker across the title as you grudgingly reach for the pen he offers you.

TRANSFER APPLICATION.

That blank line at the end of the page is swiftly covered by your shaky red signature and Crewel is powerless to stop the relieved sigh that heaves past his lips.

A surge of victory, certainty, and an intense sense of relief overpowers the tangled and conflicting sentiments of guilt that were swimming through his chest.

You were safe, that's all that matters.

With a grieving heart, you nudge the pen and page back to your father dismissively, placing them both atop the bed. Crewel re-rolled the page and tucked it back into his handbag along with the pen.

The professor raises a hand to gently pat your shoulders as he bends down, pressing a kiss atop your head. "Father knows best."

As Crewel quietly takes his leave, he is none the wiser to the formation of impure, tainted tar-like blot dripping from your tears. Curling in yourself, you tuck your head into your knees, a broken sob spilling from your lips.

A sick and twisted feeling arises in your heart as you replay the argument you had with Crewel, and you start to wish that maybe, just maybe, Crowley's spell had succeeded in striking you.

Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip.

"Oi…Henchhuman?"

Drip.

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[demodraws0606]

My thoughts on the latest episode (aka HU IS THE CULPRIT I WILL DIE ON THIS HILL)

Warning : My sassy attitude is not directed towards anyone else, I'm simply amusing myself and also I've only gotten barely 5 hours of sleep god save me.

This is gonna be very long and messy so strap in folks

It's so obviously not Eden or Ace it's painful (idc 'i'll die for my hubris). Not even just because Eden lying and being the culprit after all of that would be both underwelming and just...miserable. But also because of how the way we're getting the reveal in advance that it could only be Ace and Eden. The fact the cast was already on Eden's throat as well just makes this point even more clear to me.

This isn't like fucking Korekiyo in chapter 3 of DRV3, this isn't how a culprit reveal happens. Especially not when there's so much we don't know yet.

So who is the culprit ?

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It's Hu, it's literally Hu.... and like 1 pourcent chance it's Nico but I think both of them are accomplices here.

The thing is, I don't buy any of the shit Nico is saying, their admission of guilt is strangely quick and detached. They also seem to go along with anything people say about them (like them framing Hu) which makes it even more suspicious, they could've just said they used Hu's weapon out of conveniance ? The only thing this episode has proved me is that Nico is an Active accomplice rather than a Passive one like I thought. For what reason ? I honestly don't know fully yet but again we don't know a lot about Nico anyways.

Hu's behavior really makes me think she did it and is acting out, mostly out of guilt. She seems really stressed this trial which while makes sense for character reasons, it also makes sense if she's the culprit and feeling guilty. It would explain her defending Eden and Nico mainly I think despite her probably being the culprit she doesn't want the perception that Eden/Nico has to be broken (especially not bc of her). I've already explained how Hu being the culprit makes sense from a character perspective so I'm not gonna get more into it.

By the way any arguments in this post being like "it would be out of character for Nico or Hu to do that" should honestly review their own hypocrisy if they think Eden did it, or even Ace for that matter.

Another thing that makes me even more convinced that it can't be Ace or Eden is that...you can't fucking prove any of them did it with 100 pourcent certainty. David fucking threw the BDA rule out of the window, so we can't be sure Eden didn't do it but like what decisive evidence would make it clear between the two of them.

The only pieces of evidence we have left is :

-The sticky ball of clothes (most likely turpentine because the soil of the relexation room would cause the ball to have stains on it)

-The alibi for the relaxation room water

-The missing glove (which I think i've changed my opinion on what it could mean here)

Eden did know about the ball of clothes (but that piece of fucking evidence has strings attached so we'll get to that) and Ace doesn't have an alibi against taking the water like Eden does.

The missing glove is the only evidence left untouched here and honestly I actually don't think it had anything to do with the glove having someone's hair or anything, mainly because first of all the culprit could've technically just removed any hair on the glove even if it was sticky.

And also there's something else that makes more sense.

I think they probably had to use the glove to avoid rope burn while trying to set up the mechanism to kill Arei. Especially with how high the playground's ceilling is, it wouldn't be child's play. I'm not really good at deciphering what could've possibly happenened directly in the murder but I'd argue it's just more likely that the culprit would be put in a situation were rope burn could happen. This murder set up would require a lot of physical effort, and if the culprit even slipped for a second their hands would end up being damaged from rope burn making them obviously look guilty (also ouchie), which I think is what happened.

It would also explain the scuffs on the floor, maybe the culprit was struggling to hold onto the rope leading to them causing marks with their feet while trying to pull on the rope.

The reason why I think the glove is missing is probably because it's damaged and the culprit wanted to avoid the cast knowing they used Arei's glove during the murder. In fact it's the only piece of evidence that is completely missing

But why ?

Has anyone realised something about, I argue, the three other main suspects here ?

Nico, Eden, Ace ?

They all have gloves.

"But a huge portion of the cast has gloves this doesn't mean anything, it's just a stylistic choice !!" Yeah, the majority of the cast has gloves.

I think now you can understand why the culprit wouldn't want the cast to know that the glove was used. Because if the cast did see the glove that was probably damaged, they would assume the culprit wore it and it would narrow down the suspect list to an extremely narrow pool. This forces them to basically take the glove and hope to fucking god the cast doesn't catch on which they clearly haven't yet.

You know who doesn't fucking wear gloves.

HU JING

My girl got no gloves on !!!!

So yeah, with the glove being untouched evidence yet I think it will be the main decisive thing to point out who the culprit truly is, and I just don't think it's just gonna be like "oh let's just search everyone to see which one has the glove !". For all we know the culprit could've fucking eaten the glove, I don't think we're getting another Min in trying to search shit on people's person.

Anyways I'm gonna transition to other stuff to explain how the Nico and Hu theory makes sense from a logical standpoint here.

Let's get on to the sticky ball of clothes.

First I want to get it out there that I do not think the ball being sticky is due to the soil of the relaxation room. Mono-TV's talk about the "special formula" was mostly to foreshadow the floor of the playground's properties, also the fucking ball would have stains on it.

For me this means the ball of clothes has to have been covered in turpentine especially now that we have confirmation from Ace directly.

This is extremely huge and I'm flabbergasted has no one has mentioned this. Pray tell where the fuck did that piece of cloth go, did it get isekai'd into another world ?

This question actually has multiple meaning here because that fucking ball of clothing actually has massive implications. It confirms a lot of things and also puts a lot of doubt in things that seemed to be confirmed.

Before that I also want to say that Arei 100 pourcent got knocked out with turpentine. I don't want to argue over and over again that it was used because I've done this before but I have to since there are multiple reasons why she had to have been knocked out.

The floor is extremely prone to scuffs, if Arei was struggling then we definitely would've seen more than just a few marks in one area.

The method of murder would have been extremely difficult if she was struggling, like to a ridiculous point. Especially with someone like Arei who has been shown to have been sneaky and very prone to attacking people in their weak spots.

The tape binding Arei's hand in hindsight actually probably wasn't to avoid her struggling, it was most likely due to how the mechanism of the murder work. Keep in mind how the murder had to have worked and imagine if Arei's hands were just loose and flopping around. There could have been possible injuries with her arms that would ruin the culprit's obvious plan to make it look like a suicide. It also just makes sense for weight reasons, again Arei having her arms flopping around would make moving her body even more difficult.

And even if you want disagree with all of that, the culprit could've just binded her tape to avoid the same mistake that happened with Ace with him waking up from the turpentine.

Now that I've made my case about Arei being knocked out, let's get on the actual new arguments I want to make.

First, we know for a fact that a piece of cloth was used to knock out Ace meaning it has to have gone somewhere, if you say "well they could've just thrown it away" I will personally come into your home and shit in your shoes. And you're also wrong because I've already proven that Arei had to have been knocked out.

This means the only piece of cloth available to us would be the sticky ball of clothes.

But...like let me just explain everything that's mind boggling about all of this.

-This ball of clothes had to have been made for Ace's murder to knock him out

-The only people who knew about the old clothes were Hu, Teruko and Whit. Eden only knowing later on, way after Ace's murder was planned probably, because Hu told her about it.

-The culprit used this ball of clothing against both Arei and Ace

-The cloth is suspiciously absent from the murder scene, which makes no sense considering Nico's account rely on them not having left the gym while trying to murder Ace. Them leaving to chuck the cloth aside only to come back to the gym doesn't make sense with the timeline in how we discover things.

Yep, I'm making the claim that Nico didn't actually kill Ace here, I still think it's Hu. Again you can try and complain all you want about how it's out of character for Nico but the reality is...shit is not adding up.

It's really suspicious how silent Hu becomes when her weapon is brought up, immediatly clamming up and not defending Nico anymore. When Teruko makes assumption that Nico lied to Hu to get her weapon, she doesn't reply with a betrayed "Nico is that true ?" or even a sentence she responds with "That's...". The amout of ellpises both Nico and Hu give are extremely suspicious and just make me side eye both of them extremely hard.

I'm gonna go on another tangent here, on the subject of Hu being suspicious. Mainly because I do wanna point out a moment that both makes Eden seem a lot more innocent and makes Hu a lot more guilty.

The subject of Arei potentially committing suicide.

Now, it's very clear that the way Arei was hung was meant to make it look like Arei killed herself, this was very much meant to be the culprit's intention. Both to hide the true murder mechanism and probably to mislead the cast. The fact that it's only an incidental red mark of Arei's wrist that proves she didn't kill herself, proves that the culprit intended for it to look like a suicide.

However guess who argues against this...Eden, which, if she is the culprit I don't see why she would do something like that (and if you say "well why is Hu defending Nico and Eden" I already explained it). Clearly the Eden!Culprit theory relies on her being capable of manipulation so there's no reason why she would be so caught up in her own feelings to just ruin her own plan like that.

You know who seems to really be into the idea of Arei killing herself though, Hu.

That's all I have to say on that, now let's get onto how I think Nico actually helped Hu.

I do think there's still a 50/50 on them working directly together or just Nico catching onto Hu's plans and deciding on their own to help her.

I do think Nico directly helped her though in two major ways

First, the water, it's the obvious one. Nico probably ended up giving the water the Hu here weither they did so with/without knowing Hu's intention doesn't really matter since they're deciding to keep quiet about it now.

I also want to quickly mention how Hu getting water from the relaxation room makes a lot of sense. Hu was busy with Eden in the kitchen and Teruko had taken all the drinks from the gym, so it's likely Hu was forced to take the water from the relaxation room.

Second, the note

Oooo baby let's get into my favorite realisation in watching this episode.

One piece of dialogue has made me realize something

This made me puzzled too, because yeah, who would be listening in and how did Arei not notice when she went into the room ?

Let me take you all back to Chapter 2 Episode 5

Rose and Teruko have a conversation about Rose's secret and that conversation lasts a good while, until...

Nico was actually shown to have been there the entire time, Teruko and Rose were talking without noticing they were there.

Nico then explains themselves like this, pretty much proving this is something they just like doing casually sometimes.

This actually would explain everything on how the eavesdropping happened, Nico was on the literal fucking floor of the infirmary leading to them listening to everyone's conversation. Which tmeans they could have had the information to write the note.

This would explain the inconcistencies as to why would the culprit know to eavesdrop and how they didn't get caught by Arei when she was barging into the room (if they were outside by the door).

Now this leads to two possibilities with Nico and their relation to Hu.

Either they worked together with Hu and they both came up with the murder together. Which means either of them could've written the note.

Or Nico helped Hu without her knowledge, making the note to help her (edit : just realised this doesn't make a lot of sense ignore this).

I believe this is all I have so far and I'm very tired so you won't get a conclusion

Oh wait I hear something in the background...

"WHAT ABOUT THE TAAAAAAAAPE"

First of all, y'all gaslit me into thinking Ace couldn't have taken the tape so I'm already sick of this tape bullshit being used as decisive unshakeable evidence.

You know what I think probably happened ? Ace took the tape, after all it disappeared when he woke up and it's possible that he just then threw it away in the trash.

I mean Ace did say he was gonna "commit a murder of his own", it would be in line with him taking the tape.

Why isn't he talking about it then ? Because he'd be seen as the fucking culprit and also Ace is not really the most honest bitch out need i mention Ace witholding info about David and Arei's conversation.

[inamindfarfaraway]

The Exorcists’ Masks of Virtue

The vast majority of Exorcists in Hazbin Hotel have a notable design element that other angels don’t: their masks are missing an eye. Specifically, the right eye.

I believe this is a reference to the Bible, Matthew 5:29. Jesus says, “If your right eye causes you to stumble, gouge it out and throw it away. It is better for you to lose one part of your body than for your whole body to be thrown into hell.”

He’s being hyperbolic. Mr Free Healthcare was not pro-mutilation. What he means is that you have to be willing to make sacrifices to prevent sin. The context of the eye metaphor is him condemning adultery and warning that even something as easy, casual and small as a look full of lustful intent can lead to further, worse sin if you don’t notice your sin, hold yourself accountable for it and do the work to not let it influence your decisions. This will probably be hard. It could be very, very painful. Changing your perspective can feel as horrible as plucking out your eye, so many people can’t bring themselves to do it. But although it won’t feel that way in the moment, it’s healthier for our general wellbeing in the long run to abandon traits and behaviours that damage ourselves and/or others.

(You may notice that Jesus’s teaching that you can have sinned, redeem yourself by giving up sin and thus escape damnation is the founding principle of the Hazbin Hotel. You may also notice that it contradicts everything the Exorcists believe.)

The Exorcists seem to follow this idea of painfully excising badness for the sake of the greater good devoutly to the point of placing it above teachings like ‘Thou shalt not kill’, with their job being to remove sin, in the form of sinners, to protect Heaven. Hence the missing right eyes. They’re a declaration of moral righteousness and inability to stumble.

But the truth is that the Exorcists all have their right eyes. Their flawlessness is a facade. Underneath, they are untouched, think themselves morally untouchable and, as shown by their horror and outrage when even one of them is killed, would much rather be physically untouchable too. This perfectly represents their complete unwillingness to acknowledge their own faults, let alone improve. They are never the ones who sacrifice. They force the sinners to sacrifice and don’t compensate it with any salvation. They metaphorically rip out the sinners’ eyes, but still condemn their entire bodies as inherently, permanently sinful. So they’ll just have to do another Extermination to get the other eyes! And another one to cut off their right hands! And so on until there’s nothing left.

The only exception to the rule is Vaggie, both in appearance and character. Her mask has the left eye crossed out instead. Even before her expulsion, she’s set apart to the audience as an Exorcist who has the capacity to, shall we say, see a different side of things. Her mask having its ‘sinful’ right eye reflects her understanding that the Exorcist worldview is wrong.

When she almost kills a demon child, her hateful vision clears. She discards the part of herself that’s an unquestioning, merciless agent of death, terror and grief… and as punishment for what Lute perceives as treacherous weakness, gets her eye plucked out.

Of course Lute leaves her with only the ‘sinful’ eye. It brands Vaggie forever as the inversion, a perversion, of what the Exorcists are meant to be.

You know, all this talk of eye removal in the Bible reminds me of another line - ‘an eye for an eye’. Adam directly quotes it in “Hell is Forever”. He uses it to frame the Exterminations as Old Testament-style punitive justice; the sinners did harm and so they receive it. But putting aside the debate about how ethical the concept of revenge is, the entire point of taking an eye for an eye is that it’s proportional. The punishment fits the crime. If someone cuts your eye out, you shouldn’t murder their whole family in front of them and then slowly disembowel them to death. That would be the sin of wrath. You should just make them pay without excessive pain or collateral damage. This is the fairest form of revenge.

The Exorcists don’t do that! The Exterminations aren’t proportional to the wrongs of all they hurt, nor was Vaggie’s brutal punishment equivalent to her extremely mild insubordination. Lute literally takes Vaggie’s eye, and more, after Vaggie does nothing to her! That’s the opposite of the phrase! Adam and his soldiers are wrathful and cruel, deriving satisfaction from others’ suffering. But they just can’t stop going on and on about how disgustingly evil the sinners are, in total hypocrisy… despite some of the sinners being far better people than the genocidal Exorcists are… it’s like they’re obsessed with specks of dust in the sinners’ eyes when they have massive logs stuck in their own. Oh hey, that’s in the Bible too!

[yuri-is-online]

...so you just threw this beautiful idea of Fyuuture kid, and left me with a brainrot? Especially after you answered one ask with i quote "he loves his parent so much and was really fighting it to keep it together when he saw them alive again" end of the quote. WHAT DO YOU MEAN AGAIN? WHAT? HOW?

ask 1 and ask 2

Oh 👉👈? I wasn't expecting to get an ask about this au ever again actually, but I am so glad you did, I like it a lot. I mentioned Fire Emblem Awakening in the first ask I got about it but for those of you who haven't played the game, the plot features the children of your army traveling back in time to try and prevent the end of the world. That's more or less what happened in the fyuuture kid au, at least in my first draft... I always end up associating the "future kid meets their parents" trope with either FE: Awakening or I guess Golden Sun? Which I think is the name of the jrpg where something similar happens idk I just like there being a reason for the kid to need to meet their parents.

In my original draft of the au, Yuu was told by Crowley there was no way home for them, so they settled down with Yutu's father and started building a life together. This turned out to not be true, as the Magical Marshall's office began investigating the overblots that happened while Yuu was in school and came to the conclusion Yuu had something to do with them; so they were secretly arrested, cursed to forget everything about Twisted Wonderland, and sent home. The curse was meant to trigger every time Yuu vaguely remembered their time in the otherworld, with the idea their brain would prevent them from thinking about it after a while. They would have justified it, if anyone had been there to ask, by saying Yuu wouldn't know they were missing anything and would be able to live a happy life. When Yutu was born that made that outcome impossible, but the Marshal's office didn't think to check if Yuu was pregnant...

Shortly after they did that though strange things started happening. Monster attacks got more frequent, blot levels started rising, not to extremes immediately but still enough to be concerning. Reports of a strange, abyssal magic using beast, started pouring in to S.T.Y.X. suspiciously close to Grim's description. While Yuu was busy trying to put their life back together in their world, Twisted Wonderland slowly began to fall apart drowning under an ink colored sky. The overblot phantoms they fought come back and begin hunting in their respective homelands, and rumor has it they can turn certain mages into their thralls...

The curse slowly eats away at Yuu's brain, every time they see something that reminds them of their friends, their time at NRC, every time Yutu does something that would make them think about how much he takes after his dad, they feel a great deal of physical pain and temporarily lose the ability to function. It's killing them, and no doctor or specialist can figure out the cause, so Yutu just has to sit there and watch his parent slowly die and not be able to do anything about it. I was uncertain of where exactly I wanted Yuu to die in the story, but it always was around when Yutu gets isekaid to NRC, either before and he had to leave them behind or after when they both get to go home finally! But Yuu doesn't completely make it, they're able to have one moment of peace with their son and Professor Crewel before passing on.

Yutu's dad changes depending on who you want it to be of course, as does whether they met before he and his friends decided to go back in time to prevent this version of the future from ever happening, but his feelings about Yuu never changes. Yutu really admires his parent, he did even before he learned about them facing down overblots! They were really close and the more he learned about their curse, the more responsible he felt for their death. He's very determined to keep Yuu alive and safe in Twisted Wonderland in this timeline, even if it costs him his life.

His opinion on his dad really changes depending on who it is and what he learns about them. Like can you imagine learning your dad was known for being obsessed with teeth and no he had no intention of being a dentist? Clown behavior 💀💀💀 His friends were all ocs I made but never really developed... I do remember that one was a younger sibling of Kalim's (who could be his aunt if you like Kalim and absolutely embraces that role), her retainer, Crewel's son who also sees himself as Yutu's uncle (the feeling isn't mutual) because he is old enough to sort of remember Yuu and thinks of them as a sibling, and a random oc I based off of the kid from Up for no reason other than I like the movie. They also came back in time, but only Yutu ended up in the right place, just like fire emblem awakening.

idk I should probably do something with it. like writing the reactions for the other dorms...

[just-an-enby-lemon]

"When Hector died I felt anger." His sister looks at him skepticaly. The scars on her face a scary reminder, it should not be possible for them to hurt like that, to feel so much, to almost die, but their dad, their king could do it. "Even before the war the achaeans were your champions, yours, dad's, Hermes, Ares's, even Hera's. Hector was mine."

"You ruined his sister in pettyness." She finally says cold and almost unafected. He knows her way to well and they are long past that, he has no idea what she is thinking but he knows she'll never forget today, he won't either, he just hopes she forgives.

"Aren't mortals there for us to ruin?" His conviction about it used to be stronger, more honest, he didn't care for Cassandra but mayhaps he should have.

"Did you knew they existed before us?" His sister answers never one to refuse a debate. Ares was better at this types of conversations, Ares for all his faults was better at being a brother to all, Apollo was a good brother to Artemis, his other half, maybe to Hermes, sometimes, but he still didn't knew how to be with the others. "They were there with the old gods and with the Titans... they'll likely be there after us."

He wants to say it won't be an after them. But this aren't his words and the lightning never stroke him (it had never stroked Athena either, what's the point of being the favorites when you can still be hurt?).

"I love the sirens."

"You already made that point."

"I could not raise Hector and his clan as a reason. It was the gods will, dad's will, that made Odysseus kill Hector's son, and I already had my permited vengeance when I helped Paris kill Achiles."

She nods serius.

"Hector was my champion but I would never have his death be a reason to fight with dad. I would never have protected his child. I didn't."

"Are you here to blame me?"

"No... I... your mortal, you call him friend, it's true isn't it? He is not just a champion."

"I was never one for lies." But she smiles, a mischivous glint in her eyes, she was always one for lies, but she was also always one to tell truth when it actually mattered.

"Was it worth it?"

"Be more specific, dear brother." She knows what he wants to ask but she also knows how hard it is for him and how frustrating it is for the god of poetry to lose his words. This is her smaller, pettiest revenge and it fills him with relief that maybe things didn't change irreparably between them.

"All that happened today, all your suffering, not only the physical pain but the knowledge, was your friend worth it?"

She looks at him pondering the question before answering resolute. "Yes. Absolutly."

He smilles soflty.

"In this case I hope Odysseus makes home well and recovers from all his misfortunes. He must be really exceptional to have your friendship."

"He is."

"I heard he is a marksman. I don't think he'll need it but I'll still do my best to garantee his arrows do not miss a single target." It's the closest to an apology he'll ever be able to say. He hopes she takes it.

"Apollo, what you said about knowledge, I always knew we weren't really imune from father just cause he called us his favorites." His eyes grow bigger, she must really love her mortal, a small part of him thinks, Zeus will end us all one day the bigger part says in a small panicked realization. "Goddess of knowledge." It's a small jest, a way to take him out of his own fears, she'll never say she forgives him but now he knows she does.

"Silly of me to ever have forgotten it." He answers. More because he fells he has to say something. "Now if you forgive me, I have new bands to find and you have a long list of concerned sibblings to listen to and a mortal to save. Good luck, Thena."

He didn't really nicknamed his sibblings, there was always 'sweetheart', 'darling', 'honey', 'girlie' but never nicknames. Those were for Artemis and Hermes only. He should start changing that.

"See you arround, fanboy."

Athena never ever nicknames, she isn't soft, she isn't silly and her jokes are always dry. 'Fanboy' sounds like Hermes. THIS is the actual closest to forgiviness he'll have. He laughs musically as he leaves.

[mumms-the-word]

your tags about wyll being another disabled person standing up for stelmane... yeah. like all the characters have amazing links to disability like gale's orb, karlach's heart, astarion's hunger all being chronic illnesses essentially, shadowheart dealing with chronic pain, lae'zel i think is the only one without disability coding like that? but wyll being like obviously physically disabled in a different way to everyone else feels important. and the whole thing of overt physical disability being treated completely differently to invisible disability bc there is no way to hide so you're an obvious target (ask me how i know...) so yeah wyll. ugh 💜

I have MANY thoughts about the various disabilities in the game and the way that BG3 is ultimately a Search for a Cure game that dares to suggest “but what if you don’t want the cure? We have a path for that”

But yes to catch others up:

Wyll is physically disabled because he is missing an eye, so he is half blind (though for gameplay purposes we don’t see him with a debuff in accuracy or a lower movement range like we see with completely-blind Zanner Toobin)

Karlach has a chronic heart condition, her heart is a literal machine and it causes her a great deal of pain and discomfort and it will eventually kill her

Gale has the orb, it causes heart-pain/chest-pain-like aches and if left unaddressed will literally disabled him in terms of gameplay because he will slow down and all his attack/defense dice rolls take a hit

Shadowheart has the mark on her hand, which flares up at random and comes with a sharp pain. She also has amnesia, which can be considered a disability

Astarion has vampirism, which, depending on how you read it, is itself a kind of disability (though the tadpole negates a lot of the disabling parts of vampirism for him). I don’t read his hunger as chronic illness mostly because regular hunger isn’t chronic illness and he does find ways to manage his hunger; he is however traumatized and likely has a host of mental illnesses that I won’t diagnose him with, though CPTSD seems like the obvious low hanging fruit

Lae’zel’s only known disability or illness is the tadpole. And she treats it like a disabiltiy or an illness rather than an asset. Unlike others, she’s seeking to cure it, point blank, no negotiations

So the game is full of unexpected and intentional disability representation, even when actual disability isn’t like….actually affecting your gameplay. Sometimes it does, like with Gale, but often it doesn’t mess with your dice rolls or attack range or accuracy. The game just isn’t built for that.

But anyway you point is not about the gameplay. It’s about Wyll.

Wyll I think is interesting because out of the Core Six, he’s the only one comfortable with his disability. I think this is partly because it doesn’t cause him pain. (Pain is after all the Great Complicator in disability discussion.) Even when he turns into a devil, which would do wild things to his psyche, he takes it in stride. This might be bad writing or it might be intentional—physical difference just doesn’t fluster him

But anyway he’s so comfortable in his disability that he jokes with you when you join the “One Eye Club.” He speaks of Stelmane post-stroke as a survivor and a person of value. I imagine he doesn’t have much experience with chronic pain or chronic illness but he’s probably dealt with tons of injuries (look at all his scars) even at his young age. He’s an idealist, but I think he also speaks from experience when he says that Stelmane is “no less worthy of life or success because she is disabled”

I think he thinks the same of his friends. Karlach, Gale, Shadowheart, Astarion, Lae’zel, even if they were able to cure their tadpoles or fix their conditions, he would find them no less valuable and worthy before or after their cures. I don’t think he always understands exactly the chronic pain/illness element but he would never ever say that a person is less worthy of simply living or succeeding or becoming a hero or becoming anything they want to be just because they have a disability or illness

Chalk it up to his idealism but I think that makes Wyll one of the more surprising and uplifting characters in the game, among his other surprising and uplifting characteristics. Like…he’s going to believe in you, no matter what. And he’s going to support you however he can. We see that with Karlach, and how much he would prefer his best friend live with her chronic illness in an environment that will lessen her pain than die. He’d probably give up his magic boots off his feet for Gale. He’d probably agree to fight Shar one on one to try and get her to stop plaguing Shadowheart with pain. He doesn’t want his friends to hurt, but he doesn’t think they’re less valuable or weak for hurting, you know?

Anyway we don’t deserve Wyll Ravengard

[rougepancake]

Here is my revised request lol

Where it's a one-sided love/crush with yushiro, mitsuri, Obana, and Lady Tamayo, how the reader wishes them all the best but also just wants them. If there is even a sliver of chance for them to return their one-side love. If you feel like it, maybe they might have someone who is helping them move on from the one side love?

Get ready for this to hurt.

And if you’re in love, then you are the lucky one.

FT. Yushiro, Kanroji Mitsuri, Iguro Obanai, and Lady Tamayo. Gender Neutral reader.

WARNINGS: Angsty as hell. I drew the title from the song Youth by Daughter. Some reciprocation in Obanai’s. I also hope I did Yushiro justice. I’ve never written for him before. Um pretty emotional overall. Don’t forget to put on your sad music while reading this. These are going to be pretty long. Some were very obviously cut short due to how long they were getting, for that, I apologize. Please bear with me 😭

YUSHIRO

Each day you awoke longing for a purpose, and every time the day failed you. It wasn’t until you caught wind of the Demon Slayer Corps that things finally started to look up. It seemed perfect. You’d undergo training and then participate in a simple survival event. Of course, it wasn’t as easy as it sounded. The training you underwent was harsh, and the final selection was even worse. Each time the sun set you feared for your life until you remembered that this was the challenge that you had been waiting for. You claimed it to be your calling, despite not being very good at it.

When it was all said and done, you picked the metal for your weapon and went about your business. There had only been one other person to make it out of the selection alive. You remember being surprised. How could so many people have trained so hard only to lose their lives? One would have thought that they would have been properly prepared before entering the challenge. Though, you were hardly prepared yourself. It was nothing but sheer luck that kept you alive, and you were more than grateful.

It wasn’t long before your crow had begun to send you all over to complete missions. Each demon you encountered seemed to be much stronger than the last, a thought that frightened you. With each one you killed, you felt yourself growing more powerful. Your breathing techniques were perfect, it was just your lack of physical strength that caused you to struggle. But you weren’t too worried about it. If you had been able to take down the ones before, then there was nothing stopping you from taking down the one now, right?

Right?

That’s what you thought when you chased the lower rank six of the Twelve Kizuki into a corner. You were sure that it had nowhere else to go, which would ensure that you’d be able to kill it and move on to the next place. You were sure that if your stance was just right, then you’d be able to land the perfect blow and come out victorious. But you were wrong.

The demon wasted no time freeing itself of your presence before appearing behind you suddenly. Your heart had dropped, leaving you with nothing to do but hope that a fellow demon slayer would sense your distress and come to your aid. Unfortunately, that was not the case.

The foul beast beat you within an inch of your life, leaving you to drown in your own blood. You cried as you lay there, unable to move. Your life had been short, but you were willing to accept it as it was and move on to the next one. Everything faded to black slowly, and you heard the sound of oxides speaking over you as you lost consciousness. You recalled smiling at the sound. They sounded like angels.

Approximately three days later, you awoke. You didn’t recognize the room you were in, which put you in edge. Bandages covered numerous wounds scattered across your body, an observation that led to you noticing your uniform top was missing. Thankfully you still had the bottoms on, or else you would’ve felt incredibly uncomfortable. You groaned in pain as you sat up. Your head was spinning.

“We thought you wouldn’t make it.” A gentle, feminine voice spoke. You turned to look at the speaker, your eyes landing on the most beautiful woman you had ever seen. Her skin was pale and glossy, her eyes an alluring shade of purple. She was elegant. She was an angel. Behind her stood a slightly shorter man. While he too was beautiful, you noticed that he looked far from pleased at your survival. The woman saw you avert your gaze and followed it, giving the man a stern look before turning back to you. “You may call me Tamayo,” she paused, “and he is Yushiro. Would you mind telling us about yourself, demon slayer?”

“How do you know I’m a…” you trailed off and sighed. Of course. They must be demon slayers themselves if they recognized your uniform. “I don’t really have anything notable to say about myself. I joined the Demon Slayer Corps in hopes of being able to do something with my life. Before that it’s all mundane,” you frowned and swung your legs over the side of the bed. You winced as your feet hit the floor. If only you had died. You would’ve spared these people the trouble of looking after you. You met Tamayo’s gaze. “Are you affiliated with the Corps?”

She hesitated, stuttering slightly before simply smiling at you. “Why don’t you join us out here for some tea,” she suggested. Her response confused you, but you nodded nonetheless. She and Yushiro left, giving you some time to explore the room you were in. Your uniform top was folded neatly atop a nearby chair. You reached out and grabbed it. The thing must’ve been torn to shreds by that demon, seeing as there were many different colored patches decorating it. You sighed and slipped it on over your head.

Your body ached with each move you made, yet you persisted. Slowly, you made it out of the room and into the hallway. You followed the sounds of voices to an open room that appeared to be the main room. Tamayo had her hands folded neatly in her lap as she spoke to Yushiro, who had his legs crossed and his hands resting on his knees. He gave you a disgusted look before continuing his chat with Tamayo.

Hesitantly, you sat down with them, resting your legs neatly to the side. Tamayo turned to look at you before taking a deep breath. “You asked us if we were affiliated with the Corps in any way. To tell you the truth, we are. We know of them and they know of us.” Yushiro scoffed. “But we ourselves are not demon slayers. We are demons that exist freely of Muzan Kibutsuji’s control.” Your eyes widened. You had no clue that such a thing was possible. “We mean you no harm, truly. Our goals align with those of the Demon Slayer Corps.”

She gave you a second to process the information. You had so many questions, but you feared being rude. Sensing this, she gestured for you to go on. “How did you break free of his curse?” You were immediately answered by an annoyed sigh from Yushiro.

“Such a foolish question! Do not ask Lady Tamayo such things!” He glared at you.

“Yushiro. It is only right for them to ask questions. Don’t shun them,” she paused, mulling over her next words. “I spent many years trying to free myself of Muzan’s control. But it wasn’t until I was spared by a very kind man that I was freed. Since then, I have dedicated my life to the study of both demon and human biology,” she hung her head slightly, averting her gaze. You could tell by her tone that she was thankful to have been spared. It nearly brought tears to your eyes.

“What about Yushiro? Was he not a servant of Muzan too?” You asked slowly, tilting your head. Yushiro crossed his arms and looked away, biting his tongue to avoid making Tamayo upset.

“Ah… Yushiro. He had a chronic illness that kept him bedridden for years. His condition would worsen each day I was taking care of him. He was practically dying before my eyes. I gave him the choice to go on living that way, or to be cured and live longer as a demon. There weren’t any promises I could make him about the treatment’s effectiveness, but I couldn’t bear to watch him suffer.” You listened in awe. She was so sweet, and you thought that it was the most amazing thing.

“So you…” were a human. You looked at Yushiro. These two beings before you had rejected their existences as demons and chose to aid humans instead. It really was quite wonderful. “You two… are amazing.” Tamayo’s eyes widened at your words. She seems taken aback by your honesty. Yushiro seemed equally as stunned, his eyes briefly looking over at you. After all, it was rare that they weren’t treated like the monsters that they were.

“Why… thank you.” Tamayo smiled softly, a light hearted expression gracing her features.

Over time you began to heal. The everlasting soreness in your body had finally begun to fade, which allowed you to help out around the house. Tamayo had gone out and bought you a casual yukata so you wouldn’t constantly be in your uniform. You wore it whenever it was clean to show her how much you appreciated it. Oh she was so sweet to you. Yushiro too. Since the time you had first joined them, he had really warmed up to your being there.

The two of you would often go out together and pick herbs for Tamayo. He knew all of the right places to look, and how to tell if what he was looking for was ripe or not. You admired his knowledge on the topic, often remarking on his experience when you were out. Every now and then he’d show you what you should look for, but you were mainly just there to provide some form of protection if the need arose. Not that you didn’t think he was capable of protecting himself— it’s just that Tamayo stated that it would be better if you went out and kept watch for him.

This time was just like the last, but only in the sense that you were on the lookout for other demons while he was working. It seemed that recently your feelings toward him had changed. He had grown close enough to you to tell you about his feelings for Tamayo, and you had grown close enough to him to realize that you had fallen for him. It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. It just made things a little awkward for you.

“Here. Hold this,” he huffed as he shoved an armful of the plants into your arms. “Lady Tamayo said that she needed a lot this time,” he mumbled to himself. You nodded with a sigh. He admired her so much, and she only saw him as a friend. It was comical when you didn’t think about the pain that it caused him. In many ways, you and him were similar. But you knew he didn’t want to compare himself to a mortal being such as yourself.

“What else did she say she needed?” You asked, peering over the heap of herbs in your arms to look at him. He had frozen in place, his eyes narrowed. “What is it?” You whispered, now on edge. Instinctively, you reached out for your sword, dropping the herbs in the process.

In the blink of an eye, Yushiro pushed you to the side and blocked an attack from the demon that he had assumed was following you through the forest. He groaned as he fought it off, wincing at the relentless assault. You quickly rose to your feet, katana in hand, and leaped at the monster. You managed to cut its head off with one swift movement.

“Are you alright?” He asked, quickly turning to look at you. His hands grasped your cheeks, moving your face around to see if you were hurt in any way. The action caused your face to flush. Yushiro noticed that your face had gotten slightly warmer, taking his hands away and giving you a confused look before turning and picking up the herbs.

“Can I… tell you something?” You asked slowly, attempting to aid him. He moved away from you and muttered a sharp ‘no’.

The walk home was spent in awkward silence. Maybe he’d realized how you felt about him. Maybe not. You weren’t sure, and it bothered you horribly. He kept his distance from you, his head turned so he wouldn’t have an opportunity to glance at you. It broke your heart. In such a short amount of time, he had begun to mean everything to you, and yet, you were nothing. He’d push you to the side and focus on Tamayo, you were sure.

And you were right. In the days following that little incident, he avoided you. He went out by himself everywhere and hardly spoke to you when he passed by. It pained you more than you had thought, seeing as Tamayo could sense your hurt. She sighed as she stood outside of your room. Emotions to her were like a wavelength that she could visualize. What you were feeling was strong enough to suffocate her. It only made her worry about you.

“Can I come in?” She asked slowly, knocking gently on the door. You mumbled a response and she walked in. “Is everything between you and Yushiro alright?” She sat down next to you on your bed, her concerned eyes meeting yours.

“Yeah. Everything’s fine. We just ran into a demon the other day, so it’s got him shaken,” you frowned, turning your head away from her. You could feel your lip quiver. Just thinking about it made your heart ache. After a few more seconds of sitting there, you sighed. There was a possibility that she could help you through your emotions. You turned back to face her, your tone slightly wistful. “I think I love him, Tamayo. There’s no realistic way for me to tell him or even be with him because he’s not human, but I feel so strongly for him in a way that I’ve never felt about anyone before…” you hung your head.

“I see…” she trailed off. There wasn’t really any form of advice she could offer you and she felt bad. “Don’t fault him for not knowing his emotions well enough to properly respond. He may not fully come around, but he will want to start being around you again,” she placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Just give it time.” You nodded, biting the inside of your cheek as you thought.

Just give it time.

But you didn’t have the time he did. You were doomed to die much sooner than he could ever dream of.

Tamayo left you alone with your thoughts. Of course you wanted to listen to her, but you knew it would be best if you didn’t. There was no sense in waiting when he had his heart set on Tamayo. And that hurt you more than anything. You laid back onto your bed, frowning.

Just give it time.

MITSURI

For years you had been a hashira alongside Mitsuri. Rengoku had trained you both when you joined the corps, but even then you had known her prior to serving in the corps. The whole reason you became a demon slayer was because she wanted to. She just didn’t want to go through it alone, which was fair. While Rengoku had taught you his breathing technique, neither you nor Mitsuri had resonated strongly with it. You made the choice to invent your own technique called ‘ice breathing,’ and she followed suit. Together, you made your way up the ranks and became hashiras.

It seemed that you did everything together.

If she were assigned a mission, she’d drag you along with her. If she wanted to go out to town, then she’d ask you if you wanted to go. Even your estates were in the same village. You really just couldn’t escape her.

It didn’t bother you much though. She was your friend, after all.

But you couldn’t help but want more. You had wanted more with her for such a long time you felt you were beginning to lose your mind.

There had been many times where you had gotten her alone to confess, but each time was interrupted by her crow calling her out to take care of something. Each of the hashira could see that you had fallen for Mitsuri, with the exception of Obanai. He had steered clear of everyone as soon as he gained the title of hashira. You on the other hand, had not. Tengen had been a good friend of yours outside of Mitsuri.

Actually, he had been the one talking you through the whole process. He claimed that since he had three wives, he was the right guy to ask. Because of this, you found yourself in many odd situations in the name of love. Unfortunately, Mitsuri just didn’t notice. She had always been told that she was undesirable because of her appearance, and yet, she was the most beautiful woman you’d ever seen.

You had a plan this time. A plan that was slightly guaranteed to work. Even if it didn’t work in your favor, it’d still work. You’d get her alone under the stars and propose. Yes, propose. Marriage amongst hashira wasn’t really accepted, due to the circumstances of the title, but no one had to know. As long as you had her you’d be happy.

“So what’re you going to do when you get her alone?” Tengen asked, attempting to lift up your spirits. He’d promised to keep the whole thing a secret, which you’d greatly appreciated. You couldn’t have been more thankful for his help. Especially now that you were so in need of it.

“I’m going to take her hands, look into her eyes and tell her how I feel!” You nodded, your expression serious. All of this seemed rather silly, but his enthusiasm was making you feel better.

“That’s right! And what’s she going to do?” He wrapped a large, beefy arm around your shoulder, pulling you close to him with a grin. You chuckled and pushed him away.

“Yes!” You paused, looking away in embarrassment. “This feels stupid,” you sighed, shaking your head. “Why are we doing this again?”

“We’re doing this so you won’t back out at the last minute,” he raised a brow as he looked at you. His hands landed on his hips. Why was this grown man full of such sassiness? You rolled your eyes.

“I’m not going to back out!” You argued, but to no avail. Tengen mocked you with his hand, a smirk growing on his lips.

“I mean, if it doesn’t work out you can always marry me,” the taller man spit out nonchalantly. His words caused you to choke on air. You gave him a look, feigning disgust as you stared at him.

“Yeah no, I’ll pass,” you shuddered at the thought.

“I’m just saying.”

You sighed once more, looking out at the scenery. The sun was beginning to set, which meant that you would soon be alone with Mitsuri. The thought both scared and excited you. After all, you’d finally get the chance to tell her a secret that you’ve kept for so long. Even if she didn’t feel the same, at least you’d get the satisfaction that came with finally having your question answered.

The stars shined brightly overhead, perfectly visible from the tree you had chosen to sit under. Mitsuri would be arriving any moment now. Any moment. Your heart rate only increased as the seconds passed. Tonight was different from all of your other attempts, but only in the sense that you were asking to be bound to her forever. Well, either way you’d be with her, but you wanted to be with her.

“There you are!” Your friend cheerily called out, grinning as she sat next to you. “I’m so sorry I was late! Iguro gifted me these pretty green socks and treated me to some sweets afterward! They were the most delicious sweets I’d ever had!” She giggled gleefully at the thought. “Oh if only you had been there! Did you know that Iguro is actually a sweetie? Oh he’s such a sweetie! And he’s cute, too! I had to refrain from blushing the whole time, it was so embarrassing!” She continued to giggle, trailing off when she remembered that it was you that had asked her to join you. Her face flushed and she looked up at the sky. “So how come you wanted to hang out all the way out here?”

You swallowed, hanging your head in shame. Of course. Obanai. Your heart ached as you sat next to her. She had said he was cute, but that didn’t mean anything, did it? She said that about everyone she liked. Your hands clutched your slayer uniform. This was foolish of you. There was no way you had thought that you stood a chance at getting with Mitsuri. It was almost laughable. You had no idea how Tengen entertained the idea for so long.

“Hello…?” She leaned forward and waved her hand in front of your face. The motion pulled you from your thoughts, causing you to jump slightly. “Ah! There’s my friend! I was starting to think I’d lost you!” She smiled widely and giggled once again.

“My apologies,” you forced a nervous chuckle, your face flushing a light shade of pink. Thankfully she didn’t notice. “I didn’t mean to zone out on you.” Your heart pounded. You needed to leave as soon as possible. You couldn’t bear to be around her in this moment. It was hurting you. “I actually had something I wanted to talk to you about—“

“Caw! Head west to the nearest town! Caw! Get moving! Get moving!” Mitsuri’s crow called out. Its raspy voice ruined the moment entirely, making you frown. Your friend rose to her feet quickly, giving you a sympathetic look.

“Would you like to join me?” She asked sweetly, but you declined. “Alright! I’m going to go find Iguro and see if he wants to go! I’ll see you later, friend!” You waved, giving her a soft smile as she ran off. As soon as she was no longer in your line of sight, you ran to find Tengen. He’d promised you that he’d stay in the area for your sake, a promise that you really hadn’t expected to see through.

You ran, your breathing heavy and your heart heavier. You cursed yourself mentally for being so stupid. Actually, you were mid swear when Tengen stumbled upon you.

“Woah there! I’m guessing that things didn’t go well?” You shot him a glare before simply breaking down. He took a step back, unsure of how to handle the situation. Of course he’s comforted people before, but that didn’t mean that things like this didn’t catch him off guard. After a few seconds of watching you cry in silence, he stepped forward and hugged you. In all actuality, he had thought that you had this in the bag. He really saw no reason as to why you wouldn’t.

You never really explained things to him until the next day, which even then you were reluctant to do. Of course he had told you that you should go out for it again, but you disagreed. Obanai made her giddy in a way that you felt you couldn’t, so you saw no point in competing.

Things would be easier if you just stayed her friend.

OBANAI

Days turned into weeks that turned into months. Soon those months would turn into years. You had been staying at the home of Shinobu Kocho for ages now due to an injury you had received while you were away on a mission. The demon had nearly taken off your arm, breaking several of your bones in the process. Thankfully, you were able to kill if before it could kill you, but it resulted in you calling for aid.

Only a handful of your fellow demon slayers had set aside time to visit you, including your close friend and fellow hashira Gyomei. Each time he visited you he wound up sobbing, praising you for your resilience and bravery. He cared a lot for you, and your recent incident had caused him to worry about you more than usual. He had even set aside missions to help Shinobu take care of you. He was a true friend.

Aside from him, only one other hashira had come to visit you. Iguro Obanai.

Obanai was someone that you didn’t really know all too well, despite both reaching the rank of hashira at the same time. You had always been friendly with him, of course, but it never really went farther than that. You thought of him as alluring and slightly mysterious. His silence intrigued you, as did his mask and his snake. He was an enigma in your eyes.

With your curiosity arose some issues. The deeper you dove into his history, the more you found yourself longing to get to know him. You couldn’t even think about him normally without getting slightly flustered, which upset you. After all, your feelings towards him were rooted in your curiosity, nothing more.

“How are you doing today, my friend?” Gyomei’s voice met your ears. He ducked as he entered the room, walking over and sitting on the chair next to your bed.

“Not too bad, actually,” you grinned, “I was able to walk around the corridor earlier! You should’ve been there! I didn’t even need help standing!” You chuckled softly and Gyomei smiled softly. Tears began to slide down his cheeks as he faced you.

“You are so strong! I’m so happy for you!” He clasped his hands together, tilting his head back dramatically. You rolled your eyes, smiling. “I hope that you continue to do well!” Your smile only grew at his enthusiasm. He was sweet, that was for sure.

“Gyomei, I’ve got a question for you,” you asked slowly, waiting for him to calm down some.

“What is it, dear friend?”

You shifted in your bed, suddenly feeling nervous. “What do you know about Obanai? I know it’s odd, but I can’t help but be curious. I don’t really know too much about him. Though, now that I think about it, you probably don’t either. He doesn’t talk much,” you sigh, chuckling softly. He was confusing, that much was true.

“I know only what I’ve been told,” your friend paused, “which is very little. I’m apologize, friend,” he rose to his feet, his hands still clasped together. “I will make time to visit you again next week. I cannot wait to see how much better you are doing then!” He smiled once more before leaving.

Your time alone was brief. The door closed, only to open again, revealing the man that you had just asked about. All you could do was offer him a smile. He walked forward some and sat, looking at you for a few seconds before audibly taking a deep breath.

“How are you?” He asked bluntly. The snake around his neck eyed you, its tongue reaching in your direction.

“I’m just as good as I was yesterday,” you tease but he doesn’t react. Talking to him is like talking to a rock. “They had me walking down the hallway earlier, which means that I should be doing more by the end of the week, though, it just depends on what Shinobu has to say about my condition.” You smiled. He was really good at getting you to ramble so he could avoid conversation. You found it funny, in a way. He’d rather listen to you speak than have to talk.

“Here, I brought you this,” he reached forward, revealing a brand new haori. You gasped at the sight. It looked just like the one you had lost when you got injured. Grinning, you took it from his hands and held it in the air to get a better look. Its resemblance to your old one was impressive. You hugged it and giggled.

“How did you get this?” You look up at him. His face looks slightly flushed, but you think nothing of it.

“I heard that you didn’t have your old one anymore. I know a seamstress in the town over, so I commissioned her to make you a new one.” He wasn’t about to tell you that he had memorized the patterns from observing you so often. No, that sounded weird. He was hoping that you wouldn’t question him any further.

“Thank you, Obanai. I really appreciate your gift.” You looked down at the haori, playing with the fabric between your fingers. Hopefully you’d be able to wear it soon.

After that, Obanai began to miss days. Once he had come in with Mitsuri, which hurt you to see. They looked happy together, so you couldn’t really be too upset, but it did bother you some. Each time he stopped by, he seemed to be less talkative than before, which you didn’t know could happen. With each day he missed, you seemed to be getting better. Within a week, you were able to go out on small missions in the nearest town. A few days after that, you were finally back to your regular routine.

Shinobu had discharged you from her infirmary, which meant that you finally got to return to your own estate. With everything going on, you had yet to stop and check in with Gyomei. You felt bad about it, but you couldn’t just skip out on these missions. There had been so much in your area that you hadn’t been able to take care of, and you needed to get to work on it.

“Caw! Head east, head east! Caw!” Your crow’s cries echoed into the air. Its shrill voice never failed to make you cringe. “Dangerous! Backup will be there! Caw!” You sighed and continued on. Hopefully it would be Gyomei.

You reached the area, looking out at the dark forest that threatened you. You couldn’t help but wonder what had hidden itself in there that was considered dangerous enough for you, a hashira, to need backup.

The sound of footsteps caused you to draw your blade, pointing its edge at the culprit. Obanai didn’t even jump, looking at you with his hetrochromatic eyes. He seemed surprised to see you already out in the field, wearing the haori he got you, no less. His face flushed slightly and he pushed past you, hoping you didn’t notice.

“Sorry about that. I’m a little on edge,” you admitted, sheathing your blade and catching up to him. “I didn’t know you were in the area.”

“Pure coincidence.”

“Right…” you eyed him before nodding. “So how’s everything back at the headquarters? I know you live relatively close to it. How are the others?”

“They’re all fine.”

“Gyomei too?”

“Gyomei too.” His tone got slightly more bitter at the mention of Gyomei, something that nearly went over your head. You froze, giving him a confused look.

“Do you not like Gyomei?” You tilted your head, your brows furrowing.

“I find him to be very respectable.” He paused. “… how do you feel about Mitsuri?” His question only confused you more.

“She’s a great slayer, and really sweet. I like her,” you caught up to him once again. “Why…?”

“Are you and Gyomei engaged?” He blurted out, turning to look at you. You were caught so off guard by his gaze that you took a step back.

“Of course not! He and I are just close friends! I thought everyone knew that.” Well clearly not everyone knew that. You cleared your throat, looking out around you for any signs of danger. Weird. You weren’t sensing anything. “What’s all of this about?”

“Nothing, I—“ he cut himself off, continuing on with his walk. He stopped again and turned back to face you. “Mitsuri and I aren’t engaged either.”

He turned back around, not wasting any time heading deeper into the forest. Your body was frozen in confusion. That whole interaction was weird. You shook it off and ran after him.

You couldn’t help but feel better now that you knew about him and Mitsuri, though. Yes it was weird, but it had bothered you since he had stopped coming around. Truth be told, you had fallen for him not long after he had begun his daily visits. The fact that he cared enough to give you his attention daily made you feel like you were special, and you liked that. Who wouldn’t?

Once he came back into sight, you slowed down, making sure he was aware that it was you instead of a demon. You rested your hand on the hilt of your katana, following him in silence. That’s how the rest of the mission was spent, in silence. The two of you never really found the supposed dangerous demon, but you didn’t mind. At least now you could rest easy knowing that you stood a slight chance with your fellow hashira.

LADY TAMAYO

For as long as you could remember, you had been under the care of Lady Tamayo and her assistant Yushiro. Your life prior to joining them was a memory that eluded you. No matter how hard you tried, you just couldn’t remember how you had met them. They had tried to explain it all to you before, but it never made sense. Demons? Demon slayers? It all sounded like a fairy tale.

Tamayo had entrusted you with taking care of the garden out behind the house, a duty you had accepted happily. You enjoyed watering the various herbs. Their lives were just as valuable as yours, and you made sure to treat them with as much tenderness as you could.

Every now and then Tamayo would come and help you, but that was rare. She usually spent her time inside, studying away at human biology. It interested you some, but you knew better than to interrupt her.

When Tamayo wasn’t available, you’d spend your time with Yushiro. He never really got a say in the matter, but thankfully he had learned to stop protesting a while ago. The two of you were walking down the streets of the town the house was hidden in. Despite it being late, there were many vendors that were still open. Their resilience intrigued you. You reached out and tugged on Yushiro’s sleeve, smiling softly.

“Do you think that Lady Tamayo would like this?” You asked, holding up an intricate painting of a woman looking at the moon. Yushiro looked at it, his eyes widening slightly. He was impressed by the strokes on the canvas. Tamayo was fond of art, so of course she would like it, but Yushiro didn’t want her to favor you more than she did him. He crossed his arms.

“Get it. But make sure to tell her that I helped you pick it out,” he said stubbornly before turning to walk once more.

Eagerly, you bought the painting, carrying it under your arm as you followed Yushiro. He stopped suddenly, holding his head in his hand. You recognized this behavior, grabbing his shoulder and leading him off to the side and sitting him down. He looked pale than usual, and you sighed.

“When was the last time you ate?” You asked, setting the painting to the side gently. The man only grunted in response, pouting as he avoided your concerned gaze.

“… last week…” he mumbled.

“Last week?! You know you’re not supposed to go that long without food!” You panicked and looked around. Nobody could see you. With a huff, you scooted towards him. “Listen, you can feed off of me just this once. It’s too risky to have you roaming the streets while starved,” you sighed, “you must’ve felt like you were going insane! Oh come here…” you pulled down the shoulder of your kimono, revealing more skin than you would’ve liked. Yushiro eyed you. The thought of eating even a bit of your flesh scared him. What if Tamayo found out? What would she think of him?

“Hurry up!” You whispered through your teeth, giving him a glare. He was taking way too long to make up his mind. Unfortunately, you didn’t have time. He sighed and leaned forward, taking a bite out of your skin.

About five minutes later, the two of you returned to the town. He seemed to be in a better mood now, which was good. You just couldn’t believe that he was walking around while hungry like that. Things would’ve been bad if he had snapped.

“Hey Yushiro?”

“What?”

“Do you think Lady Tamayo likes anyone?” You asked as you readjusted the painting. It was random, but you couldn’t help but be curious. His cheeks flushed a rosy pink and he sighed.

“I don’t think so. She’s too focused on doing her duties to set aside time for things like romance,” he frowned slightly as he spoke.

“Hey Yushiro?”

“What?”

“I think I like Lady Tamayo.” Your words made him choke on nothing. He hadn’t expected that in the slightest.

“You and me both…” he mumbled, leading you back to the house.

Tamayo loved the painting, choosing to hang it at the end of the hallway. Every time she saw you she made sure to thank you for the thoughtful present. Her compliments made you giddy, usually causing your face to flush a little.

You felt that your feelings for her only got stronger with each day that passed. Hell, you couldn’t even think of her without getting butterflies in your stomach. It was beginning to get in the way of your work. On times she’d come out to the garden to help you, you wouldn’t be able to speak. You were sure that if you said something, you’d butcher it so badly that you’d have to ask Yushiro to end your misery.

You sighed as you pulled another weed from the ground near the garden. The herbs were looking great, despite it being their off season. The luscious green plants surrounded you. They were nearly big enough to hide you completely, and you took great pride in that fact.

“Hey, are you ready to go out? Lady Tamayo said that she needed some time alone for a while.” Yushiro’s voice caused you to perk up. You nodded and gave him a smile.

“Hold on! I need to change real quick!” You stood up and went inside to your room. It didn’t take you long before you were standing in front of Yushiro, asking him what the plan was for tonight.

“Let’s stay in town.”

“Alright.”

There weren’t as many shops open tonight, unfortunately, so you and Yushiro just took to heading towards the park in the middle of the town. It was a small park, but that didn’t stop it from being beautiful. You sighed as you sat down onto the grass. A part of you wished to find another gift for Tamayo, but your options were limited.

You looked up at the moon, taking in its glory in silence before turning back to your friend.

“Does your love for Lady Tamayo ever cause you pain?” You asked.

“Sometimes.”

“Sometimes?”

“Yeah.”

A part of you understood what he meant. Sometimes she was so beautiful that it caused your heart to throb in agony. Maybe it was because you knew that she would never be yours. Either way, your giddy love for her was beginning to torment your weary soul. You didn’t enjoy being around her simply due to the fact that her sweet words wouldn’t fail to cause you some sort of pain.

“Yeah…” you repeated, sighing once more.

[darknessisafriend]

hi, can i have another request 👉👈 what about commodus not sleeping or barely sleeping for a long time (cause paranoia) and the reader is the only one who manages to calm him down and finally get him to have a good rest? with a side of Extra Cuddling please

Here it is! always such a pleasure to write Commodus! enjoy^^

Sleepless slumber

Dark and dreadful night, the owl on the roof, the cracking of the fire on the torches of the room, what a nightmare it had become for him, his thoughts running so loud that it became unbearable. How could people sleep so tight at night when there was so much to do? So much for the glory of Rome…

It had been weeks since Commodus had a restful night of sleep. At first, he had tried to come to bed under your encouragements, now he didn’t try anymore. He simply did not sleep. It had started to affect his physical and mental health already, he had grown more emotional, irritable and irrational, his paranoia growing while his body struggled to keep up with training during the day, missing his targets while shooting an arrow or not thinking strategically while fighting with his sword.

His eyes were red and teary as he blanky stared at his paperwork, unable to think clearly. He wanted to cry, to yell, to kill them all…his thoughts were briefly stopping as without realizing he could hear a white buzz in his ear, warning sign of another brief loss of consciousness like he had so often lately. His hold on his quill became lighter, the feather slipping from his hands and dropping on the paper, leaving an ink stain over the assassination list he was making.

“Commodus?” your voice startled him, but he could barely react, his mind clouded by exhaustion. You quickly approached him; this situation had gone for far too long. “Now you will go to sleep.” You stated severely, about to put your hands on his shoulders to help him stand, but he seized your wrist, his hold strong but not as painful as he wanted it to be.

“How dare you…talk to me that way! I am not a child.” he snarled angrily, deeply anchored into paranoia.

You snatched your wrist away easily, another proof of his severe state “As your wife I have to look after you, husband. The state you are in is…you won’t be able to stand for long, especially in front of your enemies.” Your words seemed to move something inside him, making him wince, looking away, his breathing still quick. Your hand came to gently cup his cheek to make him look at you in the eyes. He had that childish look, full of anger and exhaustion. “Come to bed with me, my love. This is all I ask for. I give you my word it will help you with the rest.” You added on a softer tone, a tender smile on your lips; from the start you had grown fond of this ball of emotion Commodus was.

His eyes fluttered, still begging to close, he couldn’t even think anymore, the simple mention of the word ‘bed’ fell like a spell on mind, calling him again and again until he couldn’t resist anymore and stood up. His balance was quite off, but thankfully he could lean on you. The both of you made your way to the Imperial bedroom, not a single word uttered. Commodus needed silence, he was tired of talking and thinking anyway. The more minutes passed and the more he was enjoying surrendering to you, obeying without questioning, following your lead like a soulless puppet.

Once the door closed, you stood before him and slowly started to undress him, he wasn’t moving an inch, his whole focus was on staying up and not collapse. Once naked, his shoulders remained rounded, it wasn’t just the weight of his Emperor outfit, it was the whole weight of the Empire over him. How much it pained you…Commodus had only wanted to be Emperor to prove himself but never because he enjoyed it. You made him sit on the bed and knelt in front of him to undo his sandals; silence remained, not uncomfortable nor angry, it was full of words. Soon, you felt a drop brush against your face, followed by another one landing on your forearm, tears…but those weren’t yours. You lifted you head and looked at your husband in the eyes; he was the one crying, deep pain circulating in his icy orbs.

“Please don’t…” his whimper was barely hearable and made you wonder what he was begging you not to do. You watched him as leaned forward, taking your hand, the one he had grabbed earlier, his hands gently massaged your skin before placing an apologetic kiss on your inner wrist, followed by more, each featherlike, as if he was afraid to touch you, scared of his own inner demons, to hurt you.  You met his eyes, he was afraid, no, terrified.

You shook your head, a smile playing on your lips, reassuring “Fidelis ero tibi in vita et in morte. Numquam tradet amor meus ...” you murmured, those words of your union ceremony, he knew them by heart and cherished them more dearly than anything else. “Now let me kiss those tears away my love.” You added softly, standing up and leaning forward, your lips gently landing on the trails left on his cheeks by the tears. What more beautiful than the tears of regret absorbed by the kisses of forgiveness?

Commodus closed his eyes, his arms wrapping around your waist as he pulled you in bed, rolling over so you would land softly onto the feather mattress. His embrace tightened without being a bother to you, his face nuzzling against your breast. It made you smile; Commodus had always been the little spoon. You pulled the blankets over your bodies, entwining your legs together and then hugging him back, your hand soothingly caressing his dark hair.

“Isn’t this more comfortable?” you asked, referring to his sleepless nights sitting at his desk. He nodded, taking a deep breath and then exhaling, some tension escaping through his lungs, giving space to a growing sense of peace, at least for tonight.

“I wish I could stay in your arms and between your thighs forever.” He replied, his words slightly muffled against your chest. But it didn’t prevent you from blushing, now with those sensual words you could get insomnia. Your fingers buried in his curls, and you kissed his forehead, inhaling the scent of rosemary in his hair.

“It will be my greatest honor and pleasure.” You murmured, from the first time you met him, it had been like the thunder of Jupiter had hit you, condemned to love him forever and against all. Commodus was like the ocean, unstable, sometimes as calm as the dead sea and others a strong wave hit without warning. A true mystery that you knew you could never completely unveil. “How about we go horse riding tomorrow?” you asked, knowing how much he enjoyed it. But you were met with silence and then a deep breathing. You looked down and smiled, he had fallen asleep, finally…how hard it had been and yet so easy. The world could burn, as long as he could bury in your embrace, sheltering him from the rage of the night.

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[scribbleseas]

Straight Laced, Chapter VIII: To Be A Keen Observer…

Description: After the London’s Royal Ballet company’s prima ballerina goes missing within a string of mysterious disappearances among the ballet’s young ballerinas, you finally get your chance to debut in the leading role, taking on the position’s physical toil and immense social pressure. Although this role was supposed to be your grand jeté into the spotlight, it is quickly complicated when these disappearances catch the eye of Ciel Phantomhive — the Queen’s Guard Dog. He is a captious and shrewd man who also happens to be one of London’s most eligible bachelors.

For enough profit for you to secure your freedom for the first time, Lord Phantomhive double casts you as both his accomplice to solving these dancer disappearances and… his pretend lover. While debuting as London’s new prima ballerina, you must perfect a brand new routine: deceiving all of the nation’s polite society while actively searching for a serial killer — all while being an immigrant from France with a dancer’s reputation.

What could go wrong when you realize this off-stage performance of yours may not be an act at all?

Story Warnings: detailed description of gore, pain, and violence, detailed death, smut & explicit sexual scenes, allusions to non-consensual sex, objectification, prostitution, allusions to under-aged prostitution, smoking, drinking, eating disorder tendencies (food restriction, frequent references to wanting to maintain a certain weight, over-practicing & exercising), infidelity, fake courtship, swearing

Author’s Note: I have nothing to say for myself, besides thank you so much for reading! And thank you so much for sticking with me. I’m sorry about that last cliffhanger. (Kind of.)

Dan

⇐ PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER ⇒

MASTERLIST

November 10, 1895

The British Museum

The Yard. The press. Throngs of pedestrians fleeing from the museum to catch a glimpse of the chaos. Flashing lenses immortalizing Maisie Stannard’s bleeding body, craning necks, overlapping questions.

“Lord Phantomhive, Lord Phantomhive, who’dunnit?” someone demanded, sick comedy in their voice.

Now the public knew. They no longer had the benefit of a quiet investigation.

The Same Night, Hours Later

Ciel’s Estate

The evening’s fiasco was practically the worst-case scenario for any crime scene, Ciel thought, staring into the lively orange licks of flames in his fireplace. The contained inferno crackled, demolishing the kindling Finny packed inside moments before their return.

The fall night was brisk, the draft blowing against his window, causing balding tree branches to scream.

Finally left alone, the Earl of Phantomhive loosened his tie, slouched behind his desk, and allowed his fingers to knit in his dark hair. He released a frustrated groan he’d long been holding, spat out a curse he’d long bit down in the face of the curious public. They wanted to construct a story that would attempt to broadcast Ciel’s shock, but he would never give them the satisfaction of witnesssing a Phantomhive plan go awry.

Still, the predicament was an embarrassment. He wanted the killer to be William, but the suspect never truly felt proper—even as he watched the Yard escorted the man in handcuffs. He’d merely convinced himself William was completely guilty because it was the most convenient solution, and that was worse than a confident response being wrong.

Ciel’s eye strained from analyzing the list of guests from the gala. The names and titles were forged into his brain, and yet, how could he stop? Another person was dead because of his shortsightedness. It was a smear on his name and reputation, one far worse than courting a prima ballerina.

At the end of the day, he should have known better. It was too convenient for the killer to be William. Ciel doubted he had much of a capacity to kill—not the intellect, not the bravado, and not the motive.

Was he a violent criminal who took what he felt he deserved no matter who he hurt? Certainly. But was he intelligent enough to poison a young woman slowly using dimethylmercury? To lure a young woman to a bridge and dispose of her in the river beneath? Not to Ciel. He had to be missing a significant part of this investigation. What could he be missing? Who could he be ignoring?

Someone had to have known William’s crimes against members of his company, and plotted to frame him. The death had to be connected to the rest of them—too convenient to be a coincidence. Y/n knew her. They were both part of the same company— rivals, even. All of the dancers were a part of this company, at one point in their short-lived careers. Even the victims who were working somewhere new during their time of death or the last day they were seen, worked under William at one point in time.

Y/n said that the incidents all seem to take place on Thursdays, Fridays, and Sundays. Days where the full company rehearsed The Nutcracker in full, and Natasha was occupied with costume fittings. The company was in its last two weeks of playing Swan Lake and now it was preparing to welcome the holiday season with the festive ballet. It always had a popular run, causing it to start at the end of November until the weekend after Christmas.

That couldn’t be a coincidence, either. Ciel thought it incriminated William because it ensured that his company— including his wife — would be at their most distracted. Perhaps, the real killer assumed Ciel would draw that conclusion. They would have needed to break into William’s South Hampton home to plant the weapon used to kill Janet Fischer, as well. It seemed that estate was the only property William left unkept.

“I’ve brought your tea, my Lord,” Sebastian said, his habit of breaking Ciel’s focus entirely too common. The Earl knew better than to be startled by his demon butler. After all, the being was at the mercy of his orders. They both knew the terms of their contract intimately well: Sebastian obeyed all of Ciel’s commands and once they apprehend those responsible for the deaths of the previous Phantomhive heads, Sebastian could consume his soul.

“How damned am I, Sebastian?” Ciel asked, half pressing for what the butler made of tonight’s accident and half assessing the damage dealt between him and Y/n, given that the butler had just delivered her a night snack. She was never one to hide her feelings, surely giving Sebastian an earful about how Ciel managed to offend her. Uncovering just what had sent Y/n into her tirade beckoned at Ciel more than he liked, distracting him even more than the investigation was. The prima ballerina was so nonchalant about her promiscuity; could their relations have truly meant that much to her?

Did she feel an inescapable sense of dread and thrill around him, too? A spark so addicting that all she could do was be near him? Just like a good sip of that sweet wine she adored.

“What are you referring to?” While the butler poured a cup of tea, he lifted an eyebrow at the Earl, questioning him. A knowing smile pulled at his lips.

“Don’t you play dumb. You know whom I speak of.” The irritation in Ciel’s voice filled the room.

Sebastian merely chuckled at him. “How do you think making an enemy out of the Norfolk duchy by refusing his only daughter would end for you, sir?” His question was anything but accusatory— amused at most. Curious to get an idea of Ciel’s honest priorities: the wise match, Caroline and her presumptuous mother, or the correct match. The prima ballerina. His prima ballerina, as they worked so hard to make the public believe.

Except, they didn’t understand how much Ciel was just as much her Earl of Phantomhive.

All there was in polite society was Gwen, insisting she and Caroline come to his estate for tea. A meeting he was far from in the position to reject, out of respect to the current Duke of Norfolk. Ciel should have put a formal end to the slow beginnings of courtship he’d hinted to Caroline. At the time, he felt there was nothing to end, since nothing had really begun.

Had the Norfolk line not been in jeopardy, Ciel doubted Gwen would have continued to pursue him for Caroline with such insistence, especially after he announced his courtship of Y/n. Without a male heir, the duchy needed to secure its new duke by marrying Caroline to a suitable noble. The position had been attractive at the time, but now, Ciel hardly felt the appeal. Instead, he intended to tell Y/n that Gwen invited herself to the estate for tea after she forced him to share a cordial dance with her daughter, but Y/n fled the ballroom before he could.

“I could withstand it. And if I could not, you would see me through,” Ciel insisted, turning his gaze back down to the names on his newest list of names— a compilation of suspects with motivation to either kill company ballerina Maise Stannard or the wife of a plagiarizing artist with a legion of enemies. “Unless something changed in our contract within the last seven-some years?” Ciel prompted, scowling at the supernatural being.

The side of Sebastian’s mouth twitched. “Of course not,” he confirmed, “though I may not be able to shield you from the wrath of a woman scorned. Those dangers are entirely different from one another, you’ll come to understand.”

Such reflecting over his personal life was a painful waste of effort. He needed to prioritize his thoughts. Another person died, dammit.

The distinction between company ballerina Maisie and wife of conman Maisie was critical because it decided whether the serial killer was bold enough to kill in front of a high-end gala lined with security or if one of Stannard’s enemies was sending him a message.

Ciel’s eyebrows knit together, unsure if Sebastian was referring to Y/n or Caroline. He cared significantly more about the former. Though, it was only fair to note that Y/n never made her intentions clear enough to be shunned in the first place. She was enigmatic, and beautiful with a puzzling charm— Ciel would’ve had to be daft to ignore that about her. But that didn’t translate to wanting him beyond physical companionship… at least it hadn’t until she confronted him.

Though he couldn’t help but wonder: didn’t Y/n know better? Didn’t she understand that she was deserving of someone who could love unconditionally. In what world could he? Ciel couldn’t even promise never to lie to her.

All relationships and promises in Ciel’s life were conditional. He was a self-serving man—the remnants of the disturbed boy who returned to the land of the living seven years ago with a ravenous demon counting the days to the end of their contract. If Ciel couldn’t even promise to never lie to Y/n—how could she expect him to love her? Did she love him?

There was no loving him. Not without letting it destroy her life. They both knew that. And yet… he had already given into his passionate whims with her. He’d already decided to throw his reservations to the wind, the last of his resilience shattering like glass when she broke into sobs caused by him.

“I thought I was protecting her,” Ciel replied simply, taking a drink out of his hot tea. He welcomed the scorching burn as it traveled down his tongue. The warmth filled in his empty chest. ”I did not scorn her.”

It didn’t matter if she loved him, nor did it matter how he felt about her. The consequences of anything more than a partnership between them would be immeasurable no matter what, but he was more than equipped to handle them.

Could Ciel justify trapping a ballerina in a life where the rest of society would remind her that she was an outsider every day? Gwen and Caroline were the least destructive instance of the social persecution Y/n would face for climbing the social ladder so ambitiously as the rest of the world would see it.

When the world looked at Y/n, they didn’t see her natural aptitude for investigation, her intelligence. Her humor. They saw the misdeeds put upon her by forces much greater than herself. They saw the reckless apathy that was placed on all ballerinas, and assumed that it was their own fault.

No one would see the regard in Y/n that Ciel took so long to notice. They misread her. And they would never care to read her properly until it was too late.

Until she condemned them in a tearful diatribe across the street from the British Museum. That spirit was what convinced Ciel that she had the potential to feasibly manage. If such was the life she truly desired for herself.

“Go get another history on Maisie Stannard,” Ciel ordered Sebastian, wanting to be left alone again. He felt the demon attempting to dissect him, and it was suffocating. Sebastian hadn’t even deigned to reply, merely looking at him with unconcealed amusement. He liked watching Ciel wrestle with such foreign conflict, provoking him for sport to further insult the injury— there was nothing insightful he wished to add.

“Yes, my Lord.” After a disingenuous bow, the demon was gone.

November 11, 1895, The Next Morning

Y/n’s Rehearsal Studio

“No,” Y/n’s irritated voice snapped the moment Ciel opened the door of his own estate’s practice room and let himself inside.

Rehearsal studio, rather.

He released a sigh that he’d been holding from the moment Mey-Rin told him that Y/n would be absent from their breakfast table. He knew she would make a childish effort to avoid him, but in all honesty, he lacked the time and the patience to entertain it.

Y/n sat in the middle of the room in a nude leotard, her legs fanned open on either side of her. Her back was straight and elongated, forming a perfect line with her neck. It looked effortless. All of her movements looked light and easy, despite the rage that her pursed lips and creased forehead displayed.

She didn’t need to turn around to look at him. Instead, she ignored his image in the floor-to-ceiling mirror’s reflection in front of them. Ciel had to read her expression from the glass, since she purposely kept her back to him.

Ciel caught the variety of materials sitting between her spread legs, several pairs of newly broken in pointe shoes in a row, scissors, adhesive, and a needle and yarn for sewing. They were the same items Y/n used to break in and darn new pairs of pointe shoes for balance and comfort. Ciel knew this routine well— it cost him hundreds of pounds a week to purchase Y/n five or six new pairs weekly.

“Y/n, we have much to discuss. Skipping meals with me will not put an end to the investigation… nor our personal differences,” Ciel told her, carefully stepping closer with the caution a soldier would in a minefield. He supposed a rehearsal studio was just that for Y/n: a battleground.

“All I wanted was a few hours away from you and your investigation. You cannot even give me that?” Y/n corrected coldly, giving the shoe in her hand a hearty smack against the expensive flooring to further break it in. Apparently, all ballerinas had to make their own custom alteration rituals to break in their shoes the exact way they needed it. Y/n liked to eviscerate her shoes’ insoles and shave down the bottoms, stretch the shoe, repair it with adhesive, and darn the flat bit of it.

His investigation? So now it was only his?

“It is not a crime for a ballerina to break in her shoes—I hardly have time as it is, and Nutcracker opens next week,” she continued, still refusing to look at him. She seemed satisfied with the amount of pressure she put on the shoe and squeezed adhesive into its stretched interior.

Of course she wouldn’t look at him. Ciel embarrassed her because he let his preconceived notions about her professions blind him to the extent of her feelings. Ballerinas like Y/n were not inherently promiscuous, and he, despite having one functioning eye, missed that she felt more for him than lust. In what world does a principal dancer fall for a jaded Earl, anyhow?

And he was somehow even more blindsided by his own intricate feelings for her. It was most likely too late. And that was for the best, wasn’t it? It was supposed to be, but the guilty discomfort that sat in his stomach insisted otherwise. It was simply too late.

“The last time I checked, a certain prima ballerina always insisted it was our investigation,” Ciel replied, watching Y/n’s eyes roll in response.

“Clearly, she did not know what she was talking about,” Y/n put her sewing materials and pointe shoes to the side once she was satisfied with the layers of adhesive applied. She continued facing the mirror, spreading into a center split and pushing her torso to the floor in a deep stretch. “Being wrong about so many things makes a person a true lavette, no?” Her stretching position muffled her voice somewhat, but the vitriol was clear to him.

She was comparing her intellect to a dish towel? Honestly? Ciel fought the urge to reflect the prima ballerina’s scornful eye roll to her.

After all, she purposefully referencing both their investigation and their personal matters— enough to show Ciel that there was little to be achieved with the stubborn ballerina at that time. The blows were too fresh.

“What is there for us to discuss, anyhow? That guest list will take ages to sift through, and Sebastian’s interview notes…” Y/n rolled her shoulders back and sat back up only to inhale and bring her torso back to the floor. Her arms stretched in front of her, showing off the sculpted muscle she forged through dance.

Her leotard clung to the trained muscles down her back and arms, causing Ciel’s mouth to run dry as he adjusted his trousers. (Unintentionally recalling her body’s warmth and strength under his fingertips did little to help.)

That realization caused Ciel to moisten his lips, quietly thankful that Y/n was pointedly averting her gaze from him. She would’ve caught and translated that pensive— scandalous — look in seconds, and rightfully called him out for it.

“I want to visit William today,” Ciel managed, barely maintaining his stable tone in the face of his straying thoughts. “The Yard said the bullet found in Maisie was consistent with his Winchester collection. And I still dislike that the Southampton house is William’s only unstaffed possession.” It was all too convenient. Too connected— down to the murders matching the company’s rehearsal schedule.

Even the gala was on a Nutcracker rehearsal evening: a night where it was guaranteed Natasha Wood had her hands full and the company was half alive after such a rigorous day.

“That sounds like the perfect plan, Lord Phantomhive,” Y/n answered bitterly, extending an arm over her head while she leaned to the side. She still had her legs parted in a center split.

Lord Phantomhive was a gut punch. It took all of his composure to hide his crawling discomfort. That had to be the first time he recoiled from the weight of his surname.

To her, he was Ciel. She had seen to it— demanded it, even.

“You can handle that on your own. He will not talk with me there, surely,” she added, her bored tone causing his fingers to curl into a frustrated fist at his side. Finally catching her stare, he noticed that her eyes were bleary as if she had been crying. Even her lips seemed bitten.

Ciel had to ignore the striking urge in his body that begged him to kiss her. Now that he knew her prowess, the way she moved her lips with the same elegance she did the rest of her body, it made her allure all the more intense. So much so that they forced Ciel to skip several heavy seconds before replying to her poor excuse for not wanting to be in the same room with him. He had been occupied with admiring her.

“I would prefer—” he started to object, only for Y/n to interrupt.

“Please see yourself out. I must rehearse, I am running on borrowed time as it is. The last Swan Lake showing is tonight,” Y/n said expectantly, assuming Ciel didn’t know her performance schedule. He merely happened to have committed it to memory.

Y/n rose to her feet. She was already wearing an older pair of pointe shoes, suggesting that she had been practicing before deciding to break in new shoes.

Having risen from the center of the floor, she took graceful steps closer to the mirror, fully turning her back to him as she put herself in the starting position for the Sugar Plum Fairy Variation. After putting in hours of labor as her unpaid pianist, Ciel could recognize those soft, exaggerated steps anywhere.

His stomach only twisted into a tighter knot, offended that Y/n would prefer to rehearse in complete silence than in his piano playing. After all, she once told him that she couldn’t keep time without it.

In unexpected surrender, Ciel closed the door behind him, softly letting the knob click back into place.

It was simply too late.

The Same Day, Hours Later

Scotland Yard’s London Headquarters

Even for a man living in a holding cell, William Wood did not look well. His facial hair, what was formerly a tasteful goatee, was now untamed and slightly overgrown. Deep exhaustion carved bags under his eyes. His sudden fall from grace seemed to age him years, even though it was only a week or two since Ciel made the arrest.

“They told me you’d be coming to see me today,” William grunted, dressed in plain clothes. He wasn’t formally charged yet, but Ciel and the Yard agreed that the threat of allowing an arrested serial killer to remain free before his sentencing was too great to risk. Ciel also needed easy access to William in the event they were wrong.

The criminal’s gray eyes attempted to bore into Ciel’s soul, but really, they were tired. Unfocused. Desperate. He reminded him of a cornered tiger— too proud to submit, but too exhausted to finish the fight.

“Yes… I have questions that demand answers. From you.” Ciel answered carefully. He exchanged a look with the officers guarding the door, silently urging them to clear their throats and seeing themselves out, guarding from the outside of the room. William’s holding cell sat in an isolated room from the rest of the headquarters. The basement was fortified with cement, making the area drafty and dark.

He wouldn’t reveal the news that there was another murdered ballerina, but there were other means to extract the information the situation required.

A condescending smirk twitched at William’s lips, unsurprised. “And you expect me to talk? To you?” He asked, his jubilant tone dripping with malice. “You’ve ruined my life, my wife’s…our livelihood.”

“No one forced you to cheat on your wife. Or assault defenseless young women. Or murder them in cold blood,” Ciel snapped, raising his tone. Natasha, from what Y/n said, was running the entirety of the company without William in the first place. She didn’t need him— he was a pathetic excuse for an heir to a business. That had to be clearer to her than anyone.

Only now, he made her work infinitely more complicated. Especially since the body of Maisie Stannard was plastered all over the front pages of most newspapers that morning, each depicting the mysterious murder that occurred near one of the side entrances of The British Museum.

“You don’t talk about my wife to me,” William’s fingers curled into fists at his sides as he took a step closer to the cell’s bars that separated them. His complexion was shades lighter. “I never killed anyone, either,” he was sure to remind Ciel.

“You will answer my questions, one way or another. How much of your blood gets spilled depends entirely on you, William,” Ciel replied, appreciating the cell wall that separated them. One of them was vulnerable, and it was certainly not him. It would never be.

The Earl pressed the nose of his Nanget Revolver into William’s hip, sliding the nose of the weapon between the bars. He smiled at the defeat that fought the stubborn ferocity in William’s colorless irises, placidly putting the weapon back into his jacket pocket just as smoothly as he’d taken it out.

“Do we have an understanding here?” Ciel asked impatiently. “I am only interested in the truth.”

It was exhilarating to watch the desperate fire extinguish in William’s face, the fighting militance in his shoulders dissipate. His fists unfurled as he sighed, coming to terms with his defeat. He was just smart enough to understand that concept— a lesson Ciel and Y/n fought hard to teach him.

“It’s not like I have a choice,” the former businessman crossed his arms, ignoring the weapon that Ciel threatened him with.

“Your Southampton house,” Ciel started, “why is it unstaffed? When was the last time you were there, before you instructed Y/n Y/l/n to meet you there?”

“I told Natasha I sold it, but it’s been my family’s for generations. I used the place for… meetings I didn’t want her to know about,” William sighed, choosing his words cautiously. “That time with…Y/n… was the first time I’ve been there since my trip to France. So I haven’t been since the end of September. Do I get to know why you’re asking?” He asked sarcastically.

The last time Janet was seen was September 27th.

“When did you leave, William?” Ciel asked with a newfound sense of urgency overriding his frustrations with the man. His mouth was dry, his heartbeat picking up. “Do you know the exact day you departed?”

William shrugged, either not noticing Ciel’s pique or not caring. “September 28th, probably? Early morning.”

Is that enough time to murder a woman— she was projected to have died late that night — hide the murder weapon in Southampton, and return to the London ports by dawn to leave the country? It wasn’t.

”Did anyone have access to your property? Anyone?”

“No one should have. I only… asked my wife to dispose of hers, after I told her I sold the property,” William frowned. It seemed it was only dawning on the careless man that his wife might have lied to him, curious as to the lack of official documentation from the sale, any shift in finances, given the major role in managing their company, according to Y/n.

“She wouldn’t… think I still use the property…” he mumbled the afterthought slowly with disbelief.

The more Ciel asked of William, the more of him and Natasha he understood. They fell in love because she transferred from a ballet school in Russia and starred in a company production of Sleeping Beauty. William was still learning how to run the company, one of the investments out of a larger corporation, but he fell in love with Natasha, the prima ballerina, at the time.

Natasha overworked herself in the role, causing a hip injury to end her professional career only a year into it. And that was two years ago. Now she was the company’s director—nothing like the inspired dancer she once was, William insisted.

He lost sight of his love for the young ingenue because the injury killed her. What was left was a completely different woman. Tired, bitter, frustrated from what she lost...only for her marriage to slowly decline the more she lost herself.

Opportunity, motive…was there a means? It was now of the utmost importance that Ciel found the answer to that question. No matter how Y/n would feel about his investigating Natasha, her mentor. Ciel trusted his instinct—the tugging in the pit of his stomach. The alarm that he felt.

How could he not have seen it sooner? He needed to leave. He needed to stop her before she left for her performance.

It took a frenzied carriage ride through the crowded London streets, but Sebastian’s demonic carriage driving managed to put Ciel in front of his manor just as Y/n was leaving for the opera house. He was always chasing after her, it seemed, but he didn’t care.

For her, he would. She would, for him. Or before he broke her heart, she might have. He was too late, in that regard, but he could stop her here and now.

“Y/n, stop, this is important!” Ciel stumbled out of his carriage, having stepped out of it before Sebastian could stop entirely. He had to intercept her.

The ballerina scoffed at the nerve of him, begging her to stop in her tracks and hear him out for the second instance in a row. At the same time, Ciel demanded that Finny keep Y/n’s carriage stationery for the moment through a brief look, causing his gardener’s superhuman grip to tighten on the horses’ reins. He gave Ciel a resolute nod, his jaw firm.

“What? Is this chasing a daily occurrence?” Y/n quipped bitterly, just as Ciel expected her to. “You have never cared to attend one of my performances before,” she accused, adjusting the strap of her bag on her shoulder. Her hand fell still on the carriage door’s handle, frowning at him.

“I have reason to suspect that Natasha is—“ he started gravely, pronouncing his words carefully. He knew what Y/n would say, but he could only prove this theory with her help. If Ciel was right, one misstep could make them the adversaries of one incredibly violent, envious, and dangerous criminal who played the role of a wistful, wise mentor. And played it well.

Immediately, Y/n’s face reddened, defensive. “Stop,” she insisted, her voice hoarse. She turned the handle on the carriage door, causing Ciel to reach out and grab it himself, his hand engulfing hers.

He needed her to approach this logically.

Y/n’s face jerked to look at him, her hand attempting to move with the same speed, but Ciel’s grip kept hers stagnant. She gave their hands a long, hard look.

“You have no idea what Natasha has done for so many of us, how little I would have without her. She would never do this to any of us,” Y/n’s voice wavered.

And what has she done for you? She allows men to abuse you. She encourages you to skip nourishment to maintain some shallow aesthetic. She hasn’t reported any of these missing cases to any of you—

“—She does not know about them!” Y/n interrupted, wide eyed, tears threatening to fall. He had said that out loud. “I would not have this opportunity without her. I have known her for years. You, I have known for? A month? You care about me as much as she does? At all?”

“I care about you more than you know, Y/n,” Ciel replied, trying to keep his voice measured, in spite of his pounding heart. He could feel his pulse racing.

“You do not.”

“I do.”

“Then you show it by dancing with another woman in front of me? By inviting her to your home where I live as a guest the night after we were intimate?” Y/n asked, tears rolling down her cheeks. Ciel’s stomach sank. That was what had caused her outburst at the party: Gwen had lied to her. He didn’t invite the duchess; the duchess had invited herself.

His crime was failing to properly refuse her at the gala. Ciel intended to send his regrets the following day by insisting he had an overseas meeting.

“I did not invite the duchess and her daughter. Gwen seems to have lied to you,” he said, the force behind his words extinguishing. “I realized… that… I don’t want my marriage to be a business venture. I don’t want Caroline to be my Countess—I’ve hardly ever spoken to her! I would want…” he let his next word hang in the air. It filled the few centimeters that separated them.

You.

“I need to leave now or I will be late,” Y/n’s free hand wiped away another tear that escaped her tired eyes. “This is my last Swan Lake performance, Ciel. Please.”

She didn’t believe him. And he didn’t blame her. He had warned her about himself a long time ago.

Every instinct in Ciel refused, but he released the hand that he held stagnant on the carriage door handle. “Fine. You may,” he sighed, exchanging the same look with Finny. Y/n opened the carriage and sat inside, closing the door in his face. Again.

“Sebastian, this is an order. You will protect her as you would myself. Now go. Stay out of sight unless the situation demands it.”

In the meantime, Ciel could escort himself to the performance. He had a chance. No way in hell would he let himself squander it.

The Same Evening

The Royal Opera House

For the entirety of his life, Ciel was a keen observer. He could see through a liar’s carefully constructed facade by a glance, the bravado and charismatic grace that Y/n enlisted to maintain her confidence. The Phantomhive empire was as prosperous as it was because of his ability to read and interpret those around him… and manipulate them accordingly.

Now, all of his expert focus fell on the prima ballerina, just as blazing and intense as the spotlight that illuminated her.

Until this point, Ciel avoided attending Y/n’s performances because they knew they were spellbinding. He was more than aware of her talents—even watching her mumble through her moves as she rehearsed was enchanting. He had pointedly refused to allow himself the indulgence necessary to freely watch the woman act in front of an audience, encapsulating a character through mood and movement when he had grown so accustomed to admiring her individualism.

Rather than tell her so, he’d only insinuated that he was too occupied to attend these performances, despite her frequent invitations. Selfishly, he used to prefer her subdued look of disappointment than run the risk of her noticing the way he fell for her. Without meaning to. In fact, while actively trying not to.

Her raw pain was clear as she depicted Odette grieving the prince’s betrayal, having fallen for Odile’s impersonation of her. It wasn’t unlike her face moments before she stepped in the carriage in order to fulfill this very performance, or even her expression in the studio, or in front of the museum the night before. She channeled her hurt into her work—just as he did. She evolved with each step, every twist, in spite of him. Because of everything he put her through.

The bouquet in his tightening grip crinkled, the decorative paper around it crumbling from the frustration he let out on it. Ciel could hardly hear it over the orchestra in the pit, the assortment of musicians and their quality instruments masterfully recreating Tchaikovsky. But that wasn’t the most impressive aspect of the show— that recognition belonged to Y/n entirely.

He had to correct this gnawing worry in his stomach. The feeling that he was, once again, on the brink of being too late.

The moment the curtain drew after the company’s final bows, Ciel sprang from his seat.

He wouldn’t be too late. At the very least, he owed Y/n that.

[thesimpsbasement]

How do you think Azul would deal with having a s/o where he would say they would do crimes to people who would bully their s/o and s/o is like “That’s illegal, but awe 🥹”? Like if he paybacks someone, s/o is trying to be the voice of reason, but they’re smiling so it ruins it?

You're so right. omg, he'd be so extra about it, too

Azul is definitely the type to beat the shit out of your bullies no questions asked

But only after making sure you're okay of course,he has to take care of his precious angelfish before he gets his hands dirty

Even if the bullies didn't bother you that much, Azul is not having any of it.He's not going to let people disrespect you like that.He'd pamper you even I'd you protest,shower you in affection and after he's certain you're feeling better he excuses himself and leaves the room

You begin to worry when he still hasn't come back, that is until you hear a familiar voice or rather voices shriek in pain as 2 other familiar voices laugh hysterically. Rushing towards the VIP room,the scene you're met with was truly something.

Floyd and Jade holding your bullies still,said bullies bruised and bloodied.One might think the twins were responsible for this but as soon as you see the now injured bullies the dots connect. Despite not being the tallest or the most muscled man,Azul's physical strength shouldn't be underestimated. The damage on the now crying victims’ of Azul's wrath made you wince

Azul simply turns to you “hello darling,sorry for making you wait for so long,just have this mess to clean up” he says with a menacing smile. You want to feel bad for them especially when being held in a death trap like the tweels but you can't help but smile,letting out a chuckle. “Azul you can't just beat up people to a pulp like that,it's mean” you say.A part of you is telling you to be the voice of reason,to somehow convince Azul to not strangle anyone who dares to badmouth you,but at the same time another part of you is all over the moon.Seeing them in such a pathetic state made you feel giddy almost. “Nothing is too mean when it comes to protecting you” Azul simply replies “Now be a dear and wait for me in my room,I'll be back shortly” he says in a sweet voice.The bullies turn towards you with a pleading look but you simply smile,waving “Alright dear,don't bully them too much” you tease “Oh don't worry,I won't bully them, I'll just give them a piece of my mind” he says as he watches you leave.

Eventually, you hear the door opening,revealing your darling boyfriend.He sheds his outer layer of clothes,leaving him in his white button-down as he plops right beside you on his comfy bed. “Hope you didn't miss me too much” he says,pulling you towards him “you know I always miss you” you reply,pressing a kiss on his cheek,not missing the way his cheeks are dusted pink. “And I always miss you”, he replies,kissing your lips softly. When you pull away, you stare lovingly at him,admiring his beauty. You both stay in comfortable silence before you speak once more “you know you didn't have to do all that. it could've gotten in trouble”.Azul chuckles,hand cupping your cheek “Don't worry about that,angelfish ,besides even if they were to report me to the head mage I have my own ways of getting myself out of trouble” he says,almost menacingly. You sigh,shaking your head at his antics “Do you really have everyone wrapped around your fingers?” You ask “hmm not everyone” He says ,eyes locked on yours “You're the one who has me wrapped around their finger” he says before leaning in to steal a kiss.You sigh again,giggling as you cup his cheeks “mhmm just don't kill anyone next time alright?”.Azul smiles “I'll think about it” he says,causing you to roll your eyes ,hands moving towards his waist to pinch his sides,making the octopus yelp. “I protect you, and this is the thanks I get? Siiggghhh” he says in a fake sad voice. “Thank you, Azul, for your service” you say in a sarcastic voice before pressing your lips against his once more, “It's my pleasure”

[bontenten]

METAMORPHOSES 03 || An Heir

Pairings: Zenin Naoya x f!reader, Gojo Satoru x f!reader (unrequited) WC: 3.9k Series Genre/Warnings: smut, noncon/dubcon, emotional/physical abuse, yandere, Naoya, misogyny, arranged marriage, pregnancy, miscarriage, birth, lactation, manga spoilers, more dead doves

A/N: oh i veryy much enjoyed writing this chapter, ty for patience since last updates! 

Series Masterlist

“My lady, your condition can be considered stable now. Since this is your first pregnancy, there are still many things your body is not used to. The young master’s energy is also dense, causing your body to become frail. It’s paramount that you meditate everyday to keep your energies in balance for the developing child. I will write a prescription for a tonic which you should take three times daily. Rest and keep a stress-free, open mind until your delivery date.” 

The Zenin physician placed his tools back into his chest. He flipped open his notebook and began to scribble a list of ingredients. The tense atmosphere in the room settled down. 

“You will be the one responsible for bringing the medicine. Should anything happen, you will answer with your life in the disciplinary pit.” Naoya threatened. 

“Y-Yes, Young Master Naoya, of course. I will do everything in my power to take care of the lady.” 

You squeezed Naoya’s hand and tried to comfort the doctor currently scared out of his wits. “Thank you, Doctor. You may go now, I’m a bit tired.”

The earlier spasms of pain and vertigo had everyone in a panic. It came so suddenly, you were unprepared and before you knew it, you woke to Naoya’s immense killing intent burying the room.

To say that this pregnancy was difficult was an understatement.

--

After that incident, Naoya forbade you from having any form of excursion and threatened servants left and right to take care of menial tasks. You had to tell him to stop yelling so much lest he scared the baby in your belly. Only then would he quiet down a bit and mutter, "My son isn’t that useless."

“You know…we could have a girl too.” You waited for a response.

Naoya wrapped his arms around you, a hand resting over your belly. “I will have no weakling girl.” 

Then the two of you, along with the one growing inside of you, fell into slumber.

--

Akiko, having gone through the process of pregnancy and childbirth, often checked in on you and answered any questions you had. She was very strict about the pregnancy meditation exercises. Under her watch, there wasn’t a single day you could slack. The medicine tasted awful, but Akiko insisted you finish the whole bowl. Often, she watched you finish everything, with a piece of candy waiting to wash the bitter taste away. In many ways, she was the mother figure in your life.

Mai and Maki stopped spending time with you after they began their lessons. You wondered if you made the right choice in sending them to training, but ultimately, in this clan, you knew they had no choice. You knew they were talented, in ways that you could never amount to. Strength meant everything.

--

One evening, while Naoya was still at a clan meeting and Akiko was away, you decided to charge your old phone. You weren’t allowed anywhere near it during your pregnancy, not that you had much need for it. It was bad for the baby, was what they told you. But the device was still something for you to fiddle with, the size felt like it just belonged in the hand. You flipped it open. To your surprise, you had gotten a number of missed calls from someone you would never have imagined—Gojo Satoru. You hesitated, but dialed back, wondering what could have happened.

The sound of his voicemail was playing in your head already. Except he picked up.

“Finally, it’s been ages. When will your clan ever embrace new tech?”

“Satoru,” you greeted. “What a surprise, I didn’t think you would have anything come to me about.”

He chuckled. “Can’t I call if I missed you?” 

“I’m married now, if you need to be reminded.” You looked down at your midsection. “And very pregnant.”

“Oh, I know you’re knocked up.” The breathy voice seemed to tickle your ear. Gojo was probably laying down, on a couch or a bed. “A main branch Zenin spawn is probably pretty difficult I assume? How are you still doing?”

“Pampered suffocation.”

“Good, good. It’s probably best you’re relaxed, take a seat. How is the Zenin young master?”

“Naoya…yes, he treats me well.” You smiled at the memory of him during lunch. He had personally sliced and plated fruit for you.

“Honestly, I didn’t even think that his spouse would end up being you. Glad to hear it though. And have you talked with your father at all recently?”

No. 

“They’re busy,” you explained.

“Too busy to even visit or inquire about their daughter?”

Gojo’s question stumped you. The question that you had wondered about ever since the first day was finally spoken out loud. Even for a clan as strict as the Zen’in, surely if you couldn’t visit home, they could’ve paid you a visit? A phone call?

“I figured. What wonderful parents you have.” Gojo’s lighthearted voice switched to a serious tone. “I suppose you still deserve to know the truth.”

He explained that he’s been working on a perplexing phenomenon of curses in a few districts. There was typically some sort of pattern to where they appeared, their type, and their strength. The data was odd and Gojo had studied each of the cases in detail. But it didn’t make sense to you. 

“Satoru,” you interrupted him. “I’m not really following?”

“Did you not understand? I just explained—”

“Yes, but why,” you exasperated. Images of your clansmen, covered in a white cloth, being brought back from the streets flooded your mind. Blood-soaked bandages and screams while the clan physician strained himself to attend to all the wounded. The nights your mother stayed up late waiting for your father’s team to return. The visceral chaos and stench of death loomed over everyone you loved. "You know what happened. The cursed spirits had been growing in power and they were overrunning the clan's wards. If Naoya hadn't helped, more the sorcerers would've—"

A dry laugh cut you off. "Would've been just fine if not for the youngest son of Naobito trying to win you over. Helped your clan? Who even told you that? Was it your father when the Zenin proposed? And you really just believed them? You're more stupid than I had thought. Were you a shy, bashful bride eager to be a little plaything for your clan’s hero? You never even wondered why it was only your clan's ward that was badly affected? Time to wake up, princess. Why would anyone from your family want to speak to the sacrificial lamb and reason for all their suffering?"

Hang-up, your mind screamed at you. How dare he point the blame at you. Where were you when I was in trouble Satoru?

“And why should I believe you?” 

“Oh, you don’t have to. A bastard and a dimwit make a lovely pair.”

You swallowed as your head grew dizzy and began breathing heavily in an attempt to intake more oxygen.

Gojo realized his harsh tone and sighed. “Are you still there? Listen, I know there wasn’t much you could’ve done anyway. I’m just telling you this because I suppose we were acquainted in our youth.”

Acquainted. Just acquainted. But more importantly, all that you have known, all that you believed for the past years were being torn apart and rearranged in the span of fifteen minutes.

“Yes. Thank you, Satoru,” you managed to whisper.

“I realize this is probably a surprise, but I also want to assure—” He was cut off by the sound of a woman calling his name in the background.

“I’m needed elsewhere; take care.” 

You set the phone down after Satoru hung up and sat in silence trying to piece together the information that was just dumped onto you. You fell back onto the mattress, a hand over your belly. A heaviness weighed down your chest. It was madness to believe the words of the man on the other side of the phone. What was he to you now? No one. Your father and mother explained everything to you. Who was he to tell you what was the truth?

The relief when everyone saw the Zenin clan symbol on the guest’s hakama couldn’t have been fabricated. The hope in people’s faces wasn’t a lie. Even though you were hiding behind the screen doors at the time, the sincerity in his voice when he asked your father for your hand had to be true. That man saved the whole clan. Serve him well. If Naoya was the hero, why were those the parting words from your family on the day of your wedding?

A quiet knock pulled you out of your thoughts. “My lady, I have brought your tonic.”

The room was completely dark already. Who knows how long you’ve laid there trying to make sense of everything? 

You dragged yourself to the door and found a young girl holding a wooden serving tray with a bowl of bitter, black liquid. “Lady Akiko is currently away. She tasked me to bring this to your ladyship.”

You picked up the bowl and quickly downed the contents. It didn’t taste quite as foul as you had remembered. “Is the meeting over?” 

“It should be ending around this time. Should I escort you to the main hall?”

“No...I can go by myself,” you said, dismissing her. 

You had to hear it from Naoya himself. He was your husband.

Every week, the main branch had a formal meeting. As you got closer to the main hall, you could hear the footsteps shuffling as the men in the room were wrapping up. Quite murmurs and grumbles over the meetings slipped through the cracks. The first person to exit the sliding door was Naoya. He had a scowl on his face, no doubt, the meeting took a turn for the worse as well, but it faded into a relaxed grin when he saw you, coming over.

“What a change to see you here waiting for me. I am starving—”

He was about to check on you when he noticed your blank expression and puffy eyes. You got straight to the point, spoiling the atmosphere in an instant.

"Naoya…”

Naoya’s eyes lost their initial glimmer. He noticed a few other clansmen looking your way.

“If there’s anything to discuss, you may bring it up later in our room,” he said firmly. He didn’t know the reason for your unsettling expression, but whatever it was that was on your mind, he did not want a scene.

Naoya thought back to the irritating meeting and the currently disintegrating relationship with the Gojo clan. The Gojos were being extremely selfish, trying to take control of the Jujutsu Sorcerer Committee's favor. All of them were envious of the Zenins, trying to push the clan off its pedestal. Naoya fumed at the thought of the six-eyed Satoru who had always been treated as the pride and hope of the jujutsu society. They were close in age, and despite the two never meeting often, Naoya heard more than enough about society's adulation of the infamous sorcerer.

He couldn’t hear what you were mumbling under your breath, but the few words he caught and the name of his nemesis told him that it was definitely not going to be a pleasant conversation. He easily scooped you up despite your protests and pounding fists on his shoulders. With a few long strides, entered the hallway near your quarters. Only then, away from prying eyes, did he set you down.

 “Is it true?”

Naoya heard it clearly this time.

He eyed you for a moment and scoffed, looking away in disdain. "Woman, what are you rambling on about right now? Can't you tell I'm not in a good mood? I said, let's go back."

“No.” Your irritation struck a nerve. “Tell me right now. Is it true that you were the one responsible for planting  those high-level curses into my clan's ward?"

Ignoring the squeeze on your arm, you continued, “Satoru told me everything.”

Naoya felt a vein throb in his temple when he heard the name slip from your mouth.

“How you plotted and controlled the curses to attack our sorcerers right after a battle. Those curses, they were all picked from the disciplinary room right? Special Zenin locked curses. You would let my people get hurt till they were close to death before showing up. Satoru told me everything, what more do you have to say?"

"Satoru, Satoru, Satoru. Do you just blindly believe anything he tells you?"

"Who am I supposed to believe, you?” you snapped back. “Satoru told me how you threatened my family, that's why they never said anything to me up until now.” Maybe you would still be at home, with family and loved ones.

You glared at Naoya in shock as the sting on your face settled into a sharp burn. He took a step back and pointed at you, confused and disoriented. “You. You forced me.” 

 This was the first time he actually struck you in this way. 

"What are you going to do Naoya? Kill your own wife and child? Is that how you solve all of your problems? With your oh-so-powerful, inherited Zenin techniques?" You turned and began to walk away. "You're fucking pathetic."

"Don't you dare turn your back on me!" he roared after you. "Stop right there!"

There was no room for fear while fury lit your eyes. You ignored the rest of Naoya's threats and stormed back to your room. Naoya was responsible for everything. He lied to you. He manipulated everyone and oppressed your clan. And you believed all of his sweet words, and enjoyed his kisses and touches. Your numb cheek taunted you.

You slid the door open, but your feet couldn’t budget. You gasped and felt excruciating pain stabbing in your belly. You clutched your midsection as cold sweat ran down your back. The last thing you heard was someone frantically calling your name.

–

“Do something!” 

“Young Master, t-there’s no response.” 

“I don’t fucking care, do something!”

“W-We’ll have to induce labor…and—”

Naoya glared.

“Yes! Yes understood!”

--

The lights in the room were so bright. In just a couple of weeks, a life could have filled this space. It would have been a boy, just as everyone had hoped. Now only silence accompanies you and your breasts that ached painfully. You never even got to see him. Did he look like you or his father? 

You sat in the empty nursery room that you had spent the last few months pouring your time and feelings into. As if the loss of your unborn child hadn’t been difficult enough, the hushed whispers of the clan had been torturous. You had felt eyes from members of the main branch to the attendants, all hundred pairs of eyes surveying you whenever you had walked down the hall, scrutinizing the woman who was incapable of carrying the Zenin heir to full term.

You lost track of how long you sat in mourning. Time ticked by slowly, but eventually, a day became two days. A week passed by and to your horror, your breasts full and swollen with milk, finally had to empty its contents. Milk leaked out your nipples uncontrollably.

Perhaps it was the presence of the milk and no child in your arms to feed the liquid to. Reality finally hit you while you poured another cup of milk down the sink.

The door slid open. It was Akiko bringing your meal. She knelt down next to you and pulled you into her arms. Her steady hand ran over your shoulders as she quietly said, "If you want to cry, then just let it out. There's no one else here."

You felt your nose prickle as the familiar sensation of tears spilled from your eyes. They soaked through Akiko's kimono, but she did not seem to mind, only resting her hand on your back while you wailed. You blamed everything on the father of your unborn child. It was Naoya who was responsible, you were sure of it. He took the child from you with his temper and violence. You cried for yourself and your unborn child.

Mai and Maki had once confided in you that their mother gave up on them. They had told you that their mother never stood up for them in front of their father and that you had been the only one who tried to give them care and love. And here you were crying in their mother's arms as a failure. Akiko may not have been able to do everything for her girls, but you couldn't even protect your child's life. 

–

You just finished a bath and were about to go to sleep in the nursery again. It was the only place you had some privacy and peace. Except, the room wasn’t empty at all.

“What are you doing here?” you asked coldly, arms folded.

Naoya saw you enter, and placed the decorative toy back on its shelf. He crossed over languidly, arm resting on the frame right over your head. His presence made you dizzy, but you refused to yield a single step. He also recently bathed, a bitter herbal scent clung to skin.

“Did you think that you could avoid me forever?” he murmured next to your ear.

Your eyes met with his. At this distance, you could make out the details of his irises. Naoya’s eyes were undeniably beautiful and intoxicating. “One day at a time, I’ll get there eventually.” You made a move to push him away.

“Foolish woman,” he chuckled and took your hands. “It’s time to go back to normal.”

Naoya pressed his lips on your palm. “I missed you. I need you,” he crooned. 

“Naoya, we can never be the same anymore. Not after—” You gestured to the room. “This.”

“We’ll have another. Once you’re with another, the clan will naturally stop talking.” 

“Don’t touch me. As if I’m some breeding cattle.” Naoya didn’t seem the least bit fazed by your attempts to break out of his grasp. His silence taunted you, daring you to challenge his authority. 

“I’ll never forgive you,” you snarled. All you could do was glare at him. “It’s all your fucking fault.”

Naoya tilted your face towards him. Fingers traveled down your neck and tightly squeezed. Your cheeks burned.

The air thickened as Naoya’s cursed energy began to fill the space. “In this lifetime, you belong to me. Accept your fate.”

Lips roughly closed over yours. The pressure around your neck made your head spin. Your fists hammered his chest in a futile attempt. 

Naoya yanked your robe open. Your nipples were heavy and swollen. Wet. He cupped your breast and squeezed the soft flesh, completely fixated on the spray of white milk spurting out. Your cheeks burned in embarrassment, but the relief you felt from the release felt so good.

“Did that feel good?” he sneered before tugging and pressing on your breast some more. The front of his robes was covered by wet splatters. 

 “N-No,” you rasp, feeling Naoya’s hand travel towards your navel, tugging the waist-tie that was barely circled around your waist. He lifted one of your thighs to expose your dripping entrance. Cold air brushed against your thighs. “Not in here. Not in this room,” you begged, tears pooling in your eyes.

“Troublesome woman,” Naoya muttered and set you down. He clasped his palms together and began to draw an immense amount of cursed energy. “Domain Expansion: Time Cell Moon Palace.”

The nursery melted away as the space transformed into a dark void. This was the first time you’ve been taken into a domain, and it made you feel both weak and nauseous. A giant eye stared down at you, iris dilated, prying, and peering into your existence.

“No complaints here, right? Don’t even think about escaping.” 

Everything happened so quickly. You felt your back sink into a fleshy substance, legs folded and knees pressed up against your face.

“Wait, Nao—” And he was in you. You gripped Naoya’s biceps to stabilize yourself, nails imprinted deeply. A shudder escaped your lips after the initial jolt of pain. By reflex, you clamped tightly around him.

“Fuck,” he growled. “How are you still so tight?”

The dull ache remained from the recent trauma remained with every thrust Naoya made. Pleasure and pain are tightly bonded together. Disgust at the moan that slipped from your throat that earned a predatory smile. It drove him to pound you harder. His rough hand squeezed your breasts, spraying your overflowing milk supply. It splashed onto his face dripping down his jawline onto your face and lips. This was perhaps the first and only time you could imagine tasting your own milk. Naoya wiped his face and licked the opaque fluid off his fingers.

“It’s sweet,” he remarked, surprised by the taste. And almost feral, as though he had discovered something rare and precious, he dipped his head down to lap up the tiny puddles on the contours of your body. His tongue traced your enlarged and pert nipples, sucking on the sensitive bud to encourage more milk flow. You arched your back towards him, grinding your hips desperately in tears as you reached your climax.

Naoya grunted, feeling close. He held onto your hips and increased his pace until he came in you, filling your womb with a load of hot, white seed.

The darkness that surrounded you began to falter under Naoya’s distraction. The momentary weakness that came with the sexual release was like a pinhole in a balloon. Darkness melted away. The voyeuring eye disappeared, replaced in your vision by a mobile with soft plushies hung on a cotton rope. Nausea washed away the lingering, twitching pleasure.

“Get out,” you hoarsely whispered.

Still drunk on hormones, Naoya felt dizzy and confused. “What did you say?” 

Milk and semen stuck to your skin. Mustering all the energy remaining in you, you repeated. "Get out. Get out. Get out."

The demand-plea came out in constricted wheezes as your body convulsed and shook.

"Tch. "A scowl replaced Naoya's drunken expression. Completely fed up, he left you laying among the stained blankets. "You make me sick, woman," he spat at you. 

The room was finally empty. You laid there unmoving and naked, staring blankly at the ceiling.

[shanksbaby]

Aokiji-Kuzan- Betrayal (2)

pt 1 - after i watched the trailer of the new episode i got the motivation

after Kuzan, your old mentor, has appeared again from the hole that Garp had created, you stop and look at him motionless, noticing the scratches and traces of dirt on his clothes…The long hat mustv lost him in the hole…Despite how he looks, you still find him handsome…Immediately, however, you scold yourself for thinking about this during a rescue mission.

but the truth is that you can't see him as an enemy -- not after all those moments together, after he helped you, after all those moments that made you fall in love with him. His deep voice, however, interrupts these spiraling thoughts of yours.

“Y\N. You're here, too, I see,” he says in a detached voice, and you have to admit that you feel a pang in your chest; you're not used to this tone of his; as much as Kuzan was always an aloof type he always had that warm tone when he spoke to his subordinates, when he spoke to you.

“Kuzan-san please come back to us…Come back to the Navy, this is not your post,” you repeat yourself again trying to ignore his detached tone.

Blackbeard's Pirates meanwhile surround you, grins on their faces and swords and other weapons in their hands ready to pounce on you, and probably do more than just kill you.

“As I was telling Garp-san, I'm afraid I can't do that” he replies and then slowly approaches you ‘You're in my way’ and without giving you time to respond he throws ice crystals at you, about a dozen or so.

you try to dodge them and succeed fortunately, thanks to the speed of your sprint, however soon after you get a strong kick to the abdomen that literally sends you flying twenty meters from where the battle between the marines and the pirates is taking place.

in spite of the pain caused by the kick you get up though with difficulty, and you look up resting your gaze on the figure of your old mentor who looks at you sternly “This is not a playground, you shouldn't stay here…You are too weak”

that comment pissed you off: too weak? you trained day and night with koby and the others…and now he tells you that you are too weak? As if he could say that since he wasn't there. "I can assure you, I've improved" you say and then, thanks to your devil fruit that gives you the powers of air, you launch a wave of strong wind that hits him directly, sending him a few meters forward. You create a ball of concentrated wind and throw it at him, but he manages to avoid it.

This time he throws an ice sphere at you, just like Garp, trying to freeze you, but you avoid it and try to distance yourself because you know Kuzan's strength, you know that he has a terrifying physical strength, and you know that you would lose in a 1vs1 fight

you throw waves of wind at him: some manage to hit him, but Kuzan seems to only get a few scratches and dives at you. You try to quickly move away using your devil fruit power, managing to create distance, and in the meantime try to hit him.

but this turns out to be useless: suddenly he reaches you, first hitting you with a punch on the back of the neck, sending you flying for a few hundred meters.

"As I told you, you're too weak Y\N…You never had any hope, neither you nor the others here" he says approaching you calmly, his gaze never leaving your painful face "Why did you come?" he asks rhetorically

"Because I wanted to save Koby-kun and because…" you mutter, struggling to get up, "because I wanted to see you, I wanted you to return to the Navy. We miss you, Kuzan-san. You don't belong with people like Teach," you say with determination: after all, he was the most beloved of the admirals, all the soldiers love him.

"And what makes you think you know me? Are you so arrogant? You were just my subordinate"

another pang to the chest but you continue anyway, ignoring Kuzan's rhetorical questions "Come to the Sword, we can modify the marines from the inside, with you in the ranks more marines will join".

your old mentor sighs, and shakes his head, moving even closer "Oh, Y\N. you are too naive" and now that you see him close you can notice in his eyes a veil of sadness and regret, as if what he was about to do saddens him, you don't understand what until you feel his arms tighten around you and his voice murmur an I'm sorry.

and so in less than a few seconds you are frozen, not having had the time to confess your feelings for him..A wave of regret floods you too.

taglist: @stellasloth @peterdabestasseater

[oskidontle]

holy heifer I have so many questions about your hungry smilers au, I love it so much. Do some of the properties or effects last even after the hunt is over (like how Alan gets back/neck pains)? Do the others know of Pim’s mild resistance to The Hunger? When in the hunt are they aiming to eat or just kill the victim? What about the boss? Is he aware of what’s going on? Is it affecting him? Is he ever curious as to why the smiling friends are acting different or does he ignore it? You said Pim is fully aware of what goes down but what about the others? Is it more awareness for some of them and less for others? How do Pim’s claws work? Ohhhh there is just so much to ponder about with your au it’s soooo goooood

OG AU Post for those confused

I'm glad you're enjoying my lil AU so far! You got a lotta questions and I got a lot of answers let's go!

1:

The hunger is a stubborn and impulsive state. It tends to "leak" out when not on a hunt. Particularly if they've gone without eating for awhile. If hungry it can be difficult to keep from showing signs that something is amiss. Subtle stuff out first: twitchiness, trouble focusing, mood swings... But as time goes on it becomes harder to hide: Constant smiling, extreme impulsivity(lashing out), urges to eat being nearly impossible to resist. If they can't keep it together enough to do their job without being noticed they usually stay back at the office while one of the others takes their place for that hunt.

If they are fed though they remain in proper control of themselves but cannot control of they change forms or not. Little bits of their other forms are still a constant though.

Allan, as stated goes through a lot of neck and back pain, his proportions are never quite right. It's very subtle but his neck still stretches instinctively.

Charlie gets pounding headaches and his tounge is still two. If he coughs hard enough he could accidentally spit a couple drops of acid.

Glep still has small fangs when he opens his mouth.

Pim usually gets sore all throughout his chest and back. A physical giveaway is the permanent black splotches that line his back from below the neck to the base of the spine.

2:

Yes they are aware. It almost costs them hunts sometimes. The only reason he can even begin to fight it is because he starves himself of flesh often and it has trained him to resist The Hunger. Granted it's not much but that moment of resistance he can give could mean life or death for the victim.

3:

When on a hunt the overall goal is to feed. Depending on how ravenous The Hunger is that day, they'll eat till satisfied and that's when they regain control or they will be able to regain control long enough to bring the body back for the whole office to share.

4:

Ohohoho see I've thought long and hard about this since the beginning. Excuse me being a little cryptic up ahead here because I think leaving things up for others to theorize is fun.

What I WILL reveal is Mr.Boss knows more than he lets on. In fact he is the reason The Hunger is such a thing. He's not afflicted by it himself but he has his own motives for causing it. As I told one of my friends before metaphorically Mr.Boss is playing chess and the Smiling Friends are just his pawns in a bigger picture.

Now I'll add to the answer with more questions for you to think about. Why have they never been caught by authorities nor even questioned when the killings so clearly all link to the Smiling Friends company. Why does the media never seem to report on these killings? Why are there never any police records kept accurate? (Files mislabeled as perpetrator unknown or missing persons)

5:

Pim has a slightly higher level of awareness as the others. What makes him notable the fact he can use that awareness to, like previously stated, hesitate against The Hungers will somewhat. Either way to all of them it's like looking through foggy glass mentally. It can be a bit hard for them to tell what's going on and they have to make an active effort to clear the brain fog. Sometimes it's easier to let the mental fog do it's thing though, at least they won't have to think about the life they just took.

6:

Pims extra limbs form from a thick substance that oozes out of patches on his back. This substance shapes itself and rematerializes to match his true arms as much as possible. This is highly imperfect though. As you've probably noticed, the extra arms all bend in unusual ways. Too many joints, imperfect joints.

Because of the substance they were made out of they can stretch or rematerialize partially on the fingers. This is the premise for his claws. All that needs to happen is some reorganizing on a molecular level and suddenly those claws are harder than and sharper than a razor. The claws can rematerialize back into normal looking hands as well depending on the nessisary situation. It is of note though his true limbs cannot do any of that.

[navvyu]

AN: thank you for requesting! i personally agree, hope i did good at writing this it was a bit hard bc its my first time writing yandere. sorry if its wonky =＾● ⋏ ●＾= ALSO IM SO SORRY FOR HIS COMING OUT LATE :,) (i would like to mention that i worked on this fic almost entirely at school too lmao)

Housewardens with a yandere! male! reader

*not beta read

Warnings: implied stalking, implied murder/violence, creepy behavior(?), kidnapping (all by reader)

Includes: Riddle, Leona, Azul, Klaim, Vil, Idia, Malleus

Riddle

 Would at first suspect nothing, simply thinking that his students are finally learning the queen of hearts rules

He would start to suspect something wrong when  some of his more… pushy students went missing (not to mention that the pain used to paint the roses seemed thicker as of late…)

Riddle would become weary when he started feeling eyes on him at all times

He would go for a  walk in the rose maze to attempt to clear his head, an easy mistake really

Would attempt to cause you physical harm in attempt to get away, he tried multiple times to escape all in different methods (but still ending horribly) 

After trying to escape far to many times, he would still hate you with all his heart but he would just push through silently hoping that somebody would save him

“You're far too horrible to be called human, You're nothing but a disgraceful monster. You should be ashamed.”

Leona

At first, leona would enjoy that people had started leaving him alone

But when ruggie started avoiding him, he became suspicious

Would have trouble sleeping because he cloud feel somebody watching him

since he is often alone, sleeping it was easy to 'capture' him

Often tries to escape, will bite

hates you and will vocalize it to you no qualms about it

He tries to use his magic to kill you along with trying to use his brute strength to try and harm you

once he find physical violence doesn't swade you, he will try to degrade you

may try to harm himself to manipulate you to letting him go

after awhile he'll just sit and growl at you but not actually do anything

"You're horrible. i never want to see you again."

Azul

 Starting off, if Azul noticed your obsession with him he would attempt to rope you into a deal, trying to use your favorability to persuade you

If he didn't notice your obsession he probably would either just dismiss you or not give you much thought

But Azul would quickly notice the change in attitude of everyone, his clients who had originally refused begging for him to let them reconsider, workers of mostro lounge being on higher performance, the leech twins being more ‘mellowed out’, though he appreciated it all it still made him a bit suspicious

When decided to finally investigate, he was completely alone without any protection, stupid honestly

Would try to use his ‘benevolence’ to persuade you to let him go, but that obviously didn't work

Once he found that it was futile to try and trick you he would resort to physical means to escape

He attempted to trick you again, trying to convince you that he loved you and he was trustworthy but again, he failed miserably

At some point he’ll just get used to it and he’ll shut up

“Please let me go, you love me don't you? How could a man like you be so cruel to his one and only?”

Kalim

 Would almost immediately notice the small changes in everything but wouldn't know the cause.

Kalim after a while of people refusing his party invites, hangouts, and other social events, Kalim might start to believe that people were growing to dislike him…

That doubt started to turn into worry when Jamil when missing, seemingly out of nowhere

Now with Kalim being alone most times, it was easier to knock him out

When he woke up, he almost immediately knew he was kidnapped. Not the first time its happened after all…

May try and beg for your mercy or to let him go bt in the end he knew it was futile

He ended up simply accepting his situation and gave up almost all hope, aside from trying to escape every time he had the chance to

“Why would you do this? I trusted you…”

Vil

 Might notice your “creepy” behavior if you show it openly

Vil began noticing that a few things were changing, how rook seemed to avoid him, epel being more obedient and so on

Was pleased at first but it quickly became concert and worry

As he paced in his room attempting to connect the dots to what was happening, it gives you a clear window to take him while he’s distracted <3

When he first ‘disappeared’ there were tons, thousand, millions even of people looking for him, if you successfully hide him though it should be to much of a rock in the road

Vil would attempt to escape, or even try to poison you on multiple occasions along with heavy degradation

They all ended in futility of course , but he’s still stubborn as ever

“You’re disgusting… How could you do this? Any other man would have treated me better.”

Idia

 honestly he’s probably the easiest to have as your target

All you have to do i earn his trust and ortho’s trust and you’ll basically be set

Idia wouldn't notice anything to out of the ordinary, aside from some of his gaming friends not messaging him, nothing was amiss

Since Idia doesn't often go outside of his room it was easy to keep him ‘’trapped’ there

Though Idia might be a little down he’ll appreciate your company

But when you he a little but clingy he might think somethings suspicious but he’ll brush past it, excusing it has him not being to connected to ‘normie culture’

If he notices that you’re not letting him interact with others or the outside world he might try to get Ortho to search up if its weird or not

When Ortho says its odd behavior he might try to push away form you but he couldn't bring himself to fully commit to it

Overall, either won't notice or will simply brush it off

“Hey wanna join me on this RPG? I think you might like this new charter, he kinda acts like you ya know?”

Malleus

 Would also probably not notice that the behavior is considered weird, simply thinking that it's a human custom

May find your obsessive nature endearing, thinking that you just like him alot

Since nobody really even came near him it was easy to keep most potential rivals away

Once the diasmonia group seemed to push away form Malleus he of course became upset that the people he considered family were leaving him

But at least he has you!

Malleus may think that the sudden abandonment is unnatural and may try to dig deeper into what's going on but he wont find much

May at his own will just stay at an arm's length away because he's scared of losing you

“Please don't leave me, I don't think I could take it…”