#LITERALLY THE SECOND I CAME BACK

[sleepyselkiesims]

Part 35

ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME RIGHT NOW?!?!?!?!

This is a literal slap in the face for Tiana trying so hard to keep you alive!!!

Ok fine, after being brought back to life for all of 2 seconds, Rapunzel let herself droop back to the floor. Tiana was shocked!

Rapunzel told her grandbaby that she was just lying down for a nap, so why didn't Aurora run along and play with her friends?

With Aurora safely out of the way, Rapunzel breathed her last breath. Again.

Nobody was quite sure how to react to the situation. Least of all Grim.

Tiana had to take a moment to step aside and try to deal with the weight of the situation. I mean, who has to watch their both of their parents die multiple times???

At least the kids didn't have to witness the horrors all over again. They could just have a nice time bonding over dolls!

...whoops. Jade picked a helluva time to reappear. Sorry, kid.

Hoping against hope, Tiana pleaded with her old friend Grim once more. Could he at least keep her alive long enough to not die near a trashcan?

To everyone's complete shock, Grim actually agreed to spare Rapunzel a second time!! The benevolent god had never known this to happen!

Maybe that's the joy of mixing the princess with magic life hair and the princess with friends on the other side. Death can look the other way sometimes.

Minerva fumed at this turn of events. She gave Grim a piece of her mind! What was he thinking, letting these random spellcasters cheat death?!?!

Honestly, I think any sim who cheers at this particular sight deserves an anti-death treat.

For the second time that day, Rapunzel felt her spirit flow back into her cold old bones.

Man, being brought back to life was tiring. Next time, Tiana could just let her rest. She was so close to seeing Karim and all her dead friends again.

Worried that Rapunzel would only last another 2 seconds, the benevolent god raced the Queen family to Rapunzel's home.

If Rapunzel had to die today, it would be in the place she loved with the people she loved!

Teo didn't quite understand what was going on, Rapunzel had accepted the end, but Cassandra was enraged.

While Rapunzel agreed with the plan to lay her to rest, Cassandra was more scepti-

TEO!!! Back away from the cowplant!!! This is how you lost you other parent, remember???

In the split second the benevolent god took to yell at Teo, both old women sprinted away from Tiana! What about the plan??

Woah woah woah!! Cassie?? What's with the thumbs down of disappointment?!?!?!!?

Well excuuuuuuse Tiana for trying to give her mama a nice last day on earth before she headed over to the other side!

Cassandra couldn't take it anymore, and stormed off of Rapunzel's little island.

Tiana on the other hand stayed, and calmed herself down by meeting her adorable new nephew, Ryan.

Tiana waited around the house for a few more hours, socialising with the happy fiances. But Rapunzel still clung to life!

It seemed she had decided to pass peacefully in her sleep, on top of her sun-themed bed.

Varian, i swear to-

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

An unbothered queen has entered, and subsequently left.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[suburbanbonfire]

the captain is back

[image description: Digital illustration of Jordan Eberle, a hockey player for the Seattle Kraken. The poster is mimicking the poster for the movie Akira, with Eberle as Kaneda, his back facing the viewer so that his face is obscured and the nameplate on his back is visible. He is mid-stride walking towards a giant red tentacle laying out on the ice, reaching for him.

At the bottom of the image is the word 'Kraken,' overlaid in red with the Japanese katakana symbols for 'Kraken'. End description.]

[fratboykate]

Yelena doesn’t pack.

She sits there, fists clenched on her thighs, jaw tight, every muscle in her body screaming at her to follow Kate and fix this before it spirals further out of control.

But she’s tired. God, she’s so fucking tired.

For once, she wants to be the one walked toward instead of always being the one doing the chasing.

But the minutes stretch. Ten. Fifteen. Twenty. The silence outside Kate’s office is oppressive, settling into Yelena’s bones like lead. No footsteps. No hesitation. No coming back.

And she knows...Kate’s not easing up.

That realization sends something sharp and dangerous slicing through her chest. Fine. If Kate wants to be stubborn, then Yelena can match her.

She heads to the door, grabs her keys out of the bowl, and heads out. She doesn’t rush. If Kate is listening, she wants her to hear every deliberate footstep, the soft click of the lock as she pulls the door closed behind her.

Let her know that Yelena isn’t bluffing.

She makes it as far as the car. Keys in hand, fingers curled around the driver’s side door handle. And then she just…stops.

Her pulse is a dull, steady thud in her ears. The weight of the night...the fight, the accusations, the sheer exhaustion of being caught in this cycle...presses in on her.

She should go. She said she was going. And Yelena isn’t the type to walk back on something once she’s put it out into the universe. She’s stubborn like that. Always has been.

But she's still here.

Kate is right here.

And maybe maybe this is the moment. The test.

If Yelena gets in the car and drives off, does Kate let her? Does she come outside, bang on the window, demand she come back inside? Does she call in ten minutes, or an hour, or tomorrow morning when she wakes up and realizes Yelena actually left?

Or does she do nothing?

That last thought sinks claws into Yelena’s chest. It sits there, heavy and festering, refusing to let her go.

She releases the car handle and pivots on her heel, marching back toward the garage elevator before she can talk herself out of it.

Inside, the lights in the hallway are dim. The office door is still wide open, her chair pushed back from the desk exactly how she left it. The fight sits in the air, thick and suffocating, but the house is quiet.

Uncomfortably so.

Yelena makes her way down the hall. There’s a sliver of light coming from the guest room at the end of it.

She hesitates, foot hovering over the carpet leading there, then she moves past it entirely. Instead, she veers toward the kids’ rooms. She’s not sure what she’s looking for. Some reassurance, maybe, something to anchor her in the mess of tonight.

She stops outside Alexia's door first, pressing her palm against the wood for a second before carefully pushing it open just enough to peek inside.

The room is dark, save for the faint glow of the nightlight in the corner. Alexia is curled on their side, one arm flung over the stuffed owl Kate bought her last Christmas. Yelena watches her chest rise and fall, slow and even.

She should’ve been here earlier. Should’ve said goodnight, should’ve been the one to tuck the kids in instead of leaving it to Kate again.

She shuts the door as quietly as possible and crosses the hall to the little one's room.

Maks is sprawled across the mattress in the most chaotic sleeping position imaginable, tangled in the sheets, one sock barely clinging to his foot. In the crib, Sonny is neatly tucked in, her tiny hand curled under his cheek.

Yelena lingers in the doorway for a long time.

She loves them. Of course, she does. That was never up for debate. But it still stings, the way Kate threw it at her earlier, like Yelena being a good mother was somehow optional.

Like Kate thinks she’s failing.

Like she thinks she’s failing.

She swallows hard, backing out of the room.

When she reaches the guest bedroom, the door is cracked open. A lamp is still on inside, and Yelena can just make out the shape of Kate sitting on the edge of the bed, one leg tucked up, fingers pressed to her forehead.

She doesn’t knock, just pushes the door open wider and steps inside.

Kate doesn’t look up. Doesn’t say anything.

Yelena exhales slowly, crossing her arms.

“I didn’t leave.”

Kate snorts, the sound dry, unimpressed.

“Want a medal?”

Yelena clenches her jaw.

“I don’t want to do this anymore.”

That makes Kate lift her head. Her eyes are red, tired, but sharp.

“Do what?”

“This. Fighting. This stupid back and forth. I don’t want to keep hurting you.”

Kate watches her carefully, searching for something. Then, with a quiet scoff, she shakes her head.

“That’s nice. Really. But you don’t get to say ‘I don’t want to fight’ like that fixes everything. You did hurt me. You keep doing it.”

“I know.” It’s the only honest thing Yelena can say. She shifts on her feet. “But you’re hurting me too.”

That seems to land. Kate’s jaw tightens, and she looks away.

Yelena takes a careful step forward.

“We can’t keep doing this. I don’t want to lose you.”

Kate laughs, but it’s hollow.

“You sure about that? Because every time shit gets hard, you disappear.”

Yelena shakes her head. “I don’t...”

“Yes, you do.” Kate cuts in sharply. “Physically. Emotionally. Take your pick.” She lifts her hands, then lets them fall limply onto her lap. “You think I don’t know what it’s like to feel like you’re fucking drowning? I do. Every single day. But I don’t get to check out. I don’t get to decide it’s too much and just…step back.”

“I don’t decide to do it.” Yelena’s voice is quiet now. “It’s not…it’s not something I want.”

“But it’s what happens,” Kate mutters, shaking her head.

Silence stretches between them.

Then, Kate exhales and leans forward, pressing her face into her hands for a moment before lifting her gaze again. Her voice is softer when she speaks next.

“What are we to you?”

"What?”

“Its a simple question,” Kate says, watching her. “If this...” she gestures vaguely between them “...is something you’re only holding onto because it’s familiar, or because leaving would be too hard, then we need to stop pretending.”

Yelena doesn’t answer right away. Because wanting something and knowing how to make it work are two different things. She exhales, crossing the room until she’s close enough to kneel in front of Kate, resting her hands lightly against her knees. Kate doesn’t pull away.

“You and them are the best thing that ever happened to me. I love you,” Yelena says, voice steady. “And I don’t want to stop trying.”

Kate studies her for a long, tense moment. Then, finally, she sighs.

“We have to try differently then,” she says. “Because whatever this is? It’s not working.”

"We'll figure it out. All we have to do is choose not to give up."

///

The next morning is quiet. Too quiet.

Yelena wakes to the sound of muffled voices. The house is awake without her. The kids are up. Kate is up. And Yelena is still in bed, staring at the ceiling, feeling like she’s an outsider in her own home.

She drags herself up, pulling on a sweatshirt over her sleep shirt as she pads barefoot toward the door. Their bedroom feels wrong when Kate doesn't sleep in it. Foreign. Without Kate in here, Yelena feels she’s intruding. The space between her and Kate has never felt this wide.

Hearing them out there...it feels like they're already moving on without her.

Yelena makes her way to the kitchen. Kate must have said something hilarious because she hears Alexia and Maks cackle. She turns and corner and, the second she steps inside, she knows she’s walked in on something.

Kate, who stands by the sink, tenses the moment her and Yelena make eye contact. A few feet away, Alexia sits at the table with Maks and Sonny. Sonny is in just her diaper, swinging her legs under her chair, oblivious to the tension that just thickened the air. Maks is staring down at his half-eaten cereal like it might give him an answer to whatever the hell just happened here. Alexia, however, is bristling.

“You should have woken me up,” Yelena says, voice rough with sleep.

Kate doesn't say anything.

Alexia glances up, eyes flicking between them, and suddenly, Yelena realizes what this looks like. Kate slept in the guest room. She wasn’t here when they woke up. She walked in late.

Like a stranger.

“Mama, are you living with Deda and Babu now?” Maks asks, tilting his head.

Yelena’s stomach twists. “What? No. Why would you...”

Yelena glares at Kate. Before she knows it's happening, she's crossing the kitchen and walking straight to Kate.

“What did you tell them?” Yelena asks barely above a whisper.

"The truth." Kate turns, leveling her with a stare. “What was I supposed to do? Pretend like nothing is happening? They’re not stupid.”

“They’re also kids.”

Kate scoffs, dropping a spoon into the sink with a clatter.

“Right. And what do you think is worse? Talking to them about it or letting them figure it out on their own while we keep playing house?”

“This isn’t something they should have to deal...”

“They already deal with it,” Kate snaps. “Every single time you put your work first. Every time you miss a recital or a game or a school meeting. Every time I have to make excuses for you...they already know. So maybe, just maybe, don’t act so fucking surprised.”

Alexia chair scrapes backwards and she storms off.

"Alex..." Yelena pleads after her daughter.

But she's already gone, storming down the hallway and up the stairs. Maks looks like he wants to follow, but he stays put, chewing his lip. Sonny, blissfully unaware, bangs her little hands on the high chair and gurgles.

Kate sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “This is exactly why I told you to fix your priorities.”

Yelena sets her jaw. “You told me? This isn’t just on me, Kate.”

“Really? Because I’m not the one who’s always gone.”

The words slam into her, harder than she’s willing to admit.

Before she can respond, Maks slides off his chair and follows after his big sister, leaving only Sonny at the table.

Kate watches them go, then turns back to the sink, gripping the edge of the counter like she’s holding herself together.

“I don’t want to fight in front of them,” Yelena mutters.

“Then don’t start shit at breakfast.”

Yelena's eyes flash. “Start shit? You told them I was going to stay with my parents.”

“That's what YOU said,” Kate hisses, stepping closer.

“I came back.”

“And you want me to give you points for that?”

“No. I want you to stop acting like I’m the only one responsible for all of this falling apart.”

Kate laughs, but it’s sharp, humorless.

“You’re really going to stand here and act like you’re not?”

“This isn’t fair...”

“What’s not fair is that I have to be the reliable one while you get to be at work. You get to show up when it’s convenient for you. You get to skip the hard parts. You get to waltz in late because you’re Yelena Belova, the brilliant scientist who’s too important and too busy to actually show up.”

“That’s not...” Yelena pauses. "Why did you call me that?"

"Call you what?"

"Yelena Belova."

"That's your name."

"It hasn't been for A LONG time."

“Don’t change the subject,” Kate warns, voice dangerously quiet. “Don’t stand there and pretend like you don’t see it. You have no idea what it’s like to be the one who has to hold it all together.”

Yelena’s chest heaves. “And what do you think I’ve been trying to do?”

“Trying isn’t enough anymore.”

There it is. The final nail in the coffin.

Yelena shakes her head, throat burning. “You’ve already decided, haven’t you?”

Kate doesn’t answer right away. Her gaze flickers, like she wants to take it back. But she doesn’t.

“I can’t keep doing this,” Kate says finally. “Not when nothing ever changes.”

A thick silence swallows the kitchen whole.

Yelena swallows around the knot in her throat. “So that’s it? You’re done?”

Kate exhales slowly, but there’s no satisfaction in it. No relief. Just exhaustion.

“I think I have to be.”

Yelena takes a step back, like she’s been hit. She doesn’t realize she’s shaking her head until Kate sighs and looks away.

“Yelena...”

“No,” Yelena breathes. “No, this isn’t...we aren’t...”She can’t finish it.

Because Kate isn’t stopping her. Kate isn’t walking it back. Kate isn’t saying 'I don’t mean it' or 'I just need space' or 'We’ll figure it out'.

She’s just standing there, watching Yelena unravel.

“When are you moving out?”

And that...That’s the moment it all falls apart.

[backpackingspace]

Okay no idea if tattoo's were a thing in ancient greece but regardless imagine penelope and odysseus having an olive branch tattoo around their hands that connects when they hold hands.

[fishsticksart]

Francesca - Hozier

If someone asked me at the end, I'll tell them put me back in it

[Francesca, Hozier // The Ghosts of Paolo and Francesca Appear to Dante and Virgil, Ary Scheffer // Francesca, Hozier // Canto V, Inferno, Dante Alighieri // Francesca (Official Video), Hozier // Francesca, Hozier // Ship on Stormy Seas, Ivan Aivazovsky // Francesca, Hozier // Canto V, Inferno, Dante Alighieri // Paolo and Francesca, Mosè Bianchi // Francesca, Hozier // Paolo and Francesca da Rimini, Gustave Doré // Before Romeo and Juliet, Paolo and Francesca Were Literature’s Star-Crossed Lovers, John-Paul Heil // Paolo and Francesca, Frank Dicksee // Francesca i Paolo, Ludwik Wiesiołowski // Before Romeo and Juliet, Paolo and Francesca Were Literature’s Star-Crossed Lovers, John-Paul Heil // Paolo and Francesca da Rimini, Dante Gabriel Rossetti // Francesca, Hozier // Francesca (Later with Jools Holland), Hozier on BBC Music // Canto V, Inferno, Dante Alighieri // tumblr user @handgf // The Kiss, Auguste Rodin // Paolo e Francesca, or Morte di Paolo e Francesca, Gaetano Previati // Hozier // Hozier // Hozier]

[corpusdiem-seizethedead]

Angel: *gazing lovingly at Husk* He could kill me, and I'd thank him.

Cherri: *who has heard this for the millionth time* I'd thank him too

[obaewankenope]

Children are weird.

Just walked into the lounge to see Bean licking the wall for reasons known only to her and was like "WhY Are YOilu liCKINg ThE W A L L !" only for bro to casually go, "oh, again?" from the kitchen like WHAT DO YOU MEAN AGAIN! CHILD WHAT THE HECK!

I love her but omfg this is karma or sth isn't it

[bathmob]

HI @rogertaylorswift !!! ive been meaning to draw eidos rocket for the longest time and you were the perfect inspiration!!!

WHATEVER THESE THINGS ARE ^

[kindahoping4forever]

AshtonIrwin: Wow, what a first week of Side 1 of blood on the drums. I am so stoked you’re listening! You give me so much hope and it’s really lifted me up knowing you’re digging my songs ♥️ thank you for every stream!

[thesummerstorms]

11 or 35 for the Rook story time asks!

35. Crow!Rook’s graduation from Fledgling to Assassin.

This turned out like... ten times longer than I originally anticipated, so I apologize in advance.

The contract had been an unusually bloody affair, but that was typical of a graduation. No Crow worth the name was just handed the title after all, especially not in Esma de Riva's House.

For all that the Fifth Talon was milder on her Fledglings than some of the stories she'd heard from the older mage compradi - in so much as milder meant not wasting an investment unnecessarily, not starving them outside of training or punishment, not being House Arainai- the woman did like her tests.

To Esma, Crows were only as good as their worst, their weakest moments, and that went double for Mages. Arsinoë couldn't help but wonder if that philosophy had been handed down from the Talon's Chantry-Cleric mother... but she absolutely knew better than to ask, even just to Viago.

It was fine. She was fine. Her arm and fingers and ribs all itched and ached where the potion was achingly slow at knitting the bone back together, but it was fine. It was over.

Admittedly, she wished Esma kept more than one proper spirit healer on the books, the way most of the Talons' Houses did, someone to put that skittering wisp hovering just in earshot to work, but-

But no, she didn't wish that. How many times had Viago told her?

It was Esma's very distrust for mages and the resulting lack of mage recruits over the years that had kept her ... well, not safe. No Crow or Mage was ever safe. But it gave her an advantage, an edge the other fledglings didn't have, to be needed. A mage was an expensive investment.

Bile stung at the back of her throat at the thought. Her stomach twisted, even as she tried to hold back the empty heaving. Pain lanced her chest again, so sharp that the beams of the infirmary rafters above her cot disappeared in a blur of new tears.

It would be fine. The physician Esma had deigned to bring once everything was over had said as much. He hadn't been a spirit healer, and he hadn't bothered to give her pain killers or talk to her directly, but he had done that. Looked at her with dark, dispassionate eyes and promised Esma there would be no loss of function once the potions had run their course.

Of course not. Esma didn't like needless waste. Something she credited to her merchant prince father when entertaining guests.

If anything, Arsinoë almost thought she had seen the Talon scowling when the physician prodded at the long deep cuts down her cheek, the one curving from her collar bone down between the valley of her breasts. She wouldn't have believed it but-

Facial scars are too easy to recognize.

It would bring her value down on a Contract. Lucky then, that she was a mage, a lightning-wielder, not a seductress or a spy.

None of this would have happened if-

Arsinoë swallowed again, blinked her eyes in an attempt to clear them, and wished that wisp would go away and stop with its odd little noises. She wanted to yell, try to scare it off... but it was already so hard to catch her breath. Besides, no one could find out that she heard or saw the damn thing so clearly after years of pretending otherwise.

So the job had been bloody, especially for someone whose best teacher was primarily a poisoner. Just her, a mage's stiletto, and a last minute contract on a target who seemed all too aware someone would be coming.

But she had managed. More than managed. No one had seen so much as a bloody footprint when she slipped back out from the dead man's chambers and back into Salle's side streets.

Maybe if she had been a duelist or a poisoner, that's where it would have ended. Arsinoë had never asked Viago, and he wouldn't have been able to tell her.

But Arsinoë was a mage. There was always another test for a mage. Stupid of her to forget that, even in a moment of victory. Stupid of her to trust one of Esma's men.

The torturer had reminded her of that while they worked, their voice neither condemning or sympathetic.

A mage was a risk like no other kind of Crow. How would a client take it if some Crow listened too carefully to the whispers from beyond the Veil, whether it be in a moment of greed or pain or terror? How would the Crows ever recover their reputation if a Crow, from any House, could be made an abomination from something as mundane as agony?

The Fifth Talon had to be sure.

And Arsinoë, who had more practice that she would ever confess at ignoring the whispers of interested spirits, who had survived a Circle where Templars went readily with their hands already at their blades... Arsinoë had endured. Because she had to.

A mage would always be tested. Even her mother, an Apostate with more hatred for the Chantry than anyone Arsinoë had met before or since, had told her as much. A mage had to keep control.

Arsinoë had kept control.

That meant something, even now with the room still spinning from pain and from the mix of potions and poisons and antidotes that had been poured down her throat. The small brand on her hip proved it, marked her as a Harrowed Crow, a sign of protection if you could find the right Templar for the House to bribe.

Maybe in the morning she would even be happy about it. But it was hard to feel much now beyond the aches and the nausea and the silence of the otherwise empty room, broken only by that damn wisp.

Her eyes blurred again, and then her mind. Just the quiet and the pain and the occasional flash of interest-hurt-worry from the wisp. Viago would have scolded her if he hadn't been off on a Contract, but Arsinoë found she was too tired to care about whatever someone might try to do to her now.

It felt like hours later, maybe longer, when the clinking of glass vials finally drew her attention back the present. The physician back with more potions? But he had said she'd been given all the tonics she could safely consume for the time being. If not him then-

Maker. Just leave me alone. Please.

She groaned, and the noises at her bedside stopped. A shadow fell across the back of her closed eyelids, followed a second later by a touch to her bandaged cheek that was just a little too firm for comfort.

"Arsinoë?"

That sounded like Viago. Was she hallucinating Viago's voice now? She had thought being off in the Free Marches would at least keep him from lecturing her.

"Arsinoë." Definitely Viago. He sounded pissed, as usual, though the hand that stayed pressed against her face was new. "Arsinoë de Riva, stop pretending to sleep and tell me what that moron has been giving you."

That sounded like an order, so after a moment of deep resentment for the command, she forced her eyes back open, taking in the scene in bits and pieces. A blue leather glove at the edge of her vision. Weak sunlight through the high windows. A slight blur over the world, no matter where she looked. Everything had fallen quiet again, waiting for her reply.

And yes. There was Viago.

"Did..." her voice felt stuck in her throat, her mouth dry, "Did you scare off the wisp?"

"The wisp?" Viago's scowl deepened, and abruptly he drew his hand back, reaching for whatever he had been working on before she caught his attention. "Never mind, don't tell me, I don't want to know."

He waited a moment for her to argue. When she didn't, he added, "You're feverish. I suppose there's no point in asking what you remember about the viscosity of the tinctures you were given, is there?"

She thought about it for half a second, trying, but the mixtures she had been given kept slipping from her mind. She had something more important to tell him, didn't she? Something he needed to know more?

"Vi, I-"

I'm a Crow, she should have said. I passed. Whatever happens, I'll die as Crow.

She should have said, I graduated.

What came out was "Vi.. I'm safe."

Her voice came out all wrong, too weak at the ends, almost questioning, but she needed him to know. Whatever happened next, she would die as a Crow, and an Antivan, and not just an Apostate.

Viago's face scrunched up strangely. For a moment it looked like he was going to reach over and poke at her again, but his hand only rose and fell back to his side.

"Yes..." He said softly. "Yes, I'm watching the exits. And I'll fix this."

That wasn't what she had meant, but Viago was strange at the best of times. She let it go, closing her eyes as he began his familiar prattle about reagents and the comparative virtues of embrium versus arbor's blessing versus elf root, letting the words wash over her in waves.

[fangomango]

They're in love (you don't know the lore like I do (I also don't know the lore))

[sukugo]

i have to ask because i adore you and i want to know about your new blorbos- who are they and what are they and why are they always soaked in blood

JDHSJFHJFDDJFFSDFDF, oh man where do i start cassie.

they're from the anime/manga jujutsu kaisen, and they are:

gojo satoru. love of my fucking life. my fucking everything my boy my man, i am so so in LOVE with this man i cant even begin to tell u. he consumes my every waking thought, my life is dedicated to seeing him get fucked. (he's the guy in my header humping his all into the other's arm)

and (ryoumen) sukuna. beautiful sexy evil man.

(can u tell who's my fave)

so in this world, we have jujutsu sorcerers, who are people with special powers that they use to defeat/exorcise curses, which are basically evil spirits born of negative human emotions

gojo is the strongest jujutsu sorcerer alive. he is insanely strong, not a single person can go against him. his powers make it so that u literally physically cannot touch him. he controls "infinity" and can warp space, and he also has pretty special eyes that let him perceive things at a much deeper level than a regular person. those two things combined make him quite literally untouchable. and insanely powerful.

as for sukuna, he used to be a human who lived thousands of years ago, who used to be the strongest sorcerer of his time, and is considered to be the strongest sorcerer in history. he is the King of Curses, no one could ever defeat him, or destroy his soul, which he divided into his 20 preserved fingers so it would survive through time, even after dying.

so itadori yuuji

this lil baby boy (literally the babiest sweetest boy to exist btw) (he's actually the main character haha)

due to some stuff, he ends up eating one of sukuna's mummified fingers and sukuna reincarnates inside him. yuuji becomes a vessel for sukuna, who lives inside yuuji's mind now and sometimes takes over his body (reason why they look the same)

and now, yuuji is sentenced to be executed bc he holds the most evil sorcerer in history inside him, but gojo goes nope! wait a minute, let's not do that. and manages to convince the people in charge to postpone yuuji's execution, saying that they'll get yuuji to find and eat all of sukuna's fingers and then execute him, getting rid of sukuna all in one go.

ok so that's the context (that's actually what the anime's about haha), but as to gojo and sukuna.

THEY ARE IN LOVE

well, they're there. sdkkhfkjdkfdf

ok no, so like they do their things right. gojo is a teacher (tho we never actually see him do any teaching lmao) and sukuna lives inside yuuji and causes trouble sometimes. they don't really ever interact in the story (they literally meet and have a lil confrontation, decide to kill each other and never talk again djshjfdasdadfd) (until they actually have their Fight, more on that later)

BUT!!!!!!!! they may not interact, but they are completely tied together narratively.

as u can see, they're both the strongest from their respective times, so they have a lot of links when it comes to their characters themselves and what they are referred to in the story. specifically that, in being the strongest, they exist in a plane above everyone else, literally untouchable.

now, in the story, this position of strongest is coupled with solitude, being the strongest meaning u're alone and no one else understands you bc of this

and SO they have their fight. bc plot reasons right. this is obv what it was all gonna lead to. fight of the two strongest.

and the fight, consequently, revolves around that idea of solitude, and understanding each other.

which like. ok. yeah we saw that coming. ofc. no big deal.

EXCEPT, to make reference to their relationship and that idea of understanding each other, the term that is used is, and i kid u not, love.

there's a very specific phrase that is used multiple times between them. which is actually used originally with a character who shows romantic feelings towards sukuna.

she challenges sukuna to a fight and sukuna promises to marry her if she wins. her goal in this fight is to share in sukuna's solitude and show him love (read R→L)

but she says this to sukuna and this. this is his reaction.

SUKUNA KNOWS LOVE ALREADY

to which she gets super pissed bc that's not!!! love!!!!!!!

sukuna defeats/kills her. and u know when the next time that exact fucking phrase is used? when sukuna and gojo finally meet again and set up the date to have their Fight, where sukuna remembers her words

which tells us that.

sukuna was.

thinking about gojo when she said that.

*screams into hands*

BUT IT DOESN'T STOP THERE. this phrase is then repeated. multiple times.

1. right after gojo punches the fuck out of sukuna:

2. said in reference to gojo, when he realizes there's a chance of him losing:

3. gojo reminiscing about their fight:

so, as u can see, they were going to teach each other love. their fight is. canonically. about teaching each other love. what the FUCK.

but ENOUGH love talk (or else i'm at risk of going crazy insane)

LET'S TALK ABOUT HOW THEY'RE LOADED WITH SEXUAL TENSION

this was in their first meeting where they fought (for quite literally 10 seconds)

like... why he do dat.... .......... . ....

next day sukuna goes "hey im gonna kill u first <3" and gojo just goes "teehee omg really? *hair twirl* <3"

they also decide to have their final battle on dec 24 which is like a super romantic date in japan (explicitly said so by another character)

and their FIGHT. it is LITERALLY just them flirting and touching each other

LOOK AT THIS SHIT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

i fucking lost it. i still haven't recovered. that is the hottest thing i've ever seen in my life. gojo wants that dick so fucking bad

not to mention thigh grabs and hand touchies

and the entirety of the fight is just them having fun 😭😭 they're supposed "enemies" on opposite sides and the fate of the world is at stake here, but they actually don't give a fuck about that.

they're literally smiling and having a great fucking time. this fight for them is just play. their fight is just for them to have fun as the strongest and to connect with each other. they're enemies but they don't hate each other or anything, they only search for that sense of fulfillment in each other OTL

AND ABOUT THAT, oh my GOD

sukuna wins. he defeats gojo. and at the end, this. is what sukuna says to gojo at the end of the fight:

FUCKING. I'LL NEVER FORGET YOU. SCREAAAAM THAT'S ROMANCEEEEEE.

and the soft smile? the fucking petals falling all over them? oh GOD they're trying to kill me

but that's on sukuna's side, what about for gojo? well

HE GENUINELY TRIED TO REACH SUKUNA, GAVE IT HIS ALL TO CONNECT WITH HIM. TO TEACH HIM LOVE AGFKDHSKFHFKJFHDF (BUT HE FAILED HE COULDN'T GIVE SUKUNA WHAT SUKUNA GAVE HIM 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭)

HHRRRRGJFHSJDFHDSJFSDFA KJHDKFJSFKASLDKS ADKJKFHEWRKJEKRKTRELRW

and if i start crying OTL

but alas *deep breaths*

even without all that they're just very fucking sexy. two insane powerful men going at it? come on. how could u NOT want them together. they both hold the same title of the strongest, might as fucking well fuck nasty about it.

and oh god, when i tell u gojo is a fucking brat and he's so strong and untouchable, but then sukuna is capable of putting him down which is. insanely sexy. and i need it. i need gojo obliterated. and i know sukuna won't let me down (AND HE DID NOT. HE OBLITERATED THAT MAN) can he now obliterate his holes too

agdkhfhdkhdhs, anyways.... yeah.. that is the situation.........

im just gonna end this by saying

SUKUGO MY LOVES

[chippdhearts]

@frostysfrenzy requested - CSI + Favourite story arc ↳ Catherine's leaving arc

[memento-morri-writes]

whump wednesday - part iii

tw / tags: concussion, blood, bleeding out, loss of consciousness character: Rook (who else?) status: canon (took place several irl months ago as part of Rook’s first “Horrible, Very Bad, No-Good Weekend”.) wordcount: 525

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Another continuation from earlier. The party has now made it back to the Winters' manor. Having lost a lot of blood since being revived (on top of his concussion), Rook is in pretty bad shape. His mentor, Sigmar, is attempting to get him to the Winters' healers.

Rook’s eyes drifted closed, the oblivion of sleep calling to him. A sharp prod at his side dragged them reluctantly back open.  “Rook, you need to stay awake. Just a little bit longer, until a healer can have a look at you.” Sigmar’s voice was serious as he half-dragged, half-carried Rook down the hall of the Winters’ manor.  Rook groaned in response. He was exhausted, and every inch of his body ached. He wanted nothing more than to close his eyes and fall headlong into unconsciousness. Sigmar prodded him again. “Tell me what happened to you. How you ended up in this state.”

Rook thought hard for a moment. How had he ended up like this? He remembered Celestia, and healing the party, and then- Oh, right. He started to explain, his words running together as he spoke. “This werewolf guy showed up. Deadringer?” Sigmar’s body tensed but he said nothing. “And he wanted Warren. Warren and Cherry, I think.” He paused, trying to remember what had happened after that. “He… he wanted to hurt them. So I told him he’d have to go through me first. And he said ‘Deal.’ and threw me across the room. I… I think one of his werebeasts killed me.” He felt rather than saw Sigmar shake his head. “I should never have left you. If I’d known she’d bring Deadringer into this… I shouldn’t have let you go off to fight someone like him without me.” Once again, Rook was surprised at the weight of the emotion in his mentor’s voice. He wanted to say It’s not your fault. Or maybe, I would have done it anyway, but his mouth wouldn’t cooperate. So instead he just rested his head on Sigmar’s shoulder. The damp chill that had come over him on the way here was getting stronger and he leaned into Sigmar’s warmth. “‘S cold,” he mumbled. Sigmar picked up the pace a bit, a worried edge creeping into his voice. “Come on, come on. Just a little further.” Rook’s eyes were heavy, and his awareness of the world was fading. He heard a door open, was vaguely aware of a brightly lit, white-painted room, of being laid down on a bed. He could hear people talking urgently, unfamiliar voices joining Sigmar’s. His muddled mind only caught fragments of their words. “Concussion… Severe… Significant blood loss… Not enough… ”  Sigmar’s raised voice cut through the fog. “Help him, damn you!” It sounded very far away, as though coming from another room. Multiple sets of hands touched his skin, and the familiar warmth of healing magic (when had being healed become familiar again?, he wondered dimly) flooded his body. The cold, clammy feeling faded away. The constant pain he had stopped registering some time ago subsided, leaving blissful neutrality in its wake. His head cleared slightly too, blurred reality coming back into focus for a brief moment. Distant voices reached his ears, borne by that momentary clarity. “It’s safe for him to sleep now. He’ll be fine after some rest.” As if his body needed no further reassurance, Rook’s mind relaxed, and within seconds he sank into a deep sleep.