#They named him according to their wishes but he ended up being an only child anyhow - at least so far but considering he's 23 now lol

[sysig]

Family matters (Patreon)

[allfearstofallto]

"Tell Me You Love Me,"

Yandere! Male x Fem! Reader

FT: Childe and Scaramouche

TW: yandere, forced married au, violence, mentions of punishments (rice kneeling and starvation)

Childe

With your eyebrows knitted together and furrowed, lips pressed together in a tight smile and cheeks just ever so slightly puffed out, this is when Childe found you the cutest. Your smile was nice and he had an extra special place in his heart for the way you looked as you sobbed, but nothing could ever top your pout. It was to the point where he'd do things to entice it out of you, intentionally teasing you to see you puff up in that oh so adorable anger.

His cold, thin finger reached out and gently poked the soft cushion of your cheek, sinking into the plumpness of your face. Even when you slapped his hand away, he couldn't help, but to swoon at how cute you were. You couldn't harm him, not with those weak little punches, but you sure could try. And he absolutely loved watching you try. You seldom touched him of your own accord, so what was the harm in enticing you to do so? 

“I'm not in the mood to deal with you, Ajax,” You muttered, voice barely above a whisper. You spat his name like it was filthy, even crossing your arms afterwards as if to show you were deathly serious. He knew that you were, you had every right to be, yet he still sat next to you, so close his thigh pressed against yours. 

He placed an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his chest in an unwanted embrace. It was a move that earned him a slap across the face from you. A painful one at that. Not unbearable of course, more akin to a cat scratch. Yes the cat hurt you, but who could stay mad at such a cute animal?  You on the other hand, he could see you holding your tingling palm, trying to hide the pain you were feeling. You were able to hit him because he let you, but an untrained fighter such as yourself was no match for a harbinger.

“Now look what you've done,” he could feel his cheek growing a bit hot from the strike, “You've gone and hurt the both of us.”

You shot him a glare, a very harsh one. If looks could kill he would've died on the spot. But he was immune to your gaze. More than immune to it actually, he reveled in the fact that you looked at him that way. That your pretty face could make such an awful expression. That the hatred you felt for him, causes your features to contort into something almost ugly, but beautiful to him.

“Maybe I wouldn't have had to if you weren't such a liar!” You raised your trembling voice, eyes welling with tears. Watching you go from anger to falling apart at the seams. He was the only person who could make you feel this way and it made him feel a sense of pride.

“What'd I lie about?” He teased. He looked up with a finger pressed against his chin, playfully beginning to ponder. If your hand wasn't already aching from the slap, you would've punched him, right in his smug little face.

“You said I could go,” you words were strained through tears that wouldn't stop cascading down your face, “I did everything you told me to. You promised!”

He snapped his fingers in recognition, “Oh! That's it! You wished to go to the lantern rite!”

The sight of him pretending was making you even more angry. But you couldn't let it boil over any more. Childe would only allow so much before he started to get upset, finally showing you how gentle he was being with you before. Few people even got the chance to place hands on him and live.

“You said I could go,” you repeated again slowly. 

And he did. You slaved away, doting on him like the perfect wife. Doing everything he wanted. You were at his beck and call, acting on his every whim. Just for the chance to touch the soil of Liyue again, to smell the air, to taste the food…to see your family. They went to the lantern rite every year, and you hoped that that tradition didn't end just because you'd vanished. All you needed was a glimpse of their faces, no talking necessary. Even though you knew they'd want to see you, the selfish part of you was okay with them thinking you were dead or gone for good. That way they wouldn't risk butting heads with the Fatui, or worse, actually managing to meet with Childe.

“I was hoping you'd forgotten about that,” Childe spoke, trying to hide the annoyance in his voice.

You merely scoffed. You wouldn't be that nice to him without incentive. Yet after the initial agreement, the trip was never planned, luggage wasn't packed, carriages weren't called. As the days grew more and more near, you worried about the long trek to Liyue from Snezhnaya. You'd miss the Rite if you left too late, yet there was no urgency on his side of the deal.

He hummed for a moment, thinking with that face you hated so much. It meant he had more up his sleeve. You knew better than to trust a harbinger to withhold their side of the bargain, but like an idiot you still trusted him.

“I have one more request,” he began.

“That's not what we agreed on!��� 

“Then I guess you just don't want to go?” 

You crossed your arms in surrender. There was that pout that he loved so much. Those puffed up cheeks and furrowed brows. He could eat you up with how cute you were, practically begging for his attention.

“It's easy, I promise,” he leaned as close to you as he could get and you resisted the urge to slap him again, “Just tell me you love me.”

You rolled your eyes, realizing that this was where he was going with it. He always asked you to do it and you always refused. You didn't love him. You hardly even liked him. You despised him actually. Found him disgusting and deplorable. He was less than human in your eyes, more like filth under your feet. But your love for your family outweighed your hatred for him.

“I love you,” you said so monotone, you almost sounded like a robot. Despite your lack of emotion, his face seemed to light up with glee.

“Again,”

“That's not what we agreed-”

He cut you off before you could finish the thought, “Again.”

“I love you,”

“Say my name too,” his voice was breathy, hurried even. You'd never seen his face such a deep shade of red before. It didn't even cross your mind that the Ajax that teased you so much, the Ajax that forced you into a marriage and so many other things, was able to blush. He hushed you again before you could open your mouth in protest, “Say my real name.”

You let out a sigh, “I love you, Ajax.”

His smirk was disgusting as he sat next to you in glee, like the words were sinking into his heart. Childe just sat there, riding the high of feeling your non-existent love before he spoke again calmly.

“I'll have the carriage packed tonight, we leave in the morning,”

Scaramouche

You are Scaramouche's life blood. Truly what keeps him going. His heart which ticks instead of beats, ticks for you, his cold body, warms for you. Although, he'd never admit something as embarrassing as that. Nor would he tell you that he longs for your presence at his side constantly. That he rushes through his assignments, while being noticeably irritable and unapproachable, just so he can make it home to you. Where he'll pretend that he's not head over heels in love with you, and scoffs at your every word. Ignoring you, while simultaneously sticking to you like glue, even with your protests.

He watches couples as they smother each other with affection, kissing each other as if nothing else matters, embracing one another like they're physically unable to tear themselves apart, and he feels something so new to him. Jealousy? No. It's more akin to envy. He wants to do those things and maybe even more. He wants to be the obnoxious couple who can't seem to get their hands off of each other, he wants you to feel the withdrawal from his touch, as he feels from yours.

These are all hopeful thoughts, weary dreams even. He can force you to pretend, but he can't force the feelings. Even if he tells you to look happy when he touches you, there's a lack of light in your eyes that he can't even punish away. You'll never truly feel the way he wants you to. Not now, at least. But there's a wishful part inside of him that claws at his chest, hoping that someday you'll develop those feelings. As he watches you across the parlor, your focus more on the calligraphy that he told you to do than anything else, he knows that that day won't be soon.

You look so beautiful while trying to perfect the brush strokes. Ethereal even. Your skin glows under warm candle light, and even though you try to appear emotionless in front of him, the face you make when you concentrate always finds its way out.

“I'll be leaving on a mission soon,” he finally says into the silence.

You raised your head from your work, looking him in the eye before you speak. You truly are obedient, just as he trained you to be.

“Safe travels, my Lord,” you reply with that saccharine sweet voice, but he knows there's no meaning behind it. No compassion, no joy, no hope. You'd be happy if he died out there, still feeling the same indifference towards him that you do right now. It'd actually make you happier.

His mind shifts back to those couples he'd always see, the ones that were stuck to each other like glue. They'd beg and cry for the other not to leave, holding their hands to pull their lover back in a display of desperation for their time. Yet here you sat. Indifferent. Uncaring. Unloving.

“Don't you have anything else to say to me?” He questioned while that part of him that was still holding on to hope was fighting its way out. If you just told him to stay he would. If you told him that you loved him, he'd come home even quicker. He'd be more brutal, just for the chance to slip into your embrace. Yet only confusion met his question.

“I'll see you soon?” Words which were supposed to be spoken as a gesture of love, were coming out as a question. You didn't want to see him soon, nor did you wish for him to travel safely. Your lack of care has him seething, but only his regular, nonchalant demeanor showed on his face.

“Would you rather kneel on rice or go five days without food?”

Your head shot up when you heard his question, his voice cold and serious. Your heart was pounding in your ears so loudly, you wondered if he could hear it. He didn't have to to know how tense you were at the idea of the punishments, he could see it in your expression. Your look of indifference was quickly changed to fear, large doe eyes threatening to fill with tears.

“Neither, my Lord,” you stammered out, “I don't think I've done anything worthy of punishment.”

And you hadn't. You’d done everything he told you to, exactly the way he wanted you to. Yet his ego and constant need for more of you, to claim you as his entirely, to swallow you whole, it made him angry. He'd given you a better life than you'd ever had before, he'd give you anything you wished for if you'd just open your pretty little mouth to ask, and all he wanted in return was your affection. Your attention. Your love.

“I'll ask you again, even though you know I hate repeating myself,” his red framed eyes glared down at you. Even at his short stature, he suddenly felt mountain tall, dwarfing above you in a way that made you want to sink into yourself, “I'll be leaving on a mission soon, do you have anything to say to me?”

You gulped down your saliva, feeling the way you had to force it down your throat as more pooled in your mouth, “Safe….safe travels, my Lord,” you stuttered. It was the same thing you always said, the same thing you were told to say. He left on trips often, but the script never changed. You were to wish him safe travels and see him off at the door. Yet here you stood before him, a quivering mess as he glared down at you, growing angrier at what was presumably the wrong answer.

“You must want to be punished,” he hummed while looking disinterested.

The pain of rice digging into your knees or the hunger pains of starvation, they were both punishments you knew well. Neither was one you wanted to experience again. After such hard work to act the way he wanted you to, you'd gone a long time without being punished. But the way he was looking at you struck fear in your head, your hands trembled as you desperately began to plead.

“I don't understand, my lord, please tell me what I'm doing wrong,”

“You really are stupid,” he scoffed, but there was a flush forming in his face as he realized just how overboard he was going for this one little thing. Something he'd never asked for before. But the thought was eating away at him, the hope was clawing out of his body. Bashfully, he looked down at the floor, “Tell me that you love me…and that you'll miss me while I'm gone.”

Your tears were dried quickly and you slowed your labored breathing. A bit of anger was bubbling in the pit of your stomach, anger at the fact that was going to punish you over something so miniscule, anger you hadn't felt towards him since the very beginning of this all. Since the day he told you that you were going to be his wife, but it wasn't a question, it was an order. Your very first order.

“I love you, my lord. I'll miss you so very much while you're gone,” you wondered if he wanted a performance. You did your best to make the words sound genuine, despite the way you detested him and his finicky personality.

“Do you mean that?” He asked, his voice sounding almost hopeful. In his heart of hearts he knew it wasn't true, but that didn't stop the excitement from growing.

“Of course, my Lord,” you lied. It was a good lie though, seeing as it earned you a subtle smile upon his lips.

“I'll bring you back a gift from Mondstadt, for being so good recently” he whispered while lightly patting your head. But the enticing idea of a gift wasn't even enough to pull you from your fear. You'd dodged a bullet, but there were more to come.

[nocreativityfornames]

Everything we know about Barbatos so far, lore wise.

WARNING: SPOILERS FOR ALL SEASONS

➤ He lives in the Demon Lord's Castle with Diavolo and works as his loyal butler. (swd: 2-13)

➤ He's one of the demons who share a pact with Solomon. (swd: 2-A)

➤ According to Mammon, he has a secret torture room beneath the castle from where you can hear the screaming of his victims at night. The other brothers and Diavolo were in the room when he told this to MC but none of them batted an eye or tried to deny it. (swd: 6-19)

➤ Before, citizens of the Devildom were allowed to easily travel to the Human World whenever they wished through passages placed in certain locations in the kingdom, but now those passages are blocked and the only way demons can use them is by getting permission from the few other demons who are still allowed to use them freely first. Barbatos is one of said demons. (swd: 11-4)

➤ He has the ability to time travel thanks to his powers that allow him to create a portal to any place, time and reality he wants. (swd: 15-17 and 53-11)

➤ He was the one to take MC back to the past when they made a deal with Diavolo to figure out who had opened the attic door and released Past!Belphegor in exchange for Present!Belphegor's freedom from being imprisoned for conspiring against the exchange program. (swd: 15-17)

➤ He looked into MC's bloodline under Diavolo's request once the prince realized there was something special about them, and it was then that he found out that they were Lilith's distant descendant. (swd: 16-15)

➤ In response to MC asking him if he knew everything that would happen with Belphegor getting out of the attic before it occurred Barbatos said that no, he didn't know, and even further said: "Imagine for a moment what it would be like to know everything that will happen from now until the end of time. Why nothing could possibly be more boring, wouldn't you agree?" (swd: 15-17)

➤ His main way to use his powers to "space travel" is through the many doors in his room in the Demon Lord's Castle. (swd: 15-17)

➤ He was never a child. (swd chat: The Royals, “That's What I Mean”)

➤ He met Solomon a long time ago when the sorcerer risked death to summon him (swd: 53-16), desperately needing his powers to control time for reasons that are still unknown. (swd: 49-A)

➤ He gave Solomon his grimoire out of trust and respect for him. (swd: 53-16)

➤ It's a big rumor around the kingdom that he's powerful enough to rival even the Demon King himself. (swd: 54-1)

➤ He met Diavolo when the prince was still a child and Diavolo got Barbatos to work for him by luring him into the castle with the promise of very rare tea and then telling him that he wouldn't let him leave unless he agreed to be his butler, getting to the point of even threatening to not assume his position of king in the future if the older demon refused to. And telling this story to Thirteen, Barbatos confessed to having found the whole thing very cute. (swd: 58-A and nb: 15-A)

➤ When it hit the news that he had sworn allegiance to Diavolo the whole kingdom was in shock and it was THE THING everyone was talking about. (swd: 54-1 and nb: 15-1)

➤ He has been around for a long time and shows up in historical records under multiple different names. Rumor has it he was alive even before the Devildom took shape. (nb: 15-1)

➤ When asked about Diavolo in a conversation with MC, he told them that the prince is the very reason for his current existence. (swd: 54-5)

➤ Narrated by Solomon in the Nightbringer Prologue Movie we hear the story of a certain demon, it goes: “Once upon a time, there was a demon who could see both past and future. With a flurry of trumpets from his king, the demon appeared. Finding a lost human the demon whispered: 'I can take you to where you'll be happy.' Through their tears, the human spoke: 'Thank you, o kind one. If you save me from this dark path, I will pray to you every night. Please, tell me what they call you!'" But before any reply can be said Barbatos is shown making a shushing sound, which was largely perceived as him not wanting the viewers to know that he was the demon from the story. Later, the human was revealed to be Adam, a man who came to the Devildom looking for his lover and met a demon named Nightbringer, who he immediately went to begging for help. (nb: 8-16)

➤ He was the one to give Solomon the title of “the Witty Sorcerer” when he brought him to the Fountain of Knowledge for the first time while Solomon was on the verge of death. Barbatos attended the sorcerer's wounds there and declared him the new protector of the spring. (nb: 11-10)

➤ He's to blame for how much Solomon has changed, according to Thirteen. The reaper told MC that Solomon used to be very loveably innocent when he was younger, but that Barbatos let him experience whatever he wanted and now nothing scares or fazes him anymore. (nb: 11-10)

➤ The reason he had been so irritable towards Solomon in the past was because when visiting the sorcerers' home he found a list of demons he wanted to make pacts with and noticed his name was placed 8th. (nb: 25-1)

➤ Before meeting Diavolo he used to use his powers freely to travel through time and space whenever he wanted without a care for how his actions could affect others, and they ended up terribly affecting Diavolo and Solomon, and Barbatos sees his devout servitude to the prince as a way to atone for those past actions, but Diavolo doesn't know that. (nb card: Barbatos, "Tea With You")

➤ Although he accepted to work for the prince for the sake of atonement, he ended up enjoying his time with him and found that he felt a sense of belonging working for him. (nb card: Barbatos, "Tea With You")

[ashtavula]

Hihihi! Could I please request a royalty/nobility au with the housewardens? Like them as a dashing Mr. Darcy, if that makes sense.

So, since this is pretty open ended, I'm just going with headcanons on what sort of role they'd have in this au. Though it might be more like an otome au? But if you like it, or want to see more, please don't hesitate to ask!

Royalty AU - The Housewardens

You are the only heir to the throne, and now, you've been given a "simple" task. Find someone to marry before the year is over! Your butler clears his throat, and names some of your potential suitors...

Riddle - The Marquess' Son

-Riddle is the sole child of Marquess and Marchioness Rosehearts. His family is well known for funding medical research, and they're generally well respected. At least, publicly. In private, many nobles whisper about the cruelty of Marchioness Rosehearts, and Riddle's overbearing strictness. Your butler also states that, when your parents announced your eligibility for marriage, she was the very first to put her son's name forward. It makes you think that Riddle had no say in being a candidate.

-Riddle himself is rumored to be at odds with his family, considering his friendship with the local baker, Trey Clover, and other commoners. His mother has publicly denounced the idea that her family mingles with the lower classes, but Riddle continues to be spotted around the bakery regardless. It makes you wonder if he's not quite as strict as the rumors claim...

Leona - The Second Prince

-Leona is the second born prince of a neighboring country. His brother, King Falena, has maintained his country's status quo, but it's becoming rather obvious that Leona doesn't approve of his family's excessive lifestyle while their kingdom's poorest starve. Supposedly, Falena is growing increasingly desperate to marry Leona off to a foreigner so he can be removed from Sunset Savannah's political sphere. Leona's own people talk about him being a lazy, power hungry rebel, and this gives you pause. You haven't heard a single positive thing yet. There must be more to the man than this...

-Your butler goes on to mention that this is merely what your country's spies have found out. According to official correspondence, Leona is a laid back man with a handsome appearance, and a sharp intellect. The sheer difference in those descriptions startles you, and makes you wonder. Who exactly is Prince Leona?

Azul - The Information Broker

-Azul Ashengrotto is the head of the country's biggest information guild. Hiring his Octavinelle Agency is the best way to dig up dirt on anybody, and no one knows just how he acquires that much intelligence. Your parents have listed him as a potential candidate in the hopes that, should you marry him, he would give you access to the wealth of information he has at his fingertips. According to rumors, you must give him something of equal exchange for anything he tells you. You frown as you hear about people selling things like their voices, and their magic to him. He can't be that cruel. Right?

-According to people who have made deals with him, he has a taste for the finer things in life. He'd certainly jump at the opportunity to court you, as you are the heir to the throne. Before your butler can finish, a strange man enters the room. His mismatched eyes gleam as he hands you a letter, stamped with the Octavinelle Agency insignia. The letter is simple, but it sends a chill up your spine. "Your Highness, if you are considering marriage, then please come by my agency. I can tell you anything you wish to know about your suitors, and I'll even waive my usual fees. The only thing I ask in return is for your company. Signed, Azul Ashengrotto." Before you can question the man, he slips out of the parlor. How peculiar...

Kalim - The Merchant Prince

-Your butler clears his throat, and moves on. Next on the list is Kalim Al-Asim, heir to the Al-Asim Trade Company. Merchants under their banner travel far and wide, bringing wondrous things that many people have never seen before. In his country, rich merchants practically become royalty, and Kalim's family is the wealthiest of those families. If you choose him, it will invigorate your country's economy, and your parents approve of this. Also, according to the people who have seen him, he's cheerful and compassionate.

-However, your butler warns that his family has a dark side. In the Scalding Sands, poison is the weapon of choice, and Kalim's life has likely been threatened numerous times. And that his own siblings and cousins are likely his biggest enemies. If you married him, you'd be subjected to the same treatment. You'd constantly have to watch your back, and worry that every sip of wine would be your last. Is that truly a life you wish to lead?

Vil - The Duke

-Vil Schoenheit is the youngest Duke to grace your country's nobility. He's also the fairest. Countless numbers of men and women fawn over his beauty, yet he has rejected every advance that has come his way. This had led to nasty rumors that he has impossible standards, and that his heart must be made of ice. He apparently also has a keen mind, though there are some whispers that he uses that intellect to brew deadly poisons. Who those poisons are meant for, nobody knows.

-His dukedom also contains some of your country's most beautiful locations. Lush forests and thriving apple orchards span his lands, and his people prosper under his rule. However, people do wonder why all of his citizens seem to be good looking, and why nobody seems to oppose him. Is it just a coincidence, or is there a darker reason behind his seemingly perfect dukedom?

Idia - The Inventor

-Idia Shroud is, without a doubt, one of the smartest men in your kingdom. However, his reputation, and several rumors, precede him. He's known for being extremely reclusive, and he's almost never been seen in public. Instead, he trusts an automaton, Ortho, to complete various tasks. And the few times he has been spotted sparked a frenzy of strange rumors. There's talk around the capital that he's been cursed, marked by unholy fire. Your brows furrow. Is he truly one of the candidates for your hand in marriage?

-Aside from the rumors that swirl around him, he's genuinely skilled. Ortho is a completely sentient automaton, and several of his other inventions have changed the average citizen's quality of life for the better. He's the reason your kingdom is more advanced than any other, and that counts for a lot. He's a bit bizarre, but rumors about his supposed "curse" stirs your curiosity.

Malleus - The Briar King

-Your butler shivers, and mentions King Malleus in a hushed tone. He is the King of Briar Valley, a strange land that nobody has ever actually seen. There are old tales about his kingdom. Stories that state that the land is populated by the fae, and that their king is not truly a fae, but a fearsome dragon. These tales claim that any being who opposes the Briar King will be incinerated in a plume of dragon fire, and that he demands complete loyalty from his subjects. As you begin to wonder why your parents would give you such an option, you get your answer. For the first time, Malleus has left his kingdom, and is visiting yours. This might be your kingdom's only chance to forge an alliance with the powerful, mysterious fae.

-There is a bit more information than just wild tales. According to your butler, an odd fae visited the castle yesterday, and told your parents a bit more about Malleus. This fae stated that his king was not quite as intimidating as the stories claim, and that Malleus yearned for companionship more than anything else. Your gaze softened. You, as the heir to a kingdom, knew that a royal life could be a lonely one. If he also felt the ache of solitude, then, he surely couldn't be a monster, like the people say.

Now that you've heard about your potential suitors, only one question remains...

Who will you choose?

[exhaslo]

Since Puzzle Pieces is a favorite piece of mine from your writing could you dk like a mini side story about reader and mafia!miguel raising a family together especially with reader navigating finding herself

MORE SIDE CONTENT!!! LET'S GOOOOOOOOOOOO

Warning: Minors DNI, some smut, mentions of sex, mentions of murder, mentions of bullying

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

"Mama, mama, mama! Wanna play at park, please, please, please?!"

Unable to resist the adorable look your oldest son was giving you, you caved.

"Alright, sweetie. Why don't you pick out an outfit while I call daddy to let him know, okay?"

You smiled brightly as the toddler cheered before running off to his room. It has been a few years into your relationship with Miguel and you couldn't be happier. The two of you had three beautiful children...and counting according to Miguel.

Your oldest son, Gabriel, was four; the second child, Gabriella, was two; and the last child, Kron, was only a few months old.

Humming lowly as you took your two youngest children to your room, you placed them on the bed before calling Miguel. Ever since your children were born, Miguel took extra caution whenever you would go out.

It was thanks to an incident when you and Lyla went out for some clothes shopping when Gabriel was about five months old. One of the other mafia families had the nerves to kidnap the three of you for ransom. Miguel did not take it lightly and ended up killing that new form mafia family.

"Hey, Miggy, I'm taking the kids to the park. Little Gabriel was just too cute to say no too," You said with a giggle.

"Aye, mi amor (my love), you must show some restraint with him."

"I know, I know."

"I'll send some men over. How are you doing today?" Miguel asked, wanting to make sure his wife was in good health.

"I'm okay, Migs-"

"AHHHHH PLEASE!"

"Are you okay? Another mafia group bothering you?" You asked after hearing the screams in the background. Miguel just chuckled softly,

"Not reason a bother, more like an insect. But don't worry, mi amor, they will be squashed in a moment. After I'm done here, I should be able to go home early."

"Maybe you could join us at the park, hehe," You said with a smile as you finished changing Gabriella.

"Daddy!"

"Yes, Gabi, your daddy might join us~"

"Now I have to finish early. I'll see you soon."

With that, Miguel hung up. You continued to change your youngest before laughing at how Gabriel dressed. Once finished, you had to fix your oldest clothing. With the three finally ready to go, you waited for Migue's men to appear.

You loved Miguel. He was still ever so kind and gentle with you. Your stuttering had calmed down with his help, although, you do get the occasional nerves, especially with new people. If anything, your children were the biggest reason for you to try and get better.

You wanted them to look up to you. Miguel was not only a powerful mafia boss, which the kids won't know about, but also one of the world's most powerful CEO. Compared to Miguel, you were just a small little bunny.

The thought made you sorrow. You wanted to do something with your life as well, but what? You've spent a good portion being bullied and ridiculed by both your parents and your ex boyfriend. Hell, if it wasn't for Miguel, you might not be here.

"Mama, the Peters are here!" Gabriel cheered.

Chuckling lowly towards your son's cute group name, you opened the door for the Peters. Jessica was there as well and greeted you and the small children.

"Hey, how's everything going?" You asked, wanting to get your mind off of your failures.

"Good. My kid's causing a ruckus in school every now and then. Wished, he got more of his father than me," She said with a laugh.

"Awe, I don't even want to think about sending Gabriel to school. I'll miss him too much!"

"Girl, with how Miguel is, he'll give you another baby." Jessica said with a wide smirk causing you to blush.

Miguel would.

--------

You were tired. You were sitting on one of the park benches, watching Kron as your other two children played. The Peters were watching the two children like a hawk while Jessica helped you with your youngest. Even with the help, you felt drained from other parents watching you.

It brought you back into your thoughts of what you wanted to do with your life. You had been through so much trauma that you could write a book, but would anyone read it? Would it be too depressing for other people?

"Excuse me, are all these men with you? You're making the other parents feel uncomfortable," A woman spoke while approaching both you and Jessica.

"O-Oh," You flinched, "S-Sorry...um-"

"Her husband worries a lot. They are her and her children's bodyguards, do mind yours." Jessica huffed.

"Well, it's still making everyone uncomfortable!"

You felt your heart sink. You couldn't even stand up for yourself against other parents. What were you going to do when your children went to school?

"My apologies, then perhaps we shall find another park for our children to play at."

Miguel placed his hand against your back, smiling casually towards the irate woman. It was instant that the parents gasped upon realizing who Miguel was. They immediately said it was fine as people tried to approach Miguel.

"And here we go," Miguel said with a heavy sigh. You smiled towards your husband,

"I'm sure the kids played enough for today,"

"DADDY!!!!"

"See?" You giggled as the two children ran towards Miguel.

Miguel laughed as he picked up his children. His loving gaze towards his family made you swell with joy. As long as Miguel supports whatever you want to do, you will be happy. Hell, knowing Miguel, he would make everyone in his mafia to buy your book, puzzle or whatever you do.

"Ready to go home?" Miguel asked his kids. They whined in response, "Mommy and Daddy have important work to do."

You felt your cheeks warm up as you looked at Miguel in protest. Using sex as an excuse for important work was going to get old eventually. You whined in turn as your children agreed to Miguel's ridiculous lie.

--------

"Tell me, (Y/N), what's been on your mind lately?" Miguel asked with a hum as he pressed your body against the bed, his cock reaching the deepest part of your gummy walls.

"M-Miggy, n-no fair," You whined as he held your legs over his shoulders, "I-I can't think...l-like this."

"Sure you can,"

With a thrust of his hips, you gasped and moaned his name. Your body melting against his touch and pussy clenching around his dick. No matter how many times Miguel would fuck you, it still brought you to nirvana each time.

Whimpering as Miguel's thrusts grew faster and rougher, you couldn't hold your voice back. You arched your back, whining and moaning as Miguel slapped against that sweet spot of yours.

"There's my little bunny. Wanna tell me what's wrong, amor?" Miguel whispered in your ear as he pressed you into mating position.

"Mhm~" You wanted to protest, but how could you? "I-I...ah~ I want...t-to do something...mhm~ with my l-life-"

"Amor,"

Miguel whispered softly, pulling you in for a kiss as you confessed. His thrusts were slow and sweet as he held you closely.

"Hah~ Ah~ M-Maybe...I...I could w-write a b-book."

"I'll support whatever you do, (Y/N). Just say the word and it's yours."

"Mhm~"

You wrapped your arms around Miguel as the two of you continued your 'important work'.

--------

Once all of your children were asleep, you sat in the living room, typing away on a laptop Miguel bought for you. Miguel approached you from behind, placing a cup of hot tea on the table. You smiled as he took his spot beside you, kissing your shoulder.

"Have you decided what you want to do?" Miguel asked softly. You rested your head against his,

"Well, I want to write about what I went through. Maybe...it will help other people try and get out of their similar fate....and I want to make learning puzzles for kids."

"Hm, seems like my wife has a busy schedule ahead of her." Miguel's arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you onto his lap, "Just let me know and I'll help anyway I can."

"Thank you, Miguel." You titled your head and kissed him sweetly, "I love you."

"I love you more,"

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

I hope you enjoyed! Puzzle Pieces is always fun to write! Also, you all might like my new series:

Over-Time

@migueloharacumslut @18lkpeters @deputy-videogamer @leahnicole1219 @synamonthy @thedevax @jolynesposts @thraetor @freehentai @2099hitmylineyline @vvampir3s @dontfollowmepleaseitsannoying @secretadmirerisnowonline @jadeloverxd @bunnibitez @oharasfilipinawife @randomgoosegame @lilbanas @daisy-artfield @axi-moore @mimiemie @darkfairy102190 @jazzyj1011 @mcmiracles @innercreationflower @spoderssimp @thel0velykey190 @moonvoidpng @yougavemeyourheartyouknow @scaleniusrm @love4saturn @nyxgoddessofchaos13 @slutty-chronicles @ghstypaint @migueloharastruelove @brainmatterdump @a060403 @trendyharold @yannauauau @kimivixen @angel-xx-1 @nxrdamp @miguelzslvtz @lynxslokley @wafflefries786 @pochapo @what-the-jams @flaps200 @ii-angelsrolltheireyes-ii @nakimushiohime @tojishugetiddies @aya-world @supercowgirl04 @mysteris-things @daisy-artfield @mcmiracles @alexa4040 @llama--drama @kpopscoups17130000 @havkjhdecs @ruexvn @tojishugetiddi @openup-yourmind @black-swan-blog27 @xstarsdiary @kiddisquacking @gachagator @yujyujj @emmyrxx @blackteamint @sockears @black-swan-blog27 @soraya-daydreams @byjessicalotufo @nanoinn @bunnibitez @aockskcw @l3laze @dimitri-needs-therapy

[roseglazedlens]

⦑ seeking the light ⦒ ✧.*

NANAMI KENTO X FEM! READER SYNOPSIS: Nanami receives his final wish before passing, with you by his side in Kuantan, Malaysia. CONTENT: character death. SMUT MDNI. S2E18. hurt/comfort, unprotected p in v, oral (f! receiving), body worship (lots), missionary, slow sex, light choking, pet names (darling). briefly mentions haibara, gojo. A/N: nanami girlies, hope you guys are recovering (i am still struggling rn)... sending you all hugs and a care package. « 3.3 k words | masterlist | ao3 | reblogs appreciated! »

A body moves on its own accord in its nature to protect. For Nanami, it comes with a cost this time. Even now, at his final breath, even when his numbed, scorched body pleads otherwise, fractured beyond repairable, Nanami chooses someone else’s life over his. There isn’t a doubt about this choice in his mind. All this fighting, all this suffering, this sacrifice—it was for someone worthwhile. For a generation with bright futures ahead of them, not meant for battles like these.

Nanami doesn’t see his act as a virtuous gesture. After all, this is his job, and protecting children is his duty. Perhaps part of him thinks he a coward to stand compliantly and let Mahito end his life, taking the easy way out.

His only regret—not being able to say goodbye to you. Even when all that remains is a silver of consciousness, you are his last memory. He thinks about how you are praying and waiting for his safe return at home, hating himself for not being able to give you the simplest things in life.

“Nanamin…”

In his hazy mist, he hears Itadori’s voice. Lost of vigor, echoing through the isolated platform of Shibuya station with the two of them burrowed deep in this mess. Poor child, he’s about to cry. That’s not a good look on a young man like him.

“Itadori-kun… You’ve got it from here.”

His eyelids are forced to close as the pain becomes unbearable, embracing the cold blackness behind his eyes.

But in that darkness, Nanami isn’t alone.

Rays of light catches up to him, scorching the path ahead of him: burning, igniting, freeing. It illuminates a straight road that leads him into the end of darkness. Nanami had never seen this road in his life, but when he did just now, for some reason, an overwhelming urge makes him walk down this path.

As he tries to walk, something behind his ear cries out his name, asking him to close his eyes once more. Something in him obliges to do so.

.

..

…

“Kento?” Someone calls out.

There are sounds of children giggling away, adults conversing casually in another language accompanied by tunes from local street performances. And most prominently, Nanami hears the waves, rhythmically resonates when it crashes against the shore. He blinks open his eyes.

Light sharply enters his sight, wincing, shielding his face with a risen hand. A shadowed figure stands in front of his sight, slowly becoming apparent as his eyes adjust to the light.

And it’s you, clutching a smile on your face. Your hair catches sun streaks in beachy strands, cheeks sparkle with sand speckles that illuminates your face in some kind of holy light. The clouds, voices and shore freeze when you giggle in your own little world.

“Darling...?” He speaks hollowly as if this is just a memory, fearing that it is, that means it’s all over for real. “Where—am I?”

The world moves again, sounds beginning to rise up into murmured chatter, and his gaze raises in line with the horizon where the sky meets the sea, looking into the deep blue beyond.

“By the beach, sleepyhead. The book’s no good?” You giggle once more, but this time the world doesn’t stop with you.

Nanami has a finger prop up a page in an opened book. He finds himself wearing a tropical button up and pants sitting on an inflatable chair with sand between his toes. “I guess not.”

He doesn’t remember when he got here or how he got here. But Nanami knows exactly where this place is. A famous beach in the east coast of Kuantan, Malaysia—Teluk Cempedak. He saw this view on a magazine once and told himself he would travel here on his day off. That was two years ago. So this is what it looks like in person?

“Did I sleep for long?” He asks.

“Long enough for me to get the both of us something to eat.” You say as you pass an ice cream cone to him. He turns to grab it, and when he does, Nanami’s neck snaps to the seat next to him. A monkey sits comfortably by his side with its grin stretched wide, surprising him so much he drops the ice cream onto the hot sand.

Nanami hears a few tiny click of shutters as both the monkey and you giggle in unison. The camera lens point directly at him.

“You got me. Very funny now.” Nanami sighs, but behind that irritated frown, there is a smile that he reserves only in your presence.

On cue, the monkey reaches over you as you try to enjoy your ice cream, snatches it off your hands, and escapes across the beach.

The two of you stand in shock for a moment, staring at each other, before bursting into quiet smirks and giggles. When the laughter subsides, Nanami brings you close, landing a kiss on your soft lips. He sees his own reflection in the glaze of your eyes, and he realises he haven’t seen himself so carefree in a long time, especially not since he went to Shibuya.

“So, does that mean you won’t make me delete the photos?”

“Since I’m in a good mood, I’ll let you keep it this time.” He says, then corrects himself as you light up. “As long as Gojo doesn’t get his hands on it.”

“What’s he going to do with a picture or two?” You play with your phone, nervously fumbling the screen.

“Knowing that guy, blackmail. Probably.”

“Well… please don’t get mad at me.”

That is when something dings in his pocket consecutively. He reaches for his phone, and he sees the name Gojo Satoru on his screen, spamming rows of laughing emojis.

“I’m sorry! Gojo already saved it. I can’t unsend it anymore.” You whisper, retreating with your head hang low.

Nanami sighs again, but this time with forgiveness. It doesn’t matter to Nanami anyway. Small things doesn’t matter when he’s with you. He kisses your lips to reassure you. “That’s okay. You’re okay. I’m not really upset.”

And it is at this moment, you can hear a roar of music in the background. Some local nostalgic tune, even if he had never heard this song before. Nanami’s feet taps to the beat of rhythm, and an idea surfaces in his head.

“My lady.” He stands to lean his torso into you, mesmerizingly gentleman. “May I have this dance?”

You hesitate at first, an onslaught of eyes staring at his bold gesture in the middle of a fairly crowded beach. Nanami looks up at you, his drooping eyelids and focused gaze only makes him ever the more persuasive. His charms can’t be denied. Reluctantly, you reach for his hand.

Nanami immediately pulls you in to a dance. Jiving through the sand forming love trails with your bare feet, letting the humid wind sweep and sway through the air. He spins you with a raised hand, and when you do, you notice the many pair of eyes on you, momentarily embarrassed.

“They’re watching, Kento…” You whisper.

“Let them watch.” He whispers back into your ear.

It starts with lively children weaving through the crowd to find the lone couple dancing. They punch their fists clumsily in the air, people cheering and awwing, and suddenly, more people joins, forming a circle. Dancing without any concern of the world. A conga line forms, and the crowd livens in cheers and chants when the two of you leaves the dance circle.

“Look what you’ve done.” You say.

“You know I am only charming when I’m not at work.”

He picks up his phone, finding almost ten texts from Gojo with his face Photoshopped in different memes. You laugh at some of them, even though Nanami seem annoyed. He powers down his phone before you get to see more, in case it gives you any ideas.  

“That’s it. No more work texts on vacation. This trip is about us, and I’ll make sure you have a great time.”

And so he did. He took you to the best curry mee in town, and you had a sip of your teh tarik while overlooking onto the tide. He teases you with a tired loving smile over how you gawk at your food as you eat the kampung delicacies. Something you two would never have eaten in Japan, or Denmark, when he brings you home to meet his grandfather—and shows you that he intends to marry you.

But that’s not just all of his plans. Kuantan has much bigger delights than just the countryside; you took a taxi to all these places that Nanami briefly saw in a magazine. He tries painting batiks (and finds out it’s harder than it looks), walking and admiring local vendors, shop displays until it’s time for dinner again and you had the loveliest Nyonya style seafood that fuses between two cultures.

As the sun sets, there is one final spot Nanami wants to take you. You see the big Kuantan sign as you take a high speed elevator all the way to the top of the Skydeck. And it’s just you and him alone in the breeze of the night, watching streets light up with traffic, illuminating into the same horizon as before.

“Thank you for making my last day memorable.” He speaks into the deep dark sky, not a moon or star in sight.

And at that moment, you know he realises that none of this is real. That his body—or whatever’s left of it—is still back at Shibuya. But for whatever reason, even when he knows he’s already dead, Nanami is smiling. His blond hair reminds you of the moon hanging high in the sky, shining brighter than any spark of light on the streets.

“Mm-hm.” You reply, no other words needed.

Nanami’s arms come around your waist, pulling you close to him, until your bodies connect as one. He leans his head on top of yours, and breathes in your scent, your bashful reciprocation, and all of you that he will most definitely miss.

“Hey.” Nanami says, barely louder than a cricket. “I have one last request.”

“Yeah?”

“I want to taste you one last time.”

The two of you scramble through the linoleum flooring, giggling through the hotel lobby as you share private jokes between each other without a care for the world. Passerbys wonder: ‘I wonder if they’re on a honeymoon’. And it doesn’t matter if it’s the beginning or many nights, or the end of them, your love for each other remains just as passionate.

When Nanami touches the key pass against his door, you try to push him in while he’s distracted, but he smirks at your boldness, but ultimately he turns you around to kiss you instead. He likes how you try even if it always ends with him turning the tables on you, kissing you while his whole body pins you against the hard wall.

He kisses you with the same fervour as he did the first night you spent together in the bedroom, and even after many years together, that doesn’t change.

Nanami helps you out of your clothes, one article at a time, savouring the look of you with each piece undressed, until you lay stark naked in front of him. He removes his glasses to place them against a bedside table, then he gets to work.

Guiding you to plop your hips onto the edge of the bed, Nanami positions himself on his knees to face you. He nudges your legs to open first, and he can’t help but fall in love again with how beautiful you look down there. His instinct is to put your bud in his mouth, and a cold rush of shiver frights you on your lower body. Your fingers curl slightly in reaction to his forwardness.

“Sorry to keep you waiting. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” Nanami smirks, kissing on your clit a few more times before his tongue peeks out, tasting at your delicate bud. He does that for a few minutes, varying the intensity and speed to edge you until it fizzes your lower body. Occasionally, if he thinks you sound cute, he’ll impress you by pressing down his tongue on your clit that makes your fingers curl and uncurl over and over. “You like this?” Nanami asks innocently.

Oh, he knows that you do. But of course, Nanami likes hearing you confess his charms from your own mouth.

“Kento…” You lower your voice. “I love everything you do. That goes without saying.”  

He hums, satisfied by your obedience.

“Now do th-that thing you always d-do, please…”

“As you wish, darling.”

Nanami loves to satisfy you, loves to obey you and make him yours. He takes your bud in his mouth, his tongue inside, circling along your clit while his middle finger dips in your wet coated slit. Long finger curls to meet your g-spot with ease, moving only his last knuckle on his hand so he can repeatedly rap at your sensitive spot until your whole body feels drowned in your own pleasure.

“Oh god…”

His tongue darts out in quick succession, letting the needy bud smack against the tip of his tongue until it grows swollen and sensitive to the touch. Nanami wonders if you are enjoying yourself until he hears a weak noise, back arching, cunt pulsing as the pleasure lightly tips you off the edge like a gentle ripple.

“H-Hey, that’s enough.” You say through huffed breaths.

“Five more minutes.” Nanami says, his breath just as uneasy.

You hesitate. “One.”

“Fine by me.”

Every passing of his tongue on you can’t seem to satiate him, he laps at your taste over and over again. Until foams of saliva bubble over your wet clit and you are soaking under his finger. His chin coats wet with you, with how delicious you are, but he doesn’t mind one bit of the mess. Taking his time is his priority.

“Nnh.” Just like he promised, almost sixty seconds later, he parts himself away through a throaty huff, withdrawing himself to lick his lips clean and wiping streaks of drool from his face with the back of his wrist.

Nanami moves in quickly for another kiss on your lips, and you respond with equal enthusiasm. He shuffles you backwards to accommodate him to enter the bed, lips bound together through the awkward motions. Naturally, you prop your legs on top of his thighs, and you feel his length taking advantage of you without obstructions, closing the distance until his tip meets you at your entrance.

He guides your torso flat against the bed through the firm pad of his palm, pressing them up form your pelvis all the way to your belly, your chest, your collarbone…

He stops moving. “How hard do you want it this time?”

“Hard.”

“As you wish, my darling.”

His left hand continues upwards to find your neck, curling around the circumference of your neck. Some pressure is applied, and you roll your eyes back. Gentle at first, until you’re comfortable with his hand, he settles his tip inside of you. Quiet grunts leave his body as he puts you in missionary, overcome by the need to probe at you further until he feels all of himself buried.

But he restrains, for your sake. Nanami knows, with his size, bottoming out in one go only hurts you more. So he takes his time when he does so, easing himself in and fucks you with the intent to make eternal love, letting him continue this dreamlike state that will soon come to an end.

“You’re gorgeous…” He grunts, simply gazing at you, into your heart and into your soul. You do the same, admiring all his worn-out features relax like creased fabric undoing in the presence of you.

Nanami blinks away a watery glimmer between the speckles of his eyes, hoping you didn’t see it even though you did, and moves again.

Throughout the whole time, he only wants to stare at you, think of you through the burning sensation in his body that continues to remind him his time is almost up. But that doesn’t deter him, in fact, it only makes him want to take as long as the both of you need with no urge to climax hastily.

Each part of this is an experience, one final pleasure before the curse of reality hits them. You, in front of him, probably isn’t real. But it feels so real. It feels like Nanami has been granted his final wish. You, and this lovely scenery.

Soft, sensual pulses throb below you in a flowing state, crashing like the low tide on the evening beach, just like the view outside your fancy hotel window. Until the orgasm comes, in due time, through the labour of his efforts. How Nanami comes down to kiss you in gratitude as come spills inside of you, and the both of you grin into the kiss.

As you snuggle under the sheets next to Nanami, he brings his arm around your belly, grazing, pressing, worshipping—that this is the last time his hands will feel the warm plush again.

“I don’t want this night to over.” You mumble weakly.

He pulls you in with a hand that weighs a thousand of thoughts in his mind.

“I know, darling. I know.”

He sees himself in your eyes for the final time. Looking through the clearness, Nanami’s real body, burned and bruised on one half. Yet you still look at him with eyes that would stay by his side forever.

But this is not your time yet.

You blink back the tears, a rainfall along your cheek. He brushes it away with a look of yearning.

“Promise me you’ll have a good life, darling.”

You nod, unable to say anything else, knowing the tears will return if you do. Between you two, no words are needed. He can read you, and you can read him without any words uttered. Reaching for his jaw at first, you graze your fingers along Nanami’s cheek, and rests his eyes to a close. He mouths something inaudibly in his sleep before he departs.

You do the same, but he can’t see you.

...

..

.

Nanami opens his eyes in the middle of nowhere. He fell asleep at a bus stop sitting afloat above the sea’s surface. He sees now, the same path as before, ablaze above the sea levels, leading into the horizon where the sun falls into evening glory. At the start of the road, stands a figure.

Yooo, Nanamin. There you are!

The blinding lights on the path dims when the figure takes big, energised strides towards Nanami. Upon closer inspection, it’s a man in uniform. He has a distinct lean of someone he used to know a long time ago.

“Haibara?” Nanami asks.

Long time no see, bud. You don’t have to suffer anymore.

What is this feeling? Overwhelming pain, or relief when meeting a long, lost friend? There is so much Nanami wants to say he doesn’t know where to begin.

That he should have been stronger ten years ago, should have rescued Haibara in a battle beyond both their abilities even though he was just a kid. How he spent the rest of his life repenting, dedicating himself to protect the children who didn’t deserve to be in war. How he tried and failed and made it here…

… but none of that matters anymore after death.

Nanami jumps into his arms, bringing Haibara into his tight embrace. He hugs back. Nanami closes his eyes when he feels a sting behind his cheeks, then opens it again with newfound determination. Haibara bellows a laugh, pointing at Nanami’s reddened eyes which he fails to rub away.

Let’s head on to the other side, shall we?

Nanami nods. And they walk forward, side by side, towards the end of the path. He knows it’s all going to be all okay.

thanks for reading! come check out my other works. —yours truly, rose. ITINERARY: > Teluk Cempedak > Lunch (Hoi Yin Restaurant) > Dessert (Kula Cakes - not mentioned) > Natural Batik Village (batik painting) > Kuantan 188 Skydeck taglist (open): @valsthea @kennedyswhore @emilzke @daydreamrot @navstuffs @j3llyd0nut @ovaryacted © roseglazedlens — please do not repost, plagiarise, or use in ai & other machine learning programs.

[ghostfacd]

it’s not what he’s made for | quinn hughes

— “I’M THE SWEETEST GIRL IN TOWN, SO WHY ARE YOU SO MEAN?”

summary; in which you have to accept the fact that quinn hughes will never change and that’s just who he is.

pairing; quinn hughes x fem!reader (platonic jack x reader and luke x reader)

genre; angst, no happy ending, reader has daddy issues, quinn is a pretty shitty person in this (sorry quinnier, love u!)

Quinn Hughes didn’t like you. And you had no idea why.

You had always been Jack’s best friend, ever since the eighth grade when he accidentally tripped you and promised you ice cream if you stopped crying.

Their lake house was nothing new to you; in fact, you’d probably gone a thousand times, an experience other girls could only dream about. You were able to become close to Ellen and Jim, who had found you cute and adorable, glad you were their middle son’s best friend.

Luke, who was younger than you, always looked up to you as his big sister, and every Hughes seem to love you except Quinn.

“You know he’s just grumpy, right?” Jack whispers as he takes a seat next to you on the kitchen stool.

He knew about your feelings towards Quinn, being grossed out at first when you told him that you had liked his older brother. But, you were his best friend, and seeing you so sad over his own brother also broke his heart.

It wasn’t until the day your first serious boyfriend broke up with you that Quinn showed you sympathy. He was an asshole but not that much of an asshole—or so you thought.

You had cried your entire heart out on the lake-house’s dock, body shaking as you tried to steady your breaths. It was just so when Quinn needed a little breather from his brothers, stumbling outside with a cup of iced water in his hand.

He saw your body shake with your head in your hands and connected the dots right away.

“Hey, you okay?” Stupid question, Quinn thinks as soon as he says it out loud.

“No,” you mumble quietly, wiping away your tears. Even with bloodshot eyes and a clogged nose, Quinn thought you looked pretty.

“Was it Adam?”

He knew about your first boyfriend. Jack had complained about this “Adam” as soon as you two started dating. According to Jack, Adam was a self conceited jackass who didn’t deserve you or your time. Quinn only shrugged at the time, not really caring about you or whatever relationship you were in.

“Yeah,” you whisper quietly. The name of your ex makes you cringe. “I was an idiot for dating him.”

“No,” Quinn sets down his cup of iced water, “he was an idiot for treating you that way. Jack told me in the past, you don’t deserve any of that, and he sure as hell doesn’t deserve you.”

For a moment, it was as if you and Quinn had a connection, one that sparked hope in your heart. He was finally showing you kindness and sympathy, something that you had only wished for in the past.

“Thank you Quinn,” you sniffle, looking up to meet his eyes. He smiled softly, an image that will forever root itself in your memory. The only thing you could think of at that moment was how much of a nice smile Quinn Hughes had.

Over the next few days, Quinn and you had become closer, a bond that wasn’t going unseen by Jack or Luke. They had both noticed you weren’t that sad over Adam anymore—and that the older Hughes actually smiled from time to time.

Just as you’re up on your feet again, your father had called you, scolding you about God knows what and calling you all sorts of names.

You thought as soon as you graduated high school, your father would’ve dropped whatever act he was doing, but clearly he was still very adamant on ruining your life. You couldn’t remember how many times you cried because of him.

“Is it him again?” Luke asks, taking a seat next to you on the couch. He saw your sadness the entire day, not sure if he should comfort you or not.

After all, you were the older one, and it was always you comforting him, not the other way around. Luke was still pretty much an awkward child, but he wanted to help you in any way he could.

He knew how your father was. They all knew. Since you were Jack’s best friend, you often came over the house in tears because of what your dad had said.

“Yeah,” you say, trying your best to smile for Luke. “It’s nothing, really.”

“You don’t always have to be strong in front of me,” Luke whispers. “You are not what your father says you are, okay Y/N? You are so much more than that.”

Nodding slowly, you lean into Luke’s chest. He automatically wraps his arm around you, rubbing your arm to let you know he was there.

Quinn watches from the kitchen with a sour taste. In his eyes, you weren’t getting comforted by Luke after crying your eyes out. No—in his eyes, you were getting with his little brother of all people, and God, Quinn hated you for doing so. He hated you for being so annoyingly perfect—he hated that you were always closer to his little brothers. He hated the fact that you were in Luke’s arms instead of his. He hated it.

The next weekend, Umich was hosting its annual senior dance. Your friends had all practically begged you to leave your dorm, saying how you needed to let yourself free for a night. You didn’t really care for the dance, wanting to focus on your business homework instead but of course, your friends weren’t taking no for an answer.

They told you that they had set you up with a date. You shyly decline, saying you already had someone in mind.

That someone being your best friend’s older brother.

Although he was distant these past few days, you shrug it off as Quinn being Quinn. He was always well kept to himself, so it wasn’t anything new.

“Hey Quinn,” you say as you walk into the kitchen. The older Hughes was busying himself with making toast and jam, and had only acknowledge you with a nod of his head.

“I was wondering.. if you’d like to come with me to Umich’s senior dance? It’s just an event hosted by them every year—super fun, lots of drinks, I’d love it if you could—”

“Like a date?” Quinn raises his eyebrows, quickly cutting to the point.

“Well, I guess you can say it’s a date—”

“I’m good Y/N.”

The coldness of his voice makes your heart sink. Oh God, this was such a bad idea. Why would you ask him? Why why why why?

“Oh okay, forget I even asked then,” you laugh nervously, trying hard not to gulp at Quinn.

Quinn only chuckles, his eyebrows furrowing as his gaze turns into something you can’t quite distinguish.

“You.. you didn’t really think I would like you, did you?”

His words make your chest tighten.

“I mean cmon Y/N seriously? What made you think I would ever love you?” Quinn’s voice gets louder. “Cause I wouldn’t—even if I could.”

You wish the ground would just swallow you whole at that moment. It was already bad that Quinn had rejected you, but now he was claiming he would never love you?

“What the fuck Quinn?” The voice of Luke pulls you out of your trance, his face filled with anger. “Why the fuck would you say that Quinn?”

“Of course you would jump to her defense!” Quinn scowls. “Whatever, I don’t care for this, alright? Leave me the hell alone.”

You feel your heart break for the third time this month, eyes filling with tears yet again.

“What is wrong with him?” Luke mumbles to himself, in shock that his brother would say that to you.

He slowly turns his gaze to you, eyes softening at your broken figure. It hurt him to see a girl he considered his older sister so heartbroken over his own brother.

“I’m sorry Y/N,” Luke says into your hair as he hugs you tightly.

“It’s not your fault Luke,” you cry, “I should’ve known. He would never like me. He was just being nice.”

“Hey, stop,” Luke pulls away, looking directly into your eyes. “He’s an idiot if he can’t see how much of an amazing person you are, okay? A big fucking idiot. Don’t beat yourself up over Quinn, he’s not worth any of your tears.”

Luke sighs as he watches your chest rise and fall with each sob. “This whole relationship thing? It’s not what he’s made for.”

“You cannot beat yourself up over a guy who cannot commit Y/N,” Luke whispers. “You’ll find so much better Quinn, I can promise you that.”

But all you wanted was Quinn. Luke was right, even if he was all you wanted, he could never be yours—for Quinn Hughes was not made for relationships, and he was certainly not made for you.

[m1ckeyb3rry]

hi mira i’m going to rq for jjk (gojo specifically) :) kinda inspired by a fic idea of mine so if i see you post it maybe it’ll give me inspo to actually write too LOL — this is also a little long sorry, you can shorten as you wish 😓 maybe it’ll get the brain juices going idk

Y/N was really close to geto (i was thinking siblings but do whatever) and when he turned curse user and left, it made Y/N rethink why she was a sorcerer herself. she believed in geto’s ideals, but seeing his mindset 180 made her question if the same thing would happen to her since she was always weaker-minded than him. so she quit dropped out of the school and gojo never saw her since

skipping to the present, Y/N became a sorcerer again after having a conversation with geto some time before he died. with yuji being sukuna’s vessel, she goes to the school herself and sees gojo (their last convo was actually an argument leaving everything [him] behind). gojo’s just really stubborn, but he’s there when Y/N really needs him. from there they only keep encountering each other until they make up, their feelings are all out on the table, etc. etc.

── CHIAROSCURO

Synopsis: You don’t really know who you are without Suguru Geto. Satoru Gojo doesn’t know who he is without either of you.

Event Masterlist

Pairing: Gojo x Reader, Geto & Reader have something less than romantic but more than platonic going on

Chapter Word Count: 6.7k

Content Warnings: angst, mentions of death, flawed y/n character, major time skips, most plot events happen off screen, characters are probably ooc tbh i haven’t written for jjk in months

A/N: finally finished the first of the requests I’ve received so far!! it ended up being way more geto-centric than i had planned for it to be though i’m so sorry angel 😭 and it was also getting way too long so i decided to end it by just hinting the development of the rest of the story you mentioned LMAO i hope that’s okay 😫

Additional: part of my 500 follower event! see the event description and rules to make a request of your own.

Most people grew up with one shadow, but according to your mother, you had lived your entire life with two. The first was the same as the one everyone had, that darkening of the ground in the shape of your figure. The second was the boy who lived next door — or, at least, that was what she told you.

His name was Suguru Geto, and despite his dark features and darker clothing, he had a perpetually sunny demeanor, always quick to offer you a gentle smile whenever you glanced his way. He was polite even when it wasn’t required of him, and though your mother teased you for it, you knew she was secretly grateful for his presence in your life.

The greatest thing Suguru had ever done for you, though, was not teach you manners. It was that he gave you someone to follow. Perhaps it was true that he was your shadow, but it was his in which you cowered when you were frightened, when the brightness of the world was too harsh for your eyes, which, when it came to cruelties and horrors, were as sensitive and new as a child’s.

Suguru was always happy to take on that role. He would stand in front of you, his shoulder blades pinching together as he puffed out his chest and rebuked whichever neighborhood child had dared to tease you. They all ran from him when he was like that, when his brow grew heavy over his eyes and the corners of his mouth twisted into a scowl.

Not you, though. You stayed behind his back, blinking owlishly at the way the others scurried, laughing along when Suguru likened them to mice with a click of his tongue.

Suguru didn’t like those who hurt the ones weaker than them, so you didn’t, either. Suguru thought that the role of the strong was to protect the frail, so you did, too. Whatever Suguru believed, you did as well, because what else was there for you? It was easier for you to hold onto his hand and press against his back, to allow him to tell you where to place your feet, so that there was never even a chance of you falling.

That was why it wasn’t a surprise that, upon Suguru being scouted as a sorcerer, you were extended the same invitation. It was a natural consequence — where he went, you followed, and so when he packed his things and went to Tokyo, it was both of your bags that he was carrying, while you peered around the train station and wondered what kind of place you were going to end up in.

Your new classmate was the one that picked the two of you up. He was tall — taller than even Suguru, though the majority of his body consisted of his legs — and had an unearthly appearance, with pale hair carefully mussed into a seemingly thoughtless style and black glasses which slid down the bridge of his nose to reveal eyes like diamonds.

He was the most brilliant thing you had ever seen. Lowering your eyes, you stepped back into Suguru’s shadow, earning you a scoff from your classmate and a worried exhale from your friend.

“Blech,” he said. “You’re supposed to be my classmate, really? How’re you going to keep up, huh? I’m the strongest sorcerer in the world, you know.”

“I think we’ll manage just fine,” Suguru said pleasantly, though there was an edge to his voice, his teeth like knives when he smiled and offered his hand. “I’m Suguru Geto.”

“Satoru Gojo,” your classmate said, shaking Suguru’s hand firmly. “Looking forward to working with you.”

“Likewise,” Suguru said. “And this is Y/N L/N.”

“Hi,” you said, swallowing even as you said it, pursing your lips and glancing around, wishing for some kind of escape. Gojo hummed and then poked you on the forehead.

“Aw,” he said when you did not visibly react beyond furrowing your brow. “I thought you might fall over or something.”

“I see,” you said. “Um. Well, it’s nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said. “Come on. Let’s go before our teacher gives us all detention for playing hooky.”

Unlike Suguru, Gojo didn’t allow you to follow him around. He made fun of you when you were scared and poked you on the forehead if you cringed away from his taunts. The latter occurred so frequently that you were surprised there was not a permanent indent in your skin.

“One day I’ll get you, pretty Y/N,” he’d always promise you. “Seriously! I mean, you barely have a backbone in the first place, so it’s really a wonder you’re standing at all.”

At first, Suguru used to demand he stop, but as the months went by, his protests grew weaker and weaker. You supposed that it must’ve been nice for him, to stand beside someone for once instead of constantly throwing himself in front of them. You could not blame him, but you found that you missed him more with every passing day.

But what was there to be done about it? After all, you were nothing compared to the two special grade sorcerers. You did what you could and found it was, for the most part, sufficient, but sufficient would never let you exist beside either of them in any way that mattered. So you fell behind, and this time, it was not a conscious choice but an unavoidable circumstance. This time, when you hung back, Suguru continued forward without you.

Empty-minded and weak-hearted. That was what your teacher called you. He sent you on the simplest missions he could, and still you struggled. Sometimes, this meant you would sit alone in the classroom until it was long past dusk, listening to your teacher ramble and shout.

“You are not weak!” he would say, his hands clenched into fists by his side. “By all rights, your technique is perfectly serviceable. You are not weak, Y/N L/N!”

“Yes, sir,” you would respond meekly.

“At least, you should not be,” he’d say. “Yet somehow, inexplicably, you are. Even a Grade 2 curse nearly got the better of you. Your classmates are exorcising special grades on their own! Aren’t you disgusted with yourself?”

Suguru, and sometimes Gojo, would wait outside of the door for you, lingering until they heard the shuffle of your feet, the soft sniffles which announced your arrival. Then Suguru would wrap a casual arm around your shoulders and tell you that it was fine if you were weak, just as long as he was around to protect you, and Gojo would do that infuriating thing where he’d poke you in the forehead and pretend like it was a miracle you hadn’t toppled over yet.

Otherwise, you did not see your classmates. Shoko Ieri was far too busy learning to do things you could never hope to accomplish in your lifetime, and Suguru and Gojo were called on to complete assignments with such unhealthy regularity that their education actually suffered for it. 

You never knew what they did on their missions. You never cared to ask, either. The details would only make you queasy, and in this new world where you were not permitted to shudder and seek out the safety that Suguru so willingly provided you with, you tried to avoid things like that. Harsh things, brilliant things, cruel things — all of them you ran from at an equal pace. Without Suguru there to defend you, you turned into one of those children he had so-despised in your youth. Always running. Always hiding. Always shying away from anything resembling a challenge.

It was after one such mission that Suguru returned differently. You knew he had changed because he crawled into your bed that night instead of his own, drew the blanket up around his shoulders and pressed his weeping eyes against your collarbones.

“It’s no good,” he said after the third time you had asked him what was the matter, your hands nervously skimming over his shoulders, smoothing over his rough hair. “Everything’s been ruined, Y/N. Or maybe it was always like this. Maybe you’re the only one who’s ever understood the world to begin with.”

The next morning, when his feet touched the ground and he slid out of your bed, you were hit with the strangest feeling that you would never see him again. Not in the way you were used to seeing him, anyways. Sitting up in your bed, leaning against your pillows, you watched as he left, though when he went to close the door behind him, you reached out your hand.

“Wait,” you said. He paused, raising his eyebrows.

“Is everything okay?” he said, his knuckles growing white from gripping the handle.

“I want to look at you,” you said. You knew without knowing that the instant the door shut between the two of you, you would lose him forever. Your best friend. Your shadow. You wished that there was a way you could reach out and save him, but the thought of you saving someone was outlandish. Impossible. Laughable. 

“Yeah?” he said. There were heavy bags under his eyes, and it did not reach his irises, but nevertheless, he somehow managed to muster up a smile. It was not gentle as much as it was exhausted, but still, he smiled as best he could at you. “Okay.”

You hugged one of the pillows to your chest. “I miss you a lot.”

“I haven’t gone anywhere,” he said.

“Not yet,” you said. “I think you will someday, though. You’ll go somewhere far away, and I won’t be able to follow you there. You won’t even want me to.”

“What kind of place is that?” he said. “I’ll always want you to follow me around, Y/N. As long as I’m there, not a corner on this planet could be a place I don’t want you to follow me to.”

The door creaked shut. You stared at the blank expanse and thought to yourself that he had always been very good at lying.

From that day forward, there were two opposite phenomena which occurred simultaneously. On the one hand, that blinding radiance of Gojo’s was magnified by the minute, and on the other, Suguru withdrew further and further into a grey sort of monotony that, try as you might, you could not pull him from.

“Gojo,” you said one day, tugging on his sleeve and flinching when he turned to look at you. As per usual, he pressed his finger into your forehead.

“Yikes,” he said. “Seems like you’re still lacking in the spinal department, dear Y/N. But just so you know, I’ve cheated off of your math homework enough times that you really shouldn’t be scared of me.”

“Please help Suguru,” you said.

“Eh?” Gojo said. “What do you mean? Help him with what, his math homework? I’ll just give him yours to copy as well, so why don’t you cut the middle man and show it to him yourself?”

“No, not with — just, he’s going away, and I don’t want him to, but he doesn’t — you’re the only one,” you stammered. 

It was even more difficult to speak with Gojo now than it had been when you had first come to school. That was because it was only recently that you were realizing that that way he made you feel, that shyness, that apprehension, was not because of his gleaming, sharp countenance, but rather something else, something soft in your heart that thudded to life whenever he smirked at you.

“You want me to take his mission for him?” Gojo said, his nose wrinkling. “What, so the two of you can go on a date or something? Forget about it.”

“What?” you said. “No, what — a date — that’s not what I meant!”

It was too late. Gojo was gone, and with him, your last chance at helping Suguru vanished, too. In fact, Gojo avoided you until you went home from the summer break, making a face whenever you glanced his way, and by the time you came back to start the next year, it was too late for anyone to do much of anything.

“Y/N L/N,” Masamichi Yaga said, entering the library where you were writing a paper for your literature class. He cleared his throat uncomfortably, his cheeks a dark, flushed color, his teeth gritted together so hard that a muscle in his jaw twitched periodically. “Do you have a moment? It’s urgent.”

“I was just working on the essay that we were assigned, but it can wait,” you said agreeably, all too eager to give yourself a break from the work. Pushing aside your paper and pen, you stood up, massaging your wrist. “What is it, sir?”

“It’s, er…” His shoulders slumped. “I’m really sorry, Miss L/N.”

You tried to run through the list of things that he could be sorry for, but only one thing came to mind. You froze, your eyes widening. He had been on a mission, hadn’t he? 

“Suguru,” you breathed. “Is it — it’s not about Suguru, is it?”

“In a sense, it is,” Yaga said.

“Is he alright?” you said. “He has to be alright.”

“We believe his condition is fine, considering what he’s done,” Yaga said.

“‘What he’s done?’ Why are you being so vague? What’s going on, sir? Please say it plainly,” you said.

“It’s your parents, Miss L/N,” he said, spitting it out all at once like the phrase itself was poisoned. “They’re dead.”

Your stomach dropped. You had imagined so many things. In your nightmares, you saw your classmates dying, your teachers, even yourself. But never your parents. Your parents, who were so far removed from this awful world. Your parents, who only a month ago had sent you back to school with a pair of new shoes they had saved up to buy. You parents, who had never harmed anyone in their lives. What had they done that was so terrible it warranted such a sudden death? What were they being punished for?

“How — how did it happen?” you said. “Was it a curse?”

“Miss L/N…” Yaga said, his entire self deflating. “I’m really sorry.”

“What? Stop apologizing,” you said, tears gathering in your eyes. “Just tell me. Stop saying sorry and tell me!”

“It was most likely Suguru Geto,” he said, handing you a piece of paper. Your vision swam, and you could barely make out the words. All residents of the village were killed. Jujutsu High investigated. Based on residuals…all 112…the work of Geto’s curse manipulation. Sentenced to death. Sentenced to death. Sentenced to death.

“No,” you said, your voice cracking. “No, why would he do that? My parents loved him, and he loved them, too! We grew up together, so why would he do that?”

“Based on the evidence, he most likely killed his own parents, too,” Yaga said. Your hands wound themselves in your hair as you tugged.

“That’s a lie,” you said. “Suguru isn’t like that. Suguru is good! Suguru looks out for those weaker than himself! He protects people, Yaga. It must be a mistake. It has to be a mistake!”

“Miss L/N—” he began, but you were already running, sprinting as fast as you could. There was no way. There was no way. There was no way. 

Your house and the one beside it — Suguru’s house, a voice in the back of your mind nagged you, that’s Suguru’s house — were blocked off with yellow caution tape. Dozens of police officers were milling about the scene, barking into handheld radios, conversing tensely. One of them noticed you and extended an arm to stop your approach.

“Stay back, ma’am. This is an active crime scene. No outsiders allowed until the investigation has been concluded,” the officer said.

“That’s my house,” you whispered. “Officer, that’s my house. Why are there so many people here? It’s not true, is it?”

The officer didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to. The pitying frown on his face told you everything you needed to hear. It was true. It was true. Your parents, your parents were dead, and that meant —

What had it been like for them? Had your mother welcomed him? When she opened the door for him, had her eyes crinkled at the corners in greeting? Had she offered him tea, as she usually did, because she was so fond of him and he was so fond of the drink when made by her hand? And what of your father? Had he reached over to clap Suguru on the back, or had he tried to grab him in an affectionate headlock so that he could mess up his hair with all the zeal of a man half his age?

You threw up. Some of the vomit splattered onto the officer’s shoes, causing him to fold his lips into a thin, disapproving line. Taking a step back, he reached over to pat you on the back as you heaved and hacked, trying to expel the knowledge from your mind and finding that you were entirely unable to.

You walked back to the train station in a trance, your eyes reddened and glazed over, your mouth sour from the taste of the stale crackers the officer had handed you, your hands shoved in your pockets as you tried to remember to breathe through your nose. The officer had offered to escort you to the station, but you had refused. You needed the time to think, and anyways, what did it matter? No ordinary person could hurt you, and no sorcerer would.

“I didn’t think you’d come back alone,” a soft voice said from behind you. You turned around, your insides roiling at the very sound, your ears ringing as you took in Suguru’s casual posture. His hands, too, were in his pockets, and the streetlights cast misshapen, dancing shadows over his face, the effect worsened by the odd tilt of his head.

He was refusing to look at you. That was why he was standing like that. He couldn’t bear to look you in the eyes, and that was the only confirmation you needed. 

“So what?” you said. “I did. Are you going to kill me next?”

“What?” he said. Briefly, he glanced up at you in alarm, and then, like he had remembered he didn’t deserve to feel betrayed by that kind of question, he slouched back down into the same apathy of earlier. “No.”

“Just do it,” you said. “Just do it, you fucking asshole! Why would — you — you killed my parents! You killed my parents, and now you’re just talking to me as if nothing happened? Why? Why would you…?”

His expression did not budge again. “They were filthy monkeys who deserved it.”

“Huh?” you said. The statement was so bizarre that, for a moment, your anger was forgotten. “What the fuck?”

“This world doesn’t need more non-sorcerers running around,” he said. “Every single curse you’ve ever fought, it’s their fault. Those idiots who don’t know how to control the meager amounts of cursed energy they have, they’re the ones who cause curses to manifest. You should be thanking me, Y/N. This’ll make your life that much easier.”

“Do you really think that's the case?” you said.

“Yes,” he said. “With my entire heart, I think that it is.”

You had always, always followed Suguru. When he said to protect the weak, you did so. When he said to take care of others, you did that, too. Whatever he told you to believe, you believed. But how could you do that this time? How could you believe in the person who had murdered your parents?

“You killed my parents because of your stupid theory,” you said numbly. “You killed my parents. Suguru, you killed my parents.”

You didn’t care about the one hundred and twelve villagers. That was the most shameful thing: if it had just been that, then you might still have followed him. He could’ve convinced you — no. You could’ve convinced yourself that it was fine, that he really was looking out for you in that peculiar manner of his. It wouldn’t have been impossible. Even now, your resolve was so weak, and it was only the thought of your parents that allowed you to cling to it at all.

“They asked about you,” he said dully. “I let them. My own parents, I didn’t give them a chance to say anything, but yours…I let them ask. I guess you could consider it my last favor to you.”

The ringing grew louder. You pushed your palms against your ears in an effort to drown it out, but you couldn’t. If anything, it just grew louder and louder, more and more insistent. You couldn’t shake it off. You couldn’t make it go away, just like you couldn’t make Suguru’s words go away.

“It was the only thing they worried about. In their last moments, it wasn’t their own lives they begged for…it was yours,” he said, his gaze far away, his irises unreadable as he recalled that moment. “How strange is that?”

“Shut up,” you said.

“I told them you were okay,” he said.

“Shut up,” you repeated, though it was unsteady and unconvincing. “Shut up, shut up.”

“They were pretty happy about that,” he said, in a tone filled with dreamy recollection. “They didn’t fight much after I promised you’d be okay. What simple creatures they must have been, that even while dying they could only think to rejoice!”

You screamed. It was wordless and brittle, a symptom of your lungs’ collapse as you broke into sobs, fumbling in your purse for your phone. Suguru watched as you unsteadily punched in a number you had never bothered to save, not trying to stop you, maybe not seeing the point.

“Gojo,” you said when he picked up, before he could even say anything. “Gojo, please just — can you come get me? Please come get me.”

“Okay,” he said, to your surprise. He didn’t argue or call it a waste of time or point out that you were still bawling as you spoke. “Where are you? I can be there pretty soon if I steal one of the managers’ cars, I think.”

“By my house,” you said. Suguru did not move, showing you his hands, as if he was giving you permission to do what you wanted. It was your choice. If you just told Gojo that he was with you, then you had no doubt he’d be apprehended within minutes.

“I see,” he said. “I’ll be there as quickly as possible.”

You were the one who hung up, not him. You were the one who made the decision. You were the one who looked at Suguru and then turned your back to him so that, for once, he was the one behind you.

“I can’t reconcile it,” you said, using the ends of your sleeves to blot at your tears as you hiccuped. “I can’t understand it. Even after everything, I still want to follow you. I still want you to be my shadow. I still want to be yours.”

Don’t turn. Don’t turn. Don’t turn. You couldn’t turn around. If you turned around, then that meant your old teacher was right. Empty-minded. Weak-hearted. You could not turn around.

A dry breeze rustled through the leaves on the ground, sounding like footsteps against pavement. Don’t turn.

You turned. You should’ve known better than to expect anything different from yourself. You had never been someone who could stand in the front for very long. You would always turn. You would always run and cower and hide.

Anything you might’ve said died on your tongue as you saw he was already gone. You were alone. You had let him go. You had allowed that mass murderer, that criminal, to walk away from you. What kind of a sorcerer were you? Empty-minded. Weak-hearted. That sort, then. The horrible sort.

When the headlights of the car Gojo had borrowed swung around the corner, you had long since curled up on the grass, your cheek to the mud as you tried to grasp what you had done. 

“Hey,” Gojo said. “Y/N?”

He must’ve gotten out of the car at some point, because suddenly, he was crouching before you, pulling you to your feet, his limbs awkward and gangly as he cocked his head, still wearing those ridiculous sunglasses despite the darkness.

“I’m a piece of shit,” you said, and then you were clutching the collar of his uniform jacket. “Why am I like this?”

“What do you mean?” he said.

“He killed my parents,” you said. “He killed my parents, and I let him walk away.”

“Who?” Gojo said, but it was a rhetorical question. He knew who. You looked up at him miserably, and he shook his head slightly, like he couldn’t quite comprehend what you were saying. “You let who walk away?”

“I don’t think he was planning on seeing me,” you said, letting go of his shirt and pleading with him to understand. “We weren’t supposed to meet.”

“You saw Suguru,” Gojo accused, and now it was his turn to take you by the shoulders, his fingers digging into the muscle of your biceps, his eyes wild. “You saw him, and you didn’t tell me.”

Your lower lip trembled. “He killed my parents, Gojo.”

“That’s not true,” he said.

“It is,” you said. “It is, he told me it is, and I couldn’t even do anything when he said so.”

“Why?” Gojo hissed. “You only had to tell me! Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I just didn’t!” you said, and then you were crying again. “I couldn’t. Oh, they’re dead, and he killed them, he killed them, and they only asked about me when he did. Why am I the one who gets to live?”

His hands traveled from your arms to the nape of your neck, the heels of his palms pressing into your jaw as he tried to force you to look at him. But you couldn’t, of course you couldn’t, you hadn’t been able to before and you definitely couldn’t now.

“You know Suguru better than anyone. Don’t you think there’s something else at play?” Gojo said. He wasn’t asking for you. He was asking for himself. He wanted you to reassure him, tell him that it was alright, that his best friend wasn’t the monster you both knew he was. How was it fair? How could you be expected to reassure him?

You shoved him off of you. “No.”

“Then why’d you let him go?” Gojo said. “You must’ve thought that there was a reason, or else you would’ve told me. It’s the only explanation!”

“No, it’s not! The only explanation is that I’m shitty and weak and stupid, and I can’t help but rely on him. No matter what I do, I’ll rely on him! People like you don’t understand what it feels like. You can stand on your own, but I’m not like that!” you said, and then you were grabbing his hand — he always did that, you noticed, always turned his Infinity off for you even now that it was an automatic, constant process — unfurling his fingers and jabbing his index finger at your forehead. “Do you get it? You were right. I don’t have a spine. I don’t have one at all!”

“Pull yourself together, Y/N,” Gojo said. “He’s still out there. We just have to reach him before the others do, and then we can talk to him. If it’s the both of us, then he’ll listen. He’ll explain everything!”

“He already did,” you said. “You just don’t accept it, but that’s different than him not explaining at all.”

“So what, then? You’re just going to go back to the school and live your life as normal?” he said, scowling at you. “How could you even think of doing that? In what world does that make sense? You can’t go back and pretend like nothing happened!”

“It’s true. I can’t,” you said, because it was the fact you had been avoiding since the day you first set foot in the school, which you had always known in the back of your mind despite how you denied it. “I can’t go back at all. I can’t be a sorcerer.”

It was a rare thing to see Satoru Gojo speechless. If it were a lesser occasion, you might have laughed at the way his lips parted and his eyebrows knitted together in such a foreign way.

“Why not?” he said. 

“I’m afraid I’ll follow him,” you said. “No, I know I will. If I stay, then I will definitely follow him.”

“You won’t,” Gojo said. “Follow me instead. Follow me if you have to, but you can’t leave. Not you, too.”

Another rarity: Satoru Gojo was afraid. Not of your absence, but of the changes it would bring. With Haibara gone, Suguru vanished, and then you…what would even become of the school? When so many pieces were taken away from it, could it even be considered the same place?

“I can’t end up like that,” you said. “I can’t even risk it. I became a sorcerer because of him; I’ll leave because of him, too. Anyways, you hate when I follow you. You prefer people who can stand on their own two feet. I know that about you now.”

“If you run away, I won’t forgive you for a long time,” he warned me. 

“Then don’t,” you said, stepping away, though still facing him. “What good is your forgiveness, anyways? It won’t bring my parents back. It won’t bring Suguru back. I don’t even want you to forgive me, Gojo. I want you to hate me until you die.”

It was the last time you saw him for so long that his memory blurred away at the edges. The way he said your name, the way his hair shone in the sun, the slope of his nose and curve of his neck…once, these were things you might’ve been able to list with a great degree of accuracy. Not anymore, though. Now, if you thought of him at all, it was only that final image of him, framed by the headlights of that still-running car. It was not your name he had called out as you walked away from him, but something bitterer, a promise said with such sincerity it was all but a Binding Vow.

“Ten years,” he had said. “That’s how long I’ll hate you for. Not my entire life. Not until I die. Just for the next ten years.”

Life as an ordinary person was easy. Life without Suguru was harder. But you learned. You learned, through the years, how to stand on your own two feet. You learned how to live with only one shadow instead of two. You learned how to let your eyes adjust to light, gradually instead of all at once, so that it was an easy progression and free of pain. 

There were times when you thought you had seen one or the other of the two who you had run from. There, across the street, was it Suguru reading the newspaper? Or in the bakery you walked past on your way to work, was it Gojo who was admiring the displays? They always vanished before you could grow close enough to ascertain their identities, though, remaining ever out of your grasp, existing as nothing more than phantoms in your periphery, refusing to let you forget the past entirely.

The first time you called Gojo was a year after you left the school. You weren’t expecting him to pick up, and when the automated message prompted you to leave a voicemail, you almost hung up in resignation. Something stopped you, though, and despite feeling entirely ridiculous, you cleared your throat.

“Ah, it’s Y/N. But I guess you probably knew that, considering you didn’t pick up. Well, I don’t have anything much to say, but I just wanted to call and make sure you were doing alright. I’m okay. The anniversary of my parents’ deaths is coming up, so I was planning on visiting their graves. I got a new job. Somewhere that I never would’ve expected to work when I was younger. It’s nice. I like my coworkers. They’re nothing compared to you, of course, but they’re fine enough. Anyways. Um. I guess that’s it. I don’t think you’ll call me back, but I just wanted to let you know I’m doing okay.”

It was a routine. Every year, on that day, you’d call him and leave him a voice message. He never once answered — you doubted he listened to the voicemails at all, either — but it soothed you to leave them, to leave one last connection to the world that had taken up so much of your life, and for so long.

More often than not, that time felt like a dream. If it weren’t for the thorned mourner’s bouquets which left pricks in your fingers or the ten calls you had made to Satoru Gojo, you wouldn’t have believed any of it had happened at all. Sorcery, curses, shadows and killers, best friends who betrayed you and boys you ran from, these were all things better suited to storybooks than real life. 

Your mother’s favorite flowers had been roses, and you always made sure to bring some with you when you visited your parents’ graves. Roses for her and white chrysanthemums for your father, who had never had a preference for any particular flowers but was so sentimental that he would weep at any blooms being set by his headstone.

The roses were the ones that made the pads of your fingertips bleed, leaving bright red drops the same shade as their petals on the tissues you brought with you. You’d set the bouquet down and wrap your fingers with the tissues, watching as blood seeped through the thin paper, and then, without fail, you’d cry.

“It’s been so long without you,” you said, when enough time had passed that you could not be considered anything but an adult despite feeling like little more than a child. “It’s been so long, and I still don’t know what to do. Mother, father, I am grown now, yet constantly I wish I could ask you for advice. What was that song you’d always hum when I was tired, father? How did you make that tea of yours, mother? When did you know you loved one another? And a million other, sillier things. If I could think of nothing more pressing, I’d ask you about the weather, the time, and your plans for the weekend. I’d bid you a good morning and a good night. I’d complain about the rain and my job. Just as long as it meant I could talk to you again.”

You could not help it. You wept, bloody tissues fluttering to the ground as you ground your fists into your eyes, trying to stem the flow of your tears. Your breath came in quick, short gasps, and you rocked back and forth from your heels to your toes in an attempt to lull yourself into a state of calm. Back and forth. Back and forth. It was the only thing you could do, but it was not enough.

Someone’s hand settled upon your shoulder, and it had been so long since you had felt even a semblance of physical affection that you did not immediately bat them away. Instead, your own hands fell to your sides, your head hanging as you watched the newcomer set a bouquet beside the one you had brought. Orchids and lilies. Lovely, pale things that contrasted sharply with the red of the roses next to them.

“You said in your voicemail that you’d be here at this time. I hope it’s okay that I came.”

It was Satoru Gojo. He no longer wore the sunglasses you remembered him to; instead, a black blindfold was wrapped around his eyes and forehead, causing his pale hair to stick up like he had been shocked. He did not quite smile when he noticed that you were looking at him, but something resembling that expression crossed his face.

“Gojo,” you said. “Why are you—?”

“It’s been long enough,” he said. “You’re a really hard person to hate, Y/N L/N. I did my best, but it was difficult. I hope that you know that.”

“So you’ve come to, what, tell me you forgive me?” you said. “Thanks, but I don’t need it. It’s as I said: your forgiveness means nothing.”

“Nah,” he said, and then he was grabbing your hand and squeezing it tightly. “I’ve come to bring you back to sorcery with me.”

“What?” you said. “No. I quit.”

“You didn’t quit, you ran,” he reminded you.

“That’s the same thing,” you said. He grinned. It was the kind of grin that would’ve blinded you when you were younger, but you found that it was not so brilliant anymore. You found you liked it even more than you once had.

“Not in my books,” he said.

“Gojo, I’m not strong enough. I can lead a normal life without you and Suguru and the others, but if you throw me back into sorcery, I know I’ll cave,” you said. “I’ll turn back into that cowardly little girl I once was. I’ll seek out that shadow which I’ve spent so long learning to exist without.”

He sighed, and then he poked you in the forehead. “Not the case. See, you didn’t even waver this time! I think you finally did it, Y/N. You grew a spine.”

“Why do you want me to come back?” you said. “I’m not strong like you. I won’t give you anything you don’t already have.”

“It’s selfish,” he said. “I don’t want to tell you because it’s selfish, and you’ll laugh at me.”

“If you don’t tell me, then I won’t even consider it,” you said. Though his eyes were covered by the blindfold, you could sense him rolling them based solely on the way he pouted.

“I’ve spent the last ten years hating you for leaving us — for leaving me behind,” he said. “Everyone else was gone. I needed someone, but you left too, and then I really was alone. I want to drag you back into hell because I can’t face it by myself anymore.”

There were things left unsaid in that. Why you, for one? He could have anyone in the world, so why, after ten years, had he come to find you specifically? Why was it now that he could no longer bear the hell that was sorcery alone? But Gojo was not the sort who ever revealed his true self if he could help it, so you supposed those things would have to go unsaid for a little longer.

“Okay,” you said.

“Okay?” he said.

“Okay,” you said. “I’ll come back, but I have a condition.”

“What is it?” he said.

“The next time I leave, or run away, or quit, don’t hate me for quite as long,” you said. “Don’t hate me at all. I know I told you that I want you to hate me until you die, but I don’t anymore.”

“Okay,” he said.

“Okay?” you said, in a direct mirror of your previous exchange.

“Okay,” he said. “Come on, then. Follow me.”

“Oh, that, too,” you said. “I won’t follow you. If that’s what you’re expecting, then you can forget about it. I cannot allow myself to follow anyone ever again. I cannot be that weak, or I’ll become someone I despise. Someone I don’t want to be, ever again.”

His expression morphed into one of shock, and then he did something so odd as to be beyond all rationality and logic. He beamed at you before patting you on the head. It wasn’t condescending; it was the kind of gesture that was like a promise, or a warning, depending on who you asked. Maybe in this case, it was both.

“It’s alright. Actually, it’s better if you don’t,” he said. “I like you more when you don’t follow anyone at all.”

[beejunos]

SINNERMAN | Alastor x f.reader | part 3.

Summary: After Sir Pentious’s failed attempt at spying on the hotel, the Vees approach you to make a new deal—a deal that you can’t refuse. Help them take down Alastor, and you will get to kill him again. After all, the great butcher of New Orleans had killed your brother, so it was only fair that you had killed him in return. And you would love to do it again.

Tags: Alastor x f!reader, slow burn, obsessive behaviour, enemies to lovers, spying, murder

PART 1. | PART 2. | AO3

Chapter 3. Brother, oh, brother

August 21st, 1927. New Orleans. 

The day had been unusually cold for New Orleans in August, but the radio station quickly turned warm as its employees and their families congregated in its halls to celebrate the station's explosive expansion. The clock had just turned ten o'clock at night, and laughter could be heard blending effortlessly with the music from the live band. 

The radio station's celebration occurred in its most splendid room, an old salon converted into a restaurant and lunch room. From the ceiling hung beautiful crystal chandeliers that cast a wonderfully warm glow over the crowd of people mingling all around. The walls were painted in a deep, rich indigo that made the room feel more luxurious and intimate, with dark stained wooden accents and an oak floor. On the ceilings could a faint trace of paint still be seen from a time the ceiling had been painted, but there was no possibility of interpreting what the images were anymore.

You admired the incredible art that hung on the walls as you zigzagged through the people to get to where you thought you had seen your brother. You quickly apologised to anyone you bumped into as you squeezed between groups to avoid disturbing them. Mindful of the cream-coloured dress you had bought with your own money after working long hours as a secretary at the police station, you pressed it close to your body so it never snagged on anything or anyone else. It was the closest thing you would ever come to being considered a flapper. Something you longed for desperately. To be as free as them.

However, that would never be in the cards for you. Born from one of the wealthiest families in New Orleans, it was a miracle that your mother and father had let you work at the police station at all. Like any good daughter, you loved your parents deeply, but sometimes you wished they would loosen their leach on you. 

Thankfully, you had your brother, who could get away with anything. As the eldest son, your parents expected him to one day take over the family business, but in the meantime, they let him do whatever he wanted. This led him to now work at the radio station as one of their hosts, but it was only temporary if your father would have a say. 

Your brother, Joshua, had always been a wild child. Full of energy and a lust for life that you had never seen in anyone else, and as children, he had always had the nasty habit, according to your mother, of dragging you off into his various adventures. All of these minor adventures constantly ended with both of you coming home with dirt and grass stains all over your white clothes. 

These small adventures never really ended, and even now, when both of you were adults, he would often help you escape your parents and their restrictive ways. Joshua frequently talked bout how when he was the head of the family business, he would buy you a one-way ticket to New York just so one of you could be free. But, in the meantime, he would invite you to various events that he and his friends would hold. This time, he had invited you to the event at the radio station. 

You continued to squeeze past a larger group where one of the older men laughed rather loudly at one of his jokes before you saw your brother. You called out his name as he started to walk in the other direction. Hearing his name, Joshua quickly spun around and met your gaze with the same boyish smile you had grown up with.

"There she is!" he called and held out his hand to pull you into the group he was talking to. "Everyone, I want you all to meet my little sister." 

They all greeted you by saying their own names, and you really tried to remember every single one of them. However, after a long evening of new faces, names, and job titles, it became pretty difficult to remember who was who. 

"Where's Alastor? Shouldn't he be here by now?" asked a woman with short red hair as she lit a cigarette. Her emerald green dress sparkled like green stars in the evening light, and you felt a tiny bit jealous since your parents would never allow you to wear anything that beautiful. You had to think of the good family name and reputation, as they would have said.

"Oh, I saw him just a few minutes ago," Joshua answered unhelpfully as he started to look around the crowd. However, he was a short man and could not see that far over the crowd. 

"He's dancing, as always," chuckled one of the men beside the redhead as he took her cigarette and used it himself. They looked so lovingly at each other that you had to turn away, for it felt like you were invading their tender moment. 

"Ah, there he is. Hey, Alastor! Over here!" shouted Joshua beside you and threw his arm in the air. Waving someone over to your group. Forward stepped maybe the most beautiful man you had ever seen. The description 'Tall, dark and handsome' felt like it was made specifically for him. 

Alastor towered over the group but wasn't as lanky as most men his height could be. His broad shoulders and chest balanced him out significantly, creating a statuesque figure that made you think of the marble sculptures of gods and heroes from the old masters. He dragged his hand through his dark brown hair, which was tussled from all the dancing, and you silently wished that it was your hands dragging through his hair just so you could see if it felt as silky as it looked. 

He was dressed in a beautiful maroon-striped suit that wonderfully complemented his warm brown skin, and a small treacherous part of your mind wondered what colour his skin would take if you dragged your nails over his back or chest. 

As he got close enough to join the group, you finally saw his eye colour behind his round glasses. A rich brown that you knew would turn almost golden in the sunlight. The kind of brown eyes that the poets wrote about. A lover's gaze so sweet that it could heal any broken heart. Brown eyes as sweet as honey, brown eyes like a fire-lit light, brown eyes as rich as the depth of earth. He was mysterious, intoxicating, and your heart nearly skipped a beat when he looked down at you with his brilliant smile. 

"And who might this charming belle be? I don't think we've met before." 

You thought you were going to die the moment Alastor took your hand and placed a featherlight kiss on your knuckles as butterflies erupted in your stomach. Your name felt almost foreign on your lips, but oh so right, leaving his.

Behind you, you could hear your brother snort loudly before he playfully hit Alastors shoulder.

"Settle down; that's my little sister you're flirting with." That statement only made Alastor chuckle before he let go of your hand, and you instantly missed his warmth. 

"Alastor? I don't think I've heard your name on the radio. Are you a host or perhaps an audio engineer?" you asked, desperate to continue to talk to the man. 

Alastors smile only grew as he looked down at you. From the inside pocket of his suit, he pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.

"I'm a host, my dear. I host the show after Joshuas," he said as he lit his cigarette and put it to his plush lips. You had to implore a tremendous amount of self-control not to openly stare at his lips and his long fingers as he held the cigarette between his index and middle fingers.

Even his hands are perfection, you thought in despair.

"The Evening Hour? Oh, I've heard about it! You play by far the best jazz in all of New Orleans." 

The smile Alastor gave you felt the most genuine he had made all evening. It made you wonder how often he had to smile to hide his true feelings. 

The rest of the evening went by in a haze as you continued to talk to Alastor, and it peaked when he asked you to accompany him to a dance. The lights felt brighter, the music forever tied to the memory of Alastor's hand between your shoulder blades. It was a moment in time when you forgot who you were and what life you were expected to live. 

For a moment, you were only a girl in the arms of a boy when an infatuation took root in your heart. But all nights end, even the ones that feel like dreams, and soon you were forced to say goodbye to the man with the bewitching smile and beautiful eyes as you and your brother prepared to go home. 

The road home was dark and cold as you walked through street after street. It felt lonelier than you expected, for Joshua did not say a single word to you. You hugged your too-thin summer coat around you as you and your brother took the backdoor through the kitchen to your home.

The room was dark and empty, just as both of you had suspected, and the only things you could see were the contours of objects in the light of the moon. Both you and Joshua quickly took off your shoes before you prepared yourselves to tip-toe through the big house. 

You were halfway through the kitchen when you heard Joshua whisper your name in the dark. You turned to look at your brother, who was still standing by the door.

"Don't ever talk to Alastor again."

"What? Why?" you asked, shocked because Joshua had never demanded anything of you before, but there was a coldness to his voice that you did not like. He had an odd look on his face that you had never really seen before, and it made you hesitate, for it matched the look your father usually had before taking his anger out on others.

With a forceful tone in his voice, your brother turned to you and said, "Just stay away from him. I can't quite put my finger on it, but there's something about him that makes me feel uneasy." It wasn’t a plea; it was a demand and the type of demand that left no room for negotiations.

He gave you a quick glance before hastily making his exit from the kitchen, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

Joshua never invited you to the radio station after the celebrations, so you had no real reason to go over there and talk to Alastor. Days turned into weeks, and slowly, you had to accept that your one night with the man would only be that one magical night.

You had, however, no idea that your life would come crashing down on you. 

November the 3d, 1927

It has been two long weeks since Joshua went missing, and your mother was beyond distraught. She has secluded herself in her bedroom, allowing only food and drink to be brought in and refusing to speak to anyone else but you. The only words she utters were those of cold certainty - she knows Joshua is dead. But you and your father adamantly refuse to believe her words. 

Your father, who has always been a reserved and complicated man, had begun working longer and longer hours, dreading the thought of coming home to what remains of his family. Meanwhile, you were doing your best to keep the family functioning, but the constant worry and sleepless nights were taking their toll. 

You tried to hold onto hope that Joshua had just run away, finally fed up with your father's controlling behaviour. But deep down, you know that Joshua would never have left you behind. 

He had made you an important promise—to get you out of this town and as far away from your parents as possible. You clung to this promise even as the days dragged on with no news of Joshua's whereabouts. The uncertainty and fear were nearly unbearable, but you refused to give up hope.

November the 7th, 1927

The police came knocking on your family's door in the evening. You had taken the day off from work to care for your mother when one of the policemen you knew from the office asked to talk to your father. 

"He isn't home right now," you answered hesitantly. Your father hadn't been home in a few days, and you had no idea when he would come home again. You would call his office every evening to ensure he was all right, but from your short phone calls with your father, you could tell he was not doing well. 

"Do you know when he will be back?" the officer asked, giving you a look you knew all too well. You saw it all the time in the police station. It was the same sympathetic look newer officers would give families when they had only bad news to deliver.

Pushing your shoulders back, you took a deep breath and asked the question that you did not want the answer to.

"You've found Joshua's body, haven't you?"

 The officer heaved a sigh as he looked at you with heavy eyes. A bird could be heard singing its sorrowful song somewhere in the distance as you waited for your colleague's answer. 

"A part of Joshua's body was found about five miles outside of the city. Some hunters in the area found him." 

"A part?" you asked, shocked. "But if it was a body part you've found, how can you be sure it's Joshua's?" 

Your voice rose in pitch with every word you uttered. If only the police had found all of him. If only Joshua had run away and never returned. 

"His head. We have found his head." 

Ice-cold fear pierced your heart as a piece of your soul died right there, in the hallway of your family home on a Monday evening. Your father refusing to come home, a mother who would never be the same, and all you wished was that you were in New York. Far away from everything. 

"I'm sorry to inform you and your family, but your brother was killed by The Butcher."

The butcher, a serial killer who had hunted New Orleans for the past year. Always so far away, jet so near, and now he had spilt his filth all over your family. Destroyed and mutilated your lives. A demon among men. 

A demon whose shadow now towered over you, laughing at your weak soul. Laughing at your misery and sorrow. 

A monster and everyone knew that monsters were to be hunted like the animals they were.

You would see the end of the butcher if you so died trying.

A little flashback. Oh, how the wide-eyed wonder died fast.

Taglist: @martinys-world @tremendoushearttaco @fairyv-ice @azmosposts @nyx91

[venusintheblindspots-blog]

Viserys Targaryen Rant Part 2

Rhaenyra, the King’s Heir

After episode eight of House of the Dragon aired, there were a lot of people cheering on Viserys for his support of Rhaenyra’s claim.

I will admit, the scene was heartwarming to me at first,- a frail old man on the brink of death, getting up solely to defend his daughter in front of a court that may have had grievances with her being a female-heir. That kind of fatherly support, means a lot in a misogynistic society like Westeros. But, what does that moment of support truly mean for a man that had not performed his duties as a father?

Let us refer back to episode one. This scene in particular:

Aemma expresses to Viserys that she does not wish to have another pregnancy after the birth of the child she’s pregnant with.

According to Fire and Blood, Viserys and Aemma married when she was eleven years old. Their marriage was not consummated until two years later, when Aemma had flowered. Aemma in both Fire and Blood and House of the Dragon would go on to suffer multiple miscarriages, that some of Maesters suspected were due to her being bed too young.

Refocusing on the scene above, Aemma tells Viserys that Rhaenyra suspects that the unborn child might be a girl. Viserys is insistent that it is a boy.

In episode one, Rhaenyra was fifteen years old. If she were male, Viserys would have started preparing her as his heir,- taking her to council meetings, send her as a messenger, etc. But he doesn’t, because he wanted a male heir. He spent almost two decades brutalizing his wife and ultimately killing her for a son. He spent almost two decades neglecting his daughter and putting her aside because he wanted a son.

Aegon, Second of his Name

In the third episode of House of the Dragon, we meet Aegon, the first child between Alicent and Viserys.

For a majority of the episode, Aegon is being celebrated as it’s his name day, and he’s the king’s first born son. The King now having son would usually signal a change in succession, since for most of Westeros, sons inherit over daughters. However, by the end of the episode, Viserys’ position does not change: Rhaenyra is his rightful heir.

So what happens to Aegon, the long-awaited son?

Let’s look at some word from the screenwriter, Ryan Condal:

"Aegon is a great example of neglect and indulgence," Condal says. "This is the medieval version of the millionaire's prodigal son. His mother was 15, and his father never paid any attention to him. His father deeply, deeply loved Aemma and Rhaenyra and was [only] having [more] kids to carry on the line. He really didn't want Aegon — he wanted Baelon, the son that killed his first wife."

When we first meet Aegon he was being celebrated. After hoping for a boy for years, Viserys finally got a male heir.

We don’t get any scenes of his early childhood but we see Aegon again when he’s a teenager. He’s disinterested in most things, he’s blunt, he teases, he masturbates by the window sill, but most of all, he’s disinterested and lackadaisical.

After another time skip, we see Aegon again. He’s still disinterested in most things, he drinks, he’s a rapist, and is overall not really a good person.

Within the fandom, most of the blame for the way Aegon has turned out has been directed to Alicent.

Now, Alicent being a child-bride does not excuse all of her actions, but it does explain a lot of them.

In scene where Alicent speaks with Dyana, I interpreted her reaction as one filled with shame, frustration and disappointment. All of the traits I used to describe Aegon, can be applied to Viserys. Aegon is his father’s mirror and Alicent is the only one who is trying to break it. Immediately after meeting with Dyana, she confronts Aegon, and disowns him(well,not really). Were her methods rash? Yes, it was rash and abusive, but who else was checking him? Where was Viserys during his formative years to correct this behavior?

I do not condone any of his actions, but I grieve the person Aegon could’ve been if Viserys had not been his father.

Aemond, the Kinslayer

I’d reckon that Aemond’s birth wasn’t quite the spectacle that Aegon’s was, he’s the second son, who inherits nothing.

When we first meet Aemond, he’s miserable. He has a very low self esteem mostly due to all of his peers having dragon, while he doesn’t. His father, Viserys was the last mount of Balerion, the Black Dread. Balerion represents the strength and history of House Targaryen in Westeros. He’s the last dragon to have come from Old Valyria, and his first rider was the man who united Westeros under one crown, Aegon the Conqueror. Viserys took Balerion on one ride, and the old dragon died shortly after. He spent all of his rule as a Targaryen king without a dragon. We get no indication that he had negative feelings about not being a dragon rider, in fact, he finds power in the dreams and prophecies of Targaryens and Old Valyria, than the man power of dragons. Had he been around to salvage any feelings of unworthiness Aemond felt when his egg didn’t hatch, or when the riderless dragons in the dragon pit rejected him, Aemond would’ve been less resentful about not having one.

So in this scene here, where he claims Vhagar, and rides her for the first time, it’s a moment of legitimacy for him. He’s a Targaryen, with a dragon. He fits in with his siblings and his nephews, finally.

His claiming of Vhagar came with a price, his eye. I’m not going to delve into the mishap that took place between him, the Dragon twins and the Strong boys, because they were children. Baela and Rhaena had all right to be angry about Aemond claiming Vhagar, Luke had all right to defend his brother, Aemond had all right to react to their insults. Was he a bit insensitive ? Yes, but he’s a kid. They’re all children. They do not have the same awareness and consideration adults should have.

The aftermath of that scene is a confrontation between Rhaenyra and Alicent.

There has been a lot of discourse about this scene in particular, but Emma D’arcy and Olivia Cooke’s is the one I resonate with the most :

ED: It’s such an interesting scene, right? My sympathy is fully with Alicent. On the page I was like, Well, she’s fucking right.

OC: Someone’s lost an eye.

ED: Someone’s lost an eye! I’m so amazed every time Paddy basically tells you to let it go. Simultaneously, Rhaenyra is playing quite a basic game: Lie hard, do not back down, and weaponize this word “treason.”

OC: Alicent’s being gaslit massively and she fucking explodes. In friendships or relationships, when it gets to the point where you feel you’re going mad, there’s no route out other than complete volcanic annihilation.

ED: There is something resentfully delicious in it for Rhaenyra, in that she so rarely gets definitively the backing of her father. Early on, she loses both her best friend and her father because they get married. These moments where she gets publicly chosen, and chosen instead of you — there’s a really violent quality of vengeance for her.

No Alicent should not have asked for a five year old’s eye. But her son, has just lost one. And his father, is more focused on the fact that his grandchildren were called bastards. Now I’m not discounting the fact that Westeros discriminates against bastards, but that could have been addressed afterwards. Viserys spent the entire scene promising his court that they’d lose a tongue for even uttering a word about his grandsons, while his son is sitting in a chair with his eye in front him on a plate. Aemond now has to learn how to maneuver around with one of his five senses damaged. (Honestly, I think a few scenes with Aemond struggling a bit with this would’ve been great).

If Viserys had just acknowledged Aemond’s detriment in that scene, maybe give him some reassurance, comfort, literally anything, he wouldn’t have remained vengeful years after the incident.

Helaena, the Dragon Dreamer

The parenting of Helaena is the best representation of Viserys and Alicent’s dynamics with their kids,- Alicent struggling to connect with her child, while Viserys the parent who would’ve had a better shot at connection is nowhere to be found.

Helaena has correctly predicted several events in House of the Dragon so far, the loss of Aemond’s eye being the price of his dragon, Meleys bursting from beneath the dragon pit, and the Dance of the Dragons. The thing is, no one in universe is paying her any mind. The weight of prophecies in ASOIAF is a topic that George likes to explore, and he’s given us a few tragic characters like Rhaegar, who met their doom by interpreting a prophecy ‘incorrectly’.

Helaena is a dragon dreamer. She’s also a dragon rider, but we have no scenes with her on Dreamfyre. She represents the more mystical part of House Targaryen, as she possesses the power that prevented them from the Doom. Yet her father, who is a deeply interested in these aspects of being Targaryen, doesn’t speak to her about these things.

If Viserys had made an attempt to understand or simply bond with his daughter, none of the atrocities his family faced would have happened the way it did.

My sympathy for Team Green stems from the fact that literally every single one of them would’ve been way better people if not for Viserys.

[youkaiyume]

So, Rise of the Beasts!!

I saw it twice of the weekend, and I want to put down my honest thoughts.

Overall, I had a great time and I definitely think it's worth watching. Ignore the critic reviews for some reason they are offended that a Transformers movie exists to sell toys. You know, their sole purpose since the very beginning of inception. But OF COURSE I have THOUGHTS so...

Spoilers under the cut!

I liked the human characters for the most part. Noah's sudden onboard motives for going with the autobots to Peru was not as convincing but adventure needs to happen so I gave it a pass.

Mirage is like, DTF with Noah. Like he is SO ready for that tiny bf bff. It's obvious that Bee spoke so much about Charlie (cuz it seemed he was the only one who did talk positively about humans in their group) that Mirage was just. HIS BODY WAS READY.

CHARLIE WAS MENTIONED!!! AHHHHH!!! That was the one tiny smidgeon of a crumb that I wanted and they gave it to me. Granted it was implied when Optimus says "I know one was good to you, Bee" But I was told that the Latin America dub had him say Charlie's actual name. There was a SCENE that was cut out according to the Hollywood Reporter--that Bumblebee had also pulled out a polaroid pic that Charlie took of them together from the first movie here to show OP. HE'S BEEN CARRYING AROUND HER PICTURE ALL THESE YEARS I DIE WHY DID YOU CUT THIS OUT!!!

Mirage's abilities seem very arbitrary. And I do not like this. He can turn into several alt modes which seems to be only a thing that he can do... he can mass shift--which I know mass shifting is a thing but when he turns into a truck to sneak past the museum security I was like??? I was always under the impression that the bots could turn into a vehicle relative to their own actual size so this just confuses me. There is supposedly an earlier cut of the film where it was more clear that the trailer was another illusion. which I wish they kept in. Also when he becomes Noah's symbiote suit at the end?? Like, as a shipper and rule of cool I am into it, but as a person who wants rules to ground my science fiction I don't like how Mirage is just a swiss army knife for the writer's convenience. It feels lazy instead of taking the time to actually worldbuild. Nobody else can do these things.

The arbitrary mass shifting of him being as big or as small as he wants (like when he becomes Noah's exosuit) really falls apart when they keep insisting that they need the humans because only they can fit into small spaces. Well, clearly not cuz you can just do it yourself. AGAIN, PLEASE BE CONSISTENT WITH YOUR RULES.

Airazor x Elena. Anyone else????

speaking of which, I am very upset about what happens to Airazor. And we never even got to see her transform. tragic.

Optimus sure was a negative nancy which--I understand why but I hope they ease up on edgy "i will rip everyone's faces off" Optimus because it feels disingenuous to his character to keep it going for too long. Like I get it, they killed your fave child so I will forgive you but also I want more of "Be strong enough to be gentle" Optimus. Not the edgelord Bayverse Optimus that they are clearly going for cuz the know certain :ahem: fans like that.

Beeeee. They put him out of commission which again, according to interviews they did just so they could make sure he doesn't steal the spotlight and give a chance for the other characters to shine lmao. He is too powerful. But also because we shots of him in the trailers, I was not too worried about Bee staying out of commission. But goddamn when if I still wasn't hyped as hell when he made his comeback. 10/10 he proves he's still the GOAT.

I hate Pablo/Wheeljack. No, after seeing the movie my opinion of him did not improve in fact it got so much worse. His design was the LEAST of his problems. Every moment he was on screen was deeply cringe. And he barely did anything!! He could have not been in the movie at all and it wouldn't have made a difference and I genuinely believe it would have been a better film. All this hullaballoo over Pablo and this is what we got. Wheeljack fans lost hard after all that defense I'm sorry this ain't it.

Hey speaking of bots that barely got any lines or screentime, wtf was up with Rhinox and Cheetor? My boys got shafted :(

There was a moment where OP is asking the bots if they detected the terrorcons and Arcee WHO IS SITTING in the pablo van was like "lol nope" and I was like GURL how could you, you're in a van. And it made no sense because don't you also have an altmode??? Shouldn't you be scouting outside to cover more ground???

I firmly believe the only had Arcee sitting in there like a dumb duck because they wanted Wheeljack to make a dumb joke in the original cut about how it was a long time since she was inside him. UGHUGHUGH.

Did I mention how glad I am that they cut the majority of Wheeljack's screentime since it was so awful especially his and Arcee's implied romance? Especially since they killed off the other femmes so the only one we got now has to have a mandatory romance. No thanks. Glad that nonsense is gone.

The Maximals' robot modes were very minimal. and they went by so fast I never got a good look at their designs.

I loved how the Maximals were harmoniously living with the native tribe--and speaking their language!

Scourge's face reveal seemed to be treated like it was a big deal but when we saw him it was just... guy without his wig on. Literally the surprise is that he is bald.

Noah x Mirage is very strong good. I have no doubt the fandom will be all over it since they seem to eat up BL romance much more readily and I am all for it. They also have all the great ingredients for it--flirting, drift compatibility, self sacrifice for the other. Another human x transformer ship for the books.

I'm sure there are some ppl who like the ending. but I.... did not. I do not want to see G.I.Joes in my transformers I'm sorry. I don't want the return of military propaganda or more introductions to several human characters that take away from the transformers. I don't want to see them exploited or used for our own human affairs--even if it's a fictional cult-- when they could be literally fighting Decepticons or Unicron or whatever. People might have wanted them in Bayverse cuz it was heavily skewed Military in those films but I don't want to see it again. It was a terrible, dark time. the Joes might be presented as good guys but I don't trust the military in general and I don't see their motives as altruistic--especially if their goal is to use them for their own purposes. Why would they help them get home? They wouldn't, if just to keep their best weapons--and Noah is bait. He is bait and he will fall for it hook line and sinker because they are bribing him with his brother's healthcare and the fact that he is struggling to find work elsewhere.I hope if they are to be involved at all it will be relegated to characters here and there but they stay in their own movies if they have to ride on Transformers coattails to revive an irrelevant struggling franchise.

There was minimal human injuries/death and I appreciate that. They did the DBZ thing where they took their fight to remote locations. This probably won't keep up if they introduce the Joes :/

Overall, 8/10. I had a fun time. I didn't love it as much as Bumblebee but it was definitely miles better than Bayverse (a low bar I know). The action was clear, the characters likable, the CGI mostly stellar. I have hope that they will bring back Charlie maybe. But hey, I took my parents to it the second time around and my Mom liked Mirage and my Dad did not fall asleep so I will consider that a stamp of approval.

[mahoushojo-chan]

headcanons on the Cazador spawn family

because i had to write the family into my fanfiction, i spent a good hour in the szarr manor just scrounging for details.

additional credits to this redditor who helped get me started. i won't be going over the details that they already succinctly summarized, i'll only go over my extrapolations

tw: mentions of SA, ptsd, and all the gory details you'd expect from astarion's personal quest. and spoilers, of course.

Cazador Szarr:

in many ways, i want to write cazador as astarion's foil, and someone who has very similar views to an ascended astarion, even if he has a relatively different personality. i saw him as someone more introverted and calculated than our hedonistic, in-the-moment ally, but they are joined in the sense that both of them are intentionally cruel to others and possessive over what is theirs. i also wrote him as a necromancer wizard. just seemed to fit.

one thing that seemed to stump many is why there were only seven spawn that cazador kept, but seven thousand he could have chosen from. my theory is this: cazador was truly trying to build some semblance of family, as fcked up as it became. i also don't think that he ended up seeing them as family, and that his viewpoint constantly changed between seeing them as family, lovers, and slaves/tools for his own pleasure. astarion truly loved you before he ascended, and in the same vein, i imagine cazador had an innocent wish as a spawn, or even as a human: he wanted to be a father or a lover, apparently to a large family. this frames how i view the 'siblings'.

Leon Onufrio:

the only spawn with a last name, oddly enough. astarion says that he was 'one of (Cazador's) firsts', which led me to believe there must have been at least one before. i wrote leon to be his first. this makes sense for cazador's first spawn, since cazador seemingly has an affinity towards pretty men. it made sense to me that he could lure in a human with the false promise of eternity, and that he would choose one who seemed responsible and kind for his first 'son'. he is the only one with a daughter, and the only one with limited access to magic. he also seems to understand cazador well, being the first to realize that astarion is right to believe in cazador's cruelty over their false promise of freedom. i imagine cazador would have wanted him to play the role of a 'responsible older brother', and allow him the most independence. the first to have a child, the top hunter, the role model. amongst the spawn, he is the golden child, aka just had the most time to adapt to cazador's ways and go towards people pleasing. and due to his role, cazador allows him to play this.

i wrote him as a shadow magic sorcerer, because we know he is canonically a sorcerer and that he managed to place a necrotic curse on his daughter's blood, in case anyone would go after her. shadow magic seemed fitting for a vampire. it seemed like the type that would attract cazador.

I know that canonically there's a likelihood that he was the last spawn that cazador took in, and he had to take victoria with him and had to be in a position to actually mpregnate someone, but i just wrote it such that he managed to do so while he was a spawn... which is possible, astarion fans... it is possible...

Astarion Ancunin:

canonically astarion's one of cazador's firsts, and i chose to make him the second. i figured if i were an evil, narcissistic asshole playing 'house' with a son, artistically, a cain-and-abel dynamic with an 'ideal' older son and a resentful, evil younger brother. it is also known that astarion was rebellious, and cazador took specific glee in punishing him. that's right, according to this theory: astarion was always built to fail. he was always made to be punished in his role, regardless of what he did. he was meant to be broken over and over again, but not broken enough to stop rebelling entirely, because this would mean that he didn't fit his role well enough. he would be punished according to his role, because you could not be too rebellious, but then he could also be punished if he did not rebel enough, because then he wouldn't suit cazador's cruel playacting. he is the 'rebellious second-born'.

using the bg3 canon, astarion is an arcane trickster. i write him as a thief, never quite having enough time or wanting to put enough effort on honing his magical ability, moreso focusing on surviving.

Dalyria:

the rest of the spawn get a little more difficult, as less and less of them are known. we know dalyria was a physician, she cares about astarion, and she killed leon's daughter to try and discover a 'cure' to their vampirism. i just wanted to write her in relation to the others as a "mature and elegant older sister". one who genuinely has other people's best interests at heart. i also wanted to keep in mind the doctor's hippocratic oath and how that may have degraded and suffered from cognitive dissonance under years of abject torture, especially with what she ended up doing to victoria.

as it stands, there actually is a 'physician's touch' feat in dungeons and dragons, under the monk: way of mercy subclass.

Aurelia:

personally, i thought aurelia was really cute. she's also the only tiefling in cazador's coterie. continuing with the pattern, i thought perhaps cazador could also think so: she plays the role of the 'cute, anxious younger sister' that needs to be coddled a bit. she allows the hope of freedom to be dangled in her face.

in my hypothetical, she was innocent and it was probably easy for cazador to lure her in. perhaps she was already treated poorly by the world as a tiefling, and cazador pretended to be a kind, caring, gentle figure. whether as a father, or a lover. she seems to be the most aware of cazador's schemes and easy to control.

because she was captured while she was still innocent, and i made it so that after capture, none of cazador's spawn could really 'grow' as people while under his control (hence why astarion is level 1 when we meet him), i don't have a class for her yet, other than the charisma-based inclination based off her tiefling nature. i do have two little plot hooks for her though, so i'll see which direction she decides to go in.

Petras:

what we mainly know is that petras is a bit of an idiot, according to astarion. while this would normally hold very little juice, since astarion thinks all acts of good are idiotic, we also see that petras is regarded this way in general, such as looking for a meal when he finally is allowed his freedom. his role was "dumb younger brother".

i imagined him as a bit of a jock. not exactly ill-intentioned, but definitely ignorant. he also looked shorter and stouter than astarion--even though i know they most likely use the same model, i wanted to incorporate this. i wanted to make him a idiot-good paladin at first, and keep him as someone resilient and protective, but none of the oaths really seemed to suit him. i knew none of them could be a religious class, mainly for the reasons astarion brought up, and the oaths themselves didn't really serve him well. i settled on barbarian and flavour him with dhampir. yes, even though all of them are technically vampires and petras specifically was a human in life, i just used character sheets to make things easier.

Violet:

Violet was at least a little interesting--mostly because of her diary. she constantly writes about playing pranks on other people and overall being a menace. she's also the only other person to be in the 'favoured spawn' room in recent history. while leon constantly tried to shoehorn his way in there for his daughter, she had no such attachment. i figured she just was a little cruel, and enjoyed the suffering of others so much that she may have actually enjoyed the killing a vampire would do.

i also had cazador enforce this behaviour, because in this hierarchy, she is the 'bratty younger sister'. the favoured youngest spawn. i made her a gloom stalker ranger. i wanted her to be ruthless in the way that she got her kills, attacking others while she had the advantage, and still having some skill. i also wanted an overlap where she and astarion could reconnect so that she wouldn't be completely lost and evil, what with both of them being sneaky and such. plus helps with the pranks role, and gives her some capacity for wisdom

Yousen:

the final sibling. the only thing i think we ever find out about this guy is that violet played a prank on him once. i imagine that cazador saw him as a joke. his stature doesn't fit his team, he's not particularly their type, and he doesn't seem to be treated very well. i think of him as the 'black sheep' of the family. the 'runt of the litter'. this is the role he is meant to play.

however, even though this is the role he plays, i didn't make him this way at all. i headcanon this is the 'character' cazador cared least about. i don't think he took much time carefully picking it out, since yousen would also be the last spawn chosen for the ritual, and at this point, cazador figures they're all going to die anyways--he just needs to complete the family. there was a lot i could do here, with so little known about him. i made him reclusive and resentful, which makes him seem to fit the role, but deep down it's mostly because he's hardened and jaded. i made his backstory as a soldier--perhaps one that cazador found drunk at a bar one day and figured he would make a good joke, a runt, and effectively the most misunderstood.

he is a battle master fighter. or, well, formerly was. i had him lose a significant amount of skill during the years that he became a spawn. also during cazador's ritual, if you examine everyone, he and leon are the only ones with blood on their mouths. i felt that this meant they were the only two who attempted to fight cazador before becoming sacrifical lambs. (note: they also have it at the camp when they attack astarion, but this could still be valid and also i don't trust the texture mapping they did with the spawn, what with their red bodies) i thought a sorcerer and fighter could make a badass combo. also, there are a lot of people who sleep on the halfling fighter builds.

[aliceinclockland]

Cardcaptor Magicians and their Ceremonial Clothings

Welcome to Episode one of my random Cardcaptor Blabberings (or blabblecaptor— it's a working tag title), a "series" where I talk about random Cardcaptor things without doing that much deep diving because I hate too much research.

Since I'm notorious for starting things and not being consistent to the point of not even continuing what I started, let's see how this one goes. 😆 I'm also bad at words so wish me luck.

I'd like to start this off by saying 2 things:

this all started because I saw Sakura's pointy hat and got reminded by Kaito's ceremonial robe... then got reminded of Eriol's robe right after.

this isn't a serious analyzation of their outfits, given the reason i wanted to blabber about this is their pointy hats. also I'm more of a Nadeshiko when it comes to fashion: so far from the word 💀

Lastly, take this as a silly post while I try to learn how Tumblr works. I don't want people to use this as a source (or anything similar) because at the end of the day, this is all just silly typings of someone who excels in associating the most random stuff with each other without being able to explain why.

With all of that out of the way, Let's get started!

lold what i said earlier, the moment i saw Sakura's color page in Chapter 74 my mind went straight into Kaito's robe, and when my brain went to remind me of Kaito's ceremonial robe colored page, it immediately went to Eriol, and then started to compare the three, asking myself about their similarities aside from the initial idea of this entire post, the pointy hats.

starting off with the robes, all 3 of them have their attires in the color black. idk why it's like that, but it makes the gold in their clothing shine more i guess 😆

the patterns the clothings have also are (mostly. just in case if there's a part where it's not) symmetrical, visibly seen within the designs on the torso parts (in this case, Eriol & Sakura's chest (?) part, and Yuna D. Kaito's back). I could say it's the magicians' insignia but just in case it's not I'll just say symmetrical symbols 😅

but, surely that's not the only similarities, right?

well, aside from the pointy hats™ and the color scheme & patterns their robes have, I also realized that they're also all powerful magicians~

Eriol is Clow's reincarnation, and according to various Cardcaptor characters, he (Clow) was the most powerful magician to ever exist (but also the most fucked up one as well, i guess.)

Given that Clow's reincarnation were 2 people (he thought he could divide his magical abilities between them), Eriol still (unfortunately) got all of the magic, and most of Clow's memories, literally passing down his title of being the most powerful magician onto Eriol.

This manchild can do lots of things, and his memory of his past life helps him excel in some of everyday skills a "normal child" would struggle with (ie. baking, drawing, sewing, speaking a language, etc). But, no one knows that— not even Sakura until he told her that himself.

also I'd like to point out the fact that despite a lot of his robe's designs were in gold (color, who knows if it's really gold? I don't.), the lining of his outfit is in red.

not sure if Clow's robe is similar (if not the same) or anything but if it is, has his robe been passed down from generations before him? and if so, which side of Clow's family was the robe from?

Yuna D. Kaito is also a powerful magician— in fact, one of (if not the) highest ranks in the Magical Association. (that's the D. in his name— it wasn't his middle name and in fact, Yuna D. Kaito probably isn't his real name) He can do lots of things, but he specializes in Time Magic... which is considered a taboo since you'll get a fucked up alternative world when YOU fucked up using that kind of magic... and also a shorter life-span but let's not delve much into that so this post won't go to the depressing direction 😁

And in regards of his robe, one can argue that the robe isn't really exclusively HIS, since you can see in the picture I've used that there are other people with him wearing the same clothing (assuming it's his clan's) so i suggest burning their headquarters down to ashes to make it YDK's own robe 😆😆

note: a kind friend in the comments pointed out my mistake of associating Yuna D. Kaito and Lilie Shinomoto's clans as one: their clans differ from each other. Yuna D. Kaito's in particular are a congregation of magicians that aren't blood-related and are officially referred to as "Magic Association".

i have no idea what to call his or Lilie's clans yet, but for now I'll refer to those as their respective clans 😅

Now onto the main Protagonist of the series: Sakura Kinomoto. In Tomoyo's words, "The only Cardcaptor in the world"

Started as a girl that had little magic that managed to grew stronger and stronger, then now having one of the abilities Clow had— creating cards (or new magic) on her own.

Though one can argue that she won't be able to do that if Yuna D. Kaito wasn't pulling the strings in the background, keep in mind that Momo said she saw right past Eriol's magic protection [to contain Sakura's magic]. Plus, in the Sakura Arc (where she technically created new cards but under a "template"), Eriol was pulling the strings as well and yet her powers still managed to grow, probably beyond people's expectations.

Her ever-growing power might be hard to control for her, but she's doing her best to utilize it in protecting the ones she cherishes the most.

Now the upcoming argument about Sakura's"ceremonial attire"... well, technically Sakura doesn't have one, and you can't really call that outfit a robe, but most of the details in a ceremonial robe (at least CLAMP's robes) present: the neutral color, the symmetrical design, and the gold lining/design.

I like to consider it her own ceremonial robe— made in a very fitting and unique image of Sakura, that only she will wear.

speaking of different, there are other powerful magicians that doesn't follow the same "ceremonial outfit" pattern so I thought I'd show them too!

here we have the Shinomoto Ceremonial Outfit, worn by the beautiful Akiho Shinomoto in this color page!

sorry about the picture if it's not clean... i tried so hard to find a textless one (same as yuna d. kaito) but unfortunately I couldn't.

now about the details aside from the pointy hat: the neutral color + gold lining & symmetrical detail scheme is there, but the difference with the 1st three and their robe is that the neutral color used with the Shinomotos' were white, as opposed to the first three who used black.

i know you've seen this already but since I'm talking about Lilie here in specifics I'd like to put this here are well: a kind friend in the comments pointed out my mistake of associating Yuna D. Kaito and Lilie Shinomoto's clans as one: their clans differ from each other, and that Lilie's (though only officially referred to as "most ancient magician clan in Europe") clan is blood-related, as opposed to Yuna D. Kaito's.

again, no idea what I'll call their respective clans separately yet, so I'll probably refer to them as their respective clans for now— though i have a few ideas xd

another difference is that the hat may be a bit pointy, but it's not as pointy as the three, and that the hat has three pointy things instead of just one.... okay, maybe not that pointy, but, still pointy 😅

okay that's too many pointy, let's get back on track 😁

the difference is blatantly obvious about this one, and I really can't cross Lilie Shinomoto out from one of the most powerful magicians CCS has ever introduced, since she had strong premonition powers and she was also considered a very powerful magician that's feared within Yuna D. Kaito's Clan. I mean it would take lots of powerful magic to be even able to cross time and dreams for that long just to tell Sakura about the truth in their (now fabricated) timeline?

but i wonder why is their robe different than the others?

we'll get back to that later, if i remember it. 😆

speaking of pointy hats™, you know a magician who doesn't have a pointy hat?

He's none other than Li Clan's next leader and Sakura's most important person, Syaoran Li!

one can never talk about ceremonial outfits without remembering Syaoran's iconic ceremonial outfits! with S because he has two— 1st one (in the pictures) being the original clothing he has, and the 2nd one Tomoyo made for him that was inspired by the one he used to have.

our little wolf is special~ from being Sakura's rival in the Clow Card Arc to being Sakura's most important person? He has learned so much and grew stronger along the way.

now about the details: his clothing doesn't really follow the usual attire pattern: the dominant color of his robe is green, the designs are indeed symmetrical, but the linings are both orange and yellow instead of the usual neutral pallete... his hat also doesn't have a pointy thing on it and instead has a hanging detail on the back.

"what about the attire Tomoyo made for him? it has 2 pointy things!" yeah well you're right, and as much as I gave the effort to add his Clear Card arc ceremonial outfit, I'm realizing now that it's not really an official robe now, is it...

about the clear card ceremonial attire, one can argue the same thing as they thought about Sakura while reading this blabber (if anyone has gotten though this far), "That isn't even a ceremonial ROBE". and you're right, it isn't... since it was Tomoyo's work, inspired from the original one. 😅

so think of it the same way as Sakura— made in the fitting and unique image of Syaoran, that only he could wear.

I guess the main couple of the series have that one as a similarity in regards to this random topic I've thought about. 💚

sooooooo what does this mean? why is his so different than the others?

is he not as powerful as the ones listed?

well. probably.

but he's not entirely powerless— his entire bloodline is directly related to Clow, and in addition, his mother Yelan Li is also a powerful sorceress. So they're powerful.

I mean would the Li Clan even let someone not as powerful as Yelan to be the next in line to lead? Of course not, since being able to have magic and to be able to properly control it are probably some basic requirements to be even considered as a candidate.

But in CCS at the moment, his magic wasn't enough to turn all of the Sakura Cards into those little orbs he kept on his compass. He's even having a hard time converting just one. And if I remember this correctly, he was aided by her mother (by casting the magic he needed in the bears) when he snatched the Sakura Cards from their master.

I'd say he's not as powerful NOW probably because everything happened too fast, and that he didn't have much time to make his magic stronger to get at least within Sakura's power level. Besides, he has lots of potential, and we all know he's a strong one so it's about just a matter of time until he reach his full power.

Now this entire post got me thinking about things as I was typing it.

Mostly they're questions I had to ask, like "okay, now what?" "Why did I do this?" especially because the original plan i had was to only have Eriol, Yuna D. Kaito & Sakura here but I thought I'd be unfair to the Lilie & Akiho, and Syaoran since they both have their own as well...

I really didn't think that one through when I started typing, but the more I think of things to type, the more I asked myself, is the ceremonial clothing an indicator of how powerful you are?

and it's probably a "duh." moment, since the ones who have robes are part of clans AND are also powerful.

(note that Clow was from a union of a European Magician AND an Asian Magician so imo- technically he's still part of BOTH clans, if each of his parents were part of one)

it's probably more of "if you're in an association with lots of other magicians", considering the fact that some of the ceremonial clothings were passed down to the living blood-relative of the family— hence why Sakura doesn't have one and the rest has.

though eriol with that ceremonial outfit can be a bit questionable since he's a reincarnation n stuff, and so far I don't remember ERIOL (capitalized bc I've been linking him to Clow, but I'm talking abt him as JUST him) being part of a clan since he worked independently (as far as I can remember), from what I can recall it was mentioned in the anime that the ceremonial clothing resembled Clow's... correct me if I'm wrong, though.

with the additional input i got from Cinzia (the friend who also pointed out the difference between Akiho's & Yuna D. Kaito's clans),

I also now wonder if the colors used in their robes reflect their intentions? or, since Lilie & Akiho's clan has been around for ages, how long their bloodline has existed?

because if it's the former, then it really won't make sense for Sakura & Eriol (though Eriol is once again, questionable... since his previous body as Clow isn't particularly... good nor he is also evil— at least from my perspective), and the latter makes more sense in general.

another one question i have is the explanation for Meiling's ceremonial clothing? like do they give different styles of ceremonial clothes in the Li Clan based on your gender? your magical abilities? or how closely-related you are to whoever leads the clan? i mean, i know she's an anime-exclusive character but I still want to know because I'm curious...

lastly, i wonder if Nadeshiko has one... since she is also a powerful person (she really doesn't do much sorcery stuff as far as i can remember), though the extent of her magic is unclear like Lilie, it's clear that she's also powerful because she can still do lots of things even after life.

IF you're one of the few people who finished reading this i just want to say thank you, and i hope everything made sense since i am very bad at explaining my thoughts 😭.

I think that's it, my brain is tired now and i want to go back to sleep again so good day to everyone and until next time, if there will ever be a next time 😆

and, cut! 🎬

[willow-p012]

Kotoko & Shidou Parallels

Religious themes

Molech; Shidou's first voice drama. Moloch, a Canaanite deity associated in biblical sources with the practice of child sacrifice.

Yonah; Kotoko's second voice drama. The book of Jonah is the account of a reluctant prophet called by a relentless God to proclaim repentance to a wicked city.

"The ends justify the means"

Kotoko is quite obvious for this.

Q: Which is more important, the goal or the means you take to achieve it? A: The goal. Isn't that just obvious?

She outright says it, you don't need to dig deep to find out this is a belief of hers.

For Shidou, it is generally agreed upon that he thought the ends more important, and this is continously proved throughout the text.

For me, no matter whether it's according to the law or in any other context, it's only normal to help each other in a family.

He also only seems to show outward regret after it all fails. When the ends fail, the means are no longer justified.

Saviour roles

Kotoko is Keiko/Lucky's "saviour".

Through her acts of vigilantism, Kotoko does in fact save someone. Keiko (the name I'll be sticking with) approaches Kotoko multiple times, clearly admiring her for what she did and wanting to be like her. In Keiko's eyes, she's considered 'good', even if that's not cut and dry. But, she saved a "victim" figure, and that's actually a big difference between her and Shidou.

Shidou is the prisoner's "saviour".

As it stands, he is helping people who have hurt other people in one way or another. These are not cut and dry "victims" as Keiko was. Through his more gentle acts, he does in fact save people. Mahiru is very thankful to him, and because of his good acts, despite it not being cut and dry, he is generally perceived as a gentle and 'good' person.

These saviour roles are both ways for them to feel good

Kotoko wants to like herself, as mentioned in Harrow: Laugh and I can get to like myself. She wants to feel good about herself, feel worthy, and her vigilantism (and the saviour role she takes up through it) is the way she tries to achieve it. While her sense of justice certainly plays a part, it's not all it is. She is most definitely using it to take her anger out and feel good about herself.

Shidou is.... Pretty damn obvious.

I need to be punished… but I need to stay alive, or young lives will be lost. I… I don't know what to wish for anymore. I'm starting to think… that I want to live. That I want to be forgiven. Despite being so riddled with sins…!

But there are lives that need safeguarding/So hey, prolong my life, I’m indispensable

His role as a saviour is his excuse for living, and not just that, but a way to say he can't die yet. He's indispensable, you can't take this from him and huh he's alleying himself with Es and taking hold of a purpose with both hands, refusing to let go, wonder who that sounds like.

Don’t you dare stop now/I want a reason for judgment execution, I want it/Give me the next target

"I know what's good for you"

Shidou treats children like they have no autonomy, no ability to choose what they want to do. Even if Amane does secretly want to eat the pancakes, he shouldn't be approaching it the way he does. He acts like it's something she's supposed to want. It's a problem he repeatedly runs into throughout the series, with both Es and Amane. This already fulfills the phrase, and I wouldn't doubt this issue may extend beyond them in Trial 3.

Meanwhile, Kotoko has her entire "Useless weaklings should just shut up & let me protect them" thing, even if it's not neccesarily surrounding children. While I do personally believe this was said in order to scare Keiko away, I don't doubt that the way she views these "weaklings" isn't entirely false; while she almost undoubtedly sees herself as "too weak" at times and almost seems primed to end up falling into the role of these weaklings she despises, it's not as if she wants to acknowledge that. And notice the way it's phrased, "Should just shut up", like "swallow your complaints, I know what's good for you".

[anyon-else]

Will You Remember Me As I Am Now? (The Red Room pt.10) | For the first time in your life, you understand what true happiness feels like, and it's both exciting and terrifying. You know now that you have to hold onto it before it's ripped away. (Marvel AU) – spotify playlist | read on ao3

Pairings | Kakashi Hatake x Black Widow!Reader + Sakura Haruno, Sasuke Uchiha, Naruto Uzumaki, Orochimaru, Kabuto Yakushi

Warnings | female!reader, fluff, hurt/comfort, angst, abuse, violence, guns, manipulation, nightmares

Word count | 9.3k

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"A burnt child loves the fire."

Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray

Life was pleasant.

You hadn't realized that a feeling like this existed. For as long as you could remember, your existence was contained within a small echo-chamber where you learned only about the world's cruelties. On a good day, you didn't add another scar to your seemingly never-ending collection. On a bad day, someone died at your hands. The bad days were often more frequent than the good ones.

But now, it seemed that the Red Room and all of the pain associated with it was just a distant memory. Even your nightmares had slowly faded away, only reappearing between long periods of restful nights.

The dizzying change wasn't necessarily hard to accept. Especially when you were becoming so attached to what your life had become.

Tonight, you'd been invited to Sakura's first movie night since she'd gotten back.

Kakashi was on your right side, tired eyes straining to focus on the movie. Naruto sat at his feet, leaning back on his legs and nodding off every few minutes. Sakura was pressed against your left side, leaning in your shoulder with a small, content smile. Sasuke was on the floor next to her, leaning just slightly on her legs and watching the screen with interest.

According to Sakura, movie night was a fairly normal activity for the four of them. Before she was taken, they'd had one at least once a week. However, when Kakashi had asked you to join them, he told you that this was their first time continuing the tradition since Sakura was taken. He could never bring himself to suggest it without Sakura being there, and Naruto and Sasuke never brought it up either.

So, while Sakura probably saw this as her reintegration of a continuous and simple tradition, you noticed the way that Kakashi glanced over the three kids fondly. Every now and then, you'd catch him looking at each of them as if taking a head count, just to make sure he had all of them there.

You couldn't remember what the name of the movie they'd chosen was. In all honestly, you were barely paying attention. From the moment Kakashi had sat down at your side, close enough that his arm was pressed against yours, you'd felt your heartbeat spike. Frustratingly, it refused to lower despite your best efforts to focus on the movie instead of the proximity.

This had been happening more and more recently. It frustrated you that you had little control over the way you reacted to his presence, and even more infuriating was that you didn't know why.

And you couldn't ask him. The thought alone made you want to crawl into a hole. But it was also becoming troublesome; it was getting harder and harder to sleep in the same bed as him when your heart was beating out of your chest. Some nights you worried he'd hear it, but he seemed perfectly normal.

So normal that it aggravated you.

Why were you so effected by his presence, yet he seemed perfectly fine? He slept peacefully. He rarely got flustered. He was acting the same as always, and while you were grateful that he wasn't confronting you about any odd behavior, it didn't seem fair that this mysterious nervousness was only effecting you.

However, now wasn't the time to ponder on the reasons. It was all you could do to keep your heart from racing. It was unfamiliar and unpleasant enough that you wished your body would just calm itself down without your intervention.

You were disappointed in yourself. Could you really not control anything about your body, from your actions to your feelings?

Sakura glanced at you when you shifted, trying to adjust and put as much space between you and Kakashi that you could. If it was the physical contact that made you so nervous, you knew that you should've just told him that you didn't want him touching you, but this felt different from the unpleasantness that you generally associated with touch. You were so confused, and it infuriated you.

Sakura was giving you continuous and frustratingly obvious glances whenever Kakashi shifted. You knew that she felt your heart-rate pick up, and this new tangle of emotions was not made any less frustrating by her knowing looks.

At one point during the movie—which you'd discovered through short intervals of attention was about a friendship between a fox and a dog—you noticed Sasuke's subtle nudge against Sakura's leg. It would've been easily mistakable as a shift in position, but the small glance that he shot her was painfully obvious to your well-trained eyes.

For a moment, neither Sasuke nor Sakura moved, and you felt it acceptable to let your guard down and shift your attention back to the movie. However, the moment you lifted your head, Sakura leaned closer to you and pressed herself into your side. She sighed happily as she pushed much more than her full weight on you, and while it wasn't necessarily strange that Sakura clung to you like this, her movements ended up crowding you against Kakashi's side. You were practically hip-to-hip now, though Kakashi didn't look anywhere near as startled as you felt by the change. In fact, he smoothly and nonchalantly pulled his arm from between your hips and laid it over the back of the couch behind your head. Your eyes widened, and your heartbeat picked up again despite his arm being a few inches from your neck. Sakura looked at the new position, and you wanted to shove her off the couch when a smug smile spread across her lips.

Kakashi, much to your chagrin, didn't look the least bit phased. He and Naruto were completely engrossed in the movie, oblivious to the silent war that you'd decided to start against Sakura and Sasuke.

"Psst," Sakura whispered, loud enough to pull Kakashi's attention away from the screen, "you're heart's beating pretty fast. Are you feeling okay?"

You heard the false concern in her voice, and you met her forced frown with a glare, pointedly facing her rather than Kakashi when he raised a brow at you and Sakura.

"I'm fine," you grit, closing your eyes when Kakashi's hand fell to your back to feel your racing heart for himself. He you'd become far more comfortable with his touch over the past few weeks, but now it was beginning to have the opposite effect that you wanted. You thought your heart might burst from your chest if this went on any longer.

"It is beating fast," Kakashi muttered, misguided concern in his voice. He probably thought you were having a panic attack, "you don't have to stay. Do you want to go back to our room?"

Our room. Damn him. Sakura covered her mouth to hide a snicker and Sasuke was grinning like a cheshire cat. Damn them too. Damn it all.

"Yeah," you said hoarsely, clearing your throat and stepping away from his touch, "that'd be good, I think."

You left the room quickly, steps echoing in the vast space of the lounge. The movie continued playing, and you released a heavy sigh when you entered Kakashi's room.

This was a fairly recent phenomenon. Your nervousness hadn't been this bad last week, and the week before you'd been perfectly content in Kakashi's presence. You'd still been able to sleep somewhat soundly, though you'd recently started facing away from him at night. It was hard to tell whether that was a result of growing trust or increased nervousness.

God, you were losing it. You were a spy. A former Black Widow. You were better than childish crushes, though you were really doing your best to convince yourself that there was something else going on. Unfortunately, that was the only explanation that you could come up with.

You couldn't really be blamed for it, though. Not when you got to see his face night after night, mask discarded like he was completely comfortable being so vulnerable around you.

It made you overthink to an infuriating extent.

You sat on the bed, thinking hard enough on this revelation that you'd slowly come to over the past week that you barely heard the door opening behind you. The fleeting hope that it was Sakura coming to check on you vanished when Kakashi's familiar weight sank into the bed.

"Sakura said I should come check on you," he said, and you closed your eyes. She really had it all planned out.

"I'm fine," you told him, careful not to let any emotion into your voice. What that translated as was a cold and closed-off response, which was likely not going to make him feel reassured by your answer.

"It's okay if you're not, you know."

Everything was becoming irritating. Kakashi. His unending patience. His warmth. How secure you felt around him. It was too good—too...safe. It was completely different from anything you'd ever experienced.

"I am," you sighed, deflating at his gentle tone. He nodded, leaning back on his hands and looking up at the ceiling.

A few months ago, the idea of adjusting to a place like this would've made you laugh. It hadn't been safety that you wanted, it had been routine. Order. Even if it was enforced by pain. In fact, that was something you were so used to that you would've welcomed it with open arms.

But even though the person you'd become was a far cry from who you were, you found yourself becoming more and more comfortable with yourself as each day passed. Each time Sakura laughed at your joked, or Sasuke asked to spar with you, or Naruto asked if you wanted to have ramen with him, you wondered what you had done to make them willing to spend time with you.

You wondered what you had done to make Kakashi feel safe in your presence. You wondered and wondered, but even when no answers came, you felt content.

You woke later that night frozen on your side of Kakashi's bed, gripping the sheets and trying to force yourself to breath. Tears rolled silently down your cheeks and dampened the pillow below you, but you were paralyzed, unable to move to wipe them away.

Kakashi hadn't stirred. It gave you the chance to collect your thoughts, though that was easier said than done. It had been a few weeks since your last nightmare, but your reaction to them kept increasing in intensity. You had grown too used to a pleasant night's sleep. Now your nightmares seemed even more daunting than before, and the idea of sleeping without Kakashi was equally as terrifying.

It took a few minutes to get your stiff limbs to begin moving. Eventually, you stood from the bed and shuffled towards the door to Kakashi's small balcony. The air was crisp, and you took in a deep breath once you'd closed the door behind you.

Your gut was churning.

Things had been quiet at the compound since you and Kakashi finished the mission. Your wounds had fully healed, and with less prominent marks than many of your other scars thanks to Kakashi and Sakura's superior medical care.

Everything was fine. Nothing was out of the ordinary, and HYDRA didn't seem to be a threat to you now. Your previous suspicious that Sakura was still in danger despite Kakashi's reassurances were disappearing with each day that passed, as was the fear that you were losing your mind. Adjusting was becoming easier and easier, and it seemed that way for Sasuke and Naruto as well. You were fitting into their little family with more ease than before.

But looking out at the calm, clear night sky, you felt a familiar, unpleasant feeling in your stomach. It was probably the Widow whispering in your ear, convincing you that all of this was too good to be true, but you felt that there was something else. Something that was giving you this gut feeling.

"Maa," Kakashi muttered behind you. You listened to each of his footsteps as he walked to your side; now, with your lingering sense of dread, it was harder to focus on your nervousness. You studied the surrounding area carefully, looking for a threat that had likely never been there in the first place, "aren't you cold?"

Right. It was the middle of winter, and the middle of the night, but you'd neglected to wear a jacket. In all honestly, you'd barely noticed your poor clothing choice, too caught up in your panic to think of anything but the endearing pull of fresh air.

"A bit," you shrugged, "I just wanted to come out for a second. I'll come back in soon."

Kakashi shrugged, but before you could stop him, he had disappeared inside and returned with a jacket. You'd seen him wearing it when he left the compound for missions, and he generally kept it hung over his desk chair. You felt your nervousness returning when he draped it over your shoulders.

His hands brushed against your arms as they pulled away, and you closed your eyes to try and stop yourself from visibly shivering. Every time he did that, you wanted to grab his hand and keep him close, just to stay in his peaceful presence a little bit longer. The foreign urge made you want to scream; a few months ago, you would have scoffed at the idea of feelings like this. They made people weak and soft.

But now you understood the appeal to a frustrating extent. You still heard Orochimaru's voice like a devil on your shoulder whispering in your ear, telling you that this was why so many Widows died before their time. Their feelings—their humanity—were their downfall. And you'd always looked down on them, just like all the others.

How had you become your own worst fear in so little time?

Was this the person you'd hoped to become? Had you ever hoped to become anything?

You stood with him in silence, listening to the wind rustle the trees and scanning between the trunks, triple checking that there was nothing lurking just out of view.

"What's bothering you?"

It was only logical to tell him about this foreboding feelings, but you also didn't want to raise any alarms if you were just getting worked up over a gut feeling. You had no desire to send Kakashi on another goose chase—not now that things had actually calmed down enough for him to relax.

"Nothing."

He accepted your answer with a nod and further silence. It sent a rush of gratitude through you, and you turned to face him before you could think better of it. You ignored the Widow's voice and Orochimaru's reprimands in your head telling you that acting on childish feelings would only create weakened resolve and depleted strength.

But you felt powerful when you were with Kakashi. Orochimaru's teachings had far too many holes for them to have the same grasp on you as they did before. Especially now that you understood more accurately what humanity entailed.

It felt like freedom.

Kakashi met your gaze, elbows still resting on the railing, but he shot up when you lunged at him. He was frozen in place as you wrapped your arms around his waist, keeping him locked in a tight hug. You were unsure of yourself, and you worried when he didn't respond to your gesture that you'd done something wrong—were hugs meant to be this tight? Should you have given him some sort of warning? Sakura had never minded hugs like this, but that was different. Hugging Sakura never made you feel like your heart was going to burst from your chest, or that your stomach was turning itself over again and again.

It took Kakashi a few seconds to recover, and you thought that he'd stopped breathing in that time, but when he regained his senses he was quick to reciprocate. You let out a sigh when he wrapped an arm around your waist and brought the other to the back of your head, pressing it firmly into his chest and letting out a deep, relieved breath. You felt it against your cheek, a comforting warmth in the cold night air.

You weren't sure what possessed you to do this; it was both brave and, from what Kakashi had seen, completely out of character. But it was something you were desperate for. Just one touch that provided comfort—one reassurance that you were allowed to be someone new. That you were allowed to choose who you wanted to become, and feel these new emotions that had always been forbidden before.

I'll teach you how to be human.

Kakashi's words echoed in your mind, and you thought about how much he had already done. About the progress you'd made in so little time. You were proud of yourself. For the first time in your life, you felt that you'd accomplished something for your own sake rather than someone else's.

Kakashi pressed a kiss to the top of your head, hands still pressed against your back to keep you close.

Maybe, just for this moment, it was okay to ignore your worry. Things were so good, and if this forboding feeling would go away you'd be able to relax. Maybe this kind of gesture wouldn't feel so significant. Maybe, after enough time, it would become normal to hug Kakashi. To hug Sakura, and even Sasuke and Naruto. To be part of a family. To have a home.

"Is this okay?" you croaked, swallowing against your dry throat. "Can I do this?"

"Yes," he whispered back.

You'd never been held before. Not like this.

Everything about your life now was so precious. You were becoming more and more desperate to keep it safe.

You also noticed through the contented haze of your thoughts that Kakashi's heart was beating just as fast as your own.

The next morning, you woke up alone.

Muffled voices slipped under the door, and you could make out Kakashi's voice directing the three kids as they cooked breakfast. You could smell something sweet all the way in the closed bedroom, and it lured you from the warmth of Kakashi's blankets. You trudged into the kitchen groggily, following the sounds of Naruto's shout of surprise and Sasuke's angry groan.

The kitchen was a disaster. The flour that Naruto had supposedly just spilled was spread over the counter and the floor, and some of it had somehow ended up on Sasuke and Kakashi. Sakura had sidestepped the mess and spotted you before the others.

"Ah!" she smacked Kakashi's shoulder, eyes wide in surprise, "Good morning! You're up early, huh?"

"I always get up early," you grumbled, narrowing your eyes at the frozen group, "what's going on?"

"Uh..." Naruto looked around, dusting flour off of the counter and running his hands over it frantically until he found a small, cylindrical object, "happy birthday!"

Confetti shot out of the small tube, and you watched it flutter to the ground to reveal a still-grinning Naruto. You blinked at him, completely bewildered. Birthday? Whose birthday was it?

"What's all this?" you asked, approaching the mess on the counter. From the looks of it, they were in the middle of making pancakes. There was a stack of them on a plate and a mixture of ingredients in a bowl in Sasuke's hands for more batter, which was presumably where the flour mishap had happened.

"Duh. I just told you! It's for your birthday!"

"It's...not my birthday."

"Huh?" Naruto turned towards Kakashi, "but you said...Kakashi-sensei! Did you get the day wrong?"

How would Kakashi know your birthday? You didn't even know your birthday. The concept of birthdays was practically nonexistent in the Red Room; you'd never really given a second thought to yours. When you discovered that people celebrated theirs every year, you thought it was a useless, time-wasting tradition.

"I saw it in your file at the bunker," Kakashi explained when he saw your puzzled expression. You looked at him, but you had to quickly avert your eyes from his soft smile, showing itself in his eyes above his mask.

Oh. So he...remembered your birthday? And went to all this trouble just for a day that was fairly insignificant in the grand scheme of things.

Huh.

You felt your heart skip a beat as you stared at the man, eyes wide and mouth agape. You probably looked comical, and the grin on Sakura's face told you that you weren't being very subtle about your conflicted feelings.

"We made you breakfast!" Naruto said happily. He slid the full plate of pancakes across the table at you, then gave you a wide assortment of syrups and fruits. You approached the table carefully, still reeling from the fact that today was your birthday, and that the others had decided to do something for you to celebrate.

"Eat," Sakura smiled, softer than her previous one. She seemed to understand your confusion, even though she hadn't experienced it herself. Being in the Red Room since birth creates a detachment from one's identity that was hard for you to reconcile now that you were out, independent of Orochimaru's will, "we made it for you."

"Thank you," you muttered, chest warming as you looked at the small buffet that they'd created. Naruto kept pulling toppings out of the fridge—first whipped cream, then chocolate syrup, then strawberries.

"Eat! We're making more, so don't worry about leaving any for us."

It was the first time you'd ever tried pancakes, a fact that you informed the four of as you ate your fill. Naruto looked horrified, mouth open wide before he began shouting about how sad it must've been for you. You didn't attempt to remind him that you'd never exactly been worried about the lack of pancakes in your life.

"Try this one!" Sakura grinned as she pushed a large, spotted pancake towards you, "it's chocolate chip and it's amazing."

"Is not," Sasuke grumbled, ducking away from Sakura's attempt to shove him to the side. "What? They're too sweet."

"Mm," you hummed around your first bite, smiling at the two, "'s good."

"Tch. You all have bad taste."

Sakura glared at Sasuke and caught sight of his plate despite his best efforts to hide it.

"Ew, are you putting raisins in yours, weirdo?"

Kakashi reached over Sakura for the spatula that she was waving at Sasuke and flipped the remaining pancakes on the griddle. When he'd finished, he slid it back into her hand and watched her smack Sasuke's with it.

"Don't insult our pancakes when yours looks like they came out of a retirement home."

Naruto giggled, and you smiled to yourself as they bickered. Kakashi continued making the pancakes with each of the kids' chosen toppings, unfazed by the escalating argument that Naruto had become involved in after an insult to his own topping choice.

"Shut up, Naruto! You add an ungodly amount of chocolate to yours, so you have no room to talk!"

"You shut up! Chocolate is the best topping, believe it!"

Kakashi shook his head at their bickering, and you could see his eyes scrunching as he smiled behind his mask. You were glad that Sakura was enthralled with her argument, too distracted to see your cheeks turning red as you watched Kakashi's emotions through his eyes.

You pictured his face under the mask, smile small but still so full of joy. He really was beautiful.

You choked as the thought crossed your mind. Kakashi glanced up when you practically inhaled the bit of pancake you'd been chewing hit your chest to try and dislodge it from your windpipe.

Beautiful? You had never really been interested in those kinds of observations before. Sure, you could acknowledge things that were beautiful versus not, and you knew what features people generally found attractive, but this was an entirely new feeling.

Every day you added to the list of things that were new about your life. It was exhausting.

But it was also exciting. That was another new feeling. You constantly felt excited about this new life you'd been given.

"Don't choke," Kakashi griped after you'd finished coughing.

"Helpful," you grumbled, avoiding his curious gaze and looking instead at where the kids were still arguing. Sakura had Sasuke in a chokehold, grinning at him as she held him up by the throat. The boy looked like he was starting to go blue in the face; he was tapping Sakura's arm in an attempt to alleviate the pressure, but she just tightened her hold. Naruto had gone silent, argument forgotten as he grabbed Sakura's shoulder with a nervous smile.

"Uh, Sakura? I think he's had enough..."

Sakura looked up, and you finally got a clear look at the smile on her face. Rather than the playful, slightly guilty one that you'd expected, it was a familiar smirk that greeted you.

"Kakashi," you barked, but the man had already realized what was going on and taken action. He jumped at Sakura and freed Sasuke from her hold. You heard the boy coughing and taking in gasps of air before you lunged for Sakura, ignoring the part of your mind that was begging for this to be a dream, focusing instead on the problem right in front of you.

Save her, a part of you screamed. It was the part that she had helped you unlock. It was the one that had been growing since you escaped. It was one that you wanted to hold on to.

Stop her, another voice said, old and familiar like a long-forgotten friend. It was the Widow's voice, reaching out to you again after her long silence. Her phantom hands pressed against your back and pushed you towards Sakura—towards the threat—before she could reach Naruto. The boy had taken a defensive position, but he looked considerably more hesitant to engage with his friend than you felt. Before Sakura had a chance to lunge at him, you wrapped your arms around her waist and threw yourself back so that she landed on top of you.

"Sakura!" you shouted at her, wrapping your legs around her waist at the same time that Naruto and Kakashi grabbed each of her arms and pinned them to the ground. You could still hear Sasuke catching his breath a few feet away, and you tried not to focus on how pained his breathing sounded or how hard Sakura must have tried to kill him.

Not Sakura, you reminded yourself, Orochimaru.

"Sakura, you're stronger than he is," you grunted. Sakura growled, the sound almost animalistic, and Kakashi grabbed the back of her head before she could launch it back into your nose. She snarled again, baring her teeth at him and continuing her vicious fight against the three of you, "Sakura, please! If you can hear me, then fight!"

Her struggle continued, and you tightened your hold on her when her movements became more sporadic.

"Orochimaru," Kakashi said over Sakura, voice carrying across the room and leaving an echo in its wake. Sakura had gone silent in an instant, full attention on Kakashi, "interesting. So you can hear us and see us through her eyes?"

Sakura's eyes were blank, as if her body had been left vacant for a split second. Then she was blinking, and though her body had gone still in your arms, her lips split into a smirk.

"Sakura–" you croaked, tears burning in your eyes as the girl craned her neck as best she could to look at you. When she saw your broken expression, her smirk split into a grin and she let out a laugh.

"My Widow," Sakura whispered, studying your scar as if to confirm your identity, "I hope you enjoyed this phase of rebellion, but I've come to collect what you owe me."

"She doesn't owe you anything!"

"Quiet," Sakura hissed, whipping her head towards Naruto and silencing him with a single, scathing glare, "she owes me everything. She owes me her life. And that is what I've come to collect."

You could feel yourself beginning to shut down. These words were so familiar, and it had been far too long since you'd been reminded of your place. It was a shock to be thrown back into the mind of the Widow, but Orochimaru's were enough of a catalyst. Your head was spinning, and you fought to regain control over your senses despite feeling waves of nausea crashing into you.

"I want to kill you more than anything," Orochimaru said, and the words felt like daggers coming from Sakura's mouth.

This feeling of complete and utter helplessness was what you'd been battling against all this time. It was what you thought you'd overcome, but you were the same as before. You hadn't changed at all, and this was proof. One word from Orochimaru, and you were falling back into your bad habits like they were old friends welcoming you home.

It was as comforting as it was painful.

"It's an ironic kind of punishment for both of us that you're what I need to go back."

"You're more delusional than I expected."

Sakura turned towards Kakashi this time, blank expression focused on him. She studied him carefully, looking between his eyes for any hint of emotion other than forced indifference. He didn't blink.

"Hatake," she finally said with another grin.

"It's good to finally meet you, snake," Kakashi said patiently, still holding Sakura's arm despite her lack of struggle, "I hope you know that this is technically trespassing on SHIELD property."

"You stole something from me," Sakura shot back, "and I've come to collect it."

"You haven't come to collect anything," Kakashi shook his head, leaning closer to Sakura and looking into her eyes. Into the eyes that Orochimaru was watching him through, "you're nothing more than a coward. Not even brave enough to confront me face-to-face."

"You?" Sakura cackled. It sounded wrong coming from her, "I have no interest in you, or any confrontation. What I want is very simple. And I'm willing to offer a trade."

"We don't want anything from you–"

"Freedom," Sakura interrupted Naruto sharply, glaring at him intensely. Naruto flinched at the unfamiliar expression on Sakura's face and turned away, "for Sakura. That is what I'm offering. All I'm asking in return is for my Widow back."

That's it?

It seemed like an easy trade-off. Sakura's freedom? You were willing to give anything for that. Giving yourself up was always an option you'd considered, and now you had the opportunity to save her. She could finally live without fear, and without Orochimaru's control looming over her like puppet strings.

Freedom was the only thing you wanted for her. It was never something you expected for yourself, even if you'd momentarily deluded yourself into thinking it was a possibility.

Trying to be human had proven too difficult for you. Orochimaru was calling you, and you would answer with a promise of loyalty. For Sakura, you would give yourself back to him in a heartbeat.

"No."

You froze, limbs seizing at Kakashi's declaration. You stared wide-eyed at the ground, hearing only your quiet breaths as they began to quicken.

Then, like a switch flipping within you, anger crashed into you in waves.

"It'll only be a matter of time until we figure out how you're controlling her," Kakashi was saying, though you could barely hear him through the ringing in your ears and the heaviness of your breathing, "and then you'll have no power over us anymore."

A hypocrite. That's all Kakashi was. For all his talk about not wanting to be Orochimaru and about giving you back control of your own life, he was standing in front of you—not even looking at you—and deciding with no hesitation that you couldn't save Sakura.

No, that new, happier voice said. She could barely be heard over the Widow's ferocious anger, but she clawed her way to the surface and fought desperately to speak, don't do this. That's Orochimaru's voice in your head. That is exactly what he wants you to believe.

The Widow fought against this new voice, but she dug her fingers into your mind and refused to let go.

If you tell yourself that Kakashi is the enemy, you'll alienate yourself from the only people who have ever seen you as an individual. That's exactly what Orochimaru wants. Kakashi is just trying to–

"Wha...what's going on?"

Sakura's voice had changed again. It sounded terrified, and you realized that you were still immobilizing her in a vice-like grip. Despite your previous anger, you glanced at Kakashi almost involuntarily for confirmation that Orochimaru had let go of his hold on her.

"M-my head," she whispered, pressing her palms against her forehead and letting out a panicked, broken sob, "it hurts. Ah–Kakashi-sensei, it...it feels like I'm dying."

"Sakura," Kakashi yelled when the girl began to fall to the side, slumping into Kakashi arms and letting out sporadic, wheezing exhales, "Sakura, does anything else hurt?"

"I'm dying," Sakura choked, curling into herself on Kakashi lap and holding the back of her head against her chest, "it hurts so bad. I think...am I going to die?"

"No, Sakura, you're–"

"I don't wanna die. I can't...I just came back. I just came home. Please, just don't let me die."

"Orochimaru is still controlling her," you muttered, kneeling next to Sakura and placing a hand against her forehead. Her temperature was normal, "he's making her feel like this. He wants us to see it so we'll break."

And it was working.

Kakashi's indifferent mask had broken into something pained and terrified. Naruto was rambling to Sakura, telling her that everything was going to be okay. Sasuke was standing behind Kakashi, throat bruised with her handprint and fists clenched tight at his sides. He stared at Sakura with a pain in his eyes that you had never seen before.

You could stop this. It was such an easy problem to solve that it was almost laughable.

"Stop," you muttered, pulling Sakura's shoulder so that she was facing you. Your throat tightened at the sight of her face, streaked with tears and twisted in pain, "stop this. You can have me, so stop hurting her."

It took a moment, but you saw the shift that took place on Sakura's face. The pain fell away, and then that emptiness was back. You almost preferred the pain to this—she looked like a corpse.

"Think this through," Kakashi said next to you, voice shaky as he stared down at Sakura's limp body, "we can figure something else out."

"There is no other option, Kakashi," you muttered, anger forgotten. You were too tired for anger. You had already made up your mind. "You have your family. They can all be safe again."

Kakashi stared at you, eyebrows pinched together and still just as pained as they were before. You wanted to run a hand over his forehead and smooth out the frustrated wrinkles in his skin. You wanted to tell him that this was okay with you. That this was what you wanted. To protect Sakura. To protect him and Naruto and Sasuke. To give them back their lives.

They had a chance to be a safe. You weren't going to let them give that up.

Sakura began to move slowly. Her movements were robotic enough that Kakashi and Naruto allowed her to stand, though they stayed close to her side and followed her to the kitchen. She picked up a spare napkin from breakfast and swiped away your empty plate with little regard to it shattering on the floor.

"Pen."

It wasn't Orochimaru's voice, but it wasn't Sakura's voice either. It was like an empty void had taken hold of her, expending only the energy necessary to complete its task.

Sasuke placed a blunt marker into her waiting hand, though she didn't seem bothered by the divergence from her instructions. Instead, she scribbled something on the napkin, then handed it to you with empty eyes. She was looking right through you, recognizing you only as the recipient of the note that she'd written. On it was an address.

"This is your house," you muttered, glancing at Kakashi with wide eyes.

"Meet there," Sakura commanded monotonously. Then, with no warning, she crumpled to the ground.

For as long as you had known her, Sakura had been fascinated by mythology.

She would tell you stories when the darkness of a cell became suffocating for both of you. She would whisper the words with so much excitement, wanting to share the stories that you'd never had the opportunity to hear. She'd tell you about Helen and Artemis and the magnificent creatures that lurked in forests and within caves. She transported you into a world wholly different from your own, where you could imagine yourself sailing the Aegean Sea in the open air, part of an equal collective of heroes whose responsibilities matched your own. Where you could swim with mermaids and face Charybdis' crashing waves and the monstrous form of Scylla. Where pain was simply a part of adventure rather than a means of control.

When you were free, she gave you the book of Greek myths that Kakashi had read to her as a child. She said that you always seemed interested in what you had to say, and you kept it by your bedside in Kakashi's room and reread the stories that Sakura had once told you. You told her every time she asked what you thought that you preferred the way she told them.

You remembered reading about the HYDRA. That was one story that Sakura never told when you were both in the Red Room. You had stared at the detailed painting of its long, snaking heads and the sharp points of its teeth and wondered if this was how Orochimaru saw himself. As one of those terrifying creatures, looming over the world like a god and multiplying each time he raised a girl to become a killer.

The Hydra had poisonous blood so virulent that even its scent was deadly. The Hydra possessed many heads and had regenerative power: for every head chopped off, the Hydra would regrow two in its place.

Orochimaru had left Kakashi's door hanging open in invitation. Kakashi's hands were wrapped tight around the steering wheel, though you were doing your best not to look at him. You almost couldn't stand the tension in the car or the silence that had persisted since Sakura passed out. She was sitting in between Naruto and Sasuke in the back seat, slumped on Sasuke's shoulder and supported by Naruto's arms around her waist, holding her steady. She hadn't stirred since she collapsed.

Kabuto was waiting for you in the doorway. You felt a chill race down your spine at the sight of him, and you could already feel yourself beginning to shut down. You could practically feel the intensity of his gaze, and you wondered if the slight ache in your cheek was a phantom pain that originated from your many memories of his fists hitting you again and again, insisting that pain was the only way to make you stronger.

You had become so weak. You hadn't realized it before, but you'd been too relaxed while you were with Kakashi and the others. You'd let your guard down for too long, and now you were paying for it.

Kakashi didn't move when you opened the car door. You glanced back at Naruto and Sasuke with a silent but firm order: do not come out of the car.

Kabuto didn't move when you began approaching him. His face remained expressionless, though you could see the tension in his body. His hands were balled into fists, and when you finally stopped a few feet away from him, his eyes narrowed just slightly.

Kakashi opened his door at the same time that Kabuto took a single step forward and slapped you across the cheek. The strength of it left your face stinging, and you felt your lip beginning to bleed where a ring had caught on the skin. It was far too familiar to be surprising.

"You have no idea how much you've destroyed," Kabuto said, and you only began to understand just how angry he was when you heard his voice. It was low and dangerous; the man was usually more composed than anyone you'd ever met. This level of anger from him was new territory. "If we didn't need you, I'd kill you where you stand."

You kept your lips sealed shut, ignoring Kakashi standing at your back. You saw Kabuto's eyes shift to meet his and waited with shallow breaths for one of them to move. You certainly wouldn't be the first.

"I see you've found another master," Kabuto sneered, glaring at you once again when he'd finished studying the indifferent expression on Kakashi's face. Kabuto grabbed your shirt and jerked you forward, his movements sudden and sporadic. You reached back and caught Kakashi's arm just as he began to move it. This wasn't the time to hinder Kabuto or Orochimaru from doing what they wanted. Not with Sakura's life on the line.

Kakashi's arm was tense in your grip. You tightened your fingers around his wrist just slightly, hoping that your silent reassurance would be conveyed in the gesture.

You knew it would only do so much. Time and time again, Sakura was being ripped away from him. He had to be sick of seeing her in pain.

And one cause of that pain was standing right in front of him.

Kabuto pulled you close enough that his lips were next to your ear. You felt warm breath on your skin and closed your eyes, fighting not to shrink away.

"You're nothing," he hissed. "Don't forget that just because you're needed."

You knew what you were. You had always known—you had just forgotten. For the briefest moment, you'd deluded yourself into thinking that you could mean something. That you could become someone.

A pipe dream. That was all it would ever be.

The creature was so poisonous that it killed men with its breath, and if anyone passed by when it was sleeping, they breathed its tracks and died in the greatest torment. Even the smallest contact with the Hydra’s blood could be fatal.

Orochimaru was waiting for you on Kakashi's couch. He didn't seem bothered by Kakashi's presence at your side; he must've been confident in the threat that he was holding over you both. He knew after Kakashi's many attempts to get Sakura back that he wouldn't risk her. Not for you.

Kabuto had said it himself. You were nothing.

When you saw Orochimaru for the first time after so long, it felt like you'd never left his side. You mind went blank, and you froze where you stood. You barely noticed Kakashi's pack scattered around the room, all motionless but still visibly breathing.

You were at attention, though you made sure that you weren't looking directly at Orochimaru. He didn't tolerate eye contact with his Widows. He claimed that it made them seem too human—too emotional. He wanted complete detachment from any kind of personal connection with you. To the Widows, Orochimaru wanted to be a god—untouchable and all-powerful.

You couldn't move. Your body wasn't responding to any of your brain's commands. You just stood, waiting for your fate like a deer waiting patiently for headlights to meet it. Orochimaru stood from the couch in silence, calm and collected and appearing as if he was in complete control of his emotions.

You tried to embody that same control, but found that panic mounted within you each time he took a step in your direction. By the time he had stopped in front of you, you'd stopped breathing altogether in an effort to hide your fear. To hide how terrified you were at the idea of going back to him. Any residual longing you'd felt for the familiarity of the Red Room disappeared as you stared at the wall next to him, eyes and lungs burning. With Orochimaru so close for the first time in months, you wondered how you had ever wanted to be near someone who's entire being screamed danger.

Orochimaru didn't move for a long moment. When he did, you felt the pressure of his cold fingers gripping your chin. He moved your face until you were forced to meet his gaze.

Terror seized your body when you finally looked into Orochimaru's cold, snake-like eyes. He was looking at you like he could see into the very depths of your soul, and you finally exhaled in a choked, broken whimper. There was the slightest upward twitch of Orochimaru's lips.

"You've made things very difficult for me," he said, the words slithering from his mouth like a snake escaping a cage. You felt them coiling around your throat with the familiar intent to kill. Despite how calm he may have looked, you had been studying him for signs of anger your whole life. His fury was practically dripping from the corners of his mouth as his lips shifted up into a smirk, "but even so, I've decided that you still have a place as a Widow."

Orochimaru's fingers had tightened on your chin, and his smile had widened into something crazed.

"You want that, don't you?"

Speaking seemed like an impossible task, but you forced your lips to part and felt the expected answer forming in your throat.

"Yes," you croaked, though it was hardly convincing. Orochimaru laughed and turned you around to face Kakashi and Kabuto where they stood in the doorway. Orochimaru's fingers fell to the back of your neck, and you recognized the warning in his tight grip.

"Then why don't you tell that to Hatake before he does something he'll regret."

You took a moment to clear the fog from your mind and look at Kakashi. The indifferent mask had fallen from his face, and Orochimaru seemed to see how desperate he was to stop the scene that was unfolding in front of him. Kabuto was keeping him far enough from you that he wouldn't interfere, but his shoulders were rising and falling too quickly to be from anything but panic. He looked ready to lunge towards you the second he found an opening.

His eyes met yours immediately when you turned around, searching for anything other than the desperate terror and resigned acceptance that he saw.

You wished you felt brave enough to speak. To reassure him and stop him from panicking when he didn't need to.

Don't move. Don't let him hurt her. It's okay. This was always going to happen.

"Tell him," Orochimaru ordered, "where it is that you belong."

His hand on the back of your neck felt like a shock to your system, waking you to the reality of what was happening. You were back in Orochimaru's cruel hands, waiting with bated breath for his next move. But through your hazy panic, one thought fought through and left your lips before you could even consider stopping it.

"Not until you fix her."

Kabuto froze at your words. He knew that as well as you did that ignoring Orochimaru's orders almost always ended in death.

"You offered a trade," you croaked. You voice sounded weak, and you almost felt ashamed that Kakashi was seeing you at such a low point, "so hold up your end of the bargain."

"Look at you," Orochimaru said with another laugh, condescension dripping from the words, "I almost want to be proud, but you and I both know that you weren't raised to speak out against me."

You wished you had never left. You wished you had just given Sakura to Kakashi the day that he came for her and gone back inside. You wished that he had left you there.

"You forgot your place, and now you've made it my job to remind you," Orochimaru hissed in your ear. "Now tell him where you belong."

"No," you whispered, the word so faint that you weren't even sure if you'd said it. But the tightening of Orochimaru's fingers around your neck was evidence enough that he'd heard you. Kakashi took a step forward, but froze when Kabuto raised a gun and pointed it at his chest. His wide eyes were still studying you, watching every minute reaction to Orochimaru's torment.

The man that he'd been itching to get his hands on was right here in front of him. He was close enough that he could take one leap forward and close his hands around the man's throat. He could fix this. He could stop you from giving yourself back to him.

"Kakashi-sensei!"

Naruto's voice was high and panicked on the opposite side of the door. He was keeping his distance, and it was clear that he didn't see you or Orochimaru standing in the center of the room, but Orochimaru still held tight to your neck to keep you from moving towards the boy. You closed your eyes and fought against the urge to follow Naruto's distressed cry.

Kakashi's reaction was instantaneous. He had turned around in a heartbeat, ignoring Kabuto's weapon and taking a step out of the house to face Naruto.

"Sakura's seizing!"

Kakashi's body went taut at the same time that all of the fight drained from your body. This was it. This was Orochimaru's trump card; the one thing that he could hold over your head that would make you do anything he asked.

He could kill Sakura. He didn't even have to be in the same room as her to make her heart stop.

"That's enough," you croaked, attempting to face Orochimaru but stopping when he thumb pressed deep into the junction of your neck, "I understand. I belong in the Red Room. I-I belong to you."

You heaved against the panic that still swirled in your stomach. Nausea was crashing in waves inside of you, and you thought you would've collapsed had it not been for Orochimaru holding you up by your throat.

"She stopped!" Sasuke shouted, voice farther from the house than Naruto's. Kakashi visibly relaxed and ordered Naruto to go back to the car and watch over Sakura. Naruto didn't protest.

Kabuto looked satisfied by your compliance, but Orochimaru was still tight. There was a long pause after your words, and you wondered if it was too late to give him the answer he wanted. Maybe you'd already dug your grave deep enough to lay in.

I belong to you.

You tried to change. You tried to escape. You tried to become human.

It just wasn't what fate had in store for you.

"Good."

Orochimaru's grip slackened, and he let you fall past his fingers until your knees hit the floor with a hard thump. You stared down at the wood with wide eyes, wondering how everything had changed so fast. Just this morning you'd discovered that today was your birthday, and Kakashi was making you pancakes with the kids. And not even two hours had passed.

Kakashi knelt in front of you with little concern about Kabuto or Orochimaru. You couldn't bare to look at him—not after he'd seen what Orochimaru could do to you. At how quickly you'd let him erase months of progress.

You felt hesitant, careful fingers brushing against your cheeks, and when you didn't react to the touch, Kakashi pressed his hands on either side of your face and lifted it so that you were forced to meet his eyes. It was a much gentler way of meeting your eyes, and you felt a deep sense of longing for it.

"I'm sorry," you croaked, "I tried."

He shook his head, brushing his thumb under your eye to keep a tear from falling. He was close enough that you knew Kabuto and Orochimaru wouldn't be able to see the movement, but neither were paying attention to the scene. Kabuto was waiting impatiently for Orochimaru to become bored with the emotional display, but Orochimaru was silently standing a few steps from you, barely paying attention to what the scene.

"Don't do this," Kakashi whispered. You wondered if you could trap the sound of his voice in your mind and hold on to it while you rotted away in the depths of the Red Room, "we can protect her."

"I know we can," you said back with a slight smile. You pressed a hand against his and closed your eyes, wondering why you hadn't accepted this kindness from him earlier. Maybe you would've gotten more of it before it was ripped away. Enough that it would take longer to forget the feeling of how warm his hand felt against your skin. But you knew that the feeling would slip away before you were ready to let it go, "just make sure she doesn't blame herself for this."

"I can protect you both," he pleaded. Your breath hitched, though it sounded more like a broken sob. Kakashi's face fell even further.

No one had ever protected you. No one had ever been given the chance. And no matter how much you wished it, Kakashi wouldn't be able to either.

"Take care of them."

Some ancient writers tried to come up with a rational explanation for the myth of the Hydra. Heraclitus, for example, suggested that the Hydra really had only one head, but was accompanied by its numerous brood—that is, the Hydra was really many snakes rather than a single many-headed snake.

"One of your doctors is a Widow," Orochimaru told Kakashi from the doorway, "her name is Shizune. She's the reason that Sakura's examinations weren't conclusive. You'll be able to get answers from her after six months have passed. In those six months, I won't have any use for Sakura, so unless you come looking for me or my Widows, she won't be in danger."

"Absolutely not. That's not what we agreed–"

"You have no bargaining power," Orochimaru snapped, looking down on Kakashi like the man was an ant that he wanted to crush. You shrunk away from him and back towards Orochimaru to avoid any further retaliation against either of you. Kakashi's hands fell from your face as you leaned away, and you tried not to feel like you were ripping yourself away from the only chance you'd ever had at happiness.

"Forget the Red Room and any connection you and Sakura have to it, and you won't ever have to see it again."

You were hesitant to look at Kakashi again, but the fury on his face when you did left you paralyzed.

Was that anger for Sakura?

Was it for you?

"Understand one thing," Kakashi said lowly, eyes alight with an unfamiliar rage, "I'll never forget this. And one way or another, I'll see you again."

"If that days comes," Orochimaru said with a dark smile, lips split like an open wound, "it'll be your last moments alive."

A sharp sting in your neck finally made you look away from Kakashi. His eyes widened when your body went slack and you fell to the side. He reached forward and caught your head before it could hit the floor, but his hand quickly disappeared when you were lifted into less gentle arms. You recognized the grip as Kabuto's, and despite your best efforts to stay conscious enough to be aware of your surroundings, darkness quickly swallowed your vision.

The Hydra's one immortal head was cut off with a golden sword given to Heracles by Athena. Heracles placed the head—still alive and writhing—under a great rock on the sacred way between Lerna and Elaius, and dipped his arrows in the Hydra's poisonous blood.

The last thing you saw was Kakashi, out of focus and still kneeling on the ground with his hands resting on the floor in front of him. Darkness prevailed, and freedom slipped through your fingers.

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Author's note | i'm sorry this chapter took me so long. i rewrote the end after i had it basically finished because i didn't love how it turned out, but i think i'm happy with how it ended up. it also ended up being very long oops. please let me know what you think!

also if you're interested please check out the spotify playlist linked with the summary. i'm lowkey obsessed with it.

title is from "Timefighter" by Lucy Dacus

[ilovescarletwitch]

Oblivious Yoda is canon!Yoda

This is a huge pet peeve of mine. Pro Jedi I have a bone to pick, be warned.

Recently I have seen so many Oblivious Anakin is Canon Anakin fics and I really want to know what movies they watched. Anakin was an incredibly perceptive 9 year old who saw Qui-gon's lightsaber and immediately realised he was a Jedi and also knew that Watto wouldn't be able to resist a bet and thus they could trick him. During the First Geonosis Battle he tells a pilot where to aim to cause more damage. When they were escorting Satine he catches on pretty quickly that she has history with his master. During the episode with the Talc he is the first to notice the Talc use picture to communicate and draws a picture to show them they wish to be friends. At the end of the Rako Hardeen arc everyone is congratulating themselves on a job well done and Anakin is the first to realise something is wrong and run to stop Dooku. At the Wrong Jedi he is the one who figures out who the bomber is.

What is he oblivious to? Fandom calls Anakin oblivious in a disgusting display of victim blaming because he didn't realise when he was ten that his new friend was trying to groom him.

Yoda has been the Grandmaster of the Order for centuries. And yet he is oblivious to the survival of the Sith, even when Qui-gon reports it he refuses to believe it and sends Qui-gon to his death. He is oblivious to the Sith master serving in the Senate and then being elected Chancellor. Seriously he is in the same room so many times and fails to sense anything.Chancellor Sith grooms one of their most powerful students right under his nose and he never catches on.He is oblivious to someone, maybe Sifo Dyas maybe not, using the Order's names and funds to order an army of clones that are essentially slaves. According to the new Disney Canon, Dooku has already fallen and in cahoots with the Sith before he left the Order but Yoda is oblivious to what his former apprentice is doing and remains oblivious until Dooku chooses to show his hand. He is oblivious to someone tampering with the Jedi Archives. He is the one to first bring the clones into the battlefield and essentially make them the army of the Republic and yet he remains oblivious to the fact they are a Trojan Horse meant to destroy the Jedi Order. Why is Anakin the oblivious one and not Yoda who is a lot older than Anakin, has a lot more experience and is the one leading the Jedi Order?

Same goes for the rest of the Jedi council, Master Ti in particular. She is stationed on Kamino and her job isn't just to train troopers but also to keep an eye on the Kaminoans. Yet she remains oblivious to so many clones being fitted with chips that would make them turn on the Jedi. During the Fives arc she is completely oblivious to Nala Se dragging Fives before his meeting with the Chancellor. But she has already heard Fives words and yet never investigates after he turns up dead immediately after. People love to crucify Anakin for not listening to Fives but at the time Fives had lured them in a warehouse, stolen Rex's weapon, trapped them behind a ray shield and proceeded to accuse the Chancellor of treason. Anakin had every reason to believe Fives was mad, it's Shaak Ti that was there the entire time and whose job it was to keep an eye on Kamino. Yet nobody says oblivious Ti is canon Ti.

Luminara Unduli's padawan is so traumatized by the war that she not only grows disillusioned in the Jedi Order but carries out a whole terrorist attack on the Temple and frames another Padawan for it. And Luminara remains oblivious to her padawan's actions until Anakin exposes her. Yet there is no tag calling oblivious Luminara canon Luminara.

Obi-Wan Kenobi remains oblivious to Chancellor Sith grooming his student for ten years. He is the adult charged with a small child's care and he never notices that he is under someone else's dark influence. He remains completely oblivious to any personality and behaviour changes that should be huge red flags. Yet, nobody calls Obi-Wan oblivious for not realising that the politician who arranged to meet his underage student alone is hurting his student.

Nobody calls Bail and Mothma oblivious for not realising that their head of state is colluding with the enemy and orchestrating a crisis after another so he can gather more powers and thus name himself emperor.

It's only Anakin who is either a literal child or the age of your average college student during the entire prequels that is called oblivious because he didn't realise that his mentor was manipulating and using him.

@tragicfantasy-girl @riana-one you have some of the best takes regarding hypocrisy in fandom. Do you have any instances where Anakin is actually oblivious?