#YOU CRAVE THE APPLAUSE YET HATE THE ATTENTION THEN MISS IT YOUR ACT IS A RUSE 🗣️

[hornyforpoetry]

Achilles, Achilles, Achilles, come down // Won't you get up off, get up off the roof // You're scaring us and all of us, some of us love you // Achilles, it's not much but there's proof // You crazy-ass cosmonaut, remember your virtue // Redemption lies plainly in truth // Just humour us, Achilles, Achilles, come down // Won’t you get up off, get up off the roof?...

Achilles, Achilles, Achilles, jump now // You are absent of cause or excuse // So self-indulgent and self-referential // No audience could ever want youYou crave the applause yet hate the attention // Then miss it, your act is a ruse // It is empty, Achilles, so end it all now // It's a pointless resistance for you...

Collezioni Comunali d'Arte // Bologna // Italy Achilles Come Down - Gang of Youths

[sha-brytols]

i know i am far from the only bitch on the planet to say achilles come down is an anders song but what about achilles come down as a justice song too. what then.

[norikuna]

ACHILLES COME DOWN — ryomen sukuna

prologue. → you had given the king of curses what he had wanted the most, an heir, borne of the wife that he loves. but for one typically vicious and unshakeable, you wonder why sukuna is left so shaken by how much your daughter takes after him.

you wonder at how the vast ribcage of a demon and a cold killer, who can make the sun rise in the west if he so wished, was once the ribcage that held the beating heart of a young boy, with little space for him, or his mother, in this world.

pairing. ryomen sukuna x afab!reader

warnings. reader is sukuna's wife and they really love each other, just in their own twisted way. tried so hard to not make sukuna ooc so he comes across as an awful bitch sometimes. mentions of violence, blood, giving birth. lots of angst, hurt, comfort, mild fluff, suggestive, dubious in parts of the backstory, heavy focus on sukuna's childhood. sukuna calls reader 'woman' and 'brat.'

word count. 8.4k song inspiration. achilles come down — gang of youths

a/n. this artwork by @innaillus lives rent free in my head, it was the driving force for this fic idea...wanted to make this something different to what i usually do.

mp3 you crave the applause yet hate the attention, then miss it, your act is a ruse. it is empty, achilles, so end it all now, it's a pointless resistance for you.

for all the jujutsu and sorcery that flourished in the world, with unearthly displays of mastery over lief and death, you loathed how none had devised a technique to pluck an unborn child from the womb, and deliver it to the world without pain, without effort, and without this infernal ordeal that had left you slumped against silk cushions.

the air of your chambers hung heavy with a languid quiet, steeping in the residue of suffering, triumph, and undeniably, the light scent of iron in the air that made you wrinkle your nose.

the faint rustle of bloodied sheets reached your ears, punctuated by the rhythmic hum of the cicadas just beyond the paper screens, their song rising and falling like the tide of some ancient hymn.

summer lingered there, stubborn and sweltering on your brow, as the tremor of your hands betrayed the harrowing hours of labour behind you, though it had felt like centuries.

she was impossibly small, your daughter, her form as delicate as ceramic from the kiln, and just as luminous. her hair, peach-pink and fine as spun silk, gleamed softly in the amber glow of the lamplights, a gentler echo of her father's sharper strands.

the infant stirred in her swaddling, a tiny yawn parting her perfect, bow-shaped lips before she blinked up at you with wide, unfocused eyes.

the sight of those eyes stopped you. their hue was unmistakable — the very shade of your own, what a mirror of familiarity nestled in in the impossibly round irises of the child.

your breath hitched, and then a laugh escaped you, weak and thin from exhaustion.

the sound startled the maids, their hurried motions faltering for an instant, but you paid them no mind. your fingers simply brush over the baby's smooth cheek, marvelling at the warmth of her, at the life so newly arrived, and yet so firmly tethered to you.

"one question answered them," you murmured, the words falling from you, "two eyes."

what an absurd observation, a flicker of thought that should not have mattered in this moment. yet it did tug at you. you had wondered often during the long, sleepless night of pregnancy, whether this child would resemble their father entirely. whether this child would inherent that jagged, fearsome visage and the shadow that hung over the king of curses.

you had privately hoped that there would at least be something of you in the child, something gentler, and tethered to the world of men.

your musings were interrupted by the low murmur of voices beyond the screen, followed by the familiar sound of footsteps, deliberate and unhurried.

the servants hushed themselves immediately, and a moment later, the door slid open.

"lord sukuna," one of the accompanying nobles intoned, bowing so deeply that the hem of his crimson sokutai kissed the polished stones of the floor.

what a redundant announcement, for sukuna's presence often needed no introduction. you would swear that the chamber, warm with the glow of the lamplight, shrank beneath the weight of him.

even the cicadas outside seemed to hush their song as his shadow stretched across the tatami mats.

you felt his gaze before you saw it, — those piercing rust eyes, a force unto themselves. they lingered on you, a single breath held between one moment and the next, before shifting to the swaddled bundle cradled in your arms. you studied his face, willing yourself to decipher the mask of his granite expression.

hope tugged at you, fragile and foolish, searching for some flicker of sentiment, some crack in the marble of his countenance. yet his features remained inscrutable, as if carved from stone by a hand too cruel to grant softness.

but you knew your lord husband well. the absence of visible emotion was not the absence of feeling. his silences were not voids, but rather labyrinths, frustratingly so often. still, you watched him, not daring to speak, as sukuna moved with inhuman grace, as his steps no longer made sound on the floor.

your eyes fell on an odd object being carried in one of sukuna's four hands. dark silk was wrapped tightly around a small, irregular shape, and the bundle was unassuming at a glance. but you knew that nothing sukuna did was without purpose, without some motive.

but his eyes did not hold the indifferent glance of a man acknowledging his heir. it was something sharper, and heavier.

what did he see in the infant's tiny, sleeping form? what judgement had he already rendered in the silence that stretched unbearably to every corner of your quarters?

was this displeasure? disappointment? no, there was no anger etched into the sharp planes of his face.

but sukuna had wanted a son, he had said so, enough times that had left you running your anxious hands over your swollen belly. the thought coiled around your heart like a serpent, tightening with each second.

an heir must be strong. he had said it once, not long after you had first told him of the child growing within you. and in the quiet hours of that autumn night, you had wondered what strength had meant to him.

was it the unyielding will that had carved his name into infamous legend? the power to command, and collapse armies and legions, to bend the wills of mortals, and curses alike? a boone that could only truly be carried by a son?

you had never dared to ask the alternative.

swallowing your doubt, you finally spoke, unable to bear it any longer, "sukuna," you said, your voice quieter than you had intended, and even to your ears, it sounded raw with ragged exhaustion, "you have a daughter."

the words lingered, fragile as a spider's silk, trapped in the web of this room. it seemed that the maids, nor the nobles, dared to raise their eyes, as their breaths seemed to hang on the response.

now his shadow was cast over you, dimming the light of the world around you, but his four eyes flicked between the child at your breast, and then to your face.

"she will spill much blood on this earth," his voice as deep and steady as the foundations of the earth itself, "like her father."

the words struck you, like a hammer reverberating against a bronze bell in the quiet air. had you not braced yourself for his disappointment, for the cold practicality that so often shaped his actions?

but you were glad to see something else in his eyes, certainty, conviction, and even the faintest glimmer of traitorous pride. relief simply swept over you, filling in the spaces where paranoia and fear had coiled.

a small smile broke across your lips, though it felt fragle, as if one wrong word could shatter the moment. nevertheless, the lingering doubts that had clung to you, as heavy as a sunrise fog, began to dissolve in his searing presence.

"i am glad," you murmured, "that you are not angered. for i did not give you a son."

sukuna raised a single thin brow, his expression as unreadable as always, though the faintest trace of something akin to amusement tugged at the corner of his mouth, "any child of my blood will be strong. i am glad that my wife did not pass from blood loss during childbirth."

you melodramatically sighed but a laugh danced on your mouth, that was essentially a heartfelt confession of sukuna's love for you, in his own twisted way.

"well," you replied, doing your best to sound bolder than you felt, "if you're feeling so magnanimous, you may as well tell me what that is."

your gaze was in the silk-wrapped bundle that still rested in his lower right hand, "could i hope that it's a loving gift for me? your wife who did not pass from blood loss?"

the ghost of a droll smile quirked sukuna's lips, a rare thing that seemed to thaw away some of the cold ice on his features, "you will get your gift later," and there was the faintest flicker of heat in his tone, the sort that made your stomach twist and your cheeks burn anew.

you quickly lowered your gaze, pretending to fuss with the edges of the infant's swaddle. the maids had suddenly busied themselves with unnecessary tasks in the farthest corners of the room.

"this," sukuna continued, lifting the package, "is for her."

for a moment, his words didn't register. you blinked, surprised, and your eyes flicked from the mysterious artifact to the tiny, slumbering child in your arms.

"for her?" you echoed, and the idea of the king of curses bring an item for a child, his child, felt strange, but tender in its unfamiliarity, "what is it?"

instead of answering immediately, he sat his hulking form beside you, sinking the silk of your sheets further into the wood frame. the wrapping fell away at his touch, revealing what lay within.

a spear, small and exquisite. wickedly sharp, and glinting faintly even in the dim light. it's shaft was adorned with intricate carvings of coiling dragons and parting clouds, and it had clearly been crafted for a hand far tinier than sukuna's own.

"a...weapon?" your stomach turned faintly, blanching at the sight of something so deadly meant for someone so fragile, unease colouring your voice.

sukuna sighed at your tone, like he had already predicted your protests, "it is tradition. a blade is the first gift given to a child, in the house of a warrior. it must be a promise."

"a promise of what?" you asked, though you weren't sure you truly wanted to hear the answer.

"of strength. that a child will grow strong, regardless of blood or lineage."

you looked at your daughter, so small and so impossibly fragile, and then down at the spear, the fine metal glinting faintly in the amber lamplight. you were certain that if you were to lay a finger on the razor edge, it could split your flesh apart with blooming drops of wine-red blood.

"she is but a few hours old," you murmured, "what strength must she carry already?"

sukuna's gaze was umoved, but not unkind, "the child carries a burden whether she knows it or not. the world is not kind to those who are weak. would you not see her survive it?"

a harsh truth, but spoken without cruelty. you studied sukuna's face, bathed in the lamplight, searching for something that you couldn't quite name. for all his barbed edges, you could have sworn his words nursed an older grudge. but you knew, in your heart that he was right, your daughter had been borne of a mortal mother, but of an immortal father, of a darker thread in this world.

a father, one who did not know how to speak of love, but who offered it in the only way he knew.

to sukuna, love and violence sat hand in hand, bloodied and stained.

"still," you said, deciding to drop the serious protest, for now, "a strange world you live in, where a weapon is a fitting fit for a infant? your wisdom knows no bounds," and your voice was laced with the teasing incredulity that he would tolerate only from his wife.

his crimson eyes flicked toward you, calm and unbothered, though the faintest smirk curved the corner of his mouth, like a blade just shy of unsheathing. "admittedly," he said, his deep voice like thunder rolling across a distant plain, "i hadn’t realised that babies were so… round. and weak. and plump."

"you were a baby once."

"never. i was born with the taste of blood and flesh already in my mouth."

"you’re insufferable," you said, though there was no real heat in your words. sukuna was not as naive as he pretended to be; you knew this game too well. his dry humour was his way of stirring you, drawing you out, even now.

"well," you said with a soft sigh, gesturing toward the swaddled bundle in your arms, "set the weapon aside, my dear warlord. for now, at least. let her meet her father before she’s introduced to steel and blood."

for a moment, his gaze lingered on you, unreadable as always, though something unspoken and hesitant flickered there, like the glow of embers beneath ash. then, with a small incline of his head, he relented.

"very well, pass the brat," he muttered, his tone lower now, softer.

you extended the child toward him, her tiny form impossibly small against the vastness of his marked hands.

for a fleeting moment, you worried — fearful that his strength, so absolute, might overwhelm her delicate frame. but when his fingers brushed against the blanket, they were steady, almost reverent.

he took her into his arms, his hold firm yet astonishingly gentle. what a beautiful little thing, you thought, as she stirred faintly, her little face scrunching in a way that made your heart ache with unexpected tenderness, for her and for this rare moment of quiet from your husband.

"how...small," sukuna said, almost to himself, his voice quieter than you’d ever heard it. the crimson of his eyes softened as he gazed at her, no longer the gaze of the strongest jujutsu sorcerer or a fearsome curse, but something far more human, a shadow of a man he might have once been.

"infants tend to be," you replied softly, watching the way his expression flickered, but you shifted closer to him, "here, let me unwrap her."

with careful hands, you unwound the swaddling cloth, each pull of fabric careful. the delicate folds slipped away in a quiet hustle, revealing the soft, flushed skin of the newborn, her form small and fragile in the dim glow of the chamber. a scattering of fine, rosy hairs crowned her head like the first petals of a spring bloom, soft and fleeting.

but then, as the last of the cloth unraveled, the room seemed to still. beneath her, something did not quite belong.

four arms. for, just like her father, another set of limbs was stacked underneath the first.

a chill ran through you, but you kept your gaze fixed upon her. the sight was no less miraculous for its strangeness, no less wondrous, but something shifted in your chest, a flutter of uncertainty.

oh, your darling baby girl.

your breath faltered for only an instant, and then a wry chuckle escaped your lips. "no wonder it hurt so much pushing her out," you griped, the words an attempt at brief levity.

the maids behind you had stilled, their eyes wide with shock, their breaths drawn in in silence. but you scarcely noticed or cared for their reaction.

your attention was on sukuna, and the subtle change that passed across his features like a shadow moving across the face of the sun.

at first, there was nothing — no word, no sound from his tight, pursed lips. his crimson eyes flickered over her, shifting from the unexpected sight of her four arms to her face, as though searching for some other sign of familiarity. his hold on her, though gentle, became uncertain, the steady grasp of one used to absolute control now wavering in the presence of something too delicate to tame.

no one would have seen the change in your husband, but you did. you always did.

"ah, sukuna," you whispered, "it’s alright. hold her properly."

sukuna's jaw clenched, a muscle jumping in the corner of his mouth, painted with all the sweetness of rancid milk gone sour. but at last, he obeyed.

slowly, deliberately, his hands shifted, cradling the child with a kind of reverence that seemed foreign to him. the baby stirred faintly, her small hands brushing against his bare chest, and for the briefest of moments, a flicker passed across his expression — something that could have been warmth, or tenderness, or even pain, but it was gone as quickly as it had come.

just as swiftly, his face returned to its usual impassive mask, the stoic countenance of a cruel warlord, implacable and untouchable. the walls of armour, built up over years of battle, of bloodshed, closed in around him once more, and you were left with the unmistakable sense that he had retreated behind them.

your brow furrowed as you watched him, "what's wrong?"

"nothing, woman." he replied curtly, and you could already sense the serrated edges of his tone, the one you would hear when his mood had gone afoul.

he placed the newborn back into your arms, and you nestled the infant close to your breast — and you blinked, taken aback by the suddenness of the gesture, your fingers stinging from the instantly cool touch of his skin.

"you have done well," and his voice was low, clipped.

a fleeting silence followed, thick with the weight of his half-hearted praise, or rather lack of his apparent love.

"done well? sukuna - " you repeated, unable to mask the incredulity in your voice, "my lord, that is all you have to say?"

his eyes rested on yours, cool and unyielding. beautiful and terrible, in the way that a soldier may have admired a temporary moment in time watching crimson shimmer and soar across the sky, before it fell down in acrid blood rain. terrible, all the same.

on any other day, his infuriating brevity and sharp demeanour might have sparked a flame of annoyance in your chest, but today...was not quite so. though the shadow that rest upon him would not reveal itself, you searched his face nevertheless for what had unnerved him so. but as always, sukuna's features were as unreadable as ancient stone.

his gaze flickered for a moment to the maids who lingered at the edges of the room, their wide eyes watching with an almost palpable curiosity. and without a single glance at you, or the baby girl nestled in your arms, he turned away in long strides, past the threshold and onto the balcony that held the evening's last fading light.

you let out a long, slow sigh — at the poison that had sunk its furled teeth into your husband once more. this was hardly the first time he had withdrawn into his own sullen, brutal thoughts, locked behind walls that you had not the key to breach. and it certainly would not be the last. you could only hope that this ill vein of his mind would not end in someone's pumping blood being spilled over the floors.

"uraume," you called softly, glancing toward your friend and confidant, who had been standing silently near the wall, having accompanied sukuna.

the short, silver-haired sorcerer turned their rosewood eyes toward you, their expression as stoic as ever, like frost that had settled over granite.

their hands were folded neatly in front of their heavy snow-robes, but you caught the faintest quirk of their brow as if to say what now?

you gestured toward sukuna's figure on the terrace, brooding and awfully solitary, "what has gotten into him?"

uraume shrugged, as unimpressed as always, "would that he has found himself in one of his moods again. you know how he is."

you frowned, not entirely satisfied with their answer, for what ill mood could have sunk its claws into sukuna after the birth of his only child. but still, uraume had known sukuna far longer than you had.

"can you hold her for a moment?"

at that, uraume hesitated, their stoicism faltering for the briefest second, "me?" they asked, their cool tone clipped but their light-teak eyes darting to the baby with thinly veiled interest.

"yes, you," you said with a wry smile, "ah, don’t pretend as though you don’t want to."

their lips pressed into a tight line, but you saw the way their hands moved almost instinctively, reaching out before they could talk themselves out of it. with practiced care, you transferred the baby into your friend's arms, watching as uraume's stern demeanor softened, just slightly, as they looked down at the tiny bundle.

"careful," you teased, adjusting the swaddle around your infant daughter, "she might charm you into smiling."

"unlikely," uraume deadpanned, but the faintest ghost of warmth touched their dulcet voice.

the evening air was cool as the breath of a shadow, brushing against your skin, and you watched as the pale pink petals of the gardens below fluttered in the winds, falling in gentle arcs around the estate.

you sighed, wrapping your robe tighter around your form, as the sheer fabric clung to your skin like the last vestiges of warmth that the day had offered. the coolness was a balm, but it did little to ease the deep ache in your legs, nor the weariness that had clung to you like a second skin now, so soon after an arduous labour.

you made your way onto the balcony, the rough floor beneath your feet cold and unyielding — and there, sukuna sat, his broad frame hunched slightly over the stone bench.

you paused, only a slight shadow behind him, unsure whether to disturb the stillness of his thoughts or let him be. the space between you was...heavy, but you broke through the silence.

"are you going to tell me what's wrong," you asked, trying to keep a lightness to your tone, "or are you planning to brood out here all night?"

you could only hope that you had not overstepped, for his moods were as tempestuous as the wild storms of summer's monsoons. although his promise of blood on skin, and guts on the table, had never been directed at you.

a flicker of irritation had brush over sukuna's face, as his gaze remained fixed on the horizon. a warning, perhaps, a retreat?

for a moment, you lingered where you stood, wondering if it would be worth your time to weather whatever tempest brewed within the king of curses. and you hesitated, fingers twitching with the urge to reach out and place a hand upon his broad shoulder. but something held you back, not tonight.

instead, you settled beside him, the cold stone of the bench biting into your thighs and abdomen through the thin fabric of your robe, a deep cramping that you wished you could settle with a steaming bath.

for a long while, sukuna said little. but you heard his small exasperated sigh, at the inconvenience that you had apparently created for him. a subtle movement in the dark silk of his robes, and without a word, he spread the folds of his garments wider so you could move closer to the searing heat of his bare skin, and rest upon the fabric, rather than the icy rock currently beneath your pelvis.

"sukuna, please. are you well?"

"why wouldn't i be, woman?" but the words fell between you, false and brittle in the warm air, betrayed by the clench of his jaw.

it must be of little standard, how you're pleased that sukuna has not blasted his beloved wife into cinders, and so you press on, undeterred now by the silence.

reaching out, you take one of his four hands, so much stronger than your own, into your grasp. your fingers weave into the thick tattoos marked on his skin, over faint scars that must stretch back to a golden age, long abandoned by the world. but here, his skin is warm and living, and solid beneath your touch. it is rough in places, like a weathered boulder, but there is no resistance in his grasp, no usual sharpness in a retreat.

"i wonder," he mutters, and you look up from studying his hands in surprise, "what mine own parents must have thought when i was born."

your breath catches, for sukuna has never spoken of family, not once in all the years that you have known him. after all, you had seen your husband in reminiscence many times, usually after a great flagon of rich drink.

about stories of battle and triumphs, of how greatly he enjoyed severing a stray general's head from the man's body, of how excellent the wine was five centuries ago, or how he found it a nuisance that it was no longer acceptable to chase after servants with a crossbow for the fun of the hunt.

but never had a word been uttered of those who came before him.

"you've never mentioned your family, sukuna," and you don't miss how his hand twitches under your hold, "never heard a single thing about the last king and queen of curses."

the sharp, razor lines of his body tighten, and sukuna does not smile, does not soften. his face is as unreadable as ever, like a mask carved from iron wood.

"i come from no such line, certainly not from kings," his tone is flat, only a mild sneer in his voice as the prospect of nobility, and you watch the handsome slope of his nose in the twilight, the stern profile that you had grown to admire in the time of your...tumultuous marriage.

he speaks the words like they are the final bookend of a story, the last page, with nothing left to say. but you tilt your head, watching the hard line of his jaw, and the way his fingers mildly tighten around your own, like an anchor.

"who were they?"

sukuna finally turns his head to face you, the faintest shift in his posture as his eyes finally meet yours. the look he gives you is cold, disinterested, and the subtle roll of his lower eyelids betray a flash of frustration and anger.

you frown at the fleeting, cutting gesture, but it is nothing new for you, "it was just a question. i've just never heard you speak on this before."

sukuna rolls his broad shoulders, half-hearted and dismissive, as though this conversation itself has suddenly become an inconvenience that he's barely willing to entertain. how typical.

"never found it relevant."

you aren't sure what is more unbearable now, the dull throb in your legs that still lingers from the birth, or the faint copper tang of the afterbirth that you're certain is now pooling on your robe, or the heavy, oppressive heat of the summer air that seems to suffocate in your throat.

but somehow, all of it combines to make your husband's behaviour just a bit too much, even for you, the one who has become so accustomed to the emotionally stunted king of curses.

"please, sukuna," and you loathe how it sounds as though you are begging once more, hoping there's no hint of the bitterness of your tone, no crack of anger, but it is hard to tie that mask in place when it seems like every part of your body is breaking, aching and exhausted, "i just gave birth to your child, our child. everything hurts, and i'm tired, and i just want to rest," you pause, and the words slip from your mouth before you can stop them, "and now you're off sitting here, and you didn't even want to hold her? what am i supposed to do?"

even you are surprised by the rawness in your own voice, the trembling that has begun to spread across your chest, until you realise with a quiet shock that your eyes are wet, and your face is streaking with tears that leave your head laden and heavy. you had not meant to lose composure like this, but now there they are, hot and clinging.

and sukuna's usual stoicism seems momentarily shattered. he's staring at you as if you have sprouted horns, as though an extra head has sprung from your neck. it is a subtle change, the faintest narrowing of his brows, the way his lips press together in an effort to tamp down whatever rude words he was going to spring forth upon his already fraying wife. but at this point in time, you do not care to read him, nor to decipher the layers of his complex, decaying heart.

but his rough hand reaches out, almost clumsily, and they brusqely brush the damp streaks from your cheeks. the gesture is far too gentle for one who only responds to strength, violence, and sometimes, decapitation.

but it is the first gesture of tenderness that he has offered in what feels like an age, "stop that, woman. this does not befit you," and the edges of his robe catch the falling droplets from your face, dampening the silk.

and sukuna's mouth is now downturned, the edges of his lips twisting in that familiar, inscrutable way. you wonder, for the thousandth time, how he ever reconciles the savage nature of the beast that he has become, with the faintest echo of what was once humanity beating in his chest, "wasn't trying to upset you, brat."

his voice pricks at you, and you wipe the last remnants of tears from your skin, but there's a sudden warmth in your cheeks, at the embarrassment of breaking like this, rather than lingering sorrow.

"if you're that desparate to know, my mother was a servant."

you blink, unsure whether you are hearing correctly, for sukuna's voice does not even falter, despite the apparent chink in his impenetrable armour. but this is no great surprise, perhaps, his mother had been a concubine to a lord, some powerful man, or the emperor himself?

sukuna had now looked away from you, his gaze turned to the darkened sky, "lived in the palace. or actually...worked there, didn't get to even live there. they had her live in some shack off on the edge of the estate," and his voice is like the wind in a sealed tomb, bitter and stale.

"with the animals," you murmur, and it is not intended to be cruel. you know better than to speak so carelessly with sukuna, and you have learnt that pity is something he cannot abide, he abhors it. has never wanted it, not from you, his wife or queen, nor any other.

but now sukuna grunts, low and gutteral, "don't even remember much of it. could only keep a stupid goat in there, at best."

you find yourself absently fiddling with the hem of your robe, the thin fabric slipping through your fingers, past your nails.

"and your father?" you wonder if he can hear the question that hangs on the edge of your words, a powerful man? even the emperor of that time had been known to dabble in jujutsu, and other forms of more foreign magic from the continental homeland.

"no name that i would waste my time mentioning," and sukuna's tone is heavy with disdain, and a sneer has spread on his face, having slipped past the mask of constant indifference, "or a name that i would have even bothered to find and learn. clearly...didn't care for the likes of mother. some lowly foot soldier she met one night, never appeared before her again."

you're not quite sure how to respond, how to fit his surprising words into a world that you're familiar with. you, born with royal blood in your veins, a lineage of kings and khans. you, who grew up in a palace with a gruff but loving father, and an overbearing but kind mother, or the warmth of a large band of siblings swarming around you.

you, who had never gone to bed cold, always had a fire on her back, had grown up with jewels draped across your neck.

"must not have been easy, sukuna."

you watch him closely, and you can tell that he's doing his utter best to wave your gaze away, to disguise this as a casual tale, one to be dismissed on the morrow. but you wonder, with a sense of sorrow, if there is a single living soul alive who has been privy to this story, aside from uraume, most likely.

but sukuna shrugs, a quick and careless motion, and the movement tousles his head of rosy hair, sharp spikes swaying, "she said i had been born in a time of famine," and you can hear him running his tongue behind his teeth, "that she had to serve the emperor fine banquets everyday, while she came home to not even two sticks of wood to put together for a fire."

and then, he turns his second pair of eyes on you, those crimson eyes that seem to see straight through the world, "said she had no idea how i even survived to birth," and your lower region pangs at the mention of your recent labours, "that it was a miracle that i had been born strong enough to live past a few hours in the cold."

you squeeze his calloused hand again, a soft press of rare reassurance to one who most likely does not care for such sentiments, and this time he allows it — a kind mercy you think, born of some unwilling guilt that lingers from having you weep.

for a fleeting moment, his hand remains, coarse over yours, but his expression hardens once more, like magma went hit with the cool wind. he pulls his hand away with a swiftness that makes your heart ache.

"sounds like she really loved you," you hum, but the words sound weak even to your own ears. unable to change anything, or stitch over whatever scars shaped the king of curses, but you say them anyway, fumbling for something to offer.

his scarlet gaze flickers to you once more, and for a moment, you think he might scoff. but instead, sukuna gives you a peculiar, twisted look, as though caught between disbelief, and a painful, begrudging acknowledgement.

"i- sure," and his voice is lower than the muted tone that you're accustomed, rough but listless, "used to sit there, putting scraps of cloth together for the winter. from the sacks used to carry feed for the horses."

you wince, unbidden, as the image cuts through you like a blade. of a faceless child draped in rough, burlap-like cloth, and a mother's raw hands working to piece together anything that might keep her son warm through the cold winters. but it is hard, hard to see that faceless child as the king of curses now, no matter how you peer up at sukuna's stern profile.

you think of your newborn daughter, her soft and downy cheeks. the way she had nestled into you with such implicit trust. you try to imagine the same tenderness in the woman who was the mother of the demon later known as ryomen sukuna, but when you close your eyes all you see is death and war, blood painting four hands as they pulled off man's head, clean at the jugular — at your wedding feast.

"how did you survive?" and the question feels intrusive, almost cruel, but he's only given you a fractured and worn story, a thread that you're dying to follow.

sukuna gives you a sharp look, his brows knitting as he takes in the mild teary hitch in your voice, "don't start getting weepy on me now," he huffs, coarse but not callously, "you asked to know. and don't think i'm going to sit here, and hold your hand through it."

you nod, chastened but affronted, as he continues, "i did what any child would have done. stole what i could from under the carts of merchants, bread from the palace, scraps from the barracks or medicine."

"medicine?" you ask, your curiosity slipping through.

sukuna's expression darkens, and for the first time, there's a flicker of something far more raw in his eyes, and you don't quite appreciate the way he's glowering at you as if it were your doing, "she was sick. sometimes."

the words are clipped, meant to cut short any sympathy you might try to offer, but they lodge deep in your heart all the same. and in a cruel corner of your mind, a thought emerges.

was it birthing him that made her sick? did it consume her spirit and body, the birth of the king of curses?

fortunately, and unbeknownst to your lord husband, shame rises to your cheeks as swiftly as the notion comes, hot and furious. you swallow it down, forcing your lips to stay shut, horrified with your own insensitive thought.

but now the silence is stretching before you, as a long yawn. you glance at him again, at the defiant set of his shoulders, and you shake your head of the ridiculous surge of protectiveness towards a beast, one such as sukuna. but you still cannot picture him as a small and gaunt boy, with quick and desparate hands, trying to survive a life that he did not ask for.

"she must have been proud of you."

sukuna sneered, but it lacked its usual edge, "proud?" he shakes his head, glancing at you with an expression you can't quite name, "would've wanted better than this."

better than what? you want to ask. better than the wealthiest man in the realm? the most powerful sorcerer in written history? the king of curses?

but what do you know? and so, the words don't come. instead, your fingers twitch in your lap, aching to reach for him again, and knowing that he would just pull away once more.

"and yet, men compose sonnets of your power. the king of all the light and shadow touches," and your voice must be laced with a quiet wonder, at what it is to be so feared, but it is not admiration.

"my mother did not want that for me," sukuna says, his tone sharp, ruminating with a hard expression, "but i did it anyway. they wouldn't take me at first, not a child with no family to present him, nor gold to weigh in his favour," and the words are low, and biting, as if speech sits bitter on his tongue, "so i took up the sword. trained until i was good enough to join the legions."

"and then?" though you know that there is little point in asking, for the tale is now one that you have heard before. written in dried blood, and throughout history. it is famous on the mainland, on the islands, on the continent, to where the horse-lord khans are now raising great empires. but hearing it from sukuna's mouth feels different, like tracing your fingers over the jagged edge of a rough wound.

"sought power in other place," and now he's looking down at you, physically, but also knowing him, quite literally, "soft thing like you has never seen the rest of the world, but there were masters who never answered to a throne."

"crushed every army of the great clans, north to south, every squad of the sun, moon and stars. brought them to their knees, one by one, and tore their throats out," and you can hear how sukuna's tongue kisses his teeth when he speaks, as if he's reminiscing the taste of beautiful iron in his mouth, "and when it was done, the emperor, the same one who ruled while my mother and i rotted on his estate...he bowed to me."

"they invited me to the harvest festival after that," he continues, his lips twisted in a bitter smirk, "in the capital. worshipped me like an idol, some ancient hero."

it's never lost on you on how sukuna's tone is the most pleased when thinking about how blood rips from ripe arteries and wounds. but his eyes are colder than the snow-capped mountains of the earlier months, and they betray no joy nor triumph. it is simply what happened, as if told from the vantage of a stranger.

you hesitate, the next question caught in your throat. but the need to know burns brighter than your fear, "your father," you say carefully, and there. the tell-tale clench of sukuna's sculpted jaw, "he was a soldier, was he not?"

his eyes remain fixed beyond the terrace, where the light faded long ago. for a moment, you think that sukuna has not heard you. but then, he speaks, his voice akin to the rumble of thunder on a faraway horizon, "my father," and his tone is entirely devoid of feeling, "could have been one of the soldiers i killed, i care not."

"what did you mother say after all that?"

for a moment, the silence stretches between you, heavy and unyielding. and privately, you have grown much tired of this brooding quiet, but you fancy not being blown to ashes alongside the rest of this estate, so you let him linger.

but sukuna has inhaled sharply, and his wandered gaze has snapped back with an edge you hadn't expected, "i wouldn't know," and now, this feels more like an open wound, "died when i was twelve winters."

there is no softness in his tone, no tremble or catch to suggest the pain of memory, for it is too old and too familiar. but the world around you seems to dim as he still speaks, "hadn't learnt reversed curse technique by then. hah, if she had lived longer..."

and sukuna closes his mouth with a snap, as if an unseen poison has dredged to the surface. for it is not within the king of curses's nature to regret. to wonder what if?

you can see it in the way sukuna's hand clenches at his side, the subtle twitch of his mouth. it is not grief that overtakes him, nor even regret. it is something darker, colder — a wound that time has turned to scar tissue but never truly healed.

and again, you try. to imagine her, a woman bent by the weight of a hard life but still fierce in her love for her son. you still cannot see a face, but you can picture frail hands threading through coarse fabric into a makeshift tunic, telling her son stories to chase away the hunger and cold of the night. and you wonder about fate's cruel hands, for her son would first grow into a man, and then something crueler and inhuman, one who could topple armies and empires, one who sung fangs into still-beating hearts. but not in time to save her.

it is a sad story, but you know better than to offer your apologies. one thing still lingers in your mind, pressing against your thoughts like a stone beneath rushing water.

"what does this have to do with your daughter?"

your husband suddenly looks at you, quizzical, and he's faintly confused. you frown, clarifying before he can twist your meaning, "it's just...you seemed upset after holding her. i thought -"

sukuna's expression shifts, a flash of irritation breaking through his impassiveness, "what? that i loathed the sight of her?" his lips curl into a smirk, laced with a drier humour, "hope she got my brains, and not yours."

you scowl at him, your indignation quick but shallow at his cheap barbs. without much thought, you jab an elbow into his bare side. but he doesn't flinch, of course he doesn't. but a mild smile breaks through, faint as dawn's first light. and for now, it's enough for you.

but then sukuna's face clouds again, and the weight of his brooding thoughts seems to settle over him once more. you sigh, and venture a guess, your voice quieter now, gentler, "you’re worried about her because she was born as you were."

sukuna scoffs, "tch! don’t make me sound so weak and weepy, like you."

"ryomen," you say, letting his name stretch out, both affectionate and exasperated, "it's alright to care about your infant daughter. no one is going to topple your throne over it."

"i'd invite them to try," he snarls, shooting you a hard look, like you were going to raise an army later that day.

"it wasn't easy for me," he adds, and the edges of his words are brittle, "didn't quite have that grasp on jujutsu when i was younger. ended up even melding flesh together to try and hide two arms out of four. or...almost crushing them together so they would break and bend."

"what a cruel strife, delivered upon a child," you're frowning, at the vivid imagery and at how sukuna delivers it in such a matter-of-fact way.

but your husband dips his chin, and you're left staring and wondering, just what it would take to have him break away from his unholy pride, "a fair exchange," he says, "wasn't a stranger to what people called me. or thought."

"you know what the difference is?" and you've paused long enough for the words to settle, to break him out of his reverie, "our daughter has a loving father," and sukuna's face twitches.

"and," now, you point at yourself, "a loving mother. i do think she will grow up strong."

you almost say that she will grow up safe, happy, content. peaceful. but you had stopped yourself, for you had pushed the king of curses enough for one night, emotionally at least, and you know that 'strong' is something that he respects, something that he can hope for without feeling lesser for it.

"she better," he grunts, and you smile at the faintest glimmer of pride slipping into his voice, pride at what he deems a worthy creation from him, and you, "i don't care if she was born today, i need to see her cursed technique."

"sukuna!" you snap fiercely, and it just draws a rich laugh from him, one that makes you sigh too, for you think that your husband is often (and ironically) like the sun. for when he blazes far too hot, and bright, you can feel the burn sting. but when sukuna glows, all tend to clamour to bask in his rare warmth.

you laugh with him, the sound light in the still of the night, and before he can pull away or grumble something sardonic, you press a soft kiss to his cheek. sukuna huffs above you, the noise low and guttural, a half-hearted complaint about how he is being suffocated, but you feel the warmth bloom under your lips.

and it is sweet, in its own odd way, at how his creamy skin flushes quickly, betraying him, and his lower set of eyes flutter close. for a brief moment, the king of curses is almost bashful, the storm clouds parting as quickly as they came.

as you rise to your feet, you feel the ache in your thighs, but you tug lightly at his hefty arms, urging him, "come, my lord," you say, your tone teasing but warmer, "come see your daughter now."

sukuna doesn’t move at first, his gaze following yours, tracing the place where you had just been sitting. his expression shifts, darkening as his eyes fall on something. "is that blood?" he asks, the words sharp and low.

you glance down, catching sight of the vivid smear on the stone—a crimson stain stark against the dimly lit fabric. your shoulders tighten, a flicker of embarrassment sweeping through you before you remember that this is not your fault, and you glower, your voice bristling. "afterbirth," you mutter, crossing your arms as if to shield yourself from the moment. "would have been nicer to pass in my own bed."

the faintest quirk touches his lips, an almost-smile that flickers and vanishes as quickly as it came. "you must be hungry," he says, his tone succint but carrying the faint edge of something softer—something close to concern, though he would never name it as such, and call you foolish if you did.

you sigh, the weight of exhaustion pressing against you like the tide, for you desperately wished to rest, "you have no idea," half a complaint, half a confession.

sukuna doesn’t reply immediately, but you catch the way his gaze softens, lingering just long enough to remind you that, despite his gruffness, he cares more than he lets on. perhaps, in his own way, he is just as raw and exposed as you are now.

again, you tug at his marked arms, insistent, and he sighs — long-suffering, as if your request were a monumental task. yet, he rises, uncoiling his tall frame until he towers over you, the shadows darkening most of what is around you.

before you can utter another word, he sweeps you close, all four of his arms encircling you with an ease that borders on reverence. his lips brush against your forehead, fleeting but gentle, a moment so tender it nearly takes your breath away.

and then, like clockwork and a theatrical grimace, sukuna pushes you away, his expression twisting into an exaggerated mask of disgust. it's his strange, unpolished way of showing affection, and you can’t help but snicker, the sound light and unburdened.

"you’re ridiculous," you tease, though your smile lingers, soft and warm, and he mutters some comment about how he doesn't even like you.

"you know,” you begin, "i asked uraume to hold our daughter in the meantime."

His eyes widen, incredulous, and for a moment, he looks genuinely doubtful, "huh, this entire time. uraume cannot have agreed to that."

"they did!" you insist, triumph lighting your voice, thinking of the petulant sorcerer probably making faces at your baby indoors.

sukuna shakes his head, muttering as if the mere notion defied all reason, he who had seen mountains turn to dust and oceans part. "unbelievable," he says, his tone caught between disbelief and faint admiration, as though uraume's rare acquiescence were an impossible feat.

you had returned indoors, arm entwined with one of sukuna's which had pulled you close with a sudden, almost possessive gesture.

and lo and behold, you found uraume still kneeling by the cradle, with their eyes fixed on the infant, who was staring back at the ice-sorcerer with curious intensity, oddly knowing for one so small.

and uraume, typically stoic and cold, leans in loser to the child, now gentle and cooing, "yes," they murmur, "and when you are all grown up, you will listen to me. i don't care if sukuna has a stroke. your father is prone to theatrics, and your mother is prone to equal dramatics. but you can learn from the best there is, me."

sukuna, ever the cynic, guffaws, "i hope you are not indoctrinating my heir," you laugh at the flicker of amusement in both sets of his eyes.

you catch the briefest glimpse of an embarrassed flush on uraume's pallid cheeks before the sorcerer quickly recovers, lips pursing in an exaggerated show of indifference.

"i do not care for this pudgy thing," uraume huffs, the words a touch too hasty as they thrusts the child back into your arms, clearly uncomfortable with the softening of their usually unyielding nature.

and when sukuna's peering down at the child, with barely veiled interest, the same set of eyes that you carry end up meeting blood-red eyes with teeth.

your daughter, promptly robbed of uraume's gentler attention and less-monstrous features, begins to wail, loud and teary, as sukuna growls, affronted.

"can't you put the child back in you?"

the linked artwork belongs to the artist. but the header and writing belong to curtins.tumblr.com. likes, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated, but do not repost my work!

[theotherbuckley]

Evan 'Buck' Buckley - Achilles Come Down by Gang of Youths (Part 3 version 1)

Achilles, Achilles, Achilles, jump now You are absent of cause or excuse So self-indulgent and self-referential No audience could ever want you You crave the applause yet hate the attention Then miss it, your act is a ruse It is empty, Achilles, so end it all now It's a pointless resistance for you

Bobby - Part one here Eddie - Part two here

[aroace-nut-case]

Very long In Stars and Time rant under the cut. It’s breaking down how ISAT coded Achilles Come Down by Gang of Youths is. Also Tw for discussions of suicide

I have an idea that has reduced me to tears and I need to share it somewhere. It’s the song Achilles Come Down by Gang Of Youths but it’s act 6 Siffrin and the first voice is the party and the second voice is Mal Du Pays. Also side note, mal du pays is apparently the French expression for homesickness which 😭😭😭😭 AAAAAAAAA!! But I digress.

I imagine this would be set during the Bigfrin boss fight at the end. The first verse would be the party begging Siffrin to come down, to talk to them. I guess this would be more of a metaphorical coming down than actually trying to get someone to come down from a roof but the imagery is there. Also them being called a cosmonaut because their whole religion revolved around stars.

The French part “On the other hand, I see many people die because they judge that life is not worth living (Loop). I see others paradoxically getting killed for the ideas or illusions that give them a reason for living (The party). What is called a good reason for living is also an excellent reason for dying (Siffrin himself. They’ve died dozens of times for the party, their reason for living).

I feel line the second verse would have to be Loop talking, especially because of the “There is no me without you” line. Remember the pact of our youth (The wish).

Loathe the way they light candles in Rome But love the sweet air of the votives Hurt and grieve but don't suffer alone Engage with the pain as a motive This seems like it would be Odile talking. Not as openly emotional as the others, but trying all the same.

Today, of all days, see How the most dangerous thing is to love (Siffrin has gone through today over and over for those that he loves). How you will heal and you'll rise above (They will be ok at the end). Also this is Loop talking

The second French part Of an apartment manager who had killed himself I was told he had lost his daughter 5 years before, that he had changed greatly since then, and the experience had “undermined” him. Maybe someone Sif met on their travels, who “lost” his daughter because she was on the forgotten island when it disappeared, similarly to the sister of The Daydreaming One in Dormont.

Achilles, Achilles, Achilles, jump now You are absent of cause or excuse So self-indulgent and self-referential No audience could ever want you You crave the applause yet hate the attention Then miss it, your act is a ruse It is empty, Achilles, so end it all now It's a pointless resistance for you This is absolutely Mal Du Pays speaking, as it is an entity made up of Siffrin’s thoughts, doubts, and insecurities. It even uses stage metaphors (like referring to the party as an “audience) just like he does. Also trying to get them to give up.

The third French part What sets off the crisis is almost always unverifiable (Siffrin still not having any idea what trapped them in the loop). Newspapers often speak of “personal sorrows” or “incurable illness.” These explanations are plausible (Siffrin trying so hard to figure it out, why he’s trapped here, why he can’t move on). But one would have to know whether a friend of the desperate man had not that very day addressed him indifferently (this is about Siffrin and Loop although Siffrin doesn’t know that quite yet).

Achilles, Achilles, just put down the bottle, don’t listen to what you’ve consumed (Siffrin would be an alcoholic if the House had more wine). It’s chaos, confusion, and it’s wholly unworthy of feeding and it’s wholly untrue ( this is also about Siffrin’s self esteem issues and intrusive thoughts). There may not be meaning so find one and seize it, do not waste yourself on this roof (The loops may not be a grand plan by Change or The Universe or whatever, but they can still mean something if you let them, if you live).

Hear those bells ring deep in the soul Chiming away for a moment (“WHAT’S HER NAME!? The Housemaiden, the one that wakes me up, I CANT REMEMBER!!” “It’s Mirabelle”) Feel your breath course frankly below And see life as a worthy opponent (Siffrin being too strong for everything they can fight in this one day they’re trapped in).

The fourth French part The memory of a lost home (The island) or the hope of a promised land (Vaugarde). This divorce between the man and his life, the actor and his setting, is properly the feeling of absurdity (first of all, stage metaphors again!! Second of all, Sif not fitting in or understanding Vaugarde at all but it’s all he knows now because his own country is gone).

You want the acclaim, the mother of mothers (it's not worth it, Achilles) More poignant than fame or the taste of another (don't listen, Achilles) But be real and just jump, you dense motherfucker (you're worth more, Achilles) You will not be more than a rat in the gutter (so much more than a rat) You want my opinion, my opinion you've got (no one asked your opinion) You asked for my counsel, I gave you my thoughts (no one asked for your thoughts) Be done with this now and jump off the roof (be done with this now and get off the roof) Can you hear me, Achilles? I'm talking to you I'm talking to you I'm talking to you I'm talking to you Achilles, come down Achilles, come down This is, to me, Loop and Mal Du Pays arguing in Siffrin’s head. Regular text is Mal Du Pays, text in parentheses is Loop.

The fifth French part (god why are there so many) Either yes or no. This would be too easy. But allowance must be who, without concluding, continue questioning (The party, going after Siffrin, trying to make sure he’s ok even after what happened). Here I am only slightly indulging in irony: this is the majority (Loop is the exception). I notice also that those who answer “no” act as if they have thought “yes”. As a matter of fact, if I accept the Nietzschean criterion, they think “yes” in one way or another (Isa and Sif’s multiple attempts to get him to confess).

Throw yourself into the unknown With pace and a fury defiant Clothe yourself in beauty untold And see life as a means to a triumph This is the afterwards, the beautiful falling scene. This is the party’s response to Sif asking “Well what do I do now?” Also, the unknown being the future, because Sif knows every beat of today because he’s lived it over and over.

And that concludes me yapping about In Stars And Time!! It’s a fantastic game, it’s 20 bucks on Steam, and it makes me want to cry!! Thank you for your time!!

[theoutcastrogue]

Gang of Youths - Achilles Come Down

Achilles, Achilles, Achilles, come down Won't you get up off, get up off the roof? You're scaring us and all of us, some of us love you Achilles, it's not much but there's proof You crazy-assed cosmonaut, remember your virtue Redemption lies plainly in truth Just humour us, Achilles, Achilles, come down Won't you get up off, get up off the roof?

Achilles, Achilles, Achilles, come down Won't you get up off, get up off the roof? The self is not so weightless, nor whole and unbroken Remember the pact of our youth Where you go, I'm going, so jump and I'm jumping Since there is no me without you Soldier on, Achilles, Achilles, come down Won't you get up off, get up off the roof?

. Loathe the way they light candles in Rome But love the sweet air of the votives Hurt and grieve but don't suffer alone Engage with the pain as a motive Today of all days, see How the most dangerous thing is to love How you will heal and you'll rise above

Achilles, Achilles, Achilles, jump now You are absent of cause or excuse So self-indulgent and self-referential No audience could ever want you You crave the applause yet hate the attention Then miss it, your act is a ruse It is empty, Achilles, so end it all now It's a pointless resistance for you

Achilles, Achilles, just put down the bottle Don't listen to what you've consumed It's chaos, confusion, and wholly unworthy Of feeding, and it's wholly untrue You may feel no purpose nor a point for existing It's all just conjecture and gloom And there may not be meaning, so find one and seize it Do not waste yourself on this roof

. Hear those bells ring deep in the soul Chiming away for a moment Feel your breath course frankly below And see life as a worthy opponent Today of all days, see How the most dangerous thing is to love How you will heal and you'll rise above Crowned by an overture bold and beyond Ah, it's more courageous to overcome

You want the acclaim, the mother of mothers It's not worth it, Achilles More poignant than fame or the taste of another Don't listen, Achilles But be real and just jump, you dense motherfucker You're worth more, Achilles You will not be more than a rat in the gutter So much more than a rat You want my opinion, my opinion you've got No one asked your opinion You asked for my counsel, I gave you my thoughts No one asked for your thoughts Be done with this now and jump off the roof Be done with this now and get off the roof Can you hear me, Achilles? I'm talking to you Can you hear me, Achilles? I'm talking to you

I'm talking to you, I'm talking to you, I'm talking to you Achilles, come down, Achilles, come down

. Throw yourself into the unknown With pace and a fury defiant Clothe yourself in beauty untold And see life as a means to a triumph Today of all days, see How the most dangerous thing is to love How you will heal and you'll rise above Crowned by an overture bold and beyond Ah, it's more courageous to overcome

[sulfies]

Achilles Come Down by Gang of Youths fits Ezio so much... Its in my "Desmond" playlist and while it does fit Des... İt fits Ezio so much better and almost fallows the games acts

-------

Achilles, Achilles, Achilles, come down

Won't you get up off, get up off the roof?

You're scaring us and all of us, some of us love you

Achilles, it's not much but there's proof

You crazy-assed cosmonaut, remember your virtue

Redemption lies plainly in truth

Just humor us, Achilles, Achilles, come down

Won't you get up off, get up off the roof?

^ Ezio's family is talking to him, can imagine his mom for this part almost. Maybe they are all alive at the moment and its about a random time when Ezio gave them a scare, maybe its the night of the day Ezio climbed the tower to where his father was held... Maybe its a day after everything

✨✨✨

Achilles, Achilles, Achilles, come down

Won't you get up off, get up off the roof?

The self is not so weightless, nor whole and unbroken

Remember the pact of our youth

Where you go, I'm going, so jump and I'm jumping

Since there is no me without you

Soldier on, Achilles, Achilles, come down

Won't you get up off, get up off the roof?

^ 100% Federico's part but probobly would also fit for the siblings all-togather. They def made hunderets of stupid pacts in their youths, one was probobly something like this where Ezio didnt understand the gravity of it as a kid while Federico did and was 100% serious...(Sadly i imagine it as his ghost trying to knock though love to his brothers head)

✨✨✨

Loathe the way they light candles in Rome

But love the sweet air of the votives

Hurt and grieve but don't suffer alone

Engage with the pain as a motive

Today, of all days, see

How the most dangerous thing is to love

How you will heal and you'll rise above

^ Can see this as other characters giving a push to Ezio when he starts his Assassin training or bringing in the Brotherhood togather, he is learning to grieve as he improves. He is trying to not suffer alone, learning and finding about connections he has like the song says but there is too many responsibilities on his shoulders. Could also be about the love and broken heart he leaves behind in his youth with Cristina...

✨✨✨

Achilles, Achilles, Achilles, jump now

You are absent of cause or excuse

So self-indulgent and self-referential

No audience could ever want you

You crave the applause yet hate the attention

Then miss it, your act is a ruse

It is empty, Achilles, so end it all now

It's a pointless resistance for you

^Ezio talking to himself after the fall of Monteriggioni in Brotherhood probobly... He built it nearly all back but lost it all, which would def make one feel empty. He most likely just wants his fathers hug and a "you did us proud". But the things he does comes with a worldwide bounty on his head instead of the applouse so ofc he would hate "the attention".

✨✨✨

Achilles, Achilles, just put down the bottle

Don't listen to what you've consumed

It's chaos, confusion and wholly unworthy

Of feeding and it's wholly untrue

You may feel no purpose nor a point for existing

It's all just conjecture and gloom

And there may not be meaning, so find one and seize it

Do not waste yourself on this roof

Hear those bells ring deep in the soul

Chiming away for a moment

Feel your breath course frankly below

And see life as a worthy opponent

Today, of all days, see

How the most dangerous thing is to love

How you will heal and you'll rise above

Crowned by an overture bold and beyond

Ah, it's more courageous to overcome

^ Leonardo. I feel like this bit is definetly Leonardo shaking his Ezio awake bc he would hate to loose him. "Find one and Seize it" is such a Leo way to motivate Ezio and it would work... I can imagine a scene happening where Drunk/Tipsy Ezio spills too much feeligs, so much that it gets dark and Leo grasps his hands in his own and just says all of this...

✨✨✨✨✨

You want the acclaim, the mother of mothers (it's not worth it, Achilles)

More poignant than fame or the taste of another (don't listen, Achilles)

But be real and just jump, you dense motherfucker (you're worth more, Achilles)

You will not be more than a rat in the gutter (so much more than a rat)

You want my opinion, my opinion you've got (no one asked your opinion)

You asked for my counsel, I gave you my thoughts (no one asked for your thoughts)

Be done with this now and jump off the roof (be done with this now and get off the roof)

Can you hear me, Achilles? I'm talking to you

I'm talking to you

I'm talking to you

I'm talking to you

Achilles, come down

Achilles, come down

^ We could say Its Leo trying to save Ezio again but I think, imagining this as Desmond and Juno/Minerva is more fun. More than thinking this as Juno wanting Ezio to die, I think its more in "Im not talking to you but thru you, you are unimportant" kind of way Minerva acted towards him when they "met". Its the "end your story cmoon" attitute all the ancient ones display because they see humans are rats/below them... Ezio tried to ask the "gods" for guidence. Quickly learned that They dont care about him, only Desmond.

But Desmond cares about him and desperetly wants to be heard back and tell him how it was not all for nothing and that he is worth so much...

✨✨✨✨

Throw yourself into the unknown

With pace and a fury defiant

Clothe yourself in beauty untold

And see life as a means to a triumph

Today, of all days, see

How the most dangerous thing is to love

How you will heal and you'll rise above

Crowned by an overture bold and beyond

Ah, it's more courageous to overcome

^ Ezio talking to himself at the end of it all, after revelations. Giving himself the permission to love and rest/stop and not find the next big thing he must fight with. He doesnt know if all will end well but "its more courageus to overcome"

[trancylovecraft]

(KNY)(MASTERLIST) You, Shibou. I, Kokoro

☆♡☆ AO3 LINK ☆♡☆

YANDERE PLATONIC KOKUSHIBO x SISTER! READER

[F/N], A shrine-maiden that was brutally killed in the Sengoku era reincarnates five hundred years later as the strongest hashira alive.

However, Her older brother turned demon is haunted by her passing every day, Grieving over the loss of his little sister.

When they finally meet each other again, He really can't blame himself for what he does next.

GENRE(s): Tragedy, Slow Burn, Heavy Angst, Dark Fantasy, Classical Driven, Action, Drama.

RECCOMENDATION: While not necessary at all, I highly suggest listening to Achilles, Come down. While reading this fanfic as it a song that helped inspire the story and mood.

Thank you!

☆♡☆CHAPTERS ☆♡☆

1, Chapter One: "Michi-Nii" 2, Chapter Two: "You crazy-ass cosmonaut, Remember your virtue, Redemption lies plainly in truth." 3. Chapter Three: "Achilles, Achilles, Achilles, jump now. You are absent of cause or excuse. So self-indulgent and self-referential, No audience could ever want you" 4. Chapter Four: "Achilles, Achilles, Achilles, come down Won't you get up off, get up off the roof?" 5. Chapter Five: "These explanations are valid. But it should be known if the same day a friend of the desperate hasn't spoken to him with an indifferent tone.." 6. Chapter Six: "Loathe the way they light candles in Rome. But love the sweet air of the votives" 7. Chapter Seven: "The souvenirs of a lost country, the hope of a promised land. This divorce between the woman of her life-" 8. Chapter Eight: "You’re scaring us and all of us, some of us love you Achilles, it’s not much but there’s proof" 9. Chapter Nine: "Feel your breath course frankly below and see life as a worthy opponent" 10. Chapter Ten: "I witness that a lot of people are dying because they consider that life is not worth living." 11. Chapter Eleven: "He changed a lot after that and that this story had-" 12. Chapter Twelve: "Do not waste yourself on this roof" 13. Chapter Thirteen: "You will not be more than a rat in the gutter" 14. Chapter Fourteen: "..So much more than a rat" 15. Chapter Fifteen: "Soldier on, Achilles." 16. Chapter Sixteen: "You crave the applause yet hate the attention, Then miss it" 17. Chapter Seventeen: "But it's cool in a weird way that I wish I could be" 18. Chapter Eighteen: "Where you go, I'm going." 19. Chapter Nineteen: "Your act is a ruse."

(INCOMPLETE, MORE SOON)

-----

SIDE-WORKS

Mitsuri x Reader: You, Tsuri

You, 'Katsu.

Daughter of Ōkami (To Scorch The Sun)

[blindmagdalena]

When I first watched the Boys and seen Homelander and continued to watch this man fall from grace while trying to keep it together and then pretty much accepting he was going to be the bad guy (my opinion)

The song Achilles Come Down by Gang of Youths comes to my head whenever I see Homelander. It is an amazing song and I feel like Homelander just fits it’s so well.

ohhh my god the way i was OBSESSED with this song. it was #1 in my spotify wrapped in 2022.

absolutely love how the song is an internal battle. he's begging himself down off the roof, but everything around him only pushes him closer to the edge.

Achilles, Achilles, Achilles, come down Won't you get up off, get up off the roof? The self is not so weightless, nor whole and unbroken Remember the pact of our youth Where you go, I'm going, so jump and I'm jumping Since there is no me without you Soldier on, Achilles, Achilles, come down Won't you get up off, get up off the roof?

and then this next verse in particular just guts me

Loathe the way they light candles in Rome But love the sweet air of the votives Hurt and grieve but don't suffer alone Engage with the pain as a motive Today, of all days, see How the most dangerous thing is to love How you will heal and you'll rise above

we know he craves love and to be celebrated, but loathes the rituals he endures to obtain it. still, he does it. he obeys. he lights the candles. he genuinely believes this is how he will heal. how he will be loved.

but of course it isn't. and that sentiment only sours the longer he pursues it. insecurities fester. his loneliness worsens. there is a voice that urges him on, but so too is there a voice that hisses, they don't love you. they never will.

Achilles, Achilles, Achilles, jump now You are absent of cause or excuse So self-indulgent and self-referential No audience could ever want you You crave the applause yet hate the attention Then miss it, your act is a ruse It is empty, Achilles, so end it all now It's a pointless resistance for you

they both grow and grow and grow until finally those two voices in his head are so distinct, they may as well be their own identities.

You want the acclaim, the mother of mothers (it's not worth it, Achilles) More poignant than fame or the taste of another (don't listen, Achilles) But be real and just jump, you dense motherfucker (you're worth more, Achilles) You will not be more than a rat in the gutter (so much more than a rat) You want my opinion, my opinion you've got (no one asked your opinion) You asked for my counsel, I gave you my thoughts (no one asked for your thoughts) Be done with this now and jump off the roof (be done with this now and get off the roof) Can you hear me, Achilles? I'm talking to you

UGGGHHHH just listening to this song again made me cry. man, it's SO good, and applying it to Homelander tears me to ribbons.

[fitzs-trained-monkey]

The Blood of the Covenant

Character and Relationship list

(Call it beta testing. Just wanna see if anyone is interested, otherwise I won't write it.)

This is the story of how the House of Gaunt fell to its knees. And it starts with a couple of kids.

Irene "Ire" Amanecer

The Dirty Half-Breed

Vibe: What Was I Made For by Billie Eilish

"I'm sad again, don't tell my boyfriend. It's not what he's made for."

Ominis Gaunt

The Reluctant Heir

Vibe: Family Line by Conan Grey

"We may share a face and a last name, but we are not the same."

Irene Amanecer and Ominis Gaunt

Two Fools and One Hell of a Grudge

Vibe: Muscle Museum by Muse

"I don't want you to adore me - don't want you to ignore me when it pleases you."

Sebastian Sallow

The Boy Who Wanted

Vibe: Arsonist's Lullaby by Hozier

"All you have is your fire. And a place you need to reach."

Rhuin Gaunt

The Clairvoyant

Vibe: Absinth by IDKHBTFM

"I don't care what mama says. You wind me up, or you wind up dead."

Rhuin Gaunt and Sebastian Sallow

An Arrangement of Convenience

Vibe: Dear Fellow Traveler by Sea Wolf

"Though my love is so wise and so pretty, some nights I still dream of you."

Aramintia "Minty" Nolan

The Catalyst

Vibe: Achilles Come Down by Gang of Youths

"You crave the applause yet hate the attention, then miss it, your act is a ruse."

Minty Nolan and Sebastian Sallow

Imperfect Harmony

Vibe: Do Not Let Your Spirit Wane by Gang of Youths

"Isn't it strange all the things that I run from are the things that completeness could come from?"

Anne Sallow

The Girl Who Died

Vibe: O Children by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds

"We're all weeping now, weeping because there ain't nothing we can do to protect you."

Anne Sallow and Irene Amanecer

A Forbidden Romance

Vibe: Sweater Weather by The Neighborhood

"It's too cold for you here. So let me hold both your hands in the holes of my sweater."

(Pls comment some thoughts or this story will die like Solomon Sallow and we wouldn't want that, would we.)

(Special thanks to @witchcraftandgeekness for being my biggest cheerleader and making the best aesthetics on this post)

[naitfall]

❝ Can you hear me? Get off the roof! ❞

❝ Be real and just jump, you dense motherfucker! ❞

vanilla sky au: A reality that's too good to be real— everyone who had once been dead is alive. Reincarnation they called it. Some had kept their memories, but most hadn't. The world of titans, had only become a fairytale. Levi remembers everything. Part of him can't believe he's deserved such a life: the friends he's known his whole life are alive. Those he fought with in the survey corps, and the brats he'd once take care of. Except, there's someone to disturb that dream.

‘ None of it is real. ’ Zeke whispers in his ear. ‘ It's a dream, and you need to wake up. ’ It doesn't make sense. Does he want to drive him insane? And yet, he can't forget these words. ‘ you need to go back. ’ He's following him, he's playing with him. Levi wants to kill him. But he doesn't know if he's telling the truth. Nightmares of the past, of his past life, become more violent, more vivid. What if he's telling the truth?

— How can I go back?

— You need to die first.

He needed to die first. To return to those who needed him. What if Zeke is lying? He's going to die. But if he's telling the truth, then he needs to return to the real world. He's playing a gamble, and Levi's never been good at those.

At the top of a roof he'd stand, the view of a city below his feet. Zeke's right next to him. To jump, or to kill Zeke instead? He's ready. Except, he listens to a voice—

Achilles Come Down

Achilles, Achilles, Achilles, come down Won't you get up off, get up off the roof? You're scaring us and all of us, some of us love you Achilles, it's not much but there's proof

You crazy-assed cosmonaut, remember your virtue Redemption lies plainly in truth Just humour us, Achilles, Achilles, come down Won't you get up off, get up off the roof?

[French language sample]

Achilles, Achilles, Achilles, come down Won't you get up off, get up off the roof? The self is not so weightless, nor whole and unbroken Remember the pact of our youth Where you go, I'm going, so jump and I'm jumping Since there is no me without you Soldier on, Achilles, Achilles, come down Won't you get up off, get up off the roof?

Loathe the way they light candles in Rome But love the sweet air of the votives Hurt and grieve but don't suffer alone Engage with the pain as a motive

Today of all days, see How the most dangerous thing is to love How you will heal and you'll rise above

[French language sample]

Achilles, Achilles, Achilles, jump now You are absent of cause or excuse So self-indulgent and self-referential No audience could ever want you You crave the applause yet hate the attention Then miss it, your act is a ruse It is empty, Achilles, so end it all now It's a pointless resistance for you

[French language sample]

Achilles, Achilles, just put down the bottle Don't listen to what you've consumed It's chaos, confusion and wholly unworthy Of feeding and it's wholly untrue You may feel no purpose nor a point for existing It's all just conjecture and gloom And there may not be meaning, so find one and seize it Do not waste yourself on this roof

Hear those bells ring deep in the soul Chiming away for a moment Feel your breath course frankly below And see life as a worthy opponent

Today of all days, see How the most dangerous thing is to love How you will heal and you'll rise above Crowned by an overture bold and beyond Ah, it's more courageous to overcome

[French language sample]

You want the acclaim, the mother of mothers (It's not worth it, Achilles) More poignant than fame or the taste of another (Don't listen, Achilles) But be real and just jump, you dense motherfucker (You're worth more, Achilles) You will not be more than a rat in the gutter (So much more than a rat) You want my opinion, my opinion you've got (No one asked your opinion) You asked for my counsel, I gave you my thoughts (No one asked for your thoughts) Be done with this now and jump off the roof (Be done with this now and get off the roof) Can you hear me, Achilles? I'm talking to you

I'm talking to you I'm talking to you I'm talking to you Achilles, come down Achilles, come down

[French language sample]

Throw yourself into the unknown With pace and a fury defiant Clothe yourself in beauty untold And see life as a means to a triumph

Today of all days, see How the most dangerous thing is to love How you will heal and you'll rise above Crowned by an overture bold and beyond Ah, it's more courageous to overcome

[fall0utmind]

I'm listening right now: gang of youths - achilles, come down. And your fic came to mind. Being Achilles - Marc, I don't know who would be talking to him, at the beginning of the song I think it would be his family but the part where he says: Achilles Achilles Achilles Jump now You are absent of cause Or excuse So self-indulgent And self-referential No audience could ever want you You crave the applause Yet hate the attention Then miss it, your act is a ruse It is empty, Achilles So end it all now It's a pointless resistance for you It could be a perfect mix of Marc's bad thoughts along with Valentino's cruel words. As you can see Im already mentally preparing myself.

Well fuck. That's slightly heartbreaking isn't it.

You're soooo right though, this is giving Marc's dark thoughts fueled by Valentinos cruelty to a tee.

The fic touches upon these two things a lot btw so good find!!!!!!

[fr-likes-chocolate]

Cellbit, Cellbit, Cellbit, come down

Won't you get up off, get up off the roof?

You're scaring us and all of us, some of us love you

Cellbit, it's not much but there's proof

You crazy-assed cosmonaut, remember your virtue

Redemption lies plainly in truth

Just humor us, Cellbit, Cellbit, come down

Won't you get up off, get up off the roof?

——

Cellbit, Cellbit, Cellbit, come down

Won't you get up off, get up off the roof?

The self is not so weightless, nor whole and unbroken

Remember the pact of our youth

Where you go, I'm going, so jump and I'm jumping

Since there is no me without you

Soldier on, Cellbit, Cellbit, come down

Won't you get up off, get up off the roof?

Loathe the way they light candles in Rome

But love the sweet air of the votives

Hurt and grieve but don't suffer alone

Engage with the pain as a motive

Today, of all days, see

How the most dangerous thing is to love

How you will heal and you'll rise above

——

Forever, Forever, Forever, jump now

You are absent of cause or excuse

So self-indulgent and self-referential

No audience could ever want you

You crave the applause yet hate the attention

Then miss it, your act is a ruse

It is empty, Forever, so end it all now

It's a pointless resistance for you

——

Forever, Forever, just put down the bottle

Don't listen to what you've consumed

It's chaos, confusion and wholly unworthy

Of feeding and it's wholly untrue

You may feel no purpose nor a point for existing

It's all just conjecture and gloom

And there may not be meaning, so find one and seize it

Do not waste yourself on this roof

Hear those bells ring deep in the soul

Chiming away for a moment

Feel your breath course frankly below

And see life as a worthy opponent

Today, of all days, see

How the most dangerous thing is to love

How you will heal and you'll rise above

Crowned by an overture bold and beyond

Ah, it's more courageous to overcome

——

(Song: Achilles come down by gang of youths)

(In which Cellbit is comforted by his husband and others as he starts tear at the seams because of his double life

~

Tubbo meanwhile uses his past experiences to save Forever from himself)

[little-cereal-draws]

The third verse of Achilles, Come Down is so Thomas Throne angst coded

Achilles Achilles Achilles Jump now You are absent of cause Or excuse So self-indulgent And self-referential No audience could ever want you You crave the applause Yet hate the attention Then miss it, your act is a ruse It is empty, Achilles So end it all now It's a pointless resistance For you

[tanjir0se]

Hewwo I just made myself sad thinking about Giyuu to Achilles Come Down how're you doin

"…No audience could ever want you, you crave the applause yet hate the attention Then miss it, your act is a ruse"

"…Today, of all days, see How the most dangerous thing is to love How you will heal and you'll rise above Crowned by an overture bold and beyond Ah, it's more courageous to overcome"

Thank you so much anon i am now so fucking lost in the sauce. Waist deep disheveled wandering through the sauce. Months without food or water lost at sea in the sauce. and i will be crumbling into dust thank you

[thedemonsurfer]

Every day i am tormented with the desire to make an animatic. IS it poor form to make animatics for just like.. parts of the song? this song is 7 minutes long, i dont wanna do that, but like come on

(warning for suicidal ideation)

[Verse 2] Achilles, Achilles, Achilles, come down Won't you get up off, get up off the roof? The self is not so weightless, nor whole and unbroken Remember the pact of our youth Where you go, I'm going, so jump and I'm jumping Since there is no me without you Soldier on, Achilles, Achilles, come down Won't you get up off, get up off the roof?

We got the perfect exchange here of Sun talking to Moon from the headspace, trying to comfort him.

[Verse 3] Achilles, Achilles, Achilles, jump now You are absent of cause or excuse So self-indulgent and self-referential No audience could ever want you You crave the applause yet hate the attention Then miss it, your act is a ruse It is empty, Achilles, so end it all now It's a pointless resistance for you

We got the virus talking to Moon, encouraging him to give up

[Bridge] You want the acclaim, the mother of mothers (It's not worth it, Achilles) More poignant than fame or the taste of another (Don't listen, Achilles) But be real and just jump, you dense motherfucker (You're worth more, Achilles) You will not be more than a rat in the gutter (So much more than a rat) You want my opinion, my opinion you’ve got (No one asked your opinion) You asked for my counsel, I gave you my thoughts (No one asked for your thoughts) Be done with this now and jump off the roof (Be done with this now and get off the roof) Can you hear me, Achilles? I'm talking to you I'm talking to you I'm talking to you I'm talking to you Achilles, come down Achilles, come down

We got both Sun AND the virus having a back and forth here-- the "I gave you my thoughts/No one asked for your thoughts!" bit really gets me

And these three sections are like.. spaced apart XD I'd have to do a remix or something