#anyway.......... if anyone is wondering why i am the way that i am watch death note (2006-2007) that should explain it

[miwtual]

kai @miwtual's birthday countdown celebration — day 6: favorite tv show @lgbtqcreators creator challenge — quotes get to know me meme: [2/??] television shows ↪ DEATH NOTE (2006-2007)

[acid-ixx]

Sigh.. We all should've have chosen both wally and conner...i can't imagine the faces of batfam

how to be a heartbreaker! (again &. again concept)

ft. yandere! wally west, starfire, roy harper, artemis, conner kent, bart allen x gn! neglected! reader w/ platonic yandere! batfam.

— masterlist !

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

tw: age gaps but there isn't nsfw (except for conner) and the reader is described to be older than 20 in this concept and was far ignored longer than in the og story.

a/n: happy (late) halloween! 🎃 i'm praying to the gods, please don't let this post flop, i'm in my flop era fr! because i am not writing allat for it to get ignored 💔 (just kidding i love u guys, especially to all those who comment! i read all your comments even if i'm unable to reply at times). if you guys are wondering why i didn't include all the characters, it's because this is just a drabble and if anyone likes more concepts about this, please send in asks! anyways, enjoy this sweet harem au hehe.

anon, you are so right. but let me raise you this: getting together with all your siblings' teammates. i'm not just saying wally and conner, no! i'm saying the young justice, the teen titans, all their friends and old pals— the moment you come of age, hide under the radar for a few years and eventually meet them at random. you'd be giving dick, hell, even bruce, your father, mind you, a run for his money when it comes to a player reputation amongst the siblings, and the best part (or worst part for you once it's too late...) of it all is the fact that you don't even have to keep all your little relationships with them a secret when they never once bat an eye on you until recently.

the funny thing is: you didn't even have to try to attract them. it was all them approaching you at random days and getting to know you better, with you, at your lowest point, accepting any medium of attention. at first it was them feeling pity, perceptive to how your siblings chose to focus on them rather than you, but now it's them chasing after you because you're so interesting in every aspect; even if you find yourself average at best compared to your talented siblings.

maybe it's because you bring the normal out in them, or because you display such raw emotions and are an entirely separate being from vigilantism. either way, they find themselves thinking about you more often than their missions and that's harrowing.

and because you're such a pathetic, wet cat, so desperate for love; all the people you hit on develop a savior complex because of you. i don't just mean them finding you cute, or interesting, absolutely not. i mean you're constantly being thrown around like a prince or princess who needs a knight in shining armor to catch them when they fall, except you're constantly being carried in some other's arms even when you can stand on your own two feet.

you just have that special quality in you that makes everyone fall head over heels. it makes them fantasize scenarios of a home life with you; they could provide better than your current ones do, for sure. you'd be spoiled to death with kisses to your face, hands wrapped around your body, and a guarantee that you'll never feel alone or unsafe in a world full of danger that lurks around the corner.

that same quality may have also been your downfall.

wally west doesn't mind training all day to become stronger and faster to save you from every danger that lingers near your presence. hell, he doesn't complain anymore whenever dick assigns him some missions if that means he can pass by your room by the manor as an after-mission reward, loving it when you smile at him with the gentlest quip of your mouth as he hastily wraps you in his arms with the same amount of speed it took to run to your house. wally cherishes watching you in slow-time because he could worship every little part of his darling's expression, quelling the boredom he had for the entire day. he wants to be fast enough for his babe, not only just to impress them but because he wants them to see him as the only reliable individual capable enough of protecting and flirting with you. not everyone can measure up to his speed, no? nobody could keep up with this man's speed and he's known for taking you away whenever you're with someone else just to get a sliver of your time.

starfire's emotions become ablaze and so does her powers every time she notices one of your other sweethearts becoming too touchy with you, unable to comprehend why you're not even in a relationship with her yet. but you're too sweet and you bury yourself in her curly tresses to calm her down. at first that's enough! she doesn't understand the concept of physical affection and the boundaries that come with it as much as others but boy does she crave it when it comes to you. it doesn't help the fact that you're incapable of sometimes denying her affections and letting yourself be constantly kissed by the girl in every part of your face. she's very warm, though, and her curiosity about things foreign to her, paired with you teaching her more about your world, makes starfire adore her sweetheart's willingness and patience; it simply warrants another passionate kiss in the mouth from the pink-haired alien.

roy harper brings out a more rebellious side of you that you never imagine yourself sporting. his experiences in life and his rebellious relationship towards oliver queen, his adoptive father shapes him to who he is now; and he'd be damned if you drown yourself in endless misery like he did. yeah, it doesn't help that lian loves you as much as he does and he thinks you're the perfect match for him, watching you play with his little girl and care for him whenever he's injured does wonders for the fantasies that plays itself in his head, all scenarios of coming home to you after a hard day of work, just to see you and lian greet him the moment he enters your shared house with him, kissing him in the lips, telling him about the wonderfully prepared dinner you and lian whipped up for him, and watching your eyes widen at another bouquet of your favorite flowers he bought home for you. you're not in a relationship with him at all but can't a man just dream?

why dick wonders every damn time one of his friends ditch another one of their hangouts is a question never to be answered. but it's been noticeable these days that he's starting to suspect something wrong at play, especially since he's noticed tension within his comrades, and as a leader he couldn't just simply ignore the tense glares, insults to their being, and the hushed whispers; all pet names, a mantra they're used to calling you.

but dick doesn't take it seriously until it's too late.

that his baby bird long fell off the nest years ago, taken into the arms of whom he thought to be his most trusted comrades, thoroughly loved more than he could've given you. and it's not just one person smitten with you; it's an entire harem of people unwilling to share you just as much as dick who'd soon realize that he shares far more similarities with you; a heartbreaker, yet a caretaker at heart.

it's no wonder why everybody wants you for themselves. it's not only your family who loves to hear your precious laughs and gentle hands; that sets the jealousy ablaze in his heart.

jason never thought that artemis carried a softer version of her. but he's been picking up telltale signs of her donning dangling keychains, all cute doodles of her no doubt, and necklaces he's sure he's seen around the manor at times. it's not her typical style, and she never really found the appeal with cute things like crochet plushies of her; yet the designs are oddly reminiscent to someone he always called his angel. but whenever he tries to bring the topic up, he only receives a snarky reply, a protective hold on her things, and a familiar phrase telling him to mind his business. he isn't aware of how she met you one time after you've nearly been crushed to death by a car accelerating at you, if not for her taking the blunt end of the hit. ever since that day you've been seeing her regularly by alleyways watching over you as your guardian and giving her tokens of appreciation, albeit small, that she keeps as her prized properties; ones nobody has special access to touch. she's not much of a heckler for physical touch, but she occasionally gives you a head scratches and the rare peck to your lips.

jason doesn't like how jealous he is towards her, because of how the would-be stranger treats her and why he can't seem to pinpoint the primal urge to rip those little trinkets from her. sometimes he feels like a man possessed, eyeing the keychains and the random pastel bracelets longer, all warranting the same angered glare artemis reciprocates.

he swore he's seen them before, splayed across the random rooms in the manor, some even being in the library; things he loved to fiddle with whenever he was bored out of his mind. so seeing them being proudly displayed by artemis triggers visceral reactions within him.

but could jason do anything about it when he's part of the reason why your roster consists of your family's comrades? no.

if you couldn't get attention from your family, you'll just have to get it through their affiliations. yeah, some are older than you, but god are you treated like divinity with just how willing they are to kneel upon your feet just to gain a crumb of your attention. even the strongest lay weak whenever you look at them with disappointment or sadness with your wide, captivating eyes.

all the times tim drake would be with teammates, he'd notice how their eyes look at him expectantly, as if waiting for another one to accompany them. at first he ignores it, but the longer their strange behavior persists, he begins opening a case about his close friends.

he soon realizes that conner has a record of mentioning "his cute little darling," and how he'd brag to his other friends about how left his jacket and all his favorite t-shirts in your room and how you're always drowning in his scent— always quiping about just how much it smells like you and how he enjoys wearing all his clothes right after you wear them just to get a whiff of your presence in his life; you being his motivation to fight against crime just so he could see your pretty face and tell him you're proud of him. undeniably, he's the one who spends the longest time with you and he's prideful about it, being the only man with the privilege to touch every part of your skin, wishing to melt against you just so he'd be branded in your body like how your name is the only sweet thing he can taste in his mouth.

it's not only conner, but bart allen would bounce around more often demanding that it's unfair how conner gets everything and how he gets little time with you, with just how often you get thrown around by all your love interests! he'd admit just how cute he finds you whenever you coo about him and play with his messy locks of hair whenever it's his time of the week to visit you right after missions. spending time with him is arguably the most casual part of your life, because he loves to help you with your daily errands despite him complaining about the same tasks to his other teammates... he says it's because you stimulate every part of his brain to find satisfaction in every small action that you do, but it's not only that, rather, he wishes to gain all your praises that you sing for him, never finding boredom in your presence at all.

tim's the first one who pieces the jigsaw puzzle together, but he's thoroughly astounded either way at just how smitten they are with you. it makes him open an entirely different case that's just about you; where he discovers how you're connected with nearly everyone close to him and his siblings.

it makes him wonder what makes you all the more interesting. it's how exactly he spirals into a periodic cluster of events investigating your entire life and drowning himself in work, terabytes of files each analyzed carefully— all about you, your past, and present situation. tim drake never saw a person this admired that much, so much so that online stalking lead to physical stalking.

all your dm's are spammed by countless people, and you don't even take the initiative to reply because you'd be too busy being tossed around by the time the vigilante tracks your location. it's honestly amusing at first but the longer tim become a third perspective to your life, the more he craves your physical presence, just to get a taste of dissecting all the thoughts in your brain. but with just how often their friends fight over you, it'd be hard to rip you away from the clawing hands of all your admirers.

that's why he sets a plan into motion. if he couldn't have you to himself, then he could at least share you with the closest people he had in his life— not with all the strangers who think they know his younger sibling better than he does.

a simple document, many actually, so documents, were all he needed, with printed stacks of a4 paper compiling each and every known fact about you.

all in the name of love, he'd give it out to every member of the family in quick succession.

a hefty reminder to take back what once was theirs.

[livingsurreal]

More thoughts and theories about our favorite Necromancer

My darlings, I have too many thoughts and my obsession is running wild. (How I missed you, hyperfocus). If you have read my last meta post about our Emmrich, here it is: First Meta Post

That is not a required read however. I am still wondering why anyone is reading my word vomit U_U

Anyway, I love reading other peoples theories, so please, send me yours. <3 And a lot of thanks and love for all you darlings who make this fandom such a beautiful and nice place. Especially to @jaal-ama-daravv - who makes the most beautiful videos, and writes such wonderful character studies.

Warning, from here on there will be spoilers as well as mentions of sex. If you don't want to read about any of that, do not read the rest.

Also pictures and way too many words. This is a ten page word document, save yourself while you can. I tend to go off on a tangent once I start writing. I am also well aware that not everyone will agree. This is just my personal read on Emmrich.

Now, after my first essay I have some more thoughts on Emmrich and Rook and specifically their intimate relationship.

Emmrich is such an interesting and baffling contradiction. On the one hand he is confident, self-assured, all manners and poise. He is smart, and he knows it. He has special gifts, and he knows it.  He is confident without being proud. He likes to teach others without being arrogant. He still likes to learn about new things and is, as far as I’ve seen, never judgmental about different beliefs and ways of life. (Unless someone treats him with disdain or bully him)

He is a man who is confident speaking of his thoughts and feelings and fears. How he just casually drops his thanatophobia is just astonishing. He is honest and open-minded in the best ways.

And then there is the other side of him. The wet kitten side of him. As open and honest as he is about his emotions, when we get to the meat of it, to the scary bit, the real feely bit, he locks up completely. As long as it is surface level (or he can pretend its surface level), everything is up for discussion. But once we reach deeper and touch *love* he gets so scared and refuses to admit and commit to his feelings. And as much *death* scares him, love scares him more.

So how does that influence his intimate relationship with Rook?

According to the banter with Lace “everyone knows about it”. He was rather surprised by that.

That tells us two things:

They were trying to be sneaky or at least keep their private business private.

They failed, massively.

Add to that Laces comment about them moving rather fast (when, where? I would have loved to have seen that. Comments like that just give me the feeling that we should have had some more cutscenes after the dinner date, to show us those two besotted fools).

But back to them moving rather fast. I would guess that they both did a lot of gazing lovingly at each other, blushing, spacing out while watching their darling, stollen kisses in the hallway when they thought no one was watching, stuff like that. Just being to besotted fools.

But moving fast usually includes sex. Lots of needy, sweaty sex. The inability to keep their hands of each other.

That moves us to the question of the day – did they have sex before their coffin time?

Let’s look at what we know about Emmrich. Emmrich is no virgin. That man has experience. He had past lovers. But what he tells us at that sweet diner date – “nothing serious for years.” We know not much else besides his crush on a boy in his youth and his fling with the Orlesian Art Lady. He is not someone to kiss and tell and that is appreciated. That man has class, and we love him for it.

So - nothing SERIOUS for years. If he hadn’t had ANY relationships in the past years, he would have said so. But what he says is that he did, in fact, have UNSERIOUS relationships in the last few years.

I would read that to be somewhere along the “fwb, lovers, affairs, paramours, companions, a fling, a little romance” line. Something not purely, but mainly physically driven. Someone you like and respect, you can go out and have a good time with, have lots of amazing sex with (b/c he is a living being and has his needs). Spending time with people he liked, was sexually attracted too, but nothing as serious as love. A physical relationship. A little thrill, some fluttering, but never that deep.

Not to say that those situationships would not have been romantic. He is (buried under all that resignation) a deeply romantic man. I am pretty sure he went on nice romantic dates with his previous paramours too. That this is something he just enjoys too much. Treating a companion with some quality time, not just in, but also out of the bedroom.

But after he’d given up on his dreams, he did not have any notion of those flings being more than a “enjoy the moment”. There was never the expectation of deeper feelings, beyond friendship, attraction and/or respect. All those romantic gestures were nothing more than a little bit of “play pretend”. To give himself the illusion of true romance, just for a little time.

Take the fact that you can go a “everything you do is creepy but I still flirt with you and I want you to throw me over that tombstone” and his comment on “the attraction of the forbidden”? This is not a relationship born of mutual respect and deeper feelings but out of purely physical attraction. And he is OK with that.

I want to repeat – Emmrich is very much okay with a casual, sexual affair. He does not require love to have a relationship with someone.

And then think about that Johanna calls Rook specifically his “paramour”. Which is a lover, especially an illicit one. This word was very specifically chosen by Johanna. For various reasons, I would think.

For one, I do believe that it is a dig at his dreams of the eternal flame. It’s a dig at him, that Rook is not his love, but his paramour. A lover for a time. To be parted from soon enough. B/c that silly dream of his, as if it ever would become reality.

Second, I think it is a comment on the way his relationships often went, especially in the past years. Those unserious flings of his. Never to amount to anything substantial.

Did he try to have something serious in the past? Oh yes, for sure. But it never worked out. Then he gave up his dream and just let himself have a good time with people he found to be nice and attractive.

To pick up my point of self-sabotage from my last meta post – I’ve come to a point where I believe Emmrich is a kind of chaser. I know someone like that and it’s so fucking tragic.

Emmrich feels deeply and strongly. When he falls in love with someone it’s a lot of emotion. But at that point it’s all dream, want, wish. As soon as someone returns these feelings - those dreams, wants and wishes become reality. And reality is scary. In this wishful dream about the eternal flame, there is no fear. No fights. No loss. But that is not reality. As soon as it becomes reality, he gets scared. Before, his feelings were no threat, because you can’t lose what you don’t have. Once those feelings are returned, there is a clear possibility of losing, of being lost, of being left behind.

Emmrich is not a chaser because he enjoys the hunt. He is a chaser because being loved by someone is scary. So damn scary. So, he starts to pick fights and is looking for excuses. From being the chaser, he becomes the chased. He is hunted by his fears, and his fight or flight instincts go all flight.

After years of this cycle he gives up. Resigns himself to flings and little romances without even thinking of more. Or so he thinks. Dreams like that don’t die, they just get buried.

And I’d think that there was not many, even of those short term flings, lately. His life revolves around work and Manfred.

Now remember he comments on Rook “showing unexpected interest in a new companion”.

First of all – unexpected.

They are a daring adventurer. He thinks of himself clearly as the more boring one, compared to Rook. He never expected any of those flirts. But he is clearly flattered.

Second – companion.

That was such a weird way of saying “hey do you like me?”. This whole “companion” thing does not scream “I have FEELZ for you/you have FEELZ for me” but rather, “I think you might want to spend some quality time with me”.

The possible answers - dashing good looks, kindness, his way of words.

He feels he is fortunate if Rook thinks him good looking. Hallo, Mr. Professor, sir… Have you looked in the mirror lately? Consider that he is meticulously grooming himself, takes his exercises daily in the morning. That man does not like himself aging. I think it is a reminder of how his pending death is a step closer every day. But it shows, to him, that his efforts of taking care of himself are not in vain. Or maybe it shows him that his age does not matter. Rook finds him attractive despite (or because) of his physical age.

Rooks comment on his very charming way of putting things makes him hope his years behind the lectern have proved useful. Hey *years* behind the lectern. Again, this is a way of saying his age is NOT a problem but a benefit.

If Rook remarks his kindness, he answers “you humble me”. It’s the one answer that does not touch his age/experience/looks. It’s a remark on an innate character trait he possesses. Kindness. His whole demeanor in this option shows he is actually touched. And maybe a bit baffled. He did not expect this, at all. Its like he sees his kindness not as an attractive trait. Which he should. He is nice without TM and its sexy as hell.

The next part is his statement “If your attentions go beyond charming flattery… that would interest me, indeed”. This reads to me not necessarily as “do you have feelings for me” but as “do you just enjoy the flirting, or do you want to do more than flirting?”

And oh boy, does he want to do more than flirting. I want to repeat my earlier statement – this man has given up on love. But some little fling with an exiting young adventure who was constantly, awkwardly flirting with him? Hell, yeah.

(I want to remind you that we were able to have mutually enjoyed flirts with Dorian as fem!Inky. You can flirt with someone and still never want to fuck them. And you are also perfectly able to want more than flirting without having deeper feelings. Like sweet, dump Shepaloo said it so eloquently “Lets bang, okay?”)

Again, I want to pick up a point of my last post, that this is all surface level thoughts. I do believe that their emotional attraction and depth of feelings go deeper, from the start. But how often does it take quite a bit of time to realize one’s own feelings. Especially this wonderful, silly man whose modus operandi is running away.

Now, an interested Rook can answer in an open “lets see where this goes” way. Mirroring his rather open idea of a little romance, a fling, some quality time. Something that does not have to end in an eternal flame, but a simple enjoyment and exploration of the moment.

Rook can also reply with a “I think they do.” – What Rook actually says is “I think they already…”

And conveniently Rooks answer here is cut short by our sweet boy Manfred. They get cut short, no matter what answer you choose, but in this specific case, I am convinced this was very much on purpose. What would the whole sentence have been?

“I think they already go way beyond flattery.” (?!?) Something along those lines. But that goes into danger zone. WAY into danger zone.

If Rook had finished that sentence, at that point in their budding romance? It would have been over before is all started. Too much, too soon. Too much for him, period.

Now we have the hard lock – their sweet romantic moment in the Memorial Gardens. And he is smitten. He fell hook, line, and sinker for his own play pretend. Just a little romance, but that man is falling, fast. (Not that he would admit that to himself).

A beautiful date, all arranged by Emmrich, to spend time with Rook. Because a couple should have a quite moment to get to know each other. I mean there were menu cards with gilded edges, ffs. And, oh yes, they were “lets dig into the feelings”, he said couple. He is falling, falling, falling fast. But it still hasn’t hit him, how deep he has fallen for his darling Rook. Poor Emmrich.

Then a fight, where we really see the wet kitten side of him for the first time. A little wet, feral kitten, hissing at the hand that’s trying to feed it.

Emmrich is lashing out for no good reason (or no good reason for anyone but himself). There is no real confidence there but a desperate act of pretending. An iron (slipping) grip, trying to control himself and the narrative. Shoulders squared, back straight, an arrogant stance, raised chin, turned half-away from Rook, and a condescending way of talking to Rook.

Like I said in my last post – he is working his way up to breaking up with them. And he tells himself it’s like ripping off a bandaid. Be strong and confident and say what you have to say, and they will see the wisdom of that.

It’s only that, they don’t. Because there IS NO wisdom in what he is doing right now. They don’t take his bullshit but throw it back at him. They don’t accept his mock excuses.

Look at him here, how he looks down ON them. I can’t recall any other time he looks down on Rook, despite him being a tall king.

Especially the route where Rook throws it in his face that he DOES in fact love them. Speak what he can’t even think.

“I can’t… At my…”

“I can’t love you. At my age…” Why not? Does he not deserve love, just because he is a bit older? It’s just heartbreaking how he views himself.

And again, he lashes out.

“I am perfectly serious.” So is Rook.

“One of us has to pay attention to these things.” As if Rook is not paying attention. They got to the meat and bones of his problem in just a few seconds.

No matter what route you go here, the gist is the same. He is scared shitless, treats Rook like a child, and goes on how the is the only one thinking the important thoughts.

When Rook in reality way ahead of him. They thought about it and came to the conclusion that being with Emmrich is a really good idea.

Rook knew they were falling for someone older than them. (Even if that age difference is just a decade, with a mid-40s Rook.) They knew it, and still went with it. They are not a child who is too inexperienced and stupid to make decisions about their (love) life.

But now, here, at this moment? Emmrich treats them with disdain. Like a silly little person, who does not think things through. He holds himself above them. Physically and mentally. They are too young, he knows better.

And not once has he done that before. He always treated them as an equal. He follows them into the most dangerous situations ffs. He trusts them with his life in a fight against would-be gods.

All that fear and anger at himself that reaches a new high get redirected at Rook.

The next day they are off to Tearstone Island. That night must have been hell. For both of them. But its going to get much much worse.

In any case, Emmrich seems to have come to some conclusion or realization, because on that island? He apologizes.

They both did react very emotionally, but he came at Rook with superiority and, to a certain degree, dishonesty. All fueled by his fear. So that he is the one to take the first step and apologize to Rook instead of doubling down? An important step. As I said in my last post – he NEEDED to be called out. A sweet and nice counterargument would not have had the impact Rooks raw an honest emotion hat on him.

Emmrich “Rook? Darling? I wanted to say-“

Rook “Yeah, about that argument…”

Emmrich “(Sighs) It’s no time to apologize, is it?”

And here we have the most heartbreaking line, in hindsight. “We’ll talk back home, Emmrich. I promise.”

(Narrator: but they would, in fact, not talk about it back home. Because someone would not go home.)

One fight and weeks of horror later, they find themselves in a private crypt and finally they do more than share a kiss.

Now - to the point I originally wanted to explore with this post – is this in fact their first time? (I am sorry, but my brain is a circle and nothing makes sense)

Let’s look at what evidence we have from the cut-scene.

Rook did not know he is an early riser.

That leaves two possibilities:

They never had sex up until that point.

They did have sex, but never spent the night together.

Now what does that mean?

This depends a lot on your personal Rook and how they feel about sex in general. If Rook wants to wait, or is not ready, he will absolutely accept and respect that.

But for the sake of this analysis lets go with the idea that Rook is not opposed to sex at an earlier date.

They never slept with each other

Why? He clearly was not opposed to casual relationships in the past. What would hold him back now? Especially if you recall Laces comment about them moving fast. Why not jump into the bedroom?

Now my first crack theory is that they get interrupted, like every time. (Rook interrupted The Dread Wolf, and now he cursed them to always be interrupted when they want to have some private time)

But now, in all seriousness, maybe it’s just that part of him DOES realize that this goes beyond a very unserious relationship. That they both have deeper feelings, that spark of something greater, something beautiful.

So, he holds back. He does not give his all. He is charming, he is flirty, he takes Rook on dates. But it’s all very technical. Very performative. Yes, he is a very romantic man, yes he enjoys those moments. But there is always a feeling of control.

Those moments when you see him let go a bit (that kiss beneath the eternal lovers, “I think, sometimes you indulge me”), are so beautiful and you glimpse a bit of the man behind those walls.

He has a tell, you see. (I am telling you about it further down)

But generally, he feels very much in control of himself. And to lie with Rook? To go all the way? Too dangerous. Who knows what happens in that sweet moment after la petit mort? What secrets would his lips spill?

2. They slept together, but did not spent the night together.

They do have sex, but sleep alone in their own beds. Casual sex is fine, but to fall asleep in each other’s arms? Too much. Too real. Sex okay, but sleepy post coitus cuddly? Woah, slow down your horses.

So, they have sex, preferably in Rooks bed. First, does he even have a bed? Second, it’s way easier to leave Rooks bed after the act, than throwing them out afterwards.

Oh, and how many reasons he has. Rook needs their uninterrupted sleep; they are stressed and must have proper rest. He wants to get some reading done before he retires. He needs to look after Manfred.

Oh, he is a bad liar, for sure. He is lying more to himself than to Rook. I would think that (if this is the build up to their fight) Rook realizes that he is giving poor excuses.

And the sex itself? A technical 10/10. He knows his anatomy, after all. But his heart is not really in it. He can’t allow himself to. He holds back, keeps a tight lid on his emotions. They both are well spent afterwards, but like so much else, it’s performative. Technically very well executed, but rarely do you see HIM, the real him, behind all that performance. Whenever something slips through, he reels back and closes up.

And then we are in that crypt. Rook was gone for weeks. The last thing they said that night before were words of anger. Rook called him out on his feelings and from that point on there was no possible way of lying to himself anymore. Those feelings were there. They were real. Rooks feelings were real. And those weeks spent in desperation, trying to  get them back? Those walls came crashing down.

His true face, when all the walls are gone? You see that face when Rook leads him to the coffin. There is no pretense anymore. No performance. Just him, and all his love for Rook. The amount of emotion the animation team packed into those short moments in the cutscene? Mindblowing. Who ever crafted that expression on his face? They are the GOAT. I watch this part of that scene on repeat, and it never gets old.

So, I told you about how he has a tell, yes? Okay, two actually, but we all know surprised pikachu Emmrich. In that last scene it is resolved in the most beautiful way.

He looks down, when something touches him deeply, when he goes into his feels.

A few (way to many) examples:

And the worst wet kitten look? After the fight, when Rook leaves.

Its a look of shame. Of hurt. This man is hurting so badly.

Now here at the end we have that moment when Rook leads him to the coffin. His face turns down, like before. But here he looks up at Rook. He does not turn his eyes away but looks directly at them. Ahhh my heart.

Now, think about the fact that ROOK is leading in that moment?

In those moments where Rook leads or startles him (or is simply annoying enough so that the truth slips out), you see the most emotion from him.

Rooks flirting startles him, and he has a pikachu face reaction every time.

Their first kiss? Rook leans against the monument, and leans up, telling him without words that NOW is the time for a kiss. How can he not go for a second kiss?

That moment when Rook calls Manfred “our son”? He very conveniently ignores the word “OUR” and goes in defense mode over the word “son”. But called out on his feelings for Manfred? How can he deny them? He has tears in his voice when he says how he would not exchange this moment for anything? A real, deep emotion.

In their fight Emmrich is again all technical, all performance, so logical (or what he sells himself as logic). But Rook wrestles that moment from him and takes lead, calls him out on his bullshit.

In the crypt Rook pulls him up into a kiss and then leads him to the coffin, guiding him, taking him with them.

Most of the other times he takes the lead, very much in control. But the most emotions you get from him, are those times Rooks leads, when he lets go of this tight control over himself, or he is startled in to a reaction. For all the age difference that is played up in their relationship, in the important moments Rook is the one who guides. And he follows where they lead.

Those little moans he makes? If they did have sex before, I bet he did not make those sounds then. Where they did have some incredible sex, now they are making love. Open, vulnerable. He gives in.

And then they fall asleep together. Skin to skin, arms and legs intertwined. Their hands caressing, no sound but that of their heartbeats and soft breaths. Pure and utter contentment. In that moment nothing exists but them. Can you imagine that moment he woke up? The amount of emotions he must have felt then? This need to speak those little words? Those huge little words. He does not say them, not yet. But he is almost ready.  

Finally, they stand there, on the battlefield of Elgar’nans madness. And he tells Rook. The last wall falls. Gives the most precious thing he can give to anyone.

“I love you.”

[s7toru]

FLAWLESS EXECUTION — GOJO SATORU

in which gojo helps you escape death by recovering your memories the only way he knows how, by taking you out on one last date

warnings & tags: 5.3k, pure fluff if you ignore the ending, mutual pining where the only cockblock is the fact that you're a wanted criminal, profanities, dumb gojo and dumber fem!reader, lukewarm makeout scene, tons of bickering, amnesia plot

an impenetrable fog clouds your thoughts, keeping them apart from sparking and making sense of your situation. with a groan, you lift your head and slowly track your eyes around the unfamiliar room.

white papers with odd symbols decorate all four walls, fluttering ominously despite the lack of wind. you seem to be sitting in a chair, though how you got here and why your hands were being constrained to said chair was a mystery. the position causes your shoulders to ache as your arms are pulled behind you, tucked away using a strong knot. 

with a yank, you attempt to free your wrists but the rope only digs deeper.

"you're awake."

your head snaps up at the sound, locking eyes with the man in front of you, seated in a similar chair to yours. somehow, he makes the chair seem small. his white hair and obnoxious black blindfold is hard to ignore, which makes you wonder how you could have missed the sight of him earlier.

"who are you?" you croak, throat protesting after the lack of use. "where am i?"

"you ask a lot of questions, don't you?"

"are you going to answer any of them?"

"my name is gojo, gojo satoru." the man swings his arms over the front of the chair, leaning forward. "and you're in a waiting room."

"waiting for what?"

"execution."

"what?" the noise escapes you before you can think them through. weren't you just a normal, ordinary citizen last time you checked? there was no way the small shenanigans you got up to in your average life would ever result in a death sentence much less in a filthy, dim lit room such as this one. "listen, i think you have the wrong person. if you let me go now, i won't tell anyone what happened!"

"that's real cute, name, but i definitely have the right person."

you flinch when he says your name. "the worst thing i've ever done is illegally crack games. i'm sorry for doing that, i repent. but don't you think execution is a bit too much?"

"this isn't about your irrelevant gaming addiction. this is about the lives of millions." gojo stands from his seat and you have to crane your head to hold his eyes. "you're name, ex jujutsu student, current rogue sorcerer. on a causal saturday, you annihilated an entire clan albeit an irrelevant one, and now the higher ups of the jujutsu society want you dead. you decided that the best plan of action was to mind manipulate yourself with your curse technique and forget all about it, society and all, living instead as a normal citizen."

he circles around you, whispering the last few words in your ear. "ring any bells?"

you jerk away, wishing your hands were free so you could cup your red ears. "what is wrong with you? and no i don't remember, what is a jujutsu anyway?"

gojo shrugs. "i didn't expect you to remember. your control over your cursed techniques was always really good. as you are right now, you're simply a less interesting shell of who you once were." his hand lightly holds onto your arm and you have to twist your neck to watch.

slowly, he drags his fingers down your arm before stopping at the rope. "now that we have you in our hands again, the higher ups are going to execute you. want to know why?"

"isn't it because you think i'm responsible for ending lives?"

"correct! you're catching on quicker than when you hadn't erased your memory." even though you didn't know the you he was referring to, you still felt insulted on her behalf. "but it's also because you're useless to them in your current state. without knowledge of jujutsu, they have no use for you."

"jujutsu this, jujutsu that, why don't you just let me go before i get the cops on you, you lunatic." you growl.

his finger shakes on your wrist as he laughs. "do you think non-jujutsu people could hurt me?" gojo gives the rope a tug and the knot comes apart, thudding to the floor. your wrist fall at the loss of the ropes and you immediately pull them tight to your chest, scootching to the edge of the chair to place distance between the two of you.

with a newfound caution, you study gojo. "thank you?"

he grins. "no problem."

"didn't you say the authorities wanted me dead? why are you setting me free?"

"you aren't useful to them as you are now, which is why you're set up for death. the simple answer to this situation then, is to pretend like you remember who you are. if you do that, then they can place you on a leash and get you to do their bidding before they get bored and decide to kill you again!"

you stare at him. "so death or later death. those are the options i get?"

"i'm glad you get it!"

you clear your throat. "that's nice and all but—"

with a start, you stand up and grab the legs of the chair, lifting it over your shoulder before throwing it at the suspicious man. you made sure to put all your strength behind it, hoping to dent the ridiculous smile he had on his face.

unfortunately, the chair starts floating in the air.

with the chair in the way, gojo sulks. "that wasn't very friendly of you."

"the, the chair! it's floating? how are you doing that?" you babble mindlessly. there's only one conclusion you can reach. "you're magic."

"i'm jujutsu, technically." gojo gestures with his fingers and the chair settles back comfortably on the ground. "shall we have a talk? without any thrown chairs?"

there's a silence whilst you judge your options. there was a door in the room, obviously, but the fact gojo wasn't guarding it made you uncertain. and, you'd seen him stop a chair in the air with his mind alone. he was no longer a person you wanted to deal with.

you look back and sit on the chair he was sitting at earlier, and he rests on yours. you clear your throat, pressing your knees together and bringing your hands into your lap in hopes to appear smaller under his gaze. “sorry.”

“you’re oddly timid.”

“well,” you hesitate. “you’re magic.”

“it’s jujutsu.” he clarifies again. “and you’re made of it too. that’s how you massacred a family clan twenty one days ago and how you wiped your memory five days after that.”

“you’re saying all this but i really can’t imagine myself doing that.”

"can you imagine yourself doing anything?"

you open your mouth to question his strange words, then close it abruptly. under the spotlight, you couldn't fathom an image of your person. there were vague ideas, like the fact you had been working cooperate before this incident, or the fact that you had a cute little kitten waiting in your single apartment, but details about your likes or interests were blurry.

you swallow, but it's uncomfortable and your mouth is dry. "seriously?" you whisper. "i did all that?"

something on his face falls before he picks it up. "cheer up, name! that's why i'm assigned to your case. all you have to do is follow my orders and i'll get your memories back one way or another!"

"and the whole execution thing?"

he's still smiling as he say, "we'll work it out when we get there."

whatever comfort you felt at his previous words dissipates. "that sounds reassuring."

"doesn't it?" gojo seem oddly proud of his words. "now, you understand the gist of the situation, yes?"

"you all have it out to get me?" you murmur, somehow bitter.

"yes, and the only thing standing between you and death is your technique. and me. all you have to do is pretend you've reversed your technique on yourself and allow yourself to be used by the society. while that's happening, i'll help you actually get your memories back."

"and how will you do that?" you narrow your eyes at him. "did we know each other before the whole, you know, incident?"

"i was also a student back then. with you."

you scan him under a different perspective. "were we close, back then?" you ask.

gojo doesn't give an immediate answer. in fact, his entire body suddenly becomes rigid and his relaxed posture gives way to looking awkward.

"or not?" you murmur under your breath, looking away and clearing your throat to cover up the pause. that was embarrassing.

"we were close." gojo finally says after a moment's silence. "yeah, we were pretty close, huh."

something about his words make you think it's less that he's talking to you, rather that he was talking to himself.

it was his turn to clear his throat, readjusting his facial features to look joyful again. "you have so many questions, name. i can go through each and every one of them, but after you make your decision. it'll be useless to know all this information if you're just going to die here, after all."

"let's not get ahead of ourselves here, i don't even trust you yet. what makes you think you can recover my memories?"

that same, sad smile. "i found you again, didn't i?"

gojo doesn't elaborate on his words, allowing them to sit in the air.

there was something heavy in your chest. the entire time the two of you had been speaking, you've felt it like a persistent ache. yearning might be a word to describe it, but it was stronger, more intense, an innate emotion that kept your eyes on his. somehow, you knew his eyes would be the most brilliant blue. the thought left you curious, and before you could think it through, you were already making up your decision.

"i'll do as you say." you whisper, finally.

you shove the crepe in your mouth and hum in delight as the delicious aromas of chocolate and powdered sugars surround you. the steady bustle of the cafe moves all around you and there's a kind of comfort that comes from watching the world continue, even when you yourself had stopped moving. 

gojo watches you, sipping absentmindedly at his hot chocolate, doused in chocolate syrup and wearing a heaping of whipped cream. it’s untouched and you find such a sight a rarity, though you’re not sure why. "when i said to tell me something that might recover your memory, i thought you'd say something like seeing a family member, or visiting your workplace. not go out to get a crepe."

you lick chocolate off your finger. "you must have kidnapped me before i had breakfast because all i can think about is sugar right now." 

“whatever, just hurry up. clearly, it's not doing anything for you and there’s nothing good about this place except for its crepes.”

“and god are the crepes good.” 

he makes a face at your words, chewing at his straw. 

“are you sulking?” 

“no. are you ever going to finish that crepe or do i have to jump in and help you?”

“so you are sulking.” you hold out your crepe to him, offering the dessert with a smile. “i’m sure you’ll feel better if you take a bite.”

gojo blinks before leaning forward, taking a massive chomp and chasing after a dribble of nutella as it drips out. he misses, and it lands just above his lip. 

you giggle as he licks it up. “well?”

“i guess i do feel better.” 

your laughter cuts short, crepe pausing halfway to your mouth. "that felt way too natural."

gojo doesn't say anything, pretending to take his time chewing the mouthful of crepe he stole from you. you give him a skeptical look before returning to the more important task of figuring where the next bite should be.

should you take the bite along the edge where there was less filling? it would ensure your next bite would be the best, abundant with powdered sugar, banana and nutella. or should you take the mediocre bite near the middle making your next bite similarly mediocre? before you can make up your mind, gojo's face drops down close to yours and scarfs down the entire thing.

you cry out but the damage has been done. you hadn't even noticed him standing from his seat and heading over to you.

gojo pulls back, humming appreciatively, and wipes a thumb to catch the residue on his lips. "now that i've tried it, they really are good."

"my crepe!"

"i think a strawberry crepe would go crazy right about now."

"my crepe!"

gojo gives you a funny look. "yes, i heard you the first time."

"then you'd know that i'm furious right now!" you stand up too, intending to appear intimidating. "you ate my crepe! all of it!"

"you had a few bites."

"it wasn’t enough." you growl.

a grin splits across his face. "i hear desserts taste better when they're shared."

"whoever said that was idiotic." something in his smile makes you pause. slowly, you draw your finger up and point it to your chest. "me?"

he nods.

"oh." you crumble up the napkin in your hands, the one that once held your beloved crepe, and toss it into a nearby bin. it goes in easily, and you wonder if you had been athletic before the incident. "what were we doing eating desserts together?"

looking up, gojo was already at the door.

you hurry to catch up to him. "hey! i wasn't finished talking yet!"

"i'm taking things into my own hands." he says, strolling down the sidewalk with a confidence that has you following after. "you're not going to find your memories at the end of a crepe."

"i might." you huff, settling at a comfortable pace beside him. "so? where are we headed?"

he scans the streets in silence.

it was midday, if the bright, hot sun was any indication, and a weekend at that meaning the sidewalks were busy with excited high schoolers seeking a break and partners bonding in their quality time, holding hands and giggling amongst themselves. you peek down at gojo's empty hand and wonder why you can imagine the grooves and bumps of his fingers.

"the game arcade across the road." gojo says suddenly, and you blink away the temptation. "it was your favourite."

"claw machines." you breathe out. "even without my memories i think i remember the sensation of losing my sanity to small plushies."

"looks like i made the right choice then." gojo grins down at you, stopping at a crossing. the red light flickers to green and the accompanying beeping tells you to move, but gojo stays still.

you tilt your head at him. "something wrong?"

he pauses before shaking his head. "nothing. come on, hurry up! the arcade might close before you even step inside."

"you're the one looking like a deer caught in headlights."

"do you like deers?"

"what?"

"deers. do you fancy them?"

you blink at him. "they're cute."

a smirk splits across his face. you might be imagining it, but gojo's stride is somehow bouncier, full of energy, but you find it isn't distasteful.

as you enter, you're surprised to finding no one looking at the both of you. sure, at first sight you hadn't noticed anything off about gojo's attire but after staring at him for so long, you wonder why it was that not a single person was pointing and laughing at his ugly navy outfit. it didn't help that he was tall, towering over you as he slides a coin into the machine, and that he adorned a thick blindfold over his eyes. surely, he would be a sight that garnered attention.

"gojo." you start, maneuvering the joystick over the plushie that had caught your eye. "why isn't anyone making fun of you?"

he doesn't say anything for a while as you play. "what? why would they?"

you spare his a doubtful look. "i mean, look at you."

"what does that mean? name, use your words."

"you're not very conventionally dressed." you put it lightly.

"i think this uniform looks great on me!"

the claw misses the plushie by a large margin, and you pretend you don't hear gojo laugh. gritting your teeth, you slide in your own coin and readjust the claw. "you look terrible, like you're wearing a cosplay."

"it's the jujutsu uniform, we're all made to wear it."

"damn." you mumble, paying just enough attention to reply. the small strawberry cow plush stares into your soul, telling you that this attempt would be the one to take it home. you listen to its calling, bumping the joystick towards it. "i must have looked pretty terrible in that, then."

"you looked great." a pause. "i mean, you still do."

your hand suddenly twitches, bumping into the claw and sending it down into the pit prematurely. swearing, you watch as it inevitably misses the plushie you had been eyeing and grabs a whole clawful of nothing but air.

gojo whistles. "even without your memory, you're still as terrible. i thought losing your memories would turn you to a different person, guess you're still the same terrible player i once knew."

you whip your head to look at him. "what did you say before?"

"you're shit at the game?"

"that's not what you said. and no i'm not, you just messed me up, is all."

he's wearing that irritating smirk again and you hate how attractive you find him. "i bet i could do better."

you cross your arms, stepping back. "you’re free to try.”

unfortunately, he really is good. there’s an ease in his fingers you had lacked, a type of inherent skill that allows him to grab plushie after keychain after more plushies. at the end of it, your arms are full of every stuffed toy you could ever want, and every machine has been touched by his talented hands at least once. face framed by the heads of all of gojo’s wins, you glare at him. it pisses you off.

“whatever.” you say.

“so, still think you’re better?” gojo dangles two keychains around his finger, the sanrio characters bumping into each other as they spun. your eyes track the movement. 

“fine, you can have this win. i won’t uncover whatever cheat you used to get so many.” 

“you still can’t admit when you’ve lost.”

you huff, looking away. “i didn’t lose.” you say, but it doesn’t manage to convince even yourself. 

something flies at you and instinct has you stretching out your arms, balancing the plushies using the bend of your elbow, catching the small object easily. when you open up your palm, the small sanrio keychain stares up at you with black, beady eyes. 

you flash gojo a look and find him holding up his own keychain, the sanrio characters wearing matching sailor outfits. even though your arms are full of prizes, the tiny keychain feels the heaviest in your hands. “what’s up with you? haven’t you given me enough already?” a smile threatens to escape, but you bite down on your lip. 

gojo shrugs, trying to look nonchalant. “they’re matching.” he says, as if it wasn’t obvious enough. “my students would make fun of me if i came back with these. so i’ll just give this one to you.” 

warmth overflows in you and you laugh. “looks like you still can’t admit to being cheesy.”

he doesn’t join in and your chuckles trail off, somewhat uncertain. worried that you had offended him, you sneak a peek at his expression and find him looking strangely perplexed.

something was dawning on you, and it was dawning quickly, threatening to ram into your mind and dump three years worth of memories into your brain, him in the centre of it all.

before you can breathe out the conclusion you’ve reached, the glass window at the front of the arcade shatters, and your body dodges to the side just as something flies out at you. unlike what gojo had thrown at you moments ago, this was a less appreciated move. 

gojo hisses out a curse, reaching out to grab your hand. “we need to go.” 

there’s a sense of urgency in his voice you don’t dare to disobey, so you quickly push your pile of plushies into the arm of a confused bystander, ensuring the single sanrio keychain remains in your pocket. “what’s going on?” you ask over the chaos. 

“i lied.”

“what?”

the two of you dance around the aisles, avoiding the window as much as possible. at the off chance you’re able to glance out past the shattered glass, you make out a dark figure crouched on a building opposite to the arcade, a small red light shining from their position. customers had gathered around the front, whispering amongst themselves and you feel a spike of danger. “gojo, we need to help!”

“they’re after you, name. and jujutsu techniques won’t hurt non-jujutsu citizens, the only person you should worry about is yourself.” gojo clarifies, dragging you out into the street. “they want you dead.”

his hand squeezes yours in emphasis and you wonder why it felt so natural to squeeze back. instead of bringing it up, you say, “but i thought i had time! i thought i just needed to remember…”

gojo drags you into another building, free hand pulling out a phone. “damnit.” he was muttering to himself. “they weren’t meant to realise i broke you out so quick.” 

it falls into place in an instant. the jujutsu society had never intended to give you a chance, your execution was determined the moment your body was brought to that small, ominous room, your fate sealed when the door closed shut behind you. but gojo had other plans. he had taken you out, given you one more day with him.

and then what? you wonder. what were you to him that he would go to such lengths and betray those higher? this wasn’t the time to confront your newfound memories, but you do so anyway, squeezing your eyes shut as gojo leads you further in, embracing the rush of comfort you feel as your cursed technique loosens its grip on your soul and you remember.

three years flash past your eyes, of late night slumber parties in getou’s room watching horror movies tucked under his doona, of convenience store icecream and breaking icepoles apart perfectly, of one summer night where gojo had pulled you aside, awkwardly confessing one day early simply because you had looked so pretty under the moonlight, and the teasing cheers shoko and getou had echoed when you rejoined them. the memories come faster now, and every single one is with him. 

until they don’t, until it all halts and ends in a room covered in blood. 

you gasp painfully, pulling your hand back from his to clasp at your head. you're whole again, ambitions, love, memories and all.

gojo pauses almost immediately, looking back at you with concern. “name? hey! name, what’s wrong?” 

“satoru.” you seek comfort in his name, and relish in the familiarity of saying his name. “i think i—”

he catches you as you stumble forward though there’s no time to stand around because the both of you sense your pursuers hot on your heels. you tune your technique to the employees within the office building and skim through their memories. the layout of the block sketches out across your mind, and you grab onto gojo’s hand, ignoring his words of concern as you pull him towards where you know there will be less people. “i’m fine, but not for long if we stay here. this way.”

you drag gojo around the corner, and find yourself staring at a dead end. panicked, you glance around for anything, really anything that you could hide behind, and find nothing.

"name—"

your eyes catch a door and with relief, you rush over. "satoru, in here!" he follows wordlessly, entering the storage cupboard with only the slightest hesitation, and watches as you wiggle in yourself, slamming the door behind you.

his breath tickles your forehead and you lean into his chest, telling yourself that you didn't want to be pressed against the door if it is ever thrown open by your pursuers.

gojo breathes out your name again, low so as to avoid being heard from anyone but you. “back up a little.”

“sorry.” you mumble into his chest, but there’s little space to step back.

even though he had told you to place distance between the two of you, his arm hovers on your lower back, and he clears his throat before saying, “you’re calling me satoru again.” 

you curse him. “is this the right time to be talking about this?” you glance over your shoulder to try and sense your pursuers but gojo grabs your chin, turning it back to face him.

"forget about that, look at me."

"i'm looking and let me tell you i am not impressed." you shake off his hold. "we can reunite later, right now we need to—"

"i missed you."

you almost break your neck spinning around.

your lips quiver, struggling to hold back a stupid smile. "are you serious right now? you're doing this here?"

“well.” gojo starts. something in his voice makes you look at him, look at him properly. you can’t make out the direction of his gaze past the blindfold, but you’re suddenly conscious of his lips as they part to speak. you watch as his tongue sweeps his bottom lip, out of nerves perhaps, and maybe he’s watching you just as intently because they stretch into a smirk. 

you aren’t able to revel in the sight because his lips crash onto yours in an instant, and instincts take over to reciprocate the kiss. gojo’s hand finds purchase in your hair, fingers tangled in your strands, and his other tightens around your waist, pulling you even closer. you can only vaguely feel this happen, too immersed in the feeling of his lips and tongue against yours. you press up against his chest and run your hands up his nape just the way he’s admitted to liking before. 

he tries to utter your name but it’s swallowed up by a groan. there’s a hunger in you that you doubt could be fulfilled today, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try. 

you yelp as his tongue sweeps a sensitive spot in your mouth, and you almost whine when you feel him pull back, slightly. 

“sorry, are you sure you remember—” gojo starts, and you see his frown through bleary eyes.

you don’t let him finish, reaching up to continue the kiss, muttering a quick “please” in hopes that he will understand your need. he pulls you closer, parting your legs with his knees. 

when the two of you break away, you’re panting for air.

gojo tenderly brushes a strand of hair from your face. “does this mean you remember me?” he asks, voice hoarse, lips swollen, fingers lingering on your cheek. 

you resist the urge to kiss him stupid, and laugh instead. “would i  have kissed you otherwise? of course i remember.” the memories were overwhelming you still, and the emotions you feel carry over until the present you feels it too, smiling up at him like a lunatic.

he’s beaming from ear to ear, and you think he might go in for another kiss, but he drops his head onto your shoulder instead. “you don’t know how annoyed i am at you.”

running your hands through his hair, you hum. “why’s that?”

“you left me! and the worst way possible too, you know i still have trauma from getou.” 

“i had no choice.” 

“you could have taken me with you.” 

you fiddle with his ear. “your future’s too bright. you could, well, can, do better than wherever i shackle you to. i couldn’t drag you down with me. and hey, you found me anyway.” 

gojo straightens. “right, and now we’re being chased by some of the best jujutsu sorcerers and they want my lover dead.”

“i have you, aren’t you the strongest?” 

he lets that compliment settle on his shoulders before shaking his head. “i’m trying to tell you that you made a mistake. don’t you feel even the slightest remorse for leaving me?” 

you go on your tip-toes to give him a quick peck, but nothing that’ll last any longer. “of course i do, that’s why i left you the address to my apartment. but this is just the start, you know it too.” even now, you can feel the persistent cling of someone's cursed energy seeking you out.

he follows you after you pull back, and you should have none something like a peck wouldn't be enough to satisfy his longing.

gojo slides his hand into yours, and gives it a painful squeeze. pulling you close, he presses his lips fiercely against yours again, pushing past your weak defenses to savour you completely. it's hopeless, this kiss, all desperation and sorrow, and you taste your own regret in his mouth. but it can't change anything, no matter how hard he grips your cheek, no matter how painful he imprints his mouth against yours.

it's hopeless.

"satoru, you need to let me go." you mumble into the kiss, feeling his will break in your arms. 

your lips part with a pop and when he looks at you it's clear he's annoyed. "again."

"yeah, again."

"you have to understand why i don't want to do that, name." he says through gritted teeth. as if to emphasise, his fingers dig deeper into your wrists.

the sounds of footsteps thud faster, and the sensation of someone’s cursed energy radiates throughout the entire building, overwhelming and threatening you to come out. you didn’t sense anyone in the corridor yet, but that won't always be the case, it was only a matter of time, so you wriggle out of his hold, intent on running.

he catches your hand again, still frowning. "name."

"satoru, i'll find you, i promise."

he doesn't answer, his expression says enough.

you bite your lip hard enough to draw blood, having been already raw from before , feeling your own reluctance to part like a throbbing ache. but if a little heartbreak was enough to stop your ambitions, you wouldn't have killed that first person way back when. “i'm going to kick down the door." you say.

gojo clicks his tongue, shaking his head shortly after. "you never stop and listen to me."

"maybe give me advice i'd take and i will." you smile to show there's no hard feelings.

he chuckles humourlessly and runs a hand through his hair, "fine, we'll do it your way. just like we always do then?"

"of course."

your countdown doesn’t come out as enthusiastic as it could have, but your body moves as you utter “three”, kicking open the door and rushing out. the door slams into the face of a sorcerer, and you wince at the sound. 

gojo walks around, holding off another pursuer. he glances back at you, reluctance obvious. “hurry.” he says, and you wonder if the urgency is due to the onslaught of sorcerers or from the thinning of his patience and his desire to chase after you. 

you give him a smile because you know the answer. running to the exit, you give him one last glance and find him staring. you reach into your pocket and pull out the keychain he’d won from you earlier, and bring it to your lips. 

“i’ll find you this time.” you mouth. 

giving up, gojo nods and turns back to deal with the attackers.

you leave him as you did the day society had forced your hand, though this time with your memories in tact. if that was the case, finding each other again would be an easy task.

you let your heart be comforted by this thought as you run. 

a/n: we almost dodged the angst ending and it would have ended with "just like we used to :smirk:?" "just like we used to... heh"

[lemotmo]

Thoughts on 911 8x17...

Disclaimer: I am operating on 2 hours of sleep, because I watched 911 live and it airs at 2 am where I am. So please, do forgive any incoherency or inconsistency.

Okay, where to begin?

First things first: This truly felt like an episode of the 911 TV show I fell in love with all those years ago. It was THAT good. It NEEDED to be THAT good as well. The last two episodes were bad and we needed a winner. We got it. YAY!

There are so many things to talk about here.

One of the first things I noticed was that this episode was made up of family and found family.

We had 4 clear distinctive family groups:

1. Athena and the kids, with some Karen & Athena and Hen & Athena thrown into the mix.

2. Hen, Karen and the kids with (again) some Karen & Athena and Hen & Athena thrown into the mix.

3. Maddie, Chimney and the kids (no Jee, but their unborn child was there) with some Hen & Chimney thrown into the mix.

4. Buck, Eddie, Christopher and aunt Pepa with some Hen & Eddie and Karen & Eddie thrown into the mix.

(The rest of the post is under a cut, so I don't clog anyone's dash)

All of them were struggling with Bobby’s death in their own way. I’ll talk about all of them briefly, but I’ll dive deeper into the last one, since it’s about the Buckley-Diaz family and I love them:

1. Athena was trying to stay strong and she mostly succeeded, but she couldn’t hide her irrational anger at Chimney.

To be fair, I completely understand where she is coming from. It has to hurt to see Chimney running around, doing perfectly fine, when she lost her husband because he wanted to save his friend.

It isn’t fair to Chimney, but it’s understandable why she reacts that way.

I love how we saw her with Hen and Karen and how great their friendship is.

I love Athena when she has to respond to silly calls like the laundry call. Angela shines in scenes like that.

2. Hen is struggling with the whole captaincy thing. Part of her wants it, but another part doesn’t. I know she called the Chief that she doesn’t want the job, but I wonder if she won’t call him back to tell him she has changed her mind in 8x18?

Because if it isn’t Hen, then who?

Unless they find someone from outside of the 118 or Bobby comes back somehow? (Which I still believe is a big possibility.)

I don’t know…

I still think it might be Hen in the end. Even if Bobby does come back. He won’t want to be Captain anymore.

3. Poor Chimney. He didn’t ask Bobby to save him, but he feels guilty anyway. That has to hurt.

To be honest though, I think Bobby would have saved him even if he had been single with no kids. Bobby is just THAT kind of guy.

I love how we got to see Maddie supporting Chimney in this episode. This was something 8x16 lacked completely.

4. Ah. Wow. This episode really brought home once again just how magical and real the chemistry is between Buck and Eddie. Nothing feels forced which it did with other pairings this show has thrust upon us in the past.

Let’s break down the Buckley-Diaz family scenes chronologically:

A. The episode opening with Buck’s flashback. The way the lighting changed as soon as we flashed to the now. It went from warm and cozy to cold and sterile.

It’s interesting how this flashback was mainly focused on three people: Buck, Bobby and Eddie. Buck of course because he was the one daydreaming. Bobby for obvious reasons and Eddie because he hadn’t been in the fire station for a while, even when Bobby was still alive. They got most focus, which means that Buck isn’t just struggling with Bobby’s death, but also with Eddie’s imminent departure back to El Paso.

It also seems that a lot of the scenes in the fire station were cut. There was no talk with Gerrard… thank god. There was no grocery shopping and lots of take out in the fridge scene. It was definitely the right choice to cut those scenes.

B. Next up was the Hen, Karen and Eddie scene. This was very interesting. We opened on them talking about Buck. The way Eddie talks about Buck and how worried he is, has Karen asking the right questions here. He briefly touches on how he hadn’t spoken to Bobby in two weeks and there’s a bit of that Eddie guilt peeking through. It’ll explode in that later scene with Buck.

I also liked how Hen tried to reassure him that he was building a whole new life in El Paso and that was okay. It was obvious that Eddie didn’t want that at all. Being back in LA, being back ‘home’ as Karen repeated. (Which… I love Karen so much. She is soooo perceptive.)

LA is Eddie’s home, yes. But the way he talks about Buck all the time? This scene definitely implied that Eddie’s home isn’t just the city, the people and the 118. It’s specifically Buck.

C. The Buck confession scene was something all right. I was so surprised that it was Buck in that confessional though and not Eddie. But I guess it does make sense since Buck is trying to find Bobby in everything he does.

I love how he had his phone at the ready, because he had no idea what to say. Typically Buck! The way he felt so much like the Buck we know from previous seasons was so refreshing. He is struggling, but he is still very much the Buck we all fell in love with.

His ‘talk’ with Bobby was so beautiful. It felt so honest and raw. Oliver’s acting was on point here.

The way he is trying to honour Bobby’s last wish, trying to take care of everyone. And then Bobby’s sign! It’s such a Buck thing to believe that Bobby sent him the earthquake sign.

D. I love how Buck recognised the ‘dentist’ lady from that previous episode where she was blue. He has such a good memory.

E. Then we get to THAT Buddie scene. First of all, they are living the domestic dream together. Making arrangements on who is doing what, like going out for groceries. Love that!

The way Buck is obviously upset over Eddie going back to El Paso and the job offer. He is trying hard to be supportive, but by the tone of his voice we all know (Eddie included) that Buck isn’t all that happy about it.

The way they got into this argument, because Eddie didn’t tell Buck about the job offer and Buck found out through Ravi. It’s poetic. Eddie’s guilty little face and his ‘I was going to tell you.’ was sooooo husbands coded.

I love Eddie lashing out at Buck and using the same words from their previous fights: “You make it all about you.” It’s some kind of a defence mechanism, so he doesn’t have to deal with his own emotions. So he focuses on others and tries to hurt them, so he can forget about his own hurt for a while. It’s a classic avoidance technic. We’ve all been there.

It’s something that Eddie has done before with Buck, so no matter what happens on 911, we can always count on Buddie continuity.

Eddie knows that Buck has been spiralling, but he didn’t know how to break through. He’s upset, so he lashes out. It’s a human thing to do. So I better not see any people talking trash about Eddie and how he is evil and abusive for hurting Buck.

I already saw a few of those bad takes on Twitter. Mainly from the BT people though. Most of them want Eddie to stay as far away from Buck as possible, for obvious reasons. With Eddie there, T doesn’t stand a chance. So it’s mainly about that. But still… such a terrible take.

Have any of you ever been in a fight with someone you love before? This is the way it goes! You lash out to hurt the other person, because you are hurting as well. Eddie has no malicious intent here. He is just frustrated with himself. He doesn’t want to go back to El Paso, he wants to be in LA. He doesn’t really want the El Paso job either. He worries that Buck will spiral out of control when he’s gone. So what does he do? In true Eddie style, he lashes out.

What follows then is an absolute masterclass of acting by Ryan Guzman. Oh my fucking god! That man can ACT! He is so good! I’ve always known he was good, because we have seen flashes of brilliance like this before, but this one took the cake. He is waaaaay up there as one of the best actors on 911. Not even kidding about this. He is sooooo good. 😌😌😌

That hidden anger and guilt and the way he grabbed Buck, his face filled with despair and rage and… so many emotions all at the same time? The tears, the bending over the table, the hand gestures and him unable to look at Buck for too long… it was brilliant.

It was helped along with the wonderful writing, direction and cinematography of the scene. Oliver and Ryan both went with it and their natural chemistry shone. It was such a great parallel to the BT scene in 8x11, in the same kitchen. The way Tommy seems to avoid the confrontation by running away every single time things get real and how Eddie stands his ground, unwilling to leave and giving back to Buck as good as he can. It was poetic cinema. And in the same exact spot in the kitchen as well.

The flashback to Eddie getting that phone call broke me in a thousand tiny pieces. The way he broke down crying and how he explained the terror of having to tell your child another loved one died. Trust me… I’ve been there. Telling your kid that someone they loved died? It is even worse than having to deal with the grief yourself. You worry and fester on how you’ll tell them and how they’ll take the news. You just want to protect them from harm and you realise you can’t. It’s a terrible feeling. I felt for Eddie in that scene.

The way Ryan just broke down in tears and his ‘He saved my life’… man, so good.

And Buck just standing there, realising that Eddie was hurting as well, but he hadn’t shown it because that is what Eddie does. Oliver’s acting here was also on point. His facial expressions when Eddie broke down were so good.

And of course his ‘If I was there, could I have made a difference?’ triggered Buck’s guilt again.

Oh these beautiful idiots. They are made for each other.

But what a great scene. I understand why Kat (journalist) said that this was her all time favourite scene in the entire series of 911. It is mine now too. Ryan Guzman, the actor that you are…

F. The morning after, when Buck walked into the living room, only to find the room empty, blankets folded with a little note on top? That was so Eddie and Shannon coded. The difference is that Eddie came back. He had always intended to come back to Buck while Shannon didn’t come back to Eddie and Chris.

Buck’s ‘jerk’! EEEE! It was sooooo good! I love how they decided to add that scene. It was perfect! It fit so well in their narrative.

Side note: how did Eddie even fit on that couch to sleep on it? It looks so much smaller than the previous couch and he is a big guy.

G. The way Buck saved that woman from her bathroom? The way he seems most at ease and happy in those kinds of situations? This makes me feel pretty sure they won’t go for Captain Buck anytime soon. The man loves those dangerous calls waaaay too much. As a Captain he wouldn’t be able to do that anymore.

H. Buck arriving home and Eddie just standing there WAITING for him!!! AAAAH! That was such a great scene. A clear call back to the ‘detour on sunset’ scene.

Again… this scene is so husbands coded. The way Eddie clearly realised that he had been an asshole to Buck the day before and when he woke up that morning he knew he had to make it up to him. So what did he do? He made sure that Buck’s favourite kid ever came back to LA!

Once again the parallel to Tommy walking out and never coming back, while Eddie -even if he does walk out- always comes back to Buck. Just… perfection.

That Buck & Chris reunion made me cry so hard! And Eddie looking on so fondly! I mean… that is a man in love you guys. I think that, on some level, he already knows it. It’s all there on his face.

Chris and Buck man! Pfffff… they look so alike when they are next to each other. It’s uncanny! The show knows this and they are using this to show us just how much this family belongs together.

Aunt Pepa!!! Complimenting Buck for his cooking in THAT kitchen, heavily implying it’s still the DIAZ KITCHEN and Buck has a spot there! Evancito!!!! Carinõ!!!! WHAT IN THE FANFIC HELL IS GOING ON IN THAT SCENE???!!!!!

And Chris looking at Eddie in the end, him looking back with that smile? This just screams domesticity and love. Eddie and Chris love Buck so much.

The way we see Buck smiling and obviously feeling so much better. Eddie knows that Buck needed to get outside of his own headspace and gain some perspective, away from his Bobby spiralling. It worked so well.

Especially that aunt Pepa talk did wonders for him. The way Buck was staring at Eddie and Chris and Pepa automatically using ‘our Eddie’ in their conversation, including Buck into their family? Perfect!

Aunt Pepa talked to Buck the way his mom should have talked to him. Telling him he should face his grief head on and own it. They are a family your honour!

Some miscellaneous stuff:

I still don’t really like the way this show redeemed Gerrard, but I do like him in this episode. He has finally understood that it’s important to respect the firefighters under his command. Bobby’s influence in action, no doubt about it. His proud look when the 118 figured out a way to bring the water to that burning building was interesting.

Spiritually? Bobby was everywhere in this episode.

That last scene with the building exploding and that piece of rock falling onto Athena’s police cruiser. That was so well done!

In conclusion:

This was such a good episode that harkened back to the 911 we all fell in love with. Even the calls and emergencies just felt right. The dentist call, the laundry call from Athena? They were all so good and wholesome! Call backs to previous people they saved as well!

It was just a really good episode. And I know that IMDB ratings don’t really mean anything, but I still love how we went from the 3.2 for the last episode to the 8.9 for this episode. Good times!

As for that trailer for 8x18?

Chimney and Athena stuck together? That will be soooo interesting to watch unfold. Sparks will fly! They can’t avoid each other now. They’ll have to work together to get out of there.

As for Buck and Ravi stuck as well? With the bts of Eddie in his white henley? Yeah, Eddie will get that phone call, realise that he is not losing anymore family (especially not his partner) and he will walk right into the fire station, ready to assist.

I’m expecting something big Buddie-related. Maybe Eddie’s realisation that his home is LA and especially Buck. Or maybe Buck realising that Tommy was right about him being in love with Eddie.

Or hell, maybe both at the same time!? What do I know!?! 🤷‍♀️

And Hen will be there coordinating and finding a way to get them all out safely. I really think she might just realise that she’ll want the job of Captain anyway.

Who knows? All I know is that we’ll have lots to talk about during hiatus!

I’ll be sat though. I’m so excited!!!

[yanderes-galore]

I may have Yandere Alastor desperate and insane... Topo remember the last chapter where Alastor goes insane after the battle of Adam... Now imagine another reader goes looking for him and finds him in this state... Perhaps the reader tries to console (the reader has a pure soul)

Having a pure soul in Hell? Ironic. However, maybe that's why he wants yours so bad? Just going to say this, I am not the biggest fan of how this came out. This was meant to be how you're meet your yandere but Darling seems so out of place in this prompt :( I'll take feedback on this as I can probably do something better in the future.

Aftermath

Yandere! Alastor Short

Pairing: Dubious

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, OOC Alastor, Manipulation, Possessive behavior, Sadism, Forced companionship (?)

Vulnerability... Alastor has always hated such a thing.

Even more so when he's driven to it.

Alastor doesn't like being vulnerable. He's used to being powerful and showing he's powerful. He likes it when people fear him.

But here he is, nearly at the brink of death because he tried to help Charlie and her friends.

Friends... How funny...

He hates this damn deal he has.

Alastor feels he's going feral as he sits in his old radio tower. It hasn't been touched in years and clearly has fallen into disrepair. Despite it all... It remains a temporary sanctuary for him to lick his wounds.

The others must be so happy... all smiles at their big victory...

Yet he's here cleaning the blood off his suit.

Alastor is used to being alone. He finds comfort in the silence of the radio tower as he listens to his own labored breathing. It's a small respite...

Until he hears footsteps.

The deer demon turns around quickly when he senses a presence in the door way. He's shaking, weak, and he hates it. The sinner in front of him looks much weaker than him...

Yet he glares anyway.

You had heard strange noises coming from the old decrepit tower. A combination of thunking and pained noises. Being curious, you entered to find out what was going on.

Only to be confronted by one of Hell's worst monsters.

"Well isn't your concern cute..." Alastor dryly comments with a laugh as he tries to be charming. "Your fear is better."

Alastor expects you to turn tail and run like most demons. He could see you quivering yet you never ran. Were you frozen in fear?

Then you snap out of it, approaching him like he's a wounded animal.

You notice his wounds and he thinks you're a fool. In fact, your behavior reminds him of Charlie and it makes him wonder just how you got into Hell. You perplex him...

Which is why he recoils with a growl when he sees you try to touch him.

"Do you need help...?" You ask and Alastor still looks unhinged when staring at you.

Help? Alastor doesn't need help. He's fine alone. But... The idea of toying with you may distract him from his pain.

"Help?" Alastor chuckles. "Geez, I never thought I'd come across such a kind sinner. You don't belong here, do you?" Alastor grins as he beckons you closer.

"You want to help, do you?" Alastor bitterly murmurs. "Fine... Entertain me, then. It will help."

Alastor originally called you over to provide him begrudging comfort. Yet as time passed and he healed, he found your soul... sickeningly sweet. It's hard to believe you'd do anything all that horrible.

Alastor is not someone who typically enjoys being vulnerable to anyone. Yet he found himself watching you as you chatted to him. He leans on his hand, ears flicking as he seems oddly calm.

If he didn't know any better, he'd think you were meant to be a fallen angel.

It's actually... Nice to be in your presence within this rotting tower.

Alastor makes dry comments or charming muses towards you, only to see you smile. He hates to admit it but his ears perk up when he sees your smile. You're charming in your own right....

Alastor doesn't let you touch him, but the idea is intriguing to him. He finds himself wondering how it would feel to have your comfort all the time. Then he thinks about that strange soul of yours...

He has an idea.

"My dear, have you ever thought of getting out of here?" Alastor hums, a large grin on his face.

"Out of this tower?"

"No, silly... Out of Hell?"

"That's... an option?"

Your curiosity is amusing yet oddly adorable as Alastor clicks his claws on the tower's metal. He nods with a chuckle, already plotting on what to do with his new toy.

"There's a new hotel a friend of mine is hosting..." Alastor continues, placing a clawed hand on your shoulder. "She says she can redeem sinners and I think you've got it in you... Want to give it a shot, doll?"

At your nod, Alastor can't help but feel giddy. It's great that you agreed so readily. You're probably so desperate to have a different afterlife...

Yet he's taking advantage of you.

"Here, take my hand, we'll work out all the details later..." Alastor encourages, holding your hand in a firm handshake before he pulls you closer. "You'll be a great new guest. I assure you, you'll be taken care of."

In reality, Alastor wants to introduce you to the new hotel in order to continue having you close. You've piqued his interest and now he finds himself wanting more. Surely you should know to not trust a charming face?

Too late now, it seems... as Alastor is already tugging you through a portal. Could you be redeemed? Maybe.

But Alastor was never going to allow that to happen... No, Alastor wants to corrupt you more...

You'll think he's helping you... You'll trust him...

Yet the second you agree to a deal with him, thinking he's just trying to help, you'll be all his and there's nothing you can do about it.

[cypher-writer]

Yandere Emperor ✷

Male!Emperor x GN!Emperor!reader

Reader/Y/N refered to as They/Them but also as Emperor

Warnings: not very detailed gore, swearing, blackmail, manipulation, depictions of self harm (hair tugging from reader), yandere themes

Y/N is "insane/crazy"/mentally ill (Y/N is not in the right headspace throughout this entire story. They have multiple violent thoughts and outbursts and similar symptoms that could warrant in mental illnesses such as IED, BPD, PTSD or ASPD ((I am not a mental health professional)). If you have thoughts such as these depicted in the story try to reach out and talk to someone about your experiences and search for help! This story is not a diagnosis or confirmation that you have these mental illnesses either as these symptoms can be common in 'normal' life as well. Consult a professional for genuine concerns.)

Word count: 3.3k

There are books written of the unbelievable and inspiring rise of the L/N empire.

The way it was starting to diminish after it fell in the hands of your fathers rule and how every other land was already eyeing up the land you've harbored after many centuries of growing.

You remember sitting on a chair in the ballroom as your father swindled other women right in front of your eyes, partying as if everything's alright while you watched and could only count the days till some foreign kingdom wagered war and took over everything you held dear. The days were nigh, you knew it. But back then all you could do is sip tea and keep face.

Your poor mother had it the worst, gosh, you love her so. She was the best mother you could ask for and more. She spent her entire life caring and doting on you, raising you to be your very best self. You learnt from her and looked up to her. Something you wouldn't ever even think of doing to your father.

It was even worse knowing that that excuse of a blood relative would woo other women even if your mother was in the vicinity. You hated him. You hated him so much there isn't a word that could describe how much you truly loathed him, how much you wanted to strangle him every night for putting anyone in such pain.

In his eyes, it was fine, he was emperor after all, no?

That title he took for granted so easily was ripped away from him just the same. The same way his heart was ripped out and left beside his empty beer jug in a bloody mess that one night after he got too drunk to stumble back into his bedroom, landing in the gardens and perishing somewhere in the dusk. Truly devastating how the murderer was never caught.

The title would have then fallen momentarily onto your mother, but she took a bit of a mental hit from her husbands death (even if he was cruel) and just couldn't rule while grieving at the same time. There was an uproar of doubts from the townsfolk as they panicked of who would take care of their land next? You wondered the same, till everyone's eyes landed on you.

You, back then a teenager who did not plan to take over so early, but didn't mind in the end anyways.

You took the reigns as fast as possible and finally fixed what your father was too 'busy' to care about mending, upgrading the army, listening to the people's pleas and of course, continuing to progress in the growth of your empire, spreading further and further.

In no time you were known as a crazy tyrant, taking risks that have never been even thought of that before. Although, that wasn't the crazy part of 'crazy tyrant', no, the crazy part was that it all actually worked. Every chance was in your favor, somehow. You didn't know why either, but to be fair you did not care. If good luck was on your side you did not wish to bother it with endless questions.

The tyrant part was mostly a fancy noun to add onto the crazy. You weren't a cruel leader to your people, you cared for each one and took real responsibility in everything you had to he involved in, but you sure as hell were cruel in war. You didn't hold back, you didn't second guess. You took your sword and used the mastery of your hand to gain back the land that should have been yours already.

Emperor L/N, that was you. It was your title. It was your Empire, the biggest in the Fucking world.

And it might have gotten into your head a bit. Not as much as your father, but enough to make you crave the taste of another battle, the sound of swords clashing and the smell of blood. It made you giggle with only an itsy bitsy bit of insanity, nothing too dire, nothing your mother couldn't scold you back into a clear mind for.

Truly, it didn't matter how crazy you were on the battle field or what edgy names the people outside gave you, what mattered was that you were successful and could handle your temper just enough. And you could.

...

Till that bastard came into picture. Little Emperor Kingsley. The Nepo baby of the millennia. He was the golden child in everyone's eyes, the angel of our poor, unpure world. He had everyone around his finger, it was fucking ridiculous, really.

He grew up being perfect, so much so that his people thought he was some sort of Christ. He was worshiped. He was loved. And when he reached of minimum age, he was crowned emperor. Why? Because the people— and not just the townsfolk or anyone like that, multiple, whole empires— believed he would grace everyone with his touch and make the entirety of this shity world virtuous and moral again.

But when that letter came to your throne, that elegant writing stating:

"Dear L/N,

It is with the upmost kindness and hope that we ask you to join the newly forming union of 'aureum annum' —the golden year— to aid us in-"

You didn't read the rest as you ripped the letter up and told one of your servants to throw the shredded pieces into any furnace or campfire. You had your experiences with people who think too highly of themselves. And you don't want to meddle yourself in those affairs again. So, with your own better judgement you decided to just never respond. They should get the hint.

And it seemed for a little that they did... Till Kingsley informed that he wishes to visit and talk to you about Aureum annum. You scoffed, rolled your eyes, groaned and sighed as you held back to tearing this note up as well. Your mother strongly advised you to at least talk to them, what's the worst that could happen?

So much.

With annoyance and another eye roll, you replied with a sugarcoated reply:

'Dear Emperor Kingsley,

Why yes! Come in! Why don't you come here and let me tell you in person how much I want to shove that shit eating good for nothing perfection of yours up your a-'

yeah, in conclusion you were not happy and your mother wrote the letter instead.

You counted the days until the foreboding meeting, exhaling in irritation when you realize that, unfortunately, time will not freeze and delay the eventual rendezvous. The only thing you could do is slump slightly as you kept your mind distracted by training with your trusted and iconic sword.

You really don't have a good feeling about this. You really don't.

"Today's the day." Your mother's soft words broke the silence, her hands trailing over any creased surface of your fine clothing, smoothing them out and making sure they're up to making the best impression they could. You couldn't help but chuckle at your mother's worry, trying to hide it under her facade of cleanliness.

"Mother, something tells me you're more worried about this meeting than I am." You looked down at her, trying to comfort her with a gentle smile. She retracted her hands and clasped them before her chest, sighing as her gaze lifted to yours. "I only wish this meeting goes well and doesn't end in violence, Y/N."

Your mother has strict opinions on warfare and things alike that not even god could change: unnecessary and disposable. You respected them, but couldn't help the thrill victory gave you.

You placed a hand on her shoulder, trying to ease her thoughts. "I promise to be on my best behavior, I don't want this to end in anything bad either." You did your best to reassure her that you'd play nice, pretend to be kind and not what everyone assumes you are. Are you?

She reciprocated with the same feather-light smile as her hand traveled to the side of your face, eyes proud yet almost sad. They were like that since your fathers death, you can't blame her. You never can, you never would. You just wanted to make her happy and to take her out of the constant mild pain she's in; never too big to care, but not too small to ever ignore.

"You best go now, dear." She spoke, turning away. "It's best to be there early to greet the guest."

You watched her leave and huffed. You truly don't know how this will go. You don't know much about Kingsley even if there's countless praise on him in multiple books and stories. Because that's all it is, praise. Praise isn't the truth, even if it holds some real significance. When people describe you, they'd say you were a victorious monarch with a skilled swing, but you're also crazy and cruel in battle. Your flaws spilled like ink over every page. Kingsley, there was not a single bad word you could find in the thousands of words he was talked about in. He's not human if there's nothing bad about it. Do they really want you to believe he's never had a single bad thought in his life? Not a single flaw? Inhuman, that's what he is.

Walking down the halls of your huge castle gave you time to think over how you'll act. Should you shake his hand? Should you bow? Should you just glare? A frustrated humm left your throat as you made a turn to head towards the grand entrance of the palace. Should you put up an act or just be casual? He's definitely heard of you so it'd be much more suspicious if you were suddenly this sinless soul. Might as well just blend you personality with whatever his was. A balance of good and… yourself.

You suddenly realised you were at the main gates, standing next to the guards and servants that have come early as well, making sure to impress Emperor Kingsley with their service and punctuality.

"Are you ready, my Majesty?" Your personal servant stepped to your side, one arm bent behind his back as the other was fixed in front, a white napkin draped over it. You scorned and nodded. "As ready as I can be for mr. Perfect, I guess." Your butler only replied with a smile before resuming looking forwards, his back straightened. You mimicked his posture after realising that you were slumped over.

"They're arriving!" You heard a distant shout, presumably one of the guards that inspect the people entering your empire. You inhaled deeply, keeping the breath in as you saw the grand carriage move towards you and the group of people surrounding you. An unexplainable anger surged through you for no reason before disappearing as the barouche halted. The driver who once reigned the horses stepped off, chin high as he maneuvered to open the little door facing you. You stared as it was opened and a cloaked figure step close. You were quick to come close and offer a hand of help which the person accepted with a smile, making an exit out of the carriage with your assist.

"Emperor Kingsley." You greeted, bowing slightly, guessing that it's the most appropriate action in the moment, also making sure that your tone was sweet.

"Emperor L/N." Kingsley returned, bowing the same way. You noted his elegant clothing; gold and white tones complementing each other with its intricate embroidery, details that one would appreciate. You bet each stitch was sewn in with precision you could not care for, it was futile if it was gonna get ripped out in battle. But Kingsley did not engage in battle. You did wonder why he was cloaked, you could barely make out his face, only the lower part of it. Makeup was delicately painted on his face from what you could see, his lips having a slight golden shimmer to them and his cheeks having some sort of design on them. From the sides, blonde hair poked out, silky and smooth. You can see why people called him an angel, but was he really one or was it just an act?

Moments later, you found yourself leading Kingsley towards a room specifically prepared for you to talk about whatever he was here for. Pulling a cushioned and royal looking chair for him to sit on before going to the other side of the rectangular, short table to sit yourself.

"Well then,-" You spoke first, wanting to seem engaged even though you wanted him to leave as quickly as possible. What if he was here with mal intent? What if he wanted to murder you, or worse your mother? "-I suspect you have matters which you wish to discuss with me."

Kingsley nodded, finally taking off the hood. Grey eyes peered into yours, almost looking right through you. "Yes, Indeed I do."

His voice was soft like butter, smooth and calm. "I wish to talk about aureum annum. Specifically the event of your rejection to join."

Ah, you guessed this was about that. You couldn't avoid it any longer. But in all fairness, you thought they didn't have the courage to come up to you, especially not when you have the all too known title of 'Crazy Tyrant'.

"Oh, yes. Well, I am sure you have great and ingenious plans for the union but I prefer to rule over my empire without the need to talk to others and see how it affects them." You explained with the most docile voice you could snatch out of yourself, you shouldn't need to explain why you don't want to join. You just don't want to, end of story. "And I have already so much to worry and pay attention to that I fear having more responsibility might break me." You joked, earning a small chuckle from the man opposite of you.

"That is understandable." He hummed, nodding. "I should have guessed that a ruler like you would already have a lot on your shoulders. Heavy is the head that wears the crown, hm?"

You smiled, confirming this kind-heartedly.

"Though it'd be a shame if somebody found out about the true cause of your fathers death.."

What did he just say? are you mishearing?

"…What?"

He smiled. It wasn't kind or angelic, it was sinister, knowing, threatening.

"I know what really went down that day of your fathers unfortunate death, perhaps I should jog the memory, hm?"

You felt your heart drop to your stomach, dread overtaking you. But along the dread, anger started boiling inside your chest, burning at your heart. He couldn't know. How could he?

"You hated him didn't you? You absolutely loathed him. You couldn't handle the way he was neglecting his kingdom and going of drinking with other ladies." You couldn't hold back the scowl that etched onto your face as you listened to every honeyed word he would say, gripping the dagger you've attached under the table for emergencies.

"So, that one day, you decided that it was over with him. You lured his intoxicated self to the gardens and carved his heart out, ruining the inside of his body with that sharp sword you can't seem to let go these days, leaving him gargling and pleading for mercy. Of course, you were too far gone to hear them, weren't you."

You stood suddenly, fists slamming on the table, violence flooding your mind that you somehow held back by not strangling the last breath out of him and hanging his head above your fireplace. "Shut up! Shut-"

"You were scared afterwards. At least you convinced yourself to be, you didn't feel guilt or sadness, pain or remorse. No, you forced yourself to feel the ghost of them because your mother took the blow of the emotional damage." He continued to speak. His once butter smooth voice turned to that alike of a fork scratching a plate, or a grater trying to shred metal. Your hands went to your hair, tugging at the ends harshly, you grunted at the pain that failed to ground you.

"Y-you bastard! You sick fuck!" You shouted, closing your eyes for just a moment, only opening them when another pair of hands enveloped yours and forced them out of your locks. You looked up to see Kingsley, glaring down at you. "Stop that." He said sternly.

You grunted angrily as you shoved him away from you, breath uncontrollable and out of rhythm, eyes glazed over and threatening to fall. "Get away from me! What makes you think that just because you're some worshipped little cunt you can walk in here and say that stuff to me!" You shouted at him, pointing a finger at him. "I'll have you fucking murdered! I'll let your parents watch as I behead-"

"You think that'll work out for you in the end?" His voice returned to that irritatingly calm sound. "The kingdoms that have joined my union will cause an uproar and potentially wager war on you… Think about your mother, how would she react?"

She'd be devastated. She would cry and beg for you to resolve this like adult humans and not animals, she can't go through such an even again, knowing you might not come back that one time after riding off on your horse into battle. One day that sword will have your blood on it. And she would snap, break and then in the end whittle away into a shell of what she once was. That's how she would react.

"What do you want from me." You demand, hands falling to your sides and your shoulders tensing up as you made direct eye contact with Kingsley. He smiled, hands joining behind his back.

"All I want is for you to join the aureum annum…" He replied, an innocent grin on his face. "And I want to take your hand in marriage, Y/N."

Was he being serious? You could understand the aureum annum thing but marriage? Why does he want to marry you? To control you, to diminish whatever power you have and use it all for himself? No way, not again.

"You're joking." You scoffed, truly not believing his words.

"I'm not." His voice dropped and the genuinity of it frightened you, making your hands tremble in anger. "well then, dream on. You're more insane than me if you think I'd ever agree to your idiotic terms."

"Then I guess you also don't care if the news of how your father was murdered spread, right? I mean, I'm sure that you don't actually care what others think but what about dear mother?"

There he is using the 'think about your mother' card again. You hated how it worked. You hated how you know she wouldn't look at you the same. Would she loathe you the same way you loathed your father? would she refuse to acknowledge that you're her child?

Kingsley was no angel, he was no god. He was a wolf in sheep's clothing; a demon with clip-on angel wings that he so kindly decided to take off in front of you. He was your demon.

You glared at him, thinking of a loophole or a way to wriggle out of this situation but none came to mind, especially not when it was clouded with fear and rage. You were huffing and puffing, breath too heavy to ease.

"OH fine! But utter a word about this to anyone and I swear I'll call god herself to help me slay you!" You took hold of his collar, pulling you towards him. He was as nonchalant and as calm as ever. You wanted to murder him so bad right now, but the terrified face of your mother kept invading your mind.

"As you wish, my dear.."

This might get a part 2 if anyone asks for one, but for now this is just this :) If I made any mistakes in the story pls tell me because I am not a native english speaker! I also accept asks and requests so don't be afraid to ask anything :P have a great morning/day/afternoon/night <3

-Writer/Cypher

[shiorimakibawrites]

Daredevil: Born Again Thoughts (spoilers)

Daredevil: Born Again Ep 1 & 2

Okay these are my thoughts on the first two episodes of Daredevil: Born Again. Spoilers below the cut. Do not click unless you don’t mind said spoilers.

(Gotta remember to save some Born Again gifs).

Still here? Okay, you were warned.

Pure Aesthetics

New show has a different feel than the OG. Not bad, just different. Not nearly as dark with the lighting but a lot has been taking place during daylight hours.

Beardy Matt is as hot as expected. The new glasses are growing on me. Through unless he has identical pair laying around, about to replaced anyway.

Matt leans toward the darker end of spectrum with his suits anyway but aside from some red ties, haven’t seen any light colors in his wardrobe. Even his at-home leisure clothing is dark. No more gray sweatpants it seems.

They have done some neat stuff with the lighting, painting Matt with red light at certain thematic places.

The first fight scene felt less grounded than before but I was also a little distracted during it. For the same reason Matt was. Second fight was very raw and brutal. Okay, the first fight was brutal too, just in a different way.

Plot had Matt saying ‘magical amulet’ in a completely serious way.

Lawyer! Matt. So much lawyer Matt.

Foggy’s Death

Okay, can’t delay taking about this any longer: As far anyone in the show knows, Foggy is dead. I’m hoping they are pulling Coulson here. It’s happened in the comics.

But not gonna lie, it was brutal. They kept intercutting what Matt heard - listening to Karen beg Foggy to hold on, help is coming, just hang on while hearing Foggy’s labored breathing. Labored, wet breathing. Not a doc or a nurse but I’d guess that Foggy was hit in the lung. Which meant he couldn’t even speak during his final moments. Then hearing Foggy’s heart go slower and slower, become irregular … all while I’m Matt going “No, no, no, Foggy, no.”

Even if this is fake out, fuck Dex. I hates him. I hates him forever. I know some people like him - and am not saying the character is badly written or acted - but I hate him. And I will never forgive him for this.

Matt’s pain - so much pain

Y’all, the way he screamed “Why?!” at Bullseye. There was so much raw agony in that single word.

And that Bullseye’s only response was to laugh? I would have fucking pushed him off that roof edge too.

That Bullseye somehow survived a fall from six stories doesn’t change the fact that Matt would have killed him. It was only sheer dumb luck. Suddenly Frank’s line from that teaser “They’re still breathing the same air as you…” … I can see how that conversation is gonna both deeply pain and enrage Matt.

Given that Matt withdrew long enough that Karen, battling her own grief and demons, had withdrawn too (all the way to San Francisco)... honestly kinda surprised that Matt didn’t kill himself. Wonder who had suicide watch until Matt decided that he had to make sure some good came out of this horror. Maybe Jerry (new character), maybe Sister Maggie (we don’t see her but it could have happened). Or both. Either way someone held Matt together during that critical time, maybe going “Hey, gotta get through the trial Matt. It’s the closest thing to justice that Foggy is gonna get…”

One year later and Matt is Fine. He promises. He has a nice apartment, a career, and everything. It’s fine.

It’s not fine. The new apartment while pretty is colder than the old place. The lighting is cooler - more blue, less yellow - than the loft. But I can see why Matt picked it - away from Hell’s Kitchen and all those memories. Well above the streets and the screams. Many floors between him and temptation.

Playing records or the radio to further drown out the screams. If he can’t hear it, he can pretend it’s not happening.

That he carries the memorial card from Foggy’s funeral everywhere he goes…Oh, Matty. And his victim impact statement at the sentencing hearing… it’s good but it’s so painful.

Very clear Survivor’s Guilt here.

And Matt seems more distant with his coworkers Kristen and Jerry. He’s friendly with them. Clearly cares about them. But he holds them at arm’s length. He jokes with Kristen, banters a bit, but it’s not chummy like it was with Foggy. Part of that is Kristen is a different person and he hasn’t known her anywhere near as long and still grieving… 

But I think a bigger part is that Matt doesn’t want to let anyone in that close again. Foggy’s murder gutted him in a way that only the deaths of Jack and Elektra have. And Matt knows how to recognize a pattern, thank you very much. 

Fundamentally, he just doesn’t want to hurt that badly again. And if no one ever gets that close to his heart? Well then, if (when) they die, it can’t destroy him like Foggy’s death did.

One of the trailer scenes has him in bed with Heather and even sleeping next to her, he’s distant. He’s not touching her. It’s her hand on his shoulder, from the other side of the bed. And it’s not because Matt doesn’t like her. He very clearly does in their on-screen interactions (that kiss was hot and sweet) but again, doesn’t want anyone getting so close to his heart again.

Seeing sparks of the old Matt under new Matt. The way he keeps gritting his teeth, barely holding onto his temper. Letting those two corrupt cops beat him. Until they pulled the gun, then brutually kicking their asses. Which I am interested in seeing how those cops are gonna try and spin this when they wake up. “You got beaten up by the blind lawyer? In some random guy’s apartment? A guy that Murdock claims is a witness. Care to explain officers?”

Side note: At least one of those cops as a Punisher style tattoo on their arm, where it would covered by clothing or a watch most of the time. It’s clearly a Punisher skull but there is some kind of design on the skill that isn’t part of Frank’s symbol…I know the tattoo is important because the camera focused on it. A clue that our beloved Devil doesn’t have since he can’t see the tattoo…

That scream at the end of Episode 2. Matty, you are so Not Fine. You have managed to stuff all that pain and anger into a little box labeled - Do No Open - but that never works. No matter how tightly you chain the box, it always opens eventually. 

New Characters

While I still hope to see our old friends again, I’m liking the new characters.

Kristen MacDuffie is a bit of a meddler but she means well and obviously cares. Dr. Heather Glenn is pretty, smart, and kind - could be good for Matt. If he actually opens up to her. Jerry, he’s a good egg.

Worried about Heather. Two guys in her book signing line gave off bad vibes. More overtly. But the second guy is from Fisk’s entourage I’m pretty sure but hide his British accent when getting his signed book.

Muse is supposed to be a new villain. Wonder if it is gonna be overtly creepy guy or that guy a red herring as he’s being telegraphed so strongly.

BB Ulrich is cute, smart, and go-getter. Remembers that the point of journalism is accuracy, telling truth to power. Ben would be proud of his niece, I think. Terrified maybe but proud.

Queenpin and Mayor Fisk

Vanessa seems to have settled into the role of crime lord pretty seamlessly.

Fisk is now the Mayor of New York. This can only end in tears.

Matt is right to be suspicious of Fisk’s new leaf. Vanessa might be technically running the show with the crime stuff and they have set up the campaign and public business as clean as whistle … he didn’t say stop criming, baby, just make sure none of it can be traced to me as Mayor candidate / actual mayor.

Okay, if I heard right, Vanessa had an affair.

And now, they are doing couples’ counseling with Heather. Again, this can only end in tears.

Diner Scene

So much tension.

Fisk says that he didn’t order a hit on Foggy. He kept that agreement. And I do believe him but because I am a deeply suspicious person I wonder if we can say the same about Vanessa. Granted Bullseye could have been operating purely on his own.

Oh Fisk, trying to threaten Matt with consequences if he takes up being a vigilante again? Foggy is dead. There is nothing you can do or take away from him that will hurt that badly. Threats are for people with something to lose. And while you could argue Matt does have stuff to lose…I don’t think he cares about those things to the same degree. And as demonstrated in the past, Matt can and will blow up his legal career if pushed badly enough.

Vigilantes

References made for Echo, The Punisher, Spider-Man.

White Tiger is Matt’s new client. Hector seems like an interesting guy.

People have noted that Daredevil has “disappeared”. Hector implies that he becoming White Tiger is connected “Someone has to do something and Daredevil ain’t around anymore.” (not an exact quote).

Okay, that’s all I’ve got so far.

[hermitsdump]

Sukuna's milk: rewriting the shibuya incident

status: complete [also on ao3]

word count: 8,238

tags: reader is not a sorcerer, fix-it fic, Sukuna & you, pov 1st person (I tried to rewrite in 2nd but it just wasn't as funny that way, we need the idiot narration)

contains: cannibalism, drinking Sukuna's milk, crack taken seriously, maybe technically sfw(?).... violence, but nothing worse than canon, vomit, some character death but it's different than canon, no manga spoilers (I wrote this before reading it).

a/n: the chapters were so short i decided to make 1 post instead of 10. This is the funniest thing I've ever written, I read it several times a year. But not today, I would not have the courage to post it.

Chapter 1

Maybe at first, I forgot to eat. But as the deadline grew nearer, I became too anxious to consider food. And now, it's Halloween in shibuya. I wanted to go out. To do something fun and dress up. Or at least make it home, before the streets were crowded with drunk people. My coworkers have plans, costumes and now distance from this place... 

It's just until I'm not the newest hire. Hazing is only temporary. 

I blast nightcore music in my headphones, pushing away how creepy the Empty office is. Even during peak hours with sunlight, I swear the place is haunted. 

But then again, stress and sleep deprivation can convince anyone of hallucinations. And they'd never speak coherently, anyway. Just lurking, And no one else seemed to notice.

I stretch out of my chair. It's gotten late. And I am desperate to get out of here. I put my headphones away. And i stumble to the first floor. 

As fast as I can. The empty building echoes with. Some strange noise. Like it wants to collapse on me or something. Outside, the air is thick with sulphur and smoke. Are they doing fireworks now?

 No, that's not right. I collapse on the edge of  an alley. The streets are empty too. But there are two creatures very much alive. Attacking each other with flames, like some bizarre night demons. Are they flying? The shorter one keeps getting thrown into buildings. So maybe it is safer to be outside. At least whatever this is has scared the drunk people away and I won't have to worry about stepping in vomit. I'll get out of here soon. Stop being so lightheaded.

 The fight draws nearer. And I can see them closer. The one who is clearly winning this fight… Has four arms. Human? The other one has one large eye and a volcano on his head. I haven't really seen anyone like that before. But if I still have my job after this, I might see him lurking around the corridors or in my peripheral.

They're far enough away that I can't hear what they're saying to each other. But it seems that it's coming to an end. The taller, more humanoid figure stands across from what looks like a pile of ashes on fire. It has the same slumped shape, now only recognizable by silhouette. 

{Why was a curse spirit crying like that, anyway? Sukuna wonders, bored after killing Jogo.}

“Yo, that was sick. Nice,” i say from my spot against a wall, not expecting to be heard by anyone. 

“Yes, thank you. It's good to be acknowledged.” he steps nearer. “But why are you so weak? It's like you haven't eaten.”

“Yeah, maybe that's it.”  my voice is tired and careless, almost completely monotone.

“Well, why dont we cook up some of these arms? It would be a shame to let malevolent kitchen burn empty.”

I shoot him a weird look, uncertain how serious or funny he meant to be.

“Oh, come on. It could make you stronger! Or kill you," his voice sounds like it came from someone else on that last part, then returns to its usual growl. "And I can regenerate. Watch.”

He removes one of his 4 arms, somehow sliced smoothly without a weapon, then tosses it into a fire. “See? There.” it grows back as if he were putting on a sweatshirt and the sleeve had been rolled inside itself. I look down, feeling sicker.

 “Oh well, i tried.” he paces away, glancing up at what's left of the city.

I stare when he steps through flames, reaches for something, and comes out unmarked. He then eats his old arm like a giant turkey's leg at a renaissance fair. 

It actually smells pretty good... at least among the stench of burning rubble. its charred skin even looks edible, inanimate.

“Change your mind? Here,” he rips off a finger and throws it precisely into my hand. I am hungry and in need of food- that could be enough on its own to explain the nausea.  the finger is wrinkled, crispy, and ethically sourced. I try to eat it like a chicken wing. 

It isn't bad, the texture is pretty good and no spices were available. Maybe better if i close my eyes.

Maybe not. My teeth touch bone thicker than a chicken wing would have. I flinch and it slips away. When i catch it the long black fingernail presses against my hand. The feeling of that took it too far. 

my palms collide with the ground, vomit spills between them. When it's done I turn away from the mess, slump into the wall like an alcoholic, the tremors of sickness setting in. i feel so much weaker than before. That isn't good. No one human is here now. only those who are dangerous had the capacity to stay behind. And me. Why me? 

Tears begin to slide down my face. Pathetic. No easy death and no strength for me now. 

“Aww, feeling dehydrated now, are we?” the demon's voice still rough and playful. “Oh, whats this? It seems my chest is crying too. Well, that's odd.”

he picks his half-eaten finger off the blacktop and flicks it away. Then he lifts me up, and when my vision focuses,  I'm on top of a tall, mostly intact building. The orange glows from below outshine the stars tonight. Smoke obscures the distance, blowing least of all where we are.

“Come on now, help me with this.”

“What?”

He sighs and gestures to his chest.  “You'll have to drink this out of me.” he sounds slightly defeated. drops of milk are dripping down from his nipples. 

“That's weird,” i whisper through a painfully dry throat.

He sits with his legs crossed in and pulls me up to sit in that nest. Something about the scent, or pheromones, draws me in, something sweet and promising. Or maybe desperation for a drink. I begin to lick the drops away. 

“I'm guessing it had something to do with you crying. that makes mommy tiddies cry too, right? And maybe you're like my child now from eating that finger… hmm…”

I'm a little surprised that a cannibal’s breastmilk could taste the way it does. Not strong, but sweet and cozy, like some spiced holiday drink. It's good, so i latch on, beginning to suck desperately at his nipple. 

His arms seem to form a cradle, the way they support me. The heat from his body radiates onto my skin and filters down my throat.

“I guess i'll tell you how this works. So I was alive during the Heian era, just as I am now. Ryoumen Sukuna. When that life ended, i had a choice: to have my 20 fingers preserved and hope that some mortal would consume them, and then i could live on in their body. Which is i guess doable, but not ideal.

Option 2 was to become a curse womb, and essentially reincarnate when enough chaos and blood would have spilled in my name. Which, as you can see, is what happened here tonight.

Although I did just kill the curse that seemed to want me here the most.”

i let go of his nipple, and give it one last wide lick.

“Good, now get the other one dry too.” 

i wrap my arms around him and reach for the next nipple. He only has 2 of them, but 4 arms and 2 faces. my mind wanders… what if they were different flavors… but it tastes the same.

Chapter 2

“Well. How do you feel?” Sukuna looks down on me, one of his big hands still spread out, supporting my head.

“Do you think it's also poison?” i ask, remembering that his finger could have given me strength or death, but i threw it up.

He sighs. “Ah, well, who knows? I'm sort of a human-curse hybrid now, so it might not have the same effect as some old relics. But even then, I was the king of poisons as well as curses. So… Poison or immunity to poison? ah, who’s to say.”

“It was…spicy, sweet and warm. I don't seem to be allergic.”

 “I didn't ask for a review. Spicy, sweet and warm? What the hell is this,” his voice trails into a mutter. 

“Oh, uh, i feel better than before.”

“Well, that much is clear.” he stands up. my tremors had faded, but now the autumn night air replaces his body heat, and i fight a shiver.

“Oh! something interesting is happening. Let’s go.” two arms hold my body to his. a blur of black, grey, and orange passes by. It feels like we're flying and falling erratically, changing direction without slowing down. He drops me off next to some guy with spikes of bloody black hair, his head seems pinned to the dented metal door or wall behind him. 

“You stay there,” Sukuna orders, holding a glowing white aura to the unconscious dude, keeping his back to the wall as well. “Watch over him. And don't either of you move from that spot.” 

i sink down next to the guy who's crushed like a bug, afraid to look toward whatever sukuna was keeping in his sight. What could have thrown someone like this? Something worse than the volcano creature…  His clothes are also bloody. No sign of awareness. i reach out and rest my hand on the top of his shoe, then look toward the figures in my peripheral. 

Something like an ancient god, tall and broad, pale and naked with wings for eyes... its attention on someone small, dressed like a caveman with a high blond ponytail and an aura like the stench of dried blood. He tries to run away without grace. A car slams into the ground to block his path. 

“Coward! You've clearly brought this on yourself,” Sukuna scolds.

 i can't tell whether that guy is a curse or a human, the way he's so small and perfectly humanoid, but no less vile. The type that tortures for fun, but can't handle any pain himself. He crawls under the car. 

Sukunas pins the vehicle down with another, then takes the godly fight away from the area.

 i keep my eyes on the cars he threw. No pool of blood spilling beneath them. What if he comes back to kill me, or worse? If i start crying, sukuna might get the signal. Though he went through the effort to not have me ruin his fun with milk-leaking nipples. i feel stronger now, but without concept of what kind of strength, or how to channel it.

Noise from their battle reverberates through what is becoming a wasteland. He's clearly having fun, offering a display of great destruction and power….but also showing distance. 

And speed.

Sukuna returns with a forceful fall, undeniably ending the evil kid with a modern Giles Corey type of death.

 “Hehe,” he grins widely in a squat on the car that's been crushed like an aluminum can. No sign of his godly opponent. 

“What happened?” i ask, remaining in place like he told me to.

“I killed that shikigami. The guy next to you had summoned it. But no one ever subjugated Mahoraga, so…. I'll teach him someday.” Sukuna's explanation sounds vague to someone new to this language, but i get the idea.

My muscles begin to relax. I take two deep breaths.

That's all that Shibuya grants me.

Something percussive and rhythmic knocks against the ground, slow with impending doom, and definitely approaching.

Chapter 3

“Oh, my. What's this?” A slow sultry voice steps in. “Ryoumen Sukuna, king of curses?” Her hips sway obnoxiously in a black evening dress, propelling a single white braid to swing from the middle of her face to either side.  an identical braid down  the back of her head. 

Her heels continue that slow click, that fills me with dread. I try to stop feeling so frozen in place, looking for validation or dismissal from the sorcerer next to me. He offers neither, but looks peacefully asleep. I'm happy for him. Maybe even jealous.

“ If you know who I am, then say it with reverence,” Sukuna quickly responds, looking down on the tall woman, differently than the way he looked down at me. 

“Big sis recognized you! you should be grateful!” A young boy in suspenders follows the woman with a more composed walk, holding his head higher, posture rigidly vertical. Are they performing for each other? So gross.

“Wow, that gave me the ick,” sukuna sounds surprised by his own discomfort.

“Mei Mei,” the woman introduces herself, as if anyone asked. ”Let's say that you and I play a little game. If I win-”

“you'll live. And I win, I'll live.” Sukuna interrupts.

“Fine then,” she accepts, still carrying herself like a thirst trap. "I look forward to the bonus pay."

“Big sis! You don't have to accept someone else's…” The kid whines. They're definitely related. His hair no less white, his clothing oddly formal, like it was chosen for a piano recital.

“Ui Ui. You wait here. Are you ready and willing to die for me?” The boy nods, loudly mumbling “mm-hmm.”

 i feel violently ill. 

“Jesus, I'm going to throw up,” i put my face to the sky. It's hazy and doesn't offer much relief. 

“Well, I can't have my baby crying. Let's make this fast.” Sukuna's voice is still a bit rushed. He can't wait for this to end either. 

Please don't let them notice me. I look to him, but some unusual motion catches my eye instead. The woman collapses as a pile of cubes. Was Sukuna's weapon just a violent look? 

“Noo! Big sis! Come back!” 

“Hey, brat. You should be grateful. She was clearly using you.”

Ui Ui isn't grateful, but demands the same fate as Mei Mei, stomping his foot like a child who wants an expensive toy. 

“Fine, equally annoying brat. Join your sister.” Sukuna's speech slowed to its usual pace. more cubes fall on the pavement, blood pooling under the piles. “What a waste. Can't believe I hope that doesn't happen again.” 

he turns to me, still sat against the dented building. His gaze moves to the body next to mine, beginning to look awake. Sukuna's face lights up. I take my hand off of his brown leather shoe  and fidget with my own.

 “Finally! Show us what you've got!” is impatience contagious? Sukuna sounds excited. Awaiting something as interesting as mahoraga, I guess.

“What the hell is this?” The voice beside me comes out flat, like a telepathic exhale.

Sukuna looks rejected. “I healed you. you owe me that much.”

“Get lost.”  not a morning person.

Sukuna sighs, “i should have made a pact. But you were already half-dead, so it wasn't an option.”

“Oh, wait. it's coming back to me now.” He sits up on his own.  “You've already seen my trump card. So, what's the big deal then?”

“Well… it's kind of a waste of your talents. Don't you think?” 

Bruhhhhh, i throw my own head back into the wall. Why does he want to fight everyone? Dudes barely awake. Grow up. 

“okay. Let's move on.” He's talking to me now. “Shibuya is crawling with the strongest of curses and sorcerers- or, what's left of them, anyway. At this rate, to find a better fight than that volcano spirit, I'll have to heal them all first.” 

The soles on my shoes scrape loudly when i stand up, leaving the now-conscious one space to recover on his own. We didn't say a word to each other. Should I introduce myself? Would I even remember his name? 

It doesn't matter. I've never been or fought a sorcerer or a curse. I'm just a random office worker, just a milk baby. The only reason I'm even in this city... and alive.

 {Megumi goes to find shoko, who was nearby.}

Chapter 4

Walking through the city feels wrong. any of these buildings might collapse and crush me into the street like a fly. 

Sukuna flinches at nothing. no reaction to stepping over a body lying in the street. Blood poured from the side of his head around a sharpened rod. this feels like a suicide.

Maybe he was a normal person like me. It doesn't seem like anyone left alive in shibuya tonight would be caught dead in a stretched out white sweater. 

“Catch up already. We're going underground.” Sukuna says that as if I'm a child watching bugs in a field. His child. 

Our shoes slap against the clean white steps to the station. It's an eerie contrast to be engulfed in the bright light. That's funny. A few hours ago I would have thought nothing of it. Just another late night escaping the office.

And just a few hours ago, the way these walls are cut up, the floors so neatly cut out, would have been a shock. I'll just avoid those big open circles... And whatever made them. 

Someone is here, stumbling away from the wall. Their black hair is styled with thin bangs and spiky space buns. Chains rattle against their heavy black boots, his heavy breath fades, his eyes focus into a determined…almost kubrik stare. 

“I need help for my brother who is dying.” his voice is kind of deep. maybe it's the black line across his nose like a bandaid, but this guy is insanely cute.

Don't stare. I turn to sukuna for an answer. His pointed black nails move like hungry fangs. 

“Oh, really? What would you do for him? Would you risk your own life for a brother?”

“I would.” this dude’s stare could not be any more intense.

“Excellent. Show me what you've got, and maybe I'll heal him!”

“if that's what it takes. Fine then.” 

I grab one of Sukuna's arms, “do you REALLY think we have time for that?” But his squinted smile is so full of teeth that I doubt whether he can hear me. 

The other guy brings his palms together, arms outstretched at eye level. A laser cuts into the stairs above my head and follows Sukuna. 

No, that isn't a beam of light. It's blood. 

“Get back,” the blood manipulator breathes into my ear as he runs past. 

“Where?” I ask, stupidly glancing around. 

He rushes me to the corner he crawled out from, like a shallow closet built into the wall. 

“Wait!” I hold him back and stand in front. Like a mother hitting the brakes of a car. Accomplishing nothing but being annoying.

“What is the meaning of this?” Sukuna growls.

“it means grow the fuck up! You think someone owes you a fight for wasting time and letting their brother die? You make me sick, sometimes!”

He sighs. “Alright, take me to him.”

Chapter 5

I follow, no point in running to keep up with them. We turn by the hall to the elevator and restrooms.

“Who are you?” The blood master asks with no expression, more like a command.

Two teen girls are kneeling on the floor. They don't answer him, but bow to Sukuna instead. The one with light spiraling hair holds a dehydrated finger out like an offering.

“Please,” her voice shakes but not as much as their bodies, “take this finger. We didn't know you were alive already. We can get you one more, too, so please, don't kill us.”

“Get up. You're not worth my time.”

“Huh?” The girl hardly breathes.

“Killing you kids would be like stepping on ants. Save those old relics for someone who cares.” 

They manage to crawl to the wall and hold onto each other. I slide down between them and the others. 

“So that volcano spirit wasn't lying. I didn't emerge from this kid's body because I was already a curse womb… But I will, if someone manages to kill this body! 

Wonderful. But who would have saved my fingers…” Sukuna’s monologue is lost on these guys. 

“Yuuji Itadori. It's your big brother, Choso Kamo. I'm sorry for what happened.” 

“The residuals tell me you did this.” Sukuna reaches out with a white aura, ignoring Choso’s glare. 

Yuuji Itadori looks at least half dead. Covered in blood, head hanging. I turn away to face the girls.

“So… What were you doing here?”

“We were told that when he eats enough fingers, Sukuna would come out. But he never did.”

“Still, it was our only hope to save Geto. We had to try.” the girl with straight, dark hair continues.

“What do you mean, to save Geto?” Choso demands.

“The man in Geto’s body is not him. He lied to us.” 

“With stitches in his forehead?” 

“Yes.”

“He deceived me, as well. And he will pay for making me try to kill my little brother.”

“The stitches man. He's powerful?” sukuna’s priorities remain. 

“He took Geto's body for the technique. Curse manipulation.” 

“take me to him.” 

“let me attack him. Can we wait until my brother wakes up?” 

“I'm awake. Todo?” Yuuji mumbles, “when did you get here?”

“Not Todo, it's Choso. Our parent pit us against each other. And for that, I will kill him.”

“Hm… You're not really making sense. But I'm going after patchface.”

“Mahito? He's below us with a stock of transfigured humans.”

“I know…what i have to do,” yuuji's arm, limp at his side, draws into a fist.

“I'll stay here. you guys don't have to wait around.” I can see they're impatient and I'm over it. 

“please! Kill the man inside Geto, but bring him back.” the blonde girl calls after Choso and Sukuna. 

“So… Who are you?” Yuuji's words slur. 

I give him my name. Not sure what else to say. 

“That's weird, we haven't heard about you.”

“I'm only here by coincidence.” 

“I'm nanako, and this is mímiko. But I'm not sure if I believe you. Coincidentally walking by his side? That doesn't happen.”

“I don't get it, either. It's like some weird biological tie…” Please god let this turn into a gossip session, I cannot tell anyone that I've been drinking cursed tiddy milk after throwing up a cannibalized hand…. But I'd do it again. 

“So…what did those fingers taste like?” 

“Just like soap.” Yuji answers with no hesitation.

“Oh dude, I'm sorry. Soap is disgusting.”

“Why the hell are you guys eating soap?”

Mission accomplished. I can admit to eating soap as a child and finding that honey scented soap is somehow bitter. That's normal. 

But the chest milk… I hope I get to drink that again. It was like a baptism. Like it brought me back to life. 

Maybe that's what sukuna is - a walking baptism. He healed me without looking for a fight. Or maybe my fight was to survive his finger… And the rest was out of his hands. 

But it got he into his hands, and that... Was worth it.

Too bad for him though.

Chapter 6

To descend the stairs is to enter a deeper level of hell. But I can't put it off forever. 

Mimiko and Nanako asked for my help in seeing that Geto comes back. So I have to try. No one else has the balls or the luck to influence Sukuna's whims.

Yuuji leads us down. His confidence is convincing- the only traces of his brush with death are stains and holes in his school uniform. 

When the three of us are in the safest, most hidden spot with a view, I nod to Yuuji. He mirrors me with a serious expression. I almost pity the curse he's jumping the stairs to beat.

No one paid him attention - though I have a feeling that Choso noticed. He's facing away from us, pinning someone against the wall- a man with long hair in monk's robes. That must be Geto… I  can't see the stitches from here. 

Sukuna sits high on a pile of debris, looking down on them with his head resting on one arm. Amused and unbothered. 

A muffled choking reverberates around, with no movement to match it. 

“Where is that coming from?” I barely whisper.

Mimiko points at Geto's head. His body seems to be turning off.

Choso gathers blood into a small blade and cuts away the stitches. 

A brain jumps against the top of the skull, desperate to eject as soon as the gap is big enough to let it through. 

Geto's body slumps to the floor. Choso watches the grey blob run with homicide in his eyes. The brain has a foul mouth of long flat teeth, and limbs grown out of it. Arms or legs, they splash against the floor with dripping brain fluid. 

“That is so gross,” i mutter. 

Choso stalks it with hovering orbs of blood. I think they're going to catch up with Itadori.

Nanako and Mimiko run out, stopping a couple of meters away from Geto's body.

“What's happened to him?” Nanako asks, nervous to confront Sukuna, nervous about the green and purple spidery lines that splinter over Geto's head and spread down his neck.

I close the distance and they hover behind me. 

“I had him grow a brain. But it's disappointing.

Sorcerers in this era not building immunity to poison.”

“You poisoned him?” Nanako almost yells through her shaking voice.

“I don't recall you having a better idea to remove the parasite,” Sukuna counters quickly. “But I suppose we could try a remedy. Think you can find some ingredients?” 

The twins run outside. I find a stack of clean napkins and a paper cup of water, then stay with Geto, as if I know how to treat superhuman illness. He seems to be in some kind of fever dream. Breathing, rapid eye movement, that's good right? Though his skin is clammy and damp with sweat and brain fluid. I pour the water on some napkins and clean off his face. 

“So… Does he have a chance?” I ask, afraid that Sukuna just sent them out to be left alone. 

He sighs. Glances off like he's bored.

“Hey. Poison me the same way.”

“What, are you suicidal?”

“I just want to see if it works.”

“Hm… Fine.” 

Sukuna pulls my chin up, away from watching Geto's skin and trying to determine whether the effects are spreading or receding. He drags a nail down the side of my face. I feel a warm drop of blood slide down. Sukuna watches me intently, his grasp on my jaw won't let me turn away.

Maybe it's the stare of his extra eyes, but my blood runs cold. Skin like a pond frozen over in winter, alive underneath but wintering. The feeling sinks stranger and deeper, stranger and deeper, then disintegrates to memory. 

The blood in my veins is no longer hollow, but warm, normal - although the contrast makes me appreciate the sensation of normalcy.

My vision focuses before I realize it had been taken away. His eyes are still on me. He looks intrigued, satisfied, and finally he lets me go. 

“So that's it?”

“Yes. it seems I've granted you immunity to poisons.”

Suddenly it feels like I've asked for too much. It was lucky that for whatever reason, the heightened emotions or risk to my life, Sukuna's chest is ready for the harvest. 

He sits next to Geto with his legs like a nest, his four arms waiting to take me in. 

I really…I don't know how boobs work. I hold the cup close to his nipple and grab around it.  

My head twitches and eyes squeeze shut on their own. A few stray drops came out, but not in the right place. I wipe the milk out from my eyelashes and try again, spreading my hand over his tiddy and massaging toward the center. 

“This is going nowhere. Just use your mouth.” 

He's right. Even if we had a breastmilk pump, i wouldn't know how to use it.

So I reach out with my mouth, taking two euphoric swallows without remembering why I'm here. It takes a conscious effort to keep Sukuna's milk in my mouth, then drop it into the cup.  

I reach over to share it carefully with Geto. 

Sukuna takes it in his spare arm. We fall into a system where I suck on him, he brings the cup back, and I fill it. 

“Go meet those kids,” he puts the cup down. I keep the last mouthful for myself and get up. 

The twins race over, gasping for air. “Is this enough?” 

“Yeah, it's good,” i tell them. 

Sukuna begins to crush and flame herbs before dropping them into the cup or placing them across Geto's forehead. I think he's playing pretend with them.

“You spilled some on yourself,” mimiko blurts out and covers her mouth as fast as possible.

Sukuna and I make eye contact. His face tells me not to dare. 

I hold back a laugh, as if I would anyway. 

“Hey, I'll get you some drinks. What do you like?” 

“i like peach or mango,” Nanako answers first. 

“Um, watermelon or pear... But anything's fine.” mimiko’s face is a bit red.

“Hey. What about you?” I ask Sukuna.

“You decide,” he glares up at me. I'll look for a black tea then. It feels the safest.

I run off to the vending machines and totally forget who said what. So I come back with all 4 of their choices.

“Ryoumen Sukuna? Well, this is a surprise. Though I seem to have access to kenjaku's memories as well as my own, so more sense will be made with time.” a weak voice rambles.

“Geto!”

“You're okay!” The girls hug him. 

I set down their drinks. 

Sukuna looks relieved. I imagine he's ready to see what lurks below us. 

“Alright, what's next?” I hold out the tea and invite him away.

To give them privacy, to see that Yuuji and Choso are alive, or emboldened by the milk - I turn back and wave to the twins, but have no reservations about continuing to the next level of hell.

Chapter 7

The sorcerer from before glances into my eye as he runs past us up the stairs. He's with an electrified bird and a giant frog. They carry burn victims that I don't recognize. 

Sukuna lets out a single laugh with a slight, closed smile. We continue ahead, toward ashes and scorch marks. 

“Oh, how polite. They left me a snack.” Sukuna approaches the biggest charred form- it looks like nothing to me, an eroded statue after a volcanic eruption. I continue on without hesitating to leave him behind.

From a different angle it occurs to me that that was a man, with an arm severed before the fire. 

“Jogo! Thank you for the meal,” Sukuna growls as I pass by. 

Not my circus, not my monkeys. 

Milk blood gets me stupid reckless. Maybe I should compensate for that. Take my time and be observant. 

The patter of grey matter, the slicing and splashing of blood. Only two audible entities on this floor. 

Choso has been taking his time with the brain. It's clearly a personal grudge, but…how is that thing a parent? Either I'm misunderstanding the whole thing, or Yuuji equally lost. He's not even here. Neither is a patchface. But some dreadful feeling seems to rise like smoke from below the floor. 

“Hey, you! What did I miss?” Sukuna jumps over the railing, his kimono flowing gracefully in the descent.

“Oh, what took you so long?” I ask as his feet land in perfect balance.

“No one tastes as good as me!”

I stare up into his four eyes blankly. What.

“I had to start another fire just to get the taste out. Old men are disgusting.” 

“yeah,” i agree, and turn back to Choso and Kenjaku. This time I won't get in his way. Not like I even have the chance to.

He has it cornered, pinned to the wall with a long pole of blood. Then over and over with more needles, like a dart board. Bloody grey bits gradually crumble to the floor. I pass by quietly, giving him space and time to sort that out.

It's funny how seeing Choso in that state, I'd still feel safe with him. Maybe it's a shallow attraction to the way he dresses. Or that he took a risk to protect me.

But I get a really bad feeling about floor B5. Anything feels safe compared to that.

Sukuna wraps two arms around my shoulders. “Aw, come on. You scared now?” he teases. But I take what I can get and pull him in by the waist. But we don't stop walking.

Chapter 8

Sukuna looks down with a grimace. My fingers are tightly intertwined in his. Fuck. How did that happen? I release him and back up into the wall. 

Yuuji and Mahito are insane. It sounds like a horror circus down here, faces stretched into giant clay blobs of green, blue, pink, yellow, teal, etc etc. I don't like it.

I consider retreating to infringe on Choso's emotional breakdown. 

The noise dies down, the patchface laughter cutting through, an identical copy of that sound drifting down the stairs. There are two of them, running toward each other. 

A girl with strong eyes and copper hair chases after the second patchface. She has to be crazy strong. fearless. 

“Kugisaki! Run!” Yuuji's voice strains in desperation. 

The curse Yuuji was fighting runs toward her. Both laugh maniacally.

I pull up a piece of clay off the ground by my feet. it's heavy like a person. I swing it around in a throw at the spirit. A voice seems to slip out of it, the mass slips from my grasp and doesn't reach as far as I meant to. But the humanoid does trip with its face skidding onto the floor, and Kugisaki uses this chance to run off. 

“YOU!!” Mahito growls, his face of madness piercing mine. I freeze and death glare at him, the only action I can will my body to take. 

“Resonance!” Kugisaki’s voice drives across B5, followed by the collision of hammer and nails. 

The curse in front of me spurts blood, fighting to stumble and take me down. It's enough to break the trance.

I run past a clay train with open faces. anywhere to put distance between us. But that instinct is trapping me on the lowest level.

Mahito's clone is riddled with nails. She goes at him with a wide smile that could rival Sukuna's.

“Kugisaki!” Yuuji calls, “keep doing that! No one else's technique works on him. We have to hurt the shape of his soul.”

“Yeah, I know! And don't let him touch you with his hands. Anything else?” metallic clashes over her words.

“Um, no! I don't think so.” Itadori takes a guardian stance.

I look behind us. The main body is rising with demonic contortion, and arms grow in its open mouth. Am I…seeing that right from here?

“Domain expansion… Self-embodiment of perfection!” Mahito strains to pour out his remaining strength into something that cannot be good. 

Darkness and grey giant hands swell around us. Don't touch the hands?? They're bigger than all of us! 

In the dim void, Sukuna's white kimono, eyes and teeth reflect light with no source. He's elated. he makes a simple hand sign.

“Domain expansion. Malevolent shrine.”

A red light filters over the grey. Fires light the hands like candles and melt them down to ash. The clone body twitches and stays lying down. 

Sukuna steps closer to the main body, savoring the moment, keeping his gaze steady.  unaffected by the way that Mahito is still coughing up blood. 

“Hey, Itadori… What did I miss?” Kugisaki's voice wavers for the first time. 

“Oh, Um… You know, I'm not really sure either.” He scratches his fluffy pink hair that took on a bright, slime-like glow from Sukuna's domain. How does this guy sound so casual? 

Sukuna looms over Mahito and tries to provoke him into a better fight. The curse whimpers and splits into snakes, slithering away from each other and toward us. 

“Hey, itadori… We're okay as long as he doesn't have hands, right?” I ask.

“Yeah. only his main body should be able to distort the shape of a soul.” the three of us keep our eyes on the approaching snakes, or maybe they're more like worms... Ugly, with stupid faces, no scales, fluffs of hair for whatever reason. It's enough to trigger my fear of puppets. 

Sukuna flicks his fingers and they slice down the middle, with effortless symmetry. Like an arcade game he's beat on every level, and is no longer fun except to show off. 

The ones that remain squirm away faster. 

I have a suspicion that he knows where the main body is, and is saving it for last. 

Several of them burst into flames. Two at a time, until one remains.

“God, you're so boring, Sukuna groans. “I'll let you touch me one time. So give it your best.”

The last puppet worm shifts and grows into Mahito's usual humanoid shape. “Idle transfiguration!” He reaches out to Sukuna, and freezes on contact. 

“no way! I can't…” he shifts into a sort of bird, stuttering and crying, thrashing ashes at Sukuna, who just watches and chuckles. Letting this drag on is some psychological torture.

“so, this means you aren't Sukuna's vessel, right?” Kugisaki asks.

“I guess not,” yuuji answers. 

“Good to know.”

“Um, sorry but, you could be.” I realize he wasn't alive enough to hear us earlier.

“Huh?”

“The fingers didn't activate because his curse womb was already functionally a body. But if he dies, then he'll become you, you know?” God I hope that makes sense. I don't know basic shit about sorcery.

“Oh! So they're just cursed energy power-ups.” Yuuji seems to understand more than me. 

“Yeah, when they're dormant.   but if his current form is destroyed, then we lose you, too. So best to keep him alive.” I get the impression that Kugisaki scolds him a lot.

“It's not like anyone could take him down, right? Except for Gojo.” yuuji turns to me. “How is Gojo?”

“I haven't heard anything.” 

“I guess he's still sealed, then.”

“Ugh. Annoying.” Sukuna waves his hand and Mahito's body splits into cubes. The domain recedes, and purple goo puddles around his grey remains on the station’s lowest floor.

Chapter 9

Kugisaki and Itadori want to free Gojo from the prison realm. I'm not sure what that means, and at this point I'm too afraid to ask.

If Geto had it last, then that's enough to work with.

Sukuna sulks over how pathetic the human / death cursed spirit was. I guess some part of him blames Nobara for taking him down so hard, blames himself for letting her wreck Mahito so badly. But if she's strong enough to defeat that thing, then she has to be on his list of sorcerers to battle. 

As we climb out of the station, Choso's words replay in my head. Mahito? He's below us with a stock of transfigured humans. That explains the awful wriggling feeling, the ghost voices, the tortured faces stretched around those figures that were never clay. If I'd realized that before, would Nobara have become like that? The thought scares me. 

Some leftovers from Sukuna's arm remain on the burnt floor. Its scent lingers with temptation. I could probably handle it now. But that's no way to make friends. I rush up the steps before it can pull me back.

On B3, there is no sign of Choso. A pile of brain dust in that corner, and some prints from his shoes trailing away from it. A pit sinks in my heart. What if I never see him again? Am I simping so pathetically…

B2. I feel relieved to see that none of the drinks remain. So they're fine, just… Somewhere else. 

B1 is empty. The floor hasn't crumbled beyond the clean cut circle. I wonder if Choso is an artist? Engravings, into anything…

“Yuuji. You've eliminated the patchface?” He stands above the entrance like a gargoyle guarding us from outside threats. Relief flows through me at the sight I should have expected. 

“Yeah. Well, no. I gave him some black flashes but it didn't affect his soul. Kugisaki and Sukuna finished him off." Yuuji's voice hangs limp in the night. “I need the prison realm. Have you seen Geto?”

“They went to look for a bakery with crepes. I'll help you find it.” 

Choso and Yuuji walk in front. I fall in line next to Nobara. Sukuna follows like my chaperone. He's been unusually quiet, reduced to quietly observing. Not the god of chaos I first saw him as.

The street is pretty lifeless. A fresh ghost town. The occasional transfigured human wanders aimlessly. Sukuna puts them out of their misery with the slightest finger twitch. He feels like a gentle protector.

“Over there,” Choso directs us to the only business with a glow of intentional light and the movement of human life inside. He opens the door and we follow through it.

 “Suguruu! Try it like this,” a tall man with chaotic white bedhead assembles some cavity-inducing dessert and offers it to Geto with pride. Actually, they're the same height. Geto's baggy clothes make him look short. And I hadn't seen him stand before.

“Gojo! You're okay!!” Yuuji throws his arms around his neck, and they laugh together.

I realize that Gojo isn't bandaged, but wearing a tight black blindfold. Not a single, slight injury on him.

“He's fine, but going for the world's biggest sugar crash,” Nanako comments, hardly looking up from her phone. Its bright green case with bunny ears sticks out. Mimiko curiously samples their creations. A plush doll hangs across her shoulders. 

Geto meets my gaze with soft dark eyes from behind the counter. “Thank you for looking after my daughters,” he says with an even softer voice. I wonder what Kenjaku sounded like from inside his body. “We're just warming up and assembling their leftovers. Can I make you something?”

“Um, whatever is good,” I accept, “just… Not as much sugar as that guy.” 

“Huh?” Gojo's mouth hangs open like a square.

Geto laughs lightly, “I understand,” and steps away. 

“Truly…I love pastries as much as the next bitch, but you take it too far,” Nobara remarks in her chest voice.

“I agree with her.” Someone adds from a dark corner. The guy from before, with the shikigami, at a booth alone with black coffee. 

“Fushiguro! I missed you!” Yuuji slides in next to him.

Sukuna was looking forward to meeting this guy again… Where is he? I look out the front door. He's nowhere.

“Sukuna's sitting on the roof, sniping curses,” Gojo tells me casually.

“Oh… You're psychic?” I guess.

“I can see better than you, even through this,” he pulls the blindfold away and lets it snap back to his face. 

I trade my name for a plate from Geto and sink into an empty booth. The air is warm and smells of sugar. Does he know that he drank milk that was in my mouth? It's like...a violation...but he was dying.

“Hey,” Choso slides in across the table. 

I look up and smile at him. 

“I think… My brother wants to be with his friends right now.” His brows close together as he looks down at the crepe before him.

Choso wants to get closer to yuuji, and I'm trying to chase Choso. I rub my forehead and look past his shoulder. 

“Satoru! Look what you've done,” Geto's voice drifts like a pastel sky, impossibly light and gentle. 

“Oh, my deepest apologies, your majesty,” Gojo jokes, bowing to clean Geto's fingers with his mouth, raising his head to make seductive eye contact with him. 

They're like chaotic high school besties and gentle lovers at the same time. It kind of melts my heart.

“I should go,” Choso states.

“No!” I grab his forearm before he can stand, then pull back. Don't be aggressive.

“Sorry, I spaced out there… It's been a weird night,” i make the stupidest excuse. Like tonight was normal for anyone. 

The door opens. A fluffy black dog leads more people inside. 

“Aww, who's a good boy?” Yuuji calls him over.

“Are you done yet?” Megumi asks flatly, but his dark eyes sparkle. 

Yuuji hugs and pets the dog until it melts down to a black shadow in the floor.

“Aw, come on. You know I don't like you just for them, right?” 

Strange plushies with tufts of hair and uncanny faces stagger through the aisle.

I turn back to Choso. “Um, do you want to sit in that corner?” I nod to the farthest seats. 

There, we sit on the table, my back to everyone else. “Sorry for being so distracted. How are you feeling?”

Chapter 10

“i feel… More alive than before. My parent is dead. I have a living brother. I think I'm connecting more to my human side than to my cursed.” His dark eyes stare into a distance. The darkened skin around them spreads like decades of tear stains.

“Hee-hee,” a childlike giggle jumps onto the bench, the toy's vacant face stares into mine. 

I flinch so hard, my heart practically ejects. The edges of my vision pulse white and aggressive.

I try to orient myself. Focus on breathing. A strong arm holds me back from falling off the table.

“You're okay,” Choso says softly. I'm not sure if it was intended to be a question or a comfort.

“Thank you,” I blush and avert my clearing gaze, “you're always protecting me.”

“Yaga! Contain your corpses!” Gojo yells, throwing that thing to the front of the café.

Then he leans on the table across from ours.

“Sorry about those. Creepy, right?” He asks, leaning his head down like he'd be peering over the fabric but it has no gaps. 

I nod. Choso's hand moves along my shoulder and I lean into him.

“Almost as creepy as this.” Gojo holds a cube up on his fingertips. I can tell my face is as blank as my mind here. He puts it away.

“So… What were you two doing in Shibuya?”

I am relieved to get by with the half-true narrative that I ate a finger. They can think I'm normal like Yuuji.

“Ah. that explains the unregulated cursed energy.” He leans forward. “how would you like a career change?”

“if it means I don't have to work in the same cramped, haunted office every day - yeah, please sign me up.”

“Okay! Good to hear.” He smiles and leans back into the table.

“Choso. I respect your decision, but are you willing to make a pact in order to get in? Our old ass higher-ups might require it.”

“I have no ties to the curses or my father except for my cursed technique and my brother. I would have saved my mother from myself if I could.”

“I see. You have a pure heart. It was pretty funny when Jogo yelled at you for not attacking anyone,” Gojo chuckles. I haven't seen his eyes, but I can feel the eye contact.

“Since you've already graduated, and you aren't even a registered human… We can forge some documents, if you'd like. Anyway, there's an abandoned dorm we’ll set up for you and anyone else in a similar situation. 

Also , I know it's a pain , but try to document anything relevant to tonight's events before it's forgotten. Frankly, I'm just covering my ass to say that. I can't wait for these stupid reports to be over.” I think Nanako’s prophecy is hitting. The sugar crash.

“The cars will be here soon to drive us to jujutsu high. Can I see your phones?”

“I don't have one.” I look up at Choso's face. He isn't upset about it, just stating a fact.

I feel my pockets. I don't have my bag either. Where is my stuff? Burned, cut to shreds, or cast aside in that dreadful groaning building when I clocked out?

“Don't worry! We can get them later,” Gojo says like it's nothing serious. The blood returns to my face.

“Um, what's a pact?” I whisper to Choso.

“It's like a promise with cursed energy, and consequences for breaking.”

“Oh. I'm…not sure how to use cursed energy,” i shift so my legs dangle off the edge.

“It's okay. I can help you.” Something warm in Choso's voice, in his steady hand that never left my arm. 

Headlights on black cars line up outside. A man with short dark hair and small dark glasses stands across from Sukuna, who stands out like a bride in his white kimono. They shake hands while people in black suits stand in front of their cars, recording the event on their phones.

“I believe the pact they agreed to,” Gojo comments behind us, "is that he can go wherever he wants to, but not harm for the sake of it.” 

One of his lower red eyes flicks over and smiles at me.

I wonder if it weren't Halloween night, and if the average population hadn't evacuated, what kind of life Sukuna could have here. Societies tend to group together and judge idiosyncrasies so harshly. He'd be outcast as a monster, no doubt. Unless it's pulled off as a performance art… 

No. He'll get bored anywhere else. 

“Okay, team! Gojo is ready for bed! Let's hit those cars.”

edit to add a/n: there is a sequel which begins immediately after this scene. you can find that through the ao3 link above.

[friend-shaped-but]

Shrutakarma's Well Deserved Crash Out

Set on day 15 after Drona's death, BORI what BORI, this is HEAVILY based on BRC, inspired by This Clip and my monkey brain, contains dollops of angst, read at your own risk.

Shrutakarma had made a mistake coming into the main tent, he thought. But he was so, so exhausted and Keshav mama asked him to wait there until he got back. Father had been a wreck, that much shrutakarma saw. It took multiple attempts to hold him back from murdering someone and even as he walked back to the camp, father's eyes were bloodshot and murderous. Why were they murderous? Shrutakarma felt like the earth had been pulled out from under his feet, most of his family gone in a few short hours, grandfather, his uncles, his brothers- Father had no right to look this angry right now! He hadn't lost anyone today.

Keshav mama sat down on one of the chairs with a tired sigh, massaging his forehead with his hands. He seemed to be thinking about what to say, but finally, just as he was about to say it, father entered, a sword in his hand. Wonderful, Shrutakarma thought. It looked like he was going to lose yet another mama today.

Keshav mama ran to him, looking from his face to the sword in his hands. Then he did it again. Then he placed a firm hand on father's shoulder, a warning in his eyes. Shrutakarma released yet another long-suffering sigh. Was this how Shikhandi mama felt? Was this how jitu mama felt?

"I am going to kill Dhrishtadyumna!" Father seethed.

Shrutakarma rolled his eyes. He remembered the state of the camp not even three days ago, when soubhadra- Shrutakarma tried to chase those memories away, but the difference between how father expected to be treated and how he was treating mama was so stark, that Shrutakarma couldn't help but notice. And just then, the senapati entered the tent, along with someone else. Shrutakarma wasn't able to identify the second person, but he felt it was someone close to mama.

Father was actually serious.

Hadn't he lost enough? If Shrutakarma could cry, he would have.

"And what has my brother done, for you to decide that you are going to kill him?"

Mother. Mother was here. Shrutakarma let out a breath he didn't know he was holding in. She wouldn't let anything happen to mama, or to him. That he was sure of. Not that she had noticed him. He had perfected the art and craft of becoming invisible, and he was all the more glad for it right now.

"Panchali!" Father shouted, raising his sword, but stopping short.

"Oh, why did you stop?" She asked, her voice like steel, sharper than father's blade. "I'm just an obstacle in your path, aren't I? Remove me! To get to my Dhrishtadyumna, you will have to do that, you know,"

Father took a step back, and for the first time since that morning, seemed to actually think about what he was doing.

Mother pressed on, though. "I mean, it isn't like I am important to anyone in this family anyway. I am the same Draupadi who was dragged by her hair to the royal court of hastinapur, the same one who disrobed, while five brave warriors stood watching."

Shrutakarma felt his cheeks heat up in shame. Logically, he knew. He knew he was away in Indraprastha when that had happened, he knew he was a child, but such was the power of mother's words. When she spoke about what had happened that day, she could make anyone listening feel ashamed, whether consciously or unconsciously. He finally looked up, really looked at mother, and even though she wasn't really looking at him, he realized it was impossible to ever be invisible to her.

"And in that same court, your beloved teacher was there as well. You may not remember his presence, but I certainly remember his silence. It still rings in my ears. And when my son- my unarmed, injured, son was massacred in a way befitting only hyenas, he was the commander in chief that did it. He called the attack."

Mother finished what she wanted to say, her chest heaving and her eyes still fiery. Just then, Shrutasen entered.

"Aai, soma-"

And just then, her expression instantly changed. She scrubbed her hand over her face, and when she removed it, her eyes were softer. Still fiery, but now more like a hearth than a blazing yajnakunda.

"I'll be right there," She said softly, and adjusting her saree, she quietly walked out.

"You're a coward, aren't you, Dhrishtadyumna? To not only kill Acharya that way, but to hide behind your sister?"

Shrutakarma got up with a start. "Oh, lay off, will you!" He shouted, sick of his father's behaviour. "For someone who just lost his son, one would think you'd have more sympathy for mama! I just lost all my remaining cousins!" Shrutakarma's shawl flew about as he gestured outside the tent, where the bodies were kept.

"I should have sent you to a gurukula, maybe you'd have learnt to respect your elders then," Father shot back.

"Oh come on, for all that you are getting heated up about your guru, you won't let me say a few words in support of mine?"

"Now I've had it, Dhrishtadyumna! You've turned my own son against me!" Father's voice broke. Shrutakarma could not find it in him to care.

For the first time since mama had entered the tent, Shrutakarma looked at him.

His hair was dishevelled, the vein in his temple throbbing as if it was going to burst. He looked frenzied, frantic, far from the picture of composure he usually was. For all that people spoke about the Parshata's anger, he had realized that it was a contained, quiet sort of anger.

Mama hadn't raged and yelled and cried when his sons died. He hadn't made loud oaths, hadn't wailed and wept. He had simply gotten down from his chariot, quietly walked through the bloodied, muddied battlefield, unsheathed his sword, and beheaded the killer. It was clean.

Only two pieces for his charioteer to load back into the chariot and take back to the camp. And Shrutakarma didn't know whether to laugh or cry at father's audacity and wild, wild accusations.

"You did that yourself! Don't you remember? When we met each other, you- you walked right past me! Alright, forget that, you tried after that. But then, I came to check up on you, two days ago, and you- you literally asked me who I was! You didn't even recognize me! Do you have any idea how that made me feel? Oh, of course you don't, for all you do is just go on doing whatever you want, uncaring of the consequences!"

"Shrutakarma, my dear, I did not mean it in that way when I said that one should act without being expectant of the results! In fact, it is the opposite. Acting without caring about the consequences and acting without being attached to the results are two very different things,"

Shrutakarma had never felt so annoyed with Keshav mama until this moment. "I did not know you were a part of this conversation,"

"And I did not know you were. I mean, I thought this was between your father and Dhrishtadyumna,"

"And? If someone had come after father, arguing with him after soubhadra died, wouldn't you have defended him?"

"Because I am the same age as him! You are a child!"

"Am I a child when there's nothing childlike left in me?Am I a child when I go out and see the same things you do? Why am I a child now, when we both do the exact same thing out there? You never treated soubhadra like a child, and I am three years older than him!"

Keshav mama was left speechless. Shrutakarma realized he truly did not have any argument.

"Madhav is right, you-" Father swallowed, a little bit calmer. "What is just and unjust is a complex topic, and what your uncle did was-"

"I dont recall you killing Jayadrath fairly!" Shrutkarma burst out, pushing past the lump in his throat, his eyes welling up with tears.

"B- but that's different! He is the reason my son got killed. He-" Father spluttered out, not noticing that Shrutakarma was almost in tears by now.

"If you recall, Prince Arjun," Mama said in a deathly quiet voice. "Senapati Drona wasn't just the aiding and abetting the killers when my family died, but he himself was their killer. Forgiveness, as you very well know, does not come easy to us. I was simply avenging my-" he swallowed, breaking off. "seven brothers, four children, and of course, my father."

How was mama able to stay afloat when he had lost so much, Shrutakarma wondered. He did not think he would have stayed that composed. He shut his eyes tight to ward off the tears. He breathed heavily and finally turned to face Arjun.

"You aren't old enough to remember the time your father died! But everyone who raised me is dead! And- and until this moment, I held out hope! I thought, at least I have my actual father, instead of all the people who raised me. I thought- I thought I should be grateful!" Shrutakarma's voice shook and wavered, and he hated it. He hated that he seemed weak in front of him. He paused for a moment, getting his bearings and said with the hardest tone he could muster, "I realize now, I made a mistake."

Father seemed to be caught off guard at this, dropping his sword to the ground and staring at him, dumbfounded.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Keshav mama walk out of the tent.

Shrutakarma finally took a long, deep breath, and tried to hide his tears as he went out to find his brothers.

From the clink of the armour, it seemed mama had followed him as well.

TO BE CONTINUED........

[demonslayedher]

Things that went through my head while watching this episode (in 2025!)

--Tamayo sure made that decision quick to go join the Corp. I love that it is so clear how much she and Shinobu do not want to work together. I wish, wish, wish I could have seen Tamayo meeting Ubuyashiki, as well as first meeting Shinobu. --The animation in the glass pane as Tamayo looks up at the moon?? love it.

--Giyuu really do just be sitting there in an empty room. Buddy, that ain't meditating, that be ruminating.

--I am so grateful for all my years of Japanese study so that I can soak in all the meaning of Aoi using such stiff keigo (polite speech) with Tanjiro (and for that matter, any active Corp swordsman). She truly sees herself as far beneath them, and in her dealings with Tanjiro, it is like she purposefully keeps things strictly professional. It is so revealing how diplomatically she addresses that, at least if she were the one who someone were trying to cheer up, she would prefer to be left alone. That is why she has kept this professional distance all along, isn't it? Somebody telling her "it's okay you weren't as brave as all those swordsmen who wound up fighting to the death anyway" would only make her feel worse, after all. I wonder about her decision to keep wearing the Corp uniform despite the adequacy she feels in it?

--Giyuu would tell her she deserves to wear it, wouldn't he? Luck or not, she likely did more to ensure her own survival on Mt. Fujikasane than he did. (Now I crave an AU in Shinobu dealt with Aoi's post-Final Selection fear not by allowing her to freeload (as Aoi might interpret it) at the Butterfly Mansion and avoid missions, but instead by creating a situation in which Giyuu is pressured to take Aoi in and train her--Water Breath users, after all!).

--Despite that Tanjiro killed the Hand Demon, whom Sabito could not, Tanjiro does not think of that at all. He instead thinks of how Sabito "saved" him back on Mt. Sagiri, and how in the course of the Final Selection, Tanjiro could not manage to save anyone like Sabito could, for Tanjiro could barely save himself. Their outcomes happened to be different, but Tanjiro sees the gulf between their potential and inherent ability so plainly.

--Tanjiro has made the switch from "Tomioka-san" to "Giyuu-san." Get FRIENDED, loser.

--The way the scene is framed so that you can't see Giyuu's face when he declares that the Water Hashira position is vacant

--GIYUU IS SO ANNOYED WITH TANJIRO, HAHAHAHAH. He's not only annoying for barging in when Giyuu is busy ruminating, but for trying to insist on some easy simple solution to a situation he doesn't understand (even though the way better solution to all of this would have just been for Tanjiro to use that battle sense and nose to become the Water Hashira, duh). But also, he is sitting so close. As Tanjiro keeps bugging him, like at dinner, he is still sitting SO FREAKING CLOSE and poor Giyuu just wants to eat. He just wants to bathe. He can barely sleep knowing that Tanjiro is curled up on his front door step, maybe Giyuu look like the bad guy for leaving this poor injured kid out there like that. How the hell is he supposed to explain that the kid is choosing to do that, when Giyuu can't explain anything else in the first place?

--And then he knows he must. So he does. Plain and simple. And Tanjiro gets it. And it hurts.

--And then he accidentally adds to Giyuu's pain. OH SNAP. Soba time.

--In the previous arc, we saw the drama of Muichiro instantaneously regaining memories of precious things people have said and entrusted to him, and how this brought him not only back from the brink of death, but pushed him over the edge to attain a mark. What happened here on the bridge was essentially the same thing for Giyuu--but in a more peaceful way. Though he did not have his mind as clouded as Muichiro, trying to find his way back to those memories would have drowned him in sadness, but now, all at once, all these years later, he can embrace the words Sabito said to him, and embrace the promise he made to Sabito that he would carry on Tsutako's will in the world. He has attained that power again, and in a way, reattaining that memory right after he said "Sabito might have, but I won't" is his first step on his path to being able to achieve a mark.

--and then "Let's have a soba-eating contest."

--wut???

--Was this kid always this weird???? I mean, okay, I guess if he insists, I will eat soba with him and let him be satisfied in making me join the training this way, though I really did just already make up my mind to do that because I am, in fact, the Water Hashira

--As he ate soba, I wonder if Giyuu found himself wondering if Tanjiro ever did weird stuff like this around Urokodaki, thereby second-handedly embarrassing Giyuu for having spoken so highly of him

--Stepping back a bit, I love the underlying creepiness of Tanjiro cheerfully looking down the alley and declaring, "nope, no demons here!" Kiddo, there is a reason for that.

--Also little Giyuu with light in his eyes, I will always miss him

--Jumping ahead, the eye-twitch is so becoming on Shinobu. She should sport that more often.

--My gosssssshhhhhhh I wiiiiiiiiiish we could have SEEN Kanao at all these Hashira trainings. The opening implies that she was with the boys and ran laps around them at Uzui's training. But where are the girls?????? They exist!!! We know they exist! If Kanao hasn't gotten out of this, they ain't either!! But like, seriously, what was Sanemi gonna do when she showed up? Hit her??? Hell to the nah'.

--Still, for as much of a battle queen as Kanao soon becomes after this, she is still strengthening that heart-to-voice connection, and it is hard to do that after so many years of leaving the connection broken. (And unfortunately for Shinobu, it is only because of Kanao's progress that there is any way for them to defeat Douma.) Still, going back to the previous episode, I love that Shinobu judges Kanao's battle prowess so strongly that she will entrust Nezuko to her in the event of, say, Kibutsuji Muzan himself showing up at the Butterfly Mansion (not that this would have been likely to end in Kanao's favor, but Shinobu knew she could at least leave Kanao in charge in case of other high-level demons--maybe even a swarm of them--showing up)

--So yeah, she will totally entrust the defeat of Upper Moon Two to her, even Shinobu, a Hashira, knows she cannot do it herself

--HOW EXTREMELY FRUSTRATING

--This ending theme, man

--That distinctly Muichiro-like silhouette is mean. But the second one looks more like the Heian-period doctor. And the pair of silhoettes after that still have us pretty firmly back in time by several centuries.

--Fly, crow, fly! Fly for the sunlight!

--Love these subdued stills of all these important moments in Corp history that have led them to this time, and how the one of Tanjiro has motion, with his tears flowing and then him standing to face this horrific reality--and that focus on the "metsu" on his sword to tie together all of these scattered scenes of all these people throughout the last thousand years who have been so whole-heartedly dedicated to defeating Muzan once and for all

--All these symbolic spots of red being dramatically destroyed as Muzan passes by, this the most chuunibyou ending song ever and it is great

--Daaaaaang, this means Muzan has been doing his dramatic walk since episode two

[aukly]

i don’t actually hate wyler

⚠️idk if this needs a spoiler warning bc the show has been out for almost 3 years but if you haven’t seen the end of wednesday season 1 go watch it or just scroll so you spoil it for yourself‼️

if you have read any of my wednesday related posts it would be pretty obvious which ship i am most in favor of (wenclair 🩷🖤)

however i have never given a fully thought out statement about my opinion on wyler as a whole. besides you know this:

“there is no universe where that girl is attracted to a cishet white man like her whole character (and her family’s) is based on being the opposite of societal norms wednesday is the last person to be attracted to people like tyler and xavier”

BUT WYLER (AND WENCLAIR) FANS HERE ME OUT

before the big reveal at the end of the show it was true, i was not understanding the hype about tyler. he was the epitome of everything wednesday hates; a white boy who’s dad is a cop, but by the end of the show we find out he isn’t the person we had gotten to know throughout the season. he is also, technically, an outcast, and for sure a monster. he was also not a super well written character, this isn’t really the character’s fault more just my gripe with the shows writing as a whole.

this puts him in a similar category to enid: white people who are outcasts/monsters, who also don’t fit in within their own families (also also tyler and enid’s parents lowkey, highkey aren’t the best?!)

anyways, they both have things they can relate to with wednesday, like not fitting in with people around them and even their families.

they also have stuff that wednesday would mostly likely find more attractive in a person (i’m no expert but stay with me) they are outcasts and “vicious” monsters. no one can tell me she wouldn’t find any monster species interesting!! especially one who couldn’t transform for her whole life and suddenly did to save her roomie or a guy who can transform into a RARE type of monster.

and plus even before the reveal everyone loves a dark moody character with someone super nice and sweet!

so yeah i understand why people think wyler would be a good couple and i don’t exactly hate them like i used to bc i do think wednesday would be interested especially after the reveal of him being A hyde.

HOWEVER i specified the “A” and didn’t use “the” this very important bc wednesday doesn’t like murder she has morbid interests, curiosities, and humor. she does also do things that aren’t necessarily legal, but she, and no other addams family members, do or condone murdering innocent people (as far as i’m aware, please correct me if i’m wrong!!). she actively tries to stop the death of others around her bc, to an extent, she does care about human life.

now you may be wondering “what about her obsession with serial killers?!” and i want to you ask it again out loud. it’s just what you said it was, an obsession! she finds killers interesting, she wants to understand their patterns, behaviors, and thought processes. this doesn’t mean she actually condones murder.

there is one argument i could potentially sort of get behind for them to be canon later on and that being bc he was groomed through the whole killing thing he might not fully be in wrong which i get kinda but like he did fully kill people so idk. i think if the writers wanted to go down that route they would have to be very careful about how they do it so yeah idk.

overall i do understand where people are coming from with the wyler ship, i personally prefer wenclair and think if you like the tropes you see in wyler try to think about wenclair in a similar way and you might realize it’s not so different!!

if anyone wants to discuss or have a friendly debate about why one ship is a little better than the other, i would happily reply to anyone!! but if you just want to argue i will either ignore or delete your comment bc it’s really not that deep! wednesday is teen netflix show with tolerable writing, we aren’t debating something life changing. :P

[theshotsheardacrossworlds]

Nightly Chats

A series of conversations between Agi and Emmrich as they wind down for the night. SFW mostly.

Emmrich thought it was unexpectedly wonderful that he and my beloved girl had settled into what he believed was the most domestic part of their blossoming relationship. After he prepared Manfred for the night (plenty of activities to stimulate and educate him while we sleep), the couple would lay in bed.

Cuddle. Read. Talk.

I so do enjoy our nightly chats.

“What’s there to do in Nevarra anyways? I mean, obviously there’s the Necropolis, but what about non-death related things? Parks? Theaters? Fishing?”

Fishing. She took me not too long ago for fishing and a delightful picnic in Arlathan. “My Da was a fisherman. He taught me how to fish. It’s something we loved doing together. And it makes me feel connected to him. Oh Emm, you would’ve loved Da.”

Turning the page of the current selection for book club, he chuckled. “Well, in Nevarra City itself there are many parks, museums, theaters of all sizes, festivals, markets, libraries, and so much more! Why, my darling, are you afraid you’ll be bored?”

Agnes threw her head back and laughed. “No, no, no! I don’t know anything about Nevarra other than the bits of the Necropolis I’ve seen.” She scooched closer to him. “I want to love it as much as you do.”

He hummed softly. “Why’s that, dear?”

Say what I hope you’ll say. Please.

She moved to snuggle against him, and he lifted his arm to accommodate her and then to hold her close. My big beautiful darling girl, fear not. I always have room for you. “Because when this is all over, hopefully Nevarra will be my new home. With you.” Yes. Yes, with me. If my current abode is not to your liking, then we may find one to your tastes. Anything you want, sweetheart. Anything at all. Agnes sighed. “Sometimes I think about us having our morning coffee on days off…then going to the markets, holding hands and sharing kisses…it’s all so lovely.”

“What happens next?”

He can hear the grin in her voice when she answers. “You usually bend me over the desk in your study and have your wicked way with me, Professor.”

Wicked? I shall show you wicked, my beloved.

With a rather mad bark of laughter, he shifted suddenly to straddle her generous waist, her wrists pinned by the sides of her head. Emmrich watched her chuckle breathlessly below him, her smile growing wider by the second. “My wicked way, hmm? How wicked? Teasing you until you’re a writhing mess, begging me for relief? Rutting into you from behind relentlessly? How wicked am I, dearest?”

It is at this point, my darling girl growled, “SHOW ME, EMMRICH. PLEASE.”

As a gentleman, I simply must oblige when asked so nicely…

***

“So, what were you doing when you were thirty?” Agnes asked after swallowing a bite of her cheesecake. “What were you like?”

Reading glasses on the end of his nose, he glanced over them at her. “I beg your pardon, dear?”

She stabbed the cheesecake. “I’m thirty, love. You know me. You know I’m doing.” Barely suppressing a grin, she continued. “I’m curious about you. Were you teaching then? Were you seeing anyone? What were you doing most days? Who were your friends? That sort of thing.”

He closed his book and placed it on his side table, raising an eyebrow. “Alright, I’ll indulge your curiosity since you asked so nicely.” I’m only teasing, dear. As you have been and continue to be honest with me, I shall be the same to you. Leaning back against the pillows, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Nearly twenty-two years ago, I was indeed teaching, my love. I had been for five years. Can you believe it?” I see that little sweet smile, dearest Agnes. Oh, how I wish to kiss you. Not yet… “I was living in my old apartment at the Necropolis---a lovely one-bedroom with a small balcony overlooking the Memorial Gardens. I spent many mornings having breakfast out there, gazing at the flowers. My daily life was largely the same as it is now---teaching, corpse whispering, performing my duties, attending social events and the like. And also similarly, I have many friendships with colleagues, some of whom include my former students.” And Johanna. My dearest friend. He pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Regarding my love life, I will only say that’s when I began to see the Orlesian art dealer.”

Without missing a beat, she winked at him. “You’ve upgraded to a nice Fereldan lady.”

Maker, take me.

Is she trying to end me? Here and now?

Laughing, they shared a brief kiss before he spoke. “Clearly, my darling. How could I forget such an important detail? Do forgive me.” He could taste her dessert on her lips. Sweet and creamy just like those gorgeous breasts of hers. With his free hand, he stole the fork from her, gathered a generous dollop of cheesecake, and raised it to her lips.

“There’s nothing to forgive, love…though I certainly won’t say no to this.” The cheesecake quickly disappeared into her mouth, a frankly silly grin on her pretty face. My heart, you make me laugh more than I have in decades. She hummed, her cute little nose wrinkling as she chews. She is a delight. I love her so dearly. “And I will never, ever say no to a kiss, Emmrich.” I can taste the cheesecake on her lips, her tongue…oh, how I long to devour her sweetness. Agnes sucked on his bottom lip before smirking. “I bet you were so fucking pretty too. Still are, in case you’re wondering. Did everyone throw themselves at you?”

A grunt escaped him as he scooped more cheesecake on the fork. “Oh hush! What sordid images do you have in that gorgeous head of yours, dear?”

Waggling her eyebrows, they both shared a laugh before she responded. “I’m seeing a young professor who knows he’s the shit---a bit cocky but not arrogant. Certainly not mean, love. Utterly charming, of course!” Agnes sighed dramatically and clasped her hands over her ample chest. You little minx, I adore you. “Ah, but I cannot possibly forget the impossibly tight pants I’m one hundred percent sure you wore that show off your a—"

“I never knew I was into bums before I saw you bend over the first time, and I said to myself, ‘Well, I suppose you’re into asses now, Agi.’”

She’s so terribly funny!

He gave her a quick peck before offering her more cheesecake. “Not all of my trousers were that tight, darling.” Emmrich said with the slightest of pouts. Enough that she will…

She took the fork, ate the bite of cheesecake, and then, along with the plate, put them on her bedside table, grinning. “But I bet most of them were, love.” Agnes giggled as she curled into his side, a long, plush leg going over his lap. “Professor Volkarin with the sexy ass, strutting around the Necropolis like he owns the place. Emmrich!” She cried when he placed a wet kiss on her cheek and tickled her thigh. “Love!”

I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you…

And fear not, my heart and soul---even then, I would have loved you.

***

I simply cannot wait any longer, or I fear the anticipation will end me.

Emmrich inhaled slowly as he ran his long, bare fingers through his lover’s dark red curls. She was curled into his side, her head on his chest. I do so love holding her. “Dearest, please forgive me for bringing this up, but I’m afraid I’m curious. What did your mother mean when she said I’m not like the ‘beefy blokes’ you pursued?”

Agnes groaned. “Okay, first of all, that was a long time ago!” Oh dear. Is there a story here, I wonder? “Second…” Now giggling, she patted his chest. ���It was a very long time ago! Fuck me. Alright, so it was just two guys I had crushes on when I was seventeen. That’s it! It’s not me having a type or anything.” She wrinkled her nose. “And it doesn’t even matter because one was already engaged and the other told me maybe but only if I lost ‘the gut.’ Which was fucking rich considering his own. Anyways,” she lifted her head to look at him. “Is it just curiosity or something else, love?”

He could see the worry in her eyes.

Oh, my love. Fear not, darling. How could I be jealous of foolish boys who let you slip away?

“Curiosity, I assure you.” He watched her lower her head, and I felt the need to kiss her head. Those soft, vibrant curls…soft and vibrant like her. “So, what you’re saying, dear, is you don’t have a type?”

She rolled her eyes playfully. “It’s you, love. You’re my type.” Wrinkling her nose in that most adorable way, her brow furrowed. “It’s…different with you. I knew I wanted you from the start. I knew you were the man of my dreams.” Agnes suddenly sat up, grinning. “That man in the flaming skull helmet---I just had to know more about him.” She then grabbed his face and kissed him passionately, murmuring, “Something in my heart called to yours…and I knew…” Tugging on his lower lip, she said, “I. Wanted. You.”

Agi darling, you’re going to be the end of me.

Emmrich began to moan but instead yelped when his lover straddled him, her delicious cunt so close yet so very far. “My lo—”

Dearest girl, love of my life…

Your unbridled passion is like nothing else I’ve experienced.

And lucky for me, I shall experience it shortly.

***

“May I ask you something?”

He chuckled softly, pausing his reading. Next book club selection. A “cozy” murder mystery selected by Harding. “Agi sweetheart, you may ask me anything.”

His lover hummed as she snuggled closer to him and rested her head against his. “When we met, what did you think of me?”

Emmrich sighed like the lovesick fool I am. “The real question, dear, is what didn’t I think when we met! First of all, I was positively struck by your beauty. Then, your charm and wit. Ah, but I cannot forget your indomitable nature.” Closing his book, he placed it on his bedside table and focused his attention on her once more. He took her chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting her face towards him. “Your brilliance. Your figure. Your heart. All of this and more consumed me the moment I first beheld your smiling visage.”

He barely waited for the breathless “Emm” to leave her lovely lips before he kissed her.

Continuing to kiss her slow and deep as a gentleman should, he murmured, “You captured me…”

I am yours.

“Captivated me…”

For as long as you desire, precious girl.

“Enchanted me…”

I am yours to love in every way you deem fit.

“One might even say, seduced me…” He waggled his eyebrows (something she positively adores and never fails to make her laugh) and gave her a sloppy kiss, laughing.

As he predicted, she too was nearly doubled over but still waving a frankly cute little finger and trying so very hard to look serious. Yes, darling. Yes. I accused you of seducing me. What are you going to do about it, my treasure? What shall you do, hmm?

“Seduce you?! When we first met?! How?!” Her nose wrinkled in faux frustration. Goodness, she’s so funny. “Don’t tell me the eminent and super professional Professor Volkarin was checking out my ass every time I bent over or…when I kinda fell over on that surprisingly steep and slippery slope because that happened.” Oooooh, I know that look. Like I’m a plate of brownies she’ll devour. “You were looking at my ass, weren’t you, love?”

His mouth was inches from hers when he whispered, “And what if I was, dear? What if I was doing precisely that? What will you do about it, Agi?”

To his delight, she did exactly what he hoped.

She threw her arms around my neck, got in my lap, and kissed me.

As for what occurred after this, well…

A gentleman doesn’t tell.

[elliebelliegirl]

okay following up though... i understand that you are jewish and Israeli but (not trying to attack you, just trying to understand) how can you stand with the state of Israel after seeing the numbers of atrocities that the IDF has committed - of course the hostages should be released, but palestine will cease to exist if this continues and this is an active genocide. people are being displaced and thousands have died. how can you in good conscience stand with the actions of Israel ?

im still assuming this is in good faith! i do appreciate that you're asking and not attacking, it's really nice change of pace tbh. please understand that my ethnicity and my political opinions are not the same thing and how i feel about the state of israel is divorced from my religious beliefs. i just also believe that my people have a right to live in our indigenous land. i also believe palestinians should be able to live in israel (many already do.) anyway, here's the deal.

first, im not israeli, but my family is. i was born and raised in the u.s. while most of my family is israeli, i am not (yet.) im an american jew with strong roots in israel.

second! israelis have been displaced since october, since the attacks by hamas, the governing body of gaza. they've been attacked and killed for years (the whole reason the iron dome exists is because missiles are such an active threat.) getting displaced or killed has happened to israelis and gazans. its terrible for everyone. i am human, and therefore uncomfortable with war, but i don't think it's a genocide. i am horrified by the deaths in gaza. i hate that innocents are being harmed. i don't want to add a however, but there's a big one- it's that the ratio of killed militants v.s civilians is unfathomably low. if israel wanted to kill everyone in gaza (which is 100% not the goal) they would be dead already. the war is active now only to eradicate hamas, which would be beneficial to gazans and israelis, and to rescue the hostages. israel has offered to end the war multiple times and hamas has refused.. because they refuse to return the people they kidnapped. the war could've been over months ago!!! months ago. israel did not instigate this war, and has repeatedly offered ceasefire deals. hamas is the one shooting these offers down. also, palestine wont just cease to exist.. im not sure what that part means, can you explain it? i want to understand you, too.

also. i have cousins in the idf. one of them was supposed to come over before last days on sukkot and couldn't make it in the end. over the weekend, october seventh happened. the next time we spoke, it was a phone call right after simchat torah ended. he was on his way to the airport, having been called back to israel to meet his unit in one of the attacked kibbutzim and start collecting bodies. i only had a few minutes to tell him i love him and to stay alive on behalf of me and my siblings. the memory is so surreal. we turned on our phones for the first time in days to texts from our israeli family saying they were alive, not to watch the videos, not to look at the pictures. im still kind of stuck there on my couch, holding my siblings in a hug and wondering if someone who hadn't texted yet was dead. then we saw people celebrating the massacre. they haven't really stopped. so we knew we couldnt really count on anyone to protect us, and this was way before israel entered gaza. people were just happy jews were dead. don't know if this is a huge sidetrack, but. this is why i stand with israel. their goal is to keep my family alive. their goal is to keep as many gazans as possible alive. that is not the goal of iran and hamas. this goes further than zionism though, tbh. zionism is pretty simple as a principle 😅

[fanfictionstuff]

I legit yelped when I check the Amaimon x reader tag after like a fucking a year or so expecting it to be as empty as I left it when I left the Blue Exorcist Fandom so long ago but instead was flabbergasted dare I say bamboozled to see that someone was actually posting about my boy, my sweet emotionally stunted baby.

Amaimon had me a death grip for so long but he just left my brain, because no one actively talked about him, but them I saw an old note to myself about watching the new Blue Exorcist anime, and decided to check out the Fandom to see if it was worth obsessing over again, cuz it's wasn't worth it if I couldn't get my fanfic fix. And to be shock there is???

Sorry if that was strange, I'm just so excited!

Anyways, could I request Amaimon x GN!reader(if you don't do gn fem is fine) with a S/O who decided to start experimenting with baking and decided to use Amaimon as their test taster.

Btw love your works

Let me share what happened with me. For some reason, I thought there would be a new season around May (2024). I don’t know why, but I got excited, and then I realized it was October. I decided to rewatch everything and fell in love with Amaimon all over again. Naturally, I had to find some fanfics... I found about five where he wasn't acting like a 12-year-old. After staring at my computer screen for like two weeks, I decided to write my own, even though I didn't expect anyone to really read it. So I was mostly writing for myself until the new season came out. Then the small Amaimon fanbase returned. 🥺

But, I'm still pretty much the only one writing 😔

Anyway~ I'm so glad you like my works and you were able to come back to the fandom and read Amaimon fics 💚 I hope you like this one.

“So, what do you think?” You look expectantly at Amaimon, who has a slice of cake in front of him on the table. 

Amaimon looks between you and the cake before returning his gaze to you. "...Am I supposed to tell the truth or lie?”

You shoot him a look of disbelief. “The truth. You’re my taste tester, remember? I need your honest opinion." 

He stares at you for a moment longer, trying to gauge whether you truly want the truth. The last time he told you the truth after you asked, you threw something at him. “It’s not good.” 

“Really? What’s wrong with it?” 

“I don’t know.” 

You lean forward and slide the plate closer, snatching the fork he just used to sample the cake. The moment the fluffy cake touches your tongue, it feels strangely dry, almost as if it’s sucking the moisture right out of your mouth. "Oh shit, it’s way too dry!" you comment, surprised by the unexpected texture. “How did it end up this dry?” you cough out, reaching for a bottle of water. “I wonder if there’s a way to save it; I’d hate to throw out a whole cake.” You drop your head to the table in frustration. Amaimon reaches over the table and awkwardly pats your head. 

It turns out there are ways to save dry cakes. From your research, you've discovered a few methods. Amaimon sits in the living room, staring blankly at the TV while you prepare a simple syrup for the cake. Your search revealed that the best way to revive a dry cake is by using simple syrup or soaking it with milk. You've decided to go with the syrup. Although you learned that adding jam or mousse between layers can enhance the cake, you're not ready for layered cakes yet, so you set that idea aside. The last two suggestions were icing and refrigeration. You’ve already made icing; you just wanted Amaimon to try the cake by itself first. The batch of icing you made is sitting in the fridge, waiting for you. 

An hour later, your sheet cake is done. This time, you try it first, not wanting to scare your demon boyfriend away with bad cake. This time, it’s much better, but still not where it should be. It’s saved, and Amaimon will finish it within a couple days so you can move on to something else. Still, it’s not at the level you want. Slowly, you walk towards Amaimon and hand him a fresh slice. “So, it’s still not perfect, but it’s edible now.” You promise him as he exams the cake. 

“It’s good.” He tells you between forkfuls of cake. Excited that you were able to fix it, you sit beside him on the sofa and wrap your arms around his shoulders while sitting to his right. “I’m glad, so it won’t be wasted.” You press your lips against his cheek as he continues to eat forkfuls of the cake. 

"I wouldn't waste it anyway," Amaimon says flatly, licking icing from his fork. His golden eyes glance at you briefly before returning to the cake. "Even if it didn’t taste good."

You smile at this; it’s about as sweet as he gets sometimes. His free hand drifts down to your knee, his long claws lightly grazing your skin.

"You know," you say, resting your head gently against his shoulder, "I've been thinking about trying something a bit more complex next time. Maybe a layered cake with different flavors."

Amaimon pauses mid-bite. "More cake to test?"

"Is that alright?"

He doesn't respond right away; instead, he continues to eat with meticulous precision. The television hums softly in the background, with both of you paying little mind to it. His thumb gently traces small circles on your knee.

"I can test whatever you make," he finally says. "I have nothing better to do."

You roll your eyes. "Wow, thanks. Make me feel special, why don't you?"

His fork scrapes the plate clean, and before you can blink, he's holding an empty dish.

"More," he states simply, golden eyes sliding toward you.

You laugh. "Well, I guess that means it's really good after all." You take his plate and head back to the kitchen, cutting him another generous slice. 

As you hand him the second piece, his fingers brush against yours, lingering for a moment longer than needed. The contact sends a slight shiver up your arm.

"You know," you say, settling back next to him, "most people tend to offer more detailed feedback. For instance, they might mention what specifically tastes good or what could be improved."

Amaimon pauses mid-bite, tilting his head as if pondering a complex puzzle. "It's sweet. I like sweet things." He takes another bite and then adds, "The first one was like eating dirt. This one isn't."

"High praise," you mutter sarcastically, but you can't help but smile.

He nods and suddenly lifts you onto his lap with swift, fluid movements. His arms encircle your waist, holding you securely. “It’s good,” he murmurs, grasping your jaw and pressing his lips against yours.

His lips taste like sugar and icing, sweet like cake yet somehow more intoxicating. When he pulls away, you feel a bit dazed.

"You're better than cake," he asserts plainly, as though proclaiming that the sky is blue.

"That might be the kindest thing you've ever said to me," you laugh as you gently touch your forehead to his.

Amaimon looks slightly confused. "I’m not trying to be nice. It’s just the truth." He reaches past you for the plate, somehow managing to take another bite of cake without loosening his grip on your waist. "Humans are strange."

The next day, despite mentioning you want to try baking a cake again, you were scrolling through social media and found something else you want to try instead. Cinnamon rolls. 

It's easy and supposedly foolproof—after all, even a child can do it. That’s what the article promised. So why are you left with flat cinnamon rolls staring back at you? Did you skip a step? What went wrong? You reread the entire recipe three times, only to realize what you did wrong. I can’t believe I forgot to let the dough rise. Dropping to the ground, you mourn the loss of your cinnamon rolls. 

Amaimon steps around you, giving them a curious look before glancing at the bowl of icing you prepared to frost them with. Without hesitation, he grabs a cinnamon roll from the center of the pan, dips it into the icing, and pops it into his mouth. "_____". 

“What?” 

He gazes down at you as you pout. “These are better than the cake,” he tells you, helping himself to another cinnamon roll.

“…really?” 

He nods and picks up the still-hot pan along with the bowl of frosting to take both into the living room. 

The cinnamon rolls last less than two hours. 

By Friday, you’ve come up with a great idea.

Cinnamon roll cake. 

Amaimon observes you as you mix the batter, meticulously rereading the instructions after each step. Determined not to let this one go wrong, you spend twice as long as necessary on the preparation. With a hint of nervousness, you press on, unwilling to make any mistakes. 

Two hours later, twice as long as it should have taken, you pull the cake from the oven. The icing is already set aside, ready for use. At some point, Amaimon appears, staring intently at the cake. 

At first glance, it’s clear that the cake is cooked to perfection: moist, but not overly so, with no burnt areas in sight—it looks fantastic. As you pour the icing over the cake, you can almost see the demon king drooling in anticipation. Just as you finish scraping the bowl clean, he eagerly takes a bite of the cake, digging his fork in without waiting for you to serve him.

“So?” You question. 

“It’s better than the others you baked.

You beam at him, feeling a rush of pride. "Really? I'm finally getting the hang of this!" 

Amaimon doesn't respond, too busy taking another large forkful of cake. His golden eyes gleam with an unusual intensity as he eats. You notice a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth—subtle, but unmistakably present. 

"I want to try," you say, reaching for a fork. 

Without warning, Amaimon effortlessly pulls the entire cake pan out of your reach. "It's mine," he declares nonchalantly, continuing to indulge in the dessert. 

"Amaimon! I made that cake. At the very least, I deserve to taste it!" You lunge for the pan, but he deftly shifts it out of your reach once more. 

He pauses, fork suspended in mid-air, gazing thoughtfully at you.  “Fine,” he finally says, a hint of resignation in his voice. 

Before you can reach for your own utensil, he lifts a piece with his fork and extends it toward your lips. You blink in surprise—such a gesture is unusual for him. Hesitantly, you lean forward and take the bite from his fork. 

The flavors burst in your mouth—rich cinnamon, buttery sweetness, and a perfect hint of vanilla. It's divine. 

"Oh, wow," you murmur, briefly closing your eyes to savor the moment. "That really turned out amazing." 

When you open your eyes, you see Amaimon staring at you with an unusual intensity. He remains completely still, fork suspended in mid-air, observing your reaction with unblinking golden eyes. 

"What?" you ask, suddenly self-conscious. 

Without a word, he sets down the fork and, in one smooth motion, pulls you onto his lap. His fingers, warm and inviting against your skin, slide up to cradle the back of your head.

"You made something good," he says, his voice low and direct. His thumb glides across your lower lip, wiping away a smudge of icing. 

"Thanks for sounding so surprised," you tease, though your voice sounds softer than you intended. 

Amaimon leans forward, his lips hovering just above yours. "I want more." 

You find yourself uncertain whether he is referring to the cake or something else. Before you can inquire, he closes the distance between you. His lips meet yours, infused with the flavors of cinnamon and sweetness. The kiss possesses a yearning quality, almost hungry. His fingers weave into your hair, drawing you even closer. When he finally breaks the kiss, you are left breathless, your heart racing against your ribs. “More?” You mumble more to yourself.

"The cake," Amaimon says, his golden eyes still fixed on you, "I want to finish it." 

You laugh, slightly dazed. "Of course that's what you meant." 

He tilts his head, observing your flushed face with mild curiosity. "What did you think I meant?" 

Rather than answer, you slide off his lap and grab your own fork. "Nothing. Let's share the rest." 

Amaimon frowns slightly but makes no objections as you take a seat beside him. As you both indulge in the cake, his arm naturally wraps around your waist, his clawed fingers resting possessively on your hip. 

A few minutes later, it seemed to dawn on him what you meant. “I shouldn’t need to tell you that I’ll always want more of you.” He speaks bluntly, taking another bite. 

[caliosi]

I have- a lot of feelings about color symbolism in character design, especially how it interacts with other characters in that media.

So anyway, here are my thoughts in relation to two pieces of obscure media that I can’t stop thinking about, The Glass Scientists and Ghost Trick. Major spoilers for Ghost Trick! This game has a fantastic story with a really good twist so I recommend if you have any interest in it at all, go check it out before you read this!

So, in TGS Jekyll has a very obvious red motif and Hyde a green one

These are two complimentary colors, which in and of themselves have some fun ideas to discuss. Complementary colors are two complete opposites on the color wheel. But as the name suggests, these two colors also go really well together. To make something beautiful a good choice would be to have both these colors. But you also can’t have equal amounts of both with the same vibrancy or shade throughout the whole thing or there will be no harmony. These two will always go together like this, opposites but work together to make the full depth and beauty that a person has to be a person. To avoid making things messy, you choose moments when green gets to be the main color and red gets to shine through to make each other pop and the other way around.

There is also something to be said about the fact that Jekyll is red and Hyde is green. Red most commonly is associated with things like anger, hatred or just evil and green is usually considered good. Now this isn’t always the case though, there are times green is associated with things like poison and red is associated with passion. The only thing that I am stuck on is the descriptor of passionate more suites Hyde’s public persona. If anyone has any ideas as to why Jekyll is represented by red I would love to hear it.

Now in Ghost Trick (spoilers) the two characters I am going to talk about is Cabanela and Yomiel. These two have the same color palette for their clothing, red white and black, the only difference is with Yomiel his main color is red with a white accent and Cabenela’s main color is white with an accent of red.

It is already pointed out in the game that Cabanela’s white coat represents his ‘spotless record’ or the fact that he does good, but he always has that scarf weighting down on his neck, the time he was responsible for Yomiel’s death. With Yomiel he is covered in the red, all the bad things he has done, but there is a sliver of white, he wants to be a good person that is his humanity. They are opposites but at the same time, they are the exact same. Now, this may be a real stretch but... at the very end of the game, when we see Yomiel in prison he has on a pink frock. The red and white combined. He is still going to forever have that red on him, he always did what he did, but he lightened it, he will be better and he, unlike Cabanela who separates the bad thing he did from his good, has excepted that part of himself into who he is and he won’t run away from it.

Anyway, go read The Glass Scientists and play Ghost Trick (or at least watch a play through) if you haven’t! They are both wonderful pieces of media about humanity and identity and highly recommend them especially if you like to over analyze things!