#but sometimes im like could you phrase this any differently

[muirneach]

reading an essay collection about the concept of winter which is pretty enjoyable but every time this guy mentions like. ‘northernness’ i go 😬😬 lets not get white supremacist with it here brother….

[luetta]

idk if people on tumblr know about this but a cybersecurity software called crowdstrike just did what is probably the single biggest fuck up in any sector in the past 10 years. it's monumentally bad. literally the most horror-inducing nightmare scenario for a tech company.

some info, crowdstrike is essentially an antivirus software for enterprises. which means normal laypeople cant really get it, they're for businesses and organisations and important stuff.

so, on a friday evening (it of course wasnt friday everywhere but it was friday evening in oceania which is where it first started causing damage due to europe and na being asleep), crowdstrike pushed out an update to their windows users that caused a bug.

before i get into what the bug is, know that friday evening is the worst possible time to do this because people are going home. the weekend is starting. offices dont have people in them. this is just one of many perfectly placed failures in the rube goldburg machine of crowdstrike. there's a reason friday is called 'dont push to live friday' or more to the point 'dont fuck it up friday'

so, at 3pm at friday, an update comes rolling into crowdstrike users which is automatically implemented. this update immediately causes the computer to blue screen of death. very very bad. but it's not simply a 'you need to restart' crash, because the computer then gets stuck into a boot loop.

this is the worst possible thing because, in a boot loop state, a computer is never really able to get to a point where it can do anything. like download a fix. so there is nothing crowdstrike can do to remedy this death update anymore. it is now left to the end users.

it was pretty quickly identified what the problem was. you had to boot it in safe mode, and a very small file needed to be deleted. or you could just rename crowdstrike to something else so windows never attempts to use it.

it's a fairly easy fix in the grand scheme of things, but the issue is that it is effecting enterprises. which can have a looooot of computers. in many different locations. so an IT person would need to manually fix hundreds of computers, sometimes in whole other cities and perhaps even other countries if theyre big enough.

another fuck up crowdstrike did was they did not stagger the update, so they could catch any mistakes before they wrecked havoc. (and also how how HOW do you not catch this before deploying it. this isn't a code oopsie this is a complete failure of quality ensurance that probably permeates the whole company to not realise their update was an instant kill). they rolled it out to everyone of their clients in the world at the same time.

and this seems pretty hilarious on the surface. i was havin a good chuckle as eftpos went down in the store i was working at, chaos was definitely ensuring lmao. im in aus, and banking was literally down nationwide.

but then you start hearing about the entire country's planes being grounded because the airport's computers are bricked. and hospitals having no computers anymore. emergency call centres crashing. and you realised that, wow. crowdstrike just killed people probably. this is literally the worst thing possible for a company like this to do.

crowdstrike was kinda on the come up too, they were starting to become a big name in the tech world as a new face. but that has definitely vanished now. to fuck up at this many places, is almost extremely impressive. its hard to even think of a comparable fuckup.

a friday evening simultaneous rollout boot loop is a phrase that haunts IT people in their darkest hours. it's the monster that drags people down into the swamp. it's the big bag in the horror movie. it's the end of the road. and for crowdstrike, that reaper of souls just knocked on their doorstep.

[genderfreakxx]

Ah yes, the “parents misgendering you in the past tense because it makes sense to them and you get that but also it sucks and is painful” problem.

I know it well.

[prettyboykatsuki]

— ❈ YOU'RE SO PRETTY, BABY.

▸ prompt ; companions and their responses to being called pretty boy / pretty girl.

▸ a/n ; bit of a generic post im sorry forreal. while i was originally just going to write this for astarion i had ideas for. all the other companions.

most of the characters have a reader w a specific class or background, all varied! also spoilers for gale, shadowheart, karlach, and lae'zel.

reader / tav is always gender neutral!

▸ wc ; about 4.5k, about 700+ words per companion.

ft. astarion, wyll, gale, shadowheart, karlach, lae'zel

no minthara or halsin bc i could not bring myself to write it. but maybe later if enough people ask lol.

❈ ASTARION ;

Astarion tries his very best to find your affection for him trite, even when he knows it doesn't feel that way. It's an instinct for him, one you'll simply have to make peace with you if you're really planning on tailing him to the end of the world.

Truth be told though, he likes your generally affectionate nature. He hasn't reached a point he can admit this so openly, but the comfortable and easy way you reach for him is nice. He likes how your hands seem to stretch for him, the way you cling to his spine when you sleep in his tent and the likes.

And while he is not stranger to hypocrisy, he thinks it'd be amiss to try and bar you from calling him any pet names when he calls you so many. He's got quite a few handy. Darling is a favorite, followed by dear, and sometimes my love when he can muster up the courage to mean it instead of saying it like he's trying to perform.

You like to call Astarion by his name though, most often. He isn't exactly sure why you're so fond of it, and truthfully he's done little to consider his own name. You say it wonderfully though, tasteful and loving and soft.

Sometimes you gasp it in offense or horror or shock, other times in pleasure. Sometimes you whimper it in your sleep, groping around until your hands fist in the material of his shirt and you drag him back to you.

In any case, he's used to hearing his name. So hearing you utter the words pretty boy to him, he can't help but be a little shocked.

You're a little tipsy. A hard, arduous journey of fighting githyanki soldiers has taken a terrible toll on your normal inhibitions. You're quite flushed while you're drunk, and all the same sitting in his lap like you've not a care in the world.

Astarion doesn't mind holding you. In fact, he's thinking of all the terribly teasing things he can say to you come morning. So far, you've done nothing but mumble. It's a sudden movement, your hands clasped around his face.

"Feeling forward are we darling?" He says, like second nature. It's so reactionary it's banal, though he does have some enthusiasm since the flirtation is directed at you. Instead of your usual giggling, you stare at him with your lips parted.

"I suppose I am pretty boy," You reply, a completely foreign confidence in your voice that stops him dead in his tracks. Underneath the thick layer of flirtation is sincerity so unmistakable it almost proves to be too much "Could I ask you to keep me company?"

Astarion is, eternally grateful about the fact you don't get much more than that out of you. He spends the entire night thinking about it. You're certainly not the first to call him pretty, and that particular phrasing has been thrown to him more than once.

Yet it rings a little differently. The way you said it so tenderly, your hands stroking the nape of his neck and cupping his face. Well, it's not nothing. He can't decide if he hates it or not until the next morning comes.

Your eyes flutter open as light pours through the open part of his tent. You reach over to him with a deep sigh, engaging in some quiet morning affection when you repeat yesterdays sentiment.

"Good morning, my very pretty boy," You say - and this time Astarion is sure whatever he is feeling he has not ever felt previously "Sorry for the antics last night."

"So your memory hasn't failed you. Good to know." Astarion says back. You laugh lightly. "Your charming little pet name worried me quite a bit."

"Nothing to worry about my love." You say, warm and nuzzling into his neck likely to cool yourself from over-heating "I really do find you very pretty."

He can't help the feeling that floods his sense. He likes it even though he feels a little clingy, but perhaps there's no need to admit that.

"Oh, really, darling? How sweet you are. Tell me again, then. Just for kicks this time."

❈ WYLL ;

it's a matter of getting used to it for Wyll.

For the first month of your adventuring together, pretty boy, had been a somewhat condescending substitute for his name. Among other ones, like daddy's boy and prince. None of the pet names held any real affection.

You liked getting under his skin, after all.

You didn't get on at first, not for a long while. You're a rogue, a ratty street urchin turned mercenary who'd spent your youth climbing through the soil and mud of the Lower City's underbelly. Your words verbatim, not his. At first, your resentment for him caught him off guard, especially because Wyll prefers to keep the peace and get along with everyone. But, he had a difficult time understanding you, even with his people skills

Eventually it clicked that your resentment was less towards him, and more towards what he represents. You're a Baldurian, but one abandoned by the city and it's people. What else could the Ravengards represent if not the future you never had a chance to look towards.

It was easier after that. And Wyll had promised to himself to observe you closer. In that, he found to like you a great deal.

He's fond of pet names in general, but more fond of you lately. At the beginning of your adventure, it was a little difficult to get accustomed to your... roughness. You lack delicacy, but you're not exactly silver tongued.

Yet, you're not as cruel as you make yourself out to be. Contrarily, while you've traveled together, Wyll bore witness to only gentleness. Nothing more. The words you spoke about only doing things for coin had been clearly disproved by your countless acts of charity. Especially gentle and kind to children, and especially unforgiving to the rich and unhelpful.

Once he got used to it, there was something kind of...sweet about it. To see you say one thing and do another had it's own novelty that Wyll grew fond of you.

It was the night of tiefling party that roused his feelings. That night, he'd watched you play with the tiefling children all night, teaching them tricks of the trade.

And you'd started falling for him, too, judging by the way your usual snark was nowhere to be found.

Especially vivid is the change in your tone when you call him the same way you did before.

"We'll take a short rest for you, pretty boy." Your voice murmurs, looking carefully over his wounds while place down your own weapons "Get your spells back. Organize our things in the mean time."

He gives you look, examining your own worry before his smile stretches into one of fondness. It doesn't bother him at all, not anymore. No, lately - it sounds rather fond, and each time Wyll hears it, it does something for ego.

"No need for the concern, though I am appreciative," He says, not bothering to mask the smug quality in his voice at your change. He delights in it a little, admittedly . "I'll be alright soon enough."

You don't seem to notice, too busy wiping your blade of fresh blood, metal shiny as moonlight. "And there's no need for your heroism, Blade of Frontiers. Have some discernment about time and place."

You look up at him with your brows furrowed, and Wyll can barely help himself. "Are you worried I'll lose what's left in my appearances? I'm just telling you there's no need to trouble yourself over it."

It takes you a while to register to his words, but when it finally does - your eyes blow wide. The look of embarrassment on your face is well worth it.

"I thought you hated when I called you that." You say coolly.

"It's not so bad," He says back tenderly, staring at you "At least not anymore."

You pout a little. Wyll fights some unspoken urge to kiss you. A little longer.

"I prefer when you're acting oblivious,"

"Sorry to disappoint."

He lets his head lay on the wall behind him - reaching a hand for yours instead, trying to rest up as promised. He sees you smiling from the corner of his eye and affirms it to himself. You squeeze, soft, but otherwise say nothing about it.

Yes, lately, nothing you say could get under his skin. Even when you so obviously try.

❈ GALE ;

Gale is always the poet, never the muse.

He thought highly of his relationship with Mystra, and in many ways still does. He loved her. This much is true. He can't say for any certainty if she had loved him just as much, or at all. He wasn't the first mortal, and would hardly be the last.

But he loved her, enough to write about her and wax poetic about all that he'd lost.

When Gale examines any of his past relationship, he realizes this is some kind of pattern. Gale is good at being loving, but he does not know for certain if any of them loved him back. Or if he was loved in the way he loves - if it was anything near close. Gale had thought, at one point, it was just matter of destiny. Gale is after all, a man who bleeds with all he has.

He can't blame anyone for loving him less than when he is categorically too much. He thought that way for a long time, destined himself to never find love again or beg for Mystra's forgiveness for some new found purpose.

When you came into his life, he hadn't been sure what would come of your relationship. Certainly a brain parasite would make camp a difficult place for romance, but the two of you managed against all odds. Among all the things that Gale finds astonishing about your relationship - it's your affection for him that catches him the most off-guard.

It's a little sad, he can admit. But it's true. When you speak to Gale, your voice is always soft. It's never demanding. Before, always, there had been some kind of expectation. Gale had to be a certain way, to pour himself into someone else for the sake of it being returned.He loved. Surely he loved.

But now, lately, you love him back. Overwhelmingly. The easiness of your love makes him feel a little... spoiled. Which is embarrassing, at the stage of life he's in. He finds the whole thing tips him over the edge. The heat creeping up his neck every time he remembers. Your hand brushing against the back of his neck, cupping his face so gently.

Gale, perhaps unsurprisingly, is fond of your various pet names. All of them sound good. Make him feel important and desired. You like to call him a bookworm, sometimes you call him baby (which he really likes much more than he is ever willing to admit), and other times you settle on saying my love.

Pretty boy is new. Pretty boy is different, and makes heat crawl up the back of Gale's neck like a smitten school boy.

It has a special effect on Gale.

In between classes, spoken with your hands cupping his face as he leans on his desk. The sunlight is pouring through the large paneled windows, casting a warmth on your expression. Gale is sat on his desk, making you eye-level.

"I'm glad you've come to see me," Gale says to you first, breaking a period of comfortable silence. You're a busy person, given all the heroics. Gale finds it troublesome, despite the fact you've moved with him to Waterdeep. Your reputation precedes you "It's been ages,"

"Of course I'd come to see you, pretty boy," You hum, thumb brushing under his cheek - carefully drawing a line "You're very healing to look at."

The effect is rather immediate. As soon as the words leave your lips, spoken to him so lovingly - he unlocks a part of himself he always seems to forget about. Forgets himself in a fundamental way, the flurry of heat and euphoric sensation of adoration washing over him like water.

He gives you a look, and you laugh - pressing your thumb to his lower lip as you lean in for a kiss. "Stop pouting, will you?"

"I'm doing nothing of the sort," He insists, kissing you despite him. You laugh into, warm and bubbly. For a minute, he remembers all he might've lost had he done what Mystra told him.

He's glad he's alive. To feel you.

"You very much are," You reply back, once you've managed to pull away from each other "Don't be so surprised. You've always been very pretty to me."

He blushes again, deeper, and closes his eyes.

❈ SHADOWHEART ;

You don't often communicate your feelings to Shadowheart through words.

You're something of a stoic. Of the few people in Shadowheart's past who remain by her side, many of them communicate about how surprised they are about your partnership. Shadowheart is known to be a little snarky, witty. She used to be very prickly, at the start of your adventure together - so everyone questions how you were able to win her heart.

Truthfully, Shadowheart didn't know what to make of your personality at first. There's a silence to you. Maybe she should expect this of paladin so loyal. A Paladin of Torm, the unswerving enemy of injustice and corruption. You've always been a devout person, putting action and justice over everything. She hated it at first, a natural response for a Sharran, she figures.

Once she'd left it all behind, she could no longer use it as an excuse.

Truth be told, Shadowheart had always liked that aspect of you. Your devotion spoke to something greater than your oath or even your god. You had simply believed in the world, and inadvertently in her. You saved her from herself, her parents from her fate, and then some.

Your devotion to her as a lover isn't something so different. She often thinks you would swear yourself to her if you could. For Shadowheart, your affection is akin to worship. Every morning, the animals are tended and the flower bed is damp. You wake her mother up without a start, remind her of where she is without making her feel ashamed. You're good to her father, talk to him of worldly politics at the dinner table.

She has no complaints to make about you. Your love for her is tangible, something she can reach out and touch with her fingers.

She's unused to hearing your affections, though. Unused to hearing the words.

You lay together in the darkness. You're alone tonight, the entire cabin empty. Her mother and father have gone together on an outing together, after you accompanied them into the city. You've finally returned, put the horses up in the stable, and have to come to her side.

Shadowheart likes to lay in your arms. She lets herself curl into your weight, inhales the scent of your skin - earthy and rich as you let your arm fold around her waist. She lays ontop of you today, her whole body on yours like a blanket.

She looks up at you, her her tied loosely. She can practically feel how glowy her own expression is as she examines you - sees her reflection in your irises.

You let your hand lay over her back, reaching up underneath her nightwear to lay touch her skin. She gives you a look - her smile small, sincere. Your own expression is tired from travel, but fond. You insisted on taking her parents instead of letting them go alone.

She loves you more than she cares to admit.

"You're staring." She comments blithely "See something you like?"

Normally you'd flush a little at this, silent as you kiss her forehead or cheek. This time though, you use your fingers to brush the stray hairs from her face and nod.

"Yes, pretty girl," You hum, nonchalantly. Sagely. "I really do,"

She's so caught off guard, she can't help but gape. She lifts herself slightly to stare at you in shock.

"I've never heard you talk like that. Not once while we've been together. I mean.. you've called me beautiful but," Shadowheart stumbles, a fluttery feeling in her stomach she'd rather ignore "But it's never like that,"

"I think it more often that I say it,"

"And you always think to call me that?"

"Like I said, often," You look over he carefully, before your lips pull into an easy smile "You're pretty to the point I want to tell you all the time,"

Shadowheart is scarcely embarrassed by anything. She's a practiced woman at this point in her life. It's almost juvenile the way the words effect her. It's you saying it that makes all the difference. The way you've said it that makes her squirm. She lets out a little puff of air, silent as you laugh.

"Pretty girl," You repeat, warm and gentle and laced with exhaustion "You're the most beautiful girl I've ever met."

Shadowheart tucks her face into your neck, voice as soft a murmur as the sound of her own heart rings in her ears.

"Don't make a habit of talking like that," She huffs "I already know, but I suppose it doesn't hurt to hear."

You smile brightly. "I'm glad,"

❈ KARLACH ;

Karlach adores you, utterly and completely.

She's a little caught off-guard by it. Just when she'd convinced herself she couldn't love you more, you surprise her all over again. She'd probably harbored some sort of affection for you from the start of your adventure together, when you'd gone to bat for her and make sure Wyll didn't take her head as a trophy.

Since then, though - on your journey together, she'd taken careful notice of you. And gods, she likes you. You're very different she must admit. Where Karlach is strong and fiery, you're cool and calculated. She figured that's just what magic users are like, but Gale is pretty keen on correcting this assumption. You're a sorcerer, specifically, means the whole magic thing is in your composition and not your study.

Which explained why your head isn't the books like their local wizard. She does find you to be rather charming. You're good at talking your way in and out of almost everything, and you can outwit even the cleverest people on camp. You'd think it'd make you... annoying. Or cruel. And sure, you're a little calculating - but mostly, you're sweet.

Karlach's really never met anyone like you before. Her companionship is a little limited because before the Blood Wars, she was a rag-tag kid in the street of the city. But you grew up in a noble house, learned to charm and finesse your way through everything. You know how to read situations before they've even happened.

And you always explain them to her afterwards.

You make Karlach nervous, strangely. Which is wild! When it comes to socializing, she can get along with almost anyone. You though, you always see right through her. You know when she's using her own personality as a shield, and you always know just when to intervene. Or when to say nothing, and just let her sit with you.

The day she blew up at you, after defeating Gortash - you'd handled it better than she could've hoped. You were comforting, and kind, and let her feel it out without making her feel bad. With you, she felt hopeful despite knowing that the end was probably going to come for her eventually.

With you, she thinks she could endure even the end of the world.

You're in the city now, no longer sleeping in the woods. When everyone else has gone to bed, Karlach finds you in the study, a room attached to the main living quarters.

She knocks before entering. Your voice is soft as you tell her to come in. Dressed in your comfy night clothes, your hair damp from washing up. You're bent over the desk with a furrow in your brow that Karlach finds sweet.

"Hey, baby," She asks, her heart thumping soft "Hope I'm not disturbin' your research."

"Of course not," You reply back, encouraging her towards you "I'm actually due a break."

Wordlessly, you sit up from your chair, pointing for Karlach to sit. She follows through, a little confused as to what you're doing before you plop yourself back into her lap. She throws her head back in laughter.

"Don't know what I was expecting there," She giggles, arm curling around your waist "All cozy?"

"Mm," You melt yourself into her embrace, turning to look at her. Your eyes are soft, free hand cupping her face "I'm cozy. What's keeping you up, pretty girl?"

The words catch her off guard completely, her engine flaring from the heat.

"Shit, what's with that?" She glances down at you, smiling like the cheeky fucker you are "I can't get any redder, you know? It's making my engine burn."

"You like it, no?" Your voice is smooth, smug in a way that gets her hot "My pretty girl,"

Karlach stares at you as you say it. Traces the curve of your lips, the slight arch of your brow. Asses the weight and warmth of you as you lay your legs over her lap and feels her body start to react. She didn't think it was possible to feel so complete by someone, even among the impending doom at the end of the world.

With you it fades away to nothing. Permission to want freely, she had no idea she had wanted that so bad. She had no idea she could want more when you'd already given her so much.

It's nice to be greedy. A little greed is fine, after everything.

"If you keep talking to me like that, we're going to do a lot more than just sitting, you know?" She tells you seriously.

You smile and laugh but don't deny her "Only if you say please,"

❈ LAE'ZEL ;

The Githyanki do not fall in love.

It's a fact of the culture, a mark of their honor. Love is for the soft, tender fleshed species of the material planes. It does not suit warriors, not the ruthless githyanki who spend their entire lives training the sword and learning magic. Love had always been a flimsy concept to Lae'zel. To the point she'd never thought about it or cared too. For the gith, there is only pleasure and carnal desire. The foolishness of longing can only be harbored in the lesser existence of the outer-world. The world outside of her creche.

For a long time, this was true for Lae'zel. She had never intended her time in the material plane to weaken her in the ways in which it did. Or that the experience of a ghaik parasite trapped behind her eyes would will her into cooperation with lesser beings. In many ways egregious, unfathomable. In trying to rid herself of one parasite, she'd found herself another one - more intolerable and more consuming than the first.

You. What a foreign and remarkable bond. From the beginning she had told you the truth, that the gith do not love and she would not be able to love you. Though she could admit passion, admit admiration for your courage, admit possession - she could not admit love. She knew nothing of it.

Over the course of your journey, you'd managed to prove her wrong. Slowly stripped bare of the identity she'd made her life around, you stripped Lae'zel down to her soul. Her most honored solider, and most formidable ally. When the time came, you'd told her to do what she must, to liberate her people. That you'd be there when she returned.

That you'd wait for her.

Months apart with few visits in between meant that each time Lae'zel sees you must make every minute count. Enjoying your body and indulging in carnal pleasures is only so much of that. What Lae'zel looks forward too most, she must admit, is the gentleness of your touch whenever she comes back to Fae'run.

Soft warm whispers among the indulgent plush of bed sheets and candles. A room that smells like lavender and oak, prayer books and scripture littered on the desk. A cleric of Bahamut, and a soul strong as steel.

But this, her head resting in your lap as you stroke her hair so carefully, is what she's missed most of all. No doubt she's going soft.

"Chk. You are smitten by the text in front of you as if you have forgotten of my return,"

You look down at Lae-zel with a laugh, carefully placing said book down on the bedside table. The voice you speak with her is different from her own. Tender fleshed even in your speech, you let her curl herself into you.

A vulnerable position, open to whatever may come.

"I'm sorry, pretty girl," You hum. The words practically startle her "I don't mean to neglect you. It was an interesting passage."

"Pretty...It is true among the githyanki, I am among the finest of their ranks," She replies, turning herself towards you - getting comfortable "Yet still, something stirs."

"Are you embarrassed?" You reply, delighted as her frown deepens. Before she has a chance to argue with you, you lean down to press your lips against hers briefly "How sweet of you."

"I do not get embarrassed," She insists, scowling as you begin to giggle at her "It was merely unexpected."

"You're beautiful to me, Lae'zel." You hum, stroking her cheek gently as she continues to lay herself across. Your eyes are tender and lidded. That look of obsession she recalled from the months prior returned in full, and no longer hidden. Unlike your other mortal companions, or the pale elf - there is nothing hidden in your words. No agenda "More beautiful than anyone else. At least to me. Getting to look at you so closely is a gift."

She softens, her hand gripping yours resting on her chest

"When it is over," She says seriously, a solemness to her voice "I will return to you. This I swear. Without you, the liberation of my people would be no less then a dream,"

You return her smile in kind.

"My pretty, wonderful girl," You hum. She loves you. She thinks she understands it now "I know you'll return to me, nailo. You always keep your promises."

"Yes," She says, an unfamiliar emotion overwhelming her "I will not forsake all we have promised."

The affection in your voice shakes Lae'zel to her core. Initial abrasion fades only into warmth. It's not so bad to hear, even if it is tender fleshed.

▸ a/n ; the word reader uses for lae'zel is elvish for swift winds!! reader is meant to be sort of a book worm so you do not need to picture them as a elf and more of a linguist.

this is the most substantial thing i've written in the last few weeks so commentary is very appreciated. i'd be willing to do a minthara and halsin addition to this eventually if anyone is interested!!

anyways, baldurs gate companions i love u. reblogs so appreciated !

[sillygoose343]

COD But If They Were Gen Z Brainrot Things

COD but if they're brainrot. (I don't know what possessed me to do this, uni exams are causing me to tweak).

I formally apologise to: Simon "Ghost" Riley, John Price, John "Soap" MacTavish, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Gary "Roach" Sanderson, Kate Laswell, Alejandro Vargas, Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra, Nikolai, Phillip Graves, König, Kim "Horangi" Hong-jin, Vladimir Makarov

i did NOT take this seriously 🥴im jit yapping

🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺

Ghost - monday left me broken

Soap's dead, Roach's dead, Mara's dead (in the mobile comics), monday left him broken.

If I were to recount *all* of the shit that he had to go through, I would be here for awhile but I know we know what our Ghost had experienced, he's broken but he's still kicking! Onto Tuesday, Wednesday!

So I think it's a fair assessment for him to be monday left me broken

I also think he listens to the song unironically sometimes

Captain Price - smurf cat

Do I really have to explain this one?

I guess COD nation sees Papa Smurf in him but the thing about smurf cat is that it has a hat, therefore it must be Price

The resemblance is uncanny sometimes (it's just a hat)

i don't have much to say, it's literally just appearance-based for this one

Soap - prime and lunchly

soap is the type of guy to walk into the recording studio and come out with "from the screen, to the ring, to the pen, to the king, where's my crown? that's my bling, always drama, when i ring. see i believe that if i see it in my heart, smash through the ceiling, 'cause i'm reaching for the stars." look me in my metaphorical eyes and tell me im wrong

he would be guzzling down the cherry freeze after a long hard day of training

he likes his cheese drippy bruh

he kinda looks like haley welch if you squint

Gaz - gaining aura

I LOVE GAZ RAAAAH

Look at him? He literally can't physically lose aura?

I'm biased towards Gaz

Even breathing can earn this man aura, there is something innately charismatic and charming about Gaz to the point that even if he trips on air or accidentally walks around with an open bag, typically aura-losing activities, he just wouldn't lose any.

Look at him

He is Kyle "Gaz" Garrick.

Roach - cooked

well, technically, 'cooked' typically indicates that a food item has been processed through fire, at least usually

but i guess this is using the brainrot terminology, still, that changes nothing

cooked in brainrot means to be struggling, done for or that the situation is just bad, the entire brazilian militia being after his ass after he fell from the roof was one of his most iconic moments, he had many cooked moments in the campaign but that one truly defined him, he was, in fact, cooked

literally and figuratively

Laswell - galvanised square steel

galvanised square steel is an extremely durable material, is able to transform even the smallest 1mx1m square apartment into a fully functional multi-purpose home with the assistance of eco-friendly wood veneers and

as ghost put it, "laswell's still solid as a rock" except, she's as solid as galvanised square steel

she's reliable, resilient and shes like the foundation as the galvanised square steel while 141 is like the eco-friendly wood veneers

Alejandro - oil up

one could say that all men in cod could represent 'oil up' but i think alejandro embodies the 'oil up' phrase

im actually just straight tweaking when i say this but i think he'd have a similar community to orange peanut's if he ever became an influencer, like different content but his comment section would be filled with 'when are you going to oil up'

i also think he'd be the kind of guy to gladly oil up on request, granted there was an ample amount of oil

Rodolfo - livvy dunne

rudy doesn't really strike me as a rizzer more like a rizzee (im tweaking so hard right now)

he seems like the type of guy to get rizzed up by baby gronk and then promptly train for his gymnastics or something

there's not much to comment on here, just that he looks like the type of guy to be rizzed

Nikolai - metal pipe sound effect

nikolai is unique in the sense that i think he encapsulates the metal pipe sound effect rather than a phrase or a brainrot figure

i have a feeling that during violence and timing gaz would agree with me

i have a feeling that the butcher in mw2019 would also agree with me

he's a menace but no brainrot compilation is the same without the metal pipe sound effect so :333

Phillip Graves - only in ohio

that gif shows up when i search for ohio

i feel like this one is very self-explanatory

in some instances gyatt and ohio can be used interchangeably so i would also consider him having the dual position of embodying gyatt and ohio at the same time, lucky bloke

König - alpha wolf

furry könig skin

furry wolf skin, no further commentary needed

Horangi - 99% of gamblers quit before they hit big

that is just what he did

Makarov - skibidi toilet

we have all seen the smile skin

skibidi toilet is evil incarnate, poisoning the minds of the children, even in the lore of skibidi toilet it is evil and direct antagonistic villains towards camera head people, sounds just like makarov

the smile skin is like the mould on lunchly cheese, its the outward thing you see but the evil of skibidi toilet like makarovs evil is like the mould spores inside the cheese

🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺

it is now nearly 3am, im so failing my histology class man

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

hello!! so i know ive never sent in an ask/request but.. ive been following you for a while and i love your writing style!! so i was wondering if youd be comfortable writing something where the mc/reader has tourettes syndrome? as someone who has tics it makes me lowkey sad that i never see any fics that represent that :/ (i think ive maybe read one..) so if youre comfortable with this sort of thing i have 2 scenarios that i was thinking of!!

texts with fem!reader where maybe a friend was trying to set a skz member and reader on a date and reader gets insecure thinking that he might not like her cause of her tics or think its weird? a little angst moment w a happy ending ofc :p

or headcanons/drabble of how you think a skz member(s) would be with an s/o that has tics? how they would handle tic attacks and such yk?

these are just suggestions ofc if you decide to do a reader w tics feel free to do whatever you feel like!! also i have no specific member i prefer just do whoever you see fit! or even ot8 :o

this was longer than i wanted it to be.. im so sorry :(… i love you tho and hope u have a great day/night!

(stay hydrated, you matter <3)

when i got this rec i immediately started working on it, because i think its important for people to know that they are seen. and if through one of my works i could help someone feel seen and cared for than thats what i want to do! in all honesty, i had to do a little research to better understand how to do my best to accurately represent TS; and i know it isn't perfect, but i hope it can at least be enough :) i hope you don't mind I kind of merged both of your ideas, since it came to my mind when i read through this request, and i think its a fun and wholesome way of showcasing this beautiful part about you. i know it must be extremley hard dealing with tourettes, as i've seen it in others lives, and it sometimes might be seen as a hinderance- but you were made this way with purpose, and i don't think that tourettes or anything of the sort should be seen as something ugly- but rather something that shaoes you and makes you you. i know that might seem cliche, but i beleive that differences are what what make people beautiful and i hope with these fics that shines thorugh <3 enjoy!!!

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When Their Blind Date Has Tourettes Syndrome | 3Racha

Tourette Syndrome (TS) is a neurological disorder characterized by repetitive, involuntary movements and vocalizations known as tics. These tics can be motor (such as blinking, head jerking, or facial grimaces) or vocal (such as grunting, throat clearing, or involuntary words or phrases). The severity and frequency of tics can vary greatly from person to person. TS often begins in childhood, and while symptoms can improve with age, they may persist into adulthood. The exact cause is unknown, but genetics and environmental factors are believed to play a role. The condition can often accompanied by other issues like ADHD or OCD.

Warnings: cursing

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Chan

The café was quiet, the kind of serene setting perfect for a blind date. But you couldn’t fully enjoy it- not with your nerves tangled like this.

When Chan arrived, his easy smile and warm energy made it a little easier to breathe, though the thought of what could go wrong lingered at the back of your mind.

He approached with a casual wave, his hoodie slightly oversized, making him look more approachable than you’d expected. “Y/N?” he asked, his Australian accent soft and cozy.

“That’s me,” you replied, your voice steadier than you felt.

“And I’m Chan,” he introduced himself, sliding into the seat across from you. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“Yeah, same.” You smiled, tugging at the sleeve of your sweater.

The conversation started smoothly, easing into topics about work, hobbies, and mutual friends who had set you two up. But as your tics began surfacing- little jerks of your head, accompanied by muttered syllables- you noticed Chan’s gaze shift slightly. It wasn’t discomfort or judgment, though; it was curiosity, an openness that surprised you.

When a loud, unexpected swear escaped your lips- "Fuck! Shit!"- the words hanging awkwardly between you, your stomach dropped. The moment you’d dreaded was here. You braced yourself, heart racing.

“I…I should explain,” you started, your words hurried. “I have Tourette’s, and- uh - its the coprolalia kind." You laughed nervously. "It’s not all the time, but sometimes - goddammit - I just…swear. I promise I’m not trying to - fucking asshole - be rude or anything. I'm just involuntarily profane on occasion." You finshed with a click of your tongue.

Chan’s eyes softened, his brow furrowing slightly. “Y/N,” he said, his tone light, “you don’t need to apologize. Like you said, it’s not something you can control.”

“I just- I know it can be a lot,” you admitted, your voice wavering. “And I don’t want to mess this up, but…this is part of me, and I can’t always- ” Another tic interrupted you, louder this time. “Fucking hell!” The words burst out, and you winced, unable to stop yourself. “I already really like you,” you confessed in a rush, voice quieter now, “But if this is too much…”

Chan reached out across the table, his hand brushing yours gently. “Hey, Y/N, look at me.” His voice was soft but firm, grounding you. “It’s not too much, okay? You’re amazing, and this doesn’t change that.”

“But what if it gets worse?” you asked, the fear evident in your tone.

He smiled, leaning back in his chair. “Then I guess I’ll have to work on not laughing when you curse better than I do.” He commented, his dimple visible. He tilted his head playfully. “I mean, you’ve already got me beat. I can’t even cuss in my songs unless it’s wordplay.”

Despite yourself, a surprised laugh escaped your lips. The tension eased just a little, the weight of the moment lifting as you realized he wasn’t just accepting- he was embracing this part of you.

The rest of the date was easier after that. You talked about your favorite shows, your shared love of music, and even a bit about his work. But later, as you both stood at the café counter to pay, things took a turn.

A customer bumped into you, and you immediately spun to apologize.

“Oh I'm so- Asshole! Sorry, fuck!” The words tumbled out in quick succession, your face paling as the man turned to glare at you.

“What did you just say to me?” he demanded, his voice rising.

“I- I didn’t mean to!” you stammered, panic setting in as another tic followed. “Shut up! Oh my god, bitch fuck!”

“Are you kidding me?” The man stepped closer, anger flashing in his eyes.

Before you could respond, Chan was at your side, his presence a solid wall of protection. “Hey, back off,” he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “She has Tourette’s. She didn’t mean it.”

The man scoffed. “Right, sure.”

Chan squared his shoulders, his expression calm but unyielding. “You heard me. She can’t control it. Now, do you want to keep making a scene, or are you going to walk away?”

After a moment of tense silence, the man muttered something under his breath and turned away. Chan stayed by your side, his hand brushing the small of your back as he looked at you. “You okay?”

Tears welled in your eyes, but you nodded, feeling both overwhelmed and touched by his defense. “I’m sorry,” you whispered.

“Don’t be.” He smiled softly, brushing a tear from your cheek with his thumb. “You don’t have to apologize for being you, Y/N.”

As you left the café together, the cool night air brushed against your face, but it didn’t feel as sharp as it had earlier. Not with Chan walking beside you, his presence steady and comforting. You looked at him, your heart full, and wondered if this was what it felt like to be truly understood.

“You know,” Chan said, breaking the silence with a teasing grin, “If I ever need someone for creative adlibs, I think you’ve got a solid resume.”

You burst into laughter, the sound blending with the night, and for the first time in a long time, you felt like it was okay to just be you.

As you walked side by side down the quiet street, the tension from earlier melted away into a comfortable silence. Chan glanced at you, the way the faint glow of the streetlights caught in your hair and softened the nervous creases in your expression. He felt a quiet sense of awe settle in his chest, like he’d stumbled upon something rare and precious without even realizing it.

You were real- messy and raw and unapologetically yourself in ways that left him both grounded and inspired. He admired the way you carried the weight of your tics with grace, even when the world pushed back harder than it should. And now, as your laughter from his earlier joke faded into the stillness, he realized something else: he didn’t want this to be a fleeting moment or a passing chapter.

Chan could see it- a future where he was by your side, learning every part of what made you you. A future where he’d be the one to hold your hand during hard days and celebrate the victories that came your way. The thought both terrified and thrilled him, but as he glanced down at you, your soft smile easing the ache of your earlier tears, he couldn’t imagine wanting anything else.

"Y/N," he said softly, his voice breaking through the quiet. "Thanks for letting me see this side of you tonight. I mean it- it makes me want to stick around."

You looked at him, surprised by the sincerity in his tone, but the warmth in his gaze left no room for doubt. And as you continued walking together into the night, your heart felt just a little lighter, the first stirrings of something new and hopeful beginning to take root.

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Changbin

Changbin had been skeptical about the blind date from the start. His friends had teased him relentlessly, insisting he needed to “put himself out there,” and while he’d grumbled about it, here he was. Standing in line at the movie theater, his phone buzzed with a quick text confirming you’d arrived.

When his eyes met yours across the crowded lobby, his breath caught. You were standing near the concessions, shifting nervously on your feet as you looked around. There was something endearingly hesitant about the way you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, like you were steeling yourself.

"Hi," you greeted softly when he approached, offering a shy smile. Your voice was gentle but warm, and it immediately put him at ease.

“Hey,” he replied, his grin spreading easily. “You must be Y/N.”

As you nodded, a quick, staccato whistle broke through the air- a sound you made involuntarily. It was followed by a soft “meow” and an apologetic wince on your part.

“I’m sorry,” you said quickly, your gaze darting to his face as if bracing for judgment.

Changbin tilted his head slightly, his expression curious but kind. “Did you just...meow?” A musical sound lilted amusingly at the end of his sentence.

Your cheeks flushed. “I- um- I have Tourette’s,” you explained in a rush, your words tumbling over each other. “I can’t always control my tics, and sometimes they’re, uh…kind of random. Like the meowing. Or…” You paused as another whistle slipped out, followed by a faint, high-pitched “boo!”

For a moment, he just blinked at you, then broke into a wide smile. “In all honesty...that’s kind of adorable. You’re like a sound effects board.”

Your jaw dropped slightly, caught off guard by his response. “You don’t think it’s… weird?”

He shrugged, his gaze warm and steady. “Everyone’s got their quirks. Yours just happen to make you sound like a cartoon character, and honestly, I think that’s awesome.”

Relief flooded your features, and your shoulders relaxed slightly. “Most people don’t really see it that way.”

“Well, most people are missing out.” He shot you a playful wink, and when you laughed, the tension in the air dissolved.

The two of you fell into an easy rhythm as you moved through the line, chatting about everything from favorite movies to your shared love of snacks. Changbin couldn’t help but notice how your tics- whistles, squeaks, and the occasional unexpected phrase- seemed to punctuate your sentences like exclamation points.

“Honestly,” he said at one point, his tone teasing, “your tics match my cute energy, don't you think?” He said poking his cheek in mock aegeyo. "It's babygirl heaven, don't you think?"

You laughed so hard at that, you nearly dropped your drink. “I cannot believe you just said that.”

He grinned, pleased with himself. “What can I say? Its the truth.”

But as you approached the counter to pick up your popcorn, the mood shifted. A group of teens standing nearby had been snickering quietly, but their whispers grew louder when one of your tics- a sudden, sharp “woof!” -rang out.

“Did she just bark?” one of them muttered, barely concealing a laugh.

Another chimed in, mockingly imitating the sound.

Your cheeks flushed, and you quickly turned away, mumbling an apology to the cashier as another tic- this time a chirped “uh-oh!”- slipped out. The laughter from the group grew louder, and you visibly flinched, trying to shrink into yourself.

Before you could even process what was happening, Changbin stepped forward, his voice cutting through the commotion like a blade. “Hey, is there a problem?”

The teens fell silent, their smug grins faltering under the weight of his glare.

“Because if there is,” he continued, his tone calm but laced with steel, “I suggest you take a good, long look at yourselves and figure out why you think laughing at someone for something they can’t control makes you feel better about your own lives.”

One of them opened their mouth to respond, but the words seemed to die on their tongue as Changbin took a deliberate step closer, his presence suddenly towering despite his shorter frame.

“Thought so,” he said, his smile tight and unyielding. “Now, if you’ll excuse us.”

He turned back to you, his expression softening immediately. “You okay?”

Your throat felt tight, but you managed a nod, blinking back the sting of tears. “Yeah. I just…I’m embarrassed.”

“Embarrassed? For what?” His brow furrowed in genuine confusion.

“For causing a scene. For…” You hesitated, your voice breaking slightly. “For being a lot.”

Changbin’s expression softened, but his voice was steady and firm as he rested his hand gently on your arm, grounding you. “Y/N, you are just you. And anyone who can’t see how amazing that is doesn’t deserve your time, okay?”

The sincerity in his voice was overwhelming, his gaze so earnest it made your chest ache. For a moment, all you could do was nod, your chest tightening with a mix of gratitude and something deeper you couldn’t quite name.

As the two of you settled into your seats in the theater, he handed you your drink, his shoulder brushing yours in a way that felt both casual and deliberate. He leaned closer, his tone warm and teasing. "Like I said, I think your tics are adorable. And with a face like yours, I don't think any tic could be ugly or embarrassing."

Your laugh bubbled out, soft and genuine, and his grin widened. The tension you’d been carrying began to ease, replaced by a quiet sense of comfort.

Throughout the movie, you couldn’t help but notice the way he’d glance at you when you laughed at a scene or leaned forward slightly during an intense moment. It wasn’t just the movie holding his attention- it was you.

And Changbin knew it. With every glance, every tiny movement you made, he felt his resolve strengthening. He didn’t just want to spend the evening with you; he wanted to be part of your life in every way. He wanted to learn all the things that made you laugh, what made your eyes light up, what brought out the quiet confidence he’d glimpsed earlier.

He wanted to be the person you trusted with every part of yourself, the one who reminded you how extraordinary you were even when you couldn’t see it.

When the credits rolled, he stayed seated for a moment, turning to face you as you stretched and looked over at him. His chest tightened as he saw the way your smile hesitated, like you weren’t sure he’d want to stick around for more.

But he did. He wanted everything.

“How about dinner?” he asked, his words quick but hopeful. “I mean…if you’re up for it. I’d really like to keep talking to you. About anything. Everything.” His voice softened, carrying a weight of sincerity that made your breath catch. “I want to know you, Y/N. All of you.”

Your cheeks warmed, and a smile broke across your face, shy but unguarded. “I’d like that.”

As the two of you walked out of the theater, the night air felt lighter, the buzz of the world around you fading into the background. Changbin fell into step beside you, his shoulder brushing yours again.

Then, without hesitation, he reached out, his hand slipping into yours. His touch was gentle but firm, grounding, like he wanted to hold onto you in every way.

Your fingers curled around his, and when you glanced up, his smile softened, his dark eyes brimming with something you couldn’t quite name.

In that moment, Changbin wasn’t just thinking about the next date or the night ahead. He was thinking about the way you made his heart race, the way you made him feel alive in a way he hadn’t realized he was missing.

He wanted more of this- more of you. Not just tonight, not just a few dates, but always. And as his thumb brushed lightly over the back of your hand, he realized one thing: he didn’t just want you around. He wanted you in his life, forever.

And he was so happy he didn't say no to this blind date.

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Han

Han Jisung had never considered himself the blind-date type. He liked to think of himself as spontaneous, sure- but not this kind of spontaneous. Yet, here he was, bundled in his favorite oversized hoodie, leaning against the railing of the city’s rooftop garden, waiting for a stranger.

When he saw you, his first thought was that his friend had undersold this whole setup. You weren’t at all what he expected- not that he knew what to expect. You were a breathtaking kind of pretty. And Han's heart flipped his chest.

You walked up with a careful sort of confidence, clutching the strap of your tote bag, your breath misting in the cool night air.

“Hi,” you greeted with a shy smile, your head tilting slightly as you blinked rapidly, followed by a quick jerk of your shoulder.

“Hi,” Jisung replied, pretending not to notice. He already felt his nerves settle slightly. There was something about you that felt...real.

Your mutual friend had mentioned you liked quiet settings, so instead of a loud restaurant or café, the garden had seemed like a good idea. Jisung gestured to the path leading further into the rooftop greenery. “Shall we walk?”

You nodded, your steps matching his, though every few strides you tapped your fingers against your leg. A small tic, but it was constant, like a rhythm you needed to keep.

The conversation started slow. Typical blind-date awkwardness lingered, but Jisung’s natural humor quickly worked its way in. He made a joke about the chilly weather, earning a laugh from you that felt like a little victory.

“So,” he began after a lull, “what’s your favorite thing to do in the city? Or are you more of a stay-home-and-chill type?”

“I like to stay in most days,” you admitted, tilting your head again as your hand briefly flicked out to your side. “I guess I’m more introverted. But when I do go out, I like quieter places…like this.”

“Good choice,” Jisung agreed, kicking the ground nervously. “Crowds are overrated anyway.”

You laughed softly, but your shoulders twitched again, more pronounced this time. You tried to suppress it, but Jisung caught the way your hand clenched slightly afterward, as if bracing yourself.

As the walk continued, your tics became more noticeable- a rapid blinking, a jerk of your wrist, the occasional tap of your foot on the pavement mid-stride. You hesitated for a moment before stopping by a bench, your hand brushing against your hair as you looked at the ground.

“Hey,” you said, your voice quieter now, “I think I should tell you something.”

Jisung turned to face you, his brow furrowed in concern. “What’s up?”

“I have Tourette’s,” you explained, your tone steady but guarded. “It’s not super severe, I've learned to live with it most days, but…I wanted to mention it in case…” You trailed off, your hand twitching slightly toward your chest before falling back to your lap.

“In case what?” Jisung asked gently.

“In case it’s…too much.”

For a moment, Jisung stared at you, his face unreadable. You wondered if you’d just ruined the evening. But then he spoke, his voice tinged with disbelief.

“Too much? Are you kidding? I can be a lot. Like, ask anyone.”

You blinked at him, caught off guard by his lighthearted tone.

“I mean, seriously,” he continued, gesturing wildly for emphasis. “I talk way too much when I’m nervous, I lose stuff constantly, and don’t even get me started on how clumsy I am. If anyone’s a walking chaos machine, it’s me.”

You laughed softly, but it didn’t last long. Your shoulder jerked twice, quickly followed by an involuntary flick of your hand. You sighed, your lips trembling slightly as you looked away. “But it’s not just that, Jisung,” you muttered, your voice breaking slightly. “I… I don’t want to mess this up.”

His teasing grin faded, replaced by a look of concern. “Mess what up?”

“This,” you whispered, blinking rapidly as tears welled in your eyes. “You’re so nice, and I already really like you, but then there’s… me. My tics. It’s not just that I get nervous; it’s that I can’t stop it. And I hate thinking that it might make people uncomfortable, even if they don’t mean for it to.”

Your words spilled out faster than you could stop them, and you quickly wiped at your eyes, frustrated with yourself. “I don’t want to scare you away. But I…I don’t know how not to. Everyone else has been scared away before- but you seem really nice and I actually feel something and I don't want to put hope into something that-”

Jisung felt his chest tighten at your words. Without thinking, he dropped down to sit beside you on the bench, interupting you, his tone soft but firm. “Hey, hey, don’t cry. Please don’t cry.”

You shook your head, a small, bitter laugh slipping out. “Sorry, I’m just…making this worse, aren't I?” You flicked your hand out again, accidentally slapping Han.

“No,” he said quickly. “No, you’re not. I mean it.”

When you didn’t respond, Jisung hesitated before reaching out, his hand hovering awkwardly near your shoulder. “Can I…?”

You nodded, and he gently rested his hand there, his thumb brushing lightly against the fabric of your coat. “Listen,” he began, “I don’t know who made you think you had to be scared of people running away from you being you, but they’re wrong. You’re…you’re great. And brave, too, for being so honest about this. I admire that.”

You blinked at him through your tears, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice. You hand jerked out, but this time he caught it, intertwining his fingers with yours.

“And honestly?” he continued, a small smile tugging at his lips, as he rubbed his hands over your manicured nails. “You’re not scaring me away. Like, at all. If anything, you’re just making me want to know you better.”

You let out a shaky breath, his words sinking in slowly but surely. “Really?”

“Really,” he confirmed, his eyes crinkling with warmth. “And besides, I kind of suck at running, Like really really suck. I trip more than I actually run.”

A soft laugh escaped you then, the tension in your chest easing for the first time that evening. “You’re kind of amazing, you know that?”

Jisung’s cheeks flushed pink, but he shrugged playfully. “I mean, I try.”

The rest of the night felt lighter. The two of you walked through the garden, Han's hand still in yours, your tics still present but no longer a source of discomfort. Every now and then, Jisung would glance at you- never with pity, but with curiosity and something warmer, softer.

As the two of you stopped at the edge of the rooftop, overlooking the twinkling lights below, Jisung turned to you with a thoughtful expression.

“You know,” he said, his voice softer now, “I think this is my favorite blind date ever.”

You raised an eyebrow. “How many have you been on?”

“This is my first,” he admitted with a sheepish laugh, scratching the back of his neck. “But still! It’s gonna be hard to top…”

You raised an eyebrow, giving him an amused look.

“Not that I want it to be topped,” he continued quickly, a bit flustered. “I always kind of figured I’d be a one-and-done deal. Like my first is my last...and, I mean, it might be way too soon to say, but I think I lucked out with you…I kind of just feel it.”

You rolled your eyes, but a smile couldn’t help but tug at your lips.

“Really, though,” Jisung added, his gaze earnest, eyes softening. “I had a great time tonight. And…if you’re up for it, I’d like to properly date you...”

“Even with my…” You gestured vaguely, your voice trailing off.

"Because of it," he corrected gently, his voice soft but unwavering. His eyes searched yours, full of warmth and something deeper that made your breath catch. "It's part of you- every piece of it. And I don’t just like who you are…I can easily see myself fall for you."

His words hung in the cool night air, wrapping around you like a tender embrace. For a moment, you couldn’t speak, your heart pounding so fiercely it was a wonder he couldn’t hear it.

“Jisung…” you murmured, your voice shaky but full of emotion.

He smiled, that familiar sheepish tilt to his lips, but his gaze stayed steady, unwavering in its honesty. “I don’t want this to be just a ‘one and done’ date. I want to keep getting to know you. To see where this could go. So that maybe you can be my one and done person.”

Your lips curved into a soft smile, your chest tightening with something you hadn’t dared to hope for. “Okay,” you whispered, the word carrying more weight than you expected. “I’d like that too.”

His grin widened, and the way he looked at you in that moment- like you were the only person in the world- made you feel like you could get used to this, to him, far too easily.

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[can-i-make-image-descriptions]

Image Descriptions and Accessibility in General on Tumblr for New Users

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Image descriptions are written in the body of the post itself, and have some kind of text before and after, to explain that what's coming up. They typically begin short and concise, but can expand to more detail.

Alt text is added to the image itself, and is what is read by screen-readers (which will otherwise just say "image"). There is no need to add any explanation before the description so you can just say "a description of the image". Alt text can only be added by the original poster, by clicking on the three dots in the bottom right corner of the image and clicking 'update image description.' It is typically short and concise.

On tumblr, alt text is currently available on web by clicking on the alt button (or via new xkit - accesskit - move alt text to captions below image). On mobile, alt text is available in some versions of the app through clicking on the alt text button. Image descriptions are visible on all posts, although if you put them under a read-more, that makes them less accessible. (Thanks to @911described for helping with this section)

How to Make Image Descriptions

Awhile ago I made this general guide. I learned from examples, so here are descriptions made by a bunch of different people. I've also made templates for a lot of common images you'll see on Tumblr.

Other Concerns

Gradient or all caps text make most screen readers read out the word one letter at a time. In addition, these plus text that is bold/italicized/underlined, in colors other than black, or in weird/fancy fonts are difficult for many people to read.

How Filtering Works

You can filter out both words/phrases and tags in the filtering section under the general section in the settings. When filtering out words from a post, it will look at both the text of the post/reblog chain and at the url of op and the rebloggers. When filtering out tags it will look at the tags of the specific post on your dash, and at the tags of the original post.

Tagging for Common Triggers

Don't sensor trigger warnings (for example don't tag suic!de) because then people who have them filtered will still see it.

Tagging for Flashing Lights

If you post a gif or video in a post that flashes, you should tag it with something like "flashing lights" and Not "tw epilepsy" because if any of the tags in the original post contains the world epilepsy it will show up in the epilepsy tag, which is dangerous. Check out this post from @photosensitive-despair for more info about tagging photosensitive content.

Tagging for Unreality vs Misinfo

Things that could trigger delusions/psychotic episodes/etc should be tagged with unreality. This includes:

content that has existential themes related to reality/things not existing (example: a philosophy such as solipsism, do not look up the term if unreality stuff is triggering for you)

extremely surreal content(example: sometimes content such as weirdcore/dreamcore aesthetics can fall under this umbrella but again this is very subjective)

content that reinforces or encourages common delusions(example: that one "im living in your walls" meme)

Things like rp blogs and fake/edited tweets should not be tagged with unreality, unless they contain triggering content. Consider tags like "fiction" or "misinfo." See this post for more info.

Edit:

Addition from @mindflamer

You can look through the reblogs of a post to see if someone's already written a description. There is a button to see just comments vs. comments + tags which makes it easier. Scroll through looking for brackets [], ID, or Image Description. This is great to do if you can't write your own IDs for whatever reason, so that you can at least spread the version of the post that's described if there is one.

If you're not able to write IDs consistently, some is better than none. Don't let the perfect be the enemy of the good. You can use the tag #undescribed to make it easy for those who need them to filter out those posts. Similarly, if you primarily tag triggers but can't for certain posts, you can use a separate tag on that to be filtered such as #untagged.

Please, if I forgot something, sound off in the notes and I'll update this post with it

[tinyfantasminha]

I think Tumblr and other social medias have aged to become more like a community where everybody assumes they are friends with everyone (unless they disagree with them). Like as social media gets introduced to younger and younger kids every year, the sense and need of privacy is no longer there.

Now for people, someone showing their art might be akin to a friend showing their drawing to you, it becomes expected so the less detailed compliments they give.

The solution could be to make your page more professional so people dont get the idea they are your friends, since you do post things that would be considered talk between friends (like simping for jack). But i get the feeling you'd hate that since it would essentially turn your page into more of a statistics rather than a warm environment.

Im not good at wording myself so im sorry if this gives off an offending message, im trying to be objective but im not sure how it comes across.

DW, I get what you're trying to say 😔 It's annoying that more and more people in fandom nowadays seem to know little to none of fandom etiquette... and it's not just the teens, it's a worryingly amount of adults too

Creators want validation, nice comments and asks but they also want respect... one parasocial interaction which is especially common with artists and writers are the ''can you teach me how to draw/write/how to create ocs'' or by seeking validation for their own personal stuff (sending their art or pictures unsolicited so YOU specifically can feedback it, or asking you to opinion on their ocs) like..... I can see these actions may come from a genuine place, but it should be common sense that these are weird ways to start a conversation with a creator you supposedly admire. It feels intrusive and demanding.

And sometimes the intention is not even bad, it's just phrased in a demanding way that makes creators feel pressured. Rephrasing ''can you teach me how to draw/write'' with ''hello! I love your art/writing! if you don't mind me asking, could you share your creative process or maybe tips?'' makes a WHOLE difference! it's more polite and acknowledges the creator’s boundaries, making the request feel more like a compliment than a demand.

Ugh, the thing is... making the blog more ''professional'' takes away the whole point of it. Tumblr is one of the few spaces left where you can scream into the void about your interests, gush over things you love, and just exist as a person, not a content machine. Unlike algorithm-driven platforms like tiktok or twitter, in here it lets you control your space; your blog is yours to curate, to fill with weirdness, passion, and whimsy. Here, creators feel like real people, not just faceless usernames churning out "content" for engagement. I do not feel comfortable being as much personal on twitter for example, where any nosy person can QRT you being unnecessarily mean because the platform's culture prioritizes performative snark and clout over genuine creativity or connection. Tumblr was always a place for the weirdos, the cringe and the freaks, no one is here to make a brand out of themselves, it's about being authentic and having fun.

Creators should absolutely be allowed to be loose, weird, and fun here while still being respected 😔

[prince-liest]

hi princely! i was rereading through your 666 series and i wanted to ask if you have any tips for writing dialogue? its the one part of fiction ive always struggled with, i.e. making conversations flow naturally instead of sounding robotic. imo one of the most memorable aspects of your work is how real your dialogue feels

(also i was skimming your tumblr while writing this, im so sorry about your car that's genuinely insane??? and sorry if this is terrible timing aaa)

Hello! Thank you, but no worries, not terrible timing - I could use a distraction, haha.

When I started writing fanfiction, I actually really struggled with writing dialogue for a really specific reason, which was that I was really used to RP and felt like getting into the head and talking style of more than one character at a time felt like a lot of effort and something that I had to actively swap back and forth between. This is something that got much, much easier over time, and unfortunately the #1 tip I always have is that practice not only makes the quality of your writing better, but it also makes the process of writing much easier as you get used to things.

That said, specifically for natural-sounding dialogue, I tend to pay a lot of attention to how specific characters talk and try to mimic it. This came particularly naturally for me with Hazbin Hotel because the show is full of bombastic characters with really amazing voice actors and very specific styles of talking. When I write a particular character for the first time, I go back and watch various scenes that feature them, both generally and in different emotional states.

With a form of media like Hazbin, where I actually get to hear the characters speak, it honestly helps to just imagine them doing so in my head when I'm writing with whatever accent they have going on, too. Sound it out in your head: does it sound like something someone might naturally say? Why or why not? Adjust accordingly.

So, that's where I start! I diverge from there over time as my own interpretation of a character grows and changes, or I put them in different circumstances for different stories, so on and so forth. But For pretty much every fandom, it's always been very helpful for me to go back to the source material with the explicit goal of paying attention to characters' styles of speech, turns of phrase, and reactions. This is good not just for dialogue, but for characterization, especially for characters that tend to get pigeonholed into a particular archetype (for example, I frequently have to tone down how prim or "old-timey" Alastor sounds in my dialogue because he doesn't actually talk like that in canon despite the vibe of his reputation (and sometimes I don't bother, LOL)).

Last but not least, thank you very much! I'm really happy that you enjoy my dialogue. It's definitely one of my favorite things to write (if you couldn't tell by how many fics I've written that are basically two characters talking for extended periods of time), so it brings me joy to know that I succeed in making it enjoyable for others as well.

[truziey]

Jayvik Mini Fic

this is kinda my first dabble in ff fyi

Im not sure how to put intros for stuff like this so enjoy my mini fic I originally made for twt (NOT ON AO3)

It was no secret that Viktor often overworked himself. He would stay in the lab until he physically couldn’t stay up any longer, and most of the time, Jayce couldn’t convince him otherwise. Sometimes, Jayce would stay late and watch over him until they ran out of ideas, and he would accompany Viktor home. Occasionally, though, it would be Jayce who stayed late to finish up some extra ideas. 

Jayce ran an exhausted hand through his hair, and exclaimed loudly, chucking a pencil towards the lab doorway. The sickly boy who stood where the pencil was thrown stepped cautiously out of the way and chuckled under his breath, “Late night, huh?” Jayce turned towards him with a shocked expression and blinked, before sighing. He walked over to pick up the stained coffee cup on the desk nearby. Jayce had been there for what seemed like days, and he still wasn't satisfied with his work. “Viktor, I thought you’d gone home. What are you still doing here?” Viktor wobbled over towards Jayce, who stood leaning against the blackboard scrawled with barely eligible ideas and thoughts. He stopped to grab the matching stained coffee cup beside Jayce before walking to the blackboard beside him. Viktor didn’t look at Jayce and simply picked up a piece of chalk to draw. A couple of moments went by in silence when Jayce impatiently spoke up. “Viktor. What are you doing?” Viktor turned to him with a sly smile on his face and handed him the chalk.  

They had always had a comfortable dynamic. It was almost more than just lab partners, they were like family, in a closer more intimate way. Jayce was used to silently catering to Viktor’s overworking tendencies and Viktor was used to Jayce’s sporadic ideas. So reasonably, moments like these weren’t all that unusual. Normally, however, their roles were reversed. Jayce would softly scold Viktor for overworking and that would be that. This time was indeed a bit different. 

Jayce grabbed the chalk from Viktor cautiously, letting his touch linger for a moment too long. Viktor nodded towards the chalkboard and Jayce turned to finally look at what was written on it. To his surprise, every sporadic idea and half-assed theory Jayce had written was erased and written over with a phrase that read, “Creating magic cannot, and must not, be done alone.” Viktor smiled softly and walked around Jayce, to a desk across the room. He laid his cane against the side and sat softly on a chair facing Jayce. Jayce hadn’t moved yet, or spoke at all, so much so that for a moment Viktor couldn’t tell if he was even awake; eventually, he scribbled something on the board and turned to Viktor with an exhausted expression. “Sorry, I just uh… I got a bit carried away I guess.” Viktor nodded, sipping the cold coffee in his matching stained mug. He smiled wistfully and spoke carefully. “Jayce, no need for apologies. I do hope you’ll allow me to assist you next time.” Jayce let out a soft chuckle and walked over to where Viktor was sitting. He watched him silently for a moment, letting his hand rest on Viktor’s shoulder affectionately. Jayce was exhausted, but for that singular moment, he thought clearly. He thought about how grateful he was for Viktor, and how if he could stop time to stay in one moment, it would probably be this one. Jayce eventually snapped out of his daze and cleared his throat, his exhaustion returning to him. “We should find a place still open and grab a bite. Then… preferably get some sleep and work more tomorrow… partner.” Viktor smiled, putting his cane under his arm to stand up, and walked past Jayce, stopping to return the affectionate touch by placing his hand on Jayce’s shoulder. “Sure, partner.”

[sn0wp1anets]

observations about joel (mostly speech stuff) and interactions with others bc ive been hyperfixated since the beginning of time (also theres alot of bs commentary im sorry)

general stuff:

very very british like extremely british

'bloody' and 'blooming' ALOT - when he's annoyed or shocked or offended (im gonna call this his pseudo swearing for the rest of this for convenience)

instead of very he says 'well' sometimes (e.g. "this bloody pico park music is well annoying) and "absolutely"

instead of really he says 'proper' sometimes so "stress is proper northern" etc

instead of 'i haven't' he says "i've not"

he gives an explanation for basically everything he does and instead of because he says 'as' alot

'to be honest' "i bloody hate woodwork to be honest" (sometimes he says 'to be honest with you' too)

'innit' occasionally "it's like waterslide innit"

'like so'

'by the look of it'

he gets irritated really easily - "for goodness sake" and he'll start cutting himself off alot "this bloody-" and also his voice gets much more high pitched and his pseudo swearing gets way more frequent. also 'blooming heck'

(and also this isn't super relevant but when he gets mad all his friends start commenting on it and its the funniest thing- in the overcooked stream as soon as he starts getting annoyed everyones like 'oh here he is')

i didn't know if i should put this in a specific section but he says 'babe' alot - not just to lizzie but to jimmy like ALOT and also in general - i'll talk about this a bit more later tho !

pauses alot: in between words/phrases, and also before he answers questions (this is not as often but also if he wants someone to stop him- he was playing scrabble and was basically asking if someone could spell out vagina so he was slowly going 'and a g....and an i...and a n...' etcetc idk this isnt relevant i just thought it was worth mentioning)

he's kinda an oversharer 😭 ? (this is lh hes 31 im sure he shares what he thinks is appropriate) but at any given moment he starts giving details about his life- a kinda memorable example of this is in mcc26(?) when w*lbur made fun of his accent so he started telling a story about his grandfather and giving alot of details about him after he said he couldnt talk too much about it AND grian begged him to stop

repeats things (especially when he's annoyed) : "game's a bloody joke. game's a bloody joke"

he basically never says 'oh my god' its always 'oh my gosh' or 'oh gosh' sometimes its 'oh jesus'

his voice is generally higher pitched and more expressive in videos than in streams but this is more of a general cc thing than a specific joel thing

very confident in his builds (AS HE SHOULD BE !!!) and he'll share his thoughts alot : "i think it's come together really well" "lovely" "i'm really happy with it/with how it's turned out" etcetc

when he narrates he uses a mixture of 'I' and 'We'. what i've noticed is he uses I for his thoughts ("i feel like" "i think") and we for everything else ("we need" "we're quite high in the sky" etc)

'genuinely'

'what (are) you on about'

'what the heck'

he will say very random (kind of odd) things just out of nowhere as if its normal and he'll only realize it's weird when someone questions it? e.g. the mumbo trauma dumping bit in SL, or in one of jimmy's streams he said 'until i get back to the hotel if yk what i mean' and jimmys like 'i dont' and joel just goes 'idk either'

accent stuff:

it's really recognizable idk what to say

very northern: hes from yorkshire - his accent used to be stronger in his old videos but you can definitely still hear it (like its still super different from grian or like mumbo idk)

his 'th' sounds come out as 'f' (idk if this is an accent thing or a joel thing but he's talked about it and said his family members have it too)

again not sure if this is an accent or joel thing but when he says any word with 'con' he says it kinda differently- it's hard to describe but for example when most people say convention the 'on' sound is more like a 'un' sound? whereas with joel its very much an 'o' sound like in 'box' or 'coffee' (genuinely have no idea how else to explain it but in phonetic symbols- joel essentially never says /ʌ/ it's almost always /ɒ/ when its a 'con' word)

jimmy-

NICKNAMES !!! 'jim' is used alot - more than anyone else and one of the only people who calls him this. hes used 'mr neutron' too (idk how many times'

(he also doesnt actually say tim/timmy often and when he does its exclusively when grian is present)

typical british male friendship nicknames: 'lad' 'big man'

when he joins jimmy's stream he always says hi in a very dramatic way?? usually with a pretty deep voice (idk this is just something i noticed)

he calls him a loser alot?

(this might be more of a bad boys point) but joel is generally not that mean to jimmy? definitely he's meaner than he was a few years ago but that makes sense because they weren't as close but. he'll call him a loser and stupid/idiot sometimes but his main 'bullying jimmy' momentsare usually always when he's with someone else (usually grian, sometimes fwhip)

'what are you doing jimmy' or sometimes 'what are you doing with your life'

lizzie:

'babe' like all the time. once lizzie mentioned that they don't even really use each other's names alot because they just say 'babe' all the time

oli:

ok so joel really doesn't use that much like modern internet language but oli does and then joel will pick up on it (its cute but also horrifying sometimes)- he kept saying 'dogs' in reference to feet after oli said it

they flirt alot but differently to how he does with jimmy (hes more passive whereas with jimmy he initiates it more idk how else to describe it)

he calls him 'man' sometimes

he's also really giggly around oli theyre adorable

(tbh theres so much more to say about oli and lizzie but idk if i have the energy and time for like 10+ years of interactions rn - and honestly alot more for everyone else too but like.)

grian:

in general joel picks up on people's energy etc and mimics it alot but it happens so much with grian specifically - this sounds very weird but the more time he spends with grian in one go the more he starts to act like grian (especially with interactions with jimmy)

[trancylovecraft]

(KNY) YANDERE PLATONIC! KOKUSHIBO x SISTER READER: You, Shibou. I, Kokoro (CHAPTER FOUR)

Previous Chapter ☆♡☆ Masterlist ☆♡☆ Next Chapter

AO3 link

CHAPTER FOUR: "Achilles, Achilles, Achilles, come down Won't you get up off, get up off the roof?"

NOTE: THE SONG OF THE DAY IS "Two Birds on a Wire" BY REGINA SOMETHING. LISTEN WHILE READING IF YOU WANNA HAVE FUN IDK YOU DON'T NEED TO. oh right btw pls send me aesthetic pics for my moodboards, im running out and almost resorted to quotes 😭✋ (which i did but shhh)

oh right, shit also gets real this chapter LETS GOOO.

Suicide notes only accompany in 25-20% percent of cases, Sometimes reaching 50% in some cultures and areas.

Reasons for writing a suicide note can include easing the pain of those known to the victim, To express thoughts and feelings that the person felt unable to express in life or to set out their reasons for committing such an act.

Murders of crows escaped in flocks, Flying high into the air in a wild panic as they hollered that one single phrase over and over again like a broken record player.

"EMERGENCY! EMERGENCY! ATTACK! ATTACK! THE KAKUSHI BASE IS UNDER ATTACK! CALLING FOR ALL NEARBY SLAYERS!"

The sheer number of them was carrying the sound so far, Their call could be heard for miles even all the way to the village. The song of their screams frantic as they all flapped in different directions, Disappearing into the dark horizon.

Tanjiro couldn't see anything, He couldn't smell anything either. The sheer amount of dust made from the debris had blocked up all of his senses making him uncontrollably cough within the smoke.

He stumbled around, The shock hadn't even hit him yet. One moment he was walking around the base and the next he had been flung to the tile roof, All due to that gust of wind.

The tall stone walls surrounding the shrine had suddenly been destroyed all within a single moment, Throwing chunks of rock and wood hurtling into the main body of the shrine and its people.

The screams and shouts of panicked crowds rung in his ear like a church bell reverberated to the nines. It felt so loud, So bloody loud that he thought his head might explode from the raw volume of the wails.

Tanjiro was dazed, It was all a blur moving in slow motion as he tried to catch his footing on the flat of the roof.

It was only then once his foot was steadied that he could finally sense an overbearing presence. Somewhere in the mist.

"Someone is here.."

A voice like faraway thunder jolted Tanjiro out of his stupor, A voice that shook Tanjiro deep down to his very bones. It was nothing like any kind of voice he had heard before, It didn't sound human and certainly didn't smell like it either.

A putrid stench had hit Tanjiro, A sudden smell had came to him and it almost made him drop his sword. This was no ordinary demon, The scent was overwhelming his senses of nothing but pure and utter power.

The gale's sole blessing had manifested in the clearing of the smoke. The after breeze lifting up the thickest points of dust and blowing them away, Yet some still remained as a dark figure was now made clearer.

But it was the figure's six medallion eyes, One's that shone like headlights through the fog that really caught Tanjiro by surprise.

His eyes widened as his arm went to the hilt of his sword on response, Yet when his hand went to grab it he felt absolutely nothing there.

He snapped his head to his empty belt. His heart seemed to stop in his chest.

He still hadn't gotten his new sword sent to him yet, It was still being sharpened. He was absolutely defenceless.

By the time he had looked back up at the figure the fog had cleared completely, The dust long cleared as his eyes settled upon the demon in front of him.

Tall. He was towering in height, Well over six foot at least. His hair tied into a dark spiked ponytail with red whisking at the tips as it flowed in the wind, His hexagonal kimono oversized in the arms as it moved with his hair.

But it was the kanji in his eyes that made him freeze.

"You.. Boy."

His voice rang out again as he turned to Tanjiro. He stumbled back, Despite the demon being a few metres away on the other side of the roof he was still too close, Way too close.

His eyes glared down to the younger slayer, Stabbing into every point of him. Scrutinizing him from afar before finally landing on the piece he feasted his gaze on. Two hanafuda earrings dangling from each ear.

Tanjiro watched as his expression went blank, Only for a couple of seconds before flinching when he saw the demon's mouth contort into a snarl. An angry visage that showed off his lion-like canines protruding from under his lips.

"I.. You.." Tanjiro stuttered. He tried backing away once more but the heel of his foot hit the tile railing. He watched as small bits of debris fell off the roof down to the floor below, It was a long drop. If he fell there was little to no chance of survival.

"Those earrings.." The demon drawled. It sounded like something was stuck within his throat, Something he was holding back. "How did you acquire them.."

Tanjiro tried to steady his heavy breathing as he stared him down. "I.. T-They're a family heirloom.." Was all that he was able to muster up, His voice shaking as much as he was.

Kokushibo felt himself tense up, All six eyes scrutinizing the earrings as he tried his best to calm down the building sense of rage starting to burn inside him. A family heirloom? His brother's earrings, A family heirloom. The idea of it sounded so stupid to him, Not to mention the mere reminder of his twin brother made his fingers twitch and grasp onto the hilt of his sword from instinct.

"A family heirloom.. Disgusting.." Kokushibo jeered. Feeling the words on his tongue he felt the previous anger inside come to a peak, This wasn't acceptable. Yorichii, Do I really need to be reminded of you even five hundred years later?

The sword from his hilt slid out of the sheathe with ease. The eyes embedded into the flesh of the sword darted around wildly, All examining its surroundings as the muscle pulsated.

He drew it to his side. Tanjiro's heartrate started to pick up, Feeling as if it would burst out of his chest as he watched Kokushibo get into a fighting stance. What would he do? He had no sword and there was no exit. What can he do? What can he do?!

Kokushibo pushed his foot forward, Lunging himself forward with his sword ready to slice. He was so fast, Tanjiro could barely raise his arms to his face. A weak attempt to defend himself as the blade drew nearer and nearer towards his neck

CLASH!

It was over in an instant.

Dust from the broken walls and ceiling tiles blew out out into the high night air, A whirlwind of smoke covering anything and everything in sight as pieces of stone and splinter flew off.

Tanjiro coughed once more, The dust blowing hard into his face. He moved his hands up towards his neck to check for any damage. Feeling it over and patting it a few times it felt.. All intact.

"What the.." Tanjiro muttered. His eyes widened as he watched the demon from before jump back into his original position, Landing a few metres away from Tanjiro in a crouched stance.

Tanjiro looked up and gasped.

"Fujimori-sama-!"

[F/N] stood only a few inches away from the younger boy. His position was low and his sword was drawn like a shield, Both it and his body creating a block between him and the demon.

[F/N] looked back towards him from the side, That old fox mask's mouth quirked up into the most reassuring smile it could. The eyes of the mask looking down at him in kind.

"Tanjiro Kamado… That was a close one, Eh?" A light chuckle came from him, Tone dancing in the air like the weight of the whole situation was lost to him entirely.

Tanjiro didn't even think to ask him why he knew his name, Something unimportant in that moment.

"Fujimori-sama.. The demon-"

"Don't worry about the demon. You don't exactly look like you have the proper weaponry to fight back so I suggest you start evacuating the shrine with everyone else, Alright?" [F/N] advised.

Tanjiro shook his head.

"What about you?! This.. This is Uppermoon one! He's strong, I can smell it! You can't take him on by yourself!" Tanjiro cried.

It didn't affect [F/N] in the slightest, Only making him raise a single brow.

"..Really?" He hummed, A playful tune lilting in the air to contrast the dire implications of his words. He seemed to stay there in thought, Only for a moment as Tanjiro watched the mask stare off into the night sky.

"He was able to sense me coming.. Not to mention block my attack.." He muttered, The mask contorting back into a thoughtful visage. An incomprehensible babble to the boy behind him as his eyes finally lit up, An unrecognisable emotion sparking inside his eyes.

The dust cleared once more, Kokushibo stood up to examine the sight.

His eyes landed on the Hashira a few metre's away, Crouched in a defensive position. In a split second that man was able to get himself in between him and the boy, Able to attack in that single moment.

It would of been impressive, Something he would of respected if not for the mans garments.

He wore his usual slayer uniform, Tight fitting and finished with a belt with open arms to show off tattoo's. But the haori draped loosely around his shoulders, That accursed haori drooping from his shoulders was one that shocked his heart like a amateur defibrillator.

The dragon pattern.. That cerulean blue.

"Michi-Nii!"

The grip on his sword hilt got tighter, Almost crushingly so.

How fucking dare he..?!

Kokushibo felt his nose twitch, Eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets as they trailed across the rest of him, Prying at every little detail of him. The kitsune mask resting upon his face, The medieval sword propped up in front of him like a shield.

"And does it work?" Michikatsu asked, Studying the mask.

"Haven't tried. It's a sacred artefact of the shrine. It would be a disrespect to Inari if I did." She stated.

A disrespect to her.

Two reminders of his late siblings, One beloved one despised. Both side by side with each other in such a short time frame. It made him absolutely furious, Outraged both by the resurfaced memories and the sheer dishonour towards his sister.

Both the renewment of the shrine and the man parading around with her haori..

It made him absolutely livid.

"You.. What is your name. Tell me it.. Now" Kokushibo pronounced through gritted teeth. It took every inch of his willpower not to pounce and tear him apart limb by limb, Bite into his jugular and rip his voice box out with his molars.

[F/N] finally seemed to snap out of his realisation as his mask's eyes landed on Kokushibo, That burning glint shining bright as he looked at him. The first time getting a proper look.

"Wow.. Uppermoon one, What a pleasure to meet you." [F/N] drawled, Yet it wasn't condescending. Standing up to his full height he matched Kokushibo perfectly, Both men locked in a stare down as [F/N] ignored his question.

Kokushibo didn't answer him, So [F/N] took the opportunity to speak once more.

"I see what Kamado here means about powerful.. Your soul certainly gives off that aura alright." He chuckled again, Taking a few drawn steps to the side.

"Kamado.." Kokushibo pondered. It only took a second to click in his head. The Kamado girl, The one his master had talked about during the meeting. If this boy was here then that would mean the demon girl was here, The one who conquered the sun.

[F/N]'s eyes narrowed.

"Ringing a bell?" He questioned, Cocking his head lazily to the side. Kokushibo didn't answer once again.

[F/N] examined him head to toe. His fingers, His ears and his sword. From his eyes to the soles of his sandals he simply radiated power. A feeling that permeated in the air making molecules shift in his presence.

A wild grin appeared not on his mask but on her face, A wide toothy grin that felt so foreign, So alien to her. It was a smile she hadn't made in years, One she couldn't supress even if she tried.

[F/N] peered back around to Tanjiro, Who was still behind him.

"Tanjiro. I need you to do me a favour, Alright?" He asked. His tone still containing that playful tint yet it held something different now, Something more serious.

Tanjiro nodded

"Y-Yeah, What do you need?" He asked.

[F/N] reached a single hand into the inside of his haori and slipped out a single pristine envelope, Perfectly packaged with a blue fox seal. He presented it to the younger boy, Who hesitantly took it into his hands.

"I need you to deliver this to Mitsuri Kanroji, Alright? Promise me that you will deliver this to her and place it in her hands personally yourself." [F/N] asked. That tone of importance growing ever stronger in both his voice and his mask's eyes.

Tanjiro's eyes widened as he looked down at the envelope, He nodded his head, Ignoring the scent that was coming off his elder. [F/N] turned back towards Kokushibo.

"Go now, Tanjiro. Find a handmaiden named Seijun, She'll help you and the rest down the mountain." He said, Not looking back at him for a second. Tanjiro nodded as he took off, Carefully scaling down the tiled roof's of the shrine.

Kokushibo looked back at the two, Readying his sword once more.

"No.. You're not getting away from me." He hissed, Raising the blade high in the air as he pointed at the two slayers.

[F/N] returned the gesture, His own heavy-weight sword lifted with ease as he pointed it straight back at him.

"Not if I have anything to say about it!" [F/N] exclaimed. The excitement returning to the tune of his voice, A wild primal excitement as he stared the demon on from behind his mask.

Kokushibo prepared his own stance, [F/N] did as well in turn.

As they finally charged at each other, [F/N] yelled out

"Soul Breathing, First form: Psyche Cutter!"

☆♡☆

Heavy footsteps hit the snow with a crunch, The large stature of the Stone Hashira leaving deep footsteps behind him as he traversed throughout the woodland mountainside.

Zenitsu, Inosuke and Shizuko. The younger slayers behind him trailed along with Gyomei's stride in search of the lost shrine-maiden.

Luckily the snow had stopped a little while ago, Making it easier to see throughout the vastness of the tall winding tree's.

It had been only half an hour since they started searching, Yet in that time they had made their way a few miles out from their starting point.

"M-Man.. Is it cold out here, Now I wish I just stayed at the base.." Zenitsu said through a chattering jaw, Keeping his arms folded to try and conserve heat as he warily looked for the maiden.

"Not for me! The mountains I ruled over got real snowy, So of course I evolved to be cold-blooded!" Inosuke announced in his march. It was true, Despite him being eternally shirtless in the blistering cold he didn't shake once despite all odds.

"T-That's impossible! You can't just evolve to be cold-blooded!" Zenitsu cried out, Annoyed from both the cold and his comrades announcement.

"Can too!" Inosuke argued.

"N-No you can't!" Zenitsu yelled back, His words eventually snowballing into a larger quarrel between the two boys. Both seeming to believe whoever yelled louder was correct.

"Ngh.. Can you two shut up? You're giving me a headache.." Shizuko groaned, Cupping his ears with his hands in annoyance.

The two boys ignored him and continued their argument as they trailed behind Himejima. Zenitsu and Inosuke not backing down for a single second while Shizuko gritted his teeth. Gyomei didn't seem to particularly mind, If he did he didn't show it, His stoic expression painted on him like a portrait.

They hadn't found the shrine-maiden, Even though they had been searching for a fair amount of time there no trace of her prescence.

There wasn't any footsteps or any blood, Absolutely nothing.

The rattling of Gyomei's beads slowed as his whitened eyes narrowed in thought. Gyomei had assumed that the most likely scenario was that the maiden had trouble either getting down or getting back up the mountain, Though now that seemed a dwindling possibility.

He sighed, Letting cold mist escape from his mouth.

"Seems like the maiden isn't here.. It's probably for the better that we move down towards the village and check in with the locals." Gyomei announced as he turned around to face the younger slayers, To whom were still fighting.

Shizuko groaned once more before raising his flat hand and bringing it down hard onto both their heads.

"Ne, Stop arguing and start listening to Himejima-sensei! You're giving me a migraine and we're no closer to finding the maiden.. No thanks to you.." He scolded. A rare angry expression appearing on his face with those same perpetually wide eyes glaring daggers into the boys.

"Ack-! W-What the hell man! We are looking!" Zenitsu yelped out, Hands rushing to the quickly forming sore spot on his head.

"I am! I can see a lot of things. Snow, Tree's, Shrubs!" Inosuke butted in. Shizuko groaned once more, Even though they had stopped their spat never quelled.

"Birds, Twigs, Red Fabric, Flakes of snow!" He continued.

Both Gyomei and Shizuko's heads snapped round to face Inosuke, A sudden movement that made his rant pause in its tracks.

"What? Why are you looking at me like that?!" Inosuke questioned, His vision rapidly darting to both Shizuko and Gyomei in seconds like a cornered animal.

"Red fabric..? Where do you see that?" Gyomei asked.

"By that tree over there, To the left!" Inosuke said. Arm pointing up straight to a tree just off to the side of the trail they were going down. And sure enough swaying in the wind was an untethered piece of crimson cloth, Blowing in the breeze.

Zenitsu was the first to get over to the fabric, Catching up with it and snatching it away from the wind.

"You're right.. B-But this could be any random piece of fabric.. It doesn't really mean much." He muttered. The piece was too small to make out any defining shape, So small that it was only as big as his thumb.

"Shizuko.." Gyomei ordered an unspoken action, Nodding his head forward towards the boy.

Shizuko nodded back as he quickly moved over to Zenitsu without a second thought and put out his hand.

"Ne, Give it here.." Shizuko commanded, Impatiently shaking his hand as he beckoned Zenitsu forward.

"O-Okay.." Zenitsu muttered as he placed the cloth into the palm of Shizuko, To which the latter shuddered as soon as the fabric brushed at his skin.

Shizuko took the sanguine felt into both of his hands with an obvious reluctance as it looked like he was holding back his own puke. He ran his nimble fingers along the surface of it, Nose scrunching up in disgust as he spoke.

"Ngh.. It's mostly Linen however I can feel a minority of cotton as well.. Ne.. Fairly thick, 0.73 inches.. But judging by the weavement of the fabric it's most likely worn by someone of shorter stature.." Shizuko explained.

"Ngh.. So in other words, It fits the description of the lost maiden.." He concluded, Instantly dropping it back into Zenitsu's hold as he finished his last syllable.

"I see.. And is it fresh?" Gyomei asked.

"Felt like it.." Shizuko replied.

They stayed silent after that. Gyomei seemed to furrow his brows as his mind worked away at the next possibility. Both Shizuko and Inosuke seemed lost in their own world as well, The former following his master in thought while Inosuke seemed to trail along as well.

"She must be somewhere around here.. We must circle back around, She may already be-" Gyomei stopped out of the blue, His words cut off as his senses picked up a change in one of the slayers.

Zenitsu had frozen up, And it wasn't from the cold atmosphere.

"Child.. What is the matter?" Gyomei asked as his tone grew only a little more serious as he stopped the rattling of his beads.

Zenitsu seemed to be sweating bullets as he seemed intently focused on some unknown force. His eyes were shot open and he started to shake, Teeth barren and fingers twitching as he raised his hands up to his ears.

"I.. I-I hear it.." Zenitsu mumbled out an uneasy lilt, Jaw shaking.

"Hear what?" Gyomei prodded.

"T-The Kasugai crows.. The Kakushi base.. I-It's being attacked!" Zenitsu yelped out, Stumbling back a few feet.

A unanimous shock washed over the group like a tidal wave to a sandy shore, The news startling everyone on edge.

"What?!" Shizuko yelled in disbelief as he moved over to Zenitsu. Lowering his head to meet eye to eye as he searched for any sign of doubt, An unsure gaze, Anything he could find to try disprove his declaration.

But he came up empty, Only staring back into shaking saffron irises. The hands over Zenitsu's ears tightened as he howled out in pain. He fell to his knees, The sheer volume of the crows combined with his hearing was too much as he felt ichor start to trickle at his fingertips.

"Zoritso!" Inosuke called out as he instantly rushed over to his friend's side.

Gyomei at this point had unsheathed the axe and chain from within his overbearing haori, Already given enough confirmation from his Tsuguko's reaction as he tightened the grip on the wooden handle and chain.

He ignored the suffering of the younger slayers, His expression firming up.

"We must go at once then, No time to spa-"

"Blood Demon Art: Electrokinesis, Third form: Thunder Swarm!" A voice suddenly yelled out from within the storm and as soon as it finished, The attack commenced.

Black bolts of lightning shot out of nowhere, Bursting out from the blade of Kaigaku, Leaping down from the tree branches.

☆♡☆

"I'll see you soon, 'Tsuri"

Those words. Those five simple words echoed in every little corner of her mind. On paper they seemed so little, So obscure. Small talk to the normal ear, In a normal conversation it would be such a normal farewell and by all means it was.

But it just didn't sit right, Not with Mitsuri.

She ran fast through the snow, Her legs were burning as she tried to focus her total concentration breathing. She maneuvered around rocks and over fallen logs, Carefully but quickly ascending the tough terrain with ease.

Her heart pounded so rapidly in her chest so much so that it was painful yet Mitsuri continued onwards. She had to keep going, She needed to get to the shrine as fast as possible.

Keep going, Don't stop. Not for a single moment.

Mitsuri had been running for who knows long, Hours maybe, She hadn't stopped for a second. An awful feeling sat dormant in her chest, A foreboding omen that unsettled her for too long.

As soon as she had heard those five little words she'd known that something was wrong-

No. Mitsuri had always known something was wrong. A draining parasite that sat in the back of her mind, Eating away at her for years now. Those words.. It was just those five little words that made her realise what that something was.

The parasite had been nibbling away at her, Planting little ideas of possibility and doubt into her passing thoughts every time she and [F/N] talked. Back then she had brushed them off, Not completely of course but enough to where there was plausible deniability. Just enough to where she could push it out of her mind.

But when [F/N] had muttered those words, Spoke them in such a normal tone of voice there was absolutely no more avoiding it. Her doubts, The possibilities.. She needed to face them.

Or maybe it wasn't those words specifically, It was the way [F/N] had looked at her when she said them.

Her stare, Her blank doe-eyed gaze permeated into Mitsuri's mind. The picture in her mind vivid as it was as she first saw it.

The smile [F/N] had on her face just didn't quite reach her eyes, A small little smile that felt so wrong looking back on it. The dull stare that pleaded to Mitsuri's own, Begging her no matter how unconsciously it may have been.

It was such a melancholy gaze, A sad little smile. She remembers now the tiny quirk of her lip.

Mitsuri should of done something sooner.

Back then Mitsuri herself couldn't process the deeper meaning. But she remembered her body reacted sooner than she herself should of, Grasping onto [F/N]. Holding her hand as she tried to get inside the carriage.

Subconsciously she had recognised the meaning. She should of said something, Should of done something. Ask her to stay the night, Go with her, Or even just offer her a simple hug then maybe [F/N] wouldn't think that way.

But in the end she did nothing. She just let go of her hand, Feeling the warmth slip away from her grasp.

Only a few hours later did the true meaning really render inside of her mind, And when it did it hit her like nothing else ever did before. What it meant, She knows now.

As soon as Mitsuri knew she had taken off, Running off into the streets without a second thought. Something bad would happen, Something terrible would happen if she didn't get there to her on time.

Mitsuri knew she shouldn't of let go of [F/N]'s hand. The regret pounding throughout her bloodstream as she felt tears involuntarily drip down her cheeks. She shouldn't of let go.

Even though she didn't do anything back then didn't mean she couldn't do something to stop it now. Mitsuri needed to, She wouldn't let [F/N] slip away once more. Never again, She will be there for her this time.

And as she heard the call of the crows, Mitsuri knew that this would be her last chance to do so.

☆♡☆

"Moon Breathing, Fourteenth Form: Catastrophe, Tenman Crescent Moon"

Siphoning ultraviolet crescents flew out haphazardly into the fighting ground, Crashing down onto the nigh-derelict rooftops throwing rubble out everywhere. Several stray crescents hurtling past the slayer, Barely able to avoid the attack.

It was absolute chaos, Pandemonium. A spectacle of whip-like half-moons striking at it's enemy so swift that any normal person would be severed in half in an instant.

By chance however [F/N] was no ordinary person as he dodged and weaved throughout what very little openings were given, Body contorting and swimming through the gaps as he tried his very best to land his own attacks.

"Soul Breathing Second Form: Seven Separate Spirit Slashes"

"Moon Breathing, Seventh Form: Mirror of Misfortune, Moonlit"

"Soul Breathing Sixth Form: Apotheosis Blade o' Ascension"

"Moon Breathing, Ninth Form: Waning Moonswaths"

Kokushibo never gave much of a chance however, His movements or slashes of his sword never strayed from what could be considered perfect form. The closest so far [F/N] had come to severing his head was when he had lobbed off an arm, Which regenerated within a split second.

It was enough to frustrate anyone, Anyone but [F/N].

The wide smile he had worn at the prospect of a fight had grown into a euphoric grin stretched ear to ear. For the first time in years, [F/N] had felt alive.

Though the several cuts on his arms and legs bled, Though he had been fighting for several hours he had never gotten tired. Not once did he falter or stumble, Not once did he succumb to exhaustion.

Not even the aching in his lungs, Which grew more painful with every breathe he took. The adrenaline made him feel nothing.

Kokushibo on the other hand felt the same way, Yet the anger in his chest only seemed to infest inside him more and more as the fight went on. He wanted this one to suffer, He wanted to watch this one bleed out on the ground while he crushed his windpipe.

The disrespect he had shown, Both to him and his sister. The careless attitude The Hashira had towards him, The haori he was desecrating. It made him absolutely furious. Even more so when he found more difficulty than normal when attacking him.

His transparent world showing his body to be at it's peak potential, Though oddly enough he wasn't able to see through the porcelain mask on his body. Kokushibo had to admit this was the longest fight he'd had in centuries.

The man he fought having zero fighting spirit, An oddity. Something he had never came across within a human, Combined with the mastery of the blade and his repetitive action movement he made a formidable combatant.

Even though he despised his opponent, He had to lend a begrudging respect.

[F/N]'s sword swayed along with his own movements. White wisps of translucent mist danced along the blade and left a shivering trail as it went. It was beautiful, Glowing so softly in the moonlight yet it struck so hard it burned like fire.

[F/N] landed in a crouching position after dodging another attack just by the hair on his back. Pushing both his hand and foot forward he launched himself towards Uppermoon one at high speeds.

Yelling out his next attack he readied his sword

"Soul Breathing Fifth Form: Noumenon High Dragon!"

The wisps tailing the edge of his blade were set ablaze, Picking up in velocity the trail formed into a tail as [F/N] rushed towards Kokushibo.

The demon readied his own attack in turn as The Soul Hashira's technique bursting into the shape of a gigantic jaw-opened dragon speeding towards his form, Twisting and swirling around the demon ready to swallow him whole.

"Moon Breathing, Sixth Form: Perpetual Night, Lonely Moon - Incessant"

Kokushibo swung his own sword down as soon the dragons gaping maws were about to bite down on him, An array of hyper-violet crescents exploded from Kokushibo's blade.

The sheer kinetic energy caused by the clashing of their swords erupted from the centre of it all like an immovable object to an unstoppable force. The energy hit the ground below them, Blasting both of them apart by the raw force.

Flying off of the tiled roof, [F/N] was shot up far into the air with Kokushibo in the opposite direction.

[F/N] yelled out in surprise as he flailed around in the air, Spinning and swooning around as he started to fall downwards.

Wind rushing through his kimono as he watched the ground grow larger and larger. He raised his sword and took a deep breath in, Ready to counteract gravity with the force of an attack.

"Soul Breathing Third Form: Soul fire, Burn bright!"

Just as he was about to hit the ground he struck his sword, His breathing technique bursting out into a bonfire as it connected with the dirt of the courtyard.

It was successful. Enough to stop the fall but also enough to throw him back up.

Luckily however he had hit one of the lower roofs of the shrine. And thankfully due to his recovery breathing the damage wasn't serious, Only a few scratches and later bruises to decorate his skin.

"Ack-.." [F/N] coughed, The dust from the impact hitting him as he lain sprawled out on the roof. His chest moved up and down, Breathing in and out while only feeling a tiny bit of pain in his ribs.

"Wow.. That could of been bad.." He heaved, Voice hoarse and rough. He raised his upper body so he was now in a hunched sitting position, Completely still except from the movements of his lungs.

[F/N] sat there for a moment not moving in the slightest. He could no longer sense Kokushibo's powerful aura, At least not nearby anyways. It seemed like the force of their blades clashing sent him flying to the other side of the shrine.

That's fine. It gave [F/N] time to recuperate from the non-stop attacks they threw at each other, He needed to savour these moments as best he could.

[F/N] looked around at the destruction of the shrine, It hurt. It felt like his heart was wrenched out of his chest every time he came across levelled rooms, Broken walls and fallen statues.

The home [F/N] resided in for years, One that had provided warmth and comfort when nothing else did had been destroyed. Memories long gone played out in his mind as he came to terms with his loss. It didn't matter now though, He supposed.

He ran his hands down his body to examine for wounds. Feeling along the torn fabric of his uniform and the dips in his flesh [F/N] figured that he wasn't too badly injured. While there were a few points where his fingers came up bloody he had judged it wasn't too bad.

It didn't hurt anyways, Not to him.

Settling his hands onto the roof he pushed himself up with only minimal effort. Stumbling a little to gather his balance he finally steadied himself upon the roof's wooden structure in the middle, Walking on it similar to a tight-rope.

He stalked along the middle beam, Movements similar to a feline's as he put one foot in front of the other.

Rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck [F/N] decided it was time to go back into battle. He needed to at least buy enough time for the last of the residents to evacuate the building, Afterwards there was only one thing left to do.

As he strolled along the edge of the roof he made his way to the end, Lowering his knees and k-

"[F/N]!!"

He froze in place.

That voice, No.. She wasn't supposed to be here. This wasn't how it went in his head, Not at all.

"[F/N]! P-Please.. Turn around.. Alright?" The voice yelled, A high-pitched tone that sounded so desperate in that one moment that [F/N] couldn't disobey.

And once he did turn around, The expression on Mitsuri's face hurt more than any wound inflicted on his body.

"'Tsuri, Hey! You're not suppose to be here.. You know?" [F/N] chuckled, A practiced sound that seemed so strained now as the façade he had tried to build up for so long crumbled down around him along with the shrine.

Mitsuri was sobbing. Tears leaked out from her face like a faucet, Her eyes were bloodshot like she had been crying for a while. Something that was most likely true. Every so often she let out a small choked wail from within her throat, Gasps for air following it close.

It looked as if her knee's would buckle under her weight. It was such a painful sight that [F/N] couldn't bare to look at her.

It felt like his heart was beating a hundred miles per hour, Thumping madly in her chest like a metal drum. He tried to keep a straight face, Some kind of mental barrier he could place between him and the woman he called his best friend.

"D-Don't act like that.. Just.. P-Please just don't act like that right now, [F/N].." Mitsuri yelled out, Her voice pained and shrill.

"'Tsuri.. I.." [F/N] couldn't find the words to say, His mind blank. No words could explain himself, None at all.

"I-I don't wanna hear an excuse.. Please.. I.. I just want to talk.. N-No excuses or lies.. Just the truth." She cried.

[F/N] stared back at her through the mask, Guts turning at the sight. However the porcelain face held up as he wore a blank face, One you might see at a poker table. He mulled over her words, An unnoticeable cold sweat suddenly dripping down from the side of his head.

"..Okay" [F/N] whispered. It was such a low tone but in that single moment it felt like it was just the two of them in the world, Making his mumble seem like a deafening scream to her ears.

"[F/N].. I.. I'm so sorry.." Mitsuri cried. She brought her shaking hands up to cup her face as she cried into them, A fleeting attempt to hide her grief.

[F/N] shook his head.

"Mitsuri.. What do you need to be sorry for?" [F/N] said. A levelled tone playing in his voice.

"I.. I s-should of done something sooner.. I should've known that you were feeling like this, I.. Why couldn't I notice.." She shook her head warily, Trying her best to hold back the choked sobs from her throat.

[F/N] steadied his breathing, He couldn't break.

"Mitsuri, I'm fine. You don't need to wo-"

"[F/N] I'M NOT STUPID, JUST LISTEN TO ME!" Mitsuri screamed.

[F/N] flinched, The sheer volume of it catching him of guard. In all of his years knowing Mitsuri, [F/N] had never seen him act like this, Like a completely new person stood before him now.

"I-I'm not stupid.. I can see how everyone's feeling.. I can always tell how angry Shinobu is or- or how unhappy Giyuu is all the time.. I can see how everyone is truly feeling, That's always been my talent.." Mitsuri lamented.

She wiped off the tears with her sleeve

"A-And just because you hide behind a mask.. That doesn't make you an exception, [F/N]! It never has..!" Mitsuri shouted once more, Now staring up at her best friend. The person she's known all her life freeze in place like a statue at her words.

"It's just.. All the time you're so.. So sad.. I-I've known you for so long and it's been going on.. F-For the same length of time.. S-So much that I just took it as normal but looking back now I feel so- so stupid!" She cried out.

[F/N] couldn't respond, He felt like a spotlight had been shun directly on him now. Like he stood in front of an unwanted audience as he stared her down.

"Y-You're scaring me, [F/N].. Y-You're really, really scaring me.. Just please.. T-Take off the mask.." Mitsuri broke down into a quiet sob, Soft cries aching her throat.

[F/N] looked back at her, An indescribable emotion etched into the porcelain of the mask. He felt his fingers twitch before raising them towards the straps. Lightly unlocking the clasp at the back she pulled the leather down from her head, Lowering the kitsune mask into the palms of her hands.

[F/N] stood there, The blank expression she wore was flooded with tears flowing free from her eyes as she gazed down at her best friend breaking down. Her lip twitched, Unable to say anything as she barely held back quiet cries of her own.

"'Tsuri.. Please, Just don't look at me like that. Just.. Just don't" [F/N] said, Swallowing back her pain.

"I.. I just.. I.." Mitsuri babbled as she clutched the centre of her chest, Trying to soothe the ache of her heart.

"You've got to leave.. 'Tsuri, It's not safe here, Alright..? I've got to get back to the fight.."

"N-No!" Mitsuri yelped out, Cutting off [F/N] prematurely.

"P-Please.. 'Tsuri, You've got to go.." [F/N] said. Her breath was growing more laboured by the second as the tears dripped down her eyes.

"N-No, You're not going back to the fight, [F/N].. Y-You can't go, You can't.. I.." She bit down on her lip, The thought trailing with her words were cut short.

"Why..?"

"B-Because when when you go into that fight.. Y-You're hoping that you won't come out of it.. And it terrifies me.." Mitsuri cried.

Her words felt like a knife jabbing into [F/N]'s heart, Like a blade was eternally twisting and turning inside of her arteries. It hurt, Out of everyone she had ever met, Mitsuri was the last one she would have wanted to say that to her.

"J-Just please.. G-Get off the roof, Come down.. D-Do not waste yourself on this roof, [F/N]. D-Don't you remember our promise..? Please.. J-Just come to me..?" Mitsuri pleaded, Reaching her hand out for [F/N] to take.

Her words felt so enticing, Like an oasis in a scorching desert.

Something she had been searching years for, Only to turn up in a gift wrapped box sitting on her doorstep. [F/N] felt her fingers twitch, So desperately wanting to reach out and take her hands.

But the letter had already been sent, Her mind had already been made up so long ago. As much as she wanted to hold her hand, Run away and never look back [F/N] knew that it wouldn't be enough.

"'Tsuri.." [F/N] mumbled. Mitsuri caught on quickly to her tone and her eyes widened.

"N-No, [F/N]! Please.. Come down, P-Please just take my hand.. PLEASE!" She cried out as she watched [F/N] place the mask back on the now his face.

"'Tsuri.. Do not feel guilty over me, You were the best friend I could of ever asked for. You did your best.." [F/N] smiled.

The mask was now matching his expression as it looked down on Mitsuri, Who rushed forward but her knees finally buckled making her fall forward.

"Ah-!" She cried out. [F/N] tried to resist the urge to go and help as he spoke.

"'Tsuri.. You still haven't recovered from the swordsmith village attack.. Not to mention it looks like you've been running for hours.

"Please, Don't exert any more energy." [F/N] said as he turned around back towards the direction Kokushibo would be in.

Mitsuri screamed out for [F/N].

"P-PLEASE, [F/N]! L-LET ME COME WITH YOU, PLEASE! A-AT LEAST LET ME COME WITH YOU. W-WE GO TOGETHER, L-LIKE WE ALWAYS HAVE! TOGETHER!!" Her voice was so painful it tore a hole into [F/N] as he tried not to run to her side.

"I'm sorry, 'Tsuri.. Between the two of us, You have people that will miss you. There are a lot of people out there who love you, Adore you not just for your strength but just for yourself. Between the two of us.. You'll have people who will mourn your loss." [F/N] said.

Mitsuri didn't even have time to scream out as Seijun rushed over from somewhere south. She had been put to help with evacuations and Mitsuri's screams had alerted her over.

"[F/N]-sama! Kanroji-san, Are you both alright?!" Seijun asked, Alarmed by the incoherent babble of Mitsuri in front of her as she desperatley tried to pull herself to her feet. A futile attempt as she just fell back down.

"..We're alright, Thank you.. I hope evacuations are going well?" [F/N] asked. Cocking his head to the side as he tried his best to focus on the maiden instead of the mourning.

"Smoothly. Due to the combined efforts of the slayers and the handmaidens, The first round of escapee's have successfully gotten away… Though there are quite a few many still around.." Seijun said, Quickly bowing down to her superior.

[F/N] nodded.

"Seijun. Thank you for helping out with the evacuations, I sincerely appreciate it.. All I ask of you now is that you could escort Kanroji-san out of the area. She's in no state to fight and is delirious." [F/N] turned back to look at the two, A reassuring smile sat uneasy on the mask.

Seijun nodded as she started to pick up Mitsuri by the armpits. At the touch of the handmaiden Mitsuri instantly started to scream and flail around in her grasp, In complete hysterics as she cried out [F/N]'s name.

"Kanroji-san, Please calm down-"

"[F/N]! [F/N]! PLEASE! L-LET GO OF ME, LET ME GO! [F/N] COME DOWN, COME TO ME PLEASE- I CAN'T DO THIS WITHOUT YOU!" She screamed. Despite her inhuman strength her muscles were so tired from both her injuries and the marathon here that she could barely even struggle in Seijun's hold, Just scream and scream as she tried to get out of her grasp.

[F/N] turned back, Walking on the roof like a lamb to the slaughter as he tried his best to ignore the gut-wrenching pain in his stomach. He had made up his mind, And as much as [F/N] adored Mitsuri it wasn't going to change anything.

Her screams got further and further away as he drew his sword once more.

As they did, He raised his head high and smiled.

☆♡☆

"Blood Demon Art: Electrokinesis, Third form: Thunder Swarm!"

Black bolts of ebony struck down from Kaigaku's blade, The steel conducting the movements as he brought it down onto the group of slayers he had been tracking for quite a while now.

Several yells called out into the vastness of the forest, Snow exploding into the air once the thunder whipped at the ground. Kaigaku cackled as he heard the screams of his prey, The game of cat and mouse had begun.

He had leapt out from one of the tree branches, Ones he had been carefully maneuvering on as he quietly trailed along with the group.

Kaigaku had struck at the right time, They had taken the bait. The red cloth was a carefully placed lure he had swiftly placed in order to lead them into a honey trap, It was easy. Especially once he knew who he was dealing with.

He was shocked at first. Not in a million years did he expect to come across them, Not at all. It was something that seemed impossible to him, But here he was pouncing in for the attack.

Gyomei, Zenitsu, Shizuko. Along with that boar-headed kid they were well-known targets, Once he had lain his eyes on them his heart seemed to soar in his chest. A sadistic kind of glee bursting up from inside of him.

People who had looked down on him in the past, People who had treated him like he was just another person and not the prodigy he really was. The kind of people he truly despised were right in front of him, All grouped together.

Even though he was ordered to attack the shrine from the other side, He had to take this. It was an opportunity he couldn't pass by on, Not for a single second.

They group was launched into the air. The force pushing them away from the focal point as Kaigaku watched the boar-headed kid land into a tree, Hitting his head and passing out while the other two kids were pushed off a steep hill.

He laughed like a closing in hyena. His body falling close to the ground as he prepared to land, All before a chain launches out of the snow dust, Hurtling straight towards the demon.

Kaigaku swerved. Only dodging the metal by a hair as the mist finally cleared, Revealing The Stone Hashira standing strong in-between the snow. Chains in hand he swayed them about as the axe in his hand started to swing between his fingers.

Another chain shot out from beneath his haori sending it straight towards him at nigh-impossible speeds.

Kaigaku breathed in to steady his style. Tossing his sword up into the air he threw out a hand and wrapped it tight around the chain. Tugging once he screamed out into the night

"Blood demon art-"

An explosion of electricity erupted out from his palms, A black current travelling down the steel chain as it quickly developed into a shockwave heading straight towards Gyomei.

Sensing the incoming thunder he let go of the chain and threw out the axe as it hurtled towards Kaigaku.

Catching his sword in a single hand Kaigaku brought it down with a clash! The metal hitting together with hot sparks bursting out from the sheer force of their connection.

Kaigaku landed on the floor. Gyomei's axe successfully deflected as he hit the ice, Steadying himself with a single hand as he peered up at the Hashira with a Cheshire grin.

"Gyomei.. You've bulked up a bit since I last saw you." Kaigaku sneered. A condescending drawl drawing out every syllable as he peered up at his former peer.

Gyomei halted in his actions, A sudden stop to his quick movements. Grasping the unelectrified chains it pulled on the axe, Catching it in a single hand as he froze in place.

"That voice.. It cannot be.." He muttered. Memories seemed sing out inside of his mind, Voices he remembered coming back to him for the first time in years. Ones he had pushed away, Hidden and ran from yet all coming up within the brutal song of the demon's voice.

Kaigaku's grin grew bigger.

"What? It's not the kid you let be thrown out? The person you discarded so easily? The one whose gonna put this blade through your skull?" Kaigaku cackled, Raising his sword and pointing to the sharp metal.

"Oh.. Right. My bad, You're unable to see the thing that's gonna to kill you. How sad!" Kaigaku laughed as he gripped the side of his head, Tufts of ebony hair sticking out as he hollered like it was the funniest thing in the world.

Gyomei's frown got sharper.

"A low hanging insult.. Even for you, Kaigaku.. It pains me to know how badly you've fallen.." Gyomei lamented as he recalled back on the time's they shared together.

Kaigaku, An orphaned child. One of nine who he had taken in at his temple, One of nine who he cared for like his very own. One of the children who he had worked himself down to the bone for, Tried his hardest everyday to provide for. Even going as far as to starve himself just so they would have enough food to satisfy them.

Even though he was blind, Even though he was starving almost every second of the day making him frail and scrawny he worked to provide.

He had considered them all family, Even if they had no blood connection it never mattered. The covenant was stronger than the womb, They loved each other no matter how bad it would get.

But that one fateful day, That one day was like carved stone in his mind. The wisteria incense put out, The betrayal he had known as he heard the screams of terror from the children he considered family.

Kaigaku had been a thief, He always had been. But when he had gone so far as to sneak out at night, Run into a demon and sacrifice the peers he had known just for a chance at survival that wasn't even guaranteed.

They were all slaughtered by the very thing Kaigaku chose to become. It proved how little he cared, How little humanity he had in the first place.

In the end, He could only save two. And it cost him his freedom, His chance at a normal life.

All because of the demon in front of him.

"How badly I've fallen? Gyomei, I'm upper six now! I've been risen to such great heights, By a man who could actually see my worth!" Kaigaku proclaimed, Raising his hands out as if to announce this to the world.

Gyomei paused, Letting the words sink in.

"Then.. I doubt that man was a good judge of character.. You've always been such a weaselly little boy." Gyomei stated. Even though he couldn't see he could practically feel the sudden drop in Kaigaku's smile.

Kaigaku stood there, The hands he had raise shook. This wasn't the answer he had been expecting from the man.

"..How dare you.. My master is an honourable man! He knows my worth!" Kaigaku yelled out. Baring his canines out towards The Stone Hashira who stood there motionless, Starting to rattle his beads once more.

"No.. You've always been such a pitiful little thing.. Such a selfish child.. You have as much worth as a rat in the gutter." Gyomei announced with such a sad and nostalgic tone, Yet it held so much weight that it felt like a stone to the head to Kaigaku.

His jaw fell agape, Displaying his rows of sharp teeth. From the way Kaigaku was imagining this day in his head, He didn't expect this of all responses.

He had envisioned the sheer pain drown out the features on Gyomei's face, Tears drip down from his eyes as he begged for forgiveness under the sharp point of Kaigaku's claws. He'd cry, Yell in pain as he was slowly mutilated in the slowest way possible.

He didn't expect to be fixed in place, Feet feeling so heavy he was unable to lift them. Unable to do anything as he stared him down. He felt helpless, So helpless. And that made him angry.

"I-I am powerful now! I am strong! You just can't comprehend how powerful I am now, Y-You're the one that's weak! You just can't believe how great I am now!" Kaigaku yelled, His voice suddenly sounding hoarse as he gripped the hilt of his sword tighter.

"Really.. Are you really that great?" Gyomei asked quietly.

"O-Of course I am!" Kaigaku yelled back in response.

"Then.. If you truly are.. You would know a distraction when you see one.." Gyomei finished.

Kaigaku's brow raised before a sudden prescense- No, Two presences appearing from behind him at nigh-impossible speeds.

He only turned around in time to see the two boys, Zenitsu and Shizuko, The two boys he knew so well raise their swords in a prepared attack.

"Thunder Breathing, First Form: Thunderclap and Flash"

"Earth Breathing, Second Form: Seismic Shake"

They screamed in unison, Only a few feet away from Kaigaku's stunned body as they raised their respective weapons. Thunder started to crackle at the metal of Zenitsu's katana while the murky smell of fresh compost emanated from Shizuko's machete as they charged towards him.

Kaigaku lowered his knee's and jumped back just in time to avoid the massive crater left in the place where he stood.

"You bastards-!" Kaigaku screamed out as he was flown out into the air. He looked down at the horrified visage of Zenitsu, While he scowled at the enraged Shizuko as they jumped up towards him once more.

"Ne, You're one to talk..!" Shizuko screamed as he used the tree branches to throw himself up to Kaigaku's level.

"K-Kaigaku.. How could you!" Zenitsu cried as he followed in his peer's footsteps.

"Oh shut up you wimp! You know exactly why!" Kaigaku screamed as he watched the two slayers come up towards him, Preparing another attack.

Just as the two were about to swing their weapons a metal flail flew out from beneath them all, Shooting out towards Kaigaku.

This isn't good, This isn't good at all. Kaigaku was seething, This moment was suppose to be glorious with him on top and those below quivering under his iron fist. But he had no more time to daydream as he was about to be attacked on three separate fronts.

Zenitsu directly below, Shizuko from the front and Gyomei from the side. He couldn't lose, He was special.

Quickly, Kaigaku had no time to think as he activated his blood demon art. His sword igniting as he yelled out his attack.

"Thunder Breathing, Fourth Form: Distant Thunder!"

Kaigaku screamed out as bolts erupted from the cold steel of his sword, A versatile attack reaching in all directions. Below, Front and side thunder crackled out in response to the attack.

He wouldn't let them kill him, Anyone but them. He knew he was worthy, But also knew he had to prove it.

And this was the perfect way

☆♡☆

Kokushibo stood in the middle of the rubble, Standing in the midst of broken wood, stone and clay as he examined his surroundings.

He had been thrown to the other side of the shrine, An unexpected force from the joint impact pushing him off the roof. Kokushibo had meant to get back to the fight, Get back to that accursed Hashira.

But as he looked around, He found himself hesitating.

He took a deep breath in, Inhaling the cold night's air into his lungs as he reminisced on old memories. It would be the last time he would ever get to experience this after all, The shrine was in complete disrepair now.

It was bittersweet, The memories he had here played in front of him like a reeling tape. How he'd come back from a mission only to be greeted with the smell of stewing vegetables and sweet berries. He'd smile and walk inside only to be greeted by [F/N] and Yorichii.

Now the mere scent of human food disgusted him.

The shrine would be destroyed, Not like there was much to save in the first place. The slayers had desecrated it, Infected it like parasites and transfigured it into something unrecognisable from its original state.

And just like a parasite leeching on the flesh of an arm, The only solution was to cut it off. It wasn't her shrine he was destroying, No. It was already gone, He was just levelling another base of operations. Nothing more.

Kokushibo was brought out of his thoughts by the sound of footsteps hitting the tiles, A slow pace as they walked up to his location down below in the garden

He turned, Looking up to see that slayer on top of a roof point, Balancing on a single foot. The moon shone down from behind him, High in the sky to illuminate their oncoming brawl as his haori danced in the breeze.

A neuron clicked within Kokushibo's mind once his sight connected with the mans stance, A realisation dawning on him.

"You.. I remember you now.." Kokushibo drawled as he fully turned over to look up at him.

"Really? I don't remember us ever meeting." [F/N] said carelessly, Yet there was still a hint of curiosity in him as he waited for the demon to go on.

"No.. We have not met.. But you, You are the slayer who killed one thousand of my kind.. In a single year.." Kokushibo said, Eyes narrowing as he stared him down.

He remembered his the notice from his master ringing inside his mind, The announcement demanding the death of this slayer for the crime of efficiency. This one single demon hunter had managed to cause such alarm in Muzan, A feat never done before.

They had never managed to catch him, The slayer was rather tricky.

Moved about place to place and never lingered long, Never slept in any inn's or districts. Any demon that did come face to face with him however was instantly shot down and killed in seconds.

Normally, Kokushibo would hate to see a waste of talent die out. He never understood why slayers would prefer staying human, Instead of becoming a demon to perfect and hone their technique to perfection.

But knowing the weight this man had, Knowing the haori he disgraced and the artefacts he wore with no care. Kokushibo had no bargain to present to the slayer, Instead enticed by bringing his head back to Muzan for the reward.

"What is your name.." Kokushibo asked.

"Fujimori." [F/N] replied, Shrugging his shoulders.

"Your full name.." Kokushibo prodded.

[F/N] wondered why he wanted to know, Why it was necessary information. But in the end he supposed that the demon wanted to know what name to write on the trophy stand.

"It's just Fujimori." [F/N] answered back, If that was the case then he wouldn't give him the satisfaction. If he was going down then he was going to make it as inconvenient as possible for his killer.

Kokushibo breathed out hot air from his nose. The careless tone in the slayers voice angered him, How could he be taking this so casually? A fight with Uppermoon one and he took it like child's play.

It was infuriating.

He drew out his sword once more, The flesh pulsating as it grew out in length. [F/N] in turn drew his own blade from the sheathe on his back, Pointing it at him like the judge to the accused.

"Alright then. Don't hold out now, Better give me all you've got!" [F/N] laughed as he jumped down from the shrine spire, Sword raised as he swung it down.

"Soul Breathing, First Form: Psyche Cutter!" He screamed, Sword alight with white wisps as it hit down onto the place Kokushibo once was, Rocks erupting out leaving only a crater.

[F/N] turned around, Seeing Kokushibo about to pierce into his back he raised his sword in response.

Metal on flesh connected with a clash! Both swordsmen's blades pushed against each other, Battling for that single opening to end the fight once and for all. [F/N] struggled, Letting out little groans as Kokushibo's strength was unmatchable.

Kokushibo yelled out, A pained scream. He swung out a forceful attack making [F/N] back up as their swords rapidly connected back and forth, Withdrawing and crashing right back into each other. If [F/N] stopped for a single moment, He'd be cut down.

[F/N] could barely dodge the oncoming breathing techniques as he tried to let off his own, It was one after the other so much that he couldn't take his mind away. He supposed it was a good thing.

Mitsuri's face, That desperate expression. Her hysterical screams for him to come back, To not do what he needed to. It was all set into the stone of his mind, Appeared when he blinked and hallucinated her voice.

[F/N] was thankful he had no time to think about it.

Their blades made sparks burst out like a faulty lighter. [F/N] started to struggle, The grip on his sword beginning to fall despite his iron-clad grip. His grin never faltered though, This was what he had been expecting.

[F/N] was only human, His stamina was bound to run out eventually and he knew this.

Jumping back up onto the roof to avoid another attack, Kokushibo quickly followed after. It was labouring as [F/N] tried to balance both his feet and his continued slashes at the same time, Being pushed back by the force of the demon's blade.

He felt his breath get heavier with each inhale, The pain in his chest doing nothing to help him as he felt his fingers ache. He only had so much left to go before his body finally gave up, Before he collapsed. This was [F/N] chance, To go out in one single blaze, Hopefully taking down the Uppermoon with him. His final action as a slayer.

Ever since he saw the kanji in his eyes, Ever since he felt the raw power coming off of him [F/N] knew what action to take.

The Eighth Form of Soul Breathing. The most powerful of them all, An attack that left [F/N] bloodied and beaten into a coma the first time he used it. Hospitalized for months in critical condition.

The year onwards he hadn't used it, He didn't dare. It was an attack only supported by the blade he was wielding, The Soul Sword. An attack that utilized the trapped spirits in the blade, Using the power of them all in one devastating move affecting both the user and target.

He felt the trapped souls of one thousand course through the hilt of the blade as they continued to duel against each other in rapid motions, The concentrated spirits radiating through his skin. If he used this attack, It was bound to kill both him and anyone in the surrounding area.

But Kokushibo? He wasn't sure.

Thankfully however the evacuations were successful, [F/N] had made sure to check. Everyone was out and at least a few miles away from the shrine, It was just the two of them now fighting to the death.

[F/N] smiled lightly. No one would get in the way, Not the hand-maidens, Not Mitsuri, No one. There would be no casualties on [F/N]'s hands, That was good.

[F/N] needed to try. To end it all and try to bring at least something good out of his death, To bring something good out of his life for once.

But then, He caught the faint hue of carmine red.

The mask's eyes widened as it caught the vivid colour tucked hidden within the rubble, It was barely there but [F/N] could make out a face. One that sparked up his own in recognition.

It was Maika.

Maika sat hidden behind a torn wall, She looked wounded with her kosobe being stained in thick ichor. She stared wide-eyed at the fight, Looking absolutely horrified. Her hands cupped over her mouth, Not daring to speak for a second.

But what concerned [F/N] the most was her legs, They were trapped under a large wall crumbled down onto her. She was unable to get out.

No.. No this wasn't good. [F/N]'s heart beat faster and faster by the moment, Losing concentration from the fight as he stared the injured girl head on trying to make sense of the sight in front of him.

Maika was still here, She had somehow gotten back to the shrine only to get caught within the destruction. Did the evacuation team miss her? Did they not find her? [F/N] felt his jaw shake, He couldn't use the Eight Form. Not while she was still here.

[F/N] dragged his eyes away from the girl, Trying not to alert the demon of her presence. Before he had taken this fight with a careless grin but as he saw the young girl there, Injured and terrified the stakes had finally hit him.

Her life was at stake, And somewhere deep inside him he wasn't willing to let that life slip through his fingers.

He can die any other day, But she needed to go on. Maika was too young.

[F/N] pushed himself up into the air, Sword readying itself above his head as he ignored the implications of his thoughts. He couldn't use the eighth form, Not while Maika was here. So [F/N] had to settle on the next best thing as the wisps grew into a blazing inferno.

"Soul Breathing, Seventh Form: Takamagahara's Wrath, Divine Judgement."

Moonlight danced around his sword as gravity pulled him down forward straight to the demon. Spirits trailed along as energy picked up. He felt the air shift around him and the energy pulse in his sword.

Kokushibo raised his own sword once again, A counterattack ready to happen.

"Sixteenth Form: Moonbow, Half Moon"

His sword moved up and before he knew it, [F/N]'s sword was at his neck, Sharp side pressing into the side of his neck. [F/N] screamed out, Exerting his energy as the fibres of Kokushibo's neck started to tear-

SLASH!

[F/N] landed on the other side of the roof, Sandal soles lightly touching the ground as he steadied himself.

[F/N] stood there completely still, The only movements of his figure was the light breeze passing through his clothing. He sheathed his sword, All before his knee's shook and [F/N] stumbled hard.

Copper was tasted at the tip of his tongue as he stumbled around on the roof losing his balance. He could only feel the sudden burn in his abdomen as his foot pressed down onto nothing, Letting him tip off the roof.

That speed, That blinding speed. Kokushibo didn't utilise it before, He had been formidable yet.. [F/N] felt the dawning realisation rise.

Kokushibo had been toying with him.

He had drawn out this fight, Holding back his true strength. Those cuts placed onto [F/N]'s body were a way to torture him, To let his blood be drawn and to feel agonising pain in the highest degree.

[F/N] never stood a chance.

[F/N] knew this was what he wanted, The thing he had been craving this entire time. This should of been a sweet release, Yet there was such a bitter aftertaste that it filled his mouth along with the blood. Overwhelming his senses.

He still wanted this, He did. It was a happy finality, It didn't matter whether he was in an immense amount of pain or not. It didn't matter at all. Yet the thought of Maika's fate was the one to spoil that moment.

Would she be okay? Would she be discovered by the demon?

He could barely comprehend the question as he hit the ground, World going red.

☆♡☆

Hack, Slash, Hack, Slash!

Kaigaku had barely any time to dodge the unrelenting slashes of Zenitsu, All while dodging the bloodthirsty hits of Shizuko's machete. Both desperate to get to his neck, To sever it and take it as their reward.

It wasn't even the most difficult part. Gyomei had still not moved an inch from his stance on the snow yet he kept sending out axe then flail, Ones Kaigaku couldn't even dodge at times due to the velocity at which they went.

Even then Kaigaku asked himself why Gyomei didn't dare to move from his position, This wasn't like the man he knew. The one who would charge head first into a problem and tackle it head on. It made him angry, Gyomei should be trying to kill him yet he chose to refrain.

And it made him absolutely livid when he found out the reason. Gyomei Himejima, The man who he had lived with for several years, The man who was his family only to be abandoned and ruined the life of all because of Kaigaku was holding back.

All because he still harboured love for him.

Kaigaku yelled out in frustration as he prepared another blood demon art, This time focusing off of the two boys who were still hurling attacks and insults at him as he targeted Gyomei instead.

The thought of him holding back infuriated Kaigaku to no end. Stupid human feelings.. It was disgusting. The notion of it, The action of it, The feelings that rose up inside Kaigaku himself were all absolutely disgusting.

"You fucking bitch!" Shizuko screamed as he charged at Kaigaku once more, Machete wildly trying to hack away at his neck.

Kaigaku dodged. Completely ignoring him in favour of charging at the other man as he got behind Shizuko, Pushing his foot into the dip of his back he used the forced momentum to launch him forward towards Gyomei.

"You absolutely worthless human being!" Kaigaku screamed His sword was raised as he charged at the blind man. Kaigaku ignored the way Gyomei's frown got deeper, Ignoring the way his own grew deeper as well as he got closer and closer. Black sparks jolting out from the metal.

"Himejima-san!" Zenitsu cried as he gave chase, Doing all he could to ignore the past both him and the demon shared as his blade charged up.

Shizuko joined in, Screaming his master's name as Kaigaku got closer. It was clear, Gyomei couldn't kill Kaigaku, He wouldn't. The memories they had shared together were too strong to be cut down for him.

He would rather die than kill one of his kids.

Despite how much Shizuko respected his master, He chided him for letting that get in the way. Even though Shizuko shared the same memories as Gyomei did with Kaigaku, He never let it get in the way.

Not in the way of his work.

Kaigaku was only a few inches away, Sword lightly grazing the skin of Gyomei's neck about to be cut down in an instant.

Come back, Now.

Kaigaku's eyes widened. The voice of Kokushibo, His master, Rang throughout his head. The telepathic link connected to him sounding an indescribable tone in his voice, Something he had never heard off his master before.

Emotion..

Kaigaku jolted away from Gyomei, Landing a few feet away from him as he skidded on the ground.

Zenitsu and Shizuko rushed over to Gyomei's side as he stood there frozen, Kaigaku had stopped. His senses told him so but for what reason.

Kaigaku looked back at the group and snarled at the feeling so persistant on bubbling up inside him. It was weakness, Human emotion. He had no time to think it over as he took off in a single shot of lightning, Leaving the group behind.

Shizuko snapped his head over to the sound of faraway thunder only to realise that the bastard was gone, Escaped while he was concerned over Gyomei's safety.

He gritted his teeth and screamed out into the night after him.

"Ne, Come back and face us! You're a coward, You've always been a coward.. COME BACK AND FIGHT US!" Shizuko hollered out, Voice echoing through the vast treeline surrounding them.

Shizuko could only hope that the demon he once called his brother could hear his yells as he was chased off into the night.

☆♡☆

Erratic sputters of blood erupted from [F/N]'s throat, Making ichor drip out of his mask and down his chin, Staining his already drenched uniform.

Everything hurt, Everything hurt so bad unlike before. [F/N] kept telling himself to breathe, In and out. It would be over soon, Everything will be over soon. He wouldn't need to worry anymore, He had got what he wanted.

[F/N]'s body made spasms, Wild jerks of motion as his back was propped up against fallen stone.

When he fell he had landed into a pile of rubble. Jaded rocks jagged into his flesh, Opening wounds and bursting blood vessels. If his vision wasn't blurry enough, The dust that came up from his heavy landing had made it nigh-impossible to see.

It was a miracle [F/N] was holding on as long as he was. The wound cut so deep into his abdomen that you could near see his guts. He had lost a lot of blood too, More than a normal person could survive losing.

He could barely make out the shape of the maiden only a few feet away cried quietly.

"F-Fujimori-sama.. Fujimori-sama.." She wept. Tears were left unashamedly flowing down her face as [F/N] lolled his head to meet hers.

He had to blink once to remove the visage of Mitsuri appearing on her face. It was funny, [F/N] had never noticed the visual similarities between the two until now. If his lungs were in shape, He might of laughed at the thought.

"Mi-Maika.. Listen closely.." [F/N] rasped out. Voice hoarse as dry as the maiden nodded quickly, Intently ready to hear his final words.

"Y-You need to trust me here.. Y-You won't be able to get out in time.. So.. I need you to get under the rubble.. H-Hide yourself.. Alright?" [F/N] coughed up more blood, Staining the inside of his mask as Maika's eyes widened.

"D-Don't make a noise.. No matter what happens to me or.. Or what you see.. O-Only until sunrise are you to come out.. Only once you know its safe.." [F/N] wheezed as he watched a shape in the mist start to form.

"Q-Quickly.." At his final word enunciated Maika quickly pushed herself under the rocks, Burrowed her small body into the tight space until all [F/N] could see was the moonlight's reflection on her eyes.

[F/N] smiled weakly, He hoped it would be enough to keep her hidden. Enough to save her life as he watched the figure in the fog take shape into his assailant, The man who would be his executioner.

"Pathetic.. Really.. You were able to take out one thousand of my kind.. Yet you fell to me, Even when putting in your all you just couldn't win.." He drawled out, Making sure to pronounce every syllable. Mocking the man, A sharp frown etched into his face yet [F/N] could tell he was enjoying this. Every last second.

[F/N] felt his vision double, A dark haze appearing over the horizon of his eyes. He could barely hear what Kokushibo was about to say next, All blurring into white noise.

He felt the dark haze thicken, He didn't hesitate to let it swallow him whole.

Kokushibo breathed out air from his nose, Returning his blade back to its hilt as he took slow strides towards the fallen man. He watched as his head lolled from side to side, Most definetly in a state of semi-conciousness from the blood loss.

It really was pathetic. If this man didn't bring up such horrid memories, If his very cells didn't make his blood boil he might of offered this man to become a demon. A way to forever hone his already impressive skills.

It was a waste, But it didn't matter now. This Hashira will die by his blade, It was near-written in the stars.

Kokushibo stopped in front of his incapacitated body. All six of his eyes taking in the sight before him as he crouched down to the mans level.

He was sprawled out, Body black and blue in so many places.

Kokushibo knew he was still somewhat awake, In between death and life. Even in such a spot he should've been able to move, Say something at least.

But the man never said anything. Kokushibo lowered a brow, It was if his body was fighting tooth and nail to stay alive yet his mind was ready to give up. It puzzled him, Any other slayer would be fighting whole heartedly to stay alive yet this one decided to go out without complaint.

"You.. Fujimori. You are such a miserable creature.. Everything about you is simply.. enraging" Kokushibo seethed as his eyes moved onto the rest of him. Kokushibo reached a single hand out to grasp the soft fabric of his haori.

"This haori.. How you were able to get a hold on it confuses me.. Yet angers me all the same. The way you wear it.. The way you no doubt have stained it with blood of those you've killed.. The way you wear it is a disgrace to it's true owner.." Kokushibo lamented. His voice growing only a tone drier.

He trailed a thumb over the pattern. The scales of the dragon were soft under his touch, It made a chill go down his back. How he was able to get his hands on this homemade pattern he didn't know, He had buried it with his sister's body.

Yet here it was, Caressed under his claw.

"The gods may be punishing me.. Making me look at it again.. But I suppose it does not matter now, Not to you.." Kokushibo said. His hand trailed up the man's body, All the way up to the rim of the kitsune mask.

He trailed a talon along his jawline, Deep enough only to make his body twitch at the touch.

"Not to mention the precious artefacts.. One's you wear and wield like your everyday kimono.. Disgraceful." His talon moved up to dig under the brim of the mask. Kokushibo watched on intently as his claw played with the leather strap wrapping behind the mans head.

"I am unsure whether you can hear me.. yet.. If you can.. I want you to watch as I tear out your intestines.. A fitting punishment for your crimes.." Kokushibo whispered.

His claw started to rip the leather slowly. The hide easily coming apart as he tore it down once.

It broke.

The fox mask fell to the floor, A loud clatter hitting the floor.

Kokushibo's heart stopped in his chest.

What.. What is this?

The smoke around them seemed to settle down back to where it came from. The moon was raised high in the sky, Looking down upon the scene from the heavens.

Kokushibo's hand retracted instantly, His body jerking away like he had just touched hot coal.

All sets of eyes went like saucers, All fixed down to the young woman in front of him.

It.. It was [F/N].

His little sister..

No- That was impossible. It couldn't be.. She had perished in his arms over five hundred years ago. He held her cold corpse, He cradled her cadaver begging any god who could hear him to bring her back to him. His tears wet her corpse.

Before this was a man, A man of stature unlike his little sister's. Yet when he took off the mask.. One moment it was the man he had defeated, The next it was her.. But.. It couldn't be her, He was hallucinating again. It couldn't.. It just couldn't!

Yet Kokushibo nudged forward. He reached out a hesitant hand. His fingers lightly cupped her cheek, So delicately as if she'd break from a single touch like a porcelain doll.

He felt the fading warmth in her cheeks, He felt her skin corporeal in his hands.

She was real but..

He heard a soft whisper come out from her throat, Something repeated over and over like a broken tape.

He moved his ear closer to her

His eyes only grew wider once he made out what it was

"M.. Mi-Michi..Nii.."

She mumbled softly, Blood still leaking out of her mouth. Kokushibo's jaw fell agape, His grasp of her cheek growing shaky.

There was no doubt

She was real, She was here.

But how.. How could she be here?

Kokushibo felt his vision start to blur yet never felt the hot tears leaking out of his eyes.. He was crying. She.. She said his name.

His jaw shook as he looked down at her, He saw the red ichor leak out of her gut. He saw the thousands of cuts placed onto her skin, All the bruises and the blood.

Did.. Did he do that?

Memories hit him. Back to that day in the snow, The day almost identical to the present. The day he saw the wound in her back.. The day she died..

Kokushibo yelled.

His body moved for him. In a single second he wrapped his arms around her and hoisted her up onto his shoulder, Carefully cradling her body like a small child in his hold as he started sobbing.

He felt her blood stain his kimono, He felt a panic shock him to his very core.

She was going to die.

That thought on its own was enough to send him into a bloodlust. It didn't matter how she was here, How she was reunited with him once more. It all faded into the back of his mind as the one task came clear in his mind.

He couldn't let death take her away from him, Not again. He couldn't lose her, He needed to keep her alive.

The one person whose ever loved him more than Yorichii. She needed to live.

Kokushibo yelled out to Kaigaku in his mind, The telepathic link connected from him to Tsuguko calling out to him. Telling him to come back. They needed to go, He needed to save her life.

The shrine didn't matter, It was if it never existed to him anymore. Going after the evacuees nor searching for useful information throughout the ruins were not a thought going through him.

Carefully making sure she was secure in his hold he pushed her head into the crook of his neck, Made sure her arms were locked around his neck as he watched Kaigaku run up on the horizon.

"M-Master..!" He called out to him as he ran. However his pace skidded to a halt once he came in front of the event unfolding before him.

His master was holding a maimed girl.. And he was crying.

"Wh-What is-"

"Quiet." Kokushibo hissed, His tears still fresh and flowing down his cheeks as he let out a harsh silence.

Kaigaku didn't push him any further. Shut his jaw and listened, The curiosity killed on his tongue yet the incredulous expression still played out on his face.

"We are leaving. Now." Kokushibo said.

Kaigaku nodded quickly. Bowing down low to show respect as he watched his master turn away, Softly running his fingers through the hair of the girl he held. Kaigaku was baffled, He couldn't understand it.

"Nakime!" Kokushibo yelled out.

And in a single strum of a biwa, They were gone.

☆♡☆

The sun rose up in the sky. Clementine skies painted like a tapestry, Only stopped by the misty clouds adorning the atmosphere. Cold air dancing on passer-by's skin as soft sunlight shone down towards the butterfly mansion.

It was lively. Crowds of escapee's and refugee's flooded into the gates of the mansion desperate for medical attention as the staff ran around trying to tend to them all. They all arrived on wagons, Coming out in groups.

As several people walked by they were lightly pushed out the way. Mitsuri ran like hell through the crowds, The lime hue of her eyes scanning every wagon. Every person who resembled [F/N] even if only a little bit.

She asked around. Asking any person she could find to see if they know of her whereabouts, All came up empty. None knowing where she was.

Mitsuri was in the middle of talking to a shrine-maiden when she heard her name called out from the side of the mansion.

"Kanroji-sama!"

She snapped her head over, Only to be met with Tanjiro.

He was standing in one of the nooks in the garden, The one next to the shed with several trays of plant life growing along the windowsill.

Mitsuri rushed over to him. A glimmer of hope rising up inside her, Tanjiro. If anyone was to know where she was, It would be Tanjiro. He was apart of the rescue team after all

"Kanroji-sama.. I'm glad I found you." Tanjiro greeted her, Bowing once. Mitsuri returned it rather hastily with a last-minute smile. "No. I'm glad I found you, Tanjiro.. I've been all over.. But.." Mitsuri huffed, Her injuries still severe as she had to take a breath.

Tanjiro laid a hand on her back, Patting it lightly as if to relieve her pain.

"Thank you, Tanjiro.. I came to ask.. H-Have you seen [F/N]? Was she able to evacuate or.. In fact, Have you seen Fujimori?" Mitsuri said. She grasped Tanjiro's hands into her own, Hope shining in her eyes as she looked at him.

Tanjiro frowned a little.

"N-No.. I haven't seen [F/N], Nor have I seen Fujimori-sama.. I'm sorry." Tanjiro apologised.

The grasp on his hand felt lighter, Mitsuri's smile faltering only slightly as she gulped down the overhanging feeling in her gut.

"I.. I see.. Thank you anyways, I.. I better get back to searching." Mitsuri said. She tried to keep her normal tone, Her normal bubbly tone that she wore everyday without effort yet there was an undeniable fumble as she walked off.

"Wait!" Tanjiro called out.

Mitsuri turned back around to see Tanjiro search his pockets, All before fishing and holding up a folded envelope in his hands.

"I haven't seen [F/N].. But, Fujimori-sama gave me this letter.. He told me to deliver it to you.." Tanjiro announced as he presented it to Mitsuri.

A letter.

A sudden cold sweat washed over Mitsuri. A bad feeling came up in her gut as she walked over.

Mitsuri took the envelope in her hands. The soft paper feeling like sandpaper in her touch. She steadied her breathing, Trying not to break down in front of her Junior.

Taking in a deep breath she carefully picked off the wax seal and unfolded the envelope. Watching as the folds came undone only to drop a pristine piece of white paper in her hands.

She started to read.

To Mitsuri, My dearest friend.

This probably isn't the letter you wanted from me, I know that and I've tried to make it better so it won't hurt as much.

This is about the fiftieth time I've tried to write this letter, Over and over again I've tried to find the right words to say to try and make it perfect, But every time I just end up throwing it out.

So I've decided to just speak my mind, Let it all out. No more redo's. Alright?

First off this isn't your fault, It's not at all. I've been feeling this way for as long as I can remember and I've tried and tried to find a way to feel something else other than monotony or subservience. Sake and such. but nothing has ever worked for me. So I want you to know that however I died, Whether I found someone strong enough to kill me or that I finally found the gut's to do it myself. I want you to know I did it I did on my on volition. I chose this, You have nothing to feel bad over.

Life just isn't worth living for me. I remember getting asked a short while ago what my purpose in life was, What my motivation was. It ate away at me for a while trying to find an answer. But In truth I have none except for protect those I hold dearest to me, Yet once I found out that my single motive became obsolete I now realise that what we call a reason to live is also an excellent reason to die.

I'm living a lie, Everyday I go to work as someone I'm not because of myself. It's pathetic. There isn't any meaning, I'm sorry for saying this but as these are my last words I feel like it's necessary.

I feel like I missed out on a lot of things. A family, My childhood, A normal life. All of these things I feel like have slipped out of my grasp away from me, And I can't get them back and that hurts me more than I can put into words. Everyday it haunts me and I just can't take it anymore.

But, I lied earlier when I said nothing made me feel something other that monotony.

The truth is its you. You were the only thing that made me feel like I had a family, Like I had my childhood, Like I was a normal person for once in my stupid little life. I adore you, Tsuri. I really do.

Do you remember that day on the porch? You probably don't but I do, I know it was just a one off thing you did for me but at the time I felt like a little girl for once, I felt so happy in that single moment and it meant the absolute world to me. It was probably the first time I ever had a genuine smile on my face. I treasure that memory so very dearly.

Please don't feel sad over me, I don't want that. I love you so so much and I know you probably don't feel the same. I'm sorry you had to put up with me, You deserved a better friend than me.

If Shizuko ever finds out the truth, Tell him his big sister is sorry she couldn't be there for him and that I'm so proud of him for becoming a slayer.

I love you, And I wish I said it sooner

-[F/N] Fujimori

"Kanroji-sama..?" Tanjiro asked, Taking a step towards her.

The letter shook in her grasp, Letting the envelope fall to the floor as she gripped the letter in both hands.

"Kanroji-sama.." Tanjiro watched as wet splotches started to stain the letter, All before the woman he looked up to fall to the floor

And scream.

Next Chapter

[justsomerandomfanfic]

Hi may I ask for a romantic matchup request for both marvel and dc ? (Im 20 and a straight girl btw). Im pretty short (5f) with brown eyes and hair (easy to guess im hispanic also cause of my accent jsjs)

Im someone who enjoys being active, either jogging or biking and even kickboxing or weightlifting works for me !

But im also very sensitive and need space cause this world can get so overwhelming (i have adhd that explains both my need for moving yet also if smt feels off its hard not to be bothered by it )

Finally I rlly like to listen to oldies in my turntable, I adore my cat and if I could have a superpower it would be able to speak all of the languages cause I feel you cannot ever learn or discover enough (i can be a chatty Ravenclaw 😅)

Thanks 💙

Hey! I am sorry this was so late in posting!

But, I hope you like your matchups for MCU and DC! <3333333

Romantic Matchups; Marvel and DC

~~~

Romance;

~~~

Marvel;

Peter Parker - (Honestly; can be seen as any Peter wanted)

You first met Peter during college when you accidentally spilled coffee on him when rushing to class.

You were apologizing, feeling awful.

But Peter was already stressed about a project for Dr. Connors, so his immediate reaction was a flustered “Oh no, it’s okay! No need to apologize! I think I was due for a caffeine shower anyway!”

You still felt terrible, and Peter could see as you continued to apologize profusely that you were becoming overwhelmed.

Peter's kindhearted nature kicked in. He reassured you that there was no harm done, before saying one of his goofy jokes to hopefully help you.

Which it did. His goofy joke earned him a small, appreciative laugh.

After that, Peter offered to meet up with you for a coffee, since he did run into you, and you don't have coffee to drink anymore.

Since then, you and Peter would meet up on campus, in the halls, or at the library, and soon you both started sitting together to study; either in the library or your dorm rooms.

Peter admires your energy and drive for physical activities, even if he isn’t always as athletic (outside of Spider-Man-ing).

He loves hearing you ramble about your kickboxing progress and even shows up at the gym once or twice to cheer you on - pretending to be clueless about all the technical moves.

Peter is a secret sucker for oldies like Sam Cooke and The Beach Boys, so he’s thrilled when you introduce him to some gems on your turntable.

Peter also has ADHD so he understands to struggle.

He also understands when you need space for yourself. He also gets overwhelmed, whether that be from his secret spider job, college, or life in general.

If he wants to meet up or hang out, he always makes sure to check in with you to see if you're up for hanging out.

When he visits your dorm to hang out or study, Peter meets your cat.

He quickly becomes smitten with your cat, treating them like royalty whenever he visits. ("Do you think your cat likes me yet? Should I bribe them with tuna or catnip?")

Peter realizes he has feelings for you when you patch him up after a fight as Spider-Man.

Yes, you found out about his secret identity.

You just sort of found out.

Peter would leave early at night, he'd leave studies early sometimes, always making up excuses...

Anyway, Peter would come over at night, either to crash or with gashes and small wounds.

You were firm but caring, scolding him for being reckless while gently dabbing at his wounds.

Watching you handle his injuries with such tenderness makes him think, 'Wow, I want to be around her forever.'

He’s shy about confessing at first, worried about endangering you because of his double life.

But eventually, he can’t hold back anymore and blurts out randomly during a movie night, “I, uh… I really like you. Like… A lot.”

Dates with Peter are an adorable mix of chaotic and sweet.

He might take you to a 24-hour diner at 3 a.m. after patrol or sneak you up to a rooftop of your dorm to stargaze.

Peter loves teaching you little phrases in different languages he’s picked up from his adventures in New York. When you say them back to him, his heart does a somersault.

He loves how much you love to learn.

He keeps a framed photo of you and your cat on his desk, right next to his laptop. You tease him for it, but he just grins and says, “What can I say? I’m a lucky guy.”

Cue blushing.

When you are overwhelmed, with life or anything really, Peter will ask if you need to be alone or want him with you.

If you want to be alone, he leaves the room, letting you know that if you need him he'll be in the next room studying.

If you want him with you, he'll grab a nice throw blanket, quickly grab you your favorite snack, and sit beside you; the blanket over you and your snack in your hand.

He'll ask if you want to cuddle if you want him to touch you, and if you do, he'll hold you close, nuzzling his cheek into the hair on the top of your head.

If you don't, Peter will sit beside, you making sure there is enough space for you.

When you are feeling a bit better, Peter will try and make you laugh.

He loves your smile.

Peter joins you on jogs and bike rides, trying to keep up with you. He ends up panting by the end, but he refuses to quit because he loves spending that time with you.

Peter often swings by your window as Spider-Man to surprise you with snacks or flowers. You always have to remind him not to scare the cat.

You cat ends up really liking him, so that makes you really happy that your boyfriend and your best cat friends like each other.

Mini family...

~~~

DC;

Jason Todd -

You met Jason at a late-night diner. You were sitting in the corner booth with a book, enjoying some dessert after you successfully got 100% on your big test.

Jason was there, to decompress after patrol.

But, when an older woman came over to Jason, speaking in a language that he couldn't understand. The woman was rambling, words coming out of her mouth as she stared up at him in what seemed to be distress.

Jason tried to cut in, confused and worried for this woman as she continued to speak, tears in her eyes.

Jason was trying to stay calm and not freak out. He wanted to help, but he couldn't understand this woman.

"Here. I am help." He heard, watching as you walked over to Jason and the woman.

Jason watched as you spoke in the woman's language. Perfectly.

He then watched, curious, as the woman explained everything to you, and with a nod from you, you led the woman to a waitress.

Jason strained his ears; the woman just wanted to order some dinner, but no one could understand her; except you.

Walking back over, you stopped beside him at the bar. "Thank you for trying to help her."

He asked about that further, and you revealed that you were able to understand all languages. You didn't know how you knew, but you just knew.

Since that day, you and Jason have been inseparable, sometimes.

Jason appreciates your ability to keep up with his sharp wit. You’re one of the few people who can match his banter, and it always leaves him grinning.

Your love for history catches Jason’s attention. He enjoys listening to you ramble about random historical facts, secretly amazed at how passionate you are.

Jason is low-key impressed by your kickboxing skills. He offers to spar with you sometimes, and while he always holds back, he can’t help but tease you when you land a solid hit.

He loves your cat, even if he pretends not to at first. The cat, naturally, loves to curl up on Jason’s lap when they first meet him.

You both bond over your mutual need for space and time to decompress. Jason understands how important alone time is and never pushes you beyond your limits.

Jason starts to fall for you during one of your late-night conversations.

You were sitting on the fire escape outside your apartment, sharing your dreams - traveling the world, learning all you can - the way your eyes lit up as you spoke made something in his guarded heart soften.

It its him when you laugh at one of his rare, dry jokes - not a polite laugh, but it was genuine.

Jason notices how you remember little things about him, like his favorite type of coffee or the way he likes romcoms. It makes him feel seen in a way he hasn’t felt since his days with Alfred.

He realizes he’s in too deep one evening when you casually fix the rip in his jacket. Watching you focus so intently, sitting so close to him, he can’t help but wonder what life with you would be like.

Jason gets jealous easily but tries to hide it behind sarcastic comments. When he sees someone flirt with you, his protective instincts kick in, and he subtly finds a way to make it clear that you’re with him - even if he hasn’t confessed yet.

He starts looking for excuses to spend time with you. A “random” call to see if you’re free or showing up to your favorite café - it’s his way of being close to you without fully admitting how much he cares.

The moment he realizes it’s more than just a crush is when you call him after a particularly overwhelming day. He listens as you vent, offering comforting words, and when you thank him for being there, he can’t help but think, 'Yeah, she's the one.'

He struggles with opening up, but your kind and patient nature slowly breaks down his walls. One night, he admits, “You’re the only person who makes me feel… Normal. Like I can breathe.”

Jason loves taking you on motorcycle rides through Gotham. He buys you a custom helmet with your favorite color just because he wants you to feel special.

He’s not great at expressing his feelings verbally, but his actions speak volumes. Whether it’s showing up with your favorite snacks or fixing something in your apartment, he’s always finding ways to make your life easier.

He'll even do the dishes.

When you get overwhelmed, Jason becomes your rock. He lets you vent or just sit in silence, offering quiet comfort until you’re ready to face the world again.

He secretly loves it when you play music on your turntable. Sometimes he’ll just sit back and watch you dance around the room, a rare smile tugging at his lips.

Jason takes you to hidden spots in Gotham that he knows you’d love, like old bookstores or quiet rooftop views.

He teaches you self-defense techniques, even though you’re already capable. He says it’s to “sharpen your skills,” but he just likes spending time with you.

Jason introduces you to his favorite rock bands, and you introduce him to oldies. Your playlists become an eclectic mix of both genres.

When Jason has a bad day, you read to him. He won’t admit it, but the sound of your voice always calms him down.

~~~

[thecoolerliauditore]

THE SHEPSCAPADES COMIC! That was to me (and from my perspective to the fandom) the turning point of “ok, im not imagining this”. It doesn’t change any dialogue or anything, it just gives the characters facial expressions and yet it’s almost impossible to interpret the interaction in any way other than the relationship not being good.

The dl era, to me, was a lot of trying to ignore the implication of ranchers fanon lore being that, for once, someone is being nice to Jimmy. People could see the difference in their interactions, which made the abusive behaviour all the more difficult to ignore, and yet acknowledging this directly would be labelled shipping discourse and no one wants to be THAT fan, right? But the tension growing was palpable.

I also would like to add that once I decided to scroll through anti-toxic fh blogs to try and understand why they think like that and… a lot of it was just “well it makes me feel gross”? And I get it. Cannibalism and mass murder are, to most of us, a very distant concept, so it’s more comfortable to engage with than the horrors of the mundane, especially when applied to a queer character. But that doesn’t mean it’s any better than talking about domestic abuse.

The last paragraph is phrased weird but i don’t know how to write it better so i hope it’s understandable.

That comic was patient zero in "oh my god other people see it too" for so many of us, I think. And yeah like you said it sticks very close to what happened taking into account tone of voice and everything. Adaptations of that sequence are like an almost surefire test to figure out what someone's interpretation of FH's relationship is and I think that's wonderful.

Big agree on the ranchers lore and I would argue Pearl's POV also has a similar effect where it forces you to acknowledge Scott not being the best ever. Funnily enough I watched the ranchers pov before the FH pov and didn't really see any of the post-FH horrors until I watched FH. I just kind of assumed when people said Tango was the first person who treated Jimmy as an equal they were putting "and Scott too but that was a season ago" in footnotes. But no they meant full-time and they'd be right lmao

My favourite example of Jimmy expecting the worst is this interaction he has with Bdubs where he essentially gets a bucket for free when the ranchers were struggling for iron and tells him to not tell Tango because he's scared he'll get yelled at. Like there is literally nothing Jimmy has done here that would be remotely considered reasonable to yell at him for but he's so afraid of having agency and making his own decisions at this point he just defaults to assuming his partner will be upset at him. (FYI I think this is more a result of how everyone treats him - Southlanders certainly did not help - but getting mad at Jimmy for doing literally anything except sit still was something Scott was especially privy to)

Don't worry I think your point was clear enough on that last paragraph, I kind of roll my eyes when people try to use distance as an excuse to justify why some dark topics are okay but others aren't, but I can't talk too much about this because I find it annoying and will probably end up saying something that feels mean lol.

Redirecting this once again to Bree's post about how hostile the language people use when talking about this discourse is to abuse victims e.g. "why can't you be NORMAL and write about NORMAL relationships and let them be NORMAL" which I think partially comes as a direct result of refusing to engage in abuse storylines and thus not being sympathetic to these portrayals or the people who write them.

And aside from that it's not even like. abuse and toxic relationships themselves are the issue sometimes. Obviously generalizing here a bit but I see a lot of the same people who find toxic fh "gross" gas up interpretations where Jimmy cheats on Scott or otherwise treats Scott horribly. Not to mention Pearl and her storyline getting turned into "girl who is mad gay man won't date her".

It just uh. sometimes feels as though the "grossness" is coming from a need to defend Scott's honour than a need to disengage with these themes entirely, which rubs me the wrong way.

(not to mention that I do think calling abuse storylines "gross" in of itself might have some unfun implications attached but I've said enough)

[thevalleyoftriumph]

hi!! saw your post of DID Chosen (am I allowed to call it that??) and I have been curious ever since, apologies if any of these has been asked before https://www.tumblr.com/thevalleyoftriumph/757624875107090432/so-um-for-those-who-arent-in-the-ava-community?source=share ^ Post I'm referring to just in case What are your characterisations of Chosen, Beast and Killer like? Going off of Killer not recognising Dark in the post, it was Chosen fronting in AVA3 yes? Who was fronting during showdown? Going once again off the post Beast is non-verbal/ mute/ straight up doesn't know how to talk, is that why he resorted immediately to violence upon returning from Alans PC? Assuming that was Beast Was Chosen co-conscious during showdown? Simply watching as someone else used his hands to tear his best friend apart? Or did he come back to find his life destroyed, and best friend killed, with no idea how any of it happened Also, what are Chosen, Killer's and Beasts pronouns? I assume they differ from eachother. And are your Chosen and Dark siblings? Sorry I'm aware this is an insane amount of questions, apologies if it is overwhelming Final thing, all I know about DID is from DissociaDID (may be spelled wrong) on YouTube, and I have no idea how trustworthy of a source they are, nor have I watched them in years, so apologies if any of the terms/ information I have here is out of date or proven false Anyway, that's all, hope you have a good day :]

hi oh my god anon i love you. sorry i just really adore getting asked about stuff i love yapping and youve offered me a LOT to talk about, please expect a MASSIVE wall of text. like i mean it the wall is huge and took me like, an hour or two to type up. you opened the floodgates anon.

FIRST THINGS FIRST ☝ never apologize for being curious it is the most wonderous trait a person could have. i have spoken about some of these before but mostly in the replies or dms of people and thus it is perfectly okay by me to ask for me to repeat them here. secondly your questions are not at all overwhelming in fact i got very excited to answer once i realized how much youve asked. thirdly your phrasing is pretty accurate yes! ones you used are def pretty common, and i appreciate the willingness to be corrected - lots of phrases [though not specifically the ones you used, i mean more generally] are picked up and dropped by people for a whole variety of reasons ranging from comfort to accuracy to current knowledge, so being open to being corrected is a wonderful mindset to have when going into something youre unfamiliar with ! <3

anyhow, answers to the questions, numbered to each, under the cut ^_^ and just for ease im also going to actually type like a normal human being just this once lol. last warning here if you click "keep reading" youre in for a MASSIVE wall of rambling!

1: What are your characterisations of Chosen, Beast and Killer like?

I'd say my characterizations aren't anything too far from common interps, mostly regarding Chosen.

Chosen is a relatively soft spoken and monotone individual. He's prone to getting lost in thought a lot, especially when in conversation - he likes to think things through very much before speaking. A stick of few words, he likes being simple and blunt. He has a very hard time trusting people, but when he does, he trusts fully and deeply -- he is a very, very loyal person once that trust is earned. Even if someone he trusts does something to cause him to become upset with them, such as with Dark, he is willing to hear them out. Despite this, he's also very rash - much as he loathe to admit it. He may not speak without thinking, but he very much acts without thinking, sometimes even doing something without realizing it at first. This leads to a lot of things bad - such as him shoving Dark from the console in the flashback. He acts in ways he thinks he should, consciously or not. He's also got a bit of Dark's stubborness - once he sets his mind to something, it's a very difficult task to get him to back down.

Killer is, despite their name, very different from what you'd assume. They're a relatively happy person, all things considered, and despite having trust issues of their own, often tries to see the best in people. They're also a more ""casual"" fronter, bordering on co-host, as they usually end up in front for more minor things, or even just incidentally after they wake up. They're quick to adapt, usually masking as Chosen in these cases, but are equally quick to relax in safe environments and be more themselves. They're very talkative, and love learning about any and all topics that interest them. They also fidget a bunch - often with the ends of the body's scarf, or with their bracelet, gloves, belts, whatever is closest. Despite all this, they're also quite jumpy - they are primarily responsible for internal things, especially regarding their memories, and thus holds quite a few negative feelings and memories that they'd all rather not have. And yet, somehow despite all of that, they have a hard time with people. Like shown in the comic, Killer isn't always in front, and doesn't have access to nearly as many memories as you'd think for someone with their "role." In fact, they had no idea Dark existed until the very moment in that comic, which in my mind takes place years after Dark and Chosen ended up living together. How on earth they managed to go that long without meeting him, well your guess is as good as mine. I'd say it's a mix of good timing [or bad, depending on how you look at it] and generally "better" circumstances not requiring them to switch in as much as they previously had to.

Beast... Beast is a whole other can of worms, honestly. It's a general wildcard. The result of being treated inhumanely and without compassion, Beast is someone who is stuck in fight or flight mode for it's whole life -- and it's response is anything BUT flight. It is aggressive to anyone outside of the system, and anything it could see as a threat to their safety. Like I mentioned, it doesn't really speak - internally, it can't, and externally, it just forgets that the body isn't limited like it is, so it ends up silent. This leads to a lot of body language - it is incredibly expressive, and has a bit of a staring problem when it's not actively trying to maul something. Honestly if I drew sticks with eyes it'd totally do that thing that cat eyes do in the dark where it just looks at you super ominously from the shadows lol. Anyways, despite this, as I will always reiterate when talking about Beast's personality, it is not malicious. It is not evil, and it is not trying to hurt people on purpose. It is, first and foremost, protective and scared. It does not know HOW to calm down, or how to feel safe, because every time it's ever fronted, it has been faced with progressively worse and worse circumstances. It is determined and protective, and willing to go to great lengths to protect the system -- and perhaps, one day, if it can heal enough to trust others, it would do the same for them. If you thought Chosen was loyal, then you haven't seen Beast at its absolute best.

2: Going off of Killer not recognising Dark in the post, it was Chosen fronting in AVA3 yes? Who was fronting during showdown?

You'd be correct, for the most part! During the beginning of AVA3, when Chosen was still imprisoned as the ad-block, it was primarily Beast - thus, the chains on it's design, and its seeming unawareness of them. Then, once freed, Chosen had essentially force-fronted into co-front with Beast to fight his way out, eventually allowing Beast to sorta "pull back" out of front over the course of the episode - probably when Chosen and Dark team up. [And for clarification - when I mean "pull back," I mean sorta slowly being pulled from front in a switch. I'm not ever really sure how to describe what it feels like to slowly not front instead of being forcefully switched out, but this is how it makes the most sense to me. I'm sorry if it makes absolutely zero sense to anyone else lol]

As for who was fronting during Showdown, I'll admit that I haven't entirely decided. Initially for sure, during the flashback, it is 100% Chosen. Even during the early fight scenes it's primarily him - he's not being completely overpowered or even threatened with complete death [as, at the very least in my interp, Dark never intended to kill Chosen, just incapacitate so that he could go through with his plan. He only started striking to kill with the CG, but not Chosen - never Chosen.]

However, I'd say Chosen and his systemmates were, after a point, REALLY fucking blurry for a lot of that episode. Rapid switches that left them disoriented and dizzy and much slower to react than they'd usually be. When Chosen goes back to Alan's PC, that is when it's not necessarily unclear anymore. I'd say at that point particularly, Chosen has pulled away enough for the sorta blurry mess in front to be exclusively Beast and Killer, with Killer being busy masking as Chosen to get rid of the Virabot, but Beast being sorta hovering ominously over their shoulder internally thanks to the SEVERELY negative associations with the desktop. Killer's masking would probably have slipped a bit at seeing the CG, mostly out of personal shock at learning about them, but they would've left back to the Outernet before they could really think too hard about it.

The rest of the episode, especially when Chosen is seen overpowered by Virabots, is totally 100% Beast IMO. The situation of being contained, restricted, overpowered and in danger - life threatening to them, even if Dark never intended for it to be that way - it was much too similar to their early days on the desktop. Thus, Beast VERY solidly force-fronted and in doing so with taking complete ""control"" made it so neither Killer NOR Chosen were there for the ending of Showdown. A lot of the actions done once TSC came back were just done out of shock, and a very rare show of trust - TSC had shown Beast that they were willing to fight to protect them, collectively, even if it was really in response to their friends being harmed - protect one, protect them all, if that makes sense. TSC had removed the threat, and thus, Beast had sorta filed them away as one of the very few ""trustworthy"" sticks - even if it's not necessarily trust, it's the closest thing to it.

3: Going once again off the post Beast is non-verbal/ mute/ straight up doesn't know how to talk, is that why he resorted immediately to violence upon returning from Alans PC? Assuming that was Beast

Beast totally had a hand in it, yeah. Despite it and Killer being relatively equally "there" so to speak during the return to the PC in Showdown, Beast did have a MASSIVE influence on their collective actions. Killer fought because it knew it had to prevent bad things from happening, while Beast fought because it was the ONLY thing it knew to do to prevent bad things from getting WORSE. That is to say you're pretty spot on there lol

4: Was Chosen co-conscious during showdown? Simply watching as someone else used his hands to tear his best friend apart? Or did he come back to find his life destroyed, and best friend killed, with no idea how any of it happened

As briefly explained previously, Chosen wasn't the only fronter for a lot of it, and got completely booted out of co-consciousness after a point. Thus, while he knows logically that he fought with Dark, and when he DID front again, he could connect two-and-two together and realize that Dark got fucking murked, you're right to assume has remembers VERY little of the in-between and the specifics.

In fact, quite a few memories from even the co-conning were instead "given" to Beast and Killer. That's not exactly how it works but it's the best way I can describe it, based off my own experiences with co-conning with others -- sometimes you just don't end up getting the memories if there's multiple people in front, for one reason or another.

Anyhow, yeah, most memories of that day are kinda stuffed in the metaphorical closet. Chosen knows something happened between him confronting Dark and him ending up at home on the couch with a hole in the 2nd floor walls, but he just.. doesn't remember any of it. He can make the connections - he can look out the window and see the result of TSC's final blow to Dark from their house, after all. He can tell Dark isn't just hiding out somewhere. He's forgetful, not a fool. But he doesn't know what happened in the fight, or necessarily who killed Dark, and honestly Chosen's internal communication with his systemmates is absolute shit and there's no way in hell Killer OR Beast are leaving notes about a Really Traumatic Event in a journal for him, so his ass is NEVER finding out unless someone tells him.

[Which, to explain why he knows of TSC's powers in Wanted in that case, on some occasions memories do get ""passed"" from alter to alter. This is usually done in the case of "filling in" for the host, for example, where the alter requires information that another alter had taken in. This is commonly seen in situations where, for instance, a system is out at the store, but whoever entered had switched out for one reason or another, and the new fronter needs to mask as the other one to finish their task without "giving away" that something happened. This isn't the most common thing for Everyone I'd say, but it happens with my system sometimes, and also happens with some of my system buddies too. Thus, in my mind, it happens to Chosen too sometimes. It doesn't ALWAYS happen! Ie, that time Killer had no idea who Dark was. But it Can and so I'm portraying it here lol.]

5: Also, what are Chosen, Killer's and Beasts pronouns? I assume they differ from eachother. And are your Chosen and Dark siblings?

They do, yeah! While I've seen some systems sorta default to one or two sets of pronouns collectively, a lot of alters DO have preferences for pronouns pretty commonly. I mean, I myself vary wildly from some of my systemmates, a lot of whom, for example, use she/her, but I myself don't at all! It's honestly pretty interesting to see the differences, from a curiosity standpoint.

Anyways, back to Chosen. I would once again like to state that these are my personal headcanons and also I don't own Killer OR Beast, I'm just giving them character, and thus not everyone may agree necessarily.

Chosen: He/him primarily, but doesn't mind they/them too. He's kinda like that one tweet that's like "I think I'm nonbinary but I have a job so idc about that right now" in a way lol

Killer: They/them. Has a very wavery sense of identity though, so it's not like they'll get mad or anything at other pronoun usage. They honestly encourage people to get a little fun with it.

Beast: It/it's. Not in a dehumanizing way, but in a reclaiming sort of way.

Lastly, in my interp of Chosen and Dark, they are indeed siblings, yeah! I really adore the headcanon of all 4 hollowheads being siblings, it makes me incredibly happy, so it's like that in pretty much all of my interps/AUs. If it's work done by me, you can probably assue Chosen and Dark are related lol.

anyway yeah that's about it i'd say :] once again i love you so very much for asking questions, and i hope these answered them and didn't just run you in circles for twenty minutes ! i do have a bit of a habit of just yapping on and on and not being very clear, so if anything doesn't make sense or if you want me to expand on any points, or even if i've just repeated or even contradicted myself, then feel free to point it out or ask anything else! ^_^

[sophieinwonderland]

H-hey,,, i-i'm on anon because this is very e-embarassing to ask for... b-but i found this v-very long post basically fakeclaiming a lot of systems online and claiming that being plural is a trend. T-they also said that pluralkit is anti-recovery and a bunch of other stuff. I-i feel destroyed inside and I know i should not care about haters that much, b-but i was wondering if you can respond to the post in some way, by debunking it i-or maybe just saying that it is not valid. I-i understand if you cannot do this and i wouldn't be mad at you, i just thought that i might try. /gen

This is the post: https://www.tumblr.com/nbhdsc4ss/742946435586277376/im-tired-of-this-boom-of-plural-trend?source=share

Yikes! That's such a terrible post!

Alright, let's go over this.

First, just another reminder that if 1.5% of people have DID as is estimated, over a hundred-million people in the world should have the disorder.

Just on this alone, I find fad claims to be nonsense. We aren't actually seeing anywhere near the numbers of people with DID online who should have it. And that's without touching other forms of multiplicity.

This is an incredibly unhealthy outlook.

A system shares their life. The life doesn't belong to any single headmate. Hosts can change over time. And many systems don't really have a true "core." The very concept of the core is largely outdated.

What?

I think this post is killing my neurons! I can feel my brain cells dying as we speak! 🙄

Anyway, just in case anyone was worried this might be true. It's not. I don't know what they're talking about. There's nothing about switching killing neurons anywhere.

As far as I can tell, any association with cerebral palsy is also made up.

Honestly, I could spend eons unpacking the misinformation in this paragraph alone.

I made this blog back in 2021.

The Plural Association was founded in 2020.

"Endogenic system" was coined in 2014.

The Natural Multiples movement dates back to the 90s.

And "system" has been in the vocabular of all these groups since even the beginning.

And while it's not quite a medical term, it does at least originate in medical contexts. The only difference is that the plural community uses it as an identity label for plurals while most academic sources refer to a personality system as something everyone has, with the personality system of multiples being composed of dissociated parts. (Sometimes called "subsystems" in DID literature to denote alters being personality systems within personality systems.)

Words make communication easier.

Calling a headmate an "introject" is easier that referring to them as a headmate based on a source.

Also, blurring and blending generally mean that multiple headmates are, well, blending together. It's hard to know who is fronting because there are multiple headmates who feel like they're mixing, and it makes it confusing.

But another reason for not knowing who is fronting could be a sort of autopilot like in DPDR. Differentiating between these experiences is useful.

Wait... Affection between alters is anti-recovery?

You know, this really puts the earlier lines about non-host alters stealing the life of the host into perspective.

Not only does this draw a picture of an adversarial relationship between alters, but they're treating that adversarial relationship as being good for recovering, and feeling affection for them as a bad thing.

This is possibly the most harmful take I've ever seen.

As for the rest of it, subsystems (as we use the term) are just headmates more closely linked. I've never heard anyone phrase it as an alter having DID. But I guess I can see the parallel. And again, splits and switches don't damage braincells. Having a bigger system isn't going to make the "days of the body count down."

Wait... weren't you just claiming switching literally kills neurons? I mean, I agree that alters can't permanently die (under normal circumstances) but this feels kinda contradictory.

As for having different disorders, this depends a lot on the disorder. By and large, I believe any condition that can be psychogenic can be experienced by some alters and not others.

But what conditions could be psychogenic would probably surprise you. Look at the woman who had some blind alters and some sighted alters.

Polyfragmented systems were traditionally systems with upwards of 100 alters. (And "highly complex" isn't a medical term.)

And again, splitting and switching doesn't kill neurons. Having a bunch of alters isn't going to kill you! Nor will it allow your rights to be stripped and get you forcefully institutionalized against your will so you can be studied like a lab rat!

Why would you just assume the doctors are misdiagnosing you though?

I mean, typically, DID is incorrectly diagnosed as other disorders far more often than you have people be incorrectly diagnosed with DID.

Again, there's this disturbing emphasis on the alters existing for the host and being bad for wanting things of their own, which bring back to mind their assertion that affection between alters is anti-recovery.

And I just... feel really bad for the other alters in this system. This is just so... sad...

If they're not real kids, then what's wrong with them being on the internet?

I mean, yeah, all alters need pronouns. If any identify as a different gender, it's important to have pronouns for them so you know what to refer to them by. Why is this controversial? 🤷‍♀️

And what does the part about alters becoming useless mean?

Talk therapy isn't magic. Yes, it can help to speak to a professional, but I don't understand the view that it's impossible to fuse without seeing a therapist.

Oh, and the line about how "knowing things about another alter is impossible" is nonsense too. Most DID systems don't have total amnesia all the time every time they switch. And many who do experience amnesia can still communicate. They can learn about their alters by asking. And even ones who don't communicate internally can learn to communicate through notes and text!

...

Yeah... this post is just... so... so... SO bad. In every way! Just mountains upon mountains of harmful takes and misinformation!