#cause I feel like I might be the only one who does this

[arafaelkestra]

In my experience. it's really common for minority groups (ethnic, political, medical, religious, sexual, whatever, doesn't seem to matter) to develop a sort of 'well good, see how they like it' attitude and tendency toward counter-prejudice, derision and/or (usually passive) aggression directed at an opposing group essentially just for being part of that group. Sometimes that's appropriate; if someone voluntarily signed up to be part of something explicitly antagonistic to you then just joining was an antagonistic act. The majority of the time though, it isn't appropriate, and it's frequently counter-productive.

If your intent is to coexist comfortably with another group, you can't be constantly firing micro (or macro)-aggressions at each other. It doesn't matter if it's fair or if they started it any more than it mattered in kindergarten, by doing that kind of thing you're only creating more division. This isn't me saying 'be nice to assholes or they might asshole harder'. I'm saying that if you're taking shots at straight people just for being straight, you're going to be regularly hurting the feelings of a lot of people who are allies or even just neutral and blameless except by associations they don't control. I'm saying that telling someone 'well, you're one of the good ones' to excuse what you just said about them isn't any better when you're talking about a cis person instead of a Jew or POC or gay person or etc. I'm saying that acting in a way that mirrors an oppressor can't cause the same scale of harm that the power of an established system does, but that doesn't make it less wrong or less of a division, only less able to cause direct harm.

I don't think equity is achievable in anything until everyone stops trying to get even, and that a lot of the time people aren't willing to recognize that is what they are doing.

Hot take but I really do think that some of y’all need to consider how/why/when/how often you’re making fun of straight people for being straight

I do it too, I’m not going to pretend I don’t make jokes about the hets, or the down with cis bus, or whatever

But I recently befriended a cis, straight dude and I have watched him be dismissed, degraded, and unambiguously insulted for the perceived “crime” of being straight — all in queer environments where he is allegedly “completely welcome” and surrounded by “friends”

This guy is not a toxic person! But I have seen him be made to feel so small and like his comfort and safety in those spaces are conditional on his silence and acceptance of being treated like a human dunk zone, and I think that some of y’all have had so much shit from straight/cis people that the second you feel like you’ve got an inch, you want to luxuriate in the perceived catharsis of bullying someone who— actually —doesn’t deserve it

And until he very, very carefully mentioned to me in private that it makes him feel bad, I didn’t even clock that I was involved in doing that, that it had become so instinctive for me to make casual jokes like that, and that— well meaning or otherwise —I had been contributing to an environment that made someone I really really like feel like shit

So, I dunno, I think maybe some of y’all should think about that too

[lustlovehart]

I LOVE TWST monster au. It so cool and interesting!!! I'm INLOVE

I don't know if your taking requests or not but if you are I NEED to know more about Vil. Like have he every try to seduce you?? Like make you kiss him or worse 😳.

Anyway have a goodnight or goodday

Warnings: NSFW, some canon to the au, some past drafts, GN! Bodied Reader, Possession/Obsession

Ahaha… Funny you say this, in the monster list, Vil’s entire snippet was centered around reader and him being freaks before I realized I should tone it down 💀

First, Non-Canon/Draft stuff! The dynamic between reader and Vil was basically just

( They were fighting and then they somehow ended up in bed while they screamed hate at each other. When they were done they realized they lowkey liked it. )

Essentially, Vil is the only one in the monster cast who has ever been intimate with reader. In my mind, MH!Reader still understood it was wrong, so you never go all the way with him. You think this arrangement is completely reasonable, considering of firm Vil is on not letting you kill him. You’re entirely convinced he hates you, so letting him feed off you to feel the self indulgent pleasure of his tongue, is a fine arrangement.

Unbeknownst to you, every time he finds himself in the bed with you, he can only clench his nails. He’s been starving this whole time… Why? Because, contrary to you thinking he’s sapping your energy away, he hasn’t consumed a single piece of your vitality. Neither, has he seen anyone else to quench that desire.

It’s pathetic, he’s losing the soft feeling of his pure skin, simply cause he can’t bear the idea of slowly killing you. But, he doesn’t wanna do this with anyone else now. The only one he wishes to taste is you.

… Truly, what have you done to this all famed incubus?

Fun fact! The Incubus Vil fic I have written is actually before I changed this part of his lore, sooo, there might be a small chunk in there where it’s implied you and Vil had a freak off ( ˘ ³˘)♥︎

And now onto Canon! This one will be a little vague to avoid heavy spoilers, but, you’re basically right! Vil does attempt to seduce reader, and it works, but only slightly.

Unlike MH!Reader previously, in the current au, they have a bit more self control, so you notice his seduction, and the sweet smell that wafts the air, but through simple will power, you push through the temptation.

There are several times where you wonder if you should just go through with it, but then you remember the hoard of monsters who act as your second shadow, the two monster hunters who will no doubt shoot Vil at every possible chance, and the angel Vil has a strong hatred for. Yeah, probably not the best choice.

Honestly, it ticks off Vil, but also is what makes him continue pursuing you. It would be easier to sleep with other people if you stopped looking at him with those eyes.

Yet, you don’t, so it’ll never happen.

[sherewrytes]

𝔹𝕣𝕠𝕜𝕖𝕟 ℙ𝕚𝕖𝕔𝕖𝕤, ℝ𝕪𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕟 𝕊𝕦𝕜𝕦𝕟𝕒 6

↳ Sukuna x f! black reader

Summary: After the death of his grandfather, Sukuna Ryomen is left to shoulder the weight of his family, caring for his younger brothers, Yuuji and Choso. As he withdraws into grief, his relationship with Y/N, his girlfriend of a year, begins to crumble. When Y/N discovers the truth about his grandfather’s passing during a heated argument, it leads to a painful breakup. Now, both are navigating life apart, but Sukuna’s heart aches for Y/N. Determined to win her back, he must confront his pain and find a way to break through the walls he’s built. Can he rekindle their love, or is it too late?

contents: heavy angst, modern au, 18+, smut, dark romance, drug use, talks of depression and similar topics. (a lil )

fic warnings. ooc, profanity, mental health issues, toxic relationships, cheating, explicit smut, serious drug use, mentions of depression + more to be updated as story progresses.

Please read with proper discretion. this is a work of fiction. all characters are written to portray roles that are necessary to the plot and are in no way a reflection of their canon counterparts.

Taglist: @for-hearthand-home@clp-84@thelightknight21@favvkiki  @helightknight21 @dylsw @ria-s-writes @sleepymothafterhours 

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Here is another chapter cause I'm still writing out the other fics right now :)

Previous

Chapter 6: The Weight of Loss

Y/N’s POV

It’s almost comical how different my life feels when I’m at school compared to when I’m at home. At Pratt, I’m a student, focused, and driven, with an entire future ahead of me. The campus is buzzing with the usual energy—students chatting, the sound of sketch pads flipping, the hum of distant studio lights. But the weight of everything outside these walls presses down on me more with each passing day.

It’s been weeks or days since the breakup with Sukuna.The loss of our relationship feels longer than the time we actually broke up but it feels like the echo of it still reverberates in everything I do. I’m trying to push forward, trying to act like I’m okay, but the reality is… I’m not. I haven’t been okay for a while.

The work in front of me should be enough to distract me. Finals are coming up, and my portfolio still feels like it needs a hundred more hours of attention before it’s anywhere near perfect. But I can’t stop my mind from drifting back to that night—his touch, his voice, the way he looked at me when he left, the pain in his eyes I couldn’t fix.

I sit in one of the studio rooms, surrounded by scraps of fabric and sketches, trying to focus on the design I need to complete for my final project. My hand trembles as I draw out another silhouette. It’s difficult to concentrate, especially when my phone buzzes on the table.

I don’t even need to look to know if it's from Utahime. She’s been checking in on me regularly. She doesn’t understand everything, but she knows enough to ask if I’m okay.

I pick up my phone, hesitating for a moment before responding. Yeah, I’m good. Just a lot of work to get through.

It’s a lie, but I don’t want to burden her with the truth. Everyone has their own problems, and I don’t want to be the one who drags them down.

I scroll through the texts, my heart dropping when I see a message from Toji. It’s just a short note, nothing particularly alarming. Sukuna's in the hospital. He’s okay, but he had a breakdown. You might want to check on him.

I read it three times before I let it sink in.

Sukuna’s in the hospital.

I bite my lip, the sting of old wounds coming back. What’s going on with him? Why does everything feel like it’s falling apart? I don’t even know how I feel anymore. I spent so much time loving him, fighting with him, then pushing him away, only for him to spiral deeper into whatever this is. And now, he’s in the hospital… alone?

I don’t even have the right to care, do I?

I put my phone down, my hands running through my hair as I try to make sense of it all. What should I do?

There’s a knock at the door, and I look up, startled. Utahime enters with a cup of coffee in her hand. She smiles when she sees me but then stops when she notices the look on my face. She doesn’t even need to ask.

“Something’s wrong,” she says gently, placing the coffee down in front of me.

I swallow hard, my throat dry. “Sukuna’s in the hospital,” I say quietly. The words feel so surreal coming out of my mouth.

Utahime doesn’t speak for a moment, just nods, as if she knew this might happen. “You’re thinking about going, aren’t you?” she asks, her voice soft.

I shake my head, my chest tightening. “I don’t even know what I’d say to him, Utahime. I—” I stop, the emotions threatening to spill over. “He played with my feelings, and I let him. I gave him everything, and now... now look at us.”

She sits next to me, her presence comforting. “You don’t have to go to him if you’re not ready,” she says, her hand gently brushing mine. “But don’t ignore what your heart is telling you. Sometimes it’s easy to get lost in anger or pride, but if you care about him, and you think he needs you—maybe you should go. Just to know he’s okay.”

I stare at the coffee in front of me, the steam rising gently. I feel so torn. Part of me wants to throw it all away and run to him, to make things right, but the other part is terrified of what that would mean.

“I’m just… so tired, Utahime. Tired of trying to fix everything,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. “And I don’t think I can keep doing this. I don’t want to keep getting hurt.”

She leans back in her chair, giving me space. “You don’t have to fix him. You just have to decide what’s best for you. It’s okay to care about him, but it’s also okay to take a step back. You don’t owe him anything.”

I nod slowly, but the weight in my chest doesn’t lift. If anything, it feels heavier.

As much as I want to ignore the message, as much as I want to pretend everything’s fine and keep moving forward, I know deep down that the story isn’t finished yet. But the question is, how do I make peace with it? How do I let go of the part of me that still wants him in my life?

I guess I’m going to have to figure it out, even if it hurts.

I stare at the message from Toji, my thumb hovering over the reply button. I could feel the tension building in my chest, the pull to cave in and see him, to check on Sukuna, to offer whatever comfort I could. But I can’t. I won’t.

I text back quickly, trying to keep my answer as firm as possible, even though doubt gnaws at me. Yes. I’m sure.

I put my phone down and take another sip of the coffee Utahime bought for me. The warmth soothes me, but it’s not enough to quell the rising discomfort I feel. Maybe I’m running away from something I should confront, but every time I think about him���about everything that happened—my chest tightens. I know I’m not ready to face him.

Mei Mei sits beside me, her usual confident and laid-back demeanor a welcome distraction. She smiles at me, her eyes bright despite the obvious tension in the air. “I heard you’ve been dealing with some drama,” she teases, nudging my shoulder playfully. “You always seem to attract it, huh?”

I laugh, but it’s hollow. “Yeah, it seems like it. Just trying to get through finals without any more drama.”

She leans back in her chair, clearly not convinced. “If you say so, but I’ve known you long enough to know when something’s bothering you.” She raises an eyebrow. “You’re not fooling anyone. What’s going on?”

I set the coffee down, rubbing my forehead. Mei Mei’s known me for years. She doesn’t give up easily, especially when it comes to stuff I’d rather keep to myself.

“It’s… complicated,” I say, sighing deeply. “Sukuna’s in the hospital.”

Mei Mei’s expression softens. “Hospital? What happened?”

I explain the basics—the fallout from our breakup, his breakdown, and the fact that it seems he’s been spiraling for months. As I talk, it feels like I’m peeling back a layer of myself I’ve been trying to keep hidden.

“I thought I was doing the right thing,” I continued, my voice shaking slightly. “But now… I just feel like I made it worse.”

Mei Mei listens, her face serious. When I finish, she doesn’t say anything at first. She just looks at me for a long time, her eyes calculating, like she’s trying to figure something out.

“You can’t keep carrying his weight, Y/N,” she says gently, her tone softer than I expected. “He’s not your responsibility anymore. I get that you care, but sometimes stepping back is the healthiest thing you can do—for both of you.”

I nod, trying to hold it together, but her words sink deep into my chest. I know she’s right. If I keep going back to him, trying to fix things that aren’t mine to fix, I’ll just keep breaking myself in the process. But knowing that doesn’t make the choice any easier.

I reach for my phone again, checking for another message. There’s one from Toji.

Y/N, I know you’re upset. I get it. But you need to understand he’s really struggling. He’s not the same guy anymore. Please, just think about it. He’s not okay.

I feel the weight of the message, the silent plea in his words. It almost makes me want to go. But no. I made my decision.

I turn my phone face down, looking back at Mei Mei. “I’m done with it. I need to focus on my future. On me.”

She smiles, a little proud of me. “Good. It’s about time. You’re a strong woman, Y/N. Don’t forget that.”

I lean back in my chair, feeling the exhaustion from the last few months hit me all at once. Finals are coming, and I don’t have the luxury of letting my emotions run the show anymore. I have to finish this. For me.

But even as I sit there, I can’t ignore the small ache in my heart, the part of me that still cares, that wonders what could have been. For a fleeting moment, I let myself imagine a different reality, one where everything with Sukuna was easier, where we were happy and I didn’t have to make these impossible decisions.

But that’s not my reality. Not anymore.

Toji's POV

I stare at the screen of my phone, Y/N’s last text still lingering in front of me. Yes. I’m sure.

The words hit harder than I expected. I knew she wasn’t going to just drop everything and run to Sukuna, but hearing it from her directly… it stings. She’s shutting him out, and there’s nothing I can do to change it. Nothing any of us can do.

I glance over at Sukuna, still out cold in the hospital bed, his breathing steady for now. He’s been through hell these past few days, and I hate to admit it, but I’m worried. Despite all his bullshit, the bravado he puts up like a fucking wall, he’s broken. And it’s not just the aftermath of Jin’s death or the guilt he carries around like a fucking anchor. It’s more than that.

I thought, maybe if Y/N came, it would snap him back. But she’s not coming.

I let out a slow breath, running a hand through my hair. The room feels too quiet now, even with the constant beep of the heart monitor in the background. The silence between me and Sukuna is almost deafening, and I can’t shake the sense of impending disaster that hangs in the air.

I think about what Y/N said—how she couldn’t keep carrying his weight. And part of me gets it. She’s right. I told her before that Sukuna wasn’t the only one who needed to get his shit together, but I guess… I didn’t expect her to walk away. Not like this. Not after everything.

I can’t help but wonder what would’ve happened if we’d all handled this differently. If we had talked more, not let everything fester. Maybe she wouldn’t have had to make that decision. Maybe Sukuna wouldn’t be lying here, broken and lost. And I wouldn’t be standing here, feeling fucking useless.

Sukuna murmurs in his sleep, his hand twitching slightly, and I look back at him. He looks so different when he’s not putting on that mask. I can see the fear, the guilt, everything he hides away in his waking hours. It’s all on display when he’s vulnerable, like this.

He whispers something under his breath, and I lean in closer, straining to hear him.

“Y/N… I’m sorry…”

His voice cracks, soft and fragile. He doesn’t even know I’m here. Doesn’t know I’m watching him break down piece by piece. But I heard it. He said her name.

It’s fucking killing me to watch him like this.

I stand up, running my hand over my face, trying to shake off the weight of everything. I can’t do this. I can’t fix this. No matter how many times I try to tell myself that this is his fight, not mine, I can’t stop feeling like I’m responsible. We all are.

I check my phone again. Y/N hasn’t replied. I don’t expect her to. She’s made up her mind, and honestly, I don’t know what I would say if she did respond.

All I can do is sit here and wait, hoping that Sukuna pulls himself out of this hole he’s dug. He’s going to need all the help he can get, but I’m not sure I can even be that for him anymore.

I glance back at him one last time before walking out of the room. Whatever happens next is out of our hands. I just hope for his sake, he’s not too far gone to fix it.

I step out of the room, needing some space to breathe, even though the weight of everything is still pressing down on me. My phone buzzes again. Another message from Y/N. I don’t look at it. I can’t. Not right now.

The hallway feels emptier than usual, and I’m just about to sit down when I hear footsteps approaching. I glance up, already knowing who it is before I see their faces. Gojo’s impossible to miss, his presence like a fucking storm in the calm. And right behind him, Geto, walking with that same quiet intensity he always carries. They're holding bags in each hand, the smell of fast food wafting into the air.

Gojo gives me a lazy grin like he's just come back from a fun afternoon instead of dealing with a pile of shit that’s only getting worse.

“Got you something.” He waves the KFC sandwich in the air, the crispy fried chicken peeking out from the wrapper. “Figured you could use something real to eat. You’ve been looking like you’ve been living off hospital snacks.”

I glance at him, but I’m not in the mood for a joke. I just stare at the sandwich for a second before nodding. “Thanks.”

Geto just raises an eyebrow and slides a bottle of cold Coca-Cola into my hand. "It’s cold. Thought you could use a little sweetness with all this shit."

I didn't answer immediately. Instead, I take the sandwich, unwrap it, and take a small bite. The taste is oddly comforting, and for a moment, it feels a little bit of normal. But only for a second. My mind is still a million miles away, locked on Sukuna, on Y/N, on everything that’s been happening. I can’t seem to get a grip.

Gojo leans against the wall casually, clearly unaffected by anything going on, while Geto remains quiet, eyes focused like he’s waiting for me to crack. The silence stretches, uncomfortable in its own way.

"Is he awake?" Gojo asks, breaking the tension, his voice light but his eyes searching mine for an answer.

I take another bite of the sandwich and sigh, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. "Yeah, but he’s not really there. Talking in his sleep… saying her name. Y/N."

The mention of her name hangs in the air for a moment, and I watch as Gojo’s expression shifts slightly. He doesn’t show it often, but I know he can’t be completely oblivious to what’s happening. Not with how tightly he and Sukuna have been bound, even when things were rough.

“I’m sure he’s just… in his head,” Gojo says after a pause, trying to sound nonchalant but clearly struggling with his own thoughts. “He’s got a lot of shit on his plate.”

Geto’s expression hardens slightly. “He’s not the only one, Gojo. Y/N’s been through her own hell. She’s not just some side character in his story. It’s never been that simple.”

“Yeah, I know,” Gojo mutters, though he doesn’t seem entirely convinced by Geto’s words. He glances back at the door where Sukuna lies, still deep in his own turmoil. “We all know what happened between them. It’s fucked up, but that doesn’t change what he’s going through.”

The words cut through the tension like a blade. I swallow the rest of the sandwich, my stomach growing heavier with the implications of their statements. The more I think about it, the more it feels like we’ve all fucked up in our own ways. We’ve all allowed this to spiral out of control, and now, we’re left picking up the pieces.

“I get that he’s hurting,” I say, voice tight, “but what do we do now? What can we even do? She’s not coming, Gojo. She’s done.”

The words feel bitter in my mouth, even though I know they’re true. Sukuna has lost her, and there’s no going back.

Gojo and Geto exchange a look, the silence dragging on as the weight of the situation settles in. Gojo pops the cap off his own bottle of Coke, his eyes narrowing slightly.

“You just keep pushing forward,” Gojo says after a moment. “You don’t get to wallow in this shit. That’s not how it works, Toji. You just keep moving forward. That's all you can do.”

I’m about to respond when I hear a low murmur coming from Sukuna’s room. The door creaks open slightly, and I glance toward it, the worry clawing at my insides again. Gojo stands up and gives me a pointed look.

“Let’s go see how he’s doing,” he says, voice more serious now, and I can hear the weight of his words.

We all walk to the room, our steps heavy with the unspoken truths we’ve been avoiding. Inside, Sukuna stirs in the bed, his eyes barely open but wide enough to see the panic in his gaze.

“Y/N,” he whispers, almost like a prayer, his hand gripping the bed sheets tightly.

The room feels cold as we stand there, watching him struggle with the demons only he knows. His words hang in the air like a knife, cutting through the silence.

“Maybe we can fix this,” Gojo mutters softly, more to himself than anyone else. "But not like this."

I watch Sukuna’s face, the same man who used to be full of fire and rage, now broken. Maybe Gojo’s right—maybe we keep pushing forward. But even I know, with everything that’s happened, there’s no easy fix to the mess we’ve created.

Sukuna's POV

I’m trapped in the in-between, stuck in the land of the awake but not living. I can hear them talking, but my mind refuses to connect. Every word that escapes their lips feels like a blur, and I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to hear about Y/N or Jin or my own damn self.

The steady beeping of the heart monitor is the only thing grounding me in reality, reminding me that I'm still here, still breathing, even if it feels like everything else is slipping through my fingers. The voices swirl around me, but none of them cut through the fog in my mind. Not even Gojo’s voice, not even Geto’s.

Y/N. 

Her name lingers in the air like an echo I can’t escape. It’s all I can think about. How I fucked things up. How I hurt her. How I lost her. I can’t get away from the image of her, standing there in her apartment, looking at me with those eyes—those brown eyes I used to drown in. Eyes that no longer saw me the same. Eyes that were filled with pain.

My stomach churns. I want to scream, but the words catch in my throat.

My younger brothers.

Yuuji. Choso.

I’m supposed to be their older brother. I’m supposed to be strong for them. They’ve lost so much already, and I can’t afford to lose them, too. But if I keep spiraling like this—if I let this guilt eat me alive, if I let my demons drag me under—then what happens to them? What happened to me?

I’m supposed to protect them, but I’m barely holding myself together. I can’t keep breaking like this. I can’t keep letting everything fall apart just because I don’t know how to deal with the shit that’s happened.

I’m supposed to be better. Better for them.

But how? How do I fix this? How do I fix myself when everything feels broken beyond repair?

I hear Gojo again, his voice louder this time. "He's just... lost in his head right now. We can't help him until he helps himself." It’s all I need to hear to understand that I’m not getting any sympathy here. Not from any of them. They know me too well.

And maybe that's what I need.

I squeeze my eyes shut, hoping to block out the pain. Maybe if I don’t open them, I won’t have to face the reality of what I’ve become. A broken man. A fuck-up.

But the truth is, I can’t run forever. I can’t stay in this fog of regret and self-loathing. I don’t want to be this version of myself. Not for my brothers, not for anyone. I’ve been here too many times before. Spiraling, falling, too afraid to face what’s staring me in the face. I’ve always been this way. But I can’t afford to be anymore.

I can’t let myself be the reason they lose me. Not when I still have a chance to fix it.

I hear Geto’s voice again, softer this time. "Sukuna... we’re here. But you need to come back. Come back to us." His words hit me harder than I expected, and I feel the weight of them pressing down on my chest. Come back to us.

I’m not sure how, but for the first time in what feels like forever, I let myself feel something other than numbness. A crack in the wall I’ve built around myself. A tiny opening to a possibility that maybe—just maybe—I can still get out of this.

But first, I have to face the one thing I’ve been running from.

I have to face myself.

“Y/N,” I whisper to no one in particular, my voice hoarse, rough. "I'm sorry."

I don’t expect anyone to hear it. Hell, I’m not even sure I believe it yet. But it’s the first step. And for now, that’s all I can give.

I open my eyes slowly, squinting at the harsh fluorescent lights above. The hospital room is sterile and unfamiliar, and for a second, I forget where I am. But then it all comes flooding back—the weight of my actions, the destruction I’ve left in my wake, and the realization that I can’t keep hiding from it.

I don't even remember when I said it, but those two words still echo in my mind: I'm sorry. They were the first words I’ve said aloud in what feels like forever, but they carry so much weight. So much guilt.

I sit up slowly, feeling the ache in my chest. I’m not sure if it’s from the panic attack, the guilt, or just the overwhelming sense of being broken. But whatever it is, it makes it hard to breathe, to think. To feel.

Gojo is still here, his presence just as obnoxious as ever. But there's something about him being here that gives me a sense of stability like maybe he doesn’t expect me to be perfect, but he’s still here, regardless. And Geto... Geto is just sitting there, staring at me like he’s waiting for me to get my shit together. Maybe he’s right. Maybe they both are.

“Fuck,” I muttered, running a hand through my hair. "How did I get here?"

Geto looks up from his phone, catching my eye for the first time in what feels like forever. “You’ve been here, Sukuna. You know the drill. You need to pull yourself together, for them.” His voice is calm, but there’s an edge to it. He’s tired, I can tell. We all are.

“Yeah,” I replied, my voice cracking. "For them."

It’s a mantra I’ve been repeating to myself for weeks now—for them. For Yuuji and Choso. They’ve lost so much already, and I can’t be the one to break.

But I don’t know where to begin. I don’t know how to fix this. How do I rebuild what I’ve destroyed? How do I fix myself when I’m not even sure who I am anymore?

Gojo leans against the doorframe, arms crossed. “You’re not alone in this, you know.” His words are blunt, but there’s something softer in his eyes. He doesn’t say it often, but I can see it. The understanding.

"I know." I don’t meet his gaze, my eyes locked on the floor. It’s easier that way. “But I still fucked up, Gojo. I messed it all up.”

Geto sighs heavily, shaking his head. "You didn't just mess it up. But that doesn't mean it’s over. You’ve got to take responsibility for it, man. For her... and yourself."

For a moment, I don’t know what to say. The words feel like they’re stuck in my throat. But then I think of Y/N. Her face, her eyes... the way she looked at me when I ruined everything. I see her pain in every single interaction we had before it all came crashing down. I can still feel it. The way she’d retreat from me, the way she’d pull away. And the way I never truly let her in.

"I didn’t mean for it to go like this," I finally whispered. "I never meant to hurt her."

“You need to talk to her, if she’ll allow it” Geto says, standing up and moving closer. “And if she’s willing, maybe... maybe you can fix it. But you have to start with yourself first.”

I feel the weight of his words, like he’s trying to lift me out of the quicksand I’ve been sinking into. But I’m stuck. I’m stuck in the guilt, in the shame, in the regret.

“What if she doesn’t want me back?” I ask, barely above a whisper. "What if I’ve already ruined it too much?"

"You won’t know unless you try," Gojo says, stepping forward. “You can’t undo the past, but you can at least try to make the future better. For her. For you.”

I feel something shift inside me, something small but significant. Maybe it’s hope. Maybe it’s just the desperation that’s been eating away at me. I don’t know. But it’s there, and for the first time, I let myself feel it.

Maybe it’s not too late. Maybe, just maybe, I can start rebuilding—starting with myself. I have to try. For Y/N. For Yuuji. For Choso. For me.

I stand up, feeling the weight of my body shift. My legs feel weak, but I force myself to stay upright. Geto watches me carefully as if waiting for me to collapse, but I don’t. Not this time.

I might not have all the answers, but I know one thing for sure.

I’m done running from it.

“I’ll fix it,” I murmur, barely believing the words myself. But I have to say it. I have to believe it.

For the first time in a long while, I don’t feel so alone. Maybe I’m not as far gone as I thought. Maybe I can still fight my way back from this.

Maybe I can still be the man I used to be.

the nurse filled in, "We tried to contact your emergency contact yn ln but they didnt respond. Do you have anyone who can keep an eye on you?

The nurse’s words hang in the air, thick with unspoken tension. I feel the room grow heavier as they linger, and I find myself grasping for a response. Y/N’s name still feels like a foreign sound on my lips.

I open my mouth to speak, but the words don’t come. What would I even say? She won’t answer me anymore. Not after what I did. The silence stretches between us, suffocating.

"I have—" I start, but the weight of it stops me.

Before I can finish the sentence, Toji speaks up, his voice cutting through the thick air like a knife.

"You can take my information. What do I need to know?"

I look up at him, and for the first time in what feels like days, I feel a bit of relief. Toji, as blunt as he is, never lets me down. He’s been here since the start, and I know, deep down, he’s always had my back, even when I didn’t deserve it.

The nurse nods, taking out her tablet and entering Toji’s information with practiced ease. It’s almost like they’ve done this a thousand times before, and maybe they have. Maybe they’re used to people like me. People who screw up their lives and end up here, needing a reminder that they’re not completely gone yet. That there's still a chance.

But I don’t know if I believe that.

I watch the nurse leave, and the silence settles back into the room like a heavy blanket. Toji stands there, looking at me with something between concern and resignation. He doesn’t need to say anything. I know exactly what he’s thinking.

"Stop blaming yourself," Toji finally says, his voice low, but firm. “You're not in this mess alone, and you’re not gonna fix it overnight. But you’ve gotta stop running from it, or you'll end up buried.”

I can feel his eyes on me, watching for any sign of weakness, but I can’t give him that. I can’t give anyone that. Not after everything.

"I know," I mutter, my voice barely audible.

Toji shrugs and moves to the side, making space in the small hospital room. "We all fucked up, Sukuna. But it’s not the end of the world. You’re still here."

The words settle somewhere deep inside me, somewhere I didn’t even know was still capable of feeling something. I look away, pretending the words don’t hit me the way they do.

But I can’t stop thinking about Y/N.

Her face. Her eyes. How she would look at me when I failed her. The way she pulled away.

I failed her.

But I still want to fix it. God, I want to fix it so badly that it hurts.

I’m not sure how I’m supposed to do that. I’m not sure if it’s even possible. But for the first time in months, I feel like I can try. I have to try.

For me. For her. For everyone I’ve hurt.

“Thanks,” I say to Toji, my voice gruff and unsteady. "For doing this... for me."

He doesn’t respond right away, just gives me a sharp look like he’s waiting for me to crumble again.

But I don’t.

Not this time.

Instead, I stand up slowly, feeling the weight of my legs beneath me. There’s no escape now. No more running from my mistakes. No more hiding. I have to face this.

And maybe... just maybe, I can start with making things right.

For once, I don’t feel like I’m completely drowning. But the battle is far from over.

"I’ll make it right," I say softly to myself, more than to Toji.

The words feel fragile like I’m trying to piece together a shattered mirror. But I have to try.

I won’t be the man I used to be. I can’t go back to that.

But maybe, just maybe, I can be someone worth loving again.

For Y/N. For everyone I’ve hurt.

And for myself.

I’m finally being released from the hospital. The sterile white walls feel like they’re closing in as the nurses hand me a prescription for the medications I’m supposed to take. But I don't care about that right now. I just want to go home. I just want to breathe again.

The ride back to the apartment feels like it takes hours. The air in the car is heavy with the weight of everything I've done, everything I’ve messed up. I haven’t spoken a word the whole way. Toji’s driving, the only sound between us was the soft hum of the engine and the occasional rustle of the road beneath the tires.

When we get to the apartment, I’m not sure what to expect. The door’s wide open when I walk in, and there’s Choso, pacing back and forth. His voice rises, sharp and full of frustration as he glances over at me. His eyes are bloodshot like he hasn’t slept in days, and I know it’s because of me.

"Sukuna!" Choso shouts, throwing his hands up in the air, his face a mix of anger, pain, and worry. “What the hell were you thinking?! You scared the shit out of us, man!”

I flinch at his words, the sting of them going deeper than I want to admit. But I don’t say anything. I don’t have a defense, not for this. I can’t make it better with a few words. So, I stand there, silent, my head hanging low.

Yuuji’s sitting in the corner of the room, his eyes glued to the floor, his friends Megumi and Nobara beside him, looking as stressed as he is. The weight of it all crashes into me. I did this to them. I’ve been selfish, and it’s clear they’re carrying this burden with me.

Yuuji finally looks up, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm glad you're home, bro."

His words don’t hit me like I expect them to. Instead of feeling the relief I thought I’d get from hearing him, I just feel hollow. I’ve caused too much damage to fix it with just a few words. He shouldn't have to say that. I shouldn’t be the one causing him so much pain.

“Yeah, well, don’t get used to it,” I mutter, the bitterness slipping out before I can stop it. "It’s not like I’ve been some fucking good example for you, right?"

Toji steps up beside me, his presence grounding. “That’s enough,” he says, his tone low but firm. “He’s home, and that’s what matters. Stop making this harder than it needs to be.”

Choso doesn’t let up though, his hands on his hips as he glares at me. "You’ve been running from everything, running from us, from yourself. We were worried you were gonna fucking end up dead, and now you’re back, but are you even gonna stay back?"

I want to answer him, to tell him that I’m trying, that I’m going to get better. But I know he won’t believe me. None of them will. Not after everything.

"Look," I say, my voice thick. "I’m sorry. I’ve fucked up, and I can’t fix everything in a day. But I’m here. I’m not going anywhere right now."

It’s all I can offer, and I know it’s not enough, but it’s all I’ve got. I can’t be the man I was before. I can’t just wipe away all the mistakes I made with a simple apology. But maybe I can try to be better.

Yuuji stands up slowly and walks over to me. I brace myself, waiting for him to yell, for him to say something harsh. But when he reaches me, he simply pats me on the back, like he’s trying to offer something I don’t deserve.

“It’s good to have you back, Sukuna,” Yuuji says quietly, his voice thick with emotion.

I swallow hard, the lump in my throat growing. I don’t know if I’m crying or not. But it sure feels like it. Maybe this is the first step in making things right. Maybe not for everyone, but for me, for Yuuji, for Choso... and Y/N.

The tears come without warning, falling like a flood. I feel them before I even know they’re coming, a warm rush down my face, blurring my vision. I can’t stop them. Not anymore. I’ve been holding everything in for so long, trying to keep the pieces of myself together, trying to be the strong one for my brothers. But I can’t do it anymore.

My knees give way, and I drop to the floor, the weight of everything—of all the things I’ve lost, of all the things I’ve fucked up—crushing me. My chest aches, tight, like it’s too small to hold all the guilt, all the pain.

“I’m sorry,” I mutter through gritted teeth, though I don’t know if I’m saying it to Choso or Yuuji or even myself. My voice cracks, the rawness of it is unfamiliar and painful. “Jin’s gone because of me... and Grandpa... he’s gone. They’re both gone.”

The tears come faster, like a storm I can’t outrun. I can’t hold it together anymore. Not for anyone. Not for them. Not for myself.

I hear Choso’s footsteps, feel his arms around me as he pulls me up, but I don’t want to be touched. Not right now. I want to crawl into a hole and disappear, to not have to face any of this, to not have to be the one who let them all down.

“Grandpa's funeral,” I whisper, my voice ragged. “Our parents didn’t even show up. They didn’t care. They never did.”

The words sting, but it’s the truth. The truth that I’ve been running from for years. Our parents left us. They abandoned us, and the only one who was there, who gave a shit, was Granpa. And now he’s gone, too.

“I’m tired of holding this in,” I choke out. “I can’t keep pretending to be the fucking strong one. I’m... not strong. I’m broken.”

I look up at Choso, and his face is pale, but his expression is gentle. I can see the hurt in his eyes, but there’s something else there too: understanding. He knows. He knows what it’s like to lose, to feel like you’re drowning in your own shit. And maybe he’s the only one who can truly get it.

I look over at Yuuji, and his face is full of concern. He’s standing in the corner of the room, silent, but I know the words are there, sitting heavy on his tongue. He doesn’t need to say anything, though. The fact that he’s here—just here—means more than words ever could.

“I don’t know how to fix this,” I say, my voice low and broken. “I don’t want to be like this anymore. I don’t want to let everyone down. I don’t want to keep losing people.”

But I’m scared. Scared of what it will take to fix all this. Scared of how much of myself I’ll have to break in the process.

“I’m so fucking tired,” I admit, my voice barely a whisper. 

Choso pulls me close, his hands gripping my shoulders as if he can somehow hold me together. “You don’t have to have it all figured out, Sukuna. We’re here. You’re not alone in this. You never were.”

His words hit me like a lifeline, but the truth is, I don’t know if I deserve it. I don’t know if I’ll ever be the person they want me to be.

But I know one thing: I can’t keep drowning in my own shit. I have to try to be better. Even if it’s just for a little while.

I’m home. But the journey to redemption? That’s just the beginning.

[exhelluvafan]

The thing that irritates me the most about Helluva Boss is the adamant need to waste any potential for depth in every character. The thing that stops me from abandoning this train wreck of a show and feeling total apathy for it is its wasted potential.

TOO MUCH FUCKING WASTED POTENTIAL.

And obviously, the elephant in the room, aka the blatant misogyny and double standards because viv is writing yaoi so the fans could consume the emotional uwu moments and porn. SO MUCH PORN DAMN IT.

And the thing that eats away at me is the characters such as stolas and stella had such an easy chance to be morphed into something so deep that the show could be a soap opera about their drama alone.

In my humble opinion, the Goetia demons shouldn't have been in this show at all. They belong in a show like Hazbin that's showcasing the upper echelon of hell. This should've been about IMP, but I'm not ripping that one bandaid off because the wound under it is a biohazard. Anyway, I wanted to offer a rewrite for the 😍 lovely poor uwu baby Stolas and his DEMON, BITCH OF A WIFE, Stella. (Yeah, the sarcasm's strong with this one)

First of all I love how her name means star 🌟. It ties in together nicely with the whole astrology aesthetic of the family. We're gonna ignore the born-to-be-a-bitch personality the show presented her as having and focus on what caused her issues.

First of all, she probably knew from a young age that she was going to be wed off into an arranged marriage (just like stolas), and she knew she had the responsibility of birthing an heir. That's going to affect how she views love and marriage in general. She'd see it as a transaction, that she can offer an heir and her body, and receive what she wants. I have no problem with her being a spoiled brat, a mean girl. In fact, take it up a notch. She can be both of that! She was probably given every materialistic thing she wanted since the day she was born other than love and affection. That probably made her narcissistic and selfish, with the "I get everything that I want and you can't stop me" attitude.

She's a party girl, and we stand for that. She seems to be very extroverted and outgoing, and that clashes with stolas' more subdued and introverted personality.

I see her as being EXTREMELY paranoid about appealing to the high society that she's a part of and keeping herself at the top of the food chain amongst other aristocrats, unlike stolas who only does it to keep face or avoid getting too much attention, she wants to be noticed ans seen. Her gossipy, high society friends also reinforce the fact that she never had normal friends who cared about her, and she never grew out of her mean girl phase.

I see her as someone with so much passion in her heart, and sadly, we had to see all that turned into rage. She has trouble controlling her temper and the constant rage that boils inside her, and she explodes and lashes out on people, especially stolas.

I see her going into a marriage with stolas with the same "I'll get what I want" attitude. He has power, money, and legions to his name, and he isn't necessarily bad looking. So stella is like, "Eh, might as well..."

He isn't her dream partner, but she goes into the marriage thinking she can mould him into her dream man. Or thinking he's meek enough to leave her on her own, or she could even manipulate him to do as she pleases. None of those go as planned, though.

.

.

.

I can lowky see her dragging him around as she shops and him just wanting to die inside, lol

Oh my, Anon, this quite a lot of words, but I actually really love your rewrite, I can see Stella actually watching Mean Girls while Stolas dies inside and just stares at the infinite lmao

But sadly, this is a Viv show, and you know that women in these kinds of shows aren't allowed to have any nuance beyond a one-note use or personality trait, unless they're stepping stools for the male cast, which in that case, they're allowed to have a bit more of depth, but not too much.

And yeah, actually, now that you mention it, the Goetia demons shouldn't have been in Helluva, if anything, they should've been shown on Hazbin, like you said, because we are following along a protagonist that was born in royalty (Charlie) and it would make a lot of sense to see the Goetia demons there, since it would be a royal meetup or something like that.

And lastly, about the porn... I can corroborate this since a lot of the designs made by Viv or by her team look... conventionally attractive, so conventional that's artificial and try hard at times, and also, pretty safe but sometimes pushing the limits a bit to pander to gay people (Vortex, Asmodeus and Satan, to name a few muscular characters that are quite popular, but also Moxxie, Chaz and Striker, also popular in the gay side of the fandom) but it always boils down to the same purpose: to get people horny, and this is exemplified so painfully clear when Loona shook her ass towards the camera in one of the episodes, turning out to be shameless furry bait, and when I say that these shows are gooning and softcore porn shows, it's because of deliberate shit like this.

But alas, thanks for your input, Anon, it's greatly appreciated and it's quite the palette cleanser to see someone competent pick up Viv's mess and restructure it into something actually compelling and nuanced.

[thekaratcake-blog]

Hey btw by trying to restrict abortion what you're actually doing is saything that the fetus has rights to the mothers body against her will

And to pretend like unprotected sex is the only way we get there is dumb as shit, do better

But most importantly, first you don't give a shit about actual life or suffering if you wish it on others for disagreeing with you

Second if we're talking about a fetus before a certain point, the best you're gonna get on feeling emotions is "said hormones can reach it" and regardless of all of this its still not worth the life of the mother and still shouldn't have rights that no other human has

No other human has rights to others body and organs against their will, why should a fetus?

Also you did you seriously just say an abortion is never nessecary to save a life? I'm sorry did you actually? Also you realize plan b pills are being considered abortion in the us?

Also did you just quote the famously unreliable ai overview? The same oen that said people should eat one small rock a day?

And finally, you saying someone is "letting the mask slip" was talking about someone who was talking about the reality of when something is an isn't a child

Then of course, you go and tell them to rot in hell and suffer forever and that their life is terrible

Oh and finally, by pro-lifer, you of course, mean anti-choice

After all, this isn't about life, it's why Texas tried to enforce the death penality for women who'd had abortions, it's why the cry now isn't "yay we saved babies" it's "your body, my choice"

What this is about is deciding whether a woman should get to decide who's allowed to forcefully use and ALWAYS damage her body, I want to make this clear

Pregnancy is ALWAYS at least somewhat damaging to the body of the mother, and I do mean always, some significantly more than others, some causing death that could only be avoided with the termination of the child, a child is only capable of any form of thought at 24 weeks according to all of our best science and doesn't qualify as human in the same way the mother does before that

You are misinformed, you are hateful, and you are awful, abortion should be legal, you don't get to decide what a woman does with her body

Oh and, gotta love you casually glossing over the existence of rape, or the idea that maybe someone won't know contraceptive failed immediately, or maybe someone actively wanted to have a child but it's now going to come with serious medical complications, which is according to WHO, actually 15% of cases lead to potentionally life threatening complications not the 2% you quoted, but no yeah

Let's force the mother to have a child, that if she's trying to get an abortion she probably can't care for, that might kill her, which might in turn kill the child, or leave one or both of them with seriuos health complications

Now of course lets let that mother struggle, after all, the most common reason for abortions is that they are unable to have a child as it would seriously derail their life and they likely can't care for it, but you're right, better than an unthinking fetus simply not getting past a certain stage, after all, they don't actually kill it, they just take away access from the mtoher's nutrients to a thing that before 24 weeks the generally agreed upon legal limit of abortion isn't capable of thought, but no better than that lets birth it into a world who isn't ready for it, to a mother who isn't ready for it, or who was raped, or who is a child, or who would die, or who would be seriously sick, or when the child would come out with serious damage or deformities that might cause it to die an agonizing death on the table

But no, let's instead wish suffering upon others who disagree with you because that's what being "pro life" is about, it's about telling those on the other side or who disagree with you that they are evil and deserve to die, it's about shooting up planned parenthoods or leaving pregnant women to die of sepsis on the operating bed as is happening a lot now in america

Nothing says "pro life" like "I hope your life is one of fucking //suffering//."

Also btw, I also survived rape and had I gotten pregnant I would've been ten years old, do you think I should've kept that child?

Luckily I am incapable of getting pregnant but some people aren't, do you think they should've kept that child?

Oh and two your final lil comment, I did live that sort of life, and guess what? I found joy, I found joy and a loving partner, I've dedicated my time to learning and caring and fighting for rights, and I've never told a stranger on the internet that I hope they suffer forever, because that's not a thing a good person who's donig mentally well and has genuinely found joy would do, that's a thing a deranged asshole would do

read it and weep, idiots

[the-raindeer-king]

part 1 part 2

prt 3 to teen!Ghost (sorry for the wait, it's been one hell of a week lmao)

The only thing keeping you from strangling Price is Simon's hand in yours. Well, that and the fact you'd like to keep your job, but you really don't want to scare poor Simon any more than he already is.

You don't get a chance to respond, when the door swing opens. Soap scurries inside, followed by Nikolai, who joins Price behind his desk. You're not surprise by Nikolai's presence, as he usually hangs around base when the 141 returns, wanting to make sure that they're all doing okay.

However, you're not entirely sure bringing more people into the room is a good idea.

Soap hands you the pudding and water, which you immediately turn and hand to Simon, who stares in disbelief, as if he can't believe you've handed him a pudding cup. He glances up at Soap, who's already retreating back to the door, before looking at you once more.

"How'd you know vanilla is my favorite?" he whispers, as if it's some big secret.

"Little birdie told me," you reply with a wink. The ache in your chest eases when he smiles in response.

Standing, you move across the room to join Price and Nikolai by his desk, leaving Simon to devour his pudding cup by himself. You feel so out of control of the situation, having no idea how Simon changed or how to turn him back. Based on the look on Price's face, you're not the only one feeling this way.

"If you speak to him like that again, I will skin you alive. Out of everyone here, you know better than that," you hiss at Price.

His shoulders tense defensively for a moment, before dropping as he sighs loudly. There's no point in arguing, because you're absolutely correct. Price knows far more about Ghost's past than anyone else on the team, and he does know better.

"Not good with..." Price trails off, gesturing to Simon, who seems to have grown a little more comfortable in the office, looking around the room in silent curiosity.

"Not good with children?" Nikolai prompts.

Price runs his hands across his beard, humming in response. There's plenty of ways to finish the sentence, but he'll stick with the most honest. "Not good with seeing him like this. It feels wrong," he explains.

While it doesn't excuse his tone, you can't help but nod your head in agreement. All of you are so used to stoic Ghost, biggest man in the room, and seeing him like this gives you the same feeling as a bad dream. Like the world has gone topsy-turvy, and you don't know which way is up anymore.

"We need to keep it together. For Simon," you direct.

"For Simon," Price and Nikolai echo.

"Soap. Gaz," Price calls, and the two are by the desk quicker than you've ever seen them move before. You glance back at Simon, who's trying and failing to look like he's not listening in on the conversation.

"What's the game plan, Cap?" Gaz asks.

The plans feels almost too simple, not that you're familiar with how they make any plans to begin with. Maybe it's one too many action movies getting into your head, so you keep your mouth shut as Price explains.

"Gaz, Soap, you're going with Nikolai back to the location of the incident. Scope the place out, strip it of anything that might help us. Take the whole fucking building apart, for all I care," Price tells him. While they're gone, Price and you will stay on base. They have two terrorists in custody, and Price is going to have a word with them, see if they know anything that might help bring Ghost back.

Your role in this whole plan is to stay with Simon. Keep him out of trouble and see if there's anything you can do that might trigger a reversal process. Price put more emphasis on keeping Simon out of trouble, but looking at the kid, curled up in his chair, you can't imagine he's going to cause any trouble.

How wrong you are to assume so...

[zroronoas]

"young and he fine and he tall and he handsome." thank u sza.

a/n: i might write another ver of this w zoro tbh bc that description is also sooooooo zoro. inspired by BMF by sza!!

fluff. no smut but it gets a little bit suggestive! also does not necessarily follow the accurate storyline for the sake of the story 🤭

-

you weren't one to give men much attention, quite the opposite actually. you decided that they just weren't worth your time, especially since most of the ones you met while out on the sea were disgusting perverts. and unfortunately, you already had to deal with sanji everyday.

but there was one man who had you speechless, heart palpitating, palms sweating. and that wasn't the only thing that got wet.

you thought he was the most gorgeous man to walk the earth. in your head, no man, dead or alive, could ever compete with his looks.

you thank whatever god there is everyday that the man decided to save you and the rest of the crew from smoker. honestly, you could have died happy then.

naturally, you could not help but gush to nami and robin about how hot you found him.

"he's literally the most beautiful man i've ever laid my eyes on," you sigh. "he's tall and he's handsome!"

you rest your head in your hands, hearts practically coming out of your eyes. you were starting to feel a little bit like sanji.

"too bad he isn't part of our crew," robin smiles. the girls giggle at the way you look, hopelessly daydreaming about the man.

he wasn't part of your crew, but the things you would to do have him on your ship 24/7 were unimaginable.

"there's also the issue of him being luffy's brother," nami interrupts. "wouldn't it be kind of weird?"

"normally it would, but i would do anything to have ace," you snort. "even if it's just for a night."

"wow, anything?"

you feel your body go limp.

that did not sound like nami or robin. and the voice came from behind you.

all you could do was pray that it was one of the men from your crew, but from the looks on nami and robin's faces, you were absolutely wrong.

"no!" you laugh nervously. "no we weren't talking about you, there's a different ace we know!"

he smirks, leaning in closer to your face. you feel the heat rush to your face and your stomach start to knot up.

"well," he says loudly as he moves away from your face. "ace is a lucky guy then."

"y-yeah!" you stammer. "he is lucky! him, not you!"

a boyish grin appears on his face before he readjusts his hat and makes his way to the door. you have no time to respond before he's gone, and you're left standing wide-eyed and speechless in the middle of the kitchen.

you hear nami squeal as she repeatedly smacks robin's arm out of excitement, but you're feeling the exact opposite. it was humiliating, the way you were yapping so loudly about how you would do anything for the man.

robin covers her mouth with her hand, giggling quietly. nami on the other hand, is doubled over and cackling as loud as she can. you don't even have the energy to fight with her, you just sink to your knees with a blank look on your face.

"hey," nami wheezes. "at least you know he's interested!"

you glare at her before covering your face with your hands and letting out a loud groan. "why is he even here?"

little did you know, ace was still on the other side of the door, a blush creeping up on his cheeks. normally, he wouldn't be the slightest bit phased by the compliments but he had been head over heels since the moment he first saw you.

"ace!" luffy shrieks. "move out of the way! i'm hungry!" ace slips away from the door before luffy slams it open with all his might.

you look up at luffy frantically shaking his head around as he looks for any food he can stuff his face with. he pauses for a moment, setting his eyes on you.

"why are you red?" he questions. "you and ace both are!"

you're about to respond before ace knocks luffy's head with his fist, causing the boy to yell and furiously rub his forehead.

"don't bother them!" ace grunts. "they're a little...hot and bothered."

"well," luffy says. "take your sweater off then! that's why it's hot!"

ace smirks, ruffling his little brother's hair.

"don't worry luffy, i'll help them with that later."

[askvectorprime]

Dear, Vector Prime.

Are there other Transformers that transform into deer besides Scrapper? I would like to know the female ones if possible.

Dear Antler Appreciator,

The Scrapper you mention is far from the only one. Some non-Hybridizer incarnations of Thunderhoof turn into deer. The Autobot Herne, when outside of his Pretender shell, transformed into an electro-elk—as did Sero, a Maximal Resistance member who underwent the Beast Upgrade. Now that you mention it, it’s curious that of all the individuals who come to mind, from across the multiverse, not one of them is female. I wonder if there is some underlying metaphysical principle that precludes the adoption of the doe as an alternate form…

This reminds me of a story, which—if my chronometer is to be trusted—should be seasonally-appropriate. Gather around the energon furnace, and I will tell you of the time Sky-Byte learned the meaning of Christmas.

Between schemes, Sky-Byte’s personal mission to understand human literature was well underway. Having already enjoyed A Tale of Two Cities, he next set his sights on that seminal classic, A Christmas Carol. So moved by it was he, that Sky-Byte was inspired to spread the “Christmas Spirit” to his fellow Predacons—and thus he enlisted the help of Slapper, Gas Skunk and Dark Scream, to play the role of the three spirits in his own re-enactment… and as for the miserly Ebenezer Scrooge, why, that part would be played by none other than Megatron, of course.

The production went about as well as you might expect. Nevertheless, having been alerted to the magical properties of the “Christmas Spirit”, Megatron couldn’t help but covet this power for himself. He turned once more to Doctor Onishi’s memories, and in doing so, learned of the existence of the being known as “Santa Claus”.

Megatron reasoned that Santa Claus was the being who commanded the Christmas Spirit, and plotted to hijack the holiday. That night, he travelled to the North Pole to lie in wait… and when the sleigh appeared, he used his flying hand mode to snatch Santa Claus and all the presents! Having stolen Santa's list, he checked it twice, identifying the nicest humans with the most Christmas Spirit to take. On the back of the sleigh, he mounted the Predacons’ psycho-probe, which had been modified to absorb this psychic energy, stealing the hopes and dreams of children asleep in their beds. Dragging it behind him, Megatron changed into his reindeer mode… and took flight.

On Christmas morning, the Autobots were surprised to find a miserable Koji Onishi, who didn't even want to get out of bed to open the Autobots’ gifts. Their attempts to cheer him up only irritated him further. X-Brawn wondered if Koji was upset to be spending Christmas without his father, but Side Burn couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong…

Meanwhile, at the Megastar, Sky-Byte had been left to guard Santa Claus—as Predacon intelligence suggested the old man had a preternatural ability to break in and out of buildings unnoticed. But when Santa Claus revealed to Sky-Byte that his name was near the very top of the naughty list, the Predacon shark had a crisis of conscience. He sent out a transmission, which was received by T-AI at Autobot HQ, to warn them of Megatron's scheme.

Unfortunately, the number of humans affected by the psycho-probe was rapidly snowballing, causing a wave of humbuggery that would give even old Scrooge himself pause. Combined with Santa's magical sleigh, Megatron was moving faster than the Autobots could possibly keep up with! Only Rail Racer stood a chance of catching him, but Team Bullet Train was off-duty, as trains don’t run on Christmas Day. Thinking quickly, the Build Team modified the Global Space Bridge to lock onto Megatron and trap him in the transwarp field, allowing Prime and the Autobot Brothers to intercept. Cornered, Megatron needed more power if he was going to stand a chance—and unfortunately for the Autobots, the Christmas Spirit had unlimited power to give. Absorbing the stolen energy into himself, he supercharged his body into a menacingly festive new form, decked out all in red and gold. The victory he had chased for so long was finally within reach. The Autobots always got what they wanted. Why shouldn’t he?

Koji shouted to Megatron that he would never understand the meaning of Christmas. After all, it’s not about getting what you want—it’s about giving to others. But Megatron only let out a wickedly jolly laugh, for he did indeed have something for the Autobots… and with that, he began to charge his devastating Cutter Beam. Koji begged for him to listen. All the young boy wanted was to spend Christmas with friends and family—to see his father again, to have just one day without fighting. Why should such a dream be impossible? If only he promised to stop fighting, even Megatron would be welcome at their table.

And though Megatron laughed, some part of this warm sentiment touched his icy spark. It triggered a chain reaction in the Christmas Spirit coursing through his circuitry, which fought with his natural evil impulses… before finally exploding. Free once more, the Christmas Spirit returned to all the good little girls and boys. Bitterly, Megatron asked Koji if he had truly meant it. But before the boy could respond, Megatron saw a rift in the transwarp, and took his chance to retreat. Optimus Prime thanked Koji, and renewed his promise to rescue Doctor Onishi—though he regretted that they had not stopped Megatron sooner, and that all the children would be waking up without presents…

When Megatron arrived back at the Megastar, he was furious to discover that Santa Claus had vanished—and Sky-Byte, too! Meanwhile, all over the world, children found gifts had mysteriously arrived under their trees. A little girl looked out of her window, and caught a glimpse of a bearded man in a big red sleigh… pulled by a flying shark.

Merry Christmas, everyone.

[vi-is-badass]

@lady-griffin I agree with most of what you said here, but I definitely disagree that Vi was motivated by revenge when it comes to Silco. She believed in season 1 that taking out Silco was the only way to get her sister back.

I think this is clear in almost every action she takes. When she attacks Sevika in episode 5 she calls her a traitor but when she finally has her on the ground the only thing she asks about is her sister, not Silco. She went after Sevika because she knows she's one of the last people who saw Powder that night and might know what became of her.

In episode 8 when she's talking with Caitlyn in her bedroom she talks about that night as a failure on her part to protect her sister from Silco.

In episode 9 when she fights Sevika for the second time it's because she thinks that to get her sister she has to get rid of Silco and to do that she has to take out Sevika, his right hand man.

In that same episode when Vi talks about what gets her through prison it's the thought of getting back to Jinx, not getting revenge on Silco.

Her motives for the raid with Jayce are personal, but I don't believe revenge is what motivates her. If she was given the opportunity to live with her sister away from Zaun and Pitlover-- away from Silco-- I think there is a chance she would have taken it because at this point especially she’s motivated by her desire to protect and fear of losing those she loves.

Vi is a character that tries to do the right thing-- she does have a "good heart"-- but her trauma and the fact that she's constantly put between a rock and a hard place make it so she frequently makes the wrong decision or her decisions rarely pan out. (Vi was trying to mitigate casualties and damage when she became an enforcer, but it was definitely the wrong decision. Tries to do the right thing, but makes the wrong decision)

But everything you said in your last response about the lack of exploration of Vi's perspective on the grey, Caitlyn's descent, and the increasing brutality of the strike team are things that are sorely missing from the show. (my initial response was meant to counter the idea that Vi was out of character in act 1)

While this lack of exploration doesn't make her actions in act 1 out of character, I do believe it makes certain beats not hit as hard as they could have (like you mentioned with the scene where she stops Caitlyn from at shooting Isha and Jinx) and in some cases really hurt the "resolution" for her character in act 3.

I especially agree with your point about Vi turning the "I thought you were different" back on Caitlyn because her thoughts on Caitlyn's actions in act 1 and occupation of Zaun are woefully underexplored.

We only really get insight on her guilt over it all in the montage at the start of episode 5. She feels responsible for what Caitlyn has become and for being a part of the start of something that turned into an oppressive occupation of her people.

But we don't get true insight into her feelings on Caitlyn’s role as the commander, the checkpoints, the detainments that lack adequate cause, the brutality and oppression disguised behind a thin veneer of justice.

And I think this is a huge missed opportunity because of just how Vi falling for Caitlyn was framed in season 1.

Vi falls for Caitlyn in season 1 because Caitlyn chose to fight for her and the undercity. She didn’t have to fight— she had nothing to gain, nothing to lose if she didn't fight like everyone in the undercity— and yet she chose to fight anyway.

Caitlyn was genuine in her desire to help and fight against a system she learned through her connection to Vi has oppressed the people of the undercity. She also sees what Vi believes is the worst of her during the bedroom scene and still reaches for Vi anyway, giving her empathy and grace that has never been afforded to her before.

But then all of that crumbles in season 2. Caitlyn becomes the worst version of herself out of grief and the sudden immense responsibility thrust upon her shoulders and actively becomes the face of the oppression Vi and her people face. Caitlyn no longer wants to fight corruption and actively participates in it. Gone is the empathy and understanding of season 1. Gone is that desire to fight for Vi and the undercity that made her fall in love in the first place.

There isn't really any exploration of the betrayal that might have felt like because like you said Vi really did think that Caitlyn was different.

(Side note: I really love the idea of Vi repeating Caitlyn's justification for using the grey to Jinx. That would have been a fantastic way of showing that Vi was losing herself. Honestly every point you made in that last response was spot on. I also agree with your take on the hellfire montage. The lyrics definitely fit Vi and her perspective much more than Caitlyn's while the visuals are from Caitlyn's persepctive)

Caitlyn and Vi weaponizing toxic air pollution against the undercity and then Jinx and Sevika using Janna’s temple to recreate her legendary miracle by blowing that toxic air back onto Piltover.

Jinx (and Sevika) just became the hero Zaun needs.

[sashi-ya]

𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪, 𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 ٠࣪⭑ kuchiki byakuya x mistress! reader - nsfw scenario

🍒 tw: mdni - nsfw content. oral . submission. vag. cheating. unprotected. 🍒 a/n: this is a little nsfw scenario based on a bigger, multichap fic that's coming very very soon. Reader is the Kuchiki family nanny, if you haven't read the manga you won't understand who Ichika is, but reader is that little girl's nanny. This story takes place after TYBW, so, Byakuya is not cheating on Hisana... but, who is cheating on then? well, you might want to read the coming fic to know! 🍒 a/n 2: this is a very self indulgent scenario, just to rest my brain from all the chaos now that I have graduated. please enjoy!

Mature, he has become more mature. You can tell; everybody can tell as well.  Heart as important as mind, tears have been shed, smiles that appear more often… Kuchiki Taichou has become a true man. 

However, this man is not only your boss, he is your lover… and you, darling, are this man’s mistress. 

And this man, whose hand guides you to stand up from the chair and kneel in front of him, is about to let you know how good maturing can feel… 

“Kneel down” he commands, with the soft motion of his arm, in the same delicate way he conducts Senbonzakura against the enemy.

You obey, the cold floor beneath your knees becomes irrelevant as a heat grows from your core and filters through every tissue of your body. 

His index runs from your top lip to your bottom, pressing ever so slightly to separate them. The tip of your tongue tastes the tip of his finger, the more it slides inside your mouth. Slowly, pushing in, while the rest of his hands grips your mandible. 

Eyes fixed on his majestic image, absolutely spellbound, body completely given to him… soul gifted, granted. You want to taste him; you want to get drunk with the honeys of his sex. 

“It’s been a long day, I’m tired…” he whispers, in the most serious way possible. His free hand caresses your head, brushing your hair back with loving soft touch. 

You shiver; the simple touch of this man can cause this in you. 

With no words to be said, as his finger slides even deeper inside your mouth, pushing down your  tongue, perhaps even making some room for yours to receive his sex inside, your eyes shine as you wait for his clothes to finally slide down and off his body. 

Ah, the pale skin you adore; the V shaped abs, pointing down his sin, the protruding hip bones… impossible for you to stop yourself, your hands reaching his warm flesh. One palm on the hip, the other going up his belly. 

“Have you been waiting for me, (Name)? I am just only able to free myself for now” he asks, sticking his index off your mouth. You suck it as he does, covering it all in your wet saliva. 

You nod; puppy eyes looking up, pupils showing desperate desire. 

“I want to please you, Kuchiki-sama” you purr, pressing your cheek on his thigh. “Please, allow me to please you… then, you can go back” 

Byakuya scoffs with sweet intent, you are such a soft creature made of pure adoration… how lucky he feels to have you, even though he shouldn't even touch you...  

“There is no need for me to allow it, go ahead sweet one” he whispers, running his long fingers through your hair, pulling you towards him, letting your hands slide the hakama off to discover his sex. 

Unpolluted, hard, perfect… erection waiting to be devoured, touched, pleased. 

Byakuya lets you do, with your hand delicately surrounding his shaft and your lips kissing the wet tip. A few pecks, and some licking, making it yours like a sweet lolly. 

The Shinigami takes a deep breath, throwing his head back. The sharpness of his mandible, the tensing muscles on his neck and the sweet silent whimpering makes you go a little harder; engulfing the whole length, making the tip hit the back of your throat. 

Byakuya’s abs tense and spasm, and in reaction for such pleasure he pushes your head against himself. It makes you gag a little, a sensation over his sex that fans the flames of perversion even higher. 

You bob your head, sucking faster; delicacy has been left aside for some time. Byakuya needs more, and you are happy to give it all for him. 

Now the sounds coming from his mouth are audible, loud. Panting added, falling into the trap of concupiscence and depravity. You are running out of air, you can’t reach for it, your mouth is too occupied surrounding his dick to grasp for a little oxygen. 

You can feel it on your tongue, on your cheeks, the way his length throbs and turns more and more swollen. Its warmth increases, climax is closer.

“Stick your tongue out” he commands, getting his sex out of your mouth. 

You nod, panting. Eyes, a little watery because of the gagging, fix on his night sky ones. You obey, your tongue rests on your lower lip, waiting for his seed, eagerly. 

He takes a few pumps to his sex but stops. His hand grazes your cheek, sweetly, lovingly. 

“You know what? I think your face is way too precious to ruin it with such low act… please, standup” he whispers, grabbing your hand to help you lift from the ground. 

You gasp; Byakuya has definitely become a gentleman… 

He walks backwards, pulling you from your hand towards him. Flopping on the chair behind him, you are dragged to sit on him. 

Your legs hang from the sides, as you face him. Your hips straddled on his lap, his sex impaling your entrance with the same mercy he holds against enemies… none. 

Arms surrounding your waist, hands pushing the small of your back against himself, your lips crashing against his… oh, the intimacy, the need, the desire. 

Your hips move back and forth; his hands help you bounce. 

Byakuya closes his eyes, shutting them with strength, as he focuses on keep going. There is only much he can do to last longer, as climax was around the corner. You didn’t mind, though. You were happy receiving his seed in your mouth, and now, you are happier to do it inside…

He grabs your wrists, making your arms be thrown back over your head. The captain pins them against the in between of your shoulder blades, making your chest pop, with breasts bouncing closer to his face. After all, Byakuya is just a man, he simply loves to watch that hypnotic carom of your pair. 

“You are clenching to me, are you coming?” he asks, almost in pain, trying to wait for your orgasm to arrive. 

“Y-yes, Kuchiki-sama… ngh ~” you whine, humping faster, clenching harder. Your walls can’t stop spasming, can’t stop milking the man underneath you. 

Byakuya lets your arms go, just for you to let them fall on his shoulder. Your nails carve into his flesh, for once it’s ok to leave marks on his back. 

Skin to skin, belly against belly, shivering, trembling. Teeth hitting against the other’s with sloppy kisses and erratic tongues. Eyes closed, only feeling, only listening… 

“Come for me…” “Fill me up, Kuchiki-sama… i'm here to please you, here to love you~” 

[alittlebitofloveliness]

just read both of your posts about the outsiders scenario of ponyboy died instead of johnny, and now I'm curious — just theoretically, how do you see it going down if dallas was the one to die first? i know it's completely illogical and he's just not the type to die all of a sudden or be reckless in a "hero" way, but still. I'm really damn curious about how it would affect johnny, especially, as you have mentioned that losing someone in the gang would've taken a big toll on him.

Hi anon! I'm really having fun with this though experiment, thank you for the ask. If anyone else has any more feel free to send asks, and for anyone who's new to this meta heres part 1, part 2, and part 3.

Now, let's dive in. In what world does Dallas die before/instead of Johnny and how does it change the story's outcome? You're right in that Dallas isn't particularly illogical or 'heroic', but he IS incredibly loyal, reckless to a fault, and absolutely ruled by his emotions. He follows Pony and Johnny into the fire, and emerges with a burned arm. Now this action is heroic but also selfish, and reckless to the point of dangerous. Dallas easily could have been the one who broke his back and ended up dying in the hospital instead of Johnny. In fact, it was arguably his plan, as he and Johnny tossed Pony out first and Dally only followed behind immediately since Pony was literally on fire. I firmly think that when Dallas ran into the church he didn't have any plan other than to get the other two out no matter what, even if it meant sacrificing himself. Remember, Johnny is Dallas' living embodiment of hope, he cannot see anything happen to him, and like the rest of the gang Dallas is protective of Ponyboy- he also is gallant to an extent, Johnny wasn't wrong about that.

So Dally gets hit in the back with a burning beam and he gets rushed to the hospital and then he dies. Now, Dallas Winston doesn't do anything by halves and that includes dying. Since Johnny and Pony are with him in the hospital he dies a lot sooner than Johnny, maybe even before the rest of the gang gets there. Ponyboy's reunion with his brothers is made more emotional with Dallas gone, and Johnny- well, Johnny could go one of two ways.

In canon verse we see Johnny commit to staying gold- or at least not dying with hate- but this commitment only comes after he's accepted his death is imminent. While it's possible seeing Dally die would bring about the same realization as in canon- especially in a universe where Dally's death is less violent than it canonically was- one must remember that Dally was Johnny's hero. He looked up to him immensely, above anyone else, and had faith in Dallas that no one else did. I think seeing Dally's heroic act being the cause of his death might make Johnny think that maybe Dally had the right idea being cold and cruel and mean. Maybe he sees that and then goes to the rumble and enjoys the feeling of kicking the socs asses because he knows Dally would have loved it too. Maybe he sees Ponyboy, sick and weak, delirious after being kicked in the head, fighting through nightmares and horrified by Dally's death and a piece of him hardens. Maybe he sees Steve cry and Soda holding him up, watches Darry identify the body of someone else he cared about, sees Two-bit turn back to his bottle, and maybe he makes a decision. Maybe Johnny sees the east side and all that it does and thinks maybe Dally had the right of it, maybe it is better to be harsh and cruel, maybe it means he can take care of Pony and the rest of the gang better, maybe if he's colder everyone will stop treating him like a victim and maybe he can stop feeling like one.

I think the story could end with Dally's death and Johnny becoming exactly like him and it would change the themes but it wouldn't change the message too much if that makes sense? Like, it would still hammer home the ideas of cycles of violence and that people are people, and it's their choices that define them- but it would change the characters inexorably.

Thanks for the ask!

[depizan]

I don't think I actually got around to grumbling about this, but there's this very weird thing that comes up in a lot of fiction that I don't really understand. It could be an aro/ace problem or it could be one of those common tropes that just doesn't actually make any sense if you think about it.

There will be a couple of characters who adventure together (either as just the two of them or as part of a bigger group) and they'll start to get romantic/sexual feelings for each other and then the weird trope appears:

Oh, no, we can't. If we have sex/call ourselves a couple/admit our feelings, we won't be able to deal with seeing each other in danger, so for the good of the group/the quest we're on/whatever, we can't be together. Even though we can continue to work together and continue to be friends. (Aside from whatever hurt feelings/difficulties having to not get together causes.)

Excuse me. So...seeing your friends take risks, potentially get hurt (or even killed), etc causes no problems at all, but if you have sexytimes, its suddenly an issue? That doesn't make any goddamn sense. Unless the message is supposed to be that people only really truly care about each other if they bone and or call themselves a couple. Friends, pff, those are a dime a dozen. Who cares if they die or get hurt. You just get another. Like goldfish.

Though if that is the message, it's generally undercut by the fact that these people have been risking their lives for each other as friends the whole time. Both the couple and anyone else in the group. So all you're really left with is this giant WTF.

But if we love each other, then seeing each other in danger will make us make mistakes or take risks we shouldn't!

Like all those risks you've already taken for even the members of the group you only sort of like, never mind the ones you consider friends, or each other already? Those risks?

It's like the nonsense at the end of the first Sam Rami Spider-man movie, where Peter's all "I can only be your friend" to Mary Jane because if he dates her, she'll be at risk. Because villains never kidnap your friends and dangle them off buildings, only your love interest. It's in the supervillain fine print.

Only worse, because in these cases, both people are already doing the dangerous thing together.

Is it that the Narrativium might try to kill one of you if you bone? (Because the Narrativium is made up of slasher movie monsters, I guess?)

Though it can't really be that, because most of the time (possibly all of the time), the couple eventually does get together, sexytimes and all, and nothing bad happens. At least if they're really both main characters.

(They're secretly afraid one of them isn't a main character and so is at risk for fridging?)

I don't know. It's just a weird, weird trope that unintentionally (I hope) implies that the only relationships that like actually matter are sexual/romantic ones. Well, and/or that the particular characters involved don't actually care about their friends very much.

[avelera]

Oh, I LOVE this point, because I was just noting to my partner the other day that one of the many influences on Arcane is clearly Lord of the Rings and one of the places you see it most is in the way people look at Hexgems and Hextech items for the first time.

It's not just Powder who gets the glint in her eyes the first time she sees a Hextech gemstone.

The first time Vi picks up the Atlas Gauntlets, she gets the blue glint in her eyes as if it hypnotizes her. Later, Cait notes how Vi seems to believe Jayce's gauntlets will solve everything for her, to perhaps a worrying degree.

Jayce is unwilling to put down his Hextech hammer in the Anomaly future to the point where dragging it around is actively endangering his chance of survival AND permanently maims him.

Even Heimerdinger gets the glint in his eyes the first time he sees the Hextech gemstones, it's this very particular blue shine, and if I was less lazy, I'd go hunting down all the gifs and images but SUFFICE TO SAY, every single time a characters sees Hextech up close for the first time, they get a very particular glow in their eyes.

Personally, I think the metaphor here is simply: power.

Hextech gives you the power to do the thing you want to do. I'd argue the sense of power the gemstone gives Powder is what eggs her on to make her monkey bomb in the first place that brings such destruction to everyone she loves in 1.03.

Viktor becomes obsessed with the Hexcore to the point where he's ignoring the living people in his life who want to spend time with him while he's alive, like Sky and Jayce, so even if Viktor manages to stay alive he's demonstrated that he's not living.

As noted, Vi becomes reliant on the gauntlets, Jayce's mother notes with fear how obsessed Jayce has become with magic and Hextech (arguably, he's Patient Zero in all this) to the point where he's ready to die if he can't have Hextech in his life, it's so beautiful he can't imagine wanting to live in a world without it, and arguably his moment of demonstrated growth and healing at the end of the show is when Viktor and human connection replaces the value he once put on Hextech as the center of his life.

Heimerdinger also makes an interesting note when he says he thought the danger of magic came from humanity's, "Turbulent relationship with power." Which is very in line with the One Ring.

However, he goes on to say that the Arcane itself might be responsible in part for the destruction that springs forth from its use, which implies a will beyond that of the mage wielding it.

So I think on one level, Hextech and its intoxicating influence works as a simple and beautiful metaphor for power, exactly the way the One Ring does.

But, because we're in a fantasy world too, there is a deeper implication with both Hextech and the One Ring that arguably inspired it that there is a will at work, and it's a will that is seductive and a will that bends towards destruction.

From the moment people get that shine of Hextech in their eyes, they begin to act differently unless they wrench themselves from its influence. Already unbalanced people, like Powder, fall very quickly and spiral into destructive uses from it almost from the start. Stronger personalities disavow it, like Cait saying that Hextech will keep us alive but it won't save us, only for her to fall prey to its siren call after the attack on the Memorial unbalances her emotions further as well.

The lure of power is particuarly appealing to those who feel they've lost control but there is a sense that Hextech and magic by extension also preys upon those who are attracted to it.

And with the Hexcore representing the Apex form of Hextech, well, let's just say I'm not sure Viktor stood a chance at all, with how much he felt out of control of his own life (for very understandable reasons) and how it took a reaffirmation of connection with others to restabilize him and make him see the damage this pursuit of power had caused.

You know, it's probably ridiculous to assume that Viktor is being somehow mind controlled by the Hexcore in S2 of Arcane. Obviously his actions are entirely his own, right?

After all, mind control plotlines can be a tricky to pull off and when it's employed, creators tend to put a lot of signposts in to let you know what's really happening and how the character isn't themselves anymore.

For example, creators might do things like... having the character's eye color suddenly change, since eyes are the windows to the soul.

Or... creators might indicate that the character's voice has changed somehow, to indicate that another will is acting through them and they're not entirely themselves anymore.

Certainly one really common trope in mind control plotlines is the mind-controlled character is hearing some kind of voice in their head telling them what to do, or seeing someone that isn't there who guides them or controls them.

Certainly in a pinch, if you really want to drive home that a character has been mind controlled and hasn't been themselves, you'd make it pretty obvious by having them be horrified by what they've done once the mind control wears off!

Bonus points if their eyes revert back to their natural color and any other signs of a different voice or appearance go away once the mind control is finally lifted! That way it's definitely clear that they've been set free from whatever influence was upon them.

But seriously, without these sorts of really glaring signposts we can't really be sure if a mind control plotline was intended at all!

(Tongue-in-cheek aside, I actually love the subtlety of how Arcane executed the Hexcorized Viktor plotline, and I love how much ambiguity remains. But for anyone who thinks he was totally in control, I mean, come on guys. When I started going down the list of all the things film and tv usually does to signal a mind control plot I literally burst out laughing when I realized how many of them Arcane had hidden in plain sight.)

[cecilysass]

Beacon (2/6)

Read on AO3 | Tagging @today-in-fic and my poangpal @libbytxf

“And where did you say you saw this?” Scully is distracted, briskly unpacking her suit jackets, quickly pivoting between the suitcase on her bed to the modest closet.

“In the hall,” Mulder says impatiently. “Outside the room, like I said. Come on, Scully,” he urges. “Let’s go sit out there for a while and wait. Let’s see if she comes back.”

Scully gives him a look. “Mulder,” she says, like she’s trying to be patient, “we made an eight hour drive today. It’s seven-thirty, and we haven’t eaten. I propose we find some dinner and get some sleep. Ghosts can wait until morning.”

Mulder resists an urge to groan. “I take it you don’t believe me.”

“That you saw a ghost?” Scully widens her eyes in flat disbelief, folding one of the previously discussed sweaters. “Of course I don’t. I think you probably saw another guest going into her room, and you’re just … overtired from the drive.”

“Overtired? I’m not a five year old, Scully,” Mulder says, irritated. “She spoke directly to me. I very clearly observed her. I know what I saw.”

“She spoke to you?” Scully looks up in mild interest, then begins putting folded items in dresser drawers. “What did she say?”

He gnaws on his lip, feeling strangely self-conscious. “Uh, something about, ‘Come to me… my love,’” he mumbles.

Scully raises her eyebrows in amusement. “Pretty intimate, Mulder,” she says, folding another shirt. “Do you know this ghost?”

“It doesn’t sound like something a random living guest would just … say to a stranger, does it?”

She shrugs with a tiny smile. “Maybe the guest found you attractive. Maybe some nice lady was inviting you into her room.”

He feels the tips of his ears growing very warm, but smiles in an attempt to appear unruffled. “Well, admittedly it’s been a while, but I'm pretty sure you scare people off when you start talking about love right out of the gate.”

She shuts the dresser drawer and turns around to face him, folding her arms. “So is what you saw consistent with what this ghost is said to be like, Mulder? From the reports and the stories?”

He shifts positions uncomfortably. The truth is that he doesn’t know. He is much less informed than usual about the details of this case. He’d seized on this impulsively, based on Scully’s state of mind, and he didn’t take the time to do his normal deep dive into research beyond what was in the file. He didn't really read anything about the history of the inn.

“I’m not sure,” Mulder says. “I’m a little light on details, like I said, until we talk to Duncan.”

She fixes him with a searching look. “All right. Then let’s wait and talk to him,” she says.

Mulder huffs. “May I remind you that what we do know about this case is that people who reported seeing this ghost were dead from heart failure within the week?”

He’d think maybe she would want to check him out as his doctor at the very least—express some concern for his well-being—but she’s not even looking his way now. He feels petulant, even though he knows that Scully simply doesn’t believe in ghosts who can cause hearts to stop. That’s who Scully is.

“Yes, and speaking of, I had a thought about that,” she says, pulling her shoes out of the suitcase. “I was going to take some samples of the piles of renovation materials outside and send them to a lab. I was wondering if maybe some of the building materials being used might be aggravating pre-existing heart conditions in some guests.”

“Really?” Mulder thinks this over. “So… guests stay here, they inhale some dust or something, and it causes a heart attack?”

“Only if they had some unknown underlying cardiac issues already,” Scully says. “So it wouldn’t be that common—it would only affect a select few. This isn’t completely unknown in the literature. It seems like a possibility worth looking into, anyway.”

“Hmm,” agrees Mulder. “Yes. If the timing works out. If the renovations were happening at the same time as the deaths.”

“That’s the kind of thing we’re here to investigate, right?” Scully says with a wry smile. “Why they put the I in FBI and all that?”

She’s moving briskly back and forth from her suitcase, all energy, all purpose. And it hits him: he didn’t notice it before in his excitement over seeing the ghost, but Scully is in a much better mood. She’s practically bustling. A little flirty, a little argumentative, a spring in her step, a theory on the tip of her tongue.

The case has her, he thinks. Being in the field has her. He knew this was a good idea, even if it has already put him in the crosshairs of a murderous ghost.

“The toxic dust wouldn’t explain the ghost sightings,” he points out to her, in part because it’s true and in part because he craves her engagement again.

“No,” she admits, “it wouldn’t. But we’ll have to wait until tomorrow to learn anything else.” She points a firm finger towards him. “No ghost hunting tonight, Mulder.”

“Fine,” he acquiesces, raising his hands in surrender. “Fine.”

He sees her pull what certainly looks like some lacy scraps of underwear out of the suitcase. His eyes track hungrily as she places them in the drawer, and then he quickly looks away so she doesn’t notice him watching.

There is a moment’s pause. He quietly clears his throat.

“What are we doing for dinner?” he asks.

“Banoy said there was pizza delivery.” She looks at him hopefully, shutting the drawer. “Pizza in your room in 30 minutes?”

“It’s a date,” he says lightly. ***

They eat the pizza sitting side by side on his bed, looking out the large window into the black Vermont woods. Lamplight outside bounces off the falling snowflakes, each one flickering and sputtering against the dark canvas of the night. Mulder tells her a ghost story he remembers from the Vineyard, one about a whaling captain’s widow. She listens and rolls her eyes in the right places.

He walks her back to her door—just to be safe. She gives him a strange, bemused look as he does. Maybe because it’s exactly a three step walk.

That night he dreams of Scully with a flashlight in a field on a snowy night, Scully cracking jokes with flushed cheeks in the light of the moon, Scully calling out his name with snowflakes all around her. “Come with me, Mulder. How I miss you.” ***

“So you’re here to learn about our ghost,” Banoy says eagerly, pouring coffee at the stone counter. “All the way from Washington. All the way from the F.B.I..”

In the morning they meet Duncan and Banoy in the inn’s large and airy country kitchen. There is a breakfast nook with a round table and a cushioned bench seat surrounded by windows. Scully gazes admiringly at her surroundings as she sits down. Some of her best memories are of time spent in comfortable, cheerful kitchens like this. She thinks of cooking for the holidays in her grandmother’s large kitchen in California with all her female family members: mother, aunts, grandmother, cousin. Sister.

This kitchen is filled with bright white winter sunshine, the kind of light that has a pure, clear quality, like it was refracted through ice. She glances at Mulder’s face as he slides in next to her on the bench. His expression is serious, and the diffuse light gives him an ethereal look.

“I have lots of questions, as a matter of fact,” Mulder says.

“But we’re actually here to investigate the three deaths,” Scully corrects Banoy, trying to steer the conversation on track. Actual human deaths, not ghost stories. “Three deaths in six months, correct?”

“Yes,” Duncan says sadly, setting a platter of pastry in front of them on the table. “And it’s never happened like this before, has it, Banoy? I can’t understand it. That’s why I called you.”

“Maybe it’s not connected,” Banoy says, setting their coffee down on the table. “I have always said that. Maybe the deaths and the ghost are just a coincidence.”

“I’d like to talk through the deaths,” Scully says. “When did the first—”

“I saw her,” Mulder interrupts her, leaning urgently towards Duncan. “Last night, almost as soon as we arrived. Is that common? Do all guests see her?”

“Saw …?”

“The ghost,” Mulder says eagerly.

Well, Scully thinks with some irritation, there goes our opportunity to cling to the illusion of professionalism.

“Did you?” Duncan says, visibly taken aback.

Banoy smiles sympathetically and leans over to fluff Mulder’s hair. “Oh, you sweet boy.”

Scully frowns, failing to understand this reaction.

“What does that mean?” Mulder says, his eyes darting between the two men, apparently equally bewildered.

“Nobody’s explained about our Hero? Who she visits?”

“No,” Mulder says. “All we know is that she’s allegedly visited some people who later died of cardiac arrest.”

“No, no,” Duncan says, taking off his glasses to wipe them on his shirt. “She has been appearing for years. Decades. Long before the heart failures.”

“Hero is her name?”

“It’s what she called herself,” Duncan says. “Her real name was a mouthful, Sophronia Younge, a daughter of one of the town’s founders. The family built the original house we’re in, although it was expanded in the later nineteenth century to its current size and layout, of course.”

“And Hero has appeared to others?” Mulder asks, a crease deepening between his eyes.

“Well, not just to anyone…” Banoy says, winking at Mulder.

“By legend, she only appears to the lovelorn,” Duncan says. “Only those who hold deep and abiding love, like Hero did in life herself. You’re sure you haven’t heard this? It’s a reasonably famous local story.”

Scully’s gaze had been shifting out the window, to study the bird’s eye view of the town’s streets, but now her head swivels and her eyes lock on Mulder. She finds herself very curious to see his reaction.

“No, I had not,” Mulder says, raising his eyebrows. He straightens his posture in the seat, shifting uncomfortably. “But I’m a single guy, so she’s obviously wrong in this case.”

“Is she?” Banoy says.

“I’ve never heard of her being wrong,” Duncan says, amused.

“It’s not about being single,” Banoy says. “Single people can have longing in their heart. No lucky lady you pine for, Agent Mulder? Or man?”

“Sorry,” Mulder says with a tight smile. “I’m going to prove a pretty disappointing romantic hero.”

He picks up a piece of pastry and shifts his full attention to taking a bite.

Feeling inexplicably discomfited herself, Scully lets her eyes wander back to the window. The town’s streets are visible down the hill, and she can see two children marching down the road, dragging toboggans across the newly fallen snow. She stares at them like they are suddenly very interesting.

She knows Mulder has dated women before, and she even saw him interact once with an old paramour. But it’s hard for her to imagine him pining. It’s hard to imagine him giving that much thought to anything besides work, honestly. She can’t imagine him thinking about anything besides the Truth, besides some esoteric case he’s read about, about some work-related puzzle.

She tries to imagine him sitting at his desk thinking about a romantic partner with those kind of feelings. Or waiting in his apartment, sitting on his couch eager to see someone, eager for someone to come over.

The idea of him wanting someone—of having some walled-up secret desire—well, it unsettles her. It makes her ache to think of it, something so human and vulnerable inside of him that he’s intentionally holding back. Probably it’s because she isn’t used to thinking of him as an ordinary man, she tells herself.

Being so close to the windows gives her a little chill, makes goosebumps rise. She rubs her arms to warm them.

“Of course now you should be careful,” adds Duncan, his tone growing serious. “It used to be that seeing Hero was just fun, just local color. But it’s become so dangerous.”

“How’s your cardiac health, Agent Mulder?” queries Banoy.

“What do you mean?” Scully says, her attention now fully engaged.

“That’s exactly why I called you,” Duncan says. “Because lately people have … perished after seeing her. At least some people.”

“You should tell us all you know,” Scully insists.

“Starting with Hero?”

“Yes,” Scully says, making quick affirmative eye contact with Mulder, who looks stunned. “Starting with Hero.” ***

Her name wasn’t Hero. Her name was Sophronia, from the Greek for wisdom. Her father was a scholar, a classicist like all good 18th century educated men. He must have been some sort of eccentric to end up in Vermont, which was the frontier back then, but he was well-to-do enough to get some land and farm and start the town. At one point, Duncan tells them, their house—this inn—was the biggest, most impressive in the region.

Duncan recounts this with the precision and storytelling flair of an amateur historian, pausing to wipe his glasses with care.

“This is where the story becomes more local legend and less history,” he says. “Sophronia had a lover, a young man. But legend holds that her father disapproved, and so Sophronia had no choice but to meet her lover secretly. When she wrote him letters, she called herself ‘Hero’ and her lover ‘Leander.’ You know. Like the famous lovers in mythology who couldn’t be together.”

“I don’t recall that myth, as a matter of fact,” Scully says. She glances at Mulder, who is not asking the many questions he’d initially claimed to have. He’s listening, but his face is stone.

“Oh, it’s a tragic one,” Banoy says. “The ancient Greek lady Hero lives in a tower on an island, and her beloved Leander swims across the sea at midnight to meet her. She puts a beacon light in the window so he can find his way. But one night the light goes out, poof, and Leander is lost in the stormy sea. Hero is wracked with grief and throws herself out the window to join him in a watery grave soon after.”

“A beacon light,” Mulder says, speaking for the first time in a while. “Like the name of the inn?”

Duncan shrugs with a smile. “The drama of this story has been good business for us,” he says. His expression grows serious. “Until the deaths, that is.”

“So what happened?” Scully wonders. She gestures to the town and snowy Vermont landscape outside the window. “There’s no stormy sea here.”

“Well,” Duncan says, “somehow Sophronia’s father found out about her carrying on with her own personal Leander, and he kicked her out. Sometimes you hear he kicked her out in a snowstorm, but more often, it’s mild weather, which makes more sense given what happens next.”

“Just tell them the story,” Banoy urges with an eyeroll. “You say I’m the dramatic one.”

“The following morning, the two of them are found, Sophronia and her lover—Hero and Leander—drowned in the center of town. Soaking wet and completely dead, caught tragically in one another’s arms.”

“When you tasted the water saturating her dress,” Banoy says theatrically, “it was salty, even though we are seventy miles from the sea.”

There’s a pause, as though Duncan and Banoy are waiting for their tale to be fully appreciated by their audience. Scully clears her throat impatiently.

“A compelling story,” she says, “but what about the ghost?”

“Oh, well, ever since, people have occasionally seen Hero in the inn,” Duncan says. “Sophronia, really, although we always refer to her as Hero. She traditionally appears to people in love, and she speaks to them like they’re her Leander. It was a common ghost story, growing up here in Hellespont. In those days, members of the old family still lived in this house.”

“You’re from Hellespont originally?” Scully asks.

“Yes, I’m a local,” Duncan says. He looks around the kitchen with a look of wonder on his face. “I grew up adoring this house from afar. Used to sit on my bike outside and stare at it as a kid, make up fantasies about it. Eight years ago, Banoy and I were living in California, and I heard this place was up for sale. By that time, I had the money we didn’t have when I was a kid. I couldn’t resist coming back to make it ours.”

“We couldn’t resist,” Banoy adds softly. “A historic inn in Vermont? Please, it’s like living in White Christmas.” He smiles adoringly at Duncan. “With my very own Bing Crosby.”

Duncan smiles back at Banoy and reaches out to take his hand. Scully feels a pang of something that she worries might be envy.

“At first, some members of the Younge family—the descendants—were somewhat … hostile to us moving in,” Duncan says. “You know, years of the original family owning the place… and then a kid from a nobody family and his gay Filipino lover move in to make a bed and breakfast. Not everyone’s favorite thing. But … I think they’ve warmed up to us now. Don’t you, Banoy?”

Banoy smiles thinly and shrugs. Scully makes a mental note to follow up on that—local resentment of current inn owners. “Tell us about the deaths,” she says.

“The first was maybe six months ago,” Duncan says. “Right, Banoy? The beginning of summer. June. That first one was Austin Spantikow, a young man, in his twenties, vacationing with a girl he was looking to impress.”

“They started talking about seeing Hero at breakfast the first day. We teased them about his feelings,” Banoy says regretfully. “We thought it was cute.”

“Two days later we called for an ambulance, but it was too late,” Duncan says. “He was so young. No previously known heart problems. But if it had just been that one incident, we wouldn’t have thought anything about it. We definitely wouldn’t have thought Hero and his death were related.”

“I’m still not sure Hero and the deaths are related,” Banoy sniffs. “I’ve said it a thousand times. The other two people who died didn’t mention seeing her.”

“Mr. Knight, Jim, a guest in his fifties, staying here on a fishing trip to give his wife some space. Elena Denney, thirtysomething, who was talking to someone online the whole time she was here for a girls’ weekend,” Duncan continues. “Both of them dead within a few days – almost exactly the same situation as Mr. Spantikow. No prior heart conditions, found in their beds already unconscious by our staff.”

“Has anyone else mentioned seeing Hero?” Mulder says.

“A local couple, Gary and Pam Kromkowski, stayed here for a romantic night at Halloween,” Duncan says. “They claimed they saw her, too, and they left with no incident. But … Gary proposed that night, and I wondered if saying they saw the ghost just made for a good engagement story.”

Scully nods, making a mental note of that.

“Did any of the victims report seeing anything else unusual? Besides the ghost?” Scully asks. “Anything else that you might say would qualify as a hallucination?”

Duncan and Banoy look at one another, squinting in thought. “No,” Duncan says. “I can’t remember anything like that.”

“Me neither,” Banoy agrees. “And Mr. Knight and Ms. Denny, we don’t know for sure that they saw the ghost.”

Duncan has still been holding Banoy’s hand, and Scully sees him squeeze it. “It’s been upsetting, of course,” he says. “We love this place. We don’t want anything like this associated with it.” Banoy places his hand on Duncan’s forearm comfortingly.

“Please forgive me for asking such a potentially personal question,” Mulder says suddenly, his face very serious, “but have you seen Hero?”

There’s a pause as the two men look at one another again. “No,” Banoy says mournfully. “And we don’t know why.” Duncan shakes his head.

“Maybe she’s homophobic,” Duncan suggests with a shrug.

“Bigoted 18th century bitch,” Banoy adds wryly.

“I have another theory, too,” Duncan says. “I personally believe she doesn’t appear to people who are happily partnered, reciprocally in love. I think she appears to people who are yearning. You know. Looking across the water for the beacon.”

“Unrequited,” Banoy agrees with a judicious nod.

Mulder nods distractedly. Then, unexpectedly, he stands up.

“Mulder…?” Scully begins.

Without warning, he spins on his heel and walks out of the kitchen. Scully and the two men sit behind staring blankly after him.

“Oh no,” Banoy says in a hushed voice. “Did we… strike a nerve?”

Duncan turns to Banoy. “God, what if he had a recent break-up or something?”

“We’re over here practically saying he’s unloved,” Banoy says, shaking his head.

“I apologize.” Duncan turns to Scully. “I sometimes say too much.”

“No, no,” Scully says inadequately, “he doesn’t … no. No recent break-up.”

“He just seemed upset,” Banoy says.

Scully suddenly feels a bubble of frustration well up inside of her. How typical, for Mulder to be upset for reasons she doesn’t entirely understand, by a ghost story, of all things. No doubt there’s more to this story she didn’t know in advance that has caused him only to rush off to some unknown location.

“It’s just how he is,” she explains. “He’s … an unusual man.” Her voice sounds more exasperated than she expects.

“Hmm,” Banoy says, nodding at her appraisingly.

Swallowing back her annoyance, she makes her apologies and goes to search for Mulder.

She can’t think of where he could have possibly gone, and she has a well-earned suspicion he might have gone off investigating on his own, possibly seeking out his precious ghost.

But she rounds the corner from the kitchen to find him standing in the living room, staring at the open door that leads to the staircase, his expression frozen.

“Mulder?” she says.

He doesn’t move or respond, like he’s been hypnotized.

“Mulder.”

He startles, swiveling to face her suddenly. His face is ashen.

“Hey,” she says in concern, walking to his side. “Are you okay? Did you see something?”

He turns to look back at the staircase, and her gaze follows his. There’s absolutely nothing to see. Just empty wooden stairs, old-fashioned wallpaper, a well-worn hand rail. It’s the same staircase they came uneventfully downstairs on this morning.

“What’s wrong with you, Mulder?” she asks him.

He’s still staring at the empty stairs, his face expressionless. “Uh, nothing,” he says. “I thought I saw something. Probably just my mind playing tricks.”

“Something like before? What you thought was ….?”

“Maybe,” he says. He scratches the back of his neck. His eyes and mouth show no sign of his emotion.

Scully peers at the stairs again, seeing nothing but the most commonplace details. “Maybe? You’re not sure?”

“I don’t know,” he says suddenly. “Maybe.” He shrugs violently. “The truth is … having heard what Duncan said, I don’t know about before either. Maybe you were right.”

Scully blinks, somewhat taken aback.

“I guess it is possible … I misunderstood what I saw,” he says, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Maybe I did just see another guest and I somehow just misinterpreted.”

“You misinterpreted,” she repeats incredulously. “You were so confident earlier.”

“Yeah,” he says, looking away awkwardly. “But … well…”

He doesn’t finish, but in a bolt of certainty she realizes what this change of heart is about.

He believes Duncan’s tale. And he really doesn’t like what being able to see Hero’s ghost reveals about him. To him, it uncovers something private. Something he’d preferred others not know, not even his partner.

This idea shocks Scully into complete silence. Her mind races furiously as she tries to process this, the possibility that Mulder actually could be harboring some kind of secret feelings of love. Which would mean Mulder could be actually seeing someone. She remembers in the car earlier when he said he had a hot date for Christmas. She’d taken it as a self-deprecating joke, but why did she assume that? Why wouldn’t he have a hot date for Christmas? He’s single, good-looking, capable of wit and charm.

And apparently … capable of deep and abiding love. According to a ghost, anyway.

Maybe it’s only me who lives outside the boundaries of ordinary human life.

“Anyway,” Mulder says, apparently eager to change the subject. “I was thinking maybe we should do some research this morning, then meet up later and check in. What do you think?”

“Okay,” she says, trying to match his businesslike, conversational tone. “I should go to the medical examiner and check into their records on the victims.”

“Yeah,” agrees Mulder. “I was going to check out the town’s historical archives. See if I can look further into the inn’s history.”

“All right,” she says, falsely cheerful. He still isn’t meeting her eyes. “Should we meet back here for lunch? One?”

“Sure,” he says. “I’m… going to go upstairs and put on a sweater before I go.” His eyes rise to the stairs again, and he looks hesitant.

“Me, too,” she says, after a beat.

He doesn’t respond or look at her, but walks up the stairs decisively. Scully, left standing by herself in the living room, is suddenly aware of being entirely alone.

Maybe that’s what a ghost is, really, she thinks, looking around the inn’s living room lobby slowly. An absence. A form given by our minds, by our subconsciousness, to what is simply a lack of presence. Isn’t that the tragedy of the dead, after all? The negative space left by what we once cherished. It’s the most cruel that nothing can be.

But the dead are not really nothing, she reminds herself. They’re merely unseen. And what’s unseen isn't necessarily what’s unreal. That’s precisely what faith is, belief in the God of things seen and unseen, like the familiar words of the Nicene Creed say. Just because you don’t see someone with your physical eyes doesn’t mean they’re truly gone. Just because you’re looking at a lump of flesh in an autopsy bay doesn’t mean you’re seeing anything real or meaningful about that person.

This has been something she’s been holding on to as of late. Since Melissa, since she came back to the church.

She stands there a moment, hyperaware of absence around her. The dead, the unborn, the lost, the unrealized. In her imagination all of the absence in her life seems to be congealing in the air, growing thick and oppressive, making breathing impossible, choking the life out of her.

She shakes her head, impatient with herself. This is silly. There’s work to do. After a moment she follows Mulder upstairs to get ready to go. ***

[whump-or-whatever]

That awkward moment when someone mentions a show/movie and you’re like “oh yeah I know that” and they ask if you’ve watched it and you just have to say you caught bits and pieces cause how do you explain that you skimmed through a whole movie/every episode of a 6 season long show just to see if the actor you like’s character got whumped at all cause you didn’t actually like the show/movie enough to watch it but there was no whump info online.

[silusvesuius]

g*lmar rly has to be the best skajrim character on the real like even if you don't like him he just is . literally The best one i think......... on dat note i also imagine that he and ulfr*c despite being fairydust BFFs for lyfe genuinely have the worst communication skills ever seen