#crumb if i die is on you

[psychopomparia]

Finally, the Otto Apocolypse-Luocha-Void Archives encounters I've been waiting for

I waited so long for them to remember that Void is still in the game. Welt arrived at the express with a blonde companion (no seriously, where is VA in the game? He gets mentioned early on vaguely and then in the Welt flashbacks. He's even in Welt's splash art)

and then there's these two

I love Otto's narrations here. He's such a guy

TWINS akdlsfjfalsd

[catastrophized]

the fact that past!lavi abandoned his role as bookman’s successor to become nea’s host and decided to protect past!allen’s life when he was too late, which led him to infuse his soul with past!allen inside the helix to save him from apocryphos, thus forming a connection between allen and the next bookman jr. from the get go….

….and current!allen meeting him right when he’s taken the name lavi as his 49th identity and easily changing his worldview enough that he’s begun to question his role, torn between being a bookman and an exorcist, because he can’t remain a neutral bystander with allen right there at the center, feeling so bereft when he was convinced allen was dead, keeping the ace of spades without bookman knowing and fighting tyki to avenge allen likeeeeeeefhakrhdkf

even when they’re two different lavis they end up having the same fate!!!!! tied to allen by love and devotion, roles be damned!!!!!!!

[mari-lair]

close enough, welcome back terukaneaoi!

[deathshallbethelastenemy]

something's made your eyes go cold (6)

TEEN!gojo x FEM!reader but mostly TEEN!geto x FEM!reader (platonic) - soulmate AU

TW⚠️: geto suguru defects soooo be warned, reader is not a sorcerer, geto is beyond mean, angst/hurt, gojo does not show up at the end, friends to enemies, mentions of sex, and loss of virginity off screen (from gojoxreader)

a/n: special chapter for my fav criminal💜 this is not proofread!!!!!

something's gone terribly wrong

Geto Suguru appreciated Satoru's soulmate, besides him, his best friend would have another constant in his life. Someone else who would care for him unconditionally, and just like Suguru vowed to protect Satoru - he vowed to protect her. He was strong after all, and the strong must protect the weak.

When Satoru wasn't there, it was Suguru who would keep her safe from curses; curses that reared their ugly heads when Satoru wasn't around. They were far more daring when she was alone, even if Suguru was with her. He was nowhere near as fearsome as his best friend, but he handled the curses just fine without him.

Let the curses underestimate him, it made them easier to deal with, easier to keep her safe from harm.

If Gojo Satoru was on a mission and Suguru was still in the city, then he would routinely check up on her - Satoru couldn't warp at long distances yet, so if anything happened to her, he would not make it in time, so Suguru took it upon himself to be her protector. She needed it and Satoru needed her, and Suguru cared for them both deeply.

Sept. 19, 2006

' ' it's getting dark and it's all so quiet ' '

A curse tried to latch itself onto her when Satoru was cities away on mission, Suguru exorcised it expertly, with her back turned to him without even realizing she was ever in danger.

A soft smile graced his lips, "Everything alright?"

She jumped at his gentle voice, not realizing he was behind her, "Ah, Geto," she returned his gentle smile, "I didn't see you there. I'm alright, you?"

"I'm doing fine," Suguru looked up at the cloudy sky, "Come on, it looks like it's gonna rain. I'll walk you home."

The walk was full of light and awkward chit chat, despite Suguru's best efforts to be friendly. He supposed he shouldn't be too surprised, they had only met a couple of times; he supposed it would take time for her to warm up to him, at least she wasn't given him the cold shoulder like had been to Satoru. Suguru never put in a good word in for his best friend, he had said awful things about her - Satoru deserved her silent treatment.

Suguru wasn't too worried about it though. They were soulmates and while he didn't understand it, he had always admired it. He was even proud of Satoru for discarding his old and stupid opinions of her and actually putting in work to try and win her over.

"Thank you, Geto," She awkwardly waved goodbye to him when they arrived outside her family's bakery.

Suguru only smiled, "No problem."

He turned to leave and scrunched his nose up the gray sky. He was going to get caught in the rain for sure.

Oh well, "See ya."

Suguru's phone buzzed in his pockets:

Gojo.S: thank you :)

The shops bell chimed, and then, chimes again, and she yelled for him.

Suguru tilted his towards her, half-shocked, she had never called out to him before, but there she was with her hands outstretched towards him - a clear plastic umbrella and a styrofoam to go box.

Suguru gingerly took them from her hands, "Thank you."

Her cheeks were slightly pink when their hands brushed, "It's the least I could do. Thank you again for walking me home."

With that, he left with the protection of the umbrella from the rain and hot pastry warming up his hand.

His phone buzzed again:

Gojo.S: no way, she likes you more than me, right???

Gojo.S: I'll fight you >:( don't think that I won't

Suguru chuckled and rolled his eyes.

Geto.S: guess that means she has better taste than I thought

A flurry of rushed texts blew up his phone - worth it.

Nov. 28, 2006

' ' i thought i had you figured out ' '

A text had woken him up in the morning. Suguru was expecting it to be Satoru, sending him photos of his lastest mission away from Tokyo, but no, it was ______.

____._: sorry to bother you so early in the morning, but do you know what sweets are satoru's favorites and his favorite flavored cake???

____._: he never says he just eats anything sweet

That certainly sounded like Satoru.

Suguru yawned as he typed out:

Geto.S: He's a glutton

Geto.S: I'm sure anything will be fine but he does prefer kikufuku as for the cake - angel cake seems to be the best option

He rubbed his eyes and slid his phone closed, he needed to change into his uniform - wait... no, he needed to shower first.

His phone buzzed in his night stand. He gave it a quick look over, before he ridded himself of his clothes and hopped in the shower:

____._: thank you!!!! I owe you big time :D

____._: you like soba right?? My treat!

Suguru was glad, she felt like she could rely on him. He wanted to be relied on, if she relied on him, the easier it was to keep her safe from anything that tried to grab her in the darkness.

There had been too many close calls and it all reminded him of - No, she was not Riko. Suguru would not make the same mistakes.

When he got out of the shower and changed, he texted her back.

Geto.S: We can go shopping together

Geto.S: Are you free at 4:15?

Thirty minutes later she texted back:

____._: yep, where do you wanna meet?

Geto.S: I'll meet you at your school

Geto.S: We'll leave from there

____._: See you then :D

Suguru was right on time waiting outside of her school gates. He kept his eyes trained on curses energy residuals, and the curse dwelling on at the school - none of them were powerful, none of them posed a real threat to anyone.

Good, he could rest easy for now.

A bag slung around her shoulder, she enthusiastically waved at him as she ran up to him with a bright smile quirking her lips up, "Geto!"

Suguru's smile was as it always was soft, but this time he wasn't tip-toeing around her, afraid he would scare her away.

They were friends.

Of course, he kept things from her like the curses that tried to hurt her, but so did Satoru, but he supposed, Satoru didn't need to - nothing dared to touch her while he was around her. She couldn't even see them, so Suguru didn't feel the need to worry her about it, especially when he would protect her from it. She was already worried about Satoru as it was, no point in adding something else on to the list.

She chewed on her lip, "His mission isn't too dangerous is it?"

Suguru placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, "No, he will be back in two days tops."

Still, she closed her eyes to check on him. He didn't blame her if he had felt Satoru die, he would check on him all the time.

She quickly blushed in embarrassment when she realized Suguru was watching, "I'm not a stalker -"

Suguru laughed.

Her cheeks burned into darker and brighter shade of red, "Don't laugh at me! I'm just -"

"Worried?" He chuckled out, "Come on, worry wart. If I remember correctly you owe me a soba."

Today, a curse user tried to sneak up behind her. To take her or kill her, Suguru didn't know. Not that it mattered, he pummeled him into a bloody pulp and called a window to take him back to jujutsu tech where he would wait trial by the higher ups.

Execution, no doubt. Suguru didn't care that's what the curse user gets for trying to pick on the weak, and on his best friend's soulmate no less. If anything, Suguru considered him lucky - it would've gone worse for him if Satoru had been the one to catch him. Forget about being beatened to a bloody pulp, imagine getting erased with a shot of hollow purple? Very lucky.

"Geto," she called out to him as she showed him a shirt, "what about this one?"

Suguru pocketed his bruised knuckles, "Yeah, he'll like that one."

She cheerfully skipped to the cash register and waited for the man to ring her up.

Suguru's eyes narrowed at the man, he seemed normal, but something was bothering him. Suguru was behind her in a few quick steps, his face seemingly expressionless when he took the bag from the clerks hand, before she could even raise her hand to grab it for herself.

The clerk waved them off as both teenagers said thank you, but Suguru lagged slightly behind her with his hand on the small of her back, keeping his senses trained on the clerk until they were at a safe distance, but then he saw a woman standing ominously a little ways away from them. A glance behind him and he saw the store clerk - shit. This was fine, nothing he couldn't handle, but his friend would no longer be blissfully ignorant about the dangers that were lurking around her.

"Yo!"

Suguru's shoulders visibly relaxed. The grip on her waist loosened as he waved at Gojo Satoru. The girl's smile widened into something more joyful as she wrapped her arms around Satoru's torso, pulling him into a warm hug.

Satoru rested his head on top of hers as he always did now and only kept one arm around her, but still hugged her close to his chest.

"You're back early," Suguru raised his fist and Satoru fist bumped him in greeting.

Satoru grinned, "It was easy peasy."

She peered her head up from his chest with the warmest smile, "So you're not hurt?"

"Nah," Satoru placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, "nothing can touch me."

But Suguru was the flicker in his best friend's eyes, not much concern for himself, but for her, and Suguru knew why Satoru had come back early and why he had no doubt finished his mission as quickly as possible; Satoru had seen the store clerk for what he truly was through her eyes.

Suguru remembered the time, he had asked Satoru, if closing his eyes would leave him vulnerable. Satoru had smirked and smugly said:

"Nope, my six eyes work just fine. It just takes a little more focus."

Satoru's smugness was all Suguru needed to know that it took no effort at all to do what he does when he looks through her eyes, especially when he does it constantly.

Suguru casted his gaze back in front of him, the woman was gone and he could no longer sense the store clerk.

Of course, they were gone. One thing was fighting Geto Suguru, it was another fighting Gojo Satoru.

She tip-toed and kissed Satoru's cheek.

Suguru smirked, "I thought you two weren't dating?"

She turned pink, "We're not."

"Yet," Satoru added with a smug smile.

After they dropped her off home and Satoru begrudgingly let her go, (Suguru didn't know why he was pouting so much seeing as he was most likely going to see her tonight) Satoru pout widened into a grin.

"I have a plan."

Suguru let out a hearty laugh when he explained what his plan was - Operation: Love Quest.

Oh, he couldn't wait to tell Shoko.

Feb. 12, 2007

' ' i have known it all this time ' '

Valentine's Day was approaching and Suguru was now a victim of Satoru's incessant shopping sprees. Nothing was too much for his soulmate, he needed to get her everything.

Flowers (she liked pink peonies the most, Suguru learned recently), chocolates, sweets, dresses, jewelry, more sweets, and god knew what else.

"You've gotten her enough," Suguru yawned sleepily, "don't you think?"

Satoru was looking at a simple princess cut diamond ring, scratching his head.

Suguru playfully shoved him, "And it's a little too soon for an engagement ring."

Satoru tilted his head toward him with a frown and was slightly offended, "I would never get her a 0.10 carat diamond for an engagement ring," he grumbled, "It's far too small."

Suguru leaned against the glass counter, "I get this is your Valentine's with her, but you're over doing it just get her something you know she'll like."

"What type of girl doesn't like diamonds?"

"The type that'll feel bad when you get her a mountain of presents, when she only got you like three." Suguru said, "Not everyone has generational wealth to sustain them."

Satoru's pointed look softened as he smiled widely, "She got me three?"

Shit, Suguru wasn't supposed to tell him, "Yes, and I'm not telling you more."

"That must mean she really likes me, huh," Satoru's eyes glittered brighter than any precious stone in the store, "as the best boyfriend ever I have to at least get her twice as that."

"You already have." Suguru sighed, "Triple, I'd say."

Satoru ignored him, "Yo, sir! Sir! Sir!" He tapped the glass annoyingly, "That one!"

The jeweler smiled, "What size?"

"Shit, I don't know her ring size."

Satoru turned Suguru and before he could say anything, Suguru had slid his phone open and called her.

She answered at the second ring, "What's up?"

"You free right now?"

"Yeah."

Satoru started whispering, "Don't tell her to meet you here."

Suguru pushed his face away from his and gave her a meeting time.

The jeweler gave him a ring size measurer and with that Suguru left to meet her.

When she wasn't looking he would look at her fingers and take out the measure trying to gauge which size it was after careful deliberation, be concluded a size 5.

After an hour or so, she had to leave - something about an essay and homework she had to work on before Valentine's Day.

Suguru sent one of his curses with her to make sure she got home safe.

Satoru berated him when he got back, "What size?"

"Five," Suguru handed the measure back to the jeweler.

"That one," Satoru grinned out and then dragged Suguru to another shop.

It was going to be a long day of shopping again.

Apr. 4, 2007

' ' oh, holding my breath ' '

Shoko had stolen ______ for the day, claiming she needed a break from Satoru.

"You're beyond clingy," Shoko said, "Don't want her breaking up with you because you never gave her space right?"

Satoru's eyes widened, "Did she tell you that?"

Shoko being Shoko, said, "Maybe."

So there Satoru was fighting the urge to call or text his soulmate.

"Shoko was lying, right?" He asked Suguru, "Ain't no way, she wants to break up with me, right?"

Suguru drank his hot tea, "I'm sure she was just joking."

Or maybe she wasn't, but Suguru didn't want to tell Satoru what ______ had told him in private.

It wasn't that she didn't like him anymore, it was the incessant thoughts in her mind. Thoughts she couldn't push away any longer and as much as she cared for Satoru, he would never understand. Suguru would do though, he always understood.

She had been nervous at first, texting him to meet with him privately at a cafe without Satoru knowing, he was out on a mission anyway, he was focusing his six eyes on finding the curse, instead of closing his eyes to see where she was, but in the end, she faced up, after Suguru coaxed it out of her with soft smiles and a promise not to laugh.

"You have to promise again, not to laugh," She said.

He wanted to laugh now, but he knew she would shut down if he did, "I promised already."

"Again."

"Alright," pressed his lips together to keep himself from chuckling, "I promise, will you tell me now?"

She wondered a lot about how she should phrase it. Worthy? Good enough? Holding him back? Which word encapsulated what she felt when she saw a curse through Satoru's eyes, but could never see them on her own.

Worthless was the word she was looking for, she realized that a few weeks ago.

She bit the inside of her cheek, Suguru would for sure tell Satoru, if she started the conversation like this, so instead, she said, "It's not a problem, is it that I'm not a sorcerer," she played with the straw in her drink, "or that I can't see curses - I mean -"

Suguru stopped her before she could get in any farther, "Satoru was an idiot when he said that." Suguru smiled in the way that made everyone feel accepted, "He never meant any of that."

Yes, he did. At the time they both knew that he did, but she didn't say anything.

"Things are different now," Suguru scooted his chair closer to hers, "Satoru cares about you a lot, I know he does." He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder and rubbed soothing circles on her, "He'd throttle even me if it meant to keep you safe."

And Suguru was proud of him. His best friend was finally turning into the person he knew he could become - he was still annoying and arrogant, but he was no longer cruel and dismissive of others.

She let out a laugh, "I don't think he would go that far."

"I do," Suguru said firmly. "A lot of people can't see curses or jujutsu, it's not something to be ashamed of and Satoru has enough cursed energy and strength for the both of you."

She shook her head, "And when he's not here?" She looked at Suguru, "What then? I'm not stupid, you know, I may not be able to see curses, but I know whenever Satoru shows up randomly or when you show up to walk me all the way home - It's for a reason." She crossed her arms, "Shoko does it too, but she has a better poker face."

Suguru should've known that she knew. It had been months, it would've been odd if she hadn't noticed their overprotectiveness from even Shoko.

"You're our friend, ______," Suguru said, "we just want to make sure you're safe."

"I know. It's just -" She let out a long breath.

"Frustrating?"

She nodded, and then a bashful look, "Promise, you won't tell Satoru?"

Suguru smiled again, "I promise, but I do think you should talk about it with him." He drank some of his tea, "I'm sure he'll listen if it's coming from you."

But until then, Suguru was there to listen. Sometimes all someone needed was a friend.

Satoru's voice brought him back to the present, "She hasn't said anything to you right?"

Suguru rolled his eyes at him, "She's not going to break up with you."

"Did she tell you that?"

"Satoru," Suguru warned, "she's probably just stressed. Exams are coming up, aren't they?"

Satoru nodded, "Yeah..." He pulled out his phone from pocket and flipped it open as a smile graced his lips, "I'll help her study after she's done hanging out with that traitor that should relieve some of her stress."

Suguru doubted that would help since exams weren't what was plaguing her mind, but other more complicated things. If it got too far, he would tell Satoru. He might get punched in the face or a reversal Red shot at him, but it would be for the best.

Jul. 24, 2007

' ' something keeps me holding on to nothing ' '

Satoru had punched him in the face when Suguru told him. All this time Suguru knew why she was acting weird, he had known for months and he hadn't told him. It would've been different if she had told Shoko and Shoko didn't tell him, but Suguru? Suguru who was always supposed to have his back - it was betrayal.

Satoru put up two fingers and almost chanted: Curse Technique Reversal: Red, but stopped himself.

"Is she still talking to you about it?" He gritted out.

"No," Suguru rubbed his swollen cheek, "she wanted to tell you herself, but I think she's scared to bring it up."

Scared? Why would she be scared of bringing something like this up to Satoru? He was her boyfriend, her soulmate - she shouldn't have, had to feel scared to tell him anything. He would have listened, he promised to himself that night when he was all bloody that he would.

"I promised I wouldn't say anything," Suguru said, "but you two do need to talk about it."

Satoru ran his hand through his soft white hair and closed his eyes. He frowned when he saw her writing an essay down on a piece of paper - she was home.

Suguru spoke up again, "Do you want to hit me again?"

Satoru sighed and opened his eyes to look at his best friend, "No," he fixed his glasses, "just don't keep something that important from me again."

Satoru warped away, no doubt to talk to his soulmate. Suguru only hoped he had told him in time, before more damage could be done for his friends.

It was night when Yaga had knocked on Suguru's door.

"Where's Satoru?" Yaga gruffed out, "He hasn't been here all day."

Suguru always covered for him and he wasn't going to stop now, "He went for some sweets, you know how he gets."

Yaga shook his head, not believing a word that came out of Suguru's mouth, but he left anyway.

Suguru looked at his phone and thought about calling Satoru, but shook his head. He probably wasn't coming back til later, so Suguru fell asleep instead.

He woke up at noon with a grinning Satoru at the foot of his bed instead.

Suguru blinked as he assessed him, at least he didn't look heartbroken, instead overjoyed and a little smug. Satoru's snowy white hair was a mess as if someone had raked their hands through it roughly, his glasses were askew, and his lips were swollen and smudged with pink lip gloss smearing across cheek to his neck as his neck had deep red and purple marks that shaped into a heart, and his clothes looked a mess.

Suguru chuckled, "I take it things went well?"

"She said she loves me," Satoru squeaked out in glee.

Suguru pulled his long black hair back, "And?"

Satoru's grin had softened, yet it stayed plastered on his face, "I said I love her too."

Suguru pointed at hickeys that shaped into a heart, "That's all?"

"We had sex," then, Satoru playfully shook his head and sang lowly, "No, we made love."

Suguru almost vomited at that, "Go take a shower lover boy."

Satoru walked backwards as he skipped happily into his dorm room and yelled, "I am a lover boy!"

Sept. 2007

' ' come on, don't leave me like this ' '

She had just finished mopping the bakery's floor when Suguru came in, his long hair was down with only a small bun tying some of the more unruly parts of his hair.

She waved at him, "What's up, Geto?"

His smile wavered when he saw her like this was the first time he had seen her.

"Is something wrong, Geto?"

"Yes actually," Suguru frowned, "I want to talk to you."

She dropped the mop in the bucket and wiped her hands on her apron, "What is it? What happened?"

Maybe, she should text Satoru - No, he was there for her a couple of months ago, she should be here for him now.

"I think you were right before," Suguru pocketed his hands, "about it being a problem - you not being a sorcerer."

"What are you saying?"

Suguru ignored her, "I think you weren't saying the right words before," his eyes told and black, "instead of a problem, I think you meant a pest, a worthless one."

Her eyes widened, "Geto -"

Suguru's eyes hardened into a glare, "Don't interrupt me," he paused for a second like he was about to add something else, but stopped himself, before continuing, "all this time you were worrying that you were holding Satoru back, you were right."

Tears welled in her eyes, "I told you all of that in confidence." She flinched back when Suguru took a step toward her, "You're my friend."

"I was never really your friend," Suguru spat out, "I realized that I only ever really tolerated you for Satoru."

"Stop," she whispered putting her hands up as if she could stop his words from reaching her, "just stop it. Satoru and I talked about this already - he loves me."

She blinked her tears away. If this is how Suguru truly felt, then he wasn't allowed to see her vulnerable, only Satoru and people she trusted were allowed to.

Suguru stalked up to her, until she was backed up against a wall. She quickly flinched to the side when Suguru's hand shot up to the empty space behind her and for a second, she heard something squirming and writhing in his hand.

Suguru gave her one last cold look before purple blood splattered on the walls, "This is the last time I save you, ______."

' ' i can't turn back now, i'm haunted ' '

Gojo: You really hurt her feelings and she's been crying non-stop -

Geto: Womp-Womp

Gojo: Did you just FUCKING say womp-womp?!

@phoenix666stuff @96jnie @mr-underhills-things @whatamidoing @wbad-world @ancientimes @whippedbyikemen @sammyiguess (can't find you sorry) @pumpkindudeishere @witchofthecoffee @arminswifee (another one that cannot be tagged sorry) @weebotaku21 (another one I do not understand why) @nevermoresworld @jjk97091 (cannot tag you sorry) @toshirolovebot @marblesphere @sabo-has-my-heart @laurenzitaa

[psychologicalwarclaire]

10 for Rise. Gimme warcrimes duo >:]

Donnie didn't realize just how much Witchtown hated him until he wound up in front of the majority of the town at Hidden City court.

Witches of all kinds shouted over each other, listing crimes that Donnie most definitely had NOT committed.

"--trampled my mushrooms!"

"--released the kraken into our town fountain!"

"--totally demolished my self esteem!"

"--ATE MY CAT!!!"

"-- and destroyed the statue of our great founder!"

Okay that one he actually had done. In his defense, he hadn't meant to blast it with his tech bo. Defense, however, was something he was missing.

He glanced over at the judge. "I don't know how Hidden City trials work but isn't there supposed to be someone on my side? I mean, ahem, with my superb knowledge of everything I could absolutely provide my own defense but, uhm..." I don't really want to do this all on my own, he finished in his head.

All of Donnie's knowledge of courtroom proceedings came from a show he and Raph used to watch together. Raph loved watching the good guys solve crimes and fight bad guys. Donnie loved the mysteries and collection of evidence. Neither of them found the legal stuff super interesting, so they'd discussed the real life logistics of the crime (whether Donnie could commit it, whether Raph could catch him, and how they'd avoid getting caught) during those scenes. Donnie wished he'd payed more attention.

The doors flew open with a BANG.

"PURPLE TURTLE!" Casey Jones yelled. "I AM HERE TO PROVE YOUR INNOCENCE!"

Donnie blinked.

The jury all looked at each other like she'd made a brilliant point, muttering and nodding along.

The judge stroked his beard. "Good entrance. One point to the defense."

There were very few times that Donnie didn't have at least SOME idea of what was happening. Now was, unfortunately, one of those times.

Casey seemed to appear right next to him. "SO! Got yourself in trouble with Witchtown, eh?"

Flustered, Donnie could only think to say, "I didn't do it! Their accusations are entirely--"

"HEY! That's MY job!" She cleared her throat. "As I was saying, Witchtown is tough, but I'm tougher! You're lucky I took this case, otherwise you would already be rotting in Hidden City prison."

"I-- Casey why are you a lawyer in the Hidden City?" Things were spiraling entirely out of control.

Casey grinned her insane grin. "I love yelling, fighting, arguing, squabbling, debating, etc. Passing the exam was super easy, too! The laws here aren't any more complicated than the Foot Clan laws. You know, normally I'm on the offensive. But I am Hamato Clan now! I WILL NOT BETRAY MY CLAN!"

Donnie couldn't help but be impressed. "Huh. What a strangely fitting career choice for you."

"INDEED! And the lawyer to politician pipeline is extremely fast. I shall build my way up to becoming a mayor, senator, and eventually I shall be the PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES! Junior has already signed on to be my vice president. Our slogan is either going to be: 'Jones and Jones: we'll feast on your bones' OR 'Vote Jones squared and your lives will be spared'. Catchy right?"

Donnie's mind was already buzzing with how his Genius Built brand could be expanded by personally knowing the president. "Casey," he said, putting a hand on her shoulder, "I will personally help fund your presidential campaign."

"Excellent! Now, we are in the middle of court so we can discuss that later."

"Oh yeah." Donnie had actually forgotten that he was literally on trial. Casey has the effect of being extremely distracting. "I need to tell you my alibi and--"

"Pffft, no need. What kind of court do you think this is?" Casey cracked her neck, and stretched her arms above her head.

The judge banged his gavel, which sent a shockwave across the room. The ground rumbled and the seats all slid back to open up a wide space in front of the stand. "We are now in session. Let prosecutor Gilby Gilbert of Witchtown and defendant Casey Jones of the Hamato Clan enter the ring."

The what?!

Gilby Gilbert, whom Donnie vaguely recognized from the Witchtown episode leapt into the ring. "That turtle is GUILTY!"

With a running leap, Casey Jones flipped into the ring and kicked him squarely in the chest. "Mr Hamato is more innocent than you and your corrupted, black market, embezzling town will ever be!"

The jury gasped.

"Flair, solid hit, AND a plot twist! Three more points to the defense!" the judge ruled.

Donnie was now very glad he had not been the one to plead (punch?) his own case.

"Turtle boy is against everything we stand for!" Gilby choked from inside a headlock.

"Since your treasury records show illegal trade with criminals AND many Witchtown officials who have been pocketing those funds, I'd say it's a good thing that Mr Hamato stands against you, you LOWLIFE!" Casey released the headlock, only to kick her opponent to the ground and curb stomp him.

Donnie was no longer worried.

In fact, as he watched Casey continue to kick Gilby (who had curled into a ball), he actually smiled. Perhaps the answer to science vs magic was brute force.

He had decided that when this trial was over and he and Casey had officially won, he was going to make her a fashionable Genius Built lawyer suit. He'd make it easily torn away to give her more points in style.

It was the least he could do.

[fumifooms]

Guys I’m seeing marchil stonks going up in real time apparently episode 5 really spread the good word omg. I’m so happy

I was just gonna say that but then I figured I might as well put all the interactions I found fun on here. They are such a package deal. I’ve said it once I’ll say it again but, coworkers like traumabonded kittens you should not separate bc it’s them against the horrors of the rest of the workplace

Him: "I can’t stand her ass" Them 3 mins later, sitting together at lunch and kicking their feetsies like besties

Sharing the mural just as a reminder. So chill and normal about this. Also pic below is under cut bc I knoooow he’s looking at Falin, but for a sec imagine that it’s him staring at her, that is all thank u

[stephofromcabin12]

God I love hapless confused but trying toddler dad Dionysus

Me reading pjo for the first time and getting pulled out of burnout by a deadbeat (but kinda not really) dad and his quiet love for his sons:

[lab-gr0wn-lambs]

The walking dead managed to get me so invested in hetero couples it's not even funny. I love these freaks.

[rick-ety]

I can no longer take it

I must give your Narrator cake

There is no other possible way to express my love (platonically) for that man without giving him my favorite food

he doesn’t even have to eat it or take it this is just showing how much I care for him

He loves cake,,

He is also refusing to acknowledge the compliment as he might. combust into a blushing mess at this point from all of the praise from everyone lol

BUT RAAHH IM GLAD PEOPLE LIKE HIM!!! MY OLD MAN,,, OF COURSE HE’LL TAKE THE CAKE DONT WORRY!!!!!

[an-au-blog]

I wanna consume Shanks x Buggy like a Shakespearean tragedy. I want it like a Jane Austen slow-ass period drama with nothing but hints. No actual communication, just odd looks exchanged from across the room and by the time one of them reaches where the other was, there's no trace of them.

I want it in the way that I want my doomed-by-the-narrative tropes: burning me alive on the inside. I want it to keep me awake at night because my eyes are too swollen from crying.

I want Buggy in constant inner struggles and no will to live other than spite and Shanks fighting tooth and nail even though he knows his efforts are Sisyphean.

[tokyosgroeningverseblog]

I genuinely feel bad sometimes cuz a lot of my followers ship Freela and I feel like I’m gonna disappoint them cuz I kinda hate it

[coruscantrhapsody]

“She was my main character.” -Iain McCaig // Padme snippet from The Art of Star Wars: the High Republic

[thelesbiandeli]

Screaming and kicking over the fact that Hatchet Town is used as a leitmotif any time Max kills simeone, and is heavily utilized in the song NPMD, especially right before the famous “who will pray for me” bit.

YEAH YEAH YEAH oh my god I love music stuff so muchhhhh. I go insane whenever someone points out even the tiniest musical detail to me, but it’s so annoying that I can’t find them myself T-T my brain doesn’t work with analysing music without help, so I will eat up every music morsel that I am handed with great gratitude. (I think I would spontaneously combust if I touched an instrument lmao)

[wraithofmorhogg]

Finally... representation of what the scarf scene felt like...

[gvardi-l]

bladie being a nice quiet boy 👍️

[okalanissolis]

⌖ ๋࣭ ⭑♚₊🗡 ๋࣭ ꜱᴇᴇ ɪꜰ ɪ ꜱᴛɪʟʟ ᴇxɪꜱᴛ

ᴀ ᴄᴇʟᴇꜱᴛɪᴀʟ ᴍᴀꜰɪᴀ ᴀ.ᴜ.

⌖ ๋࣭ ⭑♚₊🗡 ๋࣭ ᴏɴʟʏ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴋɪɴɢ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ ๋࣭🗡₊♚⭑ ๋࣭⌖

ʙᴇꜰᴏʀᴇ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴘᴀꜱᴛ ɪꜱ ᴄᴏɴꜱɪᴅᴇʀᴇᴅ ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜꜱ . . .

pt. ii | | series masterlist

focus on: muni sarang (diane meunier), choi san, & song deokhee word count: ~4.6k warnings: language, intermittent Lore Dumping™, mentions of violence, occasional graphic imagery, mentions of semi-main character death, Even More Gods Are Introduced and i think that is lovely

ᴛᴄᴅᴜ (ᴛᴏᴏ ᴄᴏɴᴠᴏʟᴜᴛᴇᴅ, ᴅɪᴅɴ'ᴛ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀꜱᴛᴀɴᴅ) ɪꜱ ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇᴅ ᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴅ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ !

⌖ ๋࣭ ⭑♚₊🗡 ๋࣭

lilo's mic: still knee deep in history but with more character introductions! i think at some point i might do a character recap page where i can offer some quick stats about the character's strengths and role, but idk if it would be helpful or just another way that i Procrastinate™ — let me know your thoughts !

⌖ ๋࣭ ⭑♚₊🗡 ๋࣭

⌜ my girl pinched my hips to see if i still exist / i think not ⌟

ꜱᴇᴇ ɪꜰ ɪ ꜱᴛɪʟʟ ᴇxɪꜱᴛ ๋࣭🗡₊♚⭑ ๋࣭⌖

— ʜᴀᴇᴍᴏ ᴘᴏʀᴛ was the main harbour of hoku city. home to the oldest and most robust working port on the island, the leeward side of the city was often referred to as haemopu side — an amalgamation of the names ʜᴀᴇᴍᴏꜱᴜ, the god of light and namesake of haemo port; and ᴋᴀᴘᴜ: sacred, taboo, forbidden. it was an unspoken rule that the shadows that danced on haemopu side were all puppets of that power known as serpens, and if you saw their strings or witnessed their plays, you would keep quiet, or your days were numbered — your gift from samgong through.

— still, haemo port was vast and wide, and business had to keep. it wasn't particularly bad luck to be a shop stationed near haemo port: there was so much foot traffic there, so many lives crossing back and forth, still hungry to survive; the best of money could be found for those who dared haemopu and kept their sight where it belonged — out of their eyes and in the open hands of hoku — or so the urban prayer went.

to the untrained eye, haemo port and ʜᴀᴇꜱᴜ ꜱᴛʀᴇᴇᴛ (the road that led to the devouring mouth of it) were the same as any other harbour on the island: only slightly more complicated than the sum of their intricately stacked, labyrinthine parts; bathed in light by enormous streetlamps so that when the sun went down, the majesty of ʀᴀᴋᴇᴛᴜ, night, couldn't be the refuge with which spirits attempted to thwart demons. but the fangs of some serpents still found their venomous purchase, and the storefronts along haesu street were often just that — fronts. legitimate stores, but facades for things still sinister, sliding their way through the waters, encircling your world, whole.

— on the furthest place inland haesu street ever went, there was an old business complex that had stood so long the original signage was lost and along with it, the precedent name. haemo complex, haesu park, haemo plaza, haemopu ether — old things have many names, and in legend, the many named becomes gods. inside the six story building, shops and establishments checked in and out like aimless souls in a graveyard: some lingered, some faded, some lasted the test of time.

on the first floor of haesu complex stood a taekwondo studio.

next to it, an indoor shooting range.

— we start this story with the taekwondo studio — the dojang, where mountains go to be edified and pupils to be fortified. eventually, we will open the door to see what is made with bullets and loose gunpowder, but for now, we take an abrupt turn right, through the third set of doors on the ground floor.

ᴄʜᴏɪ ᴊᴇᴏɴɢᴄʜᴇᴏʟ, father of one, was the owner of the modest studio: a stern man with a compassionate underbelly, a fourth dan black belt and the first sabeom — teacher — to enter the business complex. in the early days, when he was newly teaching and the world was more cruel and wanton than it ought, he orchestrated and ran illegal fights in the backmost part of his dojang. necessity begged it; life forced his unwavering hand. he'd never been proud, but he stood in his choices steadfast, and if you only saw the whole of him from an angle upturned and below, it seemed the might of him was his honor, unmarred.

dealing in entertainment and prestige, jeongcheol made ends meet in the evening to bring necessities and opportunity to his wife and newborn son at dawn, and by noon, instill dreams in the children that called him sabeom, center of their budding confidence.

when the serpens found out about his midnight habits, they paid a prompt price for front row tickets. by the end of the evening, jeongcheol's rental payments were moved to an account more reliable, and his small family moved out of the back office space and into one of the apartments that sat on the fifth and sixth floors. in exchange, the fights would persist on a grander scale at a more regular schedule ad infinitum, and the serpens would get their due cut.

jeongcheol always knew that this favor would amount to more debt, in the future, but for the security he was promised, in this blood oath? for the advantage and chance he could bestow upon his son? if it were shortsighted and misguided — this business deal with the serpent of the sky — then forgive him, but omniscience was simply the name of his city, not the power in his mind.

— and as san, his darling boy, grew from jeja to seonbae and in the course of time, sabeom all his own — a 3rd dan black belt and the pride of jeongcheol's world — the price of a demon's mercy became ever clearer, crystalizing into the certainty of future: law.

— it was in that very dojang, after all, that jeongcheol added to his myriad of students two young girls: diane and soyeon, dawn and dusk. jeja diane, a student named wisdom, took early to sparring with san, never minding that the younger always won, ever scheming to learn from a protégé's skill.

when san was chosen to be the demon heir's protector, it wasn't a matter of surprise or honor, simply that of providence.

and san was dignified by it, at any rate.

— only ever envisioning an inherited taekwondo studio for himself, a modest future but fulfilling dream, san's world expanded at the hands of diane — and his dojang, while still being the center of all his tethered existence, was a future now shared. ʏᴇᴏꜱᴀɴɢ, a pupil and friend, would aid him in handling the fights in the backmost part all of his father's hope and shame, an eternal rite, the sisyphean promise the choi family would never complete.

— jeongcheol had slowly backed away from the uglier side of his business as he aged into complacency and fatigue, and san had taken up the mantle in his place. now, sin would beget sin and shackled to the serpens would be yet another soul.

yeo was clear that he didn't mind.

already one foot into corruption, what was one more leg?

— he'd been cleaning up bruises from betting fights and broken limbs from shadow duels for years. he'd sewn flesh together the way others might knit tenderness and virtue, goodness and love.

every dojang needed it's medic. and every medic needed his charge.

— this was merit enough, for the both of them. respect for san in being trusted with something on which the whole of the underworld revolved; prestige for yeosang in the power inherent of a ruling head of a domain long standing, and in it's ancience, revered.

and watching them both, once the hand that led them deep into the mouth of something ravenous, still, stood choi jeongcheol, left wondering when security was no longer security — a promise no longer words of honor.

ꜱᴇᴇ ɪꜰ ɪ ꜱᴛɪʟʟ ᴇxɪꜱᴛ ๋࣭🗡₊♚⭑ ๋࣭⌖ ᴄᴏɴᴛ.

— diane had asked him to disappear, again.

— it was never an explicit demand, not since the first time, when she'd been following the tail of a banker and realized it would be so much easier to approach him if she were just a woman and not a daughter, held.

the nameless banker had decided he no longer wished to be a pigeon fed from an opened hand but a raven shot out of the sky, the shiny things he stole slipping from his traitor beak and landing back into the hand of the power that wielded the shotgun evermore.

— "you're intimidating, san." and it hadn't been her words or the command in her eye so much as it was a shift in her being — sarang to diane, veracity to something mutable and ever brewing. "i need to ensnare him..."

and he'd slipped away, taken her half-cue and was already gone.

— if the demon of hoku knew how often diane asked him to slip away, san was sure the mythic ernest would be none too pleased. it takes half a second for malignance to seize you in hoku city, and only a fraction of that if you're particularly inclined. of course, san was never far, and sarang more competent than what the wills of well meaning fathers offered her, but it would be more than just san's immortal soul on the line if something befell her and he were at all still breathing.

but it was always sarang's eyes that sought for the mercy of him, in the hairbreadth turn of her infinitesimal micro-expression, the graceful warp into something so unseen it were all but hidden to eyes that were any less devoted than his. and it was never a question because she would never need to ask; he'd learned to read the depths of her during sparring sessions in a dojang made of his youth and all his tomorrow. once, he'd crafted alongside her the armor that was so much a second skin, there were barely any joints or seams that one could rub the pad of their thumb along.

he'd seen her, then, and so he always knew.

— and that's how he found himself here, again. vanished from a spot he said he'd always defend: dematerialized, because bang chan had come to call.

— or so diane let the boy think. she'd found chan first, weeks before this encounter he'd name 'chance' or 'fate'. it had been simple to learn his routine and easier to insert herself in it. a coffee shop he always walked past. her new favorite window seat. a position so comfortable it looked as though it had always been.

and so they talked; this woman neither diane nor sarang, crafting a life by degrees of admission, chan warming to the gentle flame of her lies so that eventually, perhaps, knowledge of him would melt, secrets in him slip between them, in this place behind glass, warm between cups of untouched coffee.

not even san would hear the things chan would reveal in his adventurous, half-flirtatious speech. the thought often made the black belt's heart skid — his resolve stutter — but the bulk of him never wavered. he was a mountain and summits never crumbled; their might certainly never moved.

and that simple conflict of interest was something his friends never failed to entertain, and in mocking, enjoy.

— ᴅᴇᴏᴋʜᴇᴇ, twin sister of ᴡᴏᴏʏᴏᴜɴɢ and the one-minute younger half of their expert gunman team, was the one to first discover san's internal battle, having joked about his affection for diane from his sabeom days at the dojang. first, a true baseless joke, then overtime, a comfortable uncomfortability for san as it grew in truth and size.

san and his diane; no one loved their work the way san did; if san could marry duty he would.

— if he wasn't always looking at deokhee down the barrel of her sniper rifle, he just might knock some humility into her near prophetic teasing and her twin's identical shit eating grin.

but what was he to do when she was, in part, always right?

— sarang laughed at something chan said, and diane reached out to touch his shoulder with the soft of her hand. san turned his gaze, somehow half guilty, and that's when he saw the ephemera of a shadow he should not have.

what was kim hongjoong doing all the way here?

— first order of business would be to pull sarang from the place at which she stood. second would be to see just who the informant whisperer was that hongjoong strove to meet. third would be to evaluate just where that placed this puppet-master of secrets in the ever turbulent waters of organization and fealty — obeisance and axis.

— san was standing in front of her in the coffee shop before the shadow had ever truly dissipated — before any of the prior thoughts had fully formed in his mind.

sarang was good at smoothing her own confusion and concern, and playing the part of the innocent and sheltered. she huffed a convincing sigh and muttered something about a father that, overprotective, cut her time with this young officer short, and san caught the thrown word of 'cousin' like a fire-hot, thousand pound and ever-burning coal.

so that's how she'd explained his presence to chan.

— when she knew she'd almost been caught in the act by hongjoong, sarang swore.

— ʜᴏɴɢᴊᴏᴏɴɢ was a member of the serpens syndicate, and had, since the death of byeonghwa, been the watchful eye that extended past the confines of hoku city. loyal to the demon — a horkos made potent in the poignance of a blood debt — hongjoong was trusted... so far as anyone could be reliable, in this city that ate you whole, in these times that twisted the sinew of your very heart. at any rate, he was an informant of ernest, and while not one nearly as volatile as soyeon, still convoluted in intent.

he would be interested — perhaps even moreso curious than san, who daily burned all of his inquisition and steadfast resolve near through — as to what the demon heir was doing out here, in the pristine half of hoku city, talking with an officer that would just as soon as imprison her, if he knew even a fraction of the atrocities and moral impurities she ordered and aided, abetted and carried out.

— of course, even if hongjoong were to ask, sarang would never tell.

— not even with san, himself, did sarang reveal her true intentions in this business involving newly minted officer bang chan, a rookie at some few years post-graduation, an acquaintance turned friend from their first windfall encounter. not even with san, who knew the verity of sarang and had cherished her humanity from it's first appearance, did she let any information slip, a single hint pass.

he'd look into her eyes and unexpectedly, a wall was there — a guardedness of which he'd never known. she was no longer forthright about all possibilities with him. her thoughts were not so easily read, her want not so readily known.

— but that was not the worry that had the jaw with which to gnaw at san. not yet, anyway. not when hongjoong was surreptitiously on the same path as them, in a place where neither was colloquially seen (his informant hadn't been anyone of note, and so the consequence of his gained knowledge that day couldn't have been much, but one could never be complacent, if they wished to thrive).

— not when soyeon was unhappy, and sarang was the fool to not believe it.

— not when ernest, kingpin of terror, chessmaster of the underworld and ruler of hoku city, was mired in that slow changing-of-hands and place of gentle retreat where all of his speech was about the hand of iku, that terrify in the weight of dying.

the death of a demon was always a wounded threat that demanded first redress.

— it had started, in part, with the death of byeong-hwa. what was a king, after all, when his sworn shield had fallen? what menace was left in a monster, when his right hand was rotting, 6 feet below? the monsoon season would come, and a sickness would plague ernest along with the rain. jangma was the will of bada — the monsoon season the cursing volition of the sea. it was divine law, in some ways, that bada would claim her vengeance on hoku by taking it's epicenter and sweeping it's fortune and prosperity into her tumultuous seas, but it was still too soon, and thus, a secret well hidden.

no one in the serpens outside of the few remaining elders that sat at the demon's table, byeong-hwa's only daughter, his heir, and his warded nephew knew of the state of ernest's true mind.

the tides were swelling, the ground was saturating; bada was clambering toward the city, and at the time least affordable, the cracks between sarang and soyeon's friendship and intertwined lives deepened to a schism, with roots on either side, blooms torn apart, thorns tearing stem like gnashing teeth devouring flesh.

— when it rains, it pours, and in jangma, the storms were violent and unending; when bada raged, all the gods hovered close to witness her torrential price.

— "i'll tell ʏᴜɴʜᴏ." when they were haemopu side, diane turned to san, the silence between them broken, the confidence that always held in it's place perhaps worse for wear, if either of them had the resolve to mention it. "he'll have some clever way to spin hongjoong off our track - if he even saw anything in the first place."

— san nodded: just once, a jerky motion that left this world still buzzing, a dull, low whine.

yunho, sarang's cousin, was a close confidant of theirs. he moved into the serpens complex when he was 17. some commonplace tragedy left him with a want in the pit of his belly, and ever since the breaking down of all that tied sarang to soyeon and night to the dawining day, he had played the role of strategist and pragmatic advisor to his cousin — a safer, less volatile option for diane to pick, considering soyeon had always been her council, former.

— diplomats need their advisors; conmen require their marks. diane had a necessity for yunho and a plan for bang chan, and of course, they would be dealt with first. san was just a bodyguard, and in this way, he'd always known his place. but favor had a way of lead to want, and if he tended to that fire, it could always lick its way past his defenses and consume him whole.

— sarang blinked, and the change pulled san from his thoughts the way it always would. born to serve, her movements were what he'd been shaped to read. "i guess i'll tell hermes that you stood him up for yunho again, when it's time for your 13:00 date and you don't show."

— sarang laughed at that, warm and clear, almost chasing away the mist that had gathered all through the day, at choice intervals and expected alleyways, thickening to the obscurity of fog. hermes was sarang's greyhound — the puppy she'd once found when younger but crowned wise. she never had taken him to the serpens complex, where he could be socialized with the dobermans she'd cared for most her life. instead, san took him in — an act of kindness she never stopped praising him for, never quite forthright about her reasoning but offering just enough to where he was satisfied.

"tell the twins when you see them i need to have a word."

ꜱᴇᴇ ɪꜰ ɪ ꜱᴛɪʟʟ ᴇxɪꜱᴛ ๋࣭🗡₊♚⭑ ๋࣭⌖ ᴄᴏɴᴛ.

— the shop never had a name: just a wordless sign in the shape of a generic gun scope: the focus for an eye you'd never look into as you took your final, heaving breath.

the shooting range, the eye, akita's place, the final shop on the ground floor of haemo plaza.

— every child who'd ever touched a gun — any soul who had enough of some small mercy they had the fire to protect it in this heaving city — had, at some point, entered the shooting range that sat haemopu side. established longer than jeongcheol's dojang, but having changed hands at around the same time, the shooting range was owned by a woman named ᴀᴋɪᴛᴀ — ex-military but dishonorably discharged, a mother of twins, and simultaneously warm yet cold: distant, but always manning her station.

it was only natural that, sharpshooter of her squad, akita had taught her children to shoot from the moment their hands had the strength to thumb a trigger.

eyes bred to look at you through the barrel of a firearm, hearts trained to see the liberation at the end of a mission and none of the causalities between. akita took her twins, cradle of her future, and gave them all the skills she broke skin and bruised knuckle to hone. they would never have to struggle, because they would be born with skilled gift. they would have the freedom of honor, because no training would mar their resolve.

— at first, the shooting range was only that which sat within the four walls in the ground floor of that complex. but slowly it expanded: the back property, accessed through the side entrance, narrow but deep, for single sessions with moving targets; the abandoned lot near the docks that akita had come into possession of by chance and was appraising for sale until her daughter showed an aptitude for long range and a spark to pursue it.

before long, what was modest expanded, and with an open mouth, devoured until engorged. the shooting range was well known. beloved. conspicuous. exactly the sort of place one would expect to find a doorway into the depths of a now illegal, though still legitimate syndicate, and therefore, a place where they could never be found. in reverence and renown, akita secured a safe haven for her children, a place where they could rest without the fear of being poached.

two doors down, the serpens paid a lease, but here, in the four walls she maintained, they could never sink in their teeth.

but fate was the domain of samgong, and mischief the trait of hoku, and here, in a city where the presence of gods were only so strong because they were so ceaselessly revered, the two powers often conspired to thwart the dreams of those who dared trying, and those whose complacency masqueraded as crown.

— wooyoung, the older of the twins, was the impulsive to deokhee's passion. touched by caprice, drowning in compulsion — akita whispered into his ear as he grew up, tickling the soft skin hidden there, that he was born the same star sprite as hoku: before he became the omniscient eye, back when he was nameless, and his fervency was tried by the test of his father's tedium. in constant motion, neverending activity: "make no deals with iku, listen not to the obligation of horkos. you are a star, you belong to nothing but your own burn."

— deokhee, of course, was the fire burning her older brother brighter, still, the combustion in his path that kept him from apathy, that saw all his visions through. ᴇɴᴊɪ, her mother would call her, the fire god born into flesh. the ardor, the devotion, the commitment deepening to obsession, the dedication to wooyoung's whims, the conviction in her twin brother's mania. akita adored her daughter's fervency, fanned the flames of her exuberance never quenched. "shackle yourself to no one, my enji, you are not meant to be contained. never turn in on yourself; find a direction to incinerate: you are meant to set this world ablaze."

— avoiding flirtation with the fetters of the serpens was an unspoken request from akita, a desire never plainly raised. if she had been wiser (if she saw all too clearly the way serpents rise to challenge and adaptable, warp their venom to something honey-sweet) perhaps akita would have been more explicit in her demands, exact in all she envisioned and prayed to conspire. but it seemed an evident requirement, a moral anchored deep and in it's inevitability, made potent and strange.

"you are made for more," she had always told them.

but what can be done when your only framework of 'more' and 'greater' is the gunpowder residue of a superior weapon?

— once, akita built her children into crook of a firearm. ever after, they would know mostly it's bitter taste.

— none of this is to say, however, that the twins were a tragedy and their penchant something acrid, lead.

— deokhee was bottled excitement and effervescent joy in every task, and wooyoung the kind of gregarious that surrounded him with enthusiastic friendship and kindred brotherhood in every space he ventured to grace.

— and ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴜᴍɪɴᴀʀʏ was one of those third spaces that wooyoung and deokhee frequented most.

a serpens owned establishment: an electricity plant on the edge of town, with hidden rooms that opened into dark things that could only hide in the shadow of a generator as massive as that which fueled a never-blinking city. the luminary was one of the largest holes in the wall that the serpens ran. there, you could order any sin you could pay the ferryman to usher you to.

(so long as you were in the right room, of course. the serpens liked to keep their messes orderly.)

— the twins mostly frequented the rooms with standard bar fare. alcohol, dance, betting and games of chance, fisticuffs when more than just spirits hit you square in the jaw after one freedom too many. a common enough vice with a burgeoning sea of acquaintances and a militia of contacts and friends. it was here, in the pale of haemosu's light — all the glare they could harness but never reach — that the twin's sociability spun a web that was never meant to entrap them, but still made them the perfect players for a serpent game.

after all, it was in the luminary that the twins aligned themselves with the ꜱᴘɪɴᴇ ʙʀᴇᴀᴋᴇʀ ʙɪᴋᴇʀꜱ.

a group of criminals and delinquents that rode through ꜱᴋɪᴛ — the next door neighbor of hoku city, and the border at which the serpens let their needles halt. the serpens owned hoku, and every gang and group of would-be hopefuls that they'd long run out had taken up station in skit and brawled it out, there. a neighboring city was of no consequence to the serpens as long as they spilled blood on their rightful side of the fault line, and the spine breakers were a fairly established group that worked their own city and only occasionally crossed the borders of hoku — careful to always show their deference and pay their dues. they were a infrequent though to some familiar face in the luminary on nights when the moon hung low, mostly to work deals with the mercenaries for hire in the back, and always to chase a drink alongside the twins.

ᴊᴜɴɢᴋᴏᴏᴋ was their closest companion of the lot, and if his drink of choice was an expected usual, and his uninspired flirtation with deokhee an affectionate and comfortable aside, then the night would be warm and the luminary waitstaff would make better money in tips than they had all month.

— and it was precisely that friendship with jungkook (and perhaps their closeness with san, though why make complicated something already written by fate?), that brought the twins to the serpens those aging years ago.

it had been hongjoong, newly syndicate minted, that noticed these two sparrows who somehow seemed to know everyone he had been keeping his thousand eyes on, and dared to ask himself what use could come with knowing their names.

it had been simple, after, for seonghwa to convince him that wooyoung was the easier approach, and for soyeon to cast the die on his fate.

(but that had been years ago: before the breaking down of factions, before suspicion and envy cast shadows that demons new not how to play, before ties were cut like marionette strings, and seonghwa and soyeon became a duo, and hongjoong, far enough from the barrel to not yet choose how to align, had to keep his ideas in his breast pocket and his lies tucked beneath his tie.)

— in the end, the twins were brought into the serpens because their connections would open doors that had no keys. it was through wooyoung and deokhee that the serpens greedy left hand reached into the heart of skit and, with an emboldened and wanting jungkook, staged a coup and installed this friend as the spine breaker's acting head.

ever after, the bikers would be in debt of the might of hoku, and in perpetuity, there would be scouts and reinforcements should there be need of aid from a distance.

— it was simply providence that the twins would have use beyond their sociability and want. it was the work of that ever mischievous hoku that in a chance encounter and a single ploy, diane was gifted with the two best marksman the city could afford.

danger, of course, in the single-minded passion of deokhee and the brilliant, aimless apathy of wooyoung, but when combined together (and wooyoung under the threat of the only one he swore obeisance to: san), they were a power more than their arsenal, a weapon greater than their might and distant reach.

— when san found the two of them sitting on his couch, deokhee knuckle deep in affectionate rubs for hermes, wooyoung eating noodles out of the pot, on his pinky swinging the apartment's spare key ("for emergencies," san had said, and pointedly handed it to deokhee), there was less a reaction of disappointment or surprise, and more an acceptance that at least this way, the message would be easily delivered, in brevity, made sweet.

"diane's calling."

⌖ ๋࣭ ⭑♚₊🗡 ๋࣭ ᴏɴʟʏ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴋɪɴɢ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ ๋࣭🗡₊♚⭑ ๋࣭⌖ pt. ii | | series masterlist

ᴛᴄᴅᴜ (ᴛᴏᴏ ᴄᴏɴᴠᴏʟᴜᴛᴇᴅ, ᴅɪᴅɴ'ᴛ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀꜱᴛᴀɴᴅ) :

1 - jeongcheol, san's father, used to run a taekwondo studio. because times were hard, he ran illegal fights in the back of his dojang, and when the serpen's found out, they co-opted his business and expanded it. as he got older, he passed down his dojang to san, who now works as the bodyguard of diane. because of his busy schedule, he co-manages the dojang with yeosang, the medic of the taekwondo studio.

2 - the taekwondo studio is situated on haesu street in an unnamed work-live complex often referred to as haemo plaza. on the same floor as the dojang there is an unnamed shooting range, owned by akita, the mother of twin gunman for the serpens deokhee and wooyoung. akita does not know of her children's affiliation with the syndicate and would disapprove if she knew.

3 - san, deokhee, and wooyoung are all friends are are closely allied with diane. diane is also close allies with yunho, her cousin and strategist council after her falling out with soyeon has deepened in the past few years (there has been a vague multi-year time skip from pt. i to pt. ii).

4 - ernest, kingpin of the serpens, is currently dying. it is a well kept secret - but not from soyeon, who diane fears will use this knowledge opportunistically. recently, diane has been keeping many secrets from even her closest confidant, san, especially regarding her consistently visiting officer bang chan, trying to weasel from him secrets... but about what?

5 - hongjoong is a member of the serpens with many secrets and many informants. diane is unsure if, in the power vacuum created after ernest's death, if he will show loyalty towards her or soyeon, and so she is wary of what he knows, when he was in the area as she was meeting up with bang chan.

6 - hongjoong was the one to originally recruit twins deokhee and wooyoung, because they have many contacts in hoku and neighboring cities - notably jungkook, now leader of a biker gang in the neighboring city named skit.

7 - diane has a mission for deokhee and wooyoung heretofore lacking details or rhyme.

now onto pt. iii . . .