#instead of waiting or missing an interval-

[mythos321]

Part 3 of my WoF x Persona au!

Chapter 3: Shifting Tides

Clay and Turtle began to make quick work of the enemy shadows, with Turtle using his persona precisely as Honu took down the enemies precisely, while Clay used Obsidian to burn and blast through them.

Clay was beginning to get tired from the use of his Persona, but before a shadow could strike him Clay tackled into and knocked the shadow off guard, then swiping it with his tail and blasting it with a breath of fire to take it out.

as another shadow tried to attack Clay, he suddenly manifested in his hand a dagger and managed to slash and dissipate it, surprising even himself as the sudden weapon.

“Not bad Clay! Seems those muscles ain’t just for show either.” Turtle congratulated as he took out the last shadow using a cutlass he manifested.

“…aren’t these kinda useless since we have claws?” Clay questioned, ignoring Turtles congratulation to him

“Nah these are sharper, and less stress on the front legs!” Turtle answered, which after Clay thought about it for a moment made sense to him

As Turtle had predicted, the battle was short and easy, with him and Clay not struggling even a little.

“Forgive me for not mentioning it before, but I gotta say, your Personas pretty impressive! never seen something quite like it!”

“Is that the snake gun fire man thingy?” Clay asked

“The thing that comes out all dramatic like?” Tsunami added on

“Yep! Think of it as like a manifestation of the heart, with Clay taking his mask off showing his inner most self.” Turtle explained, with Clay suddenly reverting back to his normal self as he talked.

“Jeez! does it just time out after a moment or something???” Tsunami asked bewildered, with Clay looking even more confused than her

“It seems to be a mix of Clay not having full control over his power yet, and Whirlpool still not quite seeing him as a threat.”

“So, do you just look like that then?” Tsunami blurted out, with Clay stomping on her tail after she did

“N-no! I’m sure my real body is just fine! with normal eyes, and a lovely physique!” Turtle insisted

“Hey now, I think you look fine just the way you are, this gals didn’t mean to say that!” Clay said, trying to cheer Turtle up after Tsunamis rude comment

“Oh don’t worry, I can tell jacket girl over here isn’t the brightest!” Turtle insulted, making Tsunami visibly miffed

“Hey! stop it, both of you. Right now, we need to work together!” Clay got in between the two of them, before then turning towards Turtle. “So, is our deal still on?”

“Of course! let’s go!” Turtle lead them back to the entrance hall and down a corridor to its left.

“Finally! we can get out of this nightmare!” Tsunami said as she went to open the door, only to find it locked. “Damn it, it’s not opening! D’you trick us?!” Tsunami yelled at Turtle, who rolled his eyes

“Oh please, as if we’d take that way to get out of here! come on, I know a way out.” Turtle then lead them to a small room on the opposite side of the corridor, and in it was barely anything aside from a ventilation shaft and some supplies.

“Now then, you two know what to do next right?” Turtle turned towards them, with the two momentarily looking confused until realization struck Clay.

“We have to open the ventilation shaft and crawl through it!”

“Very good! You’re just a natural at this aren’t ya Clay! Seems Jacket Gal didn’t quite catch up on it though.”

“My name’s Tsunami you little green freak! And I was getting there, Clay just said it first!” Tsunami angrily but quietly shouted, as she then climbed over to the shaft. “So, we just have to get this metallic mesh off, right? easy! And a one, and a- WHOA” Tsunami popped the vent off easier than she expected, nearly falling off the small platform she went on and onto her back if not for Clay managing to catch her just in time.

“You alright?” Clay asked as he gently put her on the ground, making sure she didn’t put some pressure on her wings.

“Yeah, I’m fine…Crap, the guards didn’t hear us, did they?”

“Let’s not wait to find out, you two should try getting out first instead of wasting time!" Turtle yelled to them

"Wait, but what about you?" Clay asked, concerned for the little dragons safety.

"Relax, I just plan to investigate a little more! I'll be perfectly fine!" Turtle comforted

"...Okay, just make sure to keep yourself safe."

"I promise big guy, now get outta here!"

Tsunami and Clay then crawled through the vent, and out of the castle to safety."

"Those two...they seem useful, especially Clay, if my judgement is right about them." Turtle pondered, as he prepared to sneak around the castle some more.

**

As Clay and Tsunami ran from the castle, the world around them began to distort back to normal, until finally they were back in the normal world in the middle of one of the offshore cities near their school.

"Do you think we actually made it back?"

"I hope so." Clay responded back, while Tsunami began to massage her head

"I don't even know where to begin, what the hell even was that anyway? I mean, that castle, Whirlpool, and that weird Dragon with cat eyes! It just doesn't make any sense! THE HELL IS GOING ON" Tsunami began yelling, attracting the attention of two stationed Seawing guards.

"Tsunami! what are you doing out here, and why are you with a Mudwing of all things! And what's with all your yelling!" One of the guards berated, with his weapon ready at Clay, until Tsunami stepped in between.

"Put a claw in it! We were trying to get to school when we ended up in some strange castle! This guy in fact saved my life, so you better treat him with a little more respect!" Tsunami berated the guard, who become a lot meeker afterwards, which surprised Clay, wondering how Tsunami could talk like that to the guard.

"Um, Madam Tsunami, pardon me, but you wouldn't happen to be on drugs would you?" The other guard asked, which immediately made Tsunami visibly angry.

"WHAT KIND OF STUPID ASS QUESTION IS THAT???" Tsunami yelled at the guard, who backed away for a moment.

"Really, Madam Tsunami, we just need you to go to school! Otherwise, we won't have a choice but to contact your mother, The Schools head, Queen Coral!" One of the guards finally managed to get out their demand, and Clay for a moment was only slightly surprised to learn she was Queen Corals daughter, since they did have very similar scale colors, what really surprised him was how someone like Coral could mother someone like Tsunami.

Tsunami seemed to have gone silent at the threat of being faced with her mother.

"...Fine, I'm going." Tsunami then began walking away back to the school, with Clay rushing over next to her.

"So, you just gonna follow me around like some overgrown puppy?"

"Well, we do happen to be going in the same direction, so I guess it works out now, doesn't it?" Clay shot Tsunami a smile, and she almost seemed to cheer up a little, and the two continued to rush over to the school, with part of them wondering if it would still look like a castle.

When they arrived to it however, it was no longer the castle they had seen before, instead being similar to the school Clay had seen before, with multiple buildings, classrooms. and offices interconnected by trails.

"This is so weird, we came the right way didn't we? I swear we did! It was a castle just a few minutes ago! What's going on here?!" Tsunami wondered, as the two were suddenly met by none other than the toad eyed weirdo himself, Whirlpool.

"I could ask you the same thing, and, what's this about a castle?"

"Whirlpool?! The hell are you doing here, shouldn't you be doing your shitty private lessons or something?" Tsunami snapped

"Now now, no need for the hostility! I just happened to get a message from two guards about a Princess and her Mudwing companion being caught ditching school!" Whirlpool explained, and Tsunami immediately gritted her teeth as she realized those bastards snitched on her and Clay after all.

"Damn it, that's not what we were doing at all! Ugh, you've already told my mother haven't you?"

"Dawwww, Poor Queen Coral doesn't need the stress of dealing with a burden like you, just head over to the counselor so we can all get on with our day." Whirlpool smugly said, his oily voice still creeping Clay out

"...Fine." Tsunami began walking up the school steps, glaring at Whirlpool as he seemed to glare back at her, before walking into the school to the counselor.

"Oh hey, you're one of the transfers aren't you? I believe we met earlier?" Whirlpool questioned Clay, who simply nodded. "Well, I'll overlook this for today. Just remember what Queen Coral said, one slip up, and you're expelled, and put right back where things like you belong, understand." Whirlpool told Clay, who once again simply nodded.

"Good, now hurry up over to The Faculty Office, I'm sure Orcas tired of having to wait on a Mudwing of all things, good luck trying to enjoy your new school life." Whirlpool sarcastically said to Clay as he walked back into the school.

**

"Is that the criminal we heard about?"

"I can't believe trash like him is allowed to be around people."

"I heard he practically killed a dragon!"

"Better to just keep away from him, he'll probably toss you under the bus!"

"Why doesn't that stupid beast just do everyone a favor and disappear?"

As Clay walked through the school to the faculty office, he heard all of these and more, though he tried to keep a straight face on, he couldn't help but feel alone and isolated by all the voices, knowing this was how most people saw him, not just as some Mudwing, or even as some idiot, to these people, he was nothing more than a criminal. They didn't even know what he did, but it clearly mattered to none of them. The worst part of it all is Clay knows he would still do the same thing even if presented with the consequences, because he could never allow himself to let his sib be hurt.

Finally, Clay found the faculty office, and immediately spotted Orca, in part thanks to her dark blue eyes and recognizably depressed face.

"Ughhh, why can't the universe just give me a break...what gave you the idea you could be over half a day late on your first day? Do you have any explanation for yourself?" Orca questioned, and Clay decided to be honest with her.

"I got trapped in a castle."

"... That is positively the dumbest excuse I've ever heard, I would've sooner believed you summoned an ancient dragon from a mountain and had to kill it with a piece of fruit. Besides, from what I heard you got caught sneaking around with that dumb sister of mine."

"What do you mean by "That"?"

"Whatever, just don't get involved with her okay? She's nothing but trouble for everyone around her."

"Don't talk about her like that." Clay momentarily snapped, which surprised both him and Orca.

"...Whatever, break is almost over anyway, classes are going to end after 5th period today because of the recent accidents on the trails, I'll make sure you introduce yourself when class resumes. Now follow me." Orca then walked Clay out of the faculty office and down to her classroom. "Try and be serious about your introduction okay? Do NOT say something stupid or unnecessary." Orca instructed Clay as they continued to walk down the hall, passing by two students.

"Woah, do you think that's the guy?" "From the rumors? Probably, he definitely looks like he could beat someone down."

**

“Woah, it’s one of the mudwings from that program thing?”

“Do you think it’s the criminal one?”

“Hopefully, I met this slow Mudwing earlier so it’s either this one or whoever the hell the 3rd one is.”

“Honestly I can’t believe he had the gaul to show up late on his first day! This dude’s something else”

“Try not to look him in the eye though, he might turn into a savage again and maul you.”

“All of you, shut it.” Orca yelled out to her class, making them all shut their mouths immediately.

“Now then, allow me to introduce one of the members of The Destiny Program. Today, we…had him attend from the afternoon on since he wasn’t feeling well. Well then, Mudwing, mind saying something to the class?”

Clay was silent for a moment, before finally speaking up for his introduction. “My name is Clay…I’m looking forward to attending with all of you.”

“Huh, he seems polite, but I bet when he loses it”

“Well, didn’t he get arrested for attacking someone?”

Clay heard them clearly, and he hated that that’s what they all thought of him, but kept a neutral expression on for the time being.

“…hm, well, I think I’ll have your seat…over there, the only one open. If any of the people around him don’t mind, can you share your text books with him?” Orca asked, with the students groaning at having to help him, and Clay took his seat.

As he did however, he began to feel a strange feeling of being watched by unknown eyes, unlike the others within his class. He looked outside the window, and for a moment thought he had seen a dragon whose scales were near pitch black, before suddenly disappearing, meaning Clay was either being watched, or those guards who initially took him and Tsunami hit him harder than he thought.

“Well, anyway, there’s supposed to be some rally in a few days. Your classes all changed up, so try to use that time to get to know each other, maybe even know your fellow tribes.” Orca said, reading off of a note she made for herself. “Eh, you’re all probably just gonna hang around your friends anyway, ya little brats…Well then, let’s get class started.”

**

After the school day was over and Clay left the classroom, the trail outside suddenly shifted into a castle hall, then back to normal, constantly shifting, practically giving him a headache.

“Hey, what are you standing around for?” Orca asked as she walked out of her class to check on Clay.

“This…isn’t a castle right?”

“Wow, you really are sick today aren’t you? Try and rest after school today, I really don’t need to deal with this for more than a day. Oh, by the way, seems people already know about your little criminal past, just so I don’t have to deal with whining later, I’ll tell you now I’m not who told them. Ugh, I really can never catch a break, why am I the one who has to deal with this crap.”

“That’s rich, considering you’re not the one being isolated.” Clay thought to himself, as he prepared to fly off.

“I’d head straight home if I were you, your caretakers probably really angry at you missing so much of your first day. Also, about my little sister Tsunami, don’t get involved-” before Orca could finish her sentence, Tsunami walked over to her and Clay.

“Well, speak of the devil…What do you even want? I heard some soldiers caught you and the mudwing here skipping school.” Orca snarked

“Ugh…It was nothin’.”

“And you’re still wearing that stupid jacket.”

“Sorry ‘bout that,” Tsunami said, clearly not meaning it in the slightest, as she then whispered to Clay, “Meet me in the woods behind the eating center.” Tsunami then walked off, as Orca simply sighed

“See, this is why I don’t want you involved with her.” Orca told Clay before she began to fly off away, and Clay prepared to the do the same when he then noticed Whirlpool and Coral speaking with one another.

“Honestly it’s so disappointing you have to have that type of person in your school, My Queen. He’s already started associating with your problem child. I mean really, he’s a student with a criminal record and culprit in an assault case! At this rate, it’d be pointless how much I contribute to the school, no matter how hard I try for you…” Whirlpool melodramatically spoke, and Clay was seriously hoping someone would put soap down his throat to get rid of how oily it is, and his creepy unblinking eyes.

“Oh, Whirlpool, you poor thing! You know you’re not only my star, but the schools star! Your status and fame as apart of my council brings so much to this school. Some savage Mudwing and my foolish daughter could never ruin what you’ve made!” Coral reassured, and Clay felt like he could barf

“Oh, my Queen, you are simply to kind for this weak soul. Well, I understand. I’ll continue to do my best to answer your expectations!”

“Wonderful! Oh, and how is my daughter Anemone doing in her studies?”

“Unfortunately, she seems to be falling behind slightly, despite all my teaching and discipline, she never seems to get it, such a shame Orca turned out the way she did, she was far more brilliant than Anemone.”

“Quite true, quite true. Nonetheless, she holds special power, and she will require your guiding hand! I’m sure I will help you find a way to strengthen your teaching. In the meantime, keep doing all you can!” Coral told Whirlpool, as the two then went their separate ways, and Clay prepared to meet with Tsunami.

“I should head over the woods to meet with Tsunami…behind the eating center, I wonder where that could be?” Clay thought to himself, when he noticed a young Dragonet walking along one of the trails, she had a unique pale blue and light pink scale coloring, like one of the dolphins Clay saw when he first had to leave the delta. Clay also couldn’t help but notice she seemed to have a bruise or two, as well as a small limp as she walked.

“Hey, kid, do you know the way to the eating center? Actually, do you need me to take you to the nurse? You seem really hurt.” Clay said, as the dragonet looked momentarily jittery, before calming down.

“Um, I’m alright, thank you…and, the eating center should be that way…” The little dragonet said, and Clay gave her a smile

“Thank you so much! You’re a big help!” Clay told her, and the little Dragonet seemed to brighten up after he told her that.

“You’re welcome…my names Anemone.”

“Mine’s Clay.” Clay then gave her a small pat on the back and was on his way to the behind of the eating center to meet Tsunami. As he walked towards it he saw two other members of The Destiny Program, one being a Nightwing with black and purple scales, and what Clay assumed to be a Sandwing dragonet with golden scales, and being slightly smaller than the Nightwing. Clay could tell the two were enjoying talking with one another, and wondered if they somehow knew each other before the program.

Finally, Clay made it to the woods behind the eating center, where he saw Tsunami waiting on a rock.

“There you are…sorry calling ya up like this. I bet Orcas already gold you stuff like, “don’t get involved with her,” huh?”

“Yeah…she claimed you’re nothing but trouble.” Clay told her honestly, leaving out how he snapped at Orca when she first said it to him.

“Figures, then again, I guess we’re in the same boat. I heard you have a criminal record, everyone’s talking about it! No wonder you’re so gutsy.” Tsunami tried to compliment him, but Clay looked a mix of embarrassed and disheartened at everyone knowing about it.

“…What do you think was up with what happened? You know, how we almost got killed in a castle…It wasn’t just a dream, was it? You remember it to, yeah?”

“Yeah, I remember it.”

“well, I guess even if we both remember it it doesn’t mean much…I mean, even if it was a dream, ya not only saved me from Whirlpool, but jumped through a hallway of fire for me, so yeah…Thanks, Clay.” Tsunami said, as she smiled at Clay, who gave a small grin back

“Ah, it was nothing, like I told you before, you’d done the same for me.”

“But man, that Whirlpool we saw…You probably don’t know about them, but there’s some rumors about him.”

“Whirlpool…he’s the demeaning toad eyed guy isn’t he?”

“Yep! That asshole! No one says anything about him because not only is he practically my moms favorite person, but he’s some “respected scholar” who wrote a couple nonfiction books on animus magic, won him a bunch of awards and status in the process. The way Whirlpool was kind of that castle felt crazy real ‘cause of that…I wonder if we can go back to that castle again…Ugh, forget it. Must’ve been a dream! has to be!…Sorry I dragged you out here, you’re the only one I can talk to this stuff about.” Tsunami kept talking as she got off the rock she was on, “Honestly, you and I are pretty similar! I think we’ll get along just fine as “Troublemakers” I’m Princess Tsunami, but just call me Tsunami! I’ll come talk if I see you around. Don’t go ignoring me, alright? Well, seeya!” Tsunami said as she walked off.

“Guess that’s my cue to go back…Man, Kestrel’s gonna be pissed…I hope she doesn’t hate me cause of it, she seems like someone who’s been through a lot…” Clay thought to himself, still however feeling as though someone was watching him, as he took to the skies and flew off home…well, what he has to call home for now.

**

As Clay walked into the cavern, he saw a waiting Kestrel at her counter, her face filled with a disappointed anger.

“I got a message from some Seawing guards. I hear you ditched half a day on your first day of school!” Kestrel said sternly, as Clay looked down at the floor.

“I’m sorry, there was…complications…” Clay explained, knowing Kestrel wouldn’t believe him if he told her the full truth.

“Just when I was beginning to think you had it together this morning!…Look, just behave yourself! I’m serious, a single wrong step and your life is over. You do know what probation means, right?!” Kestrel sternly questioned him, and Clay silently nodded, and despite her best efforts Kestrels expression began to soften, it was hard to stay mad at a kid like Clay after all.

“…Good, look, just go downstairs and go to sleep already, I have someone to see in a little bit. And don’t forget to lock things up before you go to sleep, I don’t think either of us wants to deal with something like a break in.” Kestrel instructed Clay, as she prepared to head out.

Clay looked upon the old room and felt a rising sense of loneliness once again, and headed to his small resting area for him, wanting to just sleep so he could wake up and be away from this room, maybe even get a chance to properly hang out with his new friend, Tsunami, or find a way back to that castle…

“Was that castle real? Did me and Tsunami really imagine it?…I should just rest instead of wondering about this more, maybe I’ll have a more clear head afterwards…” Clay thought to himself as he fell to sleep upon the cold, stiff floor.

**

As Clay awoke, he found himself in a cell once again, with the same two little scavengers and the strange looking Nightwing that called themself “The Stonemover.”

“About time you woke up! ON YOUR FEET INMATE!” shouted the louder scavenger, who banged their baton against his cell. As it did it occurred to Clay he was somehow able to understand these two little creatures, but knew their was more pressing things to wonder about.

“Our master wishes to speak with you. Do take his words to heart for your own sake.” said the calmer scavenger, as Clay looked towards The Stonemover.

“Now, let us celebrate our reunion! It is good to see you once again, Mudwing.” The Dragon rumbled, as Clay once again felt shaken by his voice.

“Hm…? My my, you’ve awakened to your powers! And special ones at that! Now we can finally begin your rehabilitation!”

“My rehabilitation?” Clay questioned aloud, wondering what The Stonemover could mean.

“There is no meed to understand it for the time being my new friend. You will be training the newly awakened power known as Persona. Personas are, in a way, a “mask”…an armor of one’s heart when confronting the world! I have high expectations for you, Young Mudwing.” The Stonemover told Clay, who was still deeply confused by everything around him, even with the revelation of his abilities.

“Now now, there is no need to worry! You will learn soon enough…If I may ask, have you come to appreciate The Metaverse Navigator? It is your little book which appeared to you. Using it shall allow you to come and go between reality and Palaces. I have bestowed it to you as a means to train you as a thief.”

“The Navigator is a gift from our MASTER. You better make good use of it!” The louder Scavenger yelled to Clay.

“Devote yourself to training so you may become the thief which our master wishes you to be.” The calmer scavenger said.

“I can see how disheartening this may be if one is to do this on their own, and luckily for you, Young Mudwing, I am a generous man. Should there be others who would prove beneficial to your journey, I will grant them this ability as well. Know this is all for you to grow as an excellent thief, young Mudwing.” The Stonemover spoke to Clay, who began to drift away from his slumber, and soon awaken back into the real world.

[starshipsofstarlord]

roses, just for you | kai parker

summary. after spending a night with your sole companion in the prison world, you realise that you have began to fall for kai. there is so much you want to know about him, but he only lets on so much, distracting you with his affection (1.5k)

warnings. mentions of sex and murder, fluff, kai evading the truth of his past, imprisonment in the prison world

divider credits. @cafekitsune

The stream of sunlight hit you before you awoke, the golden rays resting upon your skin. It was beautiful, but it held less beauty than how you had spent the previous night. You had finally caved to the insistent siphon that had wandered through the prison world alone until you had turned up. At first you had thought of him as annoying and brash, his hyper personality sparring with your own that was much less enthusiastic from the recent interval of your entrapment.

Each and every day was supposed to be the same here, an endless loop of time that had no end, always returning to it’s exactly tempo, the weather and temperature never once shifting from its infinite pattern. But with Kai he made it feel different, as though each reset at midnight was a whole new adventure. He wanted to show you the world, places that you had never been to and the places that you had always wanted to. There was not a single soul that could get in your way, or so much as attempt to stop the both of you amidst your exploration.

And last night, well the two of you had finally explore each other’s bodies. There had been no overpowering hunger to bear witness to the nudity of one another, instead it had been intoxicatingly sweet, the joining of your bodies coming together being a union of more than lust. The recent memory brought a smile to erupt onto your face. You missed your friends and you had no doubt that they were trying to find you and bring you home, but that didn’t dampen the mood that Kai had began to erupt within you.

You were okay with remaining in the prison world a little longer you realised, you had every intention of finding an exit but the hunt for that could wait for now. With a blissful smile etched upon your face, you rolled over to the other side of the bed where Kai had rested his head, though a pang shot through your heart when you realised he wasn’t there. He was gone. In your mind it hadn’t been or had felt like a one night stand. Hell, you were the only two people in this place, it wasn’t like he could run off to the company of someone else.

That gave you some relief, but it wasn’t enough. Had you scared him away? Kai had mentioned in passing of conversation that he wasn’t good with emotions, and sometimes got them mixed up. You hoped he hadn’t gotten confused over your perception of him, you were starting to like him, and as much as you did not want to admit it for the vulnerability that it brought you, you were sure that you were falling for him.

So with a tired and sore haste you dragged yourself up from the mattress that you had spent such an intimate experience with Kai on, reaching to gather the clothes that you had discarded across the floor, however they had also disappeared. All that remained, folded neatly at the end of the bed was a shirt that you recognised as not being your own. Perhaps it had been his intention that you would notice it, and so you pulled the material over your head, opting for a fresh pair of panties to wear with it.

Your bare feet padded around the house that Kai had grown up in, him having briefly stated that it had not been the easiest household to habit, and as you neared the kitchen you were hit with the smell of food that invaded your senses and made your stomach groan in approval. He was still here; immediate relief drowned your mind, he hadn’t left you as you had feared. The siphon’s focus was on a tray that was set on the counter, a plate upon it, the ceramic crammed with your favourite breakfast meal. “Good morning.” Kai jumped at the sound of your voice, not having expected you to have risen yet.

“You’re supposed to still be in bed.” Kai stated, and your raised your eyebrows, though there was a smile on both of your faces. The man abandoned his task, moving across the room towards you, one of his hands cupping your face, the other slinking down to hold your waits through his shirt. He leaned so that he could greet you properly, his lips seeking yours in a sensual and heartfelt kiss, you wanted to draw it out, though he pulled back with a pout on his face. “I was making you breakfast in bed.”

His words made your heart swoon, you had never had a man in your life who was so attentive and thoughtful. It was truly a crime for him, a one of a kind soul, to have been exonerated into an entrapment on his lonesome. You couldn’t understand why anybody would want to punish Kai in such a terrible way, he didn’t deserve it, you thought, pristinely unaware of the terrifyingly awful acts that he had committed. If Bonnie managed to open a veil for you to escape out of, an opportunity to leave this purgatory, then you would not hesitate to bring Kai back to the rush of the present with you.

It was a society that had its flaws in Mystic Falls, your hometown always drawing in bouts of trouble, but if Kai were in it with you then it would make it much easier to sieve through. He made everything feel as though it would be easy. “So that’s why you got up,” you observed, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck, and he was practically eating out of your hand from the attention. He was such an open book, you thought, and you were glad that you had not been swayed into the arms of a vampire like some of your friends.

Yes, he was a witch, but he only had immortality in this world as you did. He held no hunger in anything except from of course food, and apparently spoiling you with his affections. You felt irritation at yourself for not having held trust and care for him sooner. “Of course, you need to eat.” Kai pecked the tip of your nose, inwardly debating whether to get deeply lost in you again or usher you towards the table so that he could indulge you with his cooking. He chose the latter, pulling a chair out for you before you sat down.

He retrieved the tray, bringing it over to the place before you, pressing his lips to yours once more. “Don’t get ahead of yourself Parker,” you prompted him, kissing him gently again, “let me eat first.” He laughed lightly, feeling a strange fluttering that beat within his chest. He wanted to ask you about it, but he didn’t want to ruin the moment, or accidentally slip up if he overexerted his speaking into mentioning the giddy emotion that he had felt when taking the lives of his siblings. No, you could not know, otherwise that would bring ruin to whatever he had with you. He was enjoying it far too much to cast it aside.

The silver cutlery was within your grasp, and Kai held the back of your hand softly, forcing you to stop your motions. “Uh, uh, uh.” You were confused, but Kai smiled towards you, telling you to wait a minute as he left, stepping out onto the porch only to return a moment later. In his hands was a clear vase that contained the stems of a dozen roses, their crimson heads above the surface, the rolled petals expressing a scent that you adored. He placed it onto the table before the tray. You swore that he could make your heart melt.

“What are these for?” Your appreciation was shown through your expression, as your eyes drifted between him and the beautiful flowers. Damn him, you were truly falling. Falling for him and all the surprises that he was constantly bringing you, not only in the form of gifts and sentiments, but also within himself. He didn’t have to do any of this, he was the only guy in this world, and there was no one for him to compete with, but he did it anyways. Despite your wish for a return to the life you had before you had been sent here, you had never smiled so much outside of the prison world.

“You said that no one had ever got you flowers before,” he said endearingly, as though it was the most obvious thing in the blasted universe. “So I did. And they will never die, since it’s the same day over and over again. Though I will make sure that they aren’t your last.” Kai had made you well and truly fall for him, you were shocked into silence unsure of what to say. Luckily, Kai did not expect any words, kissing you again, feeling as you melted into him.

He frowned into the kiss, the sight oblivious to your closed eyes. There had been the feeling of a shift within the world, the same sensation that overcome him when you had joined him as a prisoner in this realm. It couldn’t be ignored, someone else, two souls in fact had joined you in the prison world. He dismissed the idea of informing you, pulling gently away as he stroked your hair. “You better eat your breakfast before it gets cold.”

[satorusideals]

Airy Spring

a/n: soooo.. fourth post. I honestly need og ideas. I’m trying so hard to think of things. But I’ll get there! My time is limited because of current events but I’ll be on it. Pls give me inspo im crying. Also! I need more moots. Enjoy ig. 🥀

content: fem view, pregnancy, dad gojo, and fluff!!!!!!

It came to no surprise. Your life was so different. By having a puffy stomach, aching feet, sharp back pains, and a little newborn that filled your ears; you were a new woman.

You remember the fateful afternoon that had you pacing back and forth as your hands clasped onto the long piece of plastic. The very item that made you shriek of happiness (?), anxiety (?), and shock.

You were no where near ready to confess to your husband, Satoru Gojo.

He was a busy man.

You both understood that. And the thought of somewhat impeding his plans made you bite your tongue.

In an attempt to continue the normalcy, you make dinner, turn on the lamps, anxiously do laundry, and try to take a warm bath— but as soon as your dear husband begins to rattle the front door— you pace inside the bathroom.

Oh.. how will he react? He’ll be happy, right? What about his schedule? Maybe he’s not hungry..

“I’m back! Guess who’s the best husband that brought kikufuku?? I am!”

Your hairs stick up at his exclamation, and the few droplets of cold sweat begin to build up on the tip of your nose.

Great.

His innocent teasing is always nerve wrecking.

Satoru’s steps get louder by the second, and when you open the bathroom door, he’s standing outside with a smile.

“You took a bath without me?? And here I was trying to rush back home to you” he says with a teasing pout, before wrapping his arms around you.

“I missed you, baby. Did you miss me?” he asks while pulling back to look at your water kissed face.

There was no way to hide from him. Every reaction and cold shoulder you gave him was a clear indicator that something was wrong. Whether it was him or the bad weather— oh, he didn’t know! He took every bad possibility and ran with it.

He loves his dear wife!

During dinner, he felt that enough was enough. No time was wasted and he asked.

“Are you mad at me? I’m sorry— I came as quick as possible.” Satoru pouts and drops his utensils in an attempt to give you his undivided attention.

You sigh and shake your head.

“I’m just tired.. I cleaned the whole house, ya know?”

“Well.. no one asks you to. I’ve offered a maid before.”

Your quick responses are what save you. At least for a bit.

Satoru’s short trips leave a balance of home time and work. These time intervals give you time on how to confess. Or figure out what to even do.

Before you know it, he’s back from another trip. His slender frame is wrapped around you in your large bed with his hand on your now plush hip. An obvious hint at your body’s accommodation.

“You’re so fluffy now.. you gaining?” he innocently asks as his nose buries itself into your scalp.

Satoru yelps at your pinch.

“Ow! What was that for!?”

“You’re a prick. I don’t know why I bother with you!”

He was just asking..

After fighting yourself, both mentally (anxiety) and physically (morning sickness), you break the news before Satoru steps out for his mission.

“‘Toru.. you’re not gonna eat breakfast?”

“Mm.. nah. My stomach hurts if I eat too early. Maybe I’ll come for dinner tomorrow, ‘kay?”

“Okay..” you mutter as his face leans down to kiss the corner of your mouth.

“What’s with the sad face, hm?”

“I just.. don’t know how to tell you.”

“Tell me what..? You’re divorcing me or somethin’?”

“No.. it feels like I’m lying to you.”

He stays silent. You could basically feel his heartbeat. Stray and loud. He honestly would have loved that breakfast instead of feeling this tension you’ve unknowingly created.

“I’m pregnant. You. Me. We’re pregnant.”

Those passing moments between you both felt like eternal.

Satoru’s sleepy eyes widened and made him freeze.

“What? Ha.. ha-ha.. you’re-“

“I’m sorry.”

“Honey, what? Sorry? Wait, what?”

His words made you more confused. Was he surprised or disappointed?

You looked away. The sun’s rays were shining through the room from the window, but left no warmth to comfort you.

Satoru realized his unintended negligence of comforting you and he quickly wrapped his arms around you.

“I’m sorry, Satoru.”

“Stop saying that.. what are you sorry for?”

“We didn’t want this.. I’m sorry.”

He sighs. His hand cups your cheek and pulls you back to look directly into your eyes.

His blue pearls watched your reactions and counted your every freckle and lash without hesitation.

His wonderful wife had just confessed a life altering situation— and here he was stuttering like a high school boy.

“Who said that, hm? Just ‘cus we didn’t plan it, doesn’t mean I don’t want it. Unless.. you don’t want it?”

You shake your head and he quickly begins to rub your back and whisper sweet nothings into your ear.

It was a done deal.

You carry his sweet baby and get all the rest, take-out, midnight cravings, foot massages, and needy booty-calls you desire, even when he was away on missions.

But this was only on the condition of Satoru keeping his missions to a minimum.

And before you knew it— you’re back home with a baby girl.

Her snow kissed hair illuminated your room. Her hazy blue eyes that made you want to squish her face every time she opened her eyes to curiously watch you. It was all a dream— really, who knew you’d be a mother? And who knew you’d be such a daydream? Not your husband.

Oh, your husband was enamored with you both.

His lovely wife who birthed a whole carbon copy of him and the said carbon copy.

Satoru’s entire time at home was busy with his newborn baby girl.

Your husband would clean up and rub your feet while she slept or fed from you. No wasted time in this household.

Her sweet smell and delicate frame were appreciated by you both.

But especially Satoru. A deep contrast between him and his daughter. He was the strongest and had had to learn being the most delicate. His hands and sharp muscles that destroyed cursed were handling the tiny body that he now loved. Her small wails and yawns softened his sharp gaze. No detail went unnoticed by him. Your daughter’s birthmarks were all caught by Satoru, because he wanted to learn every single thing of your creation.

While being a changed woman, it didn’t feel like a complete new load— you had the help of your husband.

And the only thing you could wait, was for her to grow up.

Oh, how you both dreaded that!

But, as time moved on— it was obvious that your sweet girl was a change that you both needed.

[valkierrie]

𝚂𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝙰 𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚆𝚊𝚢 𝚃𝚘 𝙳𝚒𝚗𝚎

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Warning(s): Noel smut, an' swearin', that's about it.

Plot: After a long day at work, Y/N is given a very pleasurable stress-reliever by her boyfriend.

Word count: 2.0K

A/N: Hope the person who requested it likes it; it's been a long time comin' and I'm sorry for the long wait.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was another dreaded sunny day, only because of where I had to be. Instead of being where I was wanted and happy, I was stuck behind a small, lousy desk with my sleazy boss barking commands at me as if I were a lap dog. 

“Y/L!” He yelled, for what was the 13th time this afternoon. There was no need to yell, he knew it. I could still hear him over the hordes of phone calls being made throughout the many cubicles. Mine wasn’t even far from him office. 

With a sigh and internal groan, I pushed my chair back, scrapping it against the marble floor. I adjusted the pencil skirt I wore, which had ridden up slightly during the short interval that I was sat. Mr. Jones should’ve had a special place in hell for him for making us wear these, ‘uniforms.’ Tacky, black pencil skirts and long white shirts that were heroes in the winter and a pain in fuckin’ the winter. 

I laid gentle knocks on his wooden, opened door. Mr. Jones sat behind his large desk on a comfortable office chair, a privilege he selfishly kept for himself. His gaze fell onto me as I stepped into the space. 

“You called for me, sir.” 

“Y/L,” he called my last name, his arms crossed, his eyes narrowed as glared at me as with a sense of superiority. “I asked for a coffee fifteen minutes ago, where is it?” 

My brows furrowed. “Sir, I wasn’t told you requested a coffee. Moreover, your assistant’s right out there.” I wasn’t sure why this was being brought to my attention, but I wasn’t surprised, it wasn’t the first time Mr. Jones was making me do something above my pay grade. 

“I know she’s out there; I’m telling you to grab me a coffee, is there a problem with that?” 

The question was rhetorical, it was obvious. I hadn’t missed the smugness it was laced in; he knew the power he had over me and was beckoning me to make a move so he’d get his sick gratification from reminding me.  

There was no use in arguing—what difference does it make? 

“Black. Two sugars, love��oh, and a dash of white chocolate creamer.” He instructed, his elbows rested on the table, his fingers laced together as he laid his chin on them, tilting his head ever-so sightly with a taunting look. 

I left Mr. Jones’ office, the need to keep my job keeping me from flipping him off on my way out his door. I made my way to the coffee room, which took three flights of stairs and a lot of heavy breathing.  

I wasn’t sure why the coffee room wasn’t set in a lower floor—or on the same floor as the cubicles, but no. Any and all logic leaves the moment anyone steps foot in this building. That’s not to say that everyone here’s stupid. They just don’t get the opportunity to use their brains with people like Jones in charge. 

I stepped into the coffee room, pushing the glass door open. The room wasn’t completely devoid of people like it normally was during non-break moments. A few workers stood near the large windows, talking amongst themselves, whilse one merely sat in the rectangular table that was set in middle of the room. 

I took two small strides towards the coffee maker. I did the due diligence of making a cup of coffee, holding back the urge to spit it as I pumped the white chocolate creamer into the coffee. I made my way downstairs and back to Mr. Jones’ office. 

I placed the cup on his desk, a tight smile on my face. “Here you go, sir.” 

Mr. Jones picked up the cup, taking a sip. I was ready to leave, certain that my job was done. However, before I could leave the office, Mr. Jones stopped me.  

“L/N, stay back.” 

I took a deep breath, exhaling deeply. “Sir?” 

Mr. Jones’ facial expression was one of bitterness, and he attempted to get the taste of the coffee out of his mouth. “What did you put in this?” 

“Two sugars and white chocolate creamer.” 

“Tastes like shit,” he set the cup down, sliding it towards me as if it had caused great offense. “Throw this out and get me another cup. Carmel creamer this time.” 

My jaw clenched tightly, despite that, I did what I was told. 

Back to the coffee room I went, squeezing the cup tightly. I threw the cup out and prepared another one, being sure to pump caramel.  

When I returned to Mr. Jones’ office, I placed the cup on his table, quickly attempting to make it out.  

“Hold it, L/N.” He raised a finger in the air, as if it held importance.  

Mr. Jones took a small sip of his coffee before placing it down and shaking his head. “What is this?” 

My eyebrows knit in confusion, crossing my arms. “What you asked for?” 

“Still shit.” 

“It would help if you didn’t have shit taste.” I rolled my eyes, muttering under my breath. 

“What was that?”  

“Nothing, sir.” 

Mr. Jones sighed, as if he had done something anything meaningful. “This coffee just ruined my day.” 

“Must’ve been a real shit day for you already, then, uh?”  

Mr. Jones gave me a look, he opened his mouth to say something, but must have decided not to. “I’m not in the mood for coffee anymore. Get me a drink from that place down the street.” 

He could not be serious. I shouldn’t have been surprised; he was like a toddler—a large toddler in a designer suit. 

“But sir—” 

Mr. Jones held his hand up. “Did I stutter? Go get me a drink.” He placed crumpled note on his desk. “Make it quick.” He snapped his fingers, his other hand throwing the coffee cup in the garbage. 

My eye twitched, my jaw set. It took all I had within me to not just jump over his desk and throttled him. I took the money and left the office muttering, “Tosser.” 

I once more, did what I was told, which wasn’t my job. The rest of the day felt numb; Orders after orders. 

When I finally got back to the flat, I felt at peace. 

Not just because of where I was, but who was waiting for me.  

Noel was perched on the floor, slouching, his back to our large, grey, sofa. A black acoustic guitar was being strummed about by him like there was nowhere better to be, it’s sounds echoing about in the place. 

The strums were interrupted when Noel’s eyes settled onto me, a small smile crept on to his face, lazy, but warm. His genuine smiles were one of those things that—although were rare—made you feel special when you were on the receiving end of them. Although today was shitty as hell, coming back to that, almost made it worth it.  

Almost. 

“Alright?” 

I nodded, attempting to give him my best smile, thought I was certain it didn’t quite reach my eyes. I shrugged off my flats, leaving them beside the doormat.  

My stocking coated, patted over to where Noel sat, I settled on the sofa, close to him.  

“Hi,” I greeted softly, placing a hand on his shoulder.  

Noel looked up at me, his blue eyes staring at me with curiosity. “You alright?” 

“Yeah, I’m fine. You know work.” 

“That bloke still givin’ you trouble?”  

Of course, Noel had been made aware of Mr. Jones’ behaviour. He was the one I was talking out my neck to about him. 

“Same old,” I shrugged, “still a knob.” 

“Dunno why ya put up that knob, I’d tell ‘im to get stuffed.” Noel sighed, setting his guitar on a stand to the side. “You’ve got twice the brains than the tosser.” 

“Thanks,” I chuckled, “but in a building with more suits than a boutique, that doesn’t really matter.” 

“Lots of suits, not enough fuckin’ brains to make up fer it if you’re not fit to be giving order. Lad’s got a useless degree an’ now he thinks he’s God or summat.” 

The irony wasn’t missed, still that placed a smile on my face—a genuine one. He could tell all he wanted that he had no way with words except with pen and paper, but whenever words—minimal as they may be—left his lips, they flooded my senses. I could almost feel myself becoming defenceless, his sentences building palaces in my mind and the most gorgeous of cathedrals. 

“Speakin’ of fit...” I smirked, moving down to the floor beside him. “You’re looking particularly good in that shirt.”  

Noel chuckled, a tint of pink slowly rising on his neck and the tips of his ears. “Shut up.” 

“I mean it.” My eyes trailed down his torso appreciatively. 

Noel turned his head away, but with a pull of his chin using my fingers, I set his gaze right back me. 

Noel wore a tight-fitting white shirt, a rare occurrence that was very much appreciated for every second my eyes lingered on it. “Work’s shit, but seeing you like this...” I bit my lip, smirking, “just makes me feel better.” 

Noel pulled me close, his lips pressed against my own, slow and without a need to hurry—like there was all the time in the world.  

A soft sigh of relaxation escaped my lips, almost involuntarily. My hands gripped his shoulders, as passion and feverous overtook the kiss. 

“Reckon you’ve had a shite day, then. Don’t worry I’ve got a few tricks up me sleeves.” Noel took control, nudging me back slowly, his body pressing over mine deliberately. “You in this gettup, it’s doin’ things to me.” 

“Oh, yeah?” I teased. 

Noel didn’t respond, instead, his attached to my neck, pushing past the wrinkled collar. His hands slowly made work of the buttons that stood proudly against my chest, barricading them. 

He slowly kissed above my bra-cupped breasts; the feeling was truly something otherworldly. 

He went lower and lower, peppering my skin with kisses, until he reached my lower stomach. He stopped above the waistband of my skirt. 

His hands went up my thighs, slowly pushing up my skirt. He kissed up my thighs, biting the stockings and yanking them down. 

His fingers hooked my panty lines, his thumb stroking the small bow that stood proudly above it. The cotton material was soaked—I was certain of it. I felt the undergarment being slowly tugged down, until it was well passed my feet and out of the way.  

Noel’s lips reunited with my thighs—my upper thighs this time, slowly inching up. He was almost teasing me with how excruciating slow he was going.  

Then, finally, his lips met my bundle of nerves. The contact was brief, yet it was enough to omit a light shutter from my mouth. His tongue met my folds, swirling around. My hands raked through his dark hair. Noel groaned when I softly tugged at his hair, the vibration made me gasp. 

I bit my lower lip, my legs wrapping around Noel’s shoulders as my hips bucked forward, desperate for more. Noel’s nose crudely brushed against my clit, sending a wave of heat with a tsunami-like force within me. A soft squeak escaped my lips as the pressure was building up. 

“Ah—mph—yeah, right there.” I whined.  

Noel changed his angle, his pace increasing along with it. My grip on his hair tightened. It was truly too much. Just thinking about it—Noel in between my legs, like a starved man on a mission—was tipping me over the edge.  

His tongue thrusted in and out, while his nose made work on my clit. It took a few more thrusts for that rush of euphoria to burst in and for the orgasm to rip through.  

I screamed as I came in Noel’s mouth, the intensity making my legs shake. Noel kept going at it, slowly easing me out of my pleasure until I softened beneath him.  

I took a few seconds of me trying to regain control on my breathing before Noel rose back up. Nothing needed to be said—absolutely nothing at all. I grabbed a fistful of his shirt, pulling him close until our lips touched. I could taste remnants of myself that still remained. I felt connected to him, not just in the physical sense, but in every sense that the word connected meant.  

“Better?” He asked. 

“Much better.” I smiled. 

[bunji-enthusiast]

unwilling bond

Summary || Radcliffe in a mysterious set of circumstances, passes away far earlier then of his expected years. So Cecil Stedman, the now new director of the Global Defense Agency, begrudgingly takes in a freshly-traumatized Rex Sloan.

WC: 5.9k

note // sort of an au thing, I asked @ground-control-2-major-tom23 for permission. here's the initial post of the au. Basically different intervals of time where their dynamic slowlyyy changes, I think.

[5:72. Morning, first meet]

The air in the office feels thicker than it should. Cecil stands by the large desk, his fingers tapping impatiently against the sleek surface as he waits for Rex to be brought in. The office is stark, utilitarian—nothing like the comfort of Radcliffe’s leadership, but more functional. He’s just taken the reins of the Global Defense Agency after Radcliffe’s death, and now this... kid. He can already feel the weight of the situation pressing on him.

The door swings open with a quiet thud, and in steps Rex, flanked by two agents, who seem like they’d rather be anywhere else. Rex’s posture is casual, almost arrogant, like he owns the place already. His gaze is sharp, defiant—a kid who’s been through a lot, and who’s somehow come out the other side even harder. But there’s also something else there: a dangerous rawness, a level of instability that could either burn bright or burn him out.

Rex doesn’t look like he’s expecting much from Cecil, and frankly, neither does Cecil. He’d heard the stories—about Rex’s explosiveness, his bravado, his complete lack of regard for authority. But Radcliffe’s absence has created a vacuum, and in the aftermath of that loss, this kid is one of the last things Cecil wanted to deal with.

Cecil keeps his expression unreadable as the agents leave, the door closing softly behind them. He leans back in his chair and eyes Rex coolly, giving him a once-over. The kid’s appearance isn’t exactly reassuring: his clothes are a mess, his stance is a bit too cocky, and the way he holds himself screams unreliable. He’s clearly used to doing things on his own—too used to it.

"Rex Sloan," Cecil starts, voice calm, yet there’s an edge of authority there. "I’m Director Cecil Stedman. I don’t have time for games, so let’s get right to it."

Rex doesn’t flinch. Instead, he tilts his head slightly, as if sizing Cecil up, and then shrugs his shoulders, letting out a sharp breath through his nose. “You the new boss then? Guess you’re stuck with me.”

Cecil’s lips twitch in a barely concealed frown. He’s heard that tone before—the I don’t care about you attitude, the sort of reckless bravado that usually gets people hurt. But this is different. This kid isn't just playing at being tough. There’s something deeper, something raw. This kid’s an explosion waiting to happen.

"I suppose so," Cecil replies evenly. “You’ve got a lot of... potential. And that’s the only reason you’re here. But I won’t waste time pretending this is a field trip for you. You’ve heard of the Global Defense Agency, yes? We have a different way of doing things here.”

Rex snorts, clearly uninterested. "I’ve heard about all the crazy experiments, all the weapons and whatever the hell else you guys get up to. Sounds more like a science project than a superhero gig."

There’s a flicker of something in Rex’s eyes—something more dangerous than just disrespect—and it catches Cecil off guard for a split second. The kid’s words are flippant, sure, but there’s an undercurrent of rage underneath them. It’s like he’s been used to being pushed, tested, and hurt in ways most people can’t even imagine. And now, he’s learned to cover it up with sarcasm and defiance.

“That may be true,” Cecil responds, not missing the challenge in Rex’s eyes. “But we don’t play here. We’re not just trying to save the world—we’re making sure it stays intact long enough to be saved. People like you are here for a reason, Rex. You’ve got power, but power’s nothing if you don’t know how to control it.”

Rex steps forward, arms crossed over his chest, leaning slightly against the desk in a casual but purposeful way. “Control, huh? What, you think I don’t know what I’m doing?”

There’s a sharpness in his voice now—a mix of pride and anger, like he’s been told too many times to control himself, and he’s just sick of hearing it.

“I think you don’t know what you’re doing,” Cecil replies, his voice still steady but carrying a weight behind it that Rex isn’t expecting. “I think you’ve got a lot of potential, but you’re flying blind. You’ve got explosive power, Rex. You can destroy things, but you have no idea how to make that work for you, for the greater good.”

The silence between them thickens, and for the first time, Cecil sees it—the briefest flicker of vulnerability behind Rex’s defiant mask. It’s gone almost as quickly as it appears, but it’s enough to make Cecil pause.

The kid has been damaged. And maybe Cecil’s starting to realize that he’s not just here to train him as an agent. This is bigger than that.

“I’ve been doing fine on my own,” Rex mutters, as if trying to convince himself more than Cecil. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

“You’re right,” Cecil says, leaning forward slightly, eyes narrowing. “You don’t. But here’s the thing: you’ve been doing fine by accident. What you’ve done so far is survive. But survival isn’t enough. Not when the stakes are this high.”

Rex scoffs and starts to turn away, but Cecil’s next words stop him cold.

“We’re fighting more than just bad guys, Rex. We're fighting a war. And wars are won by those who can control their power, who can think, who know how to take a step back and evaluate the bigger picture. Not by people who just go off half-cocked and burn everything in sight.”

Rex halts, standing still for just a second. His back is turned to Cecil now, but there’s something different about the way he’s standing—something tentative. His shoulders aren’t as tense, his jaw isn’t as tight. There’s a crack in his armor, just enough for Cecil to see the real kid underneath the bravado.

“Sounds like you’ve got a plan,” Rex says quietly, voice lowered.

“I always have a plan,” Cecil replies, his voice steady but with a hint of something else—a glimmer of something that might be almost... compassion? He quickly suppresses it. “But it’s not about me, Rex. It’s about you. You’re here because Radcliffe saw potential in you. Now, it’s my job to make sure that potential doesn’t get you killed.”

Rex turns back toward him slowly, the defiance still there, but something else, too. Something like a flicker of respect.

“I don’t know about you, old man,” Rex says, his tone still a little rough, “but I’m not used to taking orders.”

Cecil chuckles dryly, standing up from the desk, his gaze still steady on the kid. “I’m not asking you to like it. But you will follow orders. You will learn to control that chaos inside you.

Rex glares at him, but it’s not the same as before. This time, there’s something like curiosity behind his eyes, like he’s wondering if Cecil really knows what he’s talking about.

Cecil watches him closely, and for the first time since Radcliffe’s death, he wonders if he’s up for the task of taming this wild thing.

One thing’s for sure: Rex Sloan isn’t going to be easy to deal with. But then again, maybe that’s exactly what Cecil needs right now.

The kid’s a challenge, sure. But maybe—just maybe—he could turn out to be more than just a loose cannon.

“Welcome to the GDA, Rex,” Cecil says, his voice quieter now. “Whether you like it or not, you’re here for the long haul.”

[12:27. Midday, one year later]

The room is quiet, but the air inside feels stifling. Above Cecil, the ceiling is decorated with clouds, trying to appear soft and comforting, but in reality, they only seem to emphasize the tension in the room. It’s not the place for a kid, especially not a kid like Rex Sloan.

Cecil sits behind a desk, his tired eyes scanning through reports of various world-ending threats. But all of it feels like background noise to him, because across from him, Rex—wearing a hoodie and a pair of sweatpants—sits on a chair, arms crossed, gaze stubbornly fixed on the ceiling, clearly doing his best to ignore the looming responsibility.

“Hey,” Cecil says, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You need to stop calling me ‘old man,’ alright? I’m… well, I’m older than you, but it’s not like I’m that old.”

Rex doesn’t look at him, just mumbles under his breath, “Old man.”

Cecil sighs, setting down the report and leaning forward, both hands resting on the desk. His frustration is palpable, but he hides it behind his usual calm demeanor. “You’re going to have to start acting like you’re, you know, a little bit more mature. You’re a liability as much as you’re an asset, kid.”

Rex throws him a glance but doesn’t respond. He’s been through this speech more times than he can count.

“I’m not your damn babysitter,” Cecil mutters, leaning back in his chair. "But clearly, we don’t have a choice. You can’t be running around blowing things up—again. You’re staying here, and you’ll be doing what I tell you."

Rex rolls his eyes dramatically, the very picture of teenage rebellion. “Whatever, old man. I’m not some little kid. I don’t need a babysitter. I can handle myself.”

“Yeah, that’s worked out really well so far,” Cecil says with a dry chuckle, but he immediately regrets the tone. Rex’s eyes flash with something—anger? Maybe. A slight twitch of his lips betrays a trace of something else, too. Guilt? But he quickly masks it with his usual bravado.

“I’m not here because I want to be. But fine, if you wanna play the ‘parent’ card, go ahead,” Rex mutters, picking at the sleeve of his hoodie. “But you should know... I didn’t ask for any of this. Don’t think this means I’m gonna start acting like a little angel for you.”

The comment stings, but Cecil knows it’s true. Rex didn’t ask for this life. None of them did. It doesn’t make it any easier to deal with, but it does make it more understandable.

The silence stretches for a moment as Cecil searches for the right words. “I’m just trying to keep you from making the same mistakes. I’ve been around long enough to see the potential in people like you, Rex. You don’t have to be a screw-up. You don’t have to be a liability.”

Rex snorts, rolling his eyes again. “Oh, right. ‘Potential.’ You mean I’m just some project to you, don’t you?”

Cecil’s gaze sharpens, the faintest flicker of his old, colder self slipping through. “I’m trying to help you. You don’t have to like it. But you’re not getting rid of me that easily. And believe me, I’ve dealt with worse.”

There’s an uncomfortable pause. Rex stiffens, a flicker of vulnerability hidden behind his usual façade. He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. Instead, he reaches up to rub at his hair, trying to force the tension out of his body.

After a long moment, Rex mutters, almost to himself, “Yeah, well... It’s not like I asked for this either.”

Cecil doesn’t know how to respond to that. There’s nothing he can say to make it better, and he knows that. What he can do is keep trying—whether Rex wants it or not. He sighs, looking over the papers on his desk.

“Fine. You don’t have to like it. But you’re going to stick around here and stop causing more trouble. If you’re staying here, you might as well do something productive with your time. This isn’t a vacation, kid.”

Rex huffs, clearly not impressed. “Great. Just great. So what? I’m supposed to be the perfect little soldier now? Go be a hero? What’s next, you gonna start giving me daily drills?”

“Something like that,” Cecil says dryly. “You’ll start by training with the team. Maybe you’ll learn to control that temper of yours. Or maybe we’ll have to get another ‘lesson’ in how to deal with... things when they don’t go your way.”

Rex glares at him, but something about Cecil's steady gaze seems to take the wind out of his sails. He slouches back into the chair, arms crossed again. "Fine. Whatever. I'll... I'll play along. But if anyone else calls me a kid, I'm gonna explode on 'em."

“You’re already one step away from a temper tantrum as it is,” Cecil mutters, but there's a smirk on his lips as he stands up. "Now, come on. You're not getting out of this. There's work to be done, and you're not going to sit here all day pretending you're not a part of it."

As they walk out of the room, Cecil can’t help but glance over at the ceiling again. The clouds, he realizes, don’t do much to calm the storm swirling inside his head.

[00:00. Midnight, two days later]

The air is thick with the hum of machinery, the scent of sweat, and the metallic tang of combat. A large, industrial-style training room stretches before them, the floor covered in padded mats and several practice dummies set up at various points. The walls are lined with weapons, shields, and all manner of tools meant for battle.

Cecil stands in the middle of the room, arms folded, watching as Rex stands off to the side, an unimpressed look on his face. Rex’s hoodie is gone now, replaced by standard GDA training gear: a tight-fitting shirt and pants, the kind designed to maximize mobility and absorb sweat. But the outfit doesn’t seem to make him feel any less out of place.

The kid looks like he’s about to explode from the sheer indignity of it all.

"You want me to—what?" Rex asks, his voice a mix of disbelief and annoyance.

“Learn how to fight,” Cecil replies dryly, as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Yeah, no shit. But I already know how to fight. You’ve seen it.” Rex takes a step back, hands in his pockets. His stance is casual, too casual for someone about to engage in combat training, but it’s clear he’s doing it on purpose. He wants to act like he’s above it all.

Cecil steps forward, closer to Rex, his voice becoming sharper. “I’ve seen you blow things up. I’ve seen you get yourself into trouble. But what you haven’t learned—what you need to learn—is how to control it. You’re not a walking weapon, Rex. You’re supposed to be someone the GDA can rely on. That means discipline. Strategy. Knowing when to hold back.”

Rex scoffs, clearly not buying it. “Yeah, right. You’ve got to be kidding. I’m supposed to just... follow some rules? What’s next, you’re gonna have me recite the GDA Code or something?”

Cecil’s gaze hardens, but his voice doesn’t raise. Instead, it’s steady and measured. “You’re already dangerous, Rex. You’ve got skills. But you’ve been relying on instinct. That’s not enough when the stakes are higher. It’s not enough when you’re dealing with people who can kill you in a second. We’re not playing games here. You’re either going to learn how to fight smart, or you’re going to end up dead before you even see it coming.”

Rex bristles, but beneath the anger, there’s something else—a flicker of unease. “And what, you think you can teach me how to be some kind of... perfect soldier?” His voice cracks slightly, betraying his frustration. “I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t ask to be part of the GDA. I didn’t ask for any of it.”

Cecil’s expression softens, just the faintest amount, before he answers. “No one asks for it, Rex. But here we are. And I’m not asking you to be perfect. I’m asking you to survive.”

The same dance, but fortunately, with time—Cecil’s patience had not easily waxed.

There’s a brief silence. Rex looks away, arms crossed tightly over his chest. Cecil can feel the tension in the air, the resistance that’s practically radiating off the kid. But beneath it all, he senses a flicker of something else. Rex doesn’t want to admit it—probably doesn’t even realize it himself—but he wants to learn. He wants to be better.

But he’s scared. Scared of losing the one thing that’s kept him in control—his raw, unrefined power.

“You’ll start simple,” Cecil says, breaking the silence. “We’ll work on the basics first. Reflexes. Timing. Accuracy. Then, we’ll build up to more advanced techniques. You’ll learn to fight with precision, not just anger. I know you’ve got it in you. But you’ve got to stop acting like you’ve already figured it all out.”

Rex glares at him, but Cecil sees the flicker of doubt in his eyes. “Fine,” Rex mutters, clearly not thrilled by the prospect of actually working on this. “But I’m not gonna be some kind of robot, alright?”

“Never said you had to be,” Cecil replies with a hint of amusement. “But you’ll learn that control is what separates the reckless from the deadly. The ones who survive—and the ones who don’t.”

Rex grumbles under his breath but steps onto the mats. Cecil gives him a knowing look.

“Alright, let’s start with something simple,” Cecil says, grabbing a set of training pads and slipping them onto his forearms. “I want you to throw a punch. Just one. Hit me as hard as you can.”

Rex scoffs again, but he moves into position, cracking his knuckles as if the entire situation is beneath him. He takes a few steps forward, shifting his weight onto his back leg, before launching a punch at Cecil’s side. It’s fast—too fast for someone his age, someone who hasn’t had proper training—but it lacks finesse, a lack of control that only comes from reckless abandon.

Cecil catches the punch with ease, his arm moving with trained precision. Rex is caught off guard for a moment, his eyes widening as Cecil effortlessly redirects the strike.

“Again,” Cecil says, his tone firm but not unkind.

Rex hesitates, then throws another punch—this time with more power, more commitment behind it. Cecil steps aside this time, his body moving fluidly as he avoids the blow. Rex stumbles slightly, but it’s clear the kid is starting to get frustrated.

“What’s wrong?” Cecil asks, his voice quiet, yet commanding. “You were faster last time. You had the edge. But now you’re second-guessing yourself.”

Rex doesn’t answer, only grits his teeth and tries again. And again. And again. His frustration mounts with each failed attempt, and Cecil watches, almost patiently, as the kid works through it.

After a few more attempts, Rex is breathing heavily, his muscles aching from the effort. He slouches back, wiping sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. “This is bullshit,” he mutters under his breath.

“Control, Rex,” Cecil says, his voice low. “I’m not asking you to be perfect, but you can’t just throw yourself at me like that. Every time you act on pure instinct, you make yourself predictable. I need you to think, to anticipate what’s next.”

Rex scowls at him, but beneath the bravado, he looks like he’s starting to understand. “Whatever,” he mutters. “I’m not some damn soldier. I’m me. I don’t need to be what you want me to be.”

Cecil watches him closely, feeling that pang of something—whether it’s frustration, or maybe something deeper, something he can’t quite place. The kid is stubborn. But that’s exactly what makes him dangerous.

“You will be,” Cecil says quietly, more to himself than to Rex. "Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but you will be. And when the time comes, you’ll be ready. You’ll be deadlier than you ever thought possible."

Rex, still out of breath, raises an eyebrow. "Is that what this is all about? Making me deadlier?"

Cecil doesn’t respond right away, but the answer is in his eyes. It's the same as it always is. He wants Rex to survive. He wants him to learn to control it—control the chaos inside him, turn it into something that can make him stronger, more dangerous.

“Yeah, kid,” Cecil finally says, his voice low but firm. “Deadlier.”

And with that, Rex looks at him, an unreadable expression crossing his face. He’s not there yet—but for the first time, it seems like he’s starting to understand.

[7:15. Afternoon, five months later]

The low thrum of machinery and the crisp smell of sweat fill the air as Rex steps into the now familiar training room. The floor is a patchwork of padded mats, and the walls are cluttered with everything from training dummies to racks of weapons. The space feels almost like a second home to him now—a place he’s come to respect, despite how much he still fights against it.

Cecil is already there, standing at the center of the room, his arms folded and his expression impassive as usual. Rex, though, doesn’t feel the same resentment he did when he first started. The anger is still there, simmering under the surface, but it’s different now. He’s gotten better, stronger, faster—and, god help him, he might even be starting to enjoy it.

"Let’s go," Cecil calls out, his voice firm, but there’s a slight edge of warmth in it now. "I want to see where you’re at."

Rex gives a half-hearted roll of his eyes, but his movements are quick as he strips off his hoodie and grabs his training gear. He’s learned the drill—work through the basics, sharpen his reflexes, refine his timing. It’s all routine at this point. He falls into the flow almost without thinking, the patterns ingrained in his muscles.

He steps onto the mats, facing Cecil, and the usual spark of defiance flares in his chest. But beneath it, there's something else—a growing respect, whether he wants to admit it or not.

"Ready when you are," Rex mutters, cracking his neck and getting into his stance.

Cecil doesn’t waste time. “Let’s see that jab again.”

Rex narrows his eyes, trying to hide the flicker of hesitation. This isn’t the first time he’s been asked to throw a punch, but today something feels different. He moves, quick as a flash, aiming for Cecil’s shoulder.

Cecil catches it effortlessly, just like before, but there’s a subtle shift in his reaction. He doesn’t block the punch completely, instead guiding it away with a little more precision than he used to. Rex stumbles slightly, the impact still there, but it’s not the same. He’s not quite as off-balance anymore.

"Better," Cecil acknowledges, but his voice is as steady as ever. “Again.”

Rex’s jaw tightens as he resets, focusing this time. He throws another jab, and another, each time with more control. His form’s cleaner, sharper. His breathing is measured, his movements more fluid. There’s still frustration in his eyes, a reminder of how hard this all is for him. But he’s making progress.

By the end of the session, sweat is dripping down his face, and his muscles are sore, but Rex feels a sense of accomplishment. Cecil watches him, his gaze steady, but there’s a flicker of something almost proud there.

“Good,” Cecil says simply. “That’s enough for today.”

Rex stops, catching his breath, but there’s a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Yeah, whatever. Not bad for an old man.”

Cecil looks at him, arching an eyebrow. “Careful. You’re starting to sound like you actually know what you’re doing.”

Rex snorts but then, as if on some unspoken cue, he steps forward. “So, what’s next? Another round of your killer moves?”

Cecil gives him a look—a mix of exasperation and affection. “You’re not going to stop calling me that, are you?”

Rex shrugs, a half-grin forming on his face. “Nope.”

There’s a long pause before Cecil approaches him, his hand reaching up to ruffle Rex’s hair—an almost fatherly gesture that Rex still doesn’t quite know how to handle. He stands stiffly at first, caught off guard by the contact. But then... something shifts. The usual irritation that comes with any of Cecil’s affectionate gestures seems to fade, replaced with a subtle warmth.

It’s fleeting, gone as quickly as it came, but Rex’s shoulders relax, and his gaze drops just slightly. He doesn’t want to admit that it feels... good, but he can’t deny it. He’s gotten used to these moments, even when he pretends not to care.

Cecil steps back, as if he doesn’t even notice the effect his touch has had. “Good work today. You’re not there yet, but you’re getting closer.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Rex mutters, trying to push the weird feeling aside. “I know.”

They fall into a comfortable silence for a moment, and for the first time in weeks, Rex doesn’t feel the overwhelming urge to argue, to push back against everything Cecil says. It’s not like he’s changed overnight. He’s still the same reckless, defiant kid, but... maybe things are a little different now.

And maybe, just maybe, he’s okay with that.

As he starts to walk off the mats to get a towel, Rex runs a hand through his hair—unconsciously pushing it back into place after the ruffling. He doesn't look back at Cecil, but the faintest smile lingers on his face. He won’t admit it aloud, not ever. But he doesn’t mind being here. Doesn’t mind being trained by the old man.

At least for now, Rex knows he’s starting to become something more than just the kid with raw power. Maybe that’s what Cecil’s been trying to teach him all along.

[3:00. Two years later]

Rex steps into the sleek, minimalist halls of the Pentagon with a quiet, almost silent swagger. His modified GDA stealth trooper uniform fits him like a second skin, the sleek black fabric marked by strategic touches that make it his own—small leather accents at the seams, an asymmetrical pattern, and, most notably, the faint design of a serpent along the edge of the collar. It’s subtle but unmistakably Rex. His skills have only sharpened, his combat abilities becoming a terrifying blend of lethal precision and relentless speed.

The mission was a success. Another underground villainous scientist brought to justice, his twisted experiments silenced for good. It had been routine, more or less. But the silence in Rex’s chest after the takedown—after the final blow—had been louder than anything. Maybe it was the thrill of the fight, maybe it was just the lingering weight of a job done, but Rex knows it won’t last. That gnawing emptiness always finds its way back.

He brushes past a few high-ranking officials in the hallway, earning a brief glance or two, but no one dares to question him. The GDA had made sure he was on their side long ago. Besides, they all know better than to try to approach someone who's been through the kinds of hell Rex has.

A few steps into the command center, Rex finds Donald waiting by the door—his usual self, clean-cut, perpetually calm, and dressed in his classic suit. Rex nods at him, acknowledging the presence of Cecil’s right-hand man with a rare semblance of ease.

"Mission complete?" Donald’s voice is steady, almost disinterested, but there’s always that little undertone of curiosity when it comes to Rex.

Rex gives a quick nod, his usual nonchalance masking the exhaustion starting to creep into his bones. “Yeah. Clean sweep. No issues.”

"Good," Donald says, his smile twitching only slightly. "We’ll debrief you in a bit. But you know the drill." He glances at Rex's uniform with an appraising look. "That one suits you. Fitting, considering how much you've grown."

Rex smirks, a flicker of satisfaction passing over his face. “Takes more than a couple years to keep up with me.”

Donald chuckles softly, then glances toward the corridor beyond. “Cecil’s waiting for you in the office. He's heard about your success. Go on in.”

Rex's smirk fades, and the silence between him and Donald is brief but telling. The old man. Cecil. It’s been two years since the first time Rex stepped into that training room, begrudgingly learning from him, and though Rex would never admit it outright, there’s something... different now. He’s learned to appreciate the man—more than that, maybe. In ways Rex doesn't fully understand. Maybe he doesn’t want to.

He pushes open the door to Cecil's office and steps inside without ceremony. The soft hum of fluorescent lights fills the quiet space, and Cecil looks up from his desk, his expression unchanging but the faintest hint of something softer in his eyes. His graying hair, now a little more pronounced, and the lines etched deeper into his face are reminders that the man who once ruffled Rex’s hair like it was nothing, who taught him everything from how to hold a gun to how to stay calm under fire, was only getting older. But today, Rex’s gaze lingers on those eyes—the eyes that have become a little less distant over time.

“Rex.” Cecil’s voice is steady, as always, but there’s something almost fatherly about the way he says his name. “I heard about the mission. Well done.”

Rex stands there for a moment, the weight of his success almost too much to carry in the quiet space. He shrugs, trying to downplay the whole thing. “Yeah, no big deal. Just another day.”

Cecil chuckles softly, looking down at his paperwork before leaning back in his chair, crossing his arms. “Is that so? The last time you said that, you barely made it out in one piece. You’ve come a long way.”

Rex shifts on his feet, glancing at the floor for a moment. That nagging feeling in his chest returns—he doesn’t like how much it’s becoming a habit to come to this office, to face the quiet approval of the old man. But he doesn’t know how to walk away from it either. “Takes more than just some blood and sweat to take me down.”

“You’ve definitely proved that,” Cecil says with a nod. “But don’t let your pride get in the way of your progress. You’re still learning.”

Rex’s mouth twitches, resisting the urge to argue. “Yeah, yeah, I know the drill.” His tone softens slightly, a rare glimpse of the kid he used to be before all this training, before the missions, before the blood. “Do you ever get tired of this?”

Cecil’s expression doesn’t change, but his eyes flicker with something that Rex knows all too well—something that has been building between them, unspoken, for too long. “I never get tired of seeing you grow, Rex. You’re different now. Better. But the path ahead is long.”

Rex huffs, running a hand through his hair, only half-conscious of the fact that he's mirroring the gesture Cecil used to make when they were in the training room. “I’m getting there.”

Cecil rises from his chair, crossing the distance between them with ease. “Just keep moving forward. Keep learning. You’re more than just the kid you were when I first met you. You’ve proven that.”

Rex, unsure of how to respond, simply nods. The silence that follows feels strangely comfortable—like a bond that’s been forged in the fire of countless battles, both internal and external. He meets Cecil’s gaze briefly, the connection unspoken but undeniable.

Cecil doesn’t say anything more, but as Rex turns to leave, he stops in the doorway, his back still to Cecil. He feels the tension in his shoulders ease, the weight of the mission, of the job, starting to fade away.

“...Thanks,” Rex says under his breath.

Rex’s fingers lightly touch the door frame as he pauses, halfway out of the office. Cecil’s voice follows him, calm and commanding, breaking the silence that had been building between them.

“Rex.”

He turns back just enough to look over his shoulder, a flicker of curiosity crossing his face. Cecil’s hands rest on the edge of the desk, the old man leaning forward slightly with a subtle, concerned expression.

“You’ve been going hard for days now, nonstop. I know you like to push yourself, but you’re human, kid. You need rest,” Cecil says, his voice firm but not unkind.

Rex’s brow furrows slightly. "I’m fine. I can keep going."

Cecil stands up from behind his desk, his movements slow but purposeful. He’s always had a kind of calm authority, but there’s something deeper to it now, something that Rex can't ignore. The gentle way he places a hand on the back of his chair says everything—Cecil isn’t going to let this slide.

“You’ve been running yourself ragged.” Cecil’s gaze holds steady on Rex, sharp, but there’s an undercurrent of something softer in his eyes. “The mission’s over. For now, you’re off the clock. You need a break.”

Rex opens his mouth to protest, but Cecil raises a hand, silencing him with the simple weight of the command.

“I’m serious,” Cecil continues. “I don’t care how much you’ve been trained, how well-developed you are—your body needs time to recover. It’s not just about physical strength. It’s about your mind too. The constant grind will catch up with you, and when it does, it’ll be too late.”

For a long moment, Rex stands there, weighing the words in his head. He wants to argue, wants to keep pushing. It’s what he’s done for so long now—never stop, never let up. But something about the way Cecil is looking at him, the firm resolve in his stance, makes the argument die on his lips.

Rex’s shoulders drop slightly, his expression softening just the tiniest bit. “I don’t… really know what to do with myself, though,” he admits, almost as if the words are coming out before he can stop them.

Cecil's eyes soften, a glimmer of understanding flashing across his face. It’s a side of Rex he’s come to understand more and more over the years. The kid might be a trained weapon, capable of taking down anyone in his path, but he’s still figuring things out. Still finding his balance in a world that’s never quite stopped spinning since he was thrown into it.

“You don’t have to know what to do,” Cecil says, voice quieter now, almost like a father giving advice. “Just go. Take some time. Rest. Recharge. Do whatever you want. I don’t care. But you will take a break.”

Rex scoffs lightly, rubbing the back of his neck. It’s such a small gesture, but it’s one of those things that hints at the vulnerability beneath the hardened exterior. “Alright. Fine. You win.”

Cecil’s lips curl into a faint, knowing smile. “I’m not trying to win, Rex. I’m just looking out for you.”

Rex turns his head away, trying to hide the slight shift in his expression, the softening of his usual indifference. “Yeah, whatever.”

The silence stretches again, but this time it feels... lighter. More familiar, in a way.

As Rex makes his way toward the door, he pauses and glances back at Cecil—hesitant, unsure how to express the appreciation he feels for the man who’s practically become his anchor, despite all the things he refuses to acknowledge.

“Thanks... for... looking out for me,” Rex mutters, almost under his breath.

Cecil doesn’t say anything right away, but his gaze is warm, genuine. “Anytime, kid. Just don’t work yourself to death, alright?”

Rex nods, the smallest of smiles tugging at the corner of his mouth before he steps out into the hallway. It’s still a long way to go before he can figure out the rest of his life, the rest of who he is, but for now, he knows one thing: he has to listen to the old man. At least for today. And maybe that’s enough.

For the first time in a long while, Rex feels like maybe he’s earned a few hours to himself.

[pureshadough]

a more articulate set of thoughts & critiques on the latter half of jambound (spoilers up to and including chapter 23)

part of me sometimes wishes jamma Didn't write at fucking light speed if it meant having a larger interval of time to evaluate the pacing and points of focus in this fic, because a lot of the cast & set dressing is starting to feel like an afterthought paired against shmilk's Repeat Emotional Breakdowns. given he's the POV character the narration is of course going to be bias in his favor and the other members of the cast will be secondary to what Hes immediately focused on, but the Constant emphasis on the turmoil he's been experiencing as relevant to pv & the soul bond is starting to leave me feeling. fatigued? i guess? 23 earnestly felt like a rehash of the same beats 11 and 18 hit with less of the, like, unknowable Mystique to shmilk's character, the intrigue - by this point we have him figured out, he has himself figured out, and while im glad we finally got some direct fount (my #goat) acknowledgment as a part of that "actualization" it was largely at the cost of. like. white lily and pure vanilla being present characters...???

i trust jamma Not to render lily down into just being an obstacle to smpv's relationship obviously but at the same time the fact she immediately disappeared was kind of disappointing; for how much energy and time went into building up to their *Inevitable Confrontation* it sure did last all of like Two sentences before shmilk scuttled off to wax poetic again. 23 in particular i feel like would have been the PERFECT chance to finally give us that pv POV thats been eluded to so many times; we Know what makes shmilk tick at this point so having his emotional state be so Fucked that what hes thinking & feeling is impossible for even the Omniscient Reader to keep track of would have been a REALLY refreshing & interesting approach by comparison. conversely i understand that the point of not yet knowing what pv is thinking Still is to cast that veil of uncertainty on whether or not their dynamic is Genuine vs. if it stems exclusively from shmilks own personal desire (even though the answer to this is Incredibly Obviously Not), but i digress. middle ground couldve even been white lily POV instead if jamma was Actually Based /lh

all this is to say im paying far less attention to the musings of the POV character than i think im Expected to be in the wake of this being like the third time we've watched him lose his shit which makes me worry a bit for the way the rest of this is gonna play out. i have my own Personal Sensibilities as a character-focused writer n i feel that the pacing has started to suffer a bit since like, 16-ish, by way of repetition. all of 19 through to 21 felt like several thousand lines worth of smilk just repeatedly asking himself "Wait... Are me and Pure Vanilla.... Dating????" which like. Yes. You have been since 11 buddy

id go as far as to argue that the gala "arc" was a chapter and a half too much padding for what it was. TANGENT TIME: it moreover felt uncharacteristic of shmilk to panic in the way that he did after the scene w/ clotted cream & overhearing ppl gossip about him (not even in the sense that he was Performing as someone uncharacteristic to himself under the veil of lady milk crown, i mean that in the sense that i genuinely do not feel like he would veer so readily into isolation amidst a bout of self-consciousness as he would self-sabotaging & destruction; seeing him cause a proper ruckus at the party and Then running off after witnessing smn like pv's palpable Disappointment would have hit a little harder, for example. him getting upset over people being like "eugh... that BEAST cookie that pvs keeping in his castle" was like. Huh? Did I miss something? He's literally a war criminal why did this bother him so much

idk. this is a Fanfic that is being written For Fun by one (1) author and some beta readers to what i imagine is far larger an audience than jamma was ever expecting, so i would never want to discredit them for their success given that the bar for ao3 content is On The Floor most the time otherwise. It's a Good Fucking Fanfic. all of these thoughts come from a place of admiration - the fact that jambound is a media piece i care enough about to analyze so thoroughly to start with is testament enough to its quality. this is quite literally just me pointing at some rougher edges and going "tch.... i would do it like this instead!" while i meanwhile couldnt hope to square up to even half the amount of work ethic on display here ROFLMAO. i think i just dont like it when people write shadow milk as being """too soft""" which is. a Necessary Constant given jambounds subject matter. we're long past the threshold of him obfuscating his emotional sensitivity under an aloof disinterest or violent tendencies. this is probably why 10 and 11 are still my favorite chapters

[moonstruckme]

Hey lovely! So I heard you're looking for asks for other than poly!marauders and I love them too, but here's one for tasm!peter parker x shy!reader maybe wherein reader is always saying sorry, like it's second nature to her

like peter gives her the coat she forgotten and she says oh sorry you had to come all the way here, or she was late in one of their dates and she's like sorry I made you wait, one time she notices she was talking too much and says sorry too and peter notices how she does this for everything he does for her and he says, you know, instead of saying sorry, you can say thank you and reader is like what do you mean? and peter is like, I love doing these things for you, you don't have to say sorry, you can say like thank you for waiting for me or thank you for listening to me and he's just so sweet and yeah

love you and your writing as always!

Love you <3

tasm!Peter Parker x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words

You’re waiting when Peter knocks, your bouncing knee rattling your coffee table while your roommate shoots you inscrutable looks out the side of her eye. You hop up at the sound, unlatching the door. 

“Hi.” You smile at him, grabbing a coat from the hook by the door. 

“Hey,” Peter says, mirroring your expression. He looks nice, you think. Well, Peter always looks nice, but tonight he looks all shined up and special. His hair is damp, evidence of comb marks in it, and his shirt looks like he might have actually ironed. You feel sort of honored. He holds up a heap of fabric. “Been missing this?” 

It takes you a second to identify it as your coat. Your favorite coat, which you spent most of the morning looking for. “Yes!” you gasp, reaching to take it from him. “I left it at your place the other day?” He nods, and you shake your head at yourself. “Sorry I stuck you with it, I could have sworn I wore it home.” 

“It’s no problem.” Peter shrugs. “It had warmed up by the time you left, so you probably weren’t thinking about it.” 

“Yeah, I guess.” You shake your head again, putting the substitute coat back on the hook and shrugging this one on. “Anyway, sorry. Are you ready to go?” 

“Yeah.” He steps back to let you out, leading you over to the stairs. “You look really nice,” he says, and you don’t know how he does it, keeping eye contact with you the whole time. Yours drop to your feet. 

“Thanks.” You smile down towards the steps. “So do you.” 

You think you can feel Peter’s grin burning into the side of your head. He changes the subject for your benefit. “You live on a pretty high floor, huh?” 

“Yeah,” you sigh, breaths growing heavier even just descending. “Sorry, I should’ve warned you. You could’ve waited downstairs or something.” 

“Hey, I don’t mind.” He bumps your shoulder lightly with his. “You can’t help if your landlord didn’t spring for an elevator. How’d you find this place?” 

You huff a laugh. “Actually, it’s kind of a weird story.” 

“Ooh, okay.” There’s teasing in Peter’s tone, the kind you’ve come to recognize as his go-to flirting technique. “Now I’ve gotta hear it.” 

“Well, I responded to a post online about this girl looking for a pet sitter…” 

At some point, you work up the courage to look at him while you talk. Peter’s a good listener, nodding at all the right intervals, laughing at the funny parts, brown eyes warm and encouraging. You keep getting distracted by him, but he’ll pull you right back into the story with questions like “So wait, why would she move somewhere her cat wasn’t allowed?” and “It got that attached to you?”. By the time frigid air hits your face, you realize you’ve been talking for eight stories and then some. 

“Oh my gosh, sorry!” you laugh, covering your mouth with your hand. “I can’t shut up, can I?” 

“Don’t be sorry,” Peter tells you, just on this side of chiding. He grabs your hand from in front of your mouth, pulling it with his into his coat pocket and starting down the sidewalk at an amble. “I like hearing you.”

It takes everything in you not to wiggle your fingers in his. You hope you’re not blushing as badly as you feel like you are. “You haven’t gotten a word in since we left my place,” you tell him apologetically.  

“Like that’s such a long time.” He looks down at you, giving your hand a friendly squeeze. “But okay, fine, let’s talk dinner. What do you feel like?”

You shrug. “I’m good with anything.” 

“Perfect,” Peter says enthusiastically, “all my favorite foods are anything!” He grins at you sideways, worse when you roll your eyes. “Now tell me what you want to eat.” 

You blow out a breath, trying not to smile. “I don’t know.” 

“Sure you do,” he says lightly. “Come on. Greek, Mexican, Italian? Just throw it out there.” 

“Fine, maybe not Italian,” you admit, preoccupied with the way his thumb is running over your knuckles inside his coat pocket. “I had that last night. Um, do you like Irani food?” 

Peter makes a quiet humming sound. “Can’t say I’ve tried it. You know anywhere nearby?” 

“Yeah, there’s a place a couple blocks this way,” you say, then backtrack. “But we should get something you already know you like. What do you want to have?” 

“I want to have Irani food.” He grins down at you. “I’m always up for something new.” 

“No, come on.” You slow your pace, forcing him to match it. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pick a place only I would like. We should go somewhere else.” 

“I really do want to try it,” Peter says, tone softening slightly. “It sounds good, and I wanna learn the things you like. Come on, sweetheart, let me do this.” He gives your arm a little tug, and reluctantly, you fall into step beside him again. 

“Sorry,” you murmur. 

Peter looks at you sideways. “You apologize a lot, you know that?”

You feel a bit of heat rise to your cheeks despite the chill. “Yeah, I’ve been told.”  

“You don’t have to,” he says conversationally. “I mean, I don’t mind doing this stuff for you. You’ve got nothing to be sorry about.” 

“I know.” 

“Do you?” 

You don’t, really. It feels like he should mind, like he should understand how indebted all these little things make you to him. “I just…want you to know that I know you’re inconveniencing yourself for me, if that makes sense.” You cringe at your awkward wording. “Just, that I’m not taking it for granted.” 

“None of it’s a real inconvenience,” he promises you, giving your hand a little squeeze. “You could always just say thank you.” 

You look up at him, puzzled. “What do you mean?” 

Peter shrugs. “I mean, I love doing things for you,” he says. “I don’t need any thanks, but instead of apologizing for, like, me bringing you your coat, you could just say thank you.” He looks down, giving you a small smile. His brown eyes are warm and gentle. “And then I’d say you’re welcome, and you could stop worrying about it so much.” 

“Oh,” you all but whisper. 

Peter’s patient, giving you the time you need to contemplate this while you walk, but after a minute he says, “Is this the place?” 

You look up to find you’re standing under the sign of your favorite restaurant. “Yeah,” you confirm, and he releases your hand to hold the door open for you. You shoot him a tiny smile. “Thank you.” 

Peter’s grin blows yours out of the water. “You’re welcome,” he replies warmly, following you through the door. His arm wraps around your shoulders, drawing you into his side as he leads you to the host stand. “Attagirl.” 

[iloveriddles]

Imaginal Disk Storyline + Lore.

Okay, this is all opinion and my theories.

From What I can tell, “Imaginal Disk” is about two people: our protagonist, True, and a sub-protagonist of sorts, Ghost.

True lives in a house away from town. All she can do in her house is watch TV and journal.

True hates herself, and has never felt loved, or really sees love anywhere. She is very depressed. She can’t bear to look at herself in the mirror, even. She hates the way she looks, as we see on the mirror from imaginaldisk.world in True’s room. Her face is all distorted and swirled if you click it.

She never sleeps because she “spends her days chasing clouds and counting sheep, waiting for the night to creep”.

She does this because in the field outside her house, during night, a mirror appears and in it she sees a person who looks like her. This is Ghost. I am not sure if this happens every single night, or just some, but True seems dedicated to talking to Ghost at any chance she can take.

Ghost sleeps every night well and wakes up to be in the field, opposite to True. At her side of the mirror, it’s daytime.

I know their names because of the journals in True’s bedroom, where the lyrics for Fear, Sex are handwritten with the name “Ghost” at the top, and the lyrics for Killing Time are written on the first page with with the name “True”.

Ghost, to True, is beautiful in every way. She’s pretty, she’s perfect. She is loved and happy, and True isn’t. Ghost is the “Angel on a satellite”, I am 99% sure. True, from speculation, lives vicariously in a way through Ghost. She wishes she could be Ghost, and it kills her. There’s even symbolism here with Ghost’s lover in the Death & Romance video being made of light and featureless. It’s like exactly what True wants, to “be pined for” as she says in Killing Time (“I don’t care if I don’t sleep // but someone better pine for me”), but she can’t imagine by whom because she has no love interest. She just wants faceless love. She wants to feel like she matters in some way, like she is worthy of time. “There’s always time for killing, but never time for me. It only takes a minute”, she sings in Killing Time.

It’s so sad =( she’s right, though. That’s how it feels. People have time to waste and do nothing, but not time to help their close ones when they’re in a low place. It’s neither party’s fault, but still “True”.

True’s room is also the same layout as Ghost’s, but opposite. I think they are maybe versions of themselves from parallel universes or something like that. There is also implication that they start seeing through each other’s eyes in intervals, and we see this a little at the end of the Death & Romance video when she touches the Disk. I think their brains are connected in some way.

As mentioned, True hates herself and is miserable. I think this is why she gets the Imaginal Disk. We know she watches TV, so she probably saw the ad “True Blue Interlude” which is between Killing Time and Image. Image is her getting diskinserted and going to The Doctor. In the advertisement, it seems to be singing to her. It even says her name, “True”. It’s advertised as being a next stage and phase, it’s like the perfect form of escaping for True. She doesn’t want to be herself, she wants to be “Pure” and a “better her”. I also wonder if True Blue Interlude has hypnotic properties in canon, or anything like that. It’s interesting how this changes Image so much if you know the story. “I’m the best you’ve got, *true* or not?”

We are missing music videos so I am not certain about some stuff. They said on Instagram that they’re making one for Tunnel Vision, which I am 90% certain it will be another True song. True’s eyes do the weird blink thing in the Fear, Sex music video. Also, in “That’s My Floor” the camera zooms into her eyes and she LITERALLY has “Tunnel Vision”.

Also from the “That’s My Floor” music video, we know that after getting her disk True wears red like The Doctor instead of her blue, and starts assisting him in diskinserting. There is so much speculative stuff here right now. For example, I wonder if The Doctor is supposed to be True’s universe’s version of the glowing light guy that Ghost is with. I don’t know, but it changes the songs A LOT if you know that the lyrics are in character. Some songs are Ghost songs, and others are True songs.

In “That’s My Floor”’s music video she accidentally kills the people dancing with her indirectly because she gave them the disks (speculation) so she runs away. This lines up with “The Outskirts” from the website. It says to “walk down and atone for your sins”, also also that “the weight of your guilt should be slowing you down more than that”.

I think it’s about True’s guilt for all she’s done with the Imaginal Disk. When it zooms into her stomach camera? It shows what I think is the reality she actually wants. She wants to remove their disks; but she doesn’t. I also don’t know if Ghost is actually there, or if she’s hallucinating/imagining her to be.

“Love Is Everywhere”, is a Ghost song. She says to “look through the holes in the sky” to “find Love”. I also think Cry For Me might be a Ghost song, because she says “Think of Love and you’ll remember me”. I wonder if she’s going to be killed off or something. This would be foreshadowed by “DEATH and romance”. Maybe The solid light guy (whom I assume went into The Cocoon at The Outskirts) dies, so Ghost does too? Not sure. Speculation.

In Angel on a Satellite, a song I believe to be about Ghost, True sings “A thousand eyes turn to stone and monochrome // surprise, surprise // they turn to smile at the same time”

Followed by

“That’s why I don’t look up // That’s why I’m always dancing”

I think this is symbolism for her depression and inability to feel love.

The “eyes” can’t feel; they only watch. They symbolize people around her. They’re “stone” and “monochrome” because they are cold and reflective onto her, these represent people in her life that she can’t show her misery around. Like being depressed and having to hide it from your family, or friends that say “I’m always here to listen” but do not mean it in the slightest. She’s “always dancing” because she’s masking her loneliness and self-hate for those watching her.

True has never left love. We know she doesn’t truly. She sings about it multiple times. I think this part of She Looked Like Me! Is about Ghost

“Her hair lifted as she stood still

Right there in the light And she felt like a dream

I didn't know what to think

She looked like me

We stood mirrored 'til I leaned in And then you know what she did

She shot at me like an earthbound bullet

And then she wrapped her hands around my neck and I felt love

Just ordinary love

Let me hold you in my arms

Oh, love, that familiar old drug”

I don’t think Ghost literally strangled her, but instead it’s more poetic symbolism.

In Angel on a Satellite, True sings “I swear that through your eyes everything is brighter all the time // ‘cause when I see me through your eyes I love me, so don’t leave my side // you always see the sky, angel on a satellite”

Ghost “sees the sky” by seeing and feeling love. She literally “looks up”. She’s optimistic, True isn’t. She can’t look up.

Another little detail I’ve noticed is how in Love Is Everywhere, I presume Ghost sings “Look inside through the sky all around us” in the same melody that True sings “Angel on a satellite, glad you found us” in “Feeling Diskinserted?”

I think that the album will end with True going to the cocoon and becoming her ACTUAL “Purest self”. If you spell “Imaginal Disk” with a “c” instead of a “k” at the end, it’s literally a part of a pupa. The Imaginal disc turns into portions of a bug’s exoskeleton after it emerges from its metamorphosis. So, on a literal level, the real Imaginal disk that changes you was THE COCOON ALL ALONG. Maybe the Doctor is doing a shady internet scam trick where you change the URL by one letter and pass it off.

The detail here is so interesting. Even down to their names True is literally her True self. She can’t be anyone else. It’s reality. Ghost on the other hand is like the Ghost of everything True wants to be.

I also noticed: The Doctor’s laughter from Fear, Sex plays in the bridge of Cry For Me. I bet we will get a music video for it. I wonder what is happening with the Ghost and aliens storyline.

Anyways, I have so much to say about this. I have more even than this. We are missing music videos so I will be back. I also have to talk about the alien observation plot, but that needs more pondering.

[lilyblackdrawside]

Marcille and the concept of redeploying operators to reuse their skills

Long post.

The other day, Laios and his party became playable operators and Marcille joined with the brand new concept of Mana. She needs Mana to use her skills instead of SP and this Mana only charges while she’s not deployed. Her skills all have a wind-up in the form of her needing to chant for several seconds before they become active, but you can also turn them off anytime. The ability to turn her skills off pretty much only matters for S1, because S2 is a permanent modifier to her basic attack that has no downside and S3 is an instant-damage skill.

Being unable to gain SP while in the field is, on the surface, a really big downside. But as a tradeoff, she „gains SP“ while not on the field, as in, before you deploy her. To this end, all of her skills are essentially helidroppable, chanting time aside.

Marcille begins each mission with 25 to 40 Mana in addition to whatever the starting Mana (initial SP) of her skills is. The extra mana depends on her module status. She costs 34 DP to deploy, 26 with at least 1 level in her module and you passively gain 1 DP per second, just like how she gains 1 Mana per second. Her mana pool is 80 for each of her skills.

(I’ll assume Pot1, Module level 1 for the following segment (because that’s what I have for her))

S1 starts with 50/80 Mana, so it takes 30 seconds for her Mana to max out. S2 has 35/80, so it takes 45 seconds. S3 has 65/80, so it takes 15 seconds.

When you retreat Marcille, her Mana will be at whatever she was while on the field. Her skills’ starting Mana doesn’t function like initial SP in that sense.

If you use her S1, she can perform 40 attacks when deploying with full Mana. If she were to attack non-stop, it would take her just under two minutes to run dry. So S1 is practically a permanent skill, especially if you manage its (de)activation a bit.

With S2, her Mana is pretty much irrelevant, because if you want to use her with it, she simply can’t be one of your early deployed operators anyway with its at least 11 seconds of chanting that she will do automatically on deploy. So by the time you get around to fielding her, she’ll easily be above 70 Mana and you can activate it twice to get the full power of it. If you then let her die or need to move her elsewhere, she has the standard 70 seconds redeploy time anyway which happens to be exactly enough time to get enough Mana for the empowered familiar again. For S2, the Mana system is irrelevant.

S3 has so much starting Mana that for it too, it’s barely relevant. The only noteworthy effect her Mana has on this skill is that, if you want to use the full burst several times, she has a functional redeploy time of 80 seconds instead of 70, or 72 if you don’t mind missing one blast. (should be fine, to be honest) You can of course use single explosions and they’re really good for stunning enemies, since it takes Marcille 5 seconds to fire one blast that stuns for 4 seconds. She can do this 10 times per deploy, which is really quite good. It’s not just the funny full burst big damage skill, you can use it in a more nuanced manner. The stuns also have more range than the explosions (which is actually really annoying for Full Burst, because it'll stop enemies from walking into it), because each ranged tile caught in the explosion stuns adjacent enemies.

Overall, I regard S2 as her most practical skill. It has a lot of power packed into it, the repeated ministuns are very useful and the aoe Slows are also handy. She plays a bit like Greyy with it, but you don’t need to wait a minute to use it, seriously why does Greyy’s S2 need sixty sp and STARTS WITH NONE?? anyway, it’s a really good skill that does great, reliable damage and has handy control. Especially the ministuns. She has a 1.76 attack interval with this skill, so a lot of enemies with a long windup on their attacks will have trouble getting swings out while attacked by her.

S1 is pretty good, but kinda unremarkable. She does heal pretty well with it. Medics have a 2.85 attack interval across the board, Marcille with level 1 module has 2.76 and at max level she has 1024 atk, which blows Shining's 620 out of the water. Medics have really bad attack stats. Her healing isn't splash, so she really does become a Medic Medic with S1, but with M3 on it, she has a total 2662 atk and that's frankly enormous. S1 Quercus is the operator with the best persistent hps at 431 and Marcille has 965 and she can keep it up for almost two minutes and you can make her not waste Mana with proper management. If you want someone who just heals good, she's really, really strong for that. Due to her healing for 2.6k at a time, a lot of this is overheal but even if half of her healing is wasted, she still has more hps than Quercus. Shining with S1 active has just under 700 hps, for another comparison.

However, for the purpose of this essay, I want to talk about the nature of her S3. I just had to preface a Marcille overview, thems the br8ks.

When I bring up operators that you redeploy to reuse their skills, your first thought will probably be Lessing, the most noteworthy operator of this kind. That’s because your baste. No okay, it’ll be the Executor Branch, who are entirely designed around this concept.

They have a greatly-reduced redeploy time and all their skills and some talents trigger when they’re deployed. These can have effects ranging from dealing a lot of burst damage that clears the whole map to dealing a lot of burst damage that clears the whole map, defensive buffs to stall an enemy, disruptive effects of a wide variety, damage buffs of medium duration or large bursts of damage.

Dreadnoughts also tend to enjoy this kind of behaviour, as the aforementioned Lessing, Morgan and Skadi all have their own flavour of „Deploy with a big damage buff“ skill.

Utage also has this and I’ll group Surtr here as well, because her skill can only be used once while on the field and won’t run out while she stays there.

But this isn’t the group that I really want to talk about here. With them, it’s obvious that you’re supposed to retreat them when their skill is used up.

No, S3 reminds me a lot of Silver Ash’s Truesilver Slash.

Back in the day, there was a lot of talk about how you can get more TSS by simply retreating SA once he’d be done with whatever you needed him for. In his case, this was due to a combination of TSS needing 90 SP, starting with 75 and SA having a naturally reduced redeploy time of only 63 seconds. 60 if you had him at Pot3+. So if you left him on the field after he was done, it would take 90 seconds for him to have another TSS ready. If you retreated him, it’d only take 63.

Naturally, there are some downsides to retreating him. Mainly that he’s not on the field anymore, providing his off-skill performance: Detecting invisible enemies (whatever (at the time)), having 2 block (I wouldn’t exactly call him sturdy, but at least he has 100% def with TSS not active) and attacking (I always thought that Lords have rather unsatisfactory off-skill damage, but I’m not the biggest fan of the Branch in general so add salt.) and you’d have to pay the now increased cost again, which shouldn’t be neglected. Though if he costs 20, then you have to pay 30 and within 63 seconds, you probably accumulated that much I’d say. Still, 30 DP is 30 DP.

Other operators that come to mind here are Ch’en with her S2, that at M3 has enough initial SP to be usable on deploy (it’s „helidroppable“), Specter, Eyjafjalla and also Skadi, but with S3 this time. There are probably more, but whatevs, you get the picture.

All of these operators have the option of staying on the field and just letting their skills recharge like everyone else does and some of them actually have genuinely good off-skill performance, like Ch’en and Specter. Ch’en even brings on-field utility with her SP charging talent.

Marcille doesn’t get this luxury. She blows her load and then just stands there with her sad little Splash Caster auto attack, slow and short ranged, no longer even buffed by her talent.

Splash Casters are notoriously awful off-skill. Just terrible, no good. So does she even want this mercy? The mercy of getting to charge SP on the field like everyone else? Is it not much more comfortable to retreat back onto the bench and let other people take over in the meantime?

As you can see, the operators I mentioned that are like this are all very old. Year 1 or maybe even on release. They don’t really do this anymore. Operators don’t have such atrociously large SP costs anymore.

But I think the Mana system, if they were to reuse it (under a different name probably) could bring this concept back.

Marcille kinda demonstrates the three general ideas you can run with it:

- A skill that you turn on and off, to spend your resource gradually

- An infinite duration skill that traditionally would require the operator to spend a long time on the field before it becomes ready

- A nuke skill that needs so much SP that it’s practically single-use.

Her S3 is very similar to a charge-holding one like Bibeak’s S2. 8 Mana equals one charge and if you want, you can fire them all off in a row. I can manually fire all four of Bibeak’s S2 charges with a short delay between them, just like what Marcille does automatically if you let her do the extended chant. It’s just an adjusted version of that.

Would Bibeak be better if she deployed with 10 S2s that she’d have to spend over a minute on the bench to regain? Sometimes! Sometimes she’d be worse that way.

Of course, this Mana system makes the choice for the player. If you want to use S3 again, you have to retreat Marcille. If I want to use TSS again, I could just let SA hang out for 1.5 minutes, no biggie. Is it better to retreat him? Is it worse? Depends on the situation.

Leaving a dry Marcille on field is always the worse option, because she’s a skillless Splash Caster at that point.

In that sense, it would’ve been really interesting to give her a dramatically reduced redeploy time too, because then you have the option of deploying a Splash Caster who essentially has „like a third of a skill active“ with her talent that strengthens her basic attack with bigger splash and a slight atk buff while she has at least 1 Mana.

Because with the overlap of off-field Mana charging and redeploy time, there can’t be that much nuance to it unfortunately, unless the Mana pool is much higher than 80, which would make the operator too clunky to use to begin with. 80 is a pretty good amount to play with.

If you retreat her with S1, there’s a good chance she still has at least 10 Mana left over and you just want to move her somewhere else. So by the time she can be redeployed, her Mana is fully recovered.

With S2, you can only meaningfully spend 70 Mana anyway and that’s her basic redeploy time. The only reason to turn it off after empowering it is if you want her to not attack something at that distance, but at that point you may as well retreat her.

S3 gives you the choice to wait an extra few seconds after her redeploy time is up to get 1 to 2 extra explosions. That is most of the nuance to how she uses Mana as an operator.

I really want them to make more operators with Mana, or whatever they’d call it. I see a lot of potential in it.

[usafphantom2]

17th August 1943. The most ambitious attack planned by the USAAF’s Eighth Air Force to date was launched against the Messerschmitt factory at Regensburg and the vital ball bearing plants at Schweinfurt. Over 370 aircraft were to take part. 146 would bomb Regensburg before flying on to North Africa in the first ‘shuttle mission’ of its type, while the rest would strike Schweinfurt and return to base, There was to be a half hour interval between the two groups, not enough time for Luftwaffe defences to regroup.

However, the British weather was to play havoc with this complex plan from the outset. Thick cloud delayed the takeoff of the Regensburg force, while the bombers bound for Schweinfurt then waited several hours longer. This meant that instead of having to counter two simultaneous raids, Luftwaffe fighters could strike one formation, then refuel and rearm before engaging the next. The consequences would be severe.

Though the Regensburg formation was accompanied by P-47 Thunderbolts and RAF Spitfires, they were relatively few in number and had to turn back at the German frontier, the limit of their range at the time. Losses to Luftwaffe fighters and flak soon mounted, with 24 of the 139 bombers which crossed the Dutch coast being lost. On reaching North Africa, 55 more were found to be too badly damaged for immediate repair by the limited facilities available and were left behind; many never flew again.

The experience of the Schweinfurt force was no less painful. Though some Bomb Groups escaped relatively unscathed, others were badly mauled, in one case losing 50 percent of its strength. Escort fighters fought hard to protect their charges, but again had to turn back at the German frontier. Attacks by Luftwaffe aircraft continued throughout the inbound and outbound legs. 36 B-17s of the 230 on the Schweinfurt mission were shot down, while a number of other aircraft were written off on return to base.

The attack on Regensburg was judged a success, with the first bombs being particularly accurately placed. Many factory buildings were severely affected, while an unknown consequence was the damaging of construction jigs for the Me 262 jet fighter. At Schweinfurt, the bombing had been less concentrated, though German reports still showed a substantial drop in ball bearing production. Nonetheless, in both cases production swiftly recovered, while efforts to disperse factories to less vulnerable locations were accelerated.

Armaments minister Albert Speer later stated that immediate follow-up attacks would have had far greater consequences, but this didn’t happen. The loss of so many aircraft - and 600 trained aircrew killed, missing or captured - meant that no deep penetration raids were flown until early September. It was becoming clear that the USAAF’s faith in self-defending bomber formations was badly misplaced, and long-range escort fighters were desperately needed. Yet it would take a further devastating mission against Schweinfurt in October to bring about a pause in Eighth Air Force operations against Germany.

Pictured:

1) Smoke rising from the Messerschmitt factory at Regensburg on 17th August.

📷 American Air Museum FRE 7719

2) B-17s of the 379th Bomb Group over Schweinfurt.

📷 American Air Museum UPL 19606

3) B-17 of the 100th Bomb Group, force landed near Dübendorf, Switzerland, on 17th August. The aircraft had fallen out of formation on the run in to bomb Regensburg with two engines damaged by fighter attack. The entire crew were interned for the rest of the war. More than 70 B-17s and B-24s would land or crash in Switzerland by April 1945.

📷 American Air Museum FRE 4095

4) Airmen of the 385th Bomb Group meet civilians in front of B-17 Flying Fortress nicknamed "Shack Bunny" at Telerghma airfield, Algeria, following the Regensburg raid. Serviceable bombers later flew back to Britain, conducting an attack on Bordeaux airfield en route.

📷 American Air Museum FRE 1345

@JamieMctrusty via X

[liennka]

Fromage - part 1

Hannibal Lecter x Will's daughter/teen patient reader

Summary : When Y/N for once arrives early for her therapy, she ends up in a life-or-death situation... (s1 e08)

-> Feel free to insert yourself instead :) This is my first story and I am open to any criticism (be nice pls).

I just wanted to say that I am not the owner of this show, but I did make this story, so don't copy it without my knowledge, thank you.

Y/N was once again sat in the waiting room, awaiting her next session with Doctor Lecter. After some time, she gradually grew fond of her psychiatrist, who wore a “mask”, as she passed time trying to read his mind. It was not an easy task, but her efforts were bearing fruit as she was now able to recognise when he was bored, angry and most importantly, pleased. At that moment she knew he wouldn't be too happy with her early arrival, Hannibal didn't like his patients meeting each other, which was why they all had at least a 30 minute interval between each appointment. But her usual ride couldn't make it, and if she wanted to be on time, she had to take the bus, thus showing up an hour before she should have. 

----☆----☆----☆----

It was roughly halfway through the previous session when she heard footsteps in the hallway.  Y/N wondered who it could be, as she was Hannibal's last patient for the day. A tall black man in a suit made his way to the Doctor's door, walking slowly and steadily.

Something in Y/N felt wrong, her body hair rising and her mind automatically searching for the nearest exits. And she wasn't naive, it was her gut telling her to run. As much as she wanted to, she was cornered, the man approaching from one door and the other closed, if she tried to interrupt Lecter's session, he would kill her himself.

And when Y/N's chair was only a few meters away from him, she could finally see more details of his face. His dark expression, his dull eyes and the blood on his face. She sniffed and smelt some kind of acid and more blood, probably dried under his fingernails. Thanks to Will, she was more than just an average person, seeing few investigations and knowing the basics of corrupted minds. This man had the aura of a psychopath, the expression of a stoic killer and the smell of a mad scientist, if that wasn't enough she had no idea what was.

----☆----☆----☆----

She didn't knock, just quickly pulling on the doorknob, twisting it, opening the door and closing it right behind her.  A man was talking and then suddenly stopped as he saw her. Y/N's body was driven by her adrenaline, not minding the psychiatrist's look of shock and displeasure.

"There is a strange man. Blood on his face and hands," she whispered, her nerves causing her voice to rise an octave. 

Before Hannibal could say anything, Y/N retreated from the door and fled towards him. A few seconds after she had moved, the door opened again and that creepy man walked in. Y/N seemed to be the only one who did not know him, as the others quickly rose to their feet. Hannibal hid most of her body with himself, clearly hoping to shield her.  

"Tobias?" the smaller chubby man asked, eyes wide.

"I came to say goodbye, Franklin. I just killed two men," Tobias said coolly, some blood dripping from a missing chunk of his ear. 

"The police came to question me… " he added, intentionally leaving the sentence unfinished.

She tensed. Will never said where he was going, only telling her about his work when it was over. He himself never knew when Jack would snatch him and force him to solve another case. But this time she knew he was at work, leaving her no choice but to take the bus. And as always, her father would be the one to take care of all the murders in town. There was almost no chance that Will hadn't encountered this man. When Y/N looked at Hannibal, his composed facade was momentarily replaced by an expression of worry. She clutched at his jacket, her palm ruffling the cotton.

"You have to give yourself up, you might still be able to rehabilitate," Franklin pleaded with his friend. 

What a bloody idiot, she thought, there was no way Tobias would surrender, Franklin was more than naive, he was suicidal at this point. 

"Y/N, I want you to leave with Franklin, n-" Hannibal wasn't able to finish his sentence, but Y/N was swift and had already grabbed Franklin's suit. 

"Stay where you are, Franklin!" Tobias said furiously, interrupting Hannibal.

"No, no, no. We.Have.To.Go!" Y/N added weight to each word as she stepped into his field of vision. 

Franklin was momentarily flabbergasted, so Y/N took that opportunity and tightly grabbed his arm. But no matter how hard she pulled, Franklin's body wouldn't move, leaving her to try to drag him unsuccessfully towards Hannibal's desk. And then, when she thought he finally changed his mind, he turned around, not quite done with his motivational speech. He stepped back as he mumbled his words, letting her stay behind their doctor’s table.  Y/N was done with him. And so was everyone else.

----☆----☆----☆----

“I am not alone,” Tobias replied to one of Franklin's stupid quotes 

“That's right, you are not alone, nothing has happened in our real- ” Franklin's neck snapped, Hannibal behind him. 

The cracking sound was disgusting, making Y/N glance away. Franklin's body fell to the ground with a 'thud', sprawling his limbs like a puppet. 

"I was looking forward to that," Tobias groaned.

"I saved you the trouble," Hannibal smiled.

She was glued to the spot, watching them closely. As expected, Tobias got mad and threw his jacket on the floor. He pulled an iron cord from his pocket, a kind of weapon she had never seen before. He swung it a few times like a jojo, forcing Hannibal to retreat. Y/N made eye contact with her therapist and decided it was time to leave. She backed away to the patient's exit, not taking her eyes off the dangerous man for a second. Tobias tossed the wire at Hannibal and kicked him against the bookshelf. It looked bad for Hannibal, maybe if she was fast enough, she could call police. But only if she gets out first.

----☆----☆----☆----

Y/N had her hand on the doorknob, turning it slowly to prevent any sound from escaping. Much to her bad luck, it clicked and Tobias noticed.

----☆----☆----☆----

[deepperplexity]

Prompt: 13. Shimmering Icicles [C3]

Pairing: Turpin x fem!Reader

POV: Second, Reader & Third, Turpin

Setting: Turpin’s house

Continuation of: Prompt 4. Sharing, Prompt 6. Out Of Care

A/N:As promised! Here's today's fic - hope you'll love it 🤭 We're starting to get mighty warm in this one 👀 I mean, it is wintertime over here so I certainly don't mind 🤭🙈 I'm also so beyond ready to get a little break tbh - it's been nonstop of everything for the past few weeks (the last three days being super hectic with the writing as you know) and I'd love to curl up with a good book or longer fic and just take a moment to exist but I'm also super happy about all the writing I've gotten done so far this month 😂 I hope you're all having a wonderful time and that December keeps on giving all the good stuff 🥰❤

Tags/TW’s: Mutual Secret Pining, Wishing For Forgiveness, Cuddling Close In Sleep, Masturbation, Bathtub Pleasure, Unwilling/Unplanned Voyeurism, Virgin Reader, Sexual Desperation, Struggling With Emotions & New Sensations, Wishing For More, Yielding For Another's Benefit

Abbr.: Y/N - Your Name

Word Count: 2.9k+

LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST

⩤• You •⩥

Your body hummed with warmth, a calmness seemed sturdily wrapped around you as you awoke to the steadily growing light of dawn sifting through your closed eyelids. It was late morning and you couldn’t quite make yourself fully wake up. The dream of Richard returning to you in the middle of the night made you force yourself to remain on the borderline to wakefulness — the encompassing warmth did little to help sleep leave.

A flexing hand at your hip jolted your senses. You drew a quiet gasp as your eyes popped open in a rush. A pale chest dusted with grey hair filled your vision, the steady thumping of a heart beneath your ear rousing you further. You were curled up against Richard, his arm under your head and wrapped around your back. It wasn’t a dream .

You tried to remain utterly still, endeavouring to relax your muscles to fain sleep. Never had you laid so close. Never had he held you tightly. Never had you heard his heartbeat before or felt his steady breaths under your palm as his chest rose and sank. He was warm, soft yet sturdy — but that you already knew. How I missed you, darling … It was really a strange thing, though. Given everything, how had you fallen in love with the stoic man and felt as if he was missing from you when he wasn’t around? When did that really happen?

Richard hummed and tensed his arm for a second before his breaths turned deep and steady once more. You gently tilted your head back. His face was a wondrous thing to look at. Especially in that moment; his hard lines softened by sleep, the tension in his jaw gone for the time being, and his often scrunched eyebrows softly curved in relaxation. Your fingers tingled to reach up and drag down the curve of his hooked nose, to stroke those cheeks with the slight tint of rosy warmth and grey stubble.

You refrained. Instead, you cuddled closer, closing your eyes and pretending to be asleep. You wanted to remain there for as long as possible, a lacking in your heart you hadn’t known about suddenly felt filled with his closeness. Despite everything, he had come back and whatever discussion was to be had could wait. Your eternity rested in his hands, his words, but surely forever could spare another minute…

⩤• Turpin •⩥

He dared not move. The sun shone through the curtains, the day having since long begun. Yet he lay absolutely still, like a dead man in a casket. He kept his breaths deep and slow, every muscle relaxed and softened. Your warmth invaded his skin, your scent filled his nose, your soft breaths filled his ears with a sweet whooshing sound so low he could barely hear it but the warmth it fanned over his bare chest in intervals could not be missed.

Perhaps I perished in sleep and have reached— no, I must be very much alive, with my sweet wife cuddled close. The muddled and unfamiliar sensations within him were difficult to pinpoint — there were so many of them and all quite elusive to correctly term in their newness. His rigid cock was an easier matter to understand, you felt like perfection against him — despite the nightdress keeping your soft skin from his. This is not a time for my desperate need. I may very well be on the brink of never gaining such a gift from her, I cannot jeopardize this moment or the future beyond it.

He drew a deeper breath, gently moving his muscles to give you the chance to move away before ever knowing he was awake and aware of how the two of you lay so maddeningly close. But you didn’t move, nothing about your state changed and a mixture of relief and sorrow flooded him. He wished you awoke and remained cuddled against him willingly, what one did in sleep one had little control over and if you did not wake and made the active choice to remain close to him the moment meant that much less.

He sneaked his arm free before abandoning the warmth to shrug on his robe. When he glanced at you over his shoulder, your arm lay stretched over the mattress where he had been a moment ago but other than that nothing had changed. Asleep… Perhaps that is the only time I deserve your closeness, when you offer it unknowingly. The thought stabbed at his usually cold heart, his aching cock demanding to enter your warmth and find its sweet release, his skin itched to be connected with yours, and above all he wished for you to look him in the eye while offering your forgiveness.

None of it was granted, of course. He merely left the bedroom with a final glance at your sleeping form before heading to the bathroom. His movements were hurried, the constant pressure to go back and wake you, kiss you, press you down into the mattress with his own body while offering you all the pleasure he could was agonizingly unbearable.

He filled the tub with steaming water and shrugged out of his robe and underpants before sinking into the water with a deep groan. Leaning his head back and closing his eyes he tried to resist the urges coursing through his veins with the image of you in the bed as a constant stoker to the fire within him. It all mixed with his anger, his hurt, his wish for forgiveness, and the uncontrollable warmth you seemed to thaw his entire heart with.

His cock jerked as a memory flashed of you smiling widely at him, eyes all twinkly and warm when looking upon him. “Fucking hell and damnation,” he huffed out in a near snarl. “She’ll be the death of me, I swear it.” His hand found his cock and grabbed it harshly, squeezing the throbbing length with almost too much force as the need to come to the thoughts of you looking at him with warmth turned overwhelming.

He stroked himself, the water rippled at the motion as he spread his legs wider to relieve the pressure on his balls. “ Fuck ,” he hissed as he upped the pace, thinking of your hands on him, your lips against his skin, forgiveness and words of want tumbling out of your alluring mouth as he stroked himself harder. “Y/n— oh, fuck — ” he groaned while his balls drew up, his spine stiffening at the pending release he so desperately needed if he were to have the slightest chance at keeping a somewhat clear head later.

His hips bucked against his hand, and nearly painful pleasure built higher and higher as he gripped his cock harder — needing the pain to keep him from roaring out. “Y/n, my — haaa — sweet wife, oh fuck — ” He bit down on his lip, hissing a breath out between his teeth as he tensed all over. “Yes, yes, oh fuck -, Y/n—” His sentence got cut, his entire body turned stiff, and his eyes flew open at the sound of a gasp.

You stood in the doorway, your eyes wide, your hand over your agape mouth, the other still grasped the doorknob with with-knuckled force. “You-, you called my name,” you whispered while your cheeks turned scarlet, your entire throat rosy in a manner that only had his pleasure rising higher while your eyes seemed to look all over him in the clear bath, his hands still gripping his aching cock on the cusps of release.

It all happened in mere seconds, his lust-addled brain too caught in pleasure to fully register what was happening. “Oh my god!” you shrieked and his eyes found yours bound to his hand grasping his bulging length, he was still holding it tightly and the pressure along with your agonizingly alluring look of embarrassment and innocence tipped him over the edge before he could stop himself.

Red hot pleasure erupted within him as his cock pulsed, the water closest to it turning muddled with his cum while he gasped and groaned at the relief, his hips automatically jerking at the sensation while he tried to stop himself from completely unravelling while your intent gaze fanned the flames of his pleasure with your look of horror, intrigue, shame, and longing, all mixed into one delicious cocktail of purity to be ravaged. He couldn’t help it, you were the one woman he wished to be his and only his for all time — past, present, and future.

But this, the situation you were now in, had never been on his list of wants for your introduction to his naked anatomy. He always wished to go slow with you, make you feel safe in his proximity and closeness — make you curious, not frightened. Fucking hell , he thought while the five seconds after his climax passed in a breath-snagging stillness. Then you turned and slammed the door shut behind you with a bang so hard it rattled the walls. Dread seeped into his bones while his entire body deflated in the warm water. He feared all was lost now, seeing your reaction to him calling your name in the midst of manhandling his own cock. His body turned heavy and the sweetness of ejaculating to the thoughts of you did nothing to ease the stiffness in his shoulders.

⩤• You •⩥

You panted, your chest seemed nearly to explode as you tried to stop the raging of your pounding heart. You leaned against the door, a door you shouldn’t have entered despite hearing your name called. I thought he heard my steps, oh god, oh god, I thought— You hid your face behind your hands, your entire body felt on edge and there was a burning warmth forcing your entire body to tense as you couldn’t rid yourself of the magnificent view you had just witnessed. A primal urge. A deep-seated need. An indisputable sensation of something frighteningly new yet wholly wanted by your body.

Your skin was far too hot, your legs too shaky. The sound of Richard leaving the tub and water dripping on the tiles forced you to jolt away from the door. You couldn’t stop the feelings of him holding you close in the morning from mixing with whatever maddening sensation seeing him in such a state while nearly moaning your name made you feel now. It was too much, yet your body felt deprived of something at the same time.

Your back hit the hallway wall, your breaths in hot pants while the thin nightdress felt suffocatingly warm in the chilly house. Your eyes were glued to the door before you, your mind running rampant with the thought of your husband naked on the other side — and the length of him, the force of his hand, the look of pleasurable pain contorting his features just before his eyes had snapped to your face. The way his hips had jerked and he’d groaned, the depth of the sound wrecked you while you stood on trembling legs, frozen to the spot with only the wall for support.

Hope bloomed somewhere deep within you. Hope that he would forgive you, that he still wanted you, that he still wished to be with you despite the harsh words he’d spoken about your selfishness three days ago. You quenched a sobbed breath as your entire body confused you with the mixture of all the emotions running rampant within you. It was too much and you felt as if you were wound too tight, too tense and too loose at the same time — unable to untangle your feelings and thoughts while your body ached, thrummed, tensed, shook, all of it at the same time.

Your core ached far beyond anything else. A foreign sensation of coiling warmth your fingers seemed to itch to relieve. The view of Richard in the tub coming to the forefront, the sound of your name leaving his thin lips in such a darkly needy manner. You drew a shivering breath while trying to find your equilibrium. You couldn’t stay there, Richard would soon be done in the bathroom and you couldn’t face him when you were such a sordid mess.

After a few strained steps, you managed to get to the bedroom and slammed the door shut just as you heard the bathroom door open. You ran for the bed, diving in under the covers, and curled up in a ball of tension. What’s wrong with me? Why do I feel — Your thought was cut short when the door opened slowly, the tiniest of creaking from its hinges the only indication before Richard’s footsteps echoed out. He was moving closer, each thud echoed in your core with trepidation and shame filling your blood.

“Y/n?” he asked in a deep rumble, his voice thicker than usual. You curled up further, fully hidden under the cover. You didn’t know what else to do but to hide, despite the way you’d missed him while he was gone and how happy you had felt when you noticed him wake up a mere half an hour ago but not moving away from you.

“You should not have seen that,” he said after a short moment, his steps echoing out again — drawing closer once more as he rounded the bed. “I have done my utmost to wait, shield you from my needs to allow yours to dictate the pace we move in. Why would you enter the bathroom in such a manner?” he asked, from the sound of it he stood right by your side and his voice was thick with something dark you couldn’t quite name. “I-, I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice meek and strained with the confusing sensations tightening your body. “You called my name,” you continued quietly while listening to his rough breathing. A small whimper escaped you as your mind flashed with the way he’d said it, with such need and want. You never knew your name could sound so wondrous, so delectable, so lusty.

“Are you frightened of me?” he asked, his voice a caress of a rumble. “No.” “Why are you hiding, then?” You drew a deep, shuddering breath. “I-, I’m ashamed.” “Ashamed?” “Yes…” Because I feel like I’ll burst into flames if I look at you, and I looked at you when I shouldn’t have looked at you. And I’m frightened, and, and, and confused— “Why? Tell me,” Richard demanded. But you couldn’t. You couldn’t word what you were feeling, it was a mess and foreign to you. So, you remained quiet under the cover.

A long moment passed in silence, but you felt his presence. It only made you curl up further, your thighs pressing together in an attempt to relieve whatever ache had steadily built at the apex of them. You’d felt a shadow of the sensation before, after having wed Richard and lived with him for a few weeks. He’d been dressed splendidly, seated in the parlour with a book and his legs crossed leisurely. He’d looked magnificent, the afternoon sun had shone behind him and the grey in his hair had nearly glowed from the warm light. Is this that same feeling, only stronger?

“Wife,” Richard said steadily, “answer me.” “No, I-, I cannot,” you whispered, your throat tight. “Do you wish to be alone?” he then asked, dejection hidden in his voice. Did you? Did you want him to leave? “Yes… No…” If you leave now, maybe you’ll leave completely again. I don’t want that… “I shall leave you alone, I will remain in my office,” he said in a cold manner. His voice dark and deep, it sent goosebumps along your skin and the memory of how harshly he’d spoken to you three days ago surfaced. It made you cool slightly, your mind distracted from the images of seeing him in the tub.

His footsteps receded. The sound of the door knob being turned came and your heart jolted. You threw the cover off, your breaths turning rushed, and found his eyes staring at you — no emotions in them. As if he’d turned them off. “Don’t leave me again,” you said. “I took everything down, and I’m so sorry for what I did,” you continued while trying to keep the conflicting emotions and sensations at bay. On one hand, you wished to launch yourself at him and make him take away the ache, on the other you were terrified of the way he looked at you. Blandly. Blankly. 

You looked away, not able to hold the connection. Your eyes went to the window, shimmering icicles hung from the roof and the sparkles were beautiful as the sun shone on the clear ice. Perhaps those icicles were to be the only sparkle this Christmas. It tore a sigh from you, a pitiful sound really. Yet, still, you found yourself thinking that if he needed a Christmas that wasn’t all that Christmasy then you’d accept that, and deal with it — for him. Perhaps him saying your name during such a time as in the tub meant there was a chance for more between the two of you. 

His rushed footsteps filled the room, and you hadn’t time enough to turn your head before his warm hands cradled your cheeks and stormy eyes of grey held yours unwaveringly. “You… are apologizing, to me?” he asked, a low sound of disbelief. “ I should be the one to ask for your forgiveness, Y/n.” You couldn’t say anything, his eyes held you mesmerized and there was not a single thought in your head beyond wanting to kiss the lips confessing to wanting your forgiveness and lifting the blame from you.

“Wife, sweet wife,” he exhaled in a rush while his thumbs stroked your cheeks. The rainbow-coloured sparkles of the icicles danced around him and all you could do was hold his gaze as your body went taunt and hot from the way he looked at you.

…To Be Continued…

LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST

A/N: Well, that was a fun fic 🤭 This is really turning into something quite delicious and I do have plans for at least 2 more parts of this story so stay tuned for that in the near future - hopefully not too far off in the future (yes, yes, I'm itching to write more for Turpin - as usual 😂)

Q: What's that one thing that bothers you with the holidays? 👀 A: For me, it's the mania regarding gifts. Like, yes, I love to give and receive gifts but I think there's a bit too much of a buying spree every year rather than an actual thought behind the gifts. I'd rather have one well-thought-out gift than ten random ones 🤷

TAGLIST: @lizlil @snapefiction @darkthought15 @monstreviolet @flowerdementia @marvelschriss @once-upon-an-imagine @ravennight41 @caseydoodles98 @slytherinprincess03 @theconsultingdetectiveswife @grimmyhild @monster-energies @myobscureimaginarium @snowblossomreads @eternal-silvertongued-prince @cherryglossie @setsuna-meiou31 @helena211 @a-queen-and-her-throne @justsaturn0 @turvi @imwithyoutiltheendofthelinebucky  @sunnylikesfrogs

@mamawolfsmith16 @dianilaws @sassanoe @snapesrn @bernadette-peters12 @sammy-13 @smartowl999 @castleofthorns @serenanight87 @leah1243 @mamawolfsmith87 @snowblossomreads @ladykardasi @eternal-silvertongued-prince @lyrixsnape @daddythanatos @elizabeth-baelish @severuslovebot @thethotthatbreathes @rickmandowneyjr @yellowbadgermole @snapesangel @commodoreseverus  @reinekefoxart @lght-n-drk @cathym1102

Want to be tagged? 💚 You can tag yourself HERE! Or tell me and I’ll gladly tag you! 😍

[Dec:2023]

[arzuera]

Who Wrote That?!

Hello! This is a Host and Player's guide on how to play 'Who Wrote That?!', a writing game for all ages! What is 'Who Wrote That?'? It's a game played with a minimum of 4 players or more. The players submit excerpts based on a prompt to the host and then have to guess who wrote what when the host releases them later. Whoever has the most points at the end is the winner!

Rules for Players

If there is one, please read the 'Do Not' list that any host gives you. This ensures that everyone has fun and no one is secluded because someone wrote something that triggered them.

2. Write an excerpt based on the prompt in the given timeframe. If you need an extension, ask the Host! More than likely, they will work with you. After all, the more the merrier.

3. Try to keep to the word limit, if there is one. Writing too much could out you just as much as writing too little. If you feel that your excerpt may be too long or too short, ask the Host if you may need to edit.

4. HAVE FUN! You can keep any writing that is too long and post it later or even continue the story if you wish! Odds are the plotbunnies will have made themselves home anyway :D

How to Host

Hosting is just as fun as playing! You get to read all the lovely juicy fun words and then see everyone gush and lament on the excerpts and their choices between submissions! The Host is the person/people who organize the rounds and keep track of the points. They also are the ones who post the excerpts for the players to read during guessing time and post the reveals round by round after voting is closed. It can seem daunting but it's a lot of fun!

There are two ways to play: A long game and a short game.

On average, a long game is considered a word limit of 1k or higher with a short game being about one paragraph or 300-400 words. Your game length will vary on the number of players and how long the excerpts are.

First, as the Host, pick or come up with a prompt. Try and find one or make it, open-ended so that the authors can really make the prompt their own! For example:

Danny gets trapped in a spellbook. He binds himself to whoever touches him next. The only way to release the bind is by either freeing Danny or doing so many things the book says (which the book is blank and Danny can control what is in it). Shenanigans

Also here is the Tumblr post source: Prompt Source

This is the first game we played! Its short but vague enough for the players to go off on their own interpretations.

Second, figure out the timeframe that works as best for you as it does with everyone else. Unfortunately due to timezones, you may not be able to have everyone online for the live voting or reveals. But that can be remedied a bit by giving time for people to be there.

A long game normally goes Tuesday-Friday for prompt submissions, Saturday is dedicated to voting, and Sunday will be the reveal!

Short games can do the same as above but maybe at hour intervals instead. 2-3 hours for submissions, an hour for voting, then reveal! Third, once you have your prompt and time frame, now it's time to let players know! Make a post or @ your friends so that they can play!

Fourth, collect all of the submissions in a Google doc and then organize the submissions by round order. That way you aren't digging for a prompt through Discord messages or google docs. It's all ready to go!

Fifth, when you have all of your submissions, it's time to make a Google form! Make an assessment and create as many questions as there are rounds with the players' names as the answers. Make sure to turn off 'shuffle option order'

Because this will move all the answers around and that is unnecessarily confusing.

Next go to settings and make it a quiz! But turn the other options off

Turning off missed questions, correct answers and point values makes it so the players don't see what they got after they submit their answers. They won't know until you reveal it all at the end! Now all you have to do is wait for voting time!

Sixth, Now it's time for the players to vote and they get to gush over what they are reading while chaos begins. Post the excerpts at hour intervals to give the players a chance to discuss among themselves. This is where they will try to throw the other off the scent of their work or try sus out the author. It's a lot of fun to watch :3

Lastly, reveals. Once voting is done, you can go into the Google form and see how everyone did! Calculate the points and figure out if you have a winner! When you have the points calculated, release the results of Who Wrote That one round at a time. Reveal who the author of that excerpt was along with who all got it right! Continue this by giving some time between results so the players can tease each other until all of the reveals are done and you announce the winner!

Congrats! You just hosted a game of Who Wrote That?! ! :3

Disclaimer: Google docs is mainly mentioned because most of the games have been running via co-hosting. With google docs, we can share the excerpts that both of us have gotten easily to one another. However, if you are hosting on your own, then any doc program should work just fine.

[roseshewrites]

A GOLDEN PIECE OF YOU~(RadioApple)

*Chapter 3, Second Waltz

Of course Charlie had hung a gigantic WELCOME HOME, DAD sign decorated with rubber duck stickers and rainbows on the stair banisters. She had also tied an unholy amount of balloons on every single balloon-friendly surface she could find in the front lobby, which was surprisingly quite a lot.

Of course, Alastor was standing front and center in front of the group waiting to shout "Welcome!" At him as soon as he walked in. Only the group of misfits that made up the hotel's population all shouted it at random intervals and in varying decibals, Husker coming in last with a deep mutter, and Nifty, who was sitting atop Alastor's shoulders gave a gleeful, "HAPPY BIRTHDAY!"

Well, it was the thought that counted.

Of course Alastor said nothing to him whatsoever and only widened his large yellow grin, his red eyes narrowing as he stared Lucifer down.

Charlie cringed and then giggled at the chaos, running to hug him.

"We're all so happy to have you here, dad!"

Minus one.

But, he could put aside a rivalry for now. For Charlie.

"Thanks, babygirl!" He grinned up at her.

Dear gods, she had gotten so tall. So tall and beautiful, and confident.

She certainly did not get any of that from him.

Party chaos ensued.

Alastor was made to play some radio music with a cue from Charlie who cried, "Hit it, DJ!"

("Hit what?")

"Play some music, asshole," Angel Dust supplied helpfully.

"I remember her asking me to supply music to her little party. I don't remember being asked to strike someone named DJ."

"Oh, for fuck's s-"

But the rest of Angel's swear was suddenly drowned out by the loud jazz tunes strumming agressively from the radio demon, who looked like he knew exactly what he was doing.

"DOES THE GUY KNOW ANYTHING ELSE OTHER THAN ELEVATOR WAIT MUSIC-"

The jazz increased in volume till even Angel's shouting was drowned out and Husker was seen in a corner pressing his ears and hissing.

Nifty, unaware of the tension or perhaps feeding upon it, hopped from Alastor's shoulders and proceeded to attempt a messy looking Charelston dance where instead of just holding her arms up, she was also stabbing at the air.

Lucifer sidestepped her quickly before she could impale his ankle, and muttered conspirationally to Charlie, "Is it always like this here?"

His daughter grinned, "Hehe, yeah..pretty much all the time." She scrunched her shoulders sheepishly then said, "But I love it!"

Alastor finally found a reasonable volume for his jazz tunes much to Husker's relief, and twirled Nifty around by her little finger when she asked.

"Spins! Haha!"

"Watch the daggers, darling. They're for the bugs, not my feet, remember?"

"Uppy spins, please. Please, Alastor!"

Nifty was bouncing on her little feet.

"Oh, very well."

The radio demon swooped Nifty up as she demanded, much to her squealing delight, and set the both of them spinning about the room as the jazz music settled into a record crackling waltz.

Oh hell, Lucifer thought. They're so fucking adorable. When had he ever seen Alastor so gentle?

Lucifer caught Charlie grinning at him, and knew she was remembering a time in her childhood when he would do the same thing with her.

"I can't pick you up like that anymore," he said, actually a little bit sad. Maybe just bittersweet. He had missed so much of his little princess' life.

"You can just lift my spirits instead, dad," she laughed.

He chuckled. "That, I can do!"

Nifty pointed out Lucifer from on top of Alastor's neck and when they got closer she cried, "Now go dance with the baaaad boy." She clutched at his ears and giggled.

"I don't know Nifty darling, *is* he a bad boy? Perhaps you should go find out for yourself."

"Hey!" Lucifer said, slightly miffed. "I'll have you know I'm the original bad boy."

"Ooh!" Alastor chuckled, "So touchy. Perhaps a little dance would cheer you up, *King.* "

He was holding out one clawed hand to Lucifer, eyes narrowed at him expectantly.

Nifty clawed her way down Alastor's back and with a little "hup-hup!" Ran off to go stab some bugs, bored with the party.

"Well, I, uhhh.." Lucifer didn't know what to say.

"Oh, no worries, Applesauce, I promised your daughter I'd be on my *best* behavior this evening."

"Well, I suppose one dance wouldn't uhhh...wouldn't hurt," he agreed reluctantly, taking Alastor's hand. "Don't call me that again though."

Alastor swept him seamlessly into the dance. The man was right on time with the music, and led Lucifer around to a perfect pace.

Lucifer fell naturally into the pace too, noting how Alastor had so gracefully taken the lead role. He'd feel irked by that if he wasn't so impressed by how Alastor had a hand on Lucifer's waist, the other lightly holding his hand but yet kept the rest of his body at a respectful distance.

He was being...well, this evening anyway, he was being a perfect gentleman. So far.

"Your footwork is amazing. I like the song, too. Shostakovich."

"Second waltz. You know your music."

Lucifer chuckled, "Kiddo, I invented music."

"HaHa! Don't me call that."

"HaHa! I was created before the garden of Eden was a sparkle in God's eye. You're a kiddo to me," he smirked up at Alastor, whose eyes narrowed and glinted dangerously.

"Ahh yes, that's right. Samael. God's favorite toy. Did it hurt when you fell from Heaven?"

"Smooooth," Angel crooned from a corner, whistling at them. Husker not so delicately clocked him on the shoulder. "OW, assfuckinlicker!"

"For your information, KIDDO, it did."

Lucifer spotted his daughter running frantically to try and get Alastor's attention and saw her whisper-shouting "IXNAY. ON THE SAMAEL-HAY."

Vaggie's face palm from this was audible.

"It's Amael-Say, babe. And EVERYONE heard you."

"Shit."

"You know what? That's okay," Lucifer broke free from Alastor's arms, standing back, "You wanna dead name me for no reason, bastard? You got a problem or something?"

"Dad! Dad, I'm - I'm sure he didn't mean it like that, did you Alastor?"

Alastor was very catlike observing his own claws, eyebrows delicately raised, "Really, I was simply making conversation. How was I supposed to know your father was still sensitive about something that happened so long ago?"

"See?" Charlie appealed, "And you're sorry, right? For hurting dad's feelings?"

Alastor just stared at her deadpan grinning, the radio waves about him crackling loudly.

"We'll, uhhh....we'll work on that one."

The party broke shortly after that with Angel dragging Husker off to go to the bar, Alastor bidding everyone a good night and Niffty was... Well, she was doing Nifty things. Where did she even sleep?, Lucifer wondered.

"Thanks for the welcome, Ducky," Lucifer yawned, "But your old dad's beat. Got stuff to unpack before I hit the hay."

Charlie looked at Vaggie then glanced at her dad. She gave her girlfriend a look and said "Go on ahead, I'll be up in a minute."

Both Lucifer and Vaggie exchanged looks that seemed like a moment of solidarity.

Because both of them knew Charlie, and they both knew no one was sleeping until SOMETHING had been resolved.

Behind her girlfriend's back Vaggie mouthed Good Luck at Lucifer, who winked in return.

When everyone else had gone to bed, Charlie and Lucifer stepped into a living area on one of the upper floors. Lucifer sighed and collapsed on a nearby sofa, flinging his top hat to the side.

She sat down next to him, looking a bit nervous.

"Okay. What is it? Spit it out, junior."

"I...just wanted to make sure....that Alastor's little comment didn't um...get under your skin too much."

"Oh please! I'm not worried about that jerk."

"You're really all right?"

"Charlie," Lucifer said impatiently, "I know you're worried I'm going to....maybe...fall back into some old habits of mine. You know my problems and that worry is certainly valid, sweetheart, but I haven't had a post-traumatic whatever in ages."

"So you're not gonna..."

"No self isolation," he said firmly, "No episodes. And I'm certainly not gonna let a reminder of my time in Heaven ruin my sleep tonight."

She grinned, her face lighting up like he loved so much.

"Dad?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you for moving in with me."

"Of course!" He brightened, "Char, you know what we're gonna DO with this place?"

"No, what!" She was sitting in the edge of her seat now.

"We're gonna take hell by storm with it, Ducky. In a month it'll be so full of patrons we'll need to build."

"Yeah!! And after that?"

"Your dreams are gonna come true. I'll make sure of it."

After promises of going over group plans with her in the morning, they began to part ways but not before his daughter scooped him up in a twirling hug that lifted his feet off the floor.

"I love you Dad!!"

He chuckled when she set him down and he took his hat off and placed it on her head, walking off to his room.

"Love you too, darlin'. Good night."

~

He was walking down one of the hotel's many hallways when a slight burst of conversation came to his attention, punctuated by that distinct radio crackle.

Dammit, he was not in the mood for another encounter with jerkface McRadio.

The two characters rounded the corner though, and he was trapped.

Alastor was being followed around by one of Sir Pentious' remaining Egg Bois, who was bopping along talking Alastor's ears off in a steady stream, Alastor nodding and "Mmhmm"-ing in all the right places, tolerating the Egg's enthusiasm.

"Say, boss, I gotta joke for yah!"

"Sure, Egburt."

"Why did the chicken cross the road?!"

"I don't know, why *did* the chicken cross the road?"

"Because America’s aging infrastructure doesn’t adequately provide footbridges or pedestrian underpasses!!!"

There was almost an audible pause, then Alastor cracked up, a real honest laugh that echoed around the hall.

"Oh my dear Egg, you do have your moments of lucidity, don't you?"

"Whatsat??"

"Never you mind. Now run along, there, I've preparations for tomorrow's broadcast."

 

"Okay!!"

The egg bopped ahead of Alastor, promptly rounding the corner ahead and leaving Lucifer alone...again...with the radio demon.

"So..Egburt, huh?" Lucifer remarked, just to break the silence.

"He answers to just about anything. Egburt, Egghead, The Great Eggsbie. Just don't expect him to understand that reference."

"Right..."

"I suppose I'll see you for your daughter's most recent group excercise itinerary in the coming weeks. It should be...enlightening."

Uh-oh. Charlie hadn't mentioned anything about that to him. Things at the party had been so chaotic, and then he'd gone and ruined things by getting pissy with Alastor, and..

"Yup, sure will," Lucifer aimed for assuming an air that he completely understood what the hell Alastor was talking about, and bid him goodnight; cringing inwardly that he went to tip his hat, then forgot he wasn't currently wearing it, disguised the movement with an awkward head scratch and left to the sound of Alastor chuckling deeply to himself as they both went their separate ways.

Enlightening.

Hooray.

What did Alastor know that he didn't?

[bluesey-182]

so we're all familiar with the "afternoon appointment paralysis" where if you have an appointment at, say, 4 p.m, then you go into a waiting mode and simply can't do anything at all until the appointment, right? but does anyone else experience "early morning alarm insomnia"? where if you have to wake up earlier than usual you absolutely Can't Sleep and instead you wake up literally every 30 minutes in a panic thinking you missed your alarm, or it's just about to go off, so you "sleep" the whole night in 30 minutes intervals with high levels of anxiety sprinkled in between?

[rewordthis]

Watching Bucchigiri?! and waiting for the last episode to air can be conflicting.

Do I want it to end or do I hope for a second season for some more explanations (highly unlikely btw)? Do I let it go, because from the get go it was an incoherent attempt from the producers to connect dots randomly put on the paper? Or do I stay for the music, some cool characters (ok 2— but still) and the ‘what may be’? Genuinely asking here...

Arajin, as an antihero-type (more like pathetic) mc sure isn’t the first one I’ve seen, but good god he’s the stupidest!

He’s so blissfully blind and singleminded that to be honest, I see what Senya felt attracting him and possessed him. lmao Even he mentions that this is the way of life and a innate trait of those aspiring to become honkibito; to singlemindedly pursue their goal: to become honki.

Notice how it is shown, that the crypt in the temple opens the same time that Arajin rehearses his introduction for his female classmates in his new school. Peak confidence moment for him, if you ask me! 🤭

Following that logic, of genies being attracted to specific traits of their vessels, the bullet hit Arajin because Senya had chosen him. He actually says first thing when he sees him: “またはずれか” aka: “another miss?”, which means that he’s already tried to posses people many times before.

But, I want to point out some things that are showing through in the series, and this is going to be one long-ass and winding post, so buckle up I guess, if you dare to read further down below the cut!

◆ As for those of you that have a short fuse and still opened this, I’ll be kind and tell you that you can skip to the last paragraph (green colour) for what my expectations are for the final episode. Cheers~

◆ So here we go:

1. Honkibito: 本気人 or マジン (majin) as Senya says and Usagi-san has already very coherently explained here, are spirits that are free to posses whoever they feel more attracted to or consider strong enough for their goals and can equally, easily abandon anyone that doesn’t have it in him. It: is the overpowering desire/will (nozomi) that one holds in his heart. Also, in my boop-induced stupor, I commented on a post, that honki may have been a word play for stars, seeing how the theme is 1000+1 nights and Senya’s symbol is the sun while Ichiya’s is the moon, but love, I am not sure when my moments happen correctly… I was just thinking that 本(hon) can invoke a recall on 本能(honou) instinct -> 炎(hono) flames -> 星(hoshi) stars (because they burn) -> 欲しい(hoshi-i) desire (this is completely inaccurate though, in terms of how the actual pronunciations are and the kanjis… I’m sure the kanjis don’t stem from the same sources either) and I also, actually thought that 本鬼 or 本生 could be other ways to write it. Because 本鬼 could be read as honki: real/wood demon (Akutaro refers to Senya as oni (demon)): and in the Chinese astrology there’s the demon star (7killings and represents the warrior — though it represents the wrong way of using power) and I mostly based what I said about stars on the thought that, what if it means it falls under a wood master since wood grows tall to reach the sky and they fight to reach their higher/true selves? Because aspiring to reach your higher state is like aspiring to get a seat on the sky, appointed by Zeus(!) and that meant you had to die in battle as a true warrior for that to happen (also the spirit probably needs to be free and not “sealed”, too) — hence why they turned into genies instead. (Still new to Chinese astrology here though, and honestly very fucking confused… 😵‍💫 Sorry… ) But there is actually, arcane knowledge about how someone could become a Hero in ancient times which was happening during time intervals in correspondence with the zodiac cycle, however one had to be initiated through a ceremony; one such being The Eleusinian Mysteries. And 本生, can it be read as honki, too (huge stretch here. Help!)? Because that may apply to the spartan/straight-way of life the warriors live, but apparently there’s also a famous buddhist work that is titled Jataka Tales, which I had no clue until now, when I tried to search the kanjis... Ok. I think I exhausted my stupidity quota with this one, I should be studying a lot more consistently than just brain-dumping everything in a mixer and expect a smoothy later. Haha 😅

2. Senya and Ichiya were once humans. And by the time they were killed they were very much vulnerable and well, human and killable. Ichiya, especially was very much in anger at that time without managing to solve the issue he had with Senya…

3. They were sealed (Senya’s words) when they were killed after the wars had ended. (Poor guys did their mission and didn’t get to play after… 🥺) This actually leads me to believe that their souls ie: spirit (気) was bound by a spell to not the bullet (because how else was Arajin able to reshoot himself? the bullet never gets lost or the pistol refilled…), but rather the crystals on the pistols. Each one was killed by only one pistol with their corresponding colour on its crystals. By the way, it is said that crystals can be bearers of supernatural powers or cages of spirits, because of their close relation to the earth and therefore all the energies that run through her. If you have seen anything from Jujutsu Kaisen, these pistols are what is considered a “cursed object” practically.

4. The fact that nobody can see Senya or Ichiya (they can’t even see each other, please! 😫), unless they touch the bullet makes me think that their spirit gets projected into the material world through there but it’s otherwise only seen by their vessel because they are part of its aura. Also, I don’t think ichiya ever really possessed Akutaro because he probably didn’t shoot himself. I mean, we don’t see him having a bullet on him, ever. And if he did have, he would have been alarmed by Ichiya asking him to put the pistol in Matakara’s hands and shoot himself, no? Sir, I think Ichiya only rode him until he could find Matakara, but I’m not sure how. 🧐 Maybe the black spirit was how he possessed him. Or maybe not. Also, maybe because Ichiya wanted to leave but couldn’t until someone he wanted more would use the gun (and Akutaro wasn’t dying atm) he just stayed to search for someone strong. Ichiya has been out at least half a year before Senya found Arajin. Upon finding out about Senya he can feel the clock ticking. And he sure didn’t know about Senya’s state until Arajin punched Akutaro. He realised that this was his chance! He was also pressed, to force Matakara into using the gun because he’d never do it on his own…. And Ichiya really wants to fight Senya… And maybe genies are able to stay as long as either of them wants to merge… I mean, both Senya and Ichiya tried to leave mid-fight to let their vessels die during it or to force them make up their minds maybe, but somehow they were both still connected to them and stick around because they wanted for their vessels to make a resolution in their heart and use their power. Arajin didn’t want Senya but Senya wanted him, so he stayed until Arajin literally felt betrayed by him. I think Senya was able to leave the whole time, he just chose to stay. He was amazed that Arajin was even able to initiate a merge all by himself. He’s one special idiot, if you ask me. But after finding out what merging meant, there was no point in staying with someone that didn’t trust him anymore… 😕

5. Why did I mention aura earlier, though? How is it into play here? Because Matakara could see Ichiya’s darkness lurking in the temple ever since he was a little kid. And I’m steadfast on my belief that this darkness stems from Ichiya, because not only was it on his side in the panel picture but it also seemed to form a writing of his name when it settled…. But, back to the point. Why could Matakara see it? Could his brother see it, too? Well, I’m not sure about Mitsukuni, because he didn’t seem to notice it, but Matakara could definitely see it. It’s because he has a pure soul. There’s honestly nothing better — and worse at the same time — than someone having a 100% pure soul. They are kind, bright and a treasure (ironic — I know…) to those around them, but darling, they are hell broken loose when they get a change of heart and play for the other team. Matakara’s pure, kind side is a lot like Makoto’s from Free! but at the same time I get many Keisuke/Kurosuke vibes from him! (I mean, I still have beef with NitroChi for never releasing official birthdays for that vn! 😤 I always feared that Keisuke could be a Libra, but he’s far more likely to be an Aries at this point.) I also had flashbacks at how Marito called Matakara Arajin’s dog, of how Kurosuke was mad at Akira because he thought he treated him like a dog! 😭 As n said: “stagnant water gets dirty and can’t return to its original state again…’.  Dear god! This must be one of the most beautiful allegories I have seen in anime, if not in general. Water cleanses, is the source of life, but when it pools it gets dirty and dangerous… It’s how powerful a weapon true purity can turn out to be… (Stray thought, btw, but why do you think angels are portrayed as ferocious warrior beings but are still the most pure, huh?)

6. Also, Matakara’s birthday is a day that signifies constant change in the person’s life. It’s frustrating that these individuals are supposed to realise later in their life how the family they originated from hadn’t really helped them at all at evolving or how they need to make ‘amends’ of sorts with their mom especially, to feel comfortable to forge bonds. Yeah… I don’t think so, darling. They are considered saviours of some sort, which in turn puts pressure on them, but in a good way. What triggered me the most reading this, is that they are loners in their core and only consider like one or two people ‘theirs’. Anyone noticed how he only calls Mitsukuni, nii-chan or Arajin, Ara-chan and how fixated he is on ‘saving’ Ken-san for last? Anyone? I’m accepting offers! It’s because these are the two most important people in his life. They are his bonds. His only, truly, fully acknowledged bonds! Kenichiro, is only tangentially important to him, because he was the only one that was second to his brother. Nothing more. So, very sorry for those who got upset when he told Zabu that he doesn’t really know him, because he absolutely meant it. It’s the truest thing in the whole freaking series. There is this darkness that Ichiya latched onto, which honestly must be SO deep, that it makes me feel powerless knowing there are people out there who do feel like this… He knows full well, that no one of his “buddies” knows how deep this darkness runs — they can’t even begin to imagine there is darkness in him to begin with — he doesn’t really even know how deep, himself. He felt oppressed for keeping it under wraps all this time, because it first got out when his brother went to juvy, and that was just him lashing out, mind you. Now he has a magical being telling him that he needs to be this way— he needs to turn into a monster himself and embrace this darkness to become truly strong. He won’t get over it until he realises that nothing is his fault and everything changes because that’s just how life is supposed to be.

7. Here I want to speak about that shadow/darkness that follows Ichiya, that from the beginning I honestly though it to be his “human despairs” that he had tried to get rid off; but for someone to separate and reject parts of their soul can produce incredible frustrations and pain that can result in those energies manifesting in a separate entity of sorts but which is still fed by the broken counterpart, so it stuck close after his death. I genuinely believe this fraction of his soul is still on the loose because he didn’t want to acknowledge it and that he’s not whole even as a spirit. But it’s also possible as it was pointed out, that it is an entirely different entity that possesses him, I still, beg to differ though…

8. I have a huge fear that Mitsukuni was a Libra. Libras and Aries are opposing signs and energies. No matter how good a relationship they had or how much Matakara admired and loved his brother, he’s bound to feel frustration around him. Because Libras can be exhibited as extremely righteous, which to be fair is highly subjective; I’d probably categorise them into the self-righteous bunch. Imagine an Aries now having to live up to these standards. Fucking hell… Not to mention that feeling this way, can also make someone feeling like they are being ungrateful towards the Libra person who showers them with attention and tries to spoil them by doing as many favours to them— even favours they didn’t ask for… 😒 This is an incredibly tentative power balance that can tip over super fast super easily. 😬 In one word: HELL.

9. I also just remembered how there’s a huge difference in how Senya and Arajin are activating their merge to the way Ichiya and Matakara do. As I mentioned above, Arajin is the one reluctant to merge but ends up being the one asking Senya and even activating it on his own during the time he faces Akutaro; he is the one with the overpowering will in their merge. Matakara on the other hand is accepting Ichiya inside him and surrenders his body to him, completely relinquishing and entrusting his everything to him, making himself to be the one with the weaker will despite how he naturally is before Ichiya possessing him.

Just look at him here, how he takes Ichiya in him: eyes closed and stance wide open… 

Again, completely giving himself over to Ichiya and in a sense, self-sacrificing in order to find the strength he’s so desperately wishing for. Oh my gosh, he’s such a beautiful character… *I hate them producers* (´༎ຶོρ༎ຶོ`)

10. Now that I remembered this, his blood type is O. In Japan most politicians or company directors etc, are people with blood type O and so they are also considered “the leader”… just so you know. 😑

11. Also, also! I haven’t really understood the reason the genies ask for “what is your wish” in this anime in particular, because it’s not like their going to make it happen, but it probably is required in order to establish a connection to the soul and the desire of their chosen fighter. I mean, how can you connect and even “merge” with someone, unless you know what their heart truly yearns for?

12. One more thing. Along with Arajin being themed by chinese tradition, there are other elements throughout the series, like some of the character names and even at how they arrange time. For example, Matakara asks Ken-san to meet him at “the hour of the rooster”, which is about 17:00 - 19:00.

◆ Change of heart; change of… clothes: What is the significance of Matakara being designed to have a hoodie? It must be convenient for someone his size. Hm. 

I believe that being interested in fighting as a “sport” or a “self-defining” means (as is the case here) is extremely unlikely one would make such a choice in real life. How so? Because wearing chains, piercings, hoodies and generally having loose items on your person, could prove a weapon or a leverage in your opponent’s hands and be used against you during the fight (sort of when being a goalkeeper and shooting the ball to your own nets kinda thing…). So in a way that, unconsciously, makes those characters look far more assured on their strength. Besides Matakara, other known characters that habitually wear hoodies despite their involvement in close combat are Akira (TnC) and Yuuji (JJK), who are also considered exceptionally strong and they also know it. One other example in the series that stands out, is Marito. The chains and piercings he’s wearing are all a means to say he’s got nothing to expect from those facing him. There may be that there’s just enough respect among those fighting that they wouldn’t resort to such tactics, but then again, Matakara did throw dirt in his eyes when he became desperate, so this is just to say that Marito is insanely strong and also insanely assured about himself— if not just plainly insane. In other words, the design is such that evokes characters with confidence and awareness of the gap that separates them from their peers, something to which it can be ascribed the why and how Matakara tries to be fair during fights up until Ichiya enters him.

Now, I’m sure it’s quite noticeable how Matakara’s light blue hoodie and white undershirt has given its place to a dark navy blue one with a black undershirt. This is because “darkness” is the theme metaphor here. Ichiya said when he transferred to Matakara that Matakara has a deep darkness in him to which he could fit in more better. That was what Ichiya was drawn to— like how Senya was to Arajin. Also, I’m pretty confident that Ichiya had his eyes on Matakara ever since he was a child and could see the “monster”… I also think, that the way Senya thought this to be a sign when he found out about Arajin and Matakara training as kids to become honki, is an indication of the genies being drawn to souls with this desire. Matakara, to be sure, also never left the town and kept visiting the honki temple, which means Ichiya could probably “sense” that original darkness he was drawn, evolving. He rode Akutaro when he had the chance, to manage and get out to look for that darkness. I kind of think, that maybe this has to do with the fact that spirits cannot be seen or be able to see since they don’t have eyes. Spirits are energies that you can feel, however. In that same vain, Ichiya must have recognised Matakara’s darkness during the gang war and was finally able to see for himself how really strong the kid was. The fact that he was able to strategically draw him out while using Akutaro’s grudge against Kenichiro was a very pleasant moment of success for him, I’m sure… 

Matakara as Ichiya keeps urging him to do, has to “throw away his weak (kind) heart” to become truly strong. There is an underlying point to this as well… One where he is currently learning to be more proud of himself, therefore exposing the bullet on his chest. It’s not a dark secret. It’s something he’s embracing and honestly in Matakara’s case, I’m happy he does. The most important thing for me though, has to be the location of the bullet. It’s smack right in the middle of his chest. Close to his heart. And therefore very strongly and deeply rooted in the one place he is stronger (or weaker, depends on how you perceive this). Matakara’s pure heart has center and spotlight. Unfortunately, this very same heart is being broken time and again and that is his biggest frustration. This is why he was wearing an undershirt that was covering his chest before. Because his darkness is in his heart. It’s where he feels weaker, unsure of himself, where the genie can patch a hole in his host’s soul. Does he have an inferiority complex? Most probably. Does he blame that on others? No. Not even Arajin. All he wants, is to become stronger. Strong enough to beat the monster. It’s not even a monster in my opinion — it’s misplaced frustrations that got too strong and got a life of their own (note 7 above).

Also, darkness: apex predators are blending in and lurking in the shadows, hidden away until they spot their prey. Then they make their move, kill, and leave. Does that behaviour remind you someone? Yes, it does. It’s how Matakara has started facing his opponents. “Again”, as Zabu comments. He goes up and challenges them out of the blue, plants them into the ground and then just walks away… 🥺

The really hard part though, is how he had to beat Zabu, because he clearly didn’t want to as is shown in the scene before Zabu catching his leg to stop him, where he doesn’t look at him as he lies on the ground; he just knew he had to overcome his “softness” and actually beat to death someone that was a “companion” to him in order to not falter in his pursue of “himself”. This kid is fighting to find his place not just in the world around him, but in the world within him. He’s always looked into the world without being able to point where he fitted in and once Ichiya challenged this (“friends are for the weak”), he was forced to go against his instinct of fitting in and forging bonds and move into a state of standing for himself. When Ichiya said that “the thing you lack is anger”, so he could initiate a merging process and urging him to lose himself in his anger, wasn’t to say that Matakara just needed to be angry at everyone, but more likely that he had to acknowledge his frustration and be able to draw out a real desire in him to fight not just for the sake of fighting and being accepted but for him to finally stand up for himself, for what he wants— how he should not be feeling guilty for who he is, because let me tell you, he feels so fucking guilty for himself. For being weak. For being a burden. For being angry at himself for never being ENOUGH! He needs to be blinded to be efficient, so the fact that anger is what can trigger this blindness is needed for him to not think and hold back anymore. And the fact that he’s so kind means that he’s never held a grudge. He never felt entitled to get angry at someone. He always, always wanted for things to be peaceful. Super ironic if you know anything about Aries. He’s literally the odd one in the bunch. But pure Aries really don’t hold grudges; they boil and fight and forget about it on the spot. For his birthday especially, there’s a tendency to ignore rules and have issues with authority (looking at Ken-san 👀) but generally being the warrior type individuals, that are seen as the heroes of the group. Kid never had the chance to built self-esteem, though or a defence mechanism. And this acceptance of his darker parts is actually a very important foundation that he’s laying out for himself to learn that some times change is inevitable. Darkness is inevitable. Negative emotions and shitty situations are part of being alive and it’s absolutely valid to feel bad and frustrated and to want more… And that (accepting his darkness) it will make him stronger. “But he’ll be unable to live with himself afterwards”, you’ll say… Yes, he will be tortured afterwards for what he did. He will bitterly regret beating Zabu and anyone the way he did, but he will have proof that he’s not weak. He’s not a burden. He’s not less!

★ I also keep seeing people talking about how the series refer to idolisation and honestly, I don’t think that’s the case at all.

Idolising someone means that you have put them on a pedestal and consider them far out of your reach and eventually give up on trying to reach those individuals. And that it’s simply not what’s happening with Matakara. 

Now, if we’re talking about Mahoro, sure; she even refers to Marito as “god” and has an extremely unhealthy obsession with him to the point where he even has to treat her like a pest to push her away— even though I’m sure he loves his little sister; I mean, who’s brave enough and eats that horror of a bento if they don’t love their sibling who prepared it for them? Especially if they have the chance to throw it out without anyone seeing them??? 😨

★But with Matakara it’s a different story. His whole negativity and frustration doesn’t come from idolising Arajin. I mean he does look up to him but he’s not thinking of him being out of his reach. He just thinks that he’s the weak one of the two.

We see him actively (aggressively, more like it) trying to become stronger. We see him aspiring to reach Ara-chan. 

Trying to get close and live up to his brother’s legacy, who was even considered a living legend among these yankies (and now I want you to try and imagine having to grow up next to a literal demi-god (look point 8 above) among common mortals, I seriously want you to imagine the pain and frustration of never measuring up to them for a moment here… because you see them in their everyday; how they move and hurt and live and breathe into this world… and you still can’t be like them… imagine the inhibitions and doubt this plants into someone’s psyche…) and now that he’s dead, Matakara will never be able to reach him no matter how he tries, because bro has ascended without him, before he ever tried to fight him even as a joke. There is a recurrent theme through the series that you become stronger and acquire power by continually challenging and winning over gradually stronger opponents. You literally “build up” your strength and your way to the “top” as it is mentioned in the series from even as far back as episode one, whatever meaning that “top” may has.

He even, still, wants to be a honki person, who from what we know so far, is questionable anyone ever managed to actually achieve it. (We just don’t have the requirements to know how honki-ness is achieved! 🙄) And the only thing that is actually wrong with Matakara is that he’s miserably failing to objectively asses himself and perceive how he appears to the others, and that’s because he was never in an environment that gave him the opportunity or the tools to build a strong sense of self. His parents literally abandoned their children, with Matakara seemingly not even in the age to start attending grade school. His brother, who by the looks of it was about 9-10 (they have roughly a 5years difference— depending on whether Mitsukuni was the same age as Kenichiro (Arajin, you bitch, come and say to my face that a 21yo is an old man and I’ll rip you a new one! What are we 30-somethings supposed to be huh?! Grr! ( *｀ω´)) or if he became an early leader), was also a kid that had to look after him even as he had no means to provide for even himself since he was underage and couldn’t work. They both had to be taken in and live as a “burden” to the new owner of their family’s old bathhouse…

How the fuck does any of you saying that, can’t realise that this kid literally grew up to consider himself inadequate and unworthy and being fucking torn and tormented so deeply in his soul, that he actually believes he’s just NOT ENOUGH!!! is beyond me. And you dare fucking chalking it up to simple idolisation… (● ˃̶͈̀ロ˂̶͈́)੭ꠥ⁾⁾

How can someone have such a single-angle-view perception to get so blind? This is “Arajin blissful blindness” on your part and I’d like you to think twice before you come into my house talking shit like that. (Not that the producers gave a fuck either to think this through, apparently…) _(:3 」∠)_

※ We are a Matakara & Ichiya wildlife safehouse and we don’t serve tea to haters and surface-tension-level character supporters here, the doors are open for you to go away if you don’t like that. 🐾 * gently boops you out the door*

We also don’t want to hurt anybody, just to achieve enlightenment. 💖

˚✧₊ As for why Ichiya acted like a dick in the first place, I am inclined to suspect, that this was probably because he realised that this was the end for him… 

I mean, he was angry at Senya for holding back, and generally it is showcased that when real friends compete for the same goal they need to do that seriously so that the other gets the satisfaction that they lost to someone stronger than them at least and even more so that they won because of their own powers and not because they are viewed as either too respectable or weak enough to be let to win. 

In the same vain, Senya is indeed like Matakara, because he’s not just holding back from Ichiya for being friends. He’s shown so far, to have such a strong respect for Ichiya, that he at times seemed to be ambivalent about wether he’d be able to really win over him. He’s unknowingly downplaying himself in front of Ichiya which in turn is also a form of weakness to boot, too. 

He’s making Ichiya double the mad he actually is this way because a) Ichiya wants to know who’s the stronger between them for real and b) Senya is risking his becoming of a honki, since he’s essentially running away from fighting seriously. If you’re not able to face all your opponents equally, you are not able to become a true warrior/fighter/whatever and stand alone. The top has room only for one, and one must always be prepared for the loneliness he’ll have to face. You need to rise as someone that has no human weaknesses.

But Senya knowing how serious Ichiya is, is also probably afraid of how much Ichiya will push himself during the battle and that’s why he said “if we fight seriously, one of us could die” to which Ichiya actually said that he’s prepared for even that outcome. And what is Senya supposed to do, then? Do his — so far, one and only (gege when I catch you gege) — friend the favour and grand him his deathwish, without even understanding “why” himself or try and talk him out of it while finding out the problem and meeting him halfway?

Here I should probably add what I wrote in a reblogged post, where I state that I think what Ichiya is also concerned for, is that they need both Ichiya himself and Matakara to push harder in order to achieve perfection, but that can only happen when you overcome your humanity. Ichiya sees being human as a hindrance and therefore pushes for all three of them to abandon that aspect of themselves. Ironically, while doing so he falls in the same trap he initially tries to pull his friend out from and now his vessel, too. Being angry and frustrated is a sign of humanity, therefore a weakness.

Ichiya’s birthday, represents people born on this day, usually having an innate “darkness”, as Ichiya said in anime, too where they can feel the pain and sorrow of this world. In order for them to achieve their higher goal, which is to stop feeling so powerless to save this world from its sorrows (because Virgo is the perfectionist and the helper of sorts of the zodiac), they end up hating their own humanity and trying to overcome it (see note 7 above) even if that means that it is to their own detriment. They pursue this with great zeal even if they die, because death will eventually come for all and they know it. They understand that the time anyone has in life is finite and they internally mourn for this. They also feel pressed by this knowledge, because they want to achieve as much and as best as possible by that time.

I also love how Matakara is an Aries and Ichiya a Virgo, because those two signs are traditionally incompatible but they can work out and polish each-other if they happen to interact. 😊 As signs in aspect, Virgo and Aries are also considered to have a “karmic” relationship, exactly because of the hard lessons they will force on each-other. Surprisingly, or maybe not so much, the cool, collected Virgo will stick around and work with the usually hot blooded Aries to teach him patience and methodology, especially if they have already chosen the Aries. If the Virgo finally forms a bond, it's usually reluctant to leave later. Aries on the other hand can remove themselves the minute someone bores them, but since the Virgo is aggressively independent, they can be kept in a state of continual mini-wars that push the Virgo to open up bit by bit and thus bring the Aries before unexpected discoveries and truths they didn’t even imagine. From outside, they seem to both stick with each other out of sheer stubbornness but the truth is that they take important lessons that hone their less evolved traits of their characters and they are keen enough to recognise that. ie. The Virgo learns to be more honest in sharing their feelings (tenfold in Ichiya’s case btw— imagine how much better he’d be at communicating with Senya after being with this kid for a bit more time…) and Aries learns how to objectively asses and look at themselves. Of course, a fall out is always possible if their energies and other planet aspects are not in favourable positions but, I’d say in this case it’s safe to assume that a soul-that-lived-centuries-ago-turned-magical-being, was somehow fated to be compatible with the soul that needed its guidance the most. (Honestly, this has so much potential and pain and hope to unpack that the fact the series were so half-assed, literally pains me as an astrology enthusiast. Ah, the greatness we could witness had the producers been a fraction more serious and enthusiastic about this project… 🥺😔)

Ok. At this point, I’m sure I have forgotten a shitload of things I wanted to mention when I started and also have messed up somewhere and made mistakes, but mercury is retrograde and the last episode is this Saturday, so I’m writing this knowing that’ll probably be smacking myself and wanting to edit it in a month from now but for now— fuck it, we ball! 🫠😎

I also want to thank anyone who had the steel nerves to be able to read this far… You truly are a force to reckon if you managed to tolerate my incoherent ramblings until this point. I’d like to thank you from the bottom of my heart and hear your thoughts in return~ 🥰

▼For closing, I really want to say what I expect from the last episode before it airs! So here it goes…

I believe both Senya and Ichiya will fully merge with the kids for the fight. They will battle to the brink of death. I hope it’s bloody and satisfying to Ichiya because he won’t rest otherwise. But I think, like Senya said that he “has no intention of staying longer with Arajin after he found out the reason behind Ichiya’s change”, that they might actually not be able to fully return to their original forms and so, maybe the genies will eventually be integrated into Arajin’s and Matakara’s bodies and consciousness completely. Maybe they’ll even be forced to do that because, what if Matakara ends up being near death and the only way to survive is for Ichiya to fully give up into him? Hmmm??? (I’m looking forward to hitting this one! 😎 they could even resume their training to become real honki people; both the kids and the genies) The fact that merging is dangerous enough for someone to die in itself is very important to consider, but as hinted by Senya’s words there is a possibility to retain or even return a vessel’s soul— which has me thinking Sukuna of sorts... Now, if we were looking at a tragedy genre, Matakara would end up dead no doubt, btw. The other option seems to be that Ichiya finally gets defeated and so maybe his soul is able to rest with Senya actually managing to achieve becoming a true honki; I… wouldn’t particularly mind this outcome but I’m not sure how it’d be for the boys… especially Matakara. I honestly think it’d be a little cheesy. I also think Arajin will get a bit taller as a result of that merge and I think that the shadow we see in the ending theme, it’s going to be his new self after that fight. And hey~ Maybe he’ll even get the girl… no matter how shitty a personality she displayed so far… 🫤 We may even get a glimpse of what happens some 3 or 10 years down the road. Who knows?! 

Now guys, I hope you had a good read. <3 If you stumbled on something that confused you, feel free to ask about it. Or tell me I’m wrong. Works either way! :P

Asks are open for all if anonymous is your thing, too. 📥

Let’s see what the last episode has in store for the fandom this Saturday together, shall we? 🤗

🩵💙🌙💙🩵