#its not boredom though. its like everything is... weird

[ddarker-dreams]

Cherubim.

Gojo Satoru x F Reader x Geto Suguru.

Warnings: Implied trauma, Gojo and Geto are both weird + manipulative. Word count: 6k.

-Index-

March 18th, 2006. 

2:26 p.m.

-

Gojo Satoru has found himself embroiled in his greatest turmoil yet. 

Assassination attempts? That’s nothing, he’s waved those off since he was a kid. Jujutsu politics? The higher-ups can yap until they’re blue in the face; they’re all bark, no bite. Curses? Similarly inconsequential. No matter how much power they hold, they're reduced to speckled splatters the instant they cross his path. 

For most, experiencing one of these dilemmas would prove too overwhelming, much less all three. He isn’t like most, though. He’s strong. Incomprehensibly strong. He can weather any storm, shift the tides of any battle in his favor. Has this gone to his head? Absolutely. He can handle ‘too much.’ It’s ‘not enough’ that’s proving to be an issue. 

This is why he’s detailing his recent woes to an uninterested Ieri Shoko, who made the mistake of reading in the dormitory’s common area. 

The scene is as follows:

Satoru’s along the length of the couch, his long, lanky limbs dangling wherever they can. He lays his head against the armrest, snowy hair succumbing to gravity in an avalanche that frames his face. He uses his ability to keep his sunglasses from meeting the same fate. Behind the dark frames, his eyes narrow into a piercing stare. If the ceiling were sentient, it would’ve fled by now. Such is the potency of his miserable mood. 

Parallel to him sits Shoko, the fat of her cheek squished upward from resting on her fist for so long. Books, candy wrappers, and notes from last year’s curriculum yet to be thrown away litter the table’s surface. Suguru’s could put a calligraphist to shame, even if they were written in a Badtz-Maru pencil you won from a gachapon. Your notes stand out as well. They’re bright shades of your favorite colors, organized according to a system of your own devising. Occasionally, the handwriting shifts, taking on Suguru or Shoko’s likeness for trickier kanji. You doodle hearts of gratitude around the yomigana they include for good measure. 

(You complained that his handwriting was ‘indecipherable’ when he tried doing the same. Out of spite, he gave you the cold shoulder… for three minutes. He withers and wilts without your attention). 

He sighs and concludes his monologue. 

“So, that just about sums everything up. Well? What’s the prognosis, Doc?” 

“You’re in desperate need of more friends,” Shoko replies. Satoru lets out an unsatisfied grunt. “And you miss [First].” 

Satoru perks up at your mention, finally giving that poor ceiling a much-needed reprieve. He shuffles around until he’s facing Shoko. 

“But she just headed out yesterday.” 

“I know.” 

“That’d make me really weird and clingy, right?” 

“Glad you’re catching on.” 

While Satoru contemplates the previously unconsidered possibility of him being ‘really weird and clingy,’ Shoko reopens her manga. She’s of the mistaken belief that the issue has resolved itself. Unfortunately for her, the problem extends beyond Satoru’s insatiable hunger for you. The problem is Satoru himself. Until he’s running amuck elsewhere, there’ll be no solace. 

She commends herself for her patience. 

In typical Satoru fashion, he continues testing it. 

“When was the last time you updated your passport?” 

“I’m not flying to her home country with you,” Shoko shuts down what he thought was a brilliant plan. “It’s just two weeks. Wait it out.” 

“What if we fly first class?” 

“Gojo.” 

“Yeah, yeah, it’s still too soon to meet her parents. It’s gotta happen eventually though, right?” 

Shoko doesn’t dignify this with a response. 

Satoru sinks into the cushions. Could there be anything worse than boredom? He has no missions lined up, you and Suguru are visiting family, and the first-years haven’t arrived yet. Pestering Utahime has lost its charm too. He could return home before the school year starts, but he’d rather have his fingers chopped off one by one than suffer that torture. 

“Hey, Shoko.” 

“Mm.” 

“Why aren’t you back home? I thought you got along with your parents.” 

“They’re both busy. I wouldn’t see them much.” 

Satoru doesn’t press the matter. 

It does intrigue him though — the relationship sorcerers have with their non-sorcerer families. Or, to be more specific, yours and Suguru’s familial dynamics intrigue him. Satoru can’t (and doesn’t bother trying) to care for the going-ons of anyone outside his small circle. This is more the hubris of a teenager who has been told he’s special his entire life than anything malicious. To Satoru, the world’s population might as well be stuck at three. 

Regardless, it’s an improvement.

Before meeting Suguru, those in his life consisted almost exclusively of suckups or stuckups. If he was unlucky, it’d be both, rolled into one terrible package. This was his reality. Jujutsu was his reality. He was the first to possess the Limitless and the Six Eyes in generations. The Gojo clan wouldn’t waste such an extraordinary opportunity. He was their pride and joy, personality aside. 

He was born to be the strongest. 

He can’t imagine any other life for himself. 

Then there’s you. 

He could see you leading a normal life. You wouldn’t be top of the class or a varsity athlete, but you’d be well-liked. Boys would nervously ask you out on dates and buy you roses with money they got from mowing lawns. You’d be the first one your friends would call when they experienced heartache. Maybe you’d go to college or land an entry-level job. Some co-worker with a decent sense of humor would win you over. Then you’d get married, rent a property, have a few kids… 

Satoru’s stomach twists. He grimaces, shifting his thoughts elsewhere. Namely, the question that’s bothered him for a while. 

Why did you become a jujutsu sorcerer? 

It was intentional. You chose to leave behind your home, your family. You knew the risks. How the body can break and ache in ways previously unrecorded. And what do you get in return for this thankless crusade? Sleepless nights where you tremble like a leaf beside Shoko? A nimbleness at dressing wounds that could only have come from years of practice? 

You’re open about everything until you aren’t. Fear, mortality, loss — when confronted by these unsightly truths, you retreat to someplace he can’t follow. 

Satoru can’t make sense of it. Neither can Suguru. Shoko says they shouldn’t press the matter. He wants to, though. He needs to know how you break. How else can he ensure that you never will? 

He thinks back to that humid August day. The binding vow eviscerated your insides, shards from fractured bones dug into your organs. Until that point in his life, Satoru prided himself on his immunity to fear. The pathogen never lasted long in his system. After all, fear is born from a lack of control. From having something to lose. If he couldn’t lose, what was there to be afraid of? 

It’s a question he’s been avoiding. 

(“If she dies,” he told Suguru, in a voice he barely recognized as his own, “They die too.”)

His mouth feels dry, his tongue heavy. He’ll drink that tea you’re fond of later to satiate his thirst. He wonders if you share its taste.

“What’re you reading, anyway?” he asks, hoping to take his mind elsewhere.

“Fruits Basket.” 

He laughs, incredulous. 

“Seriously? Didn’t take you for a shoujo type.” 

“I borrowed it from [First]. We’re doing a book exchange over break.” 

A book exchange… three words Satoru never thought would pique his curiosity. However, anything about you demands his undying attention. Even if it’s shoujo manga. Girls who read that genre do it to project onto the heroine, right? So the love interest must have appealed to you. What tropes do you like? Do you want a shy, sensitive soul who blushes and stutters in your presence? A misunderstood bad boy who’s only soft around you? The responsible student council president? 

Oh, he’ll have so much material to tease you with when you return. He can’t wait. 

“How do I enter this exclusive book club?” Satoru demands. 

“You don’t. I don’t trust your taste,” Shoko replies, much to his chagrin. “You can still read it, though. She has all of the volumes in her room.” 

… Your room? 

He grins from ear to ear.

Should he respect your privacy? Probably. Is he going to? Of course not. He never has, there’s no point in starting now. 

This trip of yours might yet redeem itself. 

-

Along the outskirts of Jujutsu High, Geto Suguru spots an odd woman. 

She’s wearing a baggy graphic tee, low-rise jeans, and gaudy bracelets on both arms. Her black hair is tossed up, thick strands sticking in every direction. Even from this distance, he can discern the silver glint of piercings that dot her ear like constellations. The stranger stands slouched, both her hands shoved into her pockets. For her to have gotten this far, she can’t be a civilian. Those unfamiliar with jujutsu can’t find this place. 

He stays still for a spell — watching and waiting. From this distance, she shouldn’t be able to sense his presence. It’s one of the few areas he excels at over Satoru. Satoru’s cursed energy is bright, blindingly so, a thunderous clap that can be heard for miles. Suguru prefers to keep his muted. It coils around his limbs like a serpent, never straying far. This is why you had no difficulty picking out Satoru’s stupefying presence on your first day, whereas he had to make himself known to you. 

Suguru’s lips quirk up. 

He was fated to meet you. 

“Hey! Kiddo!” A deep, somewhat raspy voice exclaims. He blinks rapidly, temporarily thrown off. “This ain’t an art gallery. What’s with the staring?” 

She noticed him? How? 

When the stranger starts slinking his way, he regains his composure. 

“I apologize. It wasn’t my intention to make you uncomfortable,” Suguru’s cadence flows smoother than a river. 

“Hah! ‘Uncomfortable?’ That’s a way of putting it,” she pokes the space beneath her emerald eyes twice. “Even now, I can feel ya picking me apart. Shit’s creepy.” 

His smile tightens. “I’ll be more mindful of my conduct in the future, then.” 

She waves him off. Her golden bracelets clink together as she does so, the sound grating his ears. 

“That’s a lie if I ever heard one. And I should know. Schemers excel at picking out their brothers in arms,” she juts her head up, giving the impression that she’s the one looking down on him, despite the slight height difference. 

“Anyhow, by the looks of it, you must be Sugu-kun.” 

… Did she just call him Sugu-kun? 

“What? Too soon* to be calling you that? Heh, heh…” 

Suguru’s smile tightens. “You can refer to me however you like, so long as I can return the favor.” 

She guffaws.

“Maaan, Goldie sure was gracious in her description of you,” the woman gives him a lopsided grin. “Name’s Akane. There — is the playing field leveled now?” 

“Ishimoto Akane?”

He doesn’t miss the way she winces as her surname is spoken aloud, rather pointedly at that. 

“Ah. S’pose I had that coming.” 

Suguru decides against prolonging her torment. He’s in a generous mood, it isn’t every day he has a chance to learn more about you. This is an opportunity he’ll take full advantage of. 

“And I presume 'Goldie' is [First]?” 

He makes a mental note to figure out the wordplay for your nickname later. 

“Full marks.”

Suguru hums, a sound indicating that he’s drifting deep into thought. 

You don’t mention your mentor often. When you do, it’s normally in the form of endearing (if not mildly concerning) anecdotes.

“She told me that natto is bits of caramel held together by melted marshmallows, like a Rice Krispy Treat. It… it was not like a Rice Krispy Treat…” 

“... For my twelfth birthday, she got me Pokemon Ruby. I remember crying because Roxeanne’s Nosepass took out my Torchic. My cursed energy spiked and the party had to end early…” 

“... Out of curiosity, I drank her stash of Georgia canned coffee. My heart rate was almost high enough to warrant a trip to the ER…” 

Getting anything else relating to her out of you was like trying to wring water from a rock. Suguru didn’t miss the wistful melancholy underpinning your stories. You recalled them with a far-off expression as if mourning that those days of whimsy were over. Initially, he considered it a consequence of growing up. Childhood idols rarely remain highly esteemed as the years pass and maturity accrues. 

His intuition argued that he should examine the issue closer.

(“I met her, y’know,” Satoru mentioned whilst he spun in a rolling chair ‘commandeered’ from Yaga. “Akane. Our girl’s mentor. Former mentor? Whatever the case is.” 

Suguru sat his pencil aside, any investment in his studies gone.

“When?” 

“Last March.” 

Suguru sighed. “And you didn’t bring this up earlier because…?” 

There’s a twinkle in his companion’s sunglasses-covered eyes.

“Must’ve slipped my mind,” Satoru shrugged. 

Liar, Suguru thought, unamused by Satoru’s faux nonchalance. He must’ve had his reasons for neglecting to mention it for so long. Suguru figured your impending trip home had something to do with Satoru’s ‘miraculously’ cured amnesia. 

“What? Don’t tell me you aren’t curious.”

The provocation failed to irk him. Instead, Suguru refocused the conversation.“Tell me your impression of her.”

Satoru stilled, threw his feet atop Suguru’s desk, and placed his hands on his neck. “About what you’d expect from a disgraced daughter of an influential clan. Bad-tempered, tattooed, pierced up… hah! Bet her old man would go into cardiac arrest if he saw her.” 

“Satoru,” he implored. 

“Fine, fine. So impatient,” The white-haired sorcerer complained. “I misread her. She got all mopey after she fessed up about Cursed Technique: Null. I wrote it off as envy. The student exceeding the master, or whatever.” 

Satoru remained silent for a moment. “Post Kaizu, though, I assume the feeling actually gnawing at her… ” 

Kaizu. 

Panicked phone calls. Satoru’s agitated exclamations. His horrified silence. Your breathing faded, theirs accelerated. You looked so small. So human. He scarcely believed the limp girl cradled in his arms just executed such a devastating maneuver. Your cursed energy had exceeded any output he’d felt from you before. It was too much, your body wasn’t ready to endure a spike like that. 

Suguru had never felt so distant from the title ‘strongest.’

At some point later on, in a hospital waiting room, Suguru posed a question. 

Satoru heard him yet offered no response.

“Who taught her how to do that?”

“... was guilt.”)

“You didn’t visit her.” 

Akane blinks. 

“Hah?” 

“You didn’t visit her,” Suguru repeats, his tone firmer. “[First]. Your student.” 

She exhales shakily. Suguru thinks she looks tired. 

“If you have something to say, just come out with it already.” 

He was prepared to wear her down for hours — this willing cooperation saves him time. Although, it doesn’t make navigating the volatile minefield that lies ahead any easier. He knows how to rein Satoru in when he’s going too far. He can fluster you without giving too much of himself away. After rescuing someone from a curse, he knows the exact pitch, timbre, and tempo necessary to pierce through their abject horror. He’s a virtuoso at playing people, a conductor hidden amidst the audience. 

Deceit. Misdirection. Coercion. 

His repertoire is expansive and ever-growing. 

From what he can see — what he can feel — the prodigal daughter before him boasts a similar discography. She returns his unflinching eye contact as if issuing a challenge. Daring him to use dubious methods that might work on anyone else. This obstinate resolve reminds him of you. Once you’ve determined your course, even he struggles to change the route.

He abandons all pretense. 

“You didn’t want her here,” he theorizes. Akane’s face reveals nothing. “You knew something like that was bound to happen.” 

Sorcerers aren’t only at war with curses. No, there’s an inner battle that must be fought as well. The recognition that the next assignment could be your last. And if it is, you won’t be commemorated by the masses; to them, you don’t exist. Your sacrifice will be known to a select few who mourn you, or  a few who don’t. Everything could go right. Everything could go wrong. Engaging in that high risk for such a low reward goes against one’s self-preservation instincts.

How each sorcerer handles this fight is unique to them. 

As for your strategy — you refuse to acknowledge this conflict exists. 

Paradoxically enough, that functions as your self-preservation. 

Akane smiles thinly. She’s almost his reflection, in that regard.

“Full marks.” 

-

Suguru idly observes as Satoru paces back and forth, his troubled figure illuminated by a row of vending machines. 

A nearby street lamp flickers. It’s late, but the local convenience stores glow with artificial light, tempting customers to come inside. Some are weary salarymen grabbing ready-made meals, others are middle schoolers clinking their change together, praying they can afford a sugary treat. The latest group cheers, indicating their triumph. 

The duo receives odd looks — thanks to their school uniforms, no doubt — not that they pay the judgment any mind. No one troubles them. Not even a wandering policeman, who, under normal circumstances, would scold minors out by themselves at night. 

Suguru theorizes that Satoru’s ominous aura is what subconsciously repels them. 

Earlier today, Suguru bid farewell to his parents and boarded a train for Tokyo. As nice as it was to spend time with his family, he’d been looking forward to reuniting with you and Satoru. He amassed quite the phone bill thanks to your frequent correspondence. Nonetheless, he carried the minor debt with pride; it’s a sign you often thought about him. He planned for Satoru to assume the debt by dangling the pictures you sent his way as ransom. 

His encounter with Ishimoto Akane grounded his soaring mood. This was made worse when he entered the dormitory, only to find a tight-lipped Shoko and agitated Satoru. 

Shoko remarked that unlike the two of them, she’d be handling things with ‘tact,’ and retired for the evening, not wanting to catch their ‘stupidity contagion.’ 

It’d been hours since then. That time stretch brought them closer to revealing the complete picture, but a few pieces remained missing or incomplete. 

The frenetic sorcerer stills and rummages around in his pocket.

Suguru takes the opportunity to break the silence. “I��” 

He cuts himself off as Satoru whips out a familiar-looking chapstick. The cutesy design befitting your aesthetic stands out like a sore thumb in Satoru’s large, calloused hands. 

“... Where did you get that?” 

“[First]’s room,” is Satoru’s response, spoken nonchalantly whilst applying it to his lips. “Why?” 

Suguru snorts. Sometimes Satoru’s ungodly strength blinds him to the fact that he’s still a teenage boy. 

“Won’t she notice it’s missing?” 

“I replaced it.” 

“Ah.”

“She has plenty more in the drawer beneath her vanity if you want one.” 

Suguru knows the exact spot Satoru’s referring to. They both helped you assemble it (Satoru got bored fifteen minutes in and fell asleep on your bed but still claims credit). 

After noting this suggestion, he asks, “Have you calmed down?” 

Satoru barks out a ‘hah!’ as if he’d just heard a hilarious joke. “Me? Shouldn’t I be askin’ you that?” 

Suguru massages his temples, sensing the looming headache that awaits him. “Satoru…” 

“We could follow her residuals, you know,” Satoru suggests. He tips his sunglasses down, revealing eyes that gleam with predatory intent. “With the Six Eyes, it’d be a walk in the park.” 

“And then what?” 

“Oh, you know, chat about the weather, latest political scandals, that sort of thing.” 

“You can’t strong-arm yourself through everything in life, Satoru,” Suguru chastises. 

Satoru opens and closes his lips. He folds his arms, scrunches his eyebrows together, and rapidly taps his foot. The shift puts Suguru at ease. Satoru adopts this countenance on the rare occurrence he’s faced with a formidable threat. The serious, almost somber visage speaks to his ironclad resolve. Suguru may have told his companion that he can’t strong-arm himself through everything, but that’s a half-truth; the Gojo clan’s pride can do whatever he pleases. 

It’s consideration of the aftermath that Suguru wishes to instill in his companion. Tempering the arrogance of a God is no easy feat. 

“... She isn’t going anywhere,” Satoru declares, as if any other outcome was blasphemous. 

“She isn’t,” Suguru agrees. Then, he lowers his voice, adding, “We can’t disregard what Ishimoto-san is getting at, though.” 

“Simple — all our girl needs is a good ol’ fashioned intervention.” 

“An ‘intervention,’” Suguru deadpans. “Didn’t you already try that?” 

Satoru smiles in a way Suguru can only describe as dopey, reminiscing on the night you got ‘mad at him for wanting you to be mad at him.’ That’s how Suguru interpreted the detailed account Satoru gave the next morning, anyway. 

(“I wish she would’ve cried, just a little bit; it would’ve made her look extra cute,” Satoru cooed, to which Suguru shot him an exasperated look. “Oh, don’t act so high and mighty. You’d make her cry just so you could wipe her tears away.”)

Suguru shakes his head. “Here’s what I think — the self-sacrifice in and of itself isn’t the problem. Well, the main problem. There has to be a reason, something personal… identifying that takes priority.” 

A gust rips through the narrow street, howling as it terrorizes store signs and doors with weak hinges. The two strongest sorcerers remain oblivious to the drift. What occupies their mind is greater than any force of nature, insignificant or otherwise. They have the means to challenge natural phenomena itself. And they would, should they deem it an obstacle to their goals. This single-minded determination is what elevates them beyond the rest. 

“I guess the old man has a soft spot for us after all,” Satoru says, referring to Yaga, Suguru guesses.

Breathlessly, he chuckles. “Maybe.” 

Studying Satoru from his peripherals, he silently mulls over the far likelier reality—  

—that Yaga understands Satoru’s potential for saving this world is matched only by his capacity to condemn it. 

-

From a young age, Ieri Shoko found irony everywhere she looked.

It’s prevalent in the medical field she wishes to pursue. When stabbed, it’s better to leave the knife in than immediately pull it out. For an immune system to better defend itself from a virus, it must first be exposed to it in trace amounts. If an appendage becomes too infected, removing that piece of the body is better than keeping it whole. It was you who pointed out this theme extends into the world of jujutsu. 

“You’d think fighting to survive a curse instead of defeating it would be an okay alternative, right?” You had said. “But really… that just means someone else gets to foot the bill. All ‘cause you cheaped out.” 

She regrets not asking you to elaborate. At the time, the observation felt so personal, so intimately interwoven with who you are, that she thought it best to leave it alone. 

Watching you now, lounging on the swing beside her, she’s determined not to repeat her previous mistake. 

“Tired?” 

“Well, yeah,” you laugh. It sounds off. “I wasn’t meant for long flights. It takes everything out of me, y’know?” 

Shoko unsuccessfully digs around her pocket for a lighter. The search ceases when she recalls its inopportune location — left behind in her dorm room in the rush to be the one who reaches you first. Not sure what else to do with her hands, she folds them onto her lap. Meanwhile, you pick at a stray thread on your jeans. 

“I didn’t mean from traveling,” she clarifies. 

“Hm?” 

“How many curses did you exorcise back home?” 

Your fingers go still.

“I dunno… a few?” You shrug, stuffing your hands in your pockets. “If I happen across them, I’m not gonna just let them run amuck. That’d be irresponsible.” 

Your nonchalance comes across as forced. You may be keeping your words lighthearted, but she can tell you’ve dialed up your senses, monitoring her closely. It reminds her of a cornered mouse. It’s then that any lingering doubt over her choices leading up to this moment dispels. Resolve strengthened, she swears to make as much progress as she possible before those two catch on. She felt a bit bad lying about your flight’s time, but felt the situation justified the call. 

“It feels different when they’re close to home, doesn’t it?” 

Shoko’s eyes scan over the lively park before them. There’s a group of children playing with one another, some scouring the grass for bugs and others playing tag. Their guardians watch from a distance, chatting amongst themselves, likely discussing the upcoming poor weather or latest neighborhood scandals. Young couples walk hand in hand along the pathways, cheeks flushed from the joy of experiencing their first love. 

“Encountering a curse is draining. Fighting them, even more so. But when they’re on a street you walk every day, or a few blocks over from your house, you can’t help but start thinking. ‘What if I hadn’t come this way? Would it have hurt people I know? People I love and care about?’”

Her eyes find yours. “‘What if it killed them?’”

You look like you’re going to be sick. 

She ignores how your expression contorts her stomach and continues. “Sorcerers are in the minority, it’s true. So… fighting to survive isn’t selfish. It’s strategic.”

In the distance, the rough silhouette of two individuals grows clearer. The spotlight she commandeered grows fainter with their every step. In what remains of the fading limelight, she considers you. The CC cream that conceals the worst of your exhaustion, how your pupils dilate from high caffeine intake, then your fingers. The keys that when steepled just so, open the future for others at the cost of permanently locking yours. 

She reaches over and gently squeezes your hand. 

“Remember — we won’t be much help to anyone if we’re six feet under. So let’s aim to stay above ground.” 

-

The evening sun sinks into the horizon, demanding acknowledgment in its final moments by dousing all in a fiery hue. 

Your uniform absorbs the brunt of this last stand. The dark fabric devours the waning sunlight, heating you from head to toe. It didn’t fully occur to you that you were back when you walked through the torii gates lining the mountainous path. Nor when you unpacked in your dorm, stuffing your passport away until your next break, where it’ll serve you faithfully again. 

Instead, it was the simple act of putting your uniform on again that made home seem far, far away. 

You’d gotten used to your clothes smelling like your mother’s preferred detergent. It’s a brand you couldn’t find in Japan, sold exclusively in your home country. You wondered what meal your parents were having when you straightened out your collar. If your neighbor ever fixed that rumble their old sedan huffed out as you slipped into your tights. Whether your grandpa knew you’d landed safely when you brushed lint off your skirt. 

The campus atmosphere is serene. Tengen’s barrier is a bulwark against curses, insulating you from any potential threats. Without this assurance, some part of you was always on the defensive, anticipating anything when you slept in your childhood bedroom. It siphoned away your vitality, just like Shoko pointed out. 

You sniffle and kick a rock aside. 

How does it always end up like this?

First Akane, now Shoko, you hug yourself. I just want to protect others. What’s so wrong with that? If I don’t, then who will?

You pause abruptly. 

When Akane began mentoring you, the world as you knew it changed. Suddenly, you were given knowledge no one else was privy to, for they lacked the tools to comprehend it. You’d seen those ‘creatures’, but it was Akane that explained their malevolent nature. What they could do, the pain they inflicted, how defenseless the population at large was against them. 

The shadow that this monstrous threat cast could never be outshone by light. The best you could do was create safe pockets the size of pins in the darkness. That was the extent of your hope, the most bitter pill you’ve ever swallowed.

The lingering specter of Shoko’s reassuring touch prickles along your hand. 

It’s easy to forget you’re not alone anymore after fighting by yourself for so long. 

-

Eventually, you happen upon a clearing near the school’s main grounds. 

The steep inclines surround a sizable outdoor track. This area is known colloquially as the school’s training grounds. You prefer to train in a more secluded, wooded area, but not everyone shares your enthusiasm for subtlety. Namely, the two prodigies who have turned the field into a colosseum that’d rival the battles of ancient Rome. 

You take a seat on the grassy hill and watch what unfolds. 

Your eyes can scarcely follow the blows Suguru and Satoru exchange. Their sparring sessions are unreal — blurring the very fabric of reality. Somehow, they manage all this without using cursed energy. The spectacle you’re witnessing is simply hand-to-hand combat. It’s like watching a film with skipping frames. In a matter of seconds, they can travel a hundred meters and return to their original position. Your brain struggles to process the stimuli your senses are feeding it. 

They were already strong when you met them. But now? The nomenclature doesn’t exist to properly classify them. 

And in the future… 

There’s no telling what highs they’ll reach or the ceilings they’ll shatter. 

Their light is the most dazzling you’ve ever seen.

Within a few minutes, they conclude their training session. Satoru instantly beelines toward you, whereas Suguru cycles through stretches. There’s not even a single drop of sweat on Satoru’s body as he plops to your right. He’s wearing his signature sunglasses, despite the night's looming shadow. 

“Shouldn’t you be asleep or something?” Satoru asks. “It’s past your bedtime.”

You punch him lightly on the shoulder. He yelps out an exaggerated ‘ouch!’ rubbing the area to soothe the nonexistent wound. 

Suguru approaches at a far more leisurely pace, sending a wave that you return in kind. 

Satoru, not one to be forgotten, yells out, “Be careful, Suguru! She’s violent!” 

“Only against those who deserve it,” Suguru replies.

Fondness blossoms inside your chest as you laugh. You’d forgotten how simple life feels around them. It’s as if when the three of you are together, you’re swallowed by a pocket dimension, isolated from everyone and everything. Permanently inhabiting this utopia is a temptation. 

Satoru places his hands behind his head and lays onto the ground. “Here I am, potentially out of commission forever, without a single ounce of sympathy to show for it.” 

“We could always settle in court,” you offer. 

Suguru stands before you, hands on his hips. “Or he could finally figure out how to use reverse cursed technique.” 

At this, Satoru shoots back up, his sunglasses falling askew. “Hah? Last I recall, you gave yourself a headache giving it a go. At least I’m not that bad.” 

“Hurdles are necessary to improve. Without any, how do you know you’re truly making progress?” 

Satoru gives him a grossed-out look. “All this philosophizing is gonna turn your hair gray before you hit twenty.” 

“That’s rich, coming from the guy whose hair is already white,” You point out. “What’s that say about you?” 

Suguru muffles his laughter behind his hand. 

Satoru’s quick to overcome his incredulity. “It says that I’m going to spoil the next volume of Inuyasha. Sesshomaru—” 

You cover your ears and sprint off. “Can’t hear you, can’t hear you, can’t hear you…!” 

He chases after you, periodically shouting the names of the main characters right when you think he’s finished. You do your best to block out his voice, running like your life depends on it. He’s hot on your heels, cackling at your expense. After a stretch of silence, you uncover your ears, hesitantly turning around to check if he’s finished his torture. 

You meet Satoru’s gaze. His lips are parted, his eyebrows slightly raised. Your reflection in his dark lenses appears equally perplexed. He straightens his sunglasses and regards you with an unreadable expression. 

“... You’ve gotten faster.” 

The comment is so quiet, you’re unsure if you heard him correctly. 

“Hm?” 

“Nothing,” he dismisses, waving you off. “You shoujo-loving types sure take this stuff seriously. It’s almost cultish.” 

“I don’t wanna hear that from the guy who references Digimon like it’s some sorta scripture!” 

“Honda Tohru is a lame heroine.” 

You audibly gasp. “Wh— you take that back!” 

And so it’s your turn to chase Satoru, who, for reasons unknown, is oddly knowledgeable regarding Fruits Basket. 

-

“Could you guys be honest with me about something?” 

“All depends.” 

“Of course.” 

Satoru and Suguru’s responses come out simultaneously, the contents offering little reassurance. You’re not sure what you expected. Nonetheless, you press past the gnawing discomfort, your conversation with Shoko a fresh memory. 

“Did Akane stop by while I was gone?” 

You scrutinize their countenances for involuntary reactions that might betray their inner thoughts. You begin with Satoru, who was in the middle of cleaning his sunglasses when you posed the question. His eyes, which normally brim with mischief, have an eerie calmness about them; like sheets of ice that were once choppy waters. He smiles softly and slips his lenses back into place, undoubtedly aware of the intent behind your stare. 

Then there’s Suguru. He hums, as if finding your inquiry unexpected and not an inevitable point of contention. He’s a more challenging puzzle to decipher than Satoru. With the latter, you can roughly gauge the greater picture, blurry and incomplete as it may be. Suguru, on the other hand, hasn’t given you enough pieces to attempt a solution. 

Satoru continues mulling over your question while Suguru responds, “Is that what’s been worrying you lately?” 

So they picked up on it too, you think. 

Frowning, you shift in your seat. Blades of grass tickle your thighs and you push your skirt down. 

“Er… not that, specifically,” you admit. You feel like you’re surrounded by walls that know just how far to close in to give the impression you might be crushed. “I just… I’ve been thinking. About why I’m here— what I’ll go on to do. And, well…” 

Much to their surprise, you stand, squeeze your eyes shut, and bow ninety degrees. 

“For so long, I’ve carried this burden. The truth is, when I first learned about Null, I was relieved. I’d always have something to rely on in the worst-case scenario. But at the same time… that meant not using it could also be a mistake. You have no idea how much that scared me.” 

You curl your hands up into fists. “I don’t want to think that way anymore. I see it now — have for a while, actually — strength I couldn’t even imagine before. So, I guess what I’m trying to say is… I’m in your care. If it’s alright, I want to rely on others, starting with you two.” 

Your heart pounds wildly in the silence that follows. 

Maybe this is selfish too, you think. But I don’t want to be alone anymore. 

You hear Suguru speak your name. It isn’t until he repeats it, his tone kind yet firm, that you straighten yourself and face him. 

Satoru stands further back, scratching his neck. Much to your confusion, a red flush has risen to his cheeks, extending up to his ears. Suguru corrects your staring by taking your face in his hands and redirecting your attention to him. Warmth envelops you. Your faces are inches apart, but somehow, the distance feels nonexistent, like he’s peering into your mind unhindered. 

“Surely, you can dream bigger than that,” Suguru chastises.

“... Eh?” 

“Do you think so little of us?” Satoru grumbles. It almost sounds like he’s pouting. Was he not listening to anything you just said? The sincerity behind your every word? Why are they both acting like you insulted them? 

“Eh?!” 

“I’m glad you’ve come to this realization, but… you don’t have to rely on anyone else. Just us,” Suguru takes a step back, though he keeps one hand cupping your cheek. You feel lightheaded. “After all…” 

“... We’re the strongest.” 

notes:

*this pun actually works decently in english ?? but akane is making a reference to how suguru sounds phonetically similar to すぐ, or sugu, which means 'soon.'

[caffeinatedopossum]

Me, completely alone and doing nothing but staring at a wall blankly: what if I'm just doing it for attention or because I'm bored though

[harmeu]

HOW DO HSR MEN REACT TO THEIR S/O NOT ACTING LIKE THEIR NORMAL SELF

(GN!Reader)

(Boothill, Dr. Ratio, Sunday)

BOOTHILL:

Something was wrong today and Boothill knew it. You were occasionally picking at your food. More quiet than usual. And didn’t even kiss him goodnight! Do you know how much that hurt the poor guy? He nuzzled into a unicorn stuffy to make himself feel better for goodness sake!

But you had him worried. Really worried.

“Ay, you doing alright?” He murmured, fixing his hat giving you his signature toothy smile.

“Yeah I’m fine.” You mumbled back a reply which was totally bull. You were feeling really shitty for no reason. It was one of those days where everything was boring and dull.

Boothill taking notice of your quietness he picked you up bridal style making you yelp.

“Babe what on earth!” You choked out surprised and he smirked.

“I’m gonna buy you whatever you want okay? I just wanna see your pretty smile back.” He cooed out stroking your hair making you flush in surprise and happiness.

“..Thanks. I’ve just been out of it.” You mumbled out a reply reddening further at his touch which he chuckled at.

“We all have our days. C’mon!” He put you in a more comfortable position in his arms taking you into the city.

DR. RATIO:

Usually Veritas was the grumpy one in the relationship. Always talking about his studies and all the degrees he’d earn during his days at university. Though none of that came into mind when he saw you acting out of it. When he tried to talk to you, you ignored him! Now that hurt his ego a lot. 

And his feelings.

“May I ask why you are acting in such a different manner than usual?” He said with his occasional stoic tone his gaze narrowing as he saw you sit on the couch staring into space.

“It’s nothing.” You mumble out a reply making Veritas gaze narrow further and his eyebrows furrow into knits.

“Nonsense. I am your spouse. It is obligatory to tell each other how you feel.” He huffed out crossing his arms.

You feeling crappy and not wanting to deal with his constant persistence gave up.

“I just feel tired. Everything seems so dull today.” You pull your knees to your chest praying he didn’t see your exhausted state that was there for no reason.

Veritas eyes softened. He grabbed your hand and kissed its knuckles making you flush ever so lightly.

“What are y-”

“Tell me what I can do to make the boredom vanish.” He cuts you off murmuring into your knuckle.

The only thing that came to your mind was..

“Your presence.” You whisper out and Veritas sits on the couch with you letting you lay on his shoulder.

SUNDAY:

Something wasn’t right. Sunday noticed easily with his perspective self. His hands twitched as you didn’t say a singular word to him the entire day. His wings drooped every time you passed by him without saying anything. As well as his halo dimming every time.

“Darling, what’s gotten you acting this way today?” You know his question was genuine but it stung for no reason. Did you need a reason to act this way?

“I’m just more tired than usual. Even though nothing has happened today. I think that's the reason..I know, weird.”

Sunday sighed and he smiled gently using his gloved hand to pick up your chin quietly placing a soft kiss onto your lips makes you stutter. 

“W-what was that for?” You redden looking up at him with wide eyes.

“There's an expression that isn’t dull.” He murmured out ruffling your hair. “You made me think I wasn’t treating you well.” 

You hitch at his words and shake your head rapidly.

“Of course not! You know I love you.” You stare up at him with those wide eyes making Sunday melt and kiss you again.

My posts aren't consistent im so sorry guys : (

[dira333]

A United Front - Genma Shiranui x Reader

inspired by this prompt

And how odd it is to be haunted by someone that is still alive.

“I can’t offer you a relationship,” Genma can hear his own voice, deep and full and not at all cracking. 

He half expects you to laugh, to tell him that he imagined the growing tension between the two of you. But you don’t. “What a shame,” you tell him, your face not betraying any of your thoughts. You don’t smile though and he hates it. Your smile has long since grown into his favorite thing. It doesn’t feel right for it to be missing.

“I’m just… not in the place for it right now.”

“Ah,” you nod calmly. “And do you expect that to change?”

His heart beats painfully in his chest. Are you asking…

“I don’t know. But… probably not for the next few years.”

“Right.” You nod again. “Well, thank you all the same. Do you… want me to stay away?”

“No,” he breathes out a bit too quickly. “I mean, no, you don’t have to.”

“Okay.” You nod once more and he wonders if it’s just a motion to distract yourself or something else. “We’ll just tell each other if we can’t deal with the way it is, right? If one of us comes too close for comfort.”

“Right,” he mutters, not really getting it.

You smile, but it’s different this time. Distant, like it no longer belongs to him.

“Well, I’m going to leave then. Might Guy asked me to train with him and I’d feel more comfortable doing that now if that’s okay with you?”

And he can’t ask you to stay, can he? Have Dinner with him as if this conversation never happened. So he nods and tells you to have fun and watches you leave, feeling miserable all the same.

But he chose this. And it’s better this way. 

-

Almost dying always sets things into perspective, Genma believes.

He’d been - what - twelve, when they ran into the Swordsmen of the Mist, outnumbered even if they had been on par with their skill level. Not even Might Guy had any optimism left, stiff as a board next to him.

And Genma had looked Death in the eye and smiled. Only to come out barely unscathed, though grieving someone he’d barely known.

And it wasn’t the only time someone gave his life to save him, but he’s getting tired of that now. Of people dying for him or worse, because of him, because he’s too slow, or not skilled enough.

Genma’s getting tired and he’s just reached the peak of his career. 

Personal Guard of the Hokage. 

Life has left a dull ache inside of him. He knows it’s not visible on the outside because he’s always been able to cover his pain with dumb jokes, but if he had to compare, he’d say he feels like Kakashi looks. A little dead, living on just because he has to, and because he has too much spite to give up.

It’s not fair to drag you into this. 

But he wants to. Oh, how he wants to.

Kakashi has his Icha Icha and Might Guy has his training and Genma, well… he used to have you. Going for a drink after a mission, laughing as you come up with ridiculous pranks to play on your fellow Shinobi, or taking a walk through the forest just because you needed mushrooms and felt he’d be good company.

Life’s easier when he’s with you. As if the air has more oxygen and gravity is no more, every step lighter than the one before.

But he can’t become addicted to something that will not last.

Not for him. Never for him.

-

Genma sees you enter the bar with Anko and decides against stepping inside. 

He’d been craving a drink for hours, today’s shift grueling in its boredom. But he doesn’t want to remind you of what was and could have been, or maybe, he just doesn’t want to remind himself. 

He uses his time to go shopping instead, having avoided the market for the better part of the week. They have your favorite fruit on sale and he grabs two before he realizes he doesn’t even like them that much. He still buys them, burying them at the bottom of his bag.

Everything seems to remind him of you, which is weird and stupid and not at all helpful. And it doesn’t make sense. 

You’re still alive, so he doesn’t have a right to grieve you and you never really dated, never kissed or anything, but he’s missing you. 

Genma made it a habit not to mention you amongst his friends, lest they think they’re something there but now he regrets it, wanting nothing more for them to talk about you, tell him where they saw you and if you looked well or not.

When he gets drunk on his balcony one night, he thinks he can see you out of the corner of his eye, leaning in the doorframe with that kind of smile he thought belonged to him only. But when he moves to reach for you, you disappear and he’s left sober and missing a part of him he didn’t know he had. 

-

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Genma says the second you step into view. 

It’s a two-man mission and he’s done that before with you, but he can’t- he can’t do it right now.

“Why?” You ask as if nothing’s wrong. And maybe it isn’t, to you. Maybe you didn’t drown in your feelings for the last two months, fighting the instinct to flinch away at the bare mention of your name.

You certainly look like it. Like you’re fine with the way things are, without him. 

He bites down on his Senbon and nods, fingertips digging into the fabric of his pants.

“Just a thought,” he drawls out, before turning back to the Hokage. “When do we start?”

-

And it’s almost too easy not to fall back into a routine. You ask him how he’s been doing and he tells you the important stuff first, but you have that effect on him, keep him talking even when he feels he’s got nothing left to say.

“You know your favorite fruit,” he adds as he runs, mouth working with a mind of its own, “they had it on sale.”

“Oh? Did you buy some?”

“I did.”

“And?” Your smile has him almost miss his mark, but he’s better than that, catching himself. “Did you like them?”

“Still not really into them. But they’re ‘a great source of vitamins’.” Genma uses airquotes to show that he’s quoting you and you laugh and it hurts but he doesn’t want it to stop. 

It’s dangerous, working like this. His mind is too occupied with you for a mission of this caliber. He wonders if you notice.

-

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” he’s building up your tent, suddenly glad that there’s only the two of them. With a three-man team they’d have to sleep next to each other at one point and he’s pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to handle it.

“Do you have feelings for me?”

The tent pole snaps between his fingertips. Genma stares at it without seeing it, his mind racing. What is he supposed to say to that? Yes? And then what?

“It’s okay if you don’t,” you point out behind him, your voice so calm it sounds like you’re speaking with a wild animal, ready for it to pounce any second. Do you recognize his heart for what it is?

“It’s not about wether or not I have feelings…” Genma cuts himself off before he adds the last two words. He swallows. “I told you I’m not ready for a relationship.”

“And what are you doing to change that?”

“Huh?” Genma turns, the broken tent pole momentarily forgotten.

“I mean, when we didn’t become Chunin the first time around, we were essentially told that we weren’t ready for that yet. But the ones who wanted to become Chunin tried their best to change that. Do you want to have a relationship?”

All tension leaves him with an exhale, the utensils slipping from his grip and onto the forest floor.

“I don’t-” He stares down at his hands. “I’m just so tired.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

-

Genma has missed this. 

Talking to you has always been a little different, a little easier.

He can talk to Might Guy about grief and to Kakashi about the potential of the coming generation but never the other way around. All of his friends have topics they don’t want to touch, but you’ve always been different, at least with him, vulnerable and strong at the same time. 

But he knows he can’t keep going like this. Not again.

“Do you think I’m ready for a relationship?” Genma asks the last night before they reach Konoha again, already used to the smell of his dirty uniform and the blood still caked under his nails.

You muster him for a second over the assortment of fruits and mushrooms and dried beef that you call Dinner. 

“I think you are,” you tell him finally. “It might be a little bumpy at times, but you’ve always been a bit of a ‘learning by doing’ type of guy.”

He sighs, the sound catching in his throat, barely making it out of his mouth.

“Would you-” You stiffen and he stops, swallowing harshly. Genma’s got half a mind not to ask but he drove himself into this mess, he needs to be able to get himself out of it as well.

“It’s okay if you don’t,” he starts anew. “But if you still like me at least a little bit, would you be willing to try? And date me, I mean?”

For a while, you’re silent, watching him like you do with your opponents. His heart is a fluttering thing inside his chest, filled with a fear he hasn’t felt since he was a child. 

Is he enough? Is he worthy?

Eventually, you reach out and pick the Senbon from his mouth, twirl it between your fingers before you move in, pressing your lips to his.

His body reacts on its own accord, all the longing snapping into his hands and arms and shoulders, pulling you in with enough fervor to upset the forest floor beneath you, leaving the two of them tumbling down and into the soft mossy ground.

When Genma kisses you back, he puts all his feelings into it. His fear, his longing, his love. He can only hope that you feel it, understand it like you understand everything else.

But your hand is in his hair now, bandana gone somehow and he stops thinking because so far, that hasn’t done him any good anyway.

-

Anko whistles low under her breath as he enters, your hand firmly in his.

“Shut up,” he growls, but he can’t help smiling, chest pushed out with pride. You’re dating him. You are dating him.

“Young love!” Might Guy wipes a tear from his eye. “So beautiful.”

“Tell me when you decide to move in together,” Kakashi declares from his perch at the back of the table, “So I can make different plans for that day.”

“Very funny,” Genma drawls, pulling your chair out before taking a seat next to you. “We’ll just ask your team to do it, call it a D-Rank Mission.”

You laugh next to him at that, nudging his shoulder with your own. “If they have to pack up all your weapons it’s no longer a D-Rank.”

“Wait,” Raido leans in at that. “You’re moving in with her? Why not the other way around?”

You look up at him, giving him the chance to explain.

“Dude,” Genma grimaces. “Have you seen my mess? Her place is much better.”

Raido considers that for a second. “True. But give me a heads up, I want your apartment when you’re gone.”

“Rude.”

Below the table, your hand rubs a soft circle into his thigh. It’s the simplest of touches, a presence that’s barely there but never fully gone, a soothing balm to the horrors of everyday life.

Yesterday you fought about what apartment you’d move into and his knee-jerk response of going silent about it fell victim to your insistence to talk about it properly. 

Genma’s not perfect and some days he’s still so tired of this life that he can barely make it out of bed without your help, but neither are you.

It helps, he has learned, to tackle these things together, shoulder pressed against shoulder, a united front.

After all, if he knows one thing, he knows how to fight a battle.

Tagging some Genma lovers:

@comicallylargemango @squishyneet @itsyoursunshinebabe @marvelmymarvel @venerawrites

[saursoob]

traitor- FOUR: tyuns plans? pt 2

synopsis: you and yeonjun were best friends for most of your life’s but he’d recently gotten into a toxic relationship with someone you’ve never liked, he knew that and still decided to be with her. though you’d never thought he’d go to the extent of cutting you off because of her. much less expect that years later he’d make his way back into your life.

| prev | masterlist | next | • (word count: 456)

you were dying of boredom and thirst. you and jay had been in this cafe for what felt like hours, which it probably was.

getting up from your seat to stretch you suggest to jay, “im kinda thirsty how about we get some refreshers? plus i am in desperate need of a break.”

jay gets up sighing in relief, “thank god my brain hurts”

you laugh at his response, “i thought you were supposed to be my tutor?” he looks back at you with squinted eyes and furrowed eyebrows, “hey i only offered because we both need it”

you chuckle, getting in line with jay when you suddenly hear a familiar voice ordering in front of you. it sounded like.. soobin?

you scanned the cafe nervously to see if yeonjun was around and sure enough there he was with taehyun and kai. sitting at a table near the entrance door, luckily away from where you were sitting.

you felt a bit of relief for a moment, that was until taehyun spotted you. you immediately broke eye contact hoping he somehow didn’t see you. you thought surely he wouldn’t come up to you or something? you thought wrong.

“y/n its been a while!” taehyun spoke. feeling a pit in your stomach all you could muster up to say was “haha! yeah it has!” your voice slightly breaking from nervousness between a fake chuckle. by this point you could feel yeonjun’s and his entire friend group’s eyes on you.

thankfully jay was there to break the tension, “oh, you must be one of y/n’s old friends?”

taehyun immediately responded with a small smile “yeah, we haven’t spoken in a while but i was hoping on changing that. y/n do you think we can speak outside?”

you quickly look at jay for confirmation to which he simply nods slightly giving you the “okay”.

-

you followed taehyun and as soon as you were both outside he started speaking. “i know this might seem weird considering everything but yeonjun is going through a really hard time right now. i assume he’s texted you about it?”

your heart heavy as you nodded “yeah he did text me about it.”

taehyun sighs, “well, i guess im not surprised. he acts like he’s fine with us but i know hes not. i mean who could? being in a 3 year toxic relationship…”

you felt terrible, guilty that you didn’t respond to yeonjun’s text.

there was a moment of silence before taehyun started talking again. “but thats not what i wanted to talk to you about. i don’t want to say it now though, would you mind if i texted you?”

you knew you shouldn’t but- “yeah go ahead my number is still the same”

-

(a few days later)

YALL BETTER BE FEDDDD WITH THIS EP BC IT TOOK ME SAUR LONG FOR WHAT??? I USED TO BE HORRENDOUS AT WRITING WHEN I STARTED THIS BLOG OMG i literally hate writing ‼️ one of the reasons why i make texts but lmk if this is acceptable ☝️

tags: (@bbinwrld @soobsfairy444 @stqrgr7 @nishik1 @skittlez-area512 @odisdad @zonked-times @vocaloshin @vixensss)

[unicyclehippo]

the bitchy witches, moon + "what's that?"

‘are you sure this is what you want to do?’

imogen turned her head carefully so she could see laudna—see through her, really. laudna kept her eyes and mind wide open for her. if imogen wanted, if imogen didn’t run from her mind, well! who was she to send the other girl away? she wasn’t strong enough for that. if it were possible, she would encase imogen inside, web her to the right-no, the left temple, beneath the delicate curve of the architecture of her skull. except she didn’t want that, really, because it was imogen’s light—her spark!—that laudna adored, except…of course if she were encased, enshrouded, laudna could have her in her mind always even on a midnight stroll to the corner store or during the agonising boredom of botany 203. if she were laid out just like this in laudna’s mind, always, she would never go hungry again she would be full, gloriously, glutted on sweet imogen’s mind-on-mind. and maybe if laudna kept her behind the hollow of her eye, that pretty purple light would shine out around her eye and then everything in the world would be touched by her. there was a decadent thought.

pink dusted cheeks disappeared from view when imogen ducked her head again.

‘if what you’re askin’ is if i want you to do it,’ imogen said, to the point as ever (ah, Laudna couldn’t keep her. she’d get lost in the chutes and ladders of laudna’s head.) ‘then yeah. i do.’

‘hm.’

‘you promised.’

‘i had no idea your plans were quite so extensive when i made that promise.’

‘you’re not welchin’ on me, are you?’

laudna only raised a brow at imogen’s deliberate antagonism. she placed a hand on imogen’s back—felt a spark, white-hot, sting her palm.

‘sorry!’ imogen said, and pushed up onto her arms—fell forward to cover her bare chest. her cheeks were quite red now. ‘sorry!’

‘no need to fret. i’ve seen many bodies,’ laudna soothed. it was what she usually said to her customers when they sat awkwardly and ate into the time of their session worrying over scars and lumps and oozing curses. imogen narrowed her eyes. ‘what’s the matter?’

‘nothin’.’ since laudna very obviously did not believe her, and didn’t move for her instruments, imogen crinkled her nose. ‘it’s silly. i just felt a bit weird. like, you’re my girlfriend and you’re talking about other people’s bodies.’

laudna blinked. ‘they’re clients.’

‘i know.’

‘i’m not interested in them.’

‘i know, i know! i said it was silly, didn’t i?’

‘hm.’ laudna frowned. ‘what can i- how-‘

‘you don’t need to do anything, baby. it’s my brain, it’s not your problem.’

laudna nodded. privately, she stuck a note on the part of her brain relating to work. don’t talk about bodies to imogen.

‘no, hey, laud—‘

‘sorry! sorry!’

‘you don’t—‘

imogen huffed. shuffled around on the bed until she was leaning precariously over the edge. her power came at her summons to hold her up, effortlessly—the smell of it was utterly counter to the press of its power, it was distant and mild, hard to pinpoint. laudna knew it, had spent those long days with her as they first learned their spellwork, urging imogen to cast over and over until the scent of it stuck in her nose, her mind. imogen’s magic was hazy, like something from a memory. a baked dry summer day. a lick of something metallic. it entranced her. that someone so potently magical, so capable, could have such a light touch.

she was the only sorcerer laudna knew, though, for whom the scent never did vanish entirely. she crackled with it from start to end of day. laudna had checked, curling around her in their shared bed as night meandered into day. lightning crackling beneath her skin.

the scent filled laudna’s nose as her girlfriend leaned close. a mental nudge drew her attention to the thought, the note—don’t talk about bodies with imogen—and she ran a thumb across the line of it, smudged it, wiped it clean.

the feeling of it was quite odd. fingers in her mind that didn’t hurt.

‘you don’t have to make up rules, laudna. you didn’t do anythin’ wrong.’

‘alright.’

‘yeah?’ imogen checked. her hand—her living hand, her flesh-and-blood hand—grazed laudna’s cheek and when laudna spat herself inside out from where she’d been checking on her mind—ALL IN PLACE STILL??—lavender eyes shone, ever so sweetly. ‘hi, baby. all good?’

‘i was checking,’ laudna explained, and imogen looked ever so sad, and ever so understanding, and her hand began to pull back and laudna didn’t want the thirty minutes they could take to reassure one another she was tired of it, bone-deep, so she caught imogen’s hand and pressed her lips to it.

she kissed her knuckles, where the lightning split the skin, making them sensitive but not sore.

she kissed her wrist, and the little scar there.

and then she lifted her chin and kissed imogen’s mouth, all pink and waiting and soft and wanting and tasting of the fey candies fearne brought back for them every other weekend. always like mint. and this one, a hint of some tart berry, underripe.

laudna was still getting used to kissing—she wasn’t very good at it she’s really good at it, fuck, please laud kiss me but she wanted, wanted. she wanted to make sure imogen knew. that she wasn’t like anyone else. laudna didn’t do this with anyone else, never in her workroom, it was unthinkable! until imogen. imogen, imogen, imogen. she was kissing laudna back, of course (of course!!!! it wouldn’t have been an of course three weeks ago!!!) and the thrill of it clattered down the ladder of her spine like a dropped paint can, spilling everywhere, staining everywhere. or a bowl of soup. warm.

‘well, hell-oh!’

imogen groaned softly and pulled back. why! laudna made a little noise of discontent and blinked open her eyes, dumbfounded as ever—imogen had kissed her!!—and let her eyes bumble, dizzy, over to the doorway.

fearne leered sweetly at her, waved another cheerful hello.

‘looks like someone’s breaking her own rules,’ she teased. ‘whatever happened to no funny business in the workroom?’

she was talking to laudna. oh.

laudna blinked again. ‘it’s imogen,’ she said, like that was explanation enough.

fearne’s smile softened. ‘good point. how’s the session going?’ she wandered in, and laughed again when she saw imogen’s back—the moon design, and roiling clouds, inked in laudna’s typical style. guidelines, as yet untouched. ‘oh i see,’ she said around a smirk. ‘you two have been very busy.’

‘i was - i was about to get started,’ laudna said. finally, the flush of imogenimogenimogen was leaving her mind and embarrassment swept in. how unprofessional!

laudna leapt to her feet, hurried to the sink. it groaned and sputtered and splashed water over her palms. she washed thoroughly, and filled three glasses with the chilled water.

‘are you staying?’ she asked fearne, handing over a glass. she placed imogen’s near to her on a side table.

‘i think i’d better. just to make sure you don’t get distracted.’ her teasing eased for a moment when she looked at imogen and the planned mark again. ‘is that alright? i can help with the healing process too—that’s alright, isn’t it?’

laudna pursed her lips. ‘there’s disagreement in the community regarding healing magic and whether or not it interferes with the process…’

‘what do you think? you’re the one doing the thing, laud.’

‘…i use my own version of healing. one more aligned to my magic—less…antagonistic. less likely to interfere. if you could summon some flowers? plants? anything you don’t mind me draining. that would be very helpful.’

fearne busied herself with her task. laudna left her to it, returning to imogen and calming them both in the process of resetting.

imogen was safely laid on the bed, head tucked, hair brushed off the planes of her back, arms arranged so as to leave laudna with a smooth canvas. the design wasn’t terribly small, but nor was it the largest she had been tasked with; the moon sat between imogen’s shoulder blades, a little smaller than laudna’s palm. the design was wreathed by clouds, and across the stormy face of the moon there was to be a lattice. a weaving of magic. that work, stitching the magic beneath the skin, was a speciality of laudna’s and she had been saving up quite a portion for this project.

she ran a hand down imogen’s back. smiled at the jump of static, the jump of muscles in imogen’s back. gorgeous.

‘are you ready, darling?’

‘mhm.’

‘it will be painful.’

‘i know.’

fearne clopped quietly over, bringing a chair with her. she had used it before—when laudna had worked on the halfling warrior, orym, and their mutual friend ashton, whom she was beginning to suspect was something other than friendly with fearne. she settled, caught one of imogen’s hands in hers, and eased the tight fist open into something more relaxed.

‘squeeze my hand if it hurts. and remember you’re safe with us, alright?’ fearne tilted and tilted her head until she was hanging almost upside down beside the tattooist bed, and imogen’s shoulders shook with laughter. fearne flicked a glance up at laudna, who nodded. ‘she’s about to start. hold the crystal—focus your magic, there you are,’ she praised sweetly. ‘it’s going to hurt so nicely. it’s going to be wonderful, it’s going to look so pretty, imogen. you’re so brave,’ she whispered, and stroked imogen’s hair and held her hand, all the things laudna wished she herself could do, and was so so glad that fearne could do for them both, as she set her tools against the first line and began her work.

[gabessquishytum]

Since his imprisonment over a century ago, cinema has changed. Dream knew the camera would always be the next big thing in storytelling and that the movie would become a new medium that the next generation of storytellers would manipulate and mold.

So Hob proposes movie night. They go in order of the decades, from just before he was captured up to the present day. So far Dream has really liked the 1926 rendition of Phantom of the Opera, Gertie the Dinosaur, and the 1939 rendition of The Hunchback of Notre Dame. The film for this movie night is Gene Kelly's Singing in the Rain and then afterwards Wizard of Oz, but he's not alone.

Del is still feeling a bit rejected by her family and decides to pop around her siblings to see what they've got going on. Destiny let her get lost in his maze, Death took her into the deep ocean to say good bye to an ancient whale, Desire took her to a club where she made a guy hitting on her dance forever, and Despair just sat around in her own self misery and Del nearly succumbed to boredom. Dream is the only one left to humor her and brings her with him for movie night.

It goes off about as well as to be expected. She loved the film, particularly enjoying Cosmo's Make Them Laugh and Dorothy's Somewhere Over the Rainbow. Dream also liked the film, though it wasn't one of his favorites. Just something bright and colorful to pass the time. But this gives her an idea. Things always seem to work out when people are singing and she just wishes that everything with her family would resolve in something as simple as a song.

So she makes everyone sing. The first victim is Hob who wakes the next day singing to his appliances and every sentence afterward. Which is weird for him, but he can't stop. He can't get through a lesson without making it into a song. Which is becoming disturbing by lecture number three. He goes home and contacts Dream.

Who is having his own issues. The Dreaming and its denizens can't stop singing either. Matthew has turned into a songbird and the music is starting to chafe his nerves. He goes into the Waking and finds all of humanity has joined in a discordant musical number. Lovers sing about the virtues of romance, street punks are dancing in lines and singing about how they're going to cause trouble. A woman screams herself bloody about her lost dreams and passions. He makes his way to Hob's apartment, where he comes down with a song himself.

It's a heart wrenching screed about the loss of time and opportunity. About how he just wants to love and be loved in return. Red-faced, he disappears.

Hob heard every word he said and opened the door too late, leaving them both to scream themselves hoarse about their feelings. A song that perpetuates until Hob passes out from exhaustion and is ferried onto the Dreaming. There they have a heart to heart in the form of a ballad which culminates in a big, sweeping movie musical style kiss.

After the first few deaths from exhaustion, Death comes to her sister. Even she is not immune and through a large musical number, shows Delirium the extent of the damage she's caused. Del doesn't feel bad, until she hears her brothers and sisters sing. The whole universe is in a chorus of pain and misery as they struggle under the weight of her gift. So she removes the curse and sulks. Her sigil dims and she retreats deep into her realm.

Until she hears her siblings collectively calling for her. She appears in Hob's living room. The popcorn is popped, the room is darkened and she can see everyone sitting on the couch or the floor except for one place on the couch, between Death and Hob. Dream is comfortably sitting next to his new human lover, his head on his shoulder. They invite her in as the movie is just about to start. They're watching Meet Me in St. Louis.

- 🤜 anon

MY HEART. Poor darling Del, she certainly meant for it to be a good thing. But nobody really wants to be singing for more than a short amount of time. I wonder what Dream and Hob sound like while singing? If Dream’s singing is as unique as his laughter, I'm sure it was truly... something. But hey, Del unwittingly performed a minor miracle by bringing the idiots together at last. Who knew that all it would take was a romantic ballad after 600 years of pining?

Del enjoys Meet Me in St Louis a lot! She likes the slightly disfunctional family, particularly the little sister who gets into all kinds of shenanigans. The best part is being with her family, though, especially because they're all on their best behaviour! They even have a good ole sing along to the Trolley Song. Delirium revels in the slight chaos and finally feels properly appreciated by her entire family <3

[the0ldmann]

Minors and Ageless blogs DNI, you'll be blocked on sight!

I tried to do something gaslighty, gave up, and wrote something a little more... uh... like two people playing a little bit of a back and forth game? 'Tis short. And fluffy. Little provocative but not explicit.

1,418 words.

Writing below the cut, if that wasn't obvious.

---

You were feeling restless this evening. Nothing good was on TV and you had run out of things to bake until payday. Though it was only recently you had confessed your feelings for Friend, you still felt a little odd bothering him this late at night. Huffing, you scanned your living room for any inspiration to kill your boredom.

That’s when you noticed the bunny plush.

It had been sitting there on a little end table you’d throw your keys and spam mail on for the past couple weeks, overlooking the room. A personal gift from Friend- one of many! He’d sewn you quite a few plushies and you’d finally started running out of room in your bedroom for them. Storage felt a rude solution to store them, so moving them to other rooms was all you could think of.

Quickly, you picked it up, glancing at its eyes when you could without trying to make it obvious. Sitting back down, plush facing away from you, you tried your best to tilt it ever so slightly and get a better look at its eyes.

“They’re just really shiny eye buttons, there’s nothing weird about them.”

That’s what Friend had told you the first time you tried taking a closer look at them. You were absolutely positive they were cameras though, and the looking you were doing now confirmed that.

How could they not be? The eyes looked exactly like the camera on the back of your phone.

An idea came to you.

Friend was always so good at dodging questions. However, you never bothered to press. Everything he said you took at face value- well, most of what he said at least. Otherwise you wouldn’t be thinking about the numerous plush cameras in your place of residence right now.

Seems like bothering him this late was on the agenda anyway. Excitement coursed through your veins as a small smile started to tug at your lips. Could you back Friend into a corner and get him to admit it? Or perhaps get him to admit to something he couldn’t have known without revealing they were cameras?

If you were going to question him, you were going to make this fun though. Those little pink hearts of his were adorable, and while you wouldn’t be able to see them, you wanted to make it hard for him to see through them.

Standing up, you set the bunny on the couch and went to your bedroom. Most of the plushies were turned away, staring into corners and up at the ceiling. Picking out a little green frog holding a mushroom, you set it carefully on the bookshelf by your bed, facing outwards. If the cameras in it hadn’t died, Friend should be able to see you.

If he was looking at whatever computer he had the cameras hooked up to…

A quick text could maybe fix that. This late in the day? He has to be at home right now.

… Right?

Sweet<3: Oh Frieeeeend~

Friend: Someone’s in a good mood I see. What’s up?

Sweet<3: You wouldn’t happen to be at home and on your computer, would you?

You tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear. Whipping off your pants you sat down on your bed, one leg propped up and hugging it with your arm. Surely this would get his attention. It was only a minute before you got a response.

Friend: Sorry, I had to boot it up. Was there something you wanted to show me? ;P

Of course he wouldn’t let on that easily, but you were determined to try.

Sweet<3: So I’m still not convinced you haven’t sewn cameras in the plushies, but that would actually come in real handy right now.

You could almost hear the sigh coming through his text.

Friend: Again? Would it even be possible to convince you otherwise? They’re just special buttons for a special plush made for a special someone.

A pause. You smirk as you see the three little dots come back up.

Friend: Wait, what do you mean hidden cameras would come in handy right now?

Sweet<3: You’d be able to see if you had them~ ;P

Two could play at that game.

Friend was drumming his fingers as he stared at the screen. He wasn’t about to confirm your suspicions. Seeing you sitting there in your underwear made it hard to not ask what it was you wanted. Clearly you wanted something, and he was going to pry it out. Unlucky for you.

Friend: C’mon Sweetheart! I don’t have them so I clearly can’t see. What is it?

Sweet<3: Hmmm, it’s a little hard to explain through text… You really have to see!

Friend: You’re teasing me, aren’t you?

Sweet<3: Maybe a little. ^u^

Friend: How could you be so mean??

You swear you could see the dramatic hand-over-the-heart he was probably doing right now. Little did you know how patient of a man you were dealing with.

And how quickly his patience had been running out…

Sweet<3: Okay okay, I’m willing to give you a hint.

Friend: Now we’re talkin’!

Sweet<3: Am I wearing pants right now?

Friend: Wha… What kind of a hint is that?

Sweet<3: You don’t need cameras to guess~

Friend: If that’s the case, I’m going to guess you’re not. No reason to ask otherwise, hm?

This was true. You got up, taking your phone with you and walking out of sight. Slowly, you stripped down completely before throwing on a pair of lingerie you recently bought.

Admittedly, you were a little nervous about letting Friend see it, but if you were going to get him to slip up, this was going to be the way.

Friend: Are you still there, love?

Ah, right, you had left him on read in order to change.

Sweet<3: Oh don’t worry, I’m getting ready!

Friend: Getting ready for what, Sweetheart? You saying “don’t worry” worries me greatly.

Sweet<3: I know, but this is a good surprise, promise!

Friend: You gonna send me a picture when you’re ready?

He was already cutting you off before you could get any farther. As you stepped back in the line of sight of the plush, you proceeded to half lay down on the bed. Stroking a thigh while smirking at the camera, you gave him a minute to say anything else.

Nothing else was said. Left to come to your own conclusions, the best you could do was tease him some more.

Sweet<3: If you had to guess what the surprise was to get a picture… What would you guess?

A pause. You were at least making it difficult for him to type.

Friend: Out of all the things this surprise could be, I’ll be left guessing for ages!

Sweet<3: What would you want it to be most right now?

You weren’t entirely sure what you expected him to say. Admitting he liked you took forever for him to do. Seems taking that step had left him feeling bolder.

Friend: Hmm… You dressed up in a really cute outfit. Is that it? Prancing about in front of whatever you think has a camera in it?

Was that a read or really nothing more than a blind guess? You suppose you had pranced about in a cute outfit in front of the cameras a few times before… Wait. Was his guess based on past things he’d seen? Shit, maybe you were more unprepared than you thought…

As concern started to cross your features, another text message came through.

Friend: Oh, I’m so right, aren’t I? Are you taking a pic right now? We could always video chat instead- I know you have a brand new laptop for school.

And as quickly as you were starting to have fun with your little game, he had squashed it. Did he know? He had to have. They were cameras after all! As frustrating as he could be, you were going to get the last word on him. You went back to the living room to dig your laptop out of your bag. Sitting down on the couch, you flipped it open and started up a video call.

“Oh, so you did decide to-”

Friend stops mid sentence to stare, pink hearts already floating around his head growing even more in number.

“What’s the matter,” your tone is coy as you sit a little more provocatively, “cat got your tongue?”

[moxxis-bar]

I think something platonic with the Calypsos would be cool! Maybe you all became friends on the ECHOnet as kids before they started streaming?

Internet Friends

Platonic Calypso Twins x Gender Neutral Reader

I’m so sorry it took me forever to write this! I’m a dummy who’s bad at time management. It wasn’t specified if this was a oneshot or headcanons, so I just wrote a oneshot, but I liked how this turned out so I might come back and write another part for this. I don’t remember if the Calypsos had access to the ECHOnet as kids since it’s been a minute since I’ve played through Borderlands 3, but we’re just going to assume they did lol

Content: Platonic fic, takes place before the events of Borderlands 3

SPOILER WARNING! Slight spoilers for Borderlands 3 and the Calypso Twins’ backstories.

Your phone couldn’t seem to stop vibrating because of the sudden influx of messages from two of your internet friends, a set of twins who looked to the ECHOnet to save them from the boredom of their lives, at least, that’s what they told you. You spent an amount of your time online, talking to them about everything there was to talk about, and they kept in touch with you often, creating a group chat between the three of you to talk in.

‘hey’

‘hey’

‘hey’

‘heyyyyyyyyy’

‘u should get online’

‘nd settle a fight between me n troy’

‘bc this idiot thinks pineapple belongs on pizza’

Tyreen blew up your Echo Device as she often did, desperate to get your attention. The heavy hand unit never seemed to stop buzzing, even as you picked it up, only now you were being bombarded by both twins.

‘ty is a LIAR’ 

‘that is NOT what we were fighting abt’

‘and my pizza opinions have NOTHING to do with this’

‘I SWEAR SHES LYING’

‘plz get on’

‘i need another voice of reason’

This was a very common occurrence, you can’t even begin to count the number of times you’ve been dragged into their weird arguments with absolutely zero context, but it was always fun to watch how passionate they were about these weird disagreements. Ready to join in and get some context, you typed into the group chat you shared with the twins.

‘whats this abt troy liking pineapple on pizza?’

It only took a few seconds for Troy to respond, Tyreen following shortly after.

'‘THATS NOT WHAT I SAID TY IS LYING TO YOU’

‘nuh uh he totally said that’

‘did not’

‘ok he basically said that’

‘basically and totally arent the same thing’

The conversation was taken over by Troy and Tyreen again until you typed back.

‘wait ok so what did troy say?’

‘all i said was that pineapple on pizza can still be valid if you dont like it’

Tyreen was quick to respond, excited by what she assumed was an admission from Troy.

‘y’know who would say that? people who like pineapple on pizza’

‘I NEVER SAID I LIKE IT I JUST SAID ITS VALID’

‘HOW IS IT VALID???? IT’S AN ABOMINATION TO PIZZA’

‘LISTEN SOME PEOPLE JUST LIKE A BIT OF SWEETNESS TO THEIR PIZZA’

‘ARE YOU SEEING THIS (Y/N)??? IM TELLING YOU HE LIKES PINEAPPLE ON PIZZA’

The chat continued to be flooded with messages of Tyreen accusing Troy of liking pineapple on pizza, while Troy tried his best to explain himself, though you weren’t really sure if he was desperate to make Tyreen believe him, or if he was actually hiding the possibility of him liking pineapple on pizza. The world may never know.

‘whenever we meet up we gotta get troy some pineapple pizza and settle this’

‘YESSS THATS SUCH A GOOD IDEA’

Tyreen typed back excitedly, loving the suggestion, much to Troy’s chagrin you assumed.

‘im not eating pineapple on pizza for you weirdos’

‘besides’

‘even if i would’

‘its not like dad would ever let us go see you’

‘he definitely wouldn’t let you come see us either’

‘not like you could find us anyhow’

Oh. That’s right. You’d nearly forgotten. They’d mentioned before that their dad refused to let them go out. Something about him being super protective of them. Well, even if it wasn’t possible, it was a fun idea to imagine, spending actual, in-person, time with the twins. You would be able to see them face-to-face and fulfill all the other weird plans that stemmed from the strange but fun conversations you had with the twins. They’d told you that it was unrealistic to ever actually see each other, but you still held on to that slight hope that maybe one day you’d be able to finally meet them.

Tyreen texted back.

‘ugh thats right’

‘mannnn’

‘its not like he can actually keep us here all our lives’

‘even if he tried’

‘he won’t be able to stop us >:)’

‘we’ll be so sneaky nd run away’

‘and then we’ll come see u’

‘waddya think troy?’

‘i guess…’

‘but i do wanna see (y/n)’

Tyreen was often playful when she talked with you and Troy, but you wondered if any part of her was serious about that. About running away from her father with Troy. Your thoughts were interrupted as your ECHO device vibrated once again, this time a message from Troy.

‘OH UR NEVER GONNA BELIEVE WHAT TYREEN DID LAST NIGHT’

‘SO SHE GOT UP LAST NIGHT CAUSE SHE GOT HUNGRY’

‘AND’

‘TROY DON’T YOU DARE FINISH THAT STORY’

[currently-unavailable]

skk thought, au(?) where, while being in the sheep, yuan taught every member how to make flower crowns, bracelets and rings, so now chuuya carries this secret skill with him the entire time hes in the port mafia, making flowery trinkets when no one else is around just to calm himself or out of pure boredome when outside, but one time dazai catches him doing it.

they were 17, sitting near a forest road, waiting for a car to pick them up after a particularly stressful and long mission. they were both exhausted, the adrenaline and stress still hanging in the air around them, when chuuya automatically picked a flower that survived their previous encounter with the enemy, and, with a concentrated face, started to braid its stem so it will take a form of a ring. his hands were moving roughly with anger, just barely not breaking the stem with the force. he tuck the end of it behind a braided part, so it will hold everything in place, looked at it, and threw the thing away, sighing loudly in exasperation.

the whole act caught dazai's attention, as he followed whatever object his partner threw, trying to find it in the slightly burned grass. he was ramaging through it, trying to find anything other than dirty rocks and mud, when an oval shape of a green ring with a dandelion finally revealed itself to him. dazai grabbed it immediately, though careful with his moves, so he wouldnt do any damage to the thing. he looked at it in awe. did chuuya really make this? the braiding looked so perfect and precise there was no way his partner learned it on the spot.

for how long did chuuya manage to hide this talent from dazai?

chuuya was too far gone in his weird spiral of thoughts to notice his partner putting the ring on his finger, just for it to fit it perfectly, then sneaking behind the redhead. he raised the hand with the ring sitting on his ring finger (of course dazai would put it there), shoving it into chuuya's face, which snapped him back to reality.

"what are you doing you shitty-"

he stopped, scanning the image in front of him with terror in his eyes.

"you are never going to let this one go, huh? just you fucking wait until i smash your head against the first-"

"i actually quite like it" dazai cut him off, making his partner look even more... terrified? surprised? stunned? he wasnt sure which word suit the expression chuuya made best, but he wouldnt let their exchange end on such a cliche, too sweet for his liking phrase. "i would never marry a slug like you with that ring though, i hope you do better if youre planning to actually propose~"

"I AM GOING TO WIPE THAT SMIRK OF YOUR FACE, SHITTY DAZAI!"

their car arrived shortly after that. the ride was surprisingly peaceful, none of them had the energy to bicker with each other more, as they spent their last supply of it

[ilikelookingatthings]

So I read 11 chapters of a fascinating manga called I reincarnated as the little sister of a death game manga’s murder mastermind and failed and its interesting.

I have some nostalgia since I HAVE read a couple of manga with the plot of students stuck in a school having to face off and situations that can cause their death or fight eachother while trying to solve how to get out and why everything is happening so I instantly related to Mai(the main character and step sister). What fascinating is she notes there ARE differences in personality and little details in the reality she lives in that doesn’t match one for one from the manga and its not like it was some change she hadn’t picked up after she did something after regaining her memories...she seems to have kept her original personality of being rather cheerful. But she also picked up important aspects are the same....such as the box of bugs that she would catch and bring her brother torn up in the same hiding place as the manga said it would be.

I like how because she cares for her brother but this insite she got from reading the manga about him gave her some insight into why he did what he had done and how it escalated...she doesn;t hate him and tries to help her brother by trying to minimize it escalating and trying to give him something else to be interested in because he startes the deathgame in the manga out of boredom.

so she tries to give him ‘surprises’. The thing that peaked my interest the most though is we do end up seeing some chapters from her brother’s perspective...and that her surprises aren’t surprising him at all...he thinks she is acting weird but his interest hasn’t really been peeked..which I thought would dishearten me....but ironically its one fo her first pranks(which was to throw herself off a bridge into the water) which I think sparked a change.

See apparently he woudl often imagine hurting things and he had thought pushing her off would be entertaining and one of the signs of him being horrible in the manga was him actually pushing her off one day....

but by jumping herself she fullfilled his erge of seeing her fall off the bridge AND surprised him in that it had actually bored him and wasn’t as entertaining as he thought..and it took away him giving into a big erge since she had already done it.

This means he will have a few more herdles that he hasn’t jumped yet so his escalation will go slower....and her clinging just a little less means he has less chances of finding her annoying while not suspecting that she has figured out his nature. her actions can seem like they aren’t having the affect she wanted but we do end up seeing she gets his interest in a different way as he notices that she tends to prank him using herself(aside from the weird bentos) and that it might have peeked his interest by using that he is already interested life and death and wounds....she was trying to surprise him...

but what caught his interest was at times she would get hurt by her pranks(like bruises and stuff or could be seen as odd) but that she would enthusastically continue to do more pranks. I like how it used one of teh few things he is interested in to make that connection of his interest in her increasing rather than is just simply being surprised.

Not gonna lie I was worried when we heard that a killer was lurking around and not getting caught..what if it was her brother...but we find out he WASN’T the killer...but that he was obsessed with trying to see a dead body and could predict where the victims might be with him not getting there in time to see it happen...we us seeing signs of slight care for the sister in getting rid of a teacher who kindof assumed stuff and took teh gift she ws going to give her brother...but he someone found a way to get that teacher to be around a area so she could get targetted by the killer...which is chilling even if there was relief she didn’t die and that he wasn;t actually the one attacking anyone.

and then she knows when he sees a cat get run over he is suppoused to get even crazier....so she is able to stop teh cat from getting run over....but SHE gets hit by the car right infront of him...and from her perspective she doesn;t understand why he is acting a bit odd after she comes back from the hospital...but WE get to see from hsi perspective...she had fullfilled part of what he had wanted to see, someone getting hurt right infront of him (he thought she was dead for a bit), but much like that scene where she jumped off the bridge he didn’t feel what he thought he would feel(which was entertainment or a sense of satisfaction he would get from killing bigs).

He felt ‘unpleasant’. his heart hurt and he was so confused as to why becuase its not like her surprises entertained him. heck he had been around her so people would think he was even kinder than he was and be even less likely to notice the signs he isn’t actually caring yet he was flumoxed that he foudn ehr hit by a care unpleasant.

mind you she didn;t die so part of him did wonder fi the issue was maybe that she hadn’t died but he’s clearly more protective afterwards after she was hurt. checking on her phone, going out with her and being close when crossing the road......and he tried killing his bugs again but he seemed upset like somehow it made him feel bad...its like ehr almost dying tainted it becuase maybe he got a sample of what he thought would be satisfying made him feel differently than he wanted.

whats fascinating is he does eventually figure out that he cares about her and that he might love her(it made me laugh because if I was surprised, HE was doubly so, especially since he got one of THOSE~ type of dreams where he stubbed his foot after waking up.

He still doesn’t change as he still has killing temptations and he is smart as he knows he is abnormal yet doesn’t want to change but still wants her and he knows it woudn’t be healthy for her.....

yet its kind of funny to see him come up with plans to see if she could like him like making her jealous by bringing a study group where a beautiful girl he knows tends to get envy and hatred from other girls... likes him. yet our girl obviously supports this crush thinking it could help her brother and teh rest of the class and hersef avoid that bad ending if makoto gets more ranges of emotions...unknown he ha dalready fallen for herself and was getting a slighly wider range of emotions...wth him even getting jealous as one fo teh guys gets a crush on Mai XD his logic didn;t even pick up it was obvious that Mai wasn’t interested in the guy.

the bro being a bit childish and spending more time with her by saying she needs to study more to join his school.

and whats even more fascinating is SHE is technically more aware of his nature than he is of hers....she also has insight into herself as even if she doesn’t have the same attitude as the sister in the manga she read....the other version of her had a brother complex....and her now did use to dream of marrying her brother...like she genuinely was rooting for the bro and the female lead....but WE actually can pick up she isn’t as unaffected as she seems...she isn’t exactly happy at the idea he might hear the female lead’s confession despite her acting like she supports it. she breathes a sigh of relief when the female lead wasn’t hanging around her brother. and honestly if she was nromal...you’d think she’d distance herself consider most would...especially when she KNOWS a different version of him killed a version of her as a fact....but nope...we might be having signs she likes him to...she isn;t quite there yet(thankfully). but it really interesting to knows this and know the brother semi thinks he is failing at grabbing her attention and that she is in the dark of his true nature.

Heck before when he would want to see something die it fet more impersonal...like it wasn’t about the person specifically.......but now it feels very personal...maybe its the plot armour saying she has to be his first victim but he feels like he shouldn’t kill someone who isn’t Mai...or at least Mai should be his first even while he clearly wants her safe.

but he also clearly personally wants to kill the dude who has a crush on Mai from his study group despite and doesn’t really pick up its clear Mai isn’t interested in that guy. we see him genuinely imagining killing the guy in many ways...heck I thought he died somewhere offscreen was what was coded for the school transfer...but he genuinely did choose to transfer the guy...and he did it while being nice and ‘helping’ the guy get the scholarship to cover costs so they would have more for the hospital bills for the crush guy’s mom.

he could have clearly just pushed him onto the train tracks...but what I like is i actually wonder if it was mai’s accident that save the guy from the bro taking that easy way out...because the bro might have some ptsd from her getting hit by that car and associated it with it being unpleasant. AND we know that guy had been destined to die in the original story...so him being transferred means at least one guy is officially saved.

the bro doesn’t quite know how to feel taking this smarter less bloody route to get rid of a rival....but its definitly giving me alot for food for thought about the developents that Mai hasn’t quite caught on to.

These could backfire or work in her favor...mind you since he is touching on Yandere...he is at least semi more selfaware than most...but definitly worried since he could snap at anytime.

mind you I thought I would be more distressed about the potential ship since brother and sister...even if they aren’t actually related and met when they were 9 and 10 years of age...and lets face it all the red flags...but I realized that hey at least they aren’t related IS a successful bar to pass when it comes to some manga and if this can save lives....lets hope she can at least save everyone ad herself from death and if the feelings are mutual its at least way better than if it was onesided.

oddly enough I’m getting weird vibes from the female lead for has a crush on the brother. I think she is aware that Mai could be a rival for the brother(as the bro did mention they weren’t blood related to try to get her to be more active with flirting infront of Mai to try to get Mai jealous)...but if she figured out Mai could have feelings before even Mai knows...female lead could have some redflags of her own.....definily more worried because the brother knows the female lead(who was knows as teh beautiful lonewolf type in the original manga) is actually just a bit socially awkward...so him helping her integrate with the class gives her all the reason to have feelings for him and out him on a pedistal...so if the female lead potentially blames Mai for the bro not being interested...things could get messy.

this is a fascinating manga...since morally the brother is a walking red flag..but technically hasn’t done anything of the murder viarity to anyone yet and was born this way.

I keep thinking of teh conversation the brotehr had with her at teh grandpa’s house where she was defending her friend liking her fashion choices as its not like it hurts anyone..and she actually thought that is someone likes things like killing and the like it must be hard because what they like isn’t socially acceptable as that maybe if they compromised and got the erges out in ways that don’t actually hurt anyone it wouldn’t be too bad...while her bro who we know is tehone who actually wants to kill people or animals raises that those people would be better off dead as it doesn’t change what they could do.

cuz honestly he should get professional help or something...but it does make me wonder about some people just born this way and how both of their views might clash. but also about how people can genuinely love people like this and what happens about those people born like this when it comes to relationships and how they can blend in.

it reminds of cheese in the trap where one of the male leads clearly has some manipulative tendencies and emotion issues but it raises of he can love why can’t he try his best to love people or have a family? and how much you can get better or be motivated and what it can actually mean though this one is one of those ‘he hasn’t done extremely wrong yet’ ,and us knowing for SURE how bad it could get for him as a individual to snap.

[kotoal1011]

yo! 🛌,🃏 and 💐

🛌 - do you and your f/o sleep in the same bed? if you do, do you have a favorite and least favorite thing about sleeping together?

We do! (It'd be weird if we didn't because, well, we're married–) I'd say literally everything about it is my favorite thing but since I have to choose only one, then one of the things I like the most is just, the physical contact. Feeling safe in her arms, sleepy cuddles, her warmth, the sound of her heartbeat against my ear... As for the thing I like the least, I guess it's the fact that she doesn't really let me move around in my sleep because her grip is so strong.

🃏 - if you and your f/o were to be snowed in for several days with no power, what would you two do to keep away boredom?

The first thing that comes to mind is reading together, though that's something we already do pretty often while cuddling. She would also train and meditate more than usual... until I can't bear with the boredom any longer and start being clingy and demanding attention from her. Other than that, I guess we could also study together (studying the same major has its advantages) but that's something we'd do to be productive rather than to keep away boredom, lol.

💐 - do you have a garden? what does it look like? do you instead keep flowers in your home? what kind?

We don't have a garden, and I'm not really the kind of person to buy and keep a lot of flowers (neither is she) but if I had to choose, then I'd definitely have monstera flowers for obvious reasons.

[wizzycore]

Nonhuman Showdown Round 3

Why you should vote for each of them and full art below!

Wood/Woodie/Woodrow (species: construct, by @aberrantparadox, art by @kurofae)

"Woodrow isn't a human, and Woodie isn't a person, though they do like to roleplay as one. Are they cool? What are they? They aren't even sure. Woodie, Woodrow.... they're not even the being's names, simply names extrapolated from the common answer they give to the question of they are ("....uhm....I'm wood"). They're human shaped but not human looking, with a human heart but not human emotions, they're a machine in a literal sense but also a metaphorical one as they do do their duty as told, but they're also doing it of their free will - theyre certainly a thinking person but they aren't. It would be wrong though to say they're looking for real personhood, though, or to be utterly rid of personhood also - they're searching for something beyond that, and beyond the spiral too, they think. Something like the jungle of stardust they always see in their "dreams".

There's the factual part - as in, they're a wood mannequin made by Merle Ambrose to fight off Malistaire and other threats. Well, they're actually just plucked from Golem Tower and altered. Their concept was brought up before Malistaire went rogue, and then abandoned. Woodie is the golem, and the magic possessing it, and the heart of the fallen champion of Bartleby, and the heads. He is also none of these at any given time. It isn't his heart - it lives in their chest cavity with all their gears, things that belong to them, indubitably, and is theirs, as much as their heads are or aren't.

Their heads - each professor made a different swappable head distinctly tuned to their school of magic, so that their new champion could perfectly and easily master all the schools. They're necessary to channel the magic inherent in other tools, for someone/thing who otherwise has no magic within them. Each head feels different to use for Woodrow, gives different consequences and a different mindset, but the spirit doesn't become different beings, unless you define a being by its personality and magical energy - a common definition. Woodrow leaves it open. They can see out of any of the heads, or all at the same time, having 7-fold (and eventually 9-fold) vision. They don't need any attached to their body to move, think, or function, but they do need them to cast spells, and when in the field its better to keep at least one head attached just in case. Their weird sight also lets them see stranger things, like invisible beings, currents of magic, and other phenomena. They can't gape at any of that though, because they don't have a face, and they wouldnt anyway, because they came into the world that way and none of this is surprising. But it is a bit lonely.

Feelings are difficult when youre made of wood and don't have human sensations. Most emotions Woodie experiences are muted and overlaid with boredom or a sort of diffuse nothingness. But occasionally they do feel something properly, and that is the most vast thing in the world to them. They deeply care about other beings and will readily use violence to keep the majority safe. They're unsympathetic to those who hurt others out of hurt, but aren't cruel. Every being, secure in their self, breathing with lungs and gills and magic, even the evil ones, are a wonder to Woodrow, and like the person who once had his-but-not-his heart, protecting those beings in their perfect imperfection - just to look at them - just to look at them, it's everything, just to look at them...."

Quinn Soulthorn (species: dryad, by @sentient-cloud)

"Quinn Soulthorn, a dryad of one of those spooky death trees that seem to be everywhere. He grew up in Avalon’s Wyrd over the corpse of one an unlucky member of the wild hunt, the spine of which makes up his harp, along with his own wood. He’s delighted to be allowed into Ravenwood and learn about the world outside of the Wyrd, even if he’s still really learning how people work. He’s not beating the unseelie allegations.

People tend to find him off putting. He’s far too eager to tell people about the beauty and inevitability of death, and he brings a kind of “stop raising so much undead you’re disturbing the role decomposition plays in the perpetual cycle of existence” vibe the other necromancers don’t like. Merle is especially wary of him, after all, was the Wyrd not the source of the horned crown that damned Avalon and introduced his pupil to Shadow magic in the first place?

He’s doing his best, he isn’t as oblivious to people’s hesitancy towards him as some may think. Additional fun facts: his pet “ghulture” is an undead Avalon crow that hung around the spooky death tm graveyard he popped up in. Whenever he takes root he leaves behind a mushroom circle. He even has trans swag. TtM (tree to male)"

[cryptic-symbols]

for the ask game :)

waco, going to alaska and pinklon

deep cuts my beloved

(:

You didn’t use an Oxford comma so for a hot second I wondered where there was a mountain goats song entitled “Going to Alaska and Pinklon” and I was really confused. These were fun songs and this is a long post.

waco: she’s not a deep cut, not to me!!! all hail west texas is my fav goats album so she is my everything. she’s not my fav bonus track but I do love her. I have kind of a weird answer for this one.

Biding our time

Biding our time

Biding our time, as best we know how

At face value, this is a song about the rapture. Really, this is a song about how you live life when you’re lying in wait for something, anything to happen, and these lines make me feel that the most. Waiting for someone specific to come save you, someone you’ve been waiting for your whole life. Can any one person save you from Waco boredom? Set against the desolate landscape of west Texas, we feel the rote boredom more acutely. There is nothing here to do and no one to be, only waiting for something new to happen in a place where nothing really ever happens. Its a song about learning to be comfortable with patience.

The three time repetition of biding our time really makes me feel that time, the rhythm of that time. The days lived, in and out, like breathing. As best we know how. We don’t fully know know what we’re doing and how to do it but we are learning as we go and its not perfect but its our best effort. It is the gift of a best effort, the eagerness of trying your damn best and letting it be known that you are giving it your everything. It feels like the human heart of the song, the admission that you are doing everything you can and its kind of getting to you, knowing that your best effort may not be enough.

going to alaska: google tells me this is the first going to song and perhaps the first mountain goats song so !!! woah. I listened to the shitty 2008 recording and it made me feel something I haven’t felt in a really long time. The meter is this song is very consistent and feels kind of weird as someone used to goats songs that don’t have that. Its cool.

And I am going to Alaska, where you can go blind

Just by looking at the ground; where fat is eaten by itself

Just to keep the body warm

The speaker wants life to feel more difficult, to feel like a struggle that feels, presumably, worth it. Life is too easy, or maybe, life feels like it should be harder, or that he deserves better.

These specific references to the extreme aspects of the tundra remind me of this class I took about the desert, the meaning that is found in going somewhere that is inhospitable for human life but extremely supportive of other kinds of life; the rare beauty in a landscape that is harsh but full of energy under the surface. It reminded me of the way I felt while journaling on the camping trip I took in that class to the desert, looking at the stars and sitting with myself and just writing and writing and trying to capture the primal inhospitable life that the desert felt like: a kind of god that I thought deserved reverence. It is a different kind of beauty often overlooked or presumed grotesque because of the lengths that survival requires.

Our speaker sees the beauty in these things and perhaps wants to test himself, but he’s almost missing the point that his life doesn’t need to be hard to feel meaningful. He doesn’t need to go blind or make his body eat itself to create meaning or to be enough. Man. Haven’t we all been there.

pinklon: now this is a deep cut. performed once ever that we know of, only on a bootleg recording?? yes

Though all good things in time will melt away

Pinklon Thomas is getting out of prison today

This reminds me of another goats song: “life is short and life is hard and life is sweet” (when a powerful animal comes). All of these people are celebrating this guy’s freedom, and that joy, no matter how small a blip in what feels like life’s endless suffering, is a good moment worth celebrating. It will not last forever, nor should it, but we can take a moment to chronicle this joy and give it space to live and breathe and mark all the ways we can see it in the people ready to welcome him back. This is a good thing that will melt away but for now, let’s forget that. Living in the moment means taking the goods ones when they come and soaking them in.

[dustedmagazine]

Zachary Cale — Next Year’s Ghost (Org Music)

You think of Zachary Cale.You think of a guitar. Indeed, the Dusted review of his pandemic-era epic False Spring in 2022 started right away with the six-string, observing, “Zachary Cale has a guitar sound that is instantly recognizable, very warm and clear and lucid, surrounded by an amplifying echo but fundamentally unhazed by overtones. Whether acoustic or electric, his playing speaks to you plainly, directly and rather beautifully.” Well you can forget about all that this time, because with Next Year’s Ghost, Cale moves to the piano (and other keyboards). The first note you hear on this eight-song album is the low, reverberating tone found at the far left end of the piano keyboard, and it ushers in a moody, ruminative set of songs with far less guitar than usual.

The story is that Cale spent part of the pandemic wandering over the bridge from Manhattan to Brooklyn, ending up at artist friend’s studio Red Hook that happened to house a piano. He played at first as a form of therapy, a way to escape the fear and boredom of COVID’s first waves. But over time, songs emerged, with dark-toned and lingering melodies and lyrics about human fragility.

Cale wrote these songs for voice and piano but he brought in friends to realize them fully. Shahzad Ismaily works his subtle atmospherics in bass and various synthesizers. Woodsy Pride guitarist Uriah Theriault fills in on electric. Jeremy Gustin of Delicate Steve and Okkervil River plays the drums.Other Brooklynites turn in arresting cameos like JR Bohannon’s pedal steel in “House on Fire” and Anni Rossi and Brent Arnold’s mini-string section in the haunting “Fragile Line.” There’s no escaping the brooding pall that these songs cast, but the arrangements lend them a bit of lightness and mobility.

Consider, for instance, “Fragile Line” which emerges out of the smoke and shadows of effected guitar, a flickering blues in the way its tone flares and swells. Then the piano joins in, a steady, regular motif giving the song clarity and purpose. Cale’s voice is strong and sound here, cutting through the sound effortlessly and reaching up into the higher registers in the chorus without faltering. And yet though he sings easily, the emotions he describes are more difficult: doubt, confusion, inability to see the point of it all.“Such a fragile line, scribbled on a wall, was that a joke or a prayer, in the bathroom stall,”he croons, and who knows? It was a weird couple of years.

“House on Fire” is one of the best of these songs. Cale sings in the most beautifully resigned way about everything going to shit, a shrug at losses too steep to measure. Still it’s the way that JR Bohannon’s pedal steel weaves the desolation that makes it so good, the way that it threads beauty through the wreckage. Like it, early single “Shatterstar,” puts sad, grey lyrics into a nearly hopeful context, the piano riff lilting up, the chorus a balm, the melody letting a little bit of sunshine slip through the gloom. 

Jennifer Kelly

[wanou-dorm]

DAC - Shizuke Toiyama

Name: Shizuke Toiyama

Name origin: It's basically. Meant to be Shin Kuze think Shin Godzilla you can interpret it as Shiro Kuze as Kuze is Black Rock Shooter

Twisted from: White Rock Shooter

Age: 19

Birthday : 13th of June

Hair color: White with Pink streak

Eye color: Pink

Build: Taller than Kuze I'll give him 180cm/5'10

Weapon: Scythe(That Can Transform into a Cannon) , Katana , Wings

————

School: Deaths Academy Of Combat

Dorm: Starnovelle

School year:Third Year

Class: 3-B

Clubs: Dance team , Gymnastics

Best Class : Tact and strategy

Worst Class: Lethal Poisons

Favorite Food : Strawberry Fruit roll ups, Macarons Least Favorite Food: Licorice

Likes: Singing , Dancing , Fighting , Writing Songs Kuze

Dislikes: Boredom , Crows, " That Green Guys keep looking at me weird", Alot of the Idol Industry , Dark, Muted Clothing

Unique Magic: World Maker- Allows Him to Body the Power Of his attack by Engulfing them in his Flame These Attacks also gain an effect that By pass Most Defensive Magics like say Kuze's Insane Devoler

Talent: Able to Switch between Scythe and Cannon faster than a Person be can blink,Sing, Dance, Gymnastics

Personality and Background :The Anomaly of Starnovelle , Unlike others in the Dorm , Shizuke stands out like a Sore thumb, While the Other look …Goth. Shizuke looks Straight out a Pop Concert though with merit He is a Popular Pop Idol called Eros,it was a dream for someone whom he lost .

Most people In Starnovelle dislike him for that Fact alone as well as his more Laid Back, often dismissive and Cheery Attitude couple with the Fact that he's Terrible at Communicating Feelings Properly(says he Used to have a Twin Brother who helped him with that so his Improvement at its Slowed down) ,He's a Curious individual ,who is often Bored by most people and unfortunately impulsive individual who seemed to just going along with Anything without thinking of repercussion.

However, it's this Lack of impulse Control that makes him Dangerous in Combat as He's way Smarter than he Looks and often More Dangerous In Combat as it leads him to doing very Unexpected things that no one would do .Its like Something just Snaps in his Mind and He starts Laughing like a Madman More Than Happy to be Fighting you and will often be Disgusted by people who he can Beat Easily( This technically isn't true he just can't Figure out to express his Disappointment so his only Response is to be Disgusted)

Trivia:

everyone in Starnovelle has suspected him to be related to the Dorm Leader , one thing people point out Kuze and Shizuke Um's , World Maker making Shizuke able to Pierce through Insane Devolers effect of let Kuze Handle anything attack thrown at him.

Also the Fact Shizuke shows even more Skin than Kuze and Laughs it off.

And the Fact that the cannon his Scythe turns into is similar to Kuze.

It's also been seen they can over Power each other to a Draw meaning hes on par with Kuze .And the Fact that Shizuke's Manage has Requested that His last name not be said out loud .

The Fact that He Brings up that his Brother was more Friendlier,Liked by everyone and better at knowing how to Communicate emotions and he Likes to hang around Kuze Alot .

The one thing that people try to bring up against the Kuze Relations is Skin Color and the Fact he says he has a Twin but Shizuke points out biracial Twins exists and that Thier Birth was on the Local News.

He's has some hatred towards Idol and Music Industry practices .

It's Unknown why he's so good at Fighting, Shizuke said he used to pick fight alot at school but unless You're Zeon but Shizuke doesn't Remember anything from the time his Twin died as he fell into a Deep Depression and when he started his Idol career it's Believed he was made into a Weapon for the War Zeon and Io were in at some point.

Shizuke's communication issue stem from the Manga , were Everything Started Due a Communication Error WRS trying to say Her Clones Were Cute but instinctive saying she would Eat them as she Nebladed most of them

Voice Claim: Kaeya from Genshin impact

Theme song :Yosabi- Idol

DAC- @deaths-academy-of-combat @rookvonhunt

Starnovelle- @fumikomiyasaki