#other peoples interpretations of that is well…theirs.

[kiyo-cant-write]

Picture the couple dynamic of Riddle dating a male Yuu and Floyd. Just the fact a date night could be dancing the waltz with Riddle then Club dancing with Floyd.

dating floyd/riddle (florid x yuu) ✧･ﾟ

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Hello anon! I hope I interpreted this right! If I made a mistake please request it again and I will try to fix it >.< ;;

Regardless though, I am proud of how this turned out, I think it's cute, and I hope that you like it :D I read this as poly so wrote it as such. Which is easily done for me as a queer poly writer ww

Thank you for requesting!!! SORRY I ACCIDENTALLY USED THEY AND CANT CHANGE IT 😭🩵

Note for everyone that I have a few requests left from earlier to get done before the close of the year and then everything else sent from here on will not be posted until 2025 January. Please keep this in mind, thank you for supporting me!

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Summary: Date nights can be interesting when Floyd is in a mood and Riddle, after some prodding, feels competitive. [Name] is in for a ride tonight, huh? The homework will have to wait.

TW/CW: polyamory

Notes: established relationship, the reader is Ramshackle Prefect/Yuu, they/them, pronouns for the reader, FloRid, explicitly post Book 3

Guest Stars: Jade Leech (mentioned), Trey Clover (mentioned)

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✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

FloRid x Yuu (Polycule)

Floyd was the one who approached you first but Riddle was the one who proposed an actual relationship. They've competed since.

For whatever reason [Name] is the reason they compete and the force that can make them work together all the same.

Dates with Floyd are spontaneous and fun.

He likes to go dancing or visit sights. He always buys weird things.

Depending on the outing, there may be a souvenir for Jade.

Riddle prefers quieter things mostly but bigger events are always classy as if from a storybook. Floyd makes fun of this.

Riddle has not had much relationship experience up until now.

Trey once told [Name] that it is "very like Riddle" to make the decision to "over-achieve" and have two partners instead of one.

Trey also notes that this might be a rebellion against his mother.

As much as they compete with each other to take [Name] on the best dates, they also work together for bigger events like [Name]'s birthday or an anniversary for the three of them.

Even if they seem at odds, Floyd and Riddle do care for each other in their own way. Their love for each other is expressed through their bickering, it seems. Please bear with them.

And, hey. [Name] gets discounts and Mostro Lounge now and has two "scary dogs" should anything go wrong.

"What did you say to Shrimpy? Wanna get squeezed?"

"I'll have you know that's against school rules. Off with y-"

"We should go," Floyd commented, lying on the couch in a way that made [Name] wonder if he had bones. This is boring."

They sighed at Floyd's impatience. They had agreed, the three of them, to only go down to the city (with the permission of the faculty) after they had finished their work. Floyd didn't care much for homework, but Riddle had become so furious about the possibility of getting a zero on an assignment that both [Name] and Floyd ceded.

"I know it's boring but we promised Riddle," [Name] chose to say.

"I knowwwww," Floyd whined, "But you didn't say it would take this long. We're never going to make it down there at this rateeee."

Riddle turned to Floyd, glaring.

"Well maybe if someone helped build this model we'd be done by now. But a certain eel I know decided he wasn't in the mood for homework."

It was said through gritted teeth, Riddle was holding back his anger.

"Aww, Riddle is mad at me~" Floyd cooed at him.

The eelmer had only recently started calling Riddle and [Name] by their actual names and not some ocean creature nickname. Cute as the nicknames were (well [Name] liked theirs, Riddle hated his), it was nice to be seen as... people. And not fish. That might not make sense if it weren't about Floyd the chaos demon.

"I am mad at you. We need to finish this model or Professor Trein will... I don't know but I don't want to find out!" Riddle told them.

"Riddle... Maybe we should take a little break," [Name] suggested, reaching out to rest a hand on the boy's shoulder.

Riddle tensed slightly at the contact before relaxing against their hand. He was slowly becoming more used to things like this.

"See? [Name] gets me."

Floyd gave a big toothy grin their way.

"Floyd, I don't approve of you not helping, you know."

They shot him a glare.

"Sorrryyyy~" Floyd apologized though [Name] was unsure if he meant it genuinely, "Just bored out of my damn mind, here."

"I know you two want to go, but if we fail this..." Riddle trailed off for a second, looking toward the floor.

[Name] sighed again, looking between their boyfriends.

"I know, Riddle... Grades matter. But so does going out once in a while so we don't all get cabin fever."

Riddle nodded slowly.

"You're right...." he told [Name], though he seemed a bit unsure.

"And we have plans for later tonight," [Name] added, smiling.

They did have plans. Riddle and Floyd had worked out something so both of their ideas were able to come to fruition (though Floyd summarized in a much more crude way to [Name], saying "this date night being like if our ideas fucked!"). Floyd had said this in front of Trey Clover who pretended not to hear it. It had been... a day.

"We made a deal," Floyd added, now upsidedown on the couch for some reason, "Deals are serious in the mind of us merfolk, ya know. Azul'd tell you. Me first, then you, date night!"

"That's one way to summarize it, yes..." Riddle paused once more, "You're both right. Let's just... set it aside for now, and, um, go."

"Yay!" [Name] cheered.

"FUCK YEAH!"

Floyd tackled Riddle in a hug that knocked the Heartslabyul housewarden to the ground. Still, the redhead did not complain (this time anyway). Floyd would do as Floyd does.

"We need to get ready to go unless you want to wear uniforms?" [Name] said, looking between Floyd and Riddle dressed in their dorm attire, "Though I'm not sure that's appropriate dress..."

"I'll change into something."

"I have a whole thing planned, Shrimpy~"

[45 MINUTES LATER]

As it would seem. they still had plenty of time. While [Name] needed some time to get dressed and ready, it would seem the second years were both capable of clothes-changing magic. Riddle's the seamless and instant whereas Floyd took a few tries as his magic can be fickle.

"Ready!" [Name] called, running down the stairs towards the two boys they loved the most.

Riddle wearing a suit that [Name] thought looked expensive and Floyd dressed like he was some model (they were always impressed with his sense of style). It was a sight to see, for them only they liked to think. These two were something special.

Floyd took their hand in his.

"My turn first, Riddle said so."

"Just don't get arrested," Riddle quipped.

Heading into town, Floyd had managed to find a club that allowed high schoolers in some areas, a place where they could dance their cares away. [Name] was excited, they knew Floyd could dance well when he was in the mood for it. Jade had told them so.

Floyd pulled Riddle and [Name] onto the floor and guided them to the sound of the music, telling them about his day and making fun of Riddle's inability to dance to the club's choice of music.

"It's not the kind I'm used to!" Riddle protested.

"You look like a fish out of water," Floyd teased, "[Name] can do it, you try harder and maybe you'll catch up to us, Fishie~"

"You shut up, Floyd!"

Riddle's face was as bright red as his hair and [Name] almost wanted to laugh. They were sure it took a lot of planning and compromise to get Riddle to agree to come to a place like this with the two of them.

They couldn't help but wonder what Riddle's "turn" for date night would entail. Floyd took them somewhere Riddle didn't like... Would Riddle be messing with Floyd too? All in good fun, of course, part of being in a relationship is trying new things with and for each other.

As the minutes ticked by, the time came for Riddle to take over.

"This better not be something boring like studying," Floyd told him.

"I wouldn't take you out to the town to study," Riddle said, "A study date would happen at [Name]'s dorm or somewhere else."

"Blehh, study dates are so boring. You made us read advanced textbooks!" Floyd groaned.

"It will help your grades."

Riddle thought it would, anyway.

"My grades are fine!" Floyd told them.

Riddle was sure that was a lie. Floyd shifted drastically between getting high grades and low ones that scared the professors.

"Are they?" Riddle asked him.

[Name] raised a brow.

"Yeah... Are they, Floyd?"

Floyd ignored the question and Riddle led them towards an older-looking building, something similar to their school. Was it a dance hall? He held a hand in each of his as he guided them into what might as well be called "Riddle's version of a dance club." It was some kind of social club, everyone dressed in formal wear similar to Riddle's suit.

[Name] felt a bit out of place but remained comfortable with their hand in Riddle's and surrounded by the tall eelmer whose clothing was also mismatched to the event. They knew if something truly went wrong, Floyd would end everyone here... Even if that was a bit scary to imagine. They hoped it wouldn't come to that.

"Shall we?" Riddle asked [Name], guiding them towards the dancefloor.

Floyd let go of Riddle's hand at the same moment.

"This kinda thing is too stuffy for me, you guys have fun~ I'm gonna go see what food they have."

Floyd grinned and [Name] (and Riddle] felt bad for those at the food table. It would be okay... maybe.

[Name] turned to Riddle.

"Let's do this," they said, following him and allowing Riddle to guide them in a simple waltz to the beautiful music.

"I hope this is fun for you," Riddle whispered to his lover.

"I feel underdressed but this is nice," [Name] told him, "And there's even a fountain of shrimp for Floyd to gnaw on."

The two continued to dance in circles, every once in a while catching a glimpse of Floyd eating food and scaring guests with his teeth.

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Imagine the rest yourself~

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Thank you for reading! Likes and reblogs are appreciated! Do NOT repost my writing/headcanons as your own >:c Check the top of my blog for the inbox status and read the rules before requesting. This is not a twst-only blog! ^^

[windows98-fr]

the phrase “adultifying a dragon” is going to live in my head forever. this whole thing is ridiculous

[ricoka]

sometimes I wish you could post an opinion on a fandom blog without inviting a whole witch hunt or being accused of causing drama but alas

[hexhomos]

Hello fellow Jayce defender.

First off, virtual kisses on both your cheeks for your Arcane analysis. They're refreshing to read, and insightful as well.

Something that's always bothered me about the way fans interact with Jayce is assuming that he's always the one making the mistakes in any of his relationships. It's almost funny in a way how they strip other characters of their autonomy and arcs just so they can point out how Jayce is failing his partners.

With Mel and Viktor especially, there's this narrative that Jayce simultaneously ignores both of their needs while also prioritising one over the other. Either he neglects Viktor to go and swoon over Mel, or he abandons his relationship with Mel to go play science with Viktor, or he neglects both to go do his own things while they suffer through their own plots.

And it's fascinating how incredibly mistaken these people are, and also how they reduce his character to only being important when he's in a relationship.

I'm here like, "hey, do you wanna discuss the reason for how Jayce seemingly knows how to navigate the ways of high class society very easily is probably because he's had to rely on sponsorships and donations for most of his youth to find his research because his house is too poor to be able afford it?"

Or "It's canonical that Jayce only ever had one friend in his youth before Viktor, and that was the daughter of his main sponsor, do you think it's interesting that this indicates he probably had difficulty making or maintaining friendships and that this is possibly a symptom of the Academy mainly housing elite and rich students so they couldn't relate to his struggles and he couldn't relate to theirs?"

But no, people just want to hate on him for not being the picture perfect boytoy in a relationship.

And I mean, it's not like it's just reduced to Jayce either. So many other characters have had similar treatments where they're reduced to either their most basic qualities or mischaracterised entirely. And I'm really not trying to be the fandom police or whatever - everyone interprets differently - I just find it frustrating is all.

Anyways, you're cool.

YES I never have time to talk about this bc people don't give a fuck but in Jayce's journals we even see him stewing with envy and petty rage at this star-rising student on the academy that he sees as the example of a perfect prodigy (in opposition to how much Jayce fucks things up...)

It also strongly suggests he's on a scholarship, which ties into his suicide attempt.

Jayce is keeping his experiments a secret from everyone to avoid the blowback and isolating himself further and further when they don't work. Jayce is flawed! He's proud of his dream pitch to the point of hilarity. Jayce doesn't like socializing, he does it out of obligation! Even when he's being raised to a councilor position in s1 he's PANICKING. He doesn't want the fucking job, he doesn't like the parties nor the people, his truest honest self is that moment in season 2 where he declares the lab was always his home, and so was Viktor.

But even then he subsumes his own wants spends most of s1 trying to attend to the needs of other people. He routinely asks Viktor if he's alright, if he wants to come up to do the presentation, if he's sure those experiments are safe, etc. He tries to make Heimerdinger proud despite his constant rejections of their projects, and only turns on him when he threatens viktor's wellbeing. The reason why he doesn't announce anything on progress day is that he Was listening to Heimers so-called wisdom and it only bit him in the ass. Jayce gets himself in trouble with the council by being too naive and assuming his new post will allow him to crackdown on Piltovan corruption aided by the Hexgates. Majority of the complaints wrt relationships I see people making of him are just wildly exaggerated. "He was neglecting viktor" bro he talks about viktor in nearly every scene he has with mel 😭 viktor is the one who isolates himself and randomly disappears at times bc he's a grown man with his own boundaries.

Jayce's entire life is defined by the transactional nature of his existence, his work, the patronage receives - all depending on how much he can play the showpony role without fucking it up. It's not a comfortable position. Jayce is stressing out the whole damn show because if one person isn't pissed at him, someone else will be, and it always comes down to revokable money, investments, social standing. if he really was as uncaring and well-off as some claim he wouldn't give a shit. He could just coast along life, but that's not what he's doing ever. He only 'frees' himself in season 2 by abandoning his life's dream and the rotten reality that existed around it. Which is kind of bleak, but at least its over.

[moonastro]

groom persona chart

mercury in the house

what is a groom persona chart? this chart exhibits qualities that your husband will have and possible placements that can be seen in their chart. it is simply a chart all about your spouse in a woman's chart. the asteroid groom can be identified using the code 5129.

mercury represents and embodies ones ability to communicate, express themselves and knowledge. in the GPC it can determine how the husband will communicate with you and how he may express himself with words and knowledge.

reminder: this is my interpretation from observations and first hand experiences, so don't take this to heart.

mercury in 1st house: the fs may speak their mind and tend to talk about themselves often even if other people dont realise it. can come across as blunt, rough and passionate when expressing themselves. can have dominant facial expressions when talking and therefore it is easy to distinguish what they are feeling or thinking because their face can really tell a picture. fs can communicate with full leader mode meaning that they may like to lead or start conversations with people. they surely know what to say and speak with confidence even if what they are saying may not be entirely true.

mercury in 2nd house: fs may come across as sensual, slow and steady with their words. can have a very aesthetically pleasing tone of voice and the style of their voice can be beautiful. this is a placement where the fs has all ears on him. can hum and whistle quite often to express themselves. usually fs can like to refer back to memories they had in the past and talk about the littlest details about it. fs communicates well in comfort places such as the home or their favourite hang out area or just somewhere that brings them peace and security.

mercury in 3rd house: the way that the fs can communicate is quite easy going and childish like. this doesn't mean anything bad but just means that when they are comfortable around you they will show their laid back personality. can aften joke around with their words and not be serious, can joke around a lot either with their actions or with their words. can be the person to speak their mind and be quite upfront with their words. may tend to speak quicker and just love chatting away with other people. fs can also communicate while changing subjects often which can be confusing at times i reckon. as the saying goes that the mind works faster than their mouth so they may be like ten conversations ahead in their head than what you may be talking about.

mercury in 4th house: often the fs can really deeply be affected by words of other people or the other way around, their words can affect others. fs can talk in a nurturing, caring and attentive form. usually their words can move others and develop trust quickly. fs can keep in contact with their relatives often and may have an attachment to his family and can be in good terms with them. fs can communicate by resonating your experiences with theirs in order for you to not feel bad or upset. they like to take things very seriously and personally so they can tend to also not lie as much. they see emotions as something serious so if you tend to joke about your feelings they may get very concerned.

mercury in 5th house: the entire vocab of your fs can be full of fun and enlighten energy, they have a way of boosting other peoples moods with their words. can tend to have luck with expressing themselves and will most likely attract attention and receive help when feeling off. fs can help people when expressing themselves and is someone who makes other people feel relatable and comfortable around them so people can usually talk freely and comfortably with your fs. fs communicates with a positive energy and that makes them have an audience and make other people just watch them speak for hours. thats how entertaining they are.

mercury in 6th house: often the way the fs can express themselves is by taking care of themselves. they aren't the ones to use much of vulgar words but often times may try to fix situations even the ones that they have no place to be involved in. can come across as neat, sensible and organised with their use of words which can usually make a lot of people understand them more. fs can communicate with lots of focus and with lots of observing so that can make them appear distracted because they are also focusing on what is going on around them.

mercury in 7th house: fs can have a soft but frank way of speaking. they tend to not lie and usually dislike liars in general. are very approachable with their speech and can attract people from their way of speaking. the fs may like to defend themselves a lot and can overthink way too much than needed. can communicate fairly and reasonably, meaning that he will give the chance for you to address your concerns as well as speak his own opinion. will try to constantly be respectable of your boundaries and not go too far.

mercury in 8th house: usually the fs can use a lot of vulgarity in their conversations and aren't afraid to address topics that may be viewed as closed off. can hold their silence well and may speak according to the vibe meaning that they can sense when it is or is not the right time to speak. fs can communicate very deeply with you and may include intense eye contact, deep attentiveness and intense responses. are really more of a listener than a speaker and will have a way for others to keep speaking. this is where manipulation can take place, they can ask lots of questions about people and yourself included which can be targeted in order for you or others to keep talking. thats how they can get a hold of secrets easily.

mercury in 9th house: the fs can speak with big words and can change their way of speaking often depending on the day. can make a person really think and wonder when they open their mouths and say something. can have a very smart way of expressing themselves and may be seen as someone who had many trials in life with the amount of maturity and wisdom they bring to the function. fs can communicate with authority and may speak with great confidence and certainty when speaking and sharing something that they are interested in. they will surely share their interests with you in a way of spreading something fun that they enjoy doing so you can have something fun to do too.

mercury in 10th house: fs will have some uncertainties when it comes to expressing themselves, they like to get to the point and not waste their time dilly dallying with their time. they can present themselves to be blunt and straightforward which can make them easily misunderstood. they tend to be more serious when they are talking and are the ones who will joke around with their actions rather than with their words. fs may take things to heart easily and be quite naïve. communication comes when is needed or rather when the surrounding is professional, but nonetheless are very good with remembering and obtaining knowledge about other people.

mercury in 11th house: fs may like talking to groups of people and tend to be confident in their speech. they like chatting with their friends and people closest to them. their way of speaking consists of being themselves Infront of others, being expressive with their hands and they tend to be ones who talk well but may not be the best at listening, they can forget easily or just dont attentively listen due to thinking about other things in their head. fs communicates irregularly and can change their way of speaking often which can make people or yourself think that it is your fault but it is not thats just how they are.

mercury in 12th house: this is a very clear indication of your husband speaking foreign tongue which means that they can be from overseas. can be quite creative with their words and can often surprise people with their hidden or locked away knowledge. can also be very soft spoken and can rarely raise their voice unless absolutely necessary. usually fs can address the slightest things even if you are having an off day, they realise and notice the shift in energy and make sure to address it. fs communicates with feeling, illusion and attachment that can make people think that there is something between them when there's actually not and thats just how they are. can bring delusion when in fact the fs can not think anything of it and misleads others without knowing.

thank you for reading <<33

[lovely-peace]

Lovely?

Summary: You don't like the marauders. You don't talk and don't even look at them. But as you visit your friend in the hospital wing you encounter a certain boy with brown hair, scars and this lovely eyes.

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Gryffindor!reader

Warnings: Low self esteem, past bullying?, This is no bully! Marauders fic!!

Part 1 Part 3

"Hey, do you want to study for Transfiguration together?"

A normal day. It should have been. But ever since I was asked who I would date, I've been hearing giggles and whispers. And now James is standing in front of Amy and me. Ready to finish something. I don't know what yet, but it's going to hurt.

Because it will be a joke of theirs.

"Why should we?" I go straight on the offensive. Leave fears behind and intimidate them.

Sirius, who was standing behind James, looked to the side to stifle a laugh. That kind of upset me.

"Well, in the last lesson you had... We thought we could help each other."

Oh. My mistake. That they laughed about. Learning. Together. Actually, they just want to smile at my stupidity. SMILE.

"Amy doesn't even have Transfiguration." I hissed, looking the boy in front of me in the eye for the first time. He looked almost uncomfortable.

This boy I rode to Hogwarts with in the same wagon. And who now feels too cool to remember my name. I'm just a joke that you crack a few times and then forget.

"Which is why, unfortunately, I have to say goodbye and go upstairs. Important subjects are waiting for me!" Amy tapped my shoulder and I was about to thank her inwardly until- "That's why I'm leaving this sweetie here with you, okay?"

Peter looked up from his book for the first time. He was sitting on the couch by the fire.

In the common room of Gryffindor, it was not uncommon for people to fight over this space. Peter snatched it early enough so that Remus, who looked very ill that morning, just sat on the chair at the table next to it.

Peter was probably just as disappointed that Amy left as I was, if I interpreted his expression correctly.

"Amy," I whispered to her, "what are you doing?"

She raised her eyebrows, rolled her eyes and sighed briefly. And I understood. She wanted me to give them a chance.

I looked at her with begging eyes and screamed at her in my mind not to leave me here alone.

"So...?" James stood there like a boy waiting for his mother's permission.

And I wasn't going to give it to him.

"Sorry, Jarry, but I was planning on studying for other subjects with Amy today. So if you'll excuse us." What did I just say?

"Oo-," James looked to his friends while Sirius laughed out loud, "-okay?"

I didn't look at Amy and just stomped faree upstairs to our room.

Amy followed me, but not without letting out a sigh of disappointment.

~~

"What was that about?" My voice was a little louder than usual. "I thought we agreed that we didn't like the four of them?"

Amy groaned and threw herself on her bed. "I never said that. I meant that they can be assholes sometimes, that's all."

"But they just were assholes?"

I also sat down on my bed and looked out of the window. The Hufflepuff team was playing quidditch.

"How were they assholes in any way, please? James just asked us if we wanted to study with them in the common room."

I could hear Amy starting to get angry.

"You know what he meant. He only asked because I said something completely stupid in Transfiguration the day before yesterday and everyone had a laugh. And now he wanted to hear more of it."

Amy had gone quiet. Then she snorted loudly. "Jesus Christ."

"What?!" As I turned around, two piercing eyes looked into me.

"Can you please stop painting the devil on the wall for once? You sound worse than Cassandra!"

Now I snorted.

But Amy wasn't finished yet. "You're so afraid of being ridiculed that you're becoming an asshole yourself!"

The sun was setting. And the moon slowly rose.

"Why are you so sure that the four of them are making fun of you?"

I hated that tears were welling up in my eyes. "That's how it always is! Suddenly all these people are nice to you, who didn't even know who you were before, to lure you into safety, but in reality they're blaspheming and laughing at you. It's always like that!"

Amy shook her head.

"No, it's just always like that in your head. There's a chance that these people just want to get to know you better."

Amy took her DADA textbook and turned to the other wall. "To exclude this opportunity from the outset is not only a mistake, but also a missed opportunity to make new friends."

I looked up at the full moon. I felt as if he was out there suffering with me.

You understand me, don't you?

Probably not.

~~

The next morning, Amy was still mad at me. I couldn't blame her. What I said already sounded pathetic.

But so far it had always been the truth.

It was unusually quiet at breakfast. Amy ate almost nothing and hurried to her tray.

We had different subjects at the beginning of the day, but at lunch Amy was nowhere to be seen. There were whispers again and I wanted to scream.

And it was only in charms that I was told she had been taken to the hospital wing. 

That was not uncommon for Amy. Amy was very fragile. Amy always put on a very strong front, also to help me. But the truth was that stress really affected her and at one point she almost fell over sick.

Was it because of our argument? I don't know. But I certainly felt guilty.

~~

After class, I hurried to the hospital wing and let myself be led to her bed.

She looked almost peaceful as she slept. I carefully sat down next to her and took her hand. She was sweaty and cool at the same time.

Madam Pomfrey explained to me that Amy had been under a lot of stress lately and had eaten something bad. Then she went to the next bed and talked with the visitors there.

Visitors with... familiar voices?!

"Oh, please, you can't expect us to just leave him here alone?" Was that Sirius?

"Yes, I must. You know he needs his rest now. So shoo." Madam Pomfrey sounded a bit annoyed.

"We can stay here quietly!" That was James. Ironically loud.

"No, Mr. Potter, you cannot. So, gentlemen. Out!"

I saw out of the corner of my eye how Madam Pomfrey shooed several people outside. But who was behind the curtain of the bed? Whom were they visiting?

The curtain didn't cover the whole bed. In fact, it was only drawn on my side. Quietly, I got up and tried to get a quick look at the person. I took a cautious step to the side and—

There layed Remus. A pretty battered Remus, wrapped in bandages.

Suddenly, the curtain was pulled back and I stood there as if caught red-handed.

Remus looked at me in surprise. His look was somehow different than usual and I imagined he took a deep breath before he spoke.

"Hi." ... "Hi."

His body was even worse wrapped up than I had seen from the side. He was sitting upright and his upper body was full of bandages. His face also had scratches but his eyes were still so deep-

I stared at him. For far too long.

I quickly sat down next to Amy, who was still asleep.

Remus cleared his throat. "Is Amy very unwell?"

Somehow I wasn't prepared for a conversation with him. Not with one of the four. Not with Remus.

"According to Madam Pomfrey, it's just stress. She just needs to get some rest and then she should feel better." I was almost whispering, my voice was so quiet. Nothing compared to yesterday.

"That's good. I hope she gets better soon. Has anything bad happened?" I looked up at him. His eyes were so gentle, as if he really cared. "Something that's really stressing her out?"

When he noticed my look, he looked away. To my disappointment. "But actually, it's none of my business-"

"We had a fight." Why did I tell him that? "I worried her again."

I looked at Amy. Her face wasn't quite so pale and her hand, which I was holding, wasn't quite so sweaty.

"Oh." Remus' voice was very quiet. As if he was afraid of saying the wrong thing. As if he was worried to say the wrong thing.

"And why are you lying here? What happened to you?" It was only when I looked at him that I realized the question was a bit rude.

"If you want to tell me," I added.

He just sighed and suddenly looked so far away. "It was an accident."

I waited for him to tell me more. He didn't.

It stayed quiet between us for a long time. I could feel his gaze from the side, but somehow it didn't bother me a bit. I almost felt safe.

Suddenly he asked me: "Why did you argue?"

I looked into his eyes and almost wanted to tell him everything. I looked at Amy and borrowed her words. "I was an asshole."

He tilted his head and smiled cautiously. "Somehow I can't imagine that."

I looked at him. He looked at me.

"Why?"

"Well, you... It's not like you at all."

I continued to look at him. He continued to look at me.

"What do you mean?"

"You're usually so... Lovely."

Lovely? He saying I was lovely?

I had to laugh. He looked away.

"Me? You don't know me then." I giggled softly. "Besides, anyone can be an asshole, no matter how sweet the person still is."

He looked outside. The moon was up. He had that look again. "Yeah, I guess you're right about that."

It was quiet again after that. I heard soft footsteps outside and my anxiety wanted me to leave. So I stood up and was about to say goodbye to Remus as he-

"I want to know."

"What?"

He suddenly looked into my eyes so intensely that I felt dizzy.

"I want to know you properly."

I didn't know what to say and just looked at him as he continued.

"I want to know what goes through your mind when you see me us."

His gaze moved away from me. "I want to know why you hate us so much."

My whole world suddenly spun and I was in the middle of it. What was he saying? What did he mean, why was he even talking to me? What was going on here, why was he even here? And why did he call me lovely? What did he mean?

I wanted to say something. Something about... What actually?

Somehow I couldn't get anything out of me and was stuck in this spiral of trying to say something and figure out what to say. I opened my mouth, as-

"Remus, we're here!" James' voice tried to sound quiet but was unmistakable. Just like the footsteps of the two boys walking towards his bed.

When I saw them, so many things came back to me. Why I didn't talk to Remus.

"Are you feeling better? Remus -" Sirius faltered when he saw me. He looked between me and Remus and then grinned at me.

"Oh hello."

He turned to James now and 'whispered' to him. "Prongs, let's go and give these two some time to themselves-"

Remus cleared his throat and pointed at Amy who was lying next to me. Sirius fell silent.

"I'd better go now." I said in a very quiet voice again. James and Sirius even left me alone, but I heard their voices before I closed the door behind me.

"So, did she talk to you?" "What was going on with her?" "Is there something-"

The door slammed behind me and my head seemed to explode with questions.

[silverybees]

Interview with writer of Sherlock & Co podcast

The hosts of the I Hear of Sherlock Everywhere podcast have just published a fantastic long-form audio interview with Joel Emery, writer and co-creator of Sherlock & Co.

A few interesting notes in no particular order:

Their Watson, Paul Waggott, lives New Zealand, so he's recorded remotely

Atmos was recorded on real Baker St, on the tube and local buses

They plan to keep Holmes and Watson under one roof :-)

They haven't cast Mycroft or Lestrade yet, are holding out introducing them to a story where they're really highlighted. Since the podcast is doing really well, they're hoping maybe to get someone cool to do those roles

Updating the stories involves giving the women more agency, gender-swapping some

No grand story arc is planned (the idea of it stresses Joel out) and Moriarty isn't going to have threads out to all over the other stories

They'll be doing the novels but figuring out how to do them concisely because 12 episodes would be too much to keep track of

Audio storytelling is handy because you can, say, set The Greek Interpreter in Greece without having to take a crew (or anybody) to an actual location

Taking some stories where there are upper-class, rich folks and setting them amongst more ordinary people (so Thor Bridge isn't going to be set in the grand gardens of a country estate, rather in East London )

Interestingly they acknowledge the three audiences:

the Sherlockian audience who'll want Sherlock Holmes Content

the "Johnlock community" audience who is generally younger and want "diversity to be explored in all its forms" and wants something flamboyant and different and want "that relationship between the two men to be intimate in some respects, but really powerful and centre-stage"

and the general podcast-listening public, listening to the podcast on their commute, just as the original fans of Conan Doyle read the stories in the Strand, on theirs

[nothorses]

I came across this paper:

https://www.academia.edu/71372307/Trans_masculinities_embodiments_performances_and_the_materiality_of_gender_in_times_of_change

I'm not well-versed in academic language so I can't really understand all of it, but it seems kind of gross and condescending, especially when it's using testimonials of transmasc's desire to be seen as men to, idk, prove that masculinity isn't really queer or something? I'm curious how other (smarter) people would interpret it.

I mean, your understanding of it is just as important as mine! I'm happy to add my thoughts, though.

My understanding is that their thesis is essentially "masculinity is related to maleness and the male body specifically, and we know that because transmascs want to have male bodies". They allow for some nuance here in references to other literature, and I agree with that angle of their argument overall, but their premise is fundamentally flawed in the exclusion of trans theory and trans narratives.

Like, yes, masculinity is in some way related to appearance and the "male body", and there are a lot of reasons for that! But is the dysphoria of trans people really ironclad "proof" of what maleness and masculinity are? And why don't they spend any time talking about what dysphoria actually is, what trans people think it is, why trans people think they feel the way they do, or what trans academics have to say about any of this?

I have a lot of other issues with this paper as well, and I could probably write a paper just as long as theirs going into all of the reasons for that. But I think that answers your biggest question; what they're trying to prove, how they're trying to prove it, and why that comes across so weird.

To your other question ("is it condescending?"): I think this is kind of subjective overlay, but the way they go about analyzing their data is pretty condescending, in my opinion. They tend to frame their participants' responses as kind of misguided or ill-informed, particularly Diniz- who they definitely discuss as "trying to justify his choices" to identify as nonbinary while also seeking medical transition, like this is inherently contradictory and must therefore rely on some kind of delusion or desperation. It's weird!

I do also want to point out, briefly, that they also really cherrypick which claims they bother sourcing, and how they try to back them up.

They argue that trans men have male privilege based on the opinions of, like, three of their 30 total participants- and then carry this as "fact" through the entire paper, uncontested. That's extremely fucking weird and super suspect in a paper like this! I just wrote my own qualitative research paper based on interviews (which is what this is), and it's pretty standard to acknowledge the limitations of your research, and to position your results as non-definitive. Like, that's been a major part of every discussion with everyone I've talked to about my research. I would not have been greenlit to receive my degree if I hadn't been careful to avoid framing my research the way these people frame theirs.

The other weird thing they do is cherrypick statistics- or rather, one single statistic- to "prove" that transmascs do not suffer as much as other trans people, or possess some kind of privilege. They only cite murder statistics from one source; apparently that's the only relevant metric for quantifying all oppression? They also fail to acknowledge any possible shortcomings of this statistic, like the issues of under-reporting and misgendering of transmasc victims.

I could go on; I have a lot of gripes. But I think your criticism is totally valid, this was a weird and frustrating read.

Also curious if @genderkoolaid has thoughts- you tend to talk about gender studies from an academic position more, and you probably have a lot more field-specific expertise than I do. I'll boost other additions too, I love a good academic discussion!

[theunsinkableship1]

SMOKE AND MIRRORS?

Smoke and mirrors? I don't know, that is what I know for certain, but...

The events surrounding “chaos week” remain the greatest dissonance in the narrative of Luke Newton and Nicola Coughlan allegedly being in love with other people. The sequence of events during that week, coupled with their subsequent behavioral shifts, feels too deliberate and well-timed to dismiss as mere coincidence. Chaos week was not random, it was purposeful, likely orchestrated with fandom in mind. This alone speaks volumes about the complexity of their situation and the unique bond they share.

Before diving into the details, we must recognize that Luke and Nicola have always been unapologetically open about their connection, their mutual admiration, and their playful interactions. Prior to June 12, their relationship was marked by overt displays of affection and an almost magnetic camaraderie that was loud, proud, and undeniable. The abrupt shift to being elusive and discreet post-chaos week is suspicious, particularly given their prior dynamic. This change cannot be entirely attributed to fan speculations. If they were simply friends, this misunderstanding could have been cleared up quickly and effectively with straightforward communication. Yet, the silence is deafening, and the avoidance suggests something deeper, something they feel they cannot or should not fully address. If they were only friends, the message could have been clearer. Yes, they don’t owe explanations to strangers on the internet, but we’ve seen them correcting narratives in real time (e.g., the Luke cake story), and we know they are aware of how we interpret things. Nicola is chronically online.

Another glaring inconsistency lies in how their supposed current relationships are handled publicly. Nicola, known for her privacy on personal matters, has seemingly, through some interpretations, gone public with her alleged boyfriend. This contrasts with Luke, who has historically been open about his romantic relationships, always acknowledging them publicly. Yet now, there is a notable reluctance on his part to confirm anything explicitly, even as speculation swirls. Nicola may have decided not to hide her relationships anymore, but why now? And why so soon into this supposed relationship? The bigger question is what she is really doing, or if it's just an interpretation of the situation. Luke may have decided to separate his private life from his professional one, perhaps because it had unwanted effects on his previous relationships. We could easily argue that this approach could be even more damaging to his reputation, fueling the "bad boyfriend" image, and to his supposed girlfriend, as she is, willingly or not, heavily scrutinized. Should it be like that? Of course not, but it is. So, this strategy seems counterproductive, ineffective, and poorly managed.

The contrast between their approaches raises further questions. Why would Luke suddenly shy away from acknowledging a relationship when he’s never had an issue doing so in the past? And why would Nicola, who has always remained quiet on such topics, choose this moment to break that pattern? These behaviors feel inconsistent and potentially performative.

The timeline of their supposed separations and Nicola newfound love also doesn’t add up. For two people who seemed to share a deep and genuine connection, it’s highly improbable that she could fall in love with another man just two months after the world tour. Yes, I believe the look in her eyes since Brazil was deep down bad love Yes, I believe the look in her June 15 Tatcha video was sad love eyes. Real emotions don’t dissipate that quickly, especially when they were as visible and vibrant as theirs. The way they looked at each other, the way they supported one another, and the energy they exuded when together painted the picture of a bond that doesn’t vanish overnight. It strains credulity to believe that both could have moved on so effortlessly in such a short span of time.

And then there’s the matter of trust. As fans, we trust Luke and Nicola. They’ve never given us a reason to believe they’re dishonest or manipulative. Their authenticity is what made their connection so compelling. Please stop with the "it's just PR" narrative. Yes, we know they are paid to lie while acting, but those two are not known liars. I believe they’ve been telling the truth all along, which is why their connection felt so natural and authentic. No amount of PR training could have produced those results, it was rooted in truth, as Golda Rosheuvel would say. PR campaigns don’t start years in advance, don’t include personal time, aren’t micromanaged behind the scenes, and certainly don’t appear in all cast and crew contracts. And I know that they are good actors but some reactions are too visceral to be fake.

This love is not a lie. That’s what makes this current situation so confounding. If they are truly in love with other people, why does so much about their behavior and timeline feel unnatural and inconsistent? There’s too much smoke here to believe there isn’t a fire. Their mutual elusiveness, the unexplained shift in their interactions, and the deliberate way chaos week unfolded all points to something more profound at play.

Ultimately, we know one thing for sure: Luke and Nicola share a unique love for each other. Their bond, whether romantic or not, is rare and undeniable. It is precisely because we trust them that we can’t reconcile the current narrative with what we know to be true. Their story, full of laughter, connection, and now mystery, deserves clarity. Until then, the dissonance remains, leaving us to wonder what lies beneath the surface of the chaos.

BEFORE THE CHAOS

Before June 12, they both seemed a little sad in Galway and London, which I initially attributed to exhaustion and the bittersweet emotions of the tour's end, closing that chapter. However, in retrospect, it might have been more than that. They may have already known they wouldn’t be able to stay as close as they were for some time.

Nicola sharing the song "Frames Your Face" before the end of the world tour

The song’s lyrics express themes of love, emotional vulnerability, and longing.

The lyrics of "Frames Your Face" speak to a longing to connect, to be seen clearly, and to have one's feelings acknowledged. Nicola might have been signaling that despite external noise, her emotions and connection to Luke remain strong. It could represent a desire to focus on what truly matters: the connection she shares with Luke.

“Give me that look again Give me that look 'Cause I'm gonna wait for you”

Luke sharing the clip with the line "Don't let her ruin our night" from the Bridgerton, where Luke’s character speaks to Nicola’s character about Cressida, can be interpreted in the context of the events following the "papgate", the line could metaphorically reflect Luke's desire to protect the bond between him and Nicola from external forces. The "ruin our night" aspect may symbolize a desire to maintain peace and happiness amid a chaotic situation Just as Cressida is a disruptive force in Bridgerton, there may be individuals or circumstances that Luke and Nicola are trying to resist. The line could signal their determination not to let external factors affect the genuine connection they share.

Overall, both the quote and the song suggest a desire for clarity, protection, and the maintenance of a strong bond despite external pressures. These elements in context further reinforce the notion that there may be much more going on beneath the surface, with both Nicola and Luke attempting to navigate their feelings amid the scrutiny they face.

Chaos Week recap

1-The French Toast

It was just a French toast but it could be more than that.

2-The Wordle Post: A Puzzle of Emotions (future reference the post Emmys post)

One of the first breadcrumbs in the intricate web of Nicola and Luke’s story might be Nicola’s Wordle post. At first glance, it seemed like an innocent nod to a daily word game, but upon closer examination, it unraveled layers of emotional symbolism.

"Aloud": The puzzle’s first word, "aloud," hinted at the unspoken truths in their connection. It suggested that certain feelings or realizations, perhaps Luke's internal struggles or his evolving feelings for Nicola, had yet to be fully articulated. Nicola’s intuitive grasp of the situation implied she was aware of his emotional turmoil long before it became apparent.

"Anvil": Symbolizing the emotional weight and something still being forged, this word represented Luke’s state of emotional limbo. It reflected his process of disentangling from his relationship with A while grappling with his bond with Nicola. The green and yellow letters subtly symbolized dynamics at play: Luke (yellow "L") being present but not yet in the right emotional place, and the public perception of his relationship with A (green A and L) still intact despite the reality of his growing distance.

Solving the puzzle in two guesses: Nicola’s ability to "solve" in two tries metaphorically illustrated her sharp understanding of their emotional dynamics. She saw through the layers quickly acknowledging the tension, unresolved feelings, and shifting allegiances beneath the surface.

3-A Subtle Declaration

Amid Luke’s public challenges, Nicola showcased her unwavering support through a heartfelt Instagram post. Sharing a behind-the-scenes moment from Bridgerton Season 3, she captioned it:

"I thought I’d already shared this, but I hadn’t, so here you go, now it’s all yours!"

Timing and Intent: The timing of this post coincided with negativity surrounding Luke, which made Nicola’s gesture seem purposeful. It wasn’t just about sharing a photo; it felt like a deliberate act of solidarity, subtly reminding everyone of the joy and warmth in their bond.

"Now it’s all yours": This phrase carried layered implications. On one level, it seemed directed at fans, a casual offering of content. On another, it could have been a message for Luke, a way of reaffirming her affection and loyalty amidst the turbulence. The deliberate ambiguity left room for interpretation, as if she was signaling something deeper while maintaining plausible deniability.

"The loveliest pal a gal could have": Her use of "pal" was affectionate yet strategic, downplaying romantic overtones while emphasizing the unique closeness of their bond. The phrasing, playful yet tender, left space for speculation, especially when paired with the subtle intimacy of a purple heart emoji.

4-Scrabble and Subtext: A Coded Message (A Layered Callout)

Nicola’s apparent love for word games resurfaced with a Scrabble board that seemed ordinary at first but, upon analysis, revealed a complex message seemingly directed at A.

Words like “DAD,” “LIED,” “DEAD,” “FATE,” and “FLED” hinted at themes of betrayal, endings, and inevitability. Together, they painted a picture of unresolved tensions and shifting dynamics.

The inclusion of “HEY A” and “WATCH” suggested a warning, perhaps to A, while words like “Hey A watch we chill”

“HUG” and “JET” hinted at comfort for Luke and the possibility of departure or change.

The board reflected Nicola’s nuanced way of addressing the situation, subtle, clever, and full of layers that only attentive followers might decode.

5-Birthday Tribute: A Masterclass in Friendship and a jab at Luke’s entourage (now deleted iyyk)

For her best friend Camilla’s birthday, Nicola posted a heartfelt message with a subtle yet pointed undertone:

"Happy Birthday @Camilla, I love you so much that I could never imagine my life without you!!! Remember the time paparazzi took a picture of us and to protect me you grabbed my face?"

A Subtle Contrast: This post seemed to highlight the true essence of friendship, protectiveness and loyalty in contrast to the betrayal Luke supposedly faced from some of his friends. It was a gentle reminder of what genuine support looks like, directed not just at Camilla but perhaps at those who had failed Luke.

6-You speak to me through Music

Nicola’s references to songs like Bless the Telephone and Juna seemed to reveal her inner emotional landscape:

Bless the Telephone: A soulful ode to connection, the lyrics about how a simple call can brighten one’s day mirrored the emotional highs and lows of their relationship. Nicola’s choice to highlight this song suggested a yearning for closeness, even amid challenges. The call of someone you are missing and haven’t seen or heard in a while, not someone you were just hanging with, or you’ll spend the next day with.

Juna: With its themes of vulnerability and gradual intimacy, Juna Nicola’s cautious yet hopeful approach to deepening her connection with someone points to Luke as the most likely candidate. Lines like "With you, there's no pretending" underscored the authenticity of their bond, while "Come to me ready" hinted at her desire for emotional readiness and mutual growth.

Nicola is chronically online, and she undoubtedly knew who they’d be associated with. If it wasn’t about Luke, why post them publicly? And why double down, knowing it would be misconstrued? Let’s not forget the triple down with “the very demure, very mindful.” Of course, the fandom would overanalyze, so why play the double entendre game? Please don’t argue that she isn’t, don’t underestimate her social media literacy!

her social media literacy!

While the exact nature of their relationship remains ambiguous, their mutual affection and understanding shine through. The chaos week suggests a steady ship navigating turbulent waters, one that holds the promise of a deeper connection as it moves toward the horizon. Yet, these days, the waters are murkier but calmer, making it difficult to discern what’s truly happening. For me, nothing feels definitive. I trust their love more than I trust what I can see. I choose to believe that whatever is unfolding, they will find their way back to each other. It may take time, but I’m here for it.

[frankingsteinery]

for some reason people seem to think that mary somehow stumbled into writing a commentary on marriage/incest accidentally, and that the themes of frankenstein are all about her trauma due to her experiences as a victim of the patriarchy, as a woman and a mother surrounded by men - as if she wasnt the child of radical liberals who publicly renounced marriage, as if she herself as well as percy shelley had similar politics on marriage, as if she would not go on to write a novel where the central theme is explicitly that of father/daughter incest years later…

the most obvious and frequent critique of victor i see is of his attempt to create life - the creature - without female presence. it’s taught in schools, wrote about by academics, talked about in fandom spaces - mary shelley was a feminist who wrote about feminism by making victor a misogynist. he’s misogynistic because he invented a method of procreation without involving women purely out of male entitlement and masculine arrogance and superiority, and shelley demonstrates the consequences of subverting women in the creation process/and by extension the patriarchy because this method fails terribly - his son in a monster, and victor is punished for his arrogance via the murder of his entire family; thus there is no place for procreation without the presence of women, right?

while this interpretation – though far from my favorite – is not without merit, i see it thrown around as The interpretation, which i feel does a great disservice to the other themes surrounding victor, the creature, the relationship between mother and child, parenthood, marriage, etc.

this argument also, ironically, tends to undermine the agency and power of frankenstein’s female characters, because it often relies on interpreting them as being solely passive, demure archetypes to establish their distinction from the 3 male narrators, who in contrast are performing violent and/or reprehensible actions while all the woman stay home (i.e., shelley paradoxically critiques the patriarchy by making all her female characters the reductive stereotypes that were enforced during her time period, so the flaws of our male narrators arise due to this social inequality).

in doing so it completely strips elizabeth (and caroline and justine to a lesser extent) of the power of the actions that she DID take — standing up in front of a corrupt court, speaking against the injustice of the system and attempting to fight against its verdict, lamenting the state of female social status that prevented her from visiting victor at ingolstadt, subverting traditional gender roles by offering victor an out to their arranged marriage as opposed to the other way around, taking part in determining ernest’s career and education in direct opposition to alphonse, etc. it also comes off as a very “i could fix him,” vibe, that is, it suggests if women were given equal social standing to men then elizabeth would have been able to rein victor in so to speak and prevent the events of the book from happening. which is a demeaning expectation/obligation in of itself and only reinforces the reductive passive, motherly archetypes that these same people are speaking against

it is also not very well supported: most of the argument rests on ignoring female character’s actual characterization and focusing one specific quote, often taken out of context (“a new species would bless me as its creator and source…no father could claim the gratitude of his child so completely as i should deserve theirs”) which “proves” victor’s sense of male superiority, and on victors treatment/perception of elizabeth, primarily from a line of thinking he had at five years old, where he objectified her by thinking of her (or rather — being told so by caroline) as a gift to him. again, the morality of victor’s character is being determined by thoughts he had at five years old.

obviously this is not at all to say i think their relationship was a healthy one - i dont think victor and elizabeth’s marriage was ever intended to be perceived as good, but more importantly, writing their relationship this way was a deliberate critique of marriage culture.

[iridescentmirrorsgenshin]

This is an analysis of Kaveh and Alhaitham’s argument posted on the Port Ormos bulletin board!! Because it is crazy actually!!

I think this exchange of theirs out of the three posted throughout Sumeru is particularly interesting, and this is due Alhaitham openly expressing that Kaveh does not understand what Alhaitham is really trying to say to him: “I have never denied what you meant, but you don’t understand what I am saying to you at all.”

This exchange is relevant in various ways in exploring the motif of communication. As according to their usual rapport, the two disagree over their differing philosophies, as in sensibility versus rationality, however, Alhaitham’s particular concerns in Kaveh spending his money on “nonsense” highlights the underlying reason for this exchange. From this comment, the argument is recontextualised through Alhaitham’s intention for getting involved, as Kaveh prompts the workmen to take his money in order to help them out.

When Alhaitham states that this is a meaningless action due to the inevitability of people rising or falling on their own accord, rather than solely critiquing Kaveh’s “impulsiv[e]” altruism, as Kaveh interprets, Alhaitham is directly contradicting his own comment – as he is interfering on Kaveh’s decisions.

As concern is evidently the intention behind his interference, Kaveh cannot perceive this, and instead attempts to critique Alhaitham’s perspective in return, although Alhaitham states: “Make no mistake. I have never denied what you meant…” This response asserts that Alhaitham does not deny, but rather agrees with, Kaveh’s statement of “mutual assistance, fairness, and righteous anger” driving the world.

In lieu of this, rather than continuing the argument, Alhaitham claims that there is no point to it, as Kaveh does not understand what he is saying, as in, Kaveh does not understand that his intentions in interfering are out of concern. He follows this up, regardless, by criticising Kaveh’s handling of his budget, as, evidently, Kaveh has offered to give his own money to these workmen, and refuses to pay for Kaveh’s drinks for that month.

For Alhaitham, Kaveh’s lack of self-prioritisation leads him to impulsive altruistic acts which serve to jeopardise his own position, particularly regarding money. If Kaveh can afford to give away money, he can afford to pay his own tabs, is the takeaway from this exchange. Although, similarly to the exchange between them posted in Puspa’s Café, this applies to one particular month, insinuating that Alhaitham will continue to pay for next month’s tabs of his own accord.

The main argument, as well as the disagreement over the speaker of Kaveh’s quote, serves as a humorous exchange, but as a motif for communication it acquires a new meaning. The two hold perspectives which contrast the other which puts them on unequal footing, demonstrated within the argument over the speaker of Kaveh’s quote. Although it is not disclosed who is actually in the right, both are convinced of their respective viewpoint. There is an element missing here, a potential solution to this problem, and it lies within the idea of “correctness” established within A Parade of Providence.

The omission of there being an objective, correct answer to this particular debate serves as a parallel to their conflicting viewpoints, with the basis of their exchange being to “prove” to the other their “correctness” – here, it is in regard to Kaveh.

However, “correctness” being the basis of their exchange, and thus, relationship, is challenged with Alhaitham shutting down the initial debate due to Kaveh’s misunderstanding of his meaning. Correctness, then, and its importance, is called into question within this exchange, with Kaveh being the one to chase it; his last message being that he would “prove” himself to be right.

At the core of this bulletin board exchange is the idea that Alhaitham harbours an alternative ‘meaning’ than the one that Kaveh assigns to him: “… you don’t understand what I’m saying to you at all.” This is a meaning which Kaveh cannot perceive due to his current understanding of Alhaitham. This represents the standing of their current relationship, where Kaveh believes Alhaitham holds him in disdain, although this belief is incongruous with Alhaitham’s actions which show his care for Kaveh.

In these instances of communication through the Bulletin Boards, it is interesting to note that Kaveh is revealed to have been drunk and “scribbling�� on these notice boards, and hopes that Alhaitham does not know.

Although this is a humorous detail, it adds another layer to the unreliability of their method of communication, as Kaveh has no recollection of these exchanges with Alhaitham, and therefore could not have properly interpreted Alhaitham due to an altered state of mind. It is uncertain whether Alhaitham is aware of Kaveh’s being drunk whilst responding to him, or whether he is believed to have been lucid, which creates another element of unreliability in their exchanges.

Alhaitham understands Kaveh’s thinking and the reasons for why he acts as he does, but he cannot articulate his concern in a way that Kaveh will understand, both out of Kaveh’s incapability of receiving goodwill, but also due to his logical manner of expression. Kaveh perceives Alhaitham’s concealed expressions of concern as personal gripes and criticisms of his beliefs, and therefore believes that their relationship is based on the scholarly principle of proving the validity of one’s philosophies.

The Port Ormos Bulletin Board reinforces the core essence of their relationship: Alhaitham is invested in a personal regard, whereas Kaveh cannot see this due to his perception of Alhaitham and Alhaitham’s inability to communicate in a way Kaveh would understand.

(Update: For more analyses like this, the essay this is taken from is now uploaded! It can be accessed here and here as as a pdf <3)

[blank-house]

so my spring mc (going for jamie) is an older oc of mine, her 5th anniversary is this december, and like. needless to say, shes EXTREMELY well established. she's been a constant across several VNs, and sometimes i have to suspend my disbelief with regard to how the mcs act.

This has never been the feeling for keyframes. in fact, sometimes the canon text is so accurate to her it PHYSICALLY PAINS ME.

youve created a living, breathing cast of 2d characters and an mc i can really identify with. my partner got misassigned spring originally, but redoing it they got autumn which suits them TO A T. youre onto something with the seasonal personality thing, even if the test isnt 100% right--it's like 80% right, which is CRAAAAAZY.

anyway, i just wanted to say jamie has bewitched me body and soul but im going to be so unwell about percy. hes so similiar to my spring mc, theyre gonna be twin flames and thus ping-pong between loving and hating each other. cheers and have a good break from kf with ur game jam project! dont burn urself out on kf! much love!!

i can't believe you pride and prejudiced me. haha, i'm happy the personality results are panning out more or less! it's been really funny to see how people have chosen to interpret theirs or to (eventually) find the one that suits them best! we modeled it as closely as we could to your typical personality quiz and a bit to the one at the start of the pokemon mystery dungeon games.

[blakeswritingimagines]

Kink List With Jack Hughes

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

He's very gentle and considerate. He makes sure you are comfortable and satisfied before, during, and after. He's also open and communicative, so if there are any issues or things either of you would like to change, you can discuss them openly without judgement.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His favorite body part of his is his legs. They're long and strong, and He always gets compliments on them. When it comes to you, he really enjoys a sexy and curvy figure, he likes how it fills out clothing in an attractive way. He appreciates the softness of your curves and the shape provided. He also likes how curves create a sense of sensuality that can be very enticing.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

On your breasts - particularly there's something so satisfying to him about cumming on your boobs. He loves how they squish and jiggle as his load lands on them.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He would find it extremely sexy seeing you wearing his jersey would make him feel like you’re his in a very intimate way. It’s like saying, “I’m yours, and you’re mine.” It’s a visual representation of your connection and would be a huge turn-on for him.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

I would say he's fairly experienced. He's had a few relationships over the years and has experimented with different things over time. He knows that he's not an expert, but I think he knows enough to be confident in his abilities.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

Doggy style - There's something incredibly hot about having complete access to your body while being able to watch you squirm with pleasure.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

I'd say he swings both ways. When things are serious and intense with you, he can be very earnest and passionate. But he also likes to lighten the mood by making jokes or teasing you in a playful way. He's definitely more relaxed when things are lighthearted, but can switch into a more serious mode quickly.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

He's definitely well-groomed, but whether the carpet matches the drapes is up to interpretation. Some people might say yes, and some might say no. I'll leave it up to your imagination.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

When it comes to the romantic aspect of sex, he's definitely a bit of a hopeless romantic. He likes to be passionate and sensual, treating every moment together with you as something special. He enjoys the intimacy of looking into each other's eyes, stroking your hair, and kissing your lips. It's all about expressing his feelings and creating a connection with my partner that goes beyond physical gratification.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

Depends on how long he has to spare. If he's got a bit of free time during the day, he might masturbate twice or even three times. And if he's really feeling really horny or stressed out, he might even do it four or five times in a single session. But on average, I'd say he cums around two to three times a day.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

For starters, he is into rough play – bondage, spankings, and all sorts of kinky stuff. He loves it when someone is helpless under his control.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

He's partial to the bedroom, but there’s something about being out in the wild that’s really exciting. It’s a thrill to know that you might be caught at any moment, and have to be quick and discreet. He also loves hotels or vacation rentals with a nice view of the city. It’s really luxurious and adds an element of luxury to the experience especially up against a window.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

There are many things that turn him on, but physical touch is one of his weaknesses. He loves it when you run your hands along his skin or lightly caress his neck. There's also something really erotic about watching you slowly undress before him. The anticipation and the thought of what might come next sets his body on fire.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He wouldn't do anything that made you uncomfortable or felt pressured into doing. He also wouldn't do anything that he wasn't comfortable with himself.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

He usually prefers to give rather than receive, but he also likes to switch it up and receive occasionally. He thinks there's something incredibly pleasing about pleasing his partner. But there's also a lot of joy that comes from being pampered and treated to something special.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

It depends on the situation and your desires at the moment. He can be fast and rough if the moment calls for it, but he's also skilled at taking things slow and making sure both of you are thoroughly satisfied. He can be very sensual and passionate when the time is right, too. He likes to switch up his style to keep things exciting and give both of you what you need in that moment.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

Let's just say that when the mood strikes him, he doesn't hesitate to take advantage of it. Maybe two or three times a week, if everything lines up perfectly for you both.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

He loves trying new things in the bedroom (or wherever it ends up getting down) and pushing limits. He's always up for experimenting with different positions, toys, kinks, and fetishes. He can even be talked into some risky behavior from time to time, just for the thrill of it.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

He can definitely hold his own when it comes to endurance during sex. He's been known to go for multiple rounds without breaking a sweat. In fact, sometimes he'll intentionally push himself to the limit just to see how long he can last. It usually takes him a few minutes to recover before he's ready for another round. So yeah, I'd say he's pretty damn good at going the distance. But honestly, it's not about how many times he can cum or how long he can last – it's about giving you an unforgettable experience that leaves you completely satisfied (and maybe even a little bit exhausted). 

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Yes, he does own toys. He has a few vibrators and a couple of other things. He uses them on himself when away from you and on you when he's in the mood, he doesn't want to get too reliant on them. He would rather connect with you with just your bodies.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He loves teasing. It's fun to play the game, to build up the tension, and then to pay off the tension with an amazing release. He especially likes to tease you and to watch you go crazy with anticipation.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

He can be quite loud, but he's not obnoxiously loud. He prefers loud, heavy breathing, passionate kissing, soft moans, dirty talking, and grunts.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

He doesn't mind taking charge or being dominated either. In fact, he kind of loves it when someone can keep up with him and makes him lose control. And if you have any kinky fantasies you wanted to try out, he's more than happy to oblige. So go ahead, tell him your dirtiest, most depraved desires.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

Quite large, standing at about 8 inches long when fully erect. The shaft is muscular and veiny, with defined bulges along its length that hint at my intense stamina.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

I'd say he has a pretty high sex drive - He's pretty much always up for some fun and can get pretty enthusiastic and passionate when the moment arises. Sometimes he might need a bit of a warm-up, but once he's in the mood, he's ready to go.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He can fall asleep quite quickly after intimacy, usually within a few minutes. However, if you tend to stay awake for a little longer. You'll cuddle and enjoy the warmth of your bodies until you fall asleep too.

[fitpacs]

Happy Sunday, Qsmpblr!

here’s what i’m proposing today - since things are quiet on all counts lately, let’s take this chance to show some love and positivity to each other :)

Fic writers - let the authors in the community know what your favourite fic(s) of theirs are, and what you like about them! do they capture a particular character’s aura super well it reads as if it could be canon? is their dialogue always on point? take this chance to let them know!

Artists - similar to the above, let the artists in the community know what your favourite pieces of theirs are! does their interpretation of one of the cubitos/eggs always hit just right? their line work/use of shading is extraordinary? tell them!

Theorists - as the cubitos’ stories are now in our hands, theorists are like fairy dust for us now - let them know how appreciated they are! is their interpretation of one of the cubitos’ stories better than what could’ve been imagined in canon? tell them, keep those cogs turning in the theorists’ minds!

Bloggers - is there a specific qsmpblr blog that you scroll through religiously as if it were the morning paper? they just make the posts that have you nodding along, and you can’t imagine the community without them? tell them! kind words can go a long way!

Animatics creators - now that the server is closed, it’s up to us to keep giving the animatics the recognition that the qsmp movie nights used to do! a comment on youtube, a nice message on the creators’ blog/twitter etc - could make the world of difference to keep the animatics coming that will make us laugh, cry and third wheel!

And EVERYONE else - everyone deserves a nice message! the community’s future is essentially in our hands now that the server is closed - yes some people have left and continue to leave, but for those of us that remain: we’ve only got each other now! let’s do all we can to keep morale high and keep our tight-knit community as it always has been here on qsmpblr!

this community is exceptionally talented, and i’ve seen posts of so many people feeling a bit deflated (whether it be from lack of new qsmp content to feed from and create or lack of engagement on their posts - which, sidenote, reblogs do more than likes on posts! - or other reasons entirely) and it does genuinely break my heart, so i thought i’d make a community-wide plea!

Basically - here’s a challenge from me to everyone that sees this: send some love (anon or off anon, your call!) to your favourite qsmp creators/bloggers, because believe me, it can make the absolute world of difference ♥️

[reveuse-de-minuit-writer]

Knockout (Toji x Sukuna x AFAB Reader)

Summary:

Reader is invited to an underground fighting ring and manages to catch the attention of the two most dangerous men there. Theirs is a world of brutality and carnage, and all the reader wants is to explore how deep the darkness goes.

CW: 18+, Violence, blood and gore, explicit rough sex, m/m/f, breath play, overstimulation, BDSM elements, edging, face-fucking, double penetration, squirting, alcohol, weed.

Full tags and complete work on AO3 here: x

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CH. 1

Two fighters dance in the makeshift ring. The big one, a veritable mountain of a man with a curling top-knot and vicious scar slashing through his left eye, is the first to break their stalemate. 

Instead of rushing his opponent, or doing literally anything that would have made sense in an underground fighting ring, the mountain man begins dancing to the music. His opponent hesitates as they watch him in confusion, before narrowing his eyes in contempt. It’s clear the smaller fighter takes his opponent's interpretive dancing as an insult to his capabilities. 

The smaller fighter charges forward, rushing in close to cut off the mountain man’s odd thrusting and grinding as he dances to a beat in his head. As the smaller fighter raises his fist to swing, the mountainous fighter twirls into a powerful roundhouse kick that sends the other man flying across the ring.

The collision is impactful enough that it leaves a crater in the cement where the smaller fighter's body makes contact. He flops against the cement, and his head bounces with a splattering thud.  

His body goes still. 

The countdown to ten begins, but the only thing that moves is the pool of blood as it grows around the impact zone from the fighter’s head. 

Before the countdown even hits zero, the mountainous fighter is doing a victory dance. He wildly thrusts his hips and twirls around with a genuinely surprising grace given his sheer size. The announcer interrupts the fighter’s dance by grabbing around his thick wrist, and hoists his hand high in the air.

“And the winner is AOIII TODOOO!” The announcer declares into the microphone.

The roar of the crowd is deafening in my ears as they cheer at the mountain-man’s victory. 

“Well that was quite the spectacle,” I say to my friend Shogo to my right. 

He snickers, “Well I can’t say I wasn’t entertained. Twinkle-toes certainly knows how to put on a show.”

“Is he dead?” I ask with a grimace. 

Shogo polishes off the last of his drink before exhaling obnoxiously, “Nah, he’s just out cold. Todo doesn’t fight like that. Dude’s a monster, but he’s too soft to straight up fight someone to the death.”

“Ah, that's good then.”

I take a sip of my cold margarita, and it’s the cooling balm I need against the heat of the arena. The space is small but densely packed, and I can feel the humidity clinging atop my body like a second skin. 

The music that plays is the winner’s choice, and I can’t stop myself from smirking as idol music pours from the speakers into the underground arena.

To call the space an arena at all is generous. It’s really just a basement warehouse, but it serves its purpose well enough. The seats are a mix of metal folding chairs and benches stolen from abandoned stadiums that somehow managed to avoid demolition. There are shipping containers surrounding the walls which people use to sit and watch the fight. Shogo and I have done the same, sprawling out on top of a picnic blanket to cushion us from the cold, corrugated metal. The ring itself is just an empty expanse of concrete indicated only by the ropes outlining its circumference. 

Despite how ramshackle everything looks, two projectors display a live feed of the ring on the wall. They function like the screens in a legitimate arena, and I’ve found myself grateful for them many times already, since the tighter grapples and quick jabs can sometimes be hard to see. The instant replays and fight tracking from the dedicated staff are genuinely very well done for what they have to work with. 

Overall, the arena is not much, but it’s also more than good enough. 

Considering the cash that’s pulled in from each fight, I had expected more. But this is a place people pay to watch fighters get brutalized, not sip their overpriced drinks from their box seats. There are a couple hundred people watching, but the livestreams online rack up views in the tens of thousands easily. That’s where the real money is.

As my eyes scan the arena, I can't help but notice the contrast between Shogo and I and the rest of the spectators. The two six-packs of canned margaritas we share atop our bright pastel blanket stand out amongst the beer cans and cigarette butts. Shogo’s dedication to maximalist street fashion paints a vivid pink contrast to the black cargo pants and combat boots of the male-dominated crowd. 

I’m not much better in my own tight white crop top and black tennis skirt, both of which seem like they would better suit a frat bar than an underground fight club. I brought an oversized leather jacket with me to help me blend in more, but I took it off shortly after the second fight from the sheer heat of the arena. Even without it, humidity clings to my skin like a film.

“Having fun so far?” Shogo turns to me and asks. 

I nod my head while taking another sip of my margarita. The alcohol has me pleasantly buzzed. I’m just floating on a happy cloud, as I sit back and wait for the next fight. 

“Yeah, a lot of fun. You’re right, this is way better than the pay-per-view,” I answer. 

“Right? Like you’d never get to see a guy kick someone so hard they fucked up the concrete. That was crazy,” Shogo says. 

I hum in agreement. 

“That was pretty gnarly. I didn’t even think it was physically possible to do that. The Todo guy must be like one of the strongest men alive,” I say. 

Shogo snorts. He opens up his phone and opens up the arena’s private discord. His feed is a frenzy of jokes and commentary, most of which are memeing on Todo’s eccentric dance moves.

“Nah, you ain’t seen nothing yet. Just you wait,” he says. 

“Who’s up next?” 

“Toji Fushiguro versus Mahito. That’s the fight I wanted you to come here to see,” Shogo says. 

I recall how he even sold the experience to me in the first place. I had just started taking up boxing classes, and it exposed me to martial arts and fighting in a light I’d never considered before. I had fallen down into the rabbit hole of a new obsession, watching videos of fights, both professional and amateur, until it took up most of my free time. 

I knew Shogo shared the interest. When he offered to take me to see a fight in person, I couldn’t turn him down. He had warned me that this would be different. That it would be more violent, and more ruthless than any legal fight I’d watched. If anything, that warning just made me more intrigued. 

So far, the fights were intense, but not any more so than what I can find on YouTube. While Todo possesses a strength unlike anything I’ve ever seen before or thought possible, he didn’t do anything with it that would have broken the rules of a UFC fight. 

Still, I find myself wondering just what kind of monstrous power the next two fighters must have, in order to make a mountain like Todo seem like fodder. Shogo doesn’t make claims like that for the sake of it, and my mind races with the intrigue of it all. 

“Anything I should keep an eye out for, or know ahead of time about their fight?” I ask Shogo. 

“Oh my god yeah, where do I even begin?” He says animatedly. 

“Give me a quick rundown from the start. Go,” I snap my fingers into a finger gun, and take an expectant sip of my margarita. 

“Okay so basically, Toji is one of the most powerful fighters in the game right now. Like I’m talking top three easy. He’s been fighting professionally for like fifteen years and has been undefeated for all those years except for once. Like I’m talking thousands of wins against one singular loss. Which is an insane feat in of itself, right? The dude is basically a legend around here. Everyone either wants to fight him, or wants to fight like him.

“But Mahito is new to the scene. He just kinda popped up outta nowhere about a year ago, but he’s been making big waves ever since. Like, the dude is certifiably crazy. On some real psycho shit. But he’s also insanely creative when it comes to his fighting style, which makes him unpredictable to fight and fun to watch. While his record isn’t as impressive as Toji’s, he’s still stupid powerful. He’s risen up the rank of fighters faster than anyone has ever seen before. He fought Todo, the guy who just won, about six months ago, and wrecked him so bad that Todo had to take four months off to recover.”

I process all of the information Shogo gives me. The thought of someone not just winning against Todo, but forcing him to take that much time off to recover, is nearly unthinkable to me.

“So basically it’s the veteran versus the newcomer, huh?” 

“Yeah exactly,” Shogo affirms, “but that’s not all. About two weeks ago a video got leaked on twitter of Mahito essentially talking mad shit about Toji, calling him washed up, a has been, too predictable, shit like that, you know? Basically said that everything Toji can do has already been seen and done before, and that he can take him no problem.”

“How did Toji take that?”

“Toji doesn’t normally do the petty drama thing. He just shows up, fights, gets paid, and leaves. So after a week went by and he didn’t say anything, everyone assumed he was just gonna ignore it. But then, outta nowhere, a video pops up on twitter like three days ago, and it’s Toji at a shooting range with a picture of Mahito’s face on the target. He said some cold shit like ‘a bad dog is better off dead’ or something like that.”

Shogo’s excitement as he explains the drama is infectious, and I’m already invested. I also appreciate how closely he’s followed everything, since it makes the anticipation for the upcoming fight that much sweeter. 

“Well shit. So this fight is going to be intense, huh?”

“Yeah, it’s gonna be crazy.”

“Who do you think will win?”

“I put three hundred on Toji, so he better win. He’s got 7:3 odds right now, so I’m not that worried.”

Shogo slurps messily on his drink as he drains it dry. His thumbs idly scroll through the discord, before he tilts his phone towards me. 

“Here’s the video if you wanna see it. The guy with the silver hair is Mahito. The rest are all members of his team. The dude with the dark hair, Geto, is his manager. There’s a shit ton of drama involving him too, but I can tell you all that after the video.”

Mahito surprises me. He doesn’t look how I imagined the man who won against Todo would look. He’s lanky, despite his obvious musculature, and has an almost childishness about him. Though the arena is loud, I can just barely hear the sounds of the video. Mahito’s crass remarks are intercut with sadistic giggles, and it makes my stomach turn sour. Scars lacerate his body in a patchwork fashion, making his skin look like it’s been sewn onto him. He looks like he belongs in a Tim Burton movie more than a fighting ring. 

But there’s also something decidedly off about Mahito. His cheeks spread wide in a child-like grin as he talks about how he’s going to kill Toji. His mis-matched eyes glitter in excitement as he shares his murderous fantasies of dismembering him and studying the inner workings of his organs. I can’t help but wrinkle my nose in disgust.

The video ends abruptly, and Shogo takes his phone back. 

“I was debating rooting for him because I love a good underdog story, but after watching that,  I think I’m team Toji,” I say. 

Shogo snickers, and continues to scroll with his thumb through his feed. 

“Yeah, no kidding. The guy has a super punchable face.”

“Maybe that’s why he got into fighting in the first place,” I quip, before my curiosity gets the better of me, “What was the drama with the other guy?”

“Okay so the full backstory begins with Toji and this guy named Gojo. Gojo is, without a doubt, the strongest fighter in the world, no cap. Like legit or otherwise, professional or amateur, it doesn’t matter. If you put him in the ring, he will win every single time. Only one other guy is on his level, Sukuna. He’s not called the King of Fighters for no reason. But he’s not relevant to the story, so put a pin in that for now. 

“So about ten years ago, Toji challenged Gojo. At the time, Gojo was just a teenager, and had only been on the scene for a year, but he was sweeping everyone he came across, kinda like Mahito. Even still, everyone bet on Toji to win, since at the time he was about five years deep and undefeated. And the first time they fought, Toji did win. He beat Gojo so bad the kid nearly died. But like a week later, Gojo pops up out of nowhere and challenges Toji to a rematch. Everyone thought he was insane, since he hadn’t fully recovered from his injuries yet, but Toji agreed to it. In the rematch Gojo clapped his ass so hard it was devastating. Like Toji got beat so bad he was declared legally dead before they were able to revive him. To this day, it’s still the only time Toji has ever suffered a loss. 

“So obviously he didn’t take it well. He lost out on millions in bets, and nearly lost his life. He’s had a grudge against Gojo and anything even remotely related to him ever since. 

“The reason why this is all relevant, is because Geto, Mahito’s manager, was best friends with Gojo at the time. So because the two were besties, Toji fucking hates him. Even though the two aren’t friends anymore, it doesn’t matter. Since Mahito is being represented by Geto, and the circumstances are kinda similar, it’s safe to say that Toji was out for blood before the video of Mahito talking shit ever leaked in the first place.”

My head buzzes with this rush of new information. There’s so much lore to process, and it gives me a deeper appreciation for what will certainly be a monumental fight. The tension and electricity in the air suddenly makes a lot more sense. 

“Wow, who knew there was so much drama in the fighting community?” I say. 

Shogo slurps on his drink and nods. 

“Tell me about it.”

“So have Toji and Gojo ever talked about a rematch?” I ask. 

“Honestly I don’t know. It’s just kind of low-key understood that a match between Toji and Gojo would just end up in Toji losing again, since Gojo became an absolute monster after that. That fight is where he got the nickname the ‘Strongest Fighter’ from. Also, Gojo doesn’t fight much anymore, since there’s no one on his level good enough to challenge him and keep him interested.”

“What about Sukuna? Didn’t you say they were equals?”

“Yeah. Sukuna and Gojo have been talking about fighting each other forever, but no one knows if or when it’ll actually happen. Sukuna still fights occasionally, if he thinks it’ll be worth his time, but he’s good friends with Toji so it’s unlikely a fight between them will ever happen.”

I sip on my drink and think everything over. I had no idea there could be so much history in the scene like this. 

“Next up, Toji Fushiguro versus Mahito! The fight will begin in five minutes!” The announcer calls.

His voice booms around the empty warehouse, and not for the first time I find myself wishing I had brought some earplugs. 

Shogo mutters a brief ‘aha’ before tilting his phone towards me.

“Here, this is Toji’s response video that I mentioned earlier,” Shogo says, before handing his phone to me entirely. 

I press play. Toji’s back is towards the camera, and the immense sprawl of his muscles which strain through the clingy black t-shirt he wears makes my pulse pound. He might as well not be wearing it at all, for how little it hides. It wraps and contorts around every single well-defined muscle in the man’s torso.  

He’s enormous, with impossibly broad shoulders made to look wider by the narrowness of his waist. His sweatpants are baggy and sling low on his slim hips, but they still can’t hide the firm swell of his ass. 

His shaggy black hair covers his face from view. His stance is casual. He leans forward into his hip, which draws attention to the dramatic s-curve of his spine. One thick arm relaxes behind his back, with his fingers splayed wide. His hands are enormous, and serve to make the glock he’s holding look like little more than a child’s toy. 

The man had a body made for sin. Holy shit. Even without seeing his face, I’d let that man rail me into next Tuesday if he so much as asked. 

“What d’you do to a rabid dog?” Toji asks over his shoulder to the camera man. 

His voice is low and resonant. Even despite the low volume, the sound of it sends a shiver down my spine.

Six shots fire off in rapid succession, and Toji doesn’t even budge from the recoil. His gun smokes as the clip goes empty. The camera pans from Toji to his target at the end of the range, before zooming in. 

A picture of Mahito’s face covers the target’s head. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t seeing the bullet holes carve out a perfectly punctured ’T’ into the picture. 

The camera pans back to Toji, who keeps his back to the camera. He raises the gun to his mouth, and blows out the smoke still coiling from the barrel of the gun. I can just barely see the sharp cut of his jaw and the scar that bisects the side of his mouth. 

“You put it down,” he smirks. His voice is deep and husky, and the sound makes my skin shiver. 

Just as Toji starts to turn towards the camera, the video cuts off. 

“Holy shit,” I say. 

It’s all I can say. Because my pulse is racing, and my head is spinning, and my face flushes hot when I realize I’m dripping wet. 

“What’d you think of that?” Shogo asks, and plucks his phone from my hands. 

My fingers tremble slightly now that I no longer have anything to hold onto, so I reach for a new can of my margarita to still them. 

“I think he’s so hot it’s stupid,” I say shamelessly. 

Shogo laughs hard enough that a few of the other spectators turn towards us in mild interest. My face flushes hotter at the attention, and I gulp down a few sips of my drink. 

“I figured you’d be into him. Bad boys with more muscles than sense have always been your type,” Shogo giggles. 

I open my mouth to defend myself, but a string of my previous partners comes to mind, and I close it once more. I really can’t argue with that. 

“Like you’re one to talk,” I sneer at him instead. 

I cross my arms across my chest and pout. 

“Yeah, but I also like the good girls, so it all balances out to neutral. You’re just a freak,” Shogo laughs. 

My glare at him is venomous, but it just makes him laugh all the more. Eventually he raises his hand in a sign of surrender. 

“Simmer down, girl. There’s nothing wrong with bein’ a lil freaky,” he snickers. 

I throw an empty margarita can at his head, which he slaps away with a snicker. It falls to the ground beneath the shipping container we sit on. 

I think nothing of it, until I hear a loud, angry “What the fuck!” cry out from beneath us. 

I freeze, and my eyes go wide with panic. Swallowing past the lump of nerves in my throat, I tentatively crawl forwards to peer over the side of the shipping container. 

Right below us is the makeshift VIP section, with couches, bottles, powders, and more strewn about everywhere. There’s about ten people sitting around in total, all watching as a person with a short blonde bob angrily wipes down their shoulder. 

The can must not have been as empty as I thought. 

Mortification burns through me alongside an immediate pulsing fear. 

I’m so never getting invited back. 

If there’s any kind of crowd I don’t want to piss off, it’s this one. 

“Sorry,” I meekly call out to them down below. 

A few heads look up in my direction at the sound of my voice, and my face flushes hot under their scrutiny. 

But I can feel the weight of a gaze settle heavy over my skin, prickling it into goosebumps. My eyes sweep over everyone, trying to find the source of it.

“Fuck you, asshole!” The person shouts back. 

I ignore them.

One figure in particular, a large man with his hood pulled low, stares upwards at me. Him. I can feel him watching me, and I shiver where I kneel, and my hands grip tight onto the edge of the shipping container below me. 

I can just barely make out the sharp cut of his jaw, and the strange tattoos that frame it. He says something to the crowd around him. Everyone else laughs, except for the unfortunate victim of my drink who stomps their foot in frustration. I can see just enough of his jaw to watch the cruel smirk that forms on his lips.

Despite his joke to the crowd, I feel that his eyes never leave me. 

The sounds of the arena seem to go quiet as all of my focus narrows down to the stranger below. 

My instincts scream at me that I need to run, and I need to hide, because I’ve caught the attention of a predator, and I don’t want to give him the chance to pounce. My blood rushes in my ears, and sweat beads atop my body.

But the weight of his stare holds me captive. I’m helpless to do anything other than watch as his tongue traces along the lush swell of his bottom lip, before he flashes his sharp canines in a menacing grin.

I flush red hot, and a corresponding throb pulses deep in my core. 

The arousal I felt watching Toji’s video is a catalyst for my body now getting overtaken with lust. Molten heat liquifies my veins, and the headiness of the alcohol buzzes through me in a lethal combination. 

Mortified by my body’s reaction, I crawl quickly back to the blanket next to Shogo, breaking the stalemate between the stranger and I. As I collapse beside him, I shiver at the adrenaline that courses through me. The primal, instinctual part of my brain screams that I’ve just barely managed to escape, and that I’m not safe yet.

Shogo, oblivious to my inner turmoil, just snickers at me as I flop onto my back next to him and bury my face in my hands. Without opening my eyes to look, I lash out and smack him on the arm.

“Nice one,” he snickers. 

“Fuck you,” I grumble. 

My threat is muffled by my hands over my face, but I don’t care. I’m too busy focusing on breathing like a normal person and commanding my body to calm down from the sudden, roaring height of its arousal. 

Any response Shogo says is lost on me as all of the lights in the arena go dark. Loud bass pumps through the speakers, and I can feel it vibrate and rattle in my chest. 

Pushing aside my feelings, I allow myself to get caught up in the mania. The crowd around us roars in anticipation, and I join in, cupping my hands around my mouth and shouting into the blackened air. An electric tingle of anticipation starts to brew in my blood. I feel breathless, and I smile into the darkness.

This is so much fun. 

The music cuts out. A singular beat of silence, suspended in the darkness, rings out across the arena. 

The music blares back in with the full power and sound of the song. The lights turn on, and the ring is illuminated in bright, harsh spotlights. A man towers tall in the center of the ring, with his identity obscured by the black hood pulled low over his head.The crowd goes absolutely feral, but I freeze.

Oh fuck me sideways.

It’s him. The same guy from below who made my pussy drip from the force of his stare alone. 

The microphone he holds in his hand looks tiny, and I am surprised to see that his nails are painted black. He just stands there, basking in the attention and suspense of the crowd. 

My eyes trail up and down his body. Now that I can see him more clearly, my walls clench fruitlessly around nothing. The black hoodie he wears is strained tight against his broad torso. His dark jeans cling to his muscular thighs like a second skin. He must be another fighter, with a physique like that.

After a beat, he raises a painted hand to his hood. Instead of pulling it back like I assumed he would, his hand continues to rise until it grabs ahold of the fabric on the back of his neck. In a singular fluid motion, he yanks the hoodie off entirely. 

“Holy fucking shit!” Shogo yells next to me. 

Holy shit indeed. 

The man that stands in the center of the ring exudes power and confidence. He looks lethal, with his tight, rippled abdomen, full pecs, and broad shoulders corded with thick, deadly muscles. The tattoos that decorate his skin are thick, black, tribal lines that seem to carve out a path that accentuates the lines of his body. His messy hair is a bright pink, with a dark brown undercut. He smoothes his hair back with a painted hand and a sharp grin.

The tattoos continue to outline his face, curving along the harsh cut of his jaw, slashing across the bridge of his nose, and inking his forehead between his dark brows. His eyes glint with a dark promise, and the smile that broadens the man’s mouth is nothing short of sadistic.

The guys in the arena are obviously not good men. It takes a certain kind of person to want to fight so extremely, and to be so entertained by it. But as I watch this man raise his thick arms high into the air around him, basking in the feral cry of the crowd as it screams for him, it is obvious that he’s different. 

He’s even worse. 

After a minute of taking it all in, he raises the microphone to his sharp mouth. The dark chuckle that fills the air makes me shiver and my nipples tighten. I feel a throb deep in my core, and I squirm atop the firm ridges of the shipping container below. 

At the sound of his dark laughter, and before he even gets the chance to speak, the crowd is roaring again, showering him with even more praise and adoration. The man’s grin grows wider, and his sharp teeth glint malevolently beneath the harsh spotlights. 

“Alright, shut up you brats,” he growls into the microphone. 

I’ll be damned if the dark sound of his voice doesn’t make me quiver. The crowd dies down, obeying the command of the dark god before them. 

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” He jokes.

The crowd goes wild again, and this time a masculine chant booms in the air.

Su-ku-na! Su-ku-na! Su-ku-na!

So this is Sukuna. 

The King of Fighters himself. 

He raises one hand high, effectively calling for silence. Immediately, everyone goes quiet. The man’s command over the room is absolute.

“I was worried that it’s been so long that I might have to introduce myself, but I see now that’s no longer a problem,” Sukuna smirks. 

There’s a cold mockery in his tone that betrays just how much he revels in the crowd’s adoration. His dark eyes scan across the crowd as he basks in the wild roars that fall around him.

“I have a surprise for you brats,” he taunts in a sing-song voice. 

I can feel the exact moment that his eyes make contact with mine.

I’m flung from my body. The air freezes in my lungs. The sounds of the crowd go quiet except for the ringing in my ears. My vision narrows down to just the outline of his body. That same force keeps me still, and my instincts are once again screaming at me to hide. His gaze is unwavering, and I am exposed before him.

“Are you ready for me?” Sukuna purrs into the microphone.

Shivers sweep down my spine, and I flash hot. I bite my lip hard, genuinely afraid that if I don’t, I might moan.

Holy shit.

The crowd roars around him, but it's lost on me entirely. I can’t see or hear anything outside of the tension that sizzles between us like a live wire. 

“Tut, tut, tut. I asked you a question, brats,” Sukuna snarls, and his eyes darken as they glare at mine.

While I know he says it for the crowd’s benefit, my arousal drips out of me at the sound of his scolding. His piercing eyes flash with a dark promise, and the look he levels towards me is nothing short of commanding. 

His threat is clear. 

“Let’s try this again,” he purrs, before pulling the microphone in closer to his mouth than before.

“Are you ready for me?” Sukuna roars. 

The sound of his voice is monstrous, and tinged with something entirely animalistic. If I thought the roar of the crowd was loud before, then it is absolutely nothing compared to the fervor of it now. 

Those same prey instincts are going haywire in my blood, and I can scarcely breathe for how tight of a grip my adrenaline has over my body.

I lick my suddenly dry lips, and burn in the heat of his stare, as I whisper, “Yes.”

Sukuna’s eyes grow dark with heat and triumph. 

My core throbs low, and the persistent ache of emptiness sweeps through me. 

“That’s what I fucking thought,” he snarls. 

His dark eyes finally leave mine, and it’s like I collide back into my body with a visceral force. Sensations flood in from all around me at once, from the sheer volume of the crowd, the stifling heat of the room, and the absolutely drenched state of my underwear. 

Immediately, heat flushes my cheeks. I’ve never reacted like this before. Though I don’t smoke anymore, I find myself itching for a cigarette. And another margarita.

“The lovely event organizers and I decided we wanted to make things a bit interesting,” he begins, a sadistic enjoyment sugaring his dark tone, “so to shake things up a bit, whoever wins this next fight, either Toji Fushiguro or Mahito, will get the honor of fighting me in two months.” 

“Oh my fucking god!” Shogo cries out. 

Based on what Shogo had told me earlier, I now know that this is a big fucking deal. The crowd absolutely loses it. 

“So with that out of the way, let’s get this thing fucking started, yeah?” Sukuna says, rallying the cry of the crowd once more. “May the best fighter win.”

With that, Sukuna passes off the microphone to the announcer, and prowls back out of the ring. My eyes are glued to him as he ducks beneath the rope of the VIP section. He stands a clear two heads taller than the crowd of people parading around him and clapping him on the back. Even surrounded by other fighters, he finds a way to make them look small. He takes a seat back on the couch, and reclines back like a king in his throne. 

The announcer picks up Sukuna’s hoodie, and tosses it over to him. Sukuna catches it with a one-handed grip, and my eyes dance over every ripple of muscle that flexes and pulls from the simple display of athleticism. 

Good fucking god, I need to get a grip.

“Let’s give it up one more time for the King of Fighters himself, Ryomen Sukuna!” The announcer cheers. 

The crowd roars again, and my eyes remained fixed on the man as he flashes yet another sharp grin at the never-ending adoration. 

He doesn’t demure from the praise, he basks in it.

“This headlining match is sure to be exciting folks. But first, what does every good fight need? The fighters themselves!

“First up, we have a prodigy in the making. Standing at five feet and ten inches tall, and weighing one-hundred-and-forty-five pounds, we have the scrappy underdog from hell itself, MAHITOOOOOO!” 

The crowd cheers as Mahito appears from the right-hand side of the ring. He all but skips to the ring itself, and the camera man tracking him stumbles after him. 

His team is standing just off to the side of the ring, and I recognize them from the video that Shogo showed to me. Mahito is as energetic as a kid with a sugar rush, as he bounces restlessly on the balls of his feet. 

Once more I’m surprised by what Shogo said earlier. Looking down at him, it’s hard to imagine him beating Todo so easily. His body is long and lean, and while muscular, he’s nothing compared to the solid mountain of the other fighter. But clearly his looks are deceiving.

“Next we have the legend himself, undefeated to all but one over the span of his decade-and-a-half long career. Standing at six feet and three inches, and weighing two-hundred-and-eighteen pounds, we have the fighter killer himself, TOJIIII FUSHIIGUUROO!” 

Whatever adoration rained down on Mahito, it pales in comparison to the roar of the crowd for Toji. I have half a mind to cover my ears to spare them from taking further damage. It’s clear who is the crowd’s favorite. 

Toji Fushiguro stalks towards the ring from the left with a predatory grace. He looks even more monstrous than in the video, and it’s clear that it didn’t do him justice. He wears a white hoodie that’s unzipped down the middle, baring his taut, cut abdomen for all to see. His white athletic shorts strain tight against his thick thighs, and curve along the swell of his ass. The tension in his muscles is coiled tight. With his unwavering focus narrowing down to Mahito across the ring, I can all but taste his lethal hostility in the air. 

When he reaches the ring, he pulls off his hoodie with short, aggressive pulls. He is every bit as impressive as his stats make him out to be. The breadth of his shoulders and narrowness of his waist are nothing less than superhuman in their proportions. His arms pull and flex as he balls his hoodie up and tosses it carelessly to the side. There’s a massive scar that carves a jagged arc into his left side, and it spans nearly the entirety his torso. It’s a gruesome scar, and I wonder what gave it to him. 

His messy ink-stained hair falls sharply into his eyes, but I can see the animosity burn in them all the same. His sharp jaw is clenched tight with tension, and the veins in his throat pulse visibly. His own team is speaking to him, but I can tell he’s not listening. His glare hasn’t moved once from Mahito, not even as the other fighter begins to prance around his side of the ring, hyping up the crowd even more. 

The projectors display closeups of the fighters faces, and the contrast couldn’t be more clear. While Mahito performs, Toji waits. There’s something about the dynamic that makes my blood race. Blown up large against the wall, the burning hatred glinting savagely in Toji’s dark green eyes is blistering.

My instincts scream that Toji is lethal and dangerous and absolutely terrifying. I almost feel sorry for Mahito, for having incurred the wrath of this god amongst men so completely. 

My pussy is screaming too, but for a different reason entirely.

The two fighters are called to meet together in the middle of the ring. Seeing them stand opposite one another makes the fight seem simply unfair. Toji glares down at Mahito like a lion staring down an ant. Mahito remains unintimidated, and smiles up at Toji with a wicked gleam in his mis-matched eyes. I try to remind myself that despite appearances, the fight is more evenly matched than it seems. 

The hatred that flows between the two sparks and crackles in the air. The tension is thick enough to make my breath catch. Almost absently, I crawl to the edge of the shipping container and sit there instead. I hear Shogo shuffle to copy me, equally as entranced by the anticipatory hostility brewing between the two fighters as I am. 

I can’t fucking wait to see it snap. 

The announcer claps both men on the shoulder, before stepping back to the edge of the ring. 

“No rules, no limits. First fighter to score a knockout wins!” The announcer declares.

The two fighters step back and slip into their fighting stances. 

Mahito stands unusually, with one arm ahead of him like he’s reaching out towards Toji, while his other hand balls into a fist low by his hip. His legs are bent low and spread wide, and he looks very much like a coil, ready to spring. 

Toji’s stance is also unusual. His legs spread wide, but he doesn’t squat as low as Mahito. His torso curls forward, with his arms wide around him, fists ready for the fight. There’s a confidence in the way that he stands that borders on arrogance, and the sight of it makes me fucking leak. 

“Begin!”

The two fighters are a blur of movement as they dash towards one another with tremendous speed. Mahito is the first to swing, but Toji is faster, and counters the swing with one of his own. His fist lands solidly in the center of Mahito’s chest, and the fighter goes flying backwards from the force of his punch. Mahito lands hard into the concrete below, and blood sputters from his mouth, drooling onto his chin.

Mahito is only down for half a second, before he staggers to his feet. A grin splits his cheeks, and the sight of his blood-stained teeth is chilling. He giggles, and bounces on his feet, before springing towards Toji. 

Toji lets Mahito dash in close. As soon as Mahito goes to throw a punch, Toji moves in a dizzying blur of speed around the other fighter, pivots quick on his heel, and sends a powerful kick to the back of Mahito’s skull. 

Mahito stumbles forward onto his hands and knees, and blood immediately begins to darken his silver hair. Still, Mahito giggles at the impact, and shakes his head back and forth. Blood splatter flies everywhere around them. Toji interrupts by rushing up behind Mahito’s exposed back, wraps a thick arm around his neck, and pulls Mahito back into a tight headlock. 

Mahito’s face turns red, as his hands claw and scrape at the thick muscle of Toji’s arm. Toji’s other hand curls into a tight fist and pummels blow after blow into Mahito’s ribs and kidneys. 

Blood sprays from Mahito’s mouth, but he keeps grinning, regardless. The pain he’s in must be tremendous, but he takes all of Toji’s blows with a smile. 

Mahito drops his body, deadening his weight against Toji’s chokehold. Toji leans down lower to compensate for the sudden increase in weight. Mahito uses this to his advantage, and springs backwards, sending both Toji and Mahito falling hard to the floor. Toji ducks his head inwards to prevent his skull from being shattered in the cement, and pulls Mahito in tight by the hold he has on his neck. 

With a sly smile, Mahito reaches into the pocket of his shorts.

My blood runs cold. 

In a flash, he pulls out a pocket knife, flips it open, and thrusts it upwards, stabbing into the arm wrapped around his neck. 

Toji’s eyes widen, and he reflexively releases his hold just enough for Mahito to squirm free. Toji’s hand grabs ahold of the handle of the knife and pulls it out of his arm, while Mahito flips over and moves to straddle Toji, pinning him to the ground. 

Toji just laughs, and dexterously twirls the knife in his hand. Mahito swings down hard at Toji, who manages to duck his head out of the way by a millimeter. 

A sickening crack echoes though the arena. I wait for Mahito’s bloodied hand to emerge, destroyed by the impact of his fist on the concrete floor. But Toji rolls the two of them over fast.

My jaw drops.

A fist-sized crater shatters the concrete at the site of the impact. 

What the fuck?

Did Mahito just punch a hole into the concrete? 

I don’t have the time to process the tremendous power I just saw. Instead, my eyes are glued to Toji straddling a squirming Mahito, with the knife trapped between his teeth. He storms down a rain of powerful blows directly into Mahito’s face. The first punch shatters bone, and blood spurts all over his knuckles. Toji’s smile at the sight is carnal. The second impact is more devastating than the first, and teeth fly from Mahito’s mouth.

It goes on like this. Hit after savage hit. Blood paints Toji’s hands crimson. His inky hair clumps down over his manic eyes. There is no thought behind them except for the predatory gleam of bloodlust. A sharp grin twists his scarred lips around the blade of the knife, and there is not a single doubt for how much Toji is enjoying himself. 

Mahito has finally stopped laughing. His head lolls back into the concrete, and his body goes limp. Toji grabs ahold of Mahito’s hair, and yanks his head up, continuing his assault on the unconscious man’s head. 

“Time!” 

Toji’s fist crashes down into Mahito’s face one last time before he leans back. His large chest heaves from a mixture of exertion and bloodlust. Sweat shines on his skin, and the blood splatter trickles in rivers down the contours of his body. He shakes his wet hair like a dog, and the sweat and blood fly around them. 

My thighs clench, and I want to lick it off of his skin. 

Toji spits the knife out onto the floor beside him. He leans his head back, and his triumphant smile into the air above is nothing short of beastly. 

With Toji’s head leaned back, he doesn’t see as Mahito’s fingers twitch towards the knife beside them. Once his fingers wrap around the handle, he flies forward in a sudden vicious arc that slashes upwards at Toji’s torso. 

“Gotcha!” Mahito giggles. 

Toji reacts quickly, to the sudden motion of Mahito below him, but still manages to get caught along the top of his right pec. He wraps a thick hand around Mahito’s wrist, stopping the knife from doing any further damage. With his other hand, he fixes a firm grip around mahito’s shoulder, and with a savage twist and brutal cry, he tears his arm back. 

Blood spurts like a fountain, painting everything in a sea of red. 

In Toji’s hand, he holds the severed remains of Mahito’s arm, torn completely free from his body. 

Mahito’s screams echo in the cavernous room. He squirms from beneath the bulk of Toji’s body, flailing his remaining arm against Toji’s thick thighs in an effort to get free. 

It reminds me of the dying throes a rabbit caught between the teeth of a lion. It’s a last, desperate attempt at life when he knows it’s coming to an end. 

Toji grabs the knife from Mahito’s severed hand, then tosses the limb carelessly to the side. He twirls it around once more, before viciously plunging it down into Mahito’s torso. With a ferocious smile, he licks his lips, then starts carving into Mahito’s chest.

Mahito’s screams cut off abruptly. The absence of it echoes just as loudly. 

When he’s done, Toji leans back onto his hips, and appraises his work with a sadistic grin. He raises the knife to his mouth, and his tongue licks along the side of the blade. He smiles at the taste, before plunging it down into Mahito’s head, right between his brows. 

Toji rises to his feet. He towers over Mahito’s dead body. Power and aggression pour off of him in waves. His grin is absolutely feral, and his eyes gleam with satisfaction. He wears the other man’s blood like war paint. 

He picks up Mahito’s head, and with one hand, he dangles his body upwards for all to see. 

What remains of Mahito’s torso is mutilated by a crudely carved letter ’T’. The roar of the crowd is animalistic. Men holler and cry out into the air, pounding their fists to their chest and stomping their feet on the ground. Toji holds the body aloft for a few more moments, before throwing it carelessly back to the ground. 

He steps back to the center of the ring. The announcer trembles forward. He stares at Toji with wide fearful eyes, before gingerly grabbing ahold of the fighter’s thick wrist. After a moment’s hesitation, he raises Toji’s arm high in the air. 

“And the winner is TOJIII FUSHIGUROO!”

My blood rushes in my ears, and my lungs constrict. Any alcohol in my system has all but evaporated, and I’m stone-cold sober. The primal energy storms around me, and my body tingles with the electricity and the adrenaline. My instincts are quiet, and I fear its silence more than I feared when it was screaming at me earlier. My mind is blank, but my body burns. 

I just watched a man die. 

I just watched Toji Fushiguro kill a man. 

And yet. For reasons that defy logic. For reasons that make me want the earth to split open beneath me and swallow me whole.

I am undeniably, irrrefutably, achingly aroused. 

I’m trembling from the force of the heat that burns inside of me. Absently, I grab my drink and chug it all down in one go. It dribbles down my chin and into my shirt, but I don’t care. I wipe carelessly at my mouth with the back of my hand and take in deep, greedy gulps of air when it’s done.

Toji’s team wipes him down, cleaning off the other man’s blood. I can’t process it. Mahito’s team walks away, with Geto yawning as he exits the ring. I watch as some of the event staff approach Mahito’s body, pick him up, and carry him out. Two others immediately start wiping down the area, scouring the concrete for every drop of blood. 

After a moment or two, it’s like there was never any blood at all. 

I watch as Sukuna saunters up to Toji and claps him on the back. The two men standing together look like giants surrounded by ants. I watch idly as they converse, and my heart stutters at the wide, sharp grin on Toji’s scarred lips.

I need to calm down. Now. 

My skin prickles, and the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. My breathing stops, and my blood sings. 

I can feel them looking at me. 

I know it like I know my own name. 

I drag my unfocused eyes from the fist-sized crater in the ring, over to where the two men stand speaking. 

Heat burns in my veins, as my eyes lock on to Sukuna’s. 

Adrenaline pumps my blood fast, and all at once my instincts are screaming at me again. 

Run. Hide. Escape.

But I’m frozen. I can do nothing more than return his stare. Sukuna nods his chin in my direction while he says something to Toji. The fighter turns to look over his shoulder, and his sharp green eyes seek out mine. 

Oh fuck me. Fuck me sideways to hell and back.

The combined weight of their stares makes me tremble. Toji’s eyes light a path of fire as they dip to my legs and trail upwards along my body. His look is like a physical touch along my skin and it makes me shiver. My arousal drips out of me, and I press my thighs together tight. Sweat tickles my spine as it runs down my back. Toji turns back to Sukuna. He says something which makes Sukuna laugh, and my cheeks flush with heat and shame. 

They’re laughing at me. I’m certain of it.

What pricks.

My anger breaks me out of my trance, and I jolt back to life atop the shipping container. Shogo has begun packing up our things and stuffing it into his backpack, all while feverishly scrolling through the discord. 

I’m sure the live chat was going crazy after watching Toji Fushiguro brutally murder a man. 

I spring into action in a dull haze, helping Shogo pack the last of our things, before scaling down the ladder to the ground below. My body moves on autopilot.

“That was fucking insane,” Shogo says.

His thumbs are furiously flying across his keyboard, and I know his attention will be preoccupied for a while. 

“Yeah, that was crazy,” I agree. 

I’m surprised I can even speak, and that my voice sounds this strong.

“That wasn’t even a fight, that was a massacre,” Shogo continues, his voice filled with awe.

I hum in agreement. 

I was wrong before. Very wrong. Toji and Mahito were never evenly matched to begin with. 

“I don’t know about you, but I think I need a drink. Actually, scratch that. I know I need a drink. Several. You game?” 

I let out a hollow laugh. 

“Yeah, lead the way.”

“Yo, Shogo!” A voice calls out. 

We both turn towards a man jogging towards us. He has a shaved head and ink covering every visible inch of his dark skin. The piercings in his lip shine as he smiles at my friend. 

“Oh shit, Rocco! Good to see you, man. I didn’t know you were gonna be here,” Shogo smiles back. 

The two embrace, before Shogo turns back towards me. 

“This is my best friend y/n,” he introduces. 

Rocco nods his head in greeting, and his smile is warm and inviting. 

“Nice to meet you,” I say, while extending my hand out for him to shake. 

He takes it with a grip as warm as his smile. 

“Rocco. It’s a pleasure. Any friend of Shogo’s is a friend of mine,” he says before he turns back to Shogo. “Say, we’re all gonna go over to The Alley Cat. It’s a bar about two doors down that way. You tryin’ to grab drinks?” 

Shogo looks at me for approval, and I shrug. 

We were planning on getting drinks either way, and it didn’t matter to me who or where we got them from as long as they were strong.

“Yeah, sure, why not. We’re were just talking about it anyway,” Shogo agrees for the both of us. 

“Cool. If you wanna give me a second to grab my stuff, we can walk over there together,” Rocco says. 

We follow Rocco as he leads us to his things, and I can’t help but watch as the two boys animatedly talk over the details of the fight. I don’t mind stepping back from their conversation, as my brain still feels like it’s only operating at half-speed.

I blame that for the reason why I don’t realize he’s leading us back over to the VIP section until he’s stepping over the ropes. 

My heart pounds as the realization sets in, and my eyes frantically scan the crowd inside to look for that signature pink hair. 

I try everything in my power to ignore the sting of disappointment I feel when I realize he isn’t there.

[semipreciousgemstonejade]

About the letters...

There's particular parts that are affecting me way more than they should...

Firstly, the calligraphy is just so pleasant to observe. I enjoy looking at the way all of them are written and find it fascinating that the ones that are most difficult to read use a style that requires highly specialised training to execute.

The masterful strokes in each letter befittingly showcase their personalities.

What are your favourite parts? With or without the literal translation.

I would love to see an expert with no affiliation to Love and Deepspace nor with any knowledge of the game, give their interpretation of each letter.

I also forgot to thank the people that shared the letters for the global community to get to see them and others that contributed to the literal translation. Thank you!

And before you ask, regarding After reading his letter a million times..., yes, I am that dramatic.

Sylus

"I tried to find the reason why i accidentally fell so deeply, but realised that even if i did find the answer, it wouldn't mean anything- because that person is you." - Sylus

My thoughts...

I am captivated by the way he suggests with such an unfiltered honesty that he never intended to fall in love so deeply, that it was purely accidental, and by the time he realised what was happening it didn't even matter to him anymore. He stopped trying to figure it all out and just accepted it. For a man who is always 10 steps ahead, to be any number of steps behind in any situation must be quite frustrating. Maybe even quite frightening. Of course, not when it comes to her.

After reading his letter a million times...

I'd be outside his house banging on the door and holding his letter asking him if he meant every word he wrote. I'd want him to read his words to me aloud. Every word of every carefully crafted line. He's so poetically romantic, he'd likely be able to recite it from memory. I'd be ready to risk everything without hesitation to show him just how right he is about how alike we truly are.

Zayne

"For the first time, i want to thank those maybes and those accidents. Thank you for existing. Thank you for all the choices you made before we met, which led me to meet you, at the perfect minute, that perfect sound, which i can't imagine could be even more flawless." - Zayne

My thoughts...

His mind is sharp and his hands are precise and confident. He is well aware of the potentially harmful consequences if he even so much as slightly hesitates in his profession. His work is his life, so it makes sense that this notion would permeate his personal life. For him to entertain the idea of 'maybe' after an accidental encounter, has opened his mind to possibility that not all accidents carry the same type of risk. Not only is the other person's happiness in his hands, but his in now in theirs and whilst that can be scary, it comes with many wonderful consequences that positively impact his life.

After reading his letter a million times...

I would make sure he's home and call him on the phone whilst I'm outside his front door. When he opens the door asking why i didn't just let myself in, I'd tell him that it is only fair that the person who has dedicated his very existence to protecting my heart should be the rightful owner. I'd thank him for existing, because I likely wouldn't exist without him.

Xavier

"Before i met you, i was used to walking along a road alone without hesitation, and with very little expectations for anything else. But now i definitely hope, the end of the path i choose will always be connected to yours." - Xavier

My thoughts...

I adore this more because they passed notes to each other in class in his anecdote, When Shooting Stars Fall. Back then, she made the first move and saw right through every shield and barrier. Since then, the former lonely Crown Prince, still meticulous with his words, is more open and less guarded. Whenever he tries to walk alone at night or sleep outside, she offers him companionship or tells him to stay with her.

After reading his letter a million times...

In the early hours of the morning I would go up to his apartment, let myself in and crawl into his arms. When he asks what's wrong, I'd tell him that I missed him and that i never get tired of hearing the person i love most in this world telling me they miss me. But what I'd need him to be aware of the most is that he is also my way of life and that i will thank him everyday for finding every version of me in every lifetime so that i get to fall in love with him over and over.

Rafayel

"Whether I'm painting, soaking in a bath, or sleeping, i have to carve out a space in my mind that's only yours; otherwise, before long, my mind will be completely taken over by your 101 types of cuteness." - Rafayel

My thoughts...

I love when a person who makes everyone laugh feels safe and comfortable to let their walls down and share their serious side with you. She occupies his every thought to the point that he simply must create a special area in his mind where she can exist separately so that he can function.

After reading his letter a million times...

I would meet him at the beach during morning's twilight. I'd be standing and waiting in the shallow part of the water. When he sees me, I'd call his name and tell him to come to me with my hand stretched out towards him. When he puts his hand in mine and asks what's going on, I'd tell him that I'm glad that whenever my heart calls his name, he'll always be by my side. That he can trust me to protect him when he's at his weakest. That I'm not afraid of what he'll become.