#that’s like half my poetry lmao

[coffeeandcalligraphy]

maybe making this mapo tofu will fix me

[crossbackpoke-check]

Why I Am Not Coming In To Work Today [abridged], Jess Zimmerman

part one | part two

[hickeygender]

could you tell me more about vaslav nijinsky? I'm also bipolar and your posts/tags about him have piqued my interest

bipolar gang!! and i'm far from an expert, i really just know of him from the frank bidart poem the war of vaslav nijinsky and some cursory wikipedia research following me devouring said poem. it's a masterful poem, but tws for abuse and mental breakdowns. i do know that @sneakysnijinskyresearch has compiled a bunch of things on him for research on a student film, so i'd head there if you want a list of resources that can do him justice! nijinsky also wrote a diary while psychotic which has been published and i just found out about today. i'm ordering the unexpurgated edition :^)

[breadandblankets]

tags via @the-sage-libriomancer #duke is like if spiderman suddenly started patrolling in gotham #gothamites are used to either big godly heroes like superman or “nonexistent” cryptids like the bats #they've never had to deal with like. a sixteen y/o in a costume walking them home at night #or stopping bank robberies *as they happen* #so there could be some funny culture clash as gotham gets used to this #also yk that post about how robin is credited for all of batman's successes bc gothamites refuse to admit he's real to the rest of the world #that happens to duke all the time now #literally 90% of the bats wins gets attributed to signal bc now the police have someone they can point fingers at#and duke is LIVING for it #finally something he can hold over his brothers (and steph's) heads #who's the most competent gotham superhero now motherfuckers #guess it's technically me because i'm the only one who's confirmed to exist #meanwhile the other batkids are gritting their teeth and telling themselves that it's the mission not the fame that matters #while duke slurps loudly from a Limited Edition Signal™ Mug

gotham got so used to superheros being "other" cities problems that theyre all collectivly like *suprised pika* for a while at the Signal like dr doof meme "A superhero?" slaps a bat on there "A GOTHAM superhero??" and part of the problem for gotham is that duke is just so damn charismatic and good at interacting with the public/rallying people (hes a born leader what can i say) that its about an hour into his debut before everyone thinks to themselves yeah alright hes ours now.

i think in this au We Are Robin still happened but now its like a game of we are signal within the batclan, there's some mixed feelings about everything getting attributed to The Signal for sure, Dick's already drafting up his daytime-sona Discowing 2, Red Hood has never been underground lmao just.... largely considered a rogue and he kinda never changed anyone's mind about it (i have a draft of an interview with the red hood in this au heheheh), the batman? batgirl? batwoman? lmao do you also believe in mothman? robin was a bunch of kids playing crime fighter lmao

anyway i think bruce makes duke wait till he's 18 to join the justice league, making Signal officially Gotham's Favorite Son right up there with other gotham specific celebrities that Wayne Industries guy

bruce 100% buys signal merch lets be real, he's so fucking proud, the rest of the kids (read dick and jason) are trying to make their own bootleg merch to give to bruce for variety but i think it would be super funny if bruce wayne's signal mug becomes like a perminate fixture of his instagram or smth

au where the bats manage to stay urban legends, sure other heroes know of them, but they help largely from the shadows, they aren't put on display and they're hardly known at All outside of the strange circle of gotham's goons

that changes when duke thomas stares batman down and says on no uncertain terms that he's working day shift

the signal is Gotham's first confirmed superhero, and he wears a bat on his chest

social media goes Wild fighting over whether the Batman existed all along or if someone finally got the tech and powers to make the bat (or a bat) Real

suddenly the world of superheros feels a lot more real to the citizens of Gotham who got used to horrible disasters being either ignored or neatly cleaned away from the public eye, now there's a guy getting thrown through windows and helping grannies cross the street and the war between gotham and metropolis gets even more cut throat

[songbirdsandsugar-moved]

Y’all….

Maybe I’m reading too much into it, but one of the other servers told me and the hot server that we’re a lot alike. He said “y’all have the same energy, same vibes, shared interests.”

I started laughing and was like “what shared interests do we have?”

He said, “that’s for y’all to figure out.”

Is he trying to set us up???

[squiddy-god]

HSR men and manhandling

Manhandling HCS pt one?

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Ok so this is actually just because i have lust in my heart lmao- this came to me in a dream so buckle up, i am definitely willing to do more characters because i have thoughts- reminder that i often write smut from an afab perspective but that its gn! Because i am a trans man so ftm reader you guys are my faves <3 this is for everyone tho. These are lowkey long-

♥︎REQUEST ARE OPEN ♥︎

ARGENTI, BOOTHILL, DR RATIO, JING YUAN 

Cw: smut, suggestive content to just straight smut, man handling,dom!/top characters. Established relationship, biting, no pronouns (afab anatomy), implied chubby/bigger reader, PDA, slight exhibitionism, mentions of bath sex,mentions of oral (m & f receiving)  Description of touching hair (no texture described), aftercare is given even if not fully described  i have so many thoughts 

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Argenti 

Ok hear me out-

He doesn't do it on purpose, argenti to his core is a gentle lover

But he's a knight of beauty and quite strong, throwing around a huge spear as if it was nothing, effortlessly defeating monsters in his pursuit of beauty

And until you, he traveled alone, you are truly a blessing from Idrila and who is he to refuse such a blessing. 

Argenti naturally just waxes poetry to everyone and everything, it ramps up with you, it's more tender and loving. The other thing is that he's more physical, kissing a lock of your hair, the back of your hands, embracing you, dancing with you etc. this is where the problems is (its not a problem i NEED this man)

Argenti doesn't often show physical affection with anyone besides his beloved (you) so he sometimes forgets his strength, and while he could NEVER dream of handling you in any way except with tender care and the touch of a gentleman 

He ends up manhandling you. 

Argenti also loves you with everything, sex is special, its connection, it is devotion 

And he is DEVOTED 

Gently grasping your hand and waist to pull you into his embrace simply so he can admire you? The force is enough to (literally) almost sweep you off your feet

Drawing your body close to his, the music drowning out the noise you make as he moves you to dance with him. 

It's like you weigh nothing to him, he can simply move you however he wants.

Often sweeps you off your feet because he forgets that most can't just sweep you into one arm while the other cradles your face. 

What's hot about it is that he is literally manhandling you with such a tender expression you almost forget the way his hands grip your hips as if argenti is trying to commit the feeling of your plush body to his memory (he is) 

Argenti is a giver in the bedroom, but the manhandling continues 

Asks before he does literally anything- can he move your hips up? Can he kiss you? What do you need from him? 

But once he has your consent on permission THIS MAN FOLD YOU IN HALF

If he's giving you head/eating you out? Consider your legs PINNED DOWN, once you tell him that he can finally have a taste he is dragging you across the soft sheets of his bed and DIVORCING your legs. 

His favorite position for eating you out is him sitting on the bed with your legs slung over his shoulders and a bruising grip on your hips and thighs holding you up like its nothing, he likes it because it makes it so easy for you to look up at him while he maintains the most loving eye contact you have ever received. 

Back to Argenti folding you in half- he will be balls deep in you panting and huffing while he's practically slamming into you, his hands grabbing at any part of you he can reach, tummy, thighs, love handles- anything. He let out a breathy moan asking to move you “just a bit” and when you nod your head with a whine he's dragging you closer and throwing one leg over shoulder before leaning down to ask for a kiss, practically pressing your knee to your shoulder. 

Always is so shocked at how sore you are despite the fact he was bending and folding you like origami- he truly doesn't realize just how much he throws you around.  

Boothill

It wasn't intentional…at first

Once he realizes just how much he man handles you (and how hot and bothered it gets you) it is 100% intentional 

He is a menace and is unashamed of anything

His metal body is a lot stronger than a human body is so there is a lot more that he can do

Boothill is unashamed, he dosn’t give a fuge who sees, in fact- a more possessive side of him is very happy to see the the stares he garners with his hands around your waist practically dragging you along with his long strides

Boothill’s two favorite activities include pulling you towards him by the waist, and holding you there when you try to squirm away as he bites and nibbles your cheeks

Traveling with boothill is dangerous so shootouts with ipc and any other bounties he's hunting aren't uncommon, neither are hasty escapes where he hoists you up and slings you over his shoulder like a bag of potatoes

Honestly him throwing you over his shoulder isn't uncommon even if it's not for a hasty escape

Oh the cyborg sees you talking to someone he thinks is getting a little too friendly? He doesn't care how much you protest he is dragging you away 

Back to the shootouts, if he sees your gonna get punched, shot or otherwise harmed he is pulling and pushing you all over the place like a ragdoll after all his reflexes are a lot quicker than yours so 

Another one who likes to dance (did you see those moves) and he’s not even sorry as he pulls you against him to dance, laughing as he moves you. 

The more boothill knows you like being manhandled the more he does it- sometimes it's really just to tease you

Pinning you down in your cair before letting you get up, all while hes laughing at how flustered you get

Boothill’s manhandling isn't so much about folding you in half but more so keeping you there- 

He loves to throw you onto the bed- after he's hauled you off from a far to friendly chap, or a gunfight he will throw you onto the bed as you bounce slightly 

This mostly happens once you are both safe from a bounty or gunfight- artificial adrenaline pumping through the tubes he calls veins and it has him itching to have you 

Pinning your hands above your head and kissing you with a little too much teeth

Dirty lip biter

He bites his lips when he's pissed off (often) and when he kisses you (also often) so you should both invest in chapstick because your lips are bit to high hell by the time boothill pulls away

Big big fan of fucking you against a wall- might as well put this metal bod to work in his opinion, and what a better way to use it than to grab fistfulls of thigh and ass while your legs rest on his cold hips? 

Its perfect because he only needs one arm to hold you up, the other free to roam and pinch where he wants 

Chronic ass slapper

If he sees an opportunity to smack your ass he. Is. taking. It. 

You alway know because you hear the clink of his boots and the accessories against him and the loud wolf whistle he lets out.

Dr.ratio 

The good doctor is somewhat oblivious 

He acknowledges that sometimes he dose move you in a way that would be considered manhandling but is mostly unaware of the effect it has on you

The difference with ratio is that so much of  his manhandling is in a domestic way, 

Oh he needs a mug for his tea and you are doing something in front of the counter where the cabinet is? Prepare for a stong hand on you waist and he moves you to the side like you are little to no obstacle

Oh you are getting swept up in the crowd? Fear not for veritas places a hand on the small of your back to guide you with him as he practically cuts through the crowds. Really its more of pushing you but really whos complaining?

Personally i am a fan of men who are closet/secret FREAKS and veritas ratio is a freak

I think hes rather possessive in the sense that while he is wholly confident and secure in himself and you- afterall why would you leave him for some idiot 

It is a small irrational feeling that plays into the fact he is quick to annoyance and anger 

The temper of the dr is well know tho very rarely directed at you 

It is moment like this that hes more hands, his hand a death grip on your shoulder or the plush softness of your waist as his words cut harshly to the person getting to friendly 

You are HIS idiot (affectionate) 

One of the best (read: hottest) things to watch him do is sculpt. I hc that beyond stone and marble ratio also dables in clay and pottery (im bias)

Watching this man wedge clay is an ✨experience ✨, his thick toned arms that flex with earth movement, the way his back is pulled taught and his palms press the clay against the surface.

Hes practically leaning over it and grunting (wedging clay is an arm workout) . I mean how could you not watch that slack jawed wondering when it's your turn? (i'm gonna write suggestive ration on the wheel) 

IN THe BATH?? Not enough ratio bath sex in my life tbh but this man is aughhhhhh

Ratio likes his baths, warm relaxing water and a good book? Perfect 100 points. Having you with your back pressed against his chest? Extra credit 

Dr ratios love languages are info dumping and acts of service change my mind. He likes to be useful, a deep seeded need to help people, and especially you. He likes to wash you in the bath, from washing your hair to scrubbing you clean he wants to help so just relax into putty in his arms 

He doesn't hesitate to turn and maneuver you however he needs to scrub and clean you and he manhandles you because you're a bit slippery. His grip is more firm (when is it not?) 

One thing he does slightly unintentionally is turning your face/head to face him/look him in the eyes. His hands grab your jaw or squish your cheeks as he turns you to look at him making sure you are paying 100% attention 

Same with kisses, a firm hand at the nape of the neck pressing you further into him. 

Guess what? Its your turn because this touch starved man is grabby it isnt a want he needs to be grabign at anything he can rach his hands practically kneading your soft flesh while you get flipped and folded. 

This man is a dr…he knows all the angles that make you writhe and he intends to exploit them even if he has to pull out and fold you in half before pushing himself back in 

Big fan of pressing down while kneading your stomach right where he knows his cock is so deep inside you 

Jing yuan 

The lazy general 100% dose it on purpose, hiding behind that warm grin despite his actions 

Most of the time he is very gentle, but there are times when his work becomes rather taxing and he needs a small break 

The small break being waiting for you to walk close enough only for his strong arms to wrap around you and pull you down into his lap where you will NOT be leaving 

This is his main form of man handling, pulling you into his lap and holding you in his iron grip

Big fan of naps and he will often pull you into the optimal sleeping/cuddle position whenever he gets the chance to

Oh your arm is falling asleep? Don't worry he just picks you up and maneuvers you to basically lay on top of him

He lights the weight of your body, his very own weighted and heated blanket 

He plays the fool but there is a distinct twinkle in his golden eyes when he sees the way you grow flustered whining about how your in his office and-

But it doesn't matter to him because he needs this- so just stay in his lap a little longer 

He's even worse in bed- his work keeps him busy so he feel that he needs to compensate by absolutely rocking your world

Really it depends on the time of day- ironically you get manhandled more in the mornings when he wakes up hard and absolutely aching for you

In the mornings when you are both still sleepy he drags you closer to him, kissing up your shoulder and neck until he has you begging for him in that morning voice he finds so irresistible, 

Wastes no time spooning you, letting out a groan as he slides inside you and rocks you against him- his hands have a firm bruising grip on your hips as he rocks you against him with force 

One hand remains on your hip to keep up the punishing pace while the other holds your jaw so you twist to kiss him- and he cant get enough, he slams you back against him rougher and rougher until you are both satisfied and he is all but forced out of your shared bed. 

The second is at night when he has you on top of him, riding him while his hands grab your ass and thighs, throwing your weight around while he looks up at you with the same lazy grin he always has

As if he isn't bouncing you along his length just waiting for you to stutter from the burn in your legs- all an excuse to pick you up and pin you back against the bed under him- 

All an excuse to be able to leave open mouth kisses against your skin while he has his fill of your pillowy softness 

In summary he knows exactly what he's doing and he knows exactly how riled up you get when he uses just a little of his strength on you. 

Don't let the drowsy grin on his face fool you. Menace through and though 

[duck-in-a-spaceship]

The Inherent Violence of English Class

Went to another open mic last night, and read this fun little piece of prose poetry. It was dramatic enough that the old ladies in the front kept gasping at all the gore-y bits, which is about as glowing as a review as I could ever want.

This is a poem about poetry, English class, flies and, most importantly, dissecting great American poet Walt Whitman.

Word Count: 629

Content Warning: Dissection, mild gore, implied death

+++

Textbooks open to page 35.

Walt Whitman lies before me, splayed on a wooden table

Like a frog prepared for dissection

Limbs pulled back, skin pinned down

Eyes empty and glassy

They eat the sunlight streaming through the windows, instead of reflecting it back

"Do not look"

A voice instructs me

My head jerks up

To meet the face in front of me

It is thin and leathery, too little skin stretched over too much skeleton, worn strong like windswept cliffs

"Not like that, not there."

My teacher continues, tapping rubbery skin with the tip of my scalpel

She says simply

"Cut"

We cut

Blades split the wall of the small intestine, parting the tube down the center

"Oh me! Oh life! of the questions of these recurring"

There are flies still caught in the folds of the tissue, half-digested. If I squint, I can make out the words in their wings.

‘Oh lonely walks and words traced over in desks and pens taken apart and reassembled, over and over again’

"Take those out."

I notice that Miss has eyes like Walt Whitman- like the frog laid out in front of me. Drained of life and void of emotion.

I wonder if there would be flies in her stomach,

If I pulled back the skin and pinned it to the table

She walks away smoothly

Heels click on floors splattered with black

Ink spilled like blood

I replace my scalpel with a pair of tweezers

The smell of formaldehyde burns my nose, scrapes at my pores

It is in my lungs

And I fear that if I do not cough it up, it will kill me

I scoop the flies out, and push them to the side.

Their wings rip and tear, dissecting words to syllables to mere letters.

Snippets of alphabet instead of pieces of language

I peer into the space that they left

"Of the endless trains of the faithless, of cities fill'd with the foolish"

That is all.

The hammer strikes against its bell

Hands push papers into folders, zip pencil cases shut, pull tight the straps of backpacks

Shoes rush against the floors splattered with black

Each taking with them a drop of ink

They all fade into nothingness

A hand finds the lights, and flips off the switch

I fade into nothingness

The room is empty, yet I cannot stop breathing formaldehyde

I cannot unspill the splattered ink

I step closer to Walt Whitman

"O me! O life!"

He is glassy eyes that do not see

He is pale skin that does not feel

He is empty veins that cannot bleed

He is an idea of a man

Words without meaning

I hold the poet's face, thumbs resting on his cheekbones

"The question, O me! so sad- recurring- What good amid these, O me, O life?"

My fingers dig into the bottom folds of his eyelids

They press, and press, and press

They pop

I hold the eyes of Walt Whitman in my hands

They clink together like marbles,

Like the toys of children on a cool autumn evening

They hold that autumn air, cold and glassy

I cup my hands and lift them to my mouth, so that my breaths fog their surface, and I may polish them shiny and slick

So I may warm that cold center

So I may see my reflection through colored irises and blackened pupils

‘Oh poems scribbled in notebooks and ink-stained hands and tear-soaked optic nerves’

I tuck the marbles away, and push open the door

Walt Whitman sits in my pocket

"That the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse"

Oh ink splattered on the floor

Oh broken words abandoned on the wings of flies

Oh English textbooks, closed and tucked into bags

[thegreatyin]

YEAH YEAH YEAH!!!!! like. the fact that it has a blackboard specifically for bat meetings and it can flawlessly write with both hands and its christmas gift is discarded pens that still contain Eldritch Secrets and in general it just. has such a strong personality outside of solely being "the mute one". it's great.

while on the topic of iron posting. a very small very insignificant thing that i really enjoy is that nobody really harasses it for not speaking. and like. we don't know precisely why it doesn't speak. it could be because it's mute, it could be due to an unseen injury, it could just be a selective choice, it could be that it never bothered to learn human language to begin with, etc etc. but there's never been a scene (at least as far as i can recall) where mr iron is specifically called out or pressured or anything of the sort. not even by its own haters 4 haters coworkers. and yeah this is realistically probably because its an ESPECIALLY deadly space bat that could kill you six ways from sunday if you pissed it off, but also, y'know, sometimes it's really nice just having a mute character that's treated Normally for once

[brynnewithane]

[Dating Hoshina Headcanons]

Absolutely no one asked but this is how I imagine dating Hoshina would look like:

This post is based on my personal research and officially published information about Hoshina up to Chapter 110. Please read this with a giant grain of salt.

If he has a half day off:

Casual coffee dates, talk about anything and everything.

Walk in the park while he’s still wearing his tracksuit so he can respond quickly to Kaiju’s attacks.

Takes you to all the bookstores or libraries, buy books for each other then go home and read each other’s book.

Late night Izakaya date when his shift is finished. Both grab a beer and you’ll listen to him telling you about how his day went, including all the drama at work of course lol.

Spend a lot of quality time together reading, discussing a book he has recommended (probably non-fiction or classics).

I also love the idea that he likes to take you to every Japanese Festival like the Kyoto Gion Matsuri (Kyoto is in the Kansai region; he’s from a traditional old-money clan in the Kansai region, so this festival is a must), but he’d probably be on duty those days for extra vigilance in case there’s an attack. Despite so, he’s gonna make it up to you later on bc this man does have a sense of loyalty and he cares a whole lot once you make it to his heart and earn his trust.

Another headcanon of mine is that he‘s lowkey romantic. Like c’mon, he reads poetry lmao. I’ve never seen someone who reads poetry that doesn’t have a romantic side. If he’s off duty, he’d plan a proper date, such as:

Watches the Blossom Forecast to plan for a Hanami picnic (花���, hanami, "flower viewing") when Spring comes. He’ll bring sweets like Dango, Daifuku, and his favorite Mont Blanc.

Takes you to those kimono retailers, makes you try on different types of kimono, and buy the one you like most.

He’d take you to the beach, or onsen on some mountains. He’d ask you to go on a hike with him in the early morning bc that’s his routine and he wants you to join him as well.

He’ll prepare a yukata for both to attend summer festivals, buy sparklers (線香花火, senkou hanabi), play goldfish scooping (金魚すくい, kingyo sukui), eat candied apples and watch fireworks together.

Chilling in his house, drinking ramune and eating watermelon. You watch your favorite show, he reads his newly bought novel. Either you both cook and prepare dinner, or head out to a rather fancy traditional restaurant.

English is not my first language so my grammar isn’t grammaring sometimes. If there are any parts that feel weird or unnatural, please let me know🤧

[almightygremlinblob]

I LOVED UR SUKUNA HEADCANONS. I know you said he falls hard and takes time to accept his own feelings BUT do you think he would court the person he's interested in? like heian era style and all? I also think it's very nice you added the part where he writes poetry and that he'd use his skills to gift things to someone he loves. I think a lot of people forget he's also a poetry lover and poet himself.

Haha, I'm not taking 50 million years to answer an ask this time yeeey - AHEM.

AAA I'm so happy you liked them dude (gender!neutral).

Ok! Romantic Sukuna x Reader talk. So for those that don't wanna see this, just scroll past and have a lovely day/night/noon! 🫶🏽

Oh, ABSOLUTELY he'd court the person he likes! Although, when he'd court you, I feel like it would be with gestures or things that are small and actually MEANINGFUL to you - something that shows you he CARES and how much more beautiful you make his world. Oh, like, you know...things he doesn't realize can be considered courting cuz DENIAL 😀👍🏽

(At least it can be seen like that for someone with his status as a feared god, anyways.)

Like cooking for both you and him (and my LORD is his cooking GODLY tho - right up there with Uraume) more often, encouraging you when you're feeling down/upset (but in a cold and stern way that's, ehh...not very comforting tbh), making off hand compliments, letting you touch him in nonsexual ways, getting protective around you with other ppl, gifts that remind him of you AND are valuable to you, and other things like that.

If you're lucky enough to come across his sketchbook or his journal of failed poetry - you'll find half finished sketches and paintings of you, and unfinished poems about you there; comparing you to things like the refreshing sight of spring after winter, the warmth of gentle sunlight at dawn, the comfort of a well cooked meal. All of them unfinished because he failed to capture how he sees you, or how you make him feel. MANS IS WHIPPED. Don't test your luck going thru his stuff tho, homie (gender!neutral).

Ugh I could go ONNNN about this - maybe I should write a fic instead????

...

.....

.......

CARRYING YOU WHEN YOU'RE TIRED ASKFDKLSK- 😩😩😩😩😩

Ok that part is super OOC - even for a Sukuna x Reader but, ya know, we can dream LMAO.

[coffeeandcalligraphy]

any other autistic ppl ever grieve a little when you “feel” a hyperfixation sort of… fading… or…?

[psychewritesbs]

Chapter 236: Go South—JJK is generational

Gosh. Can we pleeeease just like... have a moment of silence for the one and only...THE Man, Gojo Satoru.

Ok, time's up.

Moving on.

Word vomit under the cut.

The process of reading this chapter was a very interesting one this week because the fandom got really noisy as soon as the leaks dropped.

Between allegations of bad writing and the utter sense of grief Gojo fans were expressing, it was quite the 💩 storm.

And then the actual scanlations started dropping, and little by little they replaced most of the noise with the utter sense of calm and peace and satisfaction that Gojo felt in his last moments in this plane of existence.

I gotta say that I just absolutely loved how Gege depicted those emotions (outside of Gojo's "dream") through shots of the devastated Shinjuku district.

The remnants of the battle of The Strongest, as if the landscape and the buildings themselves represented the end of an era, the devastation of the structure of Jujutsu society itself.

After all, as The Strongest sorcerer in the modern era, Gojo represented the very system he was trying to destroy.

Gege loves his irony.

Now, I would normally say that the words in the speech bubbles are superfluous because Gege creates such a beautiful atmosphere through the setting alone. But it is the words themselves that re-contextualize not just the battle, but also shed more light on Sukuna's interest in Megumi, which I feel we haven't seen the extent of what he had in mind.

Now I'm hoping this isn't a dream

Listen, I must admit I've never cared for Gojo.

I don't hate him, I don't love him, I simply never really cared for him.

That, of course, changed with this chapter.

And it is perhaps Gojo's death that really solidified in my mind the idea that one of the underlying themes in jjk is... dun dun dun... DEATH.

Yeah, I know. Sue me, I'm late to the party lmao.

But it's not just death itself that is a theme, but rather the face we put on when death comes knocking at the door.

There aren't many things that we can be certain of in this life, but death is one of them. So how we confront death and our mortality shapes the sense of self.

I know a lot of people were dissatisfied with the transition from 235 to 236 and Gege not showing how/when Gojo got slashed in half, but I find the abrupt transition makes sense, and I even dare say was... quite poetic.

For one, now knowing that Gojo knew Sukuna was holding back, a lot of incidents throughout the battle are given new meaning. Like that look of confidence on Gojo's face as he "thinks" he's finally managed to "get through" to Sukuna.

So I have to say that I loved that Gege starts the chapter with Gojo becoming aware that he has died or is dying.

In other words, Sukuna's attack was so sudden that Gojo's next moment of awareness as "Gojo Satoru" is in what we would normally think of as "the light at the end of the tunnel" where he is greeted by people who were of significance to him in his youth.

And can we please just talk about how Geto is the first person he sees when he becomes aware that he is dying?

Please. This is fucking poetry!

Insert keyboard smash.

Screaming in jjk.

Go South

I literally lack the words to explain why I love this whole chapter so much. Which is a lot to say because I am about to word vomit about it. But like...

Again, hindsight is 20/20.

I always thought of the panel above as Geto being jealous of Gojo surpassing him in strength but, in retrospect, I think Geto's disappointment had more to do with Gojo's sense of self over-identifying with the title "the strongest" and how that made him harder to relate to, which is one of the main themes in this chapter. I'll come back to this in a sec.

But first...

Quick depth psych segway. I think I've said this before, but it bears repeating again that an overwhelming sense of self is all ego. There's nothing wrong with ego per se.

The problem is that an over-identification with ego means inherent separateness because, as an organ of the psyche, the ego sense of self is what gives us a separate identity from the collective.

On the other hand, soul/heart (another organ in the psyche) is the principle of relatedness--love, the single energy that can bring us all together as a collective.

But as we already know, the stronger the sorcerer, the more overwhelming the sense of self.

Unfortunately, because an overwhelming sense of self = separateness, this also means the person in question can't relate to others.

And is this not thematically perfect for a sorcerer whose perfected cursed technique was meant to render others unable to "reach him"?

In other words, Gojo saw himself as separate (because he was "The Strongest") and that made it harder for him to relate to others, but only because he self-identified as "The Strongest".

Infinity ∞, in this sense, is also about the self-fulfilling prophecy Gojo was stuck playing out in his life in regards to seeing himself as "The Strongest".

But like a serpent eating its own tail, Gojo came back full circle, and in the moments before his death, learned that what really mattered to him was not strength for the sake of strength, but rather the connections he had fostered with others.

PLEASE. GEGE. WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCKING FUCK?!!!!!!!!!!!

To bring it back to "Satoru became 'The Strongest'"...

I just loved so much that seeing Geto as soon as he becomes aware he's died felt like an encounter that meant Gojo had returned to the person he was before he self-identified as "The Strongest".

But more importantly, Gojo's imagination of himself as back when he was young also speaks both to how much he cherished that period of his life, and to how he was emotionally frozen in time due to his encounter with Toji.

It makes me wonder whether Gojo was afraid of dying alone when Toji almost killed him. So it's almost like what he took away from that battle was that he was always alone, and so he sought to push others away.

The kicker is that he simultaneously feared his existential isolation and yet craved the very source of his fear--human relations.

But in choosing self-preservation, he was a selfish to the very end.

What an idiot (tragically affectionate).

Anyways. How much of this is hc? Someone tell me please 😂. I feel like I went off the deep end in the last few paragraphs.

Like everyone else in this fandom I've lost all objectivity when it comes to Gojo because his departure from the story was truly one of the most heartbreaking moments in jjk.

I understand people's complaints about the "execution," but I think the world-wide phenomena that Gojo's death has spurred speaks to Gege's ability to elicit deeply archetypal emotional responses as a story teller.

With Gojo's death, a part of our own psyche too has died. And what's most significant about this death is that it was, true to Gojo's character, "something that needed to die because it represented the very thing it sought to destroy."

And this would be why I love Gege's writing.

A fitting way for Gojo to go out

I know not everyone agrees, but I really appreciated that he was satisfied and at peace in the very end.

He got his cake (battle to death with Sukuna) and got to eat it too (reconnected with his loved ones).

Sukuna

But we can't talk about Gojo without talking about Sukuna as the one who liberated Gojo from the burden of his existential isolation.

Sukuna gave Gojo a fun battle, but if it weren't because Sukuna figured out how to cut through Gojo's metaphorical defenses by learning to cut through space-time itself--the very fabric of reality, Gojo might not have found his humanity once again.

The outcome of this battle spells out in no uncertain terms how dire the situation is as Sukuna has proven himself to be the uncontested "Strongest".

But in a sense, the end is a new beginning, and this time, there is no light at the end of the tunnel.

JJK is generational

I get the feeling that everyone will remember where they were when this panel dropped.

I was in bed. It was 6 am and Tasokare, my miniature panther, was demanding attention.

A moot was on the way to the gym. They never made it out of the house after seeing the panel.

Another moot was completely avoiding Twitter to avoid leaks, but her brother, who does not even read jjk, saw the panel on Facebook and showed it to her.

Yet another moot was on vacation at the beach.

JJK is generational like that and there's just so much more I can say about this chapter and its implications (like the idea that Sukuna can now cut through space-time, why?! what does he want to get out of this ability?), but I just don't even know what more I can say right now.

Anyways, thanks for reading. I'm looking forward to any thoughts you might have. Just a heads up, I'm very, very slow at replying.

[zzz1gzag]

4ggravate author au where haikaveh are poets who write poems about each other (beefing)

Au dashboard simulator under cut

🪻paradicing-onions Follow

The huge overlap between kaveh fans and mahaseudo fans is so funny because both works require you to memorise random made up words but only mahaseudo writes majority fantasy

🌅 heeyythams-pen Follow

True fans keep dictionaries in their house. Ok but fr though kaveh's so lucky his works are popular because can you imagine reading the words "cynic" or "lonely" for the first time when it's not mainstream

🐺 mahaseudo nym 🔷 Follow

Real

🪻paradicing-onions Follow

HUHHH??? HELLO SIR HALF AN EYE REVEAL???

🌫️ PartiesDyhai Follow

Mahaseudo fans are like victorian gentlemen seeing a hint of ankle

800.4k notes ♥️🔄

💟 Al-almar-will-rise Follow

I cannot reblog this post anymore. Am i blocked? Pls help

900 notes ♥️🔄

❣️ KavehScribbles 🔷 Follow

@mahaseudo-nym @ForestWatching

Thanks for the pottery date!!!! Lobe u smmmmm

Mas would want you to think his first bowl is on purpose but he needs to be exposed for his lies. And witchcraft. He managed to make a whole other bowl by the time we finished painting and it turned out so well until he ruined it

30 060 notes. ♥️🔄

☠️ sea-yar-har-har Follow

The character designs in mausoleum is genuinely! So! Good! But lets not ignore how whenever Mas has to draw a background character as attractive its the exact same face, and its not even according to conventional beauty standards??

This has been going on for a WHILE now the last one is from his superhero comic days

Who is this man lmfao

💌haikaveh-love-letters Follow

Its like when ancient greek sculptures base their sculpture of aphrodite on their lover/j

🌌 marrysoulem Follow

Hey.. hey letters remember this post

💌haikaveh-love-letters

HUHBBWHAT. OH. OH WHAT. WHAT

🌌marrysoulem

🐢 KavehDarling Follow

Guys we shouldnt speculate about his private life. It's kind of weird that people make these jokes about a straight cis man honestly

💌 haikaveh-love-letters

Booooo its pride month throws ball at you

🌌marrysoulem

Like to charge reblog to cast throw rubber ball

#lmao what cis #what straight

600 notes ♥️🔄

🌄 sillyreal Follow

my college textbook is using mausoleum as an analogy for an agriculture concept. To me they are both fantasy tho lmao

#Prof. T is the biggest mausoleum fan real and true

53 notes ♥️🔄

💟 Callingnamber Follow

Honestly i think the fanartist @/seen0 is incredibly problematic, like hes obviously trying to copy Mas' style and his takes on the characters are always awful. Especially Kaveh's characters. If kaveh could see how hard seen0 is butchering his characters he would cry real tears

71 notes ♥️🔄

🤖 KavehSfeather Follow

Ouuu i just got the handwritten manuscript theres so many tidbits kaveh loves us all even the wine spill is a cute doodle

38 notes ♥️🔄

🏜️ haihaikavehh Follow

Alhaithams new analysis video is 50 percent just about kaveh lmao. We get that kaveh's the creator but thats a liiitttleee bit too much to be anything but suspiciously obsessed

🗾PartOfOrmos Follow

Guys hasnt this crack ship gone long enough

🏜️haihaikaveh

Crack?

#literally writing poetry abt each other but ok

6071 notes ♥️🔄

🌠 dorimon8 Follow

Guys can we talk about how people had to spend so much money on Alhaitham's hand written signed manuscript and midway through theres coffee stains and a wine spill??? Rich people befuddle me

9046 notes ♥️🔄

🖼️ KavehScribbles 🔷 Follow

NEW MAUSOLEUM CHAPTER OUT EVERYONE REJOICE

10k notes ♥️🔄

👁️ seen0 Follow

Rereading palace of alcazarzaray on stream and reanalysing Romiet now that we've seen more of his character. :)

New vtuber!! One for forest too :))

97 notes ♥️🔄

🏕️ ForestWatching Follow

Im sure its no big deal, Mas is particular in the way that he would definitely have asked before posting

👁️ seen0 Follow

Seems like you know his personalitree well

87 notes ♥️🔄

Dr.Tighnari Follow

Whats that

7 notes ♥️🔄

[unboundbnha]

“Do you love me?” + Kazuha (I was gonna do Diluc too but that hasn’t happened yet lmao)

“Do you love me?”

The quiet of the night is only broken by your words. Kazuha, next to you, has his arm draped across your body; he’s gently stroking your tummy in a soothing motion — back and forth, back and forth.

“Of course I love you,” he whispers. It’s a confession, a quiet gift that you never asked for. You know if you looked into his eyes right now you’d see his devotion, his loyalty, his obsession reflected back.

“Are you sure?” You ask, just as quiet. Not a cruel question. For once, you’re not trying to hurt him: you’re trying to reason with him.

He’s quiet for half a second before he sits up to face you. By the light of the campfire, his face is only half illuminated, throwing his features into stark relief. It makes him look beautiful. It makes him look like a monster.

“Where’s this coming from?” The hand that was stroking your stomach moves to your hand and clasps it, bringing your knuckles to his lips in a gentle, adoring kiss. “You’re my moon and stars, my love. You’re my Polaris. You are…” he pauses, hesitates — unusual for him, a man of poetry. “You’re everything to me. You’re the force I use to direct my path. You’re true North, my love.”

You don’t break eye contact. You can’t. Not here. “Kazuha…if you loved me…you would let me go.”

Because you’re looking into his eyes, you see the moment it hits him. The moment of ‘ah, I see what this is.’

And it makes you angry. Gods, so, so angry. But you swallow it down, force the ember of burning rage and hate and loathing into your gut where it simmers, waiting to explode. Hopefully it kills him when it does. Maybe it’ll take you too.

“My love…the world isn’t safe. You weren’t meant for it, and it wasn’t meant for you.” He smiles gently, as if to reassure you. To console you. “You were meant to be here. Safe. Safe and happy and loved.”

The ember in your gut forces acid up your throat and it takes all of your strength not to spit in his stupid, cruel face. You wish you were a fire-breathing dragon, maybe, so you could use the boiling heat inside you to hurt him.

You take a breath, though, and cool yourself off. Nothing gets through to Kazuha, but violence does even less. “No, I wasn’t. This isn’t how—“ you pause, helplessly. His carmine eyes are kind, gentle, encouraging you to continue to say your piece but boring into you all the same. And unlike him, it isn’t unusual for you to be lost for words or tongue-tied: just another reason, he’s stated, that you should stay with him. “Kazuha, humans aren’t meant to live like this. Nothing is meant to live in a cage.”

“My love, does this look like a cage?” He laughs softly and gestures to the gorgeous drapery of the night sky around you, speckled with stars. “This is freedom. I’m sharing it with you.”

“But it’s not my choice!”

Your snap echos in the quiet night. You almost regret it: almost.

But not quite. Especially with what he says next.

“Sometimes people can’t make the right choices for themselves,” Kazuha says kindly, and Gods if that isn’t salt in the wound. His eyes speak of endless patience — patience for your little outbursts. Patience for all of it. Patience for all of you.

Always for you.

“That’s why I’m here, love.” He curls back up next to you, entwining your fingers. “To make the right choices for you.”

[blaisenova]

ermmmm like i dunno if you're still doing requests buttt could you do like kustard but it turns to dustard

that dynamic always interested me but i never see much about it :3

anon, has anyone ever told you that you're a genius?

the kustard to dustard pipeline is WOEFULLY UNEXPLORED. WHICH SUCKS BECAUSE IT'S SO FUCKING GOOD. so, naturally, i was REALLY excited when i got this ask. yippie!!! an excuse to write fun fucked up dynamics!!!!!

this one is pretty tame. i can't think of any warnings you might need other than it being like..... long and, obviously, kinda angsty. it's fluffy in the end tho. but that's what you get when you ask me to write i guess LOL

thank you all for the requests btw!! i was NOT expecting so many after the kist fic, but i am pleasantly surprised and am trying to chip away at them as quickly as i can. spat this one out in a few hours, so it might not be my best work, but i'm happy with how it turned out either way :)

as always, the link to this fic on ao3 will be in the reblogs once it's posted, if that's your cup of tea (as it is mine LMAO)

i hope this feeds you well anon. thank you for the ask <3

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was undeniable that the multiverse was an entirely cruel and ruthless place.

Or, at least, that was what Red had wholeheartedly believed up until he’d met his other self, in a universe that was so very unlike his own. A universe where the typical LOVE of any given passerby was nothing higher than 1; where Sans and his brother were kind to one another in public; where there was so little need for the royal guard that the worst Sans got for sneaking off to Grillby’s during his shift was a slap on the wrist. It was difficult to believe that a place like that could exist – that it could be self-sustainable, since, logically, their weakness should have led to their downfall – and even harder to look at it as anything more than a childish fantasy that had yet to find its catch.

Initially, Red hated Sans. 

It felt ridiculous, looking back upon it – in the moments when his head lay in Sans’ lap and gentle fingers traced over his scars like they were poetry written in a language Red had never bothered to learn, and he wondered what Sans saw in him that he hadn’t seen; wondered if this was what it felt like to love himself – but it was the truth. It had taken him a while to understand that the circumstances in which they’d grown were enough to turn them into two different people; that hating Sans wasn’t so much like hating himself, or what he could have been, as he wanted it to be.

Really, Sans was so unsuspecting that Red had been foolish enough to let his guard down, forgetting that then was when feeling was the most liable to appear. 

He hadn’t expected to fall in love with the laugh – genuine, unabashed, and lacking all of the gruffness of his own – of someone whose humour was just as terrible as his own.

He’d been far too blind to realise how incredibly endearing it was for someone to wake up and allow themselves to be bleary and half-asleep, cuddling into his arm without even meaning to, even if it meant opening themselves up to being easily picked off.

In allowing someone into his blindspot that he’d believed to be too weak or foolish to use it against him, he’d failed to remember that it was the softest words that cut the deepest, when they would bleed him dry so tenderly and lovingly that he couldn’t even think to fight against the bloodloss; when, instead, he’d lean into the knife and ask them to twist it. The wound was soul deep, and the soul’s wounds could not be so easily ignored.

Though, it was a small price to pay to hear that raucous laughter over jokes that weren’t even funny. Trivial, really, in comparison to soft smiles and gentle touches that moved slowly just to prove to him how tender the world could really be.

“Earth to Red.”

A soul for a soul; a life for a life. They gave one another all of themselves, promised each other that it was enough, and it was. For once, it was, just to be soft.

“Come in, Red.”

There was gentleness in the multiverse, hidden until it was allowed in.

Tiredly, he bat away the hand that waved in front of his sockets, only to grab it by the wrist and pull it back down, firmly, on the crown of his skull. With a laugh, the fingers scratched gentle circles into the bone, and Red hummed happily at the feeling, allowing his sockets to slip shut as he lay against Sans’ legs.

“Where’d you go, space cadet?”

“Nowhere,” he grumbled, sighing softly as he fully relaxed into the touch. “Must’ve dozed off.”

Again, there was that laugh, and Red’s soul fluttered. “With your eyes open?”

“It’s a little known talent of mine,” he hummed.

“Gee, must be handy,” came the response, and amusement never sounded so beautiful. “You’ll have to teach me sometime.”

“Nuh uh,” and he couldn’t stop himself from snorting. “It’s genetic.”

“Ah, damn. Guess we gotta add that to the list of differences.”

“Guess so.” His breath hitched as the hand on his head trailed downward to cup his cheek. His browbones furrowed, ever so slightly, and he felt himself go tense.

“Hey. Look at me.”

After a moment, Red opened his sockets, and there was no sight more welcome than the face of his lover. Each time he saw him was like the first, and Red drank in each of his features as if they’d disappear at any moment: smooth bone, unmarred by chips and cracks; eyelights that glowed softly in dark sockets, like how he imagined fireflies might; ever present, gentle smile that smoothed away his worries. Oh, to be so untouched by cruelty. He’d do anything to keep it that way.

“‘Sup,” he breathed, and Sans’ smile widened as he snorted.

“‘Sup,” he returned. His thumb ran circles over his cheek, and Red leaned into the touch. “You okay?”

With a snicker, he rolled his eyelights at the question. “Super duper.”

Despite himself, Sans laughed too, but, still, pressed on. “You sure? You were spacing out pretty bad before. Like, way out in deep space,” he emphasised, unnecessarily. “No planets around, just stars. Way beyond our galaxy. Uncharted territory. Where no man has gone before.”

“Alright, alright, I get the picture” Red interrupted, though not without chuckling. “‘M okay. Was just thinking.”

When Sans’ head cocked to the side, Red couldn’t help but grin. “About?”

“Uranus.”

At first, his sockets simply narrowed, confused, then all at once, “Ura– Oh. Alright, perv. Har har.”

But, he was laughing, and Red was, too, like it was the funniest joke in the world despite it not even being funny. Maybe it didn’t matter, if Red was the one to say it; if Sans was the one to laugh. Maybe, then, it could be good, even if it wasn’t, really. The sound of their laughter, something shared and sacred, was what Red imagined it might feel like to hear the birds chirp when the sun rose and turned the sky whatever colours it was supposed to when it drove the night away. He hoped that it was blue, like Sans’ favourite colour, but the pictures in his textbooks were too faded to be sure.

When he tuned back in, the laughter had tapered off.

“You do that a lot, y’know,” Sans noted, almost absentmindedly, and his hands turned back to trailing shapes on Red’s skull.

He grunted at the feeling. “Do what?”

“Go to space,” Sans said, simply. “Or… somewhere else. That I can’t reach.”

Red frowned, closing his sockets to cut off the dull thrum of agony he felt in his soul whenever Sans’ smile didn’t reach his eyes like that. “I do it less than I used to. It used to be better, somewhere else – anywhere else – but ‘m not so sure anymore.”

“Where would you wanna go?” he asked, in a whisper. “If you could go anywhere. Anywhere at all.”

For a moment, Red considered. The answer would have been easy before – the surface, of course. Where Paps and every other monster longed to be – but access to the multiverse had opened up options that he’d never known existed. If he could conceive of a place, it surely existed, somewhere. Any place. Anywhere. Anywhere at all. But, if kindness was so thoroughly hidden, why should he want to look for it anywhere else?

“Think I’d rather just stay here,” he hummed. “With you.”

Maybe he should have questioned the way that Sans’ hands stilled at his answer. Maybe he should have opened his eyes; looked at his face; seen his expression; known what it meant.

But, he didn’t.

“Geez,” Sans breathed, with a laugh that sounded breathless. “My answer feels stupid in comparison.”

“Yeah? What’s yours?”

“Anywhere else. Anywhere at all.”

In hindsight, Red should have known it was too good to last; too good to stay good.

A universe where the typical LOVE of any given passerby was nothing higher than 1; where Sans and his brother were kind to one another in public; where there was so little need for the royal guard that the worst Sans got for sneaking off to Grillby’s during his shift was a slap on the wrist. It was difficult to believe that a place like that could exist – that it could be self-sustainable, since, logically, their weakness should have led to their downfall – and even harder to look at it as anything more than a childish fantasy that had yet to find its catch.

Of course, there was a catch. 

There was always a catch. Every childish fantasy grew tainted with time, like the innocence of children was stripped with age. Every fairy tale book grew weary and old, pages yellowed and frayed. Every picture faded, until you couldn’t be sure whether the sky was blue or grey.

But, you hoped it was blue anyway, and maybe that was your mistake.

It was undeniable that the multiverse was an entirely cruel and ruthless place. That was what Red wholeheartedly believed. Maybe, after all, there was a reason that love and LOVE were spelled the same.

Try as he might, though, Red could not hate him.

It felt ridiculous – in the moments when hands clamped around his neck like a vice, choked by the grip and the grief that came with it, as if the two were one in the same, and they would both cry, both tremble in fear, or fury, or something worse, and Red would think that this was what it was like to hate himself – but it was the truth. It had taken him a while to understand that the circumstances in which they’d changed were enough to turn them into two different people; that hating Dust wasn’t so much like loving himself, or what he could have been, as he wanted it to be.

Really, Red had underestimated Dust as he had been before; had assumed that kindness meant the incapacity for cruelty.

And, in allowing someone into his blindspot that he’d believed to be too weak or foolish to use it against him, he’d failed to remember that it was the softest words that cut the deepest, when they would leave scars so deep that all he could think of was how much he missed the feeling; when he’d search for the knife and throw himself against it. The wound was soul deep, and the soul’s wounds could not be so easily ignored.

Before, he’d thought it was a small price to pay. Trivial, really, in comparison to what he had to gain from it. As if it were a simple transaction as opposed to something living, and breathing, and ever changing; as if he would never have to be the one who was tender; as if that made it anything less valuable.

“Red.”

A soul for a soul; a life for a life. They gave one another all of themselves, promised each other that it was enough, and it was. Just as before, it was. Harsher now, but Dust had taught Red to be soft, and Red would teach him what he’d forgotten.

“Red.”

There was gentleness in the multiverse, hidden until it was allowed in.

With a jolt, he came back to reality to a slap on the face, not hard enough to hurt, but more than enough to be startling. He frowned, but, nonetheless, took his hand by the wrist and guided it to the crown of his skull. Hesitantly, as if spurred on by some muscle memory, the fingers ran in gentle circles across his bone, and Red hummed in approval at the feeling as he lay against Dust’s legs.

“Where’d you go?”

“Nowhere,” he mumbled, unconsciously leaning into the touch. “Must’ve dozed off.”

“With your eyes open,” Dust said, and it wasn’t a question. “Freak.”

Immediately, Red snorted. “Guess we gotta add that to the list of similarities.”

Despite himself, Dust laughed; the sound short, subdued, and nothing like the laugh he’d fallen in love with, but something about it made his soul flutter, nonetheless. “Guess so.”

After a moment, Red opened his sockets. Each time he saw him was like the first, and Red drank in each of his features as if they’d disappear at any moment – as they had before – smooth bone that crackled and buzzed with magic, refusing to be underestimated; eyelights that glowed brightly in dark sockets, like how he imagined neon signs would on a city street in the middle of the night; a face shrouded by shadow, as if it was saved for him alone to see. In the end, he’d been marred by cruelty despite Red’s best efforts, but he was beautiful nonetheless.

“‘Sup,” Dust mumbled, and the edges of his mouth quirked up in an attempt at a smile.

Slowly, Red lifted his hand and, ever so gently, cupped Dust’s cheek, pausing when his breath hitched, but, with the same caution, Dust leaned into the touch; barely enough to be noticed, but Red noticed. This time, he saw. “‘Sup,” he finally returned. “You okay?”

“You’re going to disappear,” Dust whispered, and his voice broke on the words in a way that made Red feel hollowed out. “You’re going to go somewhere else. Somewhere that I can’t reach. Like you do when you go to space. It scares me.”

Browbones furrowed, Red ran gentle circles across his love’s cheek, staying silent as Dust took in a shuddering breath to continue; a quirk Red had grown accustomed to.

“I remember what you told me before,” he said, and his hand came up to desperately hold Red’s to his face, like he might forget it was there if he didn’t make sure. “That you did it because it was better to be somewhere else – anywhere else. Do you want that now? To be somewhere else? Away from me?”

“No,” Red said, and the lack of hesitation in his answer surprised even himself. “I don’t want that.”

Again, Dust’s breath hitched, and he frowned, like the answer wasn’t enough, and, maybe, it wasn’t. His fingers threaded between Red’s, and, when he clutched onto his hand, Red squeezed back, holding him with desperation to match. Dust laughed, a breathless sound. “I’m not the person that you loved.”

Scoffing, Red rolled his eyelights at the notion. “Of course you are.”

“I’m not,” Dust insisted, and something about it was a plea.

“Then,” he breathed, “I love you. This you.”

And, with a breath that was cut off with something that sounded suspiciously like a sob, Dust leaned forward – over Red’s body, as if to trap him – and pressed his chest against Red’s. His ribs fluttered with each breath, and Red guided his stuttering breaths with deep inhales that interlocked their ribs with each one. His hand remained stuck to Dust’s cheek, and he squeezed gently, relieved when Dust squeezed back to let him know he was still here; in this reality, not another.

“Breathe,” Red commanded, soft; soft, like he’d been taught. “I’m here.”

Dust took a heaving breath – deep, frantic, like he’d been drowning – and, in a voice that sounded so much like before – reminding Red once more that this was the person he loved, despite the change – he whispered, “Where would you wanna go? If you could go anywhere. Anywhere at all.”

The question made him sputter, for a moment. Then, with a breathless laugh, “Seriously?”

“Please,” he pleaded, so what could Red do but answer?

The answer would have been easy before – here; here, just like before – but, despite how they fought against it, things had changed. Did that mean his answer had to change? That his longing had to shift, too? The multiverse was infinite. If he could conceive of a place, it surely existed, somewhere. Maybe even somewhere that Sans stayed Sans, but would it be the same? Any place. Anywhere. Anywhere at all. But, if kindness was so thoroughly hidden – had been ripped from Dust’s grasp with the signature ruthlessness of the multiverse – then why shouldn’t Red be it? Like Dust had been for him, before.

“Think I’d like to stay here,” he hummed. “With you. Still.”

And, this time, Red noticed the way that Dust’s breathing slowed to a stop; felt the way that his magic crackled between his joints; how something wet slipped between their fingers on Dust’s cheek; knew what it meant.

“Okay,” Dust whispered.

“What about you? Where would you go?”

There was a pause – a moment as Dust inhaled once more; held Red’s hand tight, but oh, so gentle – before he managed to answer. “Here,” he said. “With you.”

[inamagicalhallucination]

i always find it interesting that aku actually doesnt dismiss higuchi like fanon occasionally portrays, like even in their first intro, after berating higuchi for trying to kill atsushi when they were supposed to bring him in alive, when the tiger's attention shifts towards higuchi, he immediately cuts it in half

and like in 55 minutes when he praises her and when the shell thing happens, he calls out for her (before spouting poetry dramatically about dying lmao)

like its not really romantic in my eyes, but it's also not complete indifference, to some extent aku does care for and value higuchi and they're dynamic is so interesting i wish we talked about it more beyond her crush