#two birds on a wire..

[yeowel]

one who changed, one who stayed the same

[shillenn]

[riaki]

OKAY EVERYONE IS SAYING GOJO DOESN'T DESERVE A HAPPY ENDING YES

BuT what if we could make it a little ANGSTY instead?? 👀 He gets his happy ending. His. Happy ending. You? Well.. Old habits die hard. This is what you wanted after all no? So what if he breaks his promises? What if your smile begins to fade? What if

What you said about later on reader and freckles growing apart cause freckles seemed nice it'd be a shame for him to be an ass

But that it's silly cause the irony is what if that freckle boy.. was just like Gojo but in a different light.

Being as it wasn't him who hurt reader, it was easy to overlook the fact of how similar he was to the old Gojo she knew before it became a shit show

Maybe she realizes that

Maybe she starts thinking

Maybe she drifts apart

And maybe Gojo comforts her but he's the last person she wants to see

Because it's these stupid feelings for Gojo that led her to this hell

And Gojo goes again

And he reels her in

And once he has her

Only to see as her smile begins to fade

As all the effort he had put in when he didn't have her start going away once again

And he starts to fall into old habits becoming the same as he was before, but this time, with you at his hand

As he slowly takes away your smiles again.

But it's okay, he'll make it right. Just...later. and later. And later...

You hope.

sorry I'm not good with angst sorry for any cringe 🤣

this is!! such!!! a good!!!! take!!!!!! on hsbully!gojo!!!!!! tbh this ask speaks for itself lol n dw anon! i rlly love the way u brought it :3 this is highschoolbully!gojo part 592727465527 *suggestive!

yeah. freckles boy isn’t that great of a person. maybe he tried but it didn’t work out; u dunno why but u keep seeing gojo in him— hints of satoru in ur life. like that stinky cologne he thinks is kinda cool but rlly doesn’t smell too good on ur bfs drawer, or the way he takes his coffee. honestly, if u squint, it almost seems like freckle boy is tryna copy gojo in a way…? but u don’t like thinkin abt him so u don’t blink an eye.

fast forward u broke up with freckle boy because something or other; the point is, u really didn’t feel anything with him. there might’ve been a spark, but it was really only artificial and had no wind to fan the flames. and since u got together gojo’s been distant; his smile seems dimmer and there’s always this faraway; foggy look that makes the brilliant azure of his eyes seem cloudy gray. but then ur catching up with him again and at some random frat party you get drunk and ur sense is inhibited and— u end up kissing gojo… oops.

so then u kinda enter this fwb state with him. and.. he’s pretty cool, right? he’s kinda evrything u want in a guy— tall, pretty, cool, strong, handsome, charming— it’s a package deal. but there’s also this… rift, between the two of you. see, ever since gojo lost u the first time, he’s always been so scared of pushing u away. so u stay fwb because he doesn’t wanna lose u again in case he’s feelin more than you are. but his heart doesn’t skip a beat when he sleeps with other girls and his chest doesn’t tighten like it does with u when he gets mouthfuls of fruity gloss from kissing other girls. but he forces himself to keep this wall up between the two of u because he just can’t risk losing you a third time.

it sucks for u too, though! gojo’s just a bit too dense to see it. whether it’s in his own nature, or he’s faking it. it’s probably the latter, but that’d mean he’s not being genuine again, n you don’t wanna think about it. but you’re gettin comfy with him and so is he, and you really do whole heartedly believe he’s changed this time, and for good. and it’s true! he has. but not in the way you thought. apparently, he’s exchanged being an ass with an unreachable ego to a pinch more genuine, but still an ass. it’s proved when u get to his apartment one rainy day ready to spend the weekend w/ him for a study date, but there’s clothes on the floor. dresses n stockings and a frilly blouse that you definitely think (or hope) don’t belong to gojo. unfortunately, your suspicions are confirmed when you lay eyes on the tangle of people on his bedroom through the crack in the door— this time, it’s your turn to run in a hurry. turns out, he got comfortable with you— all in the wrong way, thinking it’d be okay to sleep around. except he gives chase— after pulling on a pair of pants, of course.

eventually he catches up to you; you hate those stupidly long legs. catches your wrist and forces you to face him. in front of a chick fil a, nonetheless. he gets an overwhelming sense of deja vu— but he’s forcibly snapped out of it when je realizes you’re crying. and damn, you look gorgeous, and he wishes it would rain because the sunlight falls around you like liquid gold, framing your pretty face and reflecting prisms of rainbow in your tears.

once again, he doesn’t get it. why are you crying? it’s not like you were really serious or labeled, right…? and the entire reason you’d stayed that way was to avoid somethin like this. but gojo slowly comes to the realization that he’s fucked up big time— he has been since day 1. really, he should’ve found somebody cheaper to chase— you stole his heart and his pride, making him awkwardly and stiffly apologize to you in front of a fast food restaurant on some random crossing next to a train station. it’s only tense because he doesn’t really know how to apologize— he doesn’t have much experience with it, and for that he blames his ego.

but even so, he’s not ready for those big, sappy love confessions yet. you always made him feel so weird— correction: you still do. so you walk away somewhere between fwb and strangers. it’s always one step forward and two steps back with gojo. but maybe, just maybe— he can slowly rebuild your trust with some patience, empathy, and a lot of genuine love that he’s yet to realize he’s been nursing in his heart for you since the first time he laid eyes on you.

paaaaaaart one

[zkyeline]

🎶🐦‍⬛

[shrugsinchinese]

Birds of a feather

[radioiaci]

▹@infernal-blaze

Bursts of creative energy tickle along the points of his clawed digits, invested solely in the piece that echoes throughout his room and well beyond into the illusory bayou that he looks out to. Somewhere within, the shadowy visages of his two gators bellow as if joining the loud, sonorous song that emanates from the piano he's sat himself at. Atop it, the liquid that remains in a well-tended-to bottle of whiskey sloshes with the vibration of each key that is pressed, Alastor's ears giving similar little tremors as he indulges in the concentration needed to ensure that even in his very inebriated state, he does not miss a single note.

It is strange how he can fixate on one thing and not another. His mind is blissfully empty, for the time being. Filled entirely with the steady warmth of the alcohol he's imbibed and the memorized melody that he hammers out with relative abandon. It is a good thing he does not have any neighbors in the immediate hall which he's found his room.

Otherwise, they might not appreciate Symphony No. 3 in F Major by Brahms as much as he presently is, his eyes slid shut to further slip away into the music with lack of awareness to the fact that his radio - devoid of any present music being played - is crackling with his own energy; feeding off of how his own soul swells with each lift and fall of the tune.

He is not in a poor mood, though he is not intending to stop drinking any time soon. Not if he can get away with playing away at his piano for several more hours yet. With shirt unbuttoned, tie undone entirely, and sleeves rolled up to the elbows, he is in no state for present company.

Though that typically does not stop the thing from happening anyway.

[ehluuhnee]

my comfort ship,obamitsu. 🤍🖤🐍🍡💓✨(art by me)

One says Come on,

and the other says,

“I’m tired.”

#obamitsu #obanaiiguro #obanai #iguro #obanaixmitsuri #kny #canon #mitsuri #mitsurikanroji #kanroji #twobirdsofafeather #comfortship #comfort #demonslayer

[billygoat26]

I remember the EXACT VIDEO that I first heard Two Birds On a Wire on.

THE EXACT FUCKING VIDEO

So like, I was deep into the Undertale fandom, looking into the AU’s and Dreamtale

Animation memes were the shit for me back then

So the one I saw made me sob

(I was an emotional little shit then lol)

Anyways, I remember this video so ridiculously clearly. Watch it if you haven’t already. It’s really damn good.

[dreamzghostz]

Two birds of a feather

Say that they're always

Gonna stay together

But one's never going

To let go of that wire

He says that he will

But, he's just a liar

[juoreze]

He has absolutely no issues whatsoever

[confuzzled-crow77]

What Could’ve Been… (JJK Fix-It Fic)

Synopsis: What if Gojo and Shoko had noticed Geto spiralling? What if their blue spring ended but they still stayed together, even in summer?

A/N: This fic is completely based off of @ziyuanyuan1113 artwork; every scene is from it, so please check it out - I hope I did it justice! I haven't emotionally recovered from Jujutsu Kaisen and I doubt I ever will, but in the meantime, here's this in a feeble attempt to erase it from memory! :')

Word Count: 2.7k

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“You should go first, Gojo.” 

The young man - boy, really - turned with his hand still on the doorknob and raised a skeptical eyebrow at his peer, teammate, and friend over the rim of his shades. Shoko crossed her arms and leaned against the wall, returning the pointed look without an ounce of humor. “You sure?” He asked with a small grin, but he didn’t try the doorknob. 

Would Geto come to the door? 

Would he open it with a smile and a quick knab at the bag he was holding? 

Gojo wished Shoko hadn’t told him about Geto’s less than stellar physical checkup results in a dark alley behind the school like it was top secret information. Every little nagging thing he’d grasped in the few days they’d been able to see each other had rushed back in a new light. 

What about Geto letting his hair fall in stringy clumps? There’s really no reason for him to keep it in a tight knot all the time. 

So what if he's more tired; they’re growing up and getting older, of course the missions are tougher. 

But Shoko had blown her cigarette smoke to the side and scowled lightly and Gojo thought for the first time that maybe there was something his Six Eyes had missed. 

“I’m sure.” Shoko nodded toward the door, urging him on. 

He sighed dramatically and turned the knob. 

It wasn’t locked. The door opened smoothly into a dark room; the light from the hallway poured inside, casting a thick bar on the wooden planks and dirty clothes. Gojo leaned his lanky frame on the door and peeked in; the heavy plastic shopping bag hanging from his middle and ring finger spun back and forth, clanking against the door like a bell. 

“Suguruuuu?” He called. 

Nothing stirred. The window blinds were shut air-tight. The nightstand beside the bed, piled high with covers, was cluttered. Everything seemed so… dead. He glanced over his shoulder at Shoko. She shrugged. He shrugged back. 

“Suguru?” Gojo hissed again. 

The mountain of blankets shifted the slightest bit, and he almost laughed. He propped himself off the door and skipped toward the bed. Suguru Geto’s inky black hair was splayed in a messy starburst over his pillow. 

“You awake?” Gojo whispered noisily, cupping his hands to his mouth. No matter how much he hopped up or scooted to the side, he couldn’t see a glimpse of his best friend’s face. “Pretty dark and gloomy in here, don’t cha think?” He stretched over the bed, his fingers grasping for the blinds’ chain. He precariously balanced on his tip-toes until he gripped it, almost ripping the blinds from their hinges as they snapped open. 

Noonday sunlight softened the room but fell like daggers on Suguru’s blanket-massed form. The man rolled around from facing the wall to shield his eyes from the window’s view, but was met with Gojo’s victorious pose.

“There he is! Shoko said you’ve lost a bit of weight, so I brought over some healthy, filling food to help: cookies, soda, and spicy chips!” Gojo tossed the bag from hand to hand as he spoke, pushing up his ridiculously round glasses at the end like he’d said something tremendous. Geto said nothing. 

Gojo’s arm holding out the bag slowly lowered as the silence stretched. He frowned at the eyebags Shoko had mentioned. He grimaced at the greasy hair and dead stare. His eyes wandered from Geto’s blank face and drifted to the nightstand; the picture frame had fallen - or maybe Geto had set it down. 

Why? 

Shoko poked her head in and passed through silently. As Gojo stared at the face-down picture frame and then to his friend, she kicked the dirty clothes into her arms and disappeared into the back of the room. 

Gojo blinked twice before the brilliant grin flashed back on his face; he pointed finger guns at the small mountain range of blankets. “Sugrrito. Burrigu. Sugrrigu. Burrigito… nothing?” His finger guns died too as he set the bag of soda cans and sweets on the ground with a clatter. The strongest sorcerer of the modern age sank to the floor and rested his head on the bed, right in front of Geto’s face, as if admitting defeat. 

For the first time, Geto spoke. “Nothing for now, Satoru.” His voice cracked a little from disuse and exhaustion; as if mocking his tired eyes and Gojo’s frown, he smiled in what was supposed to be a reassuring way. Gojo didn’t need the Six Eyes to see through it. “I’m fine, y-” 

“You’ve somehow risen to another level of bullshit than before,” Gojo muttered. He instinctively brushed some of the black tendrils of hair from Geto’s face, pushing them and the covers back over Geto’s shoulder. Now the sunlight streaming through the window reached his friend’s face and he could see whatever color remained in the inky depths of his eyes. Now, he really saw the long lines, the sickly paleness, the tiredness that oozed from every pore. 

How did I not notice this? 

Gojo’s fingers drifted from Geto’s shoulder to his arm, down to his hand that rested under his chin. He gripped it tightly, as if it would wake him up; if it did, if it would, he’d never activate Infinity again - there would never be endless space between them. Never. “What’s wrong? Tell me and I- we can fix it before… dinner. Before lunch. We always do.” Geto met Gojo’s eyes; twin slivers of aquamarine above the new moons of his shades. The gold light reflected in the jewel blue like the setting sun on the vast sea: too deep, too far. 

“Not always.” He still said it with that determined, warm, fake smile as if giving up were a beautiful thing. Gojo could almost believe it was, but he didn’t smile back; he leaned in even closer, his eyes wide and almost soft. 

“So that’s what this is. Last year’s mission. Riko and… whatever.” 

Geto shook his head the slightest bit. “It’s not just that, Satoru. What are we protecting as sorcerers?” Gojo didn’t answer in the pause that followed. 

If you don’t know, I don’t know. 

“Crowds that clap for a dead child,” Geto answered for himself. The words were almost sweet; they blended with the yellow light turning Gojo’s pure white hair to cream, weaving in between the soft clinking of dishes as Shoko washed them. The sugary blades sliced whatever was left of Gojo into pieces; that incessant clapping, like a siren that wouldn’t shut off, came to him in the early hours of the morning - he couldn’t remember much besides that of that day: just the clapping. Just the clapping and Suguru telling him that there was no point in making it stop. “The higher ups that use you as a weapon with a pulse. The infinite slog of curses that we’ll never get to the end of.” He looked down and sighed through his nose, still with that sad, small smile. “We can’t fix this by dinner, Satoru.” 

Gojo leaned his cheek on the back of their clasped hands, searching for the eye contact Geto broke. He said nothing for a long while. 

If you don’t know, I don’t know. 

But it was never, ‘If you can’t, I can’t.’ He looked at Geto’s smile and didn’t know how or why. He’d never know how a curse tasted, only the candy he gave his friend after. But Gojo Satoru never doubted for a second that they could turn the world upside down and inside out - one way, or another. 

“Maybe not by dinner,” he murmured with his cheek half smushed. “Maybe not tomorrow or next week. We’ll fix it, though. And if we don’t fix it, we’ll change it.” Geto huffed again, but he squeezed Gojo’s hand back. Now, Satoru had a reason to smile. “It won’t be like this forever; trust me, I’m not busting my ass every day for some mangy old men. Changing the world is a 50-50 split for your sake and mine.” 

That familiar sparkle, just a glint of candlelight off of obsidian but still there, glimmered in Geto’s eyes. He scooched closer. “How will we do it?” 

Gojo shrugged simply. “Don’t know yet. We could level the higher ups into dust, or reveal Jujutsu to the world and make it mandatory for cursed energy control, or maybe start a coup with people we like!” He pitched the silly ideas as just that: silly ideas with a dumb grin. It was a starting point, though. It was, ‘We could… we might…’ “I could even become a teacher, leading the next generation of sorcerers with my awesome lessons and homework assignments!” 

Geto chuckled softly. “That’ll have the higher ups quaking for sure.” 

“Sensei Satoru Gojo? HA!” Shoko cawed in the back, tying up a trash bag. 

Gojo grinned as he shot a glare at her, but quickly crouched back down when Geto squeezed his hand again. “Satoru, I don’t know if I can… go back to how I was before.” Gojo nodded immediately, but his thoughts lagged like an old computer. 

Will his dead eyes stay?

Is he going to leave?

‘No, no,’ he thought as he smiled. ‘Same Suguru, different dream.’ “Okay,” he replied. He didn’t need his Six Eyes to know Geto’s next smile was real. “As long as this Suguru will still eat my spicy food, I have no problem walking beside him throughout Heaven and Earth.” 

“I’m glad.” 

-~-~-

“A good shower and a better bag of chips freshened you up a bit!” Shoko remarked. She tapped her cigarette lightly; the gray ashes flitted down from the windowsill she sat on like shriveled snowflakes. 

Geto huffed a laugh. He sat criss-cross in front of her; his hair was tied up in the normal knot - messy strands fell around his face and it was lopsided, but he didn’t mind. Shoko’s steady hands, adept at crafting cursed energy into new flesh and stitches, couldn’t seem to get the hair tie to work how she wanted it to. It was almost satisfying. 

“I’m worried about Satoru,” he murmured. His eyes followed the gray ashes on their way down to the alley below his room. Noon had lost its peak and the shadows gradually grew and shifted through the window; he didn’t meet the eyes of the buggy cars on the distant highway, nor the gleaming skyline of the city. 

Shoko chuckled lightly as she took another draw of her cigarette. She turned to stare at the view, slowly blowing the smoke out of her mouth in a puff. “He’s just getting take-out, Suguru. I know it’s the universe’s duty to spite whoever says this, but what’s the worst that could happen?” 

“I suppose you’re right.” 

They sat in a comfortable silence, but Shoko didn’t miss how Geto’s eyes never met hers. She doubted that her friend was talking about Gojo terrorizing the poor noodle shop’s workers. 

“Here.” She held out her small box of cigarettes to him. He slid one from the top and slipped it in between two fingers as she sprang a flame from her lighter with a clean whisk. The tip of the cigarette burned like the horizon line during sunset before he pressed it to his lips. “You know,” she started as Geto blew a cloud out the window. “I’m okay with whatever you two idiots do, but if one idiot wanders away from the other and sulks, that’s not really doing anything, is it? It’s just waiting until something breaks, like walking on a fractured bone.” 

Geto sighed through his nose. “Then what should I do, Ireri? Go back to eating popsicles? Play basketball in the gym? Just forget?” He smiled fondly at her, as if she were already a childhood friend moving away. The shadows on half of his face seemed deeper than before, but the smile seemed the same as it had been a year ago. She rolled her eyes and jerked her head to the side at the room. 

“Cleaning your dishes yourself is a start.” She wagged her cigarette at him like a conductor’s wand. “I didn’t say go back to how things were. Just… turn around and go back to your idiot, is all. Then wander off together.” She leaned back on the frame of the window and crossed her arms as Geto mulled over her words. 

“And if the higher ups don’t let me turn around?” Geto’s eyes darkened. No. That wasn’t the problem. “If they don’t let Satoru…” A weapon with a pulse, is he? There is no going back to how things were because everything was always with him. 

Shoko blinked; the cigarette between her fingers sagged. “You’ll have solo missions, Suguru. Satoru will be away, and I’ll be lonely in my little med-den. But…” She groaned dramatically before spitting out, “You two are the most powerful sorcerers of the modern age, so it’ll turn out fine. Bleh, there I said it.” 

Geto chuckled as she stuck out her tongue and gagged. He rubbed the cigarette tip on the windowsill to put it out just as a holler echoed through the alley. 

“See? There he is: in one piece and with Tokyo intact.” Shoko waved back at Gojo who stood triumphantly at the mouth of the alley, holding up the take-out bags. Geto motioned for him to run and watched the white-haired blur streak down the street and barrel through the door to the building. He made to scooch off the windowsill and back inside, but Shoko caught his shoulder. “Suguru, no matter how blue eyed beauty acts, we know this isn’t some little crisis, okay?” 

Geto gently placed his hand over hers and removed it from his shoulder. “Okay.” 

“And we’ll figure this out with more than dramatic battle plans, okay?” 

“Okay.” He squeezed her hand reassuringly. 

“Okay.” She squeezed back and together they climbed inside, just as Gojo kicked open the door.

-~-~-

Suguru snored. For the first time in… weeks, months, since that twisted day, his mind let him rest. 

Perhaps Satoru’s avalanche-worthy gurgling blared above the questions and memories. Maybe it was the presence of his two best friends on either side of him, lying in bed even though the day hadn’t yet been swallowed by night. Maybe it was the noodles and donburi in his stomach, or the empty soda cans rolling the slightest bit, pushed by the cool breeze coming through the open window. Maybe it was the plans for the future. 

Whatever the reason, he slept deeply. He couldn’t see the dawn of a new, better world for sorcerers and non-sorcerers alike with those eyebags, right?

-~-~-

Shoko was slowly being asphyxiated. Geto’s heavy arm laid directly over her chest as if he subconsciously knew she’d attempt to sneak away once he fell asleep. The twittering of evening birds, the echoing voices of people in the alley below, Geto’s snoring, Gojo’s whale mating calls, and the text typing of her phone all blended together into an annoying, homey symphony. 

‘HELP ME…’ To the best of her pinned arms’ ability, she took a selfie of the trio and sent it. 

‘Sorry, I can’t. I’m on a mission with Haibara. Glad to see “the talk” went okay.’ 

Shoko pouted at Nanami’s response. ‘started a plan to overthrow the gov. you’re doing the paperwork.’

‘All of it?’

‘Yes.’ 

‘No, thank you.’ 

‘If you come save me right now, ill vouch for you.’ 

‘I told you, I can’t.’ 

‘Your choice.’ 

‘No.’ 

Shoko glared at her screen. With all her might, she tried to sit up, but Geto’s arm only felt heavier. After a solid fifteen seconds of flailing legs and violent arm punching, she gave up and collapsed back down in defeat. Geto snored on. 

She sighed but smiled as much as she could at his peaceful face. From the corner of her eye, over the even puffs and pushes of her friends’ chests, she could see the picture frame on the nightstand. Someone had sat it upright - whether it was Gojo or Geto didn’t matter much to her - and the setting sun bathed it in gold and orange. The wood frame protected three smiling faces. She wondered for a split second if those smiles still belonged to the three people splayed over one bed. 

She didn’t really care. 

What was that one new song? 

Two idiots on a wire? 

She hummed whatever broken tunes she could remember until Gojo choked on his own spit and Geto startled awake because of it. 

Idiots… 

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[nikkodikko]

Some very fancy ladies

I'm studying victorian fashion for a commission and what better use for my knowledge than to draw the ineffable wives in 1820's attire

Regency fashion my beloved nothing beats a really high waisted dress and some puffy sleeves

[helpmeimblorboing]

“Two birds… on a wire”

“One tries to fly away… and the other”

“Watches him close from that wire”

“Says he wants to as well, but he’s a liar”

“Ill believe it all”

“There’s nothing I won’t understand”

“I’ll believe it all, I won’t let go of your hand”

“Two birds of a feather”

“Say that they’re always gonna be together”

“But one’s never going to let go, of that wire. Says that he will, but he’s just a liar”

[badassitron]

today's au brought to you by SAD MUSICAL SONGS sent to me by @mnemoiisms /@iaconsavior

two birds on a wire. one tries to fly away and the other-

[somuchbetterthanthat]

(Insert disclaimer here that I'm really not trying to judge or decide if there is "one person obviously wrong" in this interaction, because i'm here to enjoy the MESSINESS and the ANGST of humanity, i'm eating the delicious food and drama provided to me)

The thing is, on the one hand, Sam is completely within his right to set that boundary with Alice - not being comfortable talking about his new building relationship with his ex is like, yeah, a very normal thing to be uncomfy about, there is nothing irreasonable about him asking Alice to back off about prying into it, and Alice should be able to respect that;

on the other hand, if they are friends, and they truly seem to be friends (Sam affirms they're friends! And I believe it after the 13 episodes we saw of them!), AND Alice is the one who reached out to help Sam out of a very bad mental (and probably financial, by that point) situation, helping him get a job, then, yeah, the word professional used in that context is NOT the good word to use at all, and obviously Sam realizes that, and obviously that's what really gets to Alice, beyond the new boundary trying to be established.

At the same time, Alice is clearly digging to get more infos and Trying to be the Cool Friend while being somewhat masochistic about it, since by now it's plain to see she does have lingering feelings for Sam, and the way she goes about it is not always nice, so she's hurting both herself and Sam by pushing and pushing about it and not listening to Sam giving them both a out from that.

BUT ALSO, Sam saying "I know you're not happy about me and Celia" means that he knows that she's hurting herself each time she talks about it; means that he KNOWS that she still feels something for him that he doesn't anymore, and that means that this beautiful, warm, sweet, lovable, people-pleaser of a man has been purposefully using those feelings to get her to do something she didn't want to do literally three episodes ago, and with no shame at at all about it.

THE POINT IS. They're so MESSY. They KNOW EACH OTHER SO WELL. They LIKE each other. They're going to have SUCH A BAD FALLOUT ONE DAY AND ITS GOING TO BREAK BOTH THEIR HEARTS (and mine, while i cackle from the pain).

(oh, and yeah: "We dated in uni, I tried to help her after her parents died, then we lost contact" ??? What a summary, Samama. I'm sure NOTHING is hiding behind those lines.)

[radioiaci]

@infernal-blaze ⧐ ❛ i’ve never cared for anyone the way i care for you.❜ - vox ASSORTMENT OF DIALOGUE ASKS.

Committed or not, it is with far too much sentiment that he finds Vox's words striking him somewhere at his core. It is the expression that he's feared before - and perhaps still fears now. As such, Alastor has no immediate response, his gaze shifting elsewhere after the briefest moment of what may read as some sort of shock.

Is he even worthy of such an emotion? Such dedication? Knowing that he has never been capable of returning it in a way that seems to make sense. To him, the art of caring is tantamount to carving a deep well into Vox's torso in which to bury his hands and tenderly cradle the thrumming heart within.

But that is not the thought of someone, something normal.

Alastor still believes that the other overlord is making a mistake. Has held that belief since the early days when the other's interest made the radio demon turn tail and run from it.

The sordid thing now is that he cannot keep himself from feeding into it instead. Not now that he has a taste for Vox's willingness to do for him all manners of things that he knows he does not deserve. And so he does not stop himself from extending a hand to take the other's, bringing those bright claws to his mouth where he can treat them with sincere appreciation.

The act of kissing that hand and those fingers is starkly in contrast with his words.

"You are a fool."

But, he supposes, that has never stopped Vox before.