#yes i also figured out what their cursed techniques would be too

[seasicksilver]

hyperfixation so strong, i put my ocs in jjk

[snapnov4]

marry me | gojo satoru

synopsis: a bad idea disguised as a practical joke turns into something way deeper than you intended it to be.

wc: 1.1k

cw: just good ol fluff!

a/n: happy late birthday to my baby daddy and man of my dreams gojo satoru. i have to marry this man. i have to i have to i have to. anyways. enjoy reading this cute little fic i wrote, meaning i thought abt gojo proposing as a joke and vomited this out. enjoy!

it starts, like all things involving gojo satoru, with a bad idea disguised as a practical joke.

you're sitting across from him, in a restaurant that’s not too fancy, more of a family-type deal. he's forgone his blindfold in favor of his square-framed glasses, but his uniform is still on. he insisted on treating you to dinner after you exorcized an unregistered special grade on your own. however, with gojo, things can't always be so easy; he always adds his patented gojo twist to things, and this time the twist is this terrible joke.

“come on, it'll be funny!” he whines, from across the table.

“you want to propose to me in this restaurant for free food? when you make well over six figures a year? and have full access to thousands of years of old clan money?” you ask, incredulously, reaching to take a sip of your drink, suddenly wishing you had gone with a stronger option.

“yes, exactly. what's not clicking?”

“uhmmm, all of it?”

“look it'll be funny. you could even say no, then you can run out and i get free food as pity points,” he smiles at you, and you find it hard to keep saying no. “i mean, they'll probably all call you heartless and tell me i deserve better but that's fine.”

“okay and if i say yes, what about a ring? or the fact that we're not even together? how is anyone going to believe you?” you ask, thinking you've backed him into a corner, until he just sighs softly, keeping an easy smile, and reaches into his pocket. he pulls out a black velvet box, and shakes it a bit by his head.

“you think i hadn't planned for that?” he asks, smirking in your direction, trying to hold back laughter at your aghast expression, you drag a palm over your face, finally conceding.

“okay. fine! fine! just…try not to embarrass me. please?”

“no promises! also the waitress is coming this way, so get ready. tears are optional but preferred.”

you roll your eyes at his statement, your gaze following him closely when he stands up and walks over to your side of the table. you look around desperately hoping that no one will actually have their attention drawn to you but the thing about gojo is wherever he goes he commands attention. consequently, when he stands at a whopping 6’7 everyone’s already looking, and when he drops down on one knee in front of you, holding that little velvet box in front of you, you catch people’s smartphones shooting up immediately, great. and you're sure the vision of jujutsu’s strongest sorcerer, taking off his sunglasses and holding up a ring box to you would haunt you forever. you think right under reverse cursed technique in his list of talents, they should add acting, because the look in his eyes almost feels real.

the way your name falls so delicately from his lips, before he clears his throat, feigning nervousness. the way he struggles at first to look you in the eyes, the ring sparkling in the dim lighting. he starts:

“you are truly the most beautiful woman i've ever met, inside and out. to know you and love you is a pleasure too great for words, and i want to continue living in it every day. will you marry me?” you roll your eyes, but the smile across your face is genuine, maybe he was right, maybe this is funny. so you have no issue, saying yes, throwing your arms around his neck as he spins you around, delicately sliding the ring onto your finger. the two of you giggle all the way back to jujutsu tech, containers of your free leftovers in hand.

and so it becomes a tradition.

satoru continues to propose to you every time the two of you get the chance to have dinner together, and despite all your better judgment, you laugh and say yes every time.

and what started as a joke, turned tradition, starts to morph into something else.

satoru notices it on a summer day. you're out with the students, supervising them as they spar. the sun’s been beating down for days, he's standing beside you his eyes trained on your hands. your left ring finger has a tan line, it's from that ring. you're not wearing it, you returned it to him last night, forgetting to give it back after dinner and then desperately trying to get your schedules to align for at least five minutes, but he'd been out of town for a week and when he finally got back late last night to find you working on paperwork in your office, he didn't know why it felt like his heart sank when you slid the ring off and put it in his hand.

now, the box feels heavy in his pocket (when did he start carrying it all the time?) and he looks at you with so much adoration that had his blindfold not been on, he'd look like a love-struck puppy to any passerby. you'd been wearing the ring so much it's left a mark on you, it's obvious you'd been wearing it, the tan line a stark reminder that it was there; and something about it makes satoru wish he could make the next proposal permanent. you turn your head to him, smiling softly.

“the first years are something else this year, gojo, did you see yuuji and maki spar? they're going places,”

and he's not sure why but before he can stop himself he's blurting out:

“let me take you on a date.”

you sputter and falter, turning fully to look at him, “are you being serious?”

he nods, that goofy smile of his making you weak to his every whim, it's the same one he gave you that night at that dinner table; the same one that made you start this tradition.

so he takes you out, and then that becomes a tradition. still every day, he thinks of the way that ring looked on you whenever he slid it on your finger, and how he felt rejected every time you gave it back. he'd clear his schedule if he knew he could have dinner with you, just to see the smile you couldn't stop whenever he got down on one knee.

satoru doesn't propose anymore. he figures the next time he does it, he should be serious about it since you're his girl now. on a tuesday night, you're sitting with him on the couch, your legs are thrown over his lap and he looks at you, focused so intently on a book you've been dying to finish, the bookmark always staying near the end as you get called into emergency exorcisms, and he knows. he fishes that ring out of his pocket, the same one he gave you in that restaurant almost two years ago, and there's no fanfare, no cameras, no theatrics. he just opens the box, looks at you, and says,

“hey baby, let's get married.”

and just like the first time, you smile and say yes.

[cowboygenesis]

1/2 fatum invenit | gale x reader

part 1 of the "fatum" mini-series.

summary: you've loathed each other since the dawn of his first arrival. it never should've worked, but somehow, as you find yourself chest-to-chest within a sunken crypt with no way out, your feelings finally surface— and Gods, do they cut deep.

pairing: gale dekarios x sorceress!durge!reader tags: fluff, angst, tons of cursing, mutual pining, forced proximity, enemies/rivals to lovers. word count: 5.3k notes: whew, here we are at last. if you've read "knuckle up" you might find the ending a little similar but... what can i say, im a softie. also, the durge aspect of the reader is truly very minimal, i just added it for the sake of flavor, whatevah... oh, and reader is super cheeky and generally curses a lot, im case that's something that bothers you. i want this to be a two-parter eventually, so expect some smut in the future chapter. as always, let me know what you think! enjoy! masterlist.

You… you fucking knew it. The one time in your life you decide to give a wizard the benefit of the doubt he… he screws you the fuck over.

It was supposed to be an easy job: infiltrate Kereska’s chapel, retrieve the relic Raphael demanded, and slip away unnoticed. Hey, no big deal— you’ve handled worse without breaking a sweat.

Most of your companions weren’t so eager to take on the devil’s dirty work after a night of drinking, so, you figured you’d tackle it solo. No problem. After all, you’d just returned home to Baldur’s Gate. The evening was warm, the streets thrummed with energy, and after a night of revelry, you were in a damn good mood.

So when Gale, with his calm, holier-than-thou attitude, offered to “assist,” you’d thought sure, why the Hells not?

And what a mistake that would turn out to be for you. Just as your gut had warned you, things ended up going sideways. All because of him.

You both had made it past the wards, the traps, and even those fucked up, undead necromancers that you hated dealing with—no thanks to Gale’s constant commentary on your spellcasting techniques. It was always some remark about how your magic was “undisciplined,” how you were “too reckless to be at your best.” Fuck, like you hadn’t been doing this shit for years, now.

Warranted, you weren’t exactly the nicest person, either. Meals at your camp were a battlefield of their own, filled with biting comments and passive-aggressive stares, often over trivial matters that had nothing to do with magic.

Plus, combat was no different. It rarely took more than a few minutes before you and Gale were mired in a heated debate over the “best course of action for the situation”. Naturally, these debates only added to the tension, making every encounter feel like a personal clash as opposed to a friendly discussion over technique.

You two were polar opposites, discordant, incompatible.

But you were an idiot, then. A dumb, tender-hearted idiot in a great mood who had hoped you two could eventually get along if the stars aligned just right. But that’s all hindsight.

After all the hard work, you had almost had it— your hand was just within reach of that damned necklace, caution thrown to the wind, when Gale decided to get fancy. A small “adjustment” to the magical aura surrounding the relic, he’d explained— something about minimizing risk and stabilizing the flow of the Weave so you could extract it safely.

You discarded the idea, of course; “fuck your tricks,” you had said (your actual words), rolled your eyes at him, and said goodbye to the remnants of your good mood as he reprimanded you like a teacher would a novice— and that, naturally, you weren’t.

Unlike him, you didn’t need a stack of tomes to inspectthis kind of arcane energy. It felt powerful and intricate, yes— but beneath it all, it was just a trick of the eye. The glowing, golden-tinged sphere wasn’t malevolent whatsoever, and instead served as a cheap ploy to repel those tempted by the artifact.

So, knowing what you knew, you reached for the relic despite his suggestion.

But, just as you were to lay a finger on it, he… he cast his fucking “safety” spell. And everything went to hell.

The forcefield around the necklace reacted— wildly. The air rippled in waves, the ground shifting beneath you, and suddenly, you were trapped in some kind of collapsed chamber beneath the chapel— cut off from the rest of the world, with no way out.

Worst of all, you were in heartbreaking proximity. The dugout was deep, but narrow, allowing you maybe a centimeter of privacy before your chest collided with his. And Gods, did that happen often. Any movement you made, your bodies would collide in one way or another, be it feeling his thigh rub against yours, grazing fingers, or smacking his chin— the last one being a complete accident on your part, of course.

And yes, as two magic-wielders would, you tried your luck. As it turned out, the stone binding your bodies together seemed to have a sort of Weave-repellent property that rendered your only functional skills worthless.

So, here you were, stuck with your arch-rival, and with every passing second, your frustration grew. It must have been half an hour since the disaster struck when you finally felt your head pound with frustration.

“Gale,” you sigh for the millionth time, “Are you even listening?”

He’s been doing a great job ignoring your commentary by seemingly occupying himself with analyzing your surroundings. Smart, sure, if it wasn’t for the simple fact he refused to collaborate with you whatsoever. After your initial scream-off, he seemed reluctant to give you the time of day again.

He finally clears his throat to speak, and you shoot him a glare in the dim light.

"You just had to do your thing, didn’t you?" he sighs.

“And you just had to show off,” you retort through a bitter snark.

Gale glances at you with narrowed eyes, yet his expression remains infuriatingly contained. “I was trying to prevent a catastrophe. If I hadn’t intervened, the entire chapel may have collapsed.”

“Well, congratulations,” you snap, “It collapsed on us instead. I’m so glad we avoided a disaster, Gale.”

He exhales slowly, then gives you a haphazard eye-roll. “Perhaps if you hadn’t rushed things—”

“Rushed things?” Your chest flares, making it collide with his. “I didn’t touch a damned thing. You’re the one who decided the Weave needed tuning or whatever other bullshit.”

Gale’s eyes narrow, a flash of frustration crossing his face. “You think I did this on purpose? I made the right choice. But you—”

“Oh, so it’s my fault now?” You cut him off, “Honestly, fuck you, man. If you were half as concerned with doing a good job as you are with peacocking we wouldn’t even be here in the first place.”

He looks away, his jaw tightening. “Peacocking?”

“Yeah. Peacocking, showing off—Are you okay? I thought you were supposed to be the clever one.” You shrug in mock nonchalance, rolling your eyes as if the circumstances weren’t already driving you up the wall.

You feel Gale’s chest rise and fall with a steadying breath, the sort one might take when trying to stop themselves from saying something they’ll inevitably regret. When it came to containing his bubbling rage, he beat you to it every time.

His casual lilt, when it comes, makes your teeth grit. “Obviously.”

You groan loudly, letting the back of your head thud against the stone wall behind you. A tense silence falls between you, broken only by the steady rhythm of his breathing, a sound that seems to grow louder in the small space whenever conversation dies down.

“You would’ve been buried stone-cold dead under the rubble if I hadn’t cast that spell,” he mutters, and just like that, your patience snaps.

“I— I can’t believe you’re saying this to me,” Your words are sharp as daggers, eyes burning into his as you twist your body just enough to face him head-on. “The barrier was a ruse, Gale. A fake. I told you not to cast that damn spell—”

“And I suppose explanations are beneath someone of your obvious talents,” he snaps back, his words dripping with venom.

You glare at him, feeling your pulse quicken. “You’re a scholar— Gods, don’t you know this kind of illusory magic is Kereska’s whole thing?” you spit, watching his face aptly in hopes of catching a glimpse of something; remorse, sympathy, fuck, even just a bit of pity would satiate you.

But it never comes. His eyes bore into you with practiced reprimanding, and because he must see you on the precipice of breaking down, he continues to poke the metaphorical bear. “You should’ve waited.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I must’ve missed the part where you became the authority on everything. In case you somehow overlooked it, I’ve been doing this for years without your lectures.”

“And look how well that’s worked out for you,” he retorts, his voice low, treacherous. There’s a mocking smile imbued on his face, and you quickly realize it makes you want to tackle him to the ground and claw it out yourself. If it wasn’t for the minimal space, you probably would’ve even attempted it. “This wasn’t some petty street magic. That relic was infused with layers of defense—complex protections you clearly didn’t even account for—”

“I knew what I was dealing with!” you hiss, pushing against the wall for leverage. You brush against his chest again, sending an electric jolt of tension through the confined space. “I didn’t need your over-calculated, pompous meddling. I had it under control until you—”

“Under control?” Gale’s voice rises, his frustration finally splintering through his quiet facade as he emits a burst of scornful laughter. “Do you even hear yourself? Your recklessness nearly got us killed!”

You scoff, pushing back even harder. “You’re so damn smug— acting like the world will end if you don’t micromanage every little detail, but guess what? You don’t always have the answer. And right now, we’re stuck— all because of your fucking arrogance.”

He opens his mouth to reply, but then closes it, jaw tight, eyes blazing as he holds your gaze. For a second, you think he’s about to let loose another lecture, but instead, there’s silence—a strange, electricity-charged stillness that envelops you like a cold breeze.

You can’t speak. It crackles between you with a strain, thick enough to feel suffocating. Every breath you take only draws you closer to him, and somehow, it almost feels like the walls enveloping you have only grown thicker throughout your argument.

The closeness, the heat, the sheer intensity of the argument—it’s all too much, and yet, neither of you looks away once your gazes inevitably connect.

The wizard licks his bottom lip languidly, lips smacking as he seems to be taking you all in. His eyes scan over you, and somehow the fact makes you feel vulnerable.

Finally, he breaks the peace.

“If I’m so arrogant, why did you let me join you?”

His eyes are dark, but not just with frustration; they’re searching, questioning, as though he’s daring you to give an honest answer, knowing it’s something you can’t afford yourself right now.

“You asked me to let you come,” you bark out, pushing his chest with the heel of your hand, the contact sending a spark of heat through your outstretched arm. “I didn’t want you here. I figured we’d get through this, grab the necklace, and go our separate ways again. But no—you wanted to come. Play the hero, do all the dirty work, whatever your reasoning was.”

Gale doesn’t flinch at your words, but his eyes narrow slightly— they flicker to the space your bodies connect at, then back to your tautened face.

His gaze lingers on where your hand presses against his chest, and for a fleeting moment, you think he might back down. But instead, his jaw clenches, and when his eyes snap back to yours, there’s a fire behind them that ignites something deep in your gut.

“And you agreed,” he counters mockingly, the smile adorning his face making your head spin. “Why?”

The question hangs between you for a beat. You falter, mouth opening and closing without a reply.

He’s right. He’s fucking correct, and you hate it.

Why did you agree? You could’ve said no, barked back at him, insulted his stupid wizard frock— pushed him away with one of the countless options you had at your disposal.

But you didn’t. You let him come with you, willingly.

You clench your fists, pushing against the surge of discomfort bubbling in your belly. “Well, forgive me for being an optimist,” you mutter, voice tight. “I thought, for once, that maybe— Fuck. Maybe we could get through one fucking mission without trying to jump at each others’ throats.”

He exhales at your explanation, tilting his head to glance through the top of the crevasse and toward the chapel ceiling. You follow suit, albeit subtly, noticing the intricate engravings lining the skylight; in the dim light of the afternoon sun, they look elegant, beautiful, even. How didn’t you notice that when you first walked in?

“And how’s that going for us?” he asks suddenly, the smile curling at the edges of his mouth turning bitter.

You huff, running a hand through your hair. The condensation sticks to your fingers, and you can’t help the joyless chuckle that escapes your lips when you look at him again.

“Well, I don’t know,” you sigh, shrugging your shoulders lazily. Your cynical laughter shifts into the shadow of a smile. Somehow, as he glances down at you, you find yourself with a pang in your chest that overshadows the frustration you’ve been drowning in— it’s deep, and resonant, and feels like it’s swallowing your heart whole when his dark eyes meet yours. “We still hate each other.”

The wizard exhales sharply through his nose, and strangely, you can’t seem to read his expression even as your eyes squint.

His gaze is fixed on yours with an intensity that makes your pulse quicken; you feel it best when his hot breath hits the sweat-slicked skin of your face as he leans in. It’s a slight, almost imperceptible gesture, yet just enough to make your breath hitch with… rage, aversion— or perhaps, most frighteningly, something else you’ve been pushing down for months since your first quarrel.

You’re forcefully dragged out of your stupor when the pad of his thumb grazes your palm— the touch sends a sharp, almost uncomfortable jolt of electricity down your spine, leaving you speechless as you chalk it up to an unfortunate accident. Nothing more, it couldn’t be.

“I don’t hate you,” he says, and though his tone is stiff, the words cut through your pause like a skilled blade.

It couldn’t be.

Your breath catches in your parched throat, heart pounding with a force that would surely reverberate through his body hadn’t his robe been so thick.

You can feel the heat radiating off him, each shallow breath you take only drawing you closer— or, at least, that’s exactly how it feels in the tiny space you’re being forced to share.

His thumb is still brushing your palm, slowly, gently, and deliberately enough that you cannot ascribe it to a simple accident anymore. For a second, your eyebrows arch and there’s this urge to pull away, something thrumming in your head and telling you to hold to principle.

But you don’t… you— you physically can’t. Not when he’s gazing down at you with… with patience. Understanding, maybe. But why?

A beat passes, then another. The tension coils so tight you almost want to scream to break it, and his gaze remains locked on yours, his palm grazing yours.

You swallow hard, trying to gather your scattered thoughts, but your voice betrays you when you finally manage to speak, trembling, barely above a whisper.

“You—” Your throat feels tight, words failing you as his face remains inches from yours. "You’re fucking with me. I… you hate me, Gale, I can’t—"

He glances down at you with a strange glint in his eyes, then exhales loudly again. Did you strike a nerve?

“Why do you always do this?” he questions with exasperation tugging at his tone. You feel his touch momentarily drop from yours, and in the heat of the moment, you find yourself missing it.

“What?” you blink, eyebrows furrowed.

“This,” He gestures between the two of you with a frustrated sigh. “You’re— you’re always picking fights with me. Always pushing, always assuming the worst—”

“I’m picking fights?” Your eyes narrow, the sneer coming back to your lips like armor. “You’ve been criticizing every godsdamn thing I’ve done since day one, making me feel inferior, questioning my skill— and now I’m the one picking fights?”

He shakes his head sharply, then sighs in frustration. When you look up, his eyes are locked on yours—deep brown with flecks of gold, catching the fractured sunlight streaming through the cracked skylight. You could drown in them, given the chance.

“No, that’s not— That’s exactly what I’m talking about,” He stops himself, closing his eyes briefly before opening them again. “You don’t— you just refuse to listen to me. When we fight, in camp— even now. The relic, that barrier, you— Gods, you always act instead of—”

“Don’t you dare paint me as the villain now,” you snap, bumping his chest with the pad of your palm again.

“You almost got us killed!” he bites back, “I don’t care for your talents if it means you don’t utilize them properly. Have you ever stopped to think that maybe, just maybe, raw talent doesn’t equal capability?”

Right.

Your lips purse, the pit in your stomach suddenly overpowering your ability to retort. It was a mistake— you should have known the niceties were a convenient gimmick to ascertain his position over you, and not an actual instance of humanity, for once.

But somehow, your false hopes only drive the wrath within you. You let the nausea overcome you and have it fuel your bitter tone as you finally find the power to speak up again.

“All you care about is being right— about having the last word against anyone who dares question your abilities,” you mutter, challenging his stern gaze with your own, “And the rest of us? We’re just supposed to sit by and watch, grateful to be in the presence of Gale Dekarios, the great, tragic wizard who thought his tricks could satiate a fucking Goddess!”

You’re fuming. The words that come out of your throat are only half-baked as you shrill at him, but… but at the moment, it feels right— warranted, somehow.

So when you catch him give you the space to continue, you take it.

“…But the truth is, you need to feel superior. You need everyone to see you as the sleekest in the room because deep down, you’re still clinging to the ghost of a woman who abandoned you. And that’s why you’ve been picking me apart since day one—because I’m not afraid to tell you how full of shit you are.”

Suddenly, you feel his hand catch your wrist, his grip firm as he holds you still. His thumb presses lightly against your pulse, sending a sharp, unwanted jolt of awareness through your body as your arm tries to jerk away.

“You don’t know the first godsdamn thing about me,” Gale growls, his breath fanning your face as the words spill out, thick with venom. “You’re so wrapped up in your own insolence, so blinded by your stubborn pride, that all you can see in others is a reflection of yourself. And trust me when I say that it’s an ugly one.”

You laugh, a bitter, angry sound, but your heart is hammering now. “Oh, so you think you’ve got me all figured out?”

His jaw clenches, but his grip doesn’t waver. “I know enough. I know that your actions speak louder than words. I know that you’re reckless, impulsive, and too damned proud to admit when you need help—”

Your heart pounds in your chest, the heat between you scorching as your breaths mingle. “You’re such a fucking hypocrite. You’re the one who’s blinded by your own self-importance— always thinking you’re the wisest, savviest person in the room, like the rest of us are just pawns in your little fucking game.”

Gale’s eyes flash with something wild and uninhibited, and you watch his sneer shift into a bitter smile again.

“You— You really think that?” he questions through a chuckle, voice gravelly and low. “Do you really think I’m just using you for some game?”

For a heartbeat, neither of you moves. You sneer at him, and the outrage bubbles out again.

“Oh, don’t make me laugh. You’ve only ever looked out for yourself. This was never about helping me—it was… it was about proving something. To me, to yourself, to fucking Mystra,” you trail.

The moment the words leave your lips, the air shifts between you like a storm about to unravel. His grip on your wrist tightens, not painfully, but with a deliberate firmness that forces you to stop and feel the tension between you. His face is suddenly too close, and for the most succinct moment, you catch something flickering in his eyes—something dim, and dark—but not the rage you were expecting.

He should be angry with you— Hells, he should be furious. You just tore into every insecurity you knew he had, ripped open wounds that never quite healed, and worst of all, dragged his old lover into it all.

And yet… his gaze isn’t burning with the fever you’ve grown used to seeing from him in every argument, every fight.

Why the fuck isn’t he furious?

“Gods, I actually— I used to admire you. You know that? Before all this, I thought you were someone I could… I don’t know, respect. You were this brilliant, woeful man who carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, and I thought, ‘Maybe there’s something more underneath all that.’ I thought we could, I don’t know, actually be something—friends, allies, whatever the fuck. I wanted us to trust each other. But… but you…" your voice lowers to a near whisper, and somehow, unbeknownst to you, your eyes go glassy with hot tears.

You’re left reeling, heart hammering in your chest as your mind races along with your bitter confession. The air around you feels viscous, mucous-like, but when your throat goes dry with impending tears you look up to see something that makes your breath hitch.

He’s listening.

Not just waiting for his turn to speak as he usually does around you, not calculating his next clever retort, but listening— really, truly listening.

His gaze, once so sharp with ire, has softened. His dark eyes are fixed on yours with a vigor that nearly undoes you, and there’s no anger in them now, no resentment.

Your breath catches.

“You never gave me a chance, Gale. Not once. It was always about you, your guilt, your past, your Mystra— Fuck!” you cough out and rub your eyes with the pads of your palms, massaging your vulnerability away. “I tried. I really, really tried. But none of this seemed to reach you, not through that… that mental barrier you’ve created around yourself. I think that since the very beginning, everything else was just noise to you. I was just noise to you,” your voice dies down to a mutter, and you inhale sharply to fight the sorrow back into your grieving heart.

You withdraw your hands and finally feel brazen enough to face him.

You can feel the heat in your cheeks, aware that your nose is red from the tears you tried so hard to hold back, that your eyelids are probably puffy and swollen, and you’re a fucking mess.

But it doesn’t matter now. You’ve come undone, and now, nothing mattered to you anymore; not the anger, not the sorrow, and especially not the way his kind, gentle touch seemed to soothe your aching heart when his palm met yours.

You scan his face, but there’s nothing— or at least, you can’t seem to read it through the coating of tears obscuring your eyes. The light above has shifted to cast his face in a warm, velvety light. You catch the subtle lines etched into his forehead, the faint silver threads streaking through his hair, and his lips curling into… a smile.

Despite your desperation, despite your pain, he was smiling.

Your chest tightens, fists clenching at your sides, and before you can stop them, a stream of hot tears finally spills down your cheeks.

This was it. You braced for impact.

“…So do whatever the fuck you need to fill that void in your heart, but don’t involve me in any of it. And— for fuck’s sake, Gale, don’t act like you give a shit about me because you—”

But you never get to finish.

Before you can witness the gentle glint in his eyes as he leans into you, before you can even register it, his lips crash onto yours.

Your gasp is muted against the softness of his mouth. When he moves, it’s not gentle, not soft, but raw in its intensity and so, so desperate.

His grip on your wrist tightens briefly before finally releasing, his free hand sliding up to cup the back of your neck. The warmth of his hand is a pleasant change to the cold, hard stone you’ve been leaning against, and suddenly, just as your mind threatens to flood you with dopamine, it all dawns on you.

You’ve been here before—no, not here, but in moments that feel eerily alike.

You recall the edge in his voice during arguments, the way he’d insist on ‘rectifying’ you at every turn, the blunt critiques you assumed were borne from pure vanity. But now… now there’s a clarity to it all. Worry. Fear. A softness, a hesitation. Like when he would offer his hand to you after a fight, his fingers lingering just a moment too long as they brushed over yours.

You loathed him… Hells, you detested him.

But how deep were you willing to draw the line between hate and devotion?

Against all your instincts, against the sharp, burning ache in your chest—you drink him in. His warmth, his touch, the power behind it all.

You know you should push him away, shove him off, scream, but instead, you find yourself frozen— trapped in the certainty of this moment. And despite every ounce of fury burning inside you, you can’t deny the spark it ignites in your indigent heart as he caresses you so tenderly.

And with that, you seal your fate with his.

Your lips press against his, head tilting until you feel you’re melting into him. He groans softly against your mouth, and the sound makes your chest thrum with a melody you’re afraid to place.

Your hands, trembling, inch towards his chest, but this time they aren’t formed into spiteful fists or an accusatory point— your palms lay lax against him, resting at the junction of his ribs and pushing, pushing… just in hopes of catching the steady thrum of his heart against your fingertips. The anger, the pain, the confusion—it’s all still there, but in this moment, none of it matters.

Just him. Just this.

For all the times you’ve misread him, all the moments you thought his criticisms were barbs, meant to wound—now you wonder. You had mistaken his care for contempt, his frustration for hatred. But now, as his lips part slightly against yours, the world narrows down to just the two of you. No damned relic, no mission, no war; only the benign sensation of his hand cradling the back of your neck, the warmth of his mouth on yours, and the undeniable truth of it all:

You’ve never hated him. Not once in your rotten life.

And when his tongue swipes against your bottom lip, you want to come undone. You’re tired, hot, melting into this fiery, passionate kiss that has slowly turned languid and gentle.

So despite the zeal enveloping your body, you’re finally forced to part.

When your eyes open, you find him already watching you. A shiver runs down your spine as you drink him in; tousled hair, half-lidded eyes, and the ghost of a smile on his plush lips as the both of you pant in tandem with each other.

He looks wrecked. But then again, you’re certain you do too.

Your face feels flushed, still burning with aftershock and when you bite your bottom lip, you find it swollen. Raw. The taste of him lingers there too, sweet like bourbon and sharp like anise.

You stare at each other. It’s like you’re seeing him for the first time again, really seeing him, and it softens your heart as much as it terrifies your lust-addled mind.

The silence stretches between you, so thick you can feel it pressing against your skin. It pulls taut with every second, coiling tighter, and you can’t stand how fragile it makes your heart feel.

You swallow hard, trying to gather your scattered thoughts, but your voice betrays you when you finally manage to speak, trembling, barely above a whisper. “You—” Your throat feels tight, words failing you as his face remains inches from yours.

"Yeah?" His voice is husky— you’ve never found that aspect of it attractive until now.

You open your mouth, but the words—whatever they are—die in your throat. Instead, all you can do is look at him and fall deeper into his embrace.

There are questions that swirl in the back of your mind, ones you know you should ask, but they slip away the moment his thumb brushes your cheek again. Why did he kiss you? Why did you let him? And why, despite the chaos and pain that’s passed through your mind, did this—he—feel like the only thing that has made sense since you forgot all else?

“I never hated you,” he murmurs and shifts slightly, lifting his hand to cup your cheek. You nuzzle into his touch.

“I didn’t want to hate you,” you manage, your voice barely above a whisper. “But I thought it’s what we were meant to be. Enemies.”

“We aren’t,” The corner of his mouth twitches. “We never were.”

His thumb brushes your cheek, and just like that, the fragile walls around your heart crumble. Gale Dekarios, the man you had sworn to hate, has somehow intertwined himself into your very existence in a way you suddenly think might last centuries.

—

As it turns out, the solution to your predicament was surprisingly, nearly embarrassingly straightforward. The anti-magic barrier encircling the sunken crypt could be dispelled by reciting the incantation inscribed on the rock walls— and with Gale’s surprising proficiency in Draconic, it proved quite an easy feat.

After that, it was just a matter of a few rudimentary spells. Naturally, the task took longer than anticipated, thanks to the lingering, newfound tension between you and the wizard— fleeting glances, soft touches, and even an occasional, stolen kiss as you recited your magic; things you surprisingly found yourself quite fond of.

As you step out into the cool evening air, you inhale deeply, savoring the crisp, refreshing breeze. The sunset paints the world in a warm, golden hue, casting long, soft shadows across the cobbled streets as you pass by groups of chattering townsfolk.

“I’ve been thinking,” you hear your companion muse through a playful smile. “After all of this, do you think we could avoid arguments for a little while?”

You meet his gaze with a puckish eye roll, a smile tugging at your still-swollen lips. The warm glow of the streetlights casts his face in a soft, intimate glow, and your smile widens into a grin when you catch his lips bearing that same sign of your carnal affection.

“It depends,” you reply with a nonchalant shrug, pushing against him playfully.

“Mhm, and on what exactly?” he hums, his hand squeezing tighter around yours. When his thumb caresses your palm, you feel your heart thrum with something you can’t quite describe.

“Oh, I don’t know,” you reply, glancing up at him with a grin. He returns it within a beat, and now it’s your turn to knit your fingers tighter. “How much longer are you planning on nagging me?”

He chuckles from the belly, and the coil in your chest that you’ve long expected to be spite emerges as something much larger, softer, and most unexpected. You fear to name it out loud.

You smile when your gaze meets his, the warmth in his eyes mirrored by the softness of your own. He leans in, and the world narrows to the touch of his lips against yours—a brief, gentle kiss that seems to linger in the evening light. In that fleeting moment, all the doubts and anxieties are swept away with his voice calling your name.

“For as long as I live,” he retorts softly, his voice laced with tenderness as the air between you, once again, fills with his laughter.

[sataraxia]

Heyy, would you mind writing a Miles Morales (E-42) with a mexican reader who is really into makeup and loves trying her new lipsticks on him, or just ramble to him about her new techniques and designs as a way to show her love language or how comfortable she feels around him, please?

lipstick stains.

earth42!miles

summary: the date night didn't go as expected.

genre: fluff, loving miles!

warning: some cursing here and there.

a/n: i'm actually excited this is my first req i'm throwing up, anyway, english isn't my first language so let me know of any mistakes, also i absolutely love this idea anon, hope you like it!! <3

“What’s takin’ you so long, ma?”  You heard your boyfriend’s voice from outside the bathroom, clearly with an inpatient tone.

“Come in and find out.” 

As you said the first sentence he was already getting the door open, only after it was closed again behind him, he took a look at you.

“I love when you get this fancy for me” You could almost hear the smirk that was attached to his face.

“Look, I'm gonna wear the one you gave me last week.” Ignoring his comment, you showed him the lipstick you were holding, it was the one he gifted you after hearing you ramble about it even before it came out, he already figured it was your favorite brand.

“It’s gonna look beautiful on you babe, as everything does.” He approached you carefully, holding your waist while resting his face on your shoulder.

A light blush appeared on your face, without saying anything you started to put on the lipstick.

It was always like this, Miles silently watching you while you were concentrated on the mirror, but this time, you couldn’t help your eyes wander off to him, especially his face so close to you, and that’s when it happened, just one look at his lips, and you had a fantastic idea.

“Cielo, you would do everything for me, right?” He knew as soon those words escaped your mouth, he was doomed.

“Technically yes, but when you say it like that, it depends, chiquita.”

You do a slight turn just to look at him face to face, he could sense your excitement just by the smile you were giving him.

“Can i?” You lift the lipstick again, you can’t help but to chew your lower lip a little, already expecting the negative response.

Surprisingly, you didn’t hear anything more than a deep sigh, then you had Miles rubbing his face a little with his eyes closed, clearly questioning himself.

Then he lifted his head again, looking at you almost too lovingly that you could melt right there.

“Only for you.” And there he was, completely at your mercy.

“You know you’re the best, right?” He could swear for his life that you gave him the most beautiful smile in this and every other world.

“Yeah yeah, c’mon.” 

After two minutes filled with a comfortable tension between the both of you, his lips were the same dark red color as yours. 

“You look extremely beautiful right now, Miles.” You said as your arms were already going to their rightful place, that being his neck, of course.

“Not more than you, mami.”

It didn’t matter if your lips and his were the same color or not, they always found the way to connect, just like this moment.

You don’t know exactly the amount of time that you spent kissing, it probably wasn’t that long, but anyways the two of you decided that you were already late to the reservation for that fancy restaurant, you didn’t really care, you loved his room anyway.

“Hey, close your eyes.” You did as you were told, expecting another kiss on your lips.

It wasn’t more than a second, and your face was covered in lipstick stains.

“Revenge.” You heard him making that lovely smirk again.

“Cabrón! Come here.”

And with that, the battle of getting each other's faces full of lipstick marks began. 

It didn’t matter if it was a fancy restaurant or his room, as long you two were together, you were happy.

[lotus4kino]

Jealousy — Gojo Satoru X f!reader (angsty)

Contents: flirtatious behavior with others while in a relationship, non-communicative relationship, slight gaslight/manipulation

Today’s Music Recommendation: Is There Someone Else? By The Weeknd

He was a stubborn and self-centered man, the strongest sorcerer, Gojo Satoru.

Yes, he was an excellent teacher, an encouraging man, he was most likely to be the ideal person for the most of the students in Jujutsu Tech. But this guy also figured that he can get easy access on anything just because of his angelic appearance. He had a shit load of fan girls who he could play around every time life got boring. He looked good and he knew it.

But you? you are just an ordinary girl from a decent school who is living her ordinary life, no cursed user or anything. you barely understand how these techniques works, why would anyone believe you are dating this attractive man from the Gojo Clan? even a fool would laugh at you for reaching out for something you couldn’t reach.

But you were seriously dating this guy, you were told by your friends that you should be considering yourself as lucky to have the opportunity to be in a relationship with him, but in reality, you supposed it is extremely difficult for you to hold on to that opportunity.

This man, Satoru, only had you as his side chick. You didn’t want to believe it yet the truth was bitter than you expected.

Every time you both got into an argument, he wouldn’t let it slide, instead he would play the victim card even if he was the reason you had to argue. He would act all childish and sulky about it, he had never apologize once because he knew you wouldn’t let him go, he was too precious and worthy for you to let go. he knew you were too overwhelmed by his charming appearance to let go. he knew you were hopelessly in love with him to let go.

but oh boy, he was wrong.

that day..that day when you lost it all, he lost you too.

it was raining heavily that day, you two had been remained silent for a good while now. the tension between you both was extremely intense. you actually didn’t want to talk about it, you were too exhausted to bring it up. but then you heard his phone rang, he picked it up.

“hey ladiess.. what’s up?” he slyly grinned and spoke to the phone, some feminine laughs and chatters were heard from the other side. you sighed in annoyance, you were quite done with this bullshit.

“..yeah I’m currently with a friend right now,..mhm? yeah no problems, drop y’all locations through dm, I’ll let you know when I’m picking you up.” he said, his gaze was turnt towards you before giving you a quick wink. currently that was his proper apology for labeling you as a friend.

beep, he hang up the phone and shoved it into one of his pockets. the rain didn’t seem like it’s going to stop anytime soon.

“Satoru,” you called him out through the harsh sounds of the rainfall.

“Mm?” he playfully hummed,

“let’s break up” you said, a hint of hesitation was heard in your voice as your fingers reached out for the raindrops.

finally those three words managed to escape from the mouth of yours.

“..what?” he let out a sarcastic laugh, “are you mad at me again? I’ve already told you I don’t expect you to come back once you lea-”

“Oh trust me, I decided not to waste my time fighting you over your little female friends.” you sometimes couldn’t even tell if those affectionate words and actions he did in past were just an act.

his face turnt into something serious as his eyes bored in your eyes. “then do it, why are still dating me if you can’t even understand your own boyfriend?”

“there are things called boundaries, Gojo Satoru. I never expect you would be that dense.”

Calling him dense pissed him off, a little. “For how long?”

“come again?”

“How long have you been considering to break up with me?” he looked at you like a lost puppy,

you remained quiet for a second, “I lost my count on days, but it’s certain how I don’t do decisions without thinking about its consequences, it’s for the best.”

“I see.” he mattered, a dark shadow was casted upon his face. you nodded in confirmation, your eyes never leaving the drops of the rain before you. “..i actually don’t want you to, I can promise I would do bette-”

“It’s been the fifth time you’ve been saying this, ‘think I had enough.”

“but what about our date night tomorrow, I’ve already booked a luxurious room for us?” he tried pinpointing his sacrifices for you, knowing you feel guilty every time he did this.

“you can go pick up some extra girls and invite them over if you don’t want it to go waste.” you fixed your posture, pulling the handbag on your shoulder closer to you. “thank you for everything, Satoru. having you was really nice.” a slight sadness appeared on the smile you gave him.

only the sound of the rain could be heard in the background till you clicked your heels and walked away from the white haired man, who watched you disappear in the distance.

But little do you know that he only ever meant to make you jealous, he didn’t mean to push you further away from him.

He expected you to come back to him the following days but you never did.

weeks, months, years.

he waited for you come back but you never did, and you promised yourself that you never will.

Jealousy had boundaries and it is not kinky or hot to have a person feel jealous and insecure about something you did. This could bring you to the point where the person may end up losing interest and worst, leaving you behind.

it is currently 3 am in the morning and I couldn’t sleep so I decided to write down one of my opinions on the things that has been going crazy all over the world. (I apologize if satoru is a bit a ooc, I’m feeling so sleepy that I can’t even double check my mistakes further more.)

[chaeiimimi]

Jujutsu Kaisen men and a Single Mom

Hi! I originally wrote these scenarios for Haikyuu men, but since I made the decision to write for jjk as well, I figured this will be a fitting scenario for jjk men, please note that some of the characters are aged up and my ask box is and comments are open for suggestions, also take note that some of the plots may have been twisted to be more suitable for the scenario

SUGURU GETO

Geto may not seem like it, but he is good with kids, he loves and adores them, as a matter of fact, he wouldn’t be a teacher at Jujutsu High if he did not like them (yes, he also likes troublemaker teenagers)

So imagine his delight when a chubby baby girl walks toward him and raises her hands to him indicating she wanted to be carried 

the long-haired man did not think twice and carried her, how could he refuse when she was looking up at him with her big bright eyes, her pigtails bouncing with every move she makes, her pouty lips pouting at him, and her plump pink cheeks were begging him to pinch them

Geto was very fond of kids but holy hell he was enamored with the one he was holding now, she was so bubbly, so precious, not to mention extremely cute and pretty that he couldn’t help but get curious as to how her mom looked like, he was almost tempted to take the baby home with him and hide her from her parents

but all of that was thrown out the window when he hears the voice of a woman calling out for what he assumes is the baby he was holding right now 

“Maya baby! Where are you?” you called out, you were talking to your students about the field trip you were having and all of a sudden your daughter has already walked off somewhere, you were not too worried since you attached a talisman to her clothes for you to be able to find her easily 

one look at you and Geto’s plan to commit kidnapping was replaced with stealing one man’s family, he has never felt jealous in his life before, a beautiful wife and an unbelievably adorable daughter? damn your husband must have been a national hero in his past life cause holy hell he already won in life 

you saw your daughter being carried by a long-haired man and you immediately went up to him 

“excuse me, sir, I believe you have my baby” you smiled politely at him, he looks at you and smiles

“I believe I do” he says and hands you your daughter

Geto was surprised, aside from you being extremely beautiful he could barely keep his knees from wobbling, he also senses cursed energy from you, he sensed it from your daughter but he assumed that it was just because she was young, yours was way more prominent and noticeable 

he cleared his throat preparing to ask the question “hey I know we just met and you don’t know me but are you-”

“yes, yes I am” you smiled knowingly 

a Jujutsu Sorcerer?” he finishes his sentence inside his head

“I am a reverse cursed technique user, I assume you do  Shikigami ?” you asked in a friendly manner 

he smirks at you, you had the same technique as Ieri but you two were very different, you were bubbly and friendly, no wonder your daughter was like that

“close, nice guess though, how did you know?” 

“i have a keen eye on stuff like that” you say ever so proudly 

you were cute he thought 

“I’m actually here with my students, they’re here for joint training with Tokyo Jujutsu High School of Sorcery 

Geto felt like he hit the jackpot cause what are the fucking odds, for once, the gods were actually in his favor, he tells you that he teaches there and proceeds to introduce himself and you do the same thing 

“thank goodness I ran into you Suguru-san, you made my job a lot easier,” you say brightly

“ you know I was surprised by you, never thought such a pretty woman would be a Jujutsu Sorcerer” he can’t hold his tongue

you chuckled, “not pretty enough to make my ex-husband stay”, you can’t hold your tongue either

you both stopped at the realization of the joke that just came out of your mouth

“I am so sorry Suguru-san that was such a bad and inappropriate joke” you apologized profusely 

Geto did not mind the joke, he liked it, no he loved it, he loved that joke a little bit too much

he was definitely getting a date with you

GOJO SATORU 

It was very rare for Gojo to get time to himself, aside from teaching he was also a highly in-demand Jujutsu sorcerer, so best believe in those rare free times, he would spend it roaming the town to hunt for good food and by food, he means sweets

Gojo decided to start his day off with an over-sweetened latte and about three different slices of cake, nothing was going to ruin his day, not even this weak ass tiny curse sitting on his shoulders, he doesn’t even bother to exorcise it 

he was enjoying his first slice of cake which was a strawberry shortcake when a little boy about the age of four walks up to him, Gojo found him pretty cute, he was wearing jeans and a bomber jacket since it was already November

he can’t take his eyes off the kid, the blue-eyed man had his heart pounding, the little boy was too adorable 

he stops directly in front of Gojo and points at his shoulder

“mister, you have a little buggy on your shoulder” 

Gojo was confused at first, but then it hit him like a train, this boy can see curses and it’s a lot more likely that he also possesses cursed energy

Gojo did a swift motion with his hand that made the curse on his  shoulder fade away 

“and the buggy is gone” the little boy cheered

Gojo patted the little boy’s head 

“Hi buddy what’s your name?” he asked the little boy 

“Kino! My name is Kino!” the boy answered enthusiastically 

“Well Kino, why are you here alone? are you with your mom?” 

“Mommy told me to wait here” he says

Gojo smiled and helped the boy up so he could sit next to him, they had a solid conversation for five minutes, Gojo asked him about these “buggies” he sees and Kino enthusiastically answers his questions, the boy was very lively which makes Gojo love him anymore, The Gojo Satoru is smitten by a little boy

“Sometimes they’re small and very cute, but sometimes they’re very big and scary and-”

“Kino!” Kino was interrupted by a lady calling out to him 

“Mommy!” he exclaims and Gojo’s eyes immediately landed on you 

for the second time today, Gojo is smitten, you were so breath-taking to look at, you had a sundress on and your hair was neatly clipped together by a hair claw

he couldn’t take his eyes off of you 

“Mommy, come here! Me and Mr, Gojo were talking about buggies!” your son says excitedly 

you went over to them and greeted the unbelievably attractive man your son was talking to, damn, if only you knew he was three times more attracted to you 

you politely greeted him and introduced yourself

“Ms. Y/N if you don’t mind having a conversation with me about Kino’s “buggy” friends” he smiles, but it was a knowing smile, you shifted in your sit but nodded nonetheless

Gojo smiled and tapped Kino gently on the head and your son fell asleep 

“don’t worry, he’s just asleep” Gojo smiles reassuringly 

you nodded 

“I know he can see them...” you started, Gojo sips on his coffee

“His father was one of you...” you explained to him how you were impregnated by your ex-boyfriend who was a Jujutsu Sorcerer and how he died in battle way before Kino was born, you also explained how it has been hard for you to find the perfect learning place for him cause he’s been seeing things everywhere and you can’t explain something you can’t see to your own son

unknowingly, you were pouring out your frustrations to a stranger who wears sunglasses indoors

In all honesty, Gojo wasn’t paying attention to every word you say, he was overjoyed with the fact that you, a gorgeous woman with one hell of a cute son, were single 

Gojo’s head was immediately filled with plans on how to make you his while helping your son, it wasn’t hard for Gojo to come up with a plan though afterall, he was the strongest Jujutsu sorcerer 

being born with a cursed energy subjects you to be a prey of every curse you meet, the older you get, the more prominent it becomes and the scarier curses go after you, he had a feeling you know that and that’s why you were desperate for help

Gojo was doing this for Kino, to be able to protect himself. He was doing this for you, a mother, to stop worrying about his son. 

He was also doing this for himself, 'cause he’ll be damned if he let this chance go, an adorable son and a gorgeous girlfriend? hell yeah he’s in, he doesn’t believe in love at first sight, but one look at you and he’s a changed man

he was definitely going to make you his, even if it meant sacrificing the very little free time he gets

expect a handsome teacher at your door every weekend with a flower in hand for you and a gift for your son, he also brings three highschoolers with him from time to time who never fails to make the little lessons with Kino a lot more livelier 

[charlie-roll]

Satoru Gojo and farewell (and the many times he'd dance with death)

In which: Gojo fucking dies (thrice)

Expect inaccuracies, or miswritten words

Gojo Satoru knew death very well. Too well for his liking.

After all, Gojo Satoru died three times.

The first time he died, it didn’t feel bad at all.

Gojo had been killed, his consciousness was slipping away from him like sand or water, and the man that did so was walking away from him, a worm settled in his shoulders. A mere non-sorcerer, with a Heavenly Restriction, had killed one of the strongest– (and he probably was on his way to kill the other of the duo, but he didn’t know. Couldn’t know.)

He closed his eyes as he laid in the grass, finally noticing the burn of his eyelids. What would death feel like? A sweet dream? Would it taste like candy? Or would it be like putting on fake tears? He remembered when he had to, by Shoko’s orders. Suguru had held him as he struggled, yelling he didn’t want to. It won’t kill you, Satoru, he had said. Ironic.

Oh, Suguru. He would lie on his lap as soon as he saw him, demanding attention, and he’d be greeted by a warm smile and fingers running through his hair. “You know” he had said, “I’ll miss you.”

Satoru had only hummed as he asked about that. “You know this is a dream,” he had continued, “and you know you should wake up.”

“It will hurt,” he whined.

Suguru would only sigh in amusement, kissing his forehead, “I know. But when has Gojo Satoru not known how to go forwards?”

“This time I don’t” he admitted, looking for his hand and intertwining their fingers.

“I know you can figure it out,” he murmured, pulling his hand away, “if you don’t even try, there won’t be any more head massages.”

He whined and pouted, barely moving his head to the side, looking at the scene of reality, a Gojo laying dead in the grass– no, not dead yet. He wouldn’t be there if he was, would he? But he didn’t want to go. That was just Gojo, the Six Eyes user, but in Suguru’s arms, he was simply Satoru.

But the Suguru outside would become just Geto, wouldn’t he?

“There’s only one option.” His brain, despite running out of blood and everything, was working fast.

“There is” Suguru agreed.

“But I don’t know how to use it.”

“You can do it. Just think about it, you’re very smart.”

Cursed energy was formed by negative emotions, so it was called “negative energy” as well, and the Reversed Curse Technique was called “positive energy” –he had heard Shoko call it like that once. So he should do… the opposite?

If cursed energy is about death and destruction, the reversed curse technique is about life and creating.

He didn’t have the words to explain it, just like Shoko, but he understood, and that was the important thing. One second Suguru was massaging his temples and the next everything hurt, but he kept his head somewhere else– he was understanding, not only about the reverse cursed technique’s nature, but also about his own techniques, Limitless and Six Eyes, about the world itself and– and he felt he was reaching something he shouldn’t, that should feel wrong but it felt so, so right.

Then, everything was a cloud. It was too quick, too vague, he was on the floor and then on the sky and then he had something in his arms– no, someone and Suguru– no, Geto was in front of him. He knew the image of his face, but he couldn’t tell what that expression was.

We should kill everyone here, shouldn’t we, Suguru? Just say yes. Say yes and I'll do it. I wouldn’t even feel a thing. Just say yes, Suguru.

No… no, Satoru. There’s no meaning in that.

That day, he had said his farewell to Riko, to Kuroi, even to his humanhood for a moment. Then, he had embraced the raw power and sheer godhood.

The second time he died, it had been the most tortorous.

He had been a fool, an utter fool. How had he not noticed there was something wrong with Suguru? How? And there was a voice in his head that whispered in his ear awful things.

No, Satoru. You did noticed. You simply didn’t care.

No. No. That couldn’t be true, could it? Suguru was everything he had. Suguru meant the world to him. If he had noticed, he would’ve done something. Anything.

You knew he had lost weight. Did you even believe it was due to the heat.

Yes. He had believed, and he had hoped Suguru would tell him if there was something wrong– right? Satoru had always. He had told him everything, from how tired he was of the burden of being the Six Eyes, his fear of dying and of not being the strongest, not being worthy of keeping up with him, of how empty he felt if he wasn’t the strongest. Everything. He spilled secrets into his arms as easily as someone would spill water (or blood).

Are you the strongest because you’re Gojo Satoru, or are you Gojo Satoru because you’re the strongest?

He had hoped. He had believed in every single word Suguru told him, every single word.

I’ll tell you if there’s something wrong, Satoru. Don’t worry.

Was it such a sin to trust?

Maybe he had known there was something wrong. The way Suguru sometimes ‘forgot’ to eat or to get up, or how he was stiff whenever Satoru hugged him, how he stopped touching him first, how he leaned away from his kisses saying that he hadn’t brushed his teeth. I don’t care, he said in a whisper. But I do. It’s gross.

He hadn’t pushed further, scared of breaking him like he crushed so many other things, scared of breaking what they had.

It hurts.

He felt he was dying and no one was there. Next time there wouldn’t be any Suguru waiting if he really was dying. Next time there wouldn’t be anyone to hug him tight when he felt he wasn’t enough, because how could one feel full when one had reached godhood and descended again to being a mortal? How could I feel full when only you made me full?

It hurts so much.

And, in the first place, how could he dare to let something happen to Suguru? He should’ve done something. He should’ve saved him from any threat, even if it was himself.

But looking at Suguru in that street, dressed in black and with his hair floating around his shoulders like the damn god he was, he looked so, so happy. Suguru had always had a beautiful smile, almost frowning when he laughed too hard, and he always liked kissing those lips curved upwards.

He couldn’t.

Suguru even laughed in that street, even if Satoru felt like dying. His insides were swirling in anxiety and desperation, he felt his heart in all the wrong places and he was sure that his neck would break from how tight a knot in his throat was. Was he happier now? Was he happier killing and being a war criminal? Was he better off without him? Was he the reason Suguru was hurting?

That day, he couldn’t say his farewell to Suguru, and he didn’t bother saying his farewell to Shoko, to Yaga, to Nanami, to the rest of the world. In exchange, he became the strongest, alone and in his own, a real god among mortals, revered and feared. If there was something he couldn’t do, then it was impossible. If there was someone that could stop a war criminal, it would be him. But he couldn’t. He was no god.

If he was, then their god was dead.

Satoru had died that day.

He died and got sent to hell to atone for his sins. Grey walls holding him back whenever he rested, reminding him of Suguru’s walls and white teeth smiling. A blur of curses and lights as he slayed whatever he was being sent to kill. But never Suguru. Never him.

Hell really was awful, capable of breaking a man. Even the strongest.

But he was still standing, no? He would– he would be okay. Gojo was the strongest. He would figure out something to do, to fix everything. He was strong. He could do it, nothing would be impossible if he did it. He was strong.

I can only save those who want to be saved.

“Satoru! Look at this!”

He turned, frowning and covering his eyes from the sun, and lit up when he saw Suguru’s smile. The boy was holding something, and he stilled as he put it in his temples. It was a… rock?

Suguru pondered for a while before beaming where he stood, some water drops running through his cheek as they fell from his silky black hair. “I knew it! This is the shade of your eyes! Look!”

He leaned to see, and well, it was the closer one could expect to find in a river. It was summer and both had rolled up their pants to their knees, letting the cold water hug their ankles. “You really are cute, Suguru” he let out, not really thinking.

Suguru had just blushed and made a single smooth move with his foot to completely soak him. A moment later, he was letting out a yell as Satoru splashed him with water as well. “You asshole! It’s fucking cold!”

“You started!”

They had fun running and laughing when they got the other completely wet, before being splashed themselves, and Satoru couldn’t say why, but his heart hurt whenever Suguru did so much as laugh at him, so free and light there were starting to be tears of joy. Maybe it was just that it hurt that he was so beautiful– there wasn’t a fitting word for him. Maybe gorgeous or precious or work of art, but those could be applied to something else, and Suguru was unique. In his opinion, he deserved to be worshiped and caressed with all the gentleness the world had to offer.

So when they finally laid in the grass to dry up, he couldn’t help but admire him, hesitantly reaching to stroke his cheek. His skin was always smooth, his hair softer than silk, his lips always shining with lip gloss he loved to put in– one that he had begged to borrow, and Suguru always sighed before pressing their lips together, saying there there, now we’re sharing. Happy? And he felt his heart drop to the floor. But he hadn’t even reached the best part– his eyes. Hazel brown, light and full of life, that reminded him of the most delicious treat, sweet and… and simply the definition of perfection. They were the prettiest thing he had ever seen. If he had to choose between his life and protecting the boy’s eyes, he’d say thank you as he dug his grave.

God, he was weak for that man.

He slowly leaned in to kiss him, so softly, so gently, so lovingly, as he deserved. And Suguru simply hummed and leaned closer, in something so sweet he would give up all the candy in the world just to feel it again. He loved that boy.

“I love you too” Suguru had answered, and he realized he had said that outloud. Satoru just chuckled and he took something from his pocket without showing him, and pressed it to his temples.

“Ah, what a shame. I knew there wasn’t anything that could compare to you.”

Satoru showed the brown rock to Suguru, who melted in his place with a smile. “It’s quite close though.”

“But it’s not it” he pouted, and Suguru giggled and kissed him again.

Satoru could do nothing but melt as well, thinking what god had he pleased in his previous life to be born in the same time period as Suguru had, and even better, to meet him. And being loved back? He must be dreaming.

“You’re staring” Suguru said softly, barely a whisper. A shiver ran down his spine.

“I think I’m sick.”

“I told you not to lay on the river–”

“Lovesick.”

Suguru looked surprised before smiling. “You silly. How many times have I said that I love you as well?”

“Maybe you should remind me.”

And Suguru kissed him again– not as softly as before, pushing past his lips and devouring him like if he was just a candy for him, and Satoru sighed and hugged him by the neck, pulling him closer as he tried to keep up, his stomach swirling with butterflies. When it was over, the other boy pressed their foreheads together, and he noticed he was being hugged by the waist. Huh. Alright.

“You’re loved. Very loved.”

“By who?”

“Me. I love you. I’ll never get tired of saying it.”

Satoru smiled impossibly wider, staring directly into his lover’s eyes. “You know, I heard something that reminded me of you.”

“What thing?”

“That hazel brown eyes used to shine like the moon, and to hide them, they got bathed in heaven’s honey.”

“That’s incredibly sweet. And fucking sappy.”

Gojo chuckled. “But it's true. I love your eyes.”

“And the rest of me? How awful…”

Satoru shut him off with another kiss. God, he loved doing that.

Everything felt so right, so very right he suspected he was dreaming.

And laying in the ground, dust surrounding him, blood flowing out of him, he really was.

He was glad though. He hadn’t been able to dream in a good while, maybe ten years, or at least nothing as peaceful. He’d love to have another moment of enlightenment, like the first time he died, but nothing was coming to him, just a flush of memories and emotions.

For the first time in perhaps a very, very long time, he was scared of dying. Before, he was always scared of Suguru dying, but he was already gone. In his place, there was an imposter who pretended to be that man, but he could tell. How wouldn’t he?

He didn’t want to die yet.

His students, the very last thing he could say he cherished– they still needed him. The world was all too cruel and dangerous for them right now, and a part of him wanted to crawl back and protect them from whatever, just like he always did. He remembered that he had consoled Megumi once, after his sister fell into a coma. Gojo was never a good father, not even a good guardian, losing everything he ever loved, but he learned from his mistakes (sometimes). He pushed softly, staying despite the boy’s anger and sadness, and he let down Infinity for him. The boy had fought until he was tired, and crumbled in his place, crying as Gojo held him like he had held Suguru all those times ago.

And now Sukuna had possessed him.

He failed Megumi.

He remembered when the news that Nanami left the jujutsu world hit him, he hadn’t been surprised, but hurt nonetheless. He just… he was glad he didn’t do it the way Suguru had. And Nobara– she had all the joy that he sometimes lacked. Yes, he was happy with his students, but the youth was simply at another level on that. The girl dragged him shopping and asked him to train him every once in a while, and he just knew Suguru would have loved her. She was fun to be around, but also serious whenever she needed to be. A mix the two of them loved.

And they both died.

He failed them as well.

The world was being destroyed by curses and Sukuna was free to do anything, and he wondered if he was too late. He was always late.

Satoru… you’re late, Suguru had said as he bleeded out.

But there was someone alive. Yuuji was still there, with the rest, fighting for everything they deemed right, and he sincerely hoped they were stronger than him– they already were, more than he ever was. He hoped they could kill Sukuna, even if he wasn’t around to see it. The pink-haired boy was just like Suguru, from time to time. He was cheerful and energetic, but he had moments where he broke and fell off. When he was dead for the world, hiding in his basement, he once got sad, the sort of sadness he had seen in Suguru’s eyes. Do you think they’ll want to see me, Gojo-sensei? What do you think they’ll say? he had asked. They’ll be happy, Yuuji. Maybe they’ll be angry, but above everything, they’ll be glad you’re okay. They love you just as much as you love them.

He was never that good with words. It just scared him that he ended up like Suguru. But it scared him even more to make another mistake, so he just hugged the boy like he should have hugged his own lover.

And now, all that happiness was gone, a scarred boy in its place, traumatized beyond repair.

He failed Yuuji so miserably.

Maybe he didn’t really have a reason to be anymore.

Just let go, my love.

Suguru’s words stung his still beating heart. He wouldn’t be able to dream with Suguru anymore, would he? Not like when he died that first time. Now, it was definitive.

Before, he said his farewell to something for another. Now, he said his farewell to everything– Shinjuku’s sky, his students, his worries and fears to welcome–

Well, he’d dream before sleeping, at last.

He had arrived long, long ago.

He had seen everything that happened, cursing and mourning the suffering that undeserving people had to go through. From a certain point onwards, he stopped looking. Whenever they arrived, they’d tell him. He just hoped that it wasn’t that soon.

Flowers filled his vision, a sky so blue it was almost purple and the most beautiful of flowers that reminded him of his lover. He wondered often how he’d be, knowing he wouldn’t get an answer too soon. Hoping he wouldn’t.

He made flower crowns with his free time (which was everyday), one for every friend he had, and the students from Jujutsu High, whether he met them or not, gifting them one as he welcomed them, soothing their pain and worries. And, to be honest, not always he was satisfied with the result, so he started another one from scratch. And it was alright. He would be bored if he didn’t.

He cut a flower from the stem and brought it to his face to smell it. He was getting so many memories…

A petal flew into the wind.

Lazily, he followed it with his eyes, standing once turning wasn’t enough. And oh…

When he turned, he was met with a face way too familiar.

He looked surprised, but then a warm smile washed over his face. He could feel his own eyes start to burn.

“Satoru” his own name rolled down the man’s tongue so nicely, with a fondness and gentleness the imposter could never imitate.

“...Suguru?” he asked, with a broken voice and shaky breaths. He felt that it had started to rain, but the man’s clothing wasn’t wet at all.

Suguru had smiled wider, and raised his arms. “Come on, come here.”

He almost tackled him in a hug, embracing him with both arms and legs like a koala. His face and neck were wet, and he didn’t know whose sobs were those. Maybe both of them.

Suguru stroked his back and moved to his hair, giving him rubs so gente, so caring, that he could only cry louder. His name was a prayer he held into like a lifeline, and he knew right there and then that Suguru was his religion, the very person he’d be on his knees for, and that he’d worship as he saw fit. After all, he knew as well that he was in paradise.

Hell was anywhere his god wasn’t, and he had lived through it for ten years.

But now, at last, he found peace.

“Suguru.”

“Hm?”

Satoru held his hands, and as he stroked one with his thumb, he kissed the other, taking his time with each knuckle of each finger, his palm and wrist, peppering kisses upwards through his arm, shoulder, neck (and Suguru hummed in delight, and Satoru swore he was dying again– but it felt nicer than ever before) until meeting his face. He kissed his chin, his cheeks, his nose, his eyelids, his forehead, his ear, his cheek again, the edges of his mouth, before a full-on kiss, so loving he could taste something salty, and he couldn’t tell from who it was coming from.

“I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

(“Suguru.”

“Hm?”

“I was wrong. Heaven’s honey can’t compare to your eyes. They’re prettier and sweeter.”

“Oh, you smooth talker. Come here.”)

AO3 version!

[polysyndetonaddictsupportgroup]

okay but were megumis emotions affected too

I don’t actually consider this a spoiler because it will never ever be answered in SGG directly (and it’s already been heavily implied in the text itself) but I’m answering under the cut anyway.

Yes, but not exactly in the way that Yuuta’s were.

Most people on the receiving end of reverse cursed technique aren’t effected emotionally, which is part of the reason why Shoko and Gojo genuinely didn’t know if reverse cursed technique did anything at all. And that’s because I figured the person experiencing the most direct effects would be the person generating it.

They’re the battery, right? They feel the full force of the flow. I figured the person on the receiving end only gets a small piece of that, so while they just feel a bit peppier, the person making the reverse cursed energy gets a way heavier hit. I think it was recently made canonical in the manga that reversed cursed technique is much less effective on the recipient than it would be when healing yourself, so I think canon confirms it.

Shoko could never generate reverse cursed energy on a level that anyone would have actually been impacted by, emotionally speaking.

Yuuta however is a fucking nuclear power plant of cursed energy and has been flooding Megumi with outrageously high levels of reverse cursed energy. Megumi absolutely felt the emotional effects, but they’re much less noticeable with him, because he’s so fucking unconscious most of the time.

But reversed cursed energy is personalized. It makes you feel whatever feels best to you. So he hasn’t been inundated with Yuuta’s same feelings of “you are not alone” that Yuuta gets when he uses it.

He feels safe.

Megumi’s a character who just has never really had a sense of security. His parents were highly unreliable and left him and his sister to fend for themselves. He probably experienced food, housing, financial, and safety insecurity. Then, he was abused, which would have shattered his own sense of personal safety and trust in the adults around him. He was raised to join a profession almost certain to kill him. The closest he probably had to a safety blanket over the years was Gojo, and the Zenin just ripped that away with their most recent stunt.

He’s in pain. He’s blind. He’s afraid and he’s vulnerable. He needed urgent medical aid for days that was denied to him until a few hours ago. He needs to rest and heal but he can’t because he’s terrified and blind and hurt.

I think Megumi just really, really wants to feel safe right now. And so that’s what reverse cursed technique made him feel.

He’s not super aware enough to process it, but he is as aware of it as he is of anything right now. And he’s rammed right into the same blockade as Yuuta: Yuuta’s brain, when inundated with feelings of not being alone while holding Megumi’s hand, made a tie between Megumi and that feeling. Megumi’s brain, when inundated with feelings of safety when Yuuta was holding his hand, made the same tie. And he hasn’t gotten the same speech from Shoko about what reverse cursed energy does. All he knows is that he only feels safe when Okkotsu-senpai is holding his hand.

However I also decided that you could not waterboard that fact out of him.

So there’s no way of confirming any of this in the fic past implying Megumi’s attached to Yuuta too—like with asking for him when he woke up, trying to keep hold of his hand, being concerned as to whether it hurts him to help him. Megumi will crush these emotions into a small, secret ball, and then one day he will die. He’ll never tell.

[agentangeles]

hello everyone please enjoy the first post i've made in my writing blog in easily 6 months and it's just to yell about the fucking center venn diagram point for two big fixations

now you might be wondering "angeles when you start moving towards other fandoms will you still be nootboots" and the answer is yes, its my brand, but also ace attorney has a fucking vice grip on my neurodivergent mentally ill ass

as a side note i am too much of an idiot to remember to read the manga but i know Points Of Interest and when I can sit for a good bit and consume it I will, so bear with my anime main knowledge

Anyways consider the concept of family clans in JJK and the Sahdmadhis and their shit in SOJ. Obviously, we see how shit happened with maki her sister and how that works, and clearly the clans are structured differently depending on the family (what the fuck is going on with gojo. love that funky little manic twink but. What.)

And yes, AA and JJK get to hold hands because of Higuruma, which means I now get to think of both of them and daydream about crossovers, and y'know what? In the JJK verse, you can reasonably explain so much shit, especially w/ Khurai'inism and bloodlines, because Khura'in's designated holy figure being a super cool badass hundreds of years ago with an equally badass sister? Sorcerers who kicked ass. Hella sorcerers who kicked ass. would be special grades without a doubt if they were alive today.

and like cursed techniques having genetic tie ins ALSO FUCKING SLAPS because that's a huge factor! you can also explain why the feys and the sahdmadhis have spirit channeling because *it's the same fucking bloodline* and it's not a stretch to say someone was kicked out of the clan, fucked off, and then those traits started popping up again in later generations

that aside, clan hierarchy also gives a nice port over from an actual extra country that capcom decided now exists, because instead of a ruling kingdom family it's a Big Fucking Clan With A Lot Of Weight To It

(And also makes sense then why when the revolution starts up, nobody steps in to do shit. interfering with another clan's family drama? no fucking thank you. not my paygrade.)

also i just think nahyuta would be really fun as a sorcerer and their rosary beads would DEFINITELY be a weapon for cursed spirits and their title as "last rites prosecutor" would doubly fuck

Unrelated to SOJ but still on the AA train, this also means that Simon Blackquill is just. Always busting out cursed techniques. And since nobody can see it they think he just slices shit with his fingers. And that's fucking hilarious to think about, the idea that someone probably got after him for it and he went "Consider this though: who is going to ask questions with the everything else i have going on", because Simon "Definitely Uses The >:3c Emoji When He Is Texting" Blackquill refuses to fucking listen to people.

"You're going to expose sorcerer society to the masses" Wrong. Everyone is going to think he can cut shit with his fingers because he's a scary samurai man who went to prison for murder and clearly this is something that tracks for that persona.

[just-jordie-things]

Jordie pleaseee ;-; feed us more special grade reader acskxnsj the way you wrote their technique what the hECK man I crave more— *stands like a disparaged Victorian child*

please kind lady, would you spare us some facts about the reader and their technique? it would ease the chill that the plague had inflicted upon me *cOUGH*

OMG REALLY REALLY ??? YES I'D LOVE TO TELL Y'ALL MORE ABOUT IT !!!

i called it Fate's Handler !! here's some stuff from my notes abt it:

the user of this ability is able to summon the ‘string’ of one’s lifespan when in close enough radius (about hand to hand distance).  <- i kinda pictured this like what the fates of past present and future do in greek mythology, hence the naming too :))

their cursed energy allows them to reach into their chest and retrieve the string from their soul.  then, if the opponent is weak enough, the user is able to cut that string and most likely end their life.  if their opponent is much stronger than them, then they may only be able to cause some damage to the string, which would weaken their opponent, but not kill them.

i never got to write any action scenes with it but i thought some dramatic flair would be a MUST when using this technique. maybe the eyes go white and the voice gets all echo-y... ooh i'm getting excited about it i hope i get the chance to play around with this technique more!!

i also kinda imagined them having a cursed tool too, but i never got that far in the fic. definitely a badass, vintage looking pair of iron shears tho !!! that would've been so fun to write. i had this idea that they were the ultimate murder weapon and that if they were used to break the string then that soul wouldn't be able to come back as a curse ??

thank you for asking about it!!! i really struggle with writing out full cursed techniques but this one was super fun and i feel it was a little wasted on the fic i used it for but... i really wanted to put an emphasis on how the reader was a special grade sorcerer for a reason, she was fully capable of defending herself and exorcizing curses in the same breath. i wanted her to come across as this all powerful (god like, as shoko would say) badass on the field... and then this sweet innocent, sheltered girl just trying to figure out herself and love for the first time outside of her work !!!

[cursedvibes]

Do you think we’ll ever see Sukuna’s OG curse form (like after “the bath”) in the present timeline or only in flashbacks? Also I wonder if we’ll ever see what he looked like as a sorcerer before he became a curse? He probably looked similar to his OG curse form but I’m still curious

Yes, I think the general idea of the "bath" is to give Sukuna a body similar to his original form. The one with the four arms, belly mouth etc. It's probably also gonna give him access to his weapons like the spear and the dagger (they have special names but I can't remember them right now), which I'm assuming might be stored in his tattoos. They probably also want to make sure that he keeps access to the 10 Shadows Technique. Originally, I thought he'd only use 10 Shadows to somehow bring his original body back, but now I think he might want to keep it. So I think his new body will probably look close to his OG one, but with some special adjustments.

Also, Sukuna isn't a curse. He calls himself a curse, gets called one by wider jujutsu society and certainly tries very hard to reject his humanity (because humans are weak), but he's still a (reincarnated) sorcerer.

Kenjaku regards him as a sorcerer as well, as seen when Kashimo asks them who the strongest sorcerer is. I assume it was a bit more complicated in his case, but the basic process is still the same as with other reincarnated sorcerers. He died or performed sokushinbutsu as the first colour page with his mummy suggests, focused his cursed energy in his fingers and became a cursed object just like Kashimo, Uro, Reggie etc. His cursed energy is just far more powerful and destructive than the others'. Seeing how he transferred his cursed energy to Megumi, I wonder if it only took one finger because its Yuuji's body or if he could've done that from the start, but chose to split his energy 20x to make it more difficult for sorcerers to gather his remains or potentially destroy them if they did figure out a way to do it.

JJK probably is closer to the Ryomen Sukuna urban legend in regards to his origins, i.e. he's a conjoined twin who mostly absorbed his twin in the womb. Kenjaku also has a lot of similarities to Mononobe Tengoku, the guy who found urban legend Sukuna when he was a child and forced him to participate in a kodoku ritual (lock people in a room and make them fight each other to the death) and later turned him into a cursed mummy in the hopes that he would destroy Japan. There will probably be another spin on it in jjk, but I could see something like this being jjk Sukuna's origin too.

Or I've also seen the theory that the twins were partially separated later and that's were the scar/distortion on the right side of his face comes from. Either way, that still makes him human and a sorcerer (or curse user if we go by jujutsu society definitions). He's definitely not a vengeful spirit like Naoya or Sugawara no Michizane. We don't know how he died, but his OG form is from the time when he was still alive and thereby human/a sorcerer. It could be that he looked a bit different when he was born and he got things like the belly mouth later on in life through experiments, but Kenjaku has a mouth in their brain, Heian era sorcerers might just be Built Different™.

[steve0discusses]

S5 Ep 42 Pt 2: We are All Warhammer Minis

Last we left off, Bakura just reminded Yami that he did, in fact, invite him to play a Shadow game, and then Yami just kinda never realized the game had started. Yami was warned, Bakura explains, It’s not like he wasn’t told exactly what would happen.

Which is a weird ass thing to say, when it like involved Bakura crashing Yami’s funeral.

Like Yami was supposed to DIE in that tomb, right? Like he was gonna find peace and happiness and then peace the hell out of Yugi’s haunted bean. But instead of perma-dying, he’s freakin stuck here. With Bakura. For the end of his days. His very worst frenemy. The ultimate trap. What a weird way to hang out with Bakura, getting trapped like this.

It is interesting how the Alexander the Great arc actually does play into this arc. Shada did make a model of the past for them to fight in, and now Bakura’s doing the same except way more dramatic because unfortunately it alters history.

(read more under the cut)

Don’t think too much about what would even happen to Yugi and friends if you damage or move anything from 5000 years ago. Like I’m pretty sure you can knock over a few cans of ancient Egyptian paint and just Greece would have ceased to exist. That’s how tenuous changing the past seems to me, if I have learned anything from Twilight Zone.

The fact that without Yugi existing in the future, would mean Yami would not have been able to alter the past: don’t think about that. Shadow Realm means we don’t think about that. Shadow Realm does what it pleases.

That or this show is going to split off into hundreds of multiverses just like Marvel and honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if they did.

Also, we are informed that the rainbow filter is not so much of a Aknadin technique as it is a Bakura’s busted hourglasses technique.

Also it took me 2 watches of this episode, making the caps, editing this out, to realize that he has the hourglass sideways. The three hourglasses are just hourglasses in three directions, sand going down, sand going up, or sand staying still. Holy crap, y’all, long covid: my brain took way too long to realize that.

But we got there!

Did I go “wtf” when Joey was like “ah, I could get used to this!” Yes, yes I did.

At that point, Zorc shows up to give Aknadin a wish, I guess. Like a genie.

And then he was immediately doused in purple gatorade.

You may be wondering “hey, but I thought you can’t make Zorc because Yami locked Zorc away when he lost his own damn name” and don’t worry, Bakura already thought about that.

I guess the function of the last hourglass is “I put a gun to the plot and told it to step forward or I swear to Gods, I will shoot.” He can bend future time one single time at his will, and waited this long to use it. Probably because youknow, it’s Bakura, he’s not going to choose any time to do this but the very rudest time to do so.

Back at Casa Pharaoh, Tristan has made it to the chamber of legs. Notice how Yami’s Dad is the only guy who was like “Hell no, I’m not shaving for my portrait, just draw me in a robe.” Just like me every time I decide to wear tights with a skirt.

Turns out that yes, Yami deleted his own name just everywhere. The curse he got cursed with was very effective.

And back at Aknadin and his awkward family reunion, Seto is kind of over having a family and it’s only been like less than a minute of having one.

No, they did not have a moment of “Wait! Yami is my cousin???” which like, asking your Son to kill his cousin sure is moment. Also the moment of realizing your cousin is 2 feet shorter than you and trying to figure out how that works.

And now, Seto’s Dad looks like this guy:

It’s a look. It’s a card somewhere.

So, in a moment that was hard to cap, Aknadin decided to blast everyone in the face with a plasma beam, and out of the clouds comes Hassad, here to block to blows and take a fireball the chest, like a trooper.

Now if you don’t remember Hassad, he was a hallucination that Pharaoh had in the cave before he saw himself as a literal baby and was like “yikes” and left the cave. Turns out, Hassad is the protector of the Pharaohs, and is finally here to do his damn job.

After Yami, uh, already died once, but youknow what? Better late than never, Hassad!

But unfortunately, this means we’re back at square one, that’s right, it’s time to duel again!

But like, next episode. don’t worry. It’s next episode.

phew.

Like seriously Yugi has done more damage to planet earth than most anime children. Power to him.

And then as I was capping I realized something about Dartz, and I said “I’ll find a way to organically fit this into the commentary” and maybe if I had a better brain I would have done that. Instead, an aside about Dartz’s season that I keep thinking about this season with Bakura.

Because never forget Dartz walked into Cairo, saw Yami, and was like “neat, I’m gonna steal his power” and then saw Bakura and then immediately turned around. When like, this is all that Bakura does.

This leaves so many questions about Bakura and who he was before he was possessed by the spirit of the ring, and when he got possessed by the ring, since he was supposed to be in prison right? So...that was one pissed off prisoner to just have VIBES that were enough to throw off Dartz.

Anyway, that’s all for now, as per usual, here is the link to read these from the beginning, if you so desire. I know my update schedule is so slow atm, but my backlog is pretty freakin strong at this point so there’s more, if you’re new here:

https://steve0discusses.tumblr.com/tagged/yugioh/chrono

[koipalm]

Not here to dogpile! I promise!

And while I definitely think Geto wasn’t the greatest at raising Nanako and Mimiko since they do have this unhealthy codependency thing. It should be noted that Geto didn’t have anyone from the cult/family to raise Nanako and Mimiko.

The author stated in the internet that it was only Geto himself that raised them. And it was only Nanako and Mimiko’s decision to join because of how much they love him. It’s unhealthy yes, but Geto is the type who can’t really say no to his precious daughters.

I mean. I definitely think it’s way better than what Gojo did with Megumi. Gojo did not raised him. He literally only “save” him due to his curse technique and thinking he would be a strong ally growing up.

Do I think Gojo cares about Megumi? To a certain degree. But definitely not in a family way. Gojo views relationships a bit too transactional. I mean Gojo was aware about Megumi’s suicidal tendencies, but not completely understanding where it stems from. And plus, there was a flashback in the manga of Gojo literally had him dragging a young Megumi on a mission already. Definitely not dad material.

Gojo basically only “raised” Megumi as a child soldier essentially. I mean, you can’t blame him. Because that was how Gojo was raised, so he thought it was the best for him. Overall. Geto = Dad (not the best but he still raised them with love and care). Gojo = Not Dad.

OH MAN ok so first i must preface this by saying that some of this really depends on what you make of their interactions, because not all of this is stated in the text. in the end, we may just have different interpretations ^^

so while it does not seem that geto directly raised nanako and mimiko as followers in his cult, he is still a cult leader himself and it doesnt seem that he makes much of an effort to shield them from what hes doing and what his ideologies are. its very clear that the two worship him as a father figure and greater & both of the twins subscribe to his movement. nanako and mimiko are directly involved in the sorcerer's side of his plans, acting as some of the key players in his plans and even willing to assassinate other sorcerers in his name.

in the end, even with how much geto loved mimiko and nanako, he was subjecting them to incredibly harmful ideology and indoctrinating them into a genocide effort. all in all, that is abuse, no matter how much he loved them.

on gojo's side of things, i really cant claim that he was the best father figure either, but i dont think he was trying to be in the first place. when geto breaks off from jujutsu tech and takes the girls and takes over the star religious group, gojo instead goes to the fushiguros, whom he was either previously ignoring the existence of or he was putting off confronting toji's last words until geto's defection prompted it (we really don't have confirmation of his thought process here and if he had already planned on going to the fushiguros, so this is all speculation).

in any case, the main thing is that gojo and geto practically swap ideologies by the end of the past arc. where geto turns to a violent and drastic solution, gojo instead carries out in the spirit of geto's previous ideals, while also trying to secure a better future for the next generation of sorcerers. interestingly, its right after geto assumes control of the cult in the manga we are shown gojo meeting megumi.

what it seems to ME from their interaction, is that gojo is considering tojis last words and is giving megumi a choice. megumi rejects the idea of going to the zenin clan on the basis that it would make tsumiki unhappy (i wonder if gojo says this because he knows how they would treat tsumiki as a non sorcerer, or because he as a clan kid has some prior experiences. who knows). to be honest, i dont think that megumi had a plethora of options. he could have gone to the zenin clan with tsumiki and been well trained but unhappy, or he could have tried to evade the zenin clan for as long as possible, which wouldn't have been possible to keep up forever without having proper training on his techniques. gojo offers megumi a third option, presumably acting as a buffer and helping to train megumi. it IS possible that gojo could have offered megumi protection from the zenins and to lead a normal life away from sorcery indefinitely, but theres debate if thats even possible. megumi was going to be sold for an [unknown] large amount of money because of the strength of his sorcery, which likely means that the zenin at least knew he could be an incredible asset. maybe someone they didnt see as impressive or valuable might have been able to get out if they fought hard enough, like maki and mai, but that probably wouldnt have been possible for megumi. the sheer strength of his sorcery puts him in trouble in the jujutsu world, whether hes targeted or recruited for it.

i dont think that gojo was specifically training megumi to be a child sorcerer and an asset to him, because his parting words to me imply more of gojos own issues with geto (of course, speculation) than wanting megumi to be a strong ally of his, especially because gojo is not looking at megumi and has a kind of melancholic smile.

i have seen the interview that gege did where he claims that gojo did it to "seek human resources", but i do think that its an incredibly strange setup, especially with having the contrast with how geto is solidifying his own beliefs in how to move forward in the jujutsu world.

part of the reason im iffy about stuff like this is because gege will set up and have gojo act as an adult who is actively trying to help the children he meets and change the jujutsu world starting with the younger generations, and then he will turn around and say that gojo doesnt care as long as the kids are strong. i know that gege is known for being harsh on gojo and hating his character, so i wont lie, i dont put as much weight into stuff like that....

dont get me wrong, gojo was definitely not "dad" material! in reality, i think he was more of a mentor figure than anything else. we know that he gave financial support, he helped megumi train, and he also helped give him advice, but he definitely wasn't there 100% of the time. in fact, im not entirely sure he would have been able to do that at all considering he would have likely had to take up even more missions than he was already doing to take up the slack from geto defecting. in contrast, i dont think that geto should have assumed being their father figure at all, especially in the way he did, considering hes also gojo's age when he takes the twins in (assumed around 19-20s) because he posits himself to the twins as self assured and morally superior to nearly everyone else around them, which is also very unhealthy because at that age you yourself are still learning, and if youre taking care of young and impressionable kids who are willing to take anything you say as the ultimate truth, you should definitely let them know that youre not like. a god on earth. NOT THAT HE SAID THAT but like you get what i mean

[skythesnake]

Fury of Nations - Chapter Two

Previous Chapter: 1

Chapter One: 1

Next Chapter: 3

Chapter 2

The morning brought about a certain problem. In the full light of the day, I got a better look at my companions and discovered that Dilan was painfully pretty. I stumbled over my words as I tried not to stare at his curly green hair, and his pretty golden eyes. I cursed myself silently. Among the many things I had come here to do, falling for a foreigner was not one of them. What would my mother think? Aside from him, I wandered around the camp and discovered the locations of a few of the important areas. First, I learned that we were number 4 of seven war camps, with rumors of an eighth being constructed. Second, that this camp was split in two halves, run by two Captains. Separating the two sides was a giant pit dug deep into the ground that I was told was the training grounds. It could be used for entertainment as there were seats near the top and some closer to the bottom, but mostly it was just a big circular pit with four sets of staircases running down its sides. There were about six new squadrons, including us, that were forming that would start training at the end of the week. That meant I had two days to figure out as much as I could about the people here before I started training with them. I should also try to get more information about the war if I could. Could it eventually take me out to sea?

Stepping into what served as the library here - I figured the best place to find knowledge would be a library - I noticed very few people in it. I hadn't expected many people here; it was a camp full of mostly Tsaballan and Fijari soldiers after all, and they were not known for their enthusiasm for books. The building itself wasn't terribly big, but there were bookshelves filled to the ceiling, all very close together. I was mildly surprised to find a lot of novels, I figured most of what would be at a war camp would be technical manuals for equipment and fighting techniques. For now, I wandered to the geography section hoping to find a book about the sea, west of the Matanal Isles. Before Tsabal had discovered the new Continent, no one had ever been far in that direction. The sea was known to be wild, claiming the lives of anyone that dared to go there. But surely there had to be research now that we were locked in a war with the continent on the other side of the sea, right? 

“Looking for anything specific?” I turned to see a grinning Dilan with a book in his hands. I couldn’t quite see what the title was, but it was a relatively thick book. I returned his smile after a moment of trying to remember what it meant here.

“I am quite curious about the Western Sea. There is so much mystery about it, though it cannot be too different from the Eastern Sea, yes?” He stepped forward and tipped out a book at eye level.

“I read this book a while back, it’s a really interesting read. If you read quickly, you might want to try this one,” He reached up after handing me a book called History of the Western Matanalan Sea, to pull out a book twice as thick as the first one and looked considerably older. It was this one he pointed to when he said

“There's a lot of conspiracy and fake tales, but who doesn’t love that? Anyway, intermixed in all the stories, there’s some real history and geography.”

“Thank you! I am a quite fast reader, so I appreciate the recommendations. What are you reading?” I asked, gesturing at the book in his hands. He looked down at it, almost as if surprised it was there.

“Ah, this one is a story book, kind of. I-” He paused, looking up at me uncertainly “... are you religious?” I shrugged.

“I think the gods used to exist, but if they are still around then they have moved on to other things to occupy their time.” He nodded then

“Okay, I just didn’t want to offend you. This one is a collection of myths or stories from back when the gods supposedly walked among us. I’ve always loved reading these kinds of stories, there’s a lot of good lessons in them, and some are just good fun.” 

“Ah. I think I must give them a try then. I also love to learn, but my research has been mostly on modern day things. Myths sound delightful though.” He laughed, and oh, that was such a pretty sound.

“I don’t know about must, but… If you want, once you’re done with those, I have some myth books I can lend you…?” He seemed hesitant but excited. I had noticed these past few days that he didn’t tend to share things with others too much. Perhaps he worried he’d be judged for his passions.

“That would be wonderful, thank you Dilan.” He nodded and walked away, leaving me to my books. 

I checked out my books and left the library intending to go straight to my little cabin to start reading. Ta’eel intercepted me on my way, though, and led me to a little group at the edge of the training grounds after I dropped off my books. It was a collection of mostly Tsaballan soldiers, though there was a grumpy looking Vishali, and two Fijari who turned out to be twins.

“Hey! An Alanaean! I’ve never seen one before, I heard your mountains are near impossible to cross.” One of the twins, Emraln, said. I nodded

“To my knowledge, I am one of twelve Alanaeans who made the trip. I do not know how many of them made it through the mountains, they are quite treacherous.” I kept my tone light, though it felt strange to have them referred to as ‘my mountains”. It wasn’t as if they belonged to me, nor to anyone.

“Yeah well, it’s good to meet you. I’m A’Toary, this one’s twin brother.” He said, with a playful wink and and elbow nudged in his brother’s direction. They play fought while Ta’eel and I chatted with the others. The Vishali didn’t say a word, which wasn’t entirely unexpected, but  they did seem extremely surprised when I asked them what their name was in Vishali Hand Sign.

‘About time one of your heathens speaks to me in my own language. I am Anet.’ I was slightly taken aback by the apparent hostility in Anet’s facial expressions and hand signs.

‘I apologize that I did not do it sooner. I am K-I-S-H-A-N. Forgive me for asking, but is it not… a bit strange to expect others to learn your language when you are in a different country?’ They simply glared at me and stalked away. I stared after them. What had I said wrong? The Fijari I’d met didn’t expect to be talked to in Fijari, nor did Ta’eel demand to be spoken to in Tashikan. So why was it different for Anet? Ta’eel rested her hand on my shoulder to get my attention

“Hey. Don’t worry about it. From what I get from their squad, Anet hasn’t spoken a word out loud. They even disdain the other Vishali in their squad for speaking out loud. Some people can’t be helped.” I nodded and turned back to the others who were engaged in a conversation regarding drinks.

“All I’m saying is that the Dalenatans know how to make a strong drink. One that’ll knock you directly on your butt if you drink it too fast.” 

“Maybe, if you’re looking for that. But the Tashikans have everyone beat on flavor.” Ta’eel laughed at this and raised her hands, a Fijari gesture.

“Hey, don’t give us all the credit. Have you had Alanaean curry? Delicious.” I nodded

“Yes, Onche Curry is certainly very good. It was my favorite dish growing up.” I responded. A slight pause. 

“Oh, is that what it’s called in Alanae?” one of the Tsaballans asked. 

“Yes, Onche Curry was made by a woman in Eastern Alanae a few decades ago.” The nice way of saying that Onche Curry is it’s name, not just ‘what we call it in Alanae’. Another pause.

“That’s really cool! Can you cook it? I’ve never had Onche Curry before.” Emraln asked. He pronounced it as Ahn-chae, which made my skin crawl a bit. 

“Unfortunately, I never learned to cook Onche, but if you get the chance, you should try it.” I responded, slightly enunciating the ‘ohn’ syllable. He nodded and Ta’eel chimed in.

“There’s an Alanaean cook, I’ll bet if you find them and ask really nicely, they probably know how to make it.”

“Oh, really? Kishan, do you know them?” I had to stop myself from being irritated. These people didn’t know me or my culture and Alanae seemed to be construed as a lot smaller than it really was. It was an honest mistake.

“No, I do not know any of the others who left Alanae for the war.” The others nodded and we carried on talking. I learned some of their names in the conversation, as well as some information about how the camp worked. The training grounds was often just called the pit and each squadron has a Squad Captain. The Tsaballan who’d mentioned the Dalenatan drinks was Univishky, Squad Captain of Squadron 8. He was a loud man with a good humor. The Fijari twins were also in Squad 8 along with Anet, and they were strangely some of the friendliest people I’d ever met. Who’d have thought that not one, but two Fijari would be good natured and friendly? By the time I made it back to the campfire, Talyn had started a small fire and Shinael greeted me with a happy expression.

‘Congratulations on the promotion, Squad Captain.’ They signed to me. I blinked at them.

“Squad Ca-” ‘Squad Captain?’ I asked, forgetting, at first, to sign. Talyn looked up and rolled his eyes as Shinael signed a confirmation.

“Oh, for the love of- Would you just speak? It’s not that hard.” He growled at them.

“Anyway, yeah, The Captain came by earlier looking for you. They told us to tell you.” 

“Ah, well… Thank you for letting me know. I will do my duty as best as I can.” Strangely, Talyn didn’t have a quip about my probably over-formal statement. Instead, he just nodded and turned back to the fire. Shinael gestured to it

‘Shall we eat? D-I-L-A-N has learned some signs and told me he wanted to learn to cook some Vishali food. He’s heard that it’s really easy and fairly tasty, so I showed him how to make Jrenish. I’m curious to know what you think of it.” Jrenish was a dish I’d heard of before. It was the most popular Vishali dish in other countries and it was essentially baked Swamp Seeds (Fat, spherical fruit produced by the trees in the dense swamps of Vishal) wrapped in waterweed (A soft, noodle-like plant that grows in the shallow parts of the Seven Rivers). I pushed away my ever-present worry about the future for the moment as I sat down and took a couple of Swamp Seeds drenched in a sauce I couldn’t identify.

[ryuzakemo128]

Disassembled Creatures

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Marianna (Female Reader)

Genre: Fluff, Horror, Angst

Masterlist: Link

Trigger Warning(s):

Nightmares, Night Terrors, bad dreams

Swearing, cursing, cussing

Summary: Marianna (Female reader) has a rather vivid nightmare, the same one occurs each time she tries to fall asleep. Most of the time this occurs when she sleeps in a particular way and whenever she sleeps alone. Eddie and his is also going on tour through America.

Author's Note: Eddie is still alive in this universe. Years after season four. I have to warn you this one is pretty long.

Marianna's Point of View

I tossed and turned, I couldn't sleep and I didn't know why for a very long time. The night heavy, silence broken by distant hums of crickets as I lay in my bed and my mind raced, thoughts about my nightmare, how it never changed and it always ended with me swimming in my own sweat. I could never tell anyone why that was the case and even putting a fan into my room or even opening my window made my nightmares horrible.

I have tried drinking warm milk, herbal tea, practicing relaxation techniques before bed and I have even tried just exercising an hour or two before bed. Nothing seemed to work and things that worked, they were hugging pillows while I slept. Hugging people while I went to sleep too.

I peaked at the clock on the bedside table near me, it was 3:00am. sleep wouldn't come easily tonight. Darkness engulfed my room, amplifying the weight of my restless thoughts and the cricket sounds outside felt like they were mocking me with their rhythmic chorus, their incessant hum accentuating my insomnia.

Nightmares had plagued me for as long as I could remember. Each night, I found myself trapped in a terrifying world, a realm of twisted horrors that left me gasping for air and drenched in perspiration. And no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't escape the clutches of these relentless terrors.

Sleep had always remained elusive as the creatures of the Upside Down, with their disassembled forms and haunting eyes, invaded my dreams. They lurked in the shadows, their grotesque shapes contorting and shifting with an eerie fluidity. Their presence was suffocating, their whispers echoing through the darkness, filling my mind with a paralyzing fear.

"What are you doing awake this early?" Eddie said one morning walking into the kitchen, as I sipped my third cup of coffee.

"I haven't slept, I tried sleeping for three hours and I stayed awake for the rest of the night." I replied rather bluntly. "Don't ask about whether or not I have tried anything because the answer is yes." I added.

Eddie looked at me with concern in his eyes. He was my closest friend, always there to lend a listening ear and offer support. We started dating two years ago, and despite the challenges we faced individually and as a couple, our bond only grew stronger over time.

Before he could say anything else, I pointed out the medication I have been taking for a month and explained the side effects and the lack of improvement it had brought. "I thought this would help, Eddie. It's not working like I thought it would. I'm tired of these nightmares, of feeling exhausted all the time."

"I hate seeing you like this," he said softly.

"I have an appointment with a sleep specialist this afternoon. Fingers crossed I get it worked out." I continued. "Don't worry about me and go on tour, you earned that."

Eddie sighed and reached across the table, taking my hand in his. "Marianna, you know I would never prioritize a tour over your well-being. We're in this together, remember?"

"And I won't have you delay something you've worked on for over a year. Your music is your passion, Eddie. I don't want my struggles to hold you back. I'll figure this out, I promise," I said, trying to reassure him.

Eddie looked into my eyes, searching for any signs of hesitation or doubt. After a moment, he nodded, his grip on my hand tightening slightly.

"Okay," he said softly. "But promise me one thing."

"What?" I asked, my heart pounding in my chest.

"Promise me that you'll keep me updated, that you won't face this alone," he said earnestly. "No matter what happens, we'll face it together."

"Don't worry about it, once I figure it out and I will finally sleep like a baby."

[itfitsitshipsart]

You know what? Tell EVERYTHING about Sugu, this is just too good!

Everything? EVERYTHING?! This might take a while then, so I hope you're comfy!

Oh, and obviously there's spoilers for the Jujutsu Kaisen anime, manga, and movie. I'll state later when we get to those.

Now, he may be a villain, but this man can be a real sweetheart. Gift giving, doting, when it comes to his family of curse users, he can be a real pushover. Of course, he can be stern when he needs to with everyone. the way he can glare and make everyone for silent, it's quite delightful and chilling.

He's also so very possessive of me. No need to worry about creeps coming around. Even if they did try anything, he would quite effortlessly 'take care of them', because how dare any monkey so much as look at me like that. And while he knows I can very well protect myself, he's still taking things into his own hands.

Oh, his hands. They're quite large compared to mine. They aren't the softest, he spent many years training in martial arts, but they aren't that rough. He takes decent care of them, and has no qualms using my scented lotions. Holding hands was the first thing even close to romantic or intimate for the two of us, and he knows I'm staring at his hands sometimes.

Since I'm on the topic of his physical features. That hair of his is something special. It's very silky soft and thick. I love brushing through it, and he let's me braid and play with it often (alone of course. It would be embarrassing around anyone else). His hair he takes the most care about, and I think I'd cry if he ever thought to cut it.

Now for some relationship plot point things! This where bigger spoilers may be

He and my S/I met on the streets some years after Sugu 'took charge' of his cult orginization. It was a chance encounter, but in recognizing her cursed powers, he felt there was potential. So he tried to start a friendship... and it went WAY further than he anticipated.

The two had been together for a little over 2 years when he declared war on all the sorcerers at Jujutsu High and planned to take the cursed spirit Rika for himself. While he planned for everyone else to be in Kyoto, and found her reverse cursed technique to be more practical in case any of the others got hurt, he couldn't get her to listen, allowing her insistence of going with him instead. She had a bad feeling about that day, and stayed at the edge of the barrier to watch him, just in case.

Now, if you've seen the movie, or read the manga, you know that after that battle, Geto Suguru died. Perhaps if she was faster to get to him, she could have stopped his bleeding, maybe saved him. But by the time she got to him, Gojo was walking away and he was dead. (Did Gojo see her? Maybe. If he did, he didn't stop her from desperately trying to bring him back).

And to add more sorrow (I'm sorry, but I am a sucker for angst and drama, thicker than molasses), Sugu had planned to propose after it was all said and done. She found the ring several days later at his home, proceeding to wear it as a silent 'yes'.

But that's not the end of the story. While Geto 'came back', she knew its wasn't completely him. This person that used his body like a puppet felt nothing in particular for her, but welcomed her loyalty and assistance. She stood beside him, her emotions a mess and unable to quite process how to handle this man who was both who she loved, and yet not. She made him promise to let Sugu's body rest when he was done with his plans, and she would protect him to protect Suguru.

As for how that goes... I'm still reading the manga to catch up!

I hope you enjoyed my mess of ideas, anon! I know this isnt everything, cause I'm still figuring things out myself, but it feels really good to get some of it out, especially if theres people like you who may be interested! Do expect more in the future for him!