#I had to copy and paste to write it here

[polarisbibliotheque]

Staying alive - Dante and his s/o

It works, you can't tell me otherwise!

Devil May Dance - Stayin' Alive, by Bee Gees

Pairing: Dante x Reader

Summary: Oh, hellish imps. One of your least favorite demons. It doesn't help that they managed to chain you to a chair at the local Disco - luckily, Dante will surely be there to save the day. And to dance.

Author's Note: I friggin' love this song, thanks so much anon for throwing this with Dante here, it works like a charm!! I almost screamed when I saw it xD My mom is a HUGE Bee Gees fan, so I listen to their songs all the time since I was born hahahaha

I've been writing this one since you guys sent me the songs, but as I mentioned before, my health got in the way as always. I'm managing my energy and a bunch of personal issues that appeared the last couple of months, so I decided to finish this one and focus on the Halloween specials of this year! Fret not, though. I'm keeping all your suggestions and I'll write them - it's just gonna take longer than I expected "^^ Also, there's a throwback here to a very special Devil May Dance, hope you guys like it!

Well, out of all the situations you could have found yourself in, that would be your most unexpected one.

It was a stupid mistake, really. A step in a wrong place, a weaker grip on your sword, a miscalculated attack from an enemy. When you least expected, there you were, caught by a bunch of hellish imps, tied to a chair on the local Disco in town, of all places.

With the imps, well, imping around as all those annoying little creatures used to do.

They were one of your least favorite types of demons, that you had to be honest with yourself.

“You know, if you keep doing that, you’re gonna end up breaking it, stupid little thing.” You said with a sigh, head boringly held by one of your hands.

“Says the big bad devil hunter tied to a chair!” The imp taunted back, still smacking the amplifier. You could kick it into oblivion and make it fly to the next country without a plane, but with those chains you were really useless. You sighed again.

“That’s an amp, you buffoon. Its purpose is to amplify sound, if you want something to happen, you have to put some music on, jerk.” Yes, Vergil’s vocabulary got to you – then again, the best way to describe those demons was ‘buffoon’. Vergil’s colorful vocabulary did have a purpose.

“Blah blah blah – talking too much for someone in your situation!” The room exploded in a bunch of high-pitched devilish laughs and you could only roll your eyes.

“Honestly, I hope that thing breaks and electrifies you. That will serve you as a lesson, you moron.”

As if words had power, the thing immediately broke on the hellish imp hands and sent a wave of electrifying shock through its body – making it shake viciously and drop the thing immediately as it fell to the ground with the tongue sticking out of the mouth and mumbling something while unconscious. The other imps stared at you as you smiled with pride – as if you had actually done something.

“Told ya.” You perked on your chair, looking as proud as you could in that situation. Your weapons were tossed on the other side of the room – and you had already gone through the suffering of watching those buffoons playing around with your stuff until they got bored. “Keep messing around and you’ll all end up dead by stupidity.”

Suddenly, a very well-known bass line started playing – followed by a guitar, a set of lights dancing around the club and the colorful squares on the ground starting their own choreography. You raised one eyebrow, trying to understand what was going on and, really, why the Disco started functioning all of a sudden.

“WOOOHOOOOOO!!!!” Until you saw an imp at the sound booth, messing with a bunch of wires, spinning on one of the office chairs – that definitely didn’t belong to the DJ.

Well you can tell by the way I use my walk I’m a woman’s man, no time to talk Music loud and women warm, I’ve been kicked around Since I was born

Well, well, there it was. Stayin’ Alive. Quite fitting, if you had to say, given your situation. Quite ironic too – and if Destiny really was a humanoid entity, you wanted to have a serious talk to it, because why in all hells it had to be joking around with you that much?

“And now it’s alright, it’s ok, and you may look the other way…” You started muttering the lyrics, lightly tapping your foot on the colorful ground. If that song didn’t remind you of your red devil, you didn’t know what would.

Smiling to yourself, you forgot the imps for a while. You could almost see Dante at the Devil May Cry, barefoot on a lazy Saturday, dancing around the floor of the shop while you giggled at his huge desk. He had some great moves and was definitely showing off now that he had someone to dance to – you were reading, comfortably settled on his big chair, until the jukebox started playing Bee Gees and Dante couldn’t stop himself from dancing.

You didn’t last long with your book though: your red devil grabbed your hands, leading you to the center of the shop; your very own dance floor. You never really talked much about that with Dante, but you were quite certain he didn’t have many opportunities to go out dancing and have fun – even if he was the most fun-loving guy you had ever met in your life. He was a Sparda, after all, and you knew how much Dante avoided being around people so he wouldn’t put them in any sort of danger. You could almost see him dancing alone at the Devil May Cry for so many years – probably watching Saturday Night Fever on that sorry old television of his, copying Travolta’s moves and learning it all only to have fun… By himself. But now, he had a partner to share that with – and you could see in the brightness of his smile how much Dante enjoyed it.

Both of you waited a whole lifetime to start enjoying the things you had dreamed about for so long.

You snapped out of your golden memories, though, when you heard a shot and a loud sound of something falling on the ground. Furrowing your brows, you looked to the other side of the room and, lo and behold, those hellish pestering things were messing with your stuff again while prancing around to the sound of disco music.

That was something you never thought you would see in your life.

“Oi, put that down! You’ll end up breaking it!” You pointed at the imps joking around with your guns, but they only made funny faces and flipped you back as a response. You just stared at them with contempt in your face, having almost no expression but a very annoyed one. “I swear, I’m gonna hang you all by your feet when I get rid of these shackles, you fucking clowns.”

Among the laughs and the music, though, another shot rang outside the club. No one really cared about it, until the door burst open because the imps outside were yeeted in – flying through the dance floor while screaming, stamping the wall of the stage right across the club and leaving a trail of blood on it as it fell dead to the floor.

Looking at the door, you couldn’t help but shake your head and smile. Bathed in the dancing lights of the Disco, Dante strutted in – sword resting on his shoulders, arms open while his free hand held one of his guns.

“Ey, you guys started the party without me?” He stopped after taking a few steps in, illuminated by the twinkling lights on the floor and the ceiling – that cocky smile plastered on his lips.

Oh, you loved that man. So much. How couldn’t you?

“Wouldn’t call this a party when I can’t dance.” You showed him your foot chained to the chair – and you could see in those sky-blue eyes, a sort of compassion mixed with love and a little bit of pity; crowned by his endeared but still convinced smile.

“No worries, babe, your man’s here to help you.” With a wink, Dante skillfully glided through the dance floor, shooting some imps on the way. They tried to block the man, but he swept the floor with the demons with a swift move from his sword, back to his shoulder with a flowy movement. “Got the wings of Heaven on my shoes, I’m a dancin’ man and I just can’t lose!”

You had to laugh at how happy Dante looked while gliding his feet on the colorful squares on the ground, spinning around to hit a couple more imps who tried to get to him. Facing you, Dante winked one more time, now keeping his sword on place and dual wielding Ebony and Ivory.

One step to the right, a shot at a flying imp. One step to the left, a shot at another devil who tried to run towards him. Keeping the groove, Dante spun again doing his old trick of shooting around the club and hitting multiple enemies at once – you ducked and covered your head, still laughing at his antics. Spinning his guns in his hands, Dante coordinated his steps, the beat of the song and the shots being fired.

Ah – shot – ah – shot – ah – shot – ah – shot – stayin’ alive, stayin’ alive – and a little pause for a choreography as he faced you, as if Dante was putting on a show for you only.

“Woohoo, get ‘em, cowboy!” You had to. Dante usually had fun while fighting, but not like he was having today – it’s not like it was a difficult or life-threatening fight, so he could afford being a lot more playful and goofy.

And you had to love goofy Dante.

A couple more shots, and the imps surrounding him were all but stunned, laying on the floor while recovering for the next round. So, Dante did what he did best.

“Stayin’ aliiiiiiiiiiiiiveeeeeeee…” Singing out loud, shaking his hips, and pointing around only to finish the phrase pointing at you.

And of course, he had to be even more over the top. As the demons got up from the floor – helping each other, fighting each other, trying to stand and walk a straight line – Dante started to walk towards you in the rhythm of the song, shaking his hips with every step only to accentuate even more every beat, as if he was a cowboy who had just laced you and now was approaching his bounty.

“Pffffft, you’re ridiculously campy, cowboy…” You couldn’t help but slightly flush, hiding your face on the hand you previously leaned on while completely bored. Well, you couldn’t say you were bored anymore.

“Guilty of all charges, sheriff!” As he approached, one imp tried to get him from behind only to be kicked on the face and thrown into oblivion by Dante’s strength in the process – those sky-blue eyes never left you, though, as well as the playful smile on his lips. “You can arrest me and throw away the key!”

“Hmmm, I might keep these chains then. Maybe I can tie you to our bed when we get home.” You had to tease him back, or it wouldn’t be you and Dante. You saw a sparkle of both fun and desire inside his eyes, as Dante let out a delighted laugh – and kicked another demon on the face.

“Ha! Now that…!” And he had to let the choreography down for a couple of seconds to turn around and shot a few more demons – spinning his dual guns in his hands before doing so, and once more to put them back into their place – but quickly turning back to you; resting one of his hands on the back of your chair, leaning down so his eyes would be leveled to yours. “Is somethin’ I’d love to try, sheriff. You can tie me up and love me any day, sugar.”

You would’ve quipped back if Dante hadn’t used his free hand to cup the back of your neck and pull you into a quite loving kiss – given the situation you found yourselves into. The demons were still trying to get back in shape, now that some of them had run away and some others were still insisting on keeping the Disco to themselves, but with Dante around… You didn’t have to care about demons that much.

“First, let’s cut you lose, shall we?” He still had that playful tone in his voice as he let go of your lips, but as Dante kneeled on the floor to see the shackles, his eyes turned to you with nothing but care in them. “Be careful, Imma cut it down, ok?”

You nodded with certainty and kept your feet together, straining the chains as much as you could so Dante could easily cut it with his sword and not fear hurting you in the process.

“And… You’re set free, babe.” Of course, he had to use that sultry tone he always did whenever he decided to use Lucifer or Faust while sparring with you.

And you would’ve paid more attention to that, if it wasn’t for your sheer and rather intense joy of being cut from those chains.

“Ah, freedom, at last!” You got up in a jump, making him laugh with how happy you were. “Now! Who’s the first one I’m gonna hang from the ceiling, huh?!” You had your hands on your hips, staring at the imps with such a deranged fire some of them actually screamed in terror and tumbled away, flying for their lives through the smashed door.

“Will ya look at that!” Dante clapped while laughing, watching as only a few demons remained to try to stand their ground. “I’ve never seen you scaring so many demons at once!”

“See? I’m learning!” You proudly strutted towards your gear on the other side of the room, mirroring the little show Dante put on for you before. He just stood there, hands on his hips, gladly watching you dance. “Gotta thank Vergil for being such a great example!”

“Oh, bet he’s gonna love hearing that!” With a laugh, Dante punched an imp who tried to get him by surprise – now flying away to hit another couple of demons who inadvertently tried to follow. “But hey, keep on shakin’ those hips like that, hot stuff, I might have to one up ya.”

You let out a mischievous giggle in response, now feeling even more motivated to let yourself loose on the dance floor. While checking your guns – making sure they were in one piece, all bullets where they should be, no damages – you kept moving to the rhythm, singing the lyrics you knew so well.

Dante crossed his arms, gladly watching the show you were putting on – now casually hooking your guns to your holsters and moving to check on your sword. The imps gathered together, blabbering around like screeching minions, preparing a supposedly devastating attack with all their forces combined to bring both of you down – but Dante couldn’t care less. He had a delighted smile on his lips, arms still crossed and tapping one of his feet on the floor to the beat of the song, barely holding himself still.

He guessed his lifetime of bad luck was to compensate for the one moment in his life where you appeared – out of nowhere, in the middle of a job, covered in demon blood and spite. That was the luckiest Dante had ever been and he could see that happening as all the luck he never really had.

Who could’ve guessed that after all that hell that he called his existence you out of all people would find him – and see him? Someone with a heart of gold, a soul of steel, a spirit like fire and kindness like water; who would challenge him but also complement him in all the perfect ways Dante could have never imagined.

Watching you dancing while strapping your sword on your back like he always did, turning around to wink at him and shake your hips from side to side to the beat of the song, raising your arms above your head and closing your eyes while smiling… You were better than any dream. You were his partner, his sheriff, his lover. He only wished he could’ve had an entire lifetime with you in it.

“Hoo, is it me or it’s gettin’ hotter in here, babe…?” With those words from his lips, you opened your eyes once more, trying to read what he was about to do when Dante took his sword from its holster and left it on a table.

“Dante…!” You immediately widened your eyes as he started stripping off his coat while making the most obnoxious and campy stripping dance you could have ever seen.

“What…?” Of course, being the man he was, Dante feigned innocence. You just pointed back at him – blushing like the first layers of Hell, but with a radiant smile on your lips. Honestly, he lived just to see that sight every time you decided to grace him with it. Dante would never tire to see you smile so genuinely.

“There are hellish imps here, red devil. Have some decorum.” Again. Vergil’s vocabulary had its purpose – and when it came to his twin brother, you had to admit colorful words were the best you could do to try to voice some of your exasperated feelings.

“Oh, you thinkin’ I’m gonna take it all off?” Dante pointed at himself with his free hand, his coat hanging on the other hand. He let out a hearty laugh right after. “Ha! You are gonna have to work for that, sheriff!”

You had to fall into a fit of laughter as Dante started spinning his coat on the air only to throw it away dramatically, going back to his best Saturday Night Fever dance. You didn’t know if you wanted to melt through the floor into oblivion from embarrassment or if you wanted to get into the challenge. Therefore, laughing was the only choice available, really.

You had to note, though, that the embarrassment only came from having an audience – you could still hear the imps arguing and wondered if they would end up killing each other in disagreement – because if you were both alone at the Devil May Cry… Dante would have the dance-off of a lifetime after that taunt.

“Whether you’re a brother or whether you’re a mother, you’re stayin’ alive, stayin’ alive!” You decided, even if feeling a little awkward, to mirror Dante’s dancing – pointing at him while singing, finally strutting towards your red devil.

You had your whole life to kill demons – dancing with your lover, though, was a lot more important in your book.

“Feel the city breakin’ and everybody shakin’, and we’re stayin’ alive, stayin’ alive!” Dante pointed back at you, ready to meet you in the middle. Those lyrics, though, they were quite fitting to both of you – with everything you had to go through on a daily basis, somehow, you always remained alive. Together.

There was some kind of poetry in that. At least in Dante’s point of view.

As the famous riff sang its lyrics, you finally reached each other, starting a perfectly synchronized choreography you both invented during a boring afternoon at the shop – which ended up being not so boring after all. With you dancing while perfectly mirroring him, Dante couldn’t help but have the brightest and most delighted smile on his lips – his face lighting up like the sun, barely noticing he was laughing from enjoying that moment.

The most mirroring he ever got was from a shadow doppelganger at the Temen-ni-gru – and that thing was hell bent on killing him with his own powers and tricks. Now dancing? That was a first. Something he had only seen on movies like Footloose or Grease, something he thought he would only have in the realm of daydreams. Oh, how he loved turning those into reality with you.

“Ready…” Of course, you both were very much aware you weren’t alone - the imps weren't as subtle as they thought they were. Your lives were made mostly of stolen moments like that, but it was something you would never complain about. Better to have those moments than to have nothing at all – and the imps were about to steal it away from you. Looking into those sky-blue eyes, you saw Dante’s typical spark and his smart smile on his lips, winking at you as soon as he understood what your eyes were saying. “NOW! ATTACK!”

“I’m stayin’ alive!” You and Dante sang out loud – if you could call that kind of shouting singing – as you spun on the colorful floor, taking one of your guns from your holsters. You ended up with your backs to each other, your arm by his arm, pointing the guns at the demons at the same time. “Let’s rock!”

The imps expected everything but the rain of bullets. They planned a massive attack, all of them at the same time, and still you and Dante made their forces seem like nothing but a wave of hungry mosquitoes during summer – and that because you were each holding only one of your guns.

They could barely get near you before realizing they wouldn’t be able to make it in one piece. The attack was a failure and the best option they had – for those left alive anyway – was to run. You and Dante kept shooting, hitting bullseye with every quick shot. They first screamed as a battle roar, but now they screeched in terror, fleeing from every broken door and window of the Disco – until there were only you and the red devil left.

“Well, guess we showed ‘em a lesson.” You sighed, relief washing down your spine while you put your gun back into its holster. Dante did the same, but you barely waited for him to look back to you. “Thanks for the rescue, cowboy. It was worthy of Bonnie Tyler’s Holding Out For a Hero.”

“Ah, don’t mention it…” But you cut his dismissive words short with a kiss.

It was intended to be a quick kiss – the types of kisses you would always use to shut him up whenever Dante started self-deprecating or playing down how much he was worth – but soon you wanted more. Stepping closer to him, you didn’t let his lips go, resting your hands on his chest while Dante, even if surprised at first, immediately laid his on your hips. The song was still going, and you both still had the fire to keep dancing, but you could take a few moments to enjoy that kiss with more heart than you intended at first.

You had every intention, though, to keep it going for as long as you could – Dante’s lips were too wonderful to be half-appreciated – but as Stayin’ Alive found its last chords, another song seamlessly started to let its golden beats and delightful guitar color the place with new rhythms and notes. Apparently, the DJ imp had figured out how to keep the whole collection of disco songs playing – and you couldn’t complain about that.

“Hey…” You parted the kiss abruptly, mirroring Dante’s smile from also recognizing the song. “It’s our song, cowboy!”

You held Dante’s hand, pulling him even further into the dance floor, while he let his head hang back with a laugh at the words he never thought he would hear in that damned life of his. Stepping closer to you, he spun you around only to catch you in his arms, dancing together the same way you used to dance at the Devil May Cry – you both giggling and singing to each other.

“Do you remember? The 21st night of September?” Oh, yes. September. The song that wrapped you both in golden dreams and shiny days – the song Dante would always run to you to have you in his arms while singing, the one you would always search his hands to hold while dancing. The one Dante never thought he would be able to have with someone else.

Dante couldn’t have another entire lifetime with you, but he could have that one – and even better than that: you could have that song together. Your song.

He could get used to the sound of that alright.

[coddda]

Hiiiiiii. Episode 25/26 lawlight analysis rant thingy here. I don't know how to write an intro for this so let's just get to it LOL

I think one of the reasons that the rain/foot scenes stick out so much (the. Sheer insanity of a Foot Massage Scene in an anime revolving around two guys trying to kill each other aside 💀) is the fact that the anime specifically suffers a bit in terms of adapting a few of the "emotional" moments in death note.

And I don't mean "emotionally impactful" exactly. For example I think the adaptations of scenes like Raye and Naomi's deaths were very impactful and the atmospheres of their final scenes were great, but I mean more from a characterization standpoint (if that makes sense). Being more focused on mind and logic games, Death Note as a whole isn't as invested in individual characters' deeper feelings as it is in its action (which isn't necessarily a criticism per say, it's simply part of the nature of a mystery thriller series). But just because they're fewer and farther between doesn't mean there are none at all. In the manga we do get to see, for example, how much Light actually cared for his family and especially Sayu, and how he actually felt more conflicted and suffered lack of sleep/appetite when he first used the Death Note.

The anime specifically as an adaptation is pretty good at adapting the main mind fuckery and action of Death Note, but its lacking in properly adapting scenes like the ones I mentioned above is a criticism I see somewhat often, and it's pretty fair imo. Compared to all the other adaptations, it certainly seems to fall short on an emotional level: the musical has entire songs going in depth about the characters feelings and relationships, the 2015 jdrama is. Insane and has its emotional moments in spades (because it's a TV drama, which are more focused on portraying emotional conflict and the like), even the 2006 movies has its emotional beats and L Change the WorLd is. Well. Oh Man.

Anime Light to a lot of people is like. Light but he's "already evil" (which I have my own thoughts on but I digress). Light but after using the Death Note for like 2 minutes he's already like "fuck yeah time to kill criminals". Basically the anime doesn't take as much time to delve into his less cynical sides or really delve into his already vague and harder to decipher feelings in general, he is noticeably colder from the get-go here, etc.

But that's part of why I think episode 25 manages to stand out so much tonally (apart from it being, y'know, the episode L literally Dies). I love the episode so much and could probably rant for hours about how much I love the artistic choices made in it but what I'm trying to get at here is that it's one of the very few moments where the show tries to go deeper into specific character's emotions, and one of the very few moments where the show Attempts (emphasis on "attempts" because, well, you'll see in a bit) to get more in-depth into Light's feelings apart from his cynicism/apathy/justice. ness.

L in these two scenes in episode 25 is, well, pretty damn open about how he feels. It's usually interpreted as him knowing that he's going to die, and you can see it. He visibly looks/sounds lost, somber, etc. He never really had much to hide around Light to begin with (since he doesn't really care about hiding himself the same way Light does) but especially not now and it Shows, and I personally thought it was pretty cool to delve into his thoughts/show how he feels this way. The somberness can be felt throughout the entire scene, even people who don't already know the plot of Death Note from the manga could probably tell that he's about to die.

In the manga, once L starts suspecting Misa again and Rem realizes what Light is trying to do, it goes straight to Watari and L's deaths, but the anime instead gives a distinct and unexpected pause in the middle of this where L contemplates his own death. It's fucking great, and the shift from straight action to slower emotional weight makes these scenes stand out a lot, since, like I said, the show usually focuses more on the former. But it's kind of ironic, too.

Not only does the anime open up L's feelings more in these scenes, but it also tries to dig deeper into Light's feelings as well through L. And it's really funny honestly because while, yes, these are the more "emotionally open" scenes of the anime Light still manages to be Incredibly avoidant and contribute almost nothing to the entire ordeal.

L is visibly upset -> "Yeah Ryuzaki, you're not making any sense at all" (Not addressing the obvious conflict from L)

"Tell me, Light. From the moment you were born, has there ever been a point where you've actually told the truth?" -> "[The most stale, over-explained, avoidant answer to a "yes/no" question that you could ever hear + blatant attempts to reframe the question]"

(L's half-smile here kills me) "I had a feeling you'd say something like that" -> [Nothing]

"I'm sorry" -> [Nothing]

"It'll be lonely won't it? You and I will be parting ways soon" -> [Nothing]

^ From this point Light continues to say literally Nothing for the rest of the scene. I'm not even joking, from then on the rest of Light's voicelines are reduced to nothing but vague noises of confusion.

Everytime L calls Light out as a person ("Has there ever been a point where you've actually told the truth?" / "I had a feeling you'd say something like that." / "Won't it be lonely?") he doesn't actually acknowledge anything. Out of those three lines, he only answers verbally to if he's ever told the truth, and even then it's the most blatantly people-pleasing answer ever, as it usually is with Light. And I don't think it's because Light just. Doesn't care about any of what L's saying at all, or that he doesn't know what the hell he's talking about (questioning Light's authenticity as a person, saying it would be lonely when they part), instead he's choosing not to acknowledge any of what this means about himself or him and L at all. He's like a fucking wall.

And like, for the truth question in particular, the show makes sure that you know it's not something that Light just. Doesn't care enough about to answer. The hard cuts to silence are a very rare but extremely effective way that the show conveys an extremely important moment (see: Light regaining his memories, Matsuda noticing Light opening the warehouse door before he escapes (not as much of a "direct" cut to silence but still)), and cuts to multiple angles/framings/zooms of the exact same shot are also used for the same purpose (see: Light hugging Misa when she was crying, Matsuda aiming his gun to shoot Light, Light regaining his memories Again). Just like the scene where Light gets his memories back, the moment L's question finishes the show utilizes both. That question cut Deep. There's is a solid Almost 5 seconds of silence before the sound of the rain gradually starts fading back in, and honestly that should be telling enough as is (but of course Light doesn't actually admit that. Or anything at all really, so). Oh also another fun detail! We do not see Light's face At All (except for the shot where you can see his mouth moving but not his eyes), for the Entire time that he's going on his spiel to L. We Will Be Revisiting This Later, by the way. This is not, in fact, the first time you're going to see this detail from Light.

The only sort of reciprocation that we see from Light during Any of these two scenes is when Light dries L's hair while L dries his feet. Biblical meanings/references aside it's interesting because it's the only time he directly does anything "for" L in these scenes, but even then he doesn't try to pass it off as anything meaningful really the same way L does ("You're still soaked", a purely neutral and factual statement. It doesn't Add Anything compared to L's. Sin atonement loneliness grieving stuff. While Light is showing his own reciprocation to this more personal moment he also tries to keep it impersonal enough that it doesn't actually have to mean anything deep). And when L says "I'm sorry" after he once again gets no response from Light. It's also after this that L gets that pained look on his face, like he knows that at this point he's not actually going to get anything meaningful from Light (again, very significant and rare from L in the show. We've seen him in distress (see: when Ukita died, hell, when Watari dies), but even then he mostly manages to keep his usually neutral expression), we never see him "look sad" like he does here):

I just think it's interesting that this is one of the few scenes in this particular adaptation of Death Note where they try to open up the character's thoughts/feeling (especially considering the fact that they. lowkey blunder in adaptations of original scenes from the manga), and L himself is being rather open (not that he ever really tries to hide what he thinks nearly as much as Light), and yet all Light contributes to it in return is like. Actually nothing. Bro fumbled it. There is no resolution to any of this, to any of what L asks at all, to any of the many opportunities for a meaningful conversation, and the only thing even relatively close to an answer that you can get from Light is what you can infer from how he acts in the episode after L dies, where he's just going through the motions, but hardly acting as if he's actually living at all.

(Honestly I think the transition from this scene with the taskforce to the subsequent scene with Misa says enough on its own. Light's expressions and tone says everything:)

(Oh sidenote but. This shit again:

"Light, this is our first date in forever. can't you enjoy yourself a little more?" ('Why don't you seem happy? We can finally be together since L is dead') -> No response, Light instead changing the topic to him wanting to move in with Misa without changing his mannerisms at all

Also there's that one detail again. You pretty much don't see Light's expression when he speaks here at all, except for one shot of his eyes, which is quite literally the exact same shot they used when he "saw" L, just altered for the new setting. You have No idea what he looks like when he's responding to Misa, although it's probably fair to assume that it's the same empty stare he has for the whole Two Shots where you can clearly see his whole expression in the entire scene.

Something something Light Yagami bad at feelings I think you get the point though)

I guess Light's Kind of showing what he's feeling now? He'll admit to himself that it's boring without L, but no more than that. Light never actually admits to anything "significant", and L's dead already anyway, so what would that even do?

And then we get, uh. Basically nothing from Light. For the next 5 Years. Except that he joined the NPA, so, uh, yay? Good job, Light you totally nailed it! Thank you for allowing us as an audience to delve deeper into your inner thoughts and feelings as a character so we can find out more about you as a person! Very helpful! Thank you for not sabotaging one of your few dedicated opportunities to look into yourself as a person and reflect on your relationships with others and being 100% honest with yourself! We stay winning guys.

Anyway, this got way too long for a scene that's over a decade old, and I've probably just said everything that everyone else has already said in this fandom before. But unfortunately this has been living in my head for way too long and I must scream. I just think this episode's neat is all :)

tl;dr Part of the reason why the rain/foot scene (tbh episode 25 in General) stands out so much is because the Death Note anime specifically was a bit robbed in terms of its more emotional character moments compared to the other medias, which makes more somber/introspective scenes like the ones in episode 25 stand out a Lot in comparison. But it's also incredibly ironic because it's one of the few moments where the show (or specifically L) tries to look deeper into Light's character, but because he is so avoidant for the entire duration of these two scenes he adds basically nothing at all. It's almost funny. Mostly sad. It's also very gay. Aand post

Okay actually nevermind one more thing I talked about how the jdrama is supposed to be more emotionally in-depth because it is a TV Drama and just for the record, same thing happens there! I could probably do an entire analysis of the Blue Scene in this context like I did with episode 25 but I'd literally be here forever, so uh, just take this iconic line as my main example:

Same Thing. L's statement "I wish we could have met some other way" is personal. It's his own wish, his own regret that he is expressing to Light. While Light's reply obviously has that same regret implied it's also phrased in a specifically impersonal way. It's closed off. "This is the only way we could have met" it closes off the topic and simply renders L's wish as ultimately futile. Light does not say that he Also wishes he could have met L a different way even if it was likely impossible, instead it's a cold statement of cynical fact.

Idk just. Something something L being able and Willing to be more openly sentimental/emotionally open towards Light/about Light vs. Light's inability to be honest with anyone including himself and his own nature preventing any form of meaningful reciprocation. Something something self-sabotage, y'know the drill. God don't even get me Started on how sincere L's tone is when he says "It'll be lonely won't it?"(at least in the eng dub) in the anime I could talk about his tone in that scene for ages. Also yes all of this relates to L Change the WorLd too by the way. Don't ask how it just does okay.

I do think that scenes like these (rain/foot scene, The Blue Scene. Uh. L Change the WorLd The Novel Adaptation) show, at least in those adaptations, that L does genuinely care for Light, and show that he values him as a friend not just in the mindgame-equal sense but also just like, a more sincere sense you know. Idk if that made any sense and that's a whole other topic for another day but you guys just have to believe me on this one alright please please believe me buries head in hands. Okay post over finally thanks for coming to my tedtalk hope you enjoyed my very-unnecessarily long analysis of the week

[eyepatchdate]

posting my preview for @souyoproject! I've been working hard on this piece the last few months, and am very excited to get this story out there!

I worked with two wonderful artists: Breck and @killjoy-prince! The pieces they created are both absolutely stunning!

[simcardiac-arrested]

never volunteer for anything university related man. also go listen to this

[clowningaroundmars]

morales twins hcs

i'm absolutely in love with the idea of miles42 and miles1610 being twins, i'm so glad most of the fandom has basically adopted 42 lmao

some of my own twins headcanons, just random stuff to add onto other ppls hcs ive seen:

☆ 42 loves his mamí absolutely but def acts the most like his dad, and haaaates when anyone points it out. it's the most obvious when 42 gets mad, he sounds EXACTLY like his father then lol

☆ in fact, the twins polar opposite personalities is probs bc 1610 takes after his mom's temperament more, while 42 is as stoic, stubborn and slightly dorky as his dad is

☆ whenever the boys made each other cry (by accident or otherwise) they did the typical little kid thing and tried immediately comforting the other. now that they're older 1610 handles his emotions better and is mature when talking about them, but 42 is the one who comforts 1610 more often

more below ↓

☆ as well as staying on top of his academics, 42 also plays basketball and trains in a couple martial arts studios after school. 1610 is taller than 42 bc of the spider bite but 42 has always been slightly bigger and more muscular than 1610 since he's the athlete. whenever the family attends 42's boxing matches, jeff gets an overwhelming sense of deja vu from back when he attended his own brother's matches before

☆ they both got thru school p okay, not many incidents of bullying mostly bc if anyone did try, 42 would put a stop to that nonsense immediately. 42 loves his bro with his whole heart and was glad to pick a fight with anyone who gave him any trouble at all. the whole neighborhood knew it too bc the only person allowed to bully 1610 is 42 himself!

☆ in fact, 42 doesn't win the lottery to enter visions in the first place, which saddened both brothers when they found out. so because they're at separate schools now, 42 makes sure his twin knows that if any fuckery is afoot at visions that he'd be more than happy to roll up and dogwalk any fool who tries it. 1610 laughs him off but knows his bro has got his back for sure

☆ 42 likes to pretend 1610 is the nerdy one, but they are both very big anime and manga nerds. every time they hit up any bookstore, they both make a beeline for the manga section and argue over who's gonna read the newest one first (they have to share cuz those books cost some moneeyyyy, man)

☆ 1610 and 42 love their uncle to pieces, OFC. they both pick up separate traits from him, even. 42 was inspired to start martial arts and boxing from watching videos on old digital cameras that aaron hung onto thru the years. they were of a much younger aaron back in his boxing days, when his family went to his matches and recorded them from the seats. 1610 was inspired to pick up graffiti and then even started doodling in notebooks bc of aaron

☆ 1610 is def the social butterfly and easily the most popular kid on the block by virtue of how friendly and outgoing he is. 42 is more introverted and keeps a small circle of friends, but everyone is cool with him nonetheless since they fuck with his twin bro

☆ since 42 stays at home the most (lol he a homebody) he picks up cooking much better than 1610 thanks to him staying in the kitchen to help his mom make dinner while they watch telenovelas together. 42 also knows how to dance bachata and salsa much better than 1610 too

☆ both twins love physics and math but 42 is more hardware-inclined. 1610 is about software, data, and formulas. 42 is good at taking things apart, putting things together, building and engineering. he kinda takes after his uncle aaron that way, and drove his parents nuts as a lil kid when he got his hands on radios, computers, clocks, etc

☆ 1610 loves softer brighter music like JID, steve lacy, smino, frank ocean, kid cudi, post malone, and nujabes. 42 is always bumping harder shit like pop smoke, waka flocka, zillakami, three 6 mafia, benny the butcher and some oldies like paul wall, wu tang clan, biggie smalls, MF DOOM and big KRIT. they tease each other's music tastes a lot since they're polar opposites in almost every way

☆ they actually have a shared playlist where they add new music they like (probs on some e-1610 spotify or soundcloud equivalent since everything is slightly skewed on e-1610 tbh). both of them check it periodically, and 42 is the more frequent contributor

☆ they both make art but 1610 is the artsier kid for sure. 42 doodles occasionally but he's not as enthusiastic about it as his twin is. they both go around the city tagging walls whenever they have any free time, though. 1610 loves colors, expressive styles and is good at coming up with cool ways to draw text. 42's lines, accuracy and technical skill can never be beat

☆ 1610 has superpowers, sure, but his fighting skills are trash! 42 was always the scrappy one, not 1610, so he shows his twin how to properly throw punches and other useful fighting knowledge. it def comes in handy in the future

☆ jeff loves his sons to death but he often finds himself butting heads the most with 42 since they're so similar, it kinda drives them both nuts. it def gets worse once aaron starts gossiping abt what jeff used to be like when they were kids, giving 42 plenty of ammo. they love each other but their relationship is just as complicated as it is between jeff and 1610, and 42 would be lying if he said he wasn't affected by the rift between his dad and uncle himself

☆ the minute the twins turn 16, 42 goes out and gets his drivers license on the first try (computer quiz AND road test aced) and rubs it in 1610's face almost constantly. 1610 likes to throw back that there's no parking space for another car on their block, so he can't even get his own car even if he wanted to anyways

☆ whenever the boys really fight, the whole city seems to know. they squabble a lot obvi, they're brothers. but the very few times they've given each other the silent treatment like for real, everyone in the family tries to get them to make up since it's unsettling to see two peas in a pod be so hostile with each other

☆ and since they've always been attached at the hip, 1610 being enrolled into visions felt. weird. everyone thought 1610 was gonna take it the hardest but surprisingly 42 had a harder time adjusting since he always saw his bro in the hallways at school, and was so used to him knowing the latest gossip of anybody in their grade. without 1610 around as often, 42 becomes even more withdrawn than usual

rio looks up from the pot suddenly, glancing at the time. dinner was almost ready and she… hadn't seen not hide nor tail of her son this evening. he returned home from school a couple hours earlier, choosing to skip going to his boxing class to shut himself in his room.

fine. teenagers can be moody sometimes and rio would rather keep her moody son at home where she can keep an eye on him, rather than worry about what he's getting up to on the streets.

strange thing is, though... rio hadn't heard a single noise come out of that room all night. 42 usually liked to have at least some music playing, maybe video game noises out of his nintendo... oh, what was it called again? whatever, that nintendo thing he played on sometimes.

rio placed the lid on the pot and lowered the flame a bit before making her way over to her twin sons' bedroom door, hesitating a bit when she noticed no light was filtering out from the bottom either. okay... that was weird, too. neither of her sons ever went to bed before dinner. ever.

the one time rio dared to try and send her sons to bed without dinner years ago-- as punishment for fighting right there in the kitchen that time-- both twins hollered so loud they got concerned knocks on their front door from various different neighbors. never again, rio remembered thinking that time.

now, the bedroom door stands oddly quiet and completely hollow without any signs of life behind it. rio knocked anyways, hoping against hope itself that 42 didn't go ahead and sneak out of the house without her knowledge. if he did sneak out, he's grounded for 3 months, rio thinks to herself mostly as reassurance. she nervously picks at a nail and strains to hear anything behind the wood.

she thinks she hears a groan and decides to try her luck by slowly opening the door. hopefully he's not in there... y'know, doing teenage boy things, either. dios mío.

rio swings the door open to...

...a completely pitch-black room, save for the sliver of streetlight filtering in past a crack in the window curtains and casting an eerie yellow glow on anything it could touch. it is cold, and also deathly quiet.

rio is shocked.

she walks over to the right side of the room where 42's bed is pushed up against the corner, next to the windows. on that bed lies a big lump, buried under several layers of blankets. the lump stirs.

rio crosses her arms. "mijo, mi amor. are you sleeping? …pero qué te pasa, papí?"¹

42 rolls onto his back and glares sleepily at his concerned mother standing at his bedside. it's dark in the room, but rio's face is illuminated by the living room lights pouring in from the open door. she's wearing a tilted smile, but coupled with the worry lines on her forehead, it isn't fooling anyone.

42 slowly closes his eyes, chin still under the covers, and lets out the most world-weary sigh rio has ever heard coming out of someone as young as him. if it weren't coming from her own son, she might have even laughed.

she immediately sits down, lifting the cover off of 42's chin to check his temperature all over his face. he tries to wriggle away.

"maaaaaa, stop..." he grumbles, trying to pull the covers up higher over his head. "'m not sick, mamí, forreal… chill."

rio leans on a hand. "¿si no 'ta enfermó pues qué es?² what's wrong?"

42 doesn't answer for a bit and rio exhales through her nose. " 'moré, what are you doing in this pitch-black room all by yourself? no light, no music, no nothing. what's wrong? you look like you're on a death bed!"

42 finally opens his eyes again, and blinks a few times as he says, "nothing, ma. seriously, i'm just... tired. that's all. i'm fine."

"you don't look 'fine' 42, you look like 2 seconds away from flatlining."

another sigh from the boy. rio rolls her eyes and places her hand on his forehead again, then strokes his cheek.

"is it 1610? hmm?" rio asks 42. she asks so unbelievably gently, as if by only mentioning his brother's name she would shatter something in the room. a mirror or something.

42's heart clenches at the love and care his mother is showing around this particular topic. it was true, and he couldn't even deny it. having 1610 in the house less and less every week, not seeing him in the hallways at their local high school, receiving sparser and shorter replies to his texts... it was all building up in his chest and the dam was pretty close to bursting. especially now as his mom was lovingly stroking his cheek as she checked in with him. how embarassing. rio wouldn't see him cry, not right now. he closed his eyes and willed the tears away, for her sake.

miraculously, 42's voice didn't crack or waver when he said, "yeah. yeah, i miss 'im."

rio crooned something saccharine in spanish and placed a kiss on her son's forehead. she saw right through his cold tough guy act, as expected. with how much of a mama's boy 42 was, it would've been impossible not to. they spent way too much time together for her to miss how he dragged his feet getting ready for school in the mornings, how he's been skipping martial arts and basketball practice more often lately, and how unenthusiastic he's been in general.

rio chuckles as she lays her cheek on 42's forehead for a second before sitting back up. "ay, bendito. 42, you know your brother is just down a few blocks from here. why don't you go visit him soon?"

42 shuffles under the covers. he's unsure if he should even admit this, but he proceeds anyways. "uhm. he's not answering my texts lately, so." he feels strangely guilty about this, like he just snitched on his twin somehow even though he has no reason to suspect that at all.

rio sighs and looks off into the distance, bracing herself for what she's about to say. she looks back down. "yeah. i know. he doesn't answer mine, either. i was hoping he was talking to you, but... well. "

something in 42 stirs a bit. "i bet he thinks he's in some fancy private school, around rich kids, now he's too good for us," it's a weak attempt at a joke, but rio smiles down at him anyways.

"don't worry. the second he gets home this weekend, he's on house arrest. okay? he's gonna be chained to you the whoooole time. and i'm keepin' watch."

it's not much, but 42 still takes that little bit of hope and holds it gently in his mind.

"the second he walks through that door, i'm tackling him. i don't care." 42 smiles at the thought.

rio laughs, kisses his forehead again and stands up. "dinner is almost ready, by the way." she gives him a look. "you better eat with me tonight, because your brother is at school and your dad is doing overtime tonight. okay? okay."

42 sighs deeply to wake himself up a bit more as he sits up and scratches at his durag. "yeah, yeah. 'm comin', ma!"

¹ "but what is going on with you, papí?" (papí being a common term of affection for a boy in spanish, it doesn't always mean "dad" lol)

² "if you're not sick, then what is it?"

☆ until they get "too old" for halloween, the morales twins ALWAYS wear matching costumes. every year. every single year, no matter what. what they usually end up wearing changes every year and they aaaaaalways argue over it, of course. notable costumes so far: batman and superman (age 13), two ninja turtles (age 9) (im thinking mikey and donatello bc of personality but lbr rio most likely forbade either of them to be leonardo bc the twins would deadass get into a fist fight over it), tom and jerry (age 2), mario and luigi (age 7), woody and buzz (age 5), peter pan and captain hook (age 10), and-- rio's favorite-- thing 1 and thing 2 (age 4)

☆ 42 was surprisingly always very popular with the girls at school. in middle school, 1610 was the geeky one with braces and acne. 42 got off relatively easy in that regard and as a result was labeled "a heartbreaker" from the jump, which annoyed him. he has no interest in dating whatsoever and swore to never get into a relationship before graduating high school. he's got his mom and brother to take care of and he's going places after high school, damnit! 1610 on the other hand is a huge romantic and has a crush on a new person almost every year of school, easily

☆ the literal second 1610 set foot in the house after his spider bite, 42 was all over him asking a million questions since they both have that supernatural twintuition, and 42 sussed him out immediately. 1610 obviously had to come clean and tell his brother he was spiderman just like he told ganke, otherwise he was never gonna be able to change into his spider suit at home (plus they share a room, so. there's that)

1610 didn't even get to close their bedroom door all the way before his twin leaped up from his own bed and stalked over.

"óye, bro. what's up? what happened at visions?" 42 circled his brother, squinty-eyed in the exact same way their mom is when she's suspicious. 1610 dropped his bag next to his bed and plopped down on his sheets, trying to put some distance between them.

"uhhhh what're you talkin' about?" he tries casually, and immediately regrets it.

"uhhhhh what're you talkin' about?" 42 mocks. "don't play dumb with me. you KNOW what i'm talkin' about, stupid. first, you answer, like, none of my texts ever. then dad comes home sayin' you never let him talk face-to-face when he visited you a couple days ago. mamí has been texting and calling you nonstop, no answer either. you are a brand new person now, huh? qué te pasa, yo?"

1610 hunched his shoulders as he got up and slumped over to his desk. he was quietly weighing his options, nervously rearranging papers and sketches on the wooden table, wondering how he was going to break it to his brother that he was--

"lemme guess. you have superpowers now," 42 says easily. he crosses his arms triumphantly when big round amber eyes suddenly turn up to his face.

1610 searches his face for any hint of a joke. no... no way. did his brother just...?

"you're playin' with me. no way. how did you--?"

42's eyes widen. "wait, are you being deadass right now?" he threw his head back and crowed with laughter. "that was just a guess!"

1610 leaped forward and pushed his hand onto 42's mouth, shutting him up. "heeyyy hey hey hey hey shhhhh, man. damn, could you possibly be any louder? look," he took his twin by the shoulders and gave him a slight shake, lowering his voice to a near whisper. "mom and dad can never know anything about this. okay? anything. not a word, you understand?"

42 pushes his brother off. "ok-ay man, cool it. i promise. we can shake on it, even."

wordlessly, they did their super secret handshake they came up with and perfected in the 4th grade in lieu of hooking their pinkies together. it was the morales shake, a move that binds them to secrecy and keeping promises til death. this was serious business. 1610 relaxes a bit once they're done.

"... okay. and i mean it, pencil braids. if you even breathe a word about this, or even think about--!"

"if you don't just tell me already, goddamn."

with a meaningful look thrown at his brother's way, 1610 raises an arm silently. 42 looks back expectantly.

1610 shoots a web up. he jumps up, using the web as a bungee rope to help him flip and land feet-first onto the ceiling. once his sneakers touch their ceiling, he stands up... upside-down. he stares at his brother and his brother stares back, mouth agape.

"niiiiiiice," 42 leans back and grins up at his twin brother, spiderman.

☆ 1610 is glad he has someone besides ganke to talk to about spiderman stuff, though. his brother listens way more attentively than his roommate anyways, and even tries to help sometimes esp when 1610 needs a quick distraction so he can switch from spiderman back into his regular clothes before the parents notice

☆ 42 is surprisingly cool abt his twin bro being spiderman, actually. even when they're texting 42 is careful not to imply 1610 is spiderman, and often calls stuff in to the police station if 1610 webs anyone up and lets him know. he also gets very good at bandaging up wounds quickly

☆ 42 is a hardass on the outside and contains his emotions much better than his twin, but he's kinda different around his family, since he loves them a lot. he jokes around a lot with them, esp around 1610. they also love pranking their parents, and are p creative at coming up with ways to make everyone laugh

☆ i personally picture 42's personality being sort of like huey's from the boondocks, especially around other adults. he becomes withdrawn and speaks very clearly and directly, and is very shy around strangers. some ppl mistake that as him having an attitude problem but his friends and family know better. only difference between huey and 42 is that 42 isn't nearly as woke lmfao

☆ meanwhile, 1610 becomes a motormouth around strangers and is quick to hug and kiss random family members at family reunions. as a lil kid, he'd always be the one up at the counter ordering for the both of them and chatting with the cashiers, or bus drivers, or whoever. as he gets older and used to the spiderman thing, he chats and jokes with randoms a lil less. he has to save the good material for when the mask is on

☆ 42 is a better writer than he is an artist, actually. he has notebooks filled with poetry and lyrics he scribbles down on post-it notes just to stick them in there for safekeeping. he's also been working on a sci-fi story since he was in 6th grade in absolute secrecy; he doesn't want a single soul to see it. he'd be mortified if anyone saw the nerdy shit he comes up with

☆ even tho 1610 has never fought anyone or been scrappy with anyone else, he's very good at wrestling and dodging punches thanks to his brother.

☆ 42 is the more fashion-inclined twin, even tho they're both sneakerheads. 42 just pays more attention to accessories, the fit of his clothing, how to pair the right shoes with the right jacket. 1610 throws on anything comfortable and calls it a day, and it gets even worse after he becomes spiderman. 42 clowns his brother SO HARD after he finds him wearing yellow sweatpants with an oversized red adidas hoodie and a green puffer jacket once (it was when 1610 came home from fighting a shapeshifting lizard that tried to take over cypress hills. the sweatpants were on backwards)

☆ 1610's sense of humor is geeky and he always tries too hard with his quips and jokes. he usually gets "secondhand embarrassment" chuckles from ppl. 42's style of comedy is a mix of dry humor and unintentionally being funny. this dude will say something clever with the straightest face ever and have the ENTIRE room in stitches without even meaning to

☆ just to nail home how different they are, even tho they share a room, you can tell EXACTLY which half of their room begins and ends. 1610's half is cluttered, vibrant, covered in posters and action figures, collages and trinkets on every available surface. 42's is as clean as a hospital room, and he ALWAYS makes his bed every morning. 42 has a poster or 2 hung up but he's not much for decorating in general. he's more into alphabetizing his bookshelf and looking for more efficient storage to put under his bed

☆ when jeff looks at his sons, he sees aaron and himself and sometimes it scares him. when the boys were around 12 (the Evil Year) he made SURE to sign them up for camp trips that summer and keep them close together as much as possible. he hates to see his boys drift apart at all and is the 1st one to call it out if he sees it. he just doesn't want his boys to end up like he and his brother did…

☆ … and then other times? it genuinely makes him feel a combination of irritation and also fondness bc sometimes 1610 and 42 really really remind him of aaron and himself, esp when they were young. ESPECIALLY when they argue. in every playful slap on the shoulder, every arbitrary competition started out of nowhere, every sleepy brother slowly sliding onto the other's shoulder during nighttime car rides, he sees it. he sees them, and then he sees his past. and with every little difference between the boys slowly cracking open like a chasm with each passing day, sometimes he thinks he can even see his future.

☆ 42 is cool or whatever but i also hc he's kinda… weird sometimes. it gets worse when his twin bro goes off to visions, he keeps staring at walls while sitting in dark rooms and eating at weird hours of the day. rio caught him fast asleep practically hanging off the window sill one night, and another time jeff found him having an entire conversation with a brick wall once while on patrol. 42 refuses to answer any questions

☆ after 1610 gets into visions, becomes spiderman, tells his parents abt his plans to go to princeton, etc... 42 eventually starts feeling a type of way (a jealous way…) their parents also seem to pay attention to 1610 more whenever he's home just to add insult to injury. he knows he's not supposed to, but he often finds himself thinking about the prowler gloves and schematics aaron left behind. he managed to grab them and hide them in a gym bag one day while helping his parents clear out aaron's apartment. the tech currently lives under his bed…

[shroommush]

Mr Cicle & Robert oneshot

Hey!! Its finally done!! And just in time before i leave on a cruise for a week! I started this like a month ago, so im very happy to see it finished.

As always, this little fic is based off of two characters, Robert and Mr Cicle from Paradoxcicle by @blipple-is-confused on ao3. None of this is canon to that fic and ive added a lot of my own headcanons around, especially when it comes to character backstories, so just keep that in mind.

This is set during the events of chapter 27 and onward, and the word count is 13,308 (i put way too much effort into this)

Warning for: descriptions of gore and lots of death (only mentioned in talking, none actually happens) and general angst

I hope you enjoy this mostly angsty, kinda wholesome attempt at making my two favourite characters bond.

~~~

Robert stared down the basement stairs silently.

After spending some time in the kitchen with Exterminator, Robert had gone to see where Quackity and some of the others had ran off to. Last anyone heard, they'd gone down to the basement.

And so, he found the basement door and stared down its long winding stairs wearily. He felt an unusually cold gust of air blow over him as he stood there, and he couldnt help but get the feeling there was something in that basement he wouldnt like.

It wasnt helping that his cameras exposure was so bad he could barely see half way down the stairs before it was just pitch black.

Well wasnt that great. He was gonna have to go down there to find quackity, wasnt he?

He leaned a little further through the doorway to get a better look- subconciously loosening his grip on his camera by just a bit.

It was then when Mr Cicle came turning the corner, peeking over Roberts shoulder to see what he was looking at.

Robert squinted at the darkness, his cameras lens zooming, still not having noticed the man behind him.

Mr Cicle paused, grinning at Robert as he stared down the stairs, unaware of his suroundings. He raised his hands, gently crept them onto Roberts shoulders and whispered- as hauntingly as possible- "Boo!"

"AGAHAAA!!!" Robert shrieked, his heart dropping as he felt the camera slip out of his grip and go tumbling down the stairs, into the darkness.

"GAH- NO no no no!!" He cried, watching the light at the top of the stairs get farther and farther away, flinching every time the camera hit something. "Not like this!" He gripped the sides of his head like it'd do anything to stabalize his vision.

Was he gonna die? Reset? All because he dropped his camera down a flight of stairs? It sure seemed like it. But he stood there in horror as he felt his stomach go queezy from the motion of the camera flailing, tumbling, and smashing into every stair imaginable.

Until finally, it came to the bottom of the stairs, hitting the basement concrete with a clack and falling onto its side pathetically.

Robert could see himself at the top of the stairs standing beside Mr Cicle, the two of them illuminated from behind. He stared wide eyed and devestated.

He could hear Mr Cicle make a whincing noise and felt him awkwardly pat him on the shoulder, making him flinch.

"Thats my fault, Robert.." he muttered. Robert could see him rub the back of his neck, grimacing down at the camera. "Sorry."

Robert stuttered, stumbling a bit to stand properly with his newly inverted vision. "I-its fine! Dont- dont worry about it." He spat out quickly. "Just- uugh shoot-..." he paused, pushing his lips together in thought. "Could you... help me down the stairs to get it..?" He asked Mr Cicle hesitantly.

Robert could see Mr Cicle turn to look at him, a curious but confused look on his face.

"..uh, sure?" He agreed.

Robert sighed, reaching out a hand for Mr Cicle to guide him. "Sorry its just, really dark. Cant see much." He lied.

Robert took a deep breath. This sucked. So much. This sucked so, so much. But.. he sighed. At least he could still sort of see himself. Losing his camera is never a good thing, but most of the time, as long as its still in close proximity, he's usually able to remotely guide himself until he finds it again.

With Mr Cicle here, though.. it couldnt hurt to get a little extra assistance. Yknow, his visions still completely out of wack, so on his own he could misplace his foot and go tumbling down the stairs. Which wouldnt be fun! But with Mr Cicle guiding him, that possibility's at least a little less likely to happen.

At least he hoped. Mr Cicle gladly took Roberts hand and began taking the first steps down the stairs. Robert grabbed at the walls for support, his legs shaking as he gently reached his foot out to find the next step down. He took a sharp breath each time he put his weight down, the image of him losing his balance and falling face first into the wood playing on repeat in his minds eye.

It wasnt going great so far. But after a moment of awkward silence, he began feeling Mr Cicles eyes on him.

Robert couldnt get a good look of Mr Cicles face through the camera. The two of them were too far away, so their faces were basically just jumbles of colorful pixels. And even worse, Mr Cicle had bright green glasses that completely stopped him from seeing the mans eyes.

But despite all that, he knew he was looking at him.

Maybe it was the fact that he couldnt go down the stairs on his own and was acting like a blind man- even though he technically was. He honestly doubted he was legally allowed to drive at this point.

Or maybe he had made it too obvious that his visions trapped on that camera screen. Most normal people wouldnt shut their eyes and grab for something to steady themsleves after dropping a camera.

Robert grumbled to himself. This was just going great.

Eventually, the two of them made it to the middle of the stairs. It was a lot darker here, and now it seemed like even Mr Cicle was struggling to see.

"Man.. is there a light down here?" The game show host muttered to himself. Even for Robert, it was starting to get kind of hard to see himself in the dark.

Robert hummed, hesitantly putting his foot down on the next step. "There has to be, right?" He added. "I mean.. Quackity and some others went down here, they wouldnt be walking around in pitch darkness, would they?" He suggested.

"Yeah..." Mr Cicle trailed off. "They wouldnt."

Robert flinched and stopped moving as his vision shifted.

Mr Cicle paused and looked at him, confused. "You okay?"

It was then that a faint blue light appeared at the bottom of the stairs, an icy chill running down the twos spines. Mr Cicle slowly turned his head to look at what it was, and was met with a ghostly figure, floating at the bottom of the stairs.

The ghost picked up Roberts camera, turning it around and inspecting it curiously. He had a christmas hat on, the pompom end flopping around his head with randomly flowy motions.

It hummed and grinned to itself, both of the men on the stairs stunned silent.

The ghost glanced up at them and Mr Cicle flinched, Robert grabbing the sides of the stairs harder to keep himself from getting too dizzy.

"Oh, well isnt this an interesting little piece of tech!" The ghost- which looked uncannily similiar to Charlie (it was probably just another one of his characters) spoke, flipping the camera to face himself and smiling again, showing his teeth more. "This belong to you?" He asked.

Robert grimaced at the ghostly sight, instinctually moving his head back to get out of the ghosts face. It did nothing, and he felt stupid.

"Uh- yeah! That belongs to Robert here!" Mr Cicle called out. "Would you be so kind as to return it to him?" He requested, gaining a mischevious look from the ghost.

"Hmmm..." the ghost hummed, performatively stroking his chin and looking at the camera contemplatively. "I could..." he muttered.

A grin crept onto his face.

"...or" he continued. "I could use it to record the next episode of the podcast." He spoke with a grin that showed he was all to proud of himself for coming up with that.

Mr Cicle paused, furrowing his brows and reaching out a hand as if to stop that idea in its tracks. "Uh- no, I dont think you can use that for your podcast, or, whatever it is.." he tried to explain, watching the ghost shoo his hand at him and roll his eyes.

"Why? you dont like sharing?" The ghost asked half heartily.

"W-well no, cause.." Mr Cicle paused. "Uhmm.. well it doesnt belong to you!" He reasoned.

"Okay." The ghost shrugged. "Can I ask the owner for permission to use it?" He asked monotonely.

"Uuh.." Mr Cycle paused, looking over at Robert with a hesitant glance. "I dont know, Robert. Can this man use your camera for a podcast??" He asked.

"No!" Robert exclaimed. "Absolutely not! I need that camera! A-and- it doesnt even work like that, you couldnt properly record anything on there!" He frantically tried reasoning.

"Well, then why do you use it?" The ghost asked with a raised eyebrow. "If its so broken, im sure you wouldnt mind me taking it off your hands." He spoke with a shrug.

Robert cursed under his breath. Why did he say that?? Of course he had to say it was broken, now the ghost will never give it back.

Even Mr Cicle seemed confused by this, looking at Robert and tilting his head. "Wait, yeah... if your cameras broken why are you always recording with it..?" He asked.

"T-that doesnt matter!" Robert tried to distract the two. "Just- give me my camera back! Please!" He pleaded.

"Mmm nope! This is mine now!" The ghost laughed. "If you want it back, you better come get it!" He taunted, turning and zipping out of view.

Robert groaned. "NO! Uughh.." He put a hand up to grab at his hair, shutting his eyes as the vision from his camera turned and moved out of synch with his body. He was starting to feel really motion sick, and it was only getting worse.

Mr Cicle reached out to try and help steady Robert, a look of concern on his face. "Woah- woah! Hey, Robert, you okay??" He asked.

"Im fine! Im fine.." he grumbled. "Can you please go get my camera!" He pleaded.

Mr Cicle paused, looking between Robert and the bottom of the stairs for a moment. Then, he turned to Robert and nodded. "Okay- i'll get it, dont worry." He spoke, turning and dashing down the stairs after the ghost.

"Hey! Come back!" Robert could hear him run off into the basement, his voice getting quieter as he got farther away.

Robert sighed, leaning against the wall as he tried to ignore what was going on in his vision. He took a deep breath, tuning into the sounds around him to try and stay grounded with his body.

He listened to the creaking of the stairs beneath him, the way they felt unstable under his feet. Running his hands along the wall behind him, he tried to visualize where he was standing right now.

He was stood in the middle of the stairs.. leaned against the left wall...

..he could hear some noise from down the stairs..?

He paused, turning to listen for what he had heard. Was that talking? It didnt sound like Mr Cicle. Who was it?

He stood completely still for a while just trying to figure out what it was that he heard. Until it got closer. And slowly he started to realise that people were coming up the stairs.

"Yeah, I dont know what was up with him, man.. I- oh. Robert?" One of the voices spoke, calling out to him.

Robert cleared his throat, leaned against the wall as casually as possible, and turned his head to smile in the direction he'd heard the voices. "Oh, hey guys!" His foot slipped slightly as he tried to lean against the wall, but he managed to catch himself and somewhat keep the pose.

He felt the stairs settle a bit, and he assumed this meant the people coming up them had stopped walking for a second.

"Hey! What are you doing down here?" The voice that had called to him came closer.

"Oh im just- ugh-" Robert stuttered as he felt the stairs shift again, shoving himself back against the wall as it felt like a few people walked past him up the stairs.

A person stumbled a bit and accidentally walked into him.

"Oh, sorry Robert from the backrooms!" The person called, continueing up the stairs again after patting him on the shoulder.

Robert shivered at the slimy texture, reaching up to wipe it off his jacket before pausing. "..from the.. what? Wait what are the backrooms..?" He muttered, following the movement of the stairs shifting with his head, waiting for an answer.

There was no answer, so he turned back to face the other voices, still confused. "Um.. okay, well.. you guys wouldnt have happened to see a.. ghost.. down there, would you?" He asked.

"Oh, boy.. yeah we did." A voice from farther down called out.

"Ough.. yeah.." the voice closest to Robert grumbled. "He forced us to sit in a podcast with him.. I do not reccomend it."

A voice slightly farther than the previous one made a noise of agreement. "Yup. He literally possessed me.. " they shivered. "Stay clear of him if you can." They advised before continueing up the stairs past Robert.

Robert hummed, taking the suggestion into consideration. "Okay... " he nodded. "Well.. he kind of stole my camera, though.. so that might be a bit hard.." he sighed.

"He did?" The voice closest to him asked, and he felt the stairs shift as they came closer to stand beside him. "You mean, like.. the camera you see out of..?" They whispered the last bit, sounding a bit more concerned now.

Robert hesitated. "Um. Yeah..? Wait how do you know that?" He asked anxiously, reaching a hand out to try and find who he was talking to, only to meet something sharp and electric that caused him to pull his hand away fearfully.

"Woah! Okay- dont touch that." The person quickly warned, grabbing Roberts hands gently to keep them from touching anything dangerous. "Its me! Backflippo! I know about your camera thing because i was there when we met you. Do you remember?" He explained hopefully.

Robert wiggled his fingers in backflippos hands, trying to get a feel for where they were but also because he felt awkward with him holding them like that. "Um, yeah, I remember." He nodded. "You have that.. green electric stuff on your shoulder. Im assuming thats what I touched a second ago?"

"Yep.." Backflippo sighed. "Sorry about that, its usually pretty under control.. " he added, sounding a bit defeated. "But- so.. you cant see me right now, right?" He asked.

Robert blinked, noting the fact that right now all he saw was the semi-transparent face of a ghost smiling at his camera. "No. I cant see you." He confirmed.

"Okay, what can you see?" Backflippo asked.

"Uh.." Robert hummed. "The ghost that stole my camera? Dark basement?" He shrugged.

"Okay, that sounds.. dissorienting." Backflippo muttered.

"Tell me about it..." Robert grumbled.

He flinched as he felt the stairs under him shift again, and what he assumed was someone else coming up beside them.

"Hey so, whats going on right now?" The voice asked, and Robert recoiled at the sound of slime moving and dripping right beside him.

Backflippo shifted, Robert assumed he turned to look at the other person. "Oh, I'm just gonna see if I can help Robert get his camera back." He explained.

"Oh- uh, actually." Robert interrupted. "I got Mr Cicle to go get it, you dont- you dont have to go get it for me." He assured Backflippo.

"That weird show host guy? You sent him?" The second voice asked.

"Yes?" Robert answered. "What makes you think he isnt capable?" He asked. "Also, who even are you? I thought the slime guy went upstairs already?"

Robert reached out hesitantly and tried to find whoever it was he was talking to. He grimaced as he felt his hand touch more slime, taking it back and wiping it off on his jacket with a disgusted look on his face.

The voice snickered. "Hey man, keep your hands to yourself! You dont know if I bite or not." They laughed to themselves, which only made Robert more repulsed.

"Ugh okay.." Backflippo spoke up. "Robert, this is Slimecicle. The other guy was just Slime. Theyre both.. made of the same stuff, but theyre very different." He explained.

"Uh, yeah? That other guy is like the exact opposite of me. He doesnt even hide in people's shoes for fun!" He huffed, garnering confused silence from both Robert and Backflippo.

Backflippo took a slow awkward breath and placed one of his hands on Roberts right shoulder. "..okay... well, about your camera." He began. "Are you sure I shouldnt go looking for it anyways? I mean, Mr Cicle doesnt know about your vision thing, does he?" He asked.

Robert sighed. "No, he doesnt.." he muttered, gaining a considerate hum from Backflippo. "..but, I was probably gonna let him know about that once he'd gotten back. I'd feel bad not telling him after this.." he admitted.

"Oh, and he saw me freak out when I dropped my camera, so if I dont explain what was going on, he's just gonna think I was acting crazy." He spoke with an awkward chuckle.

"Ah, fair.." Backflippo sighed. "Okay, well.. we've got a vampire to catch, so we should go." He spoke, gently patting Robert on his shoulder. "Will you be alright here on your own?"

Robert nodded. "Yeah, I think so. Im mostly just standing around waiting for Mr Cicle to come back, so as long as I stand right here, I'll be fine." He smiled, trying to reasure Backflippo.

Backflippo made a noise of hesitation, but sighed anyways. "Alright.. we'll be upstairs. If you need help anytime, just yell." He patted Roberts shoulder again and slowly began walking up the stairs.

Robert smiled and waved them goodbye, listening to the creaking of the stairs get higher and higher as he walked off. He heard Slimecicle snicker closer by and felt a tap on his nose that made him flinch.

"See you later, Rob." Simecicle chuckled. Robert listened as he turned and walked up the stairs behind Backflippo, and slowly dissapeared from his senses.

Robert sighed, silence filling his suroundings again. He didnt like being alone now. But, it would be fine. He reassured himself Mr Cicle would get his camera soon.

He took a deep breath. He was gonna be fine.

~

Well this was going great.

Mr Cicle stared into the pitch black room he'd followed the ghost to. He couldnt see a thing, and he was supposed to go in there to find Roberts camera?

Well great. Just great. He reasured himself it would be fine. Walking into a pitch black room with a ghost he couldnt see, yeah this was fine.

"Ookay..." he huffed, taking a deep breath, pumping out his chest, and taking a shaky step inside. He looked over his shoulder at the small bit of light from the stairs and watched as it was slowly obscured by the door frame.

He sighed, turning to face the darkness again. He jumped as the door slammed shut behind him.

Mr Cicle spun around to face the door, noting how all possible light coming into the room was now completely gone.

He stared wide eyed into the darkness. "U-uhm." He gulped. "Okay.. cool. Awsome. This is great." He spoke to himself. "I love.. the darkness."

Mr Cicle cleared his throat as he slowly started creeping deeper into the room.

"..hello ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to.. the void." He muttered. "I'll be your host, Mr scared." He recited to himself, like saying those familiar lines- all be it a little humorized- would help him be less frightened. He kept walking, speaking more to keep himself grounded.

"I know the maze has a lot of different traps, but 'The Hall of Eternal Darkness' is not one of them." He huffed to himself.

He heard a ghostly chuckle echoe behind him. Spinning around frantically, he saw nothing.

He took a shaky breath, slowly backing away from the noise and continueing slowly in the direction he'd been going.

"Okay.. you want to be scary? Be scary!" He huffed, continueing to step backwards. "I've seen things you cant imagine. Nothing can scare me anymore." He threatened, slowly feeling a shiver run down his spine as he stepped into something cold from behind.

Mr Cicle stopped, standing frozen still as an icy breath could be felt on the back of his neck. He gulped as the room slowly lit up a blue hue, the light coming from something right behind him.

He shut his eyes in resignation as he heard that same chuckle from behind him this time.

A blue semi-transparent face peeked over his shoulder. "Boo." It grinned.

Mr Cicle shivered. He turned and looked hesitantly into the ghosts eyes. "Oh, there you are.." he sighed shakily.

The ghost glared at him for a moment.

"Really?" He droned. "Really! Not even a jump? A flinch??" He gaped. "I do all that work to build up the suspense, and all you say is 'oh THERE you are' EUGHH." He gagged, turning and pouting to himself in the dark.

Mr Cicle hesitated, turning and raising an eyebrow at the ghost, confused. "I.. I mean, yeah?" He shrugged, flinching as the ghost turned to glare at him again. "All you said was 'boo.'" He blinked. "I feel like you were the one who ruined the suspense."

The ghost looked at Mr Cicle and rolled its eyes. "Okay.." it paused. "..fair."

"Well- look." Mr Cicle sighed, running a hand through his hair as he tried to calm his hastily beating heart. "Where's the camera?" He asked.

"Why do you care." The ghost droned.

"Because it belongs to my friend." He grumbled. "And you cant just take things because you want them, thats rude." He reasoned, taking a step closer to the spectre.

The ghost scoffed. "Oh you wanna know what's rude??" It asked rhetorically. "Blowing up your best friend because they decide to leave your podcast!!" He cried. "Like who does that??" There was a slight crack in his voice.

Mr Cicle blinked, going silent for a moment.

The ghost looked away indignently, and Mr Cicle got the feeling the ghost wasnt talking about him.

"Uh.. wow..." Mr Cicle mumbled. "..that is kinda messed up.." He hummed, scratching his chin.

"Right??" The ghost cried. "Augh- you get it! You know- my friends did that exact thing!" He gasped, pointing his finger at Mr Cicle as to punctuate his statement. "I was all like 'hey guys, ive got a lot on my plate right now, i think im gonna go!' And they were like 'thats fine Charlie! Take care of your own needs!' And then on my final episode of the podcast, they send a pipebomb in the mail and fucking kill me!!" The ghost exclaimed, Mr Cicle watching him cross his arms with a huff.

Mr Cicle watched the ghost for another moment, observing his behaviour curiously. He was beginning to get an idea of what this guys deal might be.. so, to test the waters, he decided to take a step closer.

"Well.." he began, taking a small breath. "..I cant say I've gone through that same thing, but, wow.. thats horrible.." He sighed, watching the ghost cautiously to make sure he hadnt accidentally set it off.

The ghost sighed. "..thank you!" He huffed.

Mr Cicle smiled and nodded before going silent. The ghost also remained quiet, avoiding eye contact.

The two of them said nothing.

The ghost made a noise of defeat and visibly slumped down a bit. "..the camera's on the shelf over there... just take it." He sighed, pointing off to his right.

Mr Cicle blinked. "Oh! Wait, really?" He asked, standing still and staring at the ghost.

"Ugh, yes." The ghost grumbled. "It wont really do me any good, and I was just taking it to get attention." He huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "It gets kind of lonely in hell.. and I can only visit the living once a year, so I guess..." he paused. "..I dont know."

Mr Cicle frowned. "Hey.. I.." he paused, something about what the ghost had said made him go quiet. "I've gone through something similiar, so I get it." He muttered. "You just have to find people who will understand what you've been through." He offered with a sympathetic smile.

The ghost sighed. "Yeah.." he agreed. "I guess the only people who know what ive been through are Schlatt and Ted.. but theyre the ones who blew me up." He shrugged.

Mr Cicle paused. "Oh."

The ghost huffed. "Yep." He nodded. "Well I might just go see what theyre up to either way. And now that I'm free from the podcast, they dont get to send me back down to hell once theyre done talking to me.." he spoke with a mischevious grin.

"Ha ha.. okay, well you have fun with that.." he laughed hesitantly, watching the ghost rub its hands together and grin to itself before blinking out of existence, plunging the room into darkness once more.

"Oh-" Mr Cicle groaned. "Great." He sighed. This makes finding the camera harder, doesnt it.

"Alright, well..." he hummed to himself. "He said it was... this shelf?" He turned to his right, running his hands along the plank of wood he'd found that was probably the right shelf.

Going slowly- because he literally could not see a thing- he bumped into a few random items, paint cans, and work tools. So far nothing that felt like a camera.

He was starting to wonder if the camera was actually here, until he heard something. A faint mechanical wrring further down the shelf. Looking over in the direction he'd heard it, he noticed a small blinking light reminiscent of the one on Roberts camera.

He sighed in relief as he went to grab it, feeling his hands come into contact with plastic and metal. "There you are.." he huffed, pulling it off the shelf and slipping his hand into the strap on its side. He turned it around in his hands and confirmed to himself that this was in fact Roberts camera, and not some random item that just felt like a camera.

"Lets get you back to your owner." He huffed, slowly walking back in the direction he thought the door was.

Taking a few steps, he stopped as he realised he, in fact, did not know where the door was.

"Uuhmmm..." he stopped, looking around in the darkness for anything. Literally anything. But despite how much he squinted, he just couldnt pick anything up.

Mr Cicle grumbled to himself. "..shoot." he cursed, tapping his foot against the concrete floor impatiently. "This is going to be a problem.." he muttered.

Mr Cicle looked around for a bit, continueing to try and spot anything that would help him leave. But he just couldnt find anything in the dark. He was about to give up and try something else, when he noticed something.

That same wrrring that he'd heard before. Mechanical movement from the camera. He looked down at the illuminated screen on the camera and noticed it was zooming in and out. All on its own.

Mr Cicle watched it hesitantly for a moment as the thing focused and unfocused, repeating the same thing over and over. What was it doing?

"What the.." he gaped, holding the camera up a bit closer as it continued moving all on its own. Was this thing alive?? Is that why Roberts so protective of it? Because its not just a camera, but a living thing?

Mr Cicle scoffed at his own thoughts. "Either youre alive.. or just broken." He huffed, but he paused as he noticed something on the camera screen.

There. In the dark. There was something in the dark.

He looked up from the camera to see what it was, but-

There was nothing there.

"What?"

Mr Cicle looked back down at the camera. And there it was again. There was something on the camera that he couldnt see in person. What even was it?

He squinted at the image, trying to figure out what the vague shape was. The camera kept zooming in and out, which made it a little harder to focus on the shape, but slowly, he started to see more.

The faint outline of a plastic chair slowly began to appear on the camera screen. It was vague, and just barely visible, but it was there. The camera zoomed in and out a couple more times, at which the chair became clearer. And then it stopped. Hesitantly zooming back out and resting at a wide view.

All of a sudden, Mr Cicle could see so much better on the camera than he could in real life.

"Oh.. " Mr Cicle began to realise what the camera had been doing. "You were adjusting to the darkness.." he remarked, holding the camera up and peering around the room with it.

Now that the camera had better adjusted to how little light there was in the room, it was doing a lot better at seeing things than Mr Cicle was. He took this to his advantage, though. By looking through the camera screen, he spun around until he found the vague outline of a door. As soon as he found it, he dead-lined it straight in that direction, grabbed the door handle and shoved it open as hard as he could.

The door swung open faster than he'd expected, causing him to lose balance and stumble forward. "wAGH-"

Mr Cicle yelped, keeping hold of the door handle to try and catch himself. He managed to stay standing, but almost lost his grip on Roberts camera.

"WOAH! O-okay!!" He gasped, tightening his grip on the camera again and properly standing up. He cleared his throat, rolling his shoulders and brushing his suit vest off. He then adjusted his glasses and acted like it never happened.

"Okay! Wow!" He huffed, taking a deep breath and looking around. "That was quite an.. eventful adventure..." he sighed, spotting the staircase out of the basement and feeling a wave of relief wash over him.

"Lets get out of here.." he smiled, making his way towards the stairs.

~

Robert watched the stairs get closer, watched as Mr Cicle turned the corner, and finally spotted himself standing awkwardly in the middle of the stairway.

"Oh." He gulped. "Mr Cicle!" He put on a smile. Robert tried his best to puppet his body into the right position to make it look like he was facing Mr Cicle and waving at him. "You got my camera!" He called, still struggling to stand upright.

"Hey, Robert.." Mr Cicle sighed. "Yeah, I got your camera." he spoke with a smile, huffing as he started walking up the stairs. "It doesnt look too badly damaged, and it still works.. I think.." he muttered, gently holding the camera towards Robert as he finally made it back to him.

Robert reached out tentatively, feeling his whole body relax as he grabbed hold of his camera. "Oh, thank you.." he exhaled, pulling the camera up to his chest and holding it like a lost child. "Ugh.. fuck..." He let out a very relieved groan.

Mr Cicle looked at him with a hesitant smile. He really was starting to wonder what the deal with that camera was..

Robert smiled and let out a very loud exhale. "Wow! Alright, yeah.. uh.." he hesitated, seeming to think for a moment, flicking his camera in Mr Cicles direction. "I have uh.. some stuff to explain..." he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.

"..yeah." Mr Cicle hummed, furrowing his eyebrows, a bit confused. "I.. well I dont want to sound rude, but you have been acting strange since dropping your camera." He confessed, looking back down the stairs. "..and... that thing was moving on its own down there... " he added a bit hesitantly.

Robert grimaced. Of course..

"I dont know if its.. alive? Or.. just, really good at adjusting to different light levels- but something's up with it." Mr Cicle concluded, looking at Robert with a concerned gaze.

Robert knew it was coming. After all of this, he couldnt have possibly expected Mr Cicle to not be curious. Which was fair, he supposed.. he just hated having to figure out a way to explain all of this to him.

"Yeah.. thats the thing." Robert sighed, looking back up to the top of the stairs. "Its a little.. complicated." He paused. "..Confusing..." he grumbled.

Mr Cicle chuckled. "Alright? Everything about tonight has been confusing. I'll be able to handle whatever it is." He spoke with a smile.

Robert grumbled an agreement. Everything about tonight had been confusing. He supposed his own thing might not be as confusing as some other things he'd seen.

Robert looked away, sighing.

"Okay, well.. I cant tell you here." He muttered. "I dont know if you heard, but that vampire guy is on the loose, and I dont want him hearing about this." Robert grumbled, peering up at the top of the stairs hesitantly.

"Oh!" Mr Cicle blinked. "You mean the vampire that puppeted people into attacking everyone??" He asked, a new concern appearing on his face. "That vampire's on the loose??"

Robert sighed. "Yes."

"Huh. Well then." Mr Cicle gulped. "I uh.. I guess I could find somewhere he wouldnt hear..? Or.. probably wouldnt." He huffed, glancing up the stairs as well and slowly stepping up towards the basement door.

Robert raised an eyebrow and followed behind him slowly. "Oh? And where would that be?" He asked.

Mr Cicle smiled. "Somewhere quiet." He answered simply, only confusing Robert even more.

Robert furrowed his eyebrows, and slowed a bit, trying to think of anywhere quiet in the house he could be talking about.

He scoffed to himself. Considering how many people were in the house right now, he didnt think anywhere in the place was quiet.

Well, he couldnt be so sure. Clearly Mr Cicle had somewhere in mind, so he might as well follow and see where this went.

So, following the game show host out of the basement, he kept a keen eye out- or a keen lens out- for anyone that looked vageuly vampirish. Mr Cicle didnt look quite as worried, but he seemed at least a little cautious as well.

Eventually, they reached the back door of the house where Mr Cicle stopped.

Robert paused as Mr Cicle did, looking between him and the outside.

"Oh." He blinked. "Of course. The quiet place is outside." He huffed.

"Yep." Mr Cicle smiled. "Hope you dont mind the cold.. but it should be away from most prying eyes." He offered, gently opening the door and gesturing courtly for Robert to exit.

Robert chuckled at him, bowing his head as he walked through the door and onto the backyard porch. Mr Cicle hadnt been lying about the cold. Robert felt his whole body shiver once he was outside.

Mr Cicle huffed as he stepped through the door behind Robert. He kept hold of the door handle and smoothly shut it right behind him. He then turned to watch Robert look around for a moment, who was looking a little hesitant as he sat down on the porch stairs.

Mr Cicle sighed, going to sit down beside Robert. Robert seemed to be collecting his words for a moment, so Mr Cicle took the time to look up and watch the stars while waiting for him to talk.

Robert on the other hand was fiddling with the strap on his camera as he thought of what to say.

He couldnt just say, straight up, 'hey my camera is my eyes.'.. could he..?

It would be dumb.. but...

Robert groaned. He might as well just go for it. Say the first thing that comes to mind and go from there.

Robert turned to look at Mr Cicle, finding him dead silent facing the sky.

He hesitantly cleared his throat.

Mr Cicle snapped out of his star gazing. "Oh." He saw Robert looking at him a bit cautiously, so he turned to face him better.

"..go ahead." He encouraged with a soft gaze.

Robert let out a tense breath, glancing away for a moment and rolling his eyes.

Get it over with.

"Uhm.. " he gulped, quickly glancing over his shoulder at the back door, just to make sure that vampire wasnt actively listening in. Or, anyone else, for that matter..

He sighed, turned, and started to speak.

"My vision is trapped on this camera." He admitted, not looking at Mr Cicle, who remained silent.

"I havent told anyone yet, because- well its a pretty dumb weakness.." he muttered. "Especially with all this evil bug stuff going on, I'd hate to know what they might do if they found out." He spoke, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

"There are a few people who know about it already.. but they only know because they were there when I first showed up." He sighed. "I think it was.. Xiv.. and gillion, and.. Backflippo and Charlie... and they only found out because Xiv thought I was acting weird and decided to find out why." He spoke with a slight chuckle.

He hesitantly glanced over at Mr Cicle, noticing how his eyebrows were furrowed and his lip pressed into a thin line. The show host almost looked at Roberts eyes for a moment, before pausing, and slowly looking down to gaze into the camera lens.

Robert felt his whole body tense as for the first time that night- or for the first time in who knows how long.. someone actually looked him in the eyes.

He immediately pulled the camera away to face straight ahead, a strange feeling in his chest flaring up like electricity.

"Uhm-" he stuttered. "Yeah- so.. when I dropped my camera down the stairs, I honestly thought.." he paused, wondering what else he should tell Mr Cicle about this dumb curse of his. "..I thought... " he trailed off.

"..Robert." Mr Cicle spoke up, making him jump.

Robert turned to look back at Mr Cicle, finding that he was still looking directly down the lens of his camera.

"I.. I did hear you correct, Right? Your vision.. is trapped on that camera. Meaning, all you see comes out of that little lens right there." He spoke, pointing at the cameras lens.

Robert gulped, gritting his teeth and looking away awkwardly.

"Y-yeah.. thats pretty much the situation..." he muttered.

"I cant.. imagine.. what that must be like..." Mr Cicle spoke slowly. "..to have your.. entire perception of reality come out of, this tiny little box." He gently reached out a hand towards the camera, almost subconsiously. Like he was so curious he didnt realise he was moving.

Robert jerked the camera away from Mr Cicles hand, seeing him snap out of his curiosity and pull his hand back.

"Sorry." Mr Cicle blinked. "Its just.. interesting." He hummed.

Robert laughed at that, rolling his eyes at the idea. "Yeah.. interesting is one way of describing it." He spoke grimmly.

Mr Cicle raised an eyebrow, tilting his head at Robert. "Well.. how would you describe it?" He asked, watching Robert pause and contemplate the question for a moment.

"I.." Robert hesitated. "I dont know.."

"Its like.. that feeling when you wake up and you've been lying on your arm all night, and its circulation is so cut off you cant even feel it. And youre just.. holding it with your other hand feeling it move around out of sync with you." He muttered, looking ahead deep in thought. "But even that isnt a good comparison, cause I can still feel my body, im just.. disconnected from it." He held his camera out in front of him to almost show the distance he felt between him and his body. "Its weird... it feels bad." He concluded.

Robert turned to look at Mr Cicle again, seeing his eyes flick about under his green lenses as he tried to rationalize Roberts description in his head. He seemed to understand to some extent, nodding faintly as he stared ahead.

"Thats.. a horrible way to be stuck living.." he mumbled, running a hand over his face and resting it over his mouth, a look of almost disbelief and sympathy in his expression.

"Heh, yeah.. tell me about it.." Robert grumbled. "Oh but imagine trying to escape giant snake lady monsters and skin men in some archictural nightmare of a maze while also having to deal with this camera thing." He offered, turning to grin at Mr Cicle and gesture his camera around like a dumb toy.

Mr Cicle gasped. "Oh- goodness, thats horrid." He spat, looking at Robert with a grimace.

Robert smiled. "Ha! Yeah!" He actually laughed. "I am honestly so glad Charlie found me, because if I had spent another day or two in that hell I might have actually lost it." He spoke with a sigh, not noticing how Mr Cicle went quiet.

Robert let out another sigh and stared out at the backyard. "I do not want to go back there once this is all over." He huffed, leaning back on one of his palms a bit.

Mr Cicle chuckled faintly. "..that makes two of us..." he muttered.

Robert hummed, turning his camera to look at Mr Cicle. The man was leaned forward, elbows rested on his thighs and his gaze focused on the distance.

"I do not. Ever. Want to go back to my place." Mr Cicle spoke, such certianty in his tone that it made Robert sit up a bit.

"Oh...?" Robert trailed off. "..what was it like?" He asked hesitantly. He grimaced as he noticed the instant look of discomfort that came over Mr Cicles face at the question.

The game show host was silent for a moment. But after a small while, he looked over at Robert with a soft smile and a faint laugh. "Are we really doing a joint therapy session right now?" He asked somewhat humurously. "I thought we came out here for you to talk, I dont want to intrude on your time to speak."

Robert scoffed, tossing a hand forward to brush the idea away. "Who cares. Weve all got issues. Weve all come from the head of the same guy. Were all here together." He offered, giving Mr Cicle a considerate smile. "I think the most we can all do for each other is offer some solidarity in how fucked up our lives can be." He spoke, looking Mr Cicle dead in the eyes as best he could.

Mr Cicle looked up into Roberts eyes, smiling for a moment, before hesitating as he noticed just how empty they actually were.

He could tell Robert was moving them to look at him intentionally. But they felt as if they were prepetually staring at something far off behind him. Staring off into the distance with no set target.

Mr Cicle huffed, glancing down just below Roberts chest and locking eyes with his camera. "You make a fair point." He muttered, turning to look ahead in silence again.

"But where do I even begin..." he huffed, wringing his palms together between his knees as he furrowed his eyebrows in contemplation.

"Well, where did it all start?" Robert offered.

Mr Cicle chuckled. "Ah.. well its been so long I can barely remember.."

"I.. used to have a good life. I had friends- who I've since forgotten the names of. I had a home- which I've since forgotten as well... I guess the only thing I was missing was a job." Mr Cicle huffed

"Somewhere. Somehow. I found a job at 'The Maze' as the host of the show. Out of everyone who auditioned they chose me, and I had been so excited to put my acting skills to use, and make a name for myself on the big screen..." He spoke slowly, Robert noticing a faint, reminiscent smile on his face. "I guess I'd been so happy I hadnt questioned a lot of the red flags about that place.." Mr Cicle trailed off.

"When they were making my persona for the show.. they asked me what my name was and found it simple enough to let me use my last name for the show.. 'Cicle'.. Charlie Cicle. Thats my actual name." He looked gently over at Robert. "It fit well enough, and I was all set. They gave me my suit, showed me to my studio, and shut the door for my first day on the job.."

"And it was one of the worst days of my life..." he spoke weakly.

"That show wasnt a show at all. The contestants woke up without any knowledge of how they ended up there, and once they actually entered the maze, they started dropping like flys." He hissed.

Robert noticed Mr Cicles hands twisting around each other tightly, his knuckles almost white.

"Traps at every corner. Pitfalls at every slope. The first group didnt even make it past the second section before they were all dead.. " Mr Cicle grit his teeth.

"Jesus..." Robert gasped.

Mr Cicle chuckled. "Yeah..." he hummed. "I was horrified, to say the least..."

"But.. when I had had enough... and I'd decided to leave.. never come back.." Mr Cicle trailed off. "..I couldnt."

Robert stared at the empty look in Mr Cicles eyes.

"The thing is, they hadnt even locked the door to my recording studio. They didnt need to.. when I left that room and started walking down the hallway to the exit... it just didnt end..."

"I remember passing the door to the studio three times before I really started to panic.. running, and running, and running.. just the same thirty feet of hallway repeated over and over and over..."

"After that... I.. sort of gave up." He admitted, looking away meakly. "Started counting the days. One day, after the next, after the next.. after the next... and each new day there was a new group of contestants. Each new day, a new group of bodies litering the maze.. " he muttered. "I lost count of how long I'd been there once it had been longer than a year..."

Mr Cicle went silent for a moment. Robert did the same, and stared off into the backyard with a horrified look on his face.

After a tense moment of quiet.. Mr Cicle took a deep breath and spoke up again. "After a while... and I mean a while... I got good at hiding the pain." He spoke slowly. "Cameras could come on live at any moment, and being seen sobbing your eyes out on live television was never the best experience... so, I had to switch it up. Put on a facade. I got good at acting like everything was fine."

He looked down a bit awkwardly for a moment. "Thats why.. if youve seen me around much today, you probably will have noticed how little I react to most things." He spoke with a slight chuckle. "I think I spent so long acting like im fine, Ive stopped being able to actually express my emotions properly." He muttered, not seeming to give the idea much thought.

Robert stared open mouthed at Mr Cicle, who wasnt reacting much.

Yep, okay he really wasnt lying. The guy was practically stone faced talking about this.

Mr Cicle looked over at Robert, who seemed absolutely gobsmacked about what he'd just heard. Mr Cicle coughed, sitting up straight and rubbing the back of his neck as he looked away. "Ah.. sorry..." he apologized. "Thats a lot to just.. let out in one go..." he admitted.

"Oh- uh" Robert sat up. "No! No its fine! I asked, okay? You just dilevered a bit more than i was expecting..." he muttered, looking away a bit dazed.

He had known Mr Cicle spent a long time in whatever place hed come from, but geez... that was a lot worse than hed thought it would be...

Mr Cicle was looking off to his side, avoiding eye contact with Robert as he tapped a finger impatiently against his knee. Robert couldnt see his face, but he clearly noticed when he took a deep breath, and gently looked up at the stars above them.

The show hosts anxious fidgeting slowed to a stop once he was watching the sky.

Robert smiled at that. "Well, hey.. at least youre out now, right?" He offered, Mr Cicle pausing and turning to look at him again with a silent gaze. Robert huffed. "And the stars are still here. So, however long you were in there for, it wasnt long enough for them to burn out just yet." He smiled at Mr Cicle.

For a moment, this seemed to comfort the man. Mr Cicle nodded, a faint smile forming on his face as he thought about it.

But then he paused.

Robert realised what he'd done.

"I never told you I was afraid the stars would die out.." Mr Cicle muttered, looking up at Robert with a hesitant expression on his face. Though, for a moment he chuckled. "I mean.. thats one lucky read on me, huh.."

Robert stared at Mr Cicle wide eyed.

"Oh. Yeah. Right, haha! Uhm..- one lucky read!" He started to sweat.

Mr Cicle squinted his eyes at Robert.

Robert stared back really hoping Mr Cicle wouldnt think any harder about this.

The show host tilted his head at Robert and raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "You know, just because your vision is trapped on that camera, doesnt mean your face is too." He droned.

"What." Robert blinked, turning his camera around to face himself.

He groaned as he realised he'd been staring wide eyed at Mr Cicle the whole time. "Okay. Uh, fair. I dont have the best poker face." He grumbled, turning his camera around again to face Mr Cicle. "I guess theres still some stuff I havent told you..."

Mr Cicles gaze softened a bit and he tilted his head at Robert. "I see." He hummed. "Maybe you should have a turn telling your story." He offered.

Robert sighed, letting his shoulders fall a bit. "Maybe.." he huffed. "My story's.. surpisingly similiar to yours, I guess."

Robert raised his camera, staring off at the city in the distance as he took a slow breath. "Things started out pretty unassuming.." he began. "My sister had gone missing a week before, and I was determined to find her. So, the first place I decided to check was her school, which had been closed down since."

"I brought this camera with me- which, at the time wasnt what I was seeing out of. But I drove to her school, broke in, and went to find the breaker so I could turn all the lights on. Once I found it..." Robert trailed off.

Mr Cicle gave him a sympathetic look, listening quietly as Robert took a moment to find his words.

"Well.." Robert continued. "I turned on the breaker, and walked back up to the rest of the school. And thats when I realised something was wrong."

"The school wasnt the same as when I'd entered. The layout changed all on its own and the halls and the classrooms just kept going for as long as I could walk. It wouldnt have been that scary if I was all on my own in that maze... but I wasnt.." Robert spoke almost under his breath.

"Monsters, and ghosts, and little girl dolls, all trapped in that hell the same as me. I remember.. the first of the entities I met was a small doll, dressed like a little girl. She'd move when you werent watching her. I tried and failed to trap her in a broom closet.. and when she got me..." Robert trailed off.

"Well.." he sighed. "I think thats when my vision got trapped in this thing." Robert spoke, tapping his camera and turning it to look at Mr Cicle.

"She ripped my eyes out."

Robert saw Mr Cicles eyes widen an inch.

"She tore them right out of their sockets, letting me bleed out from the gaping holes in my face." He spoke, a slight crack in his voice. "But the thing is..." he looked away. "I didnt die."

"Once that doll had actually killed me, I woke up back where I started.. completely unscathed." Robert shrugged.

"I dont know how, or why.. but from that point on, my mortality was directly linked to this cameras survival." He spoke, turning it to face Mr Cicle again. "Every time a new monster killed me, I'd wake up again somewhere new and start the whole escape process over again."

"Oh yeah!" Robert sat up a bit, making Mr Cicle flinch at the sudden movement. "I forgot to say, there were different levels." He hummed. "First it was the school. That was the beginning of it. Then, after finding an elevator, I managed to take it down to a new level, which was a library."

"That levels monster wasnt really that special- I mean, I actually managed to escape it without dying even once!" Robert laughed, still a little proud of how easily hed escaped that one. "It was this humanoid thing with an ear for a head, and it wore a jumper. If I made any noise, it would immediately come running after me and tear up whatever spot it heard me at last." He explained.

Mr Cicle nodded at that, furrowing his eyebrows as he thought about it.

"Yeah.. so pretty easy." Robert shrugged. "The next level was a lot more.. unnerving.." he trailed off.

"I managed to escape that one unscathed too, but it was still one of the scarier ones.. its monster was this.. tall, skinny man walking upside down on its hands.. and it made this- awful gutteral groaning noise all the time." He recalled, shivering at the memory.

"The next few levels were.. fine.." he sighed, leaning forward a bit and running a hand down the back of his neck. "There was this ghost in one of them. It would only show up in the dark and it... I honestly dont know what it did when it caught me.. it was so fast it was kinda just, searing pain and then I woke up back at the start again." Robert shrugged. "But none of that compares to the next level..."

Mr Cicle raised an eyebrow and listened to Robert silently. He had this look in his eye, that Robert could tell he was listening and feeling for his story. He just didnt show it much.

Robert huffed. "Yeah.. uhm.." Robert gulped. "Do you know.. what it feels like.. to be fully conscious while your entire body is actively being digested inside of a giant snake?" He asked Mr Cicle, turning to look him in the eyes with a pained expression.

The show host blinked, his lips parting for a moment like he wanted to say something. But he just stared wide eyed at Robert without a word.

"No.. no I dont." He finally muttered.

Robert chuckled to himself. "Good. You dont want to!" He laughed, turning to stare into the distance again. "This snake, lady, thing. It would slither around the next level- these pool rooms. And if it saw me moving, it would lock onto me with its big fucking eyes and come slithering over faster than I could run. It made these horrible whispering noises- but it wasnt even actual words, just.. a poor imitation of human speech.." he spoke with a sigh.

"Not only did the pools have that snake monster, but it also had the skin man- again! He was just there." Robert shrugged, looking back over at Mr Cicle again.

He paused for a moment, thinking back on everything that happened and whincing at the memories.

"..I dont want to be.. shoved under clorinated water again, and.. ripped open within seconds... " he muttered, his shoulders rising a bit as he remembered the bloody water he laid in, slowly drowning on his own gore. "..Or eaten alive and digested for hours..." he grit his teeth, shuddering at the feeling of crushing bones and melting skin. "..or... have my eyes torn out by little doll hands.." he muttered, shutting his eyes at the idea of it happening again. What felt like uncontrollable tears streaming down his face, actually just being his own blood pouring from his open skull.

"I cant do that again. I'd lose it." Robert spat. "And- im so glad to be out here with everyone- even if its, flipped my perception of reality upside down. Knowing all of that was just some scary story in the head of some guy.." he sighed. "I dont really care. Because i'd rather be just some guys character in the real world, then go back to that hell."

Robert flinched as he felt Mr Cicle put a gentle hand on his shoulder.

He turned his camera to look over at him, finding the show host to be looking at him with such sympathy.. it felt uncharacteristic.

"You're free now." Mr Cicle spoke, his eyes looking at him so certianly, it made Robert sit up a bit. "You dont have to worry about any of that anymore." He spoke as reassuringly as possible, a look of genuine pain and empathy in his gaze.

Robert looked at Mr Cicle for a moment. He forced a bit of a smile at those words, but turned to look away again in discomfort.

"But I do.." he muttered, ignoring the look of confusion Mr Cicle gave him. "Even though im out of that maze, im still trapped to this camera. Mr Cicle.." he trailed off, looking back over at the show host again, a tired look in his eyes.

"..I've seen you die." He spoke slowly. "I've seen everyone in this place die, in one way or another... because I'm still cursed." Robert took a long shaky breath. "When those bugs first showed up, you were outside stargazing.. and the sound of your dying screams was the first warning of their arrival."

"I watched Troy murder Peter in cold blood before coming after me.. and then I died, and woke up again minutes before the attack."

Mr Cicle was silent, his eyebrows furrowing more as he looked away slightly.

"I died.. so many times.. just to get everyone in that house out safely... and no one even knows it happened." Robert spoke, incredulous. "They all just think it was luck that we got out of there alive, but I saw every other outcome where we didnt. And all the pain. And the agony. And all of that horror.. it just didnt happen... but I saw it.. and it hurt." He choked out, going to quickly wipe away tears that began to form.

"I cant be free as long as im stuck with this stupid camera." Robert huffed, taking a few deep breaths to try and re-steady himself. "And even if we manage to escape these bugs without dying anymore, the plan is still to send everyone back to their own worlds- and I cant do that! I dont wanna go back!" He cried, finally feeling his emotions well up more and more, failing to keep them down.

"I cant.. I cant do that..." he sniffled. "Not again. Never again. I'll find a way to run off here before I let them send me back."

Robert sat there for a while, sniffling and stuttering, trying to wipe small tears away and act like he wasnt crying. But he wasnt doing a very good job.

Mr Cicle merely watched, his eyes half lidded and his gaze unsettled. He looked like he wanted to say something, but watching Robert struggle to keep himself together, he thought it best to let him sort it out himself. Anyways, he might not be the best at comforting him.

Robert looked away as Mr Cicle did, the two of them now just staring out into the quiet backyard without a word.

"..sorry..." Robert sniffled a small apology as he finally dried all his tears.

"Its okay.." Mr Cicle gently reassured him.

Robert sighed, a loud, exhausted sigh as he properly sat up. Mr Cicle did the same when he noticed Robert, readjusting his bowtie a bit as he sat up better.

"So, uhm.." Robert gulped, running a hand through his hair as he took a deep breath. "I guess i went a little off topic there.. but.. the reason i knew about your fear of the stars burning out, is because you told me about it once when i was trying to stop you from going outside."

Mr Cicles gaze softened a bit at that, glancing over at Robert.

"You were going out to look at the stars, and i asked why you were so adamant about it.. and you basically said that, youd spent so long trapped in the maze, you thought that by-"

"..I thought that by the time I was free, all the stars would have burnt out..." Mr Cicle interrupted, finishing Roberts sentence as he trailed off.

Robert turned to look at him, stunned quiet for a moment. "Yeah." he nodded slowly. "Yeah thats.. basically what you told me.."

Mr Cicle chuckled quietly to himself, a small, genuine smile on his face. "Interesting to think i mentioned that to you before, and yet here, talking to you now, i dont remember it ever happening."

"What, like- us talking to each other like this was always going to happen?" Robert laughed.

Mr Cicle shrugged. "Who knows." He hummed. "But i guess theres something about each of us that we can both find comfort in."

"Hm.." Robert nodded faintly. "Like what?"

Mr Cicle raised an eyebrow, turning to glance at Robert silently for a moment.

"Well.." he started. "I guess were both parralels of each other."

"You were trapped in a maze, cursed to relive the same nightmare over and over. And i was trapped as the conductor of a maze, isolated and cursed to narrate the sufferings of others." Mr Cicle explained, looking gently over at Robert.

"You experienced so much death. And i experienced none of it. And we both had too much of what one of us wanted.. it became a burden."

"You- im assuming- wanted isolation from the pain and the horrors."

"And i wanted... death. Something you had too much of."

"Woah- okay-" Robert stuttered, raising his hands a bit as he looked at Mr Cicle concerned.

"Too much??" Mr Cicle whinced.

"Too much." Robert gasped, looking at Mr Cicle with a concerned gaze. "When did you become such a morbid philosopher?"

Mr Cicle laughed. "Ah.. well when you spend so much time with only yourself to talk to, you kind of start to over-analyze your very existence a little too much." He spoke with a shrug. "So I guess I can get a bit preechy sometimes."

"Yeah..." Robert muttered. "That would make sense.."

Mr Cicle sighed and looked away a bit awkwardly at that.

"Woah! No hey-" Robert blurted quickly. "I think its cool! Honestly- id be stoked if i was able to talk so dramatically all the time!"

Mr Cicle glanced over at him with a faint smile, slightly confused. Though, he seemed amused, at least. "Really.." he scoffed.

"Yeah! Totally! OH OH-" Robert gasped, excitedly going to grab Mr Cicles shoulders and turning him to face him better. "I need you to say.... 'luke... I am your father'." He spoke with a deep grovelly voice, and the biggest grin Mr Cicle had ever seen on his face.

The show host stared slightly dumbfounded at Robert for a good moment, wondering how exactly he was supposed to go about that.

Robert noticed his slight hesitance and gasped. "Do you not have star wars where youre from??" He asked, astounded. "Oh my god- wait you have to- NO- no its.. forget it, just say the line..." he sighed, shaking his head and sitting back a bit.

Mr Cicle blinked at that, opening his mouth but not saying anything for a moment.

After a second.. he cleared his throat, shut his eyes for added drama, sat up a bit, and slowly began to speak...

"Luke.." Mr Cicle hissed, furrowing his eyebrows and opening his eyes to stare into Roberts camera dramatically.

"...I am your father."

Robert kicked his feet up and grinned even wider than before. "AAAAAAHHH YES!!!" He squealed, shaking his fists in excitment. "Thats awsome!!!" He exclaimed with a laugh.

Mr Cicle smiled, laughing a bit at Roberts reaction.

"OH!" Robert gasped. "Can you say 'come with me if you want to live'." He spoke with a strange accent, gaining another confused laugh from Mr Cicle.

"Okay.." the show host chuckled.

"..come with me if you want to live." He spoke sinisterly.

Robert was practically jumping out of his seat at this. "Agh!! Thats so cool!!" He grinned. "Okay! Last one! 'Fly, you fools!' "

"Fly! You fools!" Mr Cicle grinned, adding some dramatic hand gestures and leaning forward a bit.

"DUDE!!" Robert was exstatic. "AGH you could be an actor!!"

"I am an actor!" Mr Cicle laughed.

Robert slapped a hand against his forehead with a groan. "Right! You are.." he laughed.

"Okay, uuuhh..." Robert hummed, bringing a hand up to scratch his chin. "You could be a... really... ominous.. weather reporter." He joked half heartedly.

Mr Cicle chuckled. "Really."

"Look, I dont know.." Robert sighed, grinning a bit awkwardly. "First thing that came to mind." He shrugged.

Mr Cicle nodded at that, humming thoughtfully. "Well.. I could be a really ominous weather reporter." He spoke with a grin, reaching into his vest and pulling out a microphone from seemingly no where.

Robert blinked. "Wait- where did you get that-"

"Ahem!" Mr Cicle cleared his throat. "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to your local news station where today, I will be giving you all a brief summary of todays weather forecast.." he immediately got into character, speaking into his mircophone which wasnt connected to anything.

Mr Cicle gestured a few things to Robert with his hands, but Robert just looked at him a little confused.

Mr Cicle groaned. "You're the camera man!" He huffed, sitting back up again and readjusting his suit like he was actually in front of an audience.

"Oh!" Robert gasped, rolling his shoulders and positioning his camera up to frame Mr Cicle nicely for whatever bit they were doing.

Mr Cicle cleared his throat. "So! Skys are clear, with no clouds in sight. All of... whatever city this is.. will be staying up late to see just how bright tonights stars can get..." he trailed off, pausing for a moment.

Mr Cicle looked over at Robert, whispering. "Robert, what would an ominous weather reporter say?" He asked. "How do I make the weather seem ominous??"

Robert shrugged. "I dont know. I thought you were an actor! Youre supposed to be good at improve! Just figure something out!" He whispered back.

Mr Cicle huffed, sitting back up properly and readjusting his bowtie. "Well, ladies and gentlemen.. dont star gaze for too long, tonight, because these stars are a little dangerous." He spoke a bit unsure, but smiling none the less.

"Theyre so beautiful.. you might just.. lose yourself... watching them...." Mr Cicle slowly trailed off, opening his eyes wide and dramatically looking up at the sky with a look of mock wonder on his face.

Robert snorted, grinning at the show hosts suprisingly unsettling acting.

He chuckled to himself, slowly panning his camera up to look at the sky. He kept smiling for a while, panning around to see if he could find any stars, but eventually, he paused.

Roberts smile faded a bit as he realised.. he couldnt actually see any stars.

Mr Cicle must have noticed his dissapointed expression, because after a little while, he paused, coming out of his acting bit and looking over at Robert silently. He hesitantly put his microphone away.

Robert huffed, zooming in on the sky, and zooming back out again to see if he could adjust to the skys light levels, but it didnt seem to do much. He kept trying, but it wasnt getting much better.

Mr Cicle tilted his head. "Whats wrong?" He asked, gaining a bit of a sigh from Robert.

"I think my cameras exposure is so bad it cant pick up any of the stars light." He whined, dropping his camera to look back out at the backyard again with a huff. "Figures.."

Mr Cicle furrowed his eyebrows, looking back up at the sky, and all the twinkling stars that filled it.

He frowned.

"I could try and up the exposure?" Mr Cicle offered, turning to look over at Robert again.

Robert looked over at Mr Cicle curiously.

"I know how to work most cameras.. since, it was kind of a requirement for my job at the maze." Mr Cicle shrugged. "So I should be able to help you see more, hopefully.." he smiled, gently reaching out a hand towards Robert, offering to take his camera.

Robert moved his camera back slightly, a little unsure at the idea of handing his camera over. He looked at Mr Cicle with a hesitant gaze, stopping as he noticed the expression on his face.

Mr Cicle looked at Robert, trying his best to look as friendly as possible. "..only if youre okay with it." He spoke, genuinely.

Robert paused for a moment. Hesitant.

But after a tense minute.. he gently handed his camera over to Mr Cicle.

The game show host took a careful breath, carrying the camera over to hold it in front of him, peering down at the illuminated screen.

Despite having held it a little while ago, now he knew just how important this camera was, and felt much more nervous holding it himself. He could see Roberts livelyness in it now, noticing the way it focused on different things and zoomed slightly at each movement. It wasnt just a camera, but his friend.

And he was holding it in both of his hands. So very gently.

Hesitantly reaching up to touch the screen, he found the buttons that let him access the settings.

Robert would have liked to see what Mr Cicle was doing, but the best he got was watching as his vision flashed between different kinds of weird.

Super bright, to super dark, then somewhere in between, and now the colors were all off. It was all starting to feel a little strange.

But after a moment, Mr Cicle slowly raised his camera up to face the sky, peering into the screen as he kept adjusting the settings. Robert held his breath and tapped his finger against the porch beneath him anxiously, just hoping hed find something that worked soon.

Mr Cicle bit his lip, furrowing his brow as he kept looking for a setting he could adjust to help make the stars show up better.

After a quiet minute.. Robert gasped.

Mr Cicle perked up, glancing over at Robert to see his eyes wide and mouth open. His shoulders dropped slightly as his body stared out into the backyard. But Mr Cicle looked back to the camera, held up at the sky, and noticed just how many stars he could see on its screen.

"Oh wow.." Mr Cicle muttered, looking between the sky and Roberts camera, and noticing that somehow, hed managed to get it to pick up more stars than even he could see in person.

Mr Cicle smiled, leaning back on one of his hands to look up at the stars. He kept holding the camera up facing the sky, just so Robert would be able to keep watching them too.

And boy, he sure was.

Robert stared ahead in wonder. Watching the stars in all their pixelated glory, he even started to notice a few colours faintly behind them. It was like he was seeing a ghost he couldnt see before. A very sparkly, colorful ghost.

He didnt even realise he was starting to smile.

They both sat there in silence, neither one of them feeling the need to say anything. Just listening to the wind, and focusing on the lights. It was peaceful. So, very peaceful.

A nice change of pace compared to how the rest of the night had been going.

For just that moment, they didnt have to worry about a single thing.

But then, a rain drop hit Roberts camera lens.

He sat up, eyes widening at the sudden distraction.

Not only had a raindrop appeared on his screen, but slowly, the stars began to dissapear as dark clouds came rolling in over the LA sky.

Another raindrop hit Roberts lens.

And then it started to faintly fall one by one on the porch around them.

Roberts breath hitched, and he sat up as more and more rain began to fall around them.

Mr Cycle looked around, confused. "Oh.. I guess.. my weather forecast wasnt the most accurate." He mumbled, slowly lowering Roberts camera and resting it on his lap.

More and more rain began to fall, water no longer only hitting the cameras lens, but pattering onto its casing as well.

Robert felt his heart skip a beat. "No!" He panicked. "NO! My camera breaks in water!" He cried.

Robert fumbled to find where his camera was, feeling his hands grab onto Mr Cicles shoulder, leaning closer to try and reach towards his lap. His anxiety only grew as the rain grew stronger. And stronger.

It started to pour unusually quickly.

"Mr Cicle!" He couldnt lose this. He begged, please he couldnt lose this.

Not after this. He couldnt die and go back right after opening up to someone like that. He couldnt lose his new friend. Not now.

Mr Cicle noticed Roberts frantic behaviour, awkwardly standing up a bit and trying to shield his face from the now pouring rain. "What? Are you okay?" He asked.

"No!" Robert cried. "If my camera gets wet i'll die! Where is it??"

"Oh!" Mr Cicles eyes went wide.

Robert didnt even have time to get it himself as Mr Cicle jumped into action.

The speed at which he managed to unbutton his vest was unprecedented. Instantly using the right half to wrap up Roberts camera and tuck it close to his chest, cradling it with his right arm as he used his other to guide Robert beside him.

Roberts breathing was fast and his hands were fumbling to figure out where he was. All he could see was the inside of Mr Cicles vest and the rest of his forest green dress shirt. And all he could feel was pouring rain and an arm around his shoulders, slowly walking them both somewhere he couldnt tell.

"Can- can I-" Robert stuttered, wanting to ask for his camera. He was interrupted as he ran into a small ledge by his feet- "aAH!" He gasped, feeling Mr Cicles arm pull him back to keep him from falling forward.

"Woah! Okay-" Mr Cicle cursed. "Just step over. Thats the bottom of the door frame, were heading inside." He gently explained, slightly drowned out by the rain shower around them.

Robert paused, taking a breath to steady himself and raising his foot slightly higher. Stepping down, he felt it hit carpeted floor.

The inside door mat.

Robert let out a sigh as he walked forward, stepping out of Mr Cicles grasp. He grabbed a hold of the open door to keep himself from falling over, but managed to get inside and shake himself off well enough on his own.

Mr Cicle seemed a little suprised by that, but shrugged it off. He used both hands to hold Roberts camera under his vest now, stepping inside and shaking himself off as the door slowly closed.

The show host sighed, raising a soaking arm and looking at himself with a defeated frown. "This'll take hours to dry..." he whined, adjusting his bow which sat half undone, soaked as well.

Robert put his hands against the sides of his head, taking a deep breath and leaning against the wall to try and calm down.

He was fine. Everything was fine.

"You alright?" Mr Cicle called to Robert, watching him perk up as he took his camera out from under his vest. He wiped it off from the remaining rain, and handed it to him, watching Robert relax again now that it was back in his own hands.

Robert stood up a bit, nodding his head. "Yeah. Im alright." He huffed. "Thanks for that."

Mr Cicle smiled. "Its no problem." He nodded.

It was just then that Gillion Tidestrider came walking around the corner.

"Woah!" Gillion paused. "Did the undersea start pouring out there?" He asked with a bit of a smile.

Robert and Mr Cicle both stared back at him, dripping wet in the middle of the hallway.

"The what?" Robert blinked.

"Uh.. i guess you could call it that?" Mr Cicle glanced between gillion and the back door. "Yeah?" He shrugged.

"Huh. You guys look like youre well aquanted with it, then." He shrugged, turned, and walked off to find the living room.

Robert and Mr Cicle stared down the hallway at where the fish man had been last, both too confused to say anything.

Mr Cicle opened his mouth, about to say something.. but he paused. Shook his head. And took off his glasses to wipe the rain off them.

Robert turned to watch him grab his wet vest, use it to wipe off his glasses, put them back on, and then grumble as they remained exactly as wet as theyd been before.

Robert scoffed. "Try your shirt. It looked pretty dry under there." He suggested.

Mr Cicle looked at Robert as he spoke. He paused. "Okay.." and then tried again, as suggested.

He took his glasses, opened up his vest and wiped them on his green dress shirt by his ribs. And sure enough, they came back clear and he smiled as he put them on.

"Would you look at that." He grinned, turning to look at Robert again with a smile.

Robert smiled back, a little amused at how he looked. Mr Cicles previously well kept hair was now dripping over his face, and his whole outfit was practically a puddle.

Mr Cicle, despite this, smiled anyways, and put a gentle hand on Roberts right shoulder. "Robert." He spoke softly. "Im sorry I havent been looking you in the eyes before." He apologised.

Robert hesitated at that, though he rolled his eyes half heartedly after a second. "Dont worry.." he reasured him. "Really, I wouldnt have expected you to know."

"Now, I need to go find somewhere to dry off..." Robert groaned, turning to start walking down the hallway, shifting uncomfortably in his heavy wet jacket.

Mr Cicle sighed, going to follow close behind him. "Me too..." he grumbled. "Getting the wrinkles out of my suit wont be fun either..." he complained, pulling his shirt collar away from his neck uncomfortably as the two continued off down the hall.

Robert hummed. "I wonder if they have a fireplace here, I could curl up by it like a fancy little dog."

"Im not sure we want to have a fancy little dog in the same house as slarf." Mr Cicle commented. "Wolves arent known for being friendly to prey sized hounds."

Robert was quiet for a moment.

After a second, he sighed. "Well im not a shapeshifter-"

"I was joking!" Mr Cicle defended. "Play of words! 'Oh no! Wolves eat small dogs- you compared yourself to a small dog-' is that not- a joke?"

"Not a good one."

"..fair enough."

[bnnywngs]

Shoyo is a famous actor/model, he's currently everywhere from the current popular drama airing prime time, to that big billboard in the city, he's also in some magazines covers and has a million followers on his sns.

He's also pretty infamous for his coming out during a live show earlier in his career, and his refusal to act in stereotypes/prejudiced works, and for calling out homophobic acts, talks and people.

Because of that, he's celebrated between the lgbt community in Japan, and his fans are not only loyal, but fiercely protective and active in protests online or in person, for many things - either lgbt, feminist, or just to get a better access for wheelchairs in the subway.

But recently, after years saying he was single, he came out saying he had a lover who was neither an actor or a model, but wasn't unknown. He didn't want to say who it was because it could be bad for them, as Japan still has a long way to go to accept lgbt couples.

People respected that, but not the paparazzi, as always, so they relentlessly followed Shoyo, who kept going from work to home, and home to work, with a few outings with his friends and colleagues, so the photographers were getting anxious and restless.

It all came down to one letter.

Every Christmas Shoyo sends a custom postcard to his parents and his sister (who's a famous volleyball player now in Turkey) before going back home for new years (if he didn't have anything in his schedule), and this year he decided to get a picture of him and his boyfriend in a Christmas setting as his postcard.

But it was intercepted by one of the paparazzi.

Shoyo's boyfriend was none other than number 1 japanese streamer kodzuken! It was a cute little postcard with a picture of both of them sitting in front of a big and full of ornaments Christmas tree, with matching sweaters and doing a heart with their hands together.

The leak was soon everywhere and Shoyo's radio interview was cancelled that day, together with all his schedule, so they could do a somewhat damage control and to write a handwritten letter to his fans not only explaining everything, but criticizing those who stole his family letter.

The truth was: Shoyo and kodzuken met each other in highschool, when they both played volleyball in their respective schools, and started a relationship early on, that kept going for years and years, both their families knew about it and accepted it, Shoyo's family loved Kenma and treated him as another member of the family, and kodzuken's parents are always inviting Shoyo to have family dinner with them and even going out together without kodzuken.

kodzuken just did a small update stream a week or so later, saying almost the exact same thing as Shoyo's letter, and also criticizing those who make money over these kinds of scandals, and that they wanted to come out some day as a couple but in their own terms and not like this - as kodzuken wasn't even out of the closet for his fans.

As the media was letting go of this and the fans were calming down (Shoyo's fans being more open and receptive of their relationship), a magazine with them at the cover was released, with a long interview where they shared one single picture of their teenage years, where they went a bit more deep into their relationship and why they gave up volleyball after highschool.

[g1deonthefirst]

wasn't alfred a hedge fund manager? i get where ur coming from re: the class divide post otherwise btw but am somewhat stumped ab this bc he was definitely the one making the most money and likely highly educated as well, and ended up a cav. ig it is STEM/nonSTEM divide?

hi! yes, alfred was a hedge fund manager — he was also augustine's brother and so comes from a similar (presumably very wealthy) background. this exception doesn't really disprove the rule to me: either way, john was disproportionately likely to make people who were highly educated necromancers and people who were not cavaliers. i want to walk through a couple possible reasons for this.

the first possibility is that john (1) believed that people who were more "intelligent" were more likely to be able to understand necromancy and (2) implicitly believed that people who were academically high-achieving like scientists, lawyers, doctors, etc. were more "intelligent." clearly, john and the lyctors all seem to think pretty highly of their own intelligence. john in particular went from being a poor māori kid to being an accomplished scientist, and i don't think it's a stretch to say he probably believed he deserved it on the basis of intelligence.

in contrast, both alfred and cristabel have their own talents and intelligence disparaged — john describes alfred as "useless, but a darling" and augustine describes cristabel as "not hav[ing] the intellect you'd ordinarily find in a sandwich or an orange." additionally, necromancy is talked about in scientific terms, which lends itself to the idea that you might need some scientific understanding to be good at it. i think it's entirely possible that john consciously decided that some people wouldn't be intelligent enough to hack it and made them the cavaliers, a problematic assumption chiefly in that it equates academic achievement with innate intelligence.

the second possibility, and to me the more likely one, is that john simply made the people closest to him necromancers while making people he wasn't as close to (essentially his friends' friends) non-necromancers. it's pretty clear that the people john made necromancers were people who directly worked on john's original cryogenics project with him, while the cavaliers were all people who got dragged into his cult by those original project members. alfred is a perfect example of this — he's there because he's augustine's brother. other people have made posts about the possibility that john did this to intentionally separate his friends from the people they loved.

but either way, i think this demonstrates who john as a character cared about. john, as a successful scientist, surrounded himself by people who were highly educated and successful, predominantly (as you note anon) people in STEM. people who are disproportionately likely to be white, neurotypical, and cis, or at least disproportionately likely to be able to conform to white/european, neurotypical, cis standards. not only is john not as close to people in his project-turned-cult that aren't as highly educated, but poor people aren't present at all. there are no janitors, no retail workers, no manual laborers, no farmworkers. i don't get the sense that john ever really unpacked his internalized biases or questioned why he primarily values people who are highly educated.

"but," i imagine my hypothetical reader who's somehow made it this far protesting, "of course he's surrounded by highly educated people. he's working on a cryogenics project!" well...precisely. tumblr user sophelstien's scratch a liberal and a fascist bleeds essay touches on how this project demonstrates that john is not as progressive as some people assume he is, but what i'll say here is simply that john didn't have to make the people in his cryogenics project the leaders of his new society. and by installing the very people who our society rewards into positions of power, john — consciously or not — shapes the new society he's creating with the old society's inequalities.

[kumakuma-circus]

i love being a writer.

[rook-writes]

trying to outline the plot for a longer project for the first time in a very long time. doing a dump doc style outline, though, and it's very wild compared to the "bullet point chap by chap" thing. we're instead doing a paragraphed outline thing.

and uh. wow. it's like 20 pages so far. i think the outline is aaaaalmost done? but wow. this is weird. is this what it feels like to write an actually detailed outline for a thing? instead of just having it in your brain and kind of loosely messing around with it like it's a connect the dots? (we are a plantser; the brain outline generally gets us from point A to Z)

anyways we're branching out with a novel idea that's not part of our series which is kind of exciting but also a little anxiety inducing. it's closer to the sci-fi end of things as opposed to our usual fantasy niche.

-res

[catgirlkirigiri]

Everyone's favorite sad 12 year old finally got the new ref he deserved <3

[dragon-swords-prophecies]

writing! scene from enna's prequel

As promised (sort of), writing!

This is from Enna's unnamed prequel (it used to be named angel's daughters but that has been scrapped because it really really does not fit), its almost the entire scene except for the end of it because that part doesn't really make sense yet. It's about 1.7 thousand words, which is long but I like this scene so fucking much so you get all of it! (it is under the cut because. Long).

tw/cw for death mention, murder mention, swearing

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

It took her an embarrassingly long time to find the shop the person, Bezeo, had mentioned. She poked her head down what felt like half the streets in the city until she found it. Tucked between an empty storefront and a florist, with a bright, though cracked and peeling, green paint job and a single large display window filled with potions that sparkled in the sunlight, was a shop. Its sign, creaking in the wind, had a similarly green background with a large cauldron in the middle of it, a crack splitting it down the middle. In slightly peeling gold letters, it proclaimed to all who cared look that this was the Broken Cauldron, founded 682.

If that outside suggested that whoever owned the place took no great care for the building or its wares, then the inside suggested the complete opposite. On racks there were displayed dozens of potions in varying shapes, colors, and sizes. A bell hung above the door rang as Enna opened it, and golden sun poured through the well cleaned window.

As she entered, a voice called from the back, “I’ll be right with you!”

“Take your time!” shouted back Enna, and she began to look at the walls. An intricate, Gnomish made cuckoo clock hung on the wall above the counter. It was beautiful, and shone like it had been recently polished. The top of it, though, the roof of the little house, was more dusty, like it couldn’t be reached. As Enna looked around, she noticed all the shelves were like that. The very tops of them were significantly more dusty than the bottoms or middles.

“What can I—” the voice died off in the middle of the sentence as a short gnomish woman emerged from the backroom, dusting her hands on her apron and skirt.

She scanned Enna over once, twice, three times, lingering on her face, and on the scar there. “Annie thought you were dead,” she said, quietly.

“She said as much. Who’re you?”

“Effie, owner, operator, and sole employee. Do you know where she is?”

“I thought she was still in the city until ten seconds ago. There’s plenty of places to hide in this town.”

Effie muttered something under her breath that Enna couldn’t make out, then abruptly changed the subject. “Does Bezeo know you aren’t Anne? I assume he’s the one who sent you here.”

“He did. I don’t think so, I’m not even sure he knows that ‘Enna’ exists.”

As Effie walked over and flipped the sign on the door to closed—though she left it unlocked—she said, “He does. Bezeo and Anne were—are—good friends.”

“They’re not married, are they? I would’ve hated to miss the wedding.”

Effie laughed. “No, they’re not married. You,” Effie took a deep breathe, and for a moment Enna thought she was going to cry. “You didn’t miss any weddings. Well, you didn’t miss any you might care about. Bezeo’s married to some lady in the guard, which is endlessly funny to me, given that his two closest friends are a thief and her— are thieves.”

Enna nodded. “That’s good, I guess.”

“Yeah. Do you know anything at all of what’s been going on?”

“Going on where?”

“Here.” Effie led Enna through a door behind the counter and into a backroom, where a narrow set of stairs against the wall led up to the second floor—presumably residential—and crammed in the corner was a small table, with the rest of the space taken up by books, counters for brewing potions, and extra stock. She gestured Enna to the chair, and pulled over a stool for herself after dumping the papers on it onto the counter. “Sorry for the mess, I haven’t had time to clean up recently.”

“It’s alright, I don’t mind. As for your question. I know a little bit.”

“What?”

“Something scared Anne enough to make her leave and contact me sometime in the last year, after remaining in the city 13 years before that, through at least one murder charge & making no noticeable attempt to find me.”

“So you don’t know anything, not really. You don’t know why your sister ran.”

Effie’s words stung. They were right, but that didn’t mean they didn’t hurt. “So that’s what she did,” murmured Enna. “Had to be bad, then, she’s always been braver than me.”

“Bad is an understatement.” Effie ran a hair through her curly hair and tapped her fingers nervously on her leg. “If she didn’t tell you…”

“Everyone thinks I’m her. If it was bad enough to make her leave, there is a very good chance that I will get murdered within the week.” Effie looked directly at Enna’s arm, where there was a tattoo that marked her membership in the thieves guild that had defined her late teens and early twenties. Effie couldn’t see it through Enna’s sleeve, but she knew it was there.

Finally, after twenty seconds silence heavy with unspoken warnings and memories, Effie spoke. Her eyes were looking anywhere but on Enna’s face. “Beginning about sixteen, seventeen years ago, though it had been building for ages, there was a split, a schism. The old leader was of one mind, and his people controlled most of the power. Then, around the time you left, that guy died. His deputy, Lucas, took over, but he was ousted within the year. Lucas’ deputy was killed too, or bribed, or something, but they vanished.

“Maybe he never appointed one, I don’t know. I joined around that time, mostly as a safe house and a secret partner/ally for one side of the schism.”

“The side Anne was on.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes. The next leader, the current one, has been running the show for twelve, thirteen years. When he killed Lucas, or at least I’m pretty sure he killed Lucas, maybe the dude before him too, Anne thinks he got Temerity to kill Lucas and that someone else killed the one before him. I don’t remember his name, but Anne joined the camp he was in.”

Enna interrupted. “Zephyr. The man before Lucas was named Zephyr.”

“Right, yeah, thanks. So I think that it’s the current guy—Barnabus—who killed Lucas and Zephyr, but Annie thinks that Barnabus got Temerity to kill Lucas, and that some unknown third or fourth party killed Zephyr. Anne joined the side Zephyr had been on, maybe she’d been part of it already or maybe she didn’t know about the split before Zephyr was killed—because, apparently, that threw things into the open and people thought that someone had killed Zephyr to get power to someone on the other side of things.

“Anyways, over the course of six to seven years Anne got decently high up in the side that was against Barnabus. Her position got revealed two years ago. The fifth time someone tried to kill her I made her leave town.” There was something in Effie’s voice, some secret she was trying very hard not to reveal.

Enna sighed. “Hot fucking shit. Barnabus—gods, I remember him. Bloody idiot. How the hell did he ever become the leader?”

“I don’t know. Some people think that he’s a figurehead for Geer—he’s the leader of the assassins, unofficially Anne’s opposite, second in command of the side that’s wants to make Oleski an assassins guild, as well as a thieves guild.”

“So thats what the fuckers want to do. I can see why Anne and Zephyr’d be against that, I would be too.”

“Yeah, its rotten. Y’all steal things, not kill people. When Anne left I told her to find you and to send me a letter or some other message when she got there. It’s been a year. I never got a letter. You say you haven’t seen her. Something has gone very, very wrong.”

“She’s not dead. I would know if she was dead. She can’t be dead.” Enna’s words were more a hope or prayer than anything.

“Are you absolutely, completely, certain?” Asked Effie, and there was iron in her voice.

“I…” Enna dug down inside herself. She looked for that thread of contact, the string that connected the two sisters by more than appearance and age. And she tugged on it, and after a moment something tugged back.

Enna opened her eyes. She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. She said, voice filled with relief unimaginable, “Yes. Anne lives.”

Effie smiled, bright and true and clear, for the first time in months. “Then we can find her.” And I can keep my promise. But Enna didn’t know about the promise, and Effie refused to reveal secrets that were not hers, not completely, to keep.

The bells of the clock tower chimed noon, the deep Booms ringing out across the city and over the water beyond. “Effie? Are you in here?” shouted a voice from the front. Bezeo. He had perfect timing. “Back room, come on in!” hollered Effie, and shortly Bezeo entered, apron dusted with flour that streaked his beard and made him look decades older. He looked first at Effie, and then at Enna, before taking one of two remaining seats—a chair, the one that wasn’t next to Enna, who had wedged herself into a corner where she could see the door.

“Enna, meet Bezeo, a good friend of mine and of Anne. Bezeo, meet Enna Helder-Kromlin—do you use that last name?—” Enna nodded—, Anne’s sister.”

Bezeo blinked. “Pardon?”

“Anne’s sister. Enna.”

“Is this some sort of weird joke or… They’re identical!”

“Twin sister. Hi,” said Enna, at the same time as Effie said,

“They’re not identical, Enna’s got a scar next to her eye and Anne has freckles.”

“’Course you’d be the one to notice that,” grumbled Bezeo good natured-ly. “You probably clocked her the minute she came in, didn’t you?”

Effie smiled, not as bright as she had a minute earlier when she had found out Anne was definitely alive. “Yes. Though already knowing Enna existed did help.”

“Fuck off, I knew she exists too! Not my fault I assumed she was dead.”

“I’m pretty sure that is your fault, actually?” said Enna.

“Rude!” exclaimed Bezeo, with no real malice behind it.

[take-ya-to-the-ghey-bar]

thanks tumbles, for half killing the good vibe i had going while editing drafts--

[marinette-buginette]

13 fave lyrics by Taylor Swift?

13 I see what you did there

So I think I'm cheating cause I'm putting whole bridges in this, but in my defence, she has so much stuff that, well... I got the right to. In no particular order:

All Too Well. The whole song. All 10 mins of it. Okay no I'll pick:

And you call me up again just to break me like a promise / So casually cruel in the name of being honest

Honorary mention to: 

You kept me like a secret, but I kept you like an oath

Time won't fly, it's like I'm paralyzed by it / I'd like to be my old self again, but I'm still tryin' to find it

The idea you had of me, who was she? / A never-needy, ever-lovely jewel whose shine reflects on you

You're On Your Own Kid:

'Cause there were pages turned with the bridges burned / everything you lose is a step you take / So make the friendship bracelets, take the moment and taste it / You've got no reason to be afraid / You're on your own, kid / yeah, you can face this

From Would've Could've Should've 

God rest my soul, I miss who I used to be / The tomb won't close, stained glass windows in my mind / I regret you all the time / I can't let this go, I fight with you in my sleep / The wound won't close, I keep on waiting for a sign / I regret you all the time / if clarity's in death, then why won't this die? / Years of tearing down our banners, you and I / Living for the thrill of hitting you where it hurts / Give me back my girlhood, it was mine first

From Invisible String:

Something wrapped all of my past mistakes in barbed wire / Chains around my demons, wool to brave the seasons / One single thread of gold tied me to you

Cruel Summer:

Said, "I'm fine, " but it wasn't true / I don't wanna keep secrets just to keep you / And I snuck in through the garden gate / Every night that summer, just to seal my fate / And I screamed, "For whatever it's worth / I love you, ain't that the worst thing you ever heard?" / He looks up, grinnin' like a devil

Back to December:

So this is me swallowin' my pride / Standin' in front of you sayin' I'm sorry for that night / And I go back to December all the time / It turns out freedom ain't nothin' but missin' you / Wishin' I'd realized what I had when you were mine / I'd go back to December, turn around and change my own mind / I go back to December all the time

Castles Crumbling (I don't accept Castles Crumbling slander in this household thanks):

My foes and friends watch my reign end / I don't know how it could've ended this way / Smoke billows from my ships in the harbor / People look at me like I'm a monster / Now they're screamin' at the palace front gates / Used to chant my name / Now they're screaming that they hate me / Never wanted you to hate me

From State of Grace:

This is a state of grace / This is the worthwhile fight / Love is a ruthless game / Unless you play it good and right / These are the hands of fate / You’re my Achilles heel / This is the golden age / Of something good and right and real

Honorary mention to:

You come around and the armor falls / Pierce the room like a cannonball / Now, all we know is don’t let go / We are alone, just you and me / Up in your room and our slates are clean

My Tears Ricochet:

I didn't have it in myself to go with grace / And so the battleships will sink beneath the waves / You had to kill me, but it killed you just the same / Cursing my name, wishing I stayed / You turned into your worst fears / And you're tossing out blame, drunk on this pain / Crossing out the good years / And you're cursing my name, wishing I stayed / Look at how my tears ricochet

This is Me Trying:

They told me all of my cages were mental / So I got wasted like all my potential / And my words shoot to kill when I'm mad / I have a lot of regrets about that / I was so ahead of the curve, the curve became a sphere / Fell behind all my classmates and I ended up her

Guilty As Sin?:

My boredom's bone-deep / This cage was once just fine / Am I allowed to cry? / I dream of crackin' locks / Throwin' my life to the wolves or the ocean rocks / Crashin' into him tonight, he's a paradox / I'm seeing visions / Am I bad or mad or wise

Mad Woman:

And women like hunting witches, too / Doing your dirtiest work for you / It's obvious that wanting me dead has really brought you two together / Every time you call me crazy / I get more crazy / What about that? / And when you say I seem angry, I get more angry / And there's nothing like a mad woman / What a shame she went mad / No one likes a mad woman / You made her like that / And you'll poke that bear 'til her claws come out / And you find something to wrap your noose around / And there's nothing like a mad woman

Mary's Song (look, this song has such an emotional grip on me all these years later, I am not taking criticism):

I'll be eighty-seven; you'll be eighty-nine/I'll still look at you like the stars that shine/In the sky, oh my, my, my

Cheating and adding this one cause it is from a movie so it basically doesn't count:

Oh, Carolina knows / Why for years they've said / That I was guilty as sin / And sleep in a liar's bed / But the sleep comes fast / And I'll meet no ghosts / It's between me, the sand, and the sea / Carolina knows

[artcalledtattoo]

I sub-dorse

[tonycries]

You'll Taste Me Too! - G.S.

Synopsis. How do you last three days on a work trip with the man you hate the most in the office? You don’t - you end up pinned underneath him, instead.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, office AU, enemies to lovers, jealousy (Gojo’s side), FAKE DATING, PAST Naoya x reader, creampíes, breéding, oraI (fem receiving), spítting, hot springs, cúmplay, DOWN BAD Satoru, tensíon, he’s a bit mean, revenge on your ex, ambiguous office work, exhíbitionísm, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 11.9k (this was supposed to be HALF that)

A/N. This type of annoying Gojo is always so fun to write, hope y’all have a great week <3

In all your three years as head of the marketing department, it wasn’t any of the tight deadlines or the nervous interns that drove you crazy. Hell, it wasn’t even the fact that the coffee maker in the break room only made tea. 

No, the one thing you couldn’t stand - the one thing that had you contemplating whether your transfer was really worth it - came in the form of the 6’3, cloudy-haired manchild who headed the sales department. 

The one person who’d made it his personal mission to toy with your sanity as soon as you’d stepped foot into the cleancut office of Jujutsu Enterprises. 

The bane of your existence. 

“Gojo Satoru.”

“Huh?” you gape stupidly, and if this was any other time you’d have smacked yourself for the unprofessionalism. 

Yaga nods gravely - almost sympathetic - as if he honestly couldn’t fault you for your reaction. “Yes, since this upcoming contract relies heavily on collaboration between the marketing and sales departments, Satoru here-” He nods at the tangle of long limbs that’d been draped dramatically over the seat right next to you. “-will be accompanying you on your trip to Kyoto…unfortunately.”

“What do you mean ‘accompanying’-”

“The fuck do you mean ‘unfortunately’-”

Your supervisor heaves out a tired sigh over your flurry of protests, rubbing his temples, “Look, I wouldn’t have picked out your ah- duo either. But as heads of department, you two are the best and brightest we have. And the board believes we can snag the infamous Gakuganji and his protegé easily as clients with the combination of you both.” 

“But-” you sputter out. “Can’t I go with Nanami like I usually do? Surely he’s a better option than a pompous, no-good nepo-”

“And I’d rather go alone.” Gojo cuts through smoothly, flashing a cocky wink your way. “Sorry, sweetheart, but even my charm won’t be enough to stop you from scaring that client off.”

Fuck unprofessionalism. If looks could kill, the leveled glare you shoot the man at your side is enough to bury him six feet and have you dancing on his grave already. 

You scowl, crossing your arms over your chest. Now fully facing Gojo for the first time since you’d first entered Yaga’s stuffy office, “Oh yeah, and aren’t you the one that got reprimanded for sleeping through the last company meeting we had?”

“D-did not.” his cheeks tinge with a delicate strawberry pink.

“Did too.”

“Did not.”

“Did too.” you scoff, brows furrowing when you realize you’ve inched just a bit closer than appropriate. Your knees knocking against his, yet you don’t pull away out of stubborness. “What? Too embarrassed to admit your oh-so-great ‘charm’ was in the pillows?”

Almost mockingly, he’s copying your posture, tight white shirt straining over those biceps he didn’t hesitate to infuriatingly flex any time you came around. Minty breath wafting over your cheeks when he leans in to murmur lowly - just loud enough that Yaga won’t question, “No, but you would be happy to know that it is in the sheets.”

You blink, though, you can’t really be too surprised - of course, Gojo turns the conversation into something so filthy. He always does.

But before you can spit out a few venomous expletives you really would regret saying in front of Yaga, the man himself interrupts your argument with a pointed cough. “Since the chemistry is as lively as ever,” he’s deadpanning dryly. “I take it you both will be on your best behavior for these three days, and come back with a signed contract.”

Chemistry your ass. 

And though he’s addressing you both, you feel a stab of smug satisfaction when Yaga’s gaze lock with an amused Gojo’s. 

“Mhm, of course we’ll come back successful - how could you not with the star employee on this trip.” he motions airily in your direction. You stiffen, not expecting the compliment when- “And of course our cute resident hardass will be there, too.”

“You little fu-”

“Great!” Yaga claps his hands, a signal you knew meant to get the hell out of his office before he assigns more overtime. “It’s settled then, your tickets have been booked for tomorrow and I assume you both have been emailed the appropriate information?”

Nodding, you make your way to leave - and find that Gojo is waiting, glass door to the office held open for you. With a sharp click of your tongue, you bite down on whatever words come to your throat, barely out of the office before you hear a tired warning behind you, “And please don’t try to kill each other, our insurance doesn’t cover it.” 

When you’re both out in the hallway, Gojo flashes you a cocky smirk and an even cockier “You heard the man.” Pointing at his unfairly pretty features - not that you’d admit that in a million years. “After all, my face is insured but who’d want to hurt this handsome-”

“I could.” You interrupt, rolling your eyes. “Easily. And I would, too, if it wasn’t for the fact that this job pays well.” Something you say every time he prances around in your department during breaks, bragging about how you’re “all bark but no bite.”

Satoru only chuckles, raising his hands up in surrender when you continue, “Let’s just get through these three days, ace the contract, and never speak of this again. Okay?”

To your surprise, he’s grabbing one of your hands with his much larger ones - soft, you gulp, noting involuntarily. “I like what goes on in that pretty lil’ brain of yours, silly girl. Then, let’s charm the asses off that dumbass client and the board of elders~”

Everyone in the office knew of the strange little dynamic between you two - found it to be the utmost entertainment they got in the workday. But you were damned if you let it mess up this contract. 

If you two survived the entire three days, that is. 

---

You two were not surviving the entire three days - or the contract deal, for that matter. Hell, you couldn’t even survive this first day. 

“Gojo I told you.” you squint at the glossy paper. “It says platform eight. I know you can’t see without those ugly sunglasses of yours but-”

A big arm comes up suddenly behind your shoulders, snatching the train ticket clean out of your hands. Gojo lets it rest there as he exclaims, “Let me see. Now, y’know if this was me, I’d have chosen Gran class. Ichiji in finances really skimped out buying these second class seats, gonna hafta have a word with him when we get back…”

You narrow your eyes, frantically trying to push back that strange part of you that almost wanted to lean in closer to the hit of his piney, expensive cologne. “Have fun bullying him, you leech.”

To which he only responds with a syrupy giggle, “Oh, don’t worry.” And you let out a tiny gasp when he flicks your forehead softly. “You’ll be right there in first class with me. Even with that bratty attitude of yours, the ladies love those Gojo perks.”

“Mhm explains why you’ve been single for all three years I've had the misfortune of knowing you.” you hiss, eyes desperately darting about for directions to platform eight. You were going to get on this train - with or without him. Preferably without him.

So absorbed in your mission that if you didn’t know any better, you’d have said that Gojo’s words were a pitch higher than normal when he retorts with a strangled, “S-so what? Keepin’ an eye on me, sweetheart?”

And you knew the two of you definitely looked like a peculiar sight - Gojo’s dangling off of you like a ragdoll, surrounded by the few comically large suitcases that were mainly his. So much for a three-day work trip. Your face burns at the few weary salary workers that gave the two of you a very wide berth while going about their daily commutes. Fuck, you couldn’t even ask anyone for help at this point if you both looked at like some safety hazard. 

“Did you find it?” You huff when the silence lingers a bit too long - jumping when you raise your head up to find his burning stare already inches away from you. “God- I take it back, please keep those glasses on.”

“Hey!”

You’re digging your elbow into his side now, words stumbling over the other in a heated hurry, “And get- get off we’re gonna miss this-”

“It really is you, huh?”

All at once, you’re reminded that strangely it isn’t just the two of you causing ruckus in the middle of the Shinjuku station. Unfortunately. 

Any and all previous irritation at Gojo wipes away, flooding back as full, unbridled rage when you’re tearing your eyes away from the nuisance beside you to look up and-

Oh. 

Dammit, you knew you’d recognize that grating voice anywhere - and for the first time, it wasn’t Gojo’s.

“Naoya.”

“You.” 

Still didn’t even have the decency to address you properly, huh? You bite your lower lip, unaware what to say next. But luckily you didn’t have to - because Gojo is standing up straighter, features smoothing into a mask of cool appraisal when he sweeps his eyes down at the other man. 

Finally, Naoya seems to notice him. Flickering quickly between the arm still firmly around your shoulder and his darkened stare. “And who are you?”

“Could ask ya the same thing, two-tone.” he smiles, though it doesn’t reach his eyes. And you swear you could feel the soft pads of his fingers tightening, digging in through your silky work shirt. “What business do you have with us?”

Us - you didn’t miss the emphasis. 

Evidently, Naoya didn’t either, because his tone turns into a low, dangerous simper as he continues. “What? Can’t a man come up just to catch up with a fling?”

Gojo’s jaw clenches as he watches you register the word. Fling. Sure, after about a year of dating, the two of you didn’t have the cleanest break up - with the constant fights and him wanting to uproot your life and dream career with his new job transfer. But still. 

“Of course, he can.” Gojo raises a snowy brow, buttons on his shirt straining when he puffs his chest out ever-so-slightly. You can’t help but notice that he has much more than a few inches on your ex. Gruffing out, “But not when she’s with her new boyfriend.”

Boyfriend?

You freeze the word running around over and over in your hazy mind - boyfriend boyfriend boyfriend boyfriend-

“And trust me, she’s long forgotten your sorry ass.” You’re jolting back to reality only when you feel the slow, soothing glide of Gojo’s thumb at the exposed skin of your shoulder. He looks down at you with that familiar mirthful smile to say, “Isn’t that right, my girl?”

“Ah uh-” you’re mentally kicking yourself for not choosing to attend those acting lessons in college for extra credit. Coughing out what you hope to be a believable, “Yeah, this is G-Satoru, my- my boyfriend.”

But your coworker takes it all in concerning stride, pulling you flush against his toned chest, rumbling with the muse of “Mhm, and we’re very happy together.” You honestly feel like you’re about to fall weakly to your knees right then and there in the station when you feel the distinct pressure of two soft, plump lips grazing fleetingly at your forehead. Murmuring into your hairline, “Going on a couples’ trip to Kyoto this very moment, in fact.”

“I see.” Naoya levels out, and by the sharp glint in his eyes you already knew the gears on his head were turning. But before you could question him any further, the melodic voice of the railway announcer cuts through the tense air. “Ah- that’s me. And as pleasant as this reunion was, Kurama onsen doesn’t wait.” Before clapping a hand on the shoulder of the uncharacteristically silent Gojo stood by your side, “I wish you the best with your relationship, she’s only good the first few times after all.” His next words are cold and directed at you. “I’ll text ya, if you still don’t have me blocked, that is.” 

Saved by the train - and your fist gripping onto Gojo’s button-up, Naoya saunters to climb aboard the train currently entering the nearby platform. 

Leaving the both of you in that whirling, unfamiliar silence. Gojo’s arm is still burning around your shoulder, your muscles still aching from stopping him from powerfully lunging after the other man.

You break first. 

“Why…why did you do that.” you mutter over the bustling crowds - more to yourself than him, so you’re surprised when he responds just as hastily. 

“It’s just- Because he was a dick.” Gojo’s lips form a petulant pout. He decidedly avoids your probing eyes while he plows on, “And I should be the only one allowed to be a dick to you so don’t get it twisted, silly girl.”

You scoff, before your eyes widen at where Noaya was boarding through the doors of the sleek bullet train, “Wait- Gojo-”

“Satoru, think I deserve to be called ‘Satoru’ after that.” he grins irritatingly. “Consider it a payment since it’ll kill ya to say it every time.”

“Yes yes, S-Satoru-” you wave off, but you can’t deny how easily the name rolls off your tongue. And distinctly, you wondered why you called most of your coworkers by first name, but never him before. “He’s going to Kurama onsen.”

Gojo tilts his head, nose scrunching in confusion. “And?”

“We’re going to Kurama onsen.”

---

For all the disaster the first day had wrecked upon your sanity, you were thankful enough that neither of you were sat in the same area as Naoya. Barely even settling into your cushioned seat before putting on your headphones - and a sleeping mask for good measure so you couldn’t be riled up by your coworker again. 

Surprisingly he didn’t try either. Only bothering you to share his snacks occasionally, and hog the arm space on your chair, electricity running down your skin every time he brushed up against you. 

It was quiet, somehow neither of you minded. 

“Hah- are we- woah.” you gasp out after the short walk from the Kyoto station to your destination, an intricate wooden sign coming into view. Lugging your baggage with you - Gojo had insisted he carry it too as a show of strength, but you were sure it’s because he just wanted to give up halfway through and take a taxi instead. “It’s beautiful.”

“Yeah yeah I get that a lot.” Gojo comes up behind you without warning, a sultry trickle of sweat trailing down his forehead to the forbidden depths of where he’d unbuttoned his shirt a few times. “But usually it’s ‘gorgeous’ or ‘hot as hell’ or-”

“Oh, shut up.” you breathe, ripping your eyes away and towards the reception. “Get your ass moving now, we’ve gotta get checked in and form a game plan for the meeting.”

“That eager to get me in a bed? Always knew ya had it in you, sweetheart.” Oh, he lets out a shiver at your blazingly dirty look. “I mean- yes, ma’am.”

There aren’t too many visitors, and you choose to do the talking when you walk up to the sweet older lady at the reception, having decided that Gojo has done way too much of that for today. Humming, “Hi there, we’re here for two rooms reserved under the name ‘Yaga’?”

A few taps of her keyboard and she’s flashing you a megawatt smile, “Oh yes, you’re right on time!” Before getting up from her seat, “I’ll be the one escorting the young couple to their honeymoon suite. Just this way-”

And while Gojo breezes past you without a single complaint, you stand frozen in the middle of the cozy wooden room. Reaching out a hand to sputter, “W-wait, surely there must be some mistake? Honeymoon suite?”

Gojo is close enough that he whispers something in her ear, and you already know it doesn’t bode well for you at all. 

“Oh honey don’t worry.” she flutters a flustered hand at you. “There’s absolutely nothing wrong with having your dear boyfriend here spend a bit extra on a comfy suite. Either way, it has been booked for a while now and unfortunately nothing can be changed…”

Forgetting yourself, you sneak a glance over at where she had left her desktop on. The tiny letters on screen confirming that yes, this reservation was under the name Yaga. And no, it wasn’t a mistake that the room you were given was a honeymoon suite. 

“Get your ass movin’ now.” Gojo’s voice snaps you out of your little reverie, sounding as if he was on the verge of bursting into laughter while he mocks your earlier words. He grins, “When life gives you lemons- or when Yaga gives you a honeymoon suite…”

---

“Dibs not on the couch.”

“Dibs not on the- wait, no.” Gojo huffs when you’re finally led to your sprawling room, and for all the scandal of it being a honeymoon suite, you have to admit that Yaga had great taste. “Shouldn’t you treat your boyfriend better?”

You’re splaying yourself out on the plush mattress of the bed - the only bed, because of course the universe doesn’t bestow you with a normal work trip. But god none of those cheap motels at the trips you’d gone on with Nanami or Shoko could ever compare to this. 

Mindfully, you push away the rose petals decorating the silken sheets. “Not my problem.” Jutting a thumb towards the small private hot spring allocated for your room outside, “Sleep in the onsen. Might wanna hurry though, it’s getting dark.”

“Please?” 

“I’m kicking you out of this room altogether.”

“Pretty please.”

You feel a rush of begrudging endearment at the way he’s batting his long lashes at you. Suddenly, you’re wondering whether this is why so many at the office can’t get enough of Gojo - why everyone flocks to him as soon as he waltzes into your department for no apparent reason. Struggling to stand firm. “Hasn’t Nanami told you before that adding ‘pretty’ doesn’t work?”

Grumbling, he sets down the bags, swiftly turning around to call out, “Fine, but m’takin’ a shower first, so you better keep any expensive shampoos away or m’stealing with no regrets.”

Mind dizzy with everything from today, it’s all you can do to shuffle through your bag for your laptop. Trembling fingers deciding that if you weren’t going to think too deeply about this, might as well get some work done. 

It’s what you do for a while - to partial success - until you’re pulled out of your spiels of presentations and trying to keep Gojo’s script on subject by the sound of the running water stopping, and the bathroom door clicking open. 

And lo and behold - there stood Gojo. Shirtless. 

The very same asshole that would throw paper clips at you during meetings, and always finished off the last muffin in the break room he knew you’d been eyeing all day. Here he stood - all sharp hip bones and smooth curves of muscle that were always poorly covered by his work clothes. 

Covering almost all of the bathroom doorway with his broad shoulders, speckled with glistening droplets of water that danced tauntingly down, down, down the sharp planes of his collarbones. Down his abs, and onto a trail of white, hidden by a fluffy white towel you have to force your eyes away from. 

“Put some- put some clothes on. You- you-” you’re scrambling urgently for something near you, which unfortunately happened to be a soft cotton you’d pulled out from your bag earlier. “-you lecher.”

Wordlessly, Gojo’s stunned surprise breaks into a brilliant grin when he unfolds the canon of cloth you’d thrown his way. Humming, “You call me a lecher, but you’re the one that wants to see me in your clothes, huh?”

And sure enough - it was. It was as if the universe was playing a practical joke on you because it was your favorite t-shirt, in fact, that ragged Bleach graphic held gently between Gojo’s long, pale fingers. 

You choke out, hastily getting off the bed. “Wait- I take it back.”

“I don’t know.” Gojo teases, holding the t-shirt well over your head. And all you can do is frantically reach and swerve for it, each attempt dodged with a shit-eating grin. “You get the bed, I get this ratty t-shirt, seems like a fair trade to me, no?”

“No.”

Gojo’s face is hovering so close above yours, though, he still keeps the t-shirt safely away from you. “Then I guess this is f’me, silly girl.”

You groan, appreciating the way his breath catches in his throat when you hook an arm around his neck. Reeling him in so close while you still swipe, “No, but what you are going to get is-”

What Gojo was going to get, he never finds out. Because in your frantic effort to steal back the t-shirt you so desperately didn’t want in the hands of the bastard from sales, you don’t pay attention to that slippery pool of water forming around you two from his half-assed attempts at drying off. 

And before you know it, you’re lurching to the floor - you wince, arms held out to break your fall and-

It never happens.

Blinking your eyes open, the first thing you’re met with is what seems like miles upon miles of milky, smooth skin. Breathing in such a heady scent, it’s probably what makes your mind so melty when the realization hits you - a little too late - that you’re being held against Gojo’s chest. 

His painfully bare chest. 

“Satoru?” you breathe. Pawing at where you could feel his racing heartbeat, thumping so painfully against one of his pecs. “Are- are you okay?”

That gets you a hot laugh into your neck, followed by a long, drawn-out shudder that sends shivers down your spine. Through laughs, he manages to grit out, “You’re asking me that?”

He sounds surprised - relieved almost. Such a tender note in his tone at the lack of usual taunting in your words. 

Gojo lets you go - barely, still keeping two strong arms locked around your waist like he was afraid even the slightest distance could have you in danger all over again. “You can take the t-shirt.” He breathes, picking up the damp fabric now fallen onto the floor and pressing it into your palms. “I’m more of a Naruto guy anyway. And you can take the bed, I was jok-”

“You can take it.” 

“What? No-”

“You can.” you cut him off, giving a sidelong glance at the cramped couch tucked into a corner of your suite. Again, you’re drinking in all of him, how tall he was. How warm. How he’d probably have half his body dangling off the side of the cushions, “We can- I mean we can share. We’re adults, right? Wouldn’t want you complaining about a sore back during the contract talks anyway.”

“Worrying about me, sweetheart?” 

“No.” you scowl, pushing him away. “Now excuse you, but I have to use the bathroom since someone was hogging it earlier.”

And if you’d waited just a moment longer - maybe peaked your head out instead of scurrying inside as fast as your legs carried you - you’d have noticed that Gojo was still standing there. A fist clenched at where his heart was, face as pink as those blooming sakura outside. 

---

You didn’t sleep that night. Not one bit. 

It might partially have to do with the fact that your bed was invaded by one very gangly asshole sprawling himself all over the pillow wall you’d constructed. Or maybe to do with the aching discomfort in your joints after moving to sleep on the hard couch after only a few minutes of him getting knocking out. 

“Good morning~” Gojo’s sing-song voice rings through your verging murderous thoughts on the second day. “The sun is shining, my skin is glowing and-” His bleary eyes lock on your hunched figure across the room, looking genuinely confused as to how you got here. “-you’re on the couch?” 

“Yeah. Considered taking ya out in your sleep but then I realized the contract would be in jeopardy.”

He whines, “I’ve- I’ve never had anyone complain before.”

“They probably ran away before that.” you nod solemnly over his sputtering complaints. Stretching, content with the pop of your bones. “Don’t look at me like that, it wasn’t that bad.”

You look away when Gojo mimics your actions, sleep shirt lifting to reveal a sliver of white tufts at the hem of his boxers. He pouts, sulky eyes still locked on you, “But still, should’ve kicked me out. I would’ve expected you to instead of taking that shitty couch. Seems like something that guy would do.”

Your heart pangs - just a bit - and you let out a sharp laugh, “Fine, I’ll kick you out tonight. Maybe.” It’s genuine, it really is, and in the growing silence all Gojo can manage to do is fall back into your little familiar dance of teasing.

“Going soft on me? Y’know it’s usually the ladies crawling into my bed not out of it-” 

“Oh fuck you. I take it back, I will kick you out of the room itself. Have fun sleeping in the onsen, you smug bastard.”

He squawks in protest when you throw a cushion at him. Several, actually, just for good measure. “Mercy, woman! I’m delicate!”

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

When Gojo falls back into the comfort of the silky soft sheets, you heave out a sigh. Making your way to the sliding doors, still fully expecting a flustered employee telling you that this was all a mistake and of course, you two weren’t booked for the honeymoon suite. 

“Yes?” you answer, eyes widening when you spot that familiar man in front of you. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh god, it’s you.” Naoya spits, gaze heating up. “Of course, I should’ve known it’s you and that idiot boyfriend of yours makin’ so much noise next door.”

Great. Perfect. Wonderful. As if this trip couldn’t get any better. 

You pinch your nose, echoing hollowly, “What do you want?”

“Exactly that. Don’t make so much noise, neighbor. I don’t care what limp dick he’s giving you-” 

“Is that all?” you ask dryly, fully knowing there’s more he’s just aching to hurl at you. Before tucking yourself further behind the door, “If that’s all then I hafta go back to that ‘limp dick’.”

“What’s this about limp dick?” Goosebumps run along your arms when you feel something soft - hot - push up from behind you. From the corner of your eye, you spy a long milky hand flex as Gojo - shirtless - cages you in the doorway, “Because it sure can’t be mine then. Won’t you agree, my girl?”

Your face burns at the knowing wink Gojo throws your way, barely managing to hasten, “Uh- yeah.”

“She doesn’t sound very convinced.” Naoya narrows his eyes at your minute expressions, knowing you uncomfortably well after so long. “Guess she’s been missing a real man, huh?”

He scoffs, and you gulp heavily when soft lips kiss a gentle trail up the side of your neck, “Well who’s the one that’s been makin’ her scream all mornin’?” Gojo tilts his head innocently, blatantly showing off a ruddy splotch from where you’d attacked him with a cushion earlier, the zipper leaving a suspicious mark. “Like I said at the train station, she can make her own choices and she’s long forgotten your sorry ass so don’t even try it, you two-toned little bastard.”

Wrapping a possessive arm around your waist, you’re easily tugged back into the safety of your suite - and into Gojo’s sculpted front. You don’t push him away as your immediate thought was to, the feeling was right - too right.

“Satoru?” you hiss once the door is slammed shut.

“Hm?” he whispers hotly into the crook of your neck. 

Still pressed up so close that you can feel the surge and dip of his chest when he breathes you in deeply. “Why are you shirtless?”

“Uh- did I ever tell you I was a method actor, sweetheart?”

---

Unfortunately, despite being in one of the most picturesque hotspots that Kyoto had to offer, a work trip - especially one with such a high profile client and his protegé - meant that the two of you spent most of the day cooped up in your room, typing away on your laptops. 

“Ugh, this sucks.” Gojo groans for about the seventh time this hour. Running a hand tiredly through his hair, “Are you always such a hardass about contracts like this? Honestly, I can’t even feel my legs and it is not in the good way-”

“You pussy.” you grumble as you chug down another can of coffee, eyes flickering to the clock at the end of the room reading 11:00PM. “You don’t see me complaining.” 

He only scoffs, “Of course ya wouldn’t complain, this shit probably gets you off. But unfortunately for those of us that have lives-” 

You click your tongue, rubbing the oncoming headache that always seems to appear when you’re near Gojo. “Yeah, because talkin’ out of your ass and being a public nuisance is such a great life.”

“C’mon now, I see you picking at that blanket - my blanket, by the way - like it insulted your entire bloodline. You’re not slick, you wanna get outta here too.” At your pointed silence, he’s kicking his legs in the air, very much the toddler you knew him to be. “That’s- that’s it I can’t-”

Before you can react, Gojo is barrelling through the sliding doors of your suite. Long legs carrying up the short pathway that led to that private hot spring.

You’re following him before you realize it, “What- what are you- oh!”

You couldn’t cover your eyes fast enough. Being gifted with a brief, obscene eyeful of pale skin - leading all the way down his naked back, and even further when he cannonballs straight into the pool of water. 

Shit, maybe this was why the others at the office loved him so much. 

And it was hard not to understand it when Gojo’s drenched head poked out from under the hot water. White strands plastered to his forehead, a blush creeping down his skin at the head, looking at you with slightly-red, damp eyes that only seemed bluer through the steam.

“Yeah yeah I know I didn’t rinse before and I know I didn’t finish our project yet but-” he grins a grin that you don’t think you could ever forget. And you don’t know whether how hot you feel is from the onsen or him. Reaching out a soaked, strong arm towards you. “-won’t you help me get out?”

You startle, clearly not having expected this request. Narrowing your eyes suspiciously as you inch closer, “Get out?” He nods eagerly, fingers intertwining softly with yours. “Fine but-”

Whatever scream you might’ve let out is swallowed up by water- then air. 

Then more very deserved yelling, of course. “Satoru what the fuck-” Your nails dig into his deltoids, sure to leave some very questionable marks but you didn’t care at this moment. Wiping away the water in your face while he holds you up easily, “I’m gonna kill you.”

“Yeah yeah, can’t kill me when you’re clinging to me like this, sweetheart.” Gojo rolls his eyes, but he makes no move to push you off. In fact, he only tightens the arm around your hips. “You looked like you needed that, the 8 hours of straight working like Yaga was havin’ you act like him.”

Somehow, you don’t feel strange about the fact that you’re being pushed up against a very painfully naked Gojo. Living out what is probably the wet dream for about half the office.

He notices, of course he does. 

“Trynna take a peek?” Gojo wiggles his brows. And when you’re trying to hide away behind your hands, he nuzzles them away, arms a bit too occupied holding you captive. Sighing dramatically, “No need to be shy, many people do. I don’t mind of course, ah the woes of being fucking hot.”

Gasping, “Fuck you.” Unbeknownst as to why, you’re laughing. Contemplating whether you should really give him a good kick down below when you choke out, “You’re an asshole, y’know?”

“I know.” he smiles. “N’ yet you still haven’t drowned me.”

“I really fuckin’ hate you.”

Why could you really fucking kiss him right now? 

“I know.”

The moment is broken only a few seconds later by some ungodly screeching you recognize to be none other than your beloved ex’s from next door. Yelling about “Shut the fuck up, if you’re gonna have onsen sex I’m calling the front lobby.”

“What? Can’t a man fuck his girl in peace?” Gojo shouts back. “Shut up just because your puny dick can’t get some, two-tone.”

That broke whatever magical spell was put on the two of you, obviously. And you were the first to run back to the suite - leaving Gojo and his nakedness alone. Very, very alone. 

He takes a bit longer to follow you, and you’re already freshened up and in bed by the time he makes his way to the bathroom - with clothes this time, fortunately for your sanity. 

Only a few minutes later, he’s nestling right next to you on the bed. You gasp in a sharp inhale at the heat of his proximity, mere millimeters away from you now. 

“Good work today, by the way.” Gojo gruffs out to your turned back, quiet words carrying over that ridiculous extra-vaulted wall of pillows, padded up with ones from the couch, too. Silver tongue stumbling over his words slightly, “For how much I complained I didn’t get to tell ya. You and I - mainly I - are gonna ace that contract tomorrow.”

There’s no taunting in his tone, not one bit. And you surprise the both of you when you murmur out shakily, “I’m worried.”

“Huh?” he chokes in disbelief. “Listen, I know I slept through that meeting one time, but I swear it was only one time. I’m a…somewhat changed man, I promise I won’t-”

“Not that.”

He pauses at your interruption. All is quiet - only the chirping of crickets outside, and the steamy buzz of nearby hot springs. 

And for the first time in the twenty-something years Gojo Satoru has wreaked havoc upon this Earth, he is rendered speechless. Wordlessly picking apart your wall of pillows - one by one, as if to give you more than enough time to stop him - to loop two strong arms around you. 

“Shut up.” he breathes. “You’ll do brilliant, silly girl.”

---

Gojo remembers the exact date he met you - probably the exact time, too. Honestly, even three whole years after that initial meeting, he can’t remember anything but that, if you asked him to recall a single meeting held that week then Gojo honestly wouldn’t have been able to tell you. 

It was a regular day spent driving poor Nanami over in the marketing department dangerously close to his fifth migraine of the day.

“You know I know I’m a valuable asset to this company Nanamin.” he chuckles, looking over where the other man was readying a sparkly Welcome! banner. “But this is all too much even for me~”

“It’s not for you.” Nanami spits, curtly. Barely sparing Gojo a glance before readying the welcome muffins, “It’s for the new head of department arriving soon today.”

And oh that piqued his interest like never before. That had all thoughts of the meeting he was currently missing flying out the window as he wondered what you would be like. Swiping away a few of those tempting muffins right out of Ichiji’s hands, he wonders. Would you be another Ichiji? Would you try and keep him under your thumb like Yaga? Hah, you could try but-

“Look I don’t know if the sales department doesn’t have food but, really?” 

What?

A shudder wracks through the oh-so-great Gojo’s body at the sound of your cool, firm tone turning to meet the source and-

Oh. Oh wow. So that’s what it’s like to have your soul impaled and buried six feet under.

It was sort of addicting.

And if Gojo thought his knees were weak at just a gorgeous glare from you - well, he was completely and utterly unprepared for when he leaned in closer to where you stood firmly. Shielding a pale, trembling Ichiji. And, honestly, with a death stare like that you couldn’t blame a guy for getting nervous! It’s all he could do to hum out a cocky, “What? Want some, sweetheart?”

“Sweetheart? What I want is you out of my department.” you furrow your brows. “Now.”

It’s all that’s said before you’re dragging him by his hand out - and, shit Gojo is so riveted by how soft your hands are that he almost forgets to be offended by the way the entire marketing department just watches and giggles at the scene playing out before them. Traitors.

You push him out of the door, “I better not see you coming back to toy with my new employees-” Heavy gaze flickering down to his name tag. “-Gojo.”

Ah, truly a woman of his dreams. 

And it honestly still felt like a dream even now - especially now - when you’re stood in front of him on the third day in Kyoto. Fingers messing meticulously with your hair as you check your reflection in the mirror, smoothing down your new red dress. “God, I hope it isn’t too much. How do I look?”

Perfect, he wants to say. 

But instead he nudges your shoulder in the booth of your seat, settling for an obnoxious, “Alright, not as good as me, though.” Gojo takes delight in the way you give his arm a punch, smile a lot easier than before now. 

“As if, you can’t even tie this properly. Here-” your fingers fiddle deftly with his slightly crooked tie. “Fixed it, you big baby.”

He grins, “If you wanted to get your hands on me then you should’ve- oh wait you already have, haven’t you? I remember that someone bypassed her own lil’ pillow wall last night.”

“Shut up.” you give him a tight warning. “They’re here.”

Honestly, there was only one thing worse than seeing old Gakuganji - that is, the sight of his sniveling protegé following him right after. Except- 

“Two-tone?” 

“Y-you!”

There’s a tense silence between the three of you in the exquisite onsen dining hall, one that almost makes you want to jump up and bolt back to your room because this can’t be real. Surely, this can’t be-

“I see the three of you are already acquainted?” Gakuganji’s strained, aged voice cuts through your whirlwind of thoughts. “Sit, sit, Naoya. That only makes things easier.”

As a fuming Naoya and an oblivious Gakuganji take their seats in front of the two of you, you feel the undeniable pressure of long, warm fingers squeezing your own. Reassuring. And it makes you flash the two men your best, most polished business smile, “So, about the contract.”

---

“I’m going to throw up.”

“Satoru.”

“No, I will throw up. And that will not be good for my reputation.”

“Satoru, if you throw up I’m beating your ass.”

He narrows his eyes at your heated whisper, matching you with a low, “Damn keep it for the bedroom sweetheart. We still hafta wait till Gakuganji comes back with his decision.” 

“Ahem!”

It’s that annoyed, grating faux cough that drags you and Gojo out of your little world - back to reality in which no, unfortunately while your primary client has gone off to take an important business call regarding your contract, you were left to babysit his protegé.

“Yes, Naoya.” you give him a dry grin. It was nearing well into late night at this point, and most of the other visitors had cleared out except for the reserved table you were sitting in. “Do you want to be beat up, too?”

He only points an accusing finger at the two of you, “Don’t play games with me you hear. I’ve already got you figured out, coming here on a business trip and dating your coworker all the same-” Both you and Gojo raise a brow at this, what an idiot. “-you two will be fired for this.”

You catch Gojo’s eye and try not to burst out laughing, “As if. And trust me, I wouldn’t be here if I knew that you were Gakuganji’s new protegé.”

“Not because the guy you have to be here with is the same one you told me you hated back then?” he spits. “Honestly, you’d have been better off with me than this ‘pompous, no-good nepo baby asshole’ as you loved to put it.”

And you knew that Gojo was aware of your little rivalry - hell, he was an active participant, more than happy to rile you up every time. But that still didn’t stop you from tensing up when you spared a glance at the man beside you. 

Surprised to see that unapologetic smirk on his face, “Of course she did.” Looking down at you with what you swore was such unimaginably deep fondness in his eyes. “I probably imagine she told you all the funny ways she wanted to get back at me, too? Banning me from the marketing department? Holding an anti-Gojo campaign? Strangling?” Gojo takes Naoya’s shocked silence as enough of an answer, “Guess what, she did hate me, probably still can’t stand me. Very understandably so, because she’s hot as fuck when she’s mad.”

Despite his furrowed brow and the angry slash of his mouth, Naoya can’t stop himself from blurting out, “W-well how did you-”

“We fuck it out, of course.”

And perhaps for the one time on this entire trip, the universe smiles down at you. You find yourself sighing in relief at the sight of Gakuganji nearing your table, evidently done with his phone call. Thank fuck, you weren’t ready for a fight to break out and this dress was too expensive to ruin. 

“Seems you three are getting along well.” the old man drones out, and by the tone of his voice you genuinely can’t tell whether he was joking or not. Turning towards you and Gojo, “Well, after that very thorough presentation and careful consideration with the board at our Kyoto branch, we have all come to a unanimous decision.” You wait with bated breath for his next few words, “Where do we sign?”

Naoya stands in his seat, “But- but, sir.” He cringes, as furious as the last time you’d seen him a year ago. “You can’t sign off on this deal- not with these scumming, absolute little shits.”

“Naoya.” Gakuganji’s voice carries a warning. “You are dismissed.”

Ah, Gojo chuckles inwardly, exactly where he wanted him. 

It seemed like a blur after that - a blur of signed contracts and Gojo making faces at an ashen-faced Naoya behind Gakuganji’s back, of being told that the two of you simply “must visit” their offices in Kyoto one day - much to your exes absolute torture. To which Gojo had replied with a smug, “Of course, my girlfriend and I will. Won’t we, sweetheart?” Just loud enough that Naoya - who’d been banned to a nearby table - could fume over. 

And it’s how you found yourself pulling a giggly Gojo by his lapels back to your suite, hasty and desperate. Tripping over one another as you stumble in. 

“Easy there on the merchandise, sweetheart.” he jests, but it sounds so strained even to him. “Can’t break our streak and kill each other on the last day now, can we?”

Your laughter dies down, “Hey, Satoru?”

“Oh no…”

“Why did you call me your girlfriend even at the end back then?”

His brows scrunch up, pleading almost. He chokes out, “Just- you- I just-” Flicking a calculated finger right in the middle of your forehead, “You think too much, did you know that? Hate to see this pretty face like this, did you see his reaction?”

“Oh my god yes did you see his face, Satoru?” you’re pressing him against the wall to steady yourselves. Feeling so drunk off the evening and him. “Naoya looked like he was going to explode right then and there. We did so good.”

“What did I tell, ya? I always know everything, silly girl.” Two big arms wrap around yours in a congratulatory hug - or, at least, what you think is a congratulatory hug. And if his palms dip just a bit lower than your waist - if this was just a bit inappropriate - neither of you say anything. “Mhm. Don’t even know what you dated that fool in the first place, he’s not even in your league.” 

You scoff, “Gee thanks.”

“No no, not in that way, don’t ever think in that way, stupid.” A long index comes up to tilt your chin up to meet his greedy gaze. “You’re too gorgeous for him. Besides, he spoke like a man who couldn’t even find the clit.”

“Well- he did find it.” you relish in that deepening furrow of Gojo’s brow, the way the muscles in his jaw tick just right. “But wanna hear a secret?” Those soft baby hair at the nape of his neck raise when you’re whispering in his ear, barely even waiting for his dazed nod. “He still never made me cum.”

“...Never?”

“Never.”

There’s a beat of silence, one. Two. 

Shit. 

You’d long expected Gojo’s smart mouth to make some kind of insulting joke by now. And you’re halfway through wondering whether you’d overshared too much, untangling your arms from his vice-like embrace before-

“I would.” he rasps, breaths ragged. You’re tilting your head in confusion when he repeats cockily, “I would’ve made you cum, y’know. How could I not?”

There’s a snarky little part of you that makes you quick a brow, a sultry smirk playing on your lips. “Is that an offer?”

Gojo’s arms loop around you tight - almost too tight, you could almost hear your poor bones popping in protest. “It’s a promise.”

Oh that’s all you wanted to hear right about now. And he can fucking see the goosebumps that make their way down your exposed shoulders, he can practically hear that syrupy sweet tone that was really not good for his sanity. 

“Prove it, Satoru.”

His lips are crashing against yours like they’re magnetized - and it’s nothing like what you’d imagine kissing Gojo Satoru would’ve been like. Nothing suave, shallow. It’s sloppy, a mess of teeth and lips and his tongue tasting every inch of your candied lips like he couldn’t get enough. Like he didn’t even want to breathe for fear of losing out on your pretty mouth. 

“Fuck-” Gojo hisses, delicate strings of spit snapping as he pulls away ever-so-slightly to take in the delicious sight of you all glossy eyed with swollen lips. “Fuck you’re so beautiful. You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this.”

Kissing you over and over like he couldn’t get enough. Like he didn’t want to get enough, you’re moaning when Gojo slips his tongue past the seam of your lips. Addicted to the distinct taste of him and those cheap cherry lollipops you always caught him sucking on in the break room.

He’s drawing back in a way that has him drinking in your soft noises, big palms kneading your body over your dress. 

“Sa- Sato-” you’re gasping out when he flips you over to press you up against the wall. Assaulting your bruised lips with heated peck after peck. “What do you- mean-”

He groans, lips moving to kiss down the quivering column of your throat, “Shut up- Just shut up and kiss me. God, for how much I love that mouth of yours, you talk way too much, sweetheart.”

And that was really rich coming from him - but you don’t get to snark back at him. Because no sooner are the words out of your mouth that Gojo decides he’s had enough of playing nice - that is, if he was in the first place. 

Immediately fiddling towards that cold metal zipper in the back, gliding down the red fabric right along with your bra- shit, when did he even unclip it?

“You-” you sputter, the cool chill of the bedroom pebbles your sensitive nipples. The dawning feeling that this absolute thorn at your side might be much more than just talk has your thighs pressing together. Leveling him with a narrow look, “You are such a whore, aren’t you?”

He flashes you a sheepish grin, large palms groping your tits. “Would ya believe me if I told you it was from how many times I’d imagined this before?”

“Absolutely not.”

This earns you a sharp smack! gifted onto the fat of your ass, the five pads of Gojo’s fingers burning onto where your dress was hiking up. 

“Always need to talk back, don’t you?” he spits, shoving a knee between your two legs. Such an innocently handsome grin splashing across his face at the soft moan you let out, grinding purposefully against that damp mound of your needy cunt. “Why won’t you ever hah- believe me?” He has one hand shoving your dress down, down, down. The other dragging your sloppy hips down his muscled thigh, “You wanna hear a secret? Stick your tongue out f’me like a good girl now, sweetheart.” 

And oh you wanted to fight back. To outright refuse to comply so brattily, but it’s all you can do to nod blearily, feeling so fucking dirty with the way you’re letting your tongue loll out. Whining when Gojo smushes your cheeks together into an obscene pucker, into the perfect target for him to spit once. Twice. 

“Yeah, take it- that’s my girl. A secret for a secret, right?” Gojo smiles so darkly, swiping away that thick splatter of syrupy saliva dredged up on the corner of your mouth. Intentional, of course. His words are low but clear, unable to have you mistaking them for anything else when he says, “That time I slept through the whole meeting? Wasn’t sleepin’.”  He bites down on your earlobe, licking lightly. “S’just, I happened to see that cute new skirt you were wearing that day, it was so short- so fuckin’ tight. Couldn’t bear to show my face, not after I’d just spent the past few hours with my hand wrapped around my cock, wondering all the sweet things I could do to you in it.”

You’re gasping, “You’re so fucking filthy.”

“Yeah yeah.” he purrs, toying with the hem of your now dress, the red cloth now dangling somewhere at your thighs. “And don’t pretend you’re not just as dirty, hardass. Actin’ all prudish when ya dress like this underneath.”

As if to prove his point, the back of one of his fingers is gliding across where your lacy black panties were peeking out. Groaning at the sopping wet fabric, “Yeah, just as dirty as I thought.”

With his little hypothesis confirmed, it’s all that Gojo has to do to pick you up with one arm hooking under your already trembly thighs. You’re keening when he plants another solid smack on the fat of your ass, “Satoru!”

“Ohh, I love that. Say it again.” he murmurs, walking slowly to the edge of your shared bed. Savoring that feeling of your drooling cunt seeping through to paint a small dark patch on his suit. “I said, say it again.”

All it takes is another harsh slap against your ass, and a honeyed drag of Gojo’s name for him to splay you out like some slut on the soft silken sheets. You find yourself pulling him back by his broad shoulders when he takes the moment to admire just how gorgeous you looked. Even better than any daydream that mind of his could think of. 

“Sa-toru-” you mewl, and he only licks his lips as if in a daze. Not knowing where to look - at that needy, already-cockdrunk glaze over your eyes, at the way your flimsy dress wrapped around the plush of your thighs, at that glistening little patch on the plump mound of your cunt. So mouthwatering. “Satoru- Sa- Toru!”

That makes him snap out of his little hypnosis. “What did you call me?” he breathes. 

You bat your lashes deceivingly innocently up at him, “Sato-”

“No.” he’s cutting you off, Adam’s apple bobbing with the heavy gulp he takes. Thumbing at your puffy lips as if to drag the same words out of you - have them going straight to his achy cock once more. “That other one. Don’t play stupid with me, silly girl, you know exactly what I’m talking about.” 

Oh, you did. 

And you’re feeling the way your dripping pussy clenches with anticipation when you whine out that little nickname once more. “Toru, please.” Adding a little flair to have Gojo’s rosy lips fall into a soft oh! choking on a ragged low hiss when a hand of his subconsciously goes down to squeeze his bulging erection. 

“Oh yes, m’name sounds so fuckin’ cute on your lips.” he groans. The sheets below you two rustling with movement when he shuffles urgently downwards, “Sounds so fucking good it makes me wanna-” 

RIP!

“-know if she sounds it out just as pretty as you.”

You’re still reeling from the tatters of what remained of your favorite red dress being thrown unapologetically onto the tatami mats below. Huffing in irritation, “Satoru, if you’re ngh- dead if you don’t replace that-”

He’s shutting you up with another quiet smack onto your heated skin - this time at your shamefully spread inner thighs, the edges of his padded fingers just barely touching on your swollen folds. “Yeah yeah, I’ll buy ya the whole fuckin’ store if I have to.” Before hovering so close you could feel every hitch of his hot breath on your beading cunt, “And m’gonna make it so you don’t dare call me that again.”

You don’t have a response to that - and anything you might’ve taunted back is being knocked out of your mouth. The only thing leaving it being slurred little whimpers of Gojo’s name when he licks a long, languid stripe up your puffy slit. 

“Oh, look at that.” he chuckles. Pushing apart your thighs to get a nice greedy look at every drop of your sweet sweet juices glistening in the dim lighting. “Think she’s more mouthy than you, if tha’s even possible, heh.”

His long, eager tongue is slurping up every syrupy drop of your slick. Again. And again. And again and again and-

“Fuck- Toru.” your fingers find their way weaving into his soft strands when the very tip of his soft tongue finds its way just past your folds. Arching your spine off the plush bed needily like some slut, “Need you to- hngh- go deeper.”

The only response you’re getting is a sultry, smug grin being spread across your pussy lips. Feeling everything from the quirk of his cupid’s bow, to that dimple at the edge of Gojo’s smirk, “Knew you were needy, but this- this is fucking amazing.”

“Guess you’re all bark no bite, huh?” you pout, voice teetering into teasingly whiny. And oh how you love the way that wipes all the cockiness from Gojo’s face. “Even Naoya was able to actually eat me out the way I-”

It’s like it killed him to hear those goading words from you - and something snaps before he’s shoving that pretty face of his back nose-deep into your addictive pussy. 

Slotting his tongue up and down your hot slit. Up and down up and down up and-

“F-fuck, oh Toru-” you squeal when he wastes no time pushing past that snug little ring of resistance to reach deep into your gummy walls. Barely even giving you any warning - Gojo’s eyes roll to the back of his head at how sinfully tight you were squeezing him. “Shit how are you in so deep-”

And that petty, petty little part of him doesn’t answer, instead gliding up a determined thumb up to draw methodical circles on your throbbing clit. Fast. So so sloppy with the way he was letting your juices dribble past his knuckles, his wrist, forming a glossy sheen all the way down to the sheets. Matching the ruthless cadence of the way he was fucking your ravaged cunt the way he wished he could do with his rock-hard cock right now. 

“Ah!” you gasp, when one swipe of his tongue sends jolts of pure white-hot pleasure running up your spine. And that’s all Gojo has to hear before he’s attacking your hidden sweet spot over and over. “F-fuck s’too good. Fuckin’ hate how your big mouth is- ngh- so good at this-”

That causes a husky rasp of laughter to bubble its way out of Gojo’s throat, and he’s pinning your wildly bucking hips down with one arm. “Don’t you dare run away now. You’re so cute when you’re cockdrunk and truthful like this, silly girl.”

The vibrations have you moaning out a feverish Toru! Toru! Toru! louder than ever, wrenching out of you with every crash of his soft tongue against your sensitive spots. Every harsh swivel on your clit, just harder on the tip, softer at the curve. 

“Yeah- yeah yeah yeah, say my name like that.” he gasps, spitting out hissy profanities into your velvety walls. You were squeezing him so tight it was almost difficult to bully his tongue into your plushy walls. To keep up his mean staccato - but fuck, it didn’t matter if his fingers were cramping up, it didn’t matter if his tongue was getting tired. Because Gojo Satoru was one stubborn man. “Louder-”

“T-Toru!”

“No no,” you’re jolting at the feeling of something cool and glossy hitting your cunt in a harsh glob. Gojo barely wastes any time thumbing his spit in to mix with the mess made down below, letting your ears ring with such obscene squelches that have your cheeks burning. “Hear this, sweetheart?” As if there’s anything else you could hear, he’s pulling out those sultry sounds from you. “She’s louder than you, n’ that makes me so sad-” You fuck up further and further into Gojo’s tongue, eyes locked with his down in his favorite position between your legs. “-my girl can be ah- loud f’me, right? Say my name, say it so the whole fuckin’ onsen hears.”

“Toru—”

He’s taunting you in that same honeyed tone, “Louder.” Murmuring even deeper into your cunt, “C’mon, louder. Tell it to me.”

“Toru! Fuck- m-close-” It’s probably the last understandable sentence you’re managing to moan out before you finally cum. Wave after wave of such filthy pleasure hitting you, it’s all you can do to tighten your grip on his hair. Angling and using leverage to grind your hips down deeper, jolting with every flick of his tongue sending stars behind your eyelids. And Gojo, satisfied, shuts up to let you ride his face through your high. Using him, just dragging your sloppy pussy all over his tongue, his mouth. Over and over.

“Jus’ a bit more-” you hear him whisper out so sweetly over your ringing ears. Suddenly, your limp hands fall to the sides of that drenched pool you’ve made. And yet Gojo is still going, still meshing his bruised lips so messily against your own, making out with your cunt in a way that has him so depraved. “Just some more, pretty girl- you taste so addictive.”

Big fat tears of overstimulation prick at your eyes, and you’re sobbing out, “W-wait- fuck m’too sensitive for that.”

“You can handle it, you’re a big- fuck- a big girl, aren’t ya?” he groans, eyes rolling to the back of his head with every taste of your pussy. Surging forwards despite the hold you have on his hair, “Hold on- just want a bit more- you don’t know how long-”

The pout he’s giving you once you have to just drag him away like a man starved, fighting against the grip you have on him. 

But oh Gojo looks so pretty, cloudy bangs pulled back to reveal his delicately blushing face, lips painted in a glossy sheen of your slick. Slobbering down, down, down to glisten across the bottom half of his face. Looking so bruised with how greedy he was, almost the same color as those cherry lollipops he loved so much. And his eyes - fuck, his eyes - glassy and half-lidded, hazy with a sheen that told you he was already completely and utterly pussydrunk out of his sanity. 

“Toru…” you start, unable to tear your eyes away from the way he moans at the mere sound of your voice. “Your turn.”

It’s a long endeavor to get rid of Gojo’s pants - or, at least that’s what it feels like. 

Hooking a still-shaky leg over his toned waist, you’re slamming his muscular frame down onto the mattress. Buttons hitting the floor when you all but tear his overpriced button-up off - because, really, it’s not you two if one of you doesn’t get your revenge somehow.

“These- these damn belts.” you scoff, too-eager fingers fumbling with the metal latches of Gojo’s belt. “Why does it have to have so many-”

“You’re so cute when you’re eager this way, silly girl.” he’s cupping the side of your face. Free hand easily unbuckling his belt, and the heady metallic sounds are enough to have your cunt so needy. “Like this-”

You’re gasping when he finally takes his formal dress pants off - along with those uselessly precum-soaked boxers. Sticky and leaving a lewd trail of glossy down his milky, sculpted thighs. 

And oh if you thought Gojo was pretty before then he was a fucking masterpiece right now. All tall, lean muscle that rippled with every minute movement. Curves and dips of sculpted skin being accentuated so perfectly against the dim lightning in your suite. 

So infuriating at how that couldn’t give you a better look at his massive, swollen length. So long and girthy, hefty where his fat head was leaking silky precum all over his abs. Such a delicate pink matching his lips at the head, dancing down, down his thick, prominent veins to those tufts of soaked white at his sharp pelvis. Fuck, he was so big - could you actually take him?

Wrapping your soft palm around Gojo’s furiously throbbing fast, you’re letting him coat you hand in a sinful sheen. And you can’t help but wonder what he’d taste like, too-

“Hold on right there, my dirty girl.” your slowly dipping head is tilted firmly by Gojo. “As much as hngh- fuck you’re squeezing me so tight- as much as this has been fuck- all I’d dreamt of since that office ice cream party. I just know m’gonna cum as soon as you put that smart mouth on me, sweetheart.” He’s kissing gently at your lips, sucking on your lower lip. “And I just know you’re never gonna fuck– let me live that down.”

You smirk, “Not gonna live that ice cream party thing, either, Toru.”

“He flashes you such a devilish smile, steadying your hips to straddle him messily. Spreading your legs on either side of his weepy tip. “Oh, fuck off.”

You hiss when you’re feeling the hot kiss his head is planting on your sensitive pussy lips, “Fuck you.”

“No.” Gojo chuckles, powerful thighs curling up to plant his feet on the mattress. Waiting. Anticipating. “I’m fucking you-”

It’s barely even a warning - laughable, really - how that’s all he’s gifting you with before bullying the very tip of his fat cock into your snug cunt in a sloppy hit. 

He groans, eyes fighting to roll to the back of his head but caught so so greedily on the way you swollen pussy lips are being spread so obscenely to swallow every single inch after fucking inch. Disappearing down into your gooey walls, Gojo’s breath hitches at the first sign of resistance from your too-tight entrance. 

“C’mon now.” he moans gutturally. Hips fucking up in a jagged, slow grind, trying so desperately to plunge himself in deeper. “C’mon c’mon come- on-” 

“Toru!” you’re gasping when he slides his soaked length even deeper. Feeding in to the way your gummy walls want more more more more- “You’re so fuckin’ hngh- impatient.”

“Me?” he’s asking, voice a few octaves higher and dripping with the audacity to sound so genuinely in disbelief. “You’re- you’re saying that I’m impatient. Oh, sweetheart-” you blink back the lusty haze in your eyes to look down at Gojo fully, spying that upwards curl of his lips that you knew didn’t mean well for you right now. “-look down.”

Your eyes widening as you’re whirling downwards to spy the way he’s not even halfway in yet. But that’s not all, no, your poor pussy is just absolutely bulging around his girthy shaft, struggling, stretched to their limits - yet still quivering with the effort to try and milk something delicious out of him. 

And the moment that tiny, shaky gasp leaves your mouth, his sharp hip bones are just crashing into yours. Toned hips lifting off of the bed to drive his achy cock into your drooling cunt. One hand kneads and gropes the flesh of your ass to steady you down, down, down-

“Toru-” you’re moaning, like a mantra, once his angry tip is gliding across the spongy wall of your cervix. The stretch too much, Gojo’s cock so thick in his girth that you could feel each and every sweet spot of yours being dragged down his length. “F-fuck, Toru!”

He chuckles, gritting out through those long, determined grinds. Having himself now fully stuffed inside your cunt, heavy balls kissing at the curve of your ass, pubic hair scratching up against your needy clit.  “Can’t hah- keep quiet, can you? Fuckin’ love how needy she is- how needy you are.”

“Sh-shut up-” you mewl, narrowing your eyes. 

“Hah- I would.” Gojo grins out so smugly. Tilting you precariously on top of him like some ragdoll to easily give your g-spot a mean crash of his greedy head. “But you can’t.”

And of course, he’s proving his own point by bouncing you in a heady, fast tandem, abs burning with the ache to fuck you so rude. Gojo spits once on two of his long, slender fingers, letting this lewd coating smear down to his knuckles before dipping them down to spread your puffy folds even farther. 

“Fuuuck, jus’ look at you.” he rasps, the deep baritone of his voice having your gummy walls mold even harder onto the shape of his cock. Gojo throws his had back, twitching balls squeezing harder with every increasing smack against your ass. “Shit shit shit- how that bastard had you hngh- all to himself and didn’t make th-this pretty pussy come everyday I’ll never understand.” He’s pulling you down with a hand to the back of your neck, tightening, “So don’t we hah- rub it in his ugly face?”

Shit, the thought has you grinding and stuttering your hips down to meet Gojo’s unforgiving cadence, arching your body into him like you couldn’t get enough. 

“You just got- hngh- so impossibly harder at that.” you push his bucking shoulders down onto the mattress. Now fully riding him just as much as he was fucking you into the mattress so animalistically. “And you call me needy.”

He scoffs, “I’m not the only one.” The fingers still lingering on your cunt moving to toy with your pulsing sensitive nub, teasing and toying your clit between two fingers. “Can you just h-hear how loud this pussy of yours is? Bet he can hear too.”

And it was true, the wet smacks were only getting louder. Sloppier. Squelching with the push and pull of Gojo’s pounding cock in the same maddening staccato. 

But still - you weren’t going to be compliant that easily. Feeling the familiar tingles of your high edging closer, you wanted to break him just one more time. “Nah- I don’t think he can.”

“Oh you’re gonna regret that, silly girl.”

In all of two seconds - maybe even less than - Gojo’s using his immense strength to his advantage. Flipping the two of you over so your back is hitting the soaked sheets, droopy legs thrown over your shoulder to plow into you in such a mean mating press he has you folded into. 

The new change in angle makes it even easier for him to be kissing your g-spot. Bruising. Branding his name onto your sweet spots - your cervix - so you wouldn’t forget. So you can’t forget.

“F-fuck, Toru-” you’re letting out staggered gasps every time he rams his hefty cock into you. Fingers still relentless on your clit - playing around with it as much as he was playing with your sanity. “I’m so-”

“What was that?” he interrupts through sloppy, stuttering thrusts. Free hand cupping his ear so goadingly, ‘Can’t hear you, sweetheart.“

“Toru-” you’re squealing over his rapidly accelerating movements. Fighting to babble out coherently, “Toru m’close-”

“Louder.” he’s grinning meanly. Hips burning with slowly fatiguing effort because he’s so close, your slick walls are massaging him so tight. But where’s the fun if there’s no teasing? “Still can’t hear ya.”

Your voice is shot at this point, “Toru, m’gonna cum-”

“Louder or m’not gonna let you.”

“Toru! Fuck fuck fuck m’cumming.” It hits him before those loud moans are even leaving your mouth, because your velvety walls are clamping down so snug. Molding to the shape of him, your heels digging even deeper on his shoulder, nails raking red red patterns down the pale skin of his biceps. “M’cumming- ngh-”

And fuck each and every slam of his hips sends electricity up your spine, bullying you through your high. Dragging it out till you think you could go insane. 

“God- fuck you’re so-” It’s the only hoarse grunt leaving Gojo’s lips before he’s spilling thick rope after rope of seed into the awaiting channel of your pussy. “So perfect f’me.”

Two hands of his lace above your head, pushing you so impossibly deep down his thick hilt. He’s cumming and cumming so hard like he never has in his life, body out of control with the way he’s stuffing you with every drop of seed. 

He shivers at the overspill, gushing out of the corners of your ravaged cunt, painting a creamy ring around his tired base. Too much. And yet mindlessly thrusting even sloppier, catching your lips in a lazy, passionate kiss. “At least we didn’t fuckin’ kill each other, hm?”

You smile into it, slotting your hips languidly, “Didn’t do hgnh- the neighbors any favors, either.”

“It’s Naoya, who fucking cares? ‘Limp dick’ my ass.” And oh how Gojo loved that sweet sweet smile gracing your lips, the way your eyes light up all because of him. He can’t help but drawl out, “Y’know…since we were locked up in this room for all three days, and have most of the day tomorrow, how about you and I actually do some sightseeing here before we leave?” 

You nod eagerly, tightening your legs around his waist and shit, this might just be heaven. “We need a break after that contract, s’gonna be so fun.”

He’s connecting his sticky forehead with yours, “Of course it will be, I’ll be there.” Babbling deliriously, drunk off the way you’re leveling him with another one of your familiar glares, “And we can use Yaga’s care, too, he never checks-”

“Toru…” you warn when Gojo cuts himself off with a gasp. Quirking an irritated brow - as you usually did when you’re with him, “Don’t tell me you’ve been dipping into Yaga’s card, he’ll kill you if he finds out. That’s if I don’t kill you first.”

“...”

“...Toru…”

“Is this a bad time to tell you that I booked us this suite with it too?”

A/N. My red flag is making Naoya the shitty ex in every piece of writing I do (or is that a green flag hmmm?)

Plagiarism not authorized.