#correct accurate and canon in my mind

[zatna]

zatna voice claims except it's not just one. they're also all correct.

[eddiesxangel]

Your Touch is my Scripture | Emperor Geta

Cw: ancient times (not 100% historically accurate pls don’t come for me) canon adjacent, darker themes, slavery, angst, smut, fluff, f!concubine!reader, reader is referred to as whore, oral, unprotected p in v (it’s like 211 AD duh)

5.5k words

The sun was bright, high in the sky, telling you it was about mid-day. Your robes were expensive, worth more than anything you have ever worn in the past. But you were at the Palace now. No longer would you need to endure tattered, rough, earth-coloured cloth. Now you get to enjoy the riches of luxurious silks of reds and purples and fine linens etched in gold embroidery.

A gold headpiece was pinned to your hair, curled and oiled for you. You got to be bathed in luxurious perfumes. Your face was pained and your lips reddened, your eyes lined with the dark kajal eyeliner you would not have recognized yourself if you had access to a mirror.

Yesterday, you were all but a present girl selling yourself on the street. How you fell into this situation was beyond your comprehension.

While you were scrounging for food, you spotted the royal carriage but paid no mind. That was until a guard came up to you and instructed you to come with him.

You were terrified, had they been here to arrest you? To sentence you for being a street rat?

You were looking around confused but see that from the carriage the emperors were gazing at you- Caracalla with a smug look on his face and Geta with a look of hunger.

You shiver at the memory, the way his deep brown eyes held your attention, his controlled gaze only broke once the carriage started moving once again.

You were instructed that you’ve been summoned by the Emperor, they didn’t specify which one but you had a hunch as that haunting look in his eyes never swayed.

You were brought to a council room, where many men of status, including the Emperors, sat in a semi-circle… what for, you didn’t know… but you would soon find out.

You waited until the Emperors were finished their conversation and you were led to them by the same soldier who plucked you off the street yesterday.

“Do not speak unless spoken to” he had instructed you a few moments ago…

“Ah yes, I’ve been waiting for you.” Geta couldn’t help but look you up and down.

To him, you had been perfect. He stopped the carriage immediately upon the very sight of you. He needed to have you, whore or not he would make you his.

When your eyes met, your breath hitched, stuck in your throat. He was beautiful, alluring, and yet- terrifying. You could feel the automatic pull to be near him, do whatever he wished. That is what you were here for, to be his newest toy.

You felt like you didn't have much of a choice when it was explained to you why you had been summoned to the place.

“You will serve his majesty however he pleases. You will have a roof over your head and food in your belly.” The soldier explained.

You hadn’t been whoring for long, but anything would be better than going hungry in the streets. You longed for food, your hunger took over any rational thinking and you agreed without taking more time to think about what you signed up for.

You had been shown the servant quarters, that’s where you met the other girls. There were five of them in the room when you entered, all equally beautiful. How you fell into this group was a mystery.

“Your Majesties” you curtsy, bowing your head. You’re very aware of the little coverage, the white sheer fabric, draped across your chest, leaving little to the imagination.

You’re the only woman in the room that you can see and the men were very aware of your presence, but you were for the Emperors alone.

“Even her voice is like honey” Caracalla muses.

“Yes, brother, a marvel, isn’t she?” Geta’s eyes sparkled as he examined you.

“What do we call you?”

“Whatever would please you, your Majesty.” You knew that was the correct answer when a knowing smirk spread across Caracalla’s face. A shriek of a laugh fills the room and others join to appease the rulers. Their power was clear. They commanded the room.

“Come, sit”

You were led to a throne and your eyes grew wide, no way he could expect you to sit there.

You look to Emperor Geta and he sits down and pats his thigh, beckoning you to sit down. With a sigh of relief but still a bit of unease seeing as though you just met him, you turn to place your bottom on his thigh.

The day was filled with excitement as two gladiators had been the source of entertainment. The shock and awe of the fight had Geta grabbing at you at each brutal hit. The way his fingers dug into your soft skin, how his grip tightened on your thigh had you squirming on the inside. Your calm and cool demeanour was all an act. He pulled you in closer; you draped your arm around his shoulder as you became more comfortable. His touch had been electric, his hand ran up your thigh if he went any higher, he would feel your arousal, praying it hadn't already seeped through your linens.

“Remarkable!” Geta praised the young warrior. His enthusiasm was contagious, as was his eccentric brothers. It was electrifying to be near that kind of energy for once. This new world was overwhelming but you liked being close to Geta.

After his conversation, he turns back to you. “Come,” he says with a smile, guiding you up the winding staircase to what you assume to be his quarters.

Once entered, he can no longer contain himself; he finds himself reaching his hands to your hips, pulling you in. He meant to offer you wine, but he couldn’t resist. You smelled of lilies and berries; he needed to taste you.

His kiss was rough but needy. He tasted of wine; you could have gotten drunk off of his tongue alone.

His hands slid down to your ass, and he gripped and massaged it, making you moan, forgetting this wasn't supposed to be about you.

“You’re going to be my good little pet aren’t you.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

“Get on your knees,” He pinched your bottom. “But first, discard your robes.”

The look in his red-rimmed eyes was sinister, as you obeyed the look deepened. Nothing could keep you from disobeying him, his command over you was all too powerful. This monster of a man was your commander, your Lord, and your life source.

“Perfect, utterly perfect.” He praised you as you knelt for him like a god.

His cock was hard already, and you hadn’t even touched him yet. You could feel through his robes he was thick, probably the biggest you have yet in encounter. His robes were discarded, and before you stood the most powerful man in the world, who ruled and owned so much land it was too much to comprehend.

He was greedy, so greedy and all you wanted was to give him everything.

You lean in and kiss the tip of his leaking cock.

“Yes, worship me” he grips your hair tightly.

You take more of him in your mouth and swallow down your gag. More and more you fit him down your throat until you can’t breathe.

A low curse leaves the Emperor’s mouth as you pull back.

“You’re a dirty little whore aren’t you”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?” He scolds.

“Yes, my Lord”

“Better. Now get on the bed”

He smacks your ass as you pass him and it makes you squeak out a giggle.

The sound of your laugh startles Geta, it makes his heart flutter and he isn’t sure what to make of it. He shoves the feeling down, deep down. Ignoring it.

“How do you want me, my Lord?” You stand before him, in front of the lush bed.

“Worship me” he looks down upon your naked body, nothing about him in this moment was human. It was all pure primal need that flowed through his veins.

“Lay down for me, my Lord.” You smirk and he listens.

You crawl over him, your hands roaming his alabaster skin as you glide your slick core over his reddened hard cock. Over and over you glide on him until you decide to let him slide into you with ease. You were right. Your pussy has never been stretched out this much. Luckily the hours of teasing was enough to have him stretch you out with little pain.

Geta loved the way your jaw went slack when he stretched you out. His face said it all as you looks down at him. A smile spreads across both of your faces when you start to move.

“Fuck, yes” he sighs.

Never had a woman made him feel this good this early on. He’d been inside of you a whole of 10 seconds and he’s already ready to blow his load.

“Sorceress” he curses you, accuses, you. Your cunt was otherworldly- magical.

You could feel the familiar tension building, forgotten was your duty to the man beneath you.

“I’m going to cum” you whisper under your breath as your hips rock on His Majesty.

It almost slipped past the Emperor’s attention, but you say it once more, only a little bit louder this time, as your pussy clenched.

“Stop!” Geta demands. However, you’re too lost in the feeling that you don’t hear the command.

“Stop at once!” The emperor pushes you off of him. He doesn’t understand what you just did, he’s never had that feeling while in a woman. It scared him, he was bewitched by you. You were a temptress, an enchantress, a Cantatrix.

“Your majesty, did I do something wrong?” You were more terrified than confused. The other girls had warned you about his moods.

“Get out!” The veins in his neck bulged out, his face reddened with rage.

You don’t argue, you don’t say another word. You pick your garment off the floor, put it on and silently walk towards the door trying to hold your head high.

“And send in Fauna instead” he spat.

You turn around quickly, not wanting to the the hurt slip from your eyes. You don’t look at him.

“Yes, my Lord.” You curtsy with your head down. Shame filled you and you tried not to sob as you ran down the empty halls.

Once you reached your quarters you shook Fauna awake and begrudgingly told her she was up. She looked at you confused but quickly patted down her long thick black curls and made her way to him.

You didn’t understand where or what went wrong. You thought you had a connection, chemistry. Your mind was clouded, he had felt so good beneath you, and you couldn’t understand why he pushed you off. He hadn’t said anything- he was enjoying himself, you were enjoying yourself. So where had you gone wrong?

Weeks passed and Geta hadn’t sent for you, nor Caracalla. You were getting worried you’d be kicked out into the street. Why house and feed a whore when she’s of no use to you? You had little to no money. All you had left was the gold ring that belonged to your father, and you were not about to give that up if you got kicked out into the streets.

Your name being called startled you, and you were lost in thought, braiding Aurelia’s hair. You stand up immediately.

“Ouch!” You hear her and giggle a sorry before one of the emperor’s guards escorts you.

Thrill filled your veins at first, but then dread quickly followed. Worry and anxiety seeped through your veins as you made your way down the corridors.

The walk down the torch-lit hallway is quiet, only the echoes of your barefoot steps can be heard bouncing off the walls.

The guard pounds on the door three times you flinch at how loud it is.

A muffled “Enter” is said aloud, you look to the guard he gives you a taut nod before he turns to get into position for the evening.

With a quick sigh, you hesitantly open the door.

“Disrobe.” He didn’t bother to look at you.

He was standing in the corner of the bed chamber by his wall of scrolls. Floor-to-ceiling rows upon rows of papyrus filled with stories you could only imagine. What you would give to be taught how to read?

Clearly what is written is more interesting to him than to you. You try not to feel offended as his eyes don’t stray from the page. You need to show him you’re worth keeping. That you are worth wanting.

You cannot help yourself but want to please him. You will get past this silly little obsession you’ve created, and get over how much you want him to notice you. You’re a whore. Nothing more will ever come from this.

You obey his instructions, and your body shivers as the cool breeze of the midnight air kisses your skin. Your nipples can’t help but perk, but you’re not sure if that is due to the sudden loss of warmth or the way His Majesty is looking at you. Those eyes, his deep cinnamon eyes gaze into you like he is the lion and you are his prey.

“Come here, Sorceress.”

Your heart races and you slowly step towards the Emperor.

“You seem nervous” his voice is calm, yet assertive.

“I don’t want to fail you this time, my Lord” You bow your head and your long wavy hair falls with it, covering most of your body,

“What you said last time” he clears his throat, “you are wrong.”

“Apologies, my Lord, I know not which you are addressing?” You look back up.

“Women do not orgasm. They cannot, it is not in their nature. Where you heard of these lies is unbeknownst to me. You were giving the wrong information.” He said matter of factly.

Your stomach swirled as his eyes didn’t break contact with yours. That is why you were thrown out like a piece of trash? Why for weeks you’ve been trying to see what it was you did?! Because you said you were going to cum?

You didn’t know what to do. Your internal battle was clear on your face as you debated if picking this battle was worth it. You could show him a new world or he could kick you out immediately, once again.

“Spit it out then.”

“I-I am sorry, my Lord. It will not happen again. My intent was not to deceive you.” You lower your hard once more like a scolded puppy, knowing that the one perk of this gig will never be fulfilled.

“Good girl, now get on the bed.”

The night went as you expected. You were brought to your knees at first, then you were upon his lap, just like last time. Only this time you kept your mouth shut.

It was hard, so hard to not cum for this man. How could he not understand women also could orgasm? Had none of the other girls? And if not, why has none of the other girls shown him? You don’t understand, but you will not bring it up. You want to be good for him. You need to stay here in the palace.

Your eyes burned with tears as you tried to get him off before you accidentally did. You had to before you cried out in pleasure…the pleasure you so desperately want for him to know that he is giving to you- that he will not let you have. You want to cry out how he is the one who makes you feel this good. How it is his cock that hit all of the right places. You fight the urge to play with yourself as you ride your Emperor.

“Come for me, my Lord.” You test the waters.

This seems to be okay, he smiles at you for the first time since the first day you met.

His beautiful face relaxed as he released himself within you, pinning you to him as the euphoria washes over his whole body. You’re dismissed immediately after, as expected.

Day and night, he calls for you, and only you. All hours, most hours you are with him. Weeks passed, and the other girls were becoming snippy with you, to which you didn’t know why- it’s not like they would be getting off with him as they did with each other. They all served Caracalla between them. They got a break; they got to share.

However, it was you and him, alone for hours. You don’t know how you would feel if he didn’t ask for you. Hurt and jealous, most likely. You were bonded to him. Wanting to please him but not being able to please yourself or what you wanted, for him to please you, it was torture, night after night, going to him. Pleasing him and knowing your silly feelings would never be reciprocated. He showed no compassion, he would fuck you either in your cunt or your ass. Depending on his mood sometimes both, yet, you can’t shake this desire you feel when you think about him. When you’re accompanying him in the day when you lay with him at night. Some days, he would have you in his bed for hours before he got up and went to work, others he would have your draped around him while holding council.

You were consumed, borderline obsessed, but how could you not be when he was your only source of company?

As expected, you had been summoned after supper. When you arrived, you sensed that something was different.

Geta didn’t say a word as you greeted him-he didn’t command you to strip, but you know the routine so you disrobe and approach his Majesty.

His back is turned to you but this doesn’t stop you from leaning up to kiss his neck. To touch him, to praise him.

"How will you have me tonight my Lord?"

His stiff body didn’t move, he didn’t make a sound until you made your way to face him and you gasped. Pulling away you could see the look on his face was pure anger. This is what the girls had warned you about all those months ago.

“I must apologize.”

That was not what you had expected. You didn’t say a word as you let him explain.

“I was having a chat with Macrinus, and he informed me that you were right all along. But I still don’t believe you…or him.”

“My lord, I do not follow?” You whisper, scared he will lash out.

“Come.”

You take a step towards him, not wanting to upset him.

“No, I mean, cum for me.”

Your breath hitched, eyes going wide. This was not what you had expected.

“My, Lord.” you gasp.

“Show me, teach me.” His voice became gentle, you would say almost venerable if you hadn’t known any better. “Please.”

“Y-yes, your Majesty.” You take his hand and lead him to the bed.

You lay down in front of him, and he leans down to kiss you. You have kissed him before but something about this time feels different, like the feeling is being reciprocated. His body slowly mimics the routine that you do to him night after night. His makes his way down your neck, you’re scared to make a noise for him. But the feeling of his plump lips has you slithering out of your skin to react.

“Is it not good?” He pops up, genuinely concerned.

“Yes my Lord, it’s very good” you reassured him.

“But- but you’re not reacting.”

“I didn’t think-“

“No!” He bellowed but realized his mistake when you flinched away from him.

“Please do,” he said much softer…like he wanted to do a good job for you.

You silently nod your head and he continues from where he left off.

His lips glide over your burning skin, a soft moan leaves your lips and you feel him smile like he’s won.

Sex for Geta is always about him, that is how it should be. That was how it was taught to him. ‘The man’s pleasure is how life is created,’ he remembers his father telling him. Nothing was ever mentioned about how the woman was to feel during it. So night after night, years of silent fucking and only thinking about himself, this new territory was exciting.

When you moaned it set off something in Geta’s head, he wanted more. Needed more.

He brought his mouth to your perked nipple, and you arched yourself into his touch. The feeling of his tongue rolling around your sensitive bud sent waves through your body down to your dripping core.

The smallest of touches from him made your head spin as you had hardly gotten them in the past. Having the Emperor touch you like this had you reeling for his touch.

A long drawn-out moan left your lips as his teeth scrapped at your perked breast.

“Oh, you like that, huh?” He murmured into your hot skin.

“Yes. Very much” you sigh.

“Good…now-um- what should I do?” His venerability, slipping.

“Touch me” you take his hand to your clit. “Here”

“My god, you’re soaked.”

“Yes”

“Just form that little-?”

“Please” you begged. No more questions, you needed him to pleasure you.

You move his fingers on your clit in circular motions until he gets the tempo. Your hips are moving with his hands, telling him he’s doing a good job.

“Does that feel good?”

“Yes- now add a finger or two, inside”

Geta slipped his fingers inside but didn’t stop circling your sensitive clit.

You were so close, he could sense it, he felt your walls contract against his fingers like they did the first time you two fucked, but this time he didn’t pull away.

“I can feel you, Sorceress.”

“I’m so close, don’t stop, you’re perfect”

Geta’s heart fluttered at your praises, only this time he doesn’t swallow down the feeling.

“I will never stop pleasing you, that’s all I want, is to please you.”

How could this be? He is the emperor, you are nothing, a concubine who’s tricked this being into falling for you. He tricked you along the way as well.

“Geta” you let slip, and he doesn’t even reprimand you because in that moment is the most beautiful sight beneath him.

His hands were like magic, how dare he be holding this back from you this whole time.

Your orgasm rippled through you. Weeks of denied pleasure bursting from your womb making your body shake and your throat cry out.

Nothing has ever felt so good.

A soft giggle passes as you come down from your high and Geta gazes at you in shock and wonder.

“My little entrance. Cantatrix” he leans down to observe your pussy. It was wetter than he thought possible and the smell, he was addicted. He can’t help himself but bury his nose in you for more. He lets his eyes roll back with a grotesque moan. He needs to taste you.

“Yes, I’m yours. Only yours.”

You both knew what that meant. The countless nights of sex, the endless glances when he holds council, the silent communication, the hours he kept you in his chambers. The way he hates to be away from you, how he needs you by his side through the day even if he knows he can’t have you he wants you.

You both know that he can’t bring himself to ask for another girl.

It’s all understood by your words and that terrifies him, but the urge to please you is so much greater than his fear.

“I must have you” he kisses your pussy deep and passionately. His tongue explored your sopping cunt, the taste of you will be burned onto his tongue.

You can’t help but roll your hips into Geta’s tongue. Grinding on his face, your hands run through is hair, tuggin the roots. A soft moan leaves your lips and Geta can’t get enough of you.

“Take me” you plead.

Deeper he pushes his tongue into your cunt he can taste your cum coat his tongue. How he had been so wrong for so long. Not knowing the taste of a woman pleasure could be so addicting.

You can’t help pulling his face into your core. His nose brushes your clit over and over as you ride his face.

“Take me, take me” you release your grip and he pulls away. Your slick covers his lips and chin, but he leaves it so your sent is coated on him, his sinister smile shines towards you.

He grabs his thick cock and aligns with you. Never had Geta gone with long without being touch before sex, he had to hold himself back from plunging into you. He knows his size, and he doesn’t want to hurt you.

You open your legs wider so he can ease his way into you. Geta watches as his cock ploughs into you. Over and over you chant his name like a prayer. He watches you breast bounce with each thrust, and now he thinks he’s discovered his new favourite position with you. Out of all the months you’ve spent tangled up together, never have you been on your back for him. Why? He is not sure because his cock is burred so deep.

He doesn’t break eye contact as he thrusts himself into you. The weight of his body on top of your makes you feel that much more connected.

“Tell me, Cantatrix, who you belong to?”

“You, my Lord, only you.”

His hips worked into your cunt with such intention, needing to feel your pussy cum onto him.

Nobody had ever made you feel like this, and nobody else ever would.

“Come for me again!” Geta begs, his voice is so desperate and needy, as he thrusts into you. Your hands are planted on his ass guiding his hips into you as your bodies roll into each other as one. He was your saving grace, your lover, and the unspoken little bit more.

You can’t help but moan with your head thrown back arching your breasts into him. The sweet sounds coming from his lips are what you silently plead for. You feel every finger he places on you. His hands planted themselves upon your hips. Moving your body so effortlessly that he can’t help but beg. He needs to feel you come for him. To know that he’s the only one who can make you feel so much euphoria that he never knew existed before. You were the woman that broke the curse for him, the woman that he rescued in the streets, his collection, his prize. You owe everything to him, and he will take what is his. You are his.

“Cum for me, I demand it. As your Lord, your Emperor. Cum” he grits through his teeth, holding back his pleasure.

Your body can’t take the build-up any longer, you listen to him, and you release all that’s within you. Your second orgasm is just as strong as the first one. His words and his commands are what pushed you over the edge. You will give him everything he wants of you.

The feeling of your cunt squeezing his cock like a vice has Geta cuming seconds after you. Never had he thought a pussy could feel more pleasurable, more perfect than yours in that moment.

Geta and you both had been so worn out of the night’s events he didn’t ask you to leave, he offered you some wine and with a bright smile on your face you accepted. You got up to stand, but you were greatly surprised when he insisted he be the one to serve you.

You talked for hours after, about your childhood, how your father was a soldier in the conquest of the empire, and how he had been killed 3 years prior. Your mother tried her best but she fell ill a year ago and it took her quickly thereafter. You had been selling yourself since then.

Geta told you about his life as well. He spoke to you as if you’ve been friends for years. It was as if the veil had fallen between you. No longer was he this intimidating mountain of a man. He was Geta, a young man who has the world at his fingertips, and the responsibility you wouldn’t wish upon anyone.

You fall asleep in the wee hours of the night wrapped around one another, you never slept better.

You woke before him, you didn’t want to ruin the magic of what last night brought so you snuck out and back to your quarters before he awoke.

Geta was disappointed when he saw you were not sleeping next to him, but he was too busy with the day’s events at the Colosseum to dwell on it any longer. He must get ready.

It was pretty early in the day, the games were supposed to run late, so you had time for yourself for a little while. The girls were still giving you a cold shoulder so you kept to yourself.

Your name is called, “You’re being summoned.”

You know better than to ask questions. You collect yourself and walk the corridors with the guard. You know the route by heart however your stomach turns when you try a left instead of a right.

“May I ask who has called upon me?”

“The Emperor.”

A sigh of relief exists in your lungs. Maybe he is in another room you’ve not been privy to.

The guard leaves you at the door when you knock to enter.

“Come in” The voice was not who you were expecting.

Your eyes widen only for a slight second with shock before you collect yourself.

“Your Majesty” you bow your head to Caracalla.

“My my, you are truly magnificent. No wonder my brother has been hogging you.” He smiled.

“I am flattered, your Majesty.” Your voice shaky.

“Shall we” he motions to the bed and you try and fake your way through this while your stomach is in knots.

“May I ask you one thing before we begin?”

“Of course” he nods his head.

“Why are you back so soon? I imagined the games would still be going on at this time?”

“There was an incident with roge arrows”

“I hope everyone is all right.”

“Not to fret, now I get to spend more time with you.”

“Quite right, your Majesty.” You agree.

And so you began.

Geta was in his room when he heard a knock on the door. He was waiting for the guard to bring you. He needed to blow off some steam from the assassination attempt on him and his brother today.

“Apologies, your Majesty, she was not there.” The soldier regretfully informed.

“What do you mean she was not there? Where is she?”

“With Emperor Caracalla, my Lord.” The guard regretting to be the one to inform his Highness.

“Like hell she is!” Geta bellowed.

The Emperor pushed past his loyal guard and stormed through the corridors of the palace.

You were draped over Caracalla’s lap, bouncing on his cock when the doors swung open with a bang and scared you half to death.

“Get off of him at once!”

You froze, not knowing what to do. The two brothers had equal power over you, so who did you obey?

“Brother!” Geta bellowed out.

“My my brother, what is the matter, I am only enjoying what has yet to be promised to me.” Caracalla sits up into his elbows

“She is mine.” Geta physically pics you up off of his brother and tosses you to the side so hard you can’t find your footing.

“Brother, what has gotten into you? You act as if she is your betrothed.”

“I- I …” Geta had no answer as to why you made him act the way you did. Only that he feels everything for you but is not sure how to control these feelings deep within.

“I think I understand bother… but you and I both know that can never happen.”

“You speak of buffoonery.”

“But is it? Otherwise, why would you interrupt us the first time she is taken from you?” Caracalla was no fool, and he knew his brother better than anyone else. “I will not touch her again if that is what you desire, brother.”

“It is,” Geta growled.

“Very well, I shall call upon Julietta instead.” He shrugged.

Geta turned to you finally, and you hoped he would take you to his chambers.

“Come.” He was curt, and you followed silently.

He was still seething by the time you reached his quarters, but it wasn’t until you were in utter privacy he began his scolding.

“How dare you lie with him!”

“My, Lord-“

“That’s right! I am your Lord. I am your master and you will only serve me!” His face redden.

“Yes, my Lord.”

“Is that all you have to say for yourself?”

“What is it you wish for me to profess, my Lord?”

“You left me this morning. You didn’t even leave a note.”

“I couldn’t,” you said shamefully.

“Oh right, you’re just some uneducated present girl I plucked off the streets.” he scoffs.

“You’re right!” you scream, and Geta is taken aback. Never have you spoken to him with such power. “That is what I am! I don’t know what more you want from me?! I have given you everything! All of the parts of me! My wounds, my pain, my suffering, my love, my affection, my ass, my womb!” You cradle the small bump.

How had he not seen? Hint noticed? Had he not understood you have been with him every night and not been through your courses yet? You’ve been here for months, and not once have you bled.

Geta looks down to where your hands are pressed against your stomach and back up into your eyes.

“Is it true?” Instantly his demeanour flipped. It only takes him three large strides to face you to place his hand atop yours.

“My cycle has yet to come since I have been here.”

You watched as Geta did the math in his head until a look of shock then glee spread across his face.

“How far along?” he cradles you in his arms.

“Three or four months,” you suspect.

“Remarkable” he whispers. “utterly remarkable.” He takes you into a lustful kiss. “Now you are a part of me forever.”

“Is that what you desire?” You fight back the tears.

“It is, my Cantatrix. I have yet to find the words, but you are my light in this dark heart of mine.”

“Geta…” you test the waters.

“Only once I have heard you sing my name, and it is more beautiful than the last” He picks you up and carries you to the bed.

“I…”

“Tell me.” His brows furrow with worry.

“I think I love you.” You peer up at him through your lashes.

Your heart feels like it's going to burst from your chest it is beating so fast that it must not be good for the baby.

You’re a fool to admit such emotions. You want to take it back; you must take it back your thoughts are cut off when Geta’s lips meet yours.

He might not be able to say it out loud. However, this kiss tells you everything. You’re his everything.

If things were different, he knows he would make you his Empress, he yearns to have you rule by his side, but you can give him the next best thing.

A child. His first child, whom he will cherish and adore, even if they will be of the lower class, he does not care.

“Tell me you are mine,” Geta hums into your skin, his hands groping at every inch of you.

“I am yours, my Lord.”

“Geta” He sighs into the kiss. “I am your, Geta.”

“My, Geta?”

“Yes, Cantatrix, your Geta.”

Tag list: @3rd-conchord @everandforeveryours @minamoomoo @gothicloverdream @hippiegoth97

@songbirdmunson @hauntedfawnn @rafescorpsebride @mediocredreams @cxrrodedcoffin

@hellfire--cult @strangerstilinski @floredaqueen @loserboysandlithium @lesservillain @hellfirenacht

@oneforthemunny @allthingsjoeq @jamdoughnutmagician @bunnyhargrove @rebelfell @sexmetaleddie

[scivors]

Andre Nikto head canons

We have little information about Niko but here's what I've gathered..

((Also I'd like to kindly add, hi, hello, my name is Mika and I am a Bosnian. The chances of me adding some accurate slav head canons are always high but never low!!🙏🏻 ALSO IM TERRIBLY OBSESSED WITH NIKTO SO IF ENJOY THIS AND YOU WANT DATING NIKTO HEAD CANONS PLEASE LET ME KNOWWW))

Genuine head canons:

Andre Nikto (Никто) is a (scary) Russian military man, roughly 193/194 centimetres (when you compare him to Simon's height) He suffers with acute dissociative disorder (better said DID) yet is still serving the military cause of how he preforms during battle.., so the military still views him as a ideal soldier for combat despite his disorder..

No hate but from what I've seen in some art works claiming it's his "face reveal" you people have to understand that under his mask, his face is disfigured.. so, no he won't be an attractive super model under that mask of his..

I don't think you people are aware how badass Nikto is as a character, almost SIMILAR as Ghost who's in the military for the same reason as everybody else, to risk their life.

Although judging by Nikto's voice lines, he doesn't care who he's killing..if it were up to him, if his teammates serve him zero purpose he'd care less if they die..(after all, you're just a target..) but being a professional, he can't allow that to happen to his teammates

If you look up closely, Nikto wears a military uniform that is different from everyone else with MP-0 written on it. Now if you don't know, MP stands for Military Police (enforcement agencies connected with, or part of, the military of a state.) and zero next to it meaning "nothing" and this is important which is what Nikto refers himself as..

Yeah so about that..

I have a theory about Nikto's nickname

After being captured and brutally tortured with whatever sick tendency mister Z had in store for him. It was Mister Z that couldn't really get much Information about Andre.

They would start torturing him while repeating to Andre that he's nothing, he's no one, what he is is nothing but what he is is everything. Those words play in the back of his head and they never seen to go away.

(This is extremely relevant cause Mister Z tried to get to know a bit of Andre by looking through some research come to find his citizenship and language are censored making him a nobody. Keep in mind, if he found any information about Andre viewing from personal life etc. it will be used as blackmail..)

After recovering his scars and taken to therapy after 7 years he was diagnosed with DID

NOW moving on to the DID part

(What I said about the fact that people overlook Nikto's disorder, I mean it..

Some don't really write about his disorder which is fine but when someone does it gets messy. )

Alters aren't easy to deal with, it's actually gonna haunt you till the day that you die cause there's no cure for it. And in Nikto's case it's from PTSD and Nikto is very aware of his alters..

Let me tell you how Nikto's disorder affects him. Switching can be consensual, forced or triggered, Nikto values silence as much as the next person cause he's dealing with much inside his head already. The kind of guy that would "watch TV" while dissociating with a 100 yard glare with very slow blinking and a slight headache..

There are times where his personalities would correct him when hes referring to himself (example: I'm up..(his personality correctes him) WE'RE up..)

"He made us do this" (and other voice lines I can't recall..)

Maybe cut bits of an apple with a knife and eat it while watching TV..

He has medication prescribed for him but he didn't wanna depend on medications cause they're just drugs..they're nothing to him but just drugs..

He has dissociative amnesia too, sometimes he would wander around confused maybe even annoyed. The amnesia appears to be caused by traumatic or stressful experiences endured or witnessed..Although the forgotten information may be inaccessible to consciousness, it sometimes continues to influence behavior

Like I said he likes quiet people, someone who doesn't waste their air on small talk..

Example; don't really talk to him about the weather, unless you have something interesting to say but if the conversation is gonna go nowhere , don't talk..he finds that a waste of time

People assume just because he's Russian that he likes vodka, he doesn't like vodka...-He doesn't like any alcoholic beverage cause it makes his problems a lot worse,...maybe If you were lending him some as an offering, he'll take it but he has SOME self control, he's okay with coffee, though..

It's relevant cause he stays awake at late hours since he finds it difficult to sleep, he'll stay up late with no music, nothing, just a silent room. It doesn't matter if he tries the military tactic where you just close your eyes and turn off your thoughts, it's very different when you have voices screaming inside your head...

Despite everything he's still intelligent, so being smart + strength + sharp reflexes and you got yourself a criminal

Death doesn't phase him, but to him death is like sleeping, he's not scared of death considering that he's been through hell those past few months.

He likes the simple things, don't complicate anything..because he's quick with catching an attitude..be blunt and forward and stumble over your words..

Nikto shows confidence in the battlefield,just like König, except he has a high rush of adrenaline and will laugh at the enemies death.

Fun fact: in this one comic Price calls Nikto "psycho"

And it's without a doubt that he is one.., a sadistic, sociopathic, psychopath

After splitting, his alters can and will get more aggressive and do more harm and damage to others cause they're doing the most at protecting the host.. (depending on the alter, some wanna protect him while some wanna hurt him)

Oh by the way about the intelligence part, I mean he has a good good memory with remembering faces..

He doesn't like people looking at him funny, he'll get angry really fast and annoyed at the same time.., he won't show hesitation when it comes to approaching you and asking you what are you looking at (it's like trying to avoid eye contact with a homeless man Infront of a store, that's how scared you would be)

He's slow with jokes or any form of humor that you throw at him??? You'll be excited to tell him a joke, and when you do he just looks at you and tells you never to do that again..,or just straight up tell you he doesn't get it...??? and probably trying to explain it either he gets it or not he'll still tell you that it's not funny

He doesn't argue, or he does? Arguing with him will costs you avoiding getting objects thrown at you so you can get out of his sight..tragic, now you have a teammate that hates your guts and won't apologize for it.

[mamayura]

Revelator analysis: Marinette remembering the Umbrella scene incorrectly

You know what I find really interesting about the interview scene in "Revelator" where Adrinette retells how they met? Marinette is actually getting a few details wrong.

Mind you, no deal breakers. She got all the emotional beats down accurately. And I will only truly take this as canon anyway when the French original has her misremember things the same way. But for now, it's really interesting that MARINETTE is the one who gets a couple of details wrong about the moment she fell SO in love with Adrien, while Adrien himself is out here making no such mistake in the whole interview:

This is correct. Simple as that.

This one... is on very thin ice. In reality, Marinette had just left the building and noticed it was raining when Adrien started talking to her. Yes, she was ready to wait until the rain stopped, but she never truly got to the waiting part:

But, by all means, if this were only this detail, I wouldnt make this post right now. Even if, factually, she didnt wait, she just noticed it was raining and thought she had to wait.

But let's get back to this later because there is another layer to this that was the catalyst for me writing this. But for now, moving on:

This is correct again. Adrien, in fact, had an umbrella.

But here is the thing:

This is... straight up wrong. Objectively. What Marinette reacted negatively to was Adrien trying to be friendly and saying "Hi" to her:

He only offered his umbrella at the end, so Marinette claiming so confidently in "Revelator" that she at first turned down the umbrella is false. Adrien opened it for himself because he was the one standing in the rain for a bit while explaining his perspective:

I sure don't see any umbrellas being turned down here, Marinette. So what exactly are you remembering? Just saying.

From this point onwards, the Adrinette interview is accurate again because 1) it's about the emotional core of it, and 2) well, Adrien is then talking the most because it's about him and Marinette is mostly just adding to it. So, yeah...

Look, I don't wanna say that this is some deep betrayal of love and proof that Marinette's love for Adrien isnt real. Of course not. And again, there is still the chance that the line in question is right in the French original (though, I do gotta say, I doubt it because that would change the natural flow of the conversation)

I just find it interesting that the thing about THE Umbrella scene that Marinette gets wrong is the UMBRELLA itself and how and when it was extended to her.

Cause, well... This is not a documentary. Marinette is not a real life person who can mix some things up without it meaning anything. She's the main character and the main narrative tool of the story.

This is the moment SHE FELL IN LOVE WITH ADRIEN. Pretty much 80% of what she does in this show goes back to this moment. In story-telling practice, yes, her being the one who recalls that moment incorrectly should mean something.

Bad faith reading: it's a major indicator that Marinette is actually not as invested in Adrien and their relationship anymore as she was once upon a time. Her needs and desires have changed and that's causing problems now.

Good faith reading (and I genuinely mean good faith reading. Fucking BEST faith reading, in my opinion):

The details that Marinette gets wrong about the Umbrella scene actually correspond with the ending of "Strike Back" where Marinette's lightning moment happened with Chat Noir:

Cause if you combine Marinette's memories of the Umbrella scene with the Strike Back scene, then, yes, Marinette WOULD remember standing way longer in the RAIN before Adrien eventually came to her:

Not because that's how it factually happened in "Origins", but because she was alone in the rain for a solid bit before Chat Noir arrived in "Strike Back".

But the most important thing is that, if you combine the two lightning scenes, this objectively incorrect line actually checks out again:

Because the moment Marinette fell in love with Chat Noir was about him having extended his hand several times but her having pushed him away and held at arms length:

Marinette in the Umbrella scene didnt turn down Adrien's umbrella. Not only because that simply didnt happen, but also because Adrien only had the opportunity to offer it ONCE which she then immediately took. Chat Noir, on the other hand (is that a pun?), did offer the gesture she then fell in love with more than once, which she initially turned down, but eventually accepted.

So, again, worst faith reading: we were supposed to pick up on Marinette remembering the iconic Umbrella scene incorrectly which is supposed to subtly tell us that life has changed Marinette's feelings for Adrien for the worse because she's simply not the girl she was a year ago and the love she once wanted doesnt fit her needs anymore, so it's fading and getting drowned out.

Best faith reading: It's a subtle hint that the love she once wanted doesnt really fit her needs anymore, but the one that does more and more now is Chat Noir who, as we all know, is Adrien Agreste.

Though, no matter which one it is, one truth remains: Marinette remembered the UMBRELLA SCENE wrong and that means something.

[aspenscore]

Author: Aspenscore

Title: A Mania Of Joels

Creative Commons License: A Mania Of Joels © 2025 by Aspenscore is licensed under CC BY 4.0. To view a copy of this license, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/

Size: 384x512

(Really hoping the March 15 deadline includes March 15. I'm posting this before midnight on March 14 in my timezone, but it is already March 15 for Joel.)

Process TL;DR:

I've decided a group of Joels is called a mania.

My favourite part of Joel's season has been his many characters, as well as the Hermit Baths On Hermitcraft podcast, so I decided to combine those two things in this drawing.

This piece started as a bunch of sketches at work and took me about 20 hours to draw, plus an additional 8 hours fighting tech issues (including a crash that lost me the completed drawing (luckily I took this screenshot just before)).

Despite my struggles with that + screen rec software, there'll be a timelapse video of my drawing process coming soon on my channel!

Re: the title, I've decided a group of Joels is called a "mania" (like how a group of horses, for example, is a "herd").

One of my favourite things about Joel's season are all the fun intros and characters he's created, which inspired me to create something that showcases some of the main Joels we've met so far. I also really like the Hermit Baths On Hermitcraft (Another Podcast Hosted By A Straight White Male), so I figured the bathhouse would be the perfect place for a mania of Joels! I would've loved to include all the Joels, but by my count, there are at least 26 distinct Joels in this season so far, which is far too many Joels for me to fit in one image (and several of them are hard to distinguish based on appearance alone).

Since I could only include so many, I tried to choose Joels who are either recurring characters, or relevant to other things Joel has done in his videos. With that in mind, on this episode of Hermit Baths On Hermitcraft we've got Joel Who Asks You To Subscribe, News Reporter Joel, Bad Boy Joel (the statue counts as being in the season imo), Bartender (Horse Killer? :0) Joel, Officer Joel (RIP Detective Joel, would've loved to include him but it wouldn't be lore-accurate for him to be alive), Joel Who Totally Isn't Obsessed With Etho, Frogger Joel, Podcast Host Joel, and Singer Joel.

A few details I wanted to highlight:

News Reporter Joel always has a headline scroll bar with him. He doesn't know how or why. It's just there.

Joel Who Totally Isn't Obsessed With Etho not only has the Etho shirt on, but he's also in etho cosplay (headband) and has Etho face floaties (no idea where that came from but once I'd thought it I couldn't un-think it).

I'm most proud of Frogger Joel's outfit. He's got a froggy hat, frog crop top, lilypad shorts, and frog shoes with lilypad tops.

Singer Joel's kimono was originally going to have a pattern of symbols relating to Joel's season, but then I realized those wouldn't show up very well with the lowered resolution. The planned symbols included music discs, xp bottles, axolotls, slime balls, honeycomb, frogs, horses, glow squid, and glow berries.

Podcast Host Joel's abs are drawn on. Gem said it so it's canon.

Bartender Joel's vest is the same colour and pattern as that horse head...

And now for the process! I know a lot of you probably aren't that interested in it, but I spent a lot of time on this so I'd at least like to record my efforts.

This piece actually started on paper, because I work a lot and I knew I wouldn't have time to do the whole piece if I didn't at least do some advance planning during down time at my job. However, all I had at work was some scrap paper and a pencil (I couldn't even find an eraser the day I started this!), so I needed to find some way to get the aspect ratio correct without a ruler. While there were no rulers at work, I was able to find some mini origami paper, and since that's a perfect square, I was able to use it to replicate the sizing I'd chosen. I sketched out the general background layout, used two of those lines + the edge of another piece of paper to determine the vanishing point, then re-drew the rest of the background according to the point I'd determined. These techniques worked shockingly well, and when I scanned the drawing and checked my measurements in my drawing program, they were surprisingly accurate!

With the scan uploaded, along with a page of outfit design sketches I had also done at work, I ran into my next hurdle: screen recording software. To keep a long and agonizing story short, I draw on an old tablet that has very little storage, RAM, or processing power, so OBS + my drawing program were not an option. The drawing program itself doesn't have a timelapse feature either, so I had to go find another piece of software that would meet my needs. I even tried using my tablet as a third screen for my PC, which could absolutely handle the processing and storage needs of this project, but the latency was far too high for that to be a feasible option. Trying all of these options took at least 8 hours and at one point had the side effect of permanently messing up something on my main PC monitor that causes it to reset all its settings periodically (if anyone has any idea what's going on with that, I'd love to not have to re-do my settings every couple minutes or so).

My tablet's limited storage also resulted in me almost losing a portion of my footage, but you can rest assured that I've managed to save all of it, and if it's useable I will be editing it down into a timelapse + process video to upload to my channel! The video will probably include a lot of the information here, but hopefully it'll be a bit more interesting and engaging! (I was originally going to link the video here instead of writing all these paragraphs, but the drawing took so long I haven't had time to make the video).

Finally, after spending basically all of my free time at home during the past two weeks working on this drawing, I finished it just a couple hours ago.

I hit save.

And got an error message.

Storage issue.

Since the image resolution is intended to be reduced anyway (for minecraft painting, but also just how tumblr treats images), I grabbed a screenshot of the finished piece before my tablet crashed and rebooted. It saved some of my work, but not all of it, so this is now the only complete version of the piece in existence.

At the end of the day, I'm just glad I finished it on time and am happy with the final product. If you've read this far, thank you so much for your patience with my rambling, I hope you enjoy the final piece as much as I do. And thank you to Joel for creating such fun videos and awesome builds! I look forward to the rest of your first Hermitcraft season.

[torawro]

I’D DIE FOR YOU (AND I HAVE). ( s.a. )

sousuke aizen & black!fem!reader.

cw ━━ ! minors, blank and ageless blogs DO NOT INTERACT. reader is portrayed as a black woman but you do not have to imagine her that way. using this map of the seireitei as a reference (i searched high and low for a consistent accurate one but it was hard). the first half is set pre-ryoka invasion / pre-soul society arc. the second half is aizen-centric (from his pov told from the 3rd person) and set post-tybw arc, years after he was sealed away in mugen, also including mention of events from vol. 1 of can't fear your own world (a light novel that's post-tybw & can be considered canonical); so all this being said: SPOILERS i guess???? of course you're welcome to read if you don't care about spoilers! somewhat based on 'die for you' by the weeknd & even more loosely based on 'dark red' by steve lacy. contains themes of heavy-ish angst, existential crises (?) & inner emotional turmoil within reader + aizen (separately). descriptions of character death, blood and violence. descriptions of manipulation/mind games. aizen is an unkind man. proofread (i did my best).

word count ━━ 11k

notes ━━ ! the way this fic was supposed to finished a month ago...but life once more gets in my way. and the way that it's this long....i anticipated the max being 10k but i greatly underestimated how long it would take to flesh out my idea. anywho i'm somewhat reentering my bleach era again. i’m not sure what it is but character analyses in the form of fanfiction is my jam rn like i really enjoyed writing this (i got tired of the length by like... 7k words lmao) but i like how this turned out. i've watched & read quite a bit of content that provide explanations as to why aizen is the way he is so i wanted to try my own portrayal of that in the context of canonical events. how i characterized him here is partially inspired by a fic i read about him last year so shout out to them for their support :D i hope i've depicted and humanized aizen well ♡. reblogs + commentary are heavily appreciated!!!!!

THE PAD OF YOUR THUMB SLOWLY glided against your bottom lip, the lingering aftertaste of jasmine tea still on its surface and on your breath. The absentminded motion of your thumb caressing your mouth, as if in deep contemplation, continued as you stared at the clock hanging on the wall above you.

It was past eleven, and the midnight hour only continued to draw near as time sustained its temporal march. And there you sat at your desk, floating in the limbo of your mind that was filled with hesitancy and admittedly, budding anticipation.

Your gaze lowered to the now empty porcelain cup, nothing remaining of its contents except the shriveled remnants of herbs and a few wayward drops of the brew.

Your senior comrade, captain Sōsuke Aizen, was correct in his prediction that you'd take a liking to its floral and delicate taste when he gifted you a jar full of the jasmine tea leaves as well as other ingredients.

The captain of Squad 5 seemed to be correct about a lot of things.

His intelligence and foresight, along with his kind and politely witty disposition, were qualities that you found somewhat charming, and gradually drew you closer to him.

Being the current third seat of the 9th company, your barracks and those of squad 5's were relatively close to each other's, so often you'd catch glimpses of and run into Captain Aizen on a pretty normal basis. Over the years, the conversations that bounced between the two of you expanded past the realm of formalities between a higher and lower ranking officer, and instead ranged in territories from literature, to art, to food & drink, and even to the politics of the government for which they were soldiers for.

Sometimes, you found it hard to believe that you managed to befriend a man like him. A man who seems to have mastered the balance between being a gentle soul, helpful to others, but also possessed enough refined power and skills to be named a captain within the Gotei 13.

Especially a man who wasn’t even of your own squad.

Despite the increasingly friendly relations and generally pleasant conversation, there were few moments where Aizen's words didn't feel quite. . . . real━ he didn't feel real. He spoke eloquently, often relying on figurative language to further illustrate his point and to breathe meaning into seemingly plain and meaningless words. But at times those words, his tone felt stained; stained with some substance or color you couldn't quite place. An enigmatic façade was painted over his speech, and it took too much mental capacity to try and find your own meaning in it.

So you'd often brush it off. Your over-reliance on your own reasoning that 'you weren’t able to come to a conclusion because there is no problem a conclusion could be generated from' successfully quieted your mind’s voice. You'd also frequently blame exhaustion, or your newfound hobby of watching human psychological crime shows during your off days for these subconscious ideas you had.

But you feared that the request Aizen made of you yesterday, the source of your current predicament, couldn't be blamed on any of those things. You looked at the clock again before returning to stare at your empty tea cup. For what reason could Sōsuke Aizen wish to meet you outside of the 1st division barracks? Specifically at this hour? You immediately thought of his question as uncharacteristic of him but prevented yourself from jumping to any further conclusions.

Aizen was a reasonable man, and you were sure there was a reasonable explanation.

With a final sigh of acquiescence, you stood up from your sitting position to retie your yukata before slipping a thicker, dark colored haori on top. You were unsure how cold it was this late at night or how long you'd be out, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

You paused for a moment, glancing longingly at your vanity mirror a few times, clearly torn between a decision, before giving in with a soft groan. Grabbing your favorite perfume, you quickly spritzed the spray onto both your inner wrists, either sides of your neck, and stray areas on your clothes. You’d proceed to make sure your hair was in order and your lips were as moisturized and glossy as a pair of tear-filled eyes before making your way to the door and slipping on your sandals.

Meeting with a captain— with Aizen of all people— in the dead of night resembled too closely to forbidden lovers rendezvousing under a fruit tree to fulfill their desires of embracing one another, with no one but the moon as their witness. The comparison alone caused the apples of your cheeks to burst aflame with embarrassment, and you lightly chastised yourself for even indulging in such an inappropriate train of thought. Such a scenario seemed far too deluded to even be considered ‘wishful thinking’.

But those delusions still seemed to make more sense than whatever other conclusion you have yet to reach.

Making your way out of your personal quarters, you activated your shunpo technique, stealthily hopping from one rooftop to the other in an effort to make it to Squad 1 barracks quicker.

After several minutes, your mind mostly engulfed with the 'what if's', the soles of your sandals finally touched ground, and you stood a few feet away from the massive walls and bridges that connected to and from the barracks. Even at night you were able to make out the bold-printed kanji for the number 1 that was painted on the building.

When you arrived, even from a nearby rooftop, you didn't see anyone around. Feelings of confusion and worry began to creep up and flicker to life in your mind.

But, as if your thoughts were as audible, you felt a light breeze of wind behind you, a familiar sound that indicated someone had made their presence known.

Startled, you reflexively reached for your zanpakuto, when you remembered that you hadn't even brought it with you. It still laid against the wall near your bed, just where you placed it earlier when you were relieved of your duties for the day.

You didn't think you needed it necessarily if you were just going to meet with Aizen, hence why taking it with you slipped your mind.

The flickers of concern were swiftly extinguished as your brain caught up with your body upon realizing who just appeared. A relieved sigh left your lips, a breath of air that seemed to release all the tension that had a grip on your heart and wound tight within your muscles. "Ah! Good evening Captain Aizen. You caught me off guard for a moment there."

"My apologies, that was not at all my intention." The Fifth Division Captain sported a dark colored scarf, his long captain's coat and the standard shihakushō all Gotei officers were supposed to wear. In the sash around his waist resided his own sheathed zanpakuto. His tawny hair maintained its usual part but looked slightly tousled, yet still remaining so in a meticulous fashion that made it look intentional.

The state of his hair alone, and his current facial expression made Aizen look more . . . approachable if that’s how you were to describe it. There was a glint in his eyes that you had seldom seen before.

"Thank you, for making your way down here to accommodate my rather. . . . atypical request. I again extend my apologies if I have inconvenienced you in any way."

You shook your head in reply, "It's alright, I wasn't doing anything too important anyway. Just having a cup of tea and delighting myself in a book before bed."

You glanced downwards at the foot or so of space that was wedged in between the two of you. You forced away the murmurs of your lingering thoughts that took note of how the moonlight and shadows danced across the surface of Aizen's face just right, and emphasized his decidedly handsome features.

"But having a complete and good night's rest is important to be fully functional in all areas of one's performance. Wouldn't you agree?"

You couldn't help but chuckle softly. "Yes, I do agree with that sentiment."

Aizen all but hummed in acknowledgement, letting a moment of silence fill the air before speaking again.

"Shall we be on our way?"

You nodded in agreement, following him as the both of you walked about the First Division grounds. From what you could tell based on your position, your aimless nightly stroll drew you closer to where Sokyoku Hill was located. The area became increasingly more grassy and contained less buildings.

Although Squad 1 grounds weren't terribly far from either of your barracks, you still weren't sure as to why Captain Aizen wished to meet out here. Initially you thought that perhaps he was just fond of this particular scenery, but really it could have been anything.

But still, you believed Aizen always had a purpose for everything he did.

After several moments, his warm voice replaced the evening silence, vocalizing your current thoughts. “I assume you are contemplating why it is I have asked you here, and I’m afraid the reason is quite benign. Truthfully, I just wished for your company. I often go on night walks to clear my head after a long day and thought I might invite you to join me this time, and have a conversation with each other."

Your brows shifted upwards, for that was not quite the answer you were expecting. It seemed too . . . simple. “Really? You just . . . wanted to talk with me? Plainly?”

The Squad 5 captain let out a short, soft laugh at the disbelief that was painted on your face. There was an expression of fondness present in his eyes and in the light smile he offered you. “Yes, exactly. I quite enjoy our discussions actually, they’re intellectually stimulating and relatively pleasant. You crossed my mind, and before yesterday, it has been quite some time since we’ve had the opportunity to unwind and talk.”

You hummed an mhmm in agreement, tearing your eyes away from Aizen’s side profile in favor of the hem of his captain’s haori, watching how it danced in the soft breeze. It seemed to be less distracting than the way Aizen peered down at you from time to time.

"I see. I am. . . . truly flattered by your words, Captain Aizen; you're too kind. Forgive me for asking but," you took longer strides so that you could fall into step next to him━ as if to speak to him more directly, "Why at this time? To talk with me, I mean. It couldn't wait until more . . . . . conventional hours?"

He chuckled again, and answered as smoothly as if he were awaiting you to ask him that. "Unfortunately, today's tasks ran a little long today, so I had to stay at my office later than usual." The spectacled man paused for a moment, before setting his soft gaze on you, "And besides, that completely defeats the purpose of inviting you on a night stroll, doesn't it?"

You ignored the heat flaring up in your cheeks again. Your mind refused to move past the fact that you had crossed Sōsuke Aizen's mind enough times━ or the times that he thought about you were significant enough━ and highly enough to invite you into his realm and indulge in these moments with him, when he very much could have done that alone.

A tender smile appeared on your lips, more towards yourself than the man next to you. "I. . . suppose it does."

The ashen-white moon only rose higher in the sky, providing an ambiance of tranquility as the both of you talked about whatever crossed the surface of your minds. Other times, the stillness of the night did the talking, and you'd listen to the leaves, and the wind, and the crickets sing together in harmony. Gradually as you walked and the beaten path grew more narrow, your figures drew closer together, until you could feel the long sleeves of his haori brush against your own.

You hadn't noticed that the two of you eventually stopped walking and paused under a tree until Aizen struck up conversation once more. When he called out your name in that gentle, velvety voice, you swore your heart was going to lurch out of your chest. The sound of your name rolled of his tongue so smoothly, the desire to hear it again grew within you.

"Uh━ yes, Captain Aizen?"

"Are you satisfied with way things are at the moment?"

You stood next to him, perplexed at his inquiry due to its vague nature. "Um, what. . . . things? I'm afraid I don't understand what you're asking."

The wind brushed Aizen's dark ochre tresses across his face as he took a step towards you, like the breeze itself was pushing him towards you. "Hm, perhaps I should be more clear then. Are you content with being a soul reaper? Are you satisfied with being a soldier for the Soul Society?"

With your brows slightly furrowed in thought, you remained silent for several seconds and overanalyzed his every word, trying to predict where he might be steering the conversation now. The longer you thought it over, the stronger that nagging feeling from within your soul became. The one that often told you what he was asking wasn't exactly . . . it didn't quite feel . . . . .

"This feels like a prelude to another insightful discussion on Shinigami━ and by extension━ Seiretei politics." Your words cut off your own thoughts, as if your mind was trying to sweep something under the proverbial rug.

Aizen huffed in amusement, before lightly shrugging, leaving your statement definitively unanswered.

You sighed as you seriously considered his question this time. "I mean sure, I guess. I'm somewhat satisfied with my job and all of . . . this," gesturing your hands in the air around you to emphasize your point. The 5th Division Captain made another humming noise, indicating that you still had his full attention. He inched a little closer into your personal space.

The mere action caused your next words to die in your throat and a quiet chuckle resounded from his, before your thoughts revived themselves again.

"Of course things could always be better but. . . . y'know. This is just how it is." You weren't quite sure if you should voice negative opinions about the Soul Society so plainly to a senior officer, even if he was the one who asked you in the first place, so you treaded lightly.

The same plainly relaxed smile from earlier remained painted across his lips, held in his chestnut irises was an emotion akin to affection. He seemed somewhat pleased that you were expressing your thoughts with him.

“And you? Are you satisfied, Captain Aizen?” You were unable to keep the teasing endearment out of your tone as you returned his gaze, casting aside the notions of Gotei officer seating and ranks for the moment. The air seemed like it shifted━ towards what, you weren't sure of━ but it kind of made you feel like you were adrift, floating in isolation from everything else around you.

It was still hard to process that you were alone with Captain Aizen right now. . . . at night.

A low hum reverberated within his chest, contemplative in nature as he replied, “Perhaps.”

The wind whistled lowly again, erecting goosebumps on whatever part of your skin happened to catch the midnight breeze. You fought the instinctual urge to twitch towards the nearest source of heat, which happened to be Aizen. Now that would be even more wholly inappropriate than the 'lovers meeting at midnight' scenario.

The silence between the both of you was brief, but comfortable nonetheless. Once more his mellifluous voice cut through the quiet, leveled and calm, like still ocean waters.

“Come. I want to show you something,” Aizen reached his arm out towards you, your spine as straight as if someone stuck a metal rod dipped in ice water down your robes.

The captain's movements seemed steady and slow━ it had felt like time itself had hesitated for several moments. You thought he was going to . . . . well you weren't sure what he was going to do, and that's what you made you nervous.

Was he going to touch you? Cradle your cheek? Remove a stray leaf that happened to land on your head? You were left somewhat dangling in anticipation, not daring to flinch backwards because you felt it would be disrespectful or offensive. You hadn't even blinked, subconsciously fearing that this was only a very vivid daydream.

But alas, when his arm drew near it extended past your head, slightly above you, and held a small branch in his palm it like a delicate flower. You released a breath you didn't know you were holding, but that breath drew short again when your gaze was eye level with his lower neck and chin.

He seemed . . . . closer.

“I think that regarding the condition of the Soul Society," Aizen began in a quiet voice, referencing his own reply to his earlier question, "and therefore my thoughts about it, is akin to this set of leaves on this branch."

Snapping out of whatever stupor you seemed to have slipped in, you exhaled softly before stepping back a bit to look at what he was talking about. In his palm he cradled a wayward branch that grew from one of the other sturdier branches of the tree. The green foliage of its arms had started to weaken and dull in color. The cold air due to the seasonal transition to autumn caused the leaves become brittle, nearing closer to the edge of death.

The sound of just how brittle they were resounded in the air when Aizen thumbed the leaves in between his fingertips, observing their texture with pity laced in his small movements.

"These leaves will fall off as it gets colder. And soon, the rest of this tree will be bare as well. When the time comes, when the right circumstances fall into place, the old die to make way and usher in the new; it's simply the way things are. I think of the Soul Society government is structured in a similar manner."

You hung onto his every word, like he were imparting crucial wisdom to you. Even though you were a bit confused on the last part, and on the connection between dying leaves and Soul Society, you still listened intently, waiting for him bridge the gap between the two.

"The Soul Society as it is now can be thought of as a season. And this particular season, this climate has remained so for several centuries. How can nature continue━ how can we continue to progress when the old have yet to be washed away by the currents of time? It defies that of nature, yes?" He directed this question at you specifically, in search of your agreement.

You nodded your head, tearing your gaze away from the branch and directed it at the grass beneath your feet. Your brows furrowed a little as you mused over Aizen's words. He gave a rather ambiguous answer before but now, his words sounded like vague displeasure and muted criticism. Everyone was entitled to their opinion, and on some fronts, you'd sometimes agreed with the 5th Division Captain. The Soul Society was far from perfect, too much emphasis on nobility and status, the government resembled too closely to an oligarchy . . . But you didn't━ wouldn't voice these thoughts, though.

Instead you hummed quietly under your breath. There was that tugging sensation again. This time it told you that there was something deeper to this conversation than meets the eye. But what could there be? Was there anything at all or were you just overthinking it?

The voice-like sensation in your soul was calling out to you, but you couldn't hear it that well or quite make out what it was saying. It's as if someone was calling out to you in a crowded room that had music playing on the speakers: you felt like if you listened hard enough you could make it out but ultimately, the result would fruitless.

"And when that happens," Aizen continued, "sometimes nature has to be gently nudged back on track to keep things moving smoothly. That may require . . . shaking the tree. Pulling a few harmful weeds from one's garden, so to speak."

"Weeds?" You echoed. You felt like you understood this analogy and therefore what he was trying to say, but at the same time you didn't. Or was it . . . . you didn't want to understand what he was implying?

Because if you were interpreting his words correctly, if he were inconspicuously comparing the higher-ups and the government itself to dying leaves and harmful plants that needed to be removed, then . . . .

"You, dear child, are a mere weed in this scenario."

Wait, what did he just━

Your thoughts were cut short when a gush of air that smelt strongly of Aizen━ warm oak, vanilla, and a kind of musk that you weren't sure how to describe but was still pleasant all the same━ brushed against your face and took you by surprise.

But there was another aroma that arose, steadily becoming more apparent alongside the increasingly painful throbbing feeling you felt in your abdomen.

It smelt metallic. And it was something that you've smelt all too many times before.

It was blood.

Your gaze that was initially narrowed in confusion lowered as it followed the source of this pain. Your eyes slowly widened in as you struggled to comprehend the blade that was currently ran through your torso.

Aizen's blade.

"Actually, instead of weeds, a more accurate and befitting analogy perhaps would be blades of grass. You unfortunately have to step on them in order to reach the weeds you want to remove."

You couldn't really focus on what the captain was saying, because your brain was still struggling to process what the hell just happened. Your hands slowly rose from their sides and shakily grazed the zanpakuto, wanting to believe that if you touched it, it would pass right through your fingers like mist. But no, the sensation of cold steel was as real as the robes you wore on your back. You only just now are processing the muffled squelching sound of his sword impaling your flesh.

You wanted to scream, to cry in pain, to vomit, to push him off━ something. But all you could do was stand there, stunned, words completely failing you. "Wh. . . . what? Why did . . . . you . . . . "

A cough replaced your attempt at a comprehensive sentence, and you tasted iron in your mouth.

Fuck....was this really happening?

"Please don't push yourself trying to talk," His voice was like an index finger to one's lips, similar to a parent's gentle caress to quiet and sooth their child, "You'll only hasten your death. And I'm sure you wish to know the reason for my killing you, yes? You'd have to be alive for that."

'Killing me?' 'My death?' The certainty that rang in his words chilled the blood in your veins, and they confirmed the one conclusion you hoped wouldn’t come true: that you were going to die.

The frigid embrace of fear and dread engulfed you from behind and you shivered, causing the blade snugly lodged in your organs to shift. The pain of that foreign object moving even a little bit shot through your entire body, causing a groan to emerge from your throat.

Desperate to conserve your energy and the oxygen that was becoming a little harder to take in, your breathing became uneven and a little wheezed. Even then, you couldn’t bring yourself to meet the gaze of Captain Aizen to confirm if this was really happening or just an extremely realistic and vivid nightmare. The sight you might be greeted with could be more frightening than the actual impaling of his sword.

As if his betrayal couldn’t actually or figuratively cut you any deeper, just then there was a noise that grew louder and louder within a matter of seconds until it was almost deafening. You’ve distinguished it to be the sound of glass crackling.

Your surroundings formed cracks everywhere on its surface, like it was just an oversized window. Even on the grass you stood on, or what you thought was grass, began to crumble away.

A dumbfounded but panicked look was plastered on your face when your world literally shattered around you, the only remnants of it being you and the Captain.

What was underneath the mirage━ or you should say, the fact that it was a mirage at all━ only disturbed you and increased your perplexity.

Slightly hunched over and breathing heavily, it took a minute to process where you were, but you noticed that now the two of you stood in a formal room that looked like it was used for important meetings. The lights in the room slowly started to brighten, most likely due to motion sensors. Even with Aizen's scent lingering in your nose, you could still pick out a rather stale aroma that hung in the air like dead fruit that hadn't fallen off the tree.

"Is . . . this Cen . . . tral━ "

"You are correct. Where we currently stand is the assembly hall for Central 46, the judicial power of the Soul Society. All judiciary as well as legislative trials and proceedings are held here."

All around the room were seats with partitions, the kanji for 1 through 46 printed on them. In the seat for the 19th member, your gaze caught onto something on the translucent barrier. It was a little farther up so you had to squint your already blurring vision to see it properly.

You saw, and your heart promptly sank as a result, eyes widening once more.

There were splatters of a dark colored substance on the partition━ undeniably blood. And the lithe, bony fingers of an older man laid lifeless, peeking out from the side of the screen like the appendages themselves were trying to escape from the body they were attached to.

That man . . . was dead. That stale aroma you smelt was the stench of death.

It was only after that unsettling epiphany did your eyes dart frantically around the room and realize that every member of Central 46 was dead.

The disturbed expression on your face only intensified as your stare was pulled back down to where Aizen's blade still resided in your body.

" Cap.....Aizen," you uttered, swift to correct yourself. All the moisture in your throat dried up like water underneath the unrelenting rays of the sun. You kept gulping your saliva in an attempt to assuage the sensation, but relief only last for a fleeting few seconds. "Did you ━ you killed them . . . didn't you?" Your question was laced with shaky hesitance and swelled with apprehension, fearing that you already knew his reply even before he answered.

There was a moment of silence and a hum before he replied. "Smart girl."

The muted mirthful tone in his voice sounded like sarcasm, and it was enough to finally draw your attention away from everything else and directly look at him. Almost instantly, you regretted it.

His umber tinted gaze was colder than you remembered. You couldn't find anything in his eyes that hinted that all of this was just a big misunderstanding, or a dream, or that Aizen had a secret sense dark and complex humor.

This was your first, and apparently your last time, that you have ever felt a fear such as this. Your mind was struggling to comprehend this was the same Aizen that spoke with you so gently, full of encouragement and wisdom. The same man that recommended you books to read and gifted you tea to drink and gazed upon you like . . .

Well, none of that mattered now. In this moment, Sōsuke Aizen wasn't the same man anymore. This Sōsuke Aizen was someone else, and it frightened you.

"When?" you croaked, your voice no longer sounding like your own. Nothing felt real anymore. "W-When did you . . . . . how? Why?"

Another noncommittal hum resounded from the spectacled man as he closed his eyes, feigning the action of thinking of an answer. When he reopened them, his narrow gaze returned to you.

"Everyone in the Thirteen Court Guard Squads was previously aware that the ability of my zanpakuto, Kyoka Suigetsu, allowed me to confuse the enemy using bodies of water, mist and even moisture in the air in order to attack. However, that is not my zanpakuto's actual power; there is more to it than just simple confusion. Kyoka Suigetsu's true power is Complete Hypnosis. Essentially, when someone looks at my blade, I am then able to take control of that person’s five senses, causing them to believe that something is real ━ or that something isn't real. In a way, once glancing at my unsheathed zanpakuto, that person forfeits their sense of existence to me. Kyoka Suigetsu is quite flawless in its deceptive abilities."

A heavy silence, aside from your uneven breaths, endured in the space between both of you. You didn't need him to spell out what he was trying to say.

It was all . . . . an illusion. A convoluted, premeditated illusion. And you walked right into it without even knowing or considering, that it was all fake.

The Fifth Division Captain inwardly smiled at the despair clearly written on your face as he watched you mentally put the pieces together. He took your lack of reply as a sign to continue. "The members of Central 46 have unfortunately been dead for quite some time now. And as for your question of why......"

The taller man stepped towards you which inadvertently (or purposely, you began to fear), drove his sword deeper into your abdomen without warning and slight force. You bit down on your bottom lip hard to stifle your exclamation of pain. In an attempt to somehow resist him, with the little strength you had left, your hands automatically took purchase in his oversized sleeves, but it did nothing. You found it ironic that you could feel how warm Aizen was underneath his robes, but his soul was anything but.

" . . . . I believe I already mentioned it earlier, yes? All flowers die eventually and the weeds......must be removed."

At that moment you remembered that tugging sensation that told you something felt off in some instances whenever you talked with Aizen. This must have been what it was. Damn it all. You still didn't understand exactly what bad things Central 46 and the Soul Society have done to cause his actions, but based on what you've been told and your current position, it must have been heinous. Again, you actively swallowed the urge to vomit.

"You . . . you lied. I can't believe━ how could it have all b-been a lie?" Another nasty cough rattled your body, followed by a shiver and a groan.

The brown-haired man slightly tilted his head, like he was truly confused. "Lied? Hmm, well. I suppose you could put it that way based on your limited knowledge of the circumstances, but I wouldn't put it that way. Besides, this isn't really about truth or lies. It is, and always has been, only about the reality of what is. And what is, is that you were unable to anticipate my deception. No one could, because it was outside the domain of your thoughts. What is, is that the current way the Soul Society operates is tainted, and I shall be the one to remedy it."

You drew another shuddering breath and looked down at the ground with a grim expression as your blood continued to pool at your feet. Briefly, you even considered unsheathing yourself from his blade and take the chance to make a run for it, but the chances of you making it to the outside world, let alone coming across someone before you bled out and died were slim. Besides, it was clear that you couldn't even trust your own senses anymore after Aizen demonstrated that he had complete control of your reality.

Which reminded you of something else.

" . . . when?" you asked the same question again, but much quieter than before, despair palpable in your voice. 'When and how did you subject me to your zanpakuto's Complete Hypnosis?', is what you were really asking. And being as intelligent as he was, the spectacled man understood.

Abruptly, with a large palm on the small of your back, Aizen used his gentle hold grip to pull you towards him in order to close the remaining distance, causing him to drive the remaining length of his zanpakuto all the way through until the tsuba of his blade rested against your stomach. You looked like a skewered piece of meat.

You didn't have the willpower to hold back the piercing shriek of agony and physical anguish as tears sprung forth from your eyes. You could no longer tell if your blurry vision was due to your tears obstructing your sight or if it was from being a step away from death's door.

"Do you remember . . . the first time we met?"

The hand that rested on your lower back slowly glided upwards until his fingers found your jaw. With a tenderness that reminded you of a time before his betrayal, he lifted your chin and guided your gaze to look at him directly. His thumb moved to graze your bottom lip just as you've done mere hours ago━ as if he knew that, as if he watched you do it. His thumb was dangerously close to slipping inside your mouth and that both excited and scared you. Your breasts against his, your breaths synchronized with his, your body and his were fully pressed against each other and it made focusing on his question more difficult.

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. The first time . . . we met? Sure, with a little bit of effort you could easily recall the first time you formally met Aizen. It was sometime in the spring, and you remembered him running through combat formations with his lieutenant and the rest of his squad. But why d━

A silent gasp left you. Another epiphany, another figurative blade piercing your heart.

Battle formations, and he . . . offered you to join them . . . his zanpakuto . . . . .

Confusion crumbled away, and was replaced with vacant horror and sadness. It seems you've already been defeated, for many, many years now.

Aizen seemed to murmur something under his breath, a pleased sound you couldn't quite decipher. His mouth brushed over yours, rendering you literally speechless, before he closed the distance and brought your lips together. You could barely process what was happening.

It was ironically tragic how soft and skillfully gentle his lips were against yours. The kiss felt longing, like a departure between two sweethearts and their last meeting together. It also felt heavy and final, making you want to cry.

And you did. Silent tears streamed from your eyes and rolled onto the fingers that still held your face so affectionately. The captain reacted by guiding your chin up a little further, dipping his head a little lower, so he could deepen the kiss. You weakly scorned yourself for thinking about how the two of you must really look like lovers now, sans the sword sticking out from your back.

Oh, how cruel this was; how cruel he was. It was cruel for him to kiss you like this, hand still splayed on your back like he needed to touch you stay sane. And how cruel it was that still managed to enjoy it, even as you stood there dying. Your lips moved together in tandem, slow and almost passionate, all while tears stained the apples of your cheeks, drying up the plush youth that once resided in them.

Aizen's tongue had slithered its way into your mouth, and you suddenly felt like crying harder. There was a tart, sweet flavor lingering on his tastebuds, and you absently wondered what is was. Perhaps hibiscus from tea, you surmised. And he too tasted the sweet jasmine and citrus that clung your tongue and lips. At this, he chuckled quietly into your mouth, humming before retracting from you by a few inches so he could speak.

"I knew you would like the tea. It's sweet and flavorful, isn't it?" You hated how low his voice was, how its timbre pleasurably vibrated and rumbled against your lips, and you hated that lidded stare he gave you. You again thought it unfair that you couldn't even revel in the rare sight of Aizen's lips slightly wet because your lips were intertwined with his.

"I have to thank you for humoring me and my recommendations. I really appreciated it. And I also," you winced loudly and cried out in affliction as Aizen finally began to withdraw the sword from your body, "must to bid you farewell now. It seems you don't have any more time left, and this has dragged on for longer than it needed. I'm not surprised you've held out for this long, as I already knew you possessed commendable strength. But alas it wasn't enough. I am sorry that you have to die; it's rather regrettable that you happened to be that blade of grass that ended up underneath my foot."

Another wail was yanked from your chest as he steadily removed his sword from your abdomen. The pain was becoming excruciating, you would have collapsed by now if the taller man weren't holding you.

You saw two things before the light in your eyes had all but faded away. The first were the colors of faux pity and apathy that swirled in Sōsuke Aizen's irises, spiraling like a storm that was certain to wreak havoc in its wake. His gaze was devoid of any regret or remorse; the final metaphorical nail on the coffin. The second was a small smile.

But this wasn't one of his smiles you were familiar with. No wait . . . . the one you knew was simply a veneer of what is.

This smile was slanted, the corners of his lips tilted upwards and was sharp. Sharp enough to cut open your already gaping wound further and completely tear you apart, spelling out your demise. It looked insidious as if it were hiding razor-edged fangs. This was what is; Aizen's real smile.

"I. . . I see. Aize. . . ." were the last words you were able to manage. You didn't have the strength to be upset or hurt any longer, so you gave in to the exhaustion.

Your body permanently relaxed, long lashes veiling your now empty eyes as your arms lifelessly dropped to your sides. The captain found a disturbing amount of pleasure in his name being the final word you attempted to speak before succumbing to the sleep of death.

And even after the fact, the facade of doomed, star-crossed lovers persisted as your body slumped backwards. Aizen's strong forearm wrapped tightly around your waist being the only reason you didn't fall to the ground in a puddle of your own blood.

That day was the last anyone saw of you, your zanpakuto still laid idly in your room, its spirit destined to forever wander in the afterlife between worlds alone, eventually fading from existence without ever feeling the presence of its master again.

They had declared you missing by the end of the next day. Lieutenant Hisagi was probably the most perturbed about your sudden disappearance. Days, weeks passed, and they never located you. The Gotei 13 was left unsettled by the lack of progress, but ultimately had to rule your case inconclusive. Some believed that you were simply killed by a stray hollow, or even ran away from your duties because of the stress.

The news of what happened spread like wildfire across all the squads, that a high-ranked officer just up and vanished without a trace. The spirits and morale of the thirteen companies dampened, sorrow and worry swelling like a festering boil.

And that boil burst when Ryoka infiltrated the Soul Society, and when it was revealed that all of it was carefully orchestrated by Sōsuke Aizen.

Like a blade of grass that somehow snuck into one's sandals or in between their toes, during his time in Hueco Mundo, images of you flashed in his head at unexpected times when his mind was quiet. He'd remove the grass, tossed you aside, and moved on with his day. There was no room for you in the grand scheme of things. Such reminisces were beneath someone like him.

And yet.

He'd always find another piece of grass from the greenery he stepped on whenever he advanced a step in his plans. There you were again.

It was common knowledge that if you kept repeating the same action over and over, it will eventually wear you down.

━━━━━━ 鏡  ━━━━━━━

It was dark, and there was nothing.

There had been nothing for quite a long time now. Utter darkness and the abyssal shade of black engulfed every inch of Aizen's body and surroundings.

He saw nothing, the seals over his eyes too opaque to let anything through. And even if they weren't obscuring his vision, he would barely be able to see three feet in front of him; there was seldom a few lanterns in his cell to begin with. He felt nothing but the bindings that kept him imprisoned in one of the deepest pits of the Seireitei. At times it felt like even his internal organs had stilled in their functions. He heard nothing but the unrelenting quiet of his cell within Mugen's maw. The only thing that served as proof that he hasn't spontaneously grown deaf yet was the occasional muffled noise that originated from outside of the entrance. And even then, he could hardly hear much of anything.

Such is an ironic fate for someone who, with a stray thought and a glint of his blade, could control someone's senses and take away their free will to experience those senses in their reality. And now, he was stripped away of all of his in nearly every capacity.

Sōsuke Aizen was rendered stationary and stagnant, qualities he detested and were the antithesis of his ambitions and plans, perhaps even his existence.

Aizen had always believed in being in control of your own destiny and making your own choices; if you had the opportunity and the power to change something━ especially if it was something that was wrong, unfair or immoral━ then one should be able to move towards that goal by making change, even if by force. The former captain had always been intentional about his actions and his desires right from the start.

And yet, here he ended up.

Spending years strapped to a chair in this dark, cloistered hole, Aizen had nothing but time to reflect the reason for his arrest: that orange haired Ryoka boy, Ichigo Kurosaki. He had nothing but time to admit to himself and settle on the conclusion that his last battle with the substitute Shinigami . . . did something to him.

Fighting the Ryoka boy ignited something inside him that he previously believed would forever lay dormant.

The thrill of a challenge.

Adrenaline was injected into his veins with each clash of their swords, spreading far and wide across every inch of his body. It no longer reacted in the measured, calculative manner he had programmed it to, but with unadulterated, pure instinct and raw power━ all in an effort to not only withstand such potent spirit energy from his opponent, but to come out on top and win.

It made him feel alive.

Aizen's desire to be the victor in battle and in his philosophy━ to prove himself right━ both fueled him and consumed him so thoroughly it led to his own downfall. That was a rather difficult fact to acknowledge; so much so his head started to pulsate intensely whenever it crossed his mind one time too often.

All of it unfolded right in front of his eyes and yet . . . he didn't really see it happen.

As time passed during his perpetual incarceration, with hooded eyes, the former captain spent an unfathomable amount of time tossing and turning every single event that led him to this underground prison, even pondering his temporary release by the Head Captain Kyōraku to fight in the war. Scenarios both minor and significant displayed itself in front of his mind's eye as if he were watching a film.

Every so often, a blurred visage of your image would make a brief appearance, like the flickering sparks of a match before they were able to come to light, fading away into the void and were overshadowed by his other thoughts. It was as if his own consciousness and intentionally muted any manifestations of your existence in his memories. As if he wasn't able to or allowed to see them━ to remember you for too long.

Mentally reliving moments from the last several months, years, decades, centuries━ trying to analyze each moment and decipher where it could have went wrong━ turned out to be quite an exhausting task. His mind and body would grow heavier with inertia, and eventually he would succumb to the alluring pull of slumber. After some time he would rouse from his sleep, and continued from where he left off.

These were his daily activities day in and day out (even though he had trouble distinguishing day and night in his chambers) for years. He saw a positive side to it though. He'd instead think of it has him getting stronger because he had spent so long . . . thinking. Ruminating. Contemplating every possibility in the past, present, and future. His mind would become as sharp as his zanpakuto.

Aizen had always been intentional about what he did, what he said, and how he conducted himself. He was sure in his abilities to orchestrate an image━ a belief for others to have faith in, and act on it in order to further his goals. He was always sure in that image, knowing who he was and what he stood for.

Or at least, that's what he thought.

Aizen wasn't consciously aware that his certainty in this crafted image had already begun to waver. He could not and was unable to anticipate how severe these small fractures had become until after a certain lieutenant paid him a visit outside his cell of confinement, right before he was scheduled to be thrown back into that dark hole of the Mugen.

Lieutenant Shuhei Hisagi was quite emotive when he burst through the doors. His expressions were contorted in volatile mixture of frustration, anger and sadness. His emotions were every which way, directed at everything that has happened so far, including himself. He was especially emotive at Aizen specifically for what he did to former captain Kaname Tosen and 'corrupting him with his twisted ideals.'

Aizen found amusement in that.

Before he was rolled away by the punishment force and therefore out of earshot, a particular set of Hisagi's words caused the small, content smile on his lips to uncurl ever so slightly. "Everything . . . and everyone that has ever gotten themselves involved with you has been trampled on by you and your ideals one way or another, and they all end up dead. If you think what you did to Captain Tosen was justified━ to call it mercy . . . . . then there is truly no justice in this world. You will . . . forever be the enemy in my eyes."

There was a trembling anger in his voice. Pain that wanted to cry out and be set free but, the thin lid of reason prevented it from doing so. And after a moment of silence, the corners of Aizen's lips curved upwards once more. A little bemused, a little more wolfish this time. He maliciously imagined Hisagi's reaction if he ever discovered the true reason for your disappearance.

But instead, all he said was. "What an interesting thing to say, Shuhei Hisagi. Your conviction is admirable." Any evidence of emotion that might have been reflected in his sepia irises was swallowed up and obscured by the darkness of the Mugen's jaw.

The cracks in Aizen's sense of self, in his beliefs, in the image he invented started to cave under the weight of Hisagi's words before he himself realized it was happening. They were like stains in the fabric of his mind that refused to come out.

What puzzled him more, was that with each attempt to figure out just why Hisagi's words echoed in his mind, they all lead back to you, the third seat of the 9th squad. Annoyingly so.

The tattooed lieutenant hadn’t said anything particularly profound ━ at least, Aizen didn't think so. Your name didn’t even fall from his lips. So why were memories of you and your likeness the only clear thoughts he could make of Hisagi's speech? Was it because he was aware of how close the two of you were? He doubted the reason were that trivial and insignificant.

His thoughts grew more discordant by the day, his soul a little more weighted than usual. Perhaps these new seals that Urahara had fashioned actually had an effect on him, Aizen thought. It made sense. His intellect, other than his own, were the only ones capable of creating such effective restraints.

After a while, he had a revelation. This was a different kind of weight.

This heaviness, the closest word he knew to describe it as . . . . was loneliness.

Time taunted him as it seemed to drag on━ Aizen grew even less sure of how much━ when he came to this realization. Hisagi's words were a clear mirror to the loneliness that echoed within him after what happened to you and to Tosen. It was so . . . potent, that it seemed to strike some chord in Aizen he had never heard before.

Such a chord, this sound of loneliness, it was strange and uncomfortable; he wasn't very fond of this sensation. He'd try to scrub it away, but it was all for naught.

His eyes had slid shut at some point, his ruminations leading to dead ends and wearing him down. And, almost as expected, there you were again, in all your translucent glory. The hem, the sleeves, and even the smell of your yukata slowly dragged across his dreams, haunting his thoughts like a lonely wraith.

And Aizen hardly dreamt of anything.

When he regained consciousness he was plagued with yet another epiphany. An additional reason behind this newfound depth.

Aizen's own loneliness. Guilt. Much to his own quiet horror.

How foreign and unusual a thing like guilt is. It was like looking into a mirror and not recognizing something you had never noticed before, but wondered if it had always been there.

But the thing Aizen did recognize, how lonely he actually felt, was something he had hoped would never resurface again. It was a notion he hadn't had the time or regard to consider━ 'loneliness'. Its only purpose, if any, was solely to serve as a motivator. At times though, it was more like a hindrance.

Something akin to nausea slowly started to bubble up in the pit of his stomach, but he suppressed the sensation before it became any more intense.

What of his previous actions did he need to feel guilty for? He hadn't felt it then, so why would he feel it now? Again he ruminated such a question endlessly into oblivion.

The former captain had no doubts that his plan to remove the Soul King, and therefore the Soul Society's sins, were necessary.

Nor did any hesitancy about removing the opposition or dead weight━ whether shinigami or arrancar━ existed.

He certainly had no reservations against killing Kaname Tosen, for he knew the man well enough to know that Tosen would have been so thoroughly appalled with what he had become, it would have drove him mad.

So what was it, then? Why were such useless emotions as guilt and loneliness being amplified n━

"Y....know, S....."

Even covered by the seals, Aizen's eyes widened and his brows were slightly furrowed in distress. Had his mind finally tipped the scales of sanity and madness, to the point where he was hearing things?

It was quiet for several moments longer, before his senses caught onto the sound of water dripping onto a hard surface.

One drop at a time.

Its cadence a little too rhythmic to be natural. And for a second time, he heard that soft, ominous sounding whisper. Its voice a little clearer this time.

"You...know.....Sōsuke."

In the second it took for his eyes to flutter shut behind its seals to blink, when he reopened them, he was no longer sealed to the walls and floors of the Mugen, nor was he surrounded by every shade of darkness imaginable. His limbs and senses were finally freed to breathe for the first time in what felt like ages.

That relief was short-lived when his senses absorbed the unending landscape of water underneath his feet, water lilies lifelessly floating on its surface, and the dim sky illuminated by a full pale moon.

Aizen was in his inner world, and now he was aware of how he got here, or rather who brought him here.

"You . . . already know the answer to that question, Sōsuke." The voice was even more clear, its sentences more comprehensible. And it sounded it eerily like you.

Why the voice was impersonating your likeness had caught him off guard for half a second, but he realized it was only the work of his zanpakuto, Kyoka Suigetsu.

An illusion it may be, there was an untouchable quality about your voice and how you spoke that even Kyoka Suigetsu couldn't replicate.

A few feet away from him, the water was disturbed by a being emerging from the depths. Ripples formed around a manifested version of his zanpakuto, who took the form of you, smiling ever so gently. The smile felt airy, and it didn't seem like the same one that haunted his dreams and every waking thought as of late. It felt....knowing.

Still, the former captain couldn't be bothered to maintain eye contact with his sword spirit, so he turned around and opted to keep his unreadable stare trained on the vast expanse of water and white lilies.

"It's been quite a while since I have stepped foot into this realm. There must be something you want . . . Kyoka."

The zanpakuto chuckled, it sounded like the way you would softly laugh at one of his clever quips. But this wasn't you.

He didn’t want to admit that something about that fact didn’t sit right with him.

"Judging from your tone, would I be correct in assuming you don't want to be here?"

Silence rang out within the soul scape, before Aizen interrupted it, his gentle voice colored a shade darker, and a little rigid. "And I fail to see the reason why you must take that form when you revealed yourself to me. Is your aim to get a reaction out of me? Or something along those lines?"

Your eyes━ the eyes of Kyoka Suigetsu━ narrowed at its master's back, as if they were trying to create concavities in his skull. But the expression was washed away the moment it appeared, the serene smile from before was back in place.

"You know . . . it's considered quite rude to not look at someone when you're addressing them. That, and when you deliberately ignore things they say. Your manners have been deteriorating, Sōsuke. Tsk, tsk."

Kyoka-dressed-as-you suddenly appeared before him, as if they had teleported. Even when they were in his peripheral vision, Aizen still maintained his stare off into the distant nothingness.

"Unless, you can't find it in yourself to look at me. . . that's correct, isn't it? It's because I look exactly like her, right?" The zanpakuto continued to provoke him, taking a step closer into his personal space.

With an exasperated sigh, his eyelids fell shut for a second, using that time to gather the strength he didn't know he needed, and directed his gaze to meet his spirit's. Aizen's face gave nothing away, but his heart lurched about his chest when his bronze eyes met with yours, or what was made to look like yours. The undesired affect it had on him was all the same.

"If you wish to chastise me about manners, I suggest you take your own advice. You didn't answer my first question, either: what is it you want? Why am I here?" Again the former captain chose to not address the other parts of Kyoka's statement. For the sake of his sanity and his thinning patience━ or was it to preserve his resolve?

Its smile widened a bit, moving another step closer to their master. God, Kyoka even smelled like you, mimicking your signature honeyed scent that Aizen didn't realize he found so intoxicating until this very moment.

"I called you here to save you from yourself."

Aizen remained silent, only narrowing his eyes in speculation. "Meaning?"

"Didn't I already say it earlier? I think you already know what I'm talking about, Sōsuke. You've always known."

Fate's pairing of Kyoka Suigetsu with Aizen was a match crafted from the spindles of heaven, but also a maddening curse pulled from the depths of hell, for they complimented each other a little too well. The zanpakuto was too perfect a reflection of Aizen and his soul, looking at it started to hurt his eyes.

His sword spirit insisted that he already knew the reason for his coming here, and perhaps he did have an inkling the moment the light of epiphany was shone on his profound loneliness and guilt. But that couldn't have been what it was referring to . . . . could it?

"You cannot feign ignorance here, my dear Sōsuke, however I do find it rather humorous you bother trying. If you'd like, I don't mind humoring you by spelling it out for you. I'd be glad to unearth the truth that you have buried in the most neglected corner of your heart."

"When you were . . . . subjecting yourself to such mental torment, it had an affect on this world as well. The ripples, the waves in this scape become quite . . . tumultuous." The nuances in your voice were perfected by his zanpakuto, but the way it talked sounded like a fog that was gradually closing in from over the horizon. The uneasy feeling that resided in his chest traveled down to his stomach, but Aizen's face remained steely, even when Kyoka Suigetsu took that final step to close the gap in between them. "And the reason for that, the reason why Hisagi's words rattled you so is because you regret killing that woman."

The creased line in Aizen's brow grew more prominent as he stared down his sentient sword spirit. With its breast pressed against his, they placed a hand on his clothed chest in a tantalizing manner, but he felt nothing. There was no warmth from its palm, much unlike when your hand touched him. There wasn't even a cool sensation either. Even minutes before your death, your touch brought a soothing heat that permeated through his shihakusho and penetrated his skin.

Kyoka's face grew nearer, their smile━ although still tender looking━ grew cold at its edges, nearly resembling that of a predator eager to see despair reflected in the eyes of its prey. It didn't fit the graceful allure of your face at all, and seeing this expression deeply unsettled the former captain more than he would like to admit.

"You regret . . . killing me."

A chill tore through Aizen's body, the weight of Kyoka's words adding onto the heaviness that still hasn't been alleviated from his heart; he was hardly able to suppress the involuntary shiver.

Without warning, Kyoka's mouth suddenly became dangerously close to their master's, its lips brushing against his in a provocative manner. Aizen's expression darkened when he realized that it was reenacting his last encounter with you when you were alive. His mouth started to grow uncomfortably dry, despite his soul scape being full of moisture, and there was a taste on the back of his tongue that's been lingering there since he arrived.

The lilt in Kyoka's tone continued to taunt him. "That is the reason for your guilt: regret. You have been in denial. And in the spirit of unearthing truths, I suppose I can admit that perhaps . . . . I've been . . . . encouraging said delusions, adding drops of fuel into the flames of your emotions and ambitions. But after all that's happened, when it comes down to it there's no point in continuing this hallucination any longer. I've grown tired of this game, so it's time to for you wake up now, Sōsuke. I've brought you here to release you from your own illusion, to completely shatter it."

Aizen's back was as stiff as a board, not moving a millimeter when Kyoka's lips grazed his again. They were breathing softly onto his mouth, but he hardly felt any puffs of air.

The former captain was having a rather difficult time processing the fact that his zanpakuto had its own agenda and had been manipulating his emotions without him noticing. Specifically the emotions he felt towards you.

He never truly believed that such a thing was possible, one's own blade having such a deep-rooted influence━ no, control over their master. Or would it be more accurate to say that he never expected himself to be controlled to such a degree? He that prided himself on being freed from the marionette strings of fate that were tied to his limbs and mind, he that relished being able to do what he wanted, think what he wanted, feel what he wanted━ or what he didn't want━ it was hard to believe that none of that mattered in the end.

Kyoka Suigetsu's deceptive abilities were indeed undeniably perfect. No one, not even Aizen himself could have anticipated that Kyoka's most absolute and complete hypnosis would be enacted on himself.

"Do you know now, Sōsuke? Do you understand?" Kyoka's voice was as soft as a whisper, but it couldn't hide the edges of its tone that were still sharpened from finding amusement of seeing the truth flash across its master's face. "You had destroyed the solution to your existential question of loneliness, before you could fully understand the question itself."

Yes . . . . . Aizen understood now.

He didn't bother acknowledging what Kyoka had said. His grim facial expression━ still, tinged with dolor, and paired with an indescribable, distant look his eyes━ said all that it needed to. His silence was as much as an admission as any.

Kyoka-dressed-as-you leaned forward again to fully close the gap between their lips and Aizen's. Tenderly, like the intentions of a lover, it spoke against his nearly closed mouth. "Have you figured it out yet?"

Nothing but quiet could be heard between them, as Kyoka's mouth moved about their master's face and placed something like kisses upon its surface, but not quite.

Aizen's cocoa-shaded eyes slide down to stare at his sword spirit pressed up against him. His gaze was hard, and yet something swam underneath its surface that his zanpakuto had never seen before. Melancholy, it guessed? They weren't quite sure.

Kyoka pressed on when Aizen remained quiet. "The taste in the back of your mouth. Have you figured out what it was? You know it quite well....."

Aizen's tongue grazed the roof of his mouth, sensing the rather unpleasant taste that has coated the inside of it. And within a moment, because he was faced with the current circumstances, Aizen had finally placed a name associated this particular taste. How unfortunate this was.

Upon his realization, Aizen's head lowered, and his brown tresses hung freely over his lashes. Perhaps it was so Kyoka couldn't properly see whatever remorseful expression painted their master's face, but it mattered not. Even from here, the sword spirit could already sense exactly what it was he was feeling.

And they loved it.

"It's a sweet and flavorful taste, isn't it? Quite lovely." Kyoka Suigetsu mimicked the exact words he uttered against your lips all those years ago when he tasted jasmine tea on your tongue, and sealed your death with a kiss. "It's too bad you don't seem to enjoy it anymore."

Aizen's chest continued to rise and fall calmly, and the hands of his sword spirit that rested there glided upwards to cup his strong jaw, caressing his skin with its thumb. Its phantasmic touch did nothing to stir their master.

"Sōsuke, do you know what the jasmine flower from that tea symbolizes?"

Aizen's lips were slightly parted, but again he didn't say anything. Instead, its corners twitched and lifted upwards by an inch, and he huffed softly.

Kyoka Suigetsu grinned in reply. "Good."

The next time Aizen blinked, he was plunged in darkness yet again. The restrictive feeling that swallowed his being whole had returned, and was an indicator that his zanpakuto had released him from his inner world. He was consciously back in the Mugen, back in this abyss they called a prison cell.

Kyoka was indeed as much as a formidable force in its own right, as much as, if not greater than Aizen himself.

The conversation he had with his sword spirit would be cemented in his head for all eternity. When he grew senile and began to physically wither away, the one thing that would remain vital like a young heart, was this epiphany that he had. This realization that he actually . . . .

As the chains of despair bound him tighter to the bottom of the metaphorical pit, regret and his loneliness corroding his flesh and spirit like metal exposed to moisture, a stray memory of his time in Hueco Mundo flashed in his mind. He recalled having tea prepared for meetings with his Espadas and he could not pinpoint when, but at some point, Aizen developed an aversion for jasmine flavored tea. For one reason or another, he no longer found its taste appealing; whenever he drank it, it always tasted bitter.

Now that reason had become painstakingly clear.

The binding on his mouth muffled a rueful chuckle at the though, and it trapped the flavor of jasmine on his lips.

(#) @soaringmirror @stygianoir @ryukenzz @blkjupiters @chrissie2003 @nymphoheretic @dejwrld @triangularz @souyaszn @kuujo @honeybleed @valentineluvu . let me know if you’d like to be apart of my tag list ♡♡.

[indigovigilance]

Jimbriel, Satan, the Book of Life, and what it means for Crowley

Acknowledging that what we know so far about the Book of Life from various characters is highly suspect, I'm going to posit to you that Beelzebub is actually the true authority on the Book of Life, and that they bookend Season 2 with very important (and hopefully accurate) information about the Book of Life. With that in mind, let's take Beezlebub's S2E1 description and see how it fits with other canon evidence:

But what does it mean to have never existed in the Good Omens universe? For that, let us look to Satan.

From in-show canon, we know that Adam was able to retroactively change Satan's status as his father to not his father:

Adam altered reality, although Crowley, Aziraphale, the other celestials, and even Adam himself remember those events from a timeline that supposedly has been erased:

But Crowley nonetheless confirms that this is reality now. Satan was never Adam's father.

Additionally, though not technically in-show canon, we know from Notorious NRG that once Satan became Lucifer, this erased Lucifer from existence in the GO universe:

And Crowley's monologue in the bar drives it home; even though Lucifer no longer exists, Crowley still remembers him, and some key events that they were involved in together.

But a more dramatic portrayal of erasure is found in our favorite Good Omens himbo, Jimbo. In the trial of Gabriel, the Metatron makes direct allusion to the fact that Gabriel will no longer be Gabriel after his demotion:

Not "your memory of your time as the supreme archangel will be erased," no, it's:

Your memory of your time as Gabriel will be erased.

Whether he means to or not, Aziraphale reinforces this characterization of memory-loss-as-new-identity:

This can be taken simply as a safety measure, but Jimbo doesn't understand it that way and we see throughout the remainder of the season that Aziraphale is very consistent about calling his unexpected guest "Jim," even correcting Crowley when they're speaking privately and it wouldn't blow his cover to call him Gabriel:

But the final word on memory and identity, especially as they pertain to Jimbriel, again comes from our Lord of the Flies, Beelzebub:

All your you is your memories.

Altogether we see that there is significant in-show canon to support a theory that memory is inextricably linked with identity, and that when memory is removed, identity is so drastically changed that the name of the entity must also change... and the person who existed before, with that former name, exists no longer; it is as if they never had.

(But, as we see in the case of Gabriel, they can be restored.)

I told you in the title that this post was about the Book of Life: it is. Everything discussed here about memory and identity must necessarily characterize how the Book of Life operates, at least with respect to erasure. When someone is erased, they don't vanish, but they are so changed it is as if a new person has taken the place of the old, the way Jim took the place of Gabriel, until he got his memories back. But we can surmise that when someone is erased from the Book of Life, their memories aren't conveniently stored in a TARDIS/Ru Paul fly for later recovery. The memories may not be gone, but I'm going to guess that they would be extremely difficult (or impossible) to retrieve.

What this means for Crowley:

I think we need to give this scene a lot more credit for telling us how this universe works. Surface level, it reads as "you don't understand my trauma, and how I've been changed by it." Which is a very valid interpretation. But we can dig deeper and see that, given everything else we know about celestial beings losing their memories, names, and identities, Crowley is alluding to something far more horrific than just the scars left by flaming swords and halo-grenades.

These are the scars of a lobotomy. Something was taken from him, and he is aware of it.

He knows that his memory has been tampered with. Various people (Furfur, Saraqael) tell him that they recognize him, and of things they've done together. He has no recollection of them, but instead of getting agitated, he brushes it off and ignores it. This lack of questions from the guy who questions everything tells us that he already has the answers; not the memories, but the knowledge of why he doesn't have them.

Furthermore, when he's trying to get Jim to remember the something bad and Jim says it hurts, Crowley says:

I know. Do it anyway.

How does Crowley know that it hurts, to try to recall memories that have been taken out of your head?

Because he's been through it.

He has tried to remember, and some memories, like working on the Horsehead Nebula with Saraqael or monkeying around with Furfur, weren't worth the pain. Or perhaps it was pain on top of pain to remember what he had lost.

It is an especial testament to the cruelty of Heaven that he remembers going into battle, but not the bonds he formed with his friends. He remembers a million lightyear freestyle dive into a boiling pool of sulfur, but not the work he did on the Horsehead Nebula, a thing that brought him joy.

And now, the person he loves most in the world, his only refuge from the terror of his empty nightmares, from his malignant and creeping sense of unease that something is missing, has gone back to that place where his identity was so horribly violated that he lost his name.

How will our hero cope?

If you liked this meta, you will almost certainly like my meta on Continuity Errors.

For my thoughts on who Crowley may have been before the fall, go here.

For my thoughts on how this pertains to Metatron, go here.

As I continue to produce metas related to this theory, you'll be able to find them all here.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I’ve found a way to figure out Skully’s height? I say that very hesitantly.

This was the most vertical sprite of Jack that had Skully next to him that could find in the game. Jack’s a living ruler fr/j (I’m not sure if I should trust this because damn 💀)

Mmm, I don't know if this actually helps much? 🤔 We don't have a canonical height for Jack Skellington, so there's nothing concrete to compare Skully to.

There's some life-sized Jack Skellington items, but they do not have consistent heights. There’s a 2017 life-sized Jack Skellington doll from Disney that measures 183 cm/6 ft or 72 in. Then in 2020, Home Depot released life-sized animated dolls of Jack and Sally. The former is 196 cm/77 in and the latter is 178 cm/70 in. Some online estimates, based on proportions of the characters, put Jack as tall as 335 cm/11 ft or 132 in. Beginning with Sally, the height from Home Depot doesn't seem to be correct. In the game, Sally appears to be taller than or roughly the same height as Leona, who stands at 185 cm:

As for Jack Skellington, we're going to have to do some other comparisons first. From the Magical Archives (first one), the official heights of the NRC cast are given. The two tallest boys are Jack Howl and Malleus Draconia--however, the issue is that their stated heights, 192 cm and 202 cm, respectively, are inclusive of their ears and horns. Not counting the ears and horns, they both seem to stand around 190ish cm, maybe a few cm taller or shorter. (In the second picture below, Jack seems taller to me than Malleus?? But for simplicity's sake, let's assume 190 cm for Malleus without the horns.)

NOW we can compare Malleus and Skully. (Apologizes that Malleus isn't as upright as he could be in the screenshot!) If we assume Malleus is ~190 cm, Skully is still taller by several centimeters. By my estimates, Skully's at least 196 cm (~6 ft 5 in).

And then assuming that, Jack Skellington must be over 200 cm (over 6 ft 6 in)? He seems to be roughly the same height as Malleus's 202 cm (height with the horns).

Anyway, that's my two cents on this! Please keep in mind that live 2D models aren't always accurate to how tall the characters actually are. (Malleus would be towering over everyone else in the cast if that was the case.) We'll get Skully's official height in the profile that comes with his inevitable SSR card next Halloween, so I don't think we have to stress too much over it right now.

[rowie264]

A quick correction of Jinx arc of Act 1

Jinx releases Silko into the water, walks around Zaun without any purpose (just like in series). She accepted herself, but the death of her father and the loss of her sister left her devastated. Instead of meeting Isha (bc i simply remove this plot device completely), Jinx runs into Sevika at some point. It would be more accurate to say that Sevika was looking for Silko, but finds Jinx and asks about him. Jinx says she's a Jinx and that she killed him. Sevika gets angry and they have a short brawl. Although it's more likely that Sevika just knocks Jinx to the ground and screams at her, and the girl doesn't resist. This behavior angers Sevika even more.

Sevika: Why aren't you fighting?! Jinx: What's the point? /she asks but then smirks/ Want me to jinx you too?

At this point, someone can interrupt them, or Sevika will laugh at her telling something like "I won't even dirty my hands" and leave on her own. I'll go with the first option.

The Gray spreads over the earth, distracting attention. Sevika turns her head and barely manages to dodge the bullet. Caitlyn and her squad arrive, but without Vi (in the series itself, she became an enforcer too quickly for me). There is a fight between Jinx and Sevika (forced unification or each for themself) against the enforcers. Both zaunites barely manage to escape, but Caitlyn's attack pisses Jinx off. She finds a new purpose - to repay in kind. (Caitlyn may suffer in battle, as the beginning for Vi of a deteriorating relationship with Jinx)

A couple of days pass. Then, as in the canon, Sevika talks with the chembarons, goes to Silko's office, meets Jinx again and they talk. Sevika's prosthesis can be handed over here, for example. Jinx can tell that the pilties should get what they deserve for coming to Zaun and daring to use the Gray "poisoning our air". Sevika just huffs - she doesn't believe Jinx can do anything right, but then she hears Jinx's plan about pipes and it changes her mind. She decides to help.

Meanwhile, Vi spends time with Caitlyn and her squad. She still doesn't join the enforcers, just hangs out with Cait, but gradually makes friends with Maddie, Loris and that fishy man. Also bonds more with Caitlyn (but no kisses for fuck's sake, let things go slower and more natural).

Again, some time passes (let's say two-three weeks), during one of the outings, Caitlyn finds out that Jinx is up to something. She tracks down her location and goes after her, now more prepared and armed. Only now the squad gets trapped and only Caitlyn remains among the survivors (I don't quite know how to prescribe this moment better - i'm not a writer lol - but I once saw the idea that if Vi had made friends with the squad, and Jinx would have killed them, then this would have given a more logical reason for Vi to join the enforcers).

Meanwhile, explosions occur all over Piltover and the Gray spreads through the streets, as in the canon, but it is worse that there are many injured and even killed). Only here Jinx does it intentionally (with the help of Sevika), thereby starting her arch of becoming a symbol of revolution for zaunites.

[cheeseboi420]

Of A Feather - Chapter One Preview

A/N: hi everybody!!! I am super duper stoked to present u all with the first 2k words of Of A Feather, aka the "what if Jason's bio mom didnt SUCK" fic. Im hoping to have the full chapter ready for publishing in the next week or two! Big thanks to everyone who's talked to me abt this fic so far, and an ESPECIALLY big thanks to @jayladfanpage for basically being my jaybin encyclopedia while i work my way through this fic!!! This warning will be more applicable in future chapters but it should be noted that this fic is NOT canon compliant and does significantly change/recontextualize a couple things about Jason's background, but you the audience get to find out about all that in real time alongside Jason lmao!! Anyways, without further adieu, please enjoy this preview ❤️

You expect this evening to play out like the one before it. And the one before that. And the one before that. Your routine hasn't changed in the last 13 years. Why should it? It serves you well enough, keeps you alive and… Well, that's about all it does for you. Not that you're looking for more! For the most part, you are… content, maybe isn't the correct word. Complacent fits a little better, but still isn't wholly accurate. You're content in the knowledge that your boy is safe and loved, somewhere far away from the trouble that chases you. You're complacent in your own quiet misery. The longing and loneliness had been a bitter pill to swallow those first few years of running, but after this long you've learned not to complain. God knows no one would listen if you did.

You've got a shitty box pizza in the oven. This will be your dinner, tomorrow's breakfast, and tomorrow's dinner. You won't particularly enjoy any of the meals, but they'll sustain you well enough. These days, food brings you little, if any joy. Meal times are a chore to slog through before the distraction that work brings or the sweet embrace of sleep. You look forward to, more than anything, going to bed. Not because you're tired (though there is a bone deep weariness that permeates- that no amount of rest could ever fix) but because bed means sleep, and sleep means dreams, and dreams mean a chance to hold your baby again.

You don't dream of Jason every night, but every morning, you wake thinking of him. Is he still asleep right now? Having breakfast? Is he eating well? Is he happy? Is he happy? Is he happy?

By the time you push your way through breakfast most mornings the cacophony of thoughts revolving around your son quiets to a dull roar in the back of your mind. It's better that way, you think. If you thought about him as much as your mind seemed to want you to, you'd never get anything done.

Life carries on, you suppose. However dreary and dull that life may be.

At one time you'd found the whole thing very exciting- though not in a particularly enjoyable way. The adrenaline rush has worn off over the years, no longer do you feel as though death is nipping at your heels. The paranoia never fades though. Even if your doom does not cast a shadow over you, you're always looking over your shoulder, always ready to bolt at the first sign of trouble.

You keep a bag packed and ready in the closet by the front door for when you have to leave this place, too. Though, you think it's buried under a winter jacket and your spare blankets. You really ought to dig it out, keep it easily accessible. You should do that but… it's been a long day. You want to eat your shitty pizza, lay down on your futon, and let the sound of tv static fill your studio apartment, lulling you to sleep.

You're getting too comfortable here, you think. You've lived in Michigan for nearly a year now. It is simultaneously entirely too close to and entirely too far from Gotham. The apartment itself was a godsend after spending most of your time sleeping in cars, tents, whatever unfortunate business was willing to employ you, anywhere you could, really- sure it has bugs, and the windows don't close all the way, and you're fairly certain it'll only take one more bad winter storm for the place to come crumbling down, but rent is dirt cheap, and the slumlord you rent from didn't ask for any ID when you signed your ‘lease.’ You're fairly certain that thing's not legally binding anyways- it was written on a cocktail napkin for Christ's sake. That didn't stop you from using a fake name when signing it. You can never be too careful.

You haven't seen your landlord since you moved in anyways. You don't ask for maintenance when things break, you fix them yourself or just learn to live with them broken. You deliver your rent by slipping a cash stuffed envelope with your name (your fake name, the one you signed your lease with, the one you use at work, the one you'd use at coffee shops if you ever went to any) on it through the slot in the office door. You do your best to be invisible. You don't cause problems, and you don't go out of your way to fix them for others. You make no friends or enemies. You've left no impact on the many places you've been, the cities you've drifted through.

The only evidence you've gone anywhere at all in your life is a stack of postcards, held together with a worn rubber band, sitting at the bottom of your go-bag. The only evidence of a life lived before that is in a similarly bound stack of polaroids, held together with a too-small paperclip. Every now and then, you'll buy a bottle of cheap wine to chug as you pour over the old photographs. Only when you leave for a new city do you dare to touch the stack of unsent postcards.

You can't bear to look at the photos too often, a painful reminder of your own failings. A reminder of the stupid, reckless little girl you'd been and the shell of a woman you'd become in the aftermath.

It's all your own fault, really.

At least that's what you keep telling yourself.

It's easier to swallow than the alternative: that you were a vulnerable and unloved thing, eating from any hand that would feed you, until the hand that feeds decides to beat.

This, you think, is why you shouldn't think too hard about the past. It doesn't do you any good to dwell on it.

You force yourself to focus on the present, on the here and now. The scratchy polyester blend of the futon cushions, the scent of cheap cheese melting in the oven, the distant sound of sirens, and howling wind outside your apartment. There's no sense in thinking about Gotham now, not when you're so far from it.

You sit up on the futon, no longer content to lounge and let your mind wander. Instead you task yourself with flipping through channels on TV, seeking something mind numbing enough to distract you from your unusually strong urge to reminisce.

The Wonder Years? No, you don't want to watch anything about a family.

Alf? No, that puppet creeps you out.

Cops? Fuck that.

You're about to resign yourself to another night of murmuring the (mostly incorrect) answers to Jeopardy questions at your tv, when you're startled by a knock at your door.

A… knock… at your door.

No one ever knocks on your door. You don't get mail, you don't have friends, if your landlord wanted something, you're willing to bet the greasy bastard wouldn't be willing to haul himself all the way up to the fifth floor at nearly 10 PM.

Oh God… Did… Did he find you? Is this it? Are you going to die in the upper peninsula of Michigan, of all places?!

No, no. You have to stay calm. This could be anything. It's just a knock at the door. It could be anyone!

Oh lord, it could be anyone.

You keep the tv on, hoping that the sound of Alex Trebek grilling folks on useless trivia will cover your footsteps as you creep towards your front door. You hold your breath as you press yourself against it, double checking that all three of your locks are secure before you risk a glance out the peephole.

When you look out into the hall you're surprised, and frankly a bit confused by the sight before you. Standing at your door is a boy, dark haired and bright eyed. He stands straight but not particularly tall- he can't be more than five feet. He's glancing around the hall, rocking back and forth on his heels. He's wearing a red sweatshirt and jeans, with a backpack slung over one shoulder. Despite his small stature he holds an air of determination that makes you think he must feel quite old for his age- you get that, you were the same way in your own youth. A chip too big for your shoulder.

You're so focused on studying him that it startles you when he leans forward to knock again. You jolt, accidentally kicking the door (with your bare feet too, damn does that hurt your poor toes) and responding to his knock-knock-knock with a solid knock of your own.

“Hello?” The boy calls. “Anybody home?”

“I don't have any money!” You call back, cursing yourself for the shake in your voice. You should not be this rattled by a random adolescent on your doorstep. “So, if you're selling popcorn, or cookies, or whatever, you should try next door.”

The boy rolls his eyes.

“I'm not a boy scout!” He says. “I'm looking for-”

And then the shoe drops; he says your name. Your full name. Not your fake name, that you use at work, and on envelopes, and in hypothetical coffee shops. Your real name.

It takes every bit of emotional regulation you can muster not to spiral into a full blown panic right then and there because good God, did He send a child to finish you off? The cruel irony is not lost on you. Come to think of it, this boy on your doorstep does bear an uncanny resemblance to-

“My name is Jason Todd,” the boy continues. “And uh… well, I might be your son?”

He could be lying, the logical part of your brain insists. This could be a ploy to get you to open the door, don't open the door! But your hands are moving on their own, shakey as they may be. The first lock twists unlocked with ease, the second takes a fair bit more of your fine motor function, and by the time your shaking hands reach up to unhook the chain on the door, you're struggling to see through unshed tears. You attempt once, twice, three fucking times to get your hands to cooperate and unlatch the damn chain.

Fuck it.

You open the door, yanking it inwards, towards yourself as hard as you can. It should probably unnerve you that the flimsy chain breaks at the first sign of real resistance, but that's not what's important right now.

What's important is the boy standing before you- your boy. Your Jason.

He looks as surprised as you feel, his eyes flitting between the broken chain, and you.

For a long moment the only thing you can do is look at him, reacquaint yourself with the sight of him. Of course, you know that he did not stay frozen in time, the way your memory of him is. It's been many years since you've held that babbling toddler. But knowing and seeing are two different things.

He's small for his age, is your first thought. Your own fault, you're certain. Between a premature delivery and your own malnourishment during that first trimester, it's a miracle he'd survived in the first place. Small, but well fed. His cheeks are full and flushed. Despite his size, he seems healthy. Good. That means Will's been feeding him. Hopefully, it means they got the hell out of The Alley, into a nicer neighborhood.

His hair isn't as curly as you'd pictured it- too short in most places to hold a curl, save for his bangs, which seem to almost form the shape of a heart over his forehead.

“Jason?” You can barely manage to say his name through the lump in your throat. You find yourself suddenly struggling to focus your gaze on him, the haze of tears welling up in your eyes makes it difficult to see. You try to blink them away but instead they roll down your cheeks.

God, when's the last time you cried?

You reach out to him, cupping one of his cheeks in the palm of your shaking hand. He leans into the affectionate touch, and you're reminded of puppies, overeager and seeking love at every opportunity.

“Mom,” he says back to you, his tone just as reverent as your own. “Mom,” he says again, voice crackling. And then, in unison, the both of you have pulled each other into a crushing hug. You can't tell if the sound you make is a sob or a laugh. You hold onto Jason like he'll vanish into the ether if you loosen your hold for even a second, one hand clutching at the back of his sweatshirt, the other at the back of his head, petting his hair as he buries his face in your neck.

Finally, at long last, your heart is home.

SO. What do we think folks. Are you hooked? I hope youre hooked. Please be hooked. I wanna talk to people about this fic so damn bad. Please send anons or dms or literally anything. When the chapter is complete I'll be putting it up here as well as on my ao3, which I'll link to! Thanks so much for reading and i hope yall are enjoying yourselves so far! Send me an anon or a dm if you'd like to be included on the taglist for this series!

TAGLIST: @leirobles

[meowxtastic]

Micah Bell Headcanons!

micah isnt my favorite character BUT he's been on my mind recently ^_^ keep in mind these are just my opinions !

◆ If he had an s/o, his love language would be physical touch and acts of service. With physical touch, it'd mostly be things in passing.

exi: Squeezing your waist while walking by, lingering super close, stuff like that

With acts of service, it'd mostly be subtle things. Complaining about running low on ammo? Guess what you find by your tent the next day!!!

◆ This man has almost no ticklish bone in his body. If someone tried to tickle him (which, lets be honest, would never happen), he'd just let out a gruff chuckle and roll his eyes

Elaborating on that, the spot he IS ticklish in is the most random area. (Ahem. I don't have a specific example in mind but whatever)

◆ He babies baylock SOOO much. In front of the other gang members, its not as extreme, but in private? Baylock is getting pats and treats GALORE.

◆ insomniac. whenever I play rdr2, i never stay up late in the camp, so I dont know how accurate this one is. nonetheless, I imagine he stays up late most nights, either drinking or cleaning his weapons.

It's always been this way, so he's more than used to it. When he does sleep, its deep- he's still and he snores

◆ Allergies. He sniffles a lot during spring. Despite this, he hates whenever someone else sniffles too much. He doesnt like the sound, its a MAJOR pet peeve.

◆ He broke his knee in his 30's. Considering medicine in the 1800's, it never healed properly. Because of this, he's prone to being sore.

◆ Modern HC!! He has both a motercycle and a nice, older car model from the 60's or 70's. He doesnt mind people eating in his car, but you won't hear the end of it if you make a mess. He also does the dad hand thing. (Holding out his hand and expecting food)

◆ i'm not an expert on his backstory, so please correct me if this is WAYYY off, but I have a head canon for how he and Amos (his brother) grew apart :3

Micah has always lived for thrill. Amos WAS the same way. During the time where this was a shared trait, they rode and plundered together.

However, after a particuarlly gory heist, Amos realized he needed to straighten up. This was only later renforced when he met his future wife. Going back to 'wanting more,' this is when he decided he wanted to move to California.

When Amos talked about it with Micah, Micah was NOTTT happy, obviously. He thought Amos was getting soft and saw him as weak. He saw it as a betrayal to their bond. Moving with some woman to California of all places? Micah thought it was ridiculous.

From there, they fought and parted ways. They havent seen eachother since- the only contact being through a few letters (as seen in game). Micah hates Amos. Amos, being a religious man, doesnt HATE Micah, but would kill him if he got too close (again, as stated in game)

[syzyspark]

Move On - A post Lost Light fic

As promised, here is the first part of a fanfiction centered around Rodimus and Drift, with Rodimus as the main character! I think he’s a wonderful character and wanted to give him a bit more time and attention after the ending of MTMTE and Lost Light.

This will be a partly epistolary fic, featuring some new characters, either OCs or reimagined canon characters (but not from the main cast, of course).

English isn’t my first language, so please forgive any mistakes ! I translate the text myself, use a translator when needed, and occasionally turn to AI for help with figures of speech or grammar corrections.

I’ll also make the original French version available, for the very few French-speaking fans of the comics I’ve yet to find ! I know I’ll find a suspisciously french sounding comment someday. The post of the original will be for them. I hope you will enjoy it. I have the narrative planned and I hopefully won't stray too far from it. It will be available on AO3 as soon as I get an account ! Without furthering the ado ( god forbid the ado is furthered ) :

“I’m up there now!”

Rodimus had the nerve to say that with a bravado that, in another time, might’ve lulled any listener’s skepticism. But here, it fell flat. It was lacking… well, he wasn’t sure what it lacked. All the usual ingredients were there : the confident pose, the upbeat attitude, the glance up at the sky. He’d even made sure to drown his nerves in the drink he downed, before setting foot on the ground. Drift had called out his bluff out loud. Gently. But… still out loud. The feeling had been like a bucket of cold water thrown on the timid flames of his pride. Rodimus replayed those few minutes in his head like a glitched holotape, face neutral, jaw clenched. It had been… nice to see him again. That’s the correct take to have. That’s what he was sticking with. The ex-captain ran a hand over his face, to relax his features. A motion to wipe away the scene still bitterly burned into his vision… or more accurately, onto the ceiling of his quarters. The index and thumb traced down either side of his nose, slid down past his mouth and stopped at the little decoration on his chin… an aesthetic detail shared by about 70% of Cybertronians, even Lunarians. He lingered on it for a moment. One has to admit, it shapes the jaw nicely. It’s distinguished, it frames the face… and it's one of the things about him that did not change. Not that Rodimus would’ve bothered altering his looks anyway, should that detail ever become old fashion. He didn't even have the time to polish his armor, these days. A new look ? No thanks. Don’t change a winning team. And in this case, the team had a handsome face and a proud smile.

Well, it used to be. It’ll come back. The handsome face can team up with… itself. For now. Drift had changed his look, though. A bit. And Rodimus noticed how that suited him, those filigrees and ornamentations on his armor. Then the cape, which gave him this sort of dignified silhouette… Was it just for the occasion? For Ratchet’s funeral ? Maybe the cape, a vague nod to the Necrobot, or whatever customs Cybertron had for funerals these days. But the rest… likely some Spectralist thing to express grief. Or whatever he had for breakfast. Ah, there it is again… that bitterness in his mouth, which came in pair with the tension in his jaw, souring his face with the beginning of a scowl that didn’t suit him. Funny, how your mind always circles back to the stuff that pisses you off. And right now, what pissed him off was that he’d been bothered by Drift’s appearance. Or was it the funeral ? Not sure. He knew better than to act… sour, over a funeral. So, as always, he doesn’t dwell on it, doesn’t analyze it, just leaves it where it is. 

That part of him’s never changed either. If he had to choose between a moment of deep introspection and diving into the Exitus’ reactor core engine, he’d be asking the audience to make room so he could get a good running start : if he’s going to jump into a reactor, he’s doing it with a backflip. Maybe even a triple somersault. Hell, throw in a full twist, for dramatic flair, It would make for a nice comma in the descent. That logic made him smile. He rode that little wave of lightness, giving him just enough momentum to start his mental escape with a physical one. The cybertronian rolled to the side, pushed himself onto one elbow, pivoted his hips toward the edge of the berth, and sat up. His pistons sighed. Feet on the ground. Pause. Three seconds. A breath… a roll of his shoulders… an inhale. Another push. Standing. Has it always been… a step-by-step process, getting up ? Whatever. That idea joined the others in whatever part of his processor he shoved unwanted things into. Right next to the failed bravado, the annoying changes Drift made to his frame, ratchet’s death, all of it wrapped up in his utter lack of desire for self-reflection. He didn’t know where he stuffed all that. One thing’s for sure: that place had to be more dangerous to dive into than the core of a reactor. Good reason not to set a thought in this place. Besides, you can’t get there with flips and flourishes. So it’s not worth it. Rodimus logic : still perfectly acceptable, thank you very much. " A Cybertronian lives by rules and a code of conduct. " Ultra Magnus said once. His just happened to revolve around acrobatics, in that particular matter.

The orange bot looked around, taking in his surroundings with an idle glance as he raised a hand to his neck, trying to release some of the tension in his shoulders. His quarters were smaller than what he used to have, but the layout was more or less the same… an unsettling familiarity that, over time, had just become familiar. A berth and a recharge station. A desk, with a chair tucked under it, that he swore he’d decorate one day… but never did. (Still will. Eventually.)

A viewport to the exterior gave quite the sight over the current starfield, casting the room in dim colors and muted hues. White spots, gentle halos of blue, some flickering lights, some steady so... probably planets, a twin set of blue-... Wait, no. Just the reflection of the light from his optics. Huh.

He looked back on the living space, took a few steps to wake the cables in his legs. Rodimus’ attention lingered on the second set of his own furniture. Even though this space was designed to be shared, Thunderclash had been magnanimous. He gave him the grace of solitude. Rodimus was supposed to request someone from maintenance to remove the second berth and send the extra table and chair to storage, but he never did. ‘Keeps putting it off. It’s not urgent.

Knowing his Captain, it was probably a genuinely considerate gesture. A show of respect and recognition for what he used to be. And also what he is. It spared him a random roommate. Gave him room to breathe. He gave a mimic of a huff, which is a sound that he had to learn to make. A pity then, that the door's hiss covered it. It’s always been a thing : since he learned to do it, when he thinks about Thunderclash, he exhales sharply. Must be allergic. But instead of lingering on his spiteful train of thoughts that he would gladly enabled when it’s about him, he got distracted by the sound of his own pedes. 

The steps echoed down the corridor, bouncing off the walls in a hollow, annoying way… clang, clang, clang…

Whoever designed this ship’s interior is as much an architect as Rodimus is a Cybertronian dancer… Or as much as he is an architect, to be fair. But even he knows it doesn’t take a genius to throw a couple of things in the way and slap on some sound-dampening material to fix that god-awful echo. Brainstorm had explained all of that when he’d asked for clearance to renovate the lab wing. Not that the scientist had suddenly developed a passion for decorating, mind you : He’d simply been kindly asked to stop conducting experiments that stretched well into the night. And the ones that kept endangering the ship’s structural integrity, too… but that was the same battle, honestly. Or so they thought, when they ordered him to slow down.

All Brainstorm took from it was the noise pollution problem, so naturally, he had focused on finding ways to muffle the sounds of his experiments. Among other things. Stopping the madness? Not on the table. Just making it slightly less annoying for the neighbors. Anyway, Rodimus decided that nobody needed to hear their own footsteps echoing every time they leave their room. Design flaw. Shitty ship. The former Prime frowned and turned his helm, looking for some kind of distraction in the ink of the black sky, only to catch sight of himself. They had closed the metal curtains over the viewports.

So he was met with his reflection, and that closed-off expression staring right back at him. There was no mistaking the blue points of his eyes with stars, this time. In fact, he realized how dimmed they looked. He rolled his eyes and returned to what's in front of him. What’s with their obsession with shutting the metal blinds over the viewports ? Do the local asteroids have voyeuristic tendencies ? Their second in command, Lunarian-what’s-his-name, already explained it’s for thermal insulation, when they’re too far from a star or any warm celestial body… blah blah, energy savings, blah blah… Rodimus had tuned out about three-quarters of that meeting’s conversation (on purpose) and still walked away with the main takeaway. So basically : Thunderclash and his second in command talked a lot and said very little. If they’re so worried about wasting energy, the Captain should cut his speeches short. If this ship were his, he’d sacrifice a bit of power just to keep the view of the stars, at every hour of the ship’s waking hours. Cyclonus, for example, used to spend days staring out there with his scowl, dentas clenched…Which had gradually unclenched, once Tailgate was at his side. Rodimus wouldn’t have dared take that from him, the ability to stare at the stars outside of his own habsuite, jaw relaxed, with Tailgate nearby. And honestly ? Seeing the ugly mugs of some of the current crew, it might actually be a kindness not to force them to be greeted with their own reflections, given the choice. So really, isn’t he thinking of them too ? Just like he did with Cyclonus, back then? All those unfortunate uggo-bots on this ship. Forced to see their own faces. Poor guys. Shitty ship. … This time, he sighed and shook his head. He had to admit, cynicism started to eat up a lot of his energy these days. Maybe then, he shouldn’t be the one to talk about saving power It exhausted him, actually. He was exhausted. Already.

But, he knew where to find a little spark. 

Something to smooth the jagged edges in his head, muzzle the bite of certain thoughts, and spend some time in better company.

Rodimus took the long route to the mess hall. A detour, but at least… it avoids catching his own face in those damned reflections.

[honeygem]

I'm on my knees and begging you to write on how the reader first met captain Kaizo.

I have scoured the depths of the internet to find Kaizo x reader fics, and none of them are as well written as yours.

So please, sir, ma'am, the holy human who can only feed my inner simp, please write this prompt scenario

Notes: I have a lot of ideas for this prompt and I can't really choose which one i should go for but there is a recurring plot I've had for a while so I guess I'll just go with that. For now, I'll just be choosing what looks best for the plot.

This was sitting in my docs for a long time i forgot I finished it😭

Contains: not super accurate details(feel free to correct if needed), strictly not following canon timeline but the scene happened when Boboiboy first met Kaizo, suggestive themes

It's been a while since you've had a chance to visit your granddad. Working abroad and only having to talk to them occasionally through video calls had been the only way you could spend time with them.

Granddad had been managing his shop for as long as you can remember and at his old age— even when he insist he doesn't mind working, you can't help but feel bad. You've been sending out money for your Granddad to help him out with his expenses but he's always refused to make use of them.

He told you that you should enjoy and spend your money yourself rather than giving it to him. He was already thankful to have you as his granddaughter and doing this much could put him into tears(an exaggeration from him while you were on a call with him one time).

It made you ecstatic to find out you get to go on a break from work after all these years. Your well deserved vacation first started from a visit to your parents house then a trip to korea then finally visiting your Granddad.

You've brought gifts and souvenirs when you reached your Granddad's hometown, ready to surprise him. Your parents had made sure to keep your arrival a surprise and even kept it from your brother, Boboiboy.

After laying all your souvenirs inside your Granddad'a house, you went to his shop in a disguise and ordered your favourites from the menu.

"I'll take one of these please." You scanned the new menu and looked for your usual. "And I'll also try one of these... it seems there's been new addition to the menu...?"

"Ah yes, our dear customer!" A flying yellow robot spoke, surprising you. "You must be new here! I'll have your order done in a few, ma'am."

You stared in awe as you watch the robot work on your order.

When did Granddad ever had the money to spend on a robot like this...? He must've already spent the money I gave him... good for him.

"Excuse me, um- Mr. Robot...?"

"You can call me OchoBot, ma'am."

"Oh, right... OchoBot... do you have any idea where Tok Aba is...?"

After having a conversation with OchoBot, you realized you've missed out on quite a lot of events. Even news about your brother had you in shock, yet it didn't seem like the robot knew you were related. Of course, it was bound to happen since you barely had much time to spend more than an hour talking to your family... and the signal has mostly been very bad on where you were.

"Lots of things have happened, huh? I had no idea..." you reflected.

"Yes..."

"Say... have you seen Boboiboy anywhere? Doesn't he come here often?"

"Oh he left just a while ago... there was an emergency." OchoBot informed. "But worry not, I'm sure Boboiboy can handle it. Are you related to Boboiboy, Miss?"

"Yeah!" You smiled at the robot. "He's my brother."

"He's your brother?!"

"I didn't know Boboiboy had a sister, Tok Aba..." Ochobot commented as you enjoyed your cup of your Granddad's specials.

Your Granddad had arrived not too long ago with some of the gifts you left him at his house, planning to share it with the kids as soon as they come back. He was surprised to see you at his store chatting away with OchoBot while having a cup of his famous special when he returned to his shop.

…. Words words

"Well, technically not his sister but we did grew up pretty close. I was practically adopted by his parents that I just became part of the family."

"That's right." Your Granddad jumped in. "I remember how you and Boboiboy used to mess around the house trying to make some chocolate milk for your dear Granddad."

"Oh, I remember that! That time when we used ground coffee instead of cocoa powder." You chuckled at the memory. “They look so similar!! I knew we should've tasted it first

"Ahh... how i missed those days... now you grew up as an independent young woman while Boboiboy has been troublesome as ever."

You noticed your Granddad cleaning the cups with a look on his face— sincere, with the look of fondness in his eyes, perhaps reminiscing the past.

"I'm still the same y/n, Granddad. And I'm sorry haven't been visiting lately... work had me busy and..."

"It's alright, y/n. I understand." Granddad gave you a pat on the head before pinching your ears to scold you. "But must I always remind you not to send me money!"

"Ow- ow ow ow! Granddad— that hurts!"

Then suddenly your watch beeped, a notification popped up, and your Granddad had released your ear to see what was up.

"Looks like something came up. I'll catch up more with you later Granddad. I'll come back in a few so don't tell Boboiboy I'm here yet! I wanna surprise him."

As soon as you reach an empty field, you disabled your ship's invisibility mode and teleported inside. You checked into the control room and immediately head out Earth's atmosphere looking for a familiar ship.

It's only been a few hours since you've landed on Earth and now you're back out again in space seeking out for a familar face.

A distress signal from your watch has informed you someone had entered Earth and caused multiple terrain damages near your location which caused you to assume Boboiboy might also be in trouble from it.

As soon as you got out of the Earth's atmosphere, you saw Kaizo's ship with a dent right above it. You figured someone must've gotten themselves slammed against the ship's exterior and hurt badly. You just hoped it wasn't your brother.

"This is Captain Y/n, requesting permission to link with your ship." You desperately called. "Kaizo, I swear if you don't-"

As soon as the link was established you rushed to the other end and bolted inside Kaizo's ship.

You wasted no time and ran, looking for your possibly injured brother and Kaizo... or whoever was around first to ask for an explanation.

The sound of familiar light footsteps and thumps of Lahap's feet caught your attention and turned to your side.

Seeing Kaizo badly beaten up yet still with that annoying smirk of his you ran towards him, "where's my brother? What did you do to him?!"

Kaizo raised his arms up in defense, "relax, I already sent your brother back to Earth. He wasn't hurt too badly, I mean- compared to me... don't I look more beaten up?"

"What are you even doing here? On Earth?"

"Straight to the point as ever," he grinned as you still held him by his collar despite the obvious height gap you had, "but I can't tell you. Classified information."

"Then what did you do to my brother? Why was he here?"

"Oh I didn't take him by force, he willingly came here-"

"Because you did something to him." You spat back as you pushed him off.

"Captain-" Lahap tried to interfere but Kaizo told him to stand down.

"Classified information." Kaizo persistently answered. "Even if I wanted to tell you, I can't. You know our relationship was never an exception for this kind of thing."

You stared at him hard with clenched fists. You only knew little information from what was given to you by an unknown sender so it was hard to make a conclusion out of what you're only seeing as of now.

So you turned to Fang, "tell me what happened to Boboiboy."

This caught Fang to a surprise that he didn't know how to answer.

"You're no longer associated with your brother, right? So I'm asking you, as a witness of what happened, to give me a detail of what this man did."

"I... uh, well, Captain y/n..."

"Enough." Kaizo stepped in and sighed. "I took their power watches yet Fang had taken them from me then gave them back to Boboiboy and his other friends."

"Boboiboy has... a power watch...?"

"Indeed, I decided to let them have the watch as I've witnessed their capabilities and strengths. I've concluded that... letting them have the watches might be the best decision."

"Boboiboy has a power watch...?" You repeated, unable to believe what you've just heard. Hearing you say it again made something click inside you and realized what OchoBot had been telling you wasn't made up... and that OchoBot wasn't just a floating robot barista your Granddad had purchased. "Ochobot is a powersphere?!"

"You've... just noticed?" Kaizo replied, "My... y/n, as far as the years have stretched, there hasn't been much advancement to Earth's technology as advanced as ours. I take it you haven't been visiting in a long time."

"How could I when you keep on dragging me for a new mission!"

"I thought you enjoyed our little... escapades."

"I‐" you wanted to deny but it was rather evident you didn't mind your adventures and missions with the space rebel.

Kaizo smirked, "stay here a little longer while we prepare a shuttle for you and Fang to go back to Earth."

In the ship's clinic room, you patched up Kaizo's wounds and bruises from his fight with your brother and Fang.

"I can't believe you just beat up a bunch of kids." You scolded while applying ointment on his wounds.

"Must you need to apply so harshly, I was already badly beaten."

"Yet I'm sure you're still able to go for more, you brute."

"Your brother's a tough kid, I knew he wouldn't back down too easily."

"So you beat him some more before sending him back to Earth?"

"I was certain letting him keep the watch was for the best. We needed someone to hold on to these watches so they wouldn't end up in the wrong hands so I was a bit skeptical on letting a bunch of kids use them... until Boboiboy proved me wrong."

"There." You finished patching up Kaizo as soon as he finished talking and sat beside him. "My brother's awesome, isn't he?

"Wouldn't exactly say that... he's a brat, but yes. He's okay."

"'Okay'? He's more than okay! Look what he did to you, he beat up a space rebel! Ahahahaha‐"

Your laughter had only came to a stop when Kaizo had pressed his lips against yours. With the spike of your heartbeat and the feeling of his soft lips, you stopped laughing and had your eyes wide open in shock.

Kaizo pulled away, "then let's see what I'll do to his sister once I have her under me."

Kaizo pushed you down the bed and stared into your eyes. "You come in here on my ship and attacked me, thinking you won't get away with it? I'm not a pushover, y/n. I'll be needing compensation for your actions. I still have enough strength to take you down under my mercy."

It didn't take long until Fang opened the clinic's door and witnessed what was about to unfold before him. His brother half naked and patched up while having you under him was certainly something he wasn't expecting to see.

In a second, Fang had slammed the door shut and yelled the shuttle was now ready to depart.

Kaizo immediately pulled away once again and regained his composure while you were a blushing mess, trying to cover your face from embarrassment.

Everyone was quiet as you and Fang got inside the shuttle back to Earth while Kaizo and Lahap watched over your shuttle leave.

"So..." Fang tried to break the awkward silence. "You and Captain Kaizo, huh-"

"Fang- don't act like you didn't know about our relationship!"

"I mean I am aware but— but I had no idea it was like that! If anything, I thought the two of you would start fighting each other a while ago."

"Wha-! Don't tell anyone about this or else I'll turn you into a red carrot donut!"

"Yes, captain!"

Meanwhile as the shuttle came back to Kaizo's ship...

"Have you forgotten there's a camera on every room in the ship, captain...?"

Kaizo's nerve got ticked off and kicked Lahap on his side which caused him to bump on a couple of plasma tanks.

[garpen]

hey, you said you had a Word doc with everyones ages and birthdays for your aus.

would you be down to share some, if not all, of them? or at least jason and bruce (my faves).

The doc is about 17 pages of dates, events, and ideas that I hope to one day write about so I can't give a link, but here's a screenshot of the birthday portion!

I took a lot of creative liberties to fit my own timeline purposes, so just keep that in mind. I did as much research as possible to find as accurate of birthdays as I could, but there were plenty that weren't consistent or didn't have a canon birthday so I either just picked one or made one up.

(Not all of these characters will be making an appearance in my Twitter au. This is just a reference I made to hopefully one day use for fic purposes that I also happen to use for my Twitter au)

If yall know of any canon birthdays that aren't accurate, feel free to correct me!! I'm constantly changing things in it so I don't mind. (Like with Lian in the doc, I plan on making her younger bc her age with Roy's doesn't fit. Or I'll age up Roy by 2 yrs bc that actually fits better with the rest of my timeline)

If yall have any questions about who is who or anything about this, let me know :)

[michaelmilligan]

The Jonmartin manifesto no one asked for but needed to get out

So, I've not been in the tma fandom for long yet, having only listened to it for the first time a few months ago. But from browsing the Jonmartin (and teaholding and jmart) tag regularly, it seems to me like most jonmartin shippers fall into one of these two categories:

They would find each other in every universe; or

It's a miracle they even got together in this universe

(Obviously, that's an oversimplification, and people who express one view in one post can easily hold a different view at another time - these are fictional characters we're talking about after all, and headcanons don't need to be consistent and can even contradict each other. This is just the general vibe I got so far.)

Anyway, I wanted to add my own two cents on the topic, because while I understand where both of these views are coming from, I think neither of them is ultimately correct.

(Putting the rest under a read more - be warned that this is NOT a spoiler-free post, so if you haven't finished listening to TMA yet and you want a spoiler-free experience, you probably shouldn't read this.)

So, before we get to my own opinion, let's first look at where the two options I mentioned above come from, shall we?

"They would find each other in every universe"

Obviously, this view is highly romantic - star-crossed lovers, finding each other again and again. It is both a good foundational basis for AUs, and a ray of hope in the face of the tragedy that is the tma finale.

Of course, concerning the finale, this is a rather different take than concerning AUs (since it would mean the very same characters finding each other again in a different world, not fundamentally different characters, shaped by said other world, also finding each other). And maybe when people express this view, they mean more the finale fix-its than AUs, though I suspect that plenty of people mean both.

It's a nice, comforting thought. And don't we all need some comfort after the finale? Yes, we certainly do. (Except for the people who read only hurt without comfort and angst, I guess. You do you, and I'm glad you're having fun, but personally I do desperately need some comfort, lmao.)

Is this view supported by canon though?

Cynical minds would say no, and personally I'm more inclined to agree with them, though as I've said, for me the truth lies outside of those two rigid stances (somewhere in between, I suppose).

I don't see much in canon which points to Jon and Martin falling in love under any circumstances/in any universe, especially considering their... let's say difficult relationships at the start of the show. But of course we must also take into account the specific circumstances in canon (more on that below) and interpretations vary, and I do very much enjoy AUs, so I'm certainly not trying to throw shade if you're on this side of the 'divide'.

Mostly, I think there CAN be other circumstances in which those two get together, outside the canon ones. (I'm writing a canon-divergent jonmartin fic myself, lol.) Let's get into that while we look at the other view, shall we.

"It's a miracle they even got together in this one"

Ah, the Martin-approved stance. One could say 'well, they literally said it in canon' and be done with it. However, that would require us to believe that the opinions of the characters are always true and correct, which. Lmao. We only have to listen to season 2 of tma to know that this is very much not the case.

And even if S5 Martin is not S2 Jon at the height of his paranoia, he's still very much a man shaped by his own life and experiences. I'm sure he would call himself a realist, but he honestly seems more like a pessimist to me. Which is understandable, given his life, and his association with the Lonely, which has often been (in my opinion accurately) compared to depression.

The thing is, Jon did treat Martin horribly in S1, and then he admittedly treated everyone horribly in S2. It was only in the course of S3 that their relationship got more, let's say, equal, with Jon no longer thinking Martin would be 'contributing nothing but delays'. (And then of course we have S4, which I LOVE even though it hurts me deeply. Then again, that's the whole show. And, obviously, S5 my beloved.)

So. Jon seemed to hate Martin in S1, while Martin was arguably already in love with the man. (Arguably. We do know that he acted catty to Basira in S2, so it's reasonable to assume that he started liking him at some point in S1, or even before the show started.) Then a lot of traumatic things happened, and they got together.

This means it must be the traumatic things that made them compatible, right? Just like Martin says in S5?

Well, one could see it that way. Jon certainly changed over the seasons, coming off his high horse and such. (In S5, he arguably gets back on it quite a bit, but then he IS the Eye's specialest little princess in a world that's literally ruled by it. And also he is slowly losing his grip on his own humanity. But I digress.)

And I do think that the trauma channeled a lot of those changes - the first time we see Jon being actually emotionally open (something he still struggles with over all seasons, because people don't just change fundamentally that quickly) is during Prentiss' attack on the Institute. They're in a situation where they might reasonably die (they even expect it, because they don't know that Elias is just rubbing his greedy little paws as he waits for things to get worse before he saves them with the gas).

I do think that moment could have been a big turning point for Jon and Martin, if it hadn't been immediately followed with the discovery of Gertrude's body, and Jon's subsequent descent into paranoia. Jon opened up, and also saw that Martin was rather competent during the attack, which could have led to them becoming closer, respectively having at least something like a normal work relationship.

But then Jon got paranoid and interpreted everything he saw negatively, including Martin's competence, which was twisted in his mind to 'What if he's just been pretending to be incompetent and is actually an evil agent out to kill the archivist'.

(Big sigh.)

Anyway, before I lose myself in the red string as well: Yes, Jon seems to 'mellow' over the seasons, especially with regard to Martin, at the same time that he's going through terribly traumatic events.

But does that mean that it's actually the trauma that's changing him and his relationships? Partly, certainly, but I would argue that trauma doesn't make you nicer or kinder. It might make you realise some things, but that doesn't mean that you can't realise those things in other ways.

And does it means that they couldn't have come together if they had met under different circumstances? Also not necessarily! I would even argue that the specific circumstances they met under were detrimental to Jon's first impression of Martin. And yes, this goes beyond the dog story.

So let's try and dissect their relationship from the start.

A theory of... something like nuance, or whatever

The starting situation

(Yes, I did have to use a Supernatural gif, thank you for asking. No, I will not apologise. <3)

Alright. So let's start with what we actually know about Jon and Martin's first meeting. Obviously, there's the dog story, though as far as I know that's not 'canon' because it wasn't actually in the podcast. I still like it, and think it adds another reason to Jon's behaviour, though I don't necessarily think it's necessary, because Jon already had lots of other reasons to tell himself that Martin wasn't worth his time.

1.1. Jon has issues. More at 11.

First of all, we learn throughout the podcast that Jon doesn't actually have any qualifications to lead an archive. He's probably 29 when the show starts (in 2016, going by the fandom wiki stating that he was born in 1987, which is reasonable given everything we learn about his age).

So, he's 29 and suddenly appointed, after four years of working in one department, to become the head of a completely different department. He does not have a degree that would give him credentials for leading an archive, nor are we told that he has ever even worked in an archive. For all we know, and that he knows, he is woefully underqualified. (This is also, I think, highlighted in S2 when Jon threatens to resign, only to then be baffled by Elias saying that he would be difficult to replace. Elias means something completely different than his skill set as an archivist with a lower case 'a', presumably, but then Jon doesn't know that.)

This means that Jon is in a highly stressful position, because he's trying to do a job he doesn't actually know how to do, while also trying not to let on that he doesn't know how to do it!

It doesn't help that Jon is also terribly scared of what all might be lurking in the shadows (or even in the light), as he himself admits during the Prentiss attack. He is extremely high-strung from day one, basically a wet chihuahua shaking in a slight breeze, while trying to seem like a strong bulldog.

We also know that Jon asked for two people to be his assistants: Tim and Sasha. They both worked in research, and Sasha also briefly worked in artefact storage, making them both qualified to help Jon with following up on statements. But I think more than their qualifications, Jon probably requested them because he knew and got along with them.

Imagine: Your boss tells you that he's promoting you into a position you're not qualified for and which you have no real clue how to do. Wouldn't you rather have people around you who you're already friendly with, and who are likely to cut you some slack if you're not perfect on day one? I know I would!

1.2. Elias is a little shit and I want to kill him with hammers (affectionately)

And then Elias transfers Martin.

I'm going off the dog story again, because again, I like it, and I think it does fit neatly into canon. If this story is to be believed, Elias neither asked nor did he tell Jon that he was giving him another assistant. He apparently simply told Martin 'you work at the archives now, congratulations' and then went back to his office to smile smugly to himself.

This is a VERY bad start for a working relationship, because not only does Martin come in unannounced, this also comes off as Elias not respecting Jon, or potentially even sending someone to report back to Elias (because Martin is the only one who doesn't have an established rapport with Jon).

Jon never verbalises this suspicion, so maybe this is too much interpretation on my part, but in any case it's cause for a lot of resentment on Jon's part, and since he can't exactly let it out on Elias (who is rarely there, anyway), he simply lets it out on Martin.

He finds reasons to do so, of course, insulting his work and all that. It's probably easy, especially in the beginning, because not unlike Jon, Martin doesn't have any qualifications to work in an archive! He worked at the library before, and we know that his degree is made up (which we can only assume Elias knows, considering he can know almost anything).

(I actually find the question on why Elias transferred Martin in the first place extremely interesting, and might get into that in another post. But this one is already too long, lmao.)

1.3. Martin is too nice, aka Jon has even more issues

This is mostly my personal headcanon, though I do feel it fits Jon's character - which is that he doesn't know how to deal with nice people.

Not kind people. Not friendly people. But nice people.

People who do things seemingly out of the mere goodness of their heart. Like bringing their mean boss tea when he never asked them to do that. Like being friendly even in the face of insults. Someone who constantly takes himself back in favour of other people and their opinions.

People like Martin is appearing to be. Appearing, because Martin isn't actually like that. He does have his opinions, and he could probably grumble up a storm in S1 about Jon, but Jon is his BOSS, and so he plays.

Martin also IS genuinely a nice person most of the time (when he's not on a revenge rampage, making his boyfriend murder people). He doesn't have to do nice things for Jon like bring him tea in S2. But he does. Because that's Martin's way of trying to reach out, to show other people that he means no harm (and that he can be useful).

(I also think that Jon's snappish behaviour, where Martin never quite knows what will set the man off, might remind him off his mum, but again I digress. :))

But I think Jon doesn't know how to deal with that, because even when he's not in the height of paranoia, he still suspects that people who are THAT nice (especially when they have no reason to be nice because he's being an arsehole to them) have a secret agenda. This is playing into what I said under 2 (the part that might be too much interpretation on my side lol), because if Jon suspects that Martin is reporting back to Elias, or is at least someone who would not be friendly if he found out that Jon doesn't know what he's doing, then he can't allow himself to relax around him, and he certainly can't allow himself to be lulled into false security (as Jon would think) around him.

Tl;dr on this point: I think Jon is wary of Martin's niceness because he thinks he might be fishing for gossip/anything he can use against Jon. And even if he isn't, Jon thinks he would be likely to use anything he learns against Jon, because they weren't friends to begin with, and Jon's behaviour has made them anything but that.

(We have to remember that this is the guy who says in S2 that he knows what it's like to 'lack the respect of one's peers', aka the kid who got bullied by at least one older kid, and likely had no or very few friends - plus he believes in the supernatural, which doesn't exactly lend itself well to getting academic respect.)

1.4. They were fucked from the start, your honour

Basically what the meme says, but yeah. The they were put in practically guaranteed that Jon would be wary of Martin, and that Martin would be trying extra hard to make friends with him, which in turn would make Jon even more wary/hostile.

And Elias made it worse, either knowingly or by negligence (not telling Jon about transferring Martin).

If we add the whole dog story to it... they were fucked. I do actually wonder if, assuming we take the dog story as canon, Elias actually somehow managed to set that up. Or whether he was at least cackling (sorry, smiling ever so silently, but smugly) in his office as it happened, or whenever he ended up knowing that it happened.

2. Yes, we've had one starting point, but what about second starting point?

As we have established above, the starting situation for Jon and Martin was... not ideal. So, would they have gotten together easily given a different starting point, like in a cute coffee shop AU?

Eh.

It's true that the specific situation they were in made it a lot harder for them to actually communicate and see each other as they are than it had to be. That doesn't mean that a different situation would have made it easy, though.

Their personalities still make it hard, though, as even without the added stress of a new job, Jon is still a little chihuahua shaking in the corner, who tries to make up for it by barking at everyone, and Martin is still the guy trying to approach him with treats and getting his hand bitten.

There are certainly specific situation that could make it easier, especially if Jon isn't scared as hell, and has maybe already learned that not everyone who does something nice for him wants to just pull on his strings. (Yes, I do think that the thing that makes Martin, according to Annabelle, suited for the Web, is the thing that put Jon on edge at the beginning. I don't know if this was intended at all, but it makes me cackle.)

The beauty of fanfic is that we can do whatever the hell we want. But I think the most fun thing an AU author can do is think 'What would have to happen, in this specific scenario, for these two to get over themselves and get together?'

Excursion: Martin, my beloved depressed blorbo who I am certainly not projecting on, haha

Because it IS both of them who need to get over themselves. Of course Jon's issues are the most obvious, and I've certainly expanded on them enough. But Martin also has a problem, and it's that he's constantly hiding his true feelings and opinions, especially anger and fear.

That makes sense, perhaps, in a workplace, though considering he's dealing with a walking, talking worm hive and a stalker boss... Let's just say it probably would have helped Tim, too, if Martin hadn't been so desperate to make everyone be friends again.

Because Martin is always TRYING to make everything better for everyone, but he's actually not helping anyone. Being nice to Jon and bringing him tea doesn't help battle his paranoia. And trying to tell Tim not to be so angry at Jon, and can't they all be friends, doesn't actually help Tim with his anger.

All Martin is essentially doing is making himself small and saying 'let's get along, pretty please' every now and then. I don't know if it would have helped if he had expressed his own fears and anger, and maybe Jon would have misconstrued that as well, too deep in his paranoia already. But at least Tim might have realised that he was not alone in all this. (His biggest problem, as he says in S2, is that he feels that no one has his back, which I think at least partly results from no one expressing the same anger, aka no one validating his feelings.)

Anyway! (Jon voice) Excursion ends.

3. (To the melody of 'What shall we do with the drunken sailor') What shall we do with these total idiots?

So, how ARE these two going to get together, if they're so woefully unequipped to deal with each other?

Well, first we need to give Martin a good helping of self-confidence. Then we need to kind of give Jon the same, since his problem ALSO is that he's unsure of himself, he just tries to make other people small to cover it up, instead of making himself small. (And isn't that a funny thing to do for someone who we know was bullied. To become a bully himself. Oh, the snake, biting its own tail...)

The easy answer is, of course: You can come up with your own version, get creative. <3

The more complex answer is: A lot of stuff, probably. Jon and Martin will certainly need time to get to know each other, and of course it depends on what situation you put them in to start. But there will be misunderstandings, and there will be hurt feelings, and I am going to soak it up all like a particularly slowburn-greedy sponge.

I feel like there are probably five million ways to get them together, and some might be cute and fluffy (if they go to therapy first, I guess, lol) and many will be full of tears. <3 (Jon voice) And I want to see them all on my desk by Friday! So get to it!

In all seriousness though, yeah, I think there's not one right way for them to get together (though canon did it well imo). But it's also a little more complex than we might give it credit to (very much including me).

4. So what now?

I don't know. I'm not your dad. Write a fic. Draw a picture. Put down your own thoughts on the matter. Or take a shower and clean up your room, young Padawan!

(Though actually, if you've read this post from start to finish in one session, what you should probably do is get up and stretch and get some water.)

And above all! And this is imperative.

Have a good day. <3

[for-ests]

Suffocation: Gojo Satoru x Reader

Pairing: Gojo x reader Warnings: none for this part, later violence and sexual themes  Wc: 6k+ Summary: When you show up to Jujutsu High on nothing but a hunch to find your long-lost brother, you get more than you bargained for when you meet his handsome teacher. Who seems interested in you not only for your abilities but also your body. Please let me know if you’d like to be on the taglist. This story is also on my ao3 and wattpad. COPE fic alert. some things will not be canon accurate please keep in mind!

∘∙∘☾𖤓∘∙∘

There was no way this was the correct address. 

Truthfully, you had already forgotten how you even made your way into the stunningly vibrant complex with historically accurate landscaping and architecture—but you were somehow there. The path had turned from gravel to stone within one step, leading you toward decorated buildings and temples that seemed to tower into the sky. When you finally looked up, even the clouds seemed more plush. 

Birds were chirping loudly, and you heard faint voices in the distance. Confused, you turned your head and looked for your car but found it had vanished. The path you thought you traveled down was no longer there and was replaced by a forest that stretched for miles. You hadn’t walked miles; you had only taken one step past a threshold that only someone like you could see. 

Something was off, and you knew it deep within your bones. But as your eyes scanned your surroundings, you found no hostilities, ghosts, or curses. A sigh of relief left your lips at that. Wherever you found yourself seemed inviting enough, so you would persevere. 

But that didn’t matter. You were there solely to reunite with your supposedly long-lost brother. A sibling you didn’t learn of until a month ago when you were sorting through the boxes in your adoptive parents' basement. It wasn’t fair. You were only twenty-six and had lost two sets of parents, your adoptive perishing in a car accident a few months ago, and your biological parents were still unknown. You were only ten at the time and hardly remembered anything, yet the need to solve their case was always in your mind. The suspicious death of a pregnant woman never went unnoticed, so you always had an inkling there was more to the story. A story you were now beginning to piece together a decade and a half later. 

None of this made sense. The child your mother was carrying did survive, and instead of keeping the two of you together, they ushered you into the foster system? It was all so jumbled together, undoubtedly buried in layers of secrets. You were told you had no extended family, let alone a full brother. You’d been led to believe your life was as every day as possible, only to find you’d been lied to by the couple who took you in. 

The curses were the only hint that something was off. But you’d never spotted any around your adoptive parents. And because they were oblivious, you refused to burden them with the knowledge. Instead, you practiced secretly, exorcizing what you could to keep your new family and friends safe. 

You would do the same for your brother if he would have you. 

Determined, you kept walking down the cherry blossom-decorated path, desperate to solve whatever mystery you’d been thrown into. Jujitsu High made enough sense, and the suspicions were confirmed when you saw through the spell. When you saw the DNA test results, all you had was your brother’s name. Weeks of searching on the internet led you to find the school he was enrolled in. There was no other address, and you found that strange. It made you suspect he was forced to suffer through your same predicament. 

When you realized this high school was for sorcerers, it all clicked into place. Maybe he could see curses, too. He could have similar talents or be even stronger with practice. Did your sibling also have the same ability? Was he here for a reason? Maybe you had gotten your hopes up; perhaps you were hallucinating. You panicked and checked your phone, only to find no signal. 

Why does this always happen to me? 

You stopped abruptly under a sakura tree, the scent it emitted more enchanting than you ever thought possible. For a brief moment, you closed your eyes to take it in, only to realize it was not of cherry blossom. It was a musk of amber and turmeric. 

Your eyes drifted down the hidden path that led off campus. It intrigued you. Somehow, it called you. A piece of the puzzle that you were trying to solve. You were about to indulge until you suddenly felt the presence of another. 

“How did you get in here?” someone asked, the tone half accusatory and half amused. The deep, alluring voice caused you to stiffen. 

And when you turned, your breath stopped. The man was striking, somehow able to captivate you by the faint smile on his lips. You could not see his eyes through what you presumed to be a charcoal-tinted blindfold. He stood a few feet away with his hands shoved in his pockets, radiating confidence and power. Before you could even muster a reply, the white-haired man swaggered toward you, somewhat curious but also cautious. 

No words left your lips as he approached you; all you could focus on was the aura surrounding him. It was blaring, basically engulfing him, possibly the strongest you’d ever been able to comprehend. 

It was as if you were suffocating, wasting precious air as you tried desperately to configure all he entailed. All that he was. He was far past your understanding, spiritual, bewitching, and commanding. His looks could kill. The black uniform was not concealing enough, and you fought past the spell he seemed to cast on you, making you fathom what was underneath. 

Lucky for you, your determination cleared the haze he left you in. 

“I’m here to see my brother.” That was all you managed to reply, but it was enough. Somehow, you knew that was what you needed to say. You were grasping at strings but understood that being truthful in a realm you couldn't fully comprehend was the best option. 

The stranger was standing too close, towering over you as if inspecting every fiber of your being. Even if you couldn’t physically see his eyes, you could feel them all over you. 

The intensity of his concealed gaze almost made you gasp out loud. 

Silence passed before the man asked, “Do you even know where you are?” 

Blinking yourself out of the embarrassing way you were staring at him, you reached into your purse and pulled out a piece of paper, brandishing it to him as a defense. “Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College” 

“Ahh.” He plucked the paper from your fingers and took a step back. Since his eyes were covered, you didn’t even know if he read the contents. Regardless, it was your proof that you’d been led there thanks to Google Maps and your own detective work. 

Frowning, you watched him closely for a reaction. The initial energy you witnessed was now barely a flicker. Was he a teacher? He seemed friendly enough but also shocked—as if you were trespassing. 

“What's your name?” You practically squeaked, internally wishing you could display more confidence.

“Maybe you can help me.” 

“Gojo Satoru,” he replied, folding the piece of paper and handing it back to you, suddenly becoming unbothered as his hands stretched above his head, a yawn threatening to escape his lips. “Not that I don’t enjoy the company of a beautiful woman, but you aren’t supposed to be here.” 

Something in you fluttered, but it didn’t diminish your sudden panic. “I would have called, but there was no phone number!” You rushed out, trying not to sway nervously on your feet. You were antsy, knowing you were so close to finally getting the answers you’d dedicated the last couple of months of your free time to. 

It was the only thing that had kept you strong through your mourning. 

Gojo crossed his arms. That wasn’t a lie, but there was definitely something you weren’t sharing. Notably how virulent your cursed energy was and why he had never heard of you. “Why don’t you just call his phone?” 

You slumped in defeat, knowing you had set yourself up to be trapped. But you needed to be honest to find the answers, to find your baby brother. That mattered most at the end of the day, and you would make this man help you whether he liked it or not. 

“Look, I just figured out I had a brother, okay?” You paused for a moment and shifted your purse farther up your shoulder. It was hard to gauge his reaction when you couldn’t see his eyes. That was your specialty; it was how you saw the true intent of someone’s soul. “I just want to confirm he’s here and I’ll set up a meeting with his guardian. I know I showed up unannounced but I just need to make sure he’s alive…”

“What made you think he wasn’t?” 

“I don’t know. It was hard to find him.” You glared. “Are you gonna help me or not?” 

“Maybe.” He smirked. 

“Maybe?” You scoffed. “What more proof do you need?”

“A few things…” He tapped his chin as if it was apparent. This man was being far too playful with you. 

“Can you fucking help me or not?” Your question was laced with venom, so much so that you were shocked. Being toyed with about something so profound to you caused all your manners to vanish. If he would keep you from seeing your brother, you would find an alternative. 

“Tell me why you’re suppressing your cursed energy.” Gojo shrugged, like admitting something so personal was an everyday experience. 

After the initial surprise of his statement passed, all you managed to do was tilt your chin up in defiance. So, he was like you. Though in a different way. 

“Take your blindfold off, and I can show you,” you replied back just as casually. 

He whistled mockingly, but the way he stepped closer to you ensured he was impressed. And he was wondering if your previous anxiety was just a well-played facade.

“What a feisty little thing you are,” he whispered, dipping his head down, invading your personal bubble. “But I keep it on for a reason.” 

Instead of backing up like your instincts told you, all you could do was stand your ground, trying to stare through the thin fabric, imagining what color they would be and what you would find once he let his guard down. All you needed was a glimpse of his soul. 

A long stillness passed, and the stranger was way too close, but you were unbothered. You knew he was teasing you, possibly trying to flirt with you, and it took all of your strength to hide your bashfulness. The reason you were there mattered much more than your sudden curiosity for him. 

“I want to see my brother.” You tapped your foot against the stones anxiously. 

Sighing through his nose, Gojo finally asked, “What’s your name?” His hands fell back down to his pockets, demeanor relaxing now that he acknowledged you were not a threat like he initially anticipated, only demanding and impatient. 

Your eyes were focused on him, analyzing his movements. A debate was ongoing in your mind. Part of you wanted to keep everything a secret, and the contrary was willing to admit everything. It was obvious, even to someone inexperienced like you, that this man could have killed you already if he wished. 

So, possibly against your better judgment, you took the first step and entrusted him with information. 

“My given name was Y/N Itadori.” 

…Itadori? 

Gojo’s entire reality almost collapsed at your reply. There was no way you could be related, not even a chance. Extensive background checks had been put in place, and an immense amount of effort was put into ensuring that Yuji remained a secret at Jujustu High. Yet somehow, you managed to appear.

A woman, an older sister that Yuji didn’t even know about. You looked nothing like the youngster. You were far too beautiful. It wasn’t just that, though. It was in the way you held yourself, the power pulsing through your veins, the way you smelled—your voice and your eyes. No woman had ever piqued his interest the way you currently were. Perhaps it was because something else about you was impossible to configure. 

He was so stunned that his eyes widened and his eyebrows raised. You could only see his eyebrows, but that was the hint you needed. The hesitation was expected and revealing—his reaction displayed that he was closer to your brother than you thought. 

“So he is here,” you pried further, crossing your arms and shifting your weight to a single hip. Your snarkiness was blatant, and that was because you felt naturally drawn to play whatever game he had in mind. 

“Maybe?” He shrugged, gritting his teeth, left hand raising to scratch the back of his neck awkwardly. 

“You better tell me where.” 

“I can show you if you ask nicely.” 

“Absolutely not,” you hissed but didn’t make a move to retreat. There was no way you were going to make the first move. Whether you were leaving or staying, you needed to be cautious. Even if he was playing with you, your eyes did not lie. He could be dangerous if he wanted to be. And you wanted to be nice, but God, was he pissing you off. 

“How rude.” He frowned as if the potency of your tone actually wounded him. “I’m trying to be nice, and this is how you repay me?” 

What you initially wanted to say was definitely discourteous. But that would get you nowhere. Instead, you tried your initial approach. Honesty.

“Gojo,” you said his name bitterly but managed to lower it to a hush. “I can see that you’re powerful, but you also know who my brother is.” You took a deep breath, trying to ignore the nerves rushing back. Your brother was close. He was there, within reach. “I’ve been traveling all day…So please, show me where he is or let me find him myself.” 

Your sudden shift surprised Gojo. Maybe that’s what he wanted his teasing to unveil—your true desperation to see Yuji. It became apparent that his dramatics would not work on you. His suspicion was also correct. You could see curses, and you could see his power. 

“He’s here, and he's under my supervision,” Gojo replied, analyzing you again as he contemplated what to do. He shouldn’t let you meet your brother, as that would only cause more problems for him and the higher-ups. But you…could be useful. You could be something special. Despite his initial curiosity for you and the way you blinded him with your beauty, he wanted to know you as more than what you could be. He didn’t just want to use you. “He can’t leave. You still want to see him?” 

You nodded furiously, hope appearing back in your radiant doe-like eyes. “Please.” 

Gojo cursed himself for making it disappear in the first place, even if he had to. For the first time in a long time, he wanted to apologize. Why?

But instead of apologizing, Gojo gestured behind him and turned on his heels. He didn’t need to ask you to follow him, knowing you were going to anyway.  

He led you down a winding path, and you tried your best to remain focused. It was hard not to become distracted. His physique and the power radiating from him were engulfing when you let yourself notice. 

The breathtaking nature surrounding you was also impossible to ignore. This compound was picture-perfect. If you had another reason to be there, you would have pulled your phone back out of your pocket. 

The air was crisp, not heavy like the city air. No curses were around, and you felt a foreign sense of peacefulness. 

You followed Gojo into a building and then into a long hallway. You tried your best to trail the path but came up empty-handed. That was when you realized you were trusting the white-haired man too much. Far more than you would have ever anticipated, but your gut wasn't twisting. The hairs on the back of your neck were not prickling with warning. It felt safe. 

When he finally spoke minutes later, you registered just how desperate you were trying to pick him apart with your mind. 

“This is my office,” Gojo said, sitting in the chair behind the desk, kicking his feet up nonchalantly. “I’m a professor here, or an equivalent.” 

“It's nice,” you replied, trying to hide your wandering eyes as they scanned the office. It would be nice if you had a blindfold as well. 

You didn’t exactly know what you were looking for but were satisfied to see nothing suspicious. There were no clear signs of deception. An empty office with a few decorations. There was only one picture frame on the desk, presumably with students. One had black hair, and one had pink hair. You couldn't help but smile once glimpsing it, as they all looked so happy. Gojo was in the middle with the biggest smile on his face. 

You wondered if he would ever smile at you like that. Your stomach flipped with warning the second you realized what you wished for. What was wrong with you? Who was this man, and why did he have such a hold on you? 

“I already texted your brother,” he finally replied, face focused on yours. He knew exactly where your eyes were wandering. And that was what gave him confidence. It made him aware that his flirting attempts were successful. Whatever the two of you had going on, it wasn’t just him that felt it. You did, too. 

Thank God. He was lucky his eyes were hidden. There was a mystery even with what he expected your abilities to be. Gojo was already craving for you to be underneath him, and he hated himself for it. Those thoughts definitely had a time and place. 

“How long?” You asked, finally sitting in the opposite chair and away from his propped-up shoes. 

You hadn't even asked for clarification on your brother's name. Still, your stare was so intense that Gojo couldn’t help but be physically flustered, his usual nonchalant behavior mending into something more severe in your presence.

At least Yuji had already replied to him. But Gojo did not know how to respond back. He didn't learn how to navigate a situation like this. Yuji would take the news of a long-lost sibling the best out of everyone, but Gojo was still nervous. 

“Any minute,” he rushed, staring at the door, trying to ignore the beauty that commanded even the power of his six eyes.  

There was no way you weren't feeling the same fervor he was. He could see it in your eyes, the way you chewed on the inside of your cheek. He was making you flustered, but he could be wrong. A few years had passed since he'd been intimate with a woman, let alone interested to this degree.

You had a facade he'd never seen before. You acted like you had a secret, even as you admitted the truth. When he pried for the truth, you gave it. So… what were you hiding? 

You were looking at your hands, but Gojo was entirely enticed by you. 

Studying your features, he almost lost himself in them before the door slid open—revealing Yuji Itadori. His student, your brother. A catalyst that tied your souls together. 

If it was possible for Gojo to hear your heartbeat stop, he did. Your aura immediately changed, and all the sassiness you threw his way vanished, replaced with shyness and uncertainty. 

“Yuji!” Gojo greeted enthusiastically to compensate for your silence, finally sliding his feet off the desk and sitting up straighter. 

It took extreme willpower not to start bawling on the spot as you finally glimpsed your long-lost brother. You just knew it was him, and it made your eyes sting. They stung for all the months you’d been searching, for all the years you missed out on, and all the times you couldn’t be there for him. You wanted to reach out to him, but you were frozen. You couldn’t formulate a single word as your mouth hung open, embarrassingly so. 

He casually greeted his sensei before glancing apprehensively at you. “Who’s this?” 

A moment passed when nobody said a word. Gojo was waiting for you to say something, anything, but it seemed you’d short-circuited. How cute.

“This is your sister, Y/N Itadori!” Gojo almost yelled, throwing his arms up and pointing at you in a V-shape. “Isn’t that wonderful?” 

Gojo’s exuberant nature snapped you out of your internal debate, realizing what he had just admitted. 

“Really?” You snapped your head at Gojo, eyes wide with disbelief but your lips pursing with contempt. “That’s how you’re going to tell him!?” 

The sorcerer dropped his arms in defense. “You weren’t saying anything!”

Frustrated, you returned to Yuji, who stood in the doorway with analytical eyes that were boring into you and trying to find any sense of a joke. You tried to think of something to say, but it was fruitless. No excuse or apology seemed sincere enough. Hopefully, he wouldn’t mind. 

He stepped closer to you, oncing you over and putting the pieces together. “You have grandpa’s nose,” he finally said. “Which means you also have mom’s nose.” 

“Yeah…” You slumped in your seat, slightly out of relief. At least he believed you. And because of that, you chuckled to release the tension. 

“You’re really my older sister?” he asked, apprehensively pulling out the chair beside you and sitting down. “I didn’t know I had one.” 

Whether or not you should have invaded his personal space, you couldn’t help but reach for his hands. And when he didn’t shy away, you gave them a squeeze. “I can explain everything to you, if you want.” When you released his hands, you leaned back in the chair. “Or at least the pieces I’ve put together.” 

“Of course I want that.” Yuji smiled, but there was a sadness behind it. Undoubtedly, he was thinking about everything you’d been stressing over. Right then and there, you decided you would do everything you could to make it up to him. 

A tear escaped your cheek before you even realized it. He was a handsome young boy; he was strong and intelligent. He was everything your parents could have ever asked for, and it made you miss them even more. “God, Yuji,” you faltered. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” 

“Really?” he asked, eyebrows raising in distress at how quickly your mood shifted. 

You nodded, wiping your tears and laughing again. Too many emotions were racing through your body, and you didn’t know where to start. You took a moment to compose yourself and decided to start from the beginning, knowing Gojo was listening but not really caring. It would be beneficial for him to know as well. 

Taking care of your brother was something you would forever be indebted to Gojo for. 

“My adoptive parents were killed in a car accident,” you started, feeling your throat tighten at the memory of getting that police call. “I was sorting through their documents, and I found a folder from my adoption…” 

Everything poured out quickly after that. You even gushed about how excited you were about having a little brother when your parents broke the news to you all those years ago. You told him about the good and the bad, about the struggles, about your sadness and belief he was dead. You told him about how angry you were when you found out that he’d been alive the entire time and how the adoption system failed both of you. 

An immense amount of relief filled your being when you finished the story. Yuji hardly asked any questions as you spoke, and Gojo sat there perfectly calm, listening intently. Just being able to tell Yuji about his past was satisfactory enough. At least he knew. At least you were able to find him and be at peace that he was alive. 

You glanced at the documents sprawled across Gojo’s desk. The proof was all there, and so were your intentions. “I’d love to be in your life, Yuji,” you said somewhat nervously. “If you’ll have me.” 

Your brother’s face was blank for a second but then cracked into the warmest, brightest smile you’d ever had the blessing to witness. “Of course I will, Y/N!” 

And before you could muster a reply, he leaned forward and wrapped his arms around you. You giggled, returning the embrace, holding him extra tight, cherishing such a tender moment. The best possible outcome. A healthy brother. 

But when you pulled away and got a better look at him, you let the curiosity overtake you. The power inside of you couldn’t resist taking a closer look to truly know if his soul was untainted, if it was pure, and what the future had in store for him. 

Within a split second, hardly a glimpse, you peered into Yuji’s eyes and beyond the surface level of his corneas. You broke down the barrier to see into his soul, desperate to know the color of his heart, the essence of his being. 

Sunset orange. 

But there was something else, faint but there. Crimson and black, ancient and all-powerful. Deadly and evil—from the deepest pits of hell. It wasn’t your brother, though. It scared you, the foreign essence constricting around your brother’s soul. And as you tried to look deeper, you brushed the barrier and were met with black and soulless eyes, feigning death and domination. 

“How dare you try to see me, pathetic woman senkensha.” 

Panicked, you came back to reality. You could barely even gasp before standing up, hands slamming down at the table. You were not going to blame Yuji for it; you would direct your anger to Gojo. 

“What's inside him?!” you hissed, finger jetting out and pointing with malice. For a split second, your eyes were able to bore through the black blindfold that covered Gojo’s eyes, and you saw them widen with shock. The color filled your senses, but it disappeared before you could process it. 

Gojo and Itadori glanced at each other. 

“How do you know there’s something inside him?” Gojo asked, harshness blaring in his tone for the first time, covering up for that millisecond where you infiltrated his fortified barriers. 

“I don’t know,” you said curtly. “I just do.” 

“Wait…why do you assume it’s my fault?” Gojo asked as the surprise and pique faded away. 

“Can you see curses too?” Yuji questioned somewhat excitedly. 

You nodded, still on edge, as you glanced back to your brother. “Since before you were born.” 

But Sukuna was different. Gojo knew that. A sorcerer, let alone an ordinary person, could not sense anything of Sukuna in the first place. You had also slipped through his own fortifications, closer to his infinity than he’d ever felt before. Did you have an ability he couldn’t sense? 

“Doesn’t explain how you know there’s something inside me.” Yuji narrowed his eyes. 

At the slightest hint of contempt from your newfound brother, your voice's hesitation and accusatory tone vanished. 

“I can see souls,” you whispered. Neither Yuji nor Gojo replied, but you could feel their gaze as you fiddled with your thumbs. “I don’t like to. It’s invasive. I only do it as confirmation.”

“Of what?” Gojo asked. 

“That I'm making the right decision.”

How extraordinary. With all the power you wielded, you could use it for good. You had kept it a secret, had lived among those who were weaker with no hunger for anything more.  

But Gojo could see more than you could ever imagine. He could see your potential bubbling, strengthening each time you gathered the willpower to use it. Did you even know you could scramble someone’s mind with a technique like that? 

“I just needed to know, Yuji.” You bit your lip. “Forgive me.” 

“It's fine,” he replied. “You’re right.” 

You lifted your head. 

“I'm a vessel,” Yuji said. “There’s a demon inside me.” 

“What!?” Your voice raised in concern. 

“Its under control for now,” Gojo interjected. Before you could say anything else, he continued. “Yuji, its getting late, go back to your room. We will talk later.” 

He nodded and rose from the chair immediately, which shocked you. “It was nice to finally meet you, Y/N.” Yuji lowered his head respectfully. 

“Wait, Yuji!’ You stood up and rushed toward him, handing him a post-it note you snatched from Gojo’s desk with your phone number scribbled. 

“If you need me,” you whispered faintly. “I’ll be there.” 

Smiling brightly once again, Yuji took the note from you and embraced you. “I’ll see you tomorrow sister, yeah?” 

“I’m not going anywhere,” you reassured, watching him leave and sliding the office door shut. Your head turned with his footsteps as they pattered down the hallway, only hoping he got back to his bedroom safely. What you had learned was nothing short of terrifying, but if he allowed you to be there every step of the way, you would. 

“There's an extra room for you,” Gojo said after a long silence. “I think you should stay.” 

“I’ll be alright.” You smiled. “My motel is only a few minutes away.” 

Gojo had a horrible feeling about it but knew he couldn't do anything to stop you. It would be impossible to convince you of things you couldn’t understand. Even if Yuji was your brother, he was still a stranger. So was Gojo, but he was wary of letting you leave now that you knew part of the truth, possibly one of the best-hidden secrets in the world. The least he could do for his sanity was give you his number and a few incentives to make you return and remain comfortable. 

“How much is the motel room?” He asked nonchalantly. 

“About 10,00 yen.” You shrugged. “Nothing fancy.” 

Reaching into his pocket, Gojo pulled out his wallet. You watched him with a confused expression as he separated the bills and handed them to you. “This should cover tonight, but after that cancel the room.” 

Hesitantly, you let him place the bills in your hand. “Gojo, I don’t-” 

“If you want to learn everything I can teach you, what I’ve been teaching Yuji-” he paused momentarily, awkwardly reaching up and scratching the back of his neck. “You may become a target. You’ll be put in danger, so I need you to stay on campus.” 

You took a moment to mull over his words and how he said them. His once confident posture had become somewhat humble, and you thought over your answer as Gojo turned to grab a post-it note and scribble on it.

“Preferably… as close to me as possible,” he faltered but pinched the paper between his fingers and brandished it to you, waiting for you to take it, to accept the deal he wanted to make. 

Snatching the note, you saw that it was his phone number. And next to it was nothing less than a winky face. 

Your eyes shot to what would be his, immediately searching for any signs of a prank. Yes, it made complete sense for him to give you his number, but your heart sensed an ulterior motive behind it, and you couldn’t help but blush, finally understanding what he said. 

Gojo grinned at your stupified expression. 

Tilting your chin up, you recovered from your hesitation.“I won’t trust you until I see your soul.” Was all you said, but then you went to pull out your phone and save his number in your contents.  

“You can’t see it now?” Gojo smirked. 

Shoving your phone back in your pocket, you began to take your leave, only looking over your shoulder once you had slid the door back open. 

“Take off your blindfold,” you requested again.  

“Not a chance.” 

You chuckled, nodding your head in acceptance. It did bum you out, though, as you suspected the eyes under that blindfold to be incredibly mystifying. A pair that would only cloud your judgment, if anything. Gojo had already flattered you enough for one day, and you didn’t want to get your hopes up that the flirtatious sorcerer wanted something more. 

It would have been easy to tell if he took that blindfold off. Perhaps it was the mystery that intrigued you. A mystery that would eventually torture you if you couldn’t solve it. 

“Goodnight, Gojo.” 

And then you left, stepping through that barrier like you had only hours ago. But this time, leaving felt much more intimidating. The safety you felt inside was no longer surrounding you, and you were left in the middle of a forest, standing on the decaying steps of an abandoned cabin, with your car only meters away. 

The crickets were loud, and so was the wind. It was cold and dark compared to what you’d witnessed being so close to Itadori and Gojo. 

But it was too late now, and you had too many belongings inside that motel room to lose. As you walked to your car and started it up, you ruminated over the proposal Gojo made. Staying there couldn’t be that bad, right? 

For some reason, you felt the urge to send Gojo a text before departing. Perhaps he’d instilled a new fear in you, but you also learned to listen to your intuition when your gift was absent. Your mind was in shambles, your instincts convincing you that something bad would happen if you left. 

Stay. Your mind blared. Stay the night. 

Taking a deep breath, you ignored the warnings and theorized them just to be the intrusive thoughts that came with being in the presence of an attractive, powerful man. 

Y/N:> Leaving now, thank you for the money. 

Annoying ass teacher guy:> Let me know when you get back ;)

Y/N:> fine 

Annoying ass teacher guy:>I’m open to pictures as well

Annoying ass teacher guy:> I mean

Annoying ass teacher guy:> As proof that your safe 

Y/N:> you’re*

>Contact Name Successfully Changed

Yuji’s sister?? </3 :> it’s gonna take more than 10k yen to impress me 

Annoying ass teacher guy:> noted

Shaking your head, you tossed your phone in the passenger seat and drove off. The teasing made you smile enough to etch a giggle from your lips. Embarrassing. It had been way too long since you’d flirted with someone. 

Your giddiness only lasted for a few minutes, though, as the further out you drove, the stronger your trepidation felt. You turned your music up louder and glanced at your GPS. Only a few more minutes. A few more minutes and you would be in your room, safe and sound. 

Down the long stretch of road, you could see the light illuminating through the forest, the neon-lit sign peeking over the darkness of the trees. 

Shoulders relaxing, you were about to admit you were only paranoid before the hairs on your neck stood up. It made you gasp, the sudden alert of evil eyes on your frame, location, and vulnerability. 

With one hand on the wheel, the other desperately reached for your phone. You quickly opened it and tried to type a coherent message with your thumb. 

Yuji’s sister?? </3 :> something is wronfgg

And when you glanced in the rearview mirror, your heart almost stopped at what was barreling down the street toward your car. 

“Fuck!” you screamed, only seeing the mass gain a staggering distance with each significant, inhuman stride. A curse. A large one, an intelligent one. Something way more advanced than your current capabilities. 

You barely managed to press call before watching its arms reach out, seeming to stretch misshapenly, its mouth opening with a deadly, vengeful smile. 

Instinct took over, and you slammed on your brakes, screeching to a stop. The force of its body colliding with your car caused you to lurch forward in your seatbelt and slam against the wheel. Coughing, you looked up and saw its body fly over your car and smack against the pavement. It rolled, seeming to break into pieces before they snapped back together. 

The curse jolted, and you heard it scream. 

All you could smell was the burnout from your tires. You were frozen in place, hands gripping the steering wheel with so much force that your knuckles were starting to cramp. Your foot was still pressing the brake to the floor. 

“Y/N?!” You heard Gojo’s voice yell through the phone speaker. “Are you okay?” 

You coughed again, struggling to breathe. But his voice snapped you back into place, the adrenaline fading only enough that you were able to speak. 

“No,” you whispered, unable to think of an explanation for how to describe the situation to him. 

“Where are you?!” Gojo asked a little louder, a little more frantic. 

But his questions faded into nothing as the ringing in your ears grew louder. The curse shot up from the ground, its neck cracking back into place, flexing a total of six arms. That same decrepit smile was still on its face. You couldn’t even fathom what it was and what it could possibly want with you. 

“On the road, just by the motel—!” you rushed as a sob of fear rose in your throat.

There was no way to know. The why didn’t matter when you were the prey. You wouldn’t even live long enough to ask. 

“I think I’m gonna die,” you whispered as the curse took a wobbly step forward. Despite its imbalance, the ground still rumbled from the weight and force. 

Its mouth snapped open, revealing layers of razor-sharp teeth and a decaying uvula. Its mouth consumed its entire face, causing you to scream in fear. 

Then, the creature lunged as you slammed on the gas.