#my sense of time is terrible + very like this.

[deerspherestudios]

hello there! i just wanted to ramble incoherently and say that michael's character and his insecurities really touched me. the way you wrote him felt so human (ironically) and natural! i know many people have applauded you on his character but i have some different perspective hopefully. made a whole account just to send this (before realizing i had to wait a whole day to send an ask). really sorry if this seems cheesy!

for starters, i suffer from a condition that alters my appearance pretty drastically. i won't get really into detail about what it is, but i always have to wear somewhat of a disguise when i go out. i've gotten used to it by now, since i've had to deal with it for a little over 5 years already, but there is that lingering sense of fear and disgust that comes here and there with myself. while i haven't had anyone call me a monster, i've definitely had some ridiculing or insensitive comments and remarks.

i'd lie, jump over and dodge the truth to people so that perhaps someone, someone could see me as a person they could love. be attracted to, accepted wholeheartedly without a doubt. obviously that's not going to work, i could only keep away the truth away for so long. i wanted to love and be loved, not despite my flaws or appearance but with it. so it made me jealous and bitter. why couldn't i be like everyone else? who would love and accept someone like me?

when mychael finally confessed, i think i understood that dread. that nasty, ugly feeling when the guilt crawls up to you. when you've been found out after lying your way into a companionship because you wanted to hope that maybe, someday, someone will stay. but you deceived them. can someone really forgive something as hideous as you?

you've done a wonderful job at writing mychael. i love how his circumstance is definitely prominent, but there's also still so much more to him beyond that. the heartbreak, the insecurities, love and galore!

moving on from that, i think what i enjoy most is that discomfort you get from rejecting him as the days past. he's genuine and kind, but also so pushy and desperate. it's like trying to say "no" to the super nice person who just wants to get to know you better and be their nice usual self as usual! and it's like, man, i can't really deny them because they've done this and that! you'd be a terrible person to refuse them! the game shows you what it has in store, and then let's you decide whether you should trust him or not. and what i just love is how it almost manipulates you into coming back and replaying the game because you feel so bad for mychael. it doesn't even need to do much! he's such a genuine person and he feels so real, so you inflict your actual real life response onto him and boom!! manipulation time! look at him :( are you gonna say no to him out of all people? wow, you're the monster for wanting boundaries. such a different but amazing pace from the usual yandere-type games.

so in total: am i projecting? definitely. but that doesn't deny that you've made a beautiful and compelling game and character. i can't express to you enough how much this touches me, so thank you for making me (and i'm sure many others) feel heard and seen through a yandere visual novel out of all things! and you know what? i'd probably be a little obsessed with someone if they were as kind and accepting as MC. difference is that i'd start bawling after the river speech aha. i do wonder how mychael would react to someone like me though. i didn't wanna send a separate ask so i just dumped out everything in one. anyway, very sorry for how long this was! not the best at explaining myself, but thank you again for creating mushroom oasis :)

Waaa a a , ,, thank you for such a heartfelt message,,, weeps,,,

As for how Mychael would react, he'd definitely feel a sense of kinship on being judged for how you look, and finding someone who can relate to him so well would give him a sense of comfort too <3

Who knows maybe YOU'RE his comfort character!!

[w0rm3y]

MALEVOLENCE IN SPRING || R. SUKUNA || - XIII. EXECUTION

TAGS: Hades!Sukuna x Persephone!Reader, arranged marriage, forced proximity, kidnapping, True Form!Sukuna, Husband!Sukuna, fantasy, soulmates, Ancient Greece AU

OVERALL WARNINGS: MDNI, DDDNE, extreme violence, graphic depictions of death, blood, body horror, physical torture, psychological torture, Stockholm Syndrome, Lima Syndrome, manipulation, toxicity, cannibalism, suicide, blood kink, spit kink, breeding kink, biting kink, size kink, monster-fucking (That man is a monster, like actually), S&M, marking, stomach/belly bulges, a/b/o concepts (i.e. mates & one instance of what one might consider a heat, but that's all) THIS CHAPTER: extreme violence, graphic depictions of death, blood, body horror, physical torture, forced cannibalism, referenced suicide, attempted SA, angst, but also cute Sukuna x Reader moments, Reader is Sukuna's #1 supporter and dick rider--as she should be, freak matched every single time, they were made for each other, soft!sukuna, husband!sukuna, Reader has a moment of body image issues

WORD COUNT: 10k

SUMMARY: you were taken from your home and forced to become Sukuna's wife.

“The next time you run from me, run fast and run far. Pray that I never, ever find you. If you get away from me, I swear to you, I will not stop looking for you until you’re beside me again. Mortals and deities fear me for a reason, and I don’t mind showing you why they all share that sentiment. Understand, wife?”

|| MIS M.List || >BLISTER> EXECUTION; thanátosi; θανάτωση

Your hands began to shake as you scrambled to your feet. The fear of it all was so strong that it pricked at your fingertips, causing a pain that stung terribly. Horrible emotions thickly coated your throat, tears welled up in your eyes, and your breathing increased into unstable pants. The loneliness was terrifying, it was agonizing, so much that there was nothing you could do to stop the ragged sobs from tearing through your mouth. 

Of course, since the consummation, there were brief lapses in your shared time with one another, but they were brief. Very, very brief, and even that was almost too much. Not to mention, you never strayed far from one another. Looking back, you didn’t notice it before, but you could always sense him when he was nearby, yet right now, he was nowhere close to you.

You stumbled out of the secluded area of the garden, consistently reaching out to the bond, desperate to feel something, but you always came up empty. That lack of response, the lack of connection twisted in your chest like a knife. Had you really grown to be so dependent on the bond that a mere hour or two alone is enough to send you into a panic like this? 

You rushed through the castle doors, pushing past servants and shrine keepers without a care for how crazed you looked. Tears blurred your vision as you navigated the corridors, but after so long, you knew them like the back of your hand. And just when you moved past the kitchen doors, you crashed into a body, pushing both of you into a ruffled heap on the floor. The contact with their skin nearly seared yours off.

“My queen!” the woman gasped, trying her best to wrangle you steady.

“Let go of me!” you cried, writhing against their feminine hold. 

“Please, calm down-”

“No, no–let go, please let-”

“My queen!”

Blinking those tears from your eyes, you set your sights on a face you hadn’t seen in so long. You hadn’t even thought of her in over a year. The shocking realization of who you tumbled into brought your racing mind to a halt. This couldn’t be who you thought it was, for that woman was murdered. That woman was fed to the curses; Sukuna told you so.

“Hatsuyo?” you meekly gasped, swallowing back your tears for a moment to address her. 

A relieved sigh fell from her parted lips. “My queen. It’s lovely to see you again–oh!” You brought her into a bone-crushing hug, knocking the wind right out of her. 

“I thought you were dead. H-He said he released you to the hunting grounds.”

“He did. For only a few hours before he came to retrieve me. Said he had a change of heart.” She hugged you back even tighter. “He told me I had one more chance to serve you, and I’d do that by preparing your meals.”

“Gods, I thought… I thought it was my fault! I was so cold to you, and then you were gone! And I– you didn’t deserve that!” You pulled back, holding her by her shoulders. “I am so sorry!”

“It’s okay. I’m okay. Really. I’ve enjoyed my time in the kitchen, but I was promoted a few weeks ago to your lady in waiting, so… I’ve been waiting.”

“I had no idea, or I would have come to you sooner.”

With a giggle, she brushed you off. “No worries. I tried to meet with you a few times in the evening, but Uraume was keeping watch outside the king's chambers, and wouldn’t allow me to enter.” Taking her thumb, she wiped the tears from under your eye. “Quit crying, my queen. All is well. Now, what had you in such disarray? You seemed quite shaken.”

And just like that, the reminder of that ache in your chest came back, and now that you remembered, the pain returned tenfold. 

“Sukuna. He left me, I-I don’t know where he went.”

A smile graced her face as she stood to her feet, offering you her hand to help you up. “He only went to the training field.”

“What?”

She nodded. “The soldiers arrived today to begin their training.”

That’s right… he was going to train them-

“Do you know where the field is?” you asked, already stumbling down the corridor. The tears came back as that pain settled above your heart; it made you feel sick. 

“I do, but-”

Already sensing her apprehension, you cut her off. “Please, don’t withhold this from me. You don’t understand how badly it hurts. Please, Hatsuyo.”

Her lips pressed into a flat line, but she conceded. “At the crossroads you meet on your way to the sanctuary, take the left. The field is at the bottom of that hill, but please allow me to fetch a guard for you-” 

But you were already moving before she finished giving you directions. 

* * * * *

The trek to get to the sanctuary was a long one to begin with, so when your heart twisted in a way that didn’t feel natural, you began to worry that you wouldn’t make it in time. How could he just leave you alone like that? Knowing that this was the pain you’d feel– how dare he? 

Pained whimpers tumbled from your mouth as you rubbed at your chest, hoping to ease the feeling, but your effort was in vain. If anything, it made it worse. Then a startling realization hit you: this is exactly how you’d feel on the surface. This is what he was trying to protect you from. 

Your lower lip trembled as a fresh onslaught of tears dripped down your cheeks. Not just from the stabbing feeling in your heart, but the anticipation of being separated for six months. Six months– that alone made your limbs unsteady, and soon after, you collapsed onto your hands and knees.

You can’t do this.

Bile began to rise in the back of your throat.

You’re not strong enough for this. 

A blackness crept into the sides of your vision.

You’re going to-

A familiar rumble of laughter echoed in the distance, followed by his voice, jeering, “It’s no wonder the West was able to raid your villages so easily. I’m not sure I’ve ever witnessed such weakness before– this is honestly pathetic.”

Just that was enough to give you the strength to push yourself onto your feet and continue. Staggering down the hill, you tripped a few more times, shredding your knees on the rocks, slicing up your wrists and arms on the tree bark you’d stumble into, but that pain could never hold a candle to this… agonizing separation. 

The closer you got to the field, the more clearly you could hear the men training. Grunts and groans, the clashing of swords, and unimpressed commentary from Sukuna. As much as he sounded like a cruel tyrant, you’d give anything to be one of those soldiers right now, under his critical eye, being scolded for less than perfection. 

At the bottom of the hill, men meandered about, limping and bleeding, cursing your husband under their breath. However, when their eyes landed on you, they all fell silent. You’re sure a sobbing, battered, bloody woman emerging from the wood line would have been a bit odd.

“Where is he?” you asked, grabbing onto the closest man that you could, who hissed when your fingers sank into his sticky, sweaty skin. When he didn’t answer, you moved on to the next soldier. “My husband–where is he?!” And then to the next soldier, asking the very same question.

“Let go of me, miss-” Other soldiers came over to help pry you away, but with their presence came the inability to breathe properly. “You need to relax-”

“Don’t make me ask again! Where is he?” The group of men you’d attracted now swarmed around you, making you feel entirely threatened–there were too many of them. Even in your addled, chaotic mind, you knew you’d made a mistake, and one that you weren’t sure you could get yourself out of in this state. 

You knew that to be completely true when you heard another man speak.

“How lucky are we? A non compos bitch stumbling onto a training field.” When that man reached out for you, his touch created a strong wave of nausea in your stomach, one that you couldn’t handle. In the mass of men, you fell to your hands and knees as the world around you began to spin. He was close, you just needed to get away from this group, you just needed to see him, to hear his voice, but all you could see, all you could hear was them. 

“Move away from me,” you weakly muttered, earning a few laughs. 

“Shy and meek now, are you? It was you acting insane when you entered the camp.” Through their taunts, you heard a few distant commands from your husband, doled out to the ones he was training with currently. The sound was comforting until it was overshadowed by the sickening soldier. “Did you want to play with the men or something?”

Your limbs went numb, your lungs closed up, and fear slithered up your spine. And then, you felt the man touch you. You couldn’t even recoil from his touch either. It was like you were being suffocated by people who weren’t your husband; it was killing you. In one last effort to survive this situation you stumbled into, you called out to him. 

“Sukuna…” 

It was too muffled; even the men around you didn’t understand.

“What did she say?” 

Calloused hands slid up your exposed thighs, grabbing onto your garment to move it out of the way. 

“Who cares what she’s talking about. Clearly, she’s insane, look at her.” Those hands settled on your hips, roughly dragging you across the dirt. “But free pussy is still free pussy, no matter what.”

“Are you sure you should do that?”

His hands came to a halt. “Why not? We’ve been away from our homes for so long now. It’s been months. I’ve forgotten what my wife feels like. I need something.”

“What if she’s really taken? She came here looking for her husband.”

“How could one of our wives have stumbled inside the castle gates? Our villages are days away from here.”

“Still, I don’t think you should do that. The king is right over there-” for a moment, your heart fluttered to know he was close by, but it wasn’t enough. You were suffocating. “He would be… displeased by this display and for wasting his time.”

“Allow him to be displeased, then. I’m desperate.” The man's fingers carded through your hair, gripping it harshly in his fist to drag your body back against him. Wincing, you flinched away from him. “Besides, it’s not like the king’s a prude. You saw his neck, didn’t you? He understands that men have their needs.”

“That doesn’t mean he’d approve of this–it isn’t right. I won’t stay here and watch.” The dirt crunched under his tattered boots as he left the circle, and that movement created an opening, one large enough that it carried a gust of wind inside, hitting you directly in the face, forcing that oxygen into your lungs. While it didn’t do anything to give life back to your limbs, it did give you the strength to scream, which you did. Very loudly. In fact, it was loud enough that it echoed through the forest, just like you’d hoped. 

“What the hell is wrong with you?” the man behind you scolded, pushing away from you, sending your hips harshly to the ground. Without any time to process it, his boot smashed right into your ribcage, cracking the bone with a sickening snap. Another scream, followed by your sobbing cries. Not even the shattered rib could compare to the separation ache. 

You wanted to die.

It was too much, all of it.

And then, it all stopped. Silence ate up the sound of the men; now the only thing that remained were your cries and panting breaths. Through the bouts of shooting pain radiating from your side and from your chest, you finally felt warm, comforting palms slide underneath your body, raising you from the ground so gently, and cradling you to his chest. You didn’t even have to look; you knew it was Sukuna, for the ache in your chest stopped as soon as you felt his touch. You clutched your side and leaned into him.

“Your rib is broken,” he spoke, voice smooth as silk, betraying the absolute lividity you knew he was feeling. However, what you couldn’t decipher was where exactly his anger was targeted. Of course, he was angry with the men for hurting his wife, but was he angry with you, too, for leaving without permission? 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered against his chest, but he never responded to that. Instead, Sukuna turned to address the group of men. 

“Line up,” he said before speaking to someone over his shoulder. “Uraume, lock the shrine's gates. Noriyoshi, watch the mortal scum while I tend to their queen.” Somewhere in the line of men, a couple of them gasped, and others moaned in shame. They knew the mistake they had made was a grave one. “If they make a run for it, release the hound from the hunting grounds. ”

“Yes, my king,” they answered in unison as Sukuna began carrying you away. 

The entire trek across the training field was silent, save for the sound of Sukuna’s boots crunching in the dirt and your labored breathing. All the training and fighting had quieted down into nothing, and you realized that was due to everyone bowing their heads as he carried you through. Soon enough, he gently placed you down on a stiff kline and knelt beside you, raising his hands to make quick work of removing your chiton. 

However, just before he could peel it off your chest, he paused. Seconds later, the small tent was encased in a ring of tall blue flames. When he was certain no prying eyes would look this way, only then did he remove your garment completely. With a delicate touch, he slid the cloth from underneath your body, bunching it at your hips to give him access to your injury. His eyes flicked over your quivering frame, finally landing on your ribs. That’s when his cool facade betrayed him, and rage glimmered in those ruby-colored irises. 

Taking his palm, he molded it to your side gently, but it still made you stir in pain. Warmth emanated from his hand, somewhat quelling the aching pressure of the broken rib. To bear it, you gritted your teeth and squeezed your eyes shut, lying flat on the kline.

“Who brought you here?”

Surely, the one who did would be dead by the end of the day–luckily, you came on your own. That didn’t mean the one who told you about this place was safe, and since you’d yet to discuss Hatsuyo at all, you held your tongue. Now was definitely not the time for that discussion, and there’s absolutely no way you were going to tell him who gave you directions here in the first place. You just got her back. If he knew she told you how to get here, there would be nothing you could do to stop him from killing her for real this time.   

“Myself,” you answered, biting back festering emotions. “I came alone.”

“You shouldn’t wander on your own-”

“Is it not safe for me to do so in my own home?” you hissed, growing irritated with the sharpness in your ribs. 

Deciding to save this blight for a different time, Sukuna sighed, “Is your heart beating that fast because you’re angry with me? Or because you’re scared of me?” Cracking your eyes open, you glanced at him to see that he was already staring down at you with a new emotion you weren’t sure you could pinpoint. When you didn’t respond, he averted his gaze, opting to watch your side instead. “You apologized to me before, so I’ll assume it’s the latter. Though I wish it were the former.”

“You want me to be mad at you?” you choked out, wincing in pain from the shifting of your side. 

“I’d prefer your anger to your fear.” He moved his hand away from you and pulled over a small table set with various medical supplies. Taking a roll of white cloth and some sticky resin, he set it down on the side of the kline. “After I set your rib, we’ll stop at the sanctuary for some opium to help with the pain. Until then, this will hurt.”

You scoffed, “Nothing could hurt worse than the ache of our separation.” He faltered for a moment, a furrow drawing between his brows as he rolled out the cloth. “You prefer my anger, correct? Okay, it's yours. You left me alone.”

The sharpness in your voice made him flinch before muttering, “I’m sorry.”

“The surprise, the gifts–you were trying to distract me so you could get away from me-” The tears resurfaced again and streamed heavily down your cheeks when he didn’t deny your accusations. “I thought you stopped plotting and scheming for my pain months ago-”

“Don’t,” he whispered with a subtle shake of his head. “I prepared a distraction for you. I did not plot and scheme for your pain. Do not say that-”

“It’s true!” A pained cry escaped you from your outburst. Taking a firm hand to your chest, he pressed you back down onto the kline. “You knew it would hurt me when I found out-”

With a tick in his jaw, he groused, “I knew it would hurt you if you found out, not when.”

“Is there a difference?! You did that on purpose-!”

His giant hand gripped your face, fingers pressing into your cheeks as he leaned over you, hissing, “I. Did. Not.”

“You hurt me. You did this to me-”

“No, you hurt yourself after I tried to keep you safe! You were supposed to stay in the garden, you were supposed to stay distracted!”

“But I didn’t!”

“Yes, and now look! You stumbled into an area that you have no place being in, and you’re screaming at me with a broken rib! Stop that!” He pressed your head back down to the kline and grabbed the cloth, stepping one leg over the kline so he straddled it. “I could have told you I would be leaving your side, and for the next couple of hours, you would have writhed in pain. Had the garden kept your attention for just an hour more, you would not have felt an ounce of pain at all. You wouldn’t have known I left you, you would have been safe until I returned to you–stop fucking thrashing around or you’ll hurt yourself.”

With that warning and a precise hand, he slipped it under your back and gently raised your upper torso from the kline. “Raise your arms and hold onto my shoulders. I need to wrap this around your breasts.” 

Reluctantly, you did as he said and waited for him to finish, hoping he’d do so before you caved into this close proximity and kissed him. Despite your anger, that irritated, focused glare on his face while he coiled the fabric over your chest was attractive. You couldn’t let him know that, though. To maintain composure, you said, “This is uncomfortable-”

“Don’t care. Deal with it.”

Gritting your teeth, you curled your fingers into his skin, hoping it was hard enough to leave marks. “It’s tight.”

“It has to be. You have a lot of flesh on your chest to flatten.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Slowly, he raised his eyes to meet yours. Taking note of your heated stare, he muttered, “I’m choosing to keep my response to myself-”

“No! Answer me!” Rather than complying, he scooped a bit of resin up with a stick and smeared it on the end of the cloth, ignoring you completely. “A lot of flesh on my chest– you mean to say I’m a hefty woman, don’t you?! You think I’ve grown plump while living under your care?!”

With a single nod, he said, “I do.”

“Then I shall stop eating-”

“Don’t be stupid,” he aggravatedly groaned, securing the strap of cloth, holding it while the resin set up. 

“I’m not. If you want a thin wife, might I suggest not forcing her to eat as much? The food that enters my mouth is always guided by your hand, or did you forget a few hours ago in the garden? Even in moments of intimacy, you’re stuffing my face– and your comments of perversion are unneeded; I know what I said was an innuendo.” He suppressed his amusement with a scoff and allowed you to continue, as if he could stop you anyway. “If you’re so put off by my shape, assume the blame, for it’s your fault.”

“Okay.”

Your eyes widened at his nonchalant, monotone answer. “That’s it? That’s all you have to say?”

“Mm, I think so… oh, wait, forgive me for not thinking of your discomfort.” He touched his head, feigning a look of realization. “Do you need a warm bath, a hot compress?”

Your face curled into a look of confusion. “What?”

“Surely, your muscles are sore, aren’t they? I bet you forgot to stretch.”

“Stretch before what, you stupid man?!”

“Before jumping to that moronic conclusion– I never said anything about your figure! A lot of flesh on your chest is what I said because you, wife, are buxom. You’re a busty woman, understand? These tits of yours are large, which means the cloth around your chest needs to be tight to keep them secured to your body so that I will be able to properly apply this splint for your broken rib!”

The warmth that overtook your face was blistering. 

“You could have just said that.”

“I shouldn’t have to. For days on end, I did nothing but praise your figure.” He clicked his tongue, continuing with the splint. “Gods don’t worship; they’re made to be worshiped by their mortals, yet you were able to flip those rules so easily. You had me on my knees for you– how dare you doubt that?”

At a loss for words, deafening silence ensued for minutes while he worked until he sighed dejectedly. 

“Forgive me for being overbearing about the food, but understand that I vividly remember your rigid corpse. I can still hear Uraume telling me that starvation took you again. I can recount the hours I spent searching for your soul in great detail, only to bring you back to a meager, sickly body.” Your mouth dried as he spoke, still tending to your injury. “Your skin was always freezing and stiff, so while Kenjaku and Uraume would bring you back to life, I’d hold you to keep you warm, and while doing that, I had to feel just how starved you were.”

Your eyes widened at that, a sick feeling twirling in your stomach. 

“It only takes a few minutes for a soul to leave a body after someone dies. The soul is ready to pass on, it willingly lets go to follow that path of death–it’s natural. To bring you back, to get your soul to latch back onto your body… that takes days, and during those days, the bond didn’t recognize Kenjaku’s efforts, the bond didn’t anticipate your revival, it felt like you were gone forever.”

Oh, gods…

“I held your corpse for six weeks, and during that time, I had to feel what I did to you, but I also had to feel the ache of separation, and the torment of this entity rebelling against me for what I had done. But I let it happen five more times because I was so angry, and it was all over nothing. After the last time you died, I told myself I wouldn’t let it happen again because… I couldn’t take it; your cold skin, your macilent body– it was killing me. Rightfully so, I deserve death for that, but I can’t die, nor would I have wanted to before I had the chance to make it up to you.”

You couldn’t drag your eyes away from his face as he spoke to you, still busying himself with the task at hand. 

“Cloaks and boots, keeping my own body temperature high for you, gloves for you to use in the garden when snow still covers the ground– I desire to keep you warm because I know how cold your corpse can be.” He exhaled a small laugh. “And nagging the fuck out of your handmaiden every single night to know what foods you preferred, telling the kitchen to double your portion, and forcing you to eat with me– it’s all to make sure you never know what hunger pains feel like ever again, to make sure you don’t have to touch your own body and feel your bones.”

He applied the final piece of the splint, wrapping it up tight, and secured the whole thing with more resin.

“With all of that said, I accept the blame for… cushioning your figure, and I do it unabashedly, so don’t think for one second that I don’t love it, understand? Feeding you and keeping you warm are never things I could ever feel guilty for.”

Unable to help yourself, you asked, “So… you’re saying it’s noticeable?”

“The weight you’ve gained?” You nodded, making him respond so bluntly, entirely unapologetic, “Yes.”

“And my body is bigger than Yorozu’s?”

He blinked at your question, seemingly confused as to why you’d ask that in the first place. “There’s… something inside of me that’s telling me not to answer that question.”

“...coward,” you scoffed as he pulled your chiton back up, securing it at your shoulders. 

“Be that as it may. Now, is this little spat of ours over? Or was there more to discuss?”

If you didn’t know him as well as you did, you might’ve taken his question as snide or condescending; however, he was being genuine. You suppose that since he was being earnest, you could be the same. 

“Why couldn’t you have just brought me here with you?” 

“A training field is no place for a queen for more than the reasons you’ve endured already. Mortal men are disgusting creatures, and they do disgusting things– things I didn’t think were necessary for you to witness.”

“Quite hypocritical, don’t you think?” He rolled his eyes and gently leaned you back down onto the kline. “This wouldn’t have aided in my progress to becoming a queen who can stomach the grotesque? You had me witness your cursed pet tear men apart. You severed a man’s head right in front of me, I've listened to you sentence many men to death for small offenses in your hearings, a woman was sliced open and her baby was given to me, yet you draw a line at the training field?”

He pondered a response for a moment, jaw clenched, and gritting his teeth before he answered, “Yes.”

“Why?”

“You’d rather have been here, watching men fight, than planting your flowers in the garden?”

“I would have rather been with you, and you knew that. That’s why you didn’t give me a choice in the matter. So, answer my question– why is the line drawn here?”

Another bout of silence ensued as an internal battle raged on inside of him before he huffed and sat down on the edge of the kline. 

“There are a couple of reasons. The first is that men are lowly, scum-fed creatures. These soldiers have been away from their wives for so long-”

“They would not have touched me like that if they knew I was your wife-”

“That wouldn’t have stopped their wandering eyes or their thoughts. I know how they think, and I’ll be damned if I’d put my wife around something so disgusting. The second their eyes strayed somewhere they shouldn’t have, I’d kill them all. And if there are no soldiers, there is no battle to be fought.” He raked his hand through his hair as he continued. “The second reason: I much prefer the vision of you in the garden than having you near, watching me train mortals to kill other mortals. I want you to be able to stomach death and violence, not grow fond of it, not even grow used to it. And third… you’re distracting to me.”

“So distracting that you’d lose a fight?”

He scoffed, “Of course not. But I’m supposed to be out there training them, wanting to teach them something, make them grow stronger. I’m not supposed to be thinking of how badly I wish to sit beside you in the grass and play with your hair.” Your hand moved to your mouth to stifle a giggle, though he caught it before you could hide it. “Laugh if you’d like, I’m not ashamed of it.”

“Most men would be.” You reached out and grabbed his hand, interlocking your fingers. 

“I’m not a man, then.”

“No, you’re not. You’re a god that is more loving than he wishes to let on, but I see right through you.”

“I know you do,” he sighed, tracing his thumb over the back of your hand. “We should get you to the sanctuary before you start aching everywhere.” Slipping his hands underneath your body, he raised you to his chest again, not forgetting to raise his temperature to keep you warm. 

“What are you going to do with those men?” 

“Kill them slowly before sending their souls to Tartarus.”

His monotone answer forced a small smile onto your mouth. “Would you spare one if I asked you to?”

“What for?”

“He warned them not to touch me.”

“What a piss-poor attempt that was. Your rib is broken, so he did not try hard enough.”

“But it was him against the entire group; there was not much he could do.” Sliding your hand up his chest, you settled your fingers on the side of his neck, feeling his pulse absent-mindedly. “Just him. I want the rest of them to die miserably, and the one who touched me, save him for last. Make him watch his comrades die, and then kill him the slowest. Make him scream for me.” 

There was a jolt in his pulse as it sped up.

“Making demands for an execution,” he tutted, delighted with your words. 

“Well, you are my executioner just as you are my husband and my mate. You do take requests, don’t you?”

“I do for you.”

“Good.” You gave his cheek a gentle, loving tap before curling it back into your chest. “Then I have something else to request.”

He glanced down at you, waiting to hear your answer. 

“I want to watch.”

* * * * *

Now standing in front of the line of men, secured tightly in Sukuna’s arms, you felt an odd thrill rush through you. All of their heads were bowed, some were even trembling, for they all knew what was waiting for them was a violent death, and all because they couldn’t suppress their own urges. How easy this could’ve been for them if they’d only turned the other way, or offered a hand to help you over to your husband, to their king. 

One of the other soldiers placed down a kline in front of Sukuna after having been ordered to carry it over. Delicately, he lowered you onto it and leaned over you. “I’m only letting you do this because you’re the one who has been wronged,” Sukuna spoke quietly, lips tracing against your ear. “Future executions are mine to dictate, understand?”

“Yes, my king.” 

With your agreement, he pressed a kiss to your temple before standing to his full height, moving around the kline to stand before the line of men.

“Your queen has pardoned one of you. Close your eyes and raise your heads so she may choose who survives.” As they did so, your eyes flicked to each one of the men, but you could only recognize a few. You realized that, being face down in the dirt, you didn’t get a chance to see this man's face. 

However, you did remember one key detail: his boots, for they had been very tattered, on the brink of unwearable. Quickly, you located that familiar set of boots and pointed him out to Sukuna, who grabbed onto his shoulder, shocking the man out of his waking nightmare. 

“You’ll thank her for this on your hands and knees,” he groused, pushing him away from the line of men. 

“Of course, my king!” Rushing over, he fell to his knees in front of you, head pressing into the coarse dirt to mutter his thanks in abundance. 

“I should be thanking you for stepping away from the men who circled me. When you did so, I could finally breathe. It gave me enough air to scream.”

“Yes, I-I– thank you! I’m so sorry that I did not do more–I didn’t know-”

“You did enough to spare your life.” Raising your foot, you placed the tip of your shoe under his chin and lifted his head from the dirt. “You can rise from your knees now, soldier, and look at me if you’d like.” 

He pushed to his feet, but kept his gaze averted. “I’ve looked upon you enough today.”

“Do you have a family?”

Nervously, he nodded his head, licking his dry lips. “Yes, my queen. A wife and three children.”

“Excellent! I would like to invite them to the castle when the battle begins. They may seek refuge here, under the protection of our guards.”

His lips parted in surprise. “You are too kind, my queen. Thank you.”

“Of course. Now, you may return to your training. I have an execution to lead. It’s my first one, kind of excited.” A white cast covered his face as he nodded, quickly ushering himself away from you. Turning back to the line of men, you located the one with wandering hands easily and pointed to him. “That’s the one to save for last, my king.”

Sukuna grabbed him, tossing him into the arms of Noriyoshi, who forced the man onto his knees, readying him to watch the others die. The sickly thrum of anticipation took to your veins, slicking through your entire body like a flame on oil. When Sukuna looked at you expectantly, waiting for the next order, you could sense a bit of pride in his small smile, and that only added more fuel to this metaphorical fire inside you. 

“How much blood pumps through that femoral artery you love so much, Sukuna?”

He hummed, pleasantly satisfied with the question. “Quite a bit. Would you like to see?”

“Please.”

Without further hesitation, Sukuna pushed the first man onto the ground, which seemed to be the signal for him to begin begging for his life, but it would do nothing to stop his death. Sukuna stepped onto his right hip, crushing the bone with a gut-wrenching snap. His screams of agony had your fingers curling into the cushion of the kline below you, writhing in twisted anticipation for what’s to come. 

Sukuna didn’t remove his foot from the shattered hip as he bent down to grab onto the opposite leg. Then slowly, he began pulling at the limb, listening for the bones and joints to disconnect and the snapping of ligaments before he quickly ripped the limb off completely, tossing it aside with ease. Thick streams of red blood pumped out of the artery, mimicking the pulse of his rushing heartbeat. A raspy chuckle came from Sukuna as he grabbed the man by his neck, raising him from the ground to watch the blood pour from his missing limb.

Humming, you tilted your head to the side when he presented the body to you, inspecting it before simpering, “I expected more of a blood explosion.”

“A blood explosion, hm?” He nodded to himself and discarded the corpse by tossing it away. “Allow me to try again.”

The next man in line screamed and begged just as the first, but his death came a lot quicker. Sukuna pushed the man onto the ground like the previous one and stepped on him for leverage. Instead of ripping off a leg, he grabbed the man by his hips and ripped his body in half. This time, blood sprayed across the field, coating everything from the grass to the men in line, and of course, Sukuna. Blood even managed to splatter the front of you. 

Throwing the lower half of the body with the other mangled body parts, he turned back to you. “Better?”

“Much.” Looking to the next man, you gave out another order. “I think I’d like to know what a hideless mortal looks like. Skin him for me.”

“Very brutal, my queen,” he praised, eyes glimmering with mirth as he followed your command, tearing the skin from the mortal’s body with terrifying ease. The next order from you made him even happier, maybe even eager to display his brutish capabilities. 

“How easily can you crush a skull with that maw on your stomach?” And the answer to that question: very easily.

With the last one, you asked for something that Sukuna had shown you before. However, you wanted to see if it still churned your stomach.

 “Rip out his throat.”

Just like two years ago, he tore the throat from one of the guards who disrespected me, only this time, you felt nothing. No sickness, no guilt, no churning of the stomach–you truly felt nothing. And that reminded you of how critical you were of Sukuna that night, wondering how he could look death in the face so closely, and still be emotionless. Yet here you were, just the same as him. That should have been a petrifying thought, but you sought comfort in it; you liked it.

Exhausting the line of men, turning them all into tattered, bloody corpses, only the last one remained, and this was the one you were most excited for. Never had you been wronged and then given the opportunity to seek violent retribution. But with Sukuna, he was giving you that option. 

You pushed yourself up from the kline, much to Sukuna’s dismay, but he didn’t try to force you back down. Instead, he only sighed before motioning Noriyoshi over with the last man. Like before, he was forced onto his knees, this time in front of you. But rather than being broken after watching his comrades be torn apart, he seemed… angry. 

What a pity…

“Enjoy the show?” you asked, crouching down in front of him. Just as you thought he might, he broke the rules, staring you right in the eye. You couldn’t help but find his blatant disrespect a bit comical as you looked down, toying with a piece of bloody grass, giggling, “I’ll take that as a no.”

“If you’re gonna kill me, begin already,” he spat at you, using what courage he had left to feign bravery, but you could see the tremble in his body, and you could hear the shake in his voice. 

“As you wish.” Looking up at Sukuna, you said, “I want his hands.”

No questions asked, Sukuna pulled a knife from his armored belt, and the sound of sharp metal sliced through the air, making the mortal squirm. 

“My hands?! That’s nothing!”

“That’s where I’m choosing to begin. You didn’t believe your death would be quick, did you?” 

He swallowed back bile, getting paler by the second. “...crazy fucking woman.”

Your eyes widened in realization. “Oh, that’s right, I almost forgot that it was you who called me a non compos bitch. That was before you forced me onto the ground, remember? Right after that, I told you I was looking for my husband. I asked you to move away from me, but you kept touching me because clearly, I was insane, and free pussy is free pussy, right?” You tossed those words back in his face, watching him lose even more of himself to his rising panic. “You have a wife at home waiting on you, too, but it’s been so long that you don’t even know what she feels like anymore. And guess what? You’ll never know what she feels like ever again since I’m taking your hands.”

“I wouldn’t get to feel her anyway, you’re gonna kill me. So take my hands, it doesn’t matter.”

“I wonder if you’ll come to regret that later when you see her enter Tartarus right behind you.”

With that, his face fell into utter dismay. “N-No, my queen–my kids need someone, my wife did nothing wrong!”

“She did when she decided to marry you. What a shame.” You motioned for Sukuna to continue, which he did, slicing the man’s hands off, tossing them to the dirt beside you. Without breaking eye contact, you reached for one of his hands, presenting it to him on your open palm. Through his tears, he looked at it as incomprehensible babble spilled from his mouth. 

“Eat it.”

That order had his mouth sealing shut. 

The air around you all went cold and absolutely silent. Even Sukuna seemed shocked by your command, and probably even more with the emotionless inflection in your voice; you knew you were. 

You held it in your fist, placing his pointer finger to his mouth. “Eat it,” you repeated, tracing the fingertip over his sealed lips. Violently, he began shaking his head as snot and tears streamed down his face. “If I have to force you, I’ll make sure your children follow your wife into Tartarus. And I’ll watch as you try to explain why it is that they had to die. All because you can’t man up and eat a fucking finger.”

A ragged whine tore from his throat. “M-My queen, please-”

“You’re lucky I had your hands chopped from your body before I asked you to take a bite– don’t tell me you’re asking for more assistance.” Still, he didn’t make a move to eat it, opting to tremble instead. You held your other hand out to Sukuna. “Give me the knife.”

And for the first time since you’d started, he hesitated, but only for a second before complying. As soon as you had the handle in your grasp, you began sawing away at the man’s pointer finger, holding it up so he could watch. When it was severed completely, you stabbed the knife into the ground and lunged forward with your hand gripping the man’s jaw. He tried his best to fight against you, but with no hands to use, it wasn’t too difficult. 

As soon as his cold, stiff finger touched his tongue, he recoiled, pushing back against Sukuna’s shins, which pissed the god off. With a swift kick to his lower back, the wind was knocked out of him, which allowed you to slide the finger directly into his mouth and force his jaw closed after. 

Now, with a clear view of your hand gripping his mouth, you noticed the jet black veins on the back of your hand, pumping thick, dark blood through your body, much like they did when you and Sukuna were confined to your room for that week. The sight was sobering– sobering enough to make you question what exactly you were doing.

You remembered what Sukuna had said then.

“...Perhaps she has more influence on you than we thought…”

This isn’t you…

Right?

“Swallow it,” you whispered, leaning in closer, staring directly into his terrified eyes. Your hand trailed down to his neck, fingers landing right on his pulse that was thumping at an insane pace. “Now, you insufferable swine.” 

And then he did, you even felt it slide down his throat. The feeling made you laugh, and as you laughed so hard that tears pricked your eyes, you squeezed his throat so tightly until his face turned a dark shade of red. You searched his eyes as the capillaries in them burst from the pressure. Still, you leaned in, desperate to see the life leave his body; you were nearly frothing at the mouth for it.

Then, all too soon, you heard a certain fleshy squelch before a warmth started pooling onto your chiton that covered your lap. Looking down, you saw Sukuna’s bloodied hand holding this man’s heart seconds before he dragged it back through his chest, removing the pumping organ from the hole in his back. Just like that, the man was dead, and so was your will to keep torturing him. 

Your fingers loosened from around his neck as you pushed away from him, the realization of what exactly you just did setting in, but it didn’t scare you as much as you thought it might. You didn’t even feel disgusted, only confused. 

“Why did I do that?” you asked Sukuna as he tossed the corpse away into a growing pile of them. “Thank you… for doing that. I-I would’ve kept going until he died. I was just… so angry and sad, but at the same time I felt so empty.”

Offering you his hand, he helped you to your feet. “And how do you feel now?”

“Sticky,” you answered, flexing your sweaty hands that were stained with a little bit of blood, though not the blood of someone you killed. Technically, by Sukuna’s logic, your hands were still clean.

Which also meant you were not his equal.

“Still want to send a mother and her children to Tartarus?”

Your eyes widened, a tiny giggle slipping out of you. “Gods, no! I only said that so he’d feel awful and wait for them down there. I was being petty, I’ll admit.”

“You call that petty, my queen? That was ruthless–the most sadistic and bloodthirsty display I’ve ever seen.” Your heart sank into your stomach. Did you go so far that even Sukuna was disgusted? Amidst your internal panic, you noted a faint smile curve onto his mouth. “And it was very impressive. I’ve never been more proud.”

“Really?”

“Mhm. Making him eat his finger? What a magnificent torture tactic. One I’ll definitely be using in the future-”

“Oh, that? I was only messing around.” You brushed him off, blushing. “It was a mere improvisation at best.”

“That can’t be. It had to have been premeditated– and calling him insufferable and swine…” he trailed off, whistling. 

“You liked that, did you?”

“Indeed. What a perfect insult for mortal scum.”

“Gods, you praise me too much-” 

Sukuna pulled you into his arms before you could even finish your sentence and began trekking up the hill toward the sanctuary. “It was rather formidable, wasn’t it?” He hummed in agreement, brushing his cheek against yours. “Certainly with the way you were tearing them apart so captivatingly.”

Against your neck, he mumbled, “More commendations from my queen? I’m lucky and blessed.”

The next day, after another argument, you entered the training field on Sukuna’s back, while he grumbled about bringing you here and how dangerous it was for the soldiers whose eyes might catch sight of you. However, after mentioning how sore your body was after the events of yesterday, you wouldn’t be able to get around on your own. And since Hatsuyo and Unoko weren’t strong enough, you’d need Noriyoshi to carry you. 

Let’s just say the discussion didn’t last too much longer after that.

“This is ridiculous. A training field is no place for a queen. Especially a queen with a broken bone.” Still, he didn’t turn around to take you back to the shrine. Instead, he pulled out a blanket from the bag he packed for this moment just this morning. After rolling it out under a tree, gently, he sat you down and began unpacking the rest of the supplies for today. 

First, a kylix filled with various fruits, including a pomegranate that you so graciously used your abilities on to speed up the growing process, bread, cheese, and, of course, honey cake. “I wish you had accepted the stew the kitchen offered.”

You only shrugged, picking at the grapes in the dish. “I don’t like meat.”

“So you’ve said, even though I’ve watched you consume mortal flesh like it’s the tastiest thing you’ve ever had, but that’s a topic for another discussion, isn’t it?” 

You simply nodded to answer his question, not delving into that conversation like all the other times he’s wanted to talk about it. You just weren’t ready to admit that you did it, and even more, you weren’t ready to admit that you enjoyed it and craved it. 

Next, he pulled out the smaller jug of water, an empty cup, and a sachet of opium. “Watch me make the first cup so you’ll know how to make another if you need it.”

And so he showed you how to make opium tea that was perfect for your stature, rather than the strong cup he’d made for himself in the sanctuary all those weeks ago. Luckily, there was honey to be added this time. The next thing he pulled out was another small sachet, this one filled with various seeds.

“Since you’re choosing to be down here with me instead of in the garden,” he vaguely and hastily explained, “You can still be entertained with your plants.”

“Thank you.” You placed them aside as he began gathering himself to leave. He removed his cloak and himation, handing them over to you for warmth. “Wait with me while I have my tea, will you?”

And that’s how you managed to get Sukuna to sit down with you in his lap, you sipping on your tea, him resting his chin on the top of your head while he gently played with your hair, judgmental onlookers be damned. There was even the faintest purring sound vibrating in the back of his throat that you found to be so soothing. You were so caught up in the moment, you didn’t hear anyone approach until Sukuna’s purring stopped, followed by his deep, baritone voice doling out a threat.

“Mortals that approach this area of their own volition will be turned to ash.” 

Glancing up from the tea in your hands, you saw the man from yesterday frozen midstep. Briefly, his eyes caught yours before they lowered to the ground quickly, a pale cast taking over his face. 

“Not this one, my king,” you softly chided, turning to place a kiss on his jaw. “Please?”

Disgruntled, Sukuna huffed, “Fine, but make this quick.”

“Yes, thank you, my king, my queen.” He stepped toward you until Sukuna raised his hand. 

“That’s close enough to state what you’re here for.”

“Right, yes, I-I have… I have brought a gift for you, my queen-”

Sukuna swiftly interrupted him. “Unnecessary. You’re dismiss-”

You interrupted him. “He said the gift is for me, not you.”

Sukuna grunted and waved his hand, allowing the man to continue. 

“I am immensely grateful for your pardon yesterday, my queen. I only wish that I had done more to protect you.” Before Sukuna could throw out another insult, you raised your hand to cup it over his mouth when you felt his intake of air, signaling that he was about to speak. “While I cannot change my past cowardice, I hope you’ll receive this gift of apology from me.”

Venturing forward, he placed a scroll on the grass beside you.

“It could never fully make up for what I’ve done, but it’s all that I have at the moment. I do hope you’ll accept this collection of poems.”

You smiled at him and picked up the scroll to unroll. Your eyes raked over the letters scribbled down, but none of it made sense to you. Still, you curled it back up and placed it inside your bag. 

“What is your name, soldier?”

“Natsu, my queen.”

“Natsu,” you hummed over it, adding, “Thank you for this gift. It’s lovely.”

“Now, you are dismissed.” After doing what he came here for, Natsu didn’t hesitate to depart from you at Sukuna’s last order. When he was gone, you resumed relaxing against your husband’s, while he asked, “Do you know how to read?”

“I do not, but this will be a nice place to start, don’t you think? After all, I did tell you I’d practice the art of poetry.”

“Forgive me, I didn’t think you were being serious. Had I known, I could have spent time teaching you to read it.” 

You finished up your tea and placed the cup aside. 

“It’s alright. After I return from the surface, and after this war is over, you can teach me then.” The mention of your leaving for the surface brought on a thick tension between you both. “Have you heard anything from Wasuke?”

“No, but there are still two days before you leave. Let’s hope he shows up in that time.”

* * * * *

Wasuke didn’t show up in that time.

Neither did your gift.

And that was a terrifying thought as you and Sukuna stood in front of a swirling pool of greens and blues.

“And this portal will stay open for how long exactly?” Sukuna asked Kenjaku, motioning toward the portal Kenjaku opened on the wall of Sukuna’s chambers. 

“One day. After that, I’ll need a couple of days to recharge my energy. Unfortunately, there are matters on the surface I’ll be dealing with for the time being, so I’ve set these on a cycle to run in my absence.” He turned to address both of you as he went over the rules. 

“Starting tonight, this portal will close at midnight and won’t open back up until next week at midnight. When they’re open, try to limit the number of times you enter and exit, as each time you do, that eats up a bit more of my energy. With that being said, if either of you gets stuck on either side, you’ll be trapped there for a week, so make sure you’re keeping track of the time. I won’t be here to open it back up for you, nor will I be in reach for communication. Now, since these will be open for extended periods of time, I’ve changed the coordinates of the surface portal to a more obscure location to keep wandering mortals from stumbling into the underworld, so do not give away its location.”

“...okay,” you croaked, voice hoarse from the hours you’d spent crying last night.

Kenjaku’s lips fell into a flat line. “Again, I must advise against this. Over time, your heart will acclimate to the pain, but only if you keep the distance. Meeting each time will only start the healing process over-”

“Kenjaku,” Sukuna softly interrupted. “Let’s not push the limits this time.”

From behind you, the soft pitter-patter of feet entered the chambers, signaling your time for departure. Anxiety twisted in your chest, making you curl your arms around Sukuna’s arm even tighter. 

“We’re ready, my king, my queen,” Unoko announced, toting with her little Yuji, and beside her, Hatsuyo. You felt their looks of pity burning into your back.

“Did you pack the rest of the opium?” Sukuna asked them, shifting you in front of him to raise you off the ground into his arms. 

“No, you need some, don’t you?” you interjected before they could answer.

“No. You’re the one with the broken rib.”

Hatsuyo spoke up. “We packed enough for the correct doses of tea-”

“Pack the rest.” At his command, she bowed and scurried out of the room. 

“But you’ll need some to sleep.”

“I’ll sleep just fine. Don’t worry yourself about it.” He glanced back at Unoko. “Wait for her to return so you can enter the surface together.”

“Yes, my king.”

* * * * *

The shift in the atmosphere when he stepped through the portal was gut-wrenching. You had acclimated to the pressure of the underworld long ago–it had become something that you enjoyed, and the fact that you really did not want to be here only made the anxiety in your stomach churn fervently. Your arms curled tighter around his neck, wishing for some cosmic catastrophe that might stall this separation a little longer. Sukuna hadn’t even left your side yet, and you were already so close to announcing death by starvation to all mortals. At least then, there would be no battle to be fought, so bringing spring to the world could be done with Sukuna by your side. 

Your eyes were swollen and very irritated from the amount of crying you’ve done over the past day, yet they didn’t stop. You would have thought your tear supply would have been exhausted hours ago, but here you were, soaking Sukuna’s cloak, on which you were resting your cheek. 

Sticks and other forest floor clutter crunched underneath his heavy steps as he carried you out of the woods, and besides your sniffling, it was silent between you, though the air was thick and dragging with tension. 

Sukuna might not admit it as emotionally as you, but you knew this separation was painful for him, too. Maybe if he were wired the same as you, he’d cry with you. But then again, he had spent 18 years with the ache of distance, the stabbing and searing pain of not having your other half with you… gods, you really don’t know if you could do this. Outright admitting to weakness wasn’t something you would do very often, but if it meant getting you out of this, you would. You’d denounce independence entirely and become a slave to this bond.

When he stepped out of the woods and into the field before your childhood home, an inevitable, muffled cry escaped you.

You were so close already.

You weren’t ready.

“Perhaps it won’t be terrible at all. Spending time with your mother, doing what you love with your friends beside you. Yuji, too-”

“But they aren’t you,” you sniveled, “I want you beside me.”

“I know, sweetheart. I want that, too.”

“Stay, then. Let the mortals fight their own battles. They don’t deserve you anyway. Who cares if they kill themselves?”

“It’s not just about preparing them for the battle. I can’t leave the underworld for too long. Already, there is a group rebelling against the crown. Imagine what they’d all do if they realized the shrine sits empty.”

“And you can’t handle a couple of cocky mortals on your throne?”

“Mortals are not the only beings that wish to take my spot; there are deities, too.”

“So kill them. Toss them into Tartarus for their arrogance.”

“All this talk of violence is unbecoming of you,” he tutted, almost playfully.

“I am the monster you created.”

He hummed out a chuckle. “My wife is not a monster-”

“I could be, and I will if it means you can stay-”

“I can’t.”

A sniffling sob tumbled from your mouth. “I know…”

After a few more moments of silence, you heard a familiar voice call out from the distance, though with your cries, you couldn’t really hear what they were saying. You didn’t even know who it was until Sukuna huffed in agitation. 

“Your mother is waiting for you.”

“What did you do to her?!” You heard her shout, earning a groan from your husband. Her voice grew louder as the distance between us diminished. “She is crying, is she hurt?!”

“I can sense her animosity for me from here,” he mumbled to you.

“I’m sorry.”

Exhaling a laugh, he pressed his lips to the crown of your head. “It’s not a fault of yours.”

“I swear to the gods, Sukuna, if you-” When she was close enough, her hand smoothed against your back, but you instantly recoiled away from her touch. “You hurt her-”

“I did not-”

“Is… Is that a splint? On her torso?! You broke her bones?!”

“No, if you’d allow me to-”

“You absolute brute– you steal her from me, only to hurt her!”

“Manami-”

“You sadistic monster-”

“Stop,” you rasped, climbing higher into his grasp. “...not a monster.”

Her hand moved to attempt to soothe you again as she cooed, “What did you say-” 

You flinched away from her again. “I said he’s not a monster. Don’t… please don’t say that again.” With another attempt to placate you, she sighed out your name, but you cut her off. “You and all the other surface dwellers here are lucky my husband has more of a heart than I do, for if that weren’t the case, I’d let all of you starve-”

“You don’t mean that-”

“I’d renounce spring entirely if I could. The world could freeze over, winter could be infinite, I’d enjoy that more than parting from the underworld. I’m doing this for scum who spit on my king’s name, but only because he says it’s the right thing to do. So don’t call him a monster when that title belongs to me.”

* * * * *

“Are you sleeping?” Sukuna asked, voice quiet and smooth. 

You weren’t sleeping.

But you were too exhausted to speak; the most you could do was subtly shake your head. You should have slept, but you didn’t want to miss the last few hours that you had together. But, gods, his hand tracing up and down your bare arm, the warmth emanating from his body, and just the comforting scent of him made you want to cave into this exhaustion so badly. 

“You can sleep if you want to. I’ll wake you up before I leave-”

“...no.”

He only huffed before pulling you onto his chest, allowing you to curl up there while he lay back on the bed. 

“You know, as long as you don’t think about the bond, it can’t hurt you. You just need to keep yourself distracted, and I know once you get started working with your mother, you’ll forget all about it.”

You didn’t respond to that, making him sigh again. 

He shifted you once more, raising you higher on his torso so that your face was nestled in the crook of his neck. 

“Six months isn’t forever.”

“...feels like it is.”

“Maybe it does now, but six months is nothing when you compare it to the eternity we’ll have ahead of us.” His touch skimmed down your arm to your hand, where he grabbed it, interlocking your fingers. “We’re almost there, just a little longer, and forever will be ours.”

|| MIS M.List || >BLISTER>

confused by what you just read? Malevolence In Spring's Guide

a/n: the next chapter is the interlude for this story, and it's in Sukuna's pov, yay! There's a bit of angst lined up, but I'm going to try and get it out in like two chapters because I hate writing angst.

taglist: @belovedria @whorishminds @kaziis @delliriumn @desmond69sallnite @kouyoumarryme @doobybopbop @kiyomimediocre @jeaniebluee @man1cslut @kawaiioperatormugpony @call-memissbrightside @maddamoiselle @raritysspouse @cutesytwt @sm0lkatz @himbosexual @blueemochii @wobblewobble822 @lilica75 @nanamjai @unknownw0css @p-playboi @plasticsheepponycollector @lazylunarlover @al3monkid @energiepie @washturtletwin @frootloopscos @tojiswifeforlife @axryl @tojis-ball-sack @brainlessprose @airandyeah @itsliaah0e @jellyaxce @loudsilence711 @lawww-liet @cherry-peach-flavored @wamuuofficial @svntsbunnie @itskannebro-blog @crunchycathy

[kchronicallyonline]

Okay, I’m shitting myself but here y’all go, My First Official Fic! I hope it isn’t terrible, and let me know if y’all actually want more because I could def make this a slow burn(?) sort of series. I may make a few edits because I’m still trying to figure out how to make this whole thing esthetic and pretty :) Enjoy!

HOME SWEET HOME

Jack Abbot x Reader

Summary: You move into Jack’s place thanks to Robby’s doe eyes.

Word Count: 831, I kept it short & sweet in case we aren't loving it <3

“I promise I’ll be out of your hair as soon as possible.” You say, the last box of your belongings in your arms.

“It’s fine.” Jack mumbles, taking the too-large box and moving it into his guest room for you.

His guest room, not your bedroom. The both of you were very stern on that front. A domino-effect of “what the fuck”s led to you being all but homeless out of nowhere. When Dr. Robby, ever the savior, found you having an absolute breakdown in the staff lounge mid-shift, he gave your shoulder a pat and said, “Let me make a call, okay?”. Now, here you stand in an apartment that absolutely will not be yours in any sense with a man you really didn’t know anything about.

You’d heard enough talk around Dr. Abbot that you were shocked he said yes to taking you in- even if it was only for Robby, who people said had a bit of a ‘too soft’ spot for you. He was this sort of mythical figure around the ER. People talked about the cowboy doctor who ignored practically every protocol and never let his residents see him crack. He was a hardcore man in every sense. From his army past to his no nonsense way of working around the hospital. And he was standing in front of you in a hoodie and sweatpants, the elastic band hiked up a bit on his right leg, showing off the prosthetic you’d only ever heard about before.

“Thanks again,” you start, but he just shakes his head.

“It’s fine.” He says again. He crosses his arms, shifting his weight to favor his prosthetic.

“And, Robby already went over all the rules with me, so you don’t have to worry about me-“

“Kid. It’s fine.” He sighs. “I have a shift tonight, though, so just keep it down, okay?”

You nod, deciding no matter what you say, it’ll be the wrong thing, and he leaves you to unpack. You have most of your things in storage, so it won’t take long to move your clothes into the closet and dresser and set up the few decorations you decided to keep with you. You can’t hear a single peep from the rest of the apartment, so you just crawl into not your bed and apartment search on your phone.

After he leaves, you finally feel brave enough to step out of the guest room. His apartment is tidy, almost too tidy. You’ve never seen a single man keep up after himself so well. Then again, you’d been told a million different times all the ways Jack Abbot isn’t just any man.

There are a few photos on the walls, mostly group ones with the hospital staff. Some from his army days. Not really any of this family though, you notice. You make a mental note to never bring up family stuff. Not that you're planning having very many conversations with him.

The silence is nearly deafening, so you decide to check his fridge and pantry, then go to the grocery store. You put your food in a little corner of each, you all but hide your Tupperware in the bottom cupboards, and you bought a little caddy to carry your bathroom stuff in and out with each use. With any luck, you’d be out of his place before he ever really noticed you moved in.

You make dinner, enough for two, and put the rest away in a mix of his and your plasticware. If you did have to burden him, at least you could try and make it a little less annoying by making enough food for the both of you. And muffins. You already had a habit of making muffins for the week’s breakfast. This time you just doubled the recipe. And, if he ended up being a weirdo who didn’t like blueberry muffins, you could eat your stress with two muffins a morning. Win-win.

You jerk awake when the front door practically slams. In the too-early morning silence, you hear him sort of stomp through the house, tossing his keys and ripping open the fridge. Your alarm goes off a second later and you can’t pretend to sleep anymore. By the time you step out of your room with caddy in hand, he’s nearly done with his dinner- one of the Tupperwares you filled for him. You catch each other off guard, wide eyes locking onto wide eyes. He seemed to forget you were going to be here, and you’d never seen his curls look so disheveled.

“Hey,” You smile thinly.

“Hey.” He looked down into his dinner, clearing his throat quietly. “Thanks, by the way,”

You almost miss it on your way to the bathroom. You turn, feeling not much different than a doe in headlights. And Jack seemed like an 18-wheeler even with his back turned to you. “Uh, yeah. Anytime.” Quickly, you disappear into the bathroom to finish getting ready.

Headers from: @dollywons & @hyuneskkami

Tags: @popeabbot, @thisisjustmyface, @toosweetforanyone

[harrisonstories]

“We’re going up to Benares. It’s either now or twenty years from now, and I’m not sure if I’m going to be around twenty years from now. We’re targets for assassination, you know.”  “Oh, George, stop that,” Olivia said. “Just stop that!” (1976)

[Alistair Taylor] recalled an incident [in 1963] when The Beatles were flying to London from Liverpool Airport, but George hadn’t turned up. The others went to London, leaving Alistair to contact George. “I rang him at home to find out what was going on. George said, ‘I don’t want to be a Beatle’. In a panic, I went round to talk to him and George said he didn’t like all the pressure and the frenzy of the crowds and the fans. Thankfully, he came to his senses and the matter was never discussed again until they finished touring in 1966.” - Liddypool: Birthplace of The Beatles

"When the door, in fact, did open, a girl reached in, grabbed George’s hair and tore at it. Out in the crowd, pushing our way through, I noticed blood trickling down his forehead. If you’re interested in that kind of frenzy, where love turns to violence, you should read a Greek tragedy called The Bacchae. Two thousand years ago, its author, Euripides, could tell you all about Beatles fans, only his hero had not just his hair but his arms and legs pulled off. Mum kept the head." - Victor Spinetti "He had a very, very bad experience in Manila and that remained unforgettable for George. He was a very slight man, very light in weight, and the fear of being vulnerable to fans, and crazy people, remained with him.” - Pattie Boyd

"Nobody else knew that George Harrison was in fear of his life ‘cause he actually had some poison pen letters saying, 'You’ll die in the next five days,’ and the assassination of Kennedy wasn’t so far away. It was pretty hair raising stuff." - George Martin "Those tours in the United States were crazy. The first big American trip, when we arrived in San Francisco in 1964, they wanted to do a ticker tape parade and I remember saying 'No, no, no.' That imagery of people being shot. Kennedy, Beatlemania, madness. Talk about pressures!" - George Harrison

"He used to enjoy a drink at the Row Barge pub in Henley but he didn’t go into the town as much after John Lennon was shot.” Mr. Robb’s wife, Mina, added: “That really shook him — he used to say that if he landed after a flight, and came out onto the steps of the plane, he would be wondering which person might have a gun.” - A Generous Man “I remember him visiting me on tour in Germany. He would come to the side of the stage and look out. But he really didn’t want to go on. He would go, ‘It’s so loud and smoky, and they are acting so crazy. I just feel better back here.’" - Tom Petty

"By the time Tania and I arrived at Friar Park, George and Liv were patched up, but angry, like all victims of violent crime, and in need of good friendship. Nobody had more good friends all round the world, and flowers and faxes poured in. We played guitars and sang. George was very shaken. I had never seen him like this. He needed constant hugs." - Eric Idle "When he had that dreadful thing happen to him in 1999, when he was stabbed in his own home, he was so emotional and was very vulnerable. He phoned me and said he couldn’t stay in the house, saying ‘Jackie, you know all the hotels in London, I thought the Grosvenor House would be good because I’ve been there with you’. I told him 'you can’t go there because that boxer who bit someone’s ear [Mike Tyson] is living there and there’s media around all the time. You can’t go there, George’. And he said, 'Oh, can I come to your house?’ So he, Olivia and Dhani came to live with us for a little while. He was a gentle man and to be violated in that way was a terrible thing for him." - Sir Jackie Stewart

"You know, I was lying there and I was thinking, 'I can't believe it. After everything that's happened to me, I'm going to be murdered. I'm being murdered in my own home. Since I'm being murdered, and I'm going to die, I better start letting go of this life, and I better start doing what I've been practicing to do my whole life — so that I can leave my body the way I want to." - George Harrison "George died two years after the stabbing incident, under much more peaceful circumstances… and that’s really the core story of 'Heroic Couple.' 'The point of writing that poem, and I didn't really know the point of it until I got to the end, was that it wasn't long afterwards that death proper — not imposter — happened,' Olivia explains. 'You know, if [the home invasion] would've been his actual death, that would've been just the worst thing. The fact is, when George did die, he did it on his own terms. He was very much in control and in charge of that day. And he felt that John Lennon was really cheated. I mean, it's one thing to have your life stolen from you, but to also have stolen the opportunity to leave your body in a way that would be beneficial? If you believe that the way you die is important — and I do, and George did — then to be robbed of the chance to leave how you want to leave is just the worst. And that's why it was almost like George earned the death that he had. Had he died that night [during the knife attack], I don't know how I would [have] recovered from that. It just would've been awful. It came close. But the point of writing that poem was really to say that George didn't die that way.'" - Olivia Harrison interviewed by Lyndsey Parker

[psychoticallykind]

Secure

'Secure' - Jegulus Microfic - @into-the-jeggyverse - 536 words

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

Regulus knew that he wasn't exactly the type of person anyone - including himself - had envisioned dating James.

He was quiet, and a little mean, and didn't express much beyond a practiced sense of apathy.

And that was fine. James liked him, for whatever reason, and Regulus was content with that. He was not worried about his place in James's life.

He was not watching Lily talk to James with any particular sense of impending doom.

"He doesn't like her."

Regulus didn't move. "Who?"

Remus snorted. "James."

Regulus feigned confusion as he glanced over. "Who doesn't James like?"

Remus, unfortunately, was not easily swayed. Regulus privately thought that they wouldn't be friends if he were.

"Is it your first time?" Remus asked.

Regulus's frown became a bit more genuine. "My first time with what?"

"Being insecure," Remus replied innocently.

He immediately looked away. "I am not insecure."

"Ah, of course." Remus's voice was very subtly laced with sarcasm. "I forgot. The Great and Ambivalent Regulus Black could never be something as terribly obvious as insecure."

Regulus did not smile.

But it was a close thing.

Instead, he lifted his chin a bit - just enough to have that 'I'm from a prestigious bloodline' air. "I'll forgive the transgression."

"How kind," Remus quipped. Then, because he was a little evil - "You should mention it to James."

"Your transgression?"

"Your insecurity regarding Lily."

"Your what?"

Regulus's heart stopped, and Remus's eyes went wide for a moment.

James looked confused. "What does he mean?"

"I -" Regulus faltered, not sure what to do. Lying to James wasn't an option. Telling the truth, similarly, was out of the question.

Remus, The Coward and Traitor, stepped away. "I forgot, Sirius is looking for me." He sent Regulus a vaguely apologetic look. "I'll see you later."

"Be prepared," Regulus warned him. "Because Sirius can't save you."

Remus just nodded, and then Regulus was alone with the most dangerous person he knew.

James tilted his head a bit like a puppy dog. "Reg?"

"It's nothing," Regulus said quickly. He grabbed James's hand. "Come on, we can go flying for a bit."

Flying, because it was much easier to avoid a conversation when they were zipping through the air.

James shook his head, tugging just a little to direct them away from the pitch. "What did he mean?" Kind brown eyes surveyed his expression. "Are you feeling insecure about Lily? Did I do something?"

"No," Regulus immediately denied. "You didn't do anything. I promise," he added, relieved when James nodded.

"Then what is it?" He asked.

"It's nothing," Regulus reaffirmed. "I'm not insecure. That would be - I'm not -" He shook his head. "I'm not."

"I hope not," James replied. He gave Regulus a small smile. "Because you don't have to be."

"No?" Regulus questioned, and maybe it was an admission. Or maybe it wasn't.

"No," James confirmed. "Not only am I quite obsessed with you, but Lily is also in a committed relationship. We're both very happy where we are."

Regulus took a second to process that. "Oh."

"Mmhm." James let him think for a bit, then nudged his shoulder. "How are you feeling?"

"Better," Regulus admitted.

James nodded. "Secure?"

Regulus rolled his eyes. "Secure," he agreed.

[mechncheese]

Ok ok so obviously we have all heard the "seven minutes in hell" or toxic yaoi" for prowlstorm but in your honest opinion, genuinely, what would prowlstorm relationship be like? Not just butted down to one or two words. I'm super curious how they would act around each other or with each other when they are fighting

BAHAHA Ok ok let me see... If I'm thinking about them seriously--

In my honest opinion, the actual toxicity of their relationship kind of depends, I have a character arc (in actual science AU) for them set up where they do grow more tolerant of each other and instead of pure malicious hatred violence it's more like casually bickering with each other (though mostly Brainstorm picking on Prowl because. Well. It's Brainstorm and that's just how he is.) Early on Prowlstorm is mostly Brainstorm throwing his hands at Prowl, being difficult to work with, and trying to make him miserable because if Brainstorm is going to be stuck with this guy for the next who knows how long, he is going to make Prowl's experience as terrible as possible. Prowl meanwhile wants to be in charge of the situation and wants Brainstorm to cooperate with him. Both of them are in a constant tug of war, Prowl's patience runs thin and at times he does lose his cool and that's what Brainstorm likes to see. Meanwhile Prowl's tries to outwardly act indifferent about Brainstorm but he is Very frustrated that this scientist is causing him so much trouble. How can one bot be so smart but so vain and stupid at the same time?

Both of them eventually come to understand the situation they're in despite trying their hardest to ignore it, Prowl needs Brainstorm's help and Brainstorm unfortunately also needs Prowl's help. Both of them have very similar feelings about this. "I hate that I need help."

For actual relationship dynamic stuff if they were in one(?) I don't think they're very romantic (in a traditional sense), Brainstorm just likes invading Prowl's space, getting in his face, lots of physical contact, doing things to provoke a reaction and grab attention. Prowl likes to ignore him because giving Brainstorm attention means Brainstorm is winning. Also Brainstorm likes making Prowl feed his ego. It's not that he's looking for validation from Prowl, he just wants that stuck up bot to tell him he's oh so smart and deserves so much praise for it. Prowl doesn't like humoring Brainstorm too much and acts more like a reality check for him. After everything, I like to think they eventually come to a mutual and hesitant understanding with each other-- Upon writing this I do realize that I kind of just described how they are normally so I think that nothing would Really Change if they were in a relationship.

Relationship exclusive Prowlstorm Uhh maybe they’d kiss a little sure why not but it’s really awkward and aggressive and they'd have a strange love(??) language that no one else really understands. Who knows how they got together in the first place

[ashestxr]

hi im reblogging this again cause this just sent me down a rabbit hole and i went and checked every. single. god damn frame in this video because i could not BELIEVE i just wrote this off as a shitpost with minor spamton references

the main thing i found that piqued my interest outside of the things brought up in this post is that during the "king of only" part, there is a tiny bit (literally just these two frames down below) where you can see text peeking out from underneath, like it was just a video pasted on top of something else

(sorry for the terrible quality, i didnt know how else to get a picture of it)

i dont know if this is anything really, from the spacing of what we can see, this just looks like the same words just in a different font. this very well could be some placeholder text that was accidentally left in before the words were animated, but i already spent the time overanalyzing this video so i might as well put this out there despite how crazy it is. if it does say something else i am NOT gonna be the one to stare at this for several hours to try to figure it out

another weird??? detail i noticed is the fact that with these subtitles, all the letters are super clear except the e???? again, no idea why or whatever it could possibly mean, but its another thing that stood out to me (my dumb brainrotted mind immediately went to egg, since it makes it look round, but that doesnt make sense at ALL in this context)

speaking of this moment, regarding the flipped house.......

unfortunately, while the house, along with the animation of tenna, IS flipped, the lighting is something that stays consistent, so despite the text being flipped it wasnt just the video being copied and pasted over. i definitely dont want to rule out the idea of the other house being for spamton, it could be that they just hastily redid the lighting and didnt catch the text. (or, very well could be that they just kept this in cause it was funnier)

im realizing now that all of this doesnt really add much to this theory, but ive been spending way too much time on this and needed to share 😭

Evidence That Tenna's TV Time! Intro Was Edited Post-Spamton

Theory: Originally, the TV Time! VHS intro was meant to be an intro for both Spamton and Tenna. After Spamton left, Tenna edited him out, trying to erase his presence. He did not do a good job of it.

I saw this theory proposed earlier by smolmight97 (via Discord) the Lore of Spamtenna Google Slide pointing out the "Mr. Ant Tenna's" jingle and the small blue Tenna, but I wanted to go over the whole intro in detail.

Evidence:

Feature is misspelt: Typos are a trait of Spamton's dialogue specifically, not Tenna's.

(Image sources are from "ALL TENNA Scenes - Deltarune: Chapter 3 Comparison (Showcase)" by KeeTee via YouTube, and "Spamton Boss Fight - Deltarune Chapter 2" by Faz Faz)

There are two houses, assumedly one for Tenna and one for Spamton to appear out of:

The second house on the right is a flipped copy of the left house that has been pasted overtop the video, which is how Tenna edited the shot. You can tell because the "your house" sign is backwards:

Spamton was supposed to be in this shot with a computer, because he's the one related to emails, but has been replaced with a rush job CG model of Ralsei. Like it was added last-minute.

This shot doesn't make sense. "The KING OF only." Only what? I think it was originally going to be a joke on how Tenna is not "the one and only" host of this show. You've got the king of television ("the Lord of Screens") AND the personification of email!

The shot just before this has the voice say "He's the ONE" but before finishing (with assumedly "and only"), he interrupts himself with "COMING!" with the little cropped animation in the corner:

Tenna seems to have some sort of issue uttering the phrase "the one and ONLY" because he does this AGAIN later on after the intro when he's talking about the grand prize:

Like look at how there's so much space to the right after the word "AND," it's like something's missing.

Now why doesn't he want to say that he's "the one and ONLY" host? Because it wasn't like that originally? Because it's a sad reminder? A painful memory?

In this shot, the line doesn't have a rhyme, unlike the line directly before ("He's GROOVY and never GLOOBY") and directly after ("The sensation of your screen. The show that makes you scream"). Tenna just replaced the original line with Pipis shaming (a Spamton-related object), wrecking the rhyming flow.

Spamton was meant to be the smaller blue Tenna in this shot. They're both silhouettes, and it's hard/impossible to show this with static images, but only the red Tenna moves like he's alive. The blue Tenna moves like a cardboard cutout. It's a placeholder. Plus the blue egg shown just beforehand makes us now associate blue with Spamton.

If you count the syllables for the ending jingle, "M-r.-Ant-Ten-na's" has the same amount as, "Spam-ton-and-Ten-na's." Tenna basically never uses his first name after this intro. He likes going by Tenna, not Ant.

Side note, we get a brief moment where the tv logo shows the screen CLEAVED:

Not sure why this would even be here, since Tenna doesn't know about being in the prophesy. But Spamton does (possibly anyway), so him subconsciously adding it to the intro would be an explanation.

The intro is a VHS recording, and while that's a nod to Tenna being an older CRT television, it also means that, like VHS cassettes, the film can be edited by recording things on top of the original footage in pieces.

[dalliancekay]

"I don't even like you!" "You dooo!"

Okay so I wrote this fairly light-hearted paragraph to go with a gif and then it turned into three paragraphs and more gifs so now I had to delete it all and start again because apparently I don't just want to point out how Aziraphale wasn't lying to himself when he said "I don't even like you" NOR was he trying to lie to Crowley either!

TL:DR Bandstand is not some terrible break up where Aziraphale refuses to leave with Crowley for a happy time on Alpha Centauri (or alternatively to kill a child) because... okay I actually don't know why people think he refused Crowley's suggestions and blame him for them parting ways here - Aziraphale wanted to save the world? Without killing a kid? Or try at least everything possible first?

Plus Aziraphale was desperate too to try and get Crowley off the hook should someone very shortly question their relationship. That's why he says the ridiculous things he says. (It's always the reason he says them.) It wasn't because the angel was a little bit scared of what will Heaven say if they found out he fraternised - not to mention fell in love with a demon. Well, not scared in the - omg how do I tell my parents I fell for a bad boy - sense. But terrified that they will kill him way. Or that Crowley's own 'family' will kill him.

So. How do I, in the year of Lord 2025 STILL see takes and comments that say - oh, why is Aziraphale lying to himself so hard, he just has to be honest with himself, can he get over his precious angel self already, why is he so scared of admitting he loves a demon. Crowley is so right; even(?) Crowley can tell Aziraphale's lying, he's calling out his BS; but why is Aziraphale so hurtful and why does Aziraphale keep making the same mistakes/bad decisions.

Why are too many people STILL thinking of Aziraphale as wrong (and horrible and cruel) in the bandstand, as if he was being stupid and hurtful and denying their friendship and wanting to do what Heaven wanted (??) and so on and on and then he went on and did the same thing in the Final 15. Not listening to Crowley.

So no. None of this. He did not. He was not wrong. He did what he did and said what he said because he was scared for Crowley. And for Earth. He just wanted to try his best. Give his everything.

Besides, note how Aziraphale turns around:

He did that before arriving at the bandstand too.

What or who is he looking for? Could it be the Supreme Archangel who he knows runs along this exact route?

Do trees have ears?

But a lot like in F15, Crowley is not paying attention to Aziraphale's fear in the moment, he's too focused on his own emotions and his need to protect Aziraphale NOW and get away from it all which the angel is resisting (because that's just how he is, he would not leave, whatever it's going to cost, if he set his mind on trying everything; but also, because he knows "there isn't anywhere to go").

Why is Aziraphale saying this?

Well because it is the Great Plan. Something that has been in the works for aeons, since before they met as angels in Before the Beginning. They tried to thwart it and their plan ineffably - got away from them (or so they must think at this point) by having them look after the wrong boy. They failed. The only other option (to kill the boy) is still unthinkable to Aziraphale. And the only other thing he can think of is to speak to Gabriel and then God too about it. I mean, it seems reasonable to me. Crowley tried the same. Talk to God I mean. But Aziraphale, being who he is (holier than thou - that's the whole point!) has a better chance.

It didn't work, but was he wrong for trying? And they did in the end thwart the Plan too. And it was Aziraphale's nitpicking that did it in a big part.

Is he wrong here? Look, he didn't have time to sit down and explain to the audience and to Crowley what exactly he meant and that he didn't mean to imply.... I'm sure Crowley knew what Aziraphale meant. What side did they have here, hours before Armageddon? They did go along with what they had to as far as they could - and did what they felt was better when they could get away with it. Yes. But. Would this be the case after Armageddon? Absolutely not. No one will pay their desires and sides and wants any heed. They will have to fight on opposite sides. Because that's who they are. It was not their decision. They did not decide to be an angel or a demon. Neither of them did. Whether they want to or not, that's just how it is. There isn't anywhere for them to go away from it all. Not for long anyway.

And yes, that comment did throw Aziraphale because OF COURSE he wants to just go off together. Of course he does. And of course he was flattered that Crowley wanted him to go with. That this was a desire of his. Of course it did. But there is nowhere for them to go to. Nowhere safe they would not be found and dragged back from.

And yes, the Final 15 has a similar vibe, Aziraphale is not choosing (also - what kind of question is that, 'job' or death) to run off together; because he is going to Heaven to protect Crowley - whether Crowley is coming with him or not.

And then, once he learns of the Second Coming, to try and protect Earth too. Again. Look, none of this is their fault. Everything is crashing down on them and they have nowhere to go. Or so it seems. Because they did it once and saved themselves and the world and they will do it again.

Please stop blaming Aziraphale for their unhappiness.

[myheadsgonenumb]

How TF is Drarry still going strong with little to no pushback despite both Harry and Draco having wives and kids yet Wolfstar shippers are constantly told to lie down and accept Remadora/Teddy?

Hi - I'm afraid I wrote a really long reply to this, and then my computer froze and I lost everything.

The crux is the fandom is huge and those who are interested in Drarry (or even those who have a problem with it) are not necessarily the same people arguing that wolfstar doesn't make sense.

I think those who are intent on bashing wolfstar have little interest in the golden trio era and so have no reason to bring it up. I also think Drarry isn't a threat to their own ships and head canons (which are marauders era based) and so they don't have a problem with it existing.

The anti-wolfstar crowd are reacting to the popularity of the ship in marauders spaces.

Some of them are coming at it from a pro-James angle; they want to concentrate on James, are busy centring him in that era ("he was the glue who held the marauders together") and are frustrated by the fact that more people are interested in the characters and relationships that actually appear in the books than the guy who is dead before the story starts.

(The true madness of this crowd, circling back to your point, is that they say Prongsfoot is the ship that makes sense. So wolfstar can't happen because of remadora but Jily and the very existence of Harry Potter himself is just a minor inconvenience to be shrugged away.)

Others will be coming at it from the POV of a remadora shipper. Remadora is the canon ship and yet it is not popular at all, and they are frustrated that people prefer to ship Remus with someone else entirely - almost to the exclusion of everything else - when they like him with his canonical wife, who is being ignored.

It all comes from people who - for one reason or another - are annoyed at the popularity of wolfstar and Remus himself and so are trying to bring all that crashing down.

It won't work, because - as they refuse to acknowledge - both the ship and Remus's popularity stem from canon. They are beloved because of what people read in the books. In comparison, James is barely in it (and his biggest scene does him no favours) and remadora is terribly written. You can only be a fan of James and/ or Remadora if you are doing a lot of scaffolding with headcanons (often headcanons that directly contradict the book). Meanwhile wolfstar has all that intensity and page time right there for people to see and talk about.

So the backlash is from people who are frustrated that their favourite is not the most popular, and they are hating on the popular thing as a way to vent that frustration.

Drarry, despite its popularity, does not intersect with the marauders era or their ships and so it doesn't get brought up. James and Remadora fans are happy to ignore it and let it lie, because it's not a threat to them.

[hanniefangz]

"Love" at first sight.

‼️WARNING - NSFW // MINORS DNI‼️

pairing : han jisung x lee minho

tags/warnings: stalking & obsession, emetophobia / mentions of vomit, self harm (jisung hits himself when he's upset), mature content, sensitive topics.

synopsis - han jisung wants one person more than anything in the world, so much that he'll do anything to make sure he gets his own way.

word count - 3,110

#MY MASTERLIST!! | #CHAPTER2!!

⚠️ PLEASE READ!! ⚠️

i've only included the warnings for this specific chapter, they will change as the story progresses but if i put them above it will spoil the rest of the work. HOWEVER! if anyone would like to know the full list of tags i can give you them !

love you all, stay safe & enjoy!

chapter 1 - meeting him <3

han jisung is a loner, and he'd just come to accept that fact. his friendships never seemed to last, and he's sure as hell never had a romantic relationship. he sits in his bedroom, watching anime and playing video games, writing lyrics and producing stupid little songs that he knows no one will ever hear. he barely knows how to cook for himself, relying on instant ramen and the best man made creation, food delivery services. he was the text book definition of a loser, the kind of person people never gave a second glance. the only socialising he does regularly is working at a second hand gaming shop, and even then he barely interacts with other humans, no one that goes in there knows how to talk any better than he does. he's content with this life, he doesn't need anyone else. he doesn't have time nor the social skills to keep up with other people, friendships fizzle out and he's back at square one, alone in his apartment. he didn't think anyone would ever change his perspective on life, and he was fine with that.

or so he thought.

it was early june the first time jisung ever laid eyes on him.

the start of summer was looming above his head, much to his disappointment. summer for jisung meant hearing parties of his neighbours, shitty music until early hours of the morning, disrupting his very intense gaming and anime sessions. summer meant hearing families and friends outside, heading to parks for barbecues and picnics. maybe it did make him a little bit jealous, but this was the bed he made for himself, and he had to lie in it. trying to make friends at 24 when he barely leaves the house would be practically impossible, so instead he just chooses to grumble to himself about it instead of actually changing anything about his pathetic lifestyle.

this particular day however, jisung decided that he could do with a little bit of sunlight for once, deciding the local park should suffice. even though he'd usually sit in the shade of a tree the entire time, like some kind of vampire. he forces himself out of bed, picking a basic outfit of denim shorts and a white t shirt, a black cap covering his disheveled hair. for someone who spent most of his time being an anti social creature, his sense of fashion wasn't all that terrible. shoving on his converse, he takes a slow walk out of his apartment, still unsure he actually wanted to go outside, but persisting. the park wasn't that far from where he lives, so if he wanted to leave that desperately, he could. his earphones sat snugly in his ears, blasting one of his own songs that he'd recently finished, and cap pushed down enough that his eyes couldn't been seen by anyone else.

he makes it into the park, the wind knocked out of him when he realises just how busy it is, full of screaming children with multicoloured ice lollies, teenagers blaring music from their speakers, older people walking their dogs, couples on picnics. the whole sight makes him feel nauseous, but his feet seemed to have a mind of their own, and they kept walking him further into the park, to a quiet corner, next to a tree. old habits die hard. he still wasn't sure why he's here, subjecting himself to all of this madness, but he pulls his phone out and decides to make the most of his afternoon here in the park. by playing a video game.

again, old habits die hard.

he'd been playing on his phone for at least an hour when he finally decided to look away from the screen, only putting it away because it was starting to overheat and the lag caused his game to be unplayable. the sun was starting to go down slightly, the noise from the park fading out slowly. he sighs loudly, wondering whether he should just go home, when he looks directly infront of him. the breath catches in his throat, and he swears he felt himself drool slightly. the most beautiful man jisung had ever set his eyes on was walking past him. it was just a fleeting glance, but jisung gulped hard. the man had the most perfect body, the shorts he was wearing were hugging his delicious thighs perfectly, and his arms were toned, like he could lift 20 of the very scrawny jisung that was gawking at him. his hair was a gorgeous chocolate brown, that matches his stunning eyes, that jisung knows he could stare into forever. the stranger didn't even look up from his phone as he walks past jisung, but the younger boy felt a hum in his lower stomach, like it was love at first sight. the beautiful stranger left his line of vision just seconds later, and jisungs heart sinks, knowing he'll probably never see him ever again. he feels insane, wanting to run after the man, but he'd probably be spat on and called a freak. that's how people treated jisungs kind. he feels the tears welling up in his eyes and scolds himself for being so weak. he was meant to be content with being alone forever, and now this stranger has flipped it all upside down. he feels like he can't breathe properly. he wants the man so desperately, in all the ways he could possibly think of. he's heard stories of people talking about “love at first sight”, but he thought it was just something that was made up, that only crazy people believed in it. and now he was the crazy one. jisung was in love. soul crushing love.

he stood up from under the tree, walking back to his apartment much slower than he'd left earlier, tears flowing down his cheeks as he makes it back inside, trudging towards his bed and sobbing into his pillow, not even caring about taking his shoes. he’d never felt this empty before, no one had ever had this kind of effect on jisung. he tried to picture the mans face in his head, and got more and more distraught when he realised it was fading from his memory. he’s utterly heartbroken, and wasn't sure if he'd ever feel okay again, knowing he'd let the love of his life slip away from him that quickly, crying harder as the night went on.

he didn't even remember faling asleep that night, and the next few days went by with jisung in a depressive blur. the cycle continued on and on for weeks, he'd remember his love for a second, the picture in his head distorted and cracked, struggling to remember properly. then he would cry himself to sleep, allowing himself to slip further and further into the dark hole he'd dug for himself. it felt endless, the days long and lonely, the nights he barely got any sleep. he barely ate, feeling sick any time he even thought about eating. all he could think about was the man from the park.

it all came to a crashing halt when jisung finally decided that he'd had enough, and tried to forget him. the life he'd had before he'd seen the stranger was good enough for him, and he wanted to go back to it so desperately. he filled the void with endless packets of instant ramen, and rewatched his favourite anime. twice. jisung finally felt like he'd returned to some sense of normality, only a thought of the stranger slipped through the cracks every once in a while, but he pushed it to the back of his mind, still trying to ignore it.

but then came evening in the middle of july, the hot summer air clinging to the city like a weighted blanket. the heat in seoul right now is unbearable, suffocating almost. that only adds more to his utter hatred for the season. its too hot to even step outside right now, being in his apartment is his only salvation, the air conditioning being the only thing keeping him alive…

until of course, it decides to break. the icing on the cake.

jisung sits up in bed with a sigh, pushing his laptop, playing an episode of some romance anime, off of his lap, finally sick of dripping with sweat from head to toe. jisung decides the only thing that would help him right now is a trip to the freezer aisle at the convenience store. he puts on some shoes, not bothering to change out of his dragon ball z pyjamas, the heat clouding his judgement. he leaves his apartment with a huff, cursing his landlord for cheaping out on the air conditioning, like most things in his crappy apartment.

he made it to the convenience store within a few minutes, hair sticking to his forehead and sweat uncomfortably dripping down his back. he grabbed a basket, and made a beeline for the freezer aisle. he found himself staring into the freezers, wishing he could just climb in one and finally cool off when he turns to his left, and almost drops his shopping basket in shock from the sight. all the feelings from the weeks before came flooding back and jisung almost fainted. it was him.

his soulmate

however, he wasn't alone this time, laughing with another man, pretty, younger, with long blonde hair. the elder man’s laugh was just as beautiful as the rest of him, but seeing him with another man made jisungs blood boil, and his heart rate sped up so much he felt he was going to vomit into his basket, not that it would've caught any of it. he ducked into another aisle, trying to catch his breath, when he heard the two chatting to each other, and he peered around the shelves to catch a glimpse of him.

“minho-hyung, which ice cream do you like better?” a deep voice left the blonde boy, who was smiling widely, holding two tubs up infront of him.

minho. jisung could finally put a name to the beautiful face he'd been fantasising about. the man who had completely turned jisungs world upside down. the man that caused him to fall into the deepest depression he'd ever felt.

“mint chocolate. it's my favourite.” minho replied, taking the tub from the other boy and placing it in the basket. jisung made a mental note of the statement, being the only thing he knew about minho besides his name. the two boys left the aisle and jisung finally took a deep breath, and bolted out of the convenience store, abandoning his basket and suddenly the heat was no longer on his mind.

he stood outside for a few seconds, not sure whether to run home or wait to speak to minho, although he wasn't sure what he'd say. “i know you don't know me but im in love with you and your beautiful face.” jisung shook his head and laughed to himself. it was pathetic. he felt like a crazy school girl with a crush on a popular boy. even just thinking about minho made the hair on the back of his neck stand up, and a shiver run down his spine. he *needed* minho, more than he needed oxygen. it was here, stood under the bright glow of the convenience store sign, that he decided that he'd do anything to make minho his.

anything

he was still lost in thought when he heard the chatter of minho and his blonde friend leaving the store, and hearing that laugh again made him snap back to reality. he backed himself up against the shop window, pulling out his phone, pretending that he definitely wasn't watching as they walked away, which just so happened to be the way that jisung needed to walk. it's as if it was fate, and he felt like everything was falling into place. this was perfect. he could follow minho, and if he said anything, he could just say he was going to his own apartment. which wouldn't technically be a lie. he waited until they were far enough down the street, that it wouldn't look too suspicious if he walked behind them. a comfortable distance. jisungs heart raced as he followed them, as if it was the most casual thing in the world to follow your crush home. he'd never felt this way about anyone, but no one else mattered now that he had his heart set on minho.

he made up little situations in his head about minho, wondering what his favourite food was, his favourite song, where he worked, his birthday. he kept daydreaming as he still kept a few feet behind them, trying to listen in on their conversations but to no avail. jisung had to physically restrain himself from running right up to minho and telling him how he felt right then and there. it was too soon, jisung had to let things simmer for a bit longer.

it was then they turned off onto a little street of houses, going into the garden of the first one, minho fishing his keys out of his pocket, and closing the gate behind them, and jisung felt a strange sense of accomplishment as he kept walking towards his apartment block, just across the road. the word fate crossed his mind again as he grabbed his own key out of his pyjama pocket, tapping the little fob on the sensor, and making his way to the elevator.

the whole elevator ride, jisung could barely stop smiling, his body jittering in a strange mix of excitement and anxiety. he knew where minho lived. and it was just opposite him. the lift arrived at jisungs floor, and he stepped out, grabbing his key and putting it in the lock with shaking hands, almost dropping it in the process. he felt like he could pass out from adrenaline. the love of his life lived just across the road to him, and he only found out seconds ago. it was almost like the universe was demanding that they meet, that they were destined to be lovers. jisung finally got his door open, the humid air that was polluting his space and leaking out of the open door was the least of his worries right now. all he could think about was minho. every thought that passed through his brain was minho.

minho. minho. minho.

it was corrupting everything, and he was more than okay with that. he walked into the apartment, locking the door and falling to the floor in tears, that wouldn't stop, no matter what. he just kept crying. all he could think about was how perfect it was that minho was right there. he wasn't sure if tears were happy or sad anymore, just that they kept coming, harder and harder until he couldnt breathe. he could barely believe that the love of his life was so close to him all this time.

how could he be this stupid?!

hed let minho slip so far out of his grip, even though he was right there the entire time. how had he never noticed?. he'd believed he'd never see the love of his life ever again. he'd allowed minho to be tainted by other people, no one deserved to be in the same room as him, too valuable and precious to jisung. how could he let this happen? he was crying even harder at this point, hitting his arm in anger, over and over and over, leaving little bruises all along his arms. he sat infront of the door, crying so hard he couldn't take a deep breath, making himself feel violently sick. but it just wouldn't stop. jisung felt the bile rising in his throat, and barely made it to the bathroom before emptying his stomach contents into the toilet bowl, over and over until there was nothing left, gagging back more tears.

he sat there for a while, staring at the bruises he'd caused himself, and sniffled. he wasn't sure where he'd gained that habit, but it was one he'd been carrying around for a long time, whenever he fucked something up, which seemed to be a lot these days. he peeled himself up from the bathroom floor, feeling lightheaded and flushing away the mess in the toilet, before staring at himself in the mirror for a few minutes, his nose running, eyes red and puffy, dribble running down his chin. he looked pathetic, but this is how minho made him feel. like a pathetic loser that didn't even deserve to look at him. but he couldn't help it. minho was just so beautiful. he couldn't help himself. he just wanted to be close to minho, even if that meant feeling like this. he blew his nose, wiped his eyes, brushed his teeth and filled himself up a cup of water, before heading to his bedroom, which had clothes strewn across the floor, bed messy and hadn't been made in months.

he looked around his room, posters on the walls, anime figures on the shelves, and his computer still had some game up he'd been playing until ungodly hours of the morning the other night. something clicked in him, and he went crazy, tearing down the posters, shoving them and the figures under his bed, closing down the game on his computer. he picked up all his clothes and threw them in his washing basket, and made his bed for the first time in forever. he was so willing to change himself for minho. he knew minho would never fall in love with a freak like him. he'd never like anyone like jisung, so he had to become someone minho would like.

after at least an hour of running around his bedroom, making himself sweat more than he'd ever done and making his room the cleanest it had ever been, he flopped back onto his bed, and suddenly the tears sprang back into his eyes. he wasn't even sure why this time, but he kept crying into his pillow, until there was no more moisture left in his body to cry out, and he fell asleep in the same position he'd started.

——————————————————

AHHH!!! two years without posting and i come back with a multiple part series,,, i feel a bit crazy! but anyways, a lot happened over the last 2years, i saw skz THREE TIMES!!, got engaged to my fave minho stan and now im fully hyperfixated on jisung again so im back in business :P

hope you enjoyed! ive got 2 more parts locked and loaded so keep ur eyes peeled ;))

also my bad that the images don't match the vibe of the story but i have a theme and i ain't ruining it :3

[notonlymice]

[cloudbends]

It's been rotating in my brain for a while, so I decided to compile my thoughts about the parallels between anaxa and sunday in terms of the way their writing, personality and themes align with one another. At this point, I don't believe this is coincidental.

Anaxa sees reason and emotion as coexisting concepts instead of opposing ends. he rejects himself but he doesn't reject his humanity. he rejects his life but doesn't reject his personhood. he debatably has more faith in his students than he does in himself, because he puts so much trust in them to continue his work. to question everything. to forsake everything. to prove everything he can because he has nothing to lose. he guards his theories with his life because its literally all he has left. and i just like how antideterministic it is. they're doomed but he proves its not humanity being doomed by the gods, its humanity's ability to both doom and save itself.

the parallels between sunday and anaxa are best summed up by these two quotes from their respective trailers:

sunday: knowing there were no gods who could save people unconditionally. to change anything, you can only rely on yourself.

anaxa: gods, decry it as blasphemy - if that is all you can do [...] we alone are the true gods of this world.

How can they believe there's such a thing as a god after all they've lost? A line that particularly stuck out to me in anaxa's stories was cerces's goading of anaxa, asking him if he prayed to the titans upon seeing his hometown ruined and his sister dead. It disclosed a deeper, more personal sentiment anaxa has towards the titans than a mere desire to erase their existence. For anaxa, forsaking the gods means to wrestle control back to humanity's hands, to his hands, in the face of an uncontrollably tragic fate.

In this sense, both anaxa and sunday must deal with a desire for control, doing so by getting their respective gods out of the equation. I think Sunday's words at the grand theatre are incredibly important to this point, and indicate just how similar (if, of course, different circumstantially) their characters and arcs are:

Sunday: My desire is not to resurrect a fallen Aeon, or become one myself... my sole objective is to create a paradise free from Aeons, where the Order ensures the dignity and happiness of all humanity. A paradise exclusive to us human beings".

Sunday, for all his religious theming and imagery, wishes to forsake the gods in favour of an order of safety, to be the sole person remaining awake to guard the dreaming. I think it's very interesting that thematically, anaxa is framed as chaotic, wishing to disrupt the status quo, a perceived opposite to sunday, who in fact shares many more similarities with his mindset than you'd imagine. They both want to liberate mankind from the gods, so their fates won't be inextricably tied to the gods' whims, having grown disillusioned with them. Here however, the stark difference in their methods comes into play: while sunday's desire for humanity's happiness is regrettably robbing it of agency, anaxa's desire for humanity to gain its agency back is knowingly robbing them of their faiths.

Sunday doesn't have faith in humanity's ability to overcome hardships, and in order to be their protector, he decided to usurp the role of a god - he saw horrors so severe, that he felt he had to shoulder their protection for himself. Sunday operates by his sense of anxiety which inadvertently disclosed his lack of faith, taking things into his own hands to ensure they will go as well as possible - he can ensure the success and happiness of humanity only if he takes the burden upon himself and sees it through with his own hands. He feels only he can, or really must, be the responsible person who can shoulder the burden of protecting humanity, which inadvertently strips them of agency. Meanwhile, anaxa's entire thesis is based on his own disillusionment with the gods and faith in humanity, that his plan and eventual usurping of the titan position was in service of proving humanity's agency over the titans by their being identical beings. Anaxa has so much faith in humanity, to the point of disregarding his life and physical existence and completely trusting his students to continue what he can't finish. The blasphemer is driven by faith in humanity, while the believer is driven by distrusting the gods.

To their respective ends, they both decide to pose themselves as antagonists in the eyes of the public in order to ascend to a higher position at the expense of their own lives and well being. They're both themed and viewed as performers of sorts (depicted in stage settings, the performer and the conductor), which on the surface level, epitomise sunday as an organizer, a puppeteering figure, a follower of Order, and anaxa as the wild stage performer, a soliloquy giver, disrupting the audience's understandings of the world into chaos. I contend, however, that the complete opposite is true, making these parallels all the more compelling. Sunday's performance is entirely puppeteered and driven by his sense of anxiety, desperation, and an urge to escape reality, not being able to withstand its horrors - the order hides personal chaos. On the other side of the coin, anaxa's performance is the epitome of calculated, an argument and theory decades in the making, meant to be his final proof so he can leave the world that pained him behind to his students to nourish and give a final sacrifice for his equivalent exchange - the chaos hides personal order.

These two opposing ideas disclose the paralleling approaches anaxa and sunday take in regards to their ideals, and their differences in mental fortitude and personality. Anaxa is very self assured that his method will lead to his desired outcomes, marches entirely to the beat of his own drum, passing his thoughts to his cherished students and trusting them to continue what he doesn't believe he can survive to accomplish. Sunday, on the other hand, is defined by his insecurity, being surrounded by the hostile environment of the family, the younger figure thrust into a position of power through manipulation, and being forced to conform to it. Anaxa's figure is that of a teacher, an authority, while Sunday was inherently stuck in the position of a novice political figure, forced to sway according to the authorities around him.

Probably one of the most dominant aspects paralleling anaxa to sunday is both of their incredibly meaningful and impactful bonds they share with their sisters. While in sunday's case his bond takes central stage and in anaxa's stage we can only infer based on the little that is mentioned about it, I think it is no less significant to a thorough understanding of his character and motivations.

In both cases, two young siblings are left to fend off for themselves as their parents either die at the hands of war (sunday and robin) or decide to abandon their children (anaxa and his sister). And as such, they're each other's most meaningful connections in the world. Sunday owes robin his dream of a utopia, her ever supporter because her happiness is his, cementing his dedicating his life for the sake of others. In a similar vein, anaxa owes his sister his education, his access to knowledge, to experiments, to what is going to shape his life ambitions. However, I think what ties these characters further together is this sense of debt towards their sisters, in a way that feeds their selflessness and becomes their central means to achieve their goals.

Anaxa, in what I can infer from his character stories, genuinely views his life as disposable after his sister's death. His philosophical emphasis on equivalent exchange is, in large part, a reflection of his guilt towards his sister and her sacrifice - allowing him to study at the grove, at the expense of her own life the moment he left. In order for him to be worthy of her sacrifice - or the exchange to be equivalent - he must give away everything in order to achieve his goal. He must continuously chip away at his body, and his spirit, while insisting on retaining his heart and person, in order to make her death have meaning, for the rules of the world to make sense.

They're both so riddled with guilt, to the point it becomes their driving force. Both of their most significant human connections were to their sisters, feeling such an intense amount of debt towards both of them, that this sense of owing encourages them to keep chipping away at themselves in a subconscious effort to live up to both of their sister's "sacrifices" (robin's is more metaphorical). The kindness they received makes them eager to sacrifice more and more of themselves, creating a core of guilt that serves as their motivation to keep losing themselves for their grander goal.

The following portion of anaxa's 'chrysos' volume drew more parallels between the two in a way I can only interpret as being intentional, at the foremost through the use of the songbird motif. While sunday's charmony dove allegory bears no need to repeat, and I could write about it for hours, the following quote by anaxa is meaningful:

anaxa: I once carved a songbird that miraculously flapped its wings and took to the sky, though it circled five times at low altitude before falling...

As it is explicitly told, sunday's turning point in his life and ideology was finding the charmony dove and having to confront the moral dilemma, a choice he viewed to be between freedom and security. His anxiety began to take root, as he had to watch the bird he nursed back to health attempt to fly again, and watch it plummet to its death, cementing in his minds that the weak, those he cherishes, are better kept secure than free. Ironically, he doesn't realise that he himself is stuck in such a cage, terrified of flying, and how his thought process ends up straining his relationship with the same person he so wishes to protect.

I don't think it's coincidental that anaxa chooses to emphasize the fact that the bird he manifested into life, also met its death a short amount of time after it was created by his hands. They're both left unsatisfied - they both must strive to do better, to either preserve life (sunday) or to create life (anaxa), so long as they can make sense of death. Both of these incidents end up solidifying and crystallizing their worldviews: they must sacrifice more of themselves in order to achieve their dreams. Be it a boundless utopia in sunday's case - posing himself as the sole guarding figure who shelters humanity from the terrors of existence regardless of the gods; or achieving transcendence and reaching an absolute truth in anaxa's case - by, similarly, posing himself as the one who must chip away at himself in order to prove, and give meaning, to humanity's existence regardless of the gods.

And perhaps most tragically, eventually, both sunday and anaxa were forced to sacrifice a part of themslves and lose the things they were most scared of losing. Anaxa, who was willing to sacrifice his physical well being, is forced to sacrifice his imprints on history and theory, sacrificing others memories of him, his legacy, his achievements. Sunday, whose drive for the betterment of others arose first and foremost from how much he cherished his only family, had to sacrifice his connection to her, the person closest to him, so he could protect her - they are torn apart, while ever present in each others' minds.

Something about these two, and their relationship to faith, the gods, their families, and worldviews, is deeply compelling in its similarity. They should meet up.

[lucalicatteart]

Cats and Nasturtium Flowers~ something which was going to be a custom sticker sheet (for me to decorate my scrapbook with) until I realized that most sticker printing websites have like Actual Guidelines you're supposed to follow in terms of file type of the image and other things lol.. A nice picture then, I guess at least

[hellboundhimbo]

OP. LUCA.

i’m insane i’m crazy im immortal im dying i can never die im the second coming of christ im a mite on a sock and i am actively frothing at the mouth dying of radiation poisoning what the FUC K

this is so insane. do u understand me rn. NEVER apologize for popping off this severely okay im throwing up all over my phone screen and running away to live a new life in the alps about this.

i don’t even know where to start with sinking my teeth into this analysis because it’s all. ITS SO. OUGHHHUGHGGGGHGHFHJSHDJEHCJD im normal. esp the part about sora. literally all the time i think about how sanji had this special significant relationship with his mother but we don’t see much of that with reiju like WHAT COULD THAT MEAN. the most we see of them together is sora talking about sanji to reiju, and like. i will never ever doubt that sora loved reiju very deeply and craved a deep connection with her, but the only times we get to see them alone surrounds sanji. which could ofc just be sanji’s narrative focus taking precedent over reiju’s relationship with her mom, but not only do i believe that informs why reiju holds sanji to this golden standard, i also theorize that it could have impacted reiju’s own relationship with sora.

perhaps reiju took it upon herself to separate herself from sora emotionally— obviously loving her and spending time w her, but never letting her mask slip. both in pursuit of her father’s favor, and perhaps to comfort sora, but possibly also as a form of self punishment. because reiju hates her bloodline so much, and by proxy herself, she may have kept that distance between them bc she believed she didn’t deserve a special relationship with her mom— sora and sanji were close because they were both pure and good, so they deserve each other. reiju, in her mind, is irredeemable and rotten, so she doesn’t deserve to have that close relationship like sanji does. and ofc im certain that reiju— if she ever allowed herself to feel it, of course— regrets this, deep down. bc it’s not like she didn’t love her mom. she likely sees that as horribly selfish, but yk. my crackpot theory.

OH OH AND ALSO YOUR TAKE ON THE VINSMOKE BROTHERS. LITERALLY FUCKING EXACTLY WHAT IVE BEEN SAYING. they’re horrible awful terrible people but their psychopathy isn’t the reason they’re bad people— far from it! one cannot truly know evil if they cannot comprehend the depths of cruelty it requires, so in that regard, the vinsmoke brothers aren’t evil. and it just? hurts so bad??? because judge’s “successful soldiers” for his “evil army” aren’t even fuckin evil. judge just raised them in such a way that cruelty and violence were the one thing tethering them to any sense of identity like, at all. they were never given the tools to think for themselves past judge’s narrow worldview, therein leaving them with no sense of self past being germa’s perfect soldiers. i think reiju calls them inhuman not because a lack of emotions/empathy makes them less human or wtvr (WHICH!! SHOULD ALSO NOTE SUCH AN ASSERTION IS BOGUS AND ABLEIST ASF) but because judge never allowed them to have any identity outside of the mold he made for them, therein robbing them of their own humanity, ambition, critical thought, and freedom of expression, therein leaving them with nothing more than what judge carved out for them in a mindless pursuit of power and faux innovation. not people or individuals: soldiers. a marvel of judge’s own scientific creation. it’s genuinely tragic but such a wonderful exploration of narcissistic parenting’s effects within a fantasy setting.

was literally talking abt this with one of my other mutuals the other day (my goat truly) and it drives me insane to think abt, esp considering the fandom has two modes when it comes to those guys: “they’re wholly evil pieces of shit with no depth beyond that” or “if they just got their emotions back they’d be fixed!!!!” it sucks so bad so ty for being based. anyway enough abt those guys back to my shayla.

reiju as a character is just soso wonderful in so many ways because of how many things her character serves to explore, both in a meta and narrative sense. in a meta sense, i feel reiju’s status as judge’s only and eldest daughter specifically ties into whole cake island’s themes of lineage, (more subtly) gender, and how those intertwine. mainly this is represented with sanji as a representation of non traditional masculinity and germa’s men as a representation for toxic masculinity, and all which it idealizes— but reiju’s role is important in how it explores where women are left in such a society. how young girls are forced to grow up to fast in order to safely navigate a male-dominated society, how daughters are rewarded for disappearing, how emotional repression disguises itself as maturity or confidence, particularly as seen in women who must smile and nod lest they be labeled “psychotic” or “bitchy” then cast aside. hell, even how women’s bodies are viewed as products or tools to be utilized by men— DO U EVER THINK ABT HOW REIJU’S POWER GIMMICK IS POISON SPECIFICALLY. BC I DO. I THINK ABT IT A LOT. it’s so. ITS JUST. ITS SO. UGHHH REIJUUUUUU.

she is a soldier, she is a product, she is a prototype, and half a failure. she is a sister and a secret caretaker. an enigmatic smile betraying no motive. a body to be used and a mind to be molded and a will to be discarded. she is tears shining behind eyes which can never let them free and she is a hand who’s closest proximity to the innocent is a merciful push into liberation she can never know. she is the half remembered eulogy of a woman she never let herself emulate and the rotten blood spilling from open wounds which she wishes so dearly would never heal. i’m going to CRY.

AND DESPITE ALL OF THIS!!! she’s not even a person, to herself. she calls her brothers inhuman but then immediately writes herself off as no better. she hates her lineage above all but by proxy she hates herself for being one of them. she martyrs sanji, clings onto his life as something pure and wholly good because in a strange way, she is the one good part of her life. the one good thing she ever did that still, still in her head she got wrong. because she didn’t die protecting him. she didn’t join him in the dungeon. she preened under her father’s heavy hand because she is human, because she wanted to badly to be loved just like him, but unlike sanji, she had the strength to climb up that ladder, each rung an innocent life. and all she found at the top was hollow acceptance and the meaningless pursuit of pointless power.

and it hurts so BAD because sanji literally extended that hand to her, in whole cake. asked

and i am so certain that if reiju had broken right then, had asked sanji to save her; asked him to take her with him, he would’ve. he would’ve fought tooth and nail for reiju’s freedom not just because of the debt he feels he owes her (which reiju of course disregards,) but because she was one of the single digit number of people who loved him at his weakest. when he wasn’t a cook, or a pirate, or a gentleman; before he scrubbed himself of the vinsmoke name, cloaked himself in shadow, and ran towards the light. she loved him when he was weak and fragile and scared. still does.

but, of course. reiju says this.

because she hates her lineage, yes, but above all, i believe reiju hates herself. both for the blood running in her veins, but for all the things she couldn’t do. all the things she was too afraid, too young, too smart, too desperate to be loved, to do. and of course, most all of her actions can be explained— that’s what we’re doing right now. she was just a child. she may have done horrible things, even into adulthood, but she’s not beyond redemption. but to reiju, that doesn’t matter. because, to her, she was too far gone from the moment she was born under the vinsmoke name— the rotting ghost of a fool’s meaningless ambition, only worsened by the fact judge doesn’t even understand just how pathetic he’s become. how foolish he’s always been.

BUT AGAIN. i know reiju sees herself in judge. which sounds insane because they’re so Different and yet. i’m certain she draws parallels between them. and that’s just part of their intertwined, checkered fate. she wants him dead and yet she’s attached herself to him seemingly irrevocably, damning herself to burn by his side because she believes it’s what monsters like her deserve.

sanji’s iron mask kills me not just because it’s heart breaking in and of itself, but because the only reason why reiju doesn’t have one over her head is because she forged an invisible one for herself. only difference is, sanji found a way to break free of his chains, he took his mask off. reiju never could. and at this point, im not sure if she even knows how.

but Lord i’ve already spoken far too much. tldr i love you reiju vinsmoke my SHAYLA. alexa play sinking town by yoeko kurahashi.

the vinsmoke sibs all being numbered is old news to everyone, ik, but i haven’t seen anyone pointing out reiju’s number specifically. she’s “zero daughter.” this makes sense when you consider the quints are numbered 1 to 4 already, but like. consider. reiju is the oldest by three years.

can u imagine that. not just being a number, but being zero. from the moment you are born, you’re the prototype. fine, but not good enough. created only to be improved upon. the eldest but not the first. the stumbling start to a sprinting marathon where innocents are rungs on a latter. a twisted game where you and your siblings are guns and you are worth no more than the bandwidth of your magazine.

the inferior trial of a greater product from the moment you’re born. and eventually, the final touches are complete. your brothers are born. you learn to play the game: to keep yourself safe, to keep your father loving you because one wrong move and you’re nothing. your brothers are not human, you learn— they’re the perfect soldiers. cruel and monstrous and empty. they disgust you, but you keep playing along because you have to.

yet as you learn to smile when the runt among them crumbles, to laugh when he cries— when you’re killing innocents right alongside them for the sake of your father’s army, years down the line— you find you’re no better than them. your empathy, your emotions, do not justify your sin.

because those emotions are what led you here in the first place. the need to be loved, to be safe, it’s present in all children. sanji couldn’t keep up but you. you had what it took, didn’t you? you played the part to perfection until the mask was fused to your skin.

the eldest daughter. the prototype that kept pace with the final product. a silent smile with cyanide behind her lips.

poison pink. zero. all you are, all you’ll ever be.

it’s too late for anything else.

[deoidesign]

.

[kitchensinksurrealism]

whenever people talk about what they were like 13 and i'm thinking like "wait that was me when i was 15" or someone's describing a stereotypical 18 year old and that was just me when i was 20. etc etc etc etc so like. although there's no way to be one particular age and everyone ages at different speeds. but idk it all adds up that i always seem to act 2 years younger at any age. soooooo tag ramble