#so they both just. stalemate each other to death

[synthwayve]

Thinks about Micolash and Laurence’s rivalry that never strays from the confines of academic snark or the occasional jab despite their shared ambition(and possibly also just accompanying a general friendship they could have had since they worked together at some point. Idk I’m a softie. Sue me.) eventually involving into a full on intellectual divorce. Cries. Explodes. 72 casualties.

[coddda]

Everyone knows that Light and L matched each other's freak but I think their dynamic in the musical (the Japanese ver specifically) is underrated. Like it's not super different from canon but they just had this extra edge of Violence that we never quite saw from the more methodical and careful mindgames in canon death note and I think it's great. Like, yes, they did declare in canon that they will bring each other to justice, yes L says he wants to send Kira to his execution, but in the lyrics of the musical they both outright say multiple times that they just want to straight up Kill each other. It's direct the whole way through. There's more mutual contempt. This game is about nothing more than simply being the first one to Kill the Other (they actually use the word "殺し合い" (koroshiau) or "to kill each other" to describe their game (translated as "murderous ... game")).

(Sidenote but all those references about wanting to send each other to Hell?? Beautiful)

Yeah this is a battle of justice and ideals, yes that clash is a key part of their final confrontation at the end of the musical, but throughout their duets (or even songs like The Game Begins where they're singing by themselves) there's this near singleminded desire to just fucking End each other. It's fucking Raw and it's great.

Also THIS FUCKING SCENE?? THIS SCENE FROM SECRETS AND LIES. Iconic. Actually Insane. My jaw dropped. Light looks like a crazy bitch it's beautiful.

Um. Also. Obligatory Playing His Game (yknow the gay sex song) lines dump. It basically says everything I just said above in like 9 lines. You see what I mean right.

In canon they're playing a game of mental chess, trying to use everyone around them to finally catch the other as their end goal, but in the musical you really do feel like all they see is each other. They would probably beat each other to death with their fists if it came down to that. Idk they're just so excited and fired up about their little game in the musical and it's so unhinged and fun and special and I love it. It's like the writers for the musical decided to kick their murderous intent up a couple notches and the result is absolutely Beautiful.

I also think that the intensity of their rivalry in the beginning just makes the wind-down of The Way It Ends soo much better. It's such a good contrast to their previous duets where they try to sing over each other (Secrets and Lies & Stalemate) or with each other but basically at the top of their lungs (Playing His Game). It feels like there's both a quiet mutual understanding but also an underlying disappointment that the game is finally over. In canon, L's death Is instead the peak of their game, the moment he gets confirmation that Light is Kira is the exact same moment that he dies. In the jdrama it's almost sudden, how L dies, after the quiet moment has already passed. But in the musical L's death, ironically, Is the one quieter moment in their game. Their peak was the game itself. It was Secrets and Lies and Playing His Game. But the end of the game in the musical is not a victory, it's just (as L says) the end of everything they'd been wanting up until this point.

Uh. Fuck it. Clip from the Kenji Urai version because I just love his delivery here. His tone just goes so well with the silence and the sound of the clock ticking. You see what I mean right.

Their rivalry in the musical may have been more shortlived but like Damn they were really enjoying every second of it. They were truly insane about each other until the very end. (Like despite everything I just said about the ending it was still unhinged as fuck. Light Making L Shoot Him and then Making L Shoot Himself with L's Own Hand?? Holy shit man. What the fuck /pos)

Musical Light and L your game might've been shorter but you'll always be famous <33 Please never inflict what you had on anyone else ever please stay in hell forever thank you

[ma1dita]

kiss his face with an uppercut

smutty part 2 here-> heavy hitter

words: 4k

summary: james potter is so attractive you could beat him to death with a bludger. james potter x fem!beater!reader not from gryffindor (for the plot!!)

warnings: none! james gets physically hurt multiple times by reader, multiple innuendos, enemies to lovers kinda, less serious lovey dove more sexual tension!!! probably not accurate quidditch gameplay

a/n: sorry for the hold up guys this took almost a month of on and off editing lmfao— this whole oneshot makes me think of the filipino word ‘gigil’– simply translating to cuteness aggression; i barely know jack shit about sports much less quidditch but this concept had me looking up quidditch rules to be able to provide– eat up kids

Y/S- sibling name

Y/H- house

(posted & edited 10/10/23)

—

Oh BROTHER, this guy STINKS! I mean, how has he not gotten walloped at least once during this godforsaken game? You suck your teeth at the sight of James flying around the pitch blowing kisses to his fan club and Lily Evans, who turns her nose up at the sight of him.

Merlin, when will this game end?

The Hogwarts Quidditch Semi-Finals of 1977 was a game to watch… until both teams stopped scoring what seemed like hours ago. Both Gryffindor & (Y/H) were at a stalemate, down some players due to injury and now, even lower team morale. Gryffindor team captain and chaser James Potter, notorious Marauder, and resident flirt, is not someone who likes to lose. He’s spent all season drilling his teammates, memorizing plays, and thinking of every outcome possible to ensure another Gryffindor victory. James’ affinity to be right takes precedence over anything, after all. But after beating down almost all of (Y/H)’s reserves, James was almost vibrating with confidence. He really doesn’t lose, not if he can help it.

“AND ANOTHER (Y/H) IS DOWN WITH AN INJURY— Team captain Whithall calls for a timeout as they reconvene on what to do next! Hope you’re still comfy in the stands, folks….” the student announcer grumbles.

There’s absolute chaos on the field, and like birds scuffling over a piece of bread, (Y/S), the team’s last good beater is floating on a gurney, ready to be transported to the Hospital Wing.

“Oh, here comes trouble…” Sirius murmurs, smacking James on the back to grab his attention.

You jump down from the stands to check on (Y/S), and James is too busy reveling in the idea of winning the goddamn semi-finals that he doesn’t notice you putting Quidditch gear on.

“Easy win from here on out, Pads! The little lady’s just checking the damage. Not important,” he chortles before Sirius physically grabs his head to face the girl walking towards him, currently storming across the turf to meet him and his team.

“I’m subbing in,” you say, angry at how dirty Gryffindor’s been playing, and angry that you even have to play in (Y/S)’s stead.

“Sweetheart, this game is for serious, you know that right?” James says a bit dumbly with a furrowed brow. Both of you are head to head, and James sees the twitch in your eye as you cross your arms. Hot air is seeping out of your pores but James’s lip simply quirks up in intrigue. You’re someone he hasn’t noticed before, and the only thing running through his mind besides winning the game is that you’re really pretty. But then again, he’s always found angry women to be attractive, in retrospect.

“Yeah, for the actual cup, not…for Sirius… It’s the wrong time to joke, innit?” Sirius says to break the ice, noticing the palpable tension between your glares. Your faces are inches away from each other and he’s not sure if you two are going to fight or kiss, but it makes him grimace all the same.

“Who do you think (Y/S) practices with? Unlike you and your friends, I know when to take things seriously,” You say through gritted teeth.

“She’s legit, Potter. Got added to our reserves last week.” Whithall pipes up, ready to get back to the game. The crowd has been weathered down after hours of anticipation, and they want to see the end of it, no matter the outcome.

“Much to my surprise,” you grumble, elbowing the authority in the form of a teenage boy not much older than yourself. You should’ve known your sibling was looking a little too happy as they got floated off the pitch on a gurney.

“Then let’s play. Don’t hurt yourself, sweetheart.” James says condescendingly, floating away on his broomstick like it’s a walk in the park, but the way you’re slapping the bat against your palm is getting Sirius a tiny bit nervous for his precious countenance. The whistle blows and the game resumes.

“A SURPRISE ADDITION (Y/N) JOINS HER HOUSE AS BEATER! Gryffindor better watch out for her swi—” You slam the bludger in James’s direction and it hurtles toward him so fast that he almost folds in half, barrel-rolling on his broom to dodge it. The move makes Sirius and a few of their other teammates gasp to see James scrambling back onto his broom.

“Oops! Looks like I missed.” you deadpan, balancing midair as you whack another one where it rebounds off the Gryffindor seeker and back towards James, hitting both of them in the gut.

“THIS GIRL’S GOT AN ARM ON HER! Though might I say her hits look a bit targeted…” The commentator says worriedly, and everyone in the crowd is leaning in their seats trying to get a better view.

“Merlin, are you trying to kill me woman?” he yells in outrage.

“I’m trying to finish the game. Your big head is in the way,” you say with a straight face as Sirius bats towards you, and you spin on your broomstick without shifting your posture. The smile on your face as you taunt him should be considered criminal, but he’s looking at you in a new light.

Yeah, now he’s paying attention. The other Gryffindor players can’t seem to figure out your next move and you bat another bludger towards Potter’s extremely large target of a head, and all of a sudden he’s freefalling through the air as his teammates fly to catch him, one by one. His nose still makes impact with the ground before Sirius catches by the ankle like Achilles taking a dip in the River Styx.

“AND (Y/H) HAS CAPTURED THE SNITCH! Good job to their Seeker, Appleby! Congratulations on a job well done, so that we can all finally go home.” The commentator cringes as McGonagall swats at him to leave the podium.

Who even is she, taking over the game and stealing his win like that?

He’s walking up from the sidelines with a bloody nose, going to shake Whithall’s hand and you’re standing behind him, a malicious grin plastered between your rosy cheeks, windswept and almost ethereal while he looks like he got flattened by a hippogriff. Fuck, she’s pretty. You look like you floated down from the heavens, and by the looks his team gives him, he may have just crawled out of the earth.

“Congrats,” he grumbles, turning to you. Really pretty. It’s even worse that you’re devastatingly stunning up close— with sweat glistening on your brow and a pearly white smile, he takes a good moment to really look at you and memorize the flutter of your eyelashes. He’s unsure if he’s concussed or maybe it’s his astigmatism, but there are actual stars in his vision as he peers down at you. Your confidence is actually kind of sexy.

“You look…um…you ride well.” He stutters, shaking his head from his personal reverie.

“Excuse me?” you say, your little mouth agape in what he hopes is not disgust. He looks pathetic, blood sopping down to his jersey as he looks at you like he’s only seeing you for the first time, acknowledging you closely. Something about seeing him flail makes you crinkle your nose as you stifle a grin.

“I mean…Um…” Damn.

Sirius pulls his best friend away before you can bite back your laughter, all of your teammates leading you away to celebrate.

“Mate, what the shit was that? Are you alright in the head?” Sirius says, and if James’ nose wasn’t already bleeding he was going to slap him silly.

“Just…Didn’t see that coming…” he mumbles, and his mind, along with all of Gryffindor is in disarray as they walk back to their tower. He’s got a lot of thinking to do on what his next move will be.

—

James Potter goes through life in three methodical ways: 1.) creating a strategy, 2.) making a scene, 3.) and dragging his friends into it— in that particular order, every single time.

Now notice how considering consequences is not part of said process.

His ego wouldn’t let him rest after a girl, much less a very pretty one that he’d never noticed before—beat him at what he does best; quidditch! In fact, the next few nights were void of sleep and filled with thoughts of you. The way your hair looked so soft in the sunlight, how your lip turns almost Gryffindor red when you bite it in concentration, and maybe how your delicate hands would look as they tightly grasp onto his bat...ahem…your quidditch bat. Some dirty delusions aside, if looks could kill, he’d be dead seven times over, but honestly? He’d probably thank you for it.

James’ new mission was to figure you out, and if that was his mission, it meant it was the rest of the Marauders’ too. For the sake of winning the Cup, of course. That’s what he tries to tell himself until his mates catch him ogling you again at breakfast.

“So what is it with you and girls that inflict you nothing but pain and humiliation?” Remus muses, as the Marauders watch James laugh at a joke you told your friends at the (Y/H) table across the Great Hall. He looks at you like someone who stares at the sun, squinting and burning himself as he ponders on why he’s unable to look away.

James fumbles a response, shoving Remus as they all laugh. “Listen, I’ve got a bit of a masochistic streak, Moony. Just…There’s something about her…”

Your friends are pointing at him now, and as you turn to meet his eyes, you lift a brow inquisitively and flip him off. Sirius’s face pulls up in shock at James’s growing smile at the interaction as he mumbles, “Maybe you’ve met your match, Prongs…”

The boy pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, anything to try to see you clearer as he leans over to put his head in his hands, sighing dreamily. His friends are not as easily amused.

“A match made in heaven, you reckon?”

—

“Match made in hell, more like!” You spit, almost choking on your scrambled eggs at your friends’ insinuations. Your back is as stiff as a board, shoulders tight at the notion of you ever liking James Potter triggering your fight or flight response. When it comes to someone as pompous as him, only the word fight comes to mind.

“Oh come on, love… He’s popular, funny, and quite handsome…It’s James freaking Potter we’re talking about!” your roommate gushes, but you're not the least bit impressed.

“Is that supposed to do anything for me? I can think of a few F words that middle initial can stand for…” Eyes rolling, you peek back at the Gryffindor table to see said boy wiggling his fingers at you teasingly until he accidentally smacks Peter in the face with his toast. Idiot.

“Only hot people get away with stupid shit. I mean look at the four of them!” you continue, gulping down the rest of your coffee. “Potter’s the worst out of all of them though. Big ass head must compensate for a lot of things." You say, shaking your head at your friends.

"And yet, here you are, talking about him for the fourth time this morning," your roommate replies, smirking. " You’ve been Potter crazy since you helped us beat Gryffindor in the semi-finals! Are you sure you don't have a crush on him?"

"No!" you say too quickly, too loudly, that the shrill noise of your voice makes your ears hurt and the shit-eating grins on your friends’ faces reflect how desperate that came off. You slump onto the table, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

“You wanna kiss him, don’t you?” they tease, and you push away their puckering faces as you scoff, “With an uppercut, maybe!” Almost makes you want to stomp over there and wipe the stupid look off his face…and maybe sit on his lap. You run your fingers through your hair in frustration. All this aggression really needs to go somewhere, but unfortunately, James Potter’s lap is the only destination you have in mind.

“He’s just really punchable. I get so annoyed by the sight of him I just want to… ugh!” you groan, your hands shaking as you try to convince them (or yourself). Your friends cackle at the sight of you pretending to squeeze his curly-topped, mothball-filled head, but your brain changes course and you imagine what it’s like to hold his hand. Your fingers flex cautiously at the idea, wondering what his touch would feel like. Grabbing a glass of water to cool your thoughts, your peripherals reveal he’s still staring at you like you make night turn into day. His gaze is searing, and as you put your lips around your straw, he licks his lips slowly. Shit.

—

Availability bias is one hell of a mindfuck. If only they taught psychology at this magic school, maybe the wizarding world would have way fewer problems and more people would be straightforward and not.. Dead. James decides he can categorize his life now as before you, and after you.

Before you, well… he honestly wasn’t even sure if you were a student at Hogwarts until he saw you marching down the pitch, but now… You’re everywhere. He can spot your voice in a crowded hallway, and who was going to tell him you’ve had three classes with him this whole term? Even down to when he shuts his eyes, he’s convinced his eyelids are branded with the imprint of your silhouette. Every conversation he strikes with you ends with you laughing at him, and he’s unsure if that’s a step up or down from the many boisterous rejections from Lily Evans over the years. He sort of wishes you’d laugh with him, and do a number of other things, (heck he’s got a list of ideas he’s wanked off to), and well… His soul is tightly wound with thoughts of you and Godric, listen to this guy…. maybe the boys were right…. Maybe he really does need to get laid.

It’s funny how fate works, two people who’ve barely interacted in the past six years at Hogwarts are now paired together for a History of Magic essay worth 20% of the term grade. You’re trying to get this done as fast as possible, he notices, mapping out ideas and trying to discuss how to piece it all together, yet James does everything but that to get you to pay attention to him. He fills your head with mundane little questions, asking you what your favorite fruit is to the childhood bedtime story your parents told you as a kid.

“What’s your middle name, Potter?” You muse, finally entertaining him after endless chatter. His eyes trail to the exposed skin of your collarbones as you stretch in your seat, and well… you don’t look as menacing as you always do but did it seriously have to be this question? He scratches the back of his head, silent for the first time in the two hours you’ve been trying to craft this essay for the sake of both your grades.

“What? I can’t just go around calling you James Fucking Potter. Spit it out, you know too much about me already.”

He clears his throat, a blush creeping up his neck. “It’s… that’s an intimate question, love… I…”

Your laughter at his response makes his senses shut down. “Oh, so it’s bad. What is it, Franklin? Fabio? Come on, I won’t bite.” A part of him wishes you would, your face equally flushed and so close to him right now, almost leering at him for an answer. It’d be easy to just lean over…

“Fleamont.”

Your lips quirk, until they pucker like you’ve guzzled a lemon. The blush on your cheeks intensifies, and the sound explodes out of you. You laugh so loudly Madam Pince kicks you both out of the library, James carrying both your knapsacks, a hand around your waist as you rush out of there. Your body is firm under his touch, pupils unfocused and dilated looking at him now that you know his dirty little secret. James thinks that if you keep looking at him like that, hell, you can call him anything you want.

—

Fleamont.

What a prick. A really attractive, clueless prick. The memory makes you giggle as you get ready for the Quidditch Cup and your team charges out onto the field to face Gryffindor again, as you’ve both advanced to the finals. He’s not as much of an asshole as you originally thought. It’s undeniable that something pulls you towards him, whether it be hormones, concern, or the fact that it’s actually adorable the way he writes his mother back weekly, or admirable how he moved Sirius out of Black Manor himself last year. Maybe it’s endearing the way he goes out of his way to make first-years smile or heartwarming how even Filch can’t find reasons to hate him. The golden boy. You get it now, why people get trapped in his web, and why many are unwilling to leave.

You pass him outside the locker rooms, bumping shoulders as he smiles almost bashfully. The golden boy, loudmouth, ball of energy is reduced to a nervous pile of teenage ineptness at the sight of you, every time. You could take him (not in a fight). In an actual fight, maybe you could land a few solid hits before his nice muscly arms hold you do—

“Ready to finish this, darling?”

Your eyes refocus when his hand nudges the small of your back, right above your hip. “Mhmm,” you clear your throat, “Ready to lose, Potter?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He moves closer, slowly backing you into the wall.

“Eyes on the prize Potter, I’m in this to win it.” You say, looking at the closing distance between both your chests. James nods, not taking his eyes off of you for a moment, even when the announcer calls out the imminent start of the game.

“WELCOME TO THE HOGWARTS QUIDDITCH CUP OF 1977 GRYFFINDOR VS. (Y/H)! I hope you are all excited as our last match between these teams was quite thrilling at the end of it!” The announcer says, hyping up the roaring crowd as your teams parade onto the pitch.

His eyes are still on you when he shakes Whithall’s hand and the whistle blows. It’s intense, and makes you feel like you’re burning, even if the wind is blowing like crazy today. You bat the bludgers toward anything red on the field that even dares to move toward your teammates. James won’t stop staring at you, and you both lock eyes across the pitch.

“What? Flirt with me later, Potter, I’m trying to win!” you yell.

He’s got you transfixed, and it’s crazy how his timing is always wrong. You bat the bludger away from your captain but don’t notice James flying towards you to respond as you give it your hardest swing, making the impact against his huge target of a head all the more painful.

Holy shit, did you kill him?

He keels off his broom like a shot bird and then he’s falling, and you’re the one chasing the Gryffindor chaser as he flaps his arms like the idiot you know he is as you push forward to catch him before he splits his skull open.

“I’msofuckingsorryJamesareyouokay?” You blurt out as you land, soft hands moving over his broad chest and quickly swelling face. He’s wearing that stupid grin again, and you think you may have finally broken Gryffindor’s team captain.

“You know my name?” he sighs happily, comfortable in your lap and maybe it’s the brain damage you’ve caused him or the way his glasses are bent beyond repair but you will every magical predecessor you can think of to stop you from punching him in the face right now.

“Are you fucking dense?” You scream, shaking your head, and jostling him as his arms try to reach out to swipe the hair away from your face.

“Must’ve hit him so hard you knocked his filter loose..” Sirius muses after he lands next to you two on the grass.

“POTTER’S TAKEN A HIT FROM (Y/H) and it doesn’t look good ladies and gents! Gryffindor calls a timeout to check on their captain!” The announcer calls out, and there are so many eyes on the two of you as James is simply giggling like a prepubescent schoolboy. Fuck, you’ve maimed the golden boy.

“Y’know, sweetheart. You’re…really sexy when you’re on top of me like this,” he says breathily, and you really can’t hit him, so you jab Sirius in the gut instead when he tries to laugh at his best friend’s stupidity.

—

James wakes up in the hospital wing with a blinding headache until someone gently pulls the curtains closed, stroking the hair off his sweaty forehead.

“Poppy you always take such good care of me…” he mumbles. A punch lands on his chest and his eyes rip open, not expecting to see you at his bedside.

“Idiot,” you mutter. “You’re always in my way and now look, you almost got yourself killed and it would’ve been my fault! How dare you, James…” The red is crawling up your neck like a brushfire as you berate him, and he takes it with a grin as you jabber on, putting his arms behind his head.

“Were you worried about me, love?” James smiles cheesily, catching your arm at its half-hearted attempt to slap him across the face.

“I was not. Stubborn people like you are hard to kill. I’m more annoyed that I can’t morally punch your face in since you have a concussion. Madame Pomfrey’s already healed your cheekbone.”

“That you broke,” he says matter-of-factly, taking a chance to kiss the palm of your hand. This concussion is working like a bottle of Felix Felicis. It’s endearing to see you taking care of him, whether you like it or not (even with the punches he’s sure it’ll come with).

“You’re sick in the head.”

“For you. I was trying to come tell you that I never took my eyes off the prize, but then of course you bludgeoned my face in before I could get sweet on yo—”

Your lips crash down on his, and nothing about it is delicate. It’s a month’s worth of yearning, imaginations coming to fruition as he grabs the back of your head to deepen the embrace. Your lips on his are hot and heady, and he could be easily convinced that he’s stuck there, cauterized to the shape of you.

“I know. I could feel you watching.” You breathe into his mouth, leaning up on his chest. His lips chase up again to meet yours, biting down on your bottom lip as you groan. He might like that noise better than the sound of your laughter. It’ll be fun to find out.

“Who won the Cup?”

Laughter spills out of your red, kiss-swollen lips as you pat his cheek gently, fingers grazing over his healed cheekbone.

“Not Gryffindor. But listen closely James, if you be a good boy and get past this concussion, I’ll make up for it by showing you how well I ride…”

He likes the sound of that, Quidditch Cup be damned. You see, James Potter never loses, ladies and gentlemen, not really—and well... there’s always next year.

—

“I like the way

you look at me

like you are

going to talk to me

or devour me

and I am fine with either.”

-N.R. Hart

taglist: @jsjcue

[s0s1mple]

Heyy can you do a oneshot where yandere ni-ki is set to marry reader, but both of them don't like each other and so they both don't really interact and then reader and yandere sunghoon start getting closer and now both of them are fighting for her........ And at the end both of them share her

This is my first time doing a request so I'm sorry if it's not super clear

No no you are all good! This is clear! Hope I delivered on it! (Also I’m ur first request!! Thank you for choosing me!!)

Belonging - Park Sunghoon, Nishimura Riki

TW: general yandere themes, death and gore, planned murder

Masterlist

Riki wasn’t the biggest fan of you, and you weren’t his either. Not that you hadn’t tried to like him, that was. When it was announced that you two were set to marry as per a contract made before you were even born, it was expected that neither of you were thrilled to have your freedom taken from you. You both already had so many expectations as heirs to chaebol families, so to have yet another shackle placed on you?

Yeah, neither of you liked it. But he didn’t have to be such an ass about it either, in your opinion.

You tried to be kind at first. You called him, texted him friendly messages, offered to go out to eat to get to know each other, and always smiled his way politely. But he always either didn’t respond, rejected your offers none-too-politely, or even acted like a spoiled brat and scolded you like you were one of his maids. God forbid you try to touch him at all. He’d dodge around you or glare at you. And around family, where you had to act at least amicable in the lead up to the wedding? He’d link arms with you, sure, but he’d be tense and would shrug you off as soon as possible.

So eventually you gave up and mimicked his behavior, and the two of you entered a stalemate. Neither of you talked or texted, and you completely dodged around each other when possible. When it wasn’t possible, you didn’t look at each other or touch each other. And when that wasn’t possible? You just gently grabbed the back of his wrist or tapped his shoulder, touch fleeting. Riki seemed happy with that, and you were too.

So what was the big deal about looking to Sunghoon for affection instead?

It’s not like you were trying to get with the guy. Wasn’t like you wanted to marry Sunghoon instead or anything, even if anyone but Riki would be better. No, you were just being friendly, enjoying as Sunghoon laughed at your jokes and bought you coffees when you two ran into each other. So what if you felt flattered as you realized that the ever stoic Sunghoon actually seemed to seek you out at times just to ask you if you saw his latest modeling job? You and he were friends, and nothing would change that, not even Riki’s tantrums.

The male inexplicably seemed to hate your relationship with Sunghoon. For the life of you you couldn’t tell why and had to just chalk it up to jealousy at Sunghoon being generally better than he was. More handsome, friendlier- a crazy thing to say considering the both of them were colder than ice for the most part- and more famous… surely that’s what had Riki’s panties in a twist. Or maybe it was just that sort of toddler mentality of ‘even if I don’t want to play with this toy, it belongs to me, so I’m not sharing.’

Strangely, you were pretty close to the real answer with that last assumption.

Riki was jealous. But jealous didn’t really cover it. He was envious. Covetous. Desirous. You were supposed to be his fiance, and here you were laughing at Sunghoon’s jokes, hanging off Park Sunghoon’s arm, texting Park. Fucking. Sunghoon.

Sure, he was pissed at the circumstances of your engagement. Anyone would be. Riki liked to mess around, to enjoy his youth, and yet all of that was snatched away without him even having input on who he’d be tied to. And really, he’d found you annoying at first. You were obviously just as miffed as he was, and yet you were acting fake. Smiling those fake smiles at him, acting like you really didn’t care, like you were happy to be with him when he was so miserable putting on a performance for his over-controlling parents.

Then you’d stopped being so fake. Had begun ignoring him too, the two of you living parallel lives. Seeing each other, occasionally coming close, but never touching. Just separating back out to your respective lives and biding time until the wedding. But the grass is always greener on the other side, and maybe that’s what made Riki realize exactly how interesting you really were.

All of a sudden he was watching from afar, and he could see every little detail. Your nose scrunch as you smiled, then the way your eyes widened as you caught his eye and the cute sneer you shot him. Your habit of grabbing the hem of someone’s sleeve whenever you laughed, leaning against them like you’d fall over otherwise. The way you picked at your bracelet when you were nervous, or fidgeted when the clothes your family forced you into to match for photos didn’t fit properly. All of a sudden, Riki was missing when those smiles, as fake as they might have been, were aimed at him.

So yeah, he resented Sunghoon. Hated the way that vampire-lookalike caught your eye and preened beneath your gaze. You were his fiancé, not Sunghoon’s. How could you even trust Sunghoon’s like you did? You hardly knew him. For all you knew, all Riki knew, he could be dangerous. That type of model who strung girls along and then ruined their lives. Because while you couldn’t see the hungry gaze Sunghoon aimed at you, Riki certainly could. And if he was going to have one good deed as a fiancé, it was going to be to keep you safe.

What he was about to do was to keep you safe. To keep you safe. His parents would kill him if the deal fell through. Your parents would- you would- Riki would KILL if something happened to you.

So that’s why he ended up following you to Sunghoon’s modeling job, watching from the side as you sat with the camera crew and Sunghoon struck those ridiculous poses. He lurked in the background, those around him hardly saying a word as they realized exactly who he was, and glared holes through the pretty-boy. Who did he think he was? His grip tightened on the switchblade in his jeans.

Then his eyes flickered right back over to you. You, sitting there smiling and cheering Sunghoon on like this was some sort of sporting event and you were his biggest fan. You, fawning over his photos and offering him sips of coffee. You, frowning now, scrunching in on yourself, because one of the camera men was wrapping an arm around your waist and whispering something that made you viscerally uncomfortable. Riki’s attention leapt from Sunghoon to that man. What the hell was going on here?

You inched away, quiet and unnerved, and the sight of you so affected instead of biting back or glaring like Riki was used to was…

When the shoot was done and everyone was dispersing, you already calling your driver, Riki forgot about the model and stalked after this new threat instead.

His heart pounded in his ears as he watched the male talk to someone on the phone, muttering about being on his way, about why on earth they couldn’t have just talked on set a moment ago. He didn’t really pay attention past that. The male walked into an office, Riki caught the door before it closed, and he entered.

Bang!

For a moment Riki was confused as blood splattered over his face. He’d just drawn his knife, the blade gleaming in the artificial light, but he hadn’t done anything. His eyes trailed around, bewildered, to see the camera man flat on the ground with his head caved in. Then his gaze trailed right up to rest on Sunghoon’s face, then the trophy in his hand, now dripping red.

For a long moment the two stared at each other. Stared at the weapons in the both of their hands. For a moment, Sunghoon seemed to weigh the option of caving Riki’s head in too.

But for some reason, Sunghoon paused. He didn’t really know why. He’d been planning on caving Riki’s head in before now, had been planning on moving that ungrateful bastard out of the way so he could have you all to himself. You always told stories of how rude Riki was, of how you wished you could just hang out all day with Sunghoon instead. You’d said the words jokingly, half-seriously, but the mere fact that you were unhappy because of this person was enough to make Sunghoon see red.

He didn’t really think of himself as a violent or even emotional person before you. Hell, he had the nickname “Ice Prince” for a reason, and it wasn’t just for his ice skating days. But you thawed him, had him giggling to himself as he shopped and thought of just how beautiful you might look if he bought something for you. Had his heart bursting, cheeks hurting as you laughed at his dad-jokes. You seemed so happy with him, so it was only natural that you’d be better off with him.

But here Riki was standing now, bizarrely seeming to have noticed the exact same fucker bothering you that Sunghoon had. Had followed that man with the intent of handling things just as Sunghoon had. Seemed to have that protective instinct, that same infatuation, that thrummed through Sunghoon’s veins.

How bizarre.

He should want to kill Riki even more now, really, now that he’d recognized the male as a proper rival. Now that the two were more similar than they thought. But instead he lowered the bloodstained trophy, and Riki lowered the knife. He cast a glance at the body on the floor.

“He’s still breathing.” He commented dryly. Riki nodded. Another pause. Then Riki was bending down, slicing across the back of his neck just below the skull, and it was over. Sunghoon sighed. “Help me clean this up?”

“Don’t you have maids for that?”

“They’ll say something.”

“Mine won’t. They know better. I’ll call some.” Riki pulled out his phone, shooting a quick text. Ah, a chaebol. Sunghoon had almost forgotten. He finished and looked back at the ice skater. “What now?”

“You tell me. You’re the fiance, aren’t you?” Slight bitterness crept into Sunghoon’s voice.

“And you’re liked better.” Riki shot back. Another slight pause, the two of them peering at the body.

The person both were willing to kill, to put aside their differences, just for you. Both realized that while they might not like each other, they both had something that could benefit you. That could benefit each other.

“I think I can help you.”

[alicentsgf]

Suppose Jackie survived, what would be the dynamic between Shauna and Jacki after the fight?

i think the ultimate tragedy of jackie and shauna is actually this fight could have been what saved them if jackie had lived. their shared 'i dont know where you end and i begin' dream implies that imo. the alternative was always that they never talk and the resentment and need for control grows until Shauna eventually runs away and it forces them to grow apart. in a way, the plane crash offered them the only possible opportunity to save their relationship because what was ruining them was their inability to communicate and given the circumstances (literally trapped in the woods together and forced into each others space constantly) they couldn't hide anymore.

lets say theoretically they find food and survive without cannibalising anyone (because without the very specific circumstances around jackie's death I don't think the descent begins at all so they never even consider the hunt). i dont think they would have had it in themselves to be true rivals, at least jackie wouldnt. its not like she loved jeff, the worst aspect for her was shaunas betrayal because she trusted her. at most they have some sulky silent feud for several months that pisses everyone else off - and that would mostly be because jackies just following shaunas lead on it. jackie wouldnt want to apologise first (rightfully) and shauna would likely be avoiding her entirely so they inevitably end up at a stalemate. but then assuming the whole situation doesnt just make jackie off herself (not unlikely tbh) i just dont see a future where shaunas distressed and in pain giving birth and jackie is apathetic to it, even if she didn't love Shauna deeply shes not cold hearted enough for that. shauna almost dying would have put everything in perspective the way jackie Actually dying did, for both of them. and then following that jackie would also probably be, based on her approach to the wilderness, the only one not acting like a weirdo about the baby. she'd end up being the only one whose actually able to help shauna grieve properly.

then following the ice breaking comes all the conversations they should have had and never did, because now jackie knows about shaunas resentment and theres no hiding anymore. they'd probably actually fall out again for a few short periods in the process lmao, purely because jackie would just poke and prod until she got answers to every single question she'd thought up but not been able to ask for several months, which would piss shauna off. and also jackie just wouldnt like some of the answers Shauna gave. so yeah it wouldnt be all sunshine and rainbows and maybe they throw some shit, but they do talk and its probably pretty cathartic. Imo theres likely still a toxic codependency that grows in a new way because in the face of the others reliance on the wilderness, shauna and jackie are even more of a unit.

I like to think jackie would have bridged the gap between nat and shauna too as the 3 non-believers, just because i could see jackie growing closer to nat more than anyone whilst ostracised. especially if it was nat who brought her in that night. think they would have put the travis thing behind them relatively quick. nats too nice for her own good and i think she'd identify in jackies isolation. also just logically i could see jackie being so desperate to escape the cabin she'd wheedle her way into the hunting outings somehow. but thats more just a headcanon.

so yeah i just cant believe they ever would have become enemies. we saw that if shauna had come out and apologised that same night, jackie would have accepted it and come inside. so no, theres no way the fight ruins them forever. thats what makes the timing of jackies death so cruel and tragic tbh, their friendship would have healed given time but now its just this permanently open wound bleeding all over shaunas life.

[mxtxfanatic]

Repayment but Not Just Repayment or a Meta on the Wen Siblings' Sacrifice

Wen Qing and Wen Ning's sacrifice is probably one of the most under-discussed topics in the fandom. A few have tackled it from the viewpoint of debt—which is true and valid—but I will be coming at it from the angle of love, because although there is a debt that ties Wei Wuxian to the Wen siblings, it is inseparable from the genuine affection they each hold for him. Let's start with Wen Qing's last words to Wei Wuxian:

Wen Qing interrupted him, “I’ve never really said such things to you before. But now that it’s today, there are indeed a few things I should say. I really won’t get a chance to say them after this.” ... Wen Qing, “I’m sorry. And, thank you.”

—Chapt. 77: Nightfall, exr

Throughout the novel, characters seem to have a negative response to being told "I'm sorry" and "thank you" in serious conversation, as both seem to imply a tie of debt and accepting ownership of the debt. Jin Ling refuses to thank Wei Wuxian for saving his life or apologize to him for being disrespectful despite all the life-saving. Lan Wangji has a negative reaction to Wei Wuxian thanking him in many different scenes in the novel, so much so that Wei Wuxian comments on the fact that a lot of their bad separations were precipitated by Wei Wuxian's thanks. Even here, Wei Wuxian has a negative reaction to Wen Qing's words, especially as they come at the end of her speech about how the repayment she asked of Wei Wuxian has unintentionally led them all down a path of no-return. But Wen Qing isn't using it in this way.

As discussed here and here, the Wen siblings actually love Wei Wuxian outside of the circumstances they find themselves in. They do not tie themselves to him because of debt but because he has proven himself to be honest and genuine in a way that the other cultivators they had previously come up against had not. At the same time because of the debt, the relationship between the three is fraught with things that cannot be said lest they be misunderstood. Wen Qing never verbally thanks Wei Wuxian for bringing her brother's consciousness back; instead she treats his wounds and helps put together a family banquet in his honor where she even personally serves him food and alcohol. Wen Ning never verbally thanks Wei Wuxian for rescuing his family and bringing him back; instead he continues to act as his physical protector in both of Wei Wuxian's lives. Neither of them apologize for having implicated Wei Wuxian in the plight of the Wen remnants, as that would have been incurring another debt that Wei Wuxian would likely not accept. However, when the tentative stalemate with the cultivation world is broken with Jin Zixuan's death, none of that matters anymore. They are all at the end of the line and must make a choice: throw Wei Wuxian to the wolves or sacrifice themselves. They choose to sacrifice themselves in the hopes that it will spare Wei Wuxian:

Wen Qing’s voice was calm, “Wei Ying, we both know. Wen Ning is a knife, a knife that scares them, but also a knife that they use as an excuse to attack you. If we go, without the knife, they’d no longer have an excuse. This entire thing might finally be over.”

They can finally say what they want to say, which is that they appreciate what Wei Wuxian has done for them, that they see all that he has sacrificed, that they are willing to match that level of dedication, and that they, too, are willing to risk themselves to protect him as he had been doing for them for up to a year, now. For once, the "thank you" and "I'm sorry" isn't meant to emphasize a debt-repayment relationship. It is meant to liberate Wei Wuxian from them.

[another-rpg-sideblog]

The Tower of Vodores by Dyson Logos

An oddly shaped “tower”, the Tower of Vodores is a brutalist structure standing alone in the Plains of Stone (the badlands to the west of the kingdom, a huge natural boundary between the kingdom and its nearest western neighbours). The structure consists of a large upper section resting atop six fifty foot tall towers or “legs” – producing something much like a stone table of immense size with space beneath that never sees the full light of the sun. Vodores was a goblin warlord who had this built by captive dwarves over the ruins of one of their own outposts razed by the goblin hordes. Vodores had clawed their way to the top of the goblin heap like any other goblin does – through cunning and deceit but mostly through sheer brutality. The strange structure stands as a testament to both Vodores’ ambition and the fear they instilled in their foes, as well as the skill of the surly dwarves who built it. The tower’s top-heavy design is both imposing and unsettling, the remnants of the old dwarven outpost appearing as something crushed and ignored underfoot, just poking out from the mud and shadows beneath the tower. But goblin empires don’t last long, rarely even as long as their short-lived emperors, and never beyond their death. And so the Tower of Vodores became home to several goblin clans who spent more time fighting each other than raiding the surrounding lands. Today there are still two clans living in a stalemate within the structure, each using a different ‘leg’ to get in and out and divvying up the interior space between them in the goblin equivalent of a cold war (which involves espionage, traps, bribery, and of course cannibalism).

[hrh-prince-butt]

alex and henry plan to dress up as barbie and ken for an upcoming costume party, but they can't seem to agree on who should be barbie and who should be ken...

(hello this is possibly the dumbest thing i've ever written, and i have no regrets, it was so much fun to write)

-

“You can’t deny the Kenergy, babe.” 

“You’re right,” Henry shoots back. “I can’t. And if anyone has it, it’s you.” 

Alex crosses his arms and glares stubbornly at Henry. Henry glares right back, just as goddamn stubborn. Looks like they’re in a stalemate. 

There was no argument that they absolutely had to dress up as Barbie and Ken for their couples costume this year. It had practically been telepathically agreed upon before they even left the cinema. Apparently, the hard part is agreeing on who should dress up as who.

Alex had thought it was obvious that he should be Barbie. But when he brought up speculations about his costume - should he copy an outfit from the movie or figure out something of his own? - Henry had frowned and said he thought he was supposed to be Barbie. 

“Just face it, sweetheart,” Alex says, patting Henry on the shoulder. “You are clearly the Ken to my Barbie.” 

Henry huffs. “How am I the Ken to your Barbie?”

“Well.” Alex leans back on the couch and gestures to himself. “I’m the successful career person, and you are my hot blond accessory. Obviously.” 

“Unbelievable,” Henry says. He sounds genuinely offended. “David, are you hearing this?” David the Beagle lifts his head lazily at the sound of his name, but finding no imminent threat and no promise of treats, he goes back to napping on the couch. 

“All this time,” Henry goes on, and Alex can tell he’s really amping up the theatrics now, probably working up to a dramatic monologue of some kind. “I thought you liked me because of my intelligence, my wit. I thought I was more than just a pretty face, but no. Apparently I’m just some attractive himbo boytoy to you. Utterly unbelievable.” 

He punctuates this absolute scene with a very undramatic bite of chocolate chip cookie. This batch is his third attempt, and Alex has to admit they aren’t terrible. They are overbaked and therefore rock hard - Henry’s annoyed chewing can probably be heard halfway down the street - but they’re already miles better than the last batch. Alex thinks it best not to speak of the last batch.  

“I can’t believe you just called yourself a ‘himbo boytoy’.” Alex is wheezing with laughter, and Henry’s stubborn chewing, his failing attempt to look dramatically offended while crunching on a cookie the texture of a brick, only makes it harder to stop laughing. “Those are your words, not mine.” 

He deigns not to mention that while he has been busy with important law shit all week, Henry has been busy baking cookies. And being really bad at it. That’s definitely Kenergy. 

Henry sighs and washes down the remains of the tragic cookie with tea. “You’re not seeing my vision, love. You would really make an excellent Ken. And I would make an excellent Barbie.” 

“Damn,” Alex says. “We must already be in Barbie’s Dreamhouse because… uh. Keep dreaming.” 

“That… was a truly terrible comeback.” 

Alex sighs. “Yeah. They can’t all be winners.” 

Henry nods gravely. “I’d say this proves my point. You’re Ken, and I’m Barbie.”

It most definitely does not prove anything. “If you’re Barbie,” Alex says, “then you’re definitely Depression Barbie watching the Pride & Prejudice movie like a million times.” 

Henry apparently doesn’t have a response to that except indignant spluttering. Alex laughs so hard he wakes up David. He almost falls off the couch laughing when Henry responds with: “How dare you, I am clearly Irrepressible Thoughts of Death Barbie!” 

Then they’re both laughing, while David watches them in utter confusion. 

“Alright,” Alex says once he has calmed down. “Fair enough. But we can’t both be Barbie!”

“Why not, though?” Henry counters. 

“It’s a couples costume!”

“Well,” Henry says. “Two Barbies can love each other! It’s the 21st century!” 

Alex tries to sigh but it comes out as more laughter. “Yeah, yeah,” he says. “Gay rights for Barbie or whatever. But two Barbies won’t be as recognizable as a couples costume. People will just think we’re two people who independently decided to dress up as Barbie!” 

“Alright.” Henry picks up his phone. “I’m settling this once and for all.” 

“What? Who are you calling?”

That question is quickly answered. The dial tone only rings twice before the call goes through, and Pez’s voice fills the living room. “Well, if it isn’t my second favourite disgraced royal. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Henry wastes no time on niceties. “Pez. Out of Alex and me, who is Barbie and who’s Ken?”

Pez doesn’t even take a moment to consider it. He just says, “Darling, you’re definitely Ken.” 

Ha! Told you, Alex mouths, his face lighting up in a vindictive grin. 

“That is the wrong answer,” Henry tells Pez, whose laughter comes out a little tinny through the phone speakers. 

“Oh come on, you know I’m right,” Pez says. “Or perhaps I just really want to see your boyfriend's magnificent arse in that Barbie-pink pantsuit. You know, the one Margot Robbie wears in the film?” 

More indignant spluttering from Henry. “Pez, you’re on speaker.”

“Oh good, I hoped I was,” Pez replies. “Hello, Alex! I look forward to seeing your Barbie costume. Do come to me if you need help putting it together. Toodles!"

And then he hangs up. Henry glares at the screen like he can magically will Pez to come back and take his side this time. 

“Well, you heard him,” Alex says, not even trying to hide his laughter. 

Henry huffs and shoves the phone back in his pocket. “Well, who made him the expert, anyway?”

“Pretty sure you did, when you called to get his opinion. To, you know-” Alex clears his throat and puts on his best Henry impression- “settle this, once and for all.” 

Presumably at a loss for words, Henry picks up another cookie and, with considerable effort, bites into it. There’s nothing more to say, anyway. They both know Alex has won. 

“Besides,” Alex says, holding up his phone to show Henry the transaction on the screen. “I already ordered the “I am Kenough” hoodie in your size, sweetheart.”

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Oc battle royale

For my convenience, I am only including my Gen 3 ocs (Yves, Montgomery, Cyprus, Blanche and Leveret even though he belongs to Gen 2 because he's one of the 3 brothers)

Im gonna call this series Fabricated Reality Au

TW: violence, like a LOT of it, blood, gore

I did have like thoughts of putting all of them in a Big Brother (the TV show) situation, like all of them in one huge gated community complete with a gym, theatres, mock shopping centers, etc, and basically like a mini town in the Truman Show, none of them get to leave but they do get to access the internet and order stuff from there. They can't leave due to some paranormal shit (the author keeps teleporting them back or there is an invisible wall like most sandbox video games)

Everyone lives in this one mansion, including you, who spawns in with no memories of who any of these men are. You don't even have memories of your past identities. Unfortunately, though, they all knew you from their respective timelines and loved you to bits.

Yves would be the first to realize what is happening because he is the oldest and has encountered weird shit like this before, already have a theory that everyone is in a simulation and has some other eldritch knowledge that may or may not break the 4th wall, so he's calm as hell and sets up his hidden cameras and does his own thing and experiments. The mansion will have his entire vault under it, Yves can freely access it however and whenever he wants through his personal office

The same goes for Blanche, he's slightly shaken but knows things like these happen, so he would try his best to navigate the anomalies while staying optimistic. Leveret has an idea of what might be causing the strangeness and how to deal with it just like his 2 other brothers, but he doesn't seem to care too much, as long as he has access to you, his skin care, hair care and wardrobe, and whatever he deems necessary, he will be fine

Cyprus and Monty would be freaking the fuck out because they're in a perfect replica of their rooms (or in Monty's case, his childhood room) but once they exit it, it's the hallway to some fancy fortress. Weird shit keeps scaring them; like things that are not approved by the entity that's controlling the situation (author) keep disappearing, lapses in memories when they discover something that they're not supposed to yet and they swear they saw Yves phase through walls at some point.

They tried killing the three brothers (and each other) using all kinds of methods- violent or otherwise, but each of them came back unscathed the next morning. Yves and Blanche would pretend nothing happened as part of their strategy. Leveret would raise hell and kill them back to get even. Only to be resurrected the next day and be the receiving end of Leveret's cold shoulder.

Cyprus goes on a bloodbath after he gets his first death until he calms down and realizes that he's merely wasting his energy, they all keep coming back and Yves is the only one who frustratingly cannot seem to be killed; not even once. His ego would take a massive hit due to his inability to even land a punch on Yves no matter how hard he tried. Fighting Yves will always end up in Cyprus tiring himself out to the point of collapse, or instantly getting killed if Yves isn't in the mood that day to waste some time. The only time Yves LETS anyone kill him is when you're watching, to taint your view on them.

Blanche would pretend to be feeble and eat all his blows no matter how deformed his face would get, so if Cyprus tried to give him a beatdown, it just looked like a big bad bully tormenting a harmless and frail old man. And that isn't a good look for Cyprus, especially if you're the empathetic type. But all of the men knew what that grey-haired bastard was capable of with his brass knuckles. If Cyprus and Blanche were to go one-on-one without any weapons, it would be a stalemate with both leaving each other in puddles of blood, broken bones, and mangled flesh.

Monty takes on a more passive approach of staying away from everything (and of course, attempting to protect you from it too by keeping you in his room, or even in Yves's care if things get too chaotic in the mansion) until he gets a decent grasp on the reality he was thrust into, he would refrain from engaging in violence even though he might get pretty violent himself if stressed out enough.

However, most of his attacks are defensive. He wouldn't feed anyone a knuckle sandwich first as long as they don't bring you into it.

After his first respawn, he would be flabbergasted but a lot more relaxed knowing that he would always come back. He's still going to be peeved as hell if someone tried to kill him just for the lulz because dying HURTS like a bitch. Montgomery would engage in murdering the other participants ONLY if there is zero chance of you witnessing it. He would try his best not to let you see his death despite you knowing no one really dies here.

Leveret is not getting his pretty nails crusted with blood. He carries a gun with him at all times, because sadly he is the weakest of the five in terms of combat. Not to say he doesn't have any fighting skills, any normal person would be dead if they were to take him on hand-to-hand. But he is only slightly faster than Montgomery, who only has his prior farm and construction work to prepare him for combat.

Without his gun, Cyprus could one-punch him into oblivion. Montgomery could easily overpower him, Blanche would pulverize him into meat paste before Leveret could blink, and obviously, no chance against sweet, sweet eldritch entity Yves.

Each of their financial assets would be transferred into this reality, Yves being the most advantageous because he's already in the top 0.05% in his universe.

Blanche would be next because he earned quite a lot from his organ harvesting side hustle.

Leveret keeps his financial side vague, but he can effortlessly afford items that most middle-upper-class workers can't.

Cyprus isn't necessarily the uberwealthy, but he has more than enough money by working as an accountant for various corporate offices to live very, very comfortably. However, it's not unlimited, if he wants to continue providing a good life for you and him (And to earn your favor in this fucked up situation), he has to pick up the slack and find a way to keep his bank plump.

Montgomery is the poorest, so even in this reality, he has to get out there to get some cash to spend it on you.

This leaves the three brothers to occupy most of their time at home while the other two are out there making a living. However, Leveret's clandestine job requires more of his attention sometimes, and Blanche actually has to acquire organs from someone else (He can just kill Cyprus, Montgomery, or Leveret to steal their livers now) to sell.

Leaving Yves to spend the most time with you and to run the household. You eat his cooking the most and receive much more cuddles from him.

He doesn't like it when the men murder each other, because it ends with him scrubbing the floors so you wouldn't slip on their viscera, get sick, or be bothered by the smell/ appearance of it. Yves tried hiring maids and butlers, but they kept dying at the end of the week. And not in a peaceful way either, having the other servants clean their coworkers' remains up isn't helping their morales. No matter how many safeguards he tried to put in place to protect them, your other deranged self-proclaimed husbands would get to them like the feral beasts they are.

It's mostly Blanche and Cyprus being the culprit- being the two most jealous of the five, occasionally Leveret when he's feeling murderous and petty. Montgomery would discourage everyone from killing the servants because he knows that they're just doing their job and merely existing, it's not like they can take you away from them. He trusts that Yves has something to prevent that.

So Yves resorted to being the one who kept everything in order, the patriarch of this fucked up "family". Everyone except yourself has chores to do each day and was told to please clean up after themselves. He has to put up posters reminding all the men to "Please dispose of your corpses appropriately", Yves would personally train them to adhere to certain protocols. Hell, he even opened up a conference room especially for the men to "settle their differences", but Cyprus pointed out it's just a murder room with all the plastic sheets covering the floor and walls being replaced each time it's been soiled. It's heavily soundproofed too with an array of tools and weapons being displayed on the racks.

Yves told them to call it whatever they wanted, as long as the blood didn't reach the hallways because it kept traumatizing you- their beloved, and he was tired of being their caretaker when he was supposed only to be that to you.

Surprisingly, it didn't take long for them to use it as intended. Because they realize the effect it had on you is not at all positive. It doesn't stop Blanche from trying to get any of the 3 men (he knew Yves would never fall for it) to hurt him in front of you, though.

Because of his shrewdness, power, and wealth, all 4 of them begrudgingly agreed to have Yves set the rules. No one trusts him, but he's the most competent and scariest. He knows how to get each of them on the floor, in a fetal position, shivering, sobbing, and begging for mercy without even touching them or using you as a threat. Yves knows the most and knowledge is what makes him unstoppable.

Yves despises sharing you. But under these circumstances, he knows he has to. He is horrifyingly adept at playing domestic politics, the men knew never to outwardly question Yves if he suddenly graced them with more bonding time with you; just appreciate the opportunity and focus on enjoying while they can. They all knew it was always some sort of plan to keep all of them compliant, but with Yves being the way he is, it's really better to just roll with it. Never get on his bad side or he will turn the entire household onto them, including you- which is a fate literally worse than death for all of them.

None of them knows what the goal of this anomalous reality shift is, except Yves and perhaps Blance and maybe Leveret, who vaguely knew it's some form of entertainment to beings on another astral plane. But even he could not confirm if his theory is true, he only knows some of the rules and logic. Not a single one knows if things will be back to how it was, or if this will be their new normal permanently.

But they do know they share a similar purpose: to love you, to keep you safe and happy. To the best of their abilities, at least. And you're the only thing keeping them from nuking the entire town to billions of pieces.

[inighttra]

Yandere!Demon!Tengen and Wives x Fem!Hashira!Reader

Decided to pick this as my first upload to Tumblr. This was cross posted to my Wattpad account.

Warnings: Poisoning, blood consumption (just a small bit), injury, forced relationship.

Words- 2.7k

=========================================

Your POV

"He's near." The shadows whisper causing me to sit up, "And they're with him."

"They're? He must've brought his wives this time." I chuckle sheathing my sword, "Perhaps he's gotten tired of losing."

The shadows chuckle in response before disappearing into the back of my mind. I sigh shifting my body, so my legs were hanging off the tree branch. I begin to swing the limbs back and forth waiting for Tengen to appear out of the tree line. Of course I'm sure you're wondering how this happened-how I'm nonchalantly waiting for an upper moon and how come I have four demons on my trail? Well that's an easy answer-I'm a Hashira. To be more specific, the Shadow Hashira. I was able to use shadows not only in combat, but also escapes too. I had run into the upper moon and about a year ago.

The shadows kept me hidden as I watched, the upper moon frowning as he grabbed the man by his throat. I use the shadows to get me closer taking a deep breath before leaping at them. I cut the demon's hand, the civilian dropping to the ground a few seconds later. I could feel his gaze on my back, turning to face him a few seconds later. As we made eye contact his mouth curved upward into a smirk.

"What a flashy entrance!" He laughs as his hand regenerated, allowing the civilian to turn tail and run, "But interrupting my dinner was quite unflashy."

"I believe getting strangled to death is quite unflashy. I can't stand there and allow that."

A 'hmph' is all that left the demon as his eyes scanned my form. I sat there getting a bit bored whilst he checked. me out.

"Are you just going to look at me all night or can we actually get to the fun part?"

His smile returns as he straightened his posture, "I like you. What's your name?"

"Y/N. You are?"

"Tengen Uzui. Y/N huh? I think Y/N Uzui sounds better."

I don't respond, merely raising a brow at him before getting into a fighting position. Tengen's smirk remains as he twirled his dual blade Nichirin swords. Once he stopped, I dash towards him, our swords clashing halfway. Neither one of us budged, our strengths evenly matched while we pushed at each other.

Eventually I forced our stalemate to end, letting him push me back. I land on my feet not far away and just in time to observe Tengen running at me. My sword turns pitch black as I summon two shadows beside me, serpent heads shooting out and rushing towards him. I raise my sword as he slashed and dodged them, both of us exchanging strikes. I will admit it was slightly difficult to keep up with his momentum at first, but it didn't take long for me to match it. I couldn't help but smirk when his fuchsia eyes met mine, the demon also seeming happy to finally have a good opponent.

More shadow serpents appear forcing him away from me. He slashed at them, and I watch in amusement when he jumped into the air. At first, I thought my serpents would take care of him, lunging at his free-falling form. However, within a blink of an eye he cut them all down, his form reappearing just inches away from me. My eyes widen while my hands attempt to move my sword in front of me. It was hopeless though. He'd reach me by the time I was able to do so. My mind raced through counter measures, and it seemed the shadows took my safety into their own hands.

Before he could grab me however a black arm shout out from the shadow beside us, grabbing the upper moon and throwing him away. Tengen grunts as he hits a few trees, stopping himself a few seconds later.

"Huh?" He speaks as his eyes find mine once more, "How many things do you have in there?!"

"None technically speaking." I chuckle landing not too far from him, "I can't help it if the shadows are protective of me."

"Well tell them to stay out of it!"

"Come now that's not really fair Tengen. Don't you wish to best me in a fair fight? It would be quite unflashy for you not to."

I don't give him time to respond, taking the chance to go on the offensive. He twirls his Nichirin swords keeping up with my strikes with ease. I decide to take it up a notch, once again incorporating the shadows. Serpents and limbs strike out from the darkness attempting to disrupt his defense. The upper moon kept up however, his smile never faltering whilst dispersing my attacks. Although as his confidence built so did the openings. Eventually he left one wide enough for me to get a strike through. My hit was just off the mark though taking off the demon's jaw before the shadow serpents sunk their teeth into his shoulders throwing him into the trees.

The upper moon took the strikes with pride, his eyes holding something a kin to lust and joy. The shadows hiss as he stands once more, the flesh of his shoulders and jaw swiftly repairing themselves.

"That settles it." He purrs wiping away the blood from his reformed mouth, "You'll be my fourth wife."

"Oh a fourth?~" I purr observing his recovering form, "Where are your other three wives?~"

"Not here but don't fret. Once I turn you, you'll have all the time you need to get to know them."

"Bringing another woman into your relationship without consoling your wives? Quite scandalous you know."

"They'll like you. I know it."

We charged each other once more, both of us exchanging cuts with one another. His pupils widened while the scent of my blood fills the air, fueling the demon's attempt to capture me. Our battle continued for quite some time, the exhaustion beginning to catch up to me. Tengen noticed of course, his attacks turning more feral forcing me to use more energy.

"The sun is almost here." The shadows whisper grabbing my attention, "We should retreat before our power is weakened."

My eyes narrow knowing that they were right. My power was greatly weakened when the sun was up, and I would hate for the male in front of me to burn to death. I dodge one more attack before the shadows enveloped me, hiding me from his senses. I'm know not supposed to, but I couldn't help it. For some reason this demon intrigued me. I appear from the shadows on a nearby tree branch, looking down at the demon as his head swiveled in search of me.

"You should get going." I state causing his gaze to snap to my form, "The sun is going to rise in half an hour. The nearest structure is easily 45 minutes away, but I believe in you. I would be completely bed ridden if this was our first and last meeting." I tease sheathing my sword.

Tengen relaxed placing his swords on his shoulders while he laughed once more, "You aren't even my wife yet and you're worrying about me? I'm truly touched."

I roll my eyes when the shadows begin to envelop me once more, "We'll see if that happens. Although do be sure to bring your wives along for the next battle. I wish to see if they're real or not."

"You don't have a choice Y/N. You will become my fourth wife."

"We'll see Tengen." I reply before finally allowing the shadows to teleport me away.

And we've been playing cat and mouse since. We've had at least four battles since then, none of them having a clear victor. It's not long before I spot four forms appearing from the tree line. They halt in the middle, all four demons looking around the small clearing. Tengen steps forward raising his head high before he opens his mouth.

"Where are you Y/N?~ We can smell you. Come out now."

"Ooh so scary." I snicker causing their eyes to snap towards me, "But there's no need for threats. I've been here this whole time." I jump down from the tree branch eyeing the three other women beside him, "And you three must be Suma, Makio, and Hina. I was beginning to think you weren't real since Tengen never brought you along for our battles."

"I told you it was just bad timing-"

"Tengen told you about us?" Suma sniffles her eyes widening as tears gathered in them.

"Oh yes he tells quite a lot about you three. One could say he's smitten." I smirk watching as the male tensed when the three blushed and turned towards him.

"Tengen!~" Suma sobs throwing her arms around his neck, hugging him.

Makio growls grabbing the woman and attempting to rip her off of him, "Get off him you idiot! Focus on the reason we came here!"

"Makio is right Suma," Hina speaks up causing the two to stop, "We need to focus."

Suma pouts but allows Makio to pull her off Tengen. Hina then turns to me setting her purple and yellow eyes on my form.

"And you must be Y/N, our future wife."

I laugh unsheathing my sword, "I don't know about that. I'm pretty content on being single, and besides it's too dangerous being a Hashira, let alone a Hashira's lover. I already bear scars of my journey." I finish rolling up my sleeves to reveal some of the scars.

"No more I promise." Tengen states eyeing the scarred skin, "Tonight you come home with us."

"As sweet as that sounds," I giggle getting into a fighting stance, "I've heard that one too many times to believe it."

The upper moon huffs his eyes narrowing at my stubbornness before he shifts into a stance as well. This time I'm the first to attack rushing forward and slashing at Tengen. He of course dodges it. His wives stare at me in shock, not at all expecting that level of speed.

He strikes back and I jump back to avoid his blade. I move to counter him only to be suddenly pounced on from behind. I grunt the arms tightening around my front as I spot Suma's hair on my shoulder.

"Just stop!" She cries while I try to throw her off, "We just want to care and love you!"

Tengen takes this opportunity to charge me but I turn and use his wife as a shield. This causes both him and her to tense, allowing me to pry her hands off me before throwing her at the upper moon. While the two collied into a tree Hina and Makio dashed forward, the two moving in sync. I was able to dodge most of their attacks, but they were able to get a few cuts in. I begin to grow agitated at being on the defensive, summoning two shadow serpents which forces them away.

However just as I started to form a plan of attack I'm kicked from behind. I crash into a tree wincing at the pain that sprouts all over my body. A snarl escapes my lips as my fingers dig into the tree bark before lifting myself up. I once more summon more shadow serpents, launching themselves towards the demons. I move in with them landing a few hits on Tengen and Makio. I ignore the smell of blood as it fills the air continuing my onslaught against the four. However out of the corner of my eye I spot Hina launching at me and in reflex I raise my forearm. I grunt when Hina kicks my forearm forcing me back a few feet. They quickly finish off the rest of the serpents turning to me with fire in their eyes. I sigh twirling my sword before pointing at them.

"Come now this isn't quite fair, is it? A 4 v 1? Not fair at all." I tease shaking my head, "Let's even it out, shall we?" The demons look at me confused as I shift my stance, "Shadow summon second form-shadow clone!"

Tengen's wives take a step back as three humanoids shoot out from the shadows, landing beside me. Their eyes widened when they realized that they were exact clones of themselves. I don't waste any more time, pointing my sword at the group causing the shadows to charge. Tengen meets us halfway attempting to cut down the Hina clone, but it dodges him, and he instead is met with my sword.

"What no longer interested in fighting little ol me?"

"I prefer getting rid of the distractions first."

"Distractions? They're not distractions. They're just allowing us to have our honorable 1v1."

Tengen only huffs in response our swords once more clashing with each other. Just like in our previous battles we once more engage ourselves in a dance of steel, neither one of us willing to give in. His wives attempted to interfere once more, but their clones held them at bay, forcing them back as they copied the demoness' moves. It seemed that the battle was at a standstill, all of us being on equal power levels with our opponents. Although as it continued to draw out

The sun will rise in an hour, the shadows hiss, we must finish this.

I agree just in time to meet Tengen's swords in a deadlock. We push against one another neither one of us budging at the other's strength.

"Just give in!" The demon snarls pushing on our blades, "There's no use! You're ours!"

I only smirk in response, my hand shooting down to the dagger strapped onto my thigh. Tengen shifts towards me due to the loss of strength from the removed limb, giving me a nice opening at his neck. I felt a little bad, sad that our flirtatious, yet entertaining battles were coming to an end, my fingers curling around the handle of the blade, yanking it out of it's sheathe. However, when I swung, I realized something-my body was slowing down, my strike wasn't as quick as it was supposed to be. My reaction times were slower than what they were earlier in the battle. Tengen notices this and smirks jumping away from me.

"Slowing down my lovely wife?"

"N-No." I huff glaring at him.

"Oh really? It doesn't seem that way to me. Your leg is shaking as we speak. Are you feeling unwell perhaps?~"

I don't say anything as blood seeps past my lips, my brows furrowing in confusion at the crimson blood.

"Sadly since we knew you weren't going to surrender without a fight, we had to go about things in a less flashy way."

"What did you do?" I snarl forcing more blood past my lips.

"Our lovely wives' daggers were covered in poison."

My eyes widened in realization. No wonder why I was starting to feel weak. Makio and Hina's cuts earlier were just deep enough for the poison to get into my bloodstream. It was then that my hands begin to shake, my sword dropping from the trembling limbs. It would only be minutes before it fully kicked in. My legs gave in a few seconds later, the upper moon rushing forward and catching me before I could hit the ground. I growl at him, my hand grabbing his shirt.

"U-Unflashy cheater."

"I know my love, but you'll forgive us."

It was then that the shadow clones disappeared, my energy no longer sufficient to keep them here. His wives stare in shock before their eyes find our forms. Tengen grabs one of his swords cutting the palm of his hand before holding it above me.

"Drink." He commands his blood dripping over my closed lips.

I only glare at him, my grip tightening on his arm. He sighs turning to Hina. No words are said but she nods moving closer and grabbing my jaw. She fights my tiring muscles as she attempts to pry my mouth open. I attempt to punch her, but Hina dodges it somehow keeping her grip.

"Makio, Suma, hold her down." Hina states earning a quick nod from the two onlookers.

They do so, rushing over and holding my limbs down. Suma kept trying to reassure me about my new future, claiming that they'd care for me and love me with all their demonic hearts. I didn't have much choice however, my dying muscles finally giving way to Hina's grip. I jerk as the metallic taste overfloods my senses, all of them cooing at me to calm down. In my dying moments I continued to thrash until my eyes closed, fully sealing my fate with them.

[angelplummie]

a little freaky but I need Tashi to beat my bitch ass up and then dig her manicured fingers into my puss-

(and no i do not care how long her nails are)

tryna start a BRAWL. calling her a bitch under your breath at a party and she overhears you and pulls you by your hair into the garden. you don’t necessarily LIKE the fact that just the feeling of her pulling your hair makes you unfeasibly wet but it’s true. you stumble and gasp till she throws you out of the door, feet thudding onto grass.

“say it to my face, cunt.”

she’s wearing a tiny, skimpy mini dress but her face is like death. adrenaline, or maybe butterflies, claw at your stomach. you straighten up.

“you’re a fucking bitch.”

she pounces like a panther, slender and poised and mean. with her above you both crash to the floor, a screaming vanilla scented pile of girl. a crowd has formed, tashi duncan is beating some girl up. she punches you in the mouth and you scratch at her face, and you roll her around until your on top and you both grip each others shoulders. for a moment, a stalemate occurs. you both huff, furious. her chest heaves, straining against her tube neckline. she’s so pretty. she’s so close. fuck her. you spit in her face. a fat glob lands squarely on the corner of her eye.

a wild, evil scream escapes her. she rolls you over one more time with a herculean push, strength that surely could not come from such a delicate fine body. suddenly, she takes your wrists, and forces them under her legs that are spread either side of you. she straddles you and constricts you, and no matter how hard you wiggle you’re not escaping her. panic leaves your lips in breathy gasps, girlish, weak. she flicks spit from her face, and with those same fingers grips your jaw, forcing it open. you eyes widen and shrink as you fight to break free, to hurt her. but no. you’re not gonna hurt her. because she’s cramming her fingers into your throat, down so far you gag and splutter.

“say you’re sorry.”

she lets you squeal and gag a few more seconds, before removing her fingers and giving you the opportunity to do as she says.

you look up at her with bleary eyes.

“no.”

back in her fingers go, hitting the back of your throat, getting coated in your spit.

“say sorry or ill make you throw up on this lawn in front of everyone.”

your wrists hurt so bad. you feel so weak, so defeated, so fucking wet. the feeling of her legs either side of you is enough to make you wriggle just to feel her thigh grace your side.

“one more chance before i make you act like the sloppy bitch you are.”

she pulls her fingers out, skirting over your pink tongue.

“sorry,” you grit out.

she smiles with a wild satisfaction, and wipes your spit on your cheek.

“test me again and ill rip your fucking eyes out.”

she got off you, and you scrambled back and to your feet. tears streamed down your cheeks, and you cunt throbbed, wet and ready. you heard people mutter, felt two pairs of watching eyes on you, and left. fuck.

[stopbuggingm3]

...Holy shit, Arya Myers actually being social? And making friends? And having actual human(ish) connection? Impossible!

jokes aside this might actually be one of my favourite things i've ever drawn. angst always hits but gawdamm this was fun as fuck to make and its like holy shit my girl actually has a friend?! I went incredibly giggly when their creator accepted them as canon friends before i'd even drawn 'em yet I was very happy.

and also a version with their masks too bcuz they deserve it

Slasher belongs to @slasherflicks999 go give 'em love because they're cool and they make great stuff and because i said so

rambles underneath the cut because my mind was RACING with headcannons while making this (TW for mentions of gore, death, and creepypasta typical violence)

These could be completely inaccurate (i hope not) and I apologise in advance if they are

I like to think their friendship probably formed as the result or them forming a "truce". "truce" in quotations because its closer to a stalemate than anything. they literally can't kill each other (Slasher is immortal and Arya is kept alive by Slenderman to torment her) what other choice do they have? if they can't murder they may as well vibe. They do vibe though they'd get along great, I can see their types of humour complimenting one another well. they seem to have a shared habit of taking the piss out of the very dangerous situations they get into which together makes them both hilarious and incredibly frustrating to anyone around them.

Honestly i can see Arya bonking him in the head with her shovel upon first seeing him and leaving him on the forest floor thinking nothing of it only to freak the fuck out seeing him back on his feet days later. like she knew she was losing it but she didn't think she'd reach the level of seeing things just yet. Theres literally still traces of his blood on her shovel he should be dead.

So, she tries again, which would probably go one of two ways:

1. She somehow (probably luck) manages to take him out a second time and is then further confused by the fact she has, in fact, now killed this guy twice. Yup, thats brain matter on her shovel, he is real and he is very much dead, so what the hell? This time she doesn't leave him, instead choosing to stay and investigate (after a five minute breather because jeez thats a lot of blood-). She watches him for who knows how long, going back and forth on whether or not she really is crazy because he definitely looks dead but theres something off about his body that she can't put a name to, and eventually stays long enough to see his skull slowly stitching it back together with her own eyes.

2. the likelier of the two possibilities and the one i personally prefer, Slasher is prepared for her this time and avoids a second death, now knowing that he has to keep an eye out for a crazy blonde girl with a shovel and murderous intent, and now theres a similar situation in reverse where Aryas the one full of injuries but just not dropping and Slasher is the one confused. He knows first hand how easy it is for someone to die and she is covered in blood, she should be long dead. Stab wounds? yeahhh give her a couple days she'll be fine...probably. idk the thought makes me giggle

Slashers affinity for blood and gore combined with Aryas squeamishness and hatred for blood would also probably be pretty funny at times; like Slashers just sat there caked in blood casually chewing on a handful of raw meat while Arya sits next to him and watches like 😦🫣 ("..." "...what?" "Dude."). Shes fine handling her own blood but she anyone (or anything) elses blood is still a huge no-go.

That being said, if she were to ever come across Slashers dead body in the woods she'd stay by him until he regenerated, no matter how brutal the sight is. She doesn't know if "keeping his body safe" if really necessary in his case but she'll do it anyway. just in case, y'know?

(pls lmk how accurate these actually are I really don't wanna mischaracterise him by accident)

[suffarustuffaru]

soon to be contractor & contractee (a greed if poem)

“You shouldn’t jam us between your own selfishness. No matter what you harbour against Emilia.”

“You’re misunderstanding me. Well, it doesn’t matter how much I say, you won’t believe it… just like parallel lines.”

“It’s better to say that we never agree with each other, like parallel lines, even if it’s a conversation that we repeat a lot.”

There were things which could not be relinquished in his cooperative relationship with Echidna. The witch claimed to be Subaru’s accomplice, and by lending Subaru her wisdom as a contribution, she planned to use not only Subaru’s 『Return by Death』, but also his way of life. Although, thanks to her ingenuous side, those poisonous fangs did not reach him, and thus they were in a state of stalemate.

- Kasaneru | Greed If

—

hello!! this is the written piece i made for the recent @engraverszine , surrounding the echidna /subaru / satella dynamic with each other and rbd :) it’s my most complicated work of poetry yet and i had a blast writing it!

also—thank you to the following people:

@thecolourpurple123 for giving me the premise of this poem and the idea for this unique format!! it was a very fulfilling challenge pfft

@eiese for helping the formatting along on the official last copy of this poem in this zine issue (screenshots of which are used here)

and @peachie5000 for illustrating an art piece to go along with this poem, which you can find here !! :D

and if you need a guide / would like an explanation for this poem, here it is under the cut vv

This poem is based on that exact excerpt from Greed If, included alongside this poem, and includes references to it (example: fangs), but I mainly focused on the idea of “parallel lines”. A “state of stalemate”. Therefore this poem is split into two pages / parts:

Page one is written in the style of a contrapuntal, a poem with multiple segments written into it so it can be read in multiple ways. Poems within a poem, essentially.

Page two (+ the footnotes included in page one) are written like actual footnotes. Each footnote connects to certain words and phrases in page one. The footnote numbers past 0 are also written to finish the first sentence they’re attached to (for example “6 Teen.” = “Sixteen”).

Overall, this entire two-page poem is written to be able to be read multiple times to gain more meaning from it. Here are all the ways I intended for this poem to be read:

Page one—

The left column by itself (“allowing you to read me / means stabbing the handkerchief into my throat…”)

The right column by itself (“licking your teacup clean / and dissecting their souls apart…”)

From left to right across both columns (“allowing you to read me / licking your teacup clean…”)

Page two—

From top to bottom by itself (before or after page one)

Simultaneous—

While reading page one, read page two’s footnotes every time a footnote appears on page one, then return to page one until finished (“…to rid away rotting memory / Breathe out.”)

This poem can probably be read in other ways if you so wish but those are all the ways I made sure to write this poem in :3 Thank you for reading!!

[neonscandal]

Hello, I'm new here and I really liked your tumblr. I would like it if you could answer my question. Don't you think Saturo is a little needy, you know he always wants to get people's attention, he always wants to force a friendship, that scares me a little, he can even be unnecessary sometimes.

Hiii! I literally have no idea how you came across my blog but I'm happy if it made you feel welcome ❤️ Thanks for reaching out.

Don't be scared by the tall man with the impossible eyes and bulk volume suffering. He's here to help! ✨

I mean, you pretty accurately described Gojo, tbqh. He is needy, I wouldn't say he wants to get people's attention... but he has it, anyway, he is desperately reaching out for human connection, he frequently ponders and is consumed by the unnecessary (just as much as the necessary) and people tend to conflate his strength with his identity.

How do we put one at ease with this larger than life personality? We speedrun it, of course. The best way to empathize with someone is to understand how they got from point A to point D and this is as it applies in real life, too. Consider this my humble offering toward this threat I made a few years ago. Going to avoid spoilers beyond what's been animated but this is still going to be a long one so strap in! JK there's a minor spoiler that's marked (⚠️) but it's not a major plot point.

IN DEFENSE OF GOJO

A mostly unsolicited essay ✨

Before we get into how Gojo became Gojo, let's look at the basic information we know about jujutsu society in universe.

Curses are formed by negative emotional runoff, typically from people who can't control cursed energy.

There are humans who are born with cursed techniques but the brains of humans so their powers were dormant until Kenjaku!Geto activated them in the last episode of season 2.

Those with power that are beyond the comprehension of the elders happen to find themselves carrying death sentences (as it applies to Yuta Okkotsu and Yuji Itadori, specifically).

There are 3 Big Families: the Gojo, Kamo, and Zenin Clans, likened to nobility, which have been active since the Golden Age of Jujutsu hundreds of years ago.

Generally, the Gojo clan inherits the Limitless technique. Six Eyes is a lot less frequent and both techniques haven't manifested in one user in over 100 years until Gojo was born. (Purple or Hollow Purple is another hidden move which each family has some extra razzle dazzle offshoots from their main cursed technique.)

Kamo clan passes along Blood Manipulation (re: Choso, Noritoshi Kamo, the Kyoto student, and Noritoshi Kamo, the blemish on the Kamo clan who created the cursed womb paintings)

Zenin clan has the Ten Shadows Technique (re: Megumi. Bear in mind, previously a Zenin Ten Shadows user fought a Gojo Six Eyes + Limitless user and the fight ended in a stalemate that resulted in both of their deaths).

Anomalies, like that of Maki and Toji, exist even in these age old clans where an heir is born without the ability to manipulate cursed energy and/or see curses.

Of the above and those of the main cast specifically, the inheritors of these generations' old techniques have pretty shit origin stories. They are privileged but cursed in a way. Heavy is the head, and all.

BIG THREE FAMILY CULTURE

We haven't gotten a lot of insight into the Gojo clan except that it's basically a clan of one: Satoru Gojo.

Noritoshi, the Kyoto student, bears the name of the blot of the Kamo clan and is a bastard son who happened to inherit the familial technique. Because of this, he is shepherded into the fold of the Kamo the family, foisted into a position of responsibility, and separated from his "disgrace" of mother. She leaves him, knowing her presence would hold him back, and hopes that her sacrifice in doing so will enable him to better help others. ⚠️ However, when Kenjaku!Geto used remote Idle Transfiguration to awaken dormant vessels and dormant cursed technique users, the proper firstborn heir of the Kamo clan's inherited technique was awakened which swiftly saw Noritoshi's expulsion from his status and the clan.

The most damning evidence we have of the culture of these families is from the Zenin clan:

They terrorized Toji Zenin, despite his inhuman strength, simply because he was born without the ability to manipulate cursed energy. To the extent that an incident from his childhood left his face scarred and likely radicalized him into the sorcerer killer he is today.

Mai and Maki were gravely mistreated because, in addition to being girls, they were born twins which is considered highly unfavorable.

The twin superstition is "justified" by Mai's weak cursed technique and Maki's inability to see curses or manipulate cursed energy.

The misogynistic treatment of the girls is likely not uncommon within the Big Three families given 1) what we've seen happen to Kamo's mom, 2) the treatment of the twins' mother, and 3) the way that Gojo vehemently advises that Tsumiki would never be happy with the Zenin clan (as both a jujutsu outside and because she's a girl as determined by events that haven't been animated yet).

Empirically, from the above, we can extrapolate that familial ties don't mean shit in the Big Three Families, blood relations are tenuous at best. Tradition, power and hereditary techniques reign supreme to maintain status. Those outside of the blessed few are at the mercy of more powerful members of the family which will be more evident in season 3.

💡 As an aside, kinda interesting to think about Geto's ideology applied to these traditional families. In fact, I wonder if Geto cultivated his beliefs based on what Gojo told him about his family.

UNDERSTANDING THE CHARACTERIZATION OF GOJO

Now that we understand society as Gojo would have known it, let's get into how he experiences the world from birth.

Canonically, his birth shifted the power balance between sorcerers and curses. A lot of readers assume he has a god complex which, in addition to being categorically false, is more a reflection of his canonical in universe power. He is neither a god nor does he necessarily perceive himself to be one. But that's not to say he doesn't have a bit of an attitude problem.

He is born with both the Limitless and Six Eyes techniques which, again, hasn't happened in over 100 years. Subsequently, stronger curses are on the rise to compensate for this dramatic shift in power.

💡 Lowkey, I kinda headcanon that the influx of more powerful curses comes from the bitter resentment that periphery individuals must have harbored against Gojo because, let's be real. He's clearly Mappa's favorite and it brings out the anti in everybody IRL lol I can only imagine in universe if you were born to a jujutsu family and lost out on the genetic lottery when it came to cursed energy.

He explicitly draws the ire of curses and cursed users alike with a bounty that immediately incites an onslaught of first come, first serve mercenaries. As a child. Even Toji, the great sorcerer killer, tries to get the drop on a young Satoru Gojo but none are successful at coming close. Not even the invisible man.

From what we know of the Big Three above, the miracle of Gojo's inheritance would likely push him into a place of great power and influence within his clan, even from an early age. Further, we've seen what the burden of responsibility an inherited technique looks like as it applies to Noritoshi Kamo. Gojo would have been burdened with this status and, simultaneously, constantly placated by others so as to appease the miraculous heir.

Additionally, as we saw with Noritoshi, other clans may also have a vested interest in currying favor with the young heir because even proximity to Gojo creates a sense of power and status.

By blood, Yuta is a distant, distant cousin of Gojo's from a branch family and we see how OP he is.... Later in the story, Gege makes it a point to use the Great Satoru Gojo as a measure of power and, subsequently, more explicitly how close other characters' power, prowess or technique come close to that of Gojo's.

Subsequently, as the Kamo clan heir, Noritoshi tries to ingratiate himself to Megumi despite the fact that he's no longer even connected to the Zenin clan. He curses that Mai didn't inherit Ten Shadows to make relations a bit smoother. Gojo would likely have several people vying for his attention and grace whether he wants it or not.

I think you can see how, a smart kid like Gojo who literally has nothing but time to process and compute the ways of the world around him, would come to understand the motivations of others as it specifically relates to him and his power. It would be understandable if he were innately wary and distrustful of others, especially when you consider his initial experience as the target of an onslaught of, albeit unsuccessful, assassination attempts.

Here, I think, is what really gives life to the isolation that Gojo feels from a very young age which is only known by those with immense power like Sukuna and other characters who've yet to be revealed. Gojo is less an individual and more a means to an end. He is a monolith for power, protection and status. His power is so incomprehensible for other sorcerers of the era that his potential for vulnerability is taken for granted.

With a culture that prioritizes strength over, perhaps, morality, it makes sense why, when we see Gojo years later as a high school student, he is relatively disrespectful toward his elders and thinks it is silly that the strong should have to diminish themselves for the comfort of the weak. Bear in mind, this disrespect is likely because no one was really checking him on manners from a young age. Further, from his experience, strength has always been commodified, why would you diminish that? He was and remains head of the Gojo clan with all the pomp and circumstance that comes with that.

Enter Suguru Geto, the smoking gun as to why we know Gojo doesn't have a god complex. Suguru, like Geto, is the only other special grade sorcerer aside from Yuki Tsukumo (and she makes it a point to not take missions). Qualified as equals, the two are constantly doled out missions that higher ups are not even equipped to handle. Try not catching an ego about that.

Even though their power may not necessarily be on par with one another, it is enough that Gojo deems Geto an equal. Their friendship tempers Gojo's character in ways his family could not.

THE HUMANITY OF A GOD

Gojo is not a god but, to those around him, he's certainly lauded as such. Part of that entails inherently overlooking that which makes him vulnerable, makes him human. As someone who can, at will, literally turn off the ability to be touched at all, the premise is ironic. But the fact remains, from all the above and his behavior therein, it seems as though Gojo had to wait until high school to act like a kid at all and that is all thanks to Geto.

As an outsider, Geto's opposing ideology suggests that the strong are meant to protect the weak and keep others who are strong in check. Gojo is frequently shown taking Geto's criticism and point of view under critical advisement. In fact, realizing how out of touch he is with the reality of others, he defers to Geto as a moral compass, trusting implicitly in his judgement.

Not only that but, from what we saw during the Kyoto Goodwill Event, it is not uncommon for sorcerers to be wary of disclosing what their cursed technique is to other sorcerers. You can never be too careful nor can you know who's a cursed user in the making, even amongst your own classmates. With inherited techniques, word gets around but... Geto, an outsider, was intimately aware of the drawback Gojo experienced when overusing his technique and that speaks volumes about how comfortable Gojo was being vulnerable with him.

Geto encourages Gojo to speak more politely to his elders, again, a pushback he clearly wasn't getting anywhere else or, perhaps, direction he simply wasn't taking from anyone else.

Because Gojo recognizes Geto as an equal, he is more relaxed and able to behave accordingly which Geto graciously allows and creates a safe space for. Imagine all the steam this little weirdo has been holding in out of obligation? Moreover, as someone who has always undeniably been the strongest person in any room, imagine the relief in finally knowing that there is someone else you can rely on? Feel safe with? Someone you can be needy and greedy with. Gojo found his One and Only best friend.

Geto allows him to authentically be himself AND HE STARES AT HIM LIKE THIS WHILE DOING SO!

Additionally, we talk about Gojo being unnecessary at time, which he is. I poke a lot of fun at how Gojo will take in what someone like Yaga explains to him and then the output is some Digimon reference a lot. He literally speaks in gibberish half the time but Geto just... understands him. Or makes it a point to try. Bear in mind, Gojo's silly goofiness belies his penchant for serious contemplation, as well, as he's knowledgeable about historical poetry, prominent figures and events. The dichotomy of this is whiplash inducing to Ijichi. If you think about the adage, those who don't know history are destined to repeat it, it shines an interesting light on why Gojo seems to have such a wealth and emphasis on the history of not only jujutsu sorcerers but also other politics at play dating back centuries. Even more so if you consider ItaFushi to be SatoSugu 2.0 as... the story kind of feels that way, doesn't it? BACK TO THE POINT, Gojo behaves like a fool but he isn't stupid.

I think this arrogance and silly facade is a product of being plugged into the reality of what it truly means for the few to protect the greater good. He's probably hyper aware of the prospective survival rate of his peers based on empirical information he has at his disposal. It's why he pointblank tells Ijichi not to become a sorcerer. I think it's also why he's frivolous with having and creating fun. Not just for his kohais but later for his students. With Geto, he experiences a closeness he hadn't had with anyone else and it improves his ability to connect with others by extension.

I know this is not from the canon material but I think this is the perfect inclusion as to Gojo's proclivity for frivolity. LOOK AT HIM.

MISSION FAILURE AND FALL OUT

Based on the information we have currently, Gojo didn't exactly have the same splintered origins that Megumi and Noritoshi had. But from the above and his socialization with people outside of the Gojo clan, we see how coming from a place of privilege can still create deficiencies. But it isn't enough to simply learn and benefit from the good times. Maybe people take for granted that which isn't tested or taken away. We can't fully understand adult Gojo without understanding the failures of teenage Gojo.

Tasked with a mission that literally impacts the fate of the world and is relayed as such, the two special grade sorcerers take on the Star Plasma Vessel mission. As we saw in season 2, it didn't exactly end well. From this we can glean the following:

From the beginning and despite that which hung in the balance if they were unsuccessful, Gojo and Geto were willing to blow it all, come what may, if the vessel opted out of the merger. They were willing to fight Tengen themselves to spare one life even if it destabilized everything else. The idea of which seems Icarian in nature and we saw how that worked out for Icarus.

Toji's plan of attrition (wearing Gojo down specifically) was successful partly because of the false sense of security engineered by Shiu Kong that allowed them to recapture Kuroi.

However, based on Gojo's hubris, Gojo and Geto were already living in a false sense of security. Any attempts Geto made to temper Gojo's ego were appeased by the fact that, he wasn't alone. Finally. He had Geto and Gojo was insulated in the comfort and security he found in Geto's company. He could take on Tengen, he could risk another night in Okinawa burning through his stamina. It did not matter if he had Geto to rely on. They were the strongest.

Turns out it did matter and they were both foiled, thoroughly. The fall out of these events results in the following:

Gojo's evolution wherein he learns how to control reversed curse energy which shoots him past his previous limits.

Gojo avenges his loss to Toji and Riko, by extension (that order feels important to mention). He achieves a level of enlightenment and transcendence which saw the successful use of the Red Technique that he'd been unable to use in a fight against a lackey during the same mission which also made it possible to execute the finisher attack Hollow Purple, resulting in the fight's end.

Upon reclaiming Riko's body from the Time Vessel Association, Gojo, in the haze of his victory, asks Geto if they should slaughter the people celebrating Riko's death. Showing that, regardless of his power up, he still needs Geto's guidance and values the opinion of his equal. I say this even though we know Gojo lies about Shoko treating his injuries. Even he's aware that this latest evolution creates a greater disparity between their relative strength but he defers to him anyway.

Geto begins questioning whether the lives of non-sorcerers who are capable of such evil are really worth fighting and/or dying for.

The acknowledgement that, even though there is nothing beyond special grade classification, Gojo became the strongest.

Foundationally, Gojo came to terms with the vulnerability that Toji was able to exploit and subsequently trained to remediate that. Simultaneously, Geto fell deeper and deeper into a despair over a persisting moral crisis that Gojo, with Six Eyes at his disposal, was incapable of seeing or understanding. The occurrence of which is maddening to me, personally but such is the way of a fatal flaw.

Geto's subsequent and "sudden" defection pulled the rug from beneath Gojo's feet.

We have seen him dust off countless attempts on his life as a child, shoulder the burden of the Gojo clan as a child, execute his obligations as a sorcerer regardless of his beliefs as a child, and bear the brunt of jujutsu society because of the magnitude of his strength as a child and he never batted an eye. Not to say he didn't have something flippant to say about it but he endured it.

But with Geto's abandonment, whatever security he'd finally found was abruptly destabilized and it's important to note that only when it comes to Geto do we see Gojo's nonchalant facade falter. When he learns of the attack on the village with Yaga, when he confronts Geto in the streets of Shinjuku, when he encounters Kenjaku wearing Geto's corpse, he's not so silly goofy anymore is he?

Finding Geto was like finally feeling the warmth of the summer sun on your face after living in the shadows of a cave all your life. For Gojo, his departure was like never knowing that warmth again.

Not to mention, his immense power and status of being the only other special grade sorcerer meant he also had to carry the weight of being his best friend's executioner. Please.

He spends his adult life cultivating strength in others, rescuing kids from a society that seeks to destroy what they refuse to understand, uniting other so they aren't burdened by the same loneliness that plagues him and, whenever possible, trying to bring light and fun to the lives of kids who may never make it out of high school because that's the reality of sorcerers. That's the burden of responsibility they carry so, in between missions, he tries to be silly, he tricks them, he leads them on wild goose chases so they actually get out and experience their youth properly.

You're not meant to fear Gojo. Fear the society that allowed for these things to happen because he's trying to fix it. If anything, pity the man who is not allowed to be weak or vulnerable because he has always known the weight of the world. He could have been a god but he chose instead to love and it was his undoing.

If you'd like to pity Gojo further, dive into an expansive list of all the SatoSugu brainrot I could think of.

Lowkey, this feels like a call out, because why am I also terrible like this?? Am I being cyber bullied? I feel like this took me several days to write.

[drainslo]

Brains & Brawn- Chapter 10: Confession

“Hey.” A voice you vaguely recognized woke you. The other day you had immediately collapsed into a dreamless sleep when you got back, exhausted by the mental and physical games you had played.

You blinked a couple of times to shake off the grogginess of the morning. You wanted more than anything for the voice to go away so you could fall back asleep.

“Hey,” it repeated again, softer this time. You waved your hand impatiently in the general direction of the voice, but whoever was there was clearly not going away. You groaned and sat up in bed to make eye contact with your intruder.

It was a pleasant surprise to find Kuina sitting on your bed. You smiled genuinely when you realized that she was the only person you truly wanted to see.

“Let’s go sparring,” she said. “It would be good to let off steam.”

“Okay,” you said smiling and got up to change.

You sparred, and expectedly lost over and over again with each round of fighting. Kuina would hesitate to strike the final blow, but she never needed to. You were always out of breath, or keeling over in pain by that point. 

You knew you needed to get over that mental barrier. It was only practice, and although Kuina had problems with the final blow she didn’t hesitate to deliver the bruises that littered your extremities. It was a problem that would be fatal if it came up in a game.

You had to be able to directly hurt her and other people. 

Initially, you couldn’t figure out why you could leave the other team to die in the five of spades without losing too much sleep over it, but you couldn’t get over yourself to take sparring more seriously. No, you did know you finally realized.

You could attribute their deaths to the games, but it was different when all the responsibility was on your hands. You had blood on your hands once, and you didn’t relish the feeling of having it happen again. 

Over the next week, Kuina kept dragging you out of bed to fight. You had no time to even think about going to the shooting range. You were either training strenuously, or felt so physically exhausted it hurt to move. 

Even though you never won, you got noticeably better. Especially with your dodging.  Kuina didn’t let you rest by just getting away from her in fights. She made you practice punches and kicks with a bag instead, criticizing your technique until you became more precise and accurate.

You felt yourself closing the gap between the difference in skill, slowly but surely. Eventually, Kuina had an especially hard time pinning you down from how nimble you became. Once, you even reached a stalemate from both of you being too fatigued to continue.

The days floated by, sending the rest of the week into a blur. You sparred with Kuina until you were so physically exhausted that most nights you barely had the energy to drag yourself to the Beach’s bar. Sometimes, when you went that way, Kuina instead disappeared with Chishiya, returning the next day with a guilty look in her eyes that you hadn’t seen since you initially met.

You felt that you weren’t supposed to have a part in the thing she was hiding. Whatever it was, it involved Arisu and Usagi, the newcomers. Frequently, you saw them together in discreet places within the Beach that few people knew about. They were always talking in hushed whispers.

Sometimes when you snooped around Kuina, you bumped into Niragi. You tried to avoid him like the plague. When he saw you occasionally he vainly attempted to talk to you, but you adeptly maneuvered away from him every time. He was always with a different woman now, and when he didn’t think you were looking he leered at them like they weren’t human. 

You also avoided Chishiya. Or kept extensively planning to at least. You stayed true to your word, and wrote on notes of paper when the militants would be out so Chishiya could use the shooting range in his free time without you. You even left him a pair of earplugs, which felt rather generous compared to what he did.

You only could tell that he went to the range sometimes when the earplugs would shift their position, moving slightly left or right from hands that moved them when you were out of the room.

You still couldn’t believe that he kissed you, and let you disappear from his life without a question. It was you who avoided him, but he did nothing about it. Nothing to fix it. He was probably staying with Kuina. You felt used, full of a hurt so deep, so indescribable that it practically hollowed out your insides.

Tuesday came around as it always unfortunately did, and for once Kuina didn’t wake you. You felt ironic. If you weren’t going to spar, you only had one other way to spend your time: shooting. 

You slipped out of the room to the range with your favorite gun and glanced around cautiously. Nobody was there. It was always so much better when you were alone.

Your aim got ever so slightly worse due to the days you had gone shooting. Or maybe just the target felt particularly difficult to hit that day, you couldn’t tell the difference. 

You squeezed the gun to fire a round that barely missed the center. The clear ringing sound of the gun made you realize that one of your earplugs was in fact not in your ear.

You turned to the side to find a familiar man in a white hoodie standing by your side. You almost dropped the gun in surprise, but ungracefully kept a handle on it. He had to have snuck upon you extremely quietly and carefully in order to remove the earplug.

You realized with a deadening feeling that you were at the shooting range and again– it was Tuesday. Of course Chishiya was so meticulous to track you down on your appointed training schedule without forgetting about it.

Silly you. You didn’t consider the fact that he wouldn’t let you just cancel the lessons you planned because of your feelings.

This is why you were the spades player, and he was diamonds.

“Why are you here?” You lowered the gun and pulled out the other earplug as you spoke.

“I admit I’ve been doing some thinking.”

 You snorted. “Really?” This wasn’t exactly groundbreaking news for Chishiya.

He paused, gently prying the gun out of your hand to place it on a wall nearby. “I am quite an empty person,” he said quietly before making eye contact with you. “I don’t think I’ve ever genuinely had feelings for somebody. I’m not even sure about you.” 

You were glad that he took the gun away from you, for you would’ve actually dropped it from surprise. 

“But,” he continued without waiting for a response, “I feel different about you now. I can’t explain it. I had my own reasons for being around you originally that I contrived, but suddenly–.” Chishiya looked unsure of himself for once as he broke eye contact for a moment, then turned back to you. “I was doing things without thinking. You made me start to consider things that I never imagined I would think about.”

Your face flushed at his confession. Could it even be a confession?

“I kissed you to see if I would feel anything,” he said softly. He looked away and absentmindedly traced his hand over the gun. So that was all he had to say after so long.

Your heart was in emotional turmoil. It managed to simultaneously drop into your chest and race at the same time. You didn't want to ask if he felt anything or not. It would be more than awful if he didn’t. So you said something that was sure to leave you with more regrets if it didn’t go right.

“Do you want to try again?”

Chishiya’s glittering eyes lifted to meet yours, his face expressionless. You immediately wondered if you had made a terrible mistake. Then he approached you so slowly that you thought he would never reach you. He carefully placed his hand to the side of your face and leaned in. 

For a moment, he stayed like that. You could smell the faint mint on his breath.

You thought he was going to pull away when he kissed you for the second time. Soft. Sweet. Slow. You shivered even though it wasn’t cold after his lips met yours.

His tongue teased your bottom lip clumsily, and you smiled into the kiss. He didn’t have to say anything about how he felt. The way he kissed you told you everything and more even if he wouldn’t verbalize it.

Chishiya broke the kiss, and you thought of what to say until you felt his mouth on your neck. He found the spot that felt sensitive almost immediately and teased it gently with his teeth before sucking on it. Your mind immediately went blank. It was so good, he was so good you couldn’t possibly remember being mad at him ever.

Even still, the crackle of someone stepping on grass nearby didn’t escape your notice. You gently pushed Chishiya off of you and looked around. Somebody had to be there to make that sound. But you could only see Chishiya.

“Maybe,” your voice cracked with uncertainty. “We should continue talking in my room.”

He nodded almost seriously before giving you the ghost of a grin. You carefully linked your arm around his, looking at his face to read his reaction. He stiffened slightly, but didn’t do anything to shake you off. 

“Follow me,” was the only thing Chishiya murmured quietly. He took you through the Beach’s halls in an intricate way, taking so many detours and turns that you had never seen before. Somehow, without you realizing how you got there, he found the familiar hallway that led to your room.

You didn’t know why he took such an extensive way back to your room until you realized that you hadn’t seen or passed any people. He was hiding you. You didn’t want to be treated like some secret. 

It felt like you weren’t good enough for him.

“Chishiya I think–” you began to speak as the door to your room shut behind you. He interrupted you with another kiss, pressing your back to the wall eagerly.

“Let me do the thinking, yeah?” he said in between peppered kisses. 

“No Chishiya–” you awkwardly stepped back away from him and flopped over backwards onto the bed. 

He raised an eyebrow as he watched you do so and said, “I didn’t know you were this spontaneous.” You reddened as you registered the implications of going on a bed.

“Oh,” you covered your face in embarrassment and felt the bed shift. It was like a heavy weight suddenly dropped onto it. “No it’s not that. It’s just I feel like there’s always been this distance between us, and every opportunity you get you try to extend it. You’re there, but you aren’t.”

You removed your hands from your face and scooted backwards so your back was leaning against the headrest of the bed. “You’re like this now,” you smiled sadly and made eye contact, “but tomorrow it’ll be different.”

Chishiya’s face became expressionless once more as he watched you coolly. You had no idea what he was thinking.

“Come sit next to me,” you patted the side of the bed. It was like you were calling over a skittish dog. Chishiya maneuvered his position to be next to you somewhat clumsily and hesitated before attempting to put an arm around you. You leaned into him so it wasn’t as clumsy, and finally it felt right.

“With that face, I bet I’m not the first girl,” you said quietly. To your surprise, you felt Chishiya’s body shake gently as he laughed to himself.

“You’re right, but not because of what you think,” he smiled and caressed the side of your cheek. “I was with a girl once back when I first entered medical school. She even met my parents.”

He watched your surprise with amusement as you playfully slapped his arm. Chishiya ever dating someone was news to you. He was very attractive, but his cold demeanor would be off-putting for most girls. “She met your parents?” your voice raised as you questioned him. “What happened to her?”

“We broke up fairly quickly. There was nothing between us. My parents once mentioned that their coworker thought it was odd that I wasn’t dating anyone for being such an eligible male. So I brought somebody they could talk about to their colleagues.” Chishiya’s voice was so monotonous as he recounted this fact that you could hardly believe anyone dated him.

“You’re a heartbreaker! I knew there was something off about you,” you exclaimed which made Chishiya laugh again. 

“Maybe.” The corner of his mouth quirked up which gave you the urge to lean to the side to kiss him.

“What did you plan to be in the real world?” Chishiya suddenly asked.

“I wasn’t sure,” you confessed. “I was considering going into shooting competitively but it’s hard to make money through a sport. I love sports, so I wanted to do something like sports medicine. I was considering moving to Shibuya before I landed in the Borderlands.”

“Medicine is quite difficult. It’s highly intensive, and stressful for even very bright doctors.”

“Are you calling me stupid?” You made your voice serious to poke fun at him, and saw a flash of concern flicker over his face although he kept it even. You burst out laughing and he flicked your forehead in annoyance.

“Very droll. Though the patient care aspect is the worst part,” he remarked sarcastically.

“I can imagine that it is for you. Apathetic diamonds player. Have you played many hearts games?”

He ignored your question about the hearts, choosing to instead continue to ponder thoughtfully. “You know, a patient once gave me his dying wish.”

“What was it?” 

“I actually don’t know. I couldn’t be bothered to deliver it so I threw it out.” Chishiya drawled and looked at you impassively.

“What?” you blurted, your mouth moving before you could even consciously process what he said. It was just as you said earlier. There was no reason for him to confess this unless he wanted you to think of him differently. It was that distance again.

“That’s so…” your voice trailed off as you thought about it once more. “Why?” you asked gently.

“It’s just as I said. I had no interest in his final affairs.”

There was a brief silence, and you focused on Chishiya’s chest rising and falling and the sound of his faint breathing. He was so alive, but so empty too.

“Would you do the same here?” you asked, thinking of how he watched you leave for games.

“Probably.” His vague response made you feel like there was something more to it, but you didn’t press the point.

You fell back into a silence that eventually lulled you into sleep in Chishiya’s arms. His rhythmic breathing was comforting, and you didn’t feel like arguing further with him.

You woke up with Aguni standing over you, and no Chishiya.

“Get up.” Aguni’s harsh voice roused you compared to what Kuina had made you used to.

“The fuck?” You groggily felt the side of the bed where Chishiya was. It was barely warm, the only trace that he was ever there. 

“(Name), you’ve participated in acts that are considered traitorous to the Beach.” Aguni’s words snapped you out of your sleepiness and you froze in fear as the reality of the situation hit you. 

Aguni was standing before you, delivering what was basically a death sentence.

A/N: Hey guys! Sorry for being off so long, I had to finish this chapter properly. This bad boy is probably the longest one so far, and perhaps my favorite. Hope you liked it :)

[bullet-prooflove]

Home: Beau 'Cyclone' Simpson x Reader

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Deployment!Series:

Propriety (NSFW) - All thoughts of propriety goes out of the window when Beau finds you in his office.

Rumours - Beau doesn't realise there's a rumour about him.

Disengage - Beau discovers your secret.

Stalemate - The stalemate between you and Beau breaks when he recieves some news.

Absence - Beau misses you.

Things always get easier after the first month, Beau knows that. It takes him a couple of weeks to get into a new routine but once he does, it feels like everything starts snapping back into place. He goes running every morning, sometimes with Jake and Cujo. A couple of times a week the two of you have a catch-up call, you fill him in on everything that’s going on in Naples and he tells you about Jake and Jenna’s engagement. You give him a tour of your office space; share pictures of the day trips you take in your downtime.

One night Beau and you spend hours talking about your visit to Pompeii. How it felt like death himself was running his fingertips up your spine when you reviewed the plaster cast of the looter who was frozen in time, stealing from jewellery shops in the middle of the crisis.

You send photographs, funny ones, touristy ones and when you have a moment to yourself the more risqué ones. These are what he looks at when he’s alone in your bed touching himself and imagining you’re there with him.

He receives a couple of surprises in the mail. Care packages of authentic Italian coffee, citrus honey and handmade beer from a local brewery. You even post an expensive bottle of wine for him to give to Jake and Jenna as an engagement gift from the both of you.

Some days are tougher than others, there are times when Beau just wants to come home and hold you close, to wrap himself up in the shelter of your arms. It cuts both ways, he knows. You tell him so during Facetime one night after a tough case.

Everyday he watches the hourglass count down each individual grain of sand, and he knows that the end of the deployment is coming, that you’ll be home soon.

On the run up to your return there’s an apprehension in his chest, there always is the month before. Communication slows down again because you’re travelling, and he worries that maybe the time away has changed something between the two of you. It’s natural to think like that, he reminds himself. It’s part of the cycle of deployment. He charts your carrier’s progress on a daily basis, Warlock ensures he’s notified of any delays or changes in plans.

The ship gets in a day late because of maintenance and Beau is standing there waiting for you when the carrier finally docks. There’s a swell of anxiety in his chest as he seeks you out, his eyes studying the crowd through his aviators. It evaporates the moment he lays eyes on you.

Your hair is a shade or two lighter, from being out in the Italian sun, pinned neatly back into an elegant bun. He can’t wait to get you home, to take those pins out and run his hands through it. When you see him, you smile and for a moment it feels like he’s the only person on that dock. In the past he may have tried to stay reserved but now he simply can’t help himself. He’s already leaving his post so he can greet you halfway across the concrete platform. The two of you collide and the second you’re in his arms any reservations he may have had melt away, he knows that nothing has changed. He can feel your love, your adoration shining through as you cling to him tightly. He kisses you until you’re breathless because he wants you to know how much he’s missed you.

His wife is home and that’s all that matters.

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