#still the lesser evil compared to other things

[wryuxim]

tristamp (specifically, not trimax or 98’, they’re great) vashwood is technically a proship

ok so here me out, i’m not one to get twitter bitchy about ships and i know there’s a bunch of degenerates in this fandom that don’t give a shit bout age, but i think it was pretty clear that not much time has passed since wolfwood was experimented on, unlike in trimax where it was stated that like six years had passed (also maylene and jasmine were grown up). my memory’s a little stupid but in a tristamp flashback i think conrad said something about that it’d been half a year since wolfwood got there and also livio was still baby obviously, so if that’s the case and everyone else (legato yo and don’t fuck with me about that) looked the same as they do in the present, then y’know that’s not really a good sign. also he acts more childish and the timeline is obviously more condensed in tristamp which isn’t helping his case. but it’s still kinda a little vague though i guess?? and i get if you’re like me and didn’t really process it and gave studio orange the benefit of the doubt that they didn’t make another of their very interesting creative decisions, but after rewatching it i’m pretty fucking sure they did. you can wait till there’s more evidence, but like normal vashwood is fine anyway (well there’s the whole vash being 150+ thing but whatever) so it kinda doesn’t affect anything. at least for me since i have big issues with tristamp in general, but this post isn’t about that.

i’m atrocious at putting words together, but in conclusion, studio orange probably made him a minor for some reason? which really sucks.

[cckaisen]

୨ৎ˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 𝓑𝓡𝓞𝓣𝓗𝓔𝓡 𝓕𝓤𝓒𝓚𝓔𝓡, sukuna ryomen !

boyfriend’s older brother!sukuna. while little bro yuji spits up his liquor in the bathroom, sukuna takes care of his girl, finally fucking her like she deserves.

ಇ. summary. sukuna brother au, fem reader, infidelity, yuji throws up so emeto. warning, manipulation, pussy slapping, biting, some predator/prey elements, size kink, dumbification, squirting, reader is intoxicated but aware, rough kuna but he switches up:3, regret/moral conflict, angst towards the end cuz ‘m a certified yapper. wc, 4.6k.

ಇ. note. been a whore for sukuna lately but i fully blame gege for drawing him so majestic. if evil then why gorgeous, hm??? we’re onto u gege. we know u love a felon. confess already.

the door to the itadori household bursts open and in floods a typhoon of drunken chaos and laughter.

drowning in giggles, yuji has his arm thrown over your aching shoulders, humming along to some kind of song. without you, he wouldn't be upright—a jumbling, intoxicated mess.

you're mostly sober, fighting to get him to the bathroom since he was heaving in the taxi.

"whyyy do ya build me upp~" he slurs, a bumbling flurried version of himself, smothering your cheek in wet kisses that have you wriggling away. "butterrrcuppp baby, jus' t'let me downnn...!"

"yuji!" you shriek, the weight of him growing more unbearable as you try to keep him up. his breath is drenched with the heavy scent of liquor. "baby, y'gotta focus or we're not gonna make it to the—"

"—and mess m'rounddd!"

"yuji—'nuff!" you groan loudly as he drapes himself over. at this rate, you might just collapse into a heap on the floor, overcome by his weight as well as the lesser, still relevant amount of alcohol you consumed at the club.

suddenly, the patter of footsteps have you perking up. sukuna—yuji's big brother—rounds the corner, gaunt features sharp with agitation. he must've woken up when the two of you came barreling in.

"sukuna—hi," you can't help the relief that bursts through your chest, evident in the way you exhale.

sukuna notes the way your knees tremble, his brother blabbering embarrassingly on top of you. he puts aside the urge to laugh, figuring he'd spare you just this once.

"here. i got 'im." without any trouble, sukuna drags his little brother under his arm, putting your strength to shame. with the weight lifted, you finally have chance to relax, rolling your arm and letting out a loud sigh of relief.

"thank you. ow—pain."

you stumble, and the broader of the two brothers chuckles, crimson gaze soaking up your body in that dress while you're distracted. "you carried him all the way home?"

"mhm. practically sprawled out on my lap in the taxi. the driver and i had to team up to get him outta there," you whine as you kick off your heels. those stupid things had you wincing terribly most of the night. yuji said they were sexy. as much as you love him, you’re more than sure you will not be wearing them again anytime soon.

"you should've called me." sukuna's features scrunch in disgust as yuji keeps singing in his hold.

"i-i-i neeeeed youu~"

"fuckin' a, did he drink the whole bar?"

"pretty much," you reply, shrugging off your coat and following behind the pair of brothers. yuji looks so funny, almost small despite his lean stature, looking deceivingly short compared to sukuna. "he made a bet with todo and lost."

the sober man grunts as he knocks open the bathroom door, holding up yuji in his other arm. his muscles flex underneath his shirt, stretching the dark cotton, where your eyes briefly linger.

you avert your attention to yuji instead, amusement melting into concern for your boyfriend.

not sharing the same sentiment, sukuna drops him down by the toilet, putting up the lid with a smack and purposely shoving yuji's head into the bowl a little harder than necessary. "theree ya go, dumbass," sukuna grunts, slapping his back as he finally pukes up. "just barely made it."

and you're sure glad he did, thanking the gods your dress had been spared amidst the drama. with the way he'd been acting, you were never sure that you would be safe from the bile climbing his throat, cringing fearfully at times.

you feel much better now that sukuna has taken over. he's older, well-versed in trivial matters like this. yuji's already told you all about his university days, the drunken nights, the fighting—

you curse your thoughts for sprawling so suddenly, shooing off your rodent-like curiosity.

their relationship struggled at times. especially so back then, but things are different now. and as much as sukuna pretends not to care for his little brother, he clearly does, at least a little. after all, the pink tresses of your boyfriends hair are ruffled in his thick hand before he lets go fully.

then sukuna walks on in a rugged stride, leaving yuji to it. on the way out, he knocks your shoulder with his. you can't tell if the action was playful, but you’re sure it wasn't hostile, at least. a little smile creeps onto your lips as your gaze follows him into the kitchen.

sukuna is weird.

he's weird because he's not like yuji in most ways; it's not necessarily a bad thing, but he's much, much harder to see through. with your boyfriend, most things are crystal clear. you can tell what he wants, what he needs, how he needs it. he'll tell you all about it—unselfishly, of course.

however, sukuna, you find, never reads so easily. and it's weird. you can't tell if you prefer it that way, or if you'd rather know what he's thinking.

especially since you're certain you just caught his eyes slithering along your curves.

anyway.

wanting to give yuji some privacy, you pull the door shut, the sound of his gags growing muffled. you half-jog-half-limp to the kitchen, preparing a glass of cold water to ease his throat once it's all over.

unbothered, sukuna leans his back against the counter, scrolling on his phone like this is just another night to him. it's weird.

you start wondering, drawing up the conclusion that this might be first time you and him have ever been alone, in a way. yuji is there, but not really, if you know what i mean. not mentally, anyway.

before you can finish that thought, you deliver the glass to yuji, crouching down to his level and rubbing his back with careful affection. "got you some water, baby. right here, by your hand." you take it gently, guiding it towards the glass.

he's not throwing up so much now, just laying there, waiting for the next wave of nausea to crash over him. his fingers respond to the glass, wrapping around it. "thanks, hic—y're so good t'me..."

you smile warmly, pressing a kiss to his warm cheek. you couldn't care less that he reeks of all kinds of concoctions and puke all rolled up together, wanting to be there for him regardless as you know he would for you.

you whisper a few more reassuring words to him before taking your leave, giving him some time to recover by himself. the bathroom door clicks shut. forgetting all about the third party, you let your back press against it, head jilting as a sigh slips out.

"he worn ya down that much?" sukuna snorts at the display, looking up from his phone.

despite your initial surprise, you laugh too. "he doesn't usually. it's just... been a busy night, i guess. i think he'll pass out in there."

sukuna briefly dips his head into the fridge, getting out a chartreuse-tinted bottle of something. "one would hope. you want one?"

"you're being weirdly nice." you blurt suspiciously, smirking. oh god. maybe the alcohol was starting to work you over, too, because you definitely weren't supposed to say that. sometimes it's better not to ask, someone told you once.

sukuna pulls a face that makes you wish you could crawl out of your skin on command, even though there's technically logic behind your last words.

"am i usually mean?"

"n-no, i just mean—" fuck, stop talking. with growing embarrassment, you shake your head, "nothing. sorry. that was assumptive."

the way you initially scrambled to answer appealed to some wicked humor in him as he laughed. "yeah, it was. so yes or no?"

"yes," you sigh, shoulders slumping in admission, knowing you probably needed it. especially after whatever that was. your head is pounding—god, someone should put me down.

sukuna opens up your bottle with his teeth as you hop up on the counter, watching each other. all had gone quiet behind you. sukuna handed you the drink with the lid still between his teeth, venom swirling in his eyes when he saw the way yours lingered on the gesture.

slowly, you took the bottle, pressing the rim up to your lips before taking a sip. it bubbles in your mouth, sparkling on your tongue before you swallow it down. the burn is a little unpleasant, but you manage.

"any good?" sukuna asks.

"'s okay," you shrug, reading the bottle, pretending like any of it made sense. "a little bitter."

"you like 'em sweet?" the taller man frowns, sorting through the cupboards for something that you're too immersed to ask about.

"kinda. but too much makes me sick," you explain, scrunching your nose at the thought. "i like a balance."

"oh, really?" sukuna snorts as if you've just said the funniest thing in the world.

in one confused motion, you lower your brows. and jilt your head, wondering what's with the sudden jest. "yeah, uh... is that funny?"

sukuna raises his brows, shaking his head, some glasses clinking. "no, not funny. nothin's funny."

he really knows how to make a person feel small, you'd give him that much.

you avert your gaze, heart crawling up into your cheeks. "okay, well..."

"what about you?" he interjects, sparking up another tiny bit of annoyance in you again. not that you knew what you were gonna say anyways. it most likely would've been embarrassing anyway, making you shrink even more, wanting yuji to come out already—

"what about me?" you wonder, your voice meeker than before. curious and cautious, tip-toeing around his words. is there something you're hiding?

"are you the sticking-around or screwing-around type?"

"oh, right," you laugh, making sense of his question. it's big one, though. kind of sprung on you. still, you manage to respond, just telling him what you know while glowing with intoxication, "well, we've only been going out a couple months."

you're more focused on the way he's watching you than you are on actually answering. his eyes are sharp and torrid in comparison to his little brother's, and the way he gazes down rather than looks at you has something in you stirring, writihing hotly beneath your skin.

it's exciting. why is it exciting? there's a giddiness that gyres in the pit of your gut like a ballerina, pirouettes and grands jetés, heat cooking and simmering through your veins. it's terrible. it's weird.

"well, you can't blame me for being protective." sukuna shrugs. "he seems to really like you."

while what he's saying rings true, there's a chord slightly off-key, something askew that you can't place. is he closer than before?

you ignore it, trying on a smile. "well, feeling's mutual."

you take another sip from the bottle, the cool rim settling on your lips, sparks igniting on your tongue, the same routine replaying. you don't even think before adding gleefully, "and he's like, a jazillion times more sane than my last boyfriend, so i'm happy."

"are you?" sukuna asks, serious.

it was like flipping a switch. he was laughing, now he's earnest, and you were just entirely confused, his meaning lost on you, like you're the last in line in a game of chinese whispers. he caught you off guard with that one. and he knows it, too, carmine eyes feasting on your discomfort.

your smile falters slightly before you nod. "yeah."

"okay." he just says.

now you were really starting to get pissed off with him. whatever he's doing, it's stupid. he might as well have you cornered, except you've done nothing wrong, and yet he's prancing around you with a tone of prolific doubt. as if he knows something about you that you yourself don't.

"what?" you demand, equally serious now, smile wiped clean off. the air turns thick.

sukuna shrugs his shoulders again and you swear you have to fight off a sneer. "nothing."

is he casting doubt on your love for yuji? is that what this is? is he trying to tell you you're not good enough for him? that even though you trudged half a mile in those huge stupid heels just because he said they looked hot on you—carrying his dead weight, might i add, as he was screeching a song you'd never heard in your ear—that all of that was just for laughs, and there were no real feelings behind those actions? is that seriously what he's getting at?

sukuna wants to laugh so bad. your face is all screwed up, cheeks puffed out and burning a deep red. oh, how it fuels him. your stubbornness, that endearing naivety that clings to you like all your modest perfumes, the one that lingers in yuji's room, occasionally in his clothes, infecting every dark corner of his mind—and now you know how it feels to be tortured by him.

"you want some water?" the man asks casually. your mind is on fire, your thoughts more blaring than you would probably think. it's written all over you.

his question makes your shoulders drop, feeling stupid all over again. what are you getting so worked up for? you're secure in your feelings for yuji. as his brother, sukuna has every right to feel concern for him. there really is no need for you to be acting like this.

he's playing you like a damn flute.

"yes, please." you answer a lot more softly, pulling your hair around to one side. you'd been bratty without cause, assumptive, again. you really need to stop mischaracterizing him. after all, he's no monster. "i think all the drinks are finally getting to my head a little."

he starts filling up a glass, grinning at you over his shoulder, mischief playing in his slanted-eyes. "oh, don't tell me you were expecting anything bottled. tap's the best y're gonna get from us. hope you can handle it."

a smile works onto your lips as you finally start to loosen up again, legs swinging gently off the side of the counter. playing along, you wince. "oh yeah, well, i usually only drink expensive, you know, mineral-rich—"

"yeah."

he's suddenly between your legs, his mouth devouring your own, swallowing the terrified noise that begs to escape. for a moment, you're frozen in shock, eyes widening as you palms meet his chest in a forceful attempt at creating space.

sukuna juts back, forced away from you. his eyes crack open but are still like slits, dark, crawling with lust you hadn't previously noticed—no, acknowledged, because the choice has always been there.

he relishes in the terror that brims in your eyes at his visceral kiss. it feels natural, but not in the tender, motherly sense. like predator devouring prey. the natural order of life.

his hands are hot, gripping onto your thighs, digging into the tights he could easily rip to shreds, giving him full access to your warm cunt, to ruin you.

and yet he doesn't.

he waits for your eyes to droop, for you to lunge at him, accepting this twisted spiral of events, indulging his darkness. teeth clicking, tongues meeting messily in a sloppy kiss, drool gathering between you both as you crash together all at once, a train wreck of carnality. sukuna's hands are all over you, groping, slashing at the crotch of your tights. you gasp into his mouth as cold air meets the sobbing wetness of your cunt, followed by a slap to it.

"f-fuck! hey, who said you could—hmff!" you yelp as his hand clamps over your mouth suddenly, his scarlet eyes narrowing.

"brat, watch ya fuckin' mouth." sukuna warns as you grapple with him. his tattoos look especially menacing then, chiseling his features. "he's drunk. not deaf."

you nod, trying to tell him you understand. he releases your lips in an instant only to seize them again in his so forcefully.

yuji would never—could never take you like this, and you fucking know it. you know it with every gnaw, every squash of your tits that leaves you whining like a bitch in heat, every bite against your neck where you can feel the outline of his brother's teeth and a short gush of crimson.

rationality is lost on you as you mindlessly rut against him, your hands running up and down his back until you start tugging on his pants, eager to rid him of them.

meanwhile, sukuna's making a meal out of you—you make up half of his size, giving him complete control to do as ever he pleases.

every whine is met with a grunt. his cock must have been freed at some point as you feel his greedy hands lift you against him, your chests meeting, the sharp cold of the counter leaving your ass and feeling his palms spread you apart instead.

nothing could prepare you for the suddenness of which he fills you—you scream, half openly, half having shoved your face into his shoulder—aware his brother, your lover, is passed out over the toilet in the other room.

"shh, shh—fuckin' shit!" sukuna groans, features curling in erotic bliss.

he gluts you in ways yuji never has, the ways he'll never dare—with such cruel, carnal demand, to the brim, unkind, violent, and so, so fucking good.

as he breaches your womb, you claw his back raw through his shirt. a sob rips through you. sukuna does his best to keep you quiet. "shh... fuck. yer so fuckin' tight, girl. relax."

"t-tryin'... 'm so full..." you whine, eyes misting over with tears. it feels too good, you think...

"i know—" sukuna chokes, barely lifting you up on his cock, feeling your walls spasm around him. "fuck, what ya cryin' for?"

he feels too good.

"d-don't move yet, i'll cum," you gasp, and he hasn't even tried—sukuna's expression blanches.

"already?" he bursts out laughing in his brutish way, the side that yuji lacked entirely as the nicest person you've ever known; fuck. the humiliation makes your cunt squeeze again.

he lifts you up, your knees draped over his thick arms, foreheads meeting. your breaths intertwine, hot and treacherous, caressing each other's faces.

"ya know, i've fuckin' heard you, all those times."

"wh-what?" you stammer cluelessly, only half there, clinging to sukuna as he dangles you on his cock, your eyes crossing when he starts to bounce you on him.

"said i fuckin' heard you, you 'n yuji—'n shit, ya never got this loud, huh?" he smirks wickedly, feeling your body collapse hopelessly against him. he fucks you up and down on him, swallowing up your pathetic moans and whines like they were the last noise he'd ever hear. "been wanting to take ya like this, stretch yer dumb little cunt on me, fuckk—ya got no fuckin' idea, princess."

rocking up and down, you wail, head bobbing. sukuna can just see your little maw dangling open—it takes everything in him not to jam his fucking fingers in your throat until you drool and splutter around him.

"y—you wanted—this?" you struggle, feeling too good to make sense of anything, to think straight, to do anything other than take every rough kiss to your cervix, feeling your insides bruise and swell with lucid excitements.

"lemme guess, the brat cums too soon—never quite gets ya there, hm?" sukuna guesses correctly, making you whine and nod and babble.

"h-how did y—ah, fuck—!" he snapped his hips, picking up the speed as you wept on him. you'd never been fucked like this in your life, and your world was getting flipped on its head. when did your dress come down? you weren't sure—but now your tits were bouncing and sukuna wasn't gonna pass up the opportunity to tear into them.

"cuz, 's just obvious," sukuna rasps, teeth clamping down on your raised nipple, "can tell this sloppy pussy ain't gettin' treated right. not when she's—shit—creamin' all over me jus' from stickin' it in."

"'k—kuna, don't—ahh! fuck!"

"that's it girl, shit, c'mon," sukuna keeps picking you back up only to drop all your weight on his fat cock, his balls slapping against your ass, the slick you're gushing causing them to stick together.

your head is empty, devoid of anything except the chaos, the suddenness of it all, the shock, he's fucking you. your boyfriend's older brother is fucking you, and you've never felt so goddamn good.

there's this sudden wave. a wetness. an explosive feeling that crashes over you in one swift, predatory pounce. like when a deer gets suddenly ripped apart. your head straight up drops on sukuna's shoulder, and you're sobbing loudly, babbling words that can't be defined.

then all of a sudden, sukuna outright cackles; the sound bleeds into your ringing ears, head picking up off of his shoulder.

"no fuckin' way!" he roars with laughter. you wanna shush him, but you can't move—your nerve ends are all bursting to life, like fruitful grapes popping between two fingers. it's happening again, whatever that feeling is, whelming you; this time you his fingers rub back and forth harshly across your clit, but wait—

"dumb lil pussy's squirtin' already, hahh, shit—fuckin' christ, girl—" he's enamored, watching you cum in adorable little spurts, soaking his clothes, your tights, and the kitchen floor, covering everything in your stupid juices.

"you wanted this, goddamn—look at you."

your eyes are rolled back as he kisses you again, fingers tearing into your scalp, the lewd sound of your lips smacking together filling the air.

never in your fucking life. you'd never came like that, so violently, so carelessly, not without really, really trying. all sukuna had to do was pump you up and down on his cock, say a few words and you were spraying like a tap. how fucking pathetic.

and then he does it again. drags another one out of you, laughing.

you barely catch his next words.

"'m gonna fuckin' cum in ya."

"n—no—" you stumble out, barely coming to at the words, but their enough to fill you with at least some urgency. your ass is bruised at the back from being repeatedly slammed against the counter, the wind knocked out of you entirely. "d-don't, wait, you can't—"

"why the fuck not, hah?" sukuna rumbles. "don't tell me it's cuz'a—"

"—yuji," you sob.

it hits you. it hits you then, hard, at the worst time. a gut-punch, one that makes you heave. in less than half a second, a guilt strong enough to set your skin alight cultivates and wrecks each single sense. his cologne invades your nostrils, an imaginary sensation, forced to breathe its natural, tender nature as opposed to sukuna's harsh and crude and brooding one, the one you're drowning in. the one sticking to your skin.

your hand—finally letting go of sukuna's shoulder, where you were keeping yourself stable—slaps over your mouth, tears springing into your eyes.

"f—fuck, fuck, fuck!" sukuna chants, eyes scrunching as he gets lost in the pleasure. he's pounding you, knocking your eyes back still, not slowing his pace for anything. your leg flails once, but how can you fight when he's holding you up like this?

"'s—'kuna," you choke out brokenly, slapping his chest with whatever strength you can muster. your lip quivers, heart aching in your chest as you plead tearfully, "don't."

he'd never been considerate. he'd never 'made love'. not even now. he fucked. he lied, he slipped off condoms, he 'forgot' to pull out, all so many times before. it was clockwork to him. he could've easily done it again. lied. been selfish. blurred the lines. cheated consent.

put a baby in his little brother's whore girlfriend.

and yet sukuna weirdly found himself pulling out of you last second, one hand holding you up while the other jerked his cock until thick ropes of cum splattered up your dress with a strained grunt. his orgasm spoils at it hits, a rough ecstasy that's tattered along the edges and ultimately, ultimately unsatisfying. it barely scratches the surface. the heat of it hasn't even started leaving his body before he wants more, regrets not filling you up, every cell inside him clawing for it, starved and fucking addicted.

sukuna almost, almost crushes you against the island, dropping you on the counter again where your drenched cunt feels like it's been electrocuted when met with the cold so suddenly. you gasp, arching into him, searching for any kind of warmth.

but he rips away from you, turning his back. his touch is gone as soon as it came. any desire flatlines, ringing loudly, blaring in your sensitive ears. alarm bells.

what is this?

both your chests are heaving. there's no afterglow. it's messy, dirty, frantic. cheap. depraved.

and it seems like you aren't the only one.

"s-sukuna, i—"

CLICK.

lips snapping shut, you sit right up, head whipping around in the most deafeningly guilty sense ever. heart in your throat, your expression echoes one of pure horror, one you expect will reflect your boyfriend's when he realizes what's going on here.

yuji stumbles out of the bathroom, his mop of pink hair tousled and eyelids low. he hangs by the doorframe for several seconds, his head dropped, not even looking up. it takes only a few steps. they're slow, clumsy, lead him to the bedroom door. he doesn't notice. he doesn't notice.

his older brother and his girlfriend are feet away, covered in squirt and sperm and other dirty secrets. shame. guilt. some more than others.

and he just blunders into the bedroom, a loud 'thump', telling you that he made it to bed.

all you do is stare. your jaw stays slack.

you hear a zipper and, frazzled, quickly flit your head at sukuna. he's fixing his clothes, not paying you any mind.

you stare at his back, despairing.

"wh—you're just gonna...?" you stammer incredulously, trying to do the same but there's no fixing the gaping hole in your tights that reaches down to your mid thighs.

away from his gaze, him cum settles against the fabric of your torn up dress, pooling slowly in its place.

his cock, hardly soft, twitches again, urging his need. he ends up frozen for a moment, simply staring, before he numbly moves forward.

he leaves, leaving you sat on the counter as he storms out into the night, slamming the front door behind him.

you're alone there, stunned, cum up your dress that is almost but not quite your boyfriend's, the floor below you soaked, and a heartbeat in every part of your body.

trembling, you push yourself off of the counter.

vaguely aware of the layout of the house, you scramble to find some wipes and clean up the mess on the floor. after that, it takes at least 10 minutes to get the semen out of your dress, but even then, you feel filthy.

you sniffle over the sink, scrubbing soapy suds into your tainted skin. wanting to throw up.

what the fuck had you done?

you'd cheated. that's it. you cheated on the sweetest angel, your angel, yuji. the one entirely too gentle and trusting for this world. you betrayed him. a sob rips through you, shattering your core.

stupid, stupid, stupid.

as you sneak back into bed, fingers still shaking as they turn the handle to yuji's room, you don't even have the energy to change your clothes. you simply crawl into bed, too crushed to face him, not garnering the strength, knowing what you'd done. a tear slips down your cheek.

because you can't even regret it.

and before you know it, yuji's draping himself over you, his arms, pulling you against the haven of his chest, sighing against your neck.

"you made it..." he mumbles.

oh, how you want to sob when he says such a thing. "yeah," you nod, trying to suppress the break in your voice, "yeah, i'm here."

yuji grunts happily, snuggling you closer. "mmh, good."

you don't think you will ever forgive yourself.

"i love you." yuji says, blind to the truth.

but you swear it's not one-sided. "i love you," you admit, beginning to cry softly in his arms, wondering if it will be the last time you ever get the liberty of doing so again.

[all-with-angel]

Cross my heart, I hope you die

Summary: In which you try to avoid the rude, short-tempered and dangerous special grade sorcerer, Sukuna Ryoumen, who happens to also be your senpai. But whatever you do, it seems that he simply never leaves you alone. Part 1 || Part 3 || Part 4

❥ Sorcerer!Sukuna x male!Reader

❥ rivals to lovers, cursing, injury on reader, other warnings on pt.1, m!reader

W.C. 5.3k || Masterlist || A.N. This chapter is a bit longer than usual but for good reason hehe

Soft, golden light filtered through the curtains. You hadn’t meant to sleep so deeply, especially not in a different bed beside your worst enemy, after a mission that definitely hadn’t gone as smoothly as you’d hoped. But the bed was warm, the blanket heavy in a comforting way, and while you were sure Sukuna was sound asleep beside you and you could feel the distant sting of the cut on your arm- It was nothing compared to the comfort of your pillow.

You felt good. Better than you had last night. The dull sting of your arm had faded to a distant hum, the pain reduced to something background, almost forgettable. You groaned quietly, scooching further into the warmth of the pillow beside you.

It was soft. Strong. Broad in places and lean in others. Your cheek was pressed against something firm but giving, like a pillow that fought back in just the right way. You were snuggled up beside it, and something heavy rested around your waist, anchoring you in place.

The pillow huffed at your movements, holding you closer as it buried itself in your hair. The movement satisfied you, sighing as you relaxed into the comforting position. Your brain, still wrapped in the hazy fog of sleep, lazily supplied: This pillow is amazing.

Wait.

Wait.

…Wait a damn minute.

Pillows didn’t breathe. Pillows don't huff and they definitely didn't wrap arms around you.

You stiffened. All the previous comfort thrown out the window as you snapped your eyes open. The first thing you saw wasn't the grey of the sheets- But instead lightly tanned skin, marked with black tattoos.

It was Sukuna and you were clinging to him like he was your favorite stuffed animal, actually, both of you were clinging to each other, cuddling.

Motherfu-

There are gentler ways to wake up in the morning.

Sukuna found out, that getting kicked in the ribs was not one of them.

Sukuna hit the floor with a dull thud, limbs dragging the sheets down, breath stolen from his lungs in a single, ragged grunt. For a second, he didn’t move. He just lay there, face-down, half-swaddled in hotel bedding, groggy and murderous.

“…The fuck,” he rasped, voice still thick with sleep but laced with venom. He sat up quickly, angry crimson eyes narrowing like twin slits of simmering rage.

And there you were. Sitting on the bed, flustered and red in the face like you were the one who’d just been rudely awakened via WWE Smackdown.

“What the hell is your problem?” Sukuna yelled, still sat on the cold floor as he was almost sure his ribs were starting to bruise.

You stared down at him, eyes glancing everywhere but his own as you started to scowl. You looked more freaked out about it than him and he’d usually eat up that angry and flustered expression any other day, it didn’t change the fact you kicked him in the ribs and out of bed.

“You- You deserved it!” Fucking seriously? Sukunas mind thought as his eye twitched. As evil and conniving and bitchy as he was, he was innocently sleeping in a shared bed.

“I—!” you stammered, cutting yourself off halfway through your sentence. “You were on my side of the bed.”

Sukuna’s brow twitched. “Your side?” he scoffed, yanking the comforter off his ankle like it personally offended him. He shoved himself up, looming over your form with a glare that would send any lesser man cowering. You were not a lesser man, however. But it was new, the way you avoided his eyes by looking at the suddenly interesting wall.

“So you fucking kicked me off of the bed?” He growled, the fog in his brain giving way to rational thought. He squinted at you, noticing how your jaw clenched, in the heat rising in your ears, and how you seemed to use the remaining sheets to cover yourself. You weren’t just irritated.

It was embarrassment.

You were hiding something.

“Like I said, you deserved it.” You turned away fully now, moving to get off of the bed. Sukuna could feel a vein pop on his neck- And dear god if he wasn’t in love with you, you’d be dead. A great mercy, his love is.

He continued glaring at you as you moved to the bathroom, nonchalant as if you didn’t just wake him up in the rudest way possible. He knew he was a bastard, but that was his thing, not yours. And you were acting awfully a lot like a bastard in his honest opinion.

He clicked his tongue, rolling his eyes as he kicked the comforter away to grab his uniform from his bag. “Whatever.”

In your defense, you panicked. 

You cringed inwardly, staring ahead like the quiet buildings would offer you salvation.

You’d kicked Sukuna out of bed. Hard. Right in the ribs. No warning, no buildup—just panic-fueled instinct followed by a hastily muttered "you deserved it" and a swift retreat to the bathroom, where you’d nearly drowned yourself in cold sink water trying to erase the feeling of having woken up in his arms.

It wasn’t like it meant anything. You were asleep. People shifted. Grabbed pillows- or each other, in this case, but this was just science. Something normal. Logic. Physics. Geometry? No no no, your thoughts were wandering.

You shook your head, glancing at Sukuna who walked just a few steps ahead of you, unbothered and unknowing of the morning events prior to his rude awakening. Your face heated up just thinking about it again. Ignorance is bliss in his case, you presume.

He hadn’t realized it, thankfully. You could tell. He looked too confused to be faking it. But you knew that confusion had festered into irritation, especially with how you'd refused to explain.

Still, what were you supposed to say?

“Hey, sorry I kicked you out of bed this morning. I accidentally used you as a body pillow and it made me panic because I might sort of maybe not only feel burning rage for you?”

Yeah. No.

You exhaled through your nose, shoving your hands into your pockets and scowling at the pavement.

It wasn’t anything serious.

That was the line you were choosing to repeat today. Nothing serious. Just a dumb accident. Bodies moved on their own when asleep. Your dumb, hormonal teenage brain was reading into it too much.

You glanced at Sukuna from the corner of your eye. You should tell him, you thought for a moment. That thought was immediately shut down with the fact that he would never let you live it down. Hell, he’d probably use it as blackmail. You snarled at that, imagining all the leverage Sukuna would gain against you.

“Hey,” Sukuna barked, voice sharp and low.

You jolted, snapping your head toward him, nearly tripping over your own feet.

“What?” you asked quickly.

Sukuna’s eyes were narrowed, staring at a cluster of buildings down the block as he tilted his head. His hand twitched at his side, the faintest glimmer of cursed energy pulsing around him.

“There.”

You blinked quickly, clearing the fog of overthinking and focusing to sense any odd cursed energy in that general direction. 

Yeah. There it was.

A pulse. Faint, but steady. Like the heartbeat of something wrong buried under the calm of the afternoon.

As if sensing your realization, Sukuna fully turned towards the cluster of buildings, warehouses, you realize- When did you two end up near the coast? Oh whatever. Your pink-haired partner unceremoniously leaps up into the air, leaving you to follow him.

You followed without hesitation, the weight of your awkward inner conflict briefly shoving itself to the backburner as adrenaline took its place.

You and Sukuna stood at the edge of the shadow-drenched structure, its massive, rust-coated doors creaking faintly in the wind. The cursed energy leaking from within was oppressive, thick enough that your skin prickled the moment you stepped near.

This was it. The source.

You exchanged a glance with Sukuna, who looked calm- maybe even uninterested. His lips curled into the faintest smirk, like the idea of walking into a death trap was mildly amusing. Knowing him, it probably was.

"Took it long enough to show itself," he muttered, cracking his knuckles.

You gave a small grunt in response, your fingers curling around the hilt of your katana. The cursed tool vibrated faintly in your grip, responding to the malice thick in the air. You take another step forward and you hear Sukuna call out to you, “Hey.” His smirk disappearing suddenly. 

You turn to him and raise a brow. He stares back at you for a moment before glancing to your arm, squinting before he looked back up at you. “Remember to dodge, dumbass.” He huffs out before turning away and walking further into the maliciously black fog.

You blink, caught off-guard by the comment before your mind snapped back at you to follow him already. Your feet move after him, you barely responded with a “Oh. Yeah.” Before the darkness consumed you.

After a moment of walking in the smoke, you're met with a clearing. With the curse the two of you were looking for smack dab in the middle. Bingo.

It was massive, hulking and hunched like a demon carved from shadows and stitched with bone. Its limbs were long and disproportionate, arms dragging across the ground, twitching with too many joints. It didn’t have a face—just a jagged mouth stretching across its chest, filled with rows of teeth that didn’t match.

You didn’t need a reading to know it was a special grade.

Your lips thinned into a line, hand instinctively grabbing the hilt of your katana as you changed your stance.

Sukuna, however, grinned.

“Finally,” he muttered. “Something fun.”

It turned toward you both, that massive maw letting out a shriek like shattering glass. Let the fight begin.

You two moved in tandem—something you’d both gotten better at, even if neither of you ever said anything. Even if neither of you wanted to acknowledge it, both of you felt something akin to pride at knowing what the other would do.

You struck with clean, practiced precision, your katana gleaming with controlled bursts of cursed energy. Sukuna was more chaotic, more reckless—he dove into the fray like it was a game, his fists glowing, each hit sending tremors through the floor.

The curse was powerful, but not invincible. Together, you were wearing it down.

Until it adapted.

You didn’t see the trap until it was too late. One of its arms had faked being severed- an illusion crafted from cursed energy. While you’d been dodging another attack, it shot that limb forward like a whip, catching your side and slamming you into a wall hard enough to crack the concrete.

Your breath left you in a sharp grunt. Fog clouded your vision. You tried to move- only to realize too late that you were pinned, the dark smog hardening like stone over your leg and part of your torso. You were stuck.

“Shit,” you hissed, struggling.

The curse turned its attention to you, its mouth yawning wide in a grotesque grin, as if it had just caught itself a snack.

Sukuna’s voice cut through the chaos like a blade. “You idiot!”

You looked over just in time to see his expression shift—his smirk gone, replaced by something far colder, far sharper. His eyes burned with something ugly and bright, his lip curled back in a snarl.

The cursed energy around him exploded.

It was like watching a storm rip itself out of his skin. His body expanded mid-air, muscles twisting, skin stretching, his school uniform shredded in seconds and only leaving his pants. Four arms erupted from his torso, long and clawed. His face split, one half now warped and mangled like a cracked porcelain mask, jagged and asymmetrical. Four eyes blazed with rage, glowing deep red, each one locked on the curse like it was already dead.

So this was the height of his cursed technique. You’d heard the rumors straight from Gojo and any other teacher. Whispers of Sukuna’s Cursed Technique. That it was violent. That it changed him. That the last time he used it, they had to rebuild half the training grounds.

Now you understood why.

He was atleast three meters tall now, body veined and covered in pure muscle. “Damn.” You couldn’t help but whisper to yourself. You had never seen it.

Until now. And despite the horror of it, despite the monstrous size, the twisted form- you weren’t afraid. You were in awe. He looked badass- And hot, your mind supplied, much to your chagrin.

One moment, the curse was on one side of the room, the next, he was plummeting outside the warehouse. He hit the wall with a loud crash, breaking concrete and opening into the outside. Sukuna was in front of it before it could leave his sight, tossing it back into its original position like a ragdoll.

The monster screamed, but its cries were swallowed by the explosions that followed every one of Sukuna’s attacks.

Cursed energy flared with every swing. A single punch sent shockwaves tearing through the support beams. Cleaves of raw energy rained down in arcs, slicing the curse apart piece by piece. Arms. Legs. Faces. Screaming torsos.

Your restraints faded away quickly, the monster (which one?) in front of you deciding to use all of its strength to fight the other.

Your chest twisted as you watched. Standing dumbly with a light grip on your katana as Sukuna ripped the curse to shreds. 

With one final roar, Sukuna brought down all four fists at once, crushing what remained of the curse into the ground. The force shattered the floor and sent tremors up the warehouse walls. Windows exploded. The roof cracked. And with a final, wild burst of cursed energy, the entire warehouse collapsed.

“Oh shit-” You stepped back, eyes flitting to the exit and realizing you wouldn’t make it in time without getting crushed by debris. That same second, you felt a pair of arms pull you up before a distorting nausea washed over you.

Your feet left the ground, and it felt like the world was spinning in ways only a 12D world could. The only grounding thing that assured some muddled part of your brain that you were still human was a pair of thick and warm arms.

Wobbling as your feet met the sweet, sweet feel of the floor, your head pounded as you noticed the world around you had shifted from a dark and dingy warehouse to blue skies and concrete ground. 

Dust billowed around you as the warehouse fell. You fell to your knees, coughing, shielding your face as debris clattered to the ground. Your hands held your head, throbbing painfully as you come to realize you were just teleported out of the building. And holy shit, why is it on fire? 

You squinted at the bright orange roar of flames in front of you, eyes widening in worry for just a moment as you think of Sukuna- You look around you, only to find a hulking figure to your right, staring down at you with mild disinterest. Oh, he was bigger up close.

Your brain returned to normal as you asked Sukuna, “Did you do that?”

The giant of a man grinned down at you, a pair of arms crossing over his puffed out chest in pride. “What? Impressed?”

You roll your eyes, landing back at the burning warehouse. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t even slightly impressed. “Maybe.”

Sukuna’s pride swelled tenfold at that, scoffing as his grin simply grew. You could feel the ego radiating off of him already. Maybe you should've kept your mouth shut- But he did save your ass, so you’d let him have this one.

Slowly, painfully, you got back to your feet. Standing side-by-side with Sukuna, who you noticed started to shrink and turn back to normal-ish. He was still incredibly tall, but he looked- felt less monstrous. His grin couldn’t be erased, he had impressed you and that was enough of an ego boost as it is.

You were hit by exhaustion, the adrenaline giving way to the weight in your bones. It doubled after you realized something. “Sukuna.”

“Hm.”

“We forgot to put a veil up.”

In the distance, you could hear the wail of sirens. Between the two of you, you could already feel the realization and irritation that you two would be in for a scolding of a lifetime.

The train rattled along the tracks with a steady clatter, the late evening crowds pressed shoulder-to-shoulder in the fluorescent-lit car. The mass of commuters smelled like stress and cheap fast food. Your uniform was still singed from the aftermath, soot smudged up your sleeve, and your sword was rested across your lap atop your duffel bag like a heavy reminder of the catastrophe you and Sukuna had just barely walked away from.

He luckily had an extra uniform on him, so he looked as clean as a baby. Lucky bastard. You couldn’t even squeeze in a quick shower, the second you stepped foot on the hotel you were called and berated by Yaga himself. Something something veil, something something public. Whatever.

You didn’t speak for the first three stations. Just breathed. Thought. Replayed the warehouse collapse and all its flaming, civilian-alerting, very-much-against-regulations glory.

“..We should’ve set up a veil.” You mumbled.

Sukuna groaned beside you, head tipping back against the glass of the train car. “No shit, Sherlock.”

“There were civilians. There were phones.” You rubbed your eyes, dragging your fingers down your face. “That warehouse was on fire. It collapsed on live camera.”

“I said no shit, what do you want, a medal?”

“I want not to be expelled, Sukuna!”

“That makes two of us.”

Another pause. Someone sneezed on the far end of the car. A child wailed. Your eye twitched.

Somewhere between the awkward silence and the ambient hum of the train, your irritation ebbed just a little. Just enough for that ever-persistent guilt to crawl back into your chest.

You hadn’t said anything about this morning. About the bed. About the cuddling.

Eugh. No. Stop thinking about that.

You huffed a quiet laugh.

“...You think they’ll send us to clean toilets for this?”

Sukuna gave you a sidelong glance, brow raised. “If they’re smart, they won’t even look at me.”

“Threatening the staff. Nice.”

“Not a threat. Just… a strong suggestion.”

You gave him a look, but the corner of your mouth twitched. He caught it, of course, and had the audacity to smirk back.

“I do hate the higher-ups though,” you muttered after a moment, as if it was some big confession. “They act like we’re disposable.”

Sukuna nodded slowly. “Because we are.”

You blinked at him.

He rolled his shoulders, not meeting your gaze. “To them, anyway. Just meat shields with cursed energy. If we die, they send the next batch of students. Rinse, repeat.”

You swallowed.

There was a bitterness to his tone you weren’t used to. You always knew Sukuna hated the rules. The bureaucracy. But this wasn’t rebellion—it was resignation.

You shifted slightly in your seat, the weight of exhaustion settling deeper into your bones. “So we’re just… pawns.”

“You’re just now realizing that?”

“No,” you said softly. “I guess I was just hoping we’d be useful pawns.”

Sukuna hummed, “You're pretty useful.”

“You think so?”

“As a punching bag.”

“Oh fuck you.” You grumbled, clicking your tongue. So much for that.

You sighed and let your head fall back. Your shoulder ached, your lungs hurt, and your vision blurred a little every time the train swayed. The adrenaline had worn off entirely now, leaving only the thick pull of exhaustion in its place.

Sukuna glanced sideways.

Your shoulders had gone slack. Your grip on the katana had loosened, the weight of it now resting completely against your lap. Your eyes had drooped to half-mast, your head tipping forward slightly before snapping back up. You were fighting it, but you were losing. Hard.

“You better not fall asleep on me,” he muttered under his breath.

You mumbled something incomprehensible and immediately leaned the wrong way—your head listing to the side, toward the cold, unforgiving steel pole separating the seats. Your temple grazed it once, a dull clink that made Sukuna wince instinctively, even if he pretended not to care.

Then you tilted again.

Sukuna cursed himself, hoping you were knocked out and asleep already. Your head met softer, but firm flesh instead of the steel pole. His hand cupped around the side of your head, muttering something sharp under his breath, and guided your head sideways, away from the metal bar, until it landed against his shoulder with a muted thump.

Sukuna sat there, jaw tight, one hand still ghosting near your shoulder like he wasn’t sure if he should move it. His face was turned slightly away, eyes on the blur of passing buildings outside the train window, trying his best to act like this was nothing.

Like your head wasn’t on his shoulder.

His eyes drifted down to you—your face, tired but calm now, finally free of the tightness that always haunted your brow. Your breathing was slow, your mouth parted slightly. There was a bruise forming on the side of your neck, and dirt smudged along your jaw. He noticed a tear in your uniform sleeve.

Sukuna clicked his tongue as he noticed the bandages under your sleeve again, the same ones he’d wrapped on your arm just a night ago. He thinks about replacing them, maybe a bit salty at the idea that Shoko will heal you up better once the two of you arrive back at Jujutsu Tech.

But whatever. Atleast you’d be okay and out of pain. Until then, he can be bitchy about it.

The office reeked of old wood, dust, and authority. It wasn’t even musty in a charming way—it was the kind of staleness that settled into your bones, thick with judgment and long-standing grudges. The kind of place where the walls seemed to whisper, “We don’t want you here.”

You sat stiffly on the cushioned bench, still sore and mildly scorched from the warehouse incident. Your uniform was freshly washed but the collar still smelled faintly of smoke. Beside you, Sukuna stood with his arms crossed, eyes low, shoulders tense beneath his jacket. Not slouched, not defiant—just waiting. Coiled.

Like a trap someone was too stupid to stop poking.

The elders sat across from you both like a council of gargoyles, lined up behind the long lacquered desk, their gazes heavy and expressionless in the way only the truly, infuriatingly powerful could manage. The one in the middle, an ancient man with half his face sagging like wet parchment, spoke first.

“No veil. No perimeter. No coordination. Do you understand the magnitude of this failure?”

You blinked slowly.

“Yes, sir,” you muttered.

“Good,” the oldest one rasped, voice like creaking bamboo. “Then explain yourselves.”

You glanced at Sukuna, but he stayed silent. His expression was blank—expressionless in the way that only Sukuna could manage. He looked carved from stone, jaw clenched tight, eyes forward. You turned back.

“There wasn’t time to set a veil,” you said. “The curse was unstable and could have fled. If it reached a populated area, the damage would’ve been worse. We prioritized immediate containment.” You pulled that excuse out of your ass.

“Containment?” Another elder huffed. “The warehouse is in pieces. That was not containment. That was carnage.”

You hesitated. “We eliminated the threat.”

The room fell quiet.

One of the elders leaned forward, fingers laced in front of him. “You’re a second-year. You don’t make that call.”

Your jaw tightened. “With all due respect, sir, I was following the lead of the senior on-site.”

Their eyes slid to Sukuna.

There it was.

“Ah, yes. The senior.” The word was said like a bad taste. “Ryomen Sukuna. Again.”

You saw his shoulders twitch at that. Just once.

Another elder spoke, a woman with her silver hair pulled tight in a bun. “This is not the first time you’ve gone too far. The scope of your cursed technique alone is a threat to our society’s secrecy. What happened to restraint?”

Still, Sukuna said nothing.

“I’m aware of his history,” one of them said with a long sigh. “But it seems we’ve made a mistake letting him remain here. Perhaps if we’d followed through with his execution when we had the chance—”

You blinked. “What?”

No one acknowledged you.

“He’s not fit to be a mentor. What kind of example is he setting for the younger sorcerers? Letting second years run wild, exposing the public, destroying property-”

You glanced sideways, brows furrowing. The anger on your tongue prickled, but you kept it there, just behind your teeth.

“He was the only reason we won,” you said, careful but firm.

“That’s not the point,” one of the others snapped. “We are not questioning his power, we are questioning his control. That monstrous form you unleashed,” She looked at Sukuna like she was examining a carcass-“wasn’t that banned from use without permission?”

“It wasn’t a conscious-” Sukuna started, tone even, but they didn’t let him finish.

“You’ve been warned before. Contain it. Restrain yourself. Or it will be restrained for you.”

Something clenched in your gut. Restrained for him? You glanced back at Sukuna. The air around Sukuna shifted- tight, humming with power just under the surface. He was quiet, but his jaw was locked. Hands curled in tight fists at his sides. His cursed energy flickered like heat rising off asphalt.

And still- he said nothing.

“They should’ve executed you when they had the chance,” the first elder murmured, not even hiding it anymore. “You’re a liability. A mistake.”

What the fuck?

“Hey,” you said sharply, leaning forward. “He didn’t lose control. He won. If he hadn’t stepped in, I’d be dead. That special grade wasn’t just tough—it was relentless. He didn’t ‘show off.’ He ended it. And he kept it away from civilians. The building was empty.”

“He didn’t put up a veil,” the woman repeated flatly.

“I didn’t either.”

“You’re a second year. He should’ve known better.”

“So we’re punishing him for being stronger than me?” you snapped.

Sukuna shot you a sharp glance, like he wanted to tell you to shut up before you made it worse, but you were already standing.

“I get that you hate him,” you said, breathing hard now. “But you don’t get to pretend it’s about rules. If this was anyone else, you’d just assign more missions or cut their pay. You just want him gone.”

Silence.

Then, the final nail:

“We’ve decided,” the elder in the middle said, cutting through the air like a blade. “Ryoumen Sukuna will be reassigned to Kyoto Jujutsu High. Effective immediately. Perhaps they can instill the discipline we clearly cannot.”

Your ears rang.

Your fingers twitched at your side, aching for the hilt of your katana. But before you did something you’d regret, Sukuna grabbed you by the back of your collar and dragged you out of the meeting room while muttering some half-assed excuse to leaving.

You didn’t hear it, not when your pulse was in your ears and you were ready to pounce on the damn higher ups.

Sukuna didn’t say anything else.

The next few days passed like fog. Heavy. Quiet. Wrong.

Sukuna didn’t say much to anyone (Which was a miracle in itself). He didn’t complain, didn’t throw a fit. He trained like usual. Ate like usual. Slept (maybe?) like usual. But everything about him felt… held back. He walked around like someone already packed his bags, even when they hadn’t yet.

He acted like he was used to this. Maybe even expected it.

It felt like a train was thrown at you. It felt so wrong. On one hand, you were glad he wasn’t bothering you anymore- on the other, he wasn’t bothering you anymore. Bothering you was the only time you two interacted, you had realized on the first day. It was.. something.

Your friends didn’t really seem to care.

“Good riddance,” Gojo said with a shrug. “Now we can train without getting our heads bitten off.”

“Wasn’t like he hung out with us anyway,” Geto added, stretching his arms behind his head.

Shoko sipped her soda. “Don’t tell me you’re sad.”

“I’m not,” you replied too quickly.

Shoko raised a brow. “You sure? You’ve been real quiet. Quieter than usual. Which is saying something.”

“I’m not sad,” you repeated, walking ahead of them, hands shoved into your pockets.

You weren’t. Not really. You and Sukuna weren’t friends. Hell, other than maybe rivals you two had nothing going on between you. You knew nothing of him, his past or how he acted like he was used to every demeaning stare. He knew nothing of you either.

But he did. He does know you. Alot of you. But that's because he forced himself into your life, because he's a stalker. A weirdo, a monster.

The word left a bitter taste in your mouth, No, he wasn’t a monster. Just a stalker. Your rival.

The morning he left, you found him by the school gate, duffel bag slung over one shoulder, hair still damp from the shower. His eyes flicked up as you approached.

“Hey.”

His eyes narrowed at you. “If you're gonna make fun of me, save it.”

You snickered at that, but it had no humor behind it. “Why shouldn’t I? You never held back with me.”

“Oh I did, believe me.” He grinned.

You rolled your eyes, “Sure.” sarcasm laced in your tone. A few moments passed with awkward silence, Sukuna leaned against the school gate, you standing a few feet away.

“Didn’t think you were the sentimental type,” he said suddenly, glancing at you.

“I’m not,” you said simply, staring at a spot just past his shoulder.

He didn’t buy it. You could tell. Not when you’d argued with the higher ups and probably would’ve ripped the old hags to shreds if Sukuna didn’t hold you back. Silence stretched between you like wire. Tense. Thin. You shifted your weight slightly, fighting the need to rub your neck.

“You waiting to cry or something?” he asked dryly with a smirk. “Want me to pat your head, tell you it’s gonna be okay?”

“Oh please, I’ll cry at your funeral.”

Sukuna scoffs, “Aw, promise?”

“Cross my heart,” You make a show of crossing an X over your heart, “-I hope you die.”

That finally got a smirk out of him. A small one. Tired, but genuine. “Looking forward to it, then.”

You bit your cheek as you thought about something else to say, when you did open your mouth, a car pulled up by the gate. Sukuna shoved himself off of the pillar, not taking another glance back at you.

You hesitated.

There was so much you wanted to say. That it wasn’t fair. That it shouldn’t have ended like this. That you weren’t sure why, but this mattered. But instead, all you managed was, “You gonna set a veil next time?”

Sukuna paused in his tracks, hand hovering just above the car door handle, you’d think he didn’t hear you if not for the laugh he let out. A quiet huff.

“I’ll consider it.”

He got in the car and you didn’t move until the taillights disappeared down the hill.

Part 4 here

TAGLIST (open)

@prettorett @rikabby69 @iamlizardgod @cheeselordbones @mistalli @poopooindamouf @im-so-goddamn-tired @someone0vx @enchantingkitty @majest1cfrog

A.N. Everyone say bye bye sukuna!! Dw he'll be back<3 someday

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Platonic Yandere Kitsune + Child Reader

Imagine the most vain, deceitful, mischievous kitsune 

Infamous for killing hundreds of humans and even more unfortunate children

An actual evil menace 

He has been doing this for a good two centuries 

Already having earned his two tails 

Unfortunately, the wisdom of older age doesn’t seem to disparage him from terrorizing the kingdom’s outer edges

Almost omniscient there's no telling where he is or if he’s in disguise or if he’s been building fake relationships with others to lure them in

It’s scary but not enough to scare off children completely

Which leads to you

A nice life in nobility means you’re sheltered or at least given a nicer tale than most kids

But your family wasn’t without humble beginnings 

So the only real time you do find yourself playing in the great outdoors is then

“Hello, little one!”

He doesn’t bother to hide his fox ears or his flicking tails 

He finds children are easily interested in them

Looking up from the sticks you were playing with, you offer him a smile

He smirks to himself this is going to be too easy

After introducing himself with another fake name he moves along

“Come follow me into the forest, deeper inside we can play house together there!”

“Hmm no.”

“Yay–wait. Did you say ‘no’?”

“Yeah.”

Not entirely...different but different enough

He knows some kids treat their parent’s words as law

so this will take a little more convincing

“Actually I just don’t want to play house right now.”

This is fine

Most children need a little peer pressure to do what he wants

“Fine then. Guess we won’t be able to play together, after all.”

“Okay!”

What?! 

He watches as you skip further away from his direction flapping the sticks

How irritating 

You didn’t do a single thing he wanted you to

He excuses himself to blow off some steam aka drowning some fellow in the river

He tells himself to shake it off 

he still is the best at tricking kids

He proves this by devouring the soul of some other kid with all the same tricks that didn’t work on you

But even with a full stomach, he’s bothered

How dare you?

How could you?

He finds you again maybe not at your vacation home

This time he’s a bit more direct letting his mask slip a little 

“Come with me. Please? I’m so so scared!”

“Then I’ll just get my dad. If you’re so scared.”

“NO! I mean why won’t you? You seem so brave,”

“I don’t want to go in there. I’m wearing my garden shoes. I don’t want these ones ruined too.”

He gets so frustrated 

Going to his lavish shrine where lesser spirits serve him and other mischievous yokai often come to party to complain

“I can’t believe this child is making this so difficult! Sometimes I have such a hard time not just eating them out of spite!”

“Right? But it’s the whole chase that makes it fun!” an especially powerful Chochin raves

“True that and it's more delicious!” a Kappa friend of his toasts 

It isn’t until he listens to a Yuki Ona who really makes him think

“Children bring a warmth like none other. Caring for one is an adventure.”

He remembers that when he starts to watch you again

Finally noticing the quirks that make you the way you are

What foods you like

How you like to be put to bed

It all starts to make sense to him but he still stays

He watches

And he waits

For what he doesn’t know 

He just waits

Sometimes he’ll step away to feed on an adult he comes across or an especially bratty child

Comparing them to you as he picks his teeth

He only really notices when there's a break in your routine

Part 2: Here

[lets-try-some-writing]

I hope you don't mind, this isn't about Unicron and Earth but while you have inspiration I would like to take you up on that TFA prompts thing.

The Warframes prompt was most interesting to me. I like to believe that each of the younger members of Team Prime have some kind of Warframe coding;

Optimus is taller than the average Autobot Civilframe and stronger than he looks, he pulls his punches but still manages to be the best fighter the Academy has seen in eons. He has retractable claws, blunt and a little rusty from neglect. He also has quite the set of wild chompers, long, broad, semi-retractable fangs that can flex in his mouth like mandibles (think Chinese water deer), a set of broad tusks that poke out from his bottom lip, and the rest are all slightly sharper than average. He keeps his jaw transfigured to hide them away, making them appear more like just slightly more pronounced canines. This tends to cause aches and pains in his hands and jaw like arthritis and teething problems.

Prowl knows full well he's a Warframe. Those blue-tinted shades? If you look close enough, you might find purple eyes behind them, which of course are actually red. It's why he dodged the draft. Sure, he didn't wanna get caught up in the war, but he Definitely didn't wanna be found out as a Warframe and get decommissioned. It's part of why he's so reserved, Master Yoketron risked and lost his chassis protecting his secret.

Bulkhead is a Civilframe, but his spark says otherwise. He's massive compared to other Autobots, even taller ones like Optimus. His bulky frame, tendency to break things - even accidentally - and his occasionally short temper are compensation for his spark trying to manifest a proper frame transfiguration, but the protoform mold he was made from won't allow it. He sometimes has spark pains and aches from the strain.

And poor little Bumblebee. Also a "civilframe", but he didn't always look like that. He originally had door wings and antennae, but such features can be seen as "other" and "Warframe-like" to Autobots - after all, there are no Autobots who have wings, let alone fly. That's a Decepticon Trait - and he was often picked on for it. He eventually went and got a reformatting, but even then, it didn't stop the back-strut phantom pains from the lack of his door wings or the occasional migraines from the severed nubs of his old antennae beneath his horns.

And Ratchet? He's a Civilframe, through and through, emerged as one from the Well and would return to the Well in the same condition. But even then, while he doesn't have the weapons, coding, or spark of a Warframe, he sure as pit feels like one after the war. The longer he stayed with the Autobots, the more jaded and numb he became towards them. He watched as the once great faction he believed in fell to the same trappings as the Golden Age of Cybertron. This day and age? He could confidently say he's met Decepticons with more honor than most of the Autobots he knows. The Autobots were now more of a slightly more conniving and subtle lesser of two violent evils.

I want to see Ratchet coaxing the Warframe traits out of his - sparklings, younglings - team. He assures Prowl he won't tell a spark about his Warframe heritage, doctor-patient confidentiality, but he does insist that Prowl tells the others. He helps Bulkhead with his spark problems for the short term but knows he's going to have to get reformatted eventually into a proper frame for his spark or he might end up back in the Well of Allsparks earlier than he should. Bumblebee gets incredibly damaged during a fight that prompts Sari to use her key to save his life, which ultimately brings back his wings and antennae. He braces for jeering remarks and disgusted looks but instead finds comfort and care from his teammates in his recovery and learning to be himself again. (Bumblebee usually hangs out around Optimus more since, with his finials and Bee's antennae, they communicate much more easily this way.)

And when Ratchet finds out about Optimus' neglect of his claws and the strain he's putting on his jaw from keeping his fangs and tusks hidden away? Hoo boy. He practically forces Optimus to sit down with him and clean his claws of the rust and debris and sharpen them a bit for maintenance, he coaxes him into releasing his transformed jaw, letting it rest (unclench your jaw), and sets a strict maintenance regimen so it doesn't happen again. With the release of his fangs and claws and finally starting to relax, Optimus starts acting a little more... feral. Figuring something was wrong they looked into his coding to find active base coding. The others are concerned that his repression of his fangs and claws reactivated it or he had a bad sparkling-hood, but Ratchet reassures them that while those were valid concerns, bots with Warframe coding can sometimes have active base coding since their primary function was for war and needed the extra edge in battle, merely a holdover from his Warframe heritage. (Though he does start scouring the Autobot's files on Optimus just to be sure everything is ok back home.)

This brings the team closer together with these common traits. Optimus can relax more around his team-pack-family, and often engages in "sparring" (which is more often than not like play-fighting) expressing more of his feral traits - which Bumblebee has come to mimic. Prowl tells the others about his heritage as a Warframe and acts as the silent protector for the others (especially Bumblebee, though he would never admit it). They all have weekly "spa-sessions" for Bulkhead so he can relax and calm his spark, Prowl offers messages. And Bumblebee feels more at ease with the crew, outwardly expressing his emotions through his EM field and his wings and antennae, Optimus in particular responds to him more with his finials. He even let's out little mechanical buzzing-chittering noises that Sari points out are a lot like an organic bumblebee. All in all, they're all so much more happy and healthy, and Ratchet can't help but pat himself of the back.

Autobot High Command be damned, if they question why Ratchet allowed the other's undesirable coding to fester instead of eliminating it, he'll say he was doing his job as a Medic and looking out for the health of his team. And if Ultra Magnus himself has a problem with it, he can shove his Magnus Hammer right up his--!

(Anyway, if TFP Ultra Magnus and TFA Ultra Magnus met, it'd be On Sight. For TFA Magnus. TFP Magnus will not tolerate any slander of his Leader no matter what form he takes or universe he's from. I have a feeling that TFA OP would be adopted by the entirety of TFP Team Prime, and they would probably have to be held back from hunting down Ultra Magnus and Sentinel. TFA OP would probably put his foot down for Sentinel (old habits die hard, and despite being a dick, Optimus doesn't want Sentinel dead) but Ultra Magnus is free game. He did say he didn't have the programming to be a hero after all, why should he play hero and save his sorry aft now?)

Dude this is all brilliant. I don't think I can use ALL of it at once but I am going to roll with this prompt now thank you. Consider this a chapter 1 of sorts I suppose. Warframes au is in action!

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━

Two hundred... two hundred and eighty five... three hundred. All accounted for. Starscream had to do a few double takes with the frameless newsparks to ensure that their containers didn't hold more than one, a startlingly common occurrence with a few due to some less than optimally educated creators packing their bitlets up for transport incorrectly. Thankfully, all the frameless newsparks seemed to be in order. Their containers lined the walls and were perfectly locked in, with no room for possible breakage or loss of life. Some flared in greeting as he extended his field to encompass their containers. A particularly bright set of sparks flashed as Starscream neared, both already being familiar with his presence due to him having tended to them most often during the evacuation phase.

The leftmost was abnormally large for being but a spark, a fact Strika and her consort continually reveled in without end. The rightmost, by comparison, was small but powerful. As was to be expected by all that remained of Tarantulas. Both were so bright, not yet dulled by war. All Starscream could do was pause and touch the glass of their containers. Tarantulas had been so proud of his creation before he fell at Hydrax... At least the newspark would be taken care of far away from the war. Maybe when they were grown, they could connect to their creator through history.

Soon enough, Starscream sighed and turned away. His gaze shifted to the older ones, the newsparks who had long since graduated and advanced to the status of newbuilds, and in some cases, younglings. Most of them were strapped into their pods, ready to be put into stasis lock throughout the journey. The younger ones clutched trinkets from their creators, toys, charms, sometimes even a weapon or two. Only the oldest remained out of pods, standing firmly with pistols on their hips. They were the hopefully unneeded last line of defense, each youngling barely trained enough to qualify as guards and still far too small to be reasonably expected to perform.

The younglings tried to look stoic, going from newbuild to newbuild in order to calm their nervous sparks. But in their optics, Starscream saw fear. Terror for what was to come, of the separation that loomed ahead of them. He couldn't show it, but he dreaded it as well.

"Sir, when will we see our creators again?" One of the younglings, a gold and black model with bright red optics, stared up at him cautiously. The youngling clutched his pistol tightly, his terror poorly concealed. As much as Starscream wanted to reassure the youngling that all would be well, he couldn't make such promises, not with war raging around them and growing closer and closer to their borders. Instead, he dropped to a knee and tried to smile.

"Once Lord Megatron drives back the nasty Autobots, you and the rest will be brought back to New Kaon with all the speed the Decepticon Armada can muster." The youngling managed a weak half smile in return, holding his pistol a little looser. Starscream patted him on the helm, hoping that the action would comfort them both.

"Why don't you tell me your designation? That way, if I see your creators, I can give them a message for you." That seemed to cause the little one to perk up. The youngling smiled brightly, releasing his pistol entirely to grin.

"My creator is Barricade! He named me Prowl! If you see him, please tell him I'm going to become a spy just like him! And when I do, I'll come find him!" Starscream fought the urge to wince as he nodded and sent the youngling off. Prowl didn't need to know that the likelihood of reuniting with his creator was next to none if his line of work was as Megatron's optics and audials.

It was better this way. Better than the young live and old die in their defense.

Standing and turning his attention to the rest of the newsparks, he noted the youngest ones were safely held in their incubators along the walls, their small protoforms barely more than simple living metal. Making his way to their section of the transport, he took his time walking along to view each incubator. The newsparks within were of various sizes, a nod to their creators unique CNA. Few had color, still mostly protoform white. However, there were a handful that were already showing signs of their heritage, a fact Starscream smiled at. Thankfully, the newsparks weren't distressed. Most were deep in recharge, already preparing for stasis lock due to their young age.

It was a small mercy.

"There you are, Orion." A hint of mixed relief and grief settled in Starscream's spark as he pressed up close to the glass of one particular incubator. The newspark within squirmed upon seeing him, optics bright and flashing in his creation's version of a smile. Already Orion looked so much like Skyfire that it hurt. Red, blue, and white plating. Optics blazing a stunning crystalline hue like a cloudless sky. If one didn't know any better, it would be hard to call Orion a relative, much less his direct heir. But, the signs were still there. Small clawed digits, wing nubs that looked more suitable for speed than the heavy transport abilities of his other creator. Despite that, he was likely to look most like Skyfire, a fact Starscream cherished.

"You be good for your fosters. Don't bite them and don't give them too much snark, alright, starlight?" Orion cooed in response, his little vocalizer hardly formed enough to produce even basic sounds. Starscream knew it would be breaking code, but he was unable to fight the desire to hold his creation one last time before their separation. Hoping and praying no one was looking, he scooped Orion into his arms, letting the newspark rest firmly against his chassis to hear his spark once more. Instantly, Orion cuddled up against him, his small face pinched in the same way Skyfire always did when they cuddled.

"You are so soft sparked, Orion. But I see a warrior in you..." He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to the newspark's helm, enjoying the babble he got in return despite how much it ached. He'd already lost Skyfire. And now he was going to lose Orion as well... if only for a time.

"No matter what happens, remember that you are a seeker of Vos. Keep your honor. Fight for our people. And when this is all over, when we've won this war... you will inherit our ancestral home." He rocked Orion in his arms, fighting back the urge to run with Orion and never come back as grief assaulted him once more. It was too soon. Far too soon since Skyfire... but he couldn't risk it. None of them could.

The little ones had to be sent away.

"Once the Decepticons have retaken Cybertron, seekers will again rule the skies. And you, my hunter, will lead them." Orion chirped, curling up tightly against Starscream's chassis. A few alarms rang out around him, alerting Starscream to the fact that their time was almost up. He didn't want to leave, to let go of this and all he had. But what choice did he have? He couldn't risk Orion.

"Starscream, are the newsparks secure?" A harsh comm from Megatron finally snapped Starscream from his stupor. He laid Orion back in his incubator, steeling his spark as much as he could as the newspark stretched and curled up to recharge. Looking around once more, he gathered the strength to reply.

"Yes, my Lord. They are ready for launch." An affirmation greeted his response, to which Starscream swiftly took the chance to leave the shuttle before the urge to snatch Orion up became too strong. This was for the best.

This was for the best.

Right?

He tried his best to convince himself that his little mantra was right as he went about his work. But as deca-cycles ticked by, Starscream felt unease and even fear from his creation. It was to be expected considering their parting, but this was... strange. Orion was terrified far too often for his liking. His very spark told him something was wrong.

Unfortunately for him, his instincts were correct.

"My Lords... the Vengeful Spark has been captured by Autobot forces. By the time reinforcements arrived... all the newsparks were confirmed to be gone."

No. This couldn't be happening.

"What happened to them?" Megatron's booming voice rang out with a wrathful undertone that left even the bravest shaking. Starscream, however, barely heard him. White hot fury raged in every part of him as he listened, his grip on the war room table increasing to the point of damaging the surface.

"The Well of Allsparks stopped producing vorns ago. We believe that in light of this, they targeted the evacuation ship specifically to claim our newsparks as their own." Those fragging GLITCHES.

"THIS IS ABOMINABLE!"

"We must bring Cybertron DOWN."

"This cannot stand."

The cries of his fellow Decepticons echoed around him. But all Starscream could feel was the terror of his creation, the rage of having lost him and his conjunx, and the sheer wrath that boiled so hotly in his spark it threatened to explode.

They would pay. They would ALL pay.

━━━━━━━━━━━━

Being stranded on a foreign world with limited resources was never fun. Having an entire team of what amounted to three younglings and one semi-adult? That was even worse. The only saving grace was that each seemed to have enough common sense to not be wrapped up in all the propaganda nonsense. Ratchet's initial assessment of his newfound team was fairly simple.

Young, stupid, but not unsalvagable.

That assessment changed the instant he started getting them in for checkups.

"Optimus, who were your creators?" The Prime sat on the edge of the medical berth, shrugging as if he weren't a walking medical disaster. He smiled sheepishly, showing off the tips of fangs he had evidently tried hard to hide. His digits tapped the berth, small claws having been long since filed down but quickly growing back. A quick glance at his frame showed that he was far too lean for a ground unit. It wasn't something he noticed initially, but the Prime was abnormally top heavy, a trait usually found in flight or warframes. On top of that, his optics were unusually focused. Most civilian framed bots had full optical lenses that hid their inner workings. But warframes? Their optical glass was more transparent, allowing for them to focus on targets easier.

Optimus, on the surface, looked the part of the simple grounder. But any medic worth their shanix could take one scan and see he absolutely was NOT what he seemed. The constant twitching only added to Ratchet's suspicions.

"I don't know who my creators are. I was a refugee found orphaned after an attack down in Polyhex." What a bunch of slag. Any vet could tell that the Polyhex 'attack' was a coverup. Thinking back on it, there had been a sudden surge in newsparks following that event...

"Bumblebee, what about you? Who were your creators?" The yellow grounder flinched at being called out, a fact Ratchet noted with growing suspicion. Bumblebee was far more in line with traditional civilian blueprints when compared to Optimus, but getting a closer look at him revealed scars. Dozens of surgical scars of all things. He'd had parts removed, parts that Ratchet could swiftly assume were likely more warframe than civilian.

"Don't know! I'm with the Bossbot. I was one of the last wave that came from the Well." Bumblebee's plating shifted, and instinctual thing that would have once allowed a mech with wings to raise them. Ratchet sighed as he saw the motion. His statement was also a bunch of scrap. Ratchet had been one of the attending medics at the last wave and it had been long before Bumblebee or the rest were framed.

"Bulkhead. Same question." The largest of their group fiddled with his digits, unsure of how to answer. Scanning him like a hawk, Ratchet found no physical issues to add to his increasingly likely theory. But the gentle white glow of the bulky mech's optics told a story that fell in line with his teammates. Running a scan showed his spark signature was off the charts. His spark was far too powerful for the frame it was in. He had to be in pain. There was no way all that excess energy wasn't hurting him, especially since he wasn't bolting around twenty four seven.

He was in the wrong frame. That much was clear.

"Sorry Doc. I was also part of the last wave." Ratchet sighed, rubbing his face as he looked over the three near younglings in his care. Was he going senile? He highly doubted it. This... whatever this was... it was not beyond the Council. Especially if it was for the sake of their precious war.

"Give me a moment." Stepping out of the medical bay, Ratchet moved directly to Prowl's room. The ninja was the only one he hadn't had much of a chance to scan, and now he needed to be sure.

"Prowl!" He didn't even bother to knock before kicking open the door. The ninja didn't even twitch from where he was meditating. He simply hummed, getting up after a moment to address Ratchet as he caught his breath.

"I need to confirm something. Take off the visor." Prowl hesitated. Ratchet stared.

Prowl was, reportedly, also an orphan of Polyhex. If what Ratchet suspected was true, then he-

"I take it you've begun to put the pieces together." The visor came off without a fight, revealing blazing red optics that momentarily left Ratchet stunned in their brilliance. He stepped back, staring in sheer shock as it all came together in one disgusting picture.

Prowl was small, yes. But there was no denying the red, or the unnatural competence in battle. If he was like this... then the rest of the team-

"They don't know, but we are of the three hundred."

Oh.

Oh.

"I was one of the few old enough to remember. But I had to keep my mouth shut." Prowl stepped closer, meeting Ratchet's gaze calmly. It was impossible to move under the red of those optics.

"We are warframes, doctor. And for your information, I am just as surprised to find others like me as you are." Prowl maintained optic contact for a long moment. Ratchet had to run through the data a few more times before he simply groaned and tried hard to not try and bang his helm on the nearest wall.

He had Decepticon younglings to get properly framed and trained.

[slackerlifewhere]

In defense of Deruth

Fair warning, there will be some SPOILERS so if you haven't finished the first novel or you care about spoilers, I suggest you don't continue reading. Thanks!

I'm a reader of fanfics, manga, manhwa, manhua, and novels. I basically consume different stories whenever I'm bored (which I usually am).

But the things I've read most often involve parents, which I'm not really looking for but it's there so whatever.

I had to read stories with basically the same plot but different...ingredients but the thing I notice is that most stories involve abusive or neglectful parents. And it's weird to me. Like can't heroes or villains have good parents and they turn out the way they are because of other circumstances? Obviously, it's because authors want us to root for the character but for me, it's just lazy writing.

So imagine my annoyance when, after reading the first volume of TCF, I see several fics hating and trashing Deruth Henituse and saying he's the worst father in existence.

I get it. He's not the best father. His wife, who he loves very much, died and left him as a single father. He has responsibilities as a count and soon marries Violan who has Basen by then. They have another kid soon after, which is Lily. He seems to entrust the responsibilities of the heir to Basen after OG Cale's reputation took a nosedive. In a sense, he appears as if he doesn't care about OG Cale's feelings and reputation and looks like he's focusing on his other children.

BUT he's not the worst father either. Listen, you may hate him for whatever reason, whether you've consumed too many stories with bad parents or you see yourself in OG Cale, BUT he's an okay parent.

Let me list the top three fathers that are absolutely disgusting compared to him before I explain why I think he doesn't deserve all the hate he's getting:

1. Marquis Stan

We all know what happened to Taylor Stan and while we can blame it on Venion, it's also because of their father. Their father is basically an asshole who wants to see his children fight for the heir's position. And he doesn't care if they end up killing each other for it. It's basically like watching sports for him at this point. He's mainly the reason why Venion grew up into a twisted bastard. While yes, Venion is not innocent in any shape or form after what he did to his brother and Raon, it's obvious he became that way because of his father.

In fact, Taylor is also a victim of Marquis Stan's abhorrent parenting. He's not evil like his family but he learned to be independent and to fight back because he doesn't want to become like them. He died in the original story.

So yeah. Marquis Stan is absolutely disgusting and no one can change my mind that he's the worst existence among all the fathers in the story.

2. White Star

The only reason why he's not number 1 is because he's not a literal father but he does pose as one for DHB. If you know what he did to dragons, then I don't need to summarize it for you. For those who don't, you need to read the novel because it's going to be a long explanation. All I can say is that he's also the reason why DHB became so crazy. And honestly, I'm glad that even if Cale is very guarded at DHB, he still gave him the freedom to choose and repent later on.

3. Zed Crossman

He's the lesser evil of the two but he's kind of like Marquis Stan but tamer.

He basically has his three kids fight for the throne while ignoring or favoring one over the other. And he doesn't even try to hide that he doesn't care too much unless it involves his plans.

He basically wants to see who is more fit for the throne but he doesn't stop them from sabotaging one another.

Honestly, I put all the effort on Tasha and Obante's part that Alberu became a better person. Zed is completely useless.

---

So...is Deruth a bad father?

Before I answer that, here's the thing about OG Cale. He's a complex character who is grieving most of his life and wants to protect his siblings in his own twisted way. In order to do that, he needs to act like he's trash and push everyone away. But is that Deruth's fault? Eeeeh kinda but not really???

They both lack communication as father and son. In fact, the moment KRS, now Cale Henituse, was forcefully transmigrated into OG Cale's world, it's shown that Deruth is trying to communicate with his son.

The first few chapters show that he cares for his son in his own way when Cale sits down to join them in breakfast. He attempts to talk to Cale even though he was hesitant. He seems surprised but happy when Cale answered. Yeah, it's shitty that OG Cale's family and Ron didn't notice he got switched but in all honesty, it'll be hard for a normal person to come to the conclusion that a God was involved. If I were in their shoes, I would find it suspicious (probably thinking that something happened that changed that person's actions and personality) but I wouldn't think of transmigration or God of Death. Conspiracy theories aren't the first thing I'll think of. That's just dumb to use as an excuse for hating the Henituse family.

People, fans, want family drama but in all honesty, they're just ruining OG Cale's character in the way they do it. It's actually disrespectful to his sacrifice for his family. He made that deal with God of Death not only because he wants to see his mom but also because he wants his family to live after they all died in the war against the White Star. He lived through that war with him as the sole survivor of the whole family. That sucks. He could've stayed but he didn't want to and also because he already died in the future anyways. If he wants to help them as himself, I doubt he'll shut up about it to the God of Death, regardless if it's a literal god he's gonna argue with. Let me remind you that this guy is so stubborn, he made a trashy reputation to help his brother.

Instead of doing it himself, he chose to let KRS (who didn't know he's going to be involved in a war in another world btw) save his world and family in exchange for seeing his mother. He chose to leave not because of Deruth (not completely, at least) but because he simply wants to. And he's content with his decision, regardless of his regrets.

By the way, his mom, Jour, is also not pretty great if you think about her decision before she died (my unpopular opinion but whatever). I do think her final conversation with him and her following death traumatized him in a way that I can't help but feel angry for him. It's mainly the reason why he hates the Harris Village that Choi Han ended up in. It doesn't excuse his reaction to the village later on but it does explain why he hates the place, even if it's not their fault his mother died. So yeah, I don't like his mother (I'm not talking about her reincarnation btw. She's a kid). That's not the way to care for your son, ma'am.

Deruth is obviously trying but a relationship needs to work between two people and not just one. That's what you call a one-sided relationship, guys. It's why OG Cale and Violan are not close. Both of these characters don't try to be close, maybe not because they dislike each other but maybe because of a misunderstanding or whatever (who knows).

Cale only got close to her because he actually treats her with respect (also because...you know...he's an orphan and was abused as a kid so deep inside, he thinks Deruth and Violan are good but not the best parents). And whenever Cale gets hurt or is in a bad situation, we sometimes get their reaction. They're worried and angry for him. They want him to stay away from danger. In fact, the last few chapters are basically Deruth getting angry at Cale for endangering himself (completely understandable).

You can also argue that Deruth didn't try hard enough. Well, let me just tell you as someone who's been depressed since I was a kid that whenever my parents try to ask me what's wrong, I usually reply with "nothing" or "I'm fine." So for parents to try harder doesn't usually end up with a heart-to-heart talk unless the other wants to talk.

So yeah, I think KR novels and manhwa are basically the reason why some readers immediately jump in defense for the character they like because of possible abuse and neglect from parents. Without thinking about it properly. Like please, if you hate a character, at least try to understand them first and list down the other worst characters before you actually say that they're the worst.

Side note: The worst thing that I also notice is fans also target Basen and Lily. They include the whole Henituse family and write a fanfic about how abusive or neglectful all of them are. BASEN AND LILY ARE LITERAL KIDS. WTF ARE YOU GUYS THINKING. They didn't do anything to OG Cale??? They're just there?

Did I just create an account to rant about how stupid some fans are? Yeah, pretty much. You can hate on Deruth but don't include the kids. They're kids??? Without any involvement with OG Cale and Deruth's drama?

Reminder: I haven't read the second volume because I'm planning to read it when it's completely translated. That way, I won't have to wait too long for the next chapter.

[internetskiff]

Breen's unfortunately pretty underrated amongst the Valve antagonists, which I suppose is understandable compared to the likes of GLaDOS or The Administrator, but just like those two I feel like there's plenty of things to talk about when it comes to him. He seems like a very conflicted character, especially if you take into account the BreenGrub account and Laidlaw's Epistle 3. First of all is, of course, the leadup to the Black Mesa incident, with the G-Man seemingly making an offer to Breen which seemingly involved overloading the Anti-Mass Spectrometer while processing an extremely pure sample of Xen Crystal - and yes, while it's pretty obvious that the order to overload the systems was very intentional and motivated by whatever deal they struck, I believe that when it comes to the aftermath he may have been sold on a lie. Considering his actions as Administrator of Earth being entirely in the interests of keeping Humanity from feeling the full force of the Combine, I don't think "Becoming the de facto leader of all of Earth" was on his agenda. Perhaps G-Man promised that whatever their deal would entail would bring about a prosperous future for humanity, perhaps all he promised was the possibility of establishing contact with another sentient species (which is something he technically did provide), or perhaps it was something else - there's simply way too much room for speculation there, I think.

A little detail from a HL:A newspaper implies that his position as Earth's administrator wasn't exactly handed to him on a silver platter, instead he had to go out of his way to reach out to the governments with information on how to communicate with the invaders, at which point, already beaten down by Combine forces, they simply gave him the all-clear to speak for all of mankind. This still begs the question of who, or what, gave him the knowledge of how to speak with them - however, it's safe to say if they didn't, Earth would've been left a smoldering pile of rocks and withered carcasses. Once again, he acts with Humanity's best interests in mind, having to choose between the lesser of two evils - it's either enslavement or extinction. He simply chose the option in which Humanity would survive, even if just for a little while longer.

And ever since, we're watching the aftermath. He's trying to talk the last generation of Humanity down, so they may either pass of old age or be absorbed into the Combine - at least if that happens, something gets preserved. Once again, the alternative? They'll just wipe the slate once they get the local teleportation technology they desire. Breen sees no other way than to go along with their demands. He's eventually proven wrong, of course, but he refuses to see the Rebellion as anything but a suicidal march towards the extinction of the human race, and he sticks to that belief up until he is killed by Gordon at the tip of the Citadel. Of course, this doesn't make him a good person. Not at all. This belief has lead him to seek out and destroy anyone who tries to resist. He shows no sympathy to them. He paints them as fools. He himself believes it so. This intense hatred for anyone who resists is seen perfectly in how he treats the Vance family. He views them as fools. As narrow-minded rabble in the streets, senselessly struggling against a tide beyond their comprehension. He's willing to send off a father and his daughter into a world far beyond simply to use them as a bargaining chip. Listening to the two comfort eachother as they're almost raised up to a fate surely worse than death, the only expression on his face is that of pure contempt and annoyance. He's a very fascinating character that I wish Valve would explore again if they ever do another Half Life set during a time period in which he was still alive. He's a coward that easily bends to the oppressor, yet in the end he only does it to make sure something survives. He's cruel to those who resist because he's completely convinced they're going to get everyone killed. He is the Combine's perfect puppet.

haha anyhoo so why was he straight up serving on the magazine covers in HL:A like what was up with all that

[phaeton-flier]

Clip begins. A shaky, analog camera is pointed at my face. I'm scared, clearly cleaned up from having blood and bruises. But in a way where I'm still hot and stuff. Offscreen, a signal is given and I start to read a prepared speech.

Hello, my name is Phaeton, and I have come to admit my sins. I do this of my own free will, to clear my conscience.

I think the Big Bang Theory is ok. Despite its clear, repeated acts of misogyny, I think the romantic arcs are sometimes fun. It's nice to see Howard grow from a casually sexist man child to a living husband.

I even enjoy the jokes, I think whatever redditors say about it being nerd blackface it's got decent references to $THING and that works.

And yet, despite these many sins, I still have the temerity to complain to my dad when compared me to the characters on the show

(my head turns to the left and the video cuts to a second, slightly more zoomed in camera, as I do a sotto voce)

And in hindsight it's entirely understandable from him but man does does it hurt, and then you have to try and explain why and he goes "but those guys were smart and ended up with the pretty actress" and I have to explain that yes, that's true, but the comparison doesn't come with one of those, it just comes with the, uhhh, cringe

(my eyes flick to the side; we cut to a third camera zoomed into just my eyes; the squared sotto voce is just before the line of being a falsetto)

I do want to note that he does have a modern, egalitarian view of women, even if this one comment is a touch chauvinist. It's just hard to show that during a side monologue, you know? But he did raise me to respect women as people, not as objects or lesser beings. And I'd do him a poor turn to not mention that.

(returning to the second layer)

So anyways I'm not able to get this across and we move on to other conversation, but it reminds you of the cultural bubble you can be in, you know?

(third layer)

Like-

(a hand reaches into the frame; it's of whatever the current Scary Violent Evil Nationality. It snaps and I immediately return to the initial joke)

So that is my confession. I throw myself on the Mercy of God and the People, with my only defense being that at least I have better taste than to like Friends.

(the camera stops; I am later beaten a bit more when they realize my pattern of blinking was in morse code, but only until they realize it just spells out Nervous Physical Tic)

[only-by-the-stars]

gonna swing a bat at a hornet's nest and say that no, Revali wasn't really ooc in AOC

let's recap: Link gets the position he's in at the beginning of the game due to heroism in the Battle of Hyrule Field, in which he... slays some Moblins. okay. we know those are tough for regular soldiers, if the cutscenes are accurate.

meanwhile, Rito Village is getting attacked by Moblins and Bokoblins and probably other monsters, thanks to Evil Terrako. the Rito, headed up by Revali, are fighting them off, fairly successfully, but they're understandably on edge.

now, wait, let's back it up--Revali's in charge? over more experienced Rito warriors? ooooookay, let's unpack that--not only does it mean he's really good at what he does, that they'd trust him with some level of command... but his arrogance, as established in BOTW, means he thinks this is right and correct and what he deserves. he's the best, so of course he should be in charge! we know from BOTW that that was a major bone of contention he had with Link: the fact that Link was going to head up the efforts against Calamity Ganon, despite that Revali was that damn good. Revali believed, earnestly, that he should be the leader of the Champions, not Link, and even after a hundred years, wouldn't admit even to himself in an unguarded moment witnessed by no one else*, that Link had skill rather than just a surplus of luck.

(*this is important, because it's in diaries and solo moments that characters' true feelings about things--or what they view as them--tend to come out, when no one sees them or is supposed to see them. Revali reveals nothing but dislike for Link in his most private moments, so he's either genuinely contemptuous of him or spectacularly un-self-aware of any deeper respect he actually holds for him, or both. Revali is still pretty youthful and immature, so I'm willing to bet it's a mix of both.)

now. in AOC. you have Revali undeniably in a position of command among his own people. and in BOTW he expected to be in charge of the Champions, but was not, and was miffed about that. here, he's again recruited to be a Champion and pilot of Vah Medoh, but... he's still not in charge. and who is taking a leading role in guarding Zelda and giving orders on these missions? Link. a seemingly random Hylian who's about Revali's age and who, in his eyes, hasn't shown any particularly special skill that Revali himself hasn't, plus he can't even fly! so of course he's going to be highly negative, especially after the circumstances in which they met. like, consider that from his POV: he probably thought he had it in the bag until Zelda stepped in, and then he finds out this scrawny Hylian is in a position of command in the larger army that Revali has just joined? for having what understandably looks to him like lesser justification than the Rito did in anointing Revali a military leader after all his accomplishments (like his Gale)? yeah, he's not gonna be happy, to put it mildly. he feels demoted!

this feeling would've been bad enough for him in BOTW, where Link at least had the Master Sword, so Revali could look at him as being really lucky, and see him as a rival to be bested. here, though? before Link has the sword, and is seemingly just a random dude who hasn't done anything that special yet, compared to Revali? yeah, Revali is gonna see Link as beneath him, and so he's gonna treat him that way, because he's basically a teenager still, and a little shit, and arrogant as fuck. skilled and accomplished yes, but to quote Lina Inverse, would you put a lid on that ego already?

it also needs to be said that he doesn't look down ONLY on Link! in his final diary entry, he talks about Zelda's struggles to awaken her power, and says that it's difficult for him to comprehend the troubles of the talentless, but he's trying, and that while he doesn't dislike her, and knows she's trying her best, it's just not good enough. he looks down on her too, and it's easy to extrapolate that he has at least some condescension for anyone he sees as less talented than he is. so yeah. it makes sense to me, why Revali would still despise Link here, just as much if not more than he did in BOTW.

[allwormdiet]

Buzz 7.7

Nazi capes fuck off, again

Okay, cool, the Protectorate needs to have one or more Triumvirate members mobilizing for Brockton Bay fucking immediately.

I'm certain that Alexandria or one of the others will be here any second now to deal with this televised brutality that's currently going uncontested in a Protectorate city

(The BB Protectorate doesn't get shown doing a whole lot during this particular incident, and frankly I don't think that means they're doing nothing. We see one front of the Empire's offensive and we know there are others who can cause just as much damage if left alone, plus the only Protectorate members who are maybe equipped to deal with Purity are Armsmaster and Dauntless, but given her flight and sheer destructive capability I'm not sure. I'm not so dismissive as to say they're letting this all slide, whatever they're doing is likely off-screen so to speak.

But the higher-ups should have sent in someone who could actually knock Purity's head concave, and frankly I trust them even less for not doing it with this or with Bakuda's threats.)

We get more of this later, but I think this is the first real sign of where Brian and Taylor's sensibilities diverge. Taylor's given up on being a superhero, but she still wants to be a good person, and that means that when fucking Nazis are running around burning down the city she wants to stop them, not least because they're being blamed for this rampage. Brian's priorities are different: his number one priority is his people, family or team or otherwise, and everyone else is a very distant second. As long as the Empire doesn't manage to come down on anyone he cares about, he's willing to let the city take whatever they dish out in the meantime.

This difference of opinion is going to come to a head in pretty short order, but we already see the friction before that.

Who the fuck decides whether the Triumvirate gets put on a job or not? If Alexandria or one of the others is hearing about this, can anyone actually stop them from holding back if they want to come out and put an end to this? If somebody can hold them back, that someone is at best wildly incompetent. If nobody can hold them back, I automatically hold those three in deep fucking contempt. Take a day trip and beat the shit out of some fucking Nazis, how is that such a burden?

Also, "genetically pure or not." What a fucking winner we have here, no wonder there are Purity stans who want to redeem her with the power of love or whatever.

So, this is an execution on live television. Of a cameraman, who was just the unlucky son of a bitch to get chosen for this demonstration. Are there genuinely people out there who believe the idea that the Empire is "civilized" compared to the other gangs? Some kind of lesser evil? Who reads this and goes "well actually I think that Kaiser and his followers are misunderstood and quite noble" go fuck yourself

Taylor gets fucking mean when she's not keeping a lid on it, huh?

Yeah of course the only thing she gives a shit about is her stupid baby. God I hope they figure out how to take custody from her or something, nobody deserves to be raised by a maniac like that.

Thank you Coil, that's very helpful of you Coil, this does nothing to tarnish your carefully constructed image of being in total control of the situation Coil.

Yeah, so. Proof that Purity is too strong for the local Protectorate to handle.

Also glad to see that Brian can be convinced of the right course of action once someone leans on him enough. There's only so much collateral damage he can stomach, it turns out. Hopefully that means he gets his head out of his ass about Dinah.

I don't think Taylor knows Brian well enough to have a real insight into his moral stances. A month into most of my friendships over my life I couldn't tell you how they'd respond to the trolley problem or whatever, except for the one girl who considered the trolley problem to be a stupid joke of a philosophical exercise and didn't really shy away from that.

I think she just kind of assumed that the two of them being alike in other ways, and seeing him in a particularly positive and flattering light, meant that he'd be on her side with whatever moral quandaries might come up as parahumans.

I'd say it's best she get over the shock now but she's not done being shocked by her peers this arc.

Sighs

These fuckers

Taylor having strong opinions on particular power sets is pretty funny.

Current Thoughts

Taylor you really gotta stop putting the people you like up on pedestals, it's just gonna lead to hurt and disappointment

Fucking hate Purity and the rest of her merry little band of Nazi fuckwits. I hope the Endbringer kills them to a one.

This upcoming fight is interesting tbh. I don't think it's the coolest or anything, but it's a display of how someone with a hard counter to your superpower doesn't mean an automatic loss, it just means a really fucking hard-fought win.

[billionbrilliantstars]

I’ve spent most of my life trying to be moderate in my politics. Trying to see both sides because I want us all to love each other. Even after the first Trump presidency I tried to tell myself a lot of people didn’t understand who they were voting for and chose the lesser of two evils. I blamed everything on polarization and the two party system. So much so that despite voting Democrat for president and senate, I voted third party for the house. I do think the two party system should go, eventually, but it is now on the bottom of my priority list.

The reason I felt comfortable holding these beliefs was because I thought there was no more need for extreme politics. The Civil Rights movement had to be extreme, because things were so bad. All of the feminist movements had to be extreme, because things were so bad. And while 2016 was a huge wakeup call, Hillary won the popular vote. So I still convinced myself that there was room to moderate. No longer.

This year Trump had almost exactly the same amount of votes as last time, but 13 million people who voted for Joe Biden, a white man, did not come back and vote for Kamala Harris this year. What possible disadvantage could she have compared to Biden? She’s younger, more articulate, more relatable, more charismatic, more vibrant, has a longer history of defending others, and is more openly empathetic. Why would she lose 13 million people who voted Democrat just four years later? Historically a party losing that many votes from one general election to the next is very rare. The last time it happened was when the republican Gerald Ford lost 8 million republican votes that previously went to Nixon in the last election.

That was because of Watergate. The only reason for Kamala Harris to get 13 million votes less than Biden was that is is a woman and she’s black. The only thing Biden had that she didn’t have was that he is a white man. Let that sink in. Donald Trump is a blatant racist and a convicted felon. He was proven guilty of sexual assault. But he was preferable over a competent and intelligent black woman without a blemish on her record.

I thought the time for extremism has passed. But It’s still here. This is not a time to concede or moderate. Women’s rights are still very much on the line just like they were when feminist movements were huge. Racial equality is still on the line just like it was in MLJ Jr’s era. I want a united country. I want to live in a world where we all understand each other’s perspectives. But bigotry is not a compromise and it’s as big of a problem as it ever was. We are a long way from an era where it will be safe to compromise on politics.

[gatoraid]

Random, but can I ask why do you love Yut Lung? What made him special? Is there a certain moment in Banana Fish where you know, this will be my favorite character?

P.s I can't believe the mangaka end Yut Lung just like that in the later manga. Are you surprised, too?

This is the perfect ask, YES you can ask me why I love my fave character. <3 This has been sitting in my drafts for a while but since the jp fandom is currently drawing a lot of Yut Lung fanart for the Mid-Autumn Festival, I feel like it's a good time to try answer this.

Yut Lung as a character is just endlessly fascinating to me. He’s the bitchy antagonist, the foil and twisted mirror image of Ash and to a lesser extent Eiji too. He has such delicious relationships with so many of the characters in the story, he's THE fandom bicycle to me.

I love how Yut Lung is full of contradictions. He’s an evil mastermind and seductress pulling at the strings, but he’s also a traumatized 16-year-old kid who misses his mother. He uses his femininity and beauty as a weapon and never fails to bring a fashion moment when going out, yet at home he only ever wears ugly grandpa sweaters.

One of the reasons why I enjoy reading about him so much is that he’s not really a good person. He’s petty and jealous. He’s been having a bad time his whole life and he wants to make it your problem too. Yet at the same time, you see how torn he feels about Shorter's death, how he just wants acceptance and for someone to take care of him. Idk, something about him showing his ugly sides and still being someone who clearly would deserve love and healing just feels so cathartic to me.

And let's not even get started on the gender stuff. I tend to latch on to characters with atypical gender expressions, and Yut Lung is explicitly referred to and viewed as feminine by other characters in the story. Is he someone who's learned to use his perceived femininity to his advantage (the ppl who have compared him to the main character of M Butterfly are so smart), or is this how he actually wants to present? Maybe both? In any case, this aspect of his character has also made him very dear to me.

Also, I actually do know the exact moment I realized Yut Lung would become my fave:

Soo yeah, despite being a fan of the manga for years, it was the anime adaptation that made his character really pop for me. Maybe it was just the right timing for me to vibe with his particular story, or maybe the fact that the anime staff clearly loved him made him stand out even more? His updated character design is just so good! Obviously I love his manga and anime versions equally now, the anime was just the catalyst.

You also asked about Yut Lung's story arc in Yasha. I'm putting the rest after a cut bc of spoilers.

I haven't read Yasha myself, but I've read enough fic and other reports to know the basics of how Yut Lung's life ends in that story. I'm very sad since I just wanted him to keep on living, taking reponsibility for the shitty things he has done. But idk if I can say I'm surprised. Unlike the anime staff, I think it's pretty clear that Akimi Yoshida did not love Yut Lung at all. I feel like she disliked him quite a bit actually, so writing an ending like that for him makes sense in a way sobbbb.

[dailydemonspotlight]

Botis - Day 174

Race: Fallen Alignment: Dark-Chaos March 26th, 2025

If nobody got me for DDS ideas, the Ars Goetia got me. Can I get an amen? Or, uh... what's the satanic version of an amen? Evil amen??? Whatever. Anyway, yeah, we're back on my favorite book, the Ars Goetia! Yay!!! I joke, but as many of the demons in SMT are based on the Goetia, it only makes sense- it is the primary handbook for summoning demons, after all. I've been over this prelude several times, so here are the cliffnotes: the Ars Goetia is the main source for many demons and their appearances, being a goetic grimoire from the mid-17th century written by King Solomon. Today's Demon of the Day is, similarly, the 17th demon in the book (eh? eh?) and one that sadly hasn't made many appearances in comparison to just how absolutely RAW his design is: Botis.

Botis is the 17th demon in the Lesser Key, being a great president and earl of hell who first appears as an 'ugly' viper. I dunno, I think vipers are pretty cute... Also referred to as Otis in another demonic text, the Munich Manual of Demonic Magic, he commands a varying amount of spirits- either 60 in the Goetia and the Pseudomonarchia, or 36 in the Munich Manual- and appears rather high up on the hierarchy. Able to put on the appearance of a man, albeit one with two large horns and great (presumably sharp and snakelike) teeth and who is carrying a silver sword, Botis is the 17th demon in the book, yet his abilities carry a lot of overlap with several demons lower in the book.

The abilities in question are rather simple, being two main things- the ability to discuss the past and the future, as with many other demons in the book, and also the ability to reconcile fights between foes and friends alike. He's basically a diet version of Orobas in a way, which is ironic given how many demons he commands in comparison to Orobas, being 60 compared to Orobas's measly 20. Personally, I think Botis might be a bit of a fraud... still, with his ability to, to quote,

He telleth all things Past, and to Come, and reconcileth Friends and Foes.

he still could prove very useful to a prospective summoner. Still, Orobas can do everything he can do but better. Laaaame.

In terms of design in SMT, though, Botis is really damn cool- he adopts a lamia-esque appearance, but far more snake-like, with two large horns and sharp teeth much like his described appearance in the Goetia itself. Of note is also the, uh, BDSM gear he's clad in? I dunno where that came from, but it certainly adds a lot to his otherwise rather plain design and gives him a ton of pizazz. His two daggers seem to be a clear homage to his silver sword in the grimoire, though they take a far more intimidating design. Overall, this design does a lot of justice to make Botis seem actually intimidating, though he's still a damn fraud in comparison to Orobas.

[fairuzfan]

not to minimise what trump has done. he is… terrible in every which way. but… why is there a comparison between trump’s reign vs biden’s? biden is endorsing genocide openly and proudly and bypassing congress or whatever to send israel ammunition.

how is he still “the lesser evil?”

i think if people started comparing, you’d have to acknowledge that nothing trump’s done comes close to what biden is doing. especially not on a global scale. and that’s really just a pointless conversation to begin with. biden’s current political policies have led to the murder of 30,000+ people. i don’t think anyone should be comparing him to trump or forming hypotheticals when the reality is that biden is killing people. he doesn’t deserve a vote because he’s killing people. how can anyone live with themselves by endorsing a war criminal so blatantly?

i feel like this entire conversation kind of shows just how unaware americans are of their own politics and of the world outside of the US. how is this the conversation you’re having? how is this even a point to argue? especially with a palestinian who’s people and family and friends are being murdered with biden’s backing. why is nobody focusing on insisting for better candidates instead of the whole biden vs trump argument?

i mean trump did still do terrible things in yemen and syria, i dont think we should forget that but biden perpetuated a lot of that and didn't end it. but now we're looking at the darfur genocide, the continued sanctions on syria, palestinian genocide, armenian expulsion, and just so many other things. And that's just in swana and south eastern europe!

biden expanded the border wall, kept the concentration camps in the south, basically got rid of masking policy leading to the death of thousands, and just so much more. like what?! how is he "lesser" like honestly honestly, how is he lesser of an evil. he did this shit and feels no regret for any of it. so no i don't think anyone in the democratic party is a "lesser evil" i think they sat by while all this stuff happened and continue to sit by. so is it better that they're able to put on pretenses??

[blue-marbles]

Okay, let's talk about Ghez Hokan.

I recently finished my current reread of Hard Contact, and he is the character who changed most in my perception.

I basically used to just see him as "evil Mando bad" and that was that, but nope.

Let's take a closer look at the man, shall we?

1.) We are introduced to him in the mission briefing with Omega Squad, Zey and Jusik. The squad, and by extend the reader, is told, that he used to be a member of Death Watch but was kicked out because he was to sadistic and extreme even for them. I used to believe that. However, in 501st (if I'm not mistaken), Fi says that Kal claimed this to be wrong, and I think Mij Gilamar also debunks this. Aparently Hokan never ran with Death Watch. Either the Jedi had incorrect intel, or they purposely fed the Omegas a lie.

2.) Different to what one might expect from a Death Watch member (which he wasn't, but we don't know ow that yet in Hard contact), Hokan seems to have a deep respect for Jango Fett, to even admire him. He sees the clones as sorry abominations, but as Mandalorian nevertheless. He thinks killing them is the lesser evil compared to them being slaves bred to fight for the Republic. But where did this infor.ation come from I the first place?

3.) He is proud to be a Mando, and proud to be a warrior. However, he doesn't run with other Mandos, although he wishes that he did have fellow Mandos around because they would be more competent than his militia. He does display military experience, but also a sadistic streak he deems a necessity for not being "soft". The worry of going to "soft" is a recurring theme in his thoughts, to the point that he keeps justifying his own actions infront of himself from that angle. It seems to be his biggest fear. Hokan, what happened to you that made you turn out like this?

4.) Let's look at his name. Ghez doesn't seem to be Mando'a, featuring a z. (However, that does not mean it might not be a common name with Mandos. Look at Clan Vizsla. They got a z, too.) Anyway, Ghez doesn't seem to have a meaning. Hokan, however, probably is related to hokaanir (to cut, to slice) and hokan'yc (sliced, cut up, slang for heavily defeated). He also is not the only character of that name I the books. Munin Skirata is mentioned to have know a Mando called Jun Hokan, who has a son roughly Kal's age, just a slight bit older. My first thought was: is that son Ghez? But Ghez Hokan does not seem to recognise the name Kal when Niner fake-screams for him. Also, my gut feeling is that Kal is older than Ghez. He might be Jun's grandson, though. Or, possibly, not related at all. Maybe Hokan is like Smith or Miller.

5.) Speaking of his age - I wonder why Ghez Hokan hadn't been chosen as a Cuy’val Dar. Don't get me wrong, it totally makes sense we meet Mandos who are not Cuy’val Dar. Still, I wonder if there are specific reasons for him. Instinctively, I would say his sadistic streak and willingness to kill his own people to make an exame might have been a reason, and maybe rumoured ties to Death Watch, but then again, Fett and Vau still got Priest and Reau on board. So maybe his age might be a factor. No idea how old he is, but maybe he hadn't made enough of a mark yet, maybe he hadn't had enough experience when the whole Kamino thing started. Because he seems to have loose enough ties for him to possibly have been an option otherwise.

6.) A quick side note on his armour: It is red and grey. It might just be that he liked the colours, but traditionally red is associated with honouring a parent, which makes sense considering how much he values his heritage. Grey, however, stands for mourning a lost love. And that I find extremely interesting, considering Ghez Hokan's behaviour and personality, including his fear of being seen as weak/soft. Intriguing.

Long story short, I really wonder who the man behind the job truely is. What his story is. What made him become the person we meet on Qiilura.

Did I miss anything essential we do know? Do you have any head canons about him? Any thoughts?

[jedimaesteryoda]

Where Molly's story is going, after "Cold Case," she seems set on changing the Winter Court for the better. We even see it in her punishing one Sidhe for attempting to whammy Yoshimo, and looking after the Miksani kids who are being trained as child soldiers. She even delivers presents on Christmas Eve. I can see her offing Mab (provided she still has her brother's army knife to literally stab her in the back on Halloween or on the faerie battlefield), and becoming the new Queen of Air and Darkness.

As Queen of Air and Darkness, I think her policies would be lighter, but don't think she will reform the Winter Court as she expressed at the end of "Cold Case" where an innocent was hurt in the form of Carlos and the kids taken to be made into child soldiers. If that story sounds familiar, that's because it is. That's Marcone's story who himself had similar motivations to change the Chicago mob over his guilt regarding Amanda Beckitt's shooting. Even Mother Winter calls Mab "too much the romantic" meaning Mab may actually have been just like Molly as Winter Lady in wanting to make the Winter Court less dark.

How did that work out for them?

In spite of some of his purer motivations, Marcone's lesser evil approach had a low level thug like Tripp Gregory threaten a teacher and risk shutting down an organization that provides much needed education to numerous poor children. Mab's OTT treatment of her treacherous Winter Knight Slate was needlessly cruel and she still uses child soldiers.

Marcone backed Tripp because Tripp didn't snitch on him, and Marcone knows he has to reward that kind of loyalty if he is to maintain it, and he did not want to risk his image in the mob by siding with a school teacher against Tripp. I think it's a point that the girl Amanda has still not woken up from her coma years later, or Marcone still hasn't totally ended the harm the Chicago mob inflicts.

As for Mab, Jim said that Mab's Winter Mantle keeps her from being able to change. It's to the point that the Winter Mantles can actually be good metaphors for how these systems can change the people working within them from the inside. The system can change you more than you can change it.

It's a method that's shown to be tried and failed since at the end of the day, these groups are built on predation and domination. There are limits to what they can do to change them without getting pushback, and a core theme of the series is that power comes with built in limitations.

And one thing about Molly as her specialty of illusion implies, she focuses on image to a degree. Her friends didn't become sober from heroin, she mind magicked them in a way that damaged them. She isn't a protagonist in a love story whose patience and devotion will eventually pay off when her love interest eventually comes to realize that he loves her. She's a hopeless romantic who's pursuing a guy who made it clear that he will never return her feelings. It wasn't simply the Harry's fearful image that kept people like the Fomor away, it was the friends and connections he made along the way with Karrin, Thomas, Susan and the Knights having saved his ass a number of times, the Wee Folk having dispatched Aurora and provided intel and many others providing him help. That turned out to be something that Karrin understood when she founded the Alliance.

So I don't think Molly will end the use of child soldiers or the predations of the Winter Court. She will just change practices to give it a better image. I would compare it to Marcone turning Bianca's brothel into a brothel with a cover as a high-end gym and health center. It's the same thing, but given a glossy, clean surface.

I think it more likely that Molly, skilled illusionist, becomes disillusioned realizing that somewhere along the way that she had become what she had hated. Rather than becoming someone like her White Knight father she became the literal Queen of Darkness, the world's top predator.

It could be a common trope in gangster films: the rise and fall story.