#and nostalgic presences from the past was what I turned to

[lord-radish]

Top 5 Media Experiences of 2022

???

Snapcube's Ratchet and Clank 3 playthrough

DanganRonpa 1 and 2

Dar Williams

lord-radish

First of all, I liked all of her RnC playthroughs a lot. I loved it when she sold Clank for 640,000 bolts, and the tangent about Ratchet going over to someone's house and doing sideflips in front of them after chat tricked her into the boob glitch. Her ship voiceover for Going Commando was one of my favorite parts of those sections, I love how it became like defacto knowledge that it was the ship itself making those noises.

"uhh yeah can you get me one of those chiccy sandwiches please? thank you thank you thank you" is burned into my brain bc Youtube kept losing my place and I kept having to start that VOD from the start. The tangent about the clothes seller in Tools of Destruction comes from a goofy place and I love it. The first four streams go from strength to strength - they're incredibly entertaining and immensely quotable, even months later.

I watched a LOT of Ratchet streams this year. Never quite finished Crack in Time and beyond, but I saw the rest. And 3 is my favorite, because A) that was the one big formulative Ratchet and Clank game I played as a kid, and B) 3 is probably the funniest and most well-structured game in the PS2 era. I never knew because I had limited experience with the first two games, but it's no surprise at all that 3 was the first game with a dedicated writing staff after seeing the other two (which are perfectly great games in their own right).

So clearly I have a bias here. Penny seemed to have an absolute blast with this game, I remember her losing her shit at the Courtney Gears music video and she bought into Dr. Nefarious after being wary of him due to prior exposure to the character. That bias played a role in my enjoyment, sure, but it also just felt nice to see such a funny, cozy stream because I'm not used to that.

I've historically watched a lot of Vinesauce, Game Grumps etc. for like odd games and video game corruptions - I feel like even the more homey aspects of that content is steeped in irony and shitposting, with Game Grumps in particular being noticeably caustic. There's just as much laughing at the content creator for falling short at their sisyphean task as there is in sharing their victories, maybe even moreso. That's sort of been the cornerstone of how I consume game media. I've become very jaded and irony-poisoned over the years.

I think what made the Snapcube streams so special is that I was almost never laughing at Penny, but I was laughing with her. Yes, losing a bunch of lives can be frustrating and it can be funny to see someone react to that. But for every time Penny misses a jump and goes "Fuck!" with a small laugh or a bit of rage, there's an extended comedy bit she does that ends up being really funny and well-built, and it comes across as her having great fun with it too. I think it's that crowd work that makes her stand out the way she does.

That energy carried into RnC3, which was an incredibly nostalgic experience, and I enjoyed seeing her react to the game itself almost as much as I liked her own additions and embellishments along the way. The fact that she was playing such a nostalgic game was a bonus - personal memories or not, I was looking forward to entry #3 of like #8 of this awesome, entertaining game marathon I was enjoying so much. The nostalgia was still a huge highlight though.

Beginning to watch Snapcube streams as a whole was a highlight of 2022, but RnC3 just put a smile on my face like nothing else. The Sonic fandubs are really good, I absolutely saw those before I saw her streams, but these streams were what made me a Snapcube fan.

[yourdoorisunlocked]

What A Dish, What A Doll! - Part 3

🎙️【 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝑰 | 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝑰𝑰 | 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝑰𝑰𝑰 | 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝑰𝑽 | 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝑽 | 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝑽𝑰 】🎙️

𝐀/𝐍: Yup, we're getting into it now. Remember that this man is literally a cannibalistic serial killer who convenes with dark spirits and shit.

But I think that just makes him more attractive tbh.

Btw this man is like 6'1 in this story in his human form, so do with that information as you wish. ;)

. . .

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟑,𝟕𝟔𝟖 𝐓𝐖/𝐂𝐖: Descriptive gore, sacrificial rituals, just Alastor-coded shenanigans and levels of down horrendous I'm embarrassed to share... 😭👍 𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐑𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: - ᴛʜᴇ ꜰʀᴜɪᴛꜱ | ᴘᴀʀɪꜱ ᴘᴀʟᴏᴍᴀ - ꜱʟᴏᴡᴇᴅ

. . .

There was always a moment when Alastor had to take a small smoke before finishing off his prey, allowing the adrenaline of the hunt to wear off as he reveled in his latest kill.  

A gentle evening wind brushed against his ears, ruffling his cocoa-brown hair as he smiled up at the full moon with teeth as white as its luminous surface. Translucent curtains of gloom drifted past the celestial orb of night, just as the scent of a marshy swampland drifted up and enveloped Alastor in its nostalgic, wistful aroma of home.  

Though he relished the private, intimate moments he spent with you, times like these, where his mind could simply slip away from the drag of life and reflect upon the day, were as precious and rare as gold.  

Alastor simpered to himself as he fixated upon you being the star-struck little darling you were, mad with elation to finally be able to watch him host his radio show in the studio you both worked at. And he imagined you’d needed such a treat, after your delightful breakfast at that restaurant you’d wanted to try out for so long.  

It was too bad. Alastor quite liked that cozy little diner. Oh, well.  

Perhaps you could work there yourself, now that a fresh, new spot for a job had opened up at the restaurant, perfect for a lovely little doll like you. You wouldn’t have to deal with your rather overbearing supervisor anymore, who gave Alastor much more leeway than you.  

Ha! Who was he kidding? Like he’d ever let you take so much as six steps away from him, from the safety he could provide.  

He couldn't have you running around willy-nilly, gaining the attention of unworthy scumbags, after all! 

Then again, Alastor didn’t mind the image of you rushing around, serving him ever so politely in one of those form-flattering, tight waitress uniforms that had swept New Orleans recently.  

But that was an experience for him, and him alone. Besides, the reverie of having you as a pretty little assistant would do just fine, for now. Perhaps he could bring that idea to fruition, someday.  

Oh, one can only dream!  

With a last puff of smoke that condensed in the chilly night air, Alastor disposed of the cigarette and ground it into the dirt path with his heel. Maybe he could use an assistant around the studio; being the most charming, captivating voice in all of Louisiana wasn’t easy, after all! 

Plus, it meant more alone time with you, and your dazzling, melodic voice, and that divine smile that he could only wish to be blessed with. He drank it all up, your enthusiasm to be in his presence, your witty yet flustered company...

God, he could just eat you up–  

Muffled groans and wails broke him from his peaceful midnight musing, and he turned his attention towards the small shack he used. Normally, he’d relish in such helplessness from his latest kill, though his patience was wearing thin, tonight.  

But Alastor needed this one to be alive. The Loa didn’t favor cold, dead prey.  

Then again, it never complained of the condition its scraps were in. Only that Alastor could provide any. 

“Why, hello there!” The radio host’s air of exuberant showmanship rolled off him in waves as he stood above the crumpled form of the waiter who had insulted Alastor’s very being with his rotten presence.  

A throbbing pain at the front of his head where he had been knocked out with a bat ached painfully, and he cradled his wound with an anguished groan.  

“Ouch! That’s got to hurt, ha-ha!” Polished western-style shoes thumped against the wooden floor of the shack as Alastor made his way over to his victim, before bashing his head against the floor, reveling in his pained groan before he slumped in Alastor’s grip.  

“Hm, a bit meatier than I had expected... He’ll have quite a feast, tonight!” A dark chuckle, laced with venom and coated with mirth filled the small room, and Alastor hoisted the body over his head and dragged the unconscious prey out into the forest.  

Darkness enveloped the waiter’s mind, like a weighted blanket upon his consciousness as the pain worsened, before fading as his body gave out.  

. . .   

The sound of shoveling and short, exhausted huffing awakened him as he slowly came to, and the wintry night air brought him from slumber like the bony, thinned hands of Death itself.  

Shadows danced around his vision as his eyes fluttered open, and the light of Alastor’s lantern roused him fully awake. The quiet croaking of frogs, and the midnight lullaby of chirping crickets filled the otherwise eerie silence. A large, wilting tree hung over him, where moss and fungus sprouted from each branch as its hanging leaves reached down to him and the scent of dampened swampland baffled his senses. 

W-Where... Where the hell am I...?

Alastor watched with an amused smile as the pitiful lad tried to raise a hand to hoist himself up from the dirt, only to struggle for a few moments against his cursed restraints that bound him to the forest floor.  

Slim-fit gloves tightened against the handle of his shovel as Alastor leaned against it with a condescending grin, moonlight bouncing off his glasses as he looked down at the pitiful prey.  

“Oh, please don’t struggle too much. I did go to all that trouble of tying you up, after all,” Alastor cooed from his standing position above his victim, like he could possibly escape from the rune-encrusted stakes he had been bound to. 

“Now, be polite...  

And say hello to my old friend, for me.”  

A gust of wind howled around the pair, bringing Alastor’s attention towards the crooked trees standing tall against the swamp. The bushes rustled softly beneath its branches, when suddenly, a buck jumped out from behind the bramble, kicking at the dirt and eyeing Alastor’s little summoning circle with curiosity.  

It was a shame he hadn’t brought his hunting gun; those magnificent antlers would’ve been a dazzling addition to his collection. 

Also, the idea of impressing you with such a display had Alastor catching himself drifting off into his fantasies yet again. He really needed to stop doing that. You were turning the demented radio host into a moony-eyed sap, and in the middle of a sacrifice, no less!  

The deer slowly trotted towards Alastor with its head tilted in confusion as it eyed him, regarding the man with caution.  

Slowly, the radio host lowered himself into a respectful bow, and the buck reciprocated. It strayed a little closer, and a step too far proved to be its undoing.  

Crack.  

The busboy jolted with each snap of bone within the animal's body, the grotesque sounds echoing across the forest. The deer grew suddenly limp and collapsed upon the forest floor as the waiter’s eyes bulged out of his head. 

“W-What...? What the fuck is that!?” Alastor ignored his victim’s struggle behind him as he kicked at the chilled, marshy dirt with his bare, scabbed feet, hoping to create some distance between himself and the massive, horned beast that was forming rapidly.  

A futile effort, really... 

An animalistic screech of anguish would be the last sound that the deer ever made, as it finally fell completely under the control of whatever unholy beat had been foolishly summoned into existence. Shadows flooded the inside of the poor animal, hollowing it out at a rapid rate, and the unseen horror took its puppet upon a sleeve to speak to the mortal who summoned it. 

Whether it was utterly foolish or terribly sadistic was a true mystery. A gamble that made these little summonses the least bit entertaining, particularly if it was the latter. 

The sound of groaning wood echoed across the forest as two large, crooked antlers bent towards the sky. The creature’s hanging ribcage protruded from the gaping hole in its stomach, revealing bloody, mossy innards riddled with mold and buzzing flies that gluttonously fed upon the mangled buck's entrails. 

An ominous emerald glow shimmered within the buck’s maw, and two stark-black eyes fell into its open mouth, before sliding down its tongue

The deer's organs were promptly squeezed out of the corpse's slit belly and dropped onto the ground as the carcass thinned dramatically. A puddle of thick, glistening liquid that was much too dark to be considered regular animal blood had gathered beneath it.

Drip. Drip. Drip. 

Squelch. 

Tarred, ashen-gray skin glimmered underneath the moonlight, as a guttural roar shook the forest, leaving the branches trembling with terror. Alastor stood before the beast with his hands crossed behind his back with an unbothered, almost bored expression.  

As the Loa stood before him in its complete, beastly form, Alastor brushed off an imaginary speck of dirt from his coat sleeve before opening his arms up to his old friend with a wide grin that nearly split his face in half. It had been a while since he’d borne witness to a proper summoning.  

“Quite a good show, my friend! Captivating as always,” Alastor called out cheerfully, clapping once or twice in emphasis.  

“Ɱվ ƒօɾʍ էąҟҽʂ էհҽ ìժҽղէìէվ օƒ ҽąçհ ʂօմӀ էհąէ çąӀӀʂ էօ ʍҽ, འօէէҽժ ටղҽ,” the Loa's voice answered his old friend in a deep, gravely rasp from the mutilated buck's unhinged jaw. It stood proudly on its hind legs as it hunched over Alastor with a low rumble, and the stench of rotting flesh overpowered the natural, swampy scent of the forest, to the radio host’s distaste. 

“Then I do hope my soul has been quite the treat to replicate!” he clasped his hands together behind his back, folding his arms tightly behind him. 

“చհվ հąʂէ էհօմ çąӀӀҽժ ʍҽ հҽɾҽ, մքօղ էհìʂ ղìցհէ?” Its impatience wore thin as it looked upon the setting of the candlelit circle, and the pleasant aroma of fresh blood brought the Loa’s attention to the young man tied up behind Alastor.  

“Why, of course! How impolite of me to keep you waiting,” the excited glint in the radio host’s eye evolved into a look of complete madness as he gestured to the poor sap behind him, who gaped up at the Loa’s ghastly form in horror.  

“Presenting the main course for tonight, this pitiful little insect that I had the unfortunate displeasure of stumbling upon! Though it seems this chap appears to be faring far worse than I!” A cynical chuckle dripped from his thin-lipped grin as he bowed before the Loa like a true showman.  

Alastor hadn’t even noticed he had been rambling like a supervillain, monologuing about his latest victim as if it were a typical evening hosting his radio show. 

“įէ ʂҽҽʍʂ էհօմ հąէհ.. φҽɾʂօղąӀ հìʂէօɾվ աìէհ էհìʂ օղҽ,” the Loa rumbled thoughtfully, now circling the panicking prey as he thrashed in his roped constraints. 

“Ah, just a little disagreement, is all. Apparently, manners are no longer an important matter of discussion within one’s own household,” Alastor ‘tsked’, shaking his head in mock disappointment, “A shame, truly.”   

“įէ ʂʍҽӀӀʂ ƒɾҽʂհ,” the horned creature inhaled deeply, stinking putridly of decay as he bent over the trembling busboy, its skeletal back cracking and snapping as he further hunched over. Its victim blubbered pathetically, shaking his head as hopeless tears spilt from his eyes while he choked out helpless pleads. 

“Ꝉìҟҽ… Ͳҽɾɾօɾ…”   

In a flurry of shadows, the Loa pounced upon its feast, rumbling with fervor and gluttony as its fangs tore through flesh, ripping its prey apart as it aimed for the meatiest bits of its meal.  

The agonized moans of the damned that protruded from the Loa's maw conducted the symphony of terror, and the screams of the disrespectful runt carried the harmony as Alastor stood off to the side, relishing the gory display.  

When the Loa had finished, a long, blackened tongue licked its chops as it rumbled in satisfaction. It turned towards Alastor, who bowed before it, as was a respectful custom whenever the God finished its meal. 

"Ͳհìʂ աąʂ զմìէҽ ʂąէìʂƒąçէօɾվ. చհąէ çąӀӀʂ մքօղ էհվ ʂքօղէąղҽօմʂ օƒƒҽɾìղց, էօղìցհէ, ȺӀąʂէօɾ…?" 

"Oh, I was just taking out some trash. Honestly, you're doing me quite a favor, old friend! Think of it as a celebration for our friendship," Alastor grinned impudently, before bidding the Loa a silent farewell as he turned on his heel. 

"Now, I'm afraid that our time together must be cut short. I have a little darling to check up upon, and she is quite the feisty one, I'll have you know!" Oh, how perfectly this night had ended. Ridding himself, and you the trouble of ever dealing with such a pest ever again, and cuddling up to you while discussing your day over dinner, and ending it with a-

"చհօ ìʂ ʂհҽ?" 

Alastor stopped in his tracks, his smile beginning to strain and actually make his cheeks ache as he half-turned back to the Loa. Fuck.  

It seems that his utter enthusiasm for running his mouth about you has overridden his reasoning. 

"Whatever do you mean, my friend? Don't tell me you've taken a liking to my darling?" He pointed a teasing finger at it with a wide, knowing smirk that bordered upon a warning. 

The god eyed Alastor with pure contempt, before huffing impatiently and nodding towards Alastor's house in the distance. 

"Ƕҽɾ. Ͳհҽ βɾìցհէ ටղҽ. చհҽղ հąʂէ էհօմ ƒąӀӀҽղ ƒօɾ ʂմçհ ƒɾìѵօӀìէìҽʂ?" 

Alastor stubbornly clasped his hands together behind his back and stood tall as the ancient god bent down towards his level, empty sockets glowing an emerald green and practically blinding him as it asked again. 

"į աìʂհ էօ ҟղօա օƒ էհìʂ… ժìʂէɾąçէìօղ էհąէ հąʂէ էհҽҽ ìղ ą ҍìղժ ʂմçհ ąʂ էհìʂ," for the first time in thousands of years, the god's interest had been caught. Quite a peculiarity, considering that the Loa did not care for petty mortal matters that Alastor would rarely partake in himself, but the mention of a girl brought slight surprise to it. 

And judging by the glimpses the ancient being took within Alastor's mind, he could understand why the radio host had taken such a liking to you. 

Like the sway of wind, by the bloom of daffodils, you were akin to a wicked, unruly summer wind sweeping up sea salt and touching the hearts of those you met, everywhere you went. 

A rare commodity, in a corrupt world such as this. 

"Oh, well I suppose I must've slipped the word about her. Well!" Alastor placed his fingertips together as the memory of first meeting you surfaced in his mind.  

"I'd be happy to tell you how we met! It all began when I came across the darling little Doll in a charming diner. I'll tell you; the place couldn't have shined as much as it had without her presence, ha-ha!" 

The eldritch horror noted the complete adoration that swept the normally deranged man off his feet. Alastor’s animated announcer's voice and occasional jazz hands did all the talking for him as he spoke of you. 

The spirit never thought it'd see the day... 

"She was certainly efficient at her job, as well! Carried the entire restaurant on her back, in my humble opinion," of course, Alastor was completely biased in his reasoning. He'd take any excuse to sing your praises all night. 

"Why, she even gave me a shock when she rolled into the building with a pair of skates, one Thursday afternoon! Quite the compliment to that stunning dress pattern, I must say..." 

How curious, that the boy the Loa had met all those years ago, the one who seemed to have no such interest in pursuing relationships, who outwardly expressed disgust at the mere thought of being touched found someone like you to keep him company. 

"So, I decided to give the Doe a chance at my radio station, and we immediately hit it off!" The radio host's smile nearly cracked his face in half as he fondly recalled his first meeting with you, and the spirit tilted its head to the side. 

How strange, indeed... 

Well, now it just had to meet the girl who had captivated Alastor so and sprung upon this new sacrifice earlier than what was expected of him. 

Then, the Loa nodded towards the direction of Alastor's house in the twilight, softly hitting its hoof against the ground with an insistent thud. 

"į աìʂհ էօ ʍҽҽէ հҽɾ. į աąղէ էօ ҟղօա ահąէ ҟìղժ օƒ ʂօմӀ հąʂ çąքէìѵąէҽժ էհҽҽ ʂօ." 

Alastor slowly turned towards the beast, whose antlers seemed to grow even larger in return, sensing the human's challenge. 

"And what makes you believe that you have a right to meddle in my life, if it does not offend you to ask? Her soul is not yours, and her heart shall soon lie with me."  

The Loa huffed, before bowing its head towards the maddened, lovesick mortal. How foolish, the way such silly human matters have clouded the ever-articulate mind of one of his oldest acquaintances.  

Honestly, what did Alastor think it was going to do? Snatch you away from him? 

Like it'd ever get the chance. 

"βմէ ìէ ժօҽʂղ'է. ហօէ աìէհìղ çմɾɾҽղէ çìɾçմʍʂէąղçҽʂ. į çօմӀժ ƒì× էհąէ, հօաҽѵҽɾ," The Loa rumbled, knowing it was pricking at a soft spot as the young man shot him an unamused glare with a raised eyebrow.  

"į ʂհąӀӀ ҍҽ ժìʂçɾҽҽէ, օƒ çօմɾʂҽ. Ⱥ ʍҽɾҽ ìղէҽɾƒҽɾҽղçҽ ƒɾօʍ ąƒąɾ." Alastor scoffed and fully turned to the Loa with a sneer darkening his too-wide smile, his teeth seeming sharpened in the glint of the moonlight. 

To the Loa, Alastor appeared merely to be a puppy baring its pint-sized fangs. 

"Ha-ha! You seem to misunderstand me, my friend," he stepped boldly towards the beast, his hands folded behind his back with half-lidded eyes that dared it to cross the very clear line he had drawn.  

"I believe you have crossed a bit of a line, there, implying that I do not own her heart," the radio host sneered; a threatening grimace hidden behind a thin mask portraying a cheeky, unbothered smile. But the underlying threat was clear. You were not to be touched. 

Honestly, Alastor reminded the Loa of another, more ethereal being it had met long ago. Madly in love and willing to do anything, preform any atrocity, to protect his fleeting fancy. Looking back, he was rather short for someone of his status, and impossibly pale, having a sort of 'heavenly' hue to it. 

How ironic. 

The Loa looked upon the human with slight amusement dancing within its soulless, ominously glowing sockets. The mortal held such determination, such drive to keep you solely within his hold, a kind of devotion it hadn’t seen in centuries. 

Such a pitiful display of favor for his new toy had the Loa truly interested, now. It was sure that Alastor would do anything to keep you, anything to win your affections. 

Of course, good things came to those who waited. And so, with a soft nod, the Loa dropped the subject. 

“Ⱥʂ էհօմ աìʂհҽʂ. Ͳհօմցհ, ʍìղҽ օƒƒҽɾ ʂհąӀӀ ʂէìӀӀ ʂէąղժ." 

“Duly noted.” And with that, Alastor’s clipped tone snapped through the air, cutting off the conversation entirely. The distant hum of insects whispered against his ears as he waited for the Loa’s dismissal. 

"ƑąɾҽաҽӀӀ, འօէէҽժ ටղҽ. į հąѵҽ ҍմʂìղҽʂʂ ҽӀʂҽահҽɾҽ.” Finally, the Loa turned away from the mortal, its shadows dropping the corpse of the deer and vanishing from the scene. Alastor paid no mind to it, however, as there typically wouldn’t be any human nor animal remains, come sunrise. 

The god fed gluttonously, after all. 

Alastor swiftly turned on his heel and started back upon the path. “Adieu, my good friend! I do hope we’ll see each other again,” as he strode further away from the ghastly terror, all mirth had evaporated from his voice, leaving a biting cold edging at his words and rivaling the winter chill as he neared the house. 

But every step closer to you thawed his heart as he strolled through the bramble, choosing to shove away the thoughts that mulled over the Loa's offer. That would be something for 'Tomorrow Alastor' to deal with.

It wasn't long before he had finally made it back to the house, confidently striding across the forest as if nothing had ever happened, and Alastor slipped through the front door, brief as the wind and quiet as a shadow.

He was quite disappointed to see you had left for a bed, and his heart panged with guilt at the thought of you solemnly retreating to your quarters when you realized Alastor was probably working late tonight.

It was far from the truth, but it'd suffice as a good cover.

I'll make it up to her tomorrow.

Carefully, Alastor crept up the stairs, avoiding each loose board and step that would creak under the pressure of his weight. 

Then, after seeming to have climbed a mountain simply to get upstairs, he slowly opened the door to your room, his hands clenching the doorknob to the point where it'd snap in half from his vice grip.

Alastor took steady, silent steps over to your bedframe, standing over your soundly sleeping form with a lovesick simper.

Since when had he grown so infatuated with little ol' you? Was it when you ran up to him with stars in your eyes and that beautiful, kissable smile plastered on your face after you listened to his podcast from start to finish? When you raved about how amazing it was, how captivating he sounded?  

Moonlight was cast over your form, painting a pale, sleek canvas of stardust over your skin as Alastor drank in the sight with trembling fervor. 

Leaning over, he took a hand and carefully twirled a lock of your hair around a slender finger as he stared down at you adoringly.

"Darling... what are you doing to me~?"

As Alastor bent down to nuzzle your loose hair, your scent hit him almost instantly, and he groaned softly as the room became so hot, so unbearably tight as he became ever aware of the throbbing bulge tightened against the confines of his trousers. 

With a heavy, forlorn heart, and an aching erection he'd soon have to tend to, he pulled away from your slumbering form, and brushed a stray lock out of your face.

A warmth crept up to his cheeks as you leaned towards his familiar touch, smiling softly at the mere touch of contact as you mumbled incoherently in your sleep.

"Mmmph... Alastor..."

With a tender, close-lipped simper, Alastor placed a chaste, tender peck to your forehead.

"Sweet dreams, my Doe~."

. . .

𝐄𝐧𝐝 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: So, I lowkey lied, saying it was gonna be a shorter chapter...

AND THIS ONE ENDED UP BEING EVEN LONGER LMAO 💀💀

I'm sorry, making these longer ones are so much fun, and I can't for the life of me shorten any paragraph or story I'm working on. Even the end notes are an essay long lmao.

Anyway, thanks for reading, as always (～￣▽￣)～

[ayatakami]

its yours

Pairing: Touya Todoroki/Dabi x Y/N fic: one-shot CW: angst, based on the loathe song, slight amnesia Synopsis: Y/N and Touya were childhood friends. After his quirk got out of control, he 'died'. When he turned away from All For One, AFO decided to make him pay. By removing Y/N's memories of Touya. Taglist: @jenos-eye-smiles, @greenmanshoe, @porusuniverse

𝕋𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕗𝕖𝕖𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕀'𝕧𝕖 𝕗𝕖𝕝𝕥 𝕓𝕖𝕗𝕠𝕣𝕖 𝕀 𝕨𝕒𝕟𝕥 𝕞𝕠𝕣𝕖, 𝕀 𝕨𝕒𝕟𝕥 𝕞𝕠𝕣𝕖

𝔻𝕠 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕣𝕖𝕞𝕖𝕞𝕓𝕖𝕣 𝕞𝕖? 𝕎𝕚𝕝𝕝 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝕤𝕖𝕖

𝕎𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕪𝕠𝕦'𝕝𝕝 𝕕𝕠 𝕥𝕠 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕞? 𝕎𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕪𝕠𝕦'𝕧𝕖 𝕕𝕠𝕟𝕖 𝕥𝕠 𝕞𝕖?

Cobalt flames danced around the streets, Touya looked up at the night sky, seeing the stars. Deep inside there was a melancholy he couldn't put his finger on. It wasn't until he turned his head, watching his flames burn everything. Through the flicker of fire, he saw your face.

He felt tension at his core as a nostalgic feeling filled his veins. It was like a drug coursing through him to see you again. It has been years. He parted his flames, just enough to see you more. Another loose end he had to tie up from his wretched past.

He recognized you as his childhood friend, the one person besides Natsu that he spilled all of his secrets to. And you also healed him on several occasions. Maybe you would remember him. He turned to you, as he studied you. However, you just looked at him with terrified. He let his flames die down a little, as he slowly approached you.

"Y/N...?" He spoke out in a soft voice. "I'm surprised to see you here at this time at night..." He spoke softly as he walked by, stopping beside you. You froze for a minute, looking up at him. A bit off-put by his patchwork appearance. "Um...who are you...? H-How do you know my name?"

His voice held a bit of disappointment in it with sadness. "You really don't remember me, huh?" He searched your eyes for some sort of recognition for him. "We were best friends when we were kids..." "We...were...?" You tried to scramble your brain for the memory, but nothing came up.

He felt a small pang in his chest, knowing that you couldn't remember. It hurts a bit that you couldn't. But he shook it off as he leveled to your height, his hand moved to your cheek. Your eyes widened at the gesture as you tensed up, not sure why some random scary-looking stranger was caressing your face at the park.

His thumb stroked your cheek gently, the feeling reminded him of when you two were kids, as he always held your cheek like this to look at you. You were the only one he ever really felt close to. "I never thought you'd forget me..." Your expression softened, and the gesture felt familiar to you. His presence felt familiar but the memory was hazy.

His heart ached as you continued to stare at him with a muddled expression in your eyes. He was tempted to pull you into a hug but he refrained from doing so, not wanting to scare you off more. He took a deep breath as he stood up again, letting his hand drop from your cheek. He was trying to seem nonchalant, not wanting to show you just how affected he was that you didn't remember him. He ran his fingers through his hair. "What are you doing at this park anyways...?"

"I...sometimes...come here....to breathe I guess." You weren't sure why you were being so open with me. It just...felt right. He hummed slightly, surprised that you came here to all places considering the two of you used to hang out at this spot. He crossed his arms over his chest, watching you sit on one of the swings. The blue fire somehow did not bother you around as it encircled the park.

"Why this one?" He asked looking around at the back then back at you. You being here at his park, the way you found comfort here, the way he can almost imagine this same scene if you two were kids. "Why come here so often?"

"It just feels important." That sentence made his heart ache a bit more as he sighed. He knew all too well why this park was important to you, but you wouldn't know. He looked at you, as an idea came into his head. He walked over to you, his hands resting on the chain attached to the swing, just above yours. "Close your eyes."

You weren't sure why, but you listened to him, closing your eyes as your grip on the cold metal tightened. He reached up, brushing a hair behind your ears. It was a weird idea, but maybe it will make you remember. "You trust me, right?" Your common sense told you no, but something else told you that you trusted him for some reason. "I guess."

You waited nervously, not sure what was going to happen. Unbeknownst to you, he leaned closer to you, the distance between your faces was a few millimeters away. The silence between you two was deafening as you kept waiting to see what would happen.

His heart was pounding in his ears as he took a deep breath. Your lips were so tantalizing close to him that he could almost taste the lingering sweetness of your lip balm. He couldn't hold back anymore, he knew it was stupid and reckless but he wanted to know how you would react. He leaned forward and began to press his lips against yours.

At first, you wanted to shove him away, pull away from shock. But you didn't. For some reason, you melted into the kiss. It felt...right. He felt you lean into the kiss, making his heart flutter. He was not expecting your reaction at all, but it was welcomed by him. It was like a part of himself had come back to him, something he never realized was missing. He couldn't help but deepen the kiss as he gently pulled you up from the swing, and closer to him.

"What are you doing..?" You muttered as he pulled away from the kiss. He rested his forehead against yours as he caught his breath. The feeling was overwhelming and it took all his willpower to pull away. "I...don't really know." He mumbled in response, his voice was shakier than usual. Being this close to you was as intoxicating as a drug, he couldn't get enough.

"What's your name..?" He paused, the question breaking him out of his daze. "Touya...my name is Touya." You nodded, the name made your heart race but the memory was still foggy associated with the name. Your eyebrows furrowed together trying to recall. He gently ran his fingers through your hair in an attempt to soothe you.

"Were....we in love...?"

"Yes...we were..."

[heartpascal]

late spring . . .

▹ — joel miller x f!reader

▹ — summary: you and joel didn’t exactly see eye to eye, but things have started to change, at least for you. [2.2K words]

▹ — a/n: ok so this is like. one of the first joel things i’ve ever written!!! pls go easy on me <3 i also never really write one shots so this is pretty new to me! i do also plan to take requests so if you have one, feel free to do so!

▹ — warnings: blood, injury (reader), mention of alcohol (to clean wounds), r + joel hated each other (kinda. not really), haters to luverrrrs except not much actually happens except for them being soft

masterlist

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

Remembering the old world is not something you enjoyed doing. In fact, you did your damned best to completely avoid it; tuning out of any conversations involving it, averting your eyes when people traded rare items belonging to it, even holding your breath when your nose caught something nostalgic. It was the reason why you had avoided any semblance of feeling for the first eighteen years of the new world.

That all changed when a certain Joel Miller entered your life, of course. He was closed off, distant, even rude toward you. That was to start with, anyway, before the softened features and the slightest turn of the corner of his mouth.

He had been everything you tried to be, with much stronger willpower. It took Joel much longer to warm up to you, than it did for you to him. But how could you help yourself? Quiet nights punctuated with his annoying snores, the way his brow lifted when certain music played through the radio, the tone of voice he used when speaking to his brother… it revealed something you never expected: humanity.

At first, you hated it.

Which definitely showed, your snarky comments towards Joel making his face scrunch up in annoyance. The subtle jabs about him and his rash behaviour made him glare in your direction. There were times where the only thing stopping him from kicking you out, was Tess.

But much like your harsh expression and nasty comments, the heart inside your chest softened over time. The sheets of ice that had kept it unmoving for years melted away, a warmth that you could only imagine was Joel became ever present.

Your behaviour towards him changed, and instead of providing him with a rude remark, you smiled and thanked him when he passed you what you needed. When he asked you to fix the radio, you did it with no other prompting. The scowl that used to face him every day was gone, replaced by that stupidly soft expression.

Joel hated it. He would take your critical comments and frustrated expression over… this, any day. There was some part of him that enjoyed seeing your softened eyes, that got warm when your lips turned upwards, and he couldn’t understand why.

Ever since the day he met you, something about you just aggravated him. And when you’d gone out of your way to be rude towards him? Well that was all the excuse he’d needed to throw the same treatment back in your face. He’d started to gain satisfaction when you would roll your eyes at his smart comments. But now, there was the slightest tilt to your lips when you’d roll your eyes.

When he’d asked you to fix the radio, begrudgingly, he’d add — he was so tempted to try and do it himself, but as Tess reminded him, they couldn’t afford to lose such a vital piece of equipment — you had nodded at him, and made a start. Unscrewing the screws that held it together, then pulling apart the casing to see inside, you put your full concentration on the task at hand.

Joel didn’t get it, couldn’t. Usually you’d be screwing with him, mocking him for his inability to do it himself, but you just sat and worked away, barely noticing his continued presence.

Your shoulders slumped, and Joel narrowed his eyes at you. “What?” He asked.

“I need some new parts,” you sighed out, looking at the parts inside the radio which had decayed past saving. You knew this day was coming — had seen the rotting insides of the machine the last time you had to fix it. You knew where to get the parts, you just weren’t happy with it. You’d hoped you would have enough time to find somebody else — anybody else. “I’ll be back.” You told him, pushing away from the partially disassembled radio.

“Y’need me to go?” Joel asked, though he was unsure what prompted him to do so.

“Nah, it’s fine.” you replied, smiling tightly towards him and shrugging on your jacket, before turning to the door and heading out.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

Selfishly, you really regretted not letting Joel go.

Like, really regretted it. Putting weight on your right leg made you want to keel over, but you limped all the way up to the apartment you shared with Joel and Tess. Your face was aching, throbbing and still dripping with blood, though a lot of it had begun to dry, crusting over your skin.

“Ah, shit.” You huffed, the door locked when you tried to open it. You really should’ve let Joel go — because you didn’t have your key in the pocket of your jacket like you thought you had. With an annoyed sigh, you. started banging the side of your fist against the door, wincing when your skin pulled tight on your split knuckles. “For fuck’s sake— Joel!” You yelled, continuing your assault on the decaying wooden door.

“What?” snapped Joel, the second he opened it.

You ignored him, shoving your way past him with much difficulty and limping into the apartment, dropping down on the chair in front of the radio that remained exactly the way you left it.

He slammed the door shut, rolling his eyes and finding the sigh he was about to release got stuck in his throat. His eyes scanned your entire body, the way you now favoured your left leg, and cradled the hand you’d used to knock with your other one. Finally, Joel looked at your face, his brow settled long down over his eyes as he saw the way your face had swelled up, the blood that was still wet out of your nose, and the dried red that surrounded a cut on your forehead.

“Shit, what happened?” Joel questioned, approaching you quickly and pulling you up to face him with his hand on your jaw.

“Fuckin’—” you winced as he tilted your head up to look at the damage to your nose, “Prick with the parts for the radio. Tried to pull a fast one on me, had his guys jump me.”

Joel stepped away to grab the alcohol resting on the counter on the opposite side of the room, grabbing a the rag that was settled beside it for situations just like this one. When he turned back around, you held your hand out triumphantly, small silver parts rolling around your palm.

“Didn’t work,” you said, victoriously.

He couldn’t help but huff out a surprised laugh, which shocked you almost as much as it did him. Shaking his head, he kneeled in front of you, pouring a bit of the alcohol onto the red rag, before he held it up to your face and started cleaning the slice on your forehead.

“‘Course it didn’t,” Joel muttered in the quiet between you both, “What’s the guy’s name?” He didn’t look in your eyes as he asked, focused on your wounds, but he could feel the intense gaze you kept on his face as he worked.

“Benny.” You told him, eyes flickering across the wrinkles that had steadily been growing deeper over the time you’ve known him.

“That guy?” Joel inquired, voice incredulous. His eyebrows raised, and he finally looked you in the face. “Why didn’t you ask me to come with you? You know Benny’s got a reputation.”

“So have you, Joel,” you reminded him, “Besides, I handled it, didn’t I?” You tilted your head at him, as if daring him to refute that fact.

“Yeah, and look at where that handling has gotten you!” replied Joel, a scowl coming back to his features at how you didn’t understand he was just trying to protect you, as much as you annoyed him.

“I am looking! I’m home, isn’t that all that matters?” you retorted, a scowl crossing your face to match the one on Joel’s own. Your annoyance with him increased, and you turned to face the radio to begin working.

Your knuckles bled more as you stretched your hands, wincing before you gathered the parts you’d been through hell to get in a line by the radio. Just as you were about to reach in and start removing the broken parts inside the machine, Joel snatched your hands back, muttering under his breath about how annoying you were as he cleaned the torn skin over the back of your hand.

“These are bad,” he commented, eyes flicking up to survey your expression before returning to your hand, “How many were there?”

“Three, four,” you said, cringing as he poured some more alcohol onto the cloth and dabbed it against your knuckles. “Not enough to beat me.” You added on with a smile.

“What happened to your leg?”

“Dislocated knee.”

He nodded, a small frown on his face. He knew that kind of pain, and he knew it wasn’t pleasant. The fact you’d made it all the way back here on that was honestly pretty impressive. Clearly, from the way you found it difficult to get it into a somewhat comfortable position, it wasn’t without consequences. You’d likely aggravated it by using it so much after the tendons and ligaments were likely damaged.

“I would’ve come with you.” Joel said, still staring at your hand which he held within his despite the fact there was nothing left to clean off or disinfect.

You swallowed harshly at his words, feeling suddenly nervous in his presence. He’d never said something to you so… softly. Without any of the usual bite his words retained.

“I know,” you replied, softer, eyes falling to your hand against his. “You’re a good man like that.”

“Nothing good about me.”

“This seems pretty good to me.” You said, the hand that had gone completely still and limp whilst he was cleaning now moving to squeeze his hand. It hurt, pulling the skin taut where it was already torn, but it felt worth it to you.

His eyes moved to your face, eyebrows creased in the middle as he stared in confusion at you. Where were your harsh words? Your critical remarks? The glare you had always shown him? He knew something had changed over the past few weeks, but he had no idea what. Maybe he didn’t hate these soft looks and words as much as he thought.

Joel pulled away, and you put your hands back to the radio on the counter, finally working on it once more. You were silent as you removed the scrapped parts and added the newer ones in, but he could practically hear the gears turning in your head.

He stayed in the room while you finished working, which wasn’t totally unusual, his eyes following your movements every so often. He perked up when you finally turned the radio back on, and he heard the regular static crackle before the sound of an old station started playing.

With a huff of victory, you screwed the external casing back together and finally tweaked the settings to ensure you’d receive the music sent by Bill and Frank.

It was when you tried to stand that you realised the extent of your knee injury, as you quickly sat back down, muttering, “Fuck.”

Joel was by your side in a second, hand against your shoulder as he crouched by your side. “Worse than you thought?”

“Just a bit, yeah.” You replied, but you could barely move it now without pain. You sucked in a harsh breath, hand going to lean against Joel as you stood up once more, this time putting your weight on your good leg. Once you were upright, Joel stood back up to his full height, hands outstretched like he was expecting you to fall at any moment.

“C’mon,” he sighed, pulling your arm around his shoulder, “You need to rest it, couch or bed?” He asked, though he was already pulling you in the direction of the bedroom, taking the full weight off of your bad leg with every other step.

“You’re being nice to me,” you noted, a hint of amusement in your words. “Thanks, Joel.”

“Yeah, yeah. You’re welcome.” He responded gruffly, eyes softened by the smile he could see on your face from the corner of his eye.

After he’d taken you to lay down, Joel sat in the living room area for the rest of the night, ears tuning into the radio which played general music, nothing from the code for him to worry about. And as he listened to the song play with that familiar slight crackle, he shook his head, doing his best to reject the smile that tried to slide on to his face.

“You look happy.” said Tess, walking in after an extremely long day gathering resources. “Radio fixed?”

“Yeah, all good now.”

[deekaye]

You know what the best part of marrying your best friend is?

Well, it's the unconditional love and acceptance. Even when he knows you snore like a freight train, or remembers those awkward teenage days when you looked like a potato, or how you cried over a simple injection for an entire week. He embraces all of you - quirks, flaws, and all.

I roll my eyes at my best friend slash husband, Seungkwan. He's at it again, playfully teasing me while I'm trying to cook breakfast. Despite his occasional antics, I've grown accustomed to them.

But what truly makes it special is how he loves my family as his own.

"Hey, mother. Did you know when I first saw you, I really thought you and my wife were sisters?" Seungkwan's voice drifted from the kitchen, mingling with the aroma of breakfast cooking on the stove. I smiled at the playful exchange between him and my mom.

Her laughter echoed through the room as she lightly swatted his shoulder. "You moron,how can you remember when you were just 3 years old when your family met us."

"Well, mother, ever since then… you haven't changed even a bit," Seungkwan teased, their shared laughter filling the air.

As I observed their easy rapport, a sense of warmth washed over me. They had effortlessly become family to each other, blending seamlessly into the fabric of our lives.

"Hey, my favorite father!" my husband exclaimed, offering a high five that my dad eagerly reciprocated. Their camaraderie was palpable, a testament to the bond they shared.

"My favorite son!" my dad retorted, a grin playing at the corners of his lips.

Seungkwan chuckled, his expression turning nostalgic. "I'm always glad you became my father! I always envied that woman in the back—" he nodded in my direction "—that she had you as a father. Now, I still can't believe I became your son!"

"Of course, you will always be my son, even if you didn't marry that monkey over there," they laughed together, oblivious to my presence. "Now, hold this flashlight. Let's fix your car. I can't believe you're already grown but can't fix this."

My dad's laughter mingled with Seungkwan's, their banter a familiar melody that filled our home with joy. In that moment, I realized how lucky I was to be surrounded by such love and laughter.

"I've been looking for you everywhere, yet you were just there beside me," The memory of our wedding vows flooded back as I gazed at him, reminding me of the journey that led us to this moment.

Back in college, when we were both grappling with heartbreak and disillusionment, I uttered those words almost as a whimsical notion. "If we can't find someone who will love us forever, let's just marry each other instead." And in that moment of vulnerability and uncertainty, he didn't hesitate to agree.

Now, as I reflect on our journey together, I realize that marrying him was the best decision I ever made. Despite all the missteps and regrets of the past, he has been my constant source of love, support, and happiness.

With Seungkwan by my side, my life has changed in ways I never imagined. In moments of doubt or despair, he's always been there to lift me up. It's almost as if he was the answer to my prayers all along, and I was just too blind to see it.

In him, I found not just a partner, but my soulmate, my confidante, my rock. And as we stand here, enveloped in each other's arms, I know with unwavering certainty that our love will continue to light the path ahead, guiding us through whatever challenges may come our way.

[sburator]

The painting is striking. Its presence alone takes Daniel's breath away, not just through its remarkable beauty but also the fact that it's been deemed to be lost for more than half a century, and now it's right there, in their living room. Daniel approaches it with reverence, respect and all the care of a man who's just woken up and is still having his first sip of coffee of the night.

Armand is engrossed in the details, looking at the painting in the way he does, with eyes soft and pensive, managing to be even more beautiful than the art itself.

“I’ve wanted to have this one for so long,” he says, barely taking his eyes away to look at Daniel. He smiles a small, nostalgic smile. “I like surrounding myself with old things.”

Daniel fucking chokes. He hardly has enough time to turn around to spare this priceless piece of art but the warm coffee's already spilling out his nose, making his eyes water. He spits whatever coffee he didn't get to swallow because between the laughing and the shock of having liquid up his nose he forgets how to breathe and his body panics.

“What?” Armand's beside him with the gentle taps on his back that don't help at all. Daniel is almost doubled over with laughter, whatever's left in that cup spilling on the beautiful carpet because he's shaking so hard with it. “I did not mean— Daniel,” says Armand, needlessly stern, which makes Daniel laugh even harder.

“No, you said what you said,” Daniel manages, as soon as he can talk. He wipes his nose on his sleeve, hands Armand the cup, then turns around to find some tissues or something.

He's in the bathroom, full of mirth as he's wiping the coffee that spilled down the front of his shirt. He can hear Armand knocking twice.

“Are you alright?”

He comes out a minute later, still smiling but looking and feeling less gross.

“You can be the most unintentionally hilarious person I know. I love you,” he states. A fact. “Please tell me I didn't get any coffee on the painting.”

“No, the painting is fine. What I wanted to say is that for someone like me—for a lot of us, I think—art from when we were younger, maybe even living, is a tether to our past. It's comforting, maybe there's a sense of schadenfreude there, at how the subjects in the painting are forever trapped in that moment while we roam for centuries, the world a whirlwind of change around us. Or perhaps it's kinship, how we both, art and ourselves, remain unchanged, fixed points in time, each of us suspended in our own way.”

“Mhm. You like surrounding yourself with old things,” repeats Daniel, in the precise tone to rile Armand up further.

[ihatealimore]

Moonlight

(word count: 1,751)

Sitting atop the hotel roof, Kurapika gazes above, immersed in the canopy of stars in the night sky. Despite the late hour, a sense of melancholy washes over him like cresting waves crashing against the shoreline. You and Kurapika had spent most of the day working together to recover a pair of scarlet eyes. Something he greatly appreciated, nonetheless, he was still feeling hollow. Empty.

The sound of the rooftop door opening doesn't even draw his attention. You sit down beside him, offering him a single red flower, "Rose for your thought? A guy was selling them in the lobby for Valentines Day."

"Thank you, (Y/N)," Kurapika takes the rose and brushes his fingers against its velvet petals. He lowers his eyes from the sky to inspect it closer before setting it down beside him. 

"The stars remind me of home," He admits without looking at you, a hint of longing in his voice, "Back when... The clan was still alive."

"I'm sure it must be difficult," You console him while hugging your knees to your chest, looking up at the sky.

"It is. You think you're accustomed to the pain, but then some days, it just hits harder than usual," He murmurs, leaning back on his palms, a constellation of stars reflecting in his grey eyes, "But I believe dwelling on past tragedies won't change anything. I'd rather focus on doing what I can to honor my clan's memory."

The mention of home stirs up old memories that are both sweet and painful. He can't help but appreciate your presence next to him as you had always been his pillar amidst the chaos. These conversations with you always left him feeling vulnerable, yet stronger somehow.

"That's a good way to look at it," You say softly, "I'm sure they'd be proud of you and all."

Kurapika lets out a dry chuckle, "I hope so," He turns to look at you, his eyes turning scarlet in the dim light of the moon. His voice drops lower as he holds your gaze, saying sincerely, "You're different from others, (Y/N). You understand what it's like for me. You've been there when no one else was. It... Means more than I can express."

The confession leaves his heart racing and cheeks warm with unspoken emotions, feelings that were always an undercurrent in your relationship but never acknowledged openly until now. Your presence has become something of a balm against old wounds, providing comfort where words often fail him.

You turn your head to look at him, surprise morphing your face before a soft smile dances on your lips, "Well, someone has to, huh?" You tease him in an attempt to lighten the mood.

"I suppose so," The Kurta responds matching your teasing tone. He chuckles quietly, feeling a lightness replace the heaviness in his chest, "Thank you for being that someone, (Y/N)."

Your joke managed to do what few could, draw genuine laughter from him amidst his sorrow. He feels a sudden surge of gratitude for this person seated next to me who has done more than simply understand his pain, who shares it with him and still finds reasons for them both to smile.

"Oh, look," You point toward the stars, tracing out a constellation into the intangible space above you both, "There's Orion."

Kurapika follows your line of sight, observing silently before a nostalgic smile touches his lips, "Pairo and I used to spend countless nights stargazing just like this. We had memorized every single constellation."

"Oh, so you must be more knowledgeable than me," You take his hand in yours, index fingers aligned as you point upward, "Show me some more."

His heart rate quickens, the warmth of your skin instantly spreading through him. He swallows hard but manages to keep his composure as he points your joined hands towards another starry formation.

"That's Cassiopeoia... And over there," He guides your fingers further right, "Is Ursa Major."

As you and him spot more constellations together under the night sky, Kurapika feels an indescribable sense of tranquility washing over him. A rare moment where he can forget about everything for a while and just live in the here and now. A simple act has never felt so intimate before, perhaps it's because he found himself longing for more moments that belong only to you and him.

After a lingering moment of silence, you hum in thought, musing aloud, "Guess we're pretty small in comparison."

"Indeed," Kurapika agrees, looking down at your intertwined hands, "In the grand scheme of things, we're just tiny moments in this vast universe."

Yet as he speaks these words, there's no trace of disappointment or despair, instead an acceptance and even a strange kind of peace. Their significance on the cosmic scale strikes him less terrifying when he's here with you, shining brightly in times when everything else had seemed dark.

"But that doesn't mean our existence is insignificant, (Y/N)," He turns to you with a knowing smile, "Just like these stars, each one of us has a unique light to offer and together we can create constellations."

"I like that. It's poetic," You say with a smile as Kurapika sets your hand back down, however, you keep your fingers intertwined with his.

"I must have picked it up from you."

Kurapika chuckles lightly, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. He couldn't deny how right this felt, the smooth play of your fingers against his. He lets a contented sigh escape from his lips as you and him fall into a comfortable silence once more, your eyes drawn to the mesmerizing dance of stars above.

A peaceful calm that he doesn't often feel wraps around him. It makes him realize how much he appreciates these calm moments with you amidst the calamity of his life. Simply existing together under millions of distant lights. 

When you lean your head against his shoulder gently, he stiffens for a moment, surprised by the sudden contact. But then he relaxes again, adjusting his position to accommodate you better.

"It's a beautiful night," Kurapika whispers, matching the tranquility of the evening with his voice, "Thank you, (Y/N). For being here with me."

"No need to thank me," You reassure him easily, "I like being around you, Kurapika."

Kurapika's heart skips a beat at your admission. He swallows, glancing down to see your head still rested against his shoulder.

"I... I like being around you too, (Y/N)," He confesses, the hushed words tumbling vulnerably from his lips.

Flickers of moonlight illuminate the features of your face, those gentle eyes reflecting the twinkling stars above, that soft smile warming him from within. Kurapika finds himself lost in this moment, watching you with a newfound awareness. The vast universe seems to dim into insignificance compared to the captivating constellation seated next to him.

To him, you are radiant and endlessly intriguing. Like a galaxy full of secrets waiting to be unraveled. You're beautiful and elusive like a shooting star that left him enthralled. As terrifying and new as all this may seem, it feels inherently right for him to acknowledge these feelings towards you tonight.

"(Y/N)," He starts softly without breaking his gaze, "I..."

The next hushed words calmly slip from your lips without hesitation, "The moon is beautiful tonight, isn't it?" 

His heart pounds loudly in his chest as he takes a moment to process your statement. The phrase was often used as a romantic and indirect way of saying 'I love you', something he had learned during his travels.

"Yes," He finally manages to breath out, meeting your eyes with resolute determination, "It truly is. As are you."

For the first time that night, Kurapika feels an edge of nervous anticipation creeping up, a surprising shiver running down his spine. 

Your expression softens further upon hearing his words, leaning more into his touch, "Think this is fate?"

"Fate, destiny," Kurapika muses gently, "I have never put much stock into such concepts before."

But as he watches your face illuminated by the moonlight and stars, so close yet somehow still feeling ethereal, he finds himself reconsidering.

He quietly confesses, "But with you. It feels less like chance and more like an inevitable collision of destinies that were always meant to intertwine."

This shared moment between them brings him closer than ever before to believing in something beyond facts or reason. That there might be some hidden threads tying them together despite the odds. 

You smile, one that is both his undoing and his salvation tonight, "That's... very sweet."

Kurapika feels a strange sense of satisfaction at your words, his heart beating erratically in his chest, "That's just how I feel."

"Kurapika?"

"Yes, (Y/N)?" He responds, his voice a low murmur in the serene quiet of their surroundings.

He moves closer to you, reducing the distance between you and him until he can count the number of breaths you take. He was ready for any question or request from you, acutely aware of every little detail, the way his name sounds when spoken by you softly into the calm night, how his heart flutters anxiously yet excitedly in his chest.

You lean in, your breath hot on his cheeks until your lips finally connect with his, soft and warm like a summer day. Taken aback for a moment, Kurapika freezes.

But then it all clicks into place, the way your breath had hitched before you leaned in, the subtle shift in your gaze. It was what he had been hoping for.

He cups your face gently with one hand and returns the kiss earnestly, an intimate dance between them under their curtain of stars. When his lips part from yours, he realizes he's never known true winter until now. You're peering at him with a gaze full of longing, something that's mirrored in his own eyes.

Kurapika takes a moment to gather his thoughts, still reeling from the intimate moment you and him shared. He pulls you closer, wrapping an arm around you securely as he looks back at you.

"I..." His breath catches in his throat and Kurapika finally admits it out loud, "I've never felt this way before."

The lingering taste of your lips feels like frost on a winter morning, cold yet indescribably beautiful, unforgettable. He feels strangely exposed yet safe under these glowing constellations. 

"Me either," You admit, your tone vulnerable, "But I'd like to explore this with you."

A sigh of relief falls from his lips at your reply. He wraps his arms around you a little tighter, pulling you close until your bodies are flush against each other.

"I'd like that too," He whispers back, leaning in to steal another kiss, slower this time, filled with promises of shared tomorrows and nights like these painted under the myriad colors of love.

[esteljune]

P playing piano ||(p x reader)

Since Antonia has regained some strength after receiving the cure, she often asks you to spend time together to recall times past, times of beauty and carefreeness. One day, when Pinocchio is also at the Hotel, she asks the boy to play something on the piano for her.

You are still very confused about what you feel for him, that feeling of gratitude over time has turned into something solid, palpable around your heart. For this reason, you would prefer not to attend, too afraid of what emotions seeing him try his hand at something so human could trigger in you.

Yet when the boy nods without hesitation to Antonia's request, the latter asks you to stay and enjoy the show with her. After all, you owe her the roof over your head, so you cannot refuse.

Pinocchio approaches the piano, his long brown hair hides his cold face dotted with pale freckles and his blue eyes from your view, but you are sure you have read an unmistakable spark of tenderness in them as his heavy steel fingers gently brush the precious keys.

Too late you realize you are holding your breath as the boy begins to play. Your heart reacts much more quickly than your brain. What you feel troubles you deeply. That delicate melody, so painfully close to what you feel for him, seems to speak of something so intimate and visceral as to steal a beat from your heart.

You feel your cheeks flush, your thoughts clouded by the pounding that resounds in your chest. It seems impossible to you what you feel, how that melancholic and nostalgic melody has managed to capture all the loneliness, the regret, but also all those moments when you really felt close to him.

Even if quiet, even if distant, his presence has been a constant for you since you set foot in the Hotel. Something that has meant much more than you had anticipated, something that clearly has had an impact on Pinocchio as well.

Then his eyes meet yours over the piano keys, an instant long a blink of an eye, nothing else, but what you can read in them paralyzes you. In the boy's blue irises there is an unmistakable feeling, painful, melancholic perhaps, but a feeling for you.

Suddenly you realize that you feel an irrepressible tenderness for him, something you have never felt before. It overflows from parts of your heart that you did not remember having.

The melody falls silent and Pinocchio stands up. His movements are much more fluid than you remember. As Antonia smiles with approval, you cannot move. You see him approach you, his slow steps echo on the polished marble, you would like to run away.

Your heart is beating so hard that it takes your breath away, so much so that you are afraid that he can feel it too. The boy stops in front of you, almost waiting. He is beautiful with a fragile and melancholic beauty. You would like to tell him many things, but you know you will not be able to utter a single word.

Then in the silence the watery blue irises lock onto yours, in silence, but charged with an almost desperate message, an unknown warmth.

His clear lips move slightly, in vain, not a breath, but an unspoken request, a desire. The mechanical fingers reach out to you as if to touch you.

His gaze seems unbearable to you, you feel vulnerable, discovered in the act of that genuine feeling. After everything you saw in Krat, you should hate him, but there is a bond between you, something painfully intimate and urgent. This thing scares you much more than you can confess.

Allowing those feelings to come to fruition would mean accepting a new and unpredictable reality.

"I... can't." you whisper breathlessly, your face burning and your vision blurred, pulling away from his touch to take refuge where no one else can witness the overflowing of your feelings.

[youlikefanficdontyousquidward]

Neighbourly

Summary: Whilst hiding from your ex in a new city you meet your rather strange neighbour. Now with a strange artifact bound to you, you must rely on his help as well as his flat mates?

Warnings: unrealistic London flat pricing, past abusive relationship hinted at, slow burns, spiders

Steven Grant x Reader, Marc Spector x Reader, eventual Jake Lockely too

Part one

Next

A move to London was perhaps a rather extreme move to get away from an ex but all things considered not the worst decision you'd made recently. You'd found a lovely open plan flat, a job at a local coffee shop and even adopted a cat for company.

You were happy to settle into a quiet chapter of your life. Well quiet apart from you neighbour. It was just you two on this floor at the moment and he wasn't loud. The oddity came from the few times you'd catch him in the halls.

Sometimes he'd practically shove past, almost knocking shoulders but seemingly unaware of your presence. Other times he'd be wearing a similar scowl but side step you. Most often though he'd awkwardly smile, wave or even squeak out a hello while avoiding your eyes.

You much proffered the latter. He was cute, really cute but his odd temperament was strange. It seemed to mainly happen at night though so you'd brace yourself if you saw him past midnight. Probably just tiered or something.

Work had been slow today, not a lot of tourists making their way down to the cafe. So when the little bell rang it startled you. A familiar head of curls entered out of the afternoon rain. It'd been a few weeks since you'd run into Steven in the lift. Finally getting him to squeeze out more than one word to you.

You'd introduced yourself properly offering him your hand. He'd taken it babbling out his own name and a few apologizes. Including one for shaking your hand too long. You'd just laughed a little before eyeing his stack of books. Turned out he was a big ancient Egypt buff and ranted the rest of the way to your door.

"Sorry, didn't mean to talk your ear off...." He mumbled.

"Ears still attached." You grinned back at him, the topic was rather nostalgic for you. He'd returned the smile before awkwardly stumbling off to his own door and bashing off the door frame.

The firm expression he came with today concerned you slightly and you wondered which attitude you'd have. He didn't glance at you just yet, his eyes were fixed on the metallic coffee machine and set in a bemused frown. You chose to focus on the cleaning you'd been doing while he figured out whatever had him so focused on the espresso machine.

"Hey." He finally spoke. You rose your head, smiling politely at your neighbour.

"Afternoon what can I get you Steven?" You asked brightly. His eyes shifted up and stayed on the board, awkwardly ringing his hands as he shifted his weight.

"Just a black coffee to go please, Y/n." He mumbled. You nodded trying not to make him anymore nervous. You were no stranger to anxiety, perhaps you'd been overly friendly.

"I was wondering..." He started behind you. You glanced back to him from the cup you'd prepared. "I'll be gone a week tomorrow, my friend can't look after my fish. Would you be able to come in and feed him?" He asked suddenly meeting your eyes. His tone was smoother, posture straighter, smile charming, though there was something off about his voice. Despite that you felt a little heat rise to your cheeks as his deep brown eyes stared so firmly back at you. God he was stunning.

"Sure!" You smiled as you passed the coffee over the counter. Trying your best not to sound too excited. "You'll have to tell me what to do though."

Steven's fingers brushed yours as he took the cup and you pulled back your hand quickly. You cleared your throat and told him his total, avoiding his quirked brow. He paid before his eyes settled back on you with another bright smile.

"I'm home tonight just come round and I'll show you." Steven offered. You met his eyes again and returned his smile.

By the time you made it home you'd began to regret agreeing to come over. You were a mix of nerves, half excited at the opportunity to get to know Steven better, half way to a panic attack. Being alone with a guy again set your adrenaline spiking. Still you'd feel guilty not going now.

You headed from your door to his and paused outside for a moment as you collected yourself. Inside you could hear Steven talking, arguing maybe? His voice was raised but you still couldn't make out the words. There was no other voice though so you just waited a moment until it was quiet again before knocking. You could hear a slight yelp before chains jangled on the other side of the door. The door cracked open, wide dark eyes staring through the gap.

"Hi." You waved. Steven pulled the door open suddenly with a slight squeak. You stood in the door frame with him a moment while he stared at to his left before his wide eyes returned to you.

"Oh! Y/n poppin' round, yes yes, for Gus... yeah..." Steven stammered as he retreated back into his flat. Confused you followed considering leaving the door open. Deciding it'd be rude you closed it behind you.

"Did you forget?" You asked as you followed his shuffling form into his kitchen area. There you saw Gus you presumed, a bright orange goldfish in a massive tank. It was well filtered, lots of space and plants. Honestly it might be overkill for one fish but it was sweet how much he cared for the little guy. You couldn't judge considering how much you'd already been spoiling your cat.

"Oh yeah um.. sorry." Steven said before gesturing to the tank. "Ah there's the man himself, have a gander around, I'll uh... get the kettle on." He turned back to his cabinets leaving you at the tank.

You took the opportunity to glance around the room. Open plan, a little gloomy and cluttered. Books and paper scattered almost every surface. Various ancient Egyptian trinkets filling in any left over space which made you stifle a giggle. He really was quiet obsessed.

You stepped around a pile of clothes next to a suitcase as you headed further into the space. Your foot slipped suddenly and you waved your arms out to re-balance yourself. Your cursed as you wobbled glancing down at a broken circle of sand. Curious you toed it before taking in the scene ahead.

Inside a circle of sand was Stevens bed. A mess of tangled sheets atop of roomy king sized with an obvious dent on one side. You quirked an eyebrow at the nearest post. Attached to it was an ankle restraint. You lifted the cuff inspecting the well used buckle.

"Oh uh..." Steven mumbled from behind. You turned to him with an amused expression still holding the cuff.

"Kinky." You hummed before you could stop yourself.

"It's not... I.... its for sleepwalking." Steven rambled trying to usher you away frantically. You caved, trying to save him from anymore embarrassment and followed him back through to his kitchen.

"Must be some sleepwalking to need all that." You gestured back. Steven was beet red now, ringing his hands as he looked everywhere but yourself.

"You get yourself into trouble or something?" You asked taking the tea he'd made into your hands.

"Yeah, yeah something like that." Steven turned to his fish tank.

"Don't fret it I understand." You hummed taking a mug of tea from the counter.

"You do?" He said, those big eyes again scanning your features.

"Yeah, get sleep paralysis sometimes but hey whatever works. So Gus?" You asked trying to take it to easier topics, for both of you.

"Bloody hell Marc..." He gritted as his face scrunched at his fish before he turned back to you. "Oh uh I was..." He stuttered before picking up his phone. "Marc my uh brother...yeah. He was supposed to sort this." He laughed awkwardly as he typed something back.

"No worries, happy to help a neighbour in need." You smiled. So that was who he was arguing with before.

You ended up staying for an hour more after that, tea forgotten and grown cold. Steven was calmer and easier to talk to as time ticked by. He showed you how to feed Gus, then after you nudged he talked about some of his Egyptian stuff. You'd had to excuse yourself when the yawning started but you were hopeful you may get to talk more when he was home.

The week was passing quickly with fish sitting duties and work. It was your last day letting yourself into Steven's flat after work. You'd made a b-line for Guy again, intent on not overstepping. You cooed at the little guy before a rattling distracted you.

The door was closed but you'd not bothered locking it nor setting the chain. If Steven had returned your sure it would have been a key you heard. Instead it was a slight scratching at the keyhole that set your hair on end. You'd regretted not listening to your instincts before and heeded the warning.

The door creaked open right as you'd stepped over the sand ring at the bed. As quietly as you could you slipped under the edge and shuffled until you were completely hidden under the frame. It was a tight squeeze, you hadn't done this since you were a kid but you managed.

Heavy footsteps sounded across the floorboards. Fancy dress shoes came into view and you held your breath. They stepped round the bed before moving away. You followed the movement with your eyes until they paused ahead of you. Your eyes refocused on the rather large house spider less than a foot ahead of you.

It took everything in you not to move, not to scream as the beast stepped towards you. Skittering legs continued their movement as you scrunched your eyes shut. You focused as hard as you could on the sound of the intruder. Foot steps moving into the lounge area of the flat before a light tickle against your nose brought you back. The feather light hairs brushing against you.

You tucked your face to the side swiftly suppressing a shudder. Peaking out just a touch your saw the intruders frame in the other room pause. It was hard to make out past the bookshelf that divided the room but you could see their legs. They moved again back to the kitchen, low light coming in from the blinds glinting off the gun in their hand.

You didn't dare move again but your chest was burning for air. As quietly as you could you took a deep breath in. The intruder didn't seem to hear you though picking up a few things here and there. Their ringing phone startled you and you bumped your head against the bed frame. Still the sound didn't alert them and they headed out Stevens door.

You didn't move for a long time, light dipping from the window and filling the room in darkness before you crawled out. Your legs screamed and cramped from your position but you were sure they were gone.

In a sudden panic you felt your chest constrict, phone fumbled into your hands as you dialed the number Steven had given you. Between rings you rushed to the door, tripping over before you'd even passed the bed. You landed hard on your elbows and knees phone lost as it clattered from your hands.

Groaning you flopped back onto your rear and took a few gulping breathes. Though a horrible shock it seemed to have dispersed the oncoming panic attack. Turning you spied what caused you to fall behind you.

It was an ornate, small, golden box with intricate carvings and bright stones embedded in the metal. It matched the Egypt theme of Steven's home though perhaps a little more ostentatious. Maybe that's why it'd been hidden under the bed.

You picked the box up with you before retrieving your fallen phone. The call hadn't gone through and you sighed, hanging up. The box was oddly heavy for its size but it felt wrong to leave it after someone had just tried to break in. You texted Steven as you head back to your own flat, re-locking his door. He'd be home by tomorrow night, until then you'd keep his odd box safe at least.

It was sometime after you'd tried to go to bed that you found yourself in your kitchen. The night dragged on and despite your best efforts sleep evaded you. You had to give yourself some grace, you'd just witnessed a home invasion. Maybe you should have called the police?

It felt silly to do so now. The man was long gone and he hadn't even taken anything, unlike yourself. The box sat bright on your counter. Shining in the moonlight coming in from the window. It was odd how much it seemed to glow, catching the slightest light and bouncing it a hundred times back.

An impatient meow brought your attention back. The speckled and stripped cat you'd taken in yowling for more head rubs. You relented scratching under her chin as she closed her big emerald eyes. As fickle as ever she shifted out from your pets and rubbed herself under your chin. Her tail tickled against your throat and you laughed lightly in the silence.

Her steps took her closer to the box and before you could stop it she'd nudged it from the counter. You dove an arm out, just catching its corner but the lid opened. Its contents fell the few inches to the floor. You cringed as the metal clattered against your tile floor.

Cursing to yourself you bent to pick up the box first then the shining object from the floor. Somehow both still caught the light and the glare made you squint at the...paper weight? You took it in your hand, turning it as you stood. Laying flat on your palm you recognized the symbol, the Eye of Horus maybe?

To your relief it seemed intact and you made to place it back in its box when an odd tingling in your hand distracted you. Confused you went to pass the eye into your other hand but it stuck. Then it burned.

You shrieked extending your arm to try shake it free but it remained seared to your flesh. In a screaming panic you tried to shove it off with the heal of your other hand to no avail.

Your cat seemed agitated too, heckles raised as she stared off into the dark of the room. The burn started to subside as you heard something shift in your living room. You moaned at the string but tried to focus on the new threat. Had the burglar returned?

You were about ready to plead, let him take the stupid box when the shape in the darkness moved. It wasn't a person. It was far longer than your couch and curled past into your bed room. The slightest hint of moonlight shone in specs along the trunk of this thing at least a meter off the floor.

You gaped, mouth bobbling as you tried to comprehend what slithered across your rug. It reared up, several feet above your head, eyes gleaming red in the dark. Frozen in place your heart hammered relentlessly in your chest. A dizzying feeling swam in your mind as great wings spread in what little space the creature hadn't take over.

Then your door broke open, light bursting in from the hall and banishing the vision from your mind. You were still in place when Steven came into view. You only returned when his hands met your cheeks and turned your face from side to side.

"....you okay, I got your messages. What happened? Did he hurt you? Did he find it?" He asked firmly. His face was cast in a frown as he continued to search you for injury. His hands slipped down your shoulders, following down to your hands where he turned your palms up.

"Shit." He uttered, jaw ticking. Coming back to yourself you glanced down at your hands. The eye statue was gone but its shape remained. Burned into your right palm.

[fortheloveofwonderland]

Rusty | Chapter 2 | S.R

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter Summary - As you arrive at Spencer’s ranch, an intrusive look around his home offers some insight into the stranger. Meanwhile Spencer has his injuries seen to whilst taking a nostalgic glance down memory lane.

Paring - Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - strangers to friends to lovers | angst | smut minors DNI

Warnings - antidepressant medication, smoking, hospitals, mentions of Spencer’s past canon injuries, pain relief, bisexual Spencer and talk of sexuality, a rundown of Spencer’s past sexual encounters, brief mention of past drug addiction and Maeve, mentions of casual sex, talk of prison, broken bones.

WC - 6.5k

Chapter 2 - Take Me Home, Country Road

As promised the large creature led you to the strangers ranch, but at her slow gait it had taken almost an hour to travel four miles. It was a pain to drive so slowly, feeding her slices of apple and carrot out of the car window every five or so minutes. 

By the time she led you off the main road and up a dirt path, your hand was almost black from feeding her. 

You travelled a little further up the path until you came to what you assumed was the lodge Spencer had told you about. 

You slowed the car to a stop and cut the engine, opening the door and sliding out before giving Willow the final piece of fruit from the bag. 

“I have to say, I’m impressed.” You nodded at her, tentatively reaching up and patting the side of her face. 

She mewled and nuzzled against your hand in appreciation. It might have been the first time you let your guard slip a little. 

She was huge and imposing, terrifying from the offset to someone who had never spent any time around horses. But now as you looked at her, really looked at her, you saw her beauty.

She was a stunning greyish blue, with slight dappling in her coat. Her mane was nearly black, long and sleek. Her large eyes were a deep brown, almost as intense and alluring at her owners.

She was broad and tall, intimidating yet graceful. She made a soft snuffling sound as she slowly turned around and started trotting in the direction of the lodge. 

You quickly followed her, making a grab for one of her reins in case she wandered off somewhere she shouldn’t. She led you passed the old lodge and further up a slight incline to where the ground levelled out again and you caught sight of where she was heading. 

Up ahead was the stable Spencer had told you about and she took you right to it. Upon reaching it you unlatched the large barn doors and heaved one opened, Willow already making a move inside. 

As told there were two more horses inside, one brown and one jet black and both slightly smaller in size than Willow. They eyed you up as you passed by and you tried to keep your head down. 

There were three empty paddocks, two of which you could tell weren’t in use. Willow knew where to go and led you to her own. 

She was content in being motioned inside and once her whole body was in, you closed the fence behind her, latching it like the others. 

She headed straight for the trough of food - despite the snacks you’d bestowed on her - and happily started munching away at her dinner. 

The black horse was near his own fence, eyes boring into you as you offered Willow another pat on the side of her back. 

The darker horse seemed wary of you, making little grunts of disapproval at your presence. The auburn horse didn’t pay you too much attention.

“Trust me, I don’t want to be here just as much as you don’t want me to be here.” You held your hands up in surrender. “I’m leaving, don’t worry.” 

You backed out of the stable, keeping your eyes on the dark stallion as you went. Once outside you were quick to close the doors and fix the latch in place. 

Spinning around, it was too dark to make out the extent of his land. Given that he had at least two lodges, a stable and he’d mentioned cattle you assumed had must have a reasonable amount of acreage. 

You padded back toward the lodge you’d passed earlier and fished out the keys. You really should hit the road, you could drive down to Mexico before Spencer was even released from hospital. When they inevitably rang you, asking after the fake name you’d given, you could tell them they had the wrong number.

Or simply ignore the call. 

Staying in one place for too long could be dangerous. However Spencer’s ranch was certainly secluded, no other buildings or claimed land for miles you would ascertain. So if you had to lay low somewhere for the night, this was probably the best place to do so. 

You climbed the creaky wooden stairs to his lodge and located the largest key on the loop before slipping it in the lock. You pushed the door open and fumbled for a light switch. 

Finding one and flicking it, the room was suddenly awash with light and you had to blink a few times at the onslaught. 

Adjusting to the light you glanced around the small quarters. The floor and the walls were all the same wood as the outside and it was furnished minimally. 

There was a single leather couch beneath the back window and a small coffee table in front of it stained with coffee rings. A newspaper sat folded neatly on the corner, upon closer inspection you frowned curiously at the copy of The Washington Post dated today. 

Next to the couch was a large bookshelf that spanned from floor to ceiling and books were packed in so tightly it looked fit to burst. Another stack of books was on the floor next to it, unable to stuff a single extra hardback on the shelves.

You run your fingers along old, cracked spines. His collection covered everything from War and Peace in its original Russian, an extremely old and battered copy of a book titled The Log of a Cowboy, to poetry anthologies and books on behavioural profiling. 

Eclectic and diverse, neither things you expected from a cowboy. 

The key to his second lodge hung by the door like he said and you should take it and leave. But you’d always been a little too curious, couldn’t stop yourself from continuing around the small abode.

To the right of the door was a kitchen, if you could really call it that. It was essentially a small breakfast bar separating it from the living space and another counter that held a microwave and an stove top that looked as though it had never been used. 

On the breakfast bar was an empty mug of what you presumed had once held coffee judging by the smell and an extremely outdated cell phone. There was a book next to it, closed with a sliver of paper sticking out you presumed to mark his page. There was a fridge which you couldn’t help but peer into - he did tell you to help yourself - but it was mostly baron. 

It held a half empty glass bottle of milk, a small tub of butter, two sad and lonely looking microwave meals and a couple of half eaten tubs of Chinese take out. 

Closing the fridge you dared breach beyond, stepping past the fridge towards a closed door. You opened it and stepped into his bedroom, switching on another light. 

His king sized bed took up most of the space and was made with near military precision with an olive green bedspread. The pillows were neatly fluffed and the sheet tucked crisply over the top. 

The bed on one side was pushed up against the large window with its blinds tilted almost fully closed. Without opening them, you peered between the slats but given the darkness outside you couldn’t see much of anything. 

The side of the bed that wasn’t cast against the wall had a nightstand next to it with another six or seven books piled up on it, almost entirely obscuring an old alarm clock. 

There was a wardrobe in one corner which you pushed forward to and swung open its double doors. 

Most of the clothes were reminiscent of what you’d seen him wear today: various cuts of jeans in different washes, multiple plain t-shirts in a variety of colours, several more denim shirts in both blue and black and an array of flannel shirts in all kinds of colours. 

Rifling through them a little, you did come across something more curious. 

At the back of the closet hung several knitted sweater vests, a couple of crisp button downs and two pairs of black slacks. You found them to be out of place in this man’s closet, and given their proximity, hidden away at the back you found it a little strange.

There was something soft and plush on the floor, kicked towards the back but you ignored it. Shaking your head you closed the closet and turned back into the room. 

On the other wall was a desk with a small stool tucked underneath. On the desk was yet another stack of books - you didn’t peg a cowboy to be as big of a reader - and two framed photographs.

The photographs were the only personal touch in the place. You picked up the first one and studied it. The man in the image was most certainly the injured cowboy but he looked to be at least ten years younger you would surmise. 

His hair was a little shorter, still messy and curly. He had his arms wrapped around an older woman with short white hair you could only hazard to guess was his mother. It was just a head and shoulders shot but you could vaguely make out he seemed to be wearing a sweater vest similar to one in his closet.

The other photograph was of a group of eight people, four men and four women. Spencer was in the middle, one arm slung around the shoulders of a blonde woman dressed in bright, garish colours with thick rimmed glasses and his other around the shoulders of an older man with grey hair and a grey beard. 

Aside from the grey haired man, they all looked to be around a similar age, and they were all smiling brightly at the camera. In this picture you could see Spencer was wearing a pale pink button down, tie and black slacks. It looked to be fairly recently, maybe no more than a few years old. 

You scanned the faces and your eyes narrowed on the man on the end who had a large goofy smile on his face and an arm slung around the shoulder of a woman with raven hair. 

He was latino, with jet black hair swept off of his face. His large dark eyes were expressive and his smile reached all the way to them. You rolled your bottom lip between your teeth, brow furrowing as you took in the details of his face. 

There was something about him that caused a knot to form in your stomach but you couldn’t place it, couldn’t put a name to what you were feeling. 

Shaking your head again and replacing the photo on the desk you glanced around again. 

It was clear he lived here alone. There were no feminine touches, nothing to point to the idea that he shared his home with someone else, woman or man. The bed even dipped a little on one side, a clear indicator that it was only slept in by one person. 

You carried on through to the bathroom but it wasn’t until you started going through his medicine cabinet that you realised what an invasion of privacy this was. 

This man had been nice enough to give you a place to stay for the night when you’d been belligerent. He’d offered you his home while he was in hospital and you were repaying him by snooping in his life. 

And now you stood in his bathroom with a half empty orange pill bottle, the label of which read Paroxetine.

Returning it to the cabinet and closing it, you couldn’t ignore the curiosity that was pulsing through you and without really meaning to, you pulled out your phone and googled it. 

Paroxetine - Brand Name: Seroxat - is a type of antidepressant known as a selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor (SSRI). It’s often used to treat depression, and sometimes obsessive compulsive disorder (OCD), panic attacks, anxiety or post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). 

You read the words in your head, hand gripping the phone tightening. Now you felt guilty. You should not have been rummaging through his things like this, unearthing secrets about a man you barely knew. 

But now you did know he suffered from some kind of mental health issue and you would have to see him again and pretend you knew nothing of it. You couldn’t imagine living out here on his own like this was helpful to his mental health. But it wasn’t your problem, not your concern. 

You forced yourself to leave after that, the guilt clutching at your chest for snooping in the first place. You grabbed the keys to the spare lodge, switched the lights off and exited this stranger's home. 

You stepped out onto the porch but before you could get too far you lowered yourself to the top step. Your firearm which was still tucked into the back of your pants shifted a little as you did so. 

You pulled out a packet of cigarettes from inside of your jacket. You weren’t a regular smoker but on occasion you enjoyed the relief that came with having one. 

You lit one and took a long drag on it, staring out at the quiet expanse of land rolling out into the darkness. 

This was so far removed from anything you’d ever known, this way of living was so out of the realms of normal to you. 

You’d been born and raised in the city, surrounded by people and tall buildings and a constant swell of traffic on the roads. Your life was always bright and loud, chaotic in a sense. But this place brought about a certain peace. 

You watched the smoke dance up into the still air and as you followed it, your eyes landed on the sky. Out here, away from all the light pollution of the big city, you had an uninhibited view of the stars. 

You felt your chest tighten in a kind of whimsy. You’d never experienced the sky in such a way, unhindered, uncensored. You’d never had a chance to just sit and watch the sky, take in the beautiful pin pricks of light that decorated the dark blanket above you. 

It was so quiet. The only sounds you could discern were the tiny crackle of the cigarette paper as you took a drag and the occasional snuffle coming from one of the horses in the stable. 

In a sense, you could understand why people choose to live like this. It was tranquil, soothing. You almost felt yourself cleansed as you sat there. 

Maybe you could put Mexico on the back burner. Perhaps this place was the perfect haven for you to remain hidden away and maybe you’d even get some clarity and peace of mind while you did so. 

That was to say, if Spencer was okay with you hanging around. He seemed to be a loner type, living out here alone with his horses and cattle. Maybe he wouldn’t appreciate an uninvited guest. 

But you had saved his life in a sense, didn’t he owe you? 

Being out here in this sleepy sanctuary, the quiet and the pull of nature were only part of the appeal. The injured cowboy who had opened his home to you was not at all hard on the eyes, quite the opposite in fact. 

And on top of that he intrigued you. There was something in his eyes when he looked at you that told you he’d seen some things. There was a slight crack in his foundation, a chink in his armour which was further proven looking around his home. 

There was a reason someone had such few personal items, causes for a person to live so far off the grid like this. 

You dragged on the cigarette as your brows furrowed in contemplation. Perhaps he was running from something just as you were. Maybe the two of you weren’t so different. 

He most certainly had a story to tell and for some reason, unbeknownst to you, you wanted to hear it. You wanted to bury yourself deep in the tale of this lonely cowboy by the name of Spencer Reid. 

You finished the cigarette and dropped it to the floor before descending the stairs and stamping it out with the heel of your sneaker. Returning to your car you popped the trunk and grabbed out the small duffel bag before heading back up past the stable to the other near identical lodge. 

Somehow this one was even more sparsely decorated than his own. There was a single couch, no coffee table and no bookshelves bursting at the seams. The kitchen layout was identical minus the microwave and upon further inspection the fridge was empty and unplugged from the wall. 

The bedroom had a small double bed, but much like his own it was made with precision. This one wasn’t pushed up against the window like his own but in the centre of the room. There were no nightstands, no desk, just a small chest of drawers in the corner. 

You dumped your duffle bag on the bed and kicked off your sneakers before padding through to the bathroom. As he said there were clean towels hanging on the back of the door. It only occurred to you then that you’d been driving for days and hadn’t showered since the day you jumped in a car and left everything behind. 

Making quick work of stripping out of your clothes, setting your gun down next to the sink and switching on the shower, you were soon standing under the flow of warm water. You inhaled deeply before slowly exhaling the breath through your nose as the water coursed around you.

The water pressure left a lot to be desired but it was a decent temperature and it would at least clean you. There were little bottles of what appeared to be hotel shampoos and body wash lining the bathtub which you helped yourself to.

You washed your hair before turning your attention to your body and cleaning yourself thoroughly after days spent inside your car. You massaged the aching muscles of your neck and shoulders, lathering up the body wash as you did so. You stretched your back and your limbs, only really now taking heed of how sore you were from being confined to your vehicle for so many hours. 

You supposed you couldn’t complain, imagining what Spencer was going through in the hospital. 

You finished your shower and got dried before changing into a pair of shorts and tank top from your duffel bag. You carefully untucked the sheet from one side of the bed and slid beneath it. 

Your eyes closed as soon as your head hit the soft pillow. You sunk into the mattress, the smell of clean linen wafting around you. 

You were asleep within minutes of crawling into the strange bed. 

***

Given the late hour in which he’d been admitted, as Spencer suspected he was required to spend the night in the hospital. 

He was taken for x-rays of his knee, back and arm and pumped with fluids via an IV to combat his dehydration. 

It had grown awkward rather quickly when a nurse tried to offer him something for his pain and he’d had to explain that he didn’t take opioids without actually having to explain why. 

The pain was manageable at least in comparison to some other times he’d landed himself in hospital. But if he could refuse morphine after being shot in the neck, shot in the knee and whilst suffering from anthrax poisoning, he could go without now. 

He accepted a couple of Tylenol to help him rest while he awaited the results of the x-rays and honestly it did help. It eased the aching in his back and the pain in his extremities enough for him to close his eyes and drift a little, although he didn’t quite reach the allusive REM stages sleep. 

With his mind more at ease he was consumed by thoughts of you, the stranger that had saved him from being eaten alive by desert critters and potentially his own animal companion. 

It was only really now he allowed himself to dwell on just how breathtaking you were. He’d told you he thought you were pretty, but that was doing you a disservice. 

It had been more years than Spencer could count since he’d last been so taken by another person. His history when it came to physicality or matters of the heart was painfully thin, more a pamphlet than book. 

Ethan had been the first person he’d ever had romantic feelings towards when he was just a teenager. It was also with Ethan that he’d first explored sexually. 

Up until his kiss with Lila Archer in her pool he’d assumed himself to be only interested in men. She was the first woman he’d ever been attracted to and their kiss had certainly sparked something within him. 

Years later, after Gideon left, after his battle with dilaudid, somewhere between accusing his father of murder and getting shot in the knee, he reconnected with her during the course of another case in LA. After a few drinks and some not-so-subtle flirting on her part, he found himself in her bed. 

She was the first woman he’d been with sexually and still to this day there was only one other woman he’d been with in that way. After Maeve’s death he’d been in a bad way and had ended up in the bed of a woman he met in a bar. It was nice, maybe more perfunctory than anything, but then again he’d felt the same with Lila. 

He was certainly attracted to both of the women and had been towards other women over the years - he’d thought Elle Greenaway to be beautiful and as much as he hated to admit it Cat Adams had a certain allure. And of course there had been Maeve, who he’d been consumed by without even seeing her face.

He often wondered if they’d had a chance to meet if their intimacy would have been different, perhaps because they had a deeper attachment with one another. But in his limited experience he’d never quite connected to a woman the same way he did with men. 

Again, it wasn’t to say he had a wealth of experience with the same sex either. After Ethan there was a long gap in Spencer’s sexual history, the next time he was with another man was long after Lila. It was a casual thing, he supposed it was a booty call kind of arrangement that never really did sit right with Spencer, yet he continued it for almost half a year. 

And then more recently he’d been involved in something more serious with a man for the first time. They’d started dating prior to his arrest and the relationship had continued after his release. 

However, Spencer’s time spent on the inside had driven him into the dark recesses of the human mind. What he’d experienced in prison caused him to view sex and intimacy in a different light. 

Even after months of therapy and medication being prescribed, Spencer was unable to allow himself to be intimate with his boyfriend and as such the relationship had ultimately ended. They managed to remain friends, more out of necessity than a true desire to do so, but things had never been the same. 

Since his incarceration, the idea of relationships of a physical or emotional variety, regardless of gender, had been off the table for Spencer. Part of the appeal of moving out to Bandera in the middle of nowhere was the social isolation. 

For years he’d been content on his own, not happy but honestly he wasn't sure he’d ever really been happy per se. But it was entirely probable, if he allowed himself to dwell on it, that he was incredibly lonely. 

Since moving to Bandera two years ago he’d barely had any interaction with anyone, let alone anything meaningful. He went to the store once a week for groceries and exchanged pleasantries with the kindly elderly lady that worked the check out line. He had encounters with other ranchers in town when he saw them, mostly conversations pertaining to cattle rearing and farming.  

He spoke to the old members of his team on the phone from time to time although the longer he was gone, they calls became few and far between. Penelope called him more than the others, usually once every few weeks and they would spend a good amount of time talking about everything and anything. Jennifer called once a month, sometimes there was longer between the calls and Emily and Rossi phoned him once in a blue moon.

He had the rare text exchange with Matt and Tara and, even less frequently Luke, but it had been a long time since he’d heard any of their voices. 

So for the most part, he was alone, his horses and cattle his only company. But that had been by design, Spencer intentionally shut himself off from the world to save any further disappointment in his life or the having to explain why he was such a damn basket case to anyone. 

And then you appeared on the side of that abandoned stretch of road and saved him from uncertain death. You had ignited something in Spencer he thought had long ago been burned out. And now maybe the idea of being alone didn’t appeal to him quite so much anymore. 

But of course he inevitably would be. You’d made it clear that you were in a hurry to get somewhere and certainly wouldn’t be sticking around longer than you had to. Perhaps it was for the best, he wasn’t exactly keen on the idea of sharing his neuroticism with you. 

He was awoken from his drifting by a young doctor with friendly eyes. She introduced herself as Doctor Rhodes and offered Spencer a cup of water which he gratefully took despite his IV fluid intake earlier. 

She had a folder under her arm which she opened now, he could see the x-rays peeking out from within. 

“You should consider yourself very lucky, Mister Reid.” She began.

There was a time when Spencer would have corrected her misuse of his title but since relocating to Texas he’d left his honorific behind in an attempt to feel more normal.

Internally he was screaming, Doctor Reid, it’s Doctor Reid, not Mister! Externally he remained silent. 

“The swelling in your knee is already subsiding and it doesn’t appear that you’ve done any muscle or tissue damage. It may be sore for a few days, but it should get better over time. Your spinal x-rays didn’t show any damage either, the radiologist did note some bruising on your lower back but again the pain should ease up.” She informed him with a smile.

“Thanks, it’s easing up already a little.” He nodded stiffly.

“As for your arm, you have a hairline fracture in both your ulna and radius at the farthest distal end of the bones.” She held up an x-ray of his left arm and Spencer squinted, making out the small area in which his arm had broken thanks to the wild horse. “Again, this is a very favourable outcome, I see a lot of injuries of this nature due to the number of rodeos and ranches nearby and I have to say this is very minor in comparison to what could have happened.” 

“Okay, that’s good.” He nodded again. “So, what, I need a cast or something?” 

“Had it been more severe you may have needed surgery to fix the brake but in this instance a cast should suffice. I imagine six weeks in a cast at most and you should be good to go, Mister Reid.” 

Doctor, Doctor Reid.

“Can I still ride? I don’t have any other form of transport other than my horses.” He rolled his lip between his teeth.

“That would really depend on how competent of a rider you are. If you think you’re safe to ride one handed then that’s really your call. I would suggest, given the fall and the residual pain you might be feeling in your patella and lumbar, to give it at least a few days before you attempt to get back in the saddle, literally.” She chuckled at her own bad pun. 

Spencer’s own lip quirked a little at the corner. 

“Okay super.” Spencer nodded. 

“I’ll send in a nurse to get your arm set and then I don’t foresee any reason you can’t be discharged. I’ll write you a script for some more Tylenol,” she glanced at her notes with a small brow furrow. “I understand you turned down anything stronger?”

“I, uh, I have a history with opioids. I’d rather not go into it.” He shrunk down a little in the bed. He didn’t need to go further into detail, it was clear what he meant. 

Doctor Rhodes offered him a slightly melancholy smile and a nod of her head, closing the folder and slotting it back under her arm. 

“Say no more. I’ll send a nurse in as soon as possible and then barring any complications you should be able to go home.” 

“What time is it?” He frowned. He’d lost all sense of time, had no idea how long he’d been drifting on the cusp of sleep for. 

Doctor Rhodes raised her left arm, shirked her lab coat out of the way and checked her watch. 

“A little after six am.” She spoke as she glanced back at him. 

“Oh man,” Spencer pulled a face feeling suddenly disorientated. “I had no idea I closed my eyes for so long.” 

“Dehydration can have that effect. You should be feeling much better now we’ve pumped you full of fluids.” Rhodes smiled once more, giving a brisk nod of her head before turning on her heels. “I don’t want to see you back here after another botched animal rescue okay?” 

Spencer chuckled lightly to himself, nestling his head back against the pillows. 

“I make no promises.” He yawned as he spoke. 

A small titter met his ears and seconds later Doctor Rhodes was gone. 

***

You were rudely awoken from an extremely peaceful night’s sleep in a ridiculously comfy bed by the sound of your phone ringing. 

You had to drag yourself out from between the soft sheets to locate your jeans where your phone was cradled in the pocket. 

You pulled your legs under your body on the cool hardwood floor and blinked a few times at the device before answering the call. 

“H-hello?” You croaked, eyes heavy with sleep and your head spinning in unfamiliarity. 

“Miss Parker?” A female voice assaulted your ears. 

You frowned, closing one eye and inhaling deeply. 

“Uh…sorry I think you have the wrong number.” You grumbled, rubbing at your forehead to ease the confusion. 

Light swarmed the room through open blinds and you took in the neutral decor trying to ascertain where you were. The last few days had been a blur, you couldn’t quite bring to memory where you’d ended up. 

“Oh…” the confusion was evident down the phone. “My apologies. I have you listed as an emergency contact on a patient discharge form.” 

Emergency contact? Discharge form? What was she…oh…oh! 

“Oh right, sorry, yes!” Your brain started to lift from the fog that was surrounding it. “Cowboy dude, uh, Sp…Spencer?” 

“You do know Mister Reid?” The voice sounded even more befuddled.

“Yes, yes, good friend of mine.” You lied. “Sorry I just woke up, I’m a little disoriented. Has he been discharged?” 

“He’s just filling out his discharge papers and said you would be collecting him.” 

“Yes, of course.” You nodded sleepily. “Uh…what hospital is he in?” 

There was a short stretch of silence, you ran your free hand through your hair while you waited for confirmation.

“University Health in San Antonio.” The voice replied.

Right, no help at all.

“I’ll, uh, be there as soon as I can.” You nodded again, mostly to yourself. 

“Very well.” The clipped female voice replied. “I will have him wait in the main lobby once he’s completed his paperwork, Miss Parker.” 

Soon after the woman hung up and you dropped your cell phone to your lap. You rubbed your eyes and stretched out your legs. 

Signing a fake name on the patient form last night had been a force of habit. You were trying to run away, trying to fly under the radar and it would have been a potentially disastrous oversight had you given the EMT’s your real name. Giving over your phone number had been risky enough, but hopefully not damning. 

You picked the phone back up and almost googled the hospital for its address before cursing under your breath. You couldn’t risk leaving an internet paper trail, even though you doubted it would put you in harm's way, it wasn’t worth it. Hopefully you could find the route the good old fashioned way, with the use of the paper map in your car.

Pushing yourself back up to your feet you remembered Spencer mentioning the nearest hospital being about forty five miles away and you groaned to yourself. You’d appreciated the decent night’s sleep you’d gotten but at what cost? 

You found your duffle bag and dressed in clean underwear, the same black jeans you’d been wearing yesterday, a clean tank top under an oversized blue and black checked sweatshirt. You collected up your belongings, firearm and Spencer’s keys included, before padding your way to the door. 

You grabbed a quick glass of water before leaving the lodge, wondering if you may entertain the idea of staying another night in this safe haven or if you would never step foot inside that cabin again. You locked the door behind you and took the steps down, bag slung over your arm. 

You exchanged his keys for your car key and drew a cigarette from its packet as you walked. You opened the car and dumped the bag on the backseat, returning your firearm to the glove compartment and starting the engine. 

You lit the cigarette cradled between your lips whilst rolling down the window, picking up the map from the passenger's seat and scrutinising it. Holding the cigarette out the open window, your other hand drew a path on the map towards your destination.

It was a good job you had a decent sense of direction otherwise this would have been made impossible without a GPS system. 

You tossed the map aside and took a drag on the cigarette as you cranked up the radio. You slid the car into reverse and turned around until you were facing the dirt road that led out of Spencer’s ranch.

Once you hit the road you slammed your foot on the accelerator and sped along through the isolated desert with your hand out the window and the breeze ruffling your hair. 

***

Spencer limped almost comically towards the open car door whilst you leant against the side of the vehicle offering no help whatsoever. His purple casted arm was cradled against his dirty t-shirt. 

“Probably should have asked you to bring me some clean clothes.” He grumbled, noticing you eyeing his dusty attire. 

“Hmm so you could further exploit the kindness of a stranger?” Your lip twitched into a small smirk. 

“Oh I’m sorry, did you not enjoy spending a free night at my ranch?” He scoffed, hobbling closer and wincing a little as he did so. 

“Eh, it was okay.” You held open the door for him. 

Spencer rolled his eyes and slowly lowered himself into the passenger seat, trying to avoid putting any unnecessary weight on his sore knee. He groaned as he swung his legs inside. 

You closed the door behind him before rounding the car to the driver’s side and quickly starting the engine. Spencer removed his stetson and laid it in his lap, cradling his arm closer to his chest. 

Soon you were pulling away from the front of the hospital and heading back towards the memorised route. 

“So, broken arm, huh?” You asked as you drove, sending him a sidelong glance. 

“Apparently I was lucky. Don’t feel very lucky if I’m honest.” He grumbled again. 

“You’ll be fine, big tough cowboy, like you.” You smirked to yourself. 

“Big and tough?” He turned his head to face you. “I can categorically say no one has ever referred to me as big and tough.” 

“I thought it kinda went with the territory. Rangling cattle, riding horses.” You teased in a fake southern drawl. 

“Hmm.” He simply responded, clearly unamused. “So you’re names Elizabeth? Elizabeth Parker? I saw it on the intake form.” 

“Indeed.” You nodded, keeping your eyes focused on the road. 

“Huh.” He mused, narrowing his eyes on you. 

“What?” Your forehead pinched into a frown. 

“Nothing,” he shook his head. “Just heard that name before.” 

“I’m sure it's a very common name.” You shrugged. 

His gaze on the side of your face was making you feel a little uncomfortable and you tried to ignore it but his eyes bore into you heavily. You gripped the wheel tightly, hearing him shift slightly in his seat. 

“You know where I think I‘ve heard it?” His tone held a thinly veiled hint of amusement. 

“Where?” You sighed in frustration. 

“Clyde Barrow and Bonnie Elizabeth Parker of Bonnie and Clyde fame.” He noticed the way your back straightened in your chair, how your grip tightened on the wheel. 

You huffed out a breath and rolled your eyes.

“Fine, you caught me. My name is not Elizabeth Parker.” You confessed in a slightly irked tone. 

“So what is it?” 

“Does it really matter?” You grumbled.

“Well, seeing as you know my name and you’ve stayed at my ranch, it would be nice to know your name.” He shrugged, shifting again in his seat and struggling to find a position that didn’t ache his back. 

“Y/N.” You spoke under your breath, half hoping he wouldn’t hear you over the radio. 

He did.

“Y/N…?” 

“Just Y/N. Consider me like Cher or Madonna. No last name.” You murmured. 

To your surprise, Spencer chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. He brushed his hair back off of his face with his good hand and sat back against the chair. 

“Okay, Y/N. I guess it’s nice to meet you. And I suppose a thank you is in order, seeing how you kinda sorta saved my life.” His laughter subsided and he glanced at you seriously. 

You offered him a brief look before focusing back out the windshield, your lip tugging a little at the corner. 

“Kinda sorta?” You cocked an eyebrow. “Dude, I totally saved your life. You’re forever indebted to me now.” 

Spencer smiled to himself, the sound of your laugh alleviating his pain momentarily. He turned his attention out of the window as you sped down the road. He wouldn’t at all mind the idea of that, he’d take any excuse to keep you close. 

@andiebeaword @muffin-cup @measure-in-pain @dreatine @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @people-whatabunchofbastards @spencer-reid-wonderland @thebloomingeagle @kalulakunundrum @small-and-violent @voledart

[mononijikayu]

present.

It had been a long while since Genmei had set foot in this room, and she couldn't help but let her gaze wander, her eyes tracing the contours of the space. The memories of years gone by resurfaced, casting a warm, nostalgic light on her thoughts. The armchair in which she now reclined seemed as much a part of the room as the air and light that filled it, a fixture of comfort and familiarity that had stood the test of time.

GENRE: pre - hidden inventory arc to shibuya arc (1990s to 2010s);

WARNING/S: domesticity, fluff, angst, trauma, implied death, violence, romance, hurt/comfort, character death depiction of death, depictions of loss and depression, depiction of anxiety, mention of death, mention of grief, profanity, family drama;

LISTEN: present by khalid

NOTE: i rewrote this and made the two of them have more fun because, being married to gojo satoru for almost ten years changes you as a person. genmei certainly isn't all zenin anymore and gakuganji hates that. anyway enjoy this <333

masterlist

u s and t h e m

[ Hiromi Shrine, June 2018; Tokyo Prefecture ]

THROUGHOUT THE YEARS, THE SMELL OF INCENSE HAD BECOME A COMFORT. Throughout the passing years, the fragrance of incense had transformed into a source of solace. Just as the presence of the kamis in front of her, the smell of incense had become the means to find a safe zone. In her tender years, that aroma had often left her feeling queasy, prompting her to seek refuge behind her father's hakama, where she'd bury her face in its fabric.

The scent that emanated from her father's garment was a symphony of sweetness and tenderness, akin to the delicate fragrance of cherry blossoms in spring. That memory remained etched in her mind. Yet now, as she stood in the autumn of her life, Genmei found herself far removed from her childhood self. The scent was not as disagreeable as it once appeared; in fact, she dared to admit that she rather enjoyed it.

The sun's rays filtered through the dense canopy of leaves, casting golden lattices upon the moss-covered path. Birds sang sweetly, the gentle breeze whispered secrets of the forest, and a hush fell upon the world, as if nature itself held its breath in anticipation. Today was a beautiful day, she could admit.

The past few days were obtused by such gray clouds, though it did not rain. That perhaps relieved Genmei, for she would have to take the train rather than being able to walk. She after all enjoyed being able to walk. Though, had Satoru come with her, she was certain he would complain too much about it. He had always been like that.

An elder miko smiled when she caught sight of the young woman, dropping her broom as Genmei greeted her in return. Genmei could not help panic, but she could not stop the older woman as she led her body down into an elegant bow. A flush of red rushed through her, sweat palmed face. One of these days, Genmei wished that she wasn’t as well known as she was.

A long time ago, Genmei would have eaten the glory of being known. Yet these days, the attention is not warranted. However, it is beyond unavoidable. She purses her lips, sighing. Perhaps it might have been better had she convinced Satoru to come with her. Satoru would eat this attention to its bones, she was certain.

One can call it bad luck, he’s too saddled with missions.

But knowing the man, he was already sight–seeing.

Genmei sighed.

“It is good to see you, my lady.” The elder miko grins, standing upwards. Her hands clasped in a formal fold.

Genmei hastily bowed in return. “I am glad to be here. But you need not bow to me, you know? I am not a higher ranking priestess than you.”

The elderly woman shakes her head. “That is not true, my lady. You are a descendant, after all. You are touched by the sacred. To have you here with us, it is an honor.”

The young woman felt her mouth turn into a short line, the reminder of notoriety that she knew she will never be free from. The connection of the blood was what mattered in all clans. The thought of being from the direct echo of the founder, it is as though the founder touches you. It was almost like a blessing from kami. Genmei had never understood that.

She did not like it either.

The thought had made her feel like she was more alien than human.

A moment of glum echoes her aura.

“Are you here to pray, my lady?” The older woman’s voice pulled her from her thoughts.

Genmei nodded. “Before I pray my respects to the ancestral hall, yes.”

The woman led Genmei towards the inside.

Genmei moved with a grace and reverence that seemed almost as ancient as the shrine itself. When she could, she followed the ritual that had been passed down through generations with unwavering devotion. With her offering carefully placed in the big red box, she stood before the honden, the heart of the sacred place. As the sun's gentle rays filtered through the ancient cedars, casting a warm glow on the shrine, Genmei reached for the thick rope that hung beside the entrance.

The sound of the bell reverberated through the tranquil forest, a call that resonated with the spirits of the land. Bowing twice, she paid her respects to the deity, clapping her hands twice to signal her presence. In the sacred silence that followed, she felt the ancient energies embrace her, and her heart swelled with a profound sense of connection. With one final, deep bow, she conveyed her gratitude and reverence.

Her sand colored hair quivered against her back as she raised her body slightly. Genmei meets the golden eyes of the kami. She lowered her head, her lilac eyes closed. Genmei is feeling the waves of the kami whisper to her, unable to move for what seemed like hours. It was as though the kami was pulling her body downwards, to force her to submit. Her knuckles buck and close.

A huff of pained breath leaves her lips laboriously. There was always an expectation to submit an offering. To this kami, the cursed energy within her was the best one. It protected the dwelling of the holy abode, after all. From long ago, that had been the practice.

Lilac eyes shone against the kami’s face.

Sweat pears against her porcelain face.

Genmei sighed, exhausted in the fight.

‘You truly are a bitter one, aren’t you?’ The voice laughs, sending shivers down her spine.

‘I hate you.’ Genmei hisses back.

The voice merely continued laughing. ‘You’re far more interesting to tease.’

‘I am not lighting an incense for you.’

‘You’d do it anyway,’ The voice snickers dismissively.

Genmei snarls, knowing the voice was right. Genmei tried to stand up, but failed for a moment. A frustrated gleam in her eyes as her legs took ground. Whenever she visited the kami’s shrine, there was always such entitlement to her body. She could not fight a kami, that she knew. Her cursed energy was drained, but once she took some rest she knew she would be better again. Still, she was glad it was only at his altars where must feel this way. A small price to pay, the words of her ancestor a thousand years ago writes.

‘When has it ever been worth it to serve the powerful?’

‘Gojo Satoru isn’t powerful?’

She shakes her head. ‘I’m not his servant.’

‘As you say.’

Once she was able to gather enough strength, she took to walking. Despite the pain, she knew she could not look weak in front of the elder miko. The woman bowed to her once more, as Genmei moved gracefully, her steps echoing the rhythm of the shrine's ancient stones. The sound of the bamboo fountain ringing in her ears. Her light cerulean blue kimono danced against the white shawl covering her arms.

The elder miko led the way, all the while telling her of the shrine’s condition while they walked. Genmei could not speak, her strength only starting to return to her. Genmei sighed, slowly taking out the incense from her kimono’s safety. In her hands, she carried a bundle of fragrant incense sticks, each carefully chosen for their purity and significance.

As she reached the sacred courtyard, Genmei paused to bow deeply in respect.She stared at the bountiful piles upon the table. She approached timidly the offering table, a wooden structure adorned with offerings of rice, fruits, and flowers. The shrine seems to have offered it on her behalf. The estate must have told them in advance.

At its center lay an intricately carved incense burner, ancient and weathered, its beauty only deepened by time. Her mother had told her that they were the same ones from when the parent clan still existed in its power. Genmei carefully touched it. Memories were inside them, sealed tightly. She was sure. There was such energy in them. Genmei turned to the elder miko, but she did not speak. The woman merely kept her head down.

Genmei did not press the matter further.

Genmei started to hum as she turned towards the small clay pot where fire danced. The way it danced mesmerized her, its every essence alive in its willfulness. Genmei lit the incense sticks, their delicate tips blossoming into tendrils of smoke, fragrant and wispy. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to be swept up in the gentle dance of the smoke as it curled and swirled, an ethereal waltz of devotion.

The world around her faded away as she began her sacred ritual. Holding the incense aloft, she first offered it to the kami, the spirits of the shrine, seeking their blessings and protection. Her whispers were soft, a heart's longing transformed into silent words carried by the fragrant smoke.

"O venerable spirits, o venerable kami, guardians of this sacred world, accept this humble offering! A symbol of my gratitude and reverence. May you watch over this land and its people, as you have done for countless generations. Guide us, protect us, and let your wisdom flow through us like the waters of a serene stream."

The incense smoke swirled and danced, ascending like a bridge between the earthly and the divine, a communion of souls.

Genmei then turned her attention to her own hopes and dreams. With each additional incense stick she offered, she silently whispered her aspirations to the spirits. It was a sacred dialogue, a conversation between her heart and the universe, a moment of pure connection.

With the final incense stick offered, she bowed deeply once more, her spirit lightened and her heart touched by a profound sense of peace. The incense continued to burn, its fragrant tendrils rising toward the heavens, carrying her intentions to the ether.

Once more, Genmei bows.

She stands and turns to the elder miko.

Genmei smiles.

Metallic scarlet pours from her hakui.

The miko’s eyes widened slightly.

“Lead me to the ancestral hall, please.”

THROUGHOUT THE YEARS, THE SMELL OF INCENSE HAD BECOME A COMFORT. Throughout the passing years, the fragrance of incense had transformed into a source of solace. Just as the presence of the kamis in front of her, the smell of incense had become the means to find a safe zone. In her tender years, that aroma had often left her feeling queasy, prompting her to seek refuge behind her father's hakama, where she'd bury her face in its fabric.

The scent that emanated from her father's garment was a symphony of sweetness and tenderness, akin to the delicate fragrance of cherry blossoms in spring. That memory remained etched in her mind. Yet now, as she stood in the autumn of her life, Genmei found herself far removed from her childhood self. The scent was not as disagreeable as it once appeared; in fact, she dared to admit that she rather enjoyed it.

The sun's rays filtered through the dense canopy of leaves, casting golden lattices upon the moss-covered path. Birds sang sweetly, the gentle breeze whispered secrets of the forest, and a hush fell upon the world, as if nature itself held its breath in anticipation. Today was a beautiful day, she could admit.

The past few days were obtused by such gray clouds, though it did not rain. That perhaps relieved Genmei, for she would have to take the train rather than being able to walk. She after all enjoyed being able to walk. Though, had Satoru come with her, she was certain he would complain too much about it. He had always been like that.

An elder miko smiled when she caught sight of the young woman, dropping her broom as Genmei greeted her in return. Genmei could not help panic, but she could not stop the older woman as she led her body down into an elegant bow. A flush of red rushed through her, sweat palmed face. One of these days, Genmei wished that she wasn’t as well known as she was.

A long time ago, Genmei would have eaten the glory of being known. Yet these days, the attention is not warranted. However, it is beyond unavoidable. She purses her lips, sighing. Perhaps it might have been better had she convinced Satoru to come with her. Satoru would eat this attention to its bones, she was certain.

One can call it bad luck, he’s too saddled with missions.

But knowing the man, he was already sight–seeing.

Genmei sighed.

“It is good to see you, my lady.” The elder miko grins, standing upwards. Her hands clasped in a formal fold.

Genmei hastily bowed in return. “I am glad to be here. But you need not bow to me, you know? I am not a higher ranking priestess than you.”

The elderly woman shakes her head. “That is not true, my lady. You are a descendant, after all. You are touched by the sacred. To have you here with us, it is an honor.”

The young woman felt her mouth turn into a short line, the reminder of notoriety that she knew she will never be free from. The connection of the blood was what mattered in all clans. The thought of being from the direct echo of the founder, it is as though the founder touches you. It was almost like a blessing from kami. Genmei had never understood that.

She did not like it either.

The thought had made her feel like she was more alien than human.

A moment of glum echoes her aura.

“Are you here to pray, my lady?” The older woman’s voice pulled her from her thoughts.

Genmei nodded. “Before I pray my respects to the ancestral hall, yes.”

The woman led Genmei towards the inside.

Genmei moved with a grace and reverence that seemed almost as ancient as the shrine itself. When she could, she followed the ritual that had been passed down through generations with unwavering devotion. With her offering carefully placed in the big red box, she stood before the honden, the heart of the sacred place. As the sun's gentle rays filtered through the ancient cedars, casting a warm glow on the shrine, Genmei reached for the thick rope that hung beside the entrance.

The sound of the bell reverberated through the tranquil forest, a call that resonated with the spirits of the land. Bowing twice, she paid her respects to the deity, clapping her hands twice to signal her presence. In the sacred silence that followed, she felt the ancient energies embrace her, and her heart swelled with a profound sense of connection. With one final, deep bow, she conveyed her gratitude and reverence.

Her sand colored hair quivered against her back as she raised her body slightly. Genmei meets the golden eyes of the kami. She lowered her head, her lilac eyes closed. Genmei is feeling the waves of the kami whisper to her, unable to move for what seemed like hours. It was as though the kami was pulling her body downwards, to force her to submit. Her knuckles buck and close.

A huff of pained breath leaves her lips laboriously. There was always an expectation to submit an offering. To this kami, the cursed energy within her was the best one. It protected the dwelling of the holy abode, after all. From long ago, that had been the practice.

Lilac eyes shone against the kami’s face.

Sweat pears against her porcelain face.

Genmei sighed, exhausted in the fight.

‘You truly are a bitter one, aren’t you?’ The voice laughs, sending shivers down her spine.

‘I hate you.’ Genmei hisses back.

The voice merely continued laughing. ‘You’re far more interesting to tease.’

‘I am not lighting an incense for you.’

‘You’d do it anyway,’ The voice snickers dismissively.

Genmei snarls, knowing the voice was right. Genmei tried to stand up, but failed for a moment. A frustrated gleam in her eyes as her legs took ground. Whenever she visited the kami’s shrine, there was always such entitlement to her body. She could not fight a kami, that she knew. Her cursed energy was drained, but once she took some rest she knew she would be better again. Still, she was glad it was only at his altars where must feel this way. A small price to pay, the words of her ancestor a thousand years ago writes.

‘When has it ever been worth it to serve the powerful?’

‘Gojo Satoru isn’t powerful?’

She shakes her head. ‘I’m not his servant.’

‘As you say.’

Once she was able to gather enough strength, she took to walking. Despite the pain, she knew she could not look weak in front of the elder miko. The woman bowed to her once more, as Genmei moved gracefully, her steps echoing the rhythm of the shrine's ancient stones. The sound of the bamboo fountain ringing in her ears. Her light cerulean blue kimono danced against the white shawl covering her arms.

The elder miko led the way, all the while telling her of the shrine’s condition while they walked. Genmei could not speak, her strength only starting to return to her. Genmei sighed, slowly taking out the incense from her kimono’s safety. In her hands, she carried a bundle of fragrant incense sticks, each carefully chosen for their purity and significance.

As she reached the sacred courtyard, Genmei paused to bow deeply in respect.She stared at the bountiful piles upon the table. She approached timidly the offering table, a wooden structure adorned with offerings of rice, fruits, and flowers. The shrine seems to have offered it on her behalf. The estate must have told them in advance.

At its center lay an intricately carved incense burner, ancient and weathered, its beauty only deepened by time. Her mother had told her that they were the same ones from when the parent clan still existed in its power. Genmei carefully touched it. Memories were inside them, sealed tightly. She was sure. There was such energy in them. Genmei turned to the elder miko, but she did not speak. The woman merely kept her head down.

Genmei did not press the matter further.

Genmei started to hum as she turned towards the small clay pot where fire danced. The way it danced mesmerized her, its every essence alive in its willfulness. Genmei lit the incense sticks, their delicate tips blossoming into tendrils of smoke, fragrant and wispy. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to be swept up in the gentle dance of the smoke as it curled and swirled, an ethereal waltz of devotion.

The world around her faded away as she began her sacred ritual. Holding the incense aloft, she first offered it to the kami, the spirits of the shrine, seeking their blessings and protection. Her whispers were soft, a heart's longing transformed into silent words carried by the fragrant smoke.

"O venerable spirits, o venerable kami, guardians of this sacred world, accept this humble offering! A symbol of my gratitude and reverence. May you watch over this land and its people, as you have done for countless generations. Guide us, protect us, and let your wisdom flow through us like the waters of a serene stream."

The incense smoke swirled and danced, ascending like a bridge between the earthly and the divine, a communion of souls.

Genmei then turned her attention to her own hopes and dreams. With each additional incense stick she offered, she silently whispered her aspirations to the spirits. It was a sacred dialogue, a conversation between her heart and the universe, a moment of pure connection.

With the final incense stick offered, she bowed deeply once more, her spirit lightened and her heart touched by a profound sense of peace. The incense continued to burn, its fragrant tendrils rising toward the heavens, carrying her intentions to the ether.

Once more, Genmei bows.

She stands and turns to the elder miko.

Genmei smiles.

Metallic scarlet pours from her hakui.

The miko’s eyes widened slightly.

“Lead me to the ancestral hall, please.”

THE DAY ENDED BEFORE GENMEI KNEW IT. The day had not felt real, but perhaps its all that will ever be reality for her. She shifts, careful with her side. The wound could reopen once more. There were no healers in the temple that day, most off aiding in missions elsewhere. The elder miko was more learned in stopping bleeding than restoring the flesh to what it was.

But it would be enough, until perhaps tomorrow. Shoko should be there by then. All she had to do now was make sure that Satoru doesn't notice. But Genmei was certain that he'd be home in a few days. She was certain he'd get distracted by his sight - seeing again. A small sigh releases from her dried lips. That she supposes is levity. Otherwise, he'd dig into her and never shut up.

Genmei was beyond exhausted, she just wanted to crawl to her bed and let herself rest for the day. The usage of cursed energy beyond her minimum was stupid. But with the knowledge that there was a special grade curse that appeared among the grade one curses, Genmei knew that her cursed weapons would not be enough.

As she stepped out of the shrine's sacred grounds, she tried to bow to the elder miko and the other servants of the temple. They had gathered to say goodbye to her. Genmei gives a small smile, whispering a reminder about the weapons she would be leaving behind. They need repair. Only a Mikoto would be able to do that for her, after all. By the time Ichiji arrived, the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows that stretched across the forest path. The world around her had transitioned from the vibrant hues of daylight to the cool, serene tones of twilight.

Genmei sighed as she got into the back of the car, its leather seats welcoming her with a comfortable embrace. She gave a small greeting, he greeted her back. The engine purred to life once more, and the vehicle began its journey back to the bustling city beyond the tranquil forest. The drive was a stark contrast to the stillness and tranquility she had experienced at the shrine. The city's lights came to life, and the sounds of life returned with a bustling energy.

Her thoughts drifted back to the day's visit, the rituals, the ancient spirits, and the connection she felt with the kami. It was moments like these that reminded her of the sacred lineage she bore, a responsibility she couldn't escape but had grown to appreciate. The scent of the incense still lingered in her senses, bringing her a sense of calm and clarity. The serene whisper of the Kyoto countryside began to fade away as she closed her eyes. She didn’t get much sleep last night, she supposed.

‘She was in my dreams again.’ Her eyes narrowed, thoughts of a smile far away flooding her for a moment. She shakes her head. ‘Haunting me too much, I fear.’

Before it was too late, she found darkness.

When she opened her eyes, Genmei found herself fighting against the beam of the city lights. Outside, the city buzzed with activity and life. and Genmei couldn't help but feel a disconnect from the urban chaos. For a moment, she wished she had stayed the night. Genmei had forgotten how busy the streets get when it's near the week’s end. For a moment, she found solace in the memories of the shrine, the serene forest, and the guidance of the spirits. As the car navigated the crowded streets, her thoughts remained anchored in the tranquil world she had just left behind.

“You must have been weary, Genmei-san.” The voice of her junior, Kiyotaka Ichiji, rings from the front of the vehicle. There was some concern in his eyes for her. Genmei sits up with a low groan. She could feel her hakui pristine against the movement of her body. “You immediately fell asleep.”

She sends him a reassuring smile. “I am well, Ichiji. Truly.”

“I heard Gakuganji–san sent you on a special grade mission.” A hint of concern in his voice. She couldn’t fault him. It has been much too long since she’s been in the field. "But there seemed to be more information unknown about it. It would have been much better if I postponed it until at least some observers were there to confirm more about it."

Genmei shook her head, yawning slightly. Her hands gently rested on her wide hakama. "Old man always did that to us when we were kids too. He used to leave out details. It's to see how well we'd do in unfamiliar territory."

Ichiji frowned. "Genmei-san, that's still not proper."

"It's fine." She snickers, waving her hand about. "That old fart is going to expect a long report on this. He'd berate me if I leave anything out."

"I still can't understand how it decided to stay that long in that abandoned shrine."

"Well, people still live in the town and they still have fears." Genmei huffs. "It was a perfect ground for growth. It adapted to the environment and grew stronger. And it was just waiting to be found. Observers couldn't have known how truly strong it truly was. Old fart was good to keep the information away. The observers would panic."

"Then I'm glad its dealt with, without you being injured."

"It got a scratch in, but that's not really a concern━"

Ichiji’s eyes widened slightly. “Genmei–san, you're wounded?"

“There’s nothing to worry about, Ichiji!” Genmei waves it off, giving a reassuring smile. “i''ve healed it up. Don't worry."

'How easily can you lie?'

'Shut up.'

'I'll talk how I like.'

‘I was just careless, is all.’

The voice snickers. ‘Careless? You were trying to be a hero.’

Her features hardened. ‘Can you leave me be?’

Another laugh. ‘Where’s the fun in that?’

“I’ll bring you to Shoko–san, right away!”

She shook her head. “Ichiji, there’s no need. Shoko should be heading home now, she needs rest—"

The moment stops when Ichiji’s phone rings.

Genmei purses her lips, a small contempt.

‘Gojo Satoru is calling.’

Genmei glares at Ichiji, her piercing lilac haunting him.

“Don’t tell him a word.”

THE DAY ENDED BEFORE GENMEI KNEW IT. The day had not felt real, but perhaps its all that will ever be reality for her. She shifts, careful with her side. The wound could reopen once more. There were no healers in the temple that day, most off aiding in missions elsewhere. The elder miko was more learned in stopping bleeding than restoring the flesh to what it was.

But it would be enough, until perhaps tomorrow. Shoko should be there by then. All she had to do now was make sure that Satoru doesn't notice. But Genmei was certain that he'd be home in a few days. She was certain he'd get distracted by his sight - seeing again. A small sigh releases from her dried lips. That she supposes is levity. Otherwise, he'd dig into her and never shut up.

Genmei was beyond exhausted, she just wanted to crawl to her bed and let herself rest for the day. The usage of cursed energy beyond her minimum was stupid. But with the knowledge that there was a special grade curse that appeared among the grade one curses, Genmei knew that her cursed weapons would not be enough.

As she stepped out of the shrine's sacred grounds, she tried to bow to the elder miko and the other servants of the temple. They had gathered to say goodbye to her. Genmei gives a small smile, whispering a reminder about the weapons she would be leaving behind. They need repair. Only a Mikoto would be able to do that for her, after all. By the time Ichiji arrived, the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows that stretched across the forest path. The world around her had transitioned from the vibrant hues of daylight to the cool, serene tones of twilight.

Genmei sighed as she got into the back of the car, its leather seats welcoming her with a comfortable embrace. She gave a small greeting, he greeted her back. The engine purred to life once more, and the vehicle began its journey back to the bustling city beyond the tranquil forest. The drive was a stark contrast to the stillness and tranquility she had experienced at the shrine. The city's lights came to life, and the sounds of life returned with a bustling energy.

Her thoughts drifted back to the day's visit, the rituals, the ancient spirits, and the connection she felt with the kami. It was moments like these that reminded her of the sacred lineage she bore, a responsibility she couldn't escape but had grown to appreciate. The scent of the incense still lingered in her senses, bringing her a sense of calm and clarity. The serene whisper of the Kyoto countryside began to fade away as she closed her eyes. She didn’t get much sleep last night, she supposed.

‘She was in my dreams again.’ Her eyes narrowed, thoughts of a smile far away flooding her for a moment. She shakes her head. ‘Haunting me too much, I fear.’

Before it was too late, she found darkness.

When she opened her eyes, Genmei found herself fighting against the beam of the city lights. Outside, the city buzzed with activity and life. and Genmei couldn't help but feel a disconnect from the urban chaos. For a moment, she wished she had stayed the night. Genmei had forgotten how busy the streets get when it's near the week’s end. For a moment, she found solace in the memories of the shrine, the serene forest, and the guidance of the spirits. As the car navigated the crowded streets, her thoughts remained anchored in the tranquil world she had just left behind.

“You must have been weary, Genmei-san.” The voice of her junior, Kiyotaka Ichiji, rings from the front of the vehicle. There was some concern in his eyes for her. Genmei sits up with a low groan. She could feel her hakui pristine against the movement of her body. “You immediately fell asleep.”

She sends him a reassuring smile. “I am well, Ichiji. Truly.”

“I heard Gakuganji–san sent you on a special grade mission.” A hint of concern in his voice. She couldn’t fault him. It has been much too long since she’s been in the field. "But there seemed to be more information unknown about it. It would have been much better if I postponed it until at least some observers were there to confirm more about it."

Genmei shook her head, yawning slightly. Her hands gently rested on her wide hakama. "Old man always did that to us when we were kids too. He used to leave out details. It's to see how well we'd do in unfamiliar territory."

Ichiji frowned. "Genmei-san, that's still not proper."

"It's fine." She snickers, waving her hand about. "That old fart is going to expect a long report on this. He'd berate me if I leave anything out."

"I still can't understand how it decided to stay that long in that abandoned shrine."

"Well, people still live in the town and they still have fears." Genmei huffs. "It was a perfect ground for growth. It adapted to the environment and grew stronger. And it was just waiting to be found. Observers couldn't have known how truly strong it truly was. Old fart was good to keep the information away. The observers would panic."

"Then I'm glad its dealt with, without you being injured."

"It got a scratch in, but that's not really a concern━"

Ichiji’s eyes widened slightly. “Genmei–san, you're wounded?"

“There’s nothing to worry about, Ichiji!” Genmei waves it off, giving a reassuring smile. “i''ve healed it up. Don't worry."

'How easily can you lie?'

'Shut up.'

'I'll talk how I like.'

‘I was just careless, is all.’

The voice snickers. ‘Careless? You were trying to be a hero.’

Her features hardened. ‘Can you leave me be?’

Another laugh. ‘Where’s the fun in that?’

“I’ll bring you to Shoko–san, right away!”

She shook her head. “Ichiji, there’s no need. Shoko should be heading home now, she needs rest—"

The moment stops when Ichiji’s phone rings.

Genmei purses her lips, a small contempt.

‘Gojo Satoru is calling.’

Genmei glares at Ichiji, her piercing lilac haunting him.

“Don’t tell him a word.”

WHEN SHE SAW SATORU, SHE KNEW HE COULD TELL. But he did not speak it out loud. Instead, he smiled prettily at her as he gently placed the pink-haired boy into the front seat. The young figure appeared to be nothing more than a teenage boy, or so the young woman guessed.

Genmei pursed her lips into a flat line, recognizing that Satoru had found someone that peaked his interest. Still, she couldn't shake the feeling that this meant something had happened. A sigh releases from her lips, Genmei was certain that she would have to look through the report Megumi would write. The elders would surely use this against them, more so with Satoru. There was so much they needed to discuss when they find the time to be alone, as she had no doubt he had much to share as well.

Satoru quietly exchanged a few words with Ichiji as he carefully fastened the seat belt around the young boy. The car door opened on her side, and her dark hair echoed against her lilac eyes as she shifted slightly, fighting the urge to groan from the pain that seared through her. Her gaze met Megumi's eyes, which glistened and blinked with a mixture of relief and concern. Genmei's heart ached as she took in the cuts that marred his youthful face and body. He was so young, she thought, yet here he was, willingly thrust into the front lines of danger.

Genmei exchanged a knowing look with Megumi as the car door clicked shut, enveloping them in poignant silence as the unspoken worry and tension festered. Had it not been for the gravity of their situation, she might have snickered at the familiarity of it all. She could vividly remember the way Toji nii-sama's eyes beamed with the same shine.

Toji nii-sama used to be that way when he would train with her father, after being knocked down a couple of times. Her father would egg on the younger man, but he would try not to show much of it loss after loss. He would have a silent scowl on his face, but he would make sure it was tender enough to go unnoticed. Just to avoid the worry. Genmei was certain that Megumi was indeed Toji nii-sama's son. He was a true Zenin, a boy who's carrying the weight of that name in his back.

Megumi nodded at her as he entered the car and settled in on her left. She watched him place a shopping bag down and make himself comfortable, closing the door. The car's engine roared to life once more, and they left behind the destruction that marked their world. Genmei was certain that Yaga would scold Satoru for his reckless actions, but as she observed Satoru's demeanor, he seemed untroubled by it.

But Genmei knew better.

She sighed and leaned back, her mind drifting to Gojo Satoru. He was a man of many words, but when he fell silent, it held a different weight. In a way, even his silence spoke volumes, and if they had been alone, she knew words would be flying between them by now. But she understood the need to let things unravel at their own pace, and she didn't want to push the issue. Megumi, sitting beside her, seemed to share that sentiment.

Genmei turned her attention to the young boy sleeping in the front seat. He must have been quite impressive, she thought, to have captured the attention and care of the most powerful sorcerer of their generation. Satoru thrived on excitement, and Genmei knew that all too well. Yet it was his unmatched skill that set him apart. His eyes held a depth of knowledge that had not failed them thus far.

As the vehicle navigated through the city streets, Genmei gently reached over and placed a comforting hand on the pink-haired boy's shoulder. The boy stirred slightly in his sleep, reacting to the warmth and reassurance of her touch. For a moment, Genmei saw her own youth reflected in his vulnerability. Her voice carried a soothing tone as she whispered, "Don't worry. You're safe now."

The pink-haired boy, whose name remained a mystery to them, shifted slightly, feeling the safety of her presence. Genmei couldn't help but let out a small, reassuring breath. He was just a boy, perhaps yet to experience much of life. Despite the pain that gnawed at her, she felt a profound sense of responsibility towards this newcomer. 

She knew that the path of an sorcerer was perilous, and here he was, a teenager thrust into the frontline of a battle against the supernatural. It was a harsh reality they all had to confront. A bitter pit of worry gnawed at her, wondering how much of his youth would remain intact in a world defined by danger and darkness.

The rhythmic hum of the car's engine provided a backdrop to their thoughts as they continued on their journey. Genmei's gaze remained fixed on the sleeping boy in the front seat, her hand resting gently on his shoulder, offering silent reassurance. It was a fragile moment in the midst of a storm, a reminder of the innocence that could still exist in a world plagued by darkness.

As the cityscape gradually gave way to the open road, Genmei couldn't help but reflect on their shared responsibility. They were a motley crew of sorcerers, each carrying their own burdens, their own scars, both seen and unseen. The pain etched on Megumi's face and the heavy silence that hung between them were testament to the trials they had faced.

Yet they pressed forward, driven by a common purpose, a shared duty to protect the world from malevolent forces. Genmei knew that the path of an sorcerer was one of sacrifice and hardship, but it was also a path of honor. They were the defenders of humanity, standing between the known and the supernatural, often bearing the weight of the world on their shoulders.

The young boy in the front seat stirred once more, and Genmei's grip on his shoulder tightened, offering a sense of security in a world that offered so little. She knew that their journey was far from over, that they would face challenges and dangers beyond their imagination. With Satoru, she knew to expect that always. No matter the cost, he'd have his way. He'd do what would be right.

The car carried them further into the unknown, leaving behind the wreckage of their world, and into a future fraught with uncertainty.

Genmei knew that their fate was uncertain.

But one thing had always been clear to her.

They would face the front of danger together.

For bitter or worse, she stands with Satoru.

IT WAS LATE WHEN THEY ARRIVED. A yawn, like a whispered secret, escaped Genmei's lips as they arrived at Jujutsu High. The long journey had taken its toll, and her thoughts were now consumed by the sweet embrace of sleep. With great effort, she straightened herself, a soundless groan escaping her lips as she opened the car door. Her eyes followed Satoru as he carefully lifted the slumbering boy onto his shoulder, Megumi trailing closely behind, still clutching the shopping bag.

Satoru offered some words to Ichiji, a playful grin dancing upon his lips as he closed the car door from the front. Judging by some of the reaction of the younger man, Genmei thinks he seemed afraid. More than usual, she would like to say. Genmei knew that Satoru now knows what happened to her. It was unusual for Satoru to forgo the speed of the bullet train, given his impatience, but circumstances had led them to this shared journey. Genmei had grown accustomed to Satoru's preference for her company, even during the most mundane of tasks.

Satoru, with the sleeping boy still nestled on his shoulder, bestowed a parting grin upon Ichiji, sealing their gratitude with an unspoken promise of returning the favor. The car door closed with a muted thud, and the vehicle moved away, leaving them standing on the threshold of their responsibilities.

"Is that his souvenirs again?" Genmei inquired, nodding towards the shopping bag.

Megumi confirmed with a nod, "He asked me to hold it earlier."

"Give it to me," Genmei insisted, extending her hand. "We'll go together. You can rest."

A faint crease formed on Megumi's brow as he hesitated for a brief moment, "But the kid—"

"We'll take care of him," Genmei reassured him, reaching for the shopping bag. She smiled warmly, her hand lightly touching his shoulder. "You've worked hard all day, Megumi-kun. Satoru put you to work again, didn't he?"

Satoru interjected with a mock complaint, "It wasn't as bad as you think, Genmei. Megumi's doing his job, you know?"

Ignoring Satoru's pleas for attention, Genmei's gaze remained on Megumi, her smile unwavering. "Go, Megumi. I'll share some of the moon cookies I got from the temple with you once we wrap up here, okay?"

"Genmeiiiiiii, don't ignore me!" Satoru's melodramatic whining was met with a roll of Genmei's eyes, and she returned her focus to Megumi.

The mention of the delectable moon cookies brought a sparkle to Megumi's eyes. He had always enjoyed those temple treats. He nodded in agreement and handed her the shopping bag. Genmei took a peek inside, spotting two, maybe three boxes neatly arranged within. The scent of Kikufuku mochi wafted from the bag, the confections still fresh from Satoru's purchase. Genmei couldn't help but wonder how Satoru managed to sustain himself with his insatiable sweet tooth. She shook her head, her amusement evident, and then turned to Megumi.

Her grip on his shoulder was gentle but carried a profound warmth. Silver-blue energy emanated from her being, transferring from her to Megumi, who felt the tension in his body begin to ease. The radiant energy seemed to coax his wounds into closing, a soothing balm to his injuries. It was a moment of respite.

"I don't think my energy is sufficient at the moment to heal you," Genmei offered an apologetic smile to the young boy. "But it should give you some comfort until you see Shoko tomorrow, hm?"

Megumi nodded in appreciation.

Genmei smiles, satisfied.

She pats his head. “Good job, kid. Get cleaned up and sleep.”

As Megumi Fushiguro looked away, his cheeks tinged with a subtle blush, it was a reminder of the gentle, introspective nature that Genmei had always noticed in him, even when he was just a small boy. Yet, like so many, he struggled to openly acknowledge it. There was no denying the traces of his father's influence in his character, a shadow that he couldn't fully escape. It brought to mind her own memories of youth, of the times when her elder cousin had looked down on her with an understanding gaze.

Megumi mumbled a quick "good night" and awkwardly thrust his hands into his pockets, quickly walking away. Genmei couldn't help but giggle as she watched his retreating figure.

"He's definitely Toji's son," she murmured to herself, a hint of amusement in her voice. She could see the man he was in the young boy, yet she could truly see how different they were. Megumi was truly warm, the seeping lake in the mellow sunrise. Genmei adored him, cherished him as though he was her own. One day, Genmei knew he would be the Zenin heir. Yet Genmei wished he could just be like this, a boy forever. Just be himself, just be Megumi.

The night sky, an exquisite canvas painted with countless stars, bore witness to their parting. Each twinkling light seemed to applaud their resolve and the bonds that bound them together, whether through blood or shared purpose.

With Megumi's departure, husband and wife continued on their path, the night shrouding them in a blanket of tranquility. The air was cool and soothing, a gentle caress that carried with it the secrets of countless nights. They walked side by side, their steps synchronized like a well-practiced dance, the weight of their shared duty and their unspoken understanding guiding them toward the staff dormitories.

In the quiet stillness of the dormitories, Satoru gently laid the sleeping boy with fuchsia hair on his own bed, tucking him in with the care of a guardian. The boy slumbered on, undisturbed by the transition. Genmei, her steps soft and deliberate, placed the shopping bag on the languid coffee table, her movements a testament to the exhaustion that gnawed at her.

It had been a long while since Genmei had set foot in this room, and she couldn't help but let her gaze wander, her eyes tracing the contours of the space. The memories of years gone by resurfaced, casting a warm, nostalgic light on her thoughts. The armchair in which she now reclined seemed as much a part of the room as the air and light that filled it, a fixture of comfort and familiarity that had stood the test of time.

In the quiet embrace of the night, the room came alive with a certain timeless charm. In a way, Genmei could only register the familiarity of it all. The moonlight, filtered through heavy curtains, spilled a silvery glow across the space, casting delicate shadows that danced across the wooden floor like spectral memories of the past. The room seemed to sigh in relief, as if exhaling the accumulated history of years long gone by.

The walls, adorned with faded floral wallpaper, bore the gentle marks of age, their colors muted by time, yet still holding an elegant grace that whispered of another era. A framed painting hung proudly on one wall, its vibrant hues rendered in soft, dreamy strokes, a portal to an artist's vision and a journey through the artist's imagination. The painting was a window into a world of serenity, offering an escape from the everyday.

A wooden bookshelf, standing tall against the far wall, cradled the stories of countless lives within its shelves. Dusty leather-bound tomes, dog-eared paperbacks, and well-worn classics leaned on each other for support, a testament to the voracious appetite of the room's owner for knowledge and escapism. Genmei's fingers absentmindedly brushed against the spines of these volumes, and the faint scent of old pages filled the air, a fragrance that spoke of endless adventures.

The armchair where Genmei reclined was a sanctuary of comfort. Its upholstery, once a rich burgundy, had faded over time, yet its cushions still bore the imprint of countless sitters, each one leaving behind a bit of their history. The soft creaking of the chair's aged wood echoed like a soothing lullaby as Genmei settled into its embrace, feeling its warmth and familiarity envelope her.

The room's windows, adorned with lace curtains, framed a view of the night outside. The silver moonlight bathed the world beyond, revealing the serenity of the garden below. In the distance, a gentle breeze rustled the leaves of old trees, their branches swaying in silent celebration of the night.

As Genmei closed her eyes and breathed in the room's distinctive scent, she felt a profound connection to the past. This room, with its muted colors, worn but cherished furniture, and the hushed symphony of memories, had become a sanctuary, a place where time flowed in a different rhythm, and where the whispers of the past intertwined with the peace of the night, creating a space that was both familiar and forever new.

She lets her fingers graze the edges of the chair, a hint of lilac gleam in her eyes transformed into a shade of reminiscing sorrow. She couldn't help but recall the days when the chair belonged to someone else, to two people who had made this room their own. It had been Satoru and another, someone whose memory lingered in the very fabric of the armchair.

‘Wasn't this his? Suguru liked this type of fabric.’ Genmei mused softly to herself, her thoughts tinged with a touch of melancholy. ‘Satoru kept this all this time, huh?’

Satoru, his characteristic cheekiness undiminished, settled on the edge of the armchair, leaning in close. He’s removed his blindfold. "You're definitely making yourself comfortable."

"Of course," Genmei replied with a snicker. "I'm exhausted, Satoru. I worked hard."

Satoru pouted playfully, his bright eyes dancing with mischief. "You're saying this as if I don't work hard too, darling. I worked hard today too, just like Megumi did."

A small laugh escaped her lips as she retorted, "Hm, yet to be seen."

However, the levity of their conversation was interrupted by a subtle pang of pain in Genmei's chest, which didn't go unnoticed by Satoru.

"The boy, Satoru."

"What about the boy?" Satoru inquired nonchalantly.

Genmei's brows furrowed, and her lilac eyes darkened with concern. "What about him? Is someone who you think could aid in your current project? The fingers?”

Satoru sighed, his playful expression betraying a hint of weariness. "You're making it seem like I'm doing a bad thing, darling."

Genmei shook her head. A somber look on her face. "I don't think its a bad thing. I just worry. He's just a boy. He's just like Megumi."

"Him being in our world is expected." Satoru sighed, looking at the sleeping boy's figure from where he was. "Well, especially with his interaction with the finger. He makes the perfect vesdel.

"I felt something when I touched him earlier," Genmei revealed to him, her voice tinged with worry. "Did he actually eat one of the fingers?”

“He admitted to eating it, Megumi saw it.” Satoru leaned back into the modest armchair, his playful demeanor shifting to one of contemplation. "Megumi has no reason to lie, doesn't he? Besides, I saw it for myself. The king of curses."

Genmei’s face fell. “So that’s why when I touched him—"

His gaze fixed on her face, his fingers drumming softly on the armrest. He looked intrigued. Having known the history, he would know why. He slyly smiled. “You felt the layers of his soul?”

Genmei nodded. “But his soul, it’s still more dominant. I’m not sure, Satoru, but as long as he could control it, there’s a chance that the king of curses wouldn’t over take him.”

“I gave Sukuna ten seconds before the boy took over.” he murmured, a stern look creasing his features. "I've got a feeling this boy's a lot more complex and interesting than what he appears to be. No one has been able to cage Sukuna as a vessel before. Well, not that anyone’s tried, really.”

“This is going to be a mess.” Genmei purses her lips. “We’ll have to deal with this, Satoru.”

Satoru nodded in agreement, his gaze fixed on the sleeping boy in the adjacent bed. “We will, you have my word on that.”

Silence engulfed them for a moment. 

Satoru let out a low whistle, his bright blue eyes reflecting a mixture of curiosity. "You really think he's connected to one of my 'projects,' as you put it?"

"Your projects and that boy don’t correlate." Genmei shakes her head, lips locked. "He just bumped into your project and now is forced to participate in our world. Like a cog in the machine, like the rest of us."

Satoru laughed, “You make it sound so scientifical, y’know!”

Genmei gave him a look. “The higher ups already complained about losing the item, Satoru. I got the message from your mother."

“And now there’s someone who can may be able to control it. Well, we still have to teach him.” Satoru retorts snidely, waving his hand at her. His eyes darted to the bed. He rubs the back of his neck. His eyes turned serious. “He’s going to be a target now, that’s for certain.”

Genmei hummed in agreement, her fingers slowly traced the top of his hand. Infinity is always off when they’re together. “We have to protect him, Satoru. We can't let him be in harm's way. No matter what. He's still just a boy."

He watched as his free hand rested upon her arm. “You don’t think I could protect him?”

With a fond smile, Genmei leaned back into the armchair, her fingers now wrapping against his own. "I do, Satoru. My faith in you is unwavering. I just hope you're not biting off more than you can chew. I don't want all of this to overwhelm you. You're threading a thin rope, Satoru. I just worry, as always."

Satoru's grin returned, laced with a hint of mischief. “I can deal with all of it. Especially those old geezers. Don’t worry about me.”

“I know you can,” Genmei fondly whispers back, slowly leaning her figure against his. “I worry too much, don’t I?”

“It’s not wrong to worry about people you love.” He says, lilac and cerulean meeting in a warm gaze. His hand squeezes her own. “We’re in this together, hm?”

The room was filled with a comfortable silence, the knowledge that they had each other's backs acting as a reassuring presence in the midst of their enigmatic circumstances.

Genmei finally let out a contented sigh, nodding. “I’ll talk to Gakuganji myself, if need be.”

“You really wanna waste more time with the old fart than be with me?” He pouts at her, causing Genmei to laugh.

“Do you wanna spend time with the old fart?”

Satoru looks away. “No way.”

Genmei laughs again, shaking her head. “In any case, they’ll not say no to me, you know this .”

Gojo Satoru knew that too well. Genmei was, after all, the pride of Kyoto Jujutsu High. Even during her student days, legends of her prowess and dedication had spread far and wide across the Jujutsu society. A proud scion of the most ancient bloodline, she was the embodiment of a world that Satoru couldn't fully grasp—a world steeped in tradition, a world where honor and duty ran deep in the veins of those who belonged to it.

Genmei carried that world within her like a precious heirloom, a living relic of ancient traditions and noble heritage. Her very presence, from the graceful way she moved to the dignified tone of her voice, was a reflection of the centuries of wisdom and responsibility that coursed through her veins. Her actions resonated with the echoes of a lineage that had shaped her into the formidable woman she had become.

It wasn't just her bloodline that set her apart; it was her unwavering dedication to upholding the values and honor of that world. Even as she had chosen to diverge from the path that had been laid out for her, she had done so with the utmost respect for her roots.

In the world of Jujutsu sorcery, her name carried weight and reverence, a testament to her skill, her knowledge, and her unyielding commitment. Yaga–sensei used to say that a Jujutsu sorcerer was deep inside, truly so alone. Yet despite it all, Genmei chose to be with him. Her loneliness matched his own, formed something beyond it. 

It was a testament to her strength, her resolve, and her unwavering belief in the path they had chosen. She believed in his cause, to change their world into something more. Gojo Satoru couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for having her by his side, for her unwavering loyalty was a force to be reckoned with, one that strengthened their alliance in the face of all odds.

After all these years, she still chose him. Even when it caused her the world, she still chose him. She had become his most ardent constant. Pride swells in his heart, as it always did, when it comes to her.

Satoru's gaze softened as he examined her, finally letting his eyes fall upon the side of her stomach. "You got injured, didn't you?"

Genmei met his concern with a defiant look, attempting to downplay her condition. "Not a big deal."

At least Genmei thinks so. When she had been less experienced, injuries were normal. She knew it wouldn't change when she became a more experienced sorcerer. Still. she supposed Satoru expected more from her. She was after all like him, a special grade sorcerer. But it had been years. Sorcerery was the farthest thing from her mind. Training was the farthest thing from her mind.

She had been rusty from years of not being in the field like Satoru. Much too much had happened in the past ten years.

Genmei herself thinks that she was needed elsewhere. There was other ways to expel curses, there were other ways of supporting Satoru. Moreover, Megumi and Tsumiki needed her. Satoru needed her. Her family needed her. Who else would be there if not her? Still she can't help but think about the mistakes that had gotten her injured.

In the shadowed underbelly of an ancient, forgotten shrine, the air was thick with malevolence—a breeding ground for curses long stewed in bitterness and resentment. Gojo Genmei, her posture as sharp as the blade she wielded, moved with calculated precision through the dimly lit corridors. Her cursed weapon, a yari, gleamed with a sinister light, its shaft adorned with subtle engravings that whispered of old battles and victories.

The mission was clear: eliminate the special grade curse that had taken refuge here, a malevolent spirit that had grown too powerful, feeding off the stray emotions and dark histories embedded in the shrine's walls. Genmei, though usually unflappable in the face of danger, felt an unusual heaviness in her chest—a residual ache from recent emotional turmoil that she couldn’t shake off.

As she advanced, her yari pulsed with heavy cursed energy, drawing from her own reserves to manifest its deadly efficacy. She channeled her energy into the weapon, feeling the familiar tug at her core—a drain that she was well accustomed to managing during combat. The tip of the yari vibrated with the intensity of the power flowing through it, ready to strike down the corrupted soul that lurked ahead.

Suddenly, the air shifted, a cold gust brushing against her neck. It was a warning, a whisper of imminent danger. Genmei tensed, her instincts screaming for her to dodge. She pivoted on her heel, swinging the yari in a wide arc. The blade sliced through the air, meeting resistance in the form of a dark, amorphous shape that materialized from the shadows.

The curse, a grotesque amalgamation of despair and fury, howled in anger as the blade cut through it, dispersing part of its form into black mist. Genmei readied herself for another strike, her eyes narrowing as she searched for the core of the curse—the source of its power.

But in that moment, a flicker of distraction shattered her focus. A sharp, stabbing pain in her chest—an echo of the emotional wound that had not yet healed—pierced her concentration. It was a fleeting second of weakness, but it was all the curse needed.

With a vile screech, the curse reformed, lunging forward faster than shadows flee from light. Genmei attempted to react, to raise her yari in defense, but she was a fraction too slow. The curse’s appendage, sharp and oozing malice, struck, piercing her side. The pain was immediate and searing, a fire that spread rapidly through her veins, as the cursed energy of the entity invaded her system.

'Are you going to lose to this?' The voice in her head snickered at her. 'You call yourself a descendant of Hiromi?'

"You better shut up!" Genmei hissed back in pain.

Genmei staggered back, her hand clamping over the wound that now marred her side. The fabric of her kimono darkened with blood, warm and wet against her skin. Breathing heavily, she gritted her teeth against the pain, her mind racing to assess the situation.

The curse hovered before her, its form swirling with triumph. But Genmei, descendant of the Zenin clan, was not one to falter in the face of defeat. With a grunt of effort, she straightened up, her grip on her yari tightening. She could feel her cursed energy waning from the injury, each pulse of power now mixed with stabs of pain, but her resolve hardened.

Summoning the last reserves of her strength, Genmei whispered a vow through clenched teeth, a promise borne of pain and determination. "Not today," she hissed, her eyes blazing with a fierce, indomitable will.

With that, she lunged forward, her movement fueled by a mix of desperation and skilled precision. The yari sang through the air as it burst through with a dangerous amount of cursed energy. Genmei aimed for the heart of the curse, determined to end this here and now. Her pain became a distant echo, her focus narrowing to the point of her weapon and the dark core before her.

She will win.

Triumphant yet gravely wounded, Genmei had pushed her body and spirit to their limits. The final thrust of her yari had vanquished the special grade curse, a fleeting moment of victory that came at a steep cost. As the adrenaline that fueled her through the battle ebbed away, so too did her strength, leaving her exhausted and bleeding heavily.

She managed to staunch the worst of the bleeding using rudimentary first aid techniques she’d honed over years of combat, but healing her wounds completely was beyond her current capability. Overcome by fatigue and blood loss, she collapsed, the world around her fading into darkness.

When she awoke, the sharp sting of her wounds was a harsh reminder of the battle’s toll. Ichiji, a fellow sorcerer who had been searching for her after she missed their planned rendezvous, found her by the pond. Genmei had managed to clean much of the blood from her kimono and had temporarily stopped the bleeding, but her pale complexion and the grimace of pain that flickered across her face spoke volumes about her condition.

"I should take you back," Ichiji suggested with concern, eyeing her warily as she struggled to maintain her composure.

Genmei shook her head stubbornly, her voice a whisper of determination. "No, there’s a shrine nearby. I need to... to perform some duties there," she insisted, pushing herself to stand despite Ichiji’s protests.

"You need to rest, Genmei-san. You’ve done enough for today," Ichiji countered, but he knew arguing with her when her mind was set was as effective as trying to calm a storm with words.

She managed a weak smile, her usual resolve flickering in her tired eyes. "I promised Satoru I'd head home after the mission, but this... this is something I need to do."

Ichiji sighed, recognizing the stubborn set of her jaw, the same determination that had made her a legendary sorcerer. "He’s going to notice, you know. You can’t hide this from him forever. And then he would get angry at me━"

Genmei laughs. "It'll be fine. Don't worry too much. Just go and drive."

"Genmei-san━"

"Ichiji Kiyotaka━"

"Yes, yes, I'll do it!" She could see the panic on his face as he started to drive.

Genmei thinks that her request was reasonable.

Her husband's lips curl into a frown, he's displeased.

But she knows it's not how she had imposed her will.

"Ichiji told me you passed out the moment you got in the car," he countered, his voice laced with worry. Genmei's eyes hardened, and she turned her head to the side. "You should at least have told him about the injury and tell him to contact Shoko."

Genmei looked away, with almost a guilty face. 

"I did tell him about the injury."

"You didn't tell him the whole story."

"You didn't have to scare him." Genmei grumbled back.

"It's beyond a big deal," he insisted.

"I just had a tiring day—"

"Genmei," Satoru interrupted her, his eyes locking onto hers. The intensity of his gaze made her pause, and she refrained from arguing further. "Give me your hand."

Genmei hesitated, reluctant to accept his help, but Satoru reached for her hand, gently taking it into his own. She watched him warily as Gojo Satoru allowed his cursed energy to flow from his body and into her own. In that moment, she could feel her entire being being rejuvenated as his power surged through her. When he was finished, he smiled at her, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. He places a small kiss on her palm as she pulls away, horrified.

Genmei smacked his hand, agitated. "You didn't have to do that," she replied, hitting his arm. He chuckled, not taking her outburst too seriously.

"You wasted your cursed energy on me. This is stupid—"

Satoru didn't respond with words. Instead, he seized her wrist again, pulling her closer to him, their bodies pressed together. Genmei's lips formed a thin line, and her eyes met his, a mix of flustered emotions beyond understanding. It was a dance they had engaged in for years, the ebb and flow of their relationship, with Satoru knowing full well the power he held over her. Despite the time that had passed, he remained endlessly fascinated by her, intrigued by the depths of his connection to her, and enchanted by the mystery of their bond.

"I'd do anything for you," Satoru whispered against her cheek, his voice a gentle caress that sent shivers down her spine. "Anything."

Genmei couldn't help but smile, the weight of their shared history and the depth of their connection settling around them like a warm embrace. She leaned into his touch, savoring the closeness, the reassurance that they would always be there for each other in a world fraught with danger and uncertainty.

"You're insufferable, you know that?" she whispered to him, her fingers lightly tracing the lines of his face. 

Satoru grinned, his cerulean eyes dancing with mirth. "I’m glad to hear that, darling.”

In the quiet of that room, a sanctuary within the bustling storm of their lives, the night unfurled its velvety tapestry to envelop them. The world beyond the walls faded into obscurity, its clamor and chaos drowned out by the serenity they shared. It was in these moments, when all was hushed, that they discovered the solace they had long sought in each other's presence.

Their bond, forged through trials and tribulations, was a testament to the resilience of their long standing marriage. Time and circumstance had woven their stories together, threading their lives with the unbreakable ties of camaraderie and loyalty. It was a bond that had been tested in the crucible of adversity and had emerged stronger, like tempered steel. No one could ever impede on it. Not even if they tried.

As they sat together, bathed in the soft glow of the room's lighting, their gazes met, reflecting the depth of their partnership. Theirs was a connection that transcended words, an unspoken understanding that needed no affirmation. It was a source of strength that anchored them in the face of an ever-uncertain world, providing them with the courage to confront the unknown, side by side.

Genmei thinks that she would finally have a good sleep.

But as the clock turns and drifts, nothing did ever change.

She leans towards Satoru's chest, taking a deep breath.

At the very least, the present is fine because Satoru's in it.

facts about the chapter

genmei hasn't partook in missions for near seven, eight years. she's been as inactive as tsukomo yuki, whom she's fond of.

genmei is one of the five special grade sorcerers. genmei herself was classified as such since entering kyoto jujutsu high.

genmei started hearing voices since her cursed technique manifested at six years old. the cursed technique she has was from her maternal line.

gakuganji was very strict with all his students, but most especially on genmei because her father was his favorite student. she always got the most dangerous cases because of gakuganji.

genmei was very close to toji and considered him her elder brother.

genmei is an only child and was very close to both her parents.

moon cookies is a reference to half-moon cookies. they're butter cookies and they're really good. the mikoto clan just adores said cookies and gives them out to little kids who go to the mikoto shrines.

genmei and satoru are megumi and tsumiki's adoptive parents. she's megumi's second cousin, making satoru a in law of megumi.

ichiji considers gojo satoru his primary source of stress, but because genmei is almost like satoru now, her anger is also very scary to him and can cause him stress when it does happen.

[meimi-haneoka]

Cardcaptor Sakura Clear Card Chapter 79: Comments + JP-ENG translation differences

Welcome back to our monthly appointment, CCS fans! This chapter comes right after this month's full moon, the Hunter Moon! (lol yes I will feature the name of the relative full moon till the end of the story). And speaking of the end of the story, I will start this analysis and translation post from the end of the chapter, where I found the confirmation to the rumour that had been going on for hours before the official release on Comic Days:

yes, dear readers, this is not a drill, Cardcaptor Sakura Clear Card Arc will end with chapter 80, after 7 years of serialization! 🎉✨ When *the last chapter* is announced, there's no turning back! No more sudden announcements of extensions! 🥹 But at the moment of writing this post, no mentions have been given about any "epilogue" or extra chapters that might be serialized in the upcoming months leading to the big release of volume 16 on April 1st!

On the translation side, I have to sigh in relief because no major misunderstandings happened in the ENG version, just some minor inaccuracies! I was kinda scared because this chapter is pretty important and complex in itself.

And let me say that what happened in this chapter 79 definitely marks the end of the climax, so I can totally see it ending in next chapter. The chapter tackled some very important thematics regarding the presence of "evil" in this series, that I will talk about extensively in my analysis.

The announcement today made me already a bit nostalgic and sad, but I want to strive hard to accompany myself and all of you towards the end of this arc with excitement and a smile, therefore I won't let myself be prey of the sadness yet and introduce you immediately to the gif of this month, because there's a lot we need to talk about and analyze and we can't waste time!!

This is entirely dedicated to our protagonist and heroine Sakura-chan, because damn, she really slayed this chapter!!! Under the cut to see what miracles she made happen!

The Color Page

My dear readers, after years of countless pleas on my social media, after being let down month after month, CLAMP FINALLY GRANTED ME A COLOR PAGE SOLELY DEDICATED TO KAITO AND AKIHO TOGETHER ON THE SECOND-TO-LAST CHAPTER!! Yaaaay!! Excuse me while I celebrate this event here in my little corner, especially after having a rough month! 🎉🎉🎉 I hope my followers thought of me when they saw it? Like "finally she'll stop asking for it" (breaking news, I'll keep asking for more even after the series is over) 😂 It took them 79 chapters to do so and honestly I'm laughing because....yes, I admit it, I expected another vibe for such an important color page coming after such an important emotional scene in chapter 78, but honestly the first thing I thought when I saw it was "....they had to wait 79 chapters for this? 😧" 😂because it's very very "regular", I think it would've been ok for this to come out long ago. LOL I'm being brutally honest here, I hope no one gets offended, especially because that pet peeve aside, OF COURSE I love this precious color page to bits, and I know under its "normalcy", its got a very important meaning to the both of them.

Akiho and Kaito are depicted together clearly during one of their travels....but the question is, is this from the past? Or the near future? I'd daresay they look the same age they are now, so this might probably be a foreshadowing for the future...? They'll keep travelling the world? But seeing the content of the chapter, this might also be just a call-back to their memories together and everything that they experienced during those travels, tightening their bond. Travelling the world is, after all, really their thing, their element. I really like Kaito's expression, with his usual smile that almost turns into a smirk, he gives off a vibe of being finally free to express his emotions. He looks carefree, and that's really something for him. Akiho, on the other hand, is always so much more expressive than him and you can literally feel the joy and excitement emanating from her delighted expression. Travelling with him makes her happy, so yes, should this be what awaits them in the finale, it's fine by me as long as they're happy (I'm rooting for the other option though, the "stay in Tomoeda with your newfound support network" route).

But as you know, I always have to analyze the color pages a bit deeper, especially when they're about these two. And since I had to keep myself distracted, I made a bit of research. Other than the "travelling" vibe, this illustration gives off also kind of a "vintage" vibe (which is another strong element to Akiho and Kaito). It seems Akiho is dressed in a sleeveless coat with cape and wearing a bonnet fully inspired by those worn by children in the second half of the 1800s, in the Victorian era.

(pic courtesy of Etsy) This is a model from 1896, for example. When I pinpointed the period, I immediately thought "uh, the Victorian era is also the period when Alice in Wonderland came out", although that was more towards the 1860s. I found it really interesting and a nice touch for this illustration with a retro flavor (the suitcase and purse also look kinda vintage).

But another thing that immediately caught my eyes were those cute birds landing on Kaito's shoulder and Akiho's bonnet. I immediately tried to look what kind of birds they are, and it seems like they could really be eastern bluebirds, typical of North America. Searching further, I found out that in several cultures bluebirds are harbinger of happiness and symbols of hope. I couldn't honestly have thought for a more fitting symbolism, for these two. Especially cause birds often are associated with an imagery of freedom, and this is something else that these two need, after being hunted by evil people for so long. They really do look free, in this color page. Also, the presence of the birds in this color page immediately brought me back to the color page of chapter 62, where we can see baby Kaito in a wintery setting, sitting on a lamppost, extending his little hand to a swallow coming to him. Swallows are a symbol of hope and bring a message of "spring is coming", and continuing from that message of hope, of "spring is coming for you too", we can finally see here in chapter 79 our Kaito with his true happiness, symbolized literally by the birds most associated with happiness. Another thing that caught my eyes is of course the lily depicted on the cover of the book Akiho is holding, a nice callback to Akiho's mother and Kaito's torment, Lilie. She's always going to be with them ❤️

The Japanese editorial text over the picture is an excerpt of what Momo was musing to herself in chapter 39, while imagining to talk to Kaito: "You traveled with her, and spent time together with her". I think CLAMP chose to feature this line to indicate an important thing that will be restored at the end of this chapter.

Everyone Is Doing Their Best

The chapter starts with a panel showing some light coming off Yukito's house, and we find out that even Touya fainted, exhausted by the effort to keep time stopped as much as possible. Ruby Moon is cradling his head on her lap trying to assist him and "recharge" his magical power, in hope to be able to maintain time "stopped" a bit more. In fact, if you notice, the "black covering" that symbolizes the time-stopping spell isn't completely destroyed yet, but only riddled with "holes", an indication that the spell is still somehow active, even if feebly. I imagine this might "slow down" the attacks, which are still coming but probably not at full speed like they would if the spell came undone completely. I have to point out immediately a mild inaccuracy in the ENG version, that I want to specify in order to dispel extreme theories before they're born: no, Ruby Moon didn't give up all of her powers to Touya, the verb used here is simply 補える, "can replenish (your magic)", not "give all".

Touya doesn't lose his sense of humor even in a dire situation like this, and comments sarcastically "What are you, a battery?", a clear recall to the whole "batteries" matter that came out in the un-rewritten world. Touya isn't supposed to remember about that, and he probably doesn't, but this is just a way from CLAMP to show that even in a situation where memories have been rewritten, some things will be unconsciously said again, because they're just meant to happen.

Ruby Moon calls for assistance from her "brother" Spinel Sun (love how even in these true forms, she still calls him "Suppy"), whom rejects the appellative of "battery" but agrees to give her a hand with "recharging" Touya to keep the spell up a bit longer. Everyone looks outside, only one thought in their minds, which is voiced clearly by a serious Tomoyo: "Sakura and everyone else are fighting with all they've got". I have to point out a typo here in the Japanese version (nothing serious, it can happen and will be surely fixed in the tankobon version): Tomoyo calls Sakura "Sakura-san". I loved the "sparkles" around Tomoyo's eyes, as if indicating that her extraordinary intuition is "at work" and just telling her that, even if they can't see them because they're quite far away, Sakura and the others are doing whatever they can to stop these attacks. And the fact they can see the attacks, but not their friends and their condition, must be really hard to witness, for all of them. But no worries, there's Touya nii-chan who's always ready to lighten the mood even in this challenging situation, joking that "If they don't get back before the curfew, they won't be getting their snacks tomorrow!". Here the ENG adds "squirt" to make Touya refer specifically to Sakura, but truth to be told, in the JP there's no subject, so he might be referring to everyone. It's amazing how he's able to keep his spirit up and be sarcastic even in this situation....he really believes in his little sister so much!

I'll Make Them Forget About You

Back where our heroes are, the attacks keep coming relentlessly, countered by Syaoran, Yue and Kero in tandem. Sakura reflects on the fact that the only transparent Cards she's got left are these two she's holding in her hands (Time and Rewind) and Flight. This statement leads me to believe that when Record transformed into that crystal that entered her, that meant that the Card completed its duty and disappeared inside of her. But Sakura isn't worried at all, because she knows that she can create more Cards. Yessss, this development that I've been anticipating since quite some time is finally here! ✨🎉 Sakura seems to finally have a concrete plan, but before proceeding, she needs to ascertain something. She asks directly to Kaito: "The people who are using these spells were trying to hurt you, right?". Kaito, with a pensive face, answers affirmatively.

But it's when Sakura asks again "Were they trying to hurt Akiho too?" that his expression turns really painful, the background after him portraying well his raging emotions and, while Mokona-sensei chose to leave Akiho hidden by Kaito's black wings in the previous panels, now she finally shows how both she and Kaito are holding onto eachother, while our boy answers with a "...Yes" dripping with sorrow. It really squeezed my heart with pain, this scene. Because as long as Sakura was asking about him, his expression was pensive but almost as if it's something he's used to, that didn't shake him too much. But when Sakura mentions Akiho, god, that wrecked him. Any mention, any reminescence of what those bastards did to her and how they were chasing after her to put their filthy hands on her again wrecks him even now, and it's like Mokona with her visual skills is showing how Kaito seems to be holding Akiho a little bit tighter, while he answers Sakura's question. I also have to point out something that I had noticed already from last chapter, but a panel tricked me into believing I was just seeing things: CLAMP here use a dark screentone for Kaito's eyes, that he never had before (actually, no other character in CCS got this effect in their eyes). This effect will be used on him for the entire chapter.

And it seems like it's the very same screentone that was used for the dragon. I think this might be an indication that the wings aren't the only reminescence of his dragon appearance!

Sakura shows once again an incredible empathy that allows her to go right to the heart of the issue without investigating much. If Kaito rewrote an entire world, and if it's true that Akiho in the previous world didn't have all the love and familiar support she's got now, it means that she was probably in danger too. And seeing as these people are attacking them now because they freed Kaito from his "punishment", Sakura doesn't really need much to make 2+2 and understand the situation. Sakura believes in Akiho, therefore she believes in Kaito too, and knows that if he came to this point it's because they were in a desperate and dangerous situation.

Showing an incredible insight, Sakura shocks both Kaito and Akiho by asking:

Sakura, JP: "In that case, can I make those people forget about you both?"

Because our girl needs to make sure that the plan she came up with won't have any undesired consequences. But most importantly, she needs to have their consent. She reiterates this once again, actually she will make sure to ask Kaito and Akiho's consent 3 times in total. She says: JP, lit. "If going back to before the world was rewritten will put you through hardships once again, then, can I just make them forget?" Kaito is even more shocked, because he finally understands Sakura's intent. A generous, selfless intent born from a loving heart. Our girl wants to make sure that these two will be safe and sound once she fixes this situation. She can't take risks, because their happiness is all she's really caring for right now. And in his shocked expression, I can also see some kind of "omg YES, PLEASE" vibe. Because probably, having those terrible people forgetting all about them is everything he ever wished, but couldn't achieve. And I think it's really funny how we berated Kaito so much in the past chapters for making Akiho and the others forget facts that happened before and forgetting about him, but here Sakura just takes "inspiration" from him and actually decides to use that same "trick" in the right way. Because it's not fair that it should be them, the abused people, to forget about their most important person, in order to achieve a happy life for at least one of them. It isn't fair and it isn't right that Kaito was driven into making all the mess that he made, pushed by desperation. The abusers, that clan and Association of magicians, should be the ones forgetting.

But this is Cardcaptor Sakura Clear Card's finale, and Sakura definitely hasn't finished with being amazing yet, she actually just started. Her very strong power at this point allows her not only to see things that were difficult before, but also to connect the dots more easily thanks to that renowned instinct that I've always talked to you about, and that she learned to finally listen to.

As if she were seeing through him with X-rays, she confidently affirms that there's a book inside of him, a white book where you can inscribe magic on. And she also knows that that same book was inside Akiho, once. I guess this might be even coming from past memories of the unrewritten world (do you remember when, before the play started, Sakura said that she could feel something inside Akiho?). Akiho of course is shocked to hear that, and from her expression you can almost feel the chill that went down her spine in that moment. Sakura affirms that this book knows both Akiho and Kaito (thanks to the fact that it was inside both of them - something that I've always found painfully heartbreaking but also quite moving, for my ship), and it's got a very strong power inside of it. These will be two crucial things for Sakura's plan. In fact, our heroine is hellbent in attempting something pretty arduous: utilizing that artifact's power to create a new Card. For impartiality, I have to point out that the ENG added (completely on their whim) a "you, her special person" that isn't there in the JP version! Of course it's all the better for me, since they repeat (finally with the right adjective) that Kaito is Akiho's special person, but it's kinda funny that they messed it up so much in the previous chapters, and now they're adding it where there isn't any mention of it!

Sakura will be using a tool that knows the both of them, therefore she is sure that her plan will succeed, because the Card will know what it will need to erase. Sakura asks for Kaito and Akiho's agreement one last time. After hearing how those people wanted to hurt them both and even implanted the same magical artifact inside of her, Akiho is quite resolute and doesn't have any doubt: on with the wiping off! It doesn't matter who those people are, they've tried to harm her most important person and her too, so she doesn't really seem to give a damn about proceeding with this plan. Kaito, on the other hand, seems to be giving a more lackluster affirmative reply, but it's not that he's uncertain: he's just still riddled with guilt for all the mess that he's done, and he's probably realizing that now Sakura will need to put herself on the line in order to fix this and protect both of them, hence his sad face.

Still surfing the confidence wave, Sakura guesses that once those people have forgotten about Akiho and Kaito, then the magic arrows will stop too, and Kaito confirms that: forgetting about the person who had the Seal of D enforced on him will be equal to "undo" both the activation of the Seal itself (when Kaito removed the book from Akiho) and also the rescission of it (what Sakura did when she freed Kaito from the cage). This will therefore stop the arrows too, because the Seal wouldn't have been triggered in the first place. However, Kaito warns her that, although time is still barely "stopped" (because the time-stopping spell is still weakly on), it's necessary an enormous amount of power in order to do what Sakura wants to do. I have to point out another inaccuracy in the ENG translation in this part, which makes Kaito say "before things could get worse" and I have the feeling they misunderstood the word 辛うじて, "barely" or "narrowly", which is also written with the kanji of 辛い, "hard" or "tough". So Kaito isn't saying "before things could get worse" but actually meaning "although time is barely stopped".

Sakura doesn't seem to be scared by Kaito's warning, and activates her wand without a second thought, and immediately we can see that her task wil NOT be easy, as she can feel the strain almost right away.

Here we go with another inaccuracy of the ENG translation:

Sakura, ENG: "Great book, please show yourself! My power alone won't be enough...!" Sakura, JP: "The book....doesn't want to come out. (it's too difficult to pull it out) with just my power..."

Basically, Sakura isn't begging the book to "show itself", she's actually actively trying to pull it out of Kaito, and she's aware that it's opposing a lot of resistance, and her power alone isn't enough to take this damn book out. Sakura refuses to give up, because everyone else is doing their best too. Yes, everyone else.

And that's when CLAMP decided to bring us a big surprise for this finale.

A pair of hands seem to be appearing next to Sakura's, as if a spirit is hugging her from behind. We can see the famous fan that we learned to recognize so well ever since her first appearance in Movie 1. Sakura feels immediately the same magical power of Syaoran surrounding her, and with her instinct she finally recognizes her: it's Syaoran's mother, YELAN!!! We can see her, sweating and all, in her sacred chinese pavilion, lending her power to help in this difficult task.

What a great, welcome surprise for this finale!! You might have heard me saying on Twitter that Clear Card is really a celebration of motherhood, with this constant presence of mothers and mother figures who try to help these kids growing up without removing their right to choose for themselves. And since Yelan is the only mother figure who can concretely help Sakura in this moment, with her immense power, I really loved to see how this woman didn't hesitate to assist her future daugher in law. For any SyaoSaku fan, this scene here is a huge thing. We have seen in the anime how Yelan doted on Sakura ever since she met her in Movie 1, even before her own son realized his feelings for this girl. Yelan and Sakura haven't met in the manga yet (and hello, CLAMP, now this is a good chance for letting that happen, after the madness is over), but the woman didn't hesitate a moment to lend her power. I can really imagine how along these two will get, in the future. ❤️

Sakura thanks her aloud, while her eyes show that she's really really tired. Yelan's assistance is finally effective in summoning the artifact book out of Kaito, and we see again those countless book pages that we saw both when Akiho used to go "berserk", and also in the most heartbreaking scene of chapter 70. Kaito, still holding onto a worried Akiho, seems to suffer physically from this removal, and I can't understand if it's because removing something magical from inside is naturally painful (we've been shown something like that before, Syaoran crouching to the ground in pain while the Sakura Cards were being removed from inside of him) OR if the removal of the artifact also triggered his poor health conditions in which we left him, before he disappeared in chapter 70.

Sakura tries with all she's got and finally manages to turn the artifact into its "true form": a book filled with countless of spells written in strange magic runes.

You have spotted it, right? ☝️ I haven't seen many fandom reactions yet, but I guess this "cameo" made more than one person scream: it's Fay D. Fluorite's tattoo, yes! This page of the "book" is probably describing the procedure to cast that tattoo (which was also a kind of "seal", if I remember correctly). So that spells exists in this CCS world too! 😅 The magic Sakura is weaving starts "working" on the book, literally removing the spells from its pages and turning them back to their original form of magical books (remember that the Squids used to say that they would inscribe "magic books" and their power onto Akiho?).

Then, solemnly, we hear probably for the last time ever the magical incantation that accompanied us in the beginning of the story, used by Sakura to secure the strange manifestations of power into a transparent Card:

ENG: "Force without master, heed the call of my Staff of Dreams and become my power! SECURE!"

The countless of books and all this tremendous amount of power get secured into the birth of a new Card: BLANK!!!

Blank got the human appearance of Akiho, but also the protective wings of Kaito. The girl is holding a book (of course, how perfect for her) which is the representation of the artifact that was inside both Kaito and Akiho. This card is really so meaningful for someone like me who loves Akiho and Kaito. It's representing them united in their suffering (the artifact) but also in the hope for a better future (Akiho is smiling and the Card will be used to grant them safety, away from their abusers). I've always imagined that one of the last Cards Sakura might have produced would have Akiho and Kaito's elements, and here it is.

Also, how AWESOME is that Sakura managed to dispose of that damn artifact and succeeded to use it for Kaito and Akiho's sake, and turned it against the monsters who created it??? HOW. AWESOME. IS. THAT!!!!

Producing the very first consciously created transparent Card sucked almost all of Sakura's power and strength, and she's close to fainting, under the terrified eyes of Akiho, who lets go of Kaito for a moment in a gesture of going towards her "sister". But Sakura isn't done yet, no. She can't give up yet because her job isn't done.

And I Will Make Them Remember About You

Sakura wants for Akiho and the people who care about her (the ENG decided to translate this with "the people SHE holds dear") to remember who Akiho really is. She wants basically to "undo" what the rewriting of the world caused on the people who know Akiho, making them believe that she was born into the Kinomoto family and that she was Sakura and Touya's sister.

After pondering for a while and discussing with my friends over at my Discord server, I decided I'm not gonna go out on a limb and assume things from this decision, because I definitely NEED to read the next chapter to see how much Sakura intends people to remember, with this move. It's really not clear at all, as of now.

Anyway, other translation inaccuracy incoming!

Sakura, ENG: "I'm going to make another new card for that...and I might not have the power to do it alone" Sakura, JP: "It might probably be really difficult to create one more new card with my power, right now..."

As you can see, the nuance is different, because Sakura in the JP addresses how it's almost impossible for her to create another new card in the situation she is in right now, exhausted and all.

That's why, very cleverly, she's going to do something different. (My gosh how proud I am of this girl!!)

Saying "But these two Cards will surely help me", Sakura skillfully manages to merge Time and Rewind to create a new Card, not from scratch (which requires more power) but using what she's already got: and that's how the REMIND Card is born!!! The name of the Card originated by just replacing the "W" of Rewind with the "M" of Time. Ingenious, isn't it???

And as the two Cards merge, they give us lots of flashbacks, like the "effect" used here resembles a lot the one that used to happen when Sakura was changing the Clow Cards into the Sakura Cards back in the old arcs, or how the merging of two Cards seems to also be a callback to how the "card without name" and the "Nothing" merged to create HOPE in the very last minutes of Movie 2! What a nostalgic trip down the memories lane!

And the appearance of this Card is even more touching, because it features Syaoran (with his current age) holding Nadeshiko's pendant watch. I found that so sweet, especially coupled with Yelan's assistance to Sakura in this chapter. Yelan associated with Sakura, and Syaoran associated with Nadeshiko. How sweet. And when you think that even Lilie, Akiho's mother, was associated with Kaito, you really can realize that this is some kind of "theme" that CLAMP seemed to be wanting to portray in this story.

I Can't Be On Everyone's Side

And now, the scene that I think is worth the whole chapter, but probably the whole Clear Card Arc in its entirety. As usual, with important scenes, I'll use the literal translation from Japanese:

Sakura, JP: "It might not be right that there'll be people who will forget things (after this), but....I can't be everyone's friend/ally/can't be on everyone's side. So I won't go back...but actually, along with the people important to me... I WANT TO GO ON"

Wow. Let that sink in.

Sakura, of Cardcaptor Sakura, just came to the realization and spelled out clearly that she cannot be on everyone's side. That she cannot be "everyone's friend", like in a cheesy fairytale.

And I really, really, want to thank CLAMP-sensei for this scene and this line because for a period, long time ago, I was worried that this story would go down the "let's be friends" or "let's show sympathy to them" route. But as the chapters continued and the things CLAMP told us about the Association and the Squids were more and more cruel, and they made me more and more sick, I started to realize that there was simply no way CLAMP could've had Sakura try to justify or compromise with them. Because when cruelty is real, there's no compromise to be made.

This scene also shows how Sakura realizes for the first time ever that in her world, contrary to what we all believed previously, evil exists. It might not touch her or her "entourage" directly (and she's really blessed for that), but it exists out there and it's hurting people, people who can also become really important to her. And she decides to not stand idly by, blessed as she is with the luck of not experiencing that evilness, but actually using whatever it is in her power to bring those suffering people to safety.

Sakura cannot fight those people on equal terms. She's just 13, and although her power is very strong, she's still inexperienced. Moreover, she cannot really bring herself to deny her current nature and use violence on other human beings. That's not Sakura. I want you guys to reflect on this because I know that one of the favorite things expected for this finale was to have a direct magical confrontation with the true villains of this arc, defeating them and restablishing the peace. And I am sincere when I say that I would've wished for the same too, because you know how much I love Kaito and Akiho, and how much I was disgusted to read about what they did to them. I've spread my "burn the squids" gifs all over the fandom. I wanted someone to vindicate them. But not here. Not in this manga. I realized that after the initial satisfaction, I would've probably felt like the series would've been "defiled". And that's exactly what happens when you answer to violence with more violence.

Sakura just could not go hunting those bastards down and defeat them in a magical battle. Because, powerful and corrupted in their greed as they are, the only way to "fix" this situation would've been to exterminate them. I just could not picture this story to cross that boundary, no matter how much the bar had already been raised well over what we initially thought.

So, if someone out there is disappointed by this outcome, I'm sorry for you, but it was just not meant to be and I'm actually really glad that this series kept true to its fundamental values. Of course it would, CLAMP really do care about this series and they know very well how far to push the plot, and when to actually stop.

So what is the role of Akiho's clan and the Magic Association in this story, especially considering that we never saw their faces at all? Talking with lots of fans in these years, especially Japanese, I've come to the conclusion that they are not in this story to fill the "villain that needs to be deafeated" role, but actually they're a representation of abusive families that smother and suffocate their children with expectations, completely disregarding those children's natural inclinations, and abuse them when they do not meet such expectations, but also the society as a whole, that looks at you only basing on how it can take advantage of you. Which is exactly what happened to Akiho and Kaito, driving them to very dark places. The absence of faces for those characters makes it possible for the readers to see the Squids and the Association as the representation of whatever environment they relate the most to. It can be family, society, school, workplace etc... It also helps us focusing on their actions, rather than their faces, and not attribute any prejudice to them (because of religion, race, skin color, or whatever other attribute they could have).

Seeing as the story treats them more like a concept, than an actual entity, it's basically impossible for Sakura to defeat them (and their great power is an indication of that impossibility). Just like in real life, darkness will always exist, along with light. Good and evil will always be side by side. It's bigger than any of us. Then, what can we do, in a situation like this? What Sakura is choosing to do, here, is not to confront directly with violence these people who are way out of her league, and not even to sit back and look, but actually finding a way to make them forget about her friends and keeping her friends safe, granting them the possibility of living a happy life, finally away from the darkness of the past, healing the wounds on their souls together with the people they love and who love them back. Because even if you've been abused in the past, you can still hope for a happy life.

The focus here is all on helping the abused people. And Sakura, in order to do that, is okay with coming to terms with the fact that she can't be on everyone's side, and she needs to choose. In the end, the thing that really matters the most is to GO ON with your most important people. Not going back to what is lost, but going forward. And I know that this is such a CLAMP theme, and I'm glad that they reiterated it in this arc. When I say that Clear Card brought Sakura so much more closer to what's usual for CLAMP, I mean this.

The panel with Sakura raising her staff and shouting she wants to go on is absolutely beautiful, with those wings growing so big and unleashing Sakura's power in a storm of cherry blossom petals.

Sakura is exhausted, she finally reached her limit by using her ultimate magic. As she faints, her eyes just make it in time to catch a glimpse of her prince, the love of her life grabbing tightly his girlfriend's hand, to not let her fall, while the watch of Remind and the book of Blank do their job in the background. And I really loved this spread too, because even if it's not a conventional romantic scene made of physical display of love, this in my opinion is even more powerful. Many were reminded of Tsubasa, but I was also reminded of the long time those two spent unable to touch one another, and this scene here seems like a catharsis for that hardship they went through. Syaoran will always catch Sakura everytime she falls, he will always be there to grab her hand, no matter if he can really touch her or not. Cause his love is stronger than any kind of impediment. He will always be by her side, no matter what. When she's exhausted by her heroine's duties, she knows that she can always count on him to support her.

And speaking of "always be by her side", I just can't avoid mentioning how Akiho and Kaito stayed "glued" to eachother for the entire duration of this chapter, protecting and supporting one another. Kaito, in particular, kept holding Akiho even as Sakura's magic was hurting him like hell, because it was extracting the book from him. Even in excruciating pain, he did not let go of Akiho, intent in protecting her and keeping her safe in his hold. Akiho let go of him just for a moment when she was scared out of her mind for Sakura, but went back to him when she saw that her "sister" was hellbent in completing her task no matter what. Kaito, as the good "moon boy" he is, is someone who shows his feelings through his actions rather than words, just like Syaoran. And his constant grip on Akiho in this chapter, such an opposite act compared to how he used to stop his hand everytime it started reaching out to her, told me all that I needed to know about him: she's his most important person, and he will never let go of her, ever again.

Sakura wakes up in her bed. The scene is a direct parallel with an almost identical scene in chapter 3, as you can see here:

Kero is next to her and is relieved to see her awake, so he goes to shout in the hallway, directed to Touya, that Sakura is finally awake. Sakura seems a bit surprised to see Kero talking so nonchalantly with her brother, and he tells her that he chatted with him back at Yukito's house, together with Suppy, so I guess now he finds it "natural" to talk to her brother too! 😂 I'm kinda glad to know that, I like this "change of relationship", compared to the old series (and it was also kinda long overdue).

Sakura opens the palm of her hands and she finds the Dream Key, still intact and all. She also asks about Remind and Blank, and Kero confirms to her that she was able to use them successfully! Sakura is absolutely delighted to hear that, and says "We were able to go on!"

And thaaaaaaat's how the second-to-last chapter of Cardcaptor Sakura Clear Card ends! Solving a lot of the pending situations, but still leaving some secondary questions that will surely find a (more or less) detailed explanation in the final, next chapter. And well, we also have to prepare to not have ALL the answers to ALL the questions we might have. This is usual for CLAMP, and especially in their Spaces they never made it a secret that they love for their fans to wreck their brains over theories and imagining the characters' future after a series is over. They love for the fans to give their interpretations to things, they encourage that a lot (also because it creates more long-lasting engagement with their series).

Alas, I expect they'll leave something in particular to everyone's interpretation, but we'll see. 😅

Overall, I really loved this chapter and it was really emotional for me. I think it's fitting for a "climax". Sakura was ABSOLUTELY running the show and after this I dare anyone to say that she isn't the main character of her story. She pushed her limits, and even questioned her own morality in doing so. What a wonderful thing. She reminded me so much of Sakura-hime when she shooted all those monsters in order to take the precious egg, back in the Acid Tokyo arc of Tsubasa. She knew she was doing something bad, but her wish to do everything needed in order to "have him back" was stronger than anything else. And she made her own choice. Here, Sakura, on a smaller scale, made her own choice too.

Now, I hope in the last chapter we'll be granted the possibility to delve a bit more into Kaito and his thoughts, I need to see his character development, I need to see that he learned something from this. That he -at least- started to interrogate himself over the nature of his feelings for Akiho. I know it's reasonable to think that with him, things will take looooong time, but as least show me the signs. Because I need to know that Akiho will be truly happy with him (I know she will!), and she can only be if he's learned to be honest with himself. And learned what Lilie meant with the last conversation we saw between them.

Also, WHERE'S MOMO, I NEED TO SEE MOMO BEFORE THIS ENDS!!

Okay, this is probably the longest post I ever did but I think as the second-to-last chapter it deserved to have some big thematics explored in depth, because they're very important. I'm still pondering if I should divide the post of the final chapter in two because, in addition to even more pages, I expect there'll be soooooooooo much to talk about (cross your fingers with me that there won't be any translation mistake).

I also hope there'll be room for an epilogue or a couple of extra chapters, to help us coping with the separation in a more gradual way, cause after 7 years it's quite hard. I was curious to see the end, of course, but also not entirely ready to let this wonderful story go. I really, really enjoyed it and I say this from the bottom of my heart. I don't care what everyone else thinks, I can only be grateful to CLAMP for Clear Card Arc. 🙏

Chapter 80, along with all the tears that will come with it, is expected to be uploaded on November 29th on CLAMP's Youtube channel. Yes, it's less than a month away! I also expect some news about the anime (BLESS THE ANIME!! Something to cling onto when the manga is over 😭).

Well, see you at the end of November (please come to hold my hand cause I cannot do this alone, lol) !!!

[whumpshaped]

can we see something of helle making the transition from the kind of person they were as a whumpee to the kind of person they are as a whumper?

masterlist

tw vampire whumper, vampire whumpee, emotional whump, past trauma, guilt, paranoia, manipulation, lady whumpee, religious themes

"Am I really allowed in?" Helle asked cautiously, hesitating at the threshold of Isabella's bedroom. They'd never been invited in by any of their siblings — they didn't even know that was an option.

"Yes, of course." She walked over to her bookshelf and started looking through her collection, an eclectic mix of various rewards amassed over centuries of captivity and torment. "Come in, come in."

They glanced down at the line separating the hall from the bedroom, then took a careful step inside. Nothing happened. Nobody tackled them to the ground and beat them. "I have never... been in either of your rooms."

"What a great day to start." She picked up a thick, leather-bound copy of the Bible, then turned to them with a little smile on her face. "Nikolai has never been interested in God. He says he has already been abandoned. But think about it; if we were despised as vampires, would the humans' faithful blabber not hurt us? Yet it does not! No amount of waving a cross around can harm us! I can hold the Holy Bible in my hands and read from it, and I feel only love."

The Bible hit the bottom of the trash can with a loud thunk. Helle was going through the collection, keeping some of the books they hadn't yet gotten around to read, and tossing all others. They felt delightfully empty even as the bin was beginning to overflow with remnants of their past, and they took it as a sign that they were finally letting go.

They moved onto her wardrobe next, getting rid of all the ruined, dusty dresses. There were holes in almost all of them, courtesy of two centuries of neglect and several hungry moths. They could've probably mended and saved some of them, if they'd had any reason to. As it stood, they just collected all of it into a pile in the middle of the room, ready to be bagged and thrown away.

"Why do you never wear this one?" they asked curiously. "It is a gorgeous dress."

"It is precious to me. I do not want to get it torn or bloody."

"Clothes are meant to be worn, are they not?"

"Not this one." Isabella ran her fingers down the length of the fabric, looking nostalgic. "I will never wear this one again, I think. I want to keep it for as long as I can, without a lot of wear and tear."

How stupid. They grabbed the wooden hanger and took it out, their hand only shaking a little as they placed it on top of the others. There was no saving it. And there was no need to save it! If Isabella had wanted it, she would've come back for it.

"If possible, I would like to go back to my hometown. Just once." Nikolai lifted the little souvenir from his nightstand, showing it off with a bittersweet smile. "Just to see how it has changed. Whether this building is still standing. This might be a good replica, but it can never replace the feeling of standing in front of a mighty palace, small and insignificant in the presence of greatness."

"I suppose we would not know anything about that," they remarked coldly. "We have never been made to feel small or insignificant."

"Not like this." He walked over and took their hand, placing the miniature model on their palm. "Believe me. Never like this. Never in such a beautiful way."

They wanted to break it. They wanted to grind it to dust and let the wind blow it wherever it pleased. Why hadn't any of them taken anything? These were things with great sentimental value to them, or at least he'd always assumed that was the case. So why? Why had they run away so suddenly? Why had they given up everything?

Had they really been so scared of getting trapped in here with them?

It was their fault. Things worsened significantly after their stupid 'escape'. It hadn't even been an escape, no one was keeping them hostage. At the most they'd fled from memories and demons of the past, not them. They'd done nothing to them.

They stood in front of the third bedroom door, hesitating. They could just leave it as it was. They could simply tell Beck that it was off limits, like their own old bedroom, and they'd never have to deal with it.

"I brought you some more," they said as they slipped inside, quickly closing the door behind themself.

"From that new store?" Aurora asked excitedly, rushing over to them. "Show me, show me! Isabella told me about the grand opening, she said there were all manner of trinkets and treasures!"

Helle pulled a box from their pocket, handing it over with a smile. "She was quite right, I could barely decide which ones to bring home. But I do believe you will enjoy all of them."

They pushed the door open, and the dust immediately made them cough and sneeze. It was bad. Likely not as bad as their own room, but probably the closest to it. They opened the windows to let in some air, stepping over old clothes and a collar on their way.

Everything was exactly as they'd left it. The signs of a hasty escape would've been obvious to people who hadn't been the cause of it. Still, they detached themself, murmuring reassurances about how it wasn't their fault. They had only been trying to protect her. Keep her safe.

Keep her locked up and docile.

What were they supposed to do after realising two of their siblings had fled, without any reason or a word of explanation? They couldn't let Aurora leave. She had always been so weak.

"I want to go to the store myself."

They sighed, lowering their hand with the offering in it. "Well, sometimes we want things we cannot have."

"Even the lady let me go outside eventually," she spat. "You are worse than–"

"Do not," they cut in, and Aurora flinched at the tone. "I hate to remind you of the rules, but they were put in place to preserve both of our sanity. Do not bring her up."

"I cannot go outside," she said miserably. "How is that preserving my sanity? I appreciate the gifts you bring me, I do, but I want to see the store myself! You– you promised it would be better–"

"It is preserving your life. You are no match even to an amateur hunter. How do you not see that?" They placed the trinket on the shelf, walking over to her and grabbing her by the wrists before she could've backed away. "How do you not see that you are the only one I have left of my family? I cannot simply let you walk into traps or– or an ambush."

"Let go of me," she asked quietly, fear crossing her face. "I understand. Let go."

"You are thinking of running, are you not? Just like them."

"Helle, let go. Where would I run to?" She winced when their grip tightened, but didn't struggle. "Helle?"

"If I ever see you outside of these four walls," they whispered, "I will chain you to your bed. At least until I can trust you again."

She blinked at them, tears slowly gathering in her eyes. She swallowed, nodding only when they prompted her to.

They glanced at the empty chains by the bed, the discarded hairpin used to pick the lock so long ago. They hadn't touched any of it. Couldn't. They hadn't managed to keep their sister in the room, but her touch still lingered, the ghost of her presence trapped in all the items she'd left behind. How were they supposed to get rid of any of that?

They wondered, for the millionth time, whether she was still alive. Had she turned to ash a century ago? Were these the last things on earth that carried her memory?

They tried not to think about any of it. Their days with Lady Marie had been nothing but torture and cruelty — but their days afterwards were nothing but paranoia and heartbreak. The scared expressions on their siblings' faces haunted them, forever making them feel like a worse monster than the one they'd slain.

They were supposed to be the hero.

The four of them were supposed be okay afterwards. Happy, even. Peaceful.

Helle turned around and left the room, slamming the door shut behind themself. They needed a snack before they continued. Maybe a priest– his faithful blabber would at least be good for a laugh.

~

taglist: @whumpsday @the-scrapegoat @hidden-dreamland @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @delicateprincepaper @whumppmuhw @florissimps @nicolepascaline @oliversrarebooks @the-cyrulik @pirefyrelight @there-will-always-be-blood @pigeonwhumps @echo-goes-mmm @whumpycries @morning-star-whump @d-cs @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees @tauntedoctopuses @blueyellow8green @typewrittenfangs @whumpsoda

[winter-sol]

still with you

word count: 1,5k pairing: GN! reader / Leviathan contents: GN reader, SFW. angst and loneliness.

After MC time travels in Nightbringer, they find themselves longing for their loved one's presence and affection. But in the past, things are different, and their relationship with Leviathan is not the same.

Short angsty one-shot. uwu. also at ao3 here ♥

For some reason, the walls of the corridor seem endless today. Your pace is slow, you’re not in a hurry since his invitation pointed at you to come exactly at 10:20 pm. You were ready to end your day and rest at Cocytus Hall, but apparently this new DLC for a game of his promised to be really good and he wanted to try it with a second player because “It’s not like I’m asking you to play with me, ok? I only need a partner. Though, not that kind of partner!”.

That was slightly nostalgic, but also oddly… disheartening. For him to be so ambiguous and nervous again.

That’s the way things are right now. May as well do something about it and not just keep him at arm length. You could never, not when you miss him so much, even if you see him every day.

…

“Hey! Another victory for me, LOL, you suck at this game, MC.”

“I- Ah! It’s not fair, you’ve played this one much more than I have!”

“Nope. No excuses, hehehe.”

Yes, you lost again, but not that you really care. You barely know this game, and to be honest, it’s not becoming one of your favorites. Leviathan is a pro at basically every game he lays a finger on, statistically speaking, yes, you were going to lose.

But to think you’d be able to play this game one day… In the present, as he told you once, it had been discontinued for a couple hundred years.

It’s hard to believe, but that’s the reality you had to accept.

The screen is passing some cutscenes recapitulating the fight both of your characters went through, the loud music turning into background noise as your attention has gone to the aquarium. It lacks a certain member. But so do many things in this room, in this house.

Most of them look the same, though. Turns out that the House of Lamentation and every room have looked the way you remember them since the beginning, with small adaptations of course. But you can’t decide if it’s better or worse, to see it all look the same but for everything to be that different.

“…in there… that kick… was not…”

…

Even that voice. It’s the same tone, the same color. It’s as soothing and pretty as ever. But it’s not his voice. It’s not… your Levi.

“… even there?... MC…”

Of course he is, and you know you’ll fall in love with him again (if you aren’t already), and with enough luck he may fall in love with you too. But it’s not the same…

Right?

“MC?”

Shit.

What.

“What? Ahh… Sorry, I got distracted. You were saying?”

“Oh. Don’t worry” A short pause, and he adds in a fast speech. “I’m not boring you, right?”

Ah…

Ah.

You haven’t heard that one in a while, since before you two were a thing. In the present, that is.

“No, of course not. Sorry, I’ve been kinda spaced out today.”

“Oh, s-sure! Uhmmm…” Another moment of silence, a bit more tense. “I’ll go grab some drinks! I think we finished the last can of soda. Uhm, I’ll be right back, stay here!”

“Ok.”

Clearly uncomfortable, Leviathan stands and hurriedly leaves his room, leaving you there to wait for him.

Even this awkwardness… It’s been so long since Levi felt that way with you. You two had come a long way, from the demon who tried to kill you for losing a stupid quiz, to your friend, to your best friend, and to your lover.

And now, it’s like everything simply was taken away from you. And you can’t do anything about it, not for now. You can’t even confide in him; share the pain you’re going through like you used to with all your concerns and burdens in the present.

You can’t snuggle with him in his bathtub, closed space making you stay too close to each other while one of you rants about their day, about the council, the exams, the other brothers, about anything and everything.

You can’t hide beneath the covers of your bed when it’s too cold and text him to come with you, to spend the night with you so he can warm you up. To fall asleep in his arms, with the dim lights of the tree and the heat emanating from his body lulling you into your dreams.  Such a simple act, to cherish his company just because you can, just because you want to.

But now, you can only look at the bathtub you forced him to accommodate for you in the present, unable to even think about stepping a foot in it.

You can only look at the similar lights you’ve placed in your new room every night, looking for a sense of familiarity, before you cry yourself to sleep.

…

Suddenly overwhelmed, you close your eyes.

A strange wave of sadness makes its way into your brain and your heart.

Can you even take this? Deal with this for who knows how long?

How is he even doing in the present? Does he somehow know you’re in here? Or is he worried, anxious and depressed at your disappearance?

He always worries a bit too much, let his thoughts go to the darkest places, expecting the worst. If only there was a way to send him a message, to let him know you’re ok, that you’re right here by his side, even if it’s not the same, even if his past self has no idea who you actually are.

It’s such a lonely concept, to be in the same place as your loved ones, but for them to be unable to see you. You love all of them, in different ways, but you do. You long for those days where everything was lively and chaotic, and they were your family, and you were theirs.

You open your eyes before you let your thoughts consume you.

Right now, there’s nothing you can do but stay right there for them, right there where they need you, and hope you can be a positive presence for them again. For now, you can only confide in Solomon, and that gives some peace to your heart.

But still, if only…

As if on cue, Leviathan enters the room carrying a bunch of cans in his arms.

“Hey! I’m back. Oh? That’s still on the screen?” He points out at the same sequence repeating, clearly indicating you hadn’t touched the game since he left.

“Ah, yeah, well, since I don’t know the game at all, I didn’t want to press anything and mess it up.” You tell him that instead of saying something like ‘I’m so sad I forgot it was even there in the first place.’ He doesn’t need to know.

“Right. Don’t worry, I’ll press it. Here. Also, I brought these ones, do you like that flavor? I heard it’s popular in here.”

You honestly have no idea what flavor of soda that is, as it doesn’t exist anymore in the present. But you can’t tell the truth since you’re supposed to be a native demon.

“It’s ok, but I prefer that other one”.

“Sure! Take it!”

He seems fine now, not uncomfortable anymore so you hide your true feelings at the back of your heart and end up playing again with him.

You guess you can’t really complain, you’re right here by your beloved demon’s side, enjoying your time together. Hopefully, Leviathan will remember a that certain someone used to spend time with him in the past, and that he was never truly alone during such hard times.

You look at his face and you can notice how bright he looks. He’s enjoying his game, laughing, making jokes, trying to sound cocky but ending up teaching you a few tricks. This scene where both of you are sitting right here, in this place, it’s so familiar. It’s nice. He’s happy with you.

He’s still the same, so you shouldn’t be sad, right?

…

“That was so cool, you got really good at this, you know?”

“Meh, I guess it’s thanks to you. You gave me all those tips. Also, who wouldn’t get better with such a handsome and cool Player 1, right?”

“MC, shut up! Hahaha.”

He laughs and tries to hide his blushed expression at the flirty comment you just threw at him. After he notices you smiling as well, he circles his arms even tighter around you, pressing his head on your shoulder, and gives you a tender kiss on your cheek.

“MC… Don’t ever leave me, ok?”

That was slightly unexpected, but you notice a sweet warmth enveloping you at his honest words.

“Idiot. I’m not going anywhere. In fact, you’ll end up looking for ways to get rid of me.”

“-! No, don’t say that! I would never!”

You only smiled and kissed his lips, reassuring him you won’t leave, not if you can help it.

That was a conversation you two had one lazy afternoon, in the same place you are right now.

But he was behind you, holding you tight against his chest while you played some stupid game together. You were loved by him, not trying to get his trust and friendship all over again.

Turns out you didn’t keep your word. You weren't powerful enough.

What a joke of a sorcerer.

likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated! ♥ also, if you want to talk and share your ideas feel free to hit the ask button ;)

thanks for reading ♥

[badsansandstarsansticklestuff]

Aaaaalright tickle fic again

Requested by: @alex1010155

Characters: Dream & Nightmare (not a ship)

Context: Dream wanders in their old AU, reminiscing the past once again, Nightmare joins him short after that and sees his brother being sad, he decides to do something about it using a method from when they were kids

□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□

The sun was high in the blue sky, Dreamtale had regained its beauty without the overflowing negativity. The tree was still cut down, of course, it wasn't a regular tree after all, but flowers were blooming again and the grass was green for the first time in years.

Dream was walking by the forest, heading to what was left of his mother, if he could even call her that, for she had never been present for him or his brother. She brought them to life and left them figure out the rest by themselves. But still he felt nostalgic looking at the stump.

Him and Nightmare have made great progress in their relationship since the truce had been established, they still had a lot of work ahead of them but they could now appreciate each other's presence and joke together.

Dream sat on the remains of the tree, it felt weird to be back in here, where everything started, where his life took a tragic and drastic turn. As he was absorbed in his thoughts he didn't notice Nightmare's magic entering the universe.

They were supposed to meet in Ccino's AU, they regularly met in different universes in order to talk, but today Dream was really late, which was strange since he usually was the first to arrive, so Nightmare decided to follow his magic signature and found himself in their birth place, not surprised.

It didn't take long for him to find his brother looking at the abandoned village ahead of the hill. He went to sit next to him on the stump, making Dream flinch.

- Oh, I didn't see you arrive, sorry..

Dream apologized.

- It's okay, you didn't come to Ccino's so I wanted to make sure you were doing okay.

- It was today ? I'm sorry, I didn't see the date..

Nightmare simply raised his hand, showing his brother he wasn't mad at him for forgetting. He could see he wasn't in the bestest of moods, even without checking his feelings. Dream lowered his gaze to the ground, he felt bad for forgetting their meeting, they were so important for him, for both of them, and he forgot it, he felt horrible...

Nightmare looked at him, it wasn't in his intention to make him feel bad.

- Come on, it's not that big of a deal, we can always organize something another day..

He tried.

- Yeah...

A short answer, Dream was playing with his fingers, he often did that, even when he was a kid, when he felt guilty about something. Nightmare knew that.

- Come on, am I going to have to force a smile out of you ?

Dream looked up at him, quite confused, not because Nightmare was being nice to him but because he didn't see how he planned on doing so. It was only when he felt something poking at his side that he realized what his brother intended by "forcing a smile out of him". He quickly got up.

- Oh no you f#cking won't !

Nightmare chuckled, he always found it amusing to hear the positive guardian swear.

- Of course I will, I'm not gonna let my dear brother be so sad !

And before Dream could say anything he used a tentacle to grad his brother by the waist and force him to sit on the grass, using one more tentacle to hold his wrists together as Dream was struggling to free himself.

- Let me go !

- I don't think I will, no.

Nightmare laid down on the tree stump, on his stomach, his head resting on his crossed arms as he looked down at Dream, a mischievous look in his eye and his two remaining tentacles wagging in the air.

- Nightmare I swear to God if you- AH !

He was cut in his sentence by a third tentacle poking at his side again.

- Stop pretending to be mad, I know you like it ~

Nightmare teased watching his brother kicking the air to no avail, trying not to laugh from the scratching on his side, his cheeks blushing a bright golden color. Soon the fourth tentacle joined and digged between the guardian's ribs, this time making him burst into a laughing mess. It seemed that even after all these centuries Nightmare still remembered his worst spots.

- FUHUHUHUCK OHOHOHOFF !!

He yelled into deaf ears. He felt so vulnerable like that, pinned to the ground with his arms above his head, Nightmare looking down at him, clearly amused... he would be so mad if he wasn't having so damn much fun right now. He knew he liked it, deep down he had always liked being tickled to pieces, but he would never admit it, especially to Nightmare.

- That's not an appropriate language for a guardian of positivity you know.

- I DOHOHOHN'T CAHAHAHRE !!!

He was almost hysterical as the two tentacles digged and scribbled all over his ribs, his very ticklish ribs. What was worse was that Nightmare could feel the positivity radiating from him, he knew he was having fun right now, even if Dream was saying otherwise.

- Didn't expect you to still be as ticklish as when you were a kid ~

The teasing was very cruel tho, and the tentacles were so skilled, Nightmare moved them with such ease and precision, it made the whole thing even worse because no matter how much Dream was moving the tentacles always followed his movements, almost as if they were glued to him.

It was when he felt the tip of the tentacle that was holding his waist start to brush and circle against his tummy that he began to really curse his brother. Two tentacles on his ribs was already torture, but now he added the tummy as well ? His second worst spot ? He really wanted Dream to die of laughter.

- GOHO TO HEHEHEHEHELL !!

- Naah I don't want to.

Tears were forming in Dream's eye sockets, he had already given up in fighting back and trying to escape, his was now praying for his brother to have mercy. And thankfully, he did, after five long minutes but he did. He let him go, retracting his tentacles behind his back and letting his poor brother catch his breath.

Dream curled up, waiting for the phantom tickles to dissappear. It took a little time for him to breath normally again and when it was done he sat up.

- Feel better now ?

Nightmare asked. He earned a very pissed look from his brother, because even if he did have fun it was still a bit embarrassing.

- I'm gonna f#cking get you.

- Yeah I know, that's why I'm gonna leave now.

He answered as he got up from the tree stump.

- Oh no you won't !

And before Nightmare could even take a step away he got body slammed to the ground by his very thirsty for vengeance brother, and he too remembered where his worst spots were...

Needless to say, they didn't go to Ccino's this day, but they still had a good laugh !

[pianoandcookiedoughlover]

marauders as songs without words (mendelssohn) pieces: regulus black

okay, i've been thinking about this for the past few days so i finally had to type it out. i've been doing some practice sightreading out of this book featuring all of mendelssohn's songs without words and after playing through one that really reminded me of regulus i wanted to do all of the marauders!! but for now, i will stick with regulus, who inspired this all.

i honestly have two options for him. first, op. 30 no. 6 in f sharp minor. i linked here a barenboim recording (barenboim is just such an excellent pianist i love his interpretations)

this is the one that really caught my attention. from that e sharp in the third measure, i felt regulus's blunt nature. we have this repeating figure in measures five and six that appear throughout the piece, which makes me think of his family's constant presence in his life. i see the trills as him sort of floundering under the pressure from his family while also wanting to be his own individual, but he eventually succumbs to his family's wishes with the following falling line.

towards the end of the piece, there is this pattern of playing a broken f sharp octave in the left hand followed by a block chord in the right hand that to me is reminiscent of his struggles with where he was in the later part of his life, constantly fighting between who he is and who he wishes he could've been, if he could go back and rewind these past years. the last two trills feel like a vulnerable representation of him before he fades away into the last few measures.

overall, it has that drama that a black brother needs and this sort of haunting sound that i think regulus might appreciate.

the other option was op. 67 no. 5 in b minor which i found after when i was fully fleshing out this idea but arguably prefer (again, the barenboim recording).

again, this piece has that slightly bitter sound that i think works well for regulus. also that chord on the second beat of measure 9 (about 0:26 in that recording linked above) is just so devastating, i love it. then by measure 14 (0:44 ish) the piece takes a distinct turn to a major sound. it feels innocent and nostalgic, like thinking of a happy memory with a rosy background. this could be representative of regulus's happy moments at hogwarts, with his friends and perhaps romantic interests (regardless of who you ship him with).

but soon enough, it takes a tragic minor turn, so suddenly and smoothly. he has returned home, reminded of his life as his family's heir and what they expect of him. we then return to the main theme with slight adjustments to the harmony. after his time at hogwarts, he has a new perspective of his family and their involvement with voldemort. he is disillusioned with it all, angry for what they have made him become, yet hopeful that there is some way he can fix it.

measure 28 (1:28) marks a choice. i think it perhaps up to interpretation how you see the ending...

anyway, so that was me totally geeking out over these pieces and my newfound interesting in the marauders. i apologize, i'm still quite new to this fandom so i don't know if i've captured regulus's character perfectly. i would absolutely love to hear any music recs for him or other marauders characters or your opinions on these two!

i also apologize for my musical analysis, i have been a bit out of the game for the past couple of years (college has been a lot lol) so i also love to hear other interpretations as well! i might type up some other characters' pieces out of my own interest (particularly i have one for lily i adore) but hopefully it brings enjoyment to other people too :)

thank you so much for reading to my silly rant! <3