#anyways power of unity

[omgmegacruel]

I rewatch power of unity and like the transition from kotaro being accepted into the group to everyone practicing. Kotaro went from smiling all happy vbs accepted his pleads to his model in left corner looking like he wants to gone.

[magnecalliope]

Basically every person that joined the Kingdom of Fools did so because it put them in proximity to power rather than any shared ideological reasons. Foolish wanted to be King, Owen and Clown both wanted to manipulate Foolish to their own ends, Sneeg literally just joined the first faction to offer him a material good he demanded. With the exception of Ros, everyone in the Kingdom viewed their faction in an utterly pragmatic manner. A means to an end. None of them are there because they believe in a specific cause, and this worked as a strength for them, it's what made them appear as such a united front compared to other factions. It's literally the principle that unions are built on, power in numbers. You might not like the guy that's harassing that Red faction member, but he's part of your union so you defend him. If you don't defend him, then who is to say there will be anyone there to defend you when you're in trouble?

Compare that to the Teal Titans who are constantly squabbling with each other because they disagree about what neutrality looks like, or because they aren't happy when someone takes the reigns and decides they have to take a hard stance. The Hostiles who have to kill to survive, but most of them aren't willing to be the one to get their hands dirty to do it. Even the Honey Badgers who had a rocky start with Bad refusing to trust Pangi and Hannah with gathering their quest items several weeks in a row.

But the thing is that now Ros, the heart of the Kingdom, has been driven away. And the rest of the faction, they have their union, but their loyalties don't lie in that union. It lies with people. It lies with Ros. Maybe you put up with the guy picking fights outside your faction because you know your strength lies in your numbers, but what do you do when the only person you actually care about protecting leaves? What reason do two of the most powerful people on the server have to stay with the Kingdom when they've outgrown what the Kingdom can offer them?

And what the hell will everyone else do if they decide to leave too?

[rosykims]

GRACIE WISEMAN + lookbook (carefully curated in a lab to speedrun driving your unity instructor psychosexually insane)

[dravidious]

You're more amazing than functionally no rares

Made some Duskmourn cards and also thought about the upcoming set currently known as "Death Race" and got in a vehicle mood

[thebleedingeffect]

Love the ac self insert that I'm making rn cause I'm currently stuck between a number of backstories for her and I just cannot decide.

We have: was originally born into an assassin family but was adopted by a grandmaster when entire said family was killed by templars.

Or: was born into a templar family and was kidnapped by the assassin's as leverage cause they were getting desperate.

OR: adopted into the brotherhood after mom and dad were killed for being lovers despite being on opposite sides. proceeds to be raised by the brotherhood until around 16, when they're ordered to join a mission they're not at all prepared for. ends up being the lone survivor of the entire assassin group and a grandmaster ends up taking her end where some fucked up mental games and manipulation happens.

I'm sure you can tell which one I'm leaning towards

[brights-place]

Hi! It’s me again :3

If request are still open can I request another part of that My inner demons but Nsfw/ smut hc’s.

I love angst with all my heart but fluff and Nsfw are close second. And I may have become obsessed when reading it 👁️

[My Inner demons ] Daemos x Reader (seperate)

Warnings: NSFW, SMUT, MINORS DO NTO INTERACT

A/N: Sorry for being late to write this anyways! funfact about me I'm a person who is obssessed with zoology and fantasy... so I wanted to add courting rituals from creatures and connect them to the daemos guys TEEHEE. I’d also like to state if you are a minor and continue reading and Im getting blamed for it I am NOT your babysitter I cannot control what you do

Summary: My inner demons but Nsfw/ smut hc’s and small scenes ideas Plus your lovely writer to rambling

A General headcannon I have is that well daemos are kinda like faes. Faery marriage is about unity of consciousnesses into one being. Full of romance and adventure and passionate love. So obviously they'd do the normal courting before you guys ya know Here's the thing though they are freaky they only thought it was to create heirs but here you were showing them you could do it without having to do procreation and they LOVE it DAEMOS MEN ARE FREAK IN THE SHEETS

Asch Smut Headcannons

- Your not royalty you aren't suppose to be with a prince but god how addicted he is to you - royal or not he loves you even if he's shit at talking to you - It's already known if you TOUCH their horns they all get defensive plus you shouldn't touch your partners horns in public... So UHM IMAGINE THAT

- Literally Is trying to understand how to ya know make you feel nice cause all he know is that it's for procreation and to create a heir - But the way you told him it isn't needed for procreation - he was happy to know you'd show him how to do it but still had his scowl - The moment he tried out he was trying not to show his flustered face as he was heaving -  Asch is favorite part on your body is either your ass or your thighs - He likes being able to grope it and hold your shaking thighs during sex - He whimpers like he’ll bury his face in your neck while holding you in a mating press and whimpers in your ear - Does his best to keep it down when needed absently compliments your body as if talking to himself - Oh how he loves when your back laid into his chest as he shoves his fingers into your cunt panting into your neck - Loves when at times you push your fingers into his fisting his cock as you stretched him so well

Rhys Smut Headcannons

- Would you believe me if he's good with his fingers? because he IS - Rhys is a softer dom meaning he is sometimes rough and controlling but he won't hurt you or degrade you... though he does enjoy having power over you - He likes leaving hickeys on less visible spots like your inner thighs, breasts and stomach - He loves your stomach for some reason he enjoys it so much how he can feel himself and see himself inside you - Whenever Rhys sees your body covered in hickeys and love bites while you two are together to study do experiments etc. Rhys would instantly get turned on - He doesn't really have a type but people who are bigger or chubbier and shorter than him interest him more than others but everybody is shorter to daemos - This man when he he's busy would have you on his lap or his thigh riding him/dry humping him

- His favorite position is doggy style obviously though sometimes he loves seeing you sprawled out below him with your tongue out and eyes rolled back in pleasure as he hits that spot inside you every time he thrusts his hips - Would be surprised if you touch his horns when you two are kissing and making out - He doesn't like being sloppy or messy but holy shit when he's stressed you'll be in heaven and also hell because you aren't going to feel anything anymore

Pierce Smut Headcannons

- You like hair pulling? You got it. You like spanking? You also got it. Like choking? Guess what, you got it. He likes being rough but at the same time he's worried he'll hurt you - He likes fucking you doggy style, and choking you from behind the noises you make when he does it drives him wild for some reason - Though he tries not to hurt you...much - man doesn't moan he grunts and if he is close to making a noise he'd bite into your neck -  He enjoys bondage the first time he tried it with you he was quick to use his sord but explained it all to him and was awkward to try it out but gave a small thumbs but

- He is awkward at first but he enjoys how you both seem to find comfort in doing this together trysting eachother though his nails did dig deep into your hips - When he tried it on you enjoyed seeing you in it especially when their tied around your chest the way it makes them stand out more with red rope - WHEN YOU PUT IT ON HIM HE WAS CONFUSED but how he saw you were drooling at how his chest was popping and breaking the rope scared you but heyyyyy you guys now have to make sure to get stronger ones... he may or may not flexed when you asked if he still can move slighty and uhm the rope snapped loudly gave you whiplash - He's big... Very big... - Grip his horns and use them as you wish he’d wince in pleasure

- Of course after care is head pats and small kisses though he is concerned if he hurt you but at the same time he enjoyed how you were sniffling still as he watched your thighs have something drip between them as you panted - of COURSE he doesn't admit nor talk about it but he is majorly into size kink, he keeps thinking about manhandling you with his larger frame as he makes you go up and down on his cock

Leif Smut Headcannons

- He likes to bite, and because of his pointed teeth he will normally leave marks. They heal very quickly but he likes the look of them peppered across your skin. - Leafs favourite position is cowgirl you showed him what it was and he enjoyed the fact of you riding him - Leif drools at how your walls clench and unclench around him - Blood play is a thing for him - He likes seeing the pleasure of your face as you slide down onto him, the first experimental thrust and the moment you feel your orgasm claim you. - He likes to watch you touching yourself, especially from the shadows such a sweet assassin that seems to.. enjoy the way you look and react until you see him - He bites down on your roughly more when you touch his horns when you need to grab on something as he curses in his native tongue - You find out the leif is abit more... possessive during sex if he hasn’t killed anything in awhile bloodlust is soemthing he enjoys - His appetite for blood is huge but heres a thing he loves biting yes flashing his shark like teeth but his favourite part to bite is your tummy whether you're chubby or not he loves how soft it is, how soft you are in general. - Which means he also loves your thighs often laying his head on your thighs or stomach THIS INCLUDES EATING YOU OUT/SUCKING YOU OFF - Man will enjoy overstimulating you leaving marks and grinning like a maniac - Aftercare? whats that when you tell him he grumbled and cuddles you before he goes take care of you in the human way - when he's lazy though? nah just use magic though he enjoys when you kiss his cheek after and his horns too right after which makes him grin again... yeah no your fucked

Noi Smut headcannons

- "Noi is submissive noi is sweet" YEAH SURE BUT AT THE SAME TIME NAH I BET YOU THAT HE'D PAMPER YOU BEFORE AND ASK IF IT'S ALRIGHT BUT RIGHT AFTER HE GETS SO INTO IT THAT YOUR IN BLISS - I don't care if everyone babies him yes he's a good and complex character but OH SHIT HOW HE DOES EVERYTHING CORRECTLY - He'd be stiff at first not getting how to do human courting - Once he gets the hand of it he's kissing you pampering you and teasing your entrance with two of his slender fingers.  - He would finger fuck you slow and would grin at how your face shifts, and when you start making noises he would speed up - Loves how your eyes roll back and drooling Fav position that you showed him? well he loved missionary it's basic but thats the one he learnt first

- He would grab both your legs over his shoulders to start with while he looks at your fucked up face - Fav body parts is probs your man tits/boobs - The fact that they fit just right inside his hands is just perfect to him

- Aftercare he'd do it properly and smile at you happily thanking you for accepting his courting and being with him

reblogs + comments are appreciated ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ ©brights-place 2023 — do not repost on another platform, copy, translate or edit my works! if you fit my DNI list please don't interact!

[deliciousangelfestival]

The Imperfect Couple - 6

Character: politician!Bucky x ex-wife!reader

Summary: A separated couple must pretend to be happily married while the husband runs for Vice President, dealing with old issues and political pressures during his election campaign.

Warning: The couple's arguments could be triggering.

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 , Chapter 5 , Chapter 6 , Chapter 7 , Chapter 8 , Chapter 9 , Chapter 10 , Chapter 11 , Chapter 12 , Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

By the way, I publish my book Arrogant Ex-Husband and Dad, I Can't Let You Go by Alina C. Bing on Kindle.

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

“How long have you known him?” Bucky’s voice was calm, but his eyes were sharp, watching every reaction.

“Five years,” you answered, keeping your tone steady. You didn’t want him to pick up on any hint of tension.

Bucky frowned, a strange sense of familiarity tugging at him. Ian seemed like a typical journalist, but something else about him gnawed at Bucky's instincts.

He rarely interacted with foreign reporters, so why did Ian’s presence feel… off? He was sure he'd figure out why this feeling wouldn't leave him.

Before either of you could say more, Greg appeared, clipboard in hand, and gave you both a pointed look. “Alright, you two, time to get ready. The event’s about to start. Let’s make sure everything runs smoothly.”

You nodded, feeling the butterflies in your stomach begin to stir. You’d been on stages before, but not like this. Not with Bucky, not under the gaze of an entire country.

Bucky noticed your hesitation and moved closer, placing a firm hand on your lower back. “It’s going to be fine,” he whispered, his voice low and reassuring. “I’ve got you.”

You looked up at him, trying to read his eyes. Was he just saying that for the cameras? Or was there something deeper there? It was getting harder to tell. You nodded anyway, more for yourself than for him, and straightened up. You had to play your part, just as you always did.

At the Convention

The large venue buzzed with excitement, lights shining down on the stage like spotlights in an arena. When Steve Rogers walked up to the podium, the room went silent, all eyes on him. He was the golden candidate—charismatic, confident, the embodiment of what the people wanted.

The room buzzed with anticipation as Steve Rogers approached the podium, every eye in the venue locked onto him. He stood tall, his presence commanding, radiating the quiet strength he was known for. After a brief moment, he began speaking, his voice steady but filled with passion.

"Ladies and gentlemen, fellow Americans," Steve’s voice echoed with gravitas, "Today, we stand at the threshold of a new era. We face challenges that require not just strong leadership, but leadership rooted in integrity, honor, and the unyielding belief in the power of the people."

The crowd quieted further, hanging on his every word.

"For too long, we’ve watched division grow. But I believe in the strength of unity, the strength of standing together—one nation, bound by a shared responsibility to protect our freedom, our families, and our future. And I pledge to lead with the same unwavering commitment that I’ve given to this country my entire life."

He took a brief pause, allowing his words to sink in, then continued, his tone growing more impassioned.

"I am not just here as a candidate, but as a father, a husband, and a son," he said, gesturing toward his wife, Peggy, and their children standing nearby, his parents behind them. "I want a better world for my family—just as I want a better world for yours. A world where opportunity isn’t reserved for the few but shared by the many. A world where every child grows up in safety, with access to education, health, and the opportunity to pursue their dreams."

The applause began to rise, but Steve held his hand up gently, signaling for quiet once more.

"This is not just my campaign. This is our campaign. Together, we will fight for a future that respects the dignity of every individual. We will build an America where justice is not selective but a right for all. Where leadership is about service—not power."

His voice crescendoed, igniting the room.

"Because I believe in us. I believe in the promise of America, and I believe in the strength of the American people. Together, we will rise to meet the challenges of today, and together, we will create a brighter, fairer, and stronger tomorrow."

The room erupted into thunderous applause as Steve’s words settled over the crowd. He stepped back, waving, as Peggy and their children joined him at the front of the stage, a living testament to the family values he championed.

With that, Steve Rogers sealed the moment—an electrifying speech that echoed far beyond the walls of the convention hall.

The crowd erupted into applause as Steve stepped aside, making way for Bucky.

Now it was his turn.

You watched as Bucky walked to the podium with the practiced ease of a man who was born for this. His dark suit was perfectly tailored, the overhead lights catching the sharp angles of his face. As soon as he began speaking, the room hushed again.

“I want to thank everyone for being here today,” Bucky started, his voice strong, yet warm. “Serving alongside Steve has been the honor of my life, and I am proud to stand here as the candidate for Vice President. My family—my parents Julius and Caroline, my siblings Shawn and Hazel, my nephew Nate, and my brother-in-law Tim—are with me today.” He motioned to the side, where they all stood. Caroline’s expression was as rigid as ever, while Julius offered a rare smile.

Then Bucky’s eyes found you.

“And of course, my wife. She’s been my rock. She’s stood by me through the hardest times, and I can’t imagine being here without her.” His voice softened, but the sincerity in his words cut through the noise in your head.

You smiled on cue, the kind of smile you’d perfected over years of practice. But inside, everything felt muddled. Bucky spoke as though you were his whole world, but you knew the truth. This was a performance. A calculated move to protect his image.

The applause was thunderous, but it sounded far away as you fought the emotions swirling inside you. Bucky looked the part—strong, dependable, built for this kind of role. He was doing everything right.

But you? You were pretending. The smile you wore for the cameras wasn’t for him; it was for the part of you that wanted to see Caroline suffer, to see her envy every look Bucky gave you on that stage. But underneath the spite, you felt something deeper, something far more complicated.

'Can I really keep doing this?' The question lodged itself in your mind as the applause rang out again.

You watched Bucky continue his speech, looking every bit the man of the moment. He thrived in this atmosphere, while you felt like you were drowning in a sea of lies. Every glance from the audience, every flash from the cameras, reminded you that none of this was real.

When he finished, the room erupted in applause again. Bucky turned to you, offering his hand. The warmth of his palm against yours was meant to be reassuring, but it only deepened your confusion.

As you both exited the stage, his grip tightened slightly, just enough for you to notice. He leaned down, voice low in your ear. “You did great,” he whispered. His words were laced with a strange tenderness that made your stomach flip.

You nodded, but deep down, the weight of this act was crushing you.

🌸🌸🌸🌸

As the convention wrapped up and the crowd began to disperse, you and Bucky maneuvered Tim’s wheelchair carefully. The excitement of the day was still buzzing in the air, but you could sense the underlying tension between Bucky and Ian as Ian approached you and Tim.

Ian greeted you with a friendly smile. “Hey, I’m working on a piece about the election from the perspective of the candidates’ families. What’s it like for you and your family during all this?”

Bucky, standing beside you, made a subtle move to place himself between you and Ian, a protective gesture that didn't go unnoticed. “I’m not sure if that’s appropriate,” Bucky began, but Tim cut him off.

“Of course! I’ve never been interviewed before. It’ll be good to share my side,” Tim said eagerly, his eyes bright with enthusiasm.

Bucky looked at Tim, then at you, his frustration evident in the tightness of his jaw. He sighed and stepped aside, unable to argue with Tim’s excitement or your reluctance to refuse a friend’s request.

Ian turned to you, his expression curious. “You never mentioned your brother before. It’s clear you two have a strong bond.”

“She’s a private person,” Tim interjected with a hint of pride.

Ian raised an eyebrow, glancing back at you. “You really seem to know her well.”

“We may not always show it, but we’re very close. She’s been like a second mother to me, especially after I lost my leg,” Tim said, his voice carrying an unusual warmth.

You felt a blush rise to your cheeks at the unexpected praise from your brother. It was rare to hear him speak so openly about his feelings.

Ian smiled as he jotted down notes. “This story is going to resonate with a lot of people.”

After a while, Tim excused himself, leaving you and Ian alone. Ian’s demeanor shifted subtly, becoming more serious.

“Thanks for giving him the chance to speak,” you said with a slight edge. “You know, it feels like you just handed him a chance to embarrass me.”

Ian chuckled softly, his eyes glinting with a hint of mischief. “Isn’t that what siblings do? Cherish these moments of difference before it’s too late.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean,-?”

Before you could ask, Ian pulled you aside, his face set with determination. “I heard there’s a divorce in your marriage.”

You stiffened, your eyes widening in surprise. “How did you find out?”

Ian’s smirk was almost smug. “Don’t underestimate my skills. You vanished, then reappeared, acting like everything’s perfect. I pieced it together from the campaign.”

He leaned closer, his frustration evident. “Not once did you mention him. And now, suddenly, you’re playing the loving wife. It’s irritating.”

You crossed your arms, feeling a wave of anger and discomfort. “Are you planning to use this information?”

Ian’s expression softened, though his eyes were intense. “I don’t know yet. But a few people already know.”

You flinched at his words, a shiver running down your spine.

Ian’s voice dropped to a reassuring whisper. “Don’t worry. They’ve only heard rumors. No one has solid evidence. I could protect you. Because you deserve someone better.”

You gulped, unable to speak. Ian’s concern seemed genuine, but you couldn’t shake off the pain from your marriage with Bucky. Your emotions were still tangled, and you didn’t want to get involved with Ian’s feelings, especially now.

You glanced up and saw Bucky watching you from across the room. His eyes were locked on you, his gaze sharp and intense. It felt like he was assessing every movement, every word. The tension in his stare made your heart race, and you could almost feel his frustration and jealousy from afar.

🌸🌸🌸🌸

As the car sped through the night, the backseat felt increasingly cramped, the air thick with unspoken tension. You stared out the window, trying to avoid Bucky’s piercing gaze. The city lights flickered past, a blur of neon and shadows, as you stewed over the conversation with Ian and the unresolved questions it left.

Bucky's silence was more oppressive than any words. His jaw was set tight, and the muscles in his neck were rigid. When he finally spoke, his voice was cold, laced with an edge of command. “Don’t meet Ian anymore.”

You continued to look out the window, your reflection a ghostly image against the darkened glass. “He knew about the divorce,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Bucky’s breath hitched, his grip on the seat tightening. He was silent for a moment, the weight of your revelation settling in. Then, unexpectedly, he chuckled, a dark, humorless sound. “Well, that means I’m on the right track. Every politician has skeletons in their closet.”

You turned your head sharply to face him, eyes narrowing. “You’re not afraid if the rumor leaks out?”

Bucky’s gaze remained steady, but his jaw tightened slightly. “I’m not gonna lie, I am afraid. But I’m more worried about how it’ll affect you.” He paused “But look at the bright side. It narrows down the list of people who knew about our marriage.”

You turned to him, eyes narrowing in frustration. “You’re playing with fire, Bucky.”

He leaned closer, the space between you shrinking rapidly. His expression softened into a smirk, but his eyes held a dangerous glint. “I’ll win this for you. I still remember that moment when you wished me to win, just to spite my mother. I need that brave Y/N.”

You could feel the heat from his body, his breath mingling with yours as he drew nearer. The car’s dim lighting accentuated the intensity in his eyes, a smoldering gaze that made your pulse quicken. “Don’t make this about me,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady.

Bucky’s smirk deepened, and he moved even closer, his face inches from yours. “But babe, this is all for you,” he murmured, his voice a low, seductive growl.

His proximity was overwhelming, and you could feel the heat radiating from his body. You swallowed hard, the line between anger and something else entirely blurring as his lips almost brushed against yours.

Your breath hitched, and for a moment, you were caught between the anger at his manipulation and the undeniable pull of the unresolved feelings you still harbored for him. The confined space of the car seemed to shrink around you, the air charged with a mix of frustration and unspoken desire.

Bucky’s gaze locked onto yours, his smirk fading into an expression of intense focus. His hand reached out, fingertips grazing your cheek in a feather-light touch that made your skin tingle. “I need you to trust me,” he said softly, his voice carrying an almost desperate edge.

You hated him for the pain he’d caused, but his touch betrayed your emotions, making it hard to stay firm. And he knew it. You wanted to wipe that smug look off his face.only the charged, almost unbearable closeness between you.

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[l0stglitch]

Platonic Yandere Hargreeves x Reader

Notes- This is more of an introduction to an au I’ve created rather than an actual fic. It’s pretty Klaus + Ben centred at the moment but I will write about the others in future fics.

Warnings- Substance abuse | Bad parenting | Depression | Suicide

Pre season 1

• They weren’t always obsessed with you. As children, you and your siblings had relatively normal relationships. Well, if you ignored the uncomfortable flirting between One and Three, or the estrangement of Seven.

• It wasn’t until Five’s disappearance that the family dynamics started shifting.

• The unity from before had been fractured, and the fragile illusion of a family gone.

• From there, things only worsened.

• You had always been closest to Klaus. It was only natural- you both found joy in bending the rules, and your powers proved to be quite useful when the two of you were up to no good.

• You could see the future. Unfortunately, not on demand. You could see your opponent’s next moves in a fight, or your father coming upstairs and catching you and Klaus in his study minutes before he appeared, but large-scale events far into the future were much more complicated.

• You’d see the distant future in dreams. Cryptic visions that made little sense until the morbid events finally happened. You had woken up screaming many times, forced to watch your siblings suffer gruesome injuries in missions yet to happen.

• Sometimes your father would make you meditate. Sit for hours at a time trying to trigger another vision. Occasionally it worked. Most of the time though, you saw nothing.

• The others had never blamed you for not stopping Five. You hadn’t seen the jump until he stood up and announced his decision. By then it was too late to stop him. Your brother had always been stubborn- you knew you didn’t stand a chance at changing his mind.

• You and Klaus grew closer after that- your childish rule breaking became more reckless. Nights were spent sneaking out and stealing. Getting high and drinking dangerous amounts of alcohol became a shameful hobby of yours.

• Everyone knew, but they were all too caught up in their own grief to worry about what the two of you were doing.

• Things seemed to be slowly improving, until tragedy struck again in 2006.

• This time though, things were different. Ben’s death was raw and painful, not just for him, but for everyone involved. Five may have chosen to disappear, but Six certainly didn’t choose to die.

• You had dreamt of that strange girl for months before the mission, but never told your siblings about her. Perhaps if you had seen Ben being killed moments after you would have said something, but that vision only came after he opened the container. Yet again, you were too late.

• The funeral was cold. Usually you would’ve loved the snow, but seeing it today filled you with an icy bitterness. It was as if the sky itself was mocking you, tainting your favourite weather with the devastating reality of your brother’s death.

• Reginald had placed the blame on all of you, but you knew your siblings didn’t see it that way. Luther, Diego and Allison developed a frosty attitude towards you, and Viktor… well he’d never really spoken to you much anyways.

• Only Klaus stayed with you through it all. Well, and Ben apparently. You couldn’t see your deceased brother, but Klaus supposedly could. Unfortunately, as the two of you fell deeper into your drug use, it became harder to tell whether he was talking to Ben or just hallucinating.

• Either way, he never told any of the others he could speak to Ben’s ghost, so neither did you.

• The two of you became inseparable. You decided that you didn’t need the others anymore. Luther, Diego and Allison still took their roles as superheroes with grave seriousness, clinging onto that one constant in their ruined lives.

• You had come to the conclusion that you were no use to the team, despite Klaus’s best efforts to convince you otherwise. The visions never stopped, much to your dismay, and you didn’t know what you could do to alter the future. After all, what was the point in knowing what will happen if there was nothing you could do to stop it?

• Every night you dreamt the same thing. A funeral. Not snowy, like Ben’s, but instead with a dreary overcast sky and a blanket of wet, coppery leaves scattered across the ground.

• Five teenagers standing around a grave, their identities masked by the sleek curves of their black umbrellas.

• If only you could see the number carved into the gravestone.

• You woke up in a cold sweat without fail every morning. Klaus didn’t mind you coming into his room at 2am looking for comfort. He’d shift over in his bed to make space for you, bearing a patient smile despite the sleep that still nestled fresh in the corner of his eyes.

• You never told him what you saw, so he never asked.

• As weeks turned into months, your mental health only began deteriorating more and more.

• You hit your breaking point one afternoon during a heated encounter with Luther. He’d made a snide comment about your powers, vaguely alluding to you being the reason Ben had died.

• Your day had already been hard enough, so having to deal with shit from Luther sent you over the edge.

• It wasn’t like you to start a fight. You and Klaus tended to stay pretty neutral whenever an argument sprung up between the others. Perhaps that was why it came as such a shock to everyone when you punched your brother in the face with enough force to send shockwaves of pain through your knuckles.

• Luther only needed seconds to recover before retaliating.

• You managed to dodge his first few punches, using your powers to predict his moves. Unfortunately, you weren’t fast enough to avoid them all, and after being met with a fist to your stomach, it suddenly because all too easy for your brother to strike you.

• You could do nothing but feebly cry out for help as he released his anger out on you. In a sickening way it felt right- like this was supposed to happen.

• Luther deserved to release his buried grief, and you deserved to receive it. At least, that’s what you told yourself after as you lay silently on your bed, staring up at ceiling through the fuzzy darkness of the night.

• The others noticed how quiet you became. You hardly ate at mealtimes, and spent all your free time alone in your room, ignoring Klaus’s pleas for you to open up to him.

• Pogo and Grace could only watch as you retreated further and further into yourself, until you stopped joining missions altogether.

• Of course, Reginald was less than pleased by this. He sternly told you how much of a failure you were, but other than that, there was little else he could do.

• Yes, they could’ve forcefully dragged you along with them, but even then, there was no way of making you fight. If anything, you’d just be putting yourself and your siblings at risk.

• So they decided to watch passively as you withered away from the inside out, becoming a hollow shell of a person.

• Ironically, it wasn’t until you died that things eventually began to improve.

• Klaus found you in the bathroom at exactly 02:56 on a Tuesday morning. The half empty bottle of pills that rested in the palm of your cold hand told him all he needed to know.

• You had killed yourself- or at least tried to. He could still feel the soft beating of your heart under the frail skin of your neck.

• Klaus held you with an almost childish desperation, his screams for help piercing through the grave silence of the night.

• It was only seconds later that the rest of your siblings came scrambling into the bathroom.

• Diego was the first to act- shoving his way over to Klaus and pulling your delicate frame out of his brother’s trembling grip. The others watched in horrified silence as he began to perform CPR.

• Time seemed to slow down as they waited for Reginald to come. Alison had ran to wake him after seeing your condition, so now all they could do was wait. The only sounds that could be heard were Diego’s laboured breathing and Klaus’s chocked sobs.

• After what felt like hours, your father finally came to the bathroom. He said nothing to the others, silently scooping you up and carrying you down the dark hallway.

• That was the last time they saw you.

• Two days later your father announced your death to the rest of your siblings, and a funeral was held.

• It was a rainy day towards the end of November- just as you had predicted. All five of your remaining siblings stood around your grave; protected from the rain by their glossy, black umbrellas.

• Life continued on at the umbrella academy. Your suicide marked the last of the tragedies, although no one ever truly recovered from the harrowing losses.

• It was only a matter of time until the academy officially disbanded. Despite your and Ben’s best efforts, Klaus’s dependence on drugs only worsened as he aged. It was hard watching your best friend struggle through life, ignoring your pleas for him to try and get some help.

• Becoming a ghost seemed to have some strange side effects. The first was the biting cold that came from within. No matter how warm the environment was around you, you could never warm yourself up. The second was even more perplexing. You didn’t age. You would’ve chalked it up to being a result of your death being when you were 16, but Ben wasn’t stuck as a teenager. He also wasn’t constantly shivering from the cold.

• Klaus jokingly suggested that it was because you were ‘young at heart’. You couldn’t disagree more. After Five’s disappearance, it felt as though all of your childish innocence had been stripped away from you. Not to say you weren’t content with your existence as a ghost, but sometimes you missed being able to interact with the world around you.

• Ben made it all bearable. He was your only source of human contact, so you found yourself becoming clingier than before. Physical touch had never really been your thing, but now it was all you thought about. Ben didn’t mind the constant affection you showed, as he was just as touch-starved as you were.

• The years went on, and the three of you trudged through Klaus’s messy life together.

• No matter how many times you begged him to reach out to the rest of the family, your brother never listened. It was as if being dead made you less credible in his eyes. Klaus didn’t want your advice, he just wanted your presence.

• You saw the others once, when Allison married Patrick. It was bittersweet seeing them as adults for the first time and wondering how different things could have been if you just hadn’t taken those fucking pills.

• The wedding was over far too soon. You had hoped that seeing each other again would bring the family closer, but it quickly became clear that none of them had any interest in entering back into each others lives.

• So you had to watch as Allison returned to her glamorous life as a celebrity whilst Klaus dragged you and Ben back to his grimy, drug filled motel room.

• You resented him for never trying to sort out his life, but there wasn’t anything you could say to him. Any mention of his wasted potential and Klaus was quick to remind you of how you had killed yourself. He didn’t mean to upset you, but it still stung. It stung far worse than the punches Luther had thrown at you after Ben died.

• It wasn’t until the shocking news of Reginald’s death that you could see them all again.

• Klaus was less than impressed by the thought of having to return to the mansion. It took a lot of convincing from you and Ben before he finally agreed to attend the funeral- even if only to shut you both up.

• After a particularly long taxi ride, the three of you finally reached your destination.

• Save for Viktor, you were the last to arrive. Klaus claimed it was his intention to be ‘fashionably late’, but you knew he wasn’t going to be fooling anyone.

• You found yourself in Reginald’s study, watching Klaus as he rummaged through your father’s possessions. Ben tried convincing him to just leave it, but his protests fell on deaf ears.

• “You just gotta loosen up a bit Benny-boo,” He’d replied breezily, “Me and Y/n used to pull all kinds of stunts like this when we were kids! You were always a good lookout, with your mind tricks and all that.” He’d added, motioning to where you were leant up against the wall, watching quietly.

• Ben just rolled his eyes playfully before shooting you a small smile, “Those were the good old days huh?”

• Klaus snorted, “What are you talking about? We’re still in the good old days. Us three- we’re like the three musketeers!”

• You just shrugged indifferently, “Yeah- if two of the musketeers were dead.”

• “God, what’s got you in such a sour mood? You’d think we were at a funeral or something- oh wait, we are!” He cracked up laughing, as if that was the funniest joke in the world. Perhaps it was to him- he was high as fuck.

• When Allison finally got round to checking Reginald’s study, you made no effort to warn Klaus as she crept up on him. As far as you were concerned, you owed your brother absolutely nothing. He was still refusing to tell the others of your and Ben’s presence, so it was safe to say you were more than a little pissed off at him.

• Watching him nearly jump out of his skin brought a small smile to your face, but it soon disappeared when the topic of conversation shifted to rehab. As per usual, your brother shamelessly lied about everything that had been going on and made no mention of you and Ben.

• The meeting with Allison was short lived, as Luther soon entered and ordered Klaus to leave. Of course, with Klaus being Klaus, he managed to steal a fancy looking box on the way out.

• “Do you even know what’s in that thing?” You huffed, traipsing behind him. Your brother brought the object up to his lips and gave it a theatrical kiss, “Nope!” He replied, popping the ‘P’ in an almost childish manner.

• You frowned, “So why bother stealing it? Surely you’ll get a decent amount of money from dad’s inheritance.”

• “Oh come on! Don’t start feeling sorry for that old man. He was a rotten piece of shit- we deserve this for all the pain he put us through.” Klaus almost sounded annoyed, as if he was offended by your consideration of Reginald.

• It surprised you a little how much your comment seemed to have ruffled him. “I hate him as much as you do. All I’m saying is that this stupid box might not even be worth the time- ‘specially if you’re just gonna blow all the cash on drugs again.”

• Klaus sighed dramatically, feigning upset, “Oh my dear number eight, I am offended that you would suggest that I would do something like that. Especially after what I told Allison!”

• You smiled in amusement, “Y’know, you could try and start afresh after this. Start renting out a cheap apartment. Live off dad’s money for a while whilst you look for a job- a real job. You don’t need to steal all his crap.”

•Klaus merely shrugged, “I could, but where’s the fun in that? And besides, I know if you were alive going through all the same shit as me you’d be the same.”

• You sighed, he had a good point. The two of you were birds of a feather. There was no doubt that if you hadn’t died, you would’ve ended up the same, if not worse than your brother.

• Ben cleared his throat, “We haven’t seen Diego or Viktor in years, why don’t we go talk to them instead of standing here arguing about Klaus’s kleptomania.”

• Klaus smiled, “Kleptomania, huh? That’s a big word.” You rolled your eyes, “Just ’cause you’re feeling antisocial, doesn’t mean we shouldn’t be able to see our siblings.”

• Your brother turned around to face you and spread out his arms, as if offering you something, “By all means, go ahead and find them. Who am I to stop you?”

• You glared at him in silence until he finally cracked, “Alright, fine!” He groaned in exasperation, “Which one of our dear siblings did you want to speak to first?”

• The three of you ended up going to find Diego. You’d gained a soft spot for him after finding out he had been the first to try and resuscitate you the night you had died.

• The conversation between your two brothers was painful to watch. Klaus mostly ignored you and Ben, preferring to ramble about random shit that Diego clearly didn’t care about. You wanted to strangle him.

• Eventually (much to everyone’s relief) Allison came in to inform Diego and Klaus of the meeting going on in the living area. You couldn’t help but notice the way her brows seemed slightly furrowed, as if something was worrying her.

• Apart from Klaus, everyone was seated around the oak coffee table. You and Ben left him to pour himself a drink at the bar whilst Luther began the meeting. You found it slightly difficult to concentrate with the sound of glass clinking behind you, but thankfully Klaus quickly joined you, flippantly asking about refreshments. He shot you a grin as he spoke, clearly trying to lighten your mood.

• Luther looked puzzled, “What? No, there won’t be refreshments. And put that out, you know dad didn’t allow smoking in here.”

• Klaus ignored him and sat down on the couch next to Viktor. “Well the big guy’s still pretty uptight huh,” He commented, glancing over at the empty space you were occupying.

• Luther huffed, “Listen up. There’s still some important things we need to discuss, all right?”

• You frowned, not having a single clue as to what this meeting was about. Luckily Diego was wondering the same thing. “Like what?”

• Luther turned to him, “Like the way he died.”

• “I don’t understand. I thought they said it was a heart attack.” Viktor returned. You had almost forgotten he was there beside Klaus, remaining silent up until that point.

• “Yeah- according to the coroner.”

• “Well wouldn’t they know?”

• “Theoretically…” You audibly groaned at that, earning confused glances from Ben and Klaus.

• “He’s making this way more complicated than it needs to be.” You grumbled, “Klaus, please for the love of god tell Luther to stop turning everything into such a big deal.” Your brother shook his head as a clear ‘no’ before taking a pull from his cigarette.

• “Last time I spoke to dad he sounded strange.”

• Thankfully, you weren’t the only one who thought Luther was grasping at straws. Diego was quick to interject.

• “Luther, he was a paranoid, bitter old man who was starting to lose what was left of his marbles.”

• Luther immediately shook his head, “No, he must have known something was going to happen. He’s been hiding something from us.”

• “That’s not exactly breaking news,” Diego interrupted with a not-so-subtle eye roll.

• You could tell Luther was getting irritated by this point. It put you on edge. Conflict always made you nervous, especially when Luther was involved. “Me and Allison found blueprints for a human sized freezer underneath the basement. We tried taking the elevator down but that level needs a key to access.”

• Klaus suddenly perked up, “I don’t know if this is related, but I did find a key in dad’s desk earlier.” He shrugged, “Didn’t look all that important though so I didn’t say anything.”

• You frowned, he hadn’t told you or Ben.

• From the other side of the table, Allison took a step closer. “Klaus, we need that key. There might be something inside that freezer.”

• Your brother nodded, fishing around in his pockets, “Yeah, yeah of course. Just give me a second..” He yanked his hand out, brandishing a remarkably ordinary looking key. “Ah ha! There it is. You think this is the right one?” Luther took the key from him and studied it for a moment, “Well there’s only one way to find out.”

• Within mere seconds, all of your siblings had deserted their positions in the living room and were making their way to the elevator.

• It was a little cramped inside, even with you and Ben not taking up any space. You found that your spirit was half phasing through some of your siblings, as they left no gaps big enough for you occupy.

• Luther was the one to put the key into the hole, slowly twisting it as the others watched in anticipation. The light on the keypad flashed green, before the whole box shuddered and began slowly descending.

• It took a while for you to reach the level, and with no one speaking, the seconds seemed to drag on even longer. When the elevator doors finally slid open, no one moved.

• The space before you seemed to be a corridor, stretching ahead before ending with a heavy looking iron door. Diego was first to step out, leading the others to the end of the space. He rested a hand on the handle and turned around for confirmation.

• “Are you sure we wanna know what’s in there?” He murmured, suddenly feeling apprehensive about entering.

• “It’s too late to turn back now. We need to know what’s in that room, Diego,” Allison replied firmly, taking a step closer. He nodded with a sigh and pushed open the door. You hesitated, allowing your siblings to enter before you.

• In the centre of the room there was a large, grey cylinder next to a table holding a computer. Diego peered down at it, “I’m guessing this controls it.”

• Viktor ran a hand along the side, “Guys, there’s a button here. I think it might unlock the machine.”

• Ben’s hand came down to rest on your shoulder, making you flinch at the unexpected contact. “You ok? You haven’t said much,” He asked, voice laced with concern. You just shrugged and replied, “There’s nothing for me to say that hasn’t already been said by someone else.”

• “You think we’ll find a body in there?” He asked quietly. You laughed dryly, “What, you think Reginald killed someone and hid their body in a fancy freezer?” Ben didn’t share your amusement, “It’s clearly some kind of cryogenic freezer. What else would he have been using it for?”

• “I guess we’re about to find out.” You replied, watching as Luther helped Viktor open the heavy metal door.

• Icy cold steam came gushing out, momentarily concealing the shape that lay within. You took a cautious step closer, trying to get a clearer view of it. There was definitely some kind of body in there- and a small one at that.

• You turned to Ben, “Holy shit. If that’s some dead kid I might puke.” Your brother rolled his eyes in turn, and opened his mouth to reply, but the words seemed to catch in his throat.

• “Y/n?” Your head whipped around at the sound of your name. It had been years since you had heard anyone other than Ben or Klaus mention you, so hearing Viktor’s voice caught you off guard.

• He wasn’t looking at you though. You followed the direction of Viktor’s gaze down to the freezer and inhaled sharply at the sight. It was you. The same child who had died in 2006, lying there perfectly preserved. Your skin was unusually pale- almost dull, but not entirely corpse-like.

• Diego cautiously put his hand on your shoulder, and you noticed a faint warmth in the same spot on your spirit. “Is she alive?”

• Klaus took a protective step closer to your body and shook his head. “No guys, she’s dead. She-” He hesitated, locking eyes with you before turning back to Diego, “I know she’s dead, alright. If she were alive, she wouldn’t still look sixteen. Diego ignored him and ran his hand across your shoulder and over to your pulse point. A violent shiver racked through you, earning a questioning glance from Ben. “Are you ok?” He murmured, rubbing your back.

• “I- I can feel him touching my physical body.” You watched as Diego stopped moving and held two fingers in place. The whole room fell silent as everyone waited in anticipation to hear what he had to say.

• “She’s alive.”

• Klaus locked eyes with you, “That’s not possible. I’ve spoken to her ghost, that can’t be-”

• Allison cut him off, “What do you mean you’ve spoken to her?” Her voice was sharp and accusatory.

• “I can speak to ghosts Allison!” Klaus replied in exasperation, “That includes our sister.” From beside him, Luther frowned. “Wait. You’ve been in contact with Y/n this whole time and haven’t bothered to say anything?”

• Diego sighed in frustration, “Will you guys stop arguing for five fucking minutes. We need to try and wake her up.” You stiffened slightly, suddenly hit by a surge of apprehension. Were you even ready to wake up? It had been years since you’d actually spoken to your siblings. Memories of their past cruelty after Ben’s death came flooding back to you.

• “Hey, you’ll be ok. Klaus will look after you.” You looked up and saw Ben offering you a reassuring smile. Before you could open your mouth to reply, a wave of disorientation hit, and in an instant the world around you was black.

• For a moment everything was quiet, save for a high pitched ringing in your ears. Your body felt heavier than before, and cold too. Though this sensation was different to the faint chill you had grown accustomed to. This was more of a biting frost that gnawed at your extremities.

• With great effort, you forced your eyes open. It took a moment for you to adjust to the fluorescent lighting over your head, but soon the faces of your siblings became clearer around you.

• You suddenly became aware of a hand touching your cheek. Following the arm it belonged to, you realised it was Klaus. His dark eyes stared down intensely into yours, as if he hadn’t seen you in years.

• “How are you not dead?”

• Your lips parted, but no sound escaped. Memories of old books Reginald had made you read came to the forefront of your mind, but your throat was too sore to produce any intelligible words. He had made you study astral projection a long time ago, but you hadn’t given the topic much thought since. Perhaps your father knew more about your powers than he was letting on.

• Allison’s face drifted into your view, distracting you from your thoughts. She shot Klaus a stern look before looking back down at you, “We can worry about that later. For now let’s get you warmed up.”

• Your sister pulled you out from the freezer and held your shivering form close. Klaus noticed your chattering teeth and draped his jacket over your shoulders.

• Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Luther shift, “So… should we still go ahead with the funeral?” Your siblings exchanged hesitant glances, unsure of how to proceed, when you were suddenly hit with a vision. It was only a brief flash of something. A storm, a glowing blue light, and then finally, a face you never thought you’d see again.

• The moment had been so brief that none of your siblings realised anything had happened. It was Klaus who recognised that familiar haunted expression on your face, pulling you away from Allison and holding onto your shoulders with a concerned frown. “What did you see?”

• You just shook your head slowly, “It’s not possible.”

• Klaus gently squeezed your shoulders, “You know I’ll always believe you, Y/n. I’ll have your back no matter what.” His brown eyes stared deeply into yours, with a level of intensity that you rarely saw in him anymore. “Just tell me what you saw.”

• They wouldn’t believe you- hell, you hardly believed it yourself. Yet there was no denying what you had seen. What was going to happen. You took a deep breath and turned to face the rest of your siblings, whose sole attention was on you.

• “We need to go outside. Five is coming back.”

This took wayyy longer to write than I thought it would. This is an introduction to an au idea I’ve had in my head for a long time, hence why it’s pretty disjointed.

Also I know none of the characters exhibit much ‘yandere behaviour’ in this. I will build up to it in future works (which will include Five!!) 🙏

[wings-of-fire-confessions]

right, so, as someone in an advanced lit class, I can not stop analyzing the fuck out of WOF characters.

especially mother fucking SUNNY.

what does she represent?

UNITY AND POWER

Let me explain. Sunny is quite literally the first ever hybrid in the books. She's written as an outcast, even in her own group, because the others veiw her as weak and incapable. Despite this, she has the ability to subtly push her friends in the right direction, frustratingly though she had to go through others. unwillingly, she is made to be reliant on others.

this is what makes her book so immensely interesting to me. Despite being seen as weak and defenseless, she does what No one else has the (metaphorical) balls to do.

She walks into what is basically the mob to ask strangers for mercy and help, offers to help said murder strangers with an immediate issue (dragonbite viper), then when threatened by a much older dragon who's using basically a 10 year old as leverage she goes with them willingly, instructing the ONE AND ONLY WITNESS to say nothing at all. THEN she survives using nothing but her wit in what has to be the most dangerous dragons lair and then escape with very little aid.

THEN she had the courage to fave said dragon again.

That's POWER. the ability to push through struggles and become loud.

what about unity?

her mother and the outclaws united to find her, she started JMA, she was the first to speak up about a lot of issues, she stepped forward to take care of Aukelts egg without hesitation. She not only physically represents unity through being a hybrid but also through her actions.

Anyway I'm writing an essay on Freedom and Cottonmouth.

k bye

OH also the outclaws are just a bunch of punks SUE ME.

.

[thnksfrthquinn]

A Bond Forged in Shadows

Summary : As the daughter of Rome’s most trusted senator, you grew up alongside Emperor Geta and his brother, forging a bond of friendship in the shadows of imperial power. Now, as Geta ascends the throne, your world is thrown into turmoil when your father arranges a political marriage to secure alliances for Rome. Though bound by duty, you can’t suppress the growing unease in your heart—nor can Geta hide his own discontent at the thought of losing you. Amid the treacherous intrigue of the Roman court, stolen moments and unspoken feelings blossom into a forbidden love that defies the expectations of duty and empire. With alliances at stake and betrayal lurking around every corner, you and Geta must navigate the perilous divide between loyalty and desire, risking everything for a chance at happiness in a world that demands you sacrifice it all

WC: 1.9k

Warnings: No spoilers from the movie // Smut // Violence // soft!Geta // rough!Geta // Geta x Reader

a/n: I'm actually in awe of Joseph as Geta so I thought id make a fic lol :)

The marble halls of the imperial palace were as cold and unyielding as the duties that weighed upon its inhabitants. You walked them with practiced ease, your head held high as whispers of senators and servants drifted past like the faintest echoes of a storm. To the outside world, you were the picture of composure—the dutiful daughter of Rome’s most trusted senator, a symbol of unity and loyalty to the empire. But beneath the gilded façade, your thoughts churned. The announcement of your impending betrothal, carefully orchestrated to strengthen Rome’s alliances, felt like a noose tightening around your neck. As daughter of Rome’s most trusted senator you lived and breathed the palace since you were born, alongside Geta and Caracalla and their father whom ruled before them. You and Geta grew up fairly close, Caracalla on the other hand, you two didn’t seem to get along at all. You found yourself mindlessly roaming around the palace halls and gardens, finding new hobbies like reading or art. You were just a page in your fathers book, only there for courtship and alliances and to serve Rome. You learned from a young age how to handle yourself and how to act. 

It was a cool summers day as you roamed around the palace gardens admiring the flowers. You had just had a stern talking too from your father and you needed to cool off. The gardens were like your safe place, you always came here for solitude. You sat and a nearby bench and took a long breath, taking in the air around you. You hear rustling behind you and turn. Geta is watching you, a cheeky smirk on his face, he walks up behind you and suddenly speaks. 

“All alone again are we?” He stands with his hand behind his back looking down at you, eyes focused on yours. 

“My lord, good afternoon” You stand and curtsy, ruffling the creases in your gown as you stand. His eyes trace your body up and down as he nods in acceptance, a small smirk still playing on his lips. 

“Ive told you before, no need for such formalities when we are alone” You let out a soft sigh.

“I know, its just habit” Geta moves closer to you and you both begin to walk around the palace gardens. 

“What are you doing out here alone for anyway?” Geta turns his head to you as you both walk together, his hand firmly behind his back still. 

“Just wanted to get some air, before this afternoons senate meeting” You both waltz through the gardens, seeming to walk in circles around the flowers. Geta nods and stops for a moment, a small hum coming from his lips. 

“Ah yes, the meeting” He stops. “This wouldn’t be about what you father has planned for you, would it?” He turns to you and raises a brow. You turn to him and clench your jaw. You know he knows why your out here, you decide to just come clean. You both had a good relationship and you know Geta wouldn’t do anything to hurt you. 

“Yes.. yes it does” You confess, taking a big sigh and looking down to the floor. You cannot lie to Geta, he knows you too well. 

“You don’t want to get married, do you?” He asks, his eyes still focused on you. You cannot look at him, you feel you like have betrayed him, betrayed Rome. 

“No..” You say softly, the nerves getting the better of you. You stand in-front of him, still looking down to the floor. He takes a step closer to you and places a gentle hand on your chin, lifting it so your looking at him. Your eyes trace up to his face as he gently lifts your chin.

“Geta-“ He stops you, placing his finger over your lips.

“I understand..” He pauses. “You don’t want to marry somebody you don’t know, somebody whom you have no interest with or in” You eyes widened in shock, how did he know? He let go of your chin and tilted his head to you. 

“If you don’t want to get married, why are you allowing your father to do this to you?” He spoke quietly, raising his hand slightly to let the guards know he wanted to be alone. The guards around all soon left. You look at him, your brows furrowed. 

“Its my duty for alliances, for Rome” He met your gaze as you looked at him, noticing the expression on your face. He let out a scoff, turning away from you as he rolled his eyes. When he spoke again there was a sense of irritation in his tone. 

“And what about what you want? You shouldn’t be married off to some pompous senator for Rome. Me and Caracalla can manage on our own” He scoffs, turning back to you. 

“It doesn’t matter about what I want. This is what I was born to do.. I thought of all people, you should know that!” You snap at him, your hands shaking in frustration. Geta should know this is what you have to do. The irritation grew in Geta as you spoke, his jaw clenching and eye twitching. He quickly spoke again, a snap in his tone as he did so. 

“You can plead your case to the senate, me and Caracalla. You cannot give up this easily” You chuckle in frustration, surely he cannot be serious. You stand in front of him, dumbfounded by what he’s just said. 

“You know they will just push me to the side, Geta.” You pause. “Why do you care so much anyway? You should be telling my father no if you don’t like it as much as me, your the goddamn emperor!” You snapped, internally scolding yourself. You take a step back, clenching your jaw, trying to stand your ground. Geta stood up himself at your snap at him. There was something about your attitude that angered him, yet at the same time intrigued him. He took a few steps forward, closing the gap between you.

“Don’t you ever speak to me like that again, I am not just a ‘goddam’ emperor, I am your ruler. The one who rules over you, and I have been more than generous to you” The look in his eyes was frighting, but you stood your ground glaring back at him. 

“What are you going to do? Kill me with high treason. Do it! I’d be much happier not here than marrying some senator for this godforsaken kingdom!” Your eyes never left his, he was surprised at how you were acting, nobody has ever stood up to him like this before, except for Caracalla, but that was to be expected. Geta was beginning to lose his temper with you, he had expected you to cower like everybody else, but you were not. You were starting to get him riled up. His eyes narrowed angrily at you and he stepped closer to you. 

“Watch your tone with me, girl. Don’t tempt me to act rashly, this little outburst your having right now is already testing my patience” You were both fairly close to each other, you could see the sweat beading off his forehead. Your fists began to clench, you’d never been this angry before. The fear had completely left your body and it only ran on adrenaline, remembering the talk you had with your father and now this conversation with Geta. 

“Do it! You’re testing my patience” The challenge you were giving him sent a fire through his veins. He felt a heat in hi like he had never felt before towards you, it was almost primal. He placed his hand on your jaw, forcing you to look at him. His tone was more firm and demanding now. 

“I’m warning you, girl. Your testing my limits. Do not force me to do something we will both regret” You gritted your teeth as he held your jaw, trying to snap out of his firm grasp but failing.

“Let. Go. Of. Me” You spat out at him, breathing heavy and tense. He held fast as you tried to snap yourself out of his grasp, gripping your jaw a bit tighter as he spoke again, his tone firmer and more demanding. 

“No, your acting like a disobedient brat. Im not going to ‘loosen my grip’ just because you demand me to. You’re acting like a insolent fool, you need to be put in your place!” You began to get more and more angry by the second, plus, you didn’t care what would happen to you. You just wanted this whole situation to end. You struggled more and more to get out of Geta’s grip, but he was too strong. Your heart pounded in your chest, a mix of fury and defiance burning in your veins as you glared at him. 

“Put me in my place?” you hissed through gritted teeth, your voice trembling with barely contained rage. “You’re nothing but a tyrant hiding behind a crown!” Geta’s jaw tightened at your words, a dangerous glint flashing in his eyes. His grip on your jaw remained firm, his nails digging into your skin.

“A tyrant?” he repeated coldly, his voice low and cutting. “You think I enjoy this? You think I enjoy being forced to deal with your reckless defiance? Your insolent tongue is going to get you in trouble one of these days, and it seems like today is that day” Your blood boiled as his words pierced through the haze of your anger. With a surge of determination, you pushed against his chest with all the strength you could muster, his nails leaving a scratch on your jaw, blood dripping down to your neck.

“Don’t touch me like that!” you spat, shoving him back just enough to break his hold. Geta stumbled slightly, more from surprise than force, his expression shifting from anger to something unreadable. The cut on your jaw stung with the cool breeze that flowed through the trees. “You don’t get to manhandle me like I’m one of your mistresses!”

“You—” he began, but you cut him off, your voice trembling with righteous fury.

“Me and my father have done nothing but support you and your brother! When everyone else doubted, we stood by you. When others plotted against you, we were the ones who protected your name and your throne!” Your chest heaved as you struggled to contain the fire within you, wiping the blood from your face. “And this—this is how you repay us? By treating me like some insubordinate plaything? By using your strength against me?” For a moment, Geta was silent, his lips pressed into a hard line. His fists clenched at his sides, but he made no move to approach you again. 

“You think I don’t see what you’ve done for me and my brother?” he said finally, his voice quieter, though the tension still lingered in his tone. “You think I don’t know the sacrifices you and your father have made?”

“Then act like it,” you snapped, the raw emotion in your voice cutting through the air. “I deserve more respect than this, Geta. My loyalty isn’t yours to abuse.”

The weight of your words hung heavy between you both, the silence stretching until it became almost unbearable. For the first time, a flicker of regret crossed his face, but you didn’t wait for him to respond. Turning on your heel, you walked away holding onto your jaw, your heart still racing, leaving him standing there in the presence of his actions.  

[lover-of-mine]

hang onnn is eddie’s shirt/jacket/whatever blue? are they wearing blue and green in that scene? is that….. something? 😅

Okay, so, first, blue and green buddie. (Blue and Green Masterpost here, it was written mid s7 but it does explain the use of the combo in excruciating detail if you're up for it)

Buddie has 6 explicitly blue and green scenes (when I say explicit, I mean they have a top that is blue or green, in this house the coding counts for every element of the scene, but this exercise doesn't need it). 613 when they are discussing Buck's math powers, 617 when they are leaving the station and discussing the fact that Chim should propose, 704 at the hangar, 706 at dispatch, the street where Chim was and the wedding (I'm counting this as one scene because it's the same outfit), 805 when they are discussing the boils at the loft, and the hotshots scene in 808.

One thing you will notice is that Eddie is always green and Buck is always blue. Which makes sense. Except for the hangar (that has a few different rules at play considering the black jacket for Eddie and the red hoodie for Buck) those are not scenes that have any major developments for their relationship. The blue and green doesn't have to be Something, it's mostly about creating visual unity, since blue and green are analogous colors, which means they are right next to each other in the color wheel, and that's a color scheme used to create a harmonious look, it's about cohesion, bathena also wears the combo very casually, but madney does tend to have big changes happening in those colors, you can read more on masterpost.

Buddie is casual with the combo. Big changes with them tend to happen in blue and yellow, same happens with henren, you can read about that here (this post is very deranged tho).

But Eddie is a green character, Buck is a blue one, that makes sense.

Now though? We have the inversion of colors.

I feel like I made the fact that Buck being in green means something is wrong very clear (I will link my original post about that here because I feel like it's more detailed than the one that also explains the Eddie and maroon thing), and yes, that forest green color that we nicknamed the breakup green is part of something going wrong in his life, even if the breakups are meant to be, they're never fun.

But something about other instances he wears green (times that are not explicitly about his love life falling apart), those being the 316 arc where he's trying to fix Red, the coma dream, the cemetery scene, and the gym scene in 705, have a bigger problem that Buck is not dealing with. (There's also 707 when he burns the lasagna but I remembered it editing this and I don't want to add the image here, that scene has different rules because of the blue apron tho).

The thing with Red is about his fear of ending up alone, the coma dream is about him learning to do it for himself, the cemetery scene is about him not dealing with the way dying made him feel, the gym is about him not being ready to tell Eddie how he feels. But they all have Buck running around trying to ignore the source of the issue. He makes Red about himself, he tries to fix Maddie and Bobby before finally accepting that he needs to decide to leave the coma, "I feel like she sees me", talking around what he wants because he can't make himself say what he means at the gym.

Funny enough the cemetery scene and the gym scene are blue and green coded, because of Buck's green jacket and the blue elements around Eddie. And before you @ me with the fact that I'm using the sky being blue as proof, the sky is only blue behind Eddie, you can check the scene, they desaturated the sky behind Buck.

But anyway, there's an overall theme of Buck being misguided. Even surrounding some of the breakups, he's in green hiding from Taylor at Eddie's because he doesn't want to face it, he is asking Tommy to move in a desperate move to pretend their connection is more than it is. It's almost Buck going overboard to keep things in, because let's face it, this dude has no clue how to process a big emotion in a healthy way.

As for Eddie with blue, it's not a common color on him, but it is a color we see him in enough outside the uniform. That seems to be a denim jacket, and we discussed Eddie in denim a LOT this past few months lol, but I keep coming back to these 2. Deciding to move to LA and giving up the truck to have the chance to fix his relationship with Chris.

Granted that's a lot lighter than the one in the still. I just like the Eddie breaking free trying to move forward aspect of those 2 scenes.

That color is a lot closer to the blue of their uniforms, and the only comparable Eddie outfit I can think of is 701 locker room.

@stagefoureddiediaz talks about this in her meta of disconnected, but there's also the way that they use this shade of blue to keep Eddie connected to LA. It's a similar tone to the uniform, it's an outfit you expect Eddie to wear in LA in a way that the plaid flannels aren't, so maybe there's something there too.

Okay, this is a lot of information, what does it mean for the both of them? Well, realistically, since they don't have big movements in blue and green, not much. BUT I talked about how the combo is about creating visual unity, there's a chance that is the goal, placing them as a unity, partners, because 613, we see bathena and madney in blue and green after seeing Buck and Eddie in it, so it ends up connecting them.

The same way that the couples, including Buck and Tommy (granted in a less obvious way than the rest of them, since the combo tends to be matchy matchy and Tommy in navy and Buck in mint doesn't really match, there's also the fact that Buck is actively matching Eddie, but that's a whole other post), are in blue and green in the same scene 706. (Maddie and Chim are blue and green in different ways throughout the episode, again, details in the masterpost).

So my current bet is that they'll have their own arcs, Eddie with his feelings about not being there and moving forward and maybe even back to LA, and Buck struggling with his own feelings while he tries to be a stabilizing presence for the rest of the team, because Bobby asked that of him and because he's Buck and he wasn't inside the lab, so that boy will feel like he's not allowed his feelings. And that maybe we will see other couples in blue and green, to create that connection in the same way as 613 and 706.

Anyway, this got long as hell, hope it makes sense, if you read this, I love you 🫶

[homoeroticjunoincident]

i’m going to try to add id’s for this. i fucking guess (if you can make these better in some way @ me or something)

[image 1: a monochrome picture of chonny jash in a seemingly empty room, looking directly into the camera. some sort of dark liquid has been poured over his head.

image 2: a tweet from chonny jash reading “BOO! New Power Hour begins in 24 hours!!! Cool! See you then! Or not! Also cool!” with the previous image appended to it.

Image 3: a tweet from chonny jash reading “Hey! I’m sorry for dropping in so callously at what was the early AM of a Strike Week! Here’s an update of the next week on my end. #FreePalestine.”

Image 4: a discord message from chonny jash reading:

Re; Global Strike Week

Basically, I didn’t know it was happening, and that’s on me, but thanks to some well-meaning fans - and a couple of not-well-meaning ones - I do now, SO here’s the rundown:

I will be staying off all social media to allow space for much more important posts about Palestine and Gaza, from people much more knowledgeable about it, until a bit over a week from now, but for various reasons that I promise aren’t worth explaining (and with all due respect (a lot!), are none of your business) the Power Hour will release as intended.

If you choose to ignore these releases for the Strike Week - or indefinitely - then that’s completely fine! That’s your right as an audience member to do so, and you’re doing it for a good cause. My gross, worthless Internet Points shouldn’t impede that.

More importantly for my own wellbeing, though, I wanted to use this as a quick opportunity to make it clear that just because I’ve been silent publicly on it doesn’t mean that I’m ignoring it, or neutral, or a Zionist, or anything else you might be fearful I am.

I’m donating, and signing, and boycotting, and keeping aware as much as I can, and I’m in an incredibly fortunate position where I can do more than scream into the dead bird app. Those screams are important! But mine aren’t as loud as you’d expect, and my energy can be spent much more efficiently elsewhere.

And that’s the short of it.

If that’s not enough for you, then it’s your right to believe that and stop listening. I don’t want or expect to dictate what/who you support online.

Just be kind to each other, okay?

- CJ” /end ids]

I haven't seen anyone post it yet so uh. New power hour this week!!!

what is the context for that photo tho.

[goodnightmemes]

AGATHA ALL ALONG SENTENCE STARTERS

❛ You don't seem like yourself. ❜

❛ If you wanna be in control, you can be. ❜

❛ Is this really how you see yourself? ❜

❛ Do you remember why you hate me? ❜

❛ The things that you're roasting me for are the things that make me dangerous. ❜

❛ How long have I been here? ❜

❛ Call me "nosy," I'll cut out your tongue. ❜

❛ Can you put on some clothes? 'Cause you... 'Cause you're naked. ❜

❛ Do you remember pain? It kind of tickles, doesn't it? ❜

❛ Maybe I can't kill you, but I can make you wish you were dead. ❜

❛ I am not the only one that wants to see you dead. ❜

❛ Ugh! It really warms the heart. ❜

❛ You don't have a heart. ❜

❛ Be sure to tell the vengeance-seekers I said hi. ❜

❛ That's why I saved you from the spell you were under. ❜

❛ Wherever you are, a coven there shall be. ❜

❛ I feel really optimistic about this. ❜

❛ So you're a bit of a kook. Every witch has their process. ❜

❛ Witches like you are the reason people think we poison apples, and steal children, and eat babies. ❜

❛ Don't you miss the glory days? ❜

❛ The path you're currently on leads nowhere. ❜

❛ Hey! Where do you keep your jade eggs? I'm fresh out of marbles, and my pelvic floor is all over the place. ❜

❛ I haven't seen you since I made a really pointed effort to never run into you again.❜

❛ Historically, we as a group don't do well in courtrooms. ❜

❛ People like you are dangerous. ❜

❛ Are there any real witches in the house? ❜

❛ What a team of rejects. ❜

❛ This is just a really, really, really horrible party. ❜

❛ It's giving "middle-aged second chance at love" vibes and I'm here for it. ❜

❛ Okay, so a witch is really just another name for a bad girl, is that right? ❜

❛ I'm not saying that I wanna join the club or anything, but I would drink the blood of a virgin if it would smooth out some of these wrinkles. ❜

❛ So the hallucinations seem chill. ❜

❛ I can't protect you! ❜

❛ I do not wanna die here. This is not where I die. ❜

❛ They can take your power, but they can't take your knowledge. ❜

❛ I didn't think you had it in you. ❜

❛ We were supposed to look out for each other, but we didn't. That was our fatal mistake. ❜

❛ I wish we could go home. ❜

❛ People can't be replaced. ❜

❛ Are we in trouble? Like, more than we were ten minutes ago? ❜

❛ Honestly, I don't know how to feel. Do I hate her? Or do I want her phone number? ❜

❛ I'm feeling impatient. I'm feeling like I wanna cause some damage. ❜

❛ Once vengeance is loosed, you can't reel it back in. ❜

❛ The only way to end a curse is to face it. ❜

❛ Sad is better than angry. ❜

❛ You don't have to know a person's name to know who they are. ❜

❛ Are you really defending a noted serial killer, you creepy lurker? ❜

❛ The moral of the story, kids, is always finish what you started. Also, mercy is overrated. ❜

❛ Who better to commune with the dead than someone who's put so many in the grave? ❜

❛ I mean, or we could just slit her throat. ❜

❛ But we were getting along, weren't we? We were clicking. There was unity. ❜

❛ She's possessed! For real this time! ❜

❛ I hate ghosts. ❜

❛ Why do you hate me still?❜

❛ You were born evil. ❜

❛ Please take me with you. ❜

❛ She was protecting you. But you don't deserve it. ❜

❛ I couldn't... I couldn't control it. ❜

❛ Death comes for us all. ❜

❛ You're so much like your mother. ❜

❛ We love you more than we could ever hope to communicate in human words. ❜

❛ You don't need to be a psychic to see that you're a good egg. ❜

❛ Enjoy the now, baby. It's the only thing that's certain. ❜

❛ Nothing in my life has felt normal until I met you. ❜

❛ I want you to know the real me. ❜

❛ You're so adorably trusting. ❜

❛ Word to the wise, don't go sniffing around there. ❜

❛ You seriously don't know what kind of crazy that lady eats for breakfast. ❜

❛ I panicked, so I ran. ❜

❛ Could we, like, maybe not, with the physical violence? ❜

❛ Power doesn't interest me. ❜

❛ Yeah. Well, what you did was ehhh … but life goes on. Yours, anyway. ❜

❛ I mean, I've killed...uh...my share. But you don't see it holding me back. ❜

❛ Don't you dare feel guilty about your talent. You survived. ❜

❛ So you broke the rules. Big deal. That's what kept you alive. That's what makes you special. ❜

❛ I don't need you anymore. I don't know if I ever did. ❜

❛ If you really wanna finish this together, just know that I do not trust you. At all. ❜

❛ You'll get a nosebleed trying that hard to read my mind. ❜

❛ Hey, you want straight answers, ask a straight lady. ❜

❛ Tell me what more I should see, when I look at you. ❜

❛ You know, we really hated each other from the beginning. But now...I love you, guys. ❜

❛ I'm a forgotten woman. ❜

❛ Death comes for us all. It is what we all have in common. ❜

❛ I can see all the pieces falling into place. The gaps are filling in. ❜

❛ I'm telling you now because soon I'm not going to remember any of this. ❜

❛ I hope you'll join me. ❜

❛ I needed you. My coven. ❜

❛ What can I say? I like the bad boys. ❜

❛ I loved being a witch. ❜

❛ That's it? That's all the... That's all the time I get? ❜

❛ This can't be the end. It has to be the beginning. ❜

❛ I watch you. Just as closely as you watch everyone else. ❜

❛ No one in history has had special treatment like you. ❜

❛ You gave me nothing. You took. ❜

❛ Why do you let them believe those things about you, hmm? ❜

❛ What fresh horrors await us! ❜

❛ You seem relaxed. Usually at this point you're either complaining loudly or freaking out loudly. ❜

❛ It's nice. That feeling when your body knows it's safe. ❜

❛ Sometimes...boys die. ❜

❛ Congratulations, my love! I'm sorry I didn't have a ribbon for you to run through. ❜

❛ Why don't you want me? ❜

❛ Power looks good on you. ❜

❛ You do this and I will hate you forever. ❜

❛ Please let him live. Please, my love! ❜

❛ If you want to survive, get used to this feeling. ❜

❛ I cannot protect you from what's coming. ❜

❛ I saw you die. ❜

❛ And now, I'm a ghost. Can you dig it? ❜

❛ By the way, I did not sacrifice myself for you. I took a calculated risk. ❜

❛ You're making fun of me. This is just one of your tricks. ❜

❛ You have something of mine. I know you took it. ❜

❛ Why are you still here? Why won't you just die? ❜

❛ I'm sure he would forgive you for... whatever you did. ❜

❛ We could make a good team. You and me. ❜

[gojonanami]

NO REGRETS ☁︎ KENTO NANAMI

☁︎ summary: when nanami is injured from his fight with mahito, you're sent to pick him up. and both of your careful avoidance of your feelings for each other comes crumbling down. ☁︎ cw: hurt/comfort, angst then fluff, mutual pining, mentions of injuries, blood, spoilers for events of s1, these two idiots are so in love ☁︎ wc: 3,509

Nanami had very few regrets in his life, if any. 

Regrets felt almost wasteful to him — living in the past when you were already firmly rooted in the present, and aside from that, he knew the insidious power of regret — the way it festered and grew and fed cursed energy and spirits alike.

However, as he grasped at his side discreetly — pain blooming with each step he took,  scarlet red painting his fingers that barely concealed the wound under his jacket — he couldn’t help but regret arriving at this trap without backup. 

It was hubris really — he thought as he finally found an empty bathroom — and the utter lack of resources that Jujutsu sorcerers had, in both manpower and strength. 

Really, he thought as he stripped off his jacket, leaning against the wall of the stall, his blood still roaring in his ears, you’d think after all these years, the organization would have any semblance of organization or unity for that matter. He glances at the wound staining his shirt — shit it’s deeper than I thought. 

He rinses his hands off in the sink, ringlets of blood staining the clean countertop and sink alike. He pulls tissue from the dispenser, wiping the remainder of blood from his fingers, before taking clean napkins and wadding it, placing it at his wound to stem the bleeding. 

But how could it? He pulls out his phone — finding Ijichi’s number and dialing it — especially when sorcerers were dying left and right — 

— And he was barely an exception. 

"Hello, I’m sorry!” 

“Hm?” what could he possibly have to apologize for? 

“I’ve just sent you my location,” he feels a headache creeping on, and he wasn’t sure it was from the fatigue or the blood loss — probably both, “please come and pick me up a.s.a.p. I need you to take me to Jujutsu Tech to get some treatment from Ieiri.” 

“Treatment?” he was tired of questions — the exhaustion settled against his body familiarly, the adneradline finally beginning to wane from his body. 

“Nothing serious,” and he almost could have laughed — a penetrating wound in his side wasn’t serious — and he added, “nothing that’s going to kill me anyway.”

But it easily could have — if he hadn’t hidden his soul in time, if he hadn’t chosen to take the hit, he would have died — or would he have? A shiver travels down his spine at the thought of that transfigured human, pleading for him to kill them — or would his subconscious simply have been trapped? 

“That’s good,” comes Ijichi’s sigh of relief, “Well, I’m about to join up with Itadori, then we’ll head your way.” 

Nanami’s brow wrinkles, “What? He’s not with you?” 

There’s no telling what those unidentified cursed spirits’ plans were — but it was a terrible idea having Itadori wander around unsupervised with any of them out there. They had no idea what plan these unidentified special grades had — only that they started emerging when Itadori became the vessel for Sukuna. He pinches the bridge of his nose — whether that was a coincidence or not, he didn’t want to take that risk. 

“I’m sorry!” Ijichi yells into the receiver, and Nanami flinches, holding the phone away from his ear, “I’m going to get him right now. Wait right there.” 

And Nanami hangs up, putting his phone away, leaning against the wall of the bathroom again. The pain in his side begins to throb, and he sucks in breath, only to sigh.  Like he said, it’s not like this would kill him — he glances down at the wound again, but it did hurt like hell. 

He hoped Ijichi got here quickly. 

You see Ijichi’s name flash on your screen, as you glance up from the mountain of paperwork burying your normally neat desk. Volunteering to be a temporary teacher at Jujutsu Tech while Gojo was away was a mistake, if only because you got stuck finishing up the paperwork he so kindly left behind for you. You could almost imagine him laughing at you when he returns, thanking you with some tacky souvenir he picked up from some gift shop. 

He may be the greatest sorcerer in the world, but he’s still the same pain in the ass you knew from your time here. 

You grab your phone — so you’d welcome any distraction — even if it’s Ijichi asking you to run an errand for him. 

You pick up, “Ijichi, what’s up?”

He greets you, “Can you do me a favor?” his voice is breaking, and you wrinkle your brow. 

“Are you okay?” 

“Never mind that,” you swear you hear him sniff, but he continues regardless of that, his voice growing more even with every word, “could you pick up Nanami for me? I sent you his coordinates.” 

“Nanami?” your brows knit together, chest squeezing, “is he okay?” 

“He’s fine, from what he said on the phone, but he needs to be seen by Ieiri for treatment,” Ijichi says, the tension in his voice thick with every passing word, like a clock being wound far too tight, far too quickly,  “please, I would really appreciate it!” 

“Alright, alright, Ijichi,” and you hear him sigh in relief, “Did you let him know I’m coming?” 

Silence fills your ears for a moment, before he speaks, “Can you just let him know? Thank you so much, I will see you soon!” 

“Ijichi—” and he’s already hung up, and you sigh at your phone. 

Nanami’s right — jujutsu sorcerers are shit. 

 You make your way to Nanami’s location, your fingers drumming against the leather of your steering wheel, chewing on your lip. You didn’t bother telling Nanami you were headed his way, knowing him he’d only protest and call a car to come get him. And you weren’t about to let him get driven home by a stranger when he’s hurt. Nanami was the type to hate being reliant on anyone, only when it was absolutely necessary — you had learned that soon enough after meeting him.

You squeezed the wheel tighter — you hoped Gojo hadn’t said anything to him about your conversation with him — the damn bastard was so smug — as always. 

“You really agreed to come back quickly,” Gojo’s lips were split in a wide grin, and even behind that blindfold, you knew he was gauging your reactions. 

“Yeah? So? I’m at Jujutsu Tech half the time anyway in between missions,” you frown at him as he walks you to where you’ll be staying at the school, “plus, this will give me some time to observe the first years, and make sure you’re not filling their heads with nonsense,” 

“Oh, you wound me,” despite that, he’s laughing maniacally after, his lips still curled smugly, “but still, I just find it interesting is all, especially because you were hesitating until I mentioned Nanami would be here as well,” And you furrow your brow, head snapping to him, “is all I mean.” 

“Gojo—” 

“Have you told him how you feel?” and he doesn’t stop for a breath, “of course you haven’t, the two of you still dance around this like you did when you were students here. Very high school of you, but I guess it’s fitting since we’re in one.” 

“We don’t—” 

“You can’t deny it,” he says, still grinning, “well, you can, but it doesn’t change the fact that it’s still there,” and then he gestures to the door in front of you, “we’re here!” 

You only stare at him, brow furrowed, “I don’t have feelings for Kento — we’re just friends.” 

And to your surprise, Gojo nods, “You’re right — you’re just friends, and that’s all you’ll ever be,” and he’s brushing past you, “unless one of you says anything,” And you blink, teeth digging into your bottom lip, “Or unless I say something—” 

“Gojo!” and he’s already disappearing around a corner, laughing. 

He wouldn’t say anything — he wouldn’t. 

You think, at least. 

But — you tap your foot against the floor of the car — it didn’t make you any less anxious. 

It wasn’t simple. You and Nanami. 

It never was. 

Both first years at Jujutsu High — you grew up together, you lived next door to each other, you fought together — until you didn’t. 

Until he didn’t, because he left. 

But he had to — you never blamed him for that. It was hard enough to see horrors you all did day in and day out, but another thing is to lose people close to you — to be at risk of losing everyone. 

It was too much for him. 

And you knew that, you saw it, even if he didn’t want you to. 

Too many nights you would barely knock on his door only to find him wide awake, bags under his eyes. Eventually, there was one night, after a difficult mission, you found yourself at his door. His door creaked open, and you knew he wasn’t sleeping — he had been lying awake just like you had. You spent the night with him in solace, in quiet, until eventually you both fell asleep. 

It became a habit — one that you had started after you couldn’t sleep one night, and it soon became every night — except the one night Gojo had barged into Nanami’s room, finding the two of you asleep by the dining table on the floor, your head resting against his shoulder. Gojo had woken Nanami up with the click of his camera phone, and you woke up as Nanami yelled at Gojo — who ran out of the room, laughing. 

After that, Nanami would find his way to your room instead. And you had asked him once why he still came? He paused, only shrugging, “Because I want to.” 

And then he came back. Because he wanted to. 

You had him in your life again, but it wasn’t the same. The walls you had tumbled before were higher and harder to climb, and you didn’t even know if he wanted you too.

It had been a while since you had seen him — a few months, almost a year. 

You pulled into the area he was in, as you turned your car off. And you didn’t know what you were going to say to him, grabbing the first aid kit and your keys, before opening your door — only that you hoped he was okay. 

Nanami hears a knock on the stall, and his eyes flicker open, checking his phone — no call or text from Ijichi — his hand instinctively reaches for his blade. Until he senses who it is. He furrows his brow, unlocking the door, “What are you doing here?” 

How long had it been since he’d seen you? A few months? A year almost? Either way, it was far too long since he’d seen you, heard your voice, saw you smile—and he brushed away his thoughts. 

And that was exactly why it had been as long as it had. 

You stand, arms crossed eyes scrutinizing until you find your way to his wound, “Strip,” 

And he blinks, “Excuse me?” 

“Take off your shirt, Nanami,” and he purses his lips at the use of his last name, you open up the first aid kit — fully outfitted in everything needed to care for a wound, “I need to dress the wound before I take you to Jujutsu Tech, otherwise it could get infected, especially since it’s been left to bleed.” 

“You don’t need to—” and the rest of his sentence dies on his lips when your eyes flicker to his, glowering, and he sighs. It was more trouble to argue with you then it was to concede. 

He undoes the buttons of his shirt, as you wash your hands, sanitizing them, before grabbing a clean cloth. He gingerly shrugs off his shirt, and he sees your eyes flicker over his bare chest, before quickly resting on his wound. Heat climbs his neck, as you examine the wound, your cold fingers brushing against his warm skin.  

“It doesn’t look like there’s any remnants of cursed energy or poison in the wound,” you rise, dampening the cloth under running water, “I’m just going to clean it and bandage it.” 

His gaze softens as he watches you, “Since when did you learn so much about caring for wounds?” 

“I’ve had Shoko teach me a few things over the years,” you wring the cloth out, before kneeling again, “this might sting a little.” 

And it did — but his focus was elsewhere aside from pain. His eyes couldn’t help but gaze at you, noting the tenseness in your shoulders, the tiredness in your eyes, the signs of wear on your face, but he also notices that things that haven’t changed — the way you bit your lip when you were focusing, the way your brow scrunched deeply, and the way you always wore your heart on your sleeve, even if it wasn’t apparent to most around you. 

Or maybe it was just the way you were around him. 

That was the one thing that always drew him to you, wasn’t it? 

He was content in his life — he had left the jujutsu world because he thought he couldn’t handle it, and maybe at that time, he couldn’t. The deaths — especially of the people around him — it was too much. But he returned because he realized that the appreciation he could gather, the thank yous, were enough for him to live each day with no regrets. 

But his eyes found you again— almost. 

You were always the one to make him dare to want more than simple contentment — and it was dangerous to want more — because there was more to lose. And he couldn’t bear to lose anyone else — no, he pursed his lips, glancing as you rose to wash and wring out the cloth — he couldn’t bear to lose you. 

“Nanami,” and his gaze snapped up, finding himself staring at a water bottle, “drink.” 

He thanks you, taking the bottle from your fingers, brushing yours as he does, and the question slips from his lips before he can help it, “Why are you calling me ‘Nanami?’” 

You pause, raising an eyebrow “Should I be calling you Nanamin?” 

And he blinks, lips parting to ask where you heard— before he scowls, where else? Gojo must have told you about Itadori’s nickname, “No,” but he felt his ears burn — or maybe you should — and he continues, “You always called me Kento, before,” 

“Like you said, it was before,” you purse your lips, "what happened?" And he frowns, tilting his head, "I mean with the cursed spirit you were fighting," 

"I had to withdraw," he shakes his head, "this was an unregistered special grade — much like the ones that Gojo encountered. It's technique — it—" he breaks off — the memory of the woman— and he corrects himself — the corpse begging for him to kill her, "it was a bad match for mine, so I had no choice." but he notices your gaze lingering, "what?" 

"Are you okay?" And he blinks. 

"I'm fine—" and you shake your head, "what?" 

"You don't always have to do everything on your own, Nanami,” 

And he purses his lips, “Jujutsu isn’t—” 

“A team sport,” you finish, raising your eyebrows, “but this isn’t about the fight itself,” you pull fresh gauze from your kit, “it’s about the toll it takes after,” your fingers brush his, as you guide his hand to press it to the wound. 

“I don’t need to burden other people—” 

“You’re not a burden,” you cut him off, and you steal the breath from his lungs, your gaze burning a trail of heat wherever it lays, “how can you expect anyone to feel close to you if you won’t let anyone in?” the sound of tape cuts through the silence, as you bite it before ripping it into strips. 

“Maybe because I don’t want anyone to get close enough to see how weak I really am,” he says quietly, the back of his head resting against the wall again, “it’s easier to be content living so close to death every day, when you don’t have anything to lose.” 

You frown, “Nanami—”

“The things we see—” he says, “the murder, the disfigurement, the death, the loss,” he runs a hand over his face, “is it worth it to do what we do?” 

He feels your gaze linger on him, “Nanami, what happened earlier?” 

“I don’t—” he shakes. 

“What happened?” he squeezes his eyes shut, before sighing. 

So he tells you. About the cursed spirit, about how it can morph and mangle souls and bodies into whatever form he wishes, how it was the worst match up against his cursed technique, and about the corpse, “And there was a person— a corpse,” he swallows, “their face right below my feet, begging me to kill them — and I couldn’t do it,” his voice breaks. 

“Nanami—” he can’t look at you — he can’t. 

“And it almost did the same thing to me,” he whispers, “I could have ended up just like—” 

“But you didn’t,” your hand reaches for him, but he catches your wrist in his hand, gently, “you escaped.” 

“But I almost—” became just like them. 

And he almost understood what Itadori meant by the fact he wanted to have a proper death — because there was nothing proper about what that cursed spirit did to those people. 

You break from his grip, and your fingers brush his cheek tentatively, and you guide his gaze to yours, “You’re here with me — because of your skill, because of your abilities, because it wasn’t your time,” you tilt your head, “I’m not losing you that easily, Kento. Not without a fight.” 

His lips twitch into a bitter smile, watching the overhead fan spin above them, “But I suppose I’ll still be losing something in the end,” the words slip past his lips, “just like I lost you.” 

“Kento,” and he blinks, mouth parting, his eyes finding yours again, your brows furrowed, “you never lost me. You always have me—” and your eyes shy away, but not before they turn stern, “but not if you insist on being a martyr.” 

“I can manage that,” he says softly, as your fingers brush against his again, pressing tape over the gauze, and he hisses a little, leaning forward. 

Your head whips up, “Sorry,” and you freeze, your face an inch from his own. He feels your breath warm his lips, while his own stills — god, you were so beautiful, weren’t you? 

“Do you still not want anyone to be close to you?” you breathe, and he chuckles, lips curling in a smile, as his fingers dare to brush against your cheek, his chest stirring as he feels you lean into his touch. 

“Maybe not anyone,” and then he adds,  “but if it’s you—” 

“If it’s me?” and he dares a little closer, tilting your head upwards, his fingers resting on the back of your neck. 

“I always want you by my side,” he breathes, his lips a centimeter away, as he breathes your name, almost to ask for permission, “I’ve always—” 

“I know,” you whisper, “me too.” 

And his lips brush yours, for a moment — hesitant, as you both part for a moment, until your lips find his again, and again, and again. Until his hands are cupping your cheeks, and your arms are wrapping around his neck, your nails carding through the hair resting on the back of his neck — as your lips meet again. 

“Kento—” you murmur, and he nearly groans, as he’s pulling you closer — and he can’t think of anything else, but you, “I—” and you gasp, as his lips kiss down your jawline, and your hands slide down his shoulders to the front of his shirt, grasping at it, tugging him needlessly closer. 

“Ow,” he flinches, his wound stinging, and you pull away, hands raised. 

“Sorry, sorry,” and he smiles, his arms pulling you back to him, “Kento— we should get you to Jujutsu Tech,” 

Hu hums, “Just a second,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead, “I just want to savor this.”

“I didn’t know you were one for being sentimental, Nanamin,” and you feel him chuckle, your head resting on his chest, gingerly. 

“I don’t mind you calling me that, so much as I do...others,” 

“I’ll have to let Gojo know,” you snort, as your fingers toy with a button on his shirt, “and I’ll have to thank him.” 

He raises an eyebrow, “For what?” 

“For making me realize my feelings for you,” and Nanami tilts his head, “I’ll explain later.” 

“I’d thank him,” his hands wrapping around your waist,  “if I respected him more.”

“You do—” and he kisses you again, hard, his nose bumping against yours, before he smiles, his thumb softly grazing the length of your cheek back and forth, “Kento—” 

“You can thank him later,” he murmurs, pressing his forehead against yours, “I want to keep you to myself for now.” 

“And then?” His fingers slowly intertwine with yours — a perfect fit — as you tug at him, leading him out of the washroom.

He squeezes your hand, “We’ll see.” 

Together. 

☁︎ a/n: this is a fic i wrote a long time ago when i watched season 1 and i was like why not post it?

☁︎ tag list (apologies if you didn't wanna be tagged, going off who liked the poll i put up): @thotsposts, @ib4ryuguji, @sunspawn22, @kannra21, @nightmarelov,

[wildwren]

okay im not gonna add much to the conversation re: sinners besidesAHHHHHHHH MOVIE OF ALL TIMEEEEEEEEEE FUCK FUCK YES YEAS FUCK YEAHHHHHH but i just can't stop thinking about the way the banjo was used symbolically in the film and i havent seen this discussed so please excuse some rambling thoughts from a random white person with more than passing knowledge of the history of the banjo.

the banjo is a Black American instrument. it's related to similar West African instruments but it developed in the context of the American south and Black culture. However, throughout the 19th century, the banjo was actively and violently appropriated from Black musicians through the use of blackface minstrel shows, as well the industrial production of the instrument for a white middle class audience. the use of the banjo in blackface minstrelsy was so ugly and violent that many Black musicians distanced themselves from the instrument.

the three-finger playing style of bluegrass banjo that most Americans associate with the instrument, is *not* traditional. Clawhammer style playing, which shares many similarities with blues guitar playing, is the traditional style of banjo playing in Black plantation music. It involves striking the strings with your fingers to create complex melodic rhythms. It's also called "frailing." Picking the banjo in a three-finger bluegrass style was an invention of white musicians adopting the instrument for predominantly evangelical bluegrass music. The theft and erasure of banjo history from Black musicians has been so intense and violent that most Americans *only* associate the banjo with white evangelical bluegrass music, and see this music as "traditional" American music.

there's currently a thriving Black banjo revival movement, with musicians such as Rhinannon Giddens (a consultant and musician for the film), Jake Blount, Amythyst Kiah, and Our Native Daughters creating works of living Blank banjo culture, weaving threads of historical ethnomusicology, experimental Afro-futurism, and traditional Blues. Advocacy groups like The Black Banjo Reclamation Project promote education, reparations, and awareness.

okay, back to the film: in Sinners, the banjo is not front and center, but I think it still plays a powerful symbolic role. We first see a relative of the gourd banjo in the "I Lied To You" sequence, played by one of the West African ancestors. It's the very first musical sound that carries us out of the present moment with the characters and into the eternal now. the very music which, in the words of Delta Slim, came across the ocean when so much else was lost.

we don't see the banjo again until Remmick arrives with the creep band. he plays a modern, industrially-produced version of the banjo, performing a bluegrass ditty so sinister i was literally yelling at the screen. "I Picked Poor Robin Clean." Yea. Yep. Yes! That's literally it. The relationship between the white evangelicism of that style of playing and Remmick's mission of "unity".....yep! anyway!

We hear and see the banjo again when Remmick performs two traditional Irish songs: "Will You Go, Lassie Go?" and "Rocky Road to Dublin." The banjo has been thoroughly adopted into Irish music, mostly throughout the course of the 20th century and the traditional Irish folk revival. Irish banjo uses yet another style of playing the instrument, neither clawhammer nor three-finger picking, but a plucked version called "tenor banjo." It's strung and tuned differently and has some overlaps with the Irish style of fiddle-playing. From what I understand (but obviously opinions vary), this is more often viewed in the lens of cultural transmission than explicit appropriation. however, the fact remains: without the white supremacist control of the American music industry, this cultural transmission would have likely taken a very different path.

Remmick's relationship to the Irish music and Irish songs is really the truest, most human thing about him, and Irish folk music of course holds a place in the American music canon. But Irish-American identity is not the same thing as Irishness, and like the banjo, it carries its own history of specifically American violence. Sinners refuses to paste over the complexity of this history. it refuses to give us a neat narrative about cultural appropriation and assimilation, about the relative violences of exchange and theft. Coogler is calling out the entire white American cultural project which is and always has been built on vampirism, a project which all white Americans are implicated in, whether we'd like to believe it or not. Remmick certainly doesn't!

the banjo is one of the most on-the-nose representations and examples of this exact history and pattern. keeping this symbolism both central and subtle is just one of the ways Sinners demonstrates its mastery.

[justajsworkshop]

god, i finally have healthy attachment to the void state.

i just had this eye-opening realization that i used to see the void as the ultimate form of validation, not just fulfillment/instant manifestation (what i thought the story was about). but i was looking at the void as this magical place to affirm what i desire, and then i would know it was instantly true/would work.

which makes me ask: as opposed to what?? what am i implying about myself with this assumption?

i realize now that i didn't see myself as the final word. this narrative was never about the void state; it was always about me (since everything is, ofc), and i was using this story to remind myself that i am not the voice of truth; i am not the ultimate validation. i must access this state of consciousness (which i perceive as something to be separate and greater than me) to know my word will be honored (which also makes me ask: honored by whom??).

so, yes, i can desire to tap into the void state as an expression of wanting to know more of what i already am. i can still use it to shift/manifest (same thing). but i'm no longer seeing it as something greater or more powerful than myself (it's all just me anyway). now, i trust my word to be honored no matter what because i am god. i am all that is. and ofc, i am the void, too.

i swear, the answer to everything really is unity. i need nothing but me because i am all things, and i am all that i desire to be.

(i've also been listening to my unbothered/nonattachment sub, and i 100% think this helped with this shift, too.)