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thebiggerbear · 4 months

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Call My Name - One - Phase One Is A Go

Summary: And so begins Phase 1.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Female!Reader

A/N: Ahhhh I'm so excited to take this journey with you guys. I've been working on it for forever!!! I really hope you like it. It has been so much fun to write!!!

I have to be honest, I'm still learning all the ins and outs of posting fanfic on here and what that entails so I want to say up front that this is a sort of dark fic but not completely? Without giving anything away, there will be some dark elements. I will absolutely put those warning when that chapter happens but I just want to give you guys a heads up early on in case.

Unbeta'd so all mistakes are mine.

Songs for chapter (also listened to while writing): Prison Fight - Tyler Bates; Run For Your Life - The Siege

Series Masterlist

Warnings: sanctioned assassination; violence/blood; implied gore/death/murder; Soldier Boy being Soldier Boy; language; implied sexual imagery; hints of manipulation

Word Count: 8515

Series Taglist: @mostlymarvelgirl; @deangirl96; @avada-kedavra-bitch-187; @ej13928; @rieleatiel

SB Taglist: @deans-spinster-witch; @birdiellie; @heartlessdelusions; @nancymcl; @brightlilith; @muhahaha303; @just-levyy; @solacedthistest; @deansimpala; @foxyjwls007; @onlyangel-444

Jensen Taglist: @samanddeaninatrenchcoat

Some days were tough. Some days were harder than most. But here you were, getting through each day with only one goal in mind. Everything you did, every decision you made, every breath you took — it was all leading towards one specific objective.

And that’s why you were here now, at a black op CIA site, watching as they pulled a comatose Soldier Boy out of containment.

“Are you sure about this?” Grace Mallory asked as you both stared down from the observation deck at Vought’s original Supe they had cooked up. It wasn’t too often that Grace showed her soft side; most didn’t even know she had one actually. But right now, out of the corner of your eye, you could see concern mixed with understanding topped off with a bit of careful hesitation. While you hated the concern and appreciated the understanding, you couldn’t blame her on the hesitation. Soldier Boy was basically a nuclear reactor in human form and he hadn’t gone down under the best circumstances, which was putting it lightly. Not only did he not want to go back under for another deep sleep, but Butcher and his team would be in his sights now. And based on what he did to the last team who betrayed him, you all were in for a shitstorm.

You knew this was a terrible idea, that you could very likely die before achieving your goal and you could bring hundreds if not thousands of people with you if you weren’t careful. But you were out of options and just like Butcher and company had arrived at the same decision some months earlier, you had chosen to unearth the strongest weapon you had in your arsenal in the battle between Supes and humans.

Grace had fought you on it of course. The government had strongly agreed with her assessment; Soldier Boy was too much of a risk to allow him to gain consciousness never mind walk around free. And yet they had no answer when you questioned why they didn’t just destroy him and end it, making the world that much safer. You knew why; they wanted to be in possession of that power, that weapon deep within the Supe’s chest. And that you could work with.

The older woman already knew your backstory and when you pressed the right buttons, backed by Butcher of all people, eventually she came around. You had no idea who she spoke to or what favors she had called in, but sure enough, your mission was greenlit with barely any resistance though a ton of uneasiness. Not unexpected and not entirely unfathomable. Funnily enough, President Singer was kept in the dark on this one; he was too close to Vought and by extension, Homelander and Victoria Neuman. You didn’t exactly mind. It was better for you and the mission as a whole if no one knew that Soldier Boy was still alive. How Grace managed to keep his existence under wraps for all of this time, you had no idea, but you were grateful she was on your side. So when you got the go ahead, you and Butcher took the win and hightailed it to the CIA facility before anyone could change their minds, or worse, figure out what you were up to and try to stop you.

There were stipulations as you figured there would be: daily briefings, a carefully selected unit of CIA under Grace’s command would be monitoring your every move closely, they reserved the right to pull the plug at any time and put Soldier Boy back into containment, and while you were in charge of the op, Butcher was who you had to answer to in Grace’s absence. That definitely set your teeth on edge. You and Butcher had different ideas on how to get things done, but you reminded yourself that you both had the same goal and that was all that really mattered. So you begrudgingly agreed and now here you were ordering the staff to begin the process of waking the original Supe up.

You watched as two men in Hazmat suits appeared to be choosing who would pull the figurative straw. You rolled your eyes; they were wasting time. Before you could hit a button and bark out an order, the one on your right seemed to be the one who had lost and warily approached Soldier Boy to remove his mask, practically darting away once he was finished. The staffer on the left was holding a radiation meter in his hand. From your viewpoint, you could see the levels slowly begin to rise. Sure enough, when you flicked your eyes over to the Supe, you could see movement underneath his eyelids, as if he were having an intense dream.

Grace saw it, too, and she ordered the two men out at once. There was no hesitation in following her command. Once they were out, Grace nodded to the staffer on her other side and he stayed at the ready, finger hovering over a button that you assumed would flood the room with Novichok gas within seconds if needed. Another employee darkened the windows in front of you. You could still see out but Soldier Boy wouldn’t be able to see in. A switch was flipped somewhere and the lights went down. The backup power source came on and the room was flooded with a red halo from the emergency lights. An alarm started to sound throughout the facility, as if someone had infiltrated the building, but everyone’s lack of movement and surprise confirmed there were no intruders. Instead, everyone’s focus was on the Supe who was going to open his eyes at any second.

Grace turned back to you. “Are you ready for this?”

You grabbed the gas mask that had been given to you as a contingency. “Butcher and his team ready?”

“Ready and standing by,” someone informed you both.

You gave Grace a nod and turned to leave the room.

“Hey,” she called, stopping you in your tracks. You glanced back over your shoulder to see that concern again, this time framed by the cold steel you’d gotten to know over the last few months. “If it looks like it’s not going to happen…” She let her warning trail off; both of you knew what would happen if things started to go sideways. She’d do her best to get you out before you got killed, but there was a high chance it wouldn’t happen. Then you’d be sealed in with a live nuclear reactor and that would be the end of you, and all of that would be before Soldier Boy could choose to unleash any of his wrath on you.

Giving a curt nod, you swiveled your head back in the direction you were headed in, determination filling your veins no matter the outcome. People cleared the path for you, fear plain as day on their faces. Not fear of you or even for you, but fear of what lay beyond in that chamber. Fear of what you had lobbied hard for to be woken up that would have been better left sleeping, for all eternity if some of them had their way. You didn’t pay them any mind and held your head up higher, a familiar blanket of cold indifference settling over you. You ignored their terrified gasps as you pulled one of your swords out of its sheath and headed for the open door. Once you were past it, after a few feet, you stopped right before the entrance to what could very well be your death, ignoring the sound of the door sealing shut behind you.

You waited to be confronted by a group that had been specifically chosen for this op by Grace and Butcher. You could hear them approaching, talking low amongst themselves and trying to formulate a plan, which from some of their tones you could tell it wouldn’t hold up very well and not even that long even if you weren’t there to stop them. Sure enough, as you knew would happen with a few more footsteps, they rounded the corner, looking for an exit, only to find you.

The group of men had been dressed as security for the facility and the six of them varied in size. The one in front, a big burly guy who appeared to have declared himself as leader, sneered over at you. “Well, what do we have here?”

The way he looked at you, the vibe coming off of him as well as a few of the others… They had been chosen well; you could already feel the urge to wipe them off the map radiating throughout your body. Your thoughts were running rampant and as one of them leered, you could sense an all-too familiar rage attempting to burn brightly within you that you then masterfully directed throughout your body.

You swung your sword in your hand and tensed, getting ready.

The leader laughed, turned to the other five, and ordered, “Get the bitch.”

The corner of your lips lifted in response. This was going to be a fun little workout for you that you could get in right before facing off with the final boss. Three men came charging at you and your sword flew with incredible precision as you spun in a dance you’d practiced a thousand times during training. You sliced open one and cut the other’s throat before either of them could even dream of laying a hand on you. When the third came closer, you made short work of him, and as you were about to injure the leader, he took one of the other two that had been hesitant to engage you, practically cowering, and used him as a human shield. He shoved the lanky man forward, right into your sword. You left it there and pulled your other one, kicking the dying man to the side. The sixth man cursed out loud and began running in the other direction. You pulled one of your knives from your belt and sent it careening into the back of his head, making him fall flat on his face. You then turned towards the one you had purposely saved for last.

“You fucking bitch,” he hissed. “You want some of this? Then come get it!” He pulled your sword out of the guy he’d thrust onto it and began trying to swing at you. You effortlessly dodged each of his blows and you waited for him to lose energy. He wasn’t even worth parrying with. Sure enough, when you saw the arc of his arm begin to slow down, you made your move. You avoided the blade coming for your torso by dropping to your knees and sliding over to him and cutting into his side with your sword. Your movement propelled you forward, cutting deeply, and he let out the loudest yell you’d heard yet. He pathetically tried to point the sword in your direction but you easily sidestepped the movement, watching him begin to bleed everywhere.

He tried to weakly lift the weapon once more as he held a hand over his gaping wound but you stopped him by bringing your blade down on his arm, effectively removing the limb and forcing him to scream out in pain again. It was like music to your ears and you stood there before him, glaring down at the piece of shit who didn’t deserve to be alive to even have come across you. You had a sneaky suspicion that Grace had chosen this one.

“Now you know what they felt,” you snarled quietly.

He scowled back at you and spit blood in your direction, with you stepping back to avoid the spray. “Fuck you, you dumb bitch! Just like all the rest!”

You gave him a nod and lifted your sword, his eyes slightly going wide at the sight. “Like all the rest,” you echoed and brought the blade down, hard.

Though his screams turned piercing, you took him apart piece by piece within seconds, making sure he felt everything before you finally ended him. It was more mercy than he deserved. He was worse than all of the others combined, not that they were angels themselves. Blood coated you and both swords so you used one of the others’ shirts to wipe the red stains from one of the blades. You pushed it into its sheath on your back once you were finished and held the other aloft as you pulled out the security key card Grace had given you. You could hear Soldier Boy’s breathing increase and you knew you had to get into his room and fast.

You made your way to the control panel on the left side of the doors, scanned the card, and tossed it once the green light appeared. The tell-tale sound of the doors opening sounded and you readied yourself, sword in hand.

Once the doors had pulled aside and a low level of smoke cleared which you suspected was gas (perhaps Grace had to keep him subdued while you were meting out justice on that asshole), you saw exactly what you had come for.

There stood Soldier Boy, glaring at you, his chest rising and falling, his hands in fists. Obviously, having just woken up and gotten to his feet, he was still a bit disoriented but not enough that you could take him by surprise and win. You could also see a sheen of yellow beginning to form in the center of his figure and you knew you only had seconds.

You stepped into the room, knowing there was no going back now and that Grace was watching every move from behind the dark glass. The yellow glow started to manifest and you took a quiet breath in. His eyes narrowed and he moved to face off with you, his right fist clenching harder.

You held up your free hand. “I’m not here to fight you. I’m here to break you out.”

He scoffed in disbelief. “You’re with the Reds, aren’t you? You Commie motherfuckers expect me to believe that again?” He roared with a rasp, the color of the light in his chest turning from yellow to a luminous gold with a pinkish haze.

You lifted your sword and placed it into the other waiting sheath on your back. At the action, Soldier Boy tensed further and took a step towards you.

You raised your other hand. “I’m not here to harm you.” He eyed you sharply, disbelief all over his face. “We’re not in Russia. We’re in the US, in upstate New York, at a black op CIA facility. You’ve been here for the past six months and I’m here to get you out.”

His expression didn’t change. “Why?”

“We can talk about it later. Right now, we—”

“Why?” The Supe yelled, fury lacing his tone, and the gold light got even brighter.

Gas suddenly began to flow into the room from vents in the ceiling and another loud alarm sounded, one you hadn’t heard yet. Shit. Grace was getting ready to lock it down. You’d had your shot and it hadn’t worked. You literally had one minute to get the hell out of there. But you were nothing if not stubborn and determined to see this through.

You pulled the gas mask from underneath your thin coat and held it up for him to see. You tossed it over at him and he caught it just like you hoped he would. His eyes snapped up at you, distrust and anger still clearly in his green gaze. You really couldn’t blame him but right now, you didn’t have the time.

“Like I said, I’m here to help. We don’t have time for me to explain right now. So unless you want to go back on ice…” You nodded your head towards the billowing gas making its way rapidly down to him. He glanced back in the direction you indicated and he cursed, quickly slipping the mask on. You noticed the light in his chest didn’t get any brighter but that didn’t mean he wasn’t locked and loaded, able to go off at any moment.

He met your eyes again and you inclined your head back towards the doors that were just beginning to close. “I suggest you come with me,” you threw at him and then spun on your heel, making your way out of the room. You walked a few feet and stopped, glancing back over your shoulder, hoping like hell he would follow you.

Right before the doors could close the last few feet, Soldier Boy slipped past them and came to a stop in front of you. He yanked the gas mask off but held onto it, breathing deeply of the clean air. You had made it out of the room, gotten him out of it — you’d survived the first phase of the plan and now you just needed to get through the next.

His eyes roamed over the remnants of the scene you both were standing in, seeing the bodies and blood everywhere, and landed on the mask in his hand. His gaze snapped up to you and his expression hardened, his tone dark and dangerous. “Why are you helping me?”

“Because,” you took a step towards him, staring into his eyes, pretending not to notice him tense in preparation for a fight. “I need your help.”

He huffed out a chuckle that was lacking any amusement. “Always a fucking catch. What do you want?”

You took another step towards him and you observed his jaw tightening. “We can talk about it later but right now, we really need to keep m—”

“What do you want?” He repeated.

“I need your help to take someone out.”

“Based on your handiwork,” He gestured to the scene around you with a hand. “I’d say you don’t need any help there, doll.”

Your own jaw clenched. “It’s a Supe.”

His eyes flashed and you knew that he was now aware of just who you were talking about. It wasn’t hard to put two and two together, you knew that. There was only one Supe in existence that Soldier Boy had been made to go up against before; the only one that had been as strong as him and he had been evenly matched with; the only one that he would be woken out of a Novichok coma like King Kong and sent to go fight Godzilla. “Homelander,” he spoke through gritted teeth.

You gave a nod of confirmation.

He watched you for a moment and then scrubbed a hand at his jaw. “Why the fuck would I help you?”

You lifted your chin. “He’s always been a problem but he’s only gotten more dangerous and more unstable since you were put under.”

“Not my problem.”

You crossed your arms, narrowing your eyes but trying to keep the rage boiling within you in check. “Actually, it is your problem. He wouldn’t even exist if you hadn’t given Vogelbaum a sample of your DNA to work with.”

He approached you quickly, the fury radiating off of him and the rose gold pulsing in his chest. You stood your ground. “I didn’t know that Vought would make a fucking kid with it!” He roared.

You wanted to ask just what he thought the mad doctor would do with his sperm but you kept that thought to yourself, knowing this wasn’t the time. You never broke eye contact and you watched as he panted harshly, his hands in fists again, the gas mask dangling from one. You remained quiet, waiting to see what would transpire. One wrong move here and you’d be toast, gone before you could even begin the most important mission of your life. One you were determined to see through no matter the cost.

Seeing that you weren’t going to respond or react in any way, the gold light dimmed slightly and his hands slowly relaxed. “I didn’t ask for them to betray me and hand me over to the Reds where I was tortured every goddamn day for years. I didn’t ask for them to whip up some wannabe replacement behind my back. I didn’t ask to be forgotten,” he hissed.

You were a little surprised when you noticed the hurt and betrayal shadowing his gaze, but it was gone just as quickly as it had appeared. You watched as he turned to glance behind him, presumably to glare back at the room he’d been held in. But you knew he was also attempting to mask the tiny piece of vulnerability that had unexpectedly come through. You’d seen the videos of the torture he’d endured back in Russia, read his file back to back, sat through his crappy films, and you’d been fully briefed by Grace, Butcher, and the rest of the team who had exclusive dealings with him the first time he’d returned to the States six months ago. You’d also delved deep into Payback’s history and studied up on each and every one of its members. You knew about his PTSD, how he tended to self-medicate with booze, drugs, and women though he was in denial about having the disorder. You also knew that while some of his toxic beliefs and archaic attitudes were still in place, he was not entirely the same person he’d been before he was strapped to a table and Russian scientists proceeded to check off a list of several hundred different ways to try to kill him. The cocky swagger that had come so naturally to him before that was no longer the real deal. If anything, he overcompensated to try to make people believe he was the same Supe he’d been and just as dangerous as ever, with the added bonus of a nuclear threat sitting inside his chest.

“Maybe not,” you agreed quietly. He turned back towards you. “I can make it worth your while.”

A sly smile began to form on his face as his gaze roved over you. “Appreciate the offer, sweetheart, but you’re not my type. I like ‘em a little older. Although, I will say the swords and the blood, you walking in there like some goddamn avenging angel…kinda hot.”

You fought not to roll your eyes. “That’s not what I was talking about.”

“Well then, unless you’ve got some fucktastic pussy waiting for me to wreck it along with some Bennies and grade A reefer, we’ve got nothing to talk about.” He lifted the mask up in a gesture of thanks and turned to slip down the hallway past you.

Watching him step barefoot in the blood, you waited until he had made it a few feet before saying, “Your freedom.”

He froze at that, turning his head slightly to the side, listening.

You walked up to him, only stopping a foot or so away. “You help me with Homelander, and you get your freedom. No more Vought, no more government, no more pulling of your strings. You’ll be free.”

He slowly turned to face you, his expression hardened though you didn’t miss the tiny glimmer of hope carefully hidden away in his gaze. “Bullshit. You don’t have that kind of pull no matter how you found me and got me out.”

“You’re right, I don’t. Grace Mallory does.”

“Who the fuck is Grace Mallory?”

You took a step closer, noting how this time he didn’t tense in preparation. In his mind, he had already dismissed you as someone he needed to worry about. While that was a good development for your plan, it irked you a little. You may not be Homelander, but you were certainly no weakling. And with this guy, guaranteed he automatically dismissed you as a threat because he saw you as weaker than him, and also because you were a woman. “Someone who does have that kind of pull.” You took yet another step towards him, confirming your theory when he only glared down at you. “You should know, you’ve met her before.”

At his knitted brow, you supplied, “Nicaragua, 1984.”

You watched as he searched through his memories, realization dawning on his features when he found the right one, his brows arching in slight surprise. “Captain Lesbo?”

You gave him a scowl that would have made a lesser man curl up in a ball. Grace and Hughie had warned you about his outdated and toxic takes on the world around him.

That sly smile was back on his face. “She was gorgeous back then. I bet she’s aged like a real fine wine by now.” His tongue ran along his bottom lip and you felt queasy at his obvious lustful thoughts of the older woman. Right. Butcher and Hughie had given you a heads up on that, too.

Before he could get too lost in that fantasy, you made sure to interrupt with “She’s got the pull. So, are you in?”

He eyed you sharply, thinking over the offer. You also knew that he was thinking over how to secure the freedom you had dangled in front of him without having to deal with you or Grace. The sound of approaching security had you both snapping your gazes towards the noise. This was a group you couldn’t dispatch as easily as you had the first considering they were the real deal. Well, you could but you wouldn’t. You snuck a glance at his chest, seeing the gold beginning to shimmer underneath his skin once more. You had to get him out of here before the guards showed up.

He glanced back at you. “What do you get out of this?”

“I told you. Homelander dead.”

“No,” he ground out, taking a step towards you, his eyes burning into you and the light in his chest shining a golden halo on your face from his close proximity. This time, you were the one tensing, preparing to defend yourself. “What do you get?”

“My freedom as well,” you informed him, never breaking eye contact or stepping away. You were telling him the truth. Once the strongest Supe on the planet was no more, you would be free, in a way. He didn’t need to know how, though.

His eyes roved over you and he let out a disgusted huff. “You’re a Supe.”

You didn’t respond; you didn’t need to. “So, do we have a deal?” You both could hear the men getting closer. “Tick tock,” you reminded him.

The anger never faded from his expression but the light in his chest began to grow a little brighter. “How about I blow this place to hell instead and you come with me? I could do with a little entertainment after being locked away in this shithole.” He let his gaze roam over you appreciatively and you could see just what kind of entertainment he had in mind.

You squared your jaw, not at all in the mood for his womanizing machismo bullshit. “If you blow this place up, the deal is off the table. Mallory won’t stand for it and considering my freedom is on the line, neither will I. I don’t need a bunch of CIA crawling up my ass while I go after Soldier Boy Junior. As for entertainment, now’s a good time for you to get reacquainted with your right hand because there’s no way you’re getting any of that from me,” you snarled. “So either take the deal or I leave you to be hunted down by every single agency and military across the globe once word gets out that you’re still alive. And it will get out.”

You both continued glaring at one another but he didn’t say a word. The men were getting closer.

“Best of luck with that,” you snapped, and turned to slip past him, intent on leaving him behind. Your anger wasn’t feigned; you were pissed. You knew he would be stubborn, mistrustful even, given what he’d been through, but this was just beyond irritating. You didn’t have time to stop and hammer out details; you were now on the run for Christ’s sake.

You headed in the opposite direction of the guards, pulling one of your swords, readying yourself for the sprint to the exit you’d planned for. Grace must be pissing her pants right about now; she’d given you both plenty of time to get out of the building. And if she was pissing her pants, you knew Butcher and his team were crapping theirs. Soldier Boy was awake and now it was up to Grace and the CIA to put him back under, your plan a complete failure. It wasn’t your fault that the Supe was indeed the most idiotic one as Grace had stated him to be. You’d given it your best shot.

You surged forward, planning to keep casualties as low as possible should you come across anyone. A hand gripped your shoulder, hard, and turned you to face one very pissed off Soldier Boy. You got ready to start the battle of your life, knowing you were most likely going to lose, but you stopped when you noticed his chest was no longer glowing.

“You got a way out of here?”

You arched a brow up at him. “You’re taking the deal?”

He snorted and released you, his eyes flicking back towards the opposite end of the hallway you were in before returning to you. “You get us out of here, get me some food and the shit I ask for, and we’ll talk.”

“No deal, no dice.”

You went to move past him when he stopped you again, his hand gripping your upper arm. You could feel the superior strength behind it; if he wanted to, he could snap your arm like a twig, exerting very little pressure. But thankfully, he seemed more focused on getting you to listen to him rather than harming you. “You want me to help you kill Homelander?” At your nod, he let out an angry breath. “Done. I would have hunted down that sniveling pussy on my own, anyway. But after you give me what I just asked for. And then I get my freedom,” he dictated.

“We both do,” you tacked on, still shocked that you had managed to get him to agree.

His eyes roamed over your face and then he gave you a nod, letting you go. “So which way to the fucking exit?”

Just then, the guards broke through the door and spilled out into the hallway, spotting you and shouting at one another to take you both down. Soldier Boy turned a ferocious glare on them and began to step around you to take them on when you grabbed his bicep. The action prompted him to glance down at your hand, his gaze then lifting to yours. “This way,” you urged, and began to run. Thankfully, he fell in step right behind you. Bullets were suddenly being fired in your direction and you had to practically fly out of there. Those bullets might ricochet off Soldier Boy but they wouldn’t bounce so easily off of you.

As you were passing a small vehicle that you’d seen security guards traversing in on your last visit, he picked it up and launched it at the guards pursuing you. You heard the sickening sounds of machinery crunching flesh and you could only hope no one had died or had life threatening injuries. Instead, all you could manage to do now was to distract the Supe and get him out of there.

“Through here,” you called back to him. Relief pooled in your chest when you glanced back to find his attention on you. He hurried over towards you and you punched in the code Grace had given you to memorize. The door opened and you ducked as you pushed past it, hearing the sounds of more bullets flying your way. Soldier Boy was right behind you and you hit the button to close the door. Once it was shut you used your strength to punch the control panel and destroy it so the guards couldn’t follow.

You turned to find Soldier Boy’s brows arched at you in surprise before a leering smirk appeared on his face. “Well, that answers that.”

You let out a quiet scoff and slipped your sword back into the empty sheath on your back. “Like I said, that’s not happening.”

“A shame,” he practically purred at you, amusement clear as day in his eyes alongside a fire you hadn’t seen there before. It became quickly apparent just what that fire was. The image of you both tangled up in one another, the blood still on your skin, and him slamming into you up against the walls of the hallway you were now in made the queasiness from earlier reappear. It got even worse when the image transformed into one of you emerging into the room he’d been held in and him taking you right on the gurney he’d been laid out on, neither of you caring who showed up, who watched, or who ended up dying when he was finished. The queasiness had become full blown nausea at this point, and you forced it back down. You had a job to do after all.

You ignored his eyes roaming over your body and lifted your chin. “Time to go.”

You marched past him and continued on the route you and Grace had planned. Thankfully, he followed and the images began to peter out the closer you got to the outside. You were beyond grateful for that; you could only see his face contorted in pleasure as he rutted into you so many times before you would actually throw up. Not for the first time since you’d been turned, you cursed this gift you had been given.

“I take it Captain Lesbo gave you the code back there?” He asked.

“Who do you think told me where to find you?” You countered.

You led the way through another tunnel until you came to a heavy door that supposedly led to the parking lot outside. You yanked out both swords, pulled your hood up, and flicked your gaze over to the Supe. “Ready?”

You watched as his hands clenched into fists once more. “Lead the way.”

You tested the door. It swung open and suddenly both of you were engulfed in the bright light of the sun. You scanned the parking lot when you noticed the office supplies van parked about three hundred feet away, right where Grace said it would be. “It’s a short run but we’ve got to make it fast. She’ll only be able to get us a blind spot from the cameras for a few minutes. We’re headed for that van over there.” You gestured in the vehicle’s direction. “So when I say go, we run like hell.”

The man gave you a curt nod and held a hand over his eyes, looking over the lot as well.

You waited, tensed and prepared for a fight, hoping it wouldn’t be a long one. Grace should have eyes on you by now and Team B should be ready to engage you the moment you both stepped out further. You really wished you had an earpiece for this part but due to Soldier Boy’s extra sharp hearing, it had been decided across the board that it was too much to risk. You would just have to keep trusting in the timing of the plan you had come up with. You could hear the rumbling of a motor coming closer, picking up speed and gaining momentum. You held up a hand near the Supe and began to manually count down from 5.

A box truck was about to pass by as you got to 2, signaling to you that Phase 3 was a go, when suddenly everything went to hell. Soldier Boy stepped out in front of the vehicle, unflinching as it made impact with his body. To your absolute amazement, you silently watched as his feet stayed stationary and the truck began to wrap itself around the Supe, the object needing to go somewhere, and split right down the middle. You could hear the loud screeching of the metal and the terrified yell of the driver before it was abruptly cut off. Your brain barely had time to process what you were seeing when Soldier Boy picked up one half of the sliced truck and launched it in the air as if it were a football. It was aimed at a location where you knew reinforcements were waiting to rush out and engage you from. You heard the tell-tale screams and ensuing splat. Mallory was going to be pissed.

The Supe then turned a glower back onto you. “No need to run now.” You could see that though he had been attracted to you a few minutes ago, had mostly agreed to your deal, and you had broken him out, he still didn’t trust you completely. You could understand that, respect it even. But you couldn’t have him going off script like this if your plan was to succeed. And the plan could not fail. Something you would make clear to him once you were both far away from here.

Truthfully, you should have anticipated something like this. Soldier Boy was volatile, unpredictable at best, but once you had gotten him to switch off the nuke in his chest, you had naively thought you could get him out with a low body count. That certainly wasn’t the case now. You were grateful that you were already mid-op because you knew if you weren’t, Mallory would have immediately shut you down. No way in hell was that happening.

That last thought spurred you into action. You nodded and sheathed both of your swords, heading towards the van. A strong hand on your shoulder stopped you.

“Choose something else,” he ordered.

You shot him an irritated glare. “That’s the vehicle they have set up for us. Which means there’s keys, gas — the works.”

“It also means they can track us.” You were slightly surprised but you kept it off of your features. “Butcher and his cumguzzler thought I wasn’t listening to their bitchfests when they were tracking down my old team for me.” His eyes snapped to yours. “I was.”

Of course he had been. You could see now that this was something everyone had missed when dealing with him in the past, his most recent foray into the modern world included. Butcher and his team had been so focused on the danger the Supe presented and his lethality, that they hadn’t realized just how closely he had been listening and watching. Several examples of this behavior flickered through his mind quickly and you saw every single one which had always turned things to his advantage while turning badly (sometimes deadly) for others. Butcher and Hughie had easily dismissed him as a fossil who didn’t know what a smartphone was. Even Mallory had said he was the most idiotic of all the Supes to ever exist. And he had let them. He let them think he was the Soldier Boy they had seen on their TV screens once upon a time, in old newspaper clippings, and what had been jotted down in his file over the years he had been active with Vought: the public persona and the demanding celebrity personality behind all of that. But this Soldier Boy…this one was far more clever, calculating, and you knew then that this was where the real danger resided. A quick flash of a woman you recognized as Crimson Countess bound to a chair in a double wide followed by an explosion and another image of her charred corpse afterwards confirmed your suspicions.

Right now, any other person having realized what you just did, they might have turned back. Or they would get him to the next location and bow out, let Butcher and Mallory handle it from there on out. But you weren’t that person and you were fully in this. You had started this and you were committed to see it all the way through. And see it through you would, come hell or high water or murderous Supes. There was no other option; there never had been from the moment you woke up with a foreign chemical running through your veins, enhanced abilities, and fine-tuned senses. What you just discovered about the Supe currently glaring you down could only help the plan in the long run while also ensuring you were even more careful than you already planned to be.

You turned to face him fully and stared into his eyes. “Understood.” You wanted him to know that you knew, even if he didn’t know how yet, and that despite that, you were still sticking to the plan which included him.

He studied you for a moment and you could see that while he was still unsure about you, he was deciding to trust you…for now. He released your shoulder and slightly relaxed his stance.

“Any ideas?” Since he had changed this part of the plan, you figured he could offer up an alternative.

“Don’t care as long as it runs.” He glanced towards the lot filled with other heavy duty vehicles.

“Agreed. But we still need to move. We don’t have long before the cameras turn back on.” You immediately made your way towards a dark blue SUV sitting parked near a curb. You had a feeling this may have belonged to some of the agents he had just killed, but it only meant three things to you: keys, gas, and a working car that could handle the speed and damage you would need to get out of here. You tried the back door, finding it unlocked, and you immediately knew you had been right. No one was coming to reclaim this vehicle, not for a while anyway.

You quickly removed the scabbard from your back and slipped it into the backseat before jumping behind the wheel. Soldier Boy hopped in next to you, watching you as you turned the engine over. You didn’t bother mentioning that once Mallory and Butcher figured out you were in this vehicle, they could track it as well; that would only be counterproductive to the plan and make him more suspicious of you.

You pulled away from the curb and sped out of the lot. When you got near the security booth, a platoon of armed guards tried to flag you down. This was one of the reasons why the office supplies van had been selected. You could have removed your gear and passed yourself off as a delivery driver; Mallory had already greenlit that part of the plan. This…well, you would need to improvise.

You glanced over at Soldier Boy who was scowling in their direction. “Hang on,” you warned. Not that he needed to; he’d already proven that nothing could damage or even dent that super strong body of his. You, on the other hand, had to duck down as you pressed the gas pedal to the floor, gunning it. Bullets began flying towards your car but you didn’t let up, not even when you presumably hit a couple of the guards in your bid to escape. You felt Soldier Boy’s hand roughly push you down further in your seat and his other hand land next to yours on the wheel. A few more sickening thuds, pings from bullets, and wet crunches when the car jumped up slightly as your wheels mowed over those who hadn’t moved, and then you were scot free.

“We’re clear,” Soldier Boy gruffed out next to you, releasing you and moving back into his seat.

You lifted up and glanced in your sideview mirror, seeing the destruction you had just caused getting further and further away. You tried to feel remorse about it, you really did, but that emotion — any emotion — was the gateway to weakness and you couldn’t afford that. Especially not now.

“You injured?”

You weren’t but you slid your hood back and automatically glanced down at yourself to double check. “Nope. You?”

You looked up at him and as expected, his bare muscular chest was smooth, free of any injuries. His arms and face contained barely a shadow of a bruise, never mind an actual wound. He noticed your perusal of him and his lips twisted into a cocky smirk. An image of him railing you in the backseat had you turning back to the road, trying to mask your disgust.

“I’m good, doll,” he assured you. “Real good. Fucking horny as shit, though. It’s been a while. Think you can find us a place to pull over and let me fuck you quick?”

This was going to be a long ride. “Seems to me your right hand is free.”

Instead of being annoyed at your answer, he only smirked wider. “Is that your way of telling me you’d like me to start us off by jerking it while you look for a place?”

“No,” You met his gaze head on. “That’s my way of telling you not to let your wrist cramp up on this mission because you’re going to be jerking it quite a bit.”

He seemed completely unbothered by your words. “You want to see my dick?”

You scoffed in disgust and focused back on the road.

“I’m fully hard right now and let me tell you, it is a fucking sight to behold. Extra strength wasn’t the only thing the V gave me.” His teeth dug into his bottom lip as he continued trying to convince you. “Women love my dick. There isn’t a woman I’ve fucked that has ever walked right again.”

“Wow,” you quipped. “Quite the selling point.”

He ignored your snarkiness. “You see it for yourself, dollface, and I guarantee you’ll be changing your mind. All I’ve gotta do is pull it out, right here, right now, and you’ll be begging for me to slip it inside you.”

You had noticed the bugle in his sweats out of the corner of your eye before you turned away just before; you knew he was telling you the truth. He was horny, hard, and literally about to whip it out. Not unless you shut him down hard. You may not be able to keep him from pleasuring himself right there next to you, but at least he would know there was no way in hell you were going anywhere near his supposedly legendary manhood. You wished you could tell that he was lying but you could only see images of women worshiping him and his body as he thought back over his vast amount of conquests. When you saw his hand reaching into his sweats from your peripherals, you decided the time to make your firm boundaries on this subject known was now.

“I’m never having sex with you so don’t even bother. I’m here to do a job and that job isn’t you, as much as you might like it to be. When we get to the motel, if you want to find an old lady willing to help you with your problem, fine by me. But this,” you gestured between the two of you. “Is never happening.”

He snickered next to you. “You say that now but I’m telling you, doll, one peek at my dick might change your mind. Or when you hear how fucking good I’m giving it to some other gal.” He turned another filthy smile on you. “But just know that when I’m wrecking that pussy, I’ll be thinking of you and how good I know you’d feel squeezing around me.”

The images of you in the throes of pleasure returned and you tensed, your jaw tightening, but you forced yourself to think only of the plan. “What every girl hopes to hear,” you muttered. You glanced in the rearview mirror and very far back, you noticed Butcher’s vehicle following you. You weren’t surprised; Mallory had never really turned the cameras off and it’s not like you hadn’t left a big blinking neon sign back there to get her attention on where you had exited the compound.

Soldier Boy’s hand rubbed over the bulge in his pants a few times before he chuckled under his breath and went to look out his window. “So, you know who I am, you know my name… I don’t know yours. Why don’t you tell me?”

You clenched your fingers on the wheel and held your breath, focusing your vision on the rearview.

A moment later, Soldier Boy turned to look at you, smirking. You subtly let out your breath and relaxed your grip on the wheel, placing your eyes back on the road. “I bet it’s a real pretty one. Come on, tell me.”

You could hear him dialing up the flirtation, switching from being direct to now trying to charm you. “Name’s Persephone.”

“Persephone? That is pretty but it sounds like a Supe name.”

You briefly glanced over at him. “It is.”

He seemed to think it over, nodding after a moment in approval. “What’s your real name?”

“Nope.” You shook your head.

“You’re not going to tell me?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

You met his eyes once more. “Because you haven’t earned that yet.” You waited another moment before finally breaking away from his intense gaze.

You could see as he took you in, how his eyes roamed over you hungrily, and you knew the moment he decided to accept the challenge he was determined that you presented. Another chuckle escaped him and he looked out his window again. “Alright, doll. We’ll play it your way, for now. Besides, it’s really my name that matters in this situation here.”

Your brows began to furrow and you did your best to get a read on him. What was he talking about? “How so?”

You watched as he turned to look at you and you could feel the rush of desire that immediately ran through him as images of you screaming, begging, and moaning “Ben! Oh my god, Ben! Ben, don’t ever stop fucking me, please! Fuck, Ben! Fucking give it to me! Oh fuck, right there!” floated to the forefront of his mind. You knew what his words would be before he even said them. “Because you’ll be screaming it before long.”

The nausea from earlier was back but you tamped it down and waited until he turned away from you again. Your eyes flickered to the rearview mirror and relief consumed you when you noticed Butcher’s vehicle was no longer anywhere to be seen. Not only had you successfully distracted the Supe but the moment Soldier Boy became interested in the topic of you, Phase 4 of the overall plan began. Now you only had to get him to the motel, get him rested and recharged, and then your work could truly begin. Leading you all down the path to the only thing that mattered: the eradication of Vought, and the end of Homelander once and for all.

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jennamoran · 8 months

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The Far Roofs: Systems

Hi!

Today I’m going to talk a little bit more about my forthcoming RPG, the Far Roofs. More specifically, I want to give a general overview of its game mechanics!

So the idea that first started the Far Roofs on the road to being its own game came out of me thinking a lot about what large projects feel like.

I was in one of those moods where I felt like the important thing in an RPG system was the parallel between that system and real-world experience. Where I felt like the key to art was always thinking about the end goal, or at least a local goal, as one did the work; and, the key to design was symmetry between the goals and methods, the means and ends.

I don't always feel that way, but it's how I work when I'm feeling both ambitious and technical.

So what I wanted to do was come up with an RPG mechanic that was really like the thing it was simulating:

Finding answers. Solving problems. Doing big things.

And it struck me that what that felt like, really, was a bit like ...

You get pieces over time. You wiggle them around. You try to fit them together. Sometimes, they fit together into larger pieces and then eventually a whole. Sometimes you just collect them and wiggle them around until suddenly there's an insight, an oh!, and you now know everything works.

The ideal thing to do here would probably be having a bag of widgets that can fit together in different ways---not as universally as Legos or whatever, but, like, gears and connectors and springs and motors and whatever. If I were going to be building a computer game I would probably think along those lines, anyway. You'd go to your screen of bits and bobs and move them around with your mouse until it hooked together into something that you liked.

... that's not really feasible for a tabletop RPG, though, at least, not with my typical financial resources. I could probably swing making that kind of thing, finding a 3d printing or woodworking partner or something to make the pieces, for the final kickstarter, but I don't have the resources to make a bunch of different physical object sets over time while I'm playtesting.

So the way I decided that I could implement this was by drawing letter tiles.

That I could do a system where you'd draw letter tiles ... not constantly, not specifically when you were working, but over time; in the moments, most of all, that could give you insight or progress.

Then, at some point, you'd have enough of them.

You'd see a word.

That word'd be your answer.

... not necessarily the word itself, but, like, what the word means to you and what the answer means to you, those would be the same.

The word would be a symbol for the answer that you've found, as a player and a character.

(The leftover letters would then stick around in your hand, bits of thought and experience that didn't directly lead to a solution there, but might help with something else later on.)

Anyway, I figured that this basic idea was feasible because, like, lots of people own Scrabble sets. Even if you don't, they're easier to find than sets of dice!

For a short indie game focused on just that this would probably have been enough of a mechanic all on its own. For a large release, though, the game needed more.

After thinking about it I decided that what it wanted was two more core resolution systems:

One, for stuff like, say ... kickstarter results ... where you're more interested in "how well did this do?" or "how good of an answer is this?" than in whether those results better fit AXLOTL or TEXTUAL. For this, I added cards, which you draw like letter tiles and combine into poker hands. A face card is probably enough for a baseline success, a pair of Kings would make the results rather exciting, and a royal flush result would smash records.

The other core system was for like ... everyday stuff. For starting a campfire or jumping a gap. That, by established RPG tradition, would use dice.

...

I guess technically it didn't have to; I mean, like, most of my games have been diceless, and in fact we've gotten to a point in the hobby where that's just "sort of unusual" instead of actually rare.

But, like, I like dice. I do. If I don't use them often, it's because I don't like the empty page of where to start in the first place building a bespoke diced system when I have so many good diceless systems right there.

... this time, though, I decided to just go for it.

The Dice System

So a long, long time ago I was working on a game called the Weapons of the Gods RPG. Eos Press had brought me in to do the setting, and somewhere in the middle of that endeavor, the game lost its system.

I only ever heard Eos' side of this, and these days I tend to take Eos' claims with a grain of salt ... but, my best guess is that all this stuff did happen, just, with a little more context that I don't and might not ever know?

Anyway, as best as I remember, the first writer they had doing their system quit midway through development. So they brought in a newer team to do the system, and halfway through that the team decided they'd have more fun using the system for their own game, and instead wrote up a quick alternate system for Weapons of the Gods to use.

This would have been fine if the alternate system were any good, but it was ... pretty obviously a quick kludge. It was ...

I think the best word for it would be "bad."

I don't even like the system they took away to be their own game, but at least I could believe that it was constructed with love. It was janky but like in a heartfelt way.

The replacement system was more the kind of thing where if you stepped in it you'd need a new pair of shoes.

It upset me.

It upset me, and so, full wroth, I decided to write a system to use for the game.

Now, I'd never done a diced system before at that point. My only solo game had been Nobilis. So I took a bunch of dice and started rolling them, to see ... like ... what the most fun way of reading them was.

Where I landed, ultimately, was looking for matches.

The core system for Weapons of the Gods was basically, roll some number of d10s, and if you got 3 4s, that was a 34. If you got 2 9s, that was a 29. If your best die was a 7 and you had no pairs at all, you got 1 7. 17.

It didn't have any really amazing statistical properties, but the act of rolling was fun. It was rhythmic, you know, you'd see 3 4s and putting them together into 34 was a tiny tiny dopamine shot at the cost of basically zero brain effort. It was pattern recognition, which the brain tends to enjoy.

I mean, obviously, it would pall in a few minutes if you just sat there rolling the dice for no reason ... but, as far as dice rolling goes, it was fun.

So when I went to do an optional diced system for the Chuubo's Marvelous Wish-Granting Engine RPG, years later, to post here on tumblr ... I already knew what would make that roll fun. That is, rolling a handful of dice and looking for matches.

What about making it even more fun?

... well, critical results are fun, so what about adding them and aiming to have a lot of them, though still like rare enough to surprise?

It made sense to me to call no matches at all a critical failure, and a triple a critical success. So I started fiddling with dice pool size to get the numbers where I wanted them.

I'm reconstructing a bit at this point, but I imagine that I hit 6d10 and was like: "these are roughly the right odds, but this is one too many dice to look at quickly on the table, and I don't like that critical failure would be a bit more common than crit success."

So after some wrestling with things I wound up with a dice pool of 5d6, which is the dice pool I'm still using today.

If you roll 5d6, you'll probably get a pair. But now and then, you'll get a triple (or more!) My combinatorics is rusty, so I might have missed a case, but, like ... 17% of the time, triples, quadruples, or quintuples? And around 9% chance, for no matches at all?

I think I was probably looking for 15% and 10%, that those were likely my optimum, but ... well, 5d6 comes pretty close. Roughly 25% total was about as far as I thought I could push critical results while still having them feel kind or rare. Like ...

If I'm rolling a d20 in a D&D-like system, and if I'm going to succeed on an 18+, that's around when success is exciting, right? Maybe 17+, though that's pushing it? So we want to fall in the 15-20% range for a "special good roll." And people have been playing for a very long time now with the 5% chance of a "1" as a "special bad roll," and that seemed fine, so, like, 20-25% chance total is good.

And like ...

People talk a lot about Rolemaster crit fail tables in my vicinity, and complain about the whiff fests you see in some games where you keep rolling and rolling and nothing good or bad actually happens, and so I was naturally drawn to pushing crit failure odds a bit higher than you see in a d20-type game.

Now, one way people in indie circles tend to address "whiff fests" is by rethinking the whole dice-rolling ... paradigm ... so you never whiff; setting things up, in short, so that every roll means something, and every success and failure mean something too.

It's a leaner, richer way of doing things than you see in, say, D&D.

... I just didn't feel like it, here, because the whole point of things was to make dice rolling fun. I wanted people coming out of traditional games to be able to just pick up the dice and say "I'm rolling for this!" because the roll would be fun. Because consulting the dice oracle here, would be fun.

So in the end, that was the heart of it:

A 5d6 roll, focusing on the ease of counting matches and the high but not exorbitant frequency of special results.

But at the same time ...

I'm indie enough that I do really like rolls where, you know, every outcome is meaningful. Where you roll, and there's never a "whiff," just a set of possible meaningful outcomes.

A lot of the time, where I'm leaning into "rolls are fun, go ahead and roll," what it means to succeed, to fail, to crit, all that's up to the group, and sometimes it'll be unsatisfying. Other times, you'll crit succeed or crit fail and the GM will give you basically the exact same result as you'd have gotten on a regular success or failure, just, you know, jazzing up the description a bit with more narrative weight.

But I did manage to pull out about a third of the rolls you'll wind up actually making and assign strong mechanical and narrative weight to each outcome. Where what you were doing was well enough defined in the system that I could add some real meat to those crits, and even regular success and regular failure.

... though that's a story, I think, to be told some other time. ^_^

#the far roofs #jenna moran #rpgs

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avocado-writing · 1 year

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notes: I did a lot of research for this and yes, the manuscript I reference is a real thing. I didn’t put its name in though because that felt a step too far 😂 set in the light, the dark, and the spaces in between after ch3 so hope that’s ok! requests like this give me life.

relationship: aziraphale x immortal!reader x crowley

rated: G, pure fluff

word count: 1.4K

if you like my work you can buy me a kofi!

You’re the one who makes the tea.

That’s because you’re the only one who changes how you have it: sometimes you fancy a chai, or a green tea, or a lapsang souchong. Sometimes with sugar or a little bit of milk, sometimes with neither, sometimes with an oat alternative. It changes. You’re human, you go through phases.

But Aziraphale and Crowley? Nah, they’re creatures of habit. Despite the angel’s wide and experimental palate he’s oddly rigorous when it comes to his cuppa. For him, it’s loads of milk and four sugars, drowned to the point where it could hardly be called tea any more. Crowley likes his black and strong and nowhere near anything that could affect the taste. You wring the teabag tortuously into his mug with a teaspoon before grabbing all three servings and heading into the shop.

You put yours down first, on the side next to the book you’re currently reading, then hand your husbands theirs. They both take them from you in the same way, the way they have done for centuries now, a domestic ritual: accepting the mug you offer and then your hand, pressing a little kiss of thanks and affection to the back of it.

A heartfelt intimacy just between the three of you.

☕️

“Hurry Crowley, it’s starting!”

“Yes, yes, alright angel, hang on.”

“We won’t hang on and we’re not pausing it. Not a threat, just a fact,” you call into the kitchen. A couple of seconds later, Crowley emerges from the kitchen with three wine glasses and a bottle of Pinot Grigio.

“I’ll be mother, then,” he mutters as the other two of you barely take your eyes off of the telly. You’ve got your legs slung over Aziraphale’s lap and he only takes a break from stroking your knee in absentminded, loving circles to take the proffered glasses from his husband, one for himself and one for you. Crowley plonks down the other side of Aziraphale and throws his own legs over him too, the two of you playing footsie for space across his plush thighs. Eventually the three of you find a comfortable pile and settle in.

“Another ten weeks of torture begins,” Crowley says as the Bake-off theme ends and the show starts. You nudge him with your toe.

“You don’t have to watch it with us,” you tell him. He harrumphs but doesn’t argue because, really, of course he’ll watch it with the two of you. It makes you both happy.

🍞

Your work is as a consultant for museums around the country, which is a fun way of saying you get paid a lot because you know a lot. But mostly, you only know a lot because you’ve been around for a very long time. So whenever a shard of pottery or a scrap of clothing needs dating they call you to come and put its history into context.

Also, for the bigger museums, it’s a chance for you to smuggle out the stolen artefacts and return them to their country of origin. You consider it a hobby, a bonus perk of the job.

You’ve set up this exhibition. It’s for pottery around the end of the Roman rule in Britain, stuff you’ve found and identified around the country on archaeological digs. You lead Crowley and Aziraphale through, discussing your findings in detail, before you come to a small, surprisingly intact, terra sigillata oil lamp. It sits on its own, spot lit. You asked for it that way.

“See this? I made this. Over a thousand years ago,” you tell them, quietly, gently putting your hand to the glass of the display case. Aziraphale and Crowley take a careful look at the engraving on the object. It bears the profile of a man, and with the sharp cheekbones and little glasses there’s only one person it could be.

“Oh, Nightingale. It’s lovely,” Crowley says, surprisingly touched. He wraps an arm around you and buries his face into your hair.

“You could say I’ve held a flame for you for a long time,” you say, and grin. Crowley groans.

“Did you put my face on a lamp just to keep that pun up your sleeve?”

“Maybe.”

🔥

You next return to the museum when you pick up that Aziraphale is jealous. He isn’t jealous often but he’s pants at hiding it, and it’s not hard to guess why: he’s just seen that Crowley stuck with you for such a long time you put his face on a piece of bloody pottery. You’d probably be a bit put out too.

So for a couple of weeks you throw yourself into your work to find the thing that will make it even. And you do, even though it takes a lot of overseas bargaining and promises to do some pro-bono work.

You finally get the museum in America to agree to send it over for a showing. You arrange a special exhibition specifically for this, where it’s held behind a huge glass case in a dark room with only a small light on it.

But you get special access because, well, you’re you. So you sneak Aziraphale and Crowley in one night and walk into the display room, wearing a face mask and a pair of protective gloves.

There it sits: the Canterbury Tales. One of the oldest versions in the world.

“Oh, this is wonderful!” Aziraphale gasps, peeping over your shoulder to inspect. “I can feel the adoration coming off of it in waves. This was a labour of love, wasn’t it?”

“Yes. I’d let you have it for the shop if I had the power. But I think they’d notice if I shoved this one down my top,” you sigh, scanning the pages for what you’re after, then stop dead when you find it.

“Here. Look.”

You point to one of the illustrations, a mounted rider on a beautiful white horse. Aziraphale takes in a quiet breath and draws closer. Because just as plainly as you put Crowley on your oil lamp, you drew your angel in the Canterbury Tales. Curly hair, pink face, beaming smile.

“Oh my,” he whispers. You stroke the little picture and remember toiling away over painting it, repeatedly wiping your brow to make sure your sweat didn’t smudge your work.

“I put you in all the copies I could get my hands on. And you,” you turn to Crowley, “your face is probably buried on my pottery in a dozen dig sites across the UK. I’m just saying I’ve loved the two of you since the day we met; always have, always will.”

Your husbands look at each other and then at you, before as one they step forward to embrace you.

“And we’re lucky to have you,” Crowley whispers in your ear, as Aziraphale kisses your cheek. Their hands meet at your back and they interlace their fingers with each other, you wrap your arms around them and stay like that for a moment; three working parts of a whole.

They kiss, and then they kiss you. You feel warm and rosy. Then you spend the evening reading through the book from beginning to end.

📖

You keep your wedding ring on a chain around your neck at work. Not because you’re embarrassed that you're married; far from it - it’s far too precious to risk losing while constantly taking protective gloves on and off all day. So you don’t blame your colleague for asking you on a date. He’s young, fresh out of uni, and of course has no idea you’re old enough to be his grandparent forty times over.

“That’s very kind,” you tell him, and his face falls because he knows where this is going, “but I’m already happily married.”

He sighs in embarrassment but manages to recover quickly, instead telling you: “they must be someone special to have you.”

He’s doing the polite thing by not assuming the gender of your spouse but it turns out “they” is right on the money. On cue, Aziraphale and Crowley walk through the door to pick you up at the end of your shift. You wish your colleague goodbye and go to meet them.

“Evening, darling,” Crowley calls.

“How was work, my love?” Aziraphale follows up.

“Oh, fine. I’m tired now. And hungry. Can we go and get dinner?”

You link an arm through either of theirs, heading out into the London afternoon.

“Ooh yes, that is a good idea. I quite fancy fish and chips!”

“Let’s go to that spot round the corner. They make their own tartar sauce. Crowley, are you getting your own chips or nicking mine when I’m not looking?”

“The best tasting chips are the ones you steal.”

“Oh, he doesn’t even deny it—!”

Your colleague watches you leave the building, a little dazed, and supposes it takes all sorts to make a world.

Taglist: @angiestopit @dazed-soul @idontmeanto @smile-eywa @staygoldsquatchling02 @underratedboogeyman @specter-soltare @candlewitch-cryptic @cool-ontherun-world @emilynissangtr @willbedecided @cool-iguana @bdffkierenwalker

#crowley x reader x aziraphale #good omens x reader #ineffable husbands x reader #crowley x reader #aziraphale x reader #Request #fic: the light the dark and the spaces inbetween

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actually-factually-anonymous · 3 months

Text

Ladybug Vs Avatar's use of the supporting cast and the problem thereof.

I'm not sure if this has been covered before, but there's a serious problem with Marinette being the be-all end-all of everything in Miaculous.

And it's not just because "she's stressed" or "it's all on her". Her being the most important, talented and plot-relevant character in every situation is.

Let's make a comparison to the Gold Standard:

In Avatar the Last Airbender, Aang is the axis of the story. He holds incredible powers beyond anyone else, can bend every element and could conceivably end the entire conflict that plagues his world with relative ease- which he eventually does.

However, for 99% of the story he cannot do so. Because Aang is untrained, he cannot access that divine win-button of the Avatar State at will, and using it carried enormous risks to himself and those around him- making it functionally unusable for common conflicts. Furthermore while he does technically have the capacity to use all four elements, he had only mastered one and needed to learn the remaining three.

Indeed, Aang has outright difficulty with learning Earthbending despite his innate talents and while he's a quick study for the other two, he doesn't demonstrate the same effectiveness with water and fire as Katara and Zuko.

This means that Aang cannot do certain things as well as the others in his team. This means that for the majority of the story, even though his first and preferred element provides him with useful abilities" Aang has weaknesses that he needs others to cover and provide for.

Enter Katara, Sokka, Toph and Zuko.

Katara is a waterbender who teaches Aang and later advances her powers to include the all-important power of healing and the disturbingly effective (though situational) Bloodbending.

Toph is an earthbender who is also one of Aang's teachers, and whose tremor sense later allows her to both detect liars and invent Metalbending.

Sokka is seemingly just the comic relief normie. However his technical mindset allows him to serve as the general of the group, and even plan and lead in that role for entire armies later in the show.

Even Zuko who joins later and becomes less a teacher but a fellow student alongside Aaang in firebending is a skilled infiltrator and melee weapon expert. (This is less of a case than the others since it's not used as much, but it's more of a concrete example than his insights into the fire nation and his potential utility as a replacement Fire Lord).

They each provide far more than those short summaries, but it's important to note that in each case, even when Aang does learn the elements and starts growing into his role as the Avatar: he never gains the full range of abilities that his team offers. He never assumes the fully strategic mindset of Sokka, and even though it's downright implausible that no Avatar before him never learnt healing, he never demonstrates that ability or any Metalbending prowess even in the Avatar state.

There's also the enemy trio of Azula, Ty Lee and Mai. Azula is a powerful firebending genius, but Mai's prowess with her throwing weapons are a close match- and Ty Lee's chi-blocking can outright cripple enemy benders for any given fight when combined with her insane agility: something that not even Azula can do with her firebending. They are an incredibly dangerous combination and when Azula loses them, she becomes far less effective for their absence.

In both teams despite the leader being a powerful, talented bender who is objectively the strongest person on their respective side: there's no doubt about each member of the team contributing something that said leader cannot.

Now let's look at Miraculous:

Marinette is the "Greatest Ladybug" of all time despite being fourteen, only having had the earrings for less than a year, and having a list of predecessors that go back literally thousands of years and include Joan of Arc.

She is also the Guardian of the Miracle Box. Specifically she is the Guardian of The Mother Box that is the most important of all the boxes, despite there being at least a full Temple's worth of actually trained candidates somewhere in Tibet who should be far and above more capable than her or her mentor Fu. However, her supposed superior Su-Han seems entirely convinced that she's already surpassed any teachings his order has by how often she breaks said teachings in his face only for him to roll over like a dog. There's not been a single time when Marinette has been confronted by some shortcoming in her responsibilities as a Guardian where she has had to learn anything from the multi-millennia old Order of Guardians.

Marinette has also worn almost every single Miraculous in her Box at the same time, a feat that supposedly risked serious harm to her but merely made her woozy for an afternoon (if that). As of the season five Finale, she has also unified her earrings with her partner's ring: a scenario that in earlier seasons seemed to imply great risk: yet she was able to use the powers flawlessly.

As Ladybug, she is also the lone hero who has unlocked any new advanced powers with her Miraculous (unless you also include the arbitrary "adulthood" that she and Chat Noir achieved that allows them multiple uses of their Miraculous before detransforming), and on the occasions when she's used anyone else's powers has shown no sign of being any less capable than they are with them.

Ladybug does everything as well if not better than everyone else.

Marinette can not only unify with any Miraculous she needs for a given mission, she can use the powers as effectively as their "dedicated holder" can and without any restrictions. Unlike the majority of the cast who are still under the child-power limit. She can even unify with multiple miraculous at the same time without any drawbacks.

And without those drawbacks, without anyone on the cast being able to use the power of their Miraculous more effectively than Marinette: everyone else on the team is more or less superfluous.

Sure, Marinette has tossed out the Miraculous to her team like candy now. But when you get down to it: the real lesson that she should have learnt from Strikeback to just put some damn security on her Yo-yo/The Box. Because this just means that she has to wait for the hero in question to show up when she could have just pulled off whatever plan she has in mind herself.

And that superfluous label includes Chat Noir.

As frustrating as it is to come to the this conclusion: as of right now, there's no real reason for Adrien Agreste to be anything but a temporary holder. Certainly you can point to his experience with Plagg's power, and a few examples that seem to imply he can do more with it (in his second outing he was able to reconstruct part of the Eiffel Tower into a makeshift extension to catch someone from). Things that imply that if he perhaps received any actual training in the show like Marinette did from Fu, any guidance whatsoever from the Order or their Grimoire he might be able to achieve more.

But there's no solid evidence to expect that Marinette wouldn't be as effective, and the narrative precedent does not lend itself to the idea that anyone could overshadow Ladybug as a holder even of their own Miraculous. If anything, the sheer ability Marinette showed as Bug Noire implies that her having a partner instead of just keeping the ring herself is a detriment to any given situation.

If you can justify exposing the ring to potential capture in the first place considering that there seems to be no requirement to do. By all rights the practical thing to do is just keeping Plagg in the box instead of risking reality.

Of course we wanted to be generous, Adrien could still be of some use. He's the resident meatshield and narrative jobber. So long as he has a Miraculous he could continue faithfully serving in those roles, eating up mind-control beams and taking hits for Bug Noire so she can save the day as usual.

But everyone else on the Miraculous team might as well turn in their furry super-suits and go home.

You couldn't get a more black and white depiction of the value of others outside of the protagonist. in Avatar, Aang is literally a semi-divine being who still needs to be humble and learn while the others around him still have useful special talents and prowess that he can't simply attain at will.

While in Miraculous, there's only one person of actual true competence. From Paris to Shanghai, Marinette alone is the capable one- barring the odd episode in the limelight (Alya and Felix stand up and take a bow. Adrien can stay seated).

There is a word for a character that is impossibly more capable than any other in spite of all reason and logic. And Marinette is increasingly fitting that mold as the show goes on. There's also a term for characters that ultimately contribute nothing good or bad to a story; wasted space. You can't have an entire ensemble of characters as part of the cast and have them provide nothing if they're supposed to have even a smidge of narrative value without making them something the story would be better off without.

Just as you can't just have one person at the centre of everything, make them capable of everything and not eventually have the story they're in turn into (at best) a power fantasy.

And it's a shame. Because Miraculous seemed like it could have been a lot more.

#ml writing critical #ml writing salt #Marinette doesn't have to be everything to be a good character #Making her the “Greatest X” means she has no where to grow to.#Making her utterly overshadow the rest of the cast doesn't make her look good it just make them look irrelevant and replaceable #If the writers want there to be a giant team they need to justify handing out the superweapons en masse

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blakeswritingimagines · 1 year

Text

Being Alicent’s Hand-Maid, Who Captures Aemond's Attention

She may become obsessed with you her handmaid and view you (in an unhealthy sense) as someone that belongs solely to her. Her affection would lead her to act in a clingy and possessive manner towards you in order to make sure you only focus on her. She could become jealous if you spend time with others, as this takes away from the time she wants you to spend with her. She may even go to extreme lengths to ensure you are not affected by any outside forces, such as hiding you from the public eye especially when fighting with the Blacks becomes too much

Alicent would be quite obsessive and overly protective of you. She would be constantly checking up on you and making sure that you are safe and taking care of yourself and she would be very possessive of you. Whenever you do something that she deems inappropriate or wrong, she would resort to extreme measures to try and punish you, regardless of the consequences of others thinking she's easier on you.

In terms of how she treats you like a daughter, she would be very caring and protective of you, treating you as if you were her own flesh and blood. She would be very concerned for your well-being and would do everything in her power to keep you safe and taken care of. She would also trust you with her deepest secrets and be open with you about her thoughts and feelings. In short, she just wants to treat you as if you were her own daughter and give you the same love and care that a good mother would.

If you wanted to leave and marry someone, she would be very devastated and jealous. She would try to convince you not to do it and explain to you why she thinks it is a bad idea. If you still insisted on going through with it, she would use whatever means necessary to destroy the rival and try to bring you back to her. She would also be very manipulative and try to make you feel guilty and responsible for hurting her. Ultimately, she would not let you go easily and would likely resort to extreme measures to keep you close to her.

Yes, if Aemond was interested in marrying her, I would definitely try to persuade her to do so. Aemond is a powerful and influential man, and marrying him would benefit her and our house greatly. Plus, having her married to Aemond would ensure that she stays within my sphere of influence. If she were to refuse, I would resort to any means necessary, including manipulation and emotional blackmail, to convince you to change your mind.

If Aemond was a yandere for you, then things would definitely get complicated. As a yandere herself, she will not give up on you easily, and neither would he. This could lead to a violent and dangerous competition, with the two yandere's going to any length to take you away from the other. She would definitely use her influence and power as Queen to gain the upper hand and get you back. But if Aemond is truly determined to have you, it would be very difficult to fight him.

If both she and Aemond were Yandere's for you, it would definitely be an intense and chaotic situation. They would be competing with each other for your attention, love, and affection, which could lead to violent and destructive confrontations. It would be a constant power struggle, with the two of them trying to one-up the other and gain the upper hand. It would not be a healthy situation for anyone involved, and it could eventually threaten the safety and well-being of the entire realm.

If Aemond were to become obsessed with his mother's handmaiden, I suppose he would start by watching your every move. He would memorize the way you walk, the way you talk, the way you carry yourself. He would take note of the small things, the little glances, the way you touch your hair. He would become fixated on understanding every facet of your being. He would also try to find ways to justify his behavior, to convince himself and others that the object of my affections was in fact meant to be his.

If you had wished to wed another, it would be a great injustice. He feels that you belong to him. You and he are bound by a deep and unbreakable connection. You are his muse, his inspiration. He will never find joy with anyone else. He will refuse all other mates until you come to your senses and understand that you are meant to be.

He would try to build a strong relationship with you. If there was a way to befriend you and earn your trust in a genuine manner, then he would try to find that way. He’d try to treat you well, make you feel special, and demonstrate his affection in any way he could. He would try to win your heart instead of forcing you into something you may not want. He would try to make it your decision to be with him.

He would attempt to win your heart. He would show you how much he cares for you. He would shower you with affection, gifts, and compliments. He would want you to see him as your knight, protector, and confidant. He would want you to know you are safe and loved as you could possibly be. And he would not want to let you go. He would not want any other to have you. He would want you to be his alone.

He would want you to be with him all the time especially after you are married to him. He would want you to be his shadow. He would want you by his side. He would want to hear your voice and see your face, see your eyes, and look at your lips. He would want to kiss you so sweetly. He would want to feel your breath upon his neck. He would want you to feel safe in his arms.

Once he has captured your affection, he imagines things could get interesting. There is the possibility that things could be a bit extreme. If you were not quite so keen on becoming his, he may have to take matters into his own hands. There is the potential you could get into some naughty behavior. If you were to resist… then he feels you might just need a little help submitting to the role he has chosen for you.

The next step in his mind would be to eliminate any possible competition. Anyone who may challenge his obsession for the handmaiden's affections except his mother. There would be no room in your life for anyone else. No one but him. It would be a rather difficult thing to justify, certainly. But he would find a way. He would make it his life's mission to possess the handmaiden, to make you his and his alone. To become the object of your affection and no one else. He would go to great lengths to achieve this goal. Nothing would stand in his way.

He would seek to find every possible way to spend time with you, perhaps by taking up some hobby or pastime that you enjoy and finding ways to participate in it alongside you. He would also begin to become increasingly jealous and possessive when you interacted with other people, especially other men. He would begin to worry that you may have feelings for someone else much like the person you were wanting to marry before him and does everything in his power to sabotage those relationships and claim you as his own. As time went on, his obsession would begin to consume his life and become his sole focus. He would become delusional, seeing himself as your one true love, the only one worthy of your affection.

Marriage with him as a yandere is rather intense. In some ways, it is rather romantic and passionate, as he would have an obsessive love for you. However, his possessiveness and clinginess could be smothering, and his moods might swing violently between love and hate. You would need to have a lot of patience and understanding to be able to cope. It could be a tumultuous relationship, but it could also be a deeply loving and fulfilling one.

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #hotd aemond #alicent hightower #alicent hightower x reader #alicent x reader #house of the dragon #hotd #house of the dragon headcanon #house of the dragon hc #hotd headcanon #yandere aemond x reader #yandere aemond targaryen #yandere alicent hightower #tw yandere

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seabirdtxt · 9 months

Text

.Irminsul stash --Traveler_Inventory

You and Scaramouche head over to ask the Traveler for some groceries [< prev] [Blog tag] [next >]

Notes: SAGAU without cult shenanigans, mostly filler chapter. sorry for the long hiatus!

WC. 1.5k

----- ⚘ -----

As much as you enjoyed spending your time running around Teyvat in-game, nothing quite prepares you for how vast it actually is.

Of course you’ve known that, logically speaking, it’s impossible to correctly scale an entire city using a limitation such as video game engines. You are still knocked completely off your feet at the sight of the sprawling verdant domes and alabaster walkways of Sumeru City.

You jog down from the Sanctuary doors and lean over the railing, eyes tracing the knotted branches of the Great Tree where they mesh flawlessly with the infrastructure of the city. The scale of things is easily dozens of times bigger than what is shown in-game, and despite the beautiful graphics it has, the game definitely cannot do justice to the sheer variety of buildings and people that make up Sumeru City. Unable to help yourself, you make wordless noises of awe as you take in the scenery.

“You’d think you’ve never seen a city before,” Scaramouche’s deadpan voice states from a few paces behind you, where he’s lazily following you down the ramp. You turn and face him, taking note of how he’d removed the colourful belts, ropes, and other identifying markers of his outfit, leaving only his bodysuit and black jinbei. He looks deeply annoyed by this state of undress, so you wisely choose not to mention it.

“I mean, I’ve never seen it like this before,” you agree, gesturing to the skyline with a wide sweep of your arm. “Like, I’ve seen some of it from a certain, uh, distance? But seeing it in person… Wow. Just doesn't compare.”

Scaramouche says nothing as he finally comes to a stop beside you, arms crossed as he surveys the view. After a few seconds he snorts derisively. “Looks the same as it always does, to me.” He scoffs. “Come on, we don’t have all day.”

You let him drag you down the rest of the ramps until you both meet the pale bricks of the main road. You follow him as he leads you, presumably, to wherever the Traveler is staying. Your eyes wander aimlessly, taking in the sights.

Something tugs at the gem of your shirt and you stop walking, surprised. When you look down, you see a small child with dirt stains on their hands and knees, and a streak of dirt across their face. The child beams up at you, holding out their closed fist and shaking it at you.

“Oh, hello. What’s up?” You ask, crouching down beside them. You hear a noise of disgust from Scaramouche, which you wave off in favor of giving the child a smile. “Anything I can help you with, buddy?”

The child shakes their fist again and you finally get the message. You present your own open hand, palm upturned, and the child drops whatever they’re holding into it. They scamper off quickly before you can say anything, so instead you peer at the tiny object in your hand.

It’s a small stone, with a very simplified carving on it. It appears to be some writing, and an angular leaf shape. The marks are gibberish to you, but surely it has significance of some kind, so you pocket it and stand back up. You give Scaramouche an apologetic grin, to which he simply rolls his eyes and continues on.

The walk is, understandably, much longer physically than it is in-game, and you find yourself a little winded by the time you’re anywhere near the Grand Bazaar. You do eventually get to a building that you (very, very vaguely) recognize as the inn the Traveler and Paimon stayed at during the Sabzeruz Festival arc, and you huff a sigh of relief that the long stroll is finally over. Before you can even approach or knock, you’re bowled over by a flying white mess of limbs.

“Creator! You’re here!” Paimon squeals in your ear as she tackles you to the best of her ability, and you wince as she excitedly hugs whatever part of you she can reach. “I’m so glad that stupid mean puppet didn't kill you yet!”

Scaramouche makes an offended noise at that last remark and flips Paimon the bird.

“Yeah, here I am!” You laugh after untangling her from around your head and pat her head as the Traveler joins her, looking a little worse for wear. Their outfit is a little stained in places, and bears some signs of scorch marks at the edges.

“Good timing, we just got back from our morning commissions,” they say with a wave. “I didn’t think you’d be out and about so soon, is there anything you need help with?”

“We want your ingredients supplies.” Scaramouche blurts out, interrupting any of your attempts to phrase it in a nicer way.

“All of them?!” Paimon gasps, absolutely devastated. You quickly step in before Scara can say anything else.

“No no! Just a little bit,” you reassure the sprite, then address the rest of your request to the Traveler with an affable shrug. “If you have anything to spare we’d really appreciate it. We don’t exactly have a lot of food in my teapot yet. Or, uhh… Any food, at all.”

“Oh!” The traveler smacks their forehead with the heel of their palm. “I didn’t think of that, Your Grace, I’m so sorry!”

“You really don’t have to call me that,” You laugh awkwardly at the title and volume at which the Traveler said it, conscious of the curious glances your little group has attracted. All around you you begin to hear indistinct murmuring, and you frantically hope they’re not talking about you. “And, uh, don’t worry about it! It’s a bit short notice, I get it.”

“As long as you leave some for us, it’s no problem!” Paimon says as she recovers from her shock. The Traveler turns to her with a sly grin.

“As long as they leave some for you, you mean?” They tease, to which Paimon splutters in protest. The Traveler gently pokes her cheek while she throws her tantrum.

“Can we take this inside?” Scaramouche asks waspishly, stopping the pair’s bickering for a moment. “Or literally anywhere else? Maybe you two enjoy being ogled like zoo animals, but I personally don’t appreciate being eyed up by the unwashed masses.”

“How rude! You haven’t learned a single thing, have you?!” Paimon scolds, turning her wrath on the harbinger.

“Actually, I agree,” you give a halting laugh as you step closer to the building. More and more eyes are turning toward you. You give the crowd an awkward wave, and suddenly the murmurs turn into a clamor as people begin to understand your identity.

“Oh, whoops,” the Traveler says, grabbing both your hand and Scaramouche’s bicep. Paimon quickly gets the idea and grabs onto the sleeve of their outfit. “Time to go!”

-----

You spiral back into existence high above the streets of Sumeru, close to the Akademia front doors, having been forcefully teleported as a group with the Traveler. They set you down gently, while simultaneously dropping Scaramouche like a sack of potatoes.

“Ow! Hey, watch it!”

“Are you alright, Your Grace?”

Three pairs of eyes watch as you dust yourself off and give a cheerful thumbs up. “All good!” You announce. “Let’s talk groceries, shall we?”

In the end, the Traveler decides to give you and Scaramouche three bags of dry products—things like fruits and veggies, rice, sugar, coffee beans, and cured meat—and promises to stop by your teapot sometime later in the week to deliver cold foods and more fresh produce.

“I’m sure some of this probably isn’t what you’re used to in your world,” the Traveler says apologetically, giving you a wry smile. “If you have any questions about it, I’m sure you can ask Wanderer. He’s been enrolled in some cooking classes for the past few semesters, so he’ll know what he’s doing.”

“Hah! As if.” Scaramouche snatches the last bag of groceries out of their hands with a sneer. “That weakling is going to be out running errands for Buer’s every whim. Do you really expect him to be around long enough to cook adequately? I’ll handle this.”

The Traveler only raises a single eyebrow at the declaration, then shrugs. “Suit yourself,” they chuckle. “Just don’t poison the Creator, I guess.”

“Can the Creator even get sick?” Paimon asks, hovering around you and inspecting you closely enough to make you ticklish. “I’m not sure gods are supposed to be able to get sick, you know!”

“Well, we don’t want to find out!”

“It’s fine, a little food poisoning won’t kill me,” you reassure the three of them, knowing you’ll be having a rough go at it for the foreseeable future given what you know about Scaramouche’s current cooking skills.

“So, what? None of you have any faith in me?” Scaramouche frowns and crosses his arms as best as he can around his grocery bags.

The response comes from the three of you at the same time.

“No.”

#genshin sagau #genshin isekai #sagau #self aware genshin #genshin self aware au #sagau x reader #genshin scaramouche #sagau scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #seabird.txt #glitch in irminsul au

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hoseokslefteyebrow · 2 months

Text

The Anomaly || JJK

Chapter 6: Evening Festival

summary : In which you're isekai'd from your (own) parallel Jujutsu Kaisen universe to the canon universe.

wordcount : 1.5k

Pairing: Jujutsu Kaisen X Reader, eventually Character x Reader (idk who yet tho)

Masterlist | Next

A few days have passed since the day you've made dumplings with Megumi and Yuuji at the asscrack of dawn, and currently, your classmates and you find yourselves at the Kyoto school, send there by Gojo who's heard something from Utahime.

" Gojo informed you all about the mole right? "

You're currently stood in the garage of the school, with Utahime who had just received all of you.

" Yes. "

" We think two or more are in contact with a curse user. One a higher up or principle- I won't be able to do anything about that. The other would be someone feeding information to that higher up. That's our target. They're only a suspect at this point, so our objective is to capture and interrogate. "

" So who from Kyoto is it? "

" huh? "

" Why else would they include us, Tokyo students? "

Nobara has a very good, and sharp point. You hadn't even thought about who it might be yet. You smile at Yuuji's next words.

" Kugisaki, you're a genius. "

Meanwhile, Utahime sighs.

" The suspect is Mechamaru. "

Soon after, she's leading you through the school, towards the basement. It's a little ominous, but you roll with it. You're not alone after all. Besides, you're a Jujutsu sorcerer, you shouldn't allow silly fears to intervene in your work.

" The real Mechamaru, Kokichi Muta, is in this basement. Now, it's not like he's suspicious. It's more that no one else is. The process of elimination leaves us with Mechamaru. "

Yuuji opens the first door, leading through yet another hallway of the basement. Utahime is the first to step in it.

" Mechamaru's technique is Puppet Manipulation. Thanks to his Heavenly Restriction, it's range extends through all of Japan. Unregistered puppets could very easily do the work of a mole. "

" You'd think? It'd draw a lot of attention if you ask me. "

" Even if that puppet is as small as a mosquito? "

" Ah yeah, I guess that's an option too. "

Yuuji and Utahime's conversation stops there, as Utahime stops in front of a door. She points at it.

" We're here. "

She seems nervous as she opens the door. That makes you nervous. Still, you're ready if a battle were to follow.

The room is empty, all of you stand there.

" Uhh... "

" He got us. "

" Though on the other hand-"

" Now we're certain it's Mechamaru. "

" Are you sure you can heal her? "

Megumi has turned to face you, his hand on the door handle of the hospital room Tsumiki is resting in.

You shake your head.

" I'm not. I hope I didn't give you the confidence that I was 100% certain that I can. I have managed to do so in my own world a little over 3 months ago, but I'm not certain this will be the same. "

He nods, understanding your words and where they come from. They were a lot of differences between your universe and his. There was still the option that you couldn't manage to, for a whole lot of reasons.

He slides the door open, and the both of you step in.

The first thing you notice in the room is the odd signature of cursed energy being emitted from Tsumiki's body. It was heavier than in your own world. How... Odd.

Sharpening your features, you uncap your water skin. Megumi is resting with his back against the door, making sure no one comes in.

You manipulate the water to follow your movements, so of course, it does. A slim line of water forms a circle around Tsumiki's body. You continue your movements, the water spinning in a warm circle around her. However, you notice something odd.

There's 2 curse signatures. The one you've felt before, back when you were fighting those cursed spirit-humans, the same as that domain. And something stronger. It's like it's placed on top of it. Like a cap on a bottle, not allowing anything to escape. Like a scar, a mark. Some kind of cursed energy you're completely unfamiliar with.

Megumi's eyes widen. The ring of water you're manipulation is flowing peacefully, smoothly, and seems to have a faded white golden hue to it. It emits a soothing feeling, even though it's not surrounding him. Was this what your reverse cursed energy was like?

After a few moments, you stop, manipulating the water back into it's skin. Your eyebrows are furrowed as you think, trying to figure out how it is this way. Megumi blinks at you, his expression neutral.

" Was that also reverse cursed technique? "

You nod, still deep in thought.

" Yeah. It's a form I have no guidance for, so it's hard to get a hold of. Shoko has taught me the general technique for reverse cursed technique. The one I've used to heal you before. This is different. It can lift curses. "

" .. But not this one? "

You remain silent for a moment after his question.

" This is going to sound stupid... But it feels like there's 2 signatures. I just don't understand why, or how. One feels stronger than the other. My technique is too weak to reach the weaker one hidden below the... Other one? I don't even know what it is. "

Megumi's brows furrow in concern, eyes on his sister as well as he studies her.

" That's... Weird. "

You nod.

" It is. "

Was Tsumiki cursed twice?

" Hey, Y/N, is everything alright? Are you enjoying our universe so far? "

Gojo's smiling, laid back as he always is as he leans back against the back of his desk.

You smile back at him, nodding.

" Yeah. Everyone is nice to me so far. Thank you for helping me settle. "

He grins at you.

" Anything else you need me to take care of? "

Your smile slowly falls, your brows furrow in concern.

" Not exactly. It's more about the Shibuya thing- I've got a bad feeling about it. Let me come with you. "

You're not one to not trust your gut. Especially in situations like this. He grins at you, finding your concern adorable. He walks closer to you, placing a comforting hand on the top of your head.

" Ah, that's sweet. You must be my favorite student in your universe. But you don't need to worry about it. I'm the strongest, after all. "

You sigh.

" Still-"

" I'm serious, Y/N. I'll be fine. I've put you with Megumi, Takuma and Nanami. You're on back up anyway. "

You sigh, realizing that you wouldn't be able to get through with him.

" Okay. If you're certain. Just... Don't freeze if.. I don't know.. Something unexpected happens. "

His smile slips off his face, now replaced with confusion as his hand slips off your head, returning to his pocket.

" Like what? "

" I don't know..? Another you maybe? I've got no idea, honestly. "

You sigh again, looking at the floor. Maybe you really were a little paranoid about this for no reason.

" It's a veil that only traps civilians inside. They can enter, but not leave. Sorcerers and assistant supervisors seem to have no trouble moving in and out. "

" Any reception? "

" No. All communications will have to be done outside of the veil, through us assistant supervisors. "

Ijichi is stood across from you, Takuma and Nanami. Together, you're team Nanami (you snorted originally when you were named that.) You were surprised, but also proud to hear that both Megumi and Ino were now under evaluation for promotion. The only reason you were not was because, well.. You're not from here.

" Well, that's awfully inconvenient. "

Meanwhile, Takuma taps Megumi on his shoulder, drawing both of your attention.

" Fushiguro, Fushiguro, Kamo- Here's a fun fact. The conditions of a veil can only be defined in terms of 'things with cursed energy'. That includes humans, cursed spirits, and cursed objects. Blocking cell phone reception is just a side effect of the veil- You can't actually block or allow reception using barrier techniques. "

Megumi blinks, you do too, leaning over to get a look at Takuma.

" Ah, yes. We know. "

Nanami speaks over his shoulder, addressing the three of you.

" Ino, they're both exceptionally talented students. Keep the senpai act in check. "

" What's that supposed to mean, Nanami?! "

Nanami doesn't respond, turning his focus back to Ino.

" Lastly, where is Gojo Satoru? "

You hope the ill feeling in your gut is just a joke.

Question: would u guys like me to continue after writing through s2 by following the manga or would u like me to wait for s3? (I'm not all too sure myself- but for now my preference goes to the manga.)

[ A/N: I'm so excited to write Shibuya arc, I've got sum good shit planned. ]

The Anomaly Taglist:

@luxylucylou @kalulakunundrum @strxbxrrylover @aethersslave @jenniferrvsesi

#idkeitherman #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #megumi fushiguro #nobara kugisaki #platonic jujutsu kaisen #yuji itadori #megumi x reader #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #shibuya

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xxlady-lunaxx · 5 months

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No! Stop, I'm sorry! | {GenMui}

Theme: Angst

Notes: The AU is the same time mostly, but to being a DS, Kagaya is toxic ⚠ (I'm so sorry 😭) and he has other rules put up as the leader of the demon slayer such as: It is forbidden to date one of your gender and if you do not proceed with this rule, it will lead to punishment depending on how long you've been in the relationship. This, none of the Hashira respect but they cannot say anything. Also, the Ubuyashiki children and Amane all don't like this rule but they, as everyone else, can't disagree. (I think you know where this story is going..)

Genya cuddled against his boyfriend happily, relaxing. Muichiro buried his face in Genya's chest comfortably, his arms wrapped around him protectively. He was tired, he'd been on missions non stop lately and had little time to rest because of training. But Genya, here, had insisted and so they were at the Butterfly mansion—Genya had insisted that Muichiro got a check-up—and resting in one of the more private rooms Shinobu had lent them.

Eventually the two fell asleep peacefully, not minding anything else in the world but each other.

They were awoken by the door banging open and Sanemi strode inside. Genya and Muichiro both jolted up in surprise and quickly deattached themselves from each other—but it was too late.

Sanemi's expression—already angry—grew furious and he shouted, "THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING??"

He glared at Muichiro, not minding Genya for some reason.

"Ehm.. I fell asleep," the mist Hashira said. "I think."

"You think?! On my brother??" Sanemi spat.

Genya looked touched at those words and he went to protect his boyfriend. "Hey! He was tired! And I let him!"

Sanemi raised an eyebrow. "Oh sure. Anyways, are you two dating?" he asked, a little more cautiously.

Muichiro went to object and say no—out of all things he remembered, it was mostly about Genya. One, the fact that he loved Genya with all his might, and two, the fact that dating him was forbidden.

Genya didn't know this, though. He didn't know how much trouble they could get in just for dating. So, of course, he said, "Yes. So?"

Sanemi froze. "You.. break up with him right now."

Genya crossed his arms. "No!"

Muichiro tried to interject but Genya told him that he would handle it and he fell silent. The harm was already done anyways..

"You have to. You could get in so much fucking trouble," Sanemi whispered.

Genya raised an eyebrow. "Since when did you care if I got in trouble or not? Leave me and Muichiro alone if you're only going to be mean!" he said, trying to push Sanemi.

His older brother wasn't fazed by this but decided that, given that he'd been rude to Genya for so many years, it would just seem like he was being 'mean' again. So he turned to leave, but before he closed the door he shot Muichiro a stern look. "Tell him," he hissed, then slammed the door behind him.

Genya turned to his boyfriend, confused. "What did he mean?"

Muichiro was quiet for a moment, then said, "Dating anyone of the same gender is forbidden as a demon slayer. Especially to the Hashira. We could get in a lot of trouble for this. I don't think your brother will tell since all of us hate this rule but.. you have to be careful, Genya."

"I'm sure they won't do too much. Besides, that's a stupid rule.." Genya said, not really minding this warning. Muichiro wasn't always the one to rely on rules. He seemed to forget them constantly. Though the fact that Sanemi and Muichiro had said the same thing was a little unnerving. But he brushed it off, not wanting to think about it anyways.

Muichiro bit his lip and, though he knew he really should keep pushing Genya on this, he didn't want to appear as if he was saying this because he wanted to break up. No, he really didn't want to. Just.. he had to. But, so far, they hadn't been caught besides from Sanemi. Shinobu knew but she'd supported them and did her best to hide them as well. They were safe. It would be fine.

~~~

No. No, he was wrong. So, so wrong.

Either Kagaya had found out or someone had told him. But Genya was in trouble. Deep trouble.

Muichiro was standing in front of the Demon Slayer Corps leader, trying not to cry. He wouldn't bow. No, not when his boyfriend was being sentenced to death.

"What the hell," he choked out, glaring furiously at his Master. "Why the fuck would you put him to death for dating me?? Why don't you kill me instead?? Why?!"

"Language, Muichiro," Kagaya said calmly. "Being 'gay' is forbidden as you two might know. You must face humiliation. He is useless to the demon slayer corps, he cannot use breathing forms. You are a Hashira. You are more important. He is someone who is easily replace. You must understand this."

Muichiro gritted his teeth and his hands clenched to fists. "He's a person! He's as important as a Hashira! We are literally Hashira to protect people who aren't! You're so insensitive, how could you say that?! He's not easily replaced.. he's.. he's the only Genya and I hope you're the only you because I would fucking die if there were more of you," he shouted, turning and stalking off.

"If you want to know, his execution will be tomorrow at sunrise. Here," Kagaya called after him.

Muichiro didn't listen. He wouldn't let this happen.

He went straight to Sanemi and told him what happened. Of course, Sanemi was furious and he broke four chairs, a table, ten plates, two cups, ripped out some of his hair, and yeeted his katana to the otherside of the room. Muichiro stayed out of the way.

"Where is Genya," Sanemi demanded after he'd broken everything there.

Muichiro shrugged, his heart dropping. "I don't know.. I was taken to Mas-.... Ubuyashiki and Genya was on a mission I think."

Sanemi turned to Muichiro. "We're going to go fucking find him." He called his crow and asked for Genya's mission location.

The crow, confused, said, "He's had no mission! His crow was told to not assign him any! Because he was barely able to do anything to the demons and often ended up badly injured so that rendered him useless for his missions!"

Muichiro and Sanemi stared at the crow for a long while. Then, Sanemi said, "Then where is he."

Muichiro said, slowly, "And his crow?"

Sanemi's crow chirped widly. "I'll look for him! But I must be back before night to tell you of your missions," it said.

Sanemi nodded. "Alright. Go, now."

The bird flew out the window and left.

Sanemi turned to Muichiro. "We're going to find him by foot. Where did you last see him?"

~~~

"His mission was actually a way to get him into the Ubuyashiki's mansion and he has been held captive there till sunrise of this next day," the crow squawked fearfully. He'd been with Sanemi since Final Selection. He know how Sanemi could get. And he knew how much Genya meant to him.

Muichiro dropped the rock he'd been holding—he had lost his focus as he'd walked and had at some point picked up a rock and was unconsciously planning to throw it at whoever threatened Genya. Sanemi, who'd just met up with Muichiro, said, "What."

The crow nodded slowly. "He's at the Ubuyashiki's house now.. Somewhere."

Sanemi turned to the crow with a look that he might skewer him right then and there. "I'm going to fucking kill that man. Tokito, you go there. I'm going to finish whatever bitch ass mission I have and going right to Genya and taking him out."

~~~

Sanemi, Muichiro, and the rest of the Hashira (except Gyomei who wasn't told about this. As far a he knew, everything was still normal. He was returning from a mission and would most likely come back and find Genya was dead) were tied up—literally. They couldn't move, and though all of them could easily escape.. Kagaya was right there. And all of them were afraid that their own loved ones—even if they weren't gay—might be killed as well.

Muichiro couldn't move from pure shock and Sanemi was struggling but he'd been put the strongest bonds so he was unable to get out.

Two Kakushi stood next to Genya whose hands and legs had been tied. They were going to lay him on a wooden table and chop his head off. Since he had the sort of half-demon blood, he wouldn't die by his stomach being cut open. So they were killing him the way demons were killed.

The Kakushi had been picked simply because they were both homophobic. They probably wouldn't even try to be quick with this execution, but since Kagaya had ordered it.. they would have to.

Genya had been surprisingly quiet during this whole procession. But as the blade lowered to his neck, he cried out. "Stop!! I'm sorry! I promise not to do it again!!" he shouted, trying to get away. The Kakushi ignored him and continued pushing down. The other Kakushi held him still so he wouldn't struggle too much as they did so.

Tears pricked Muichiro's eyes and he tried to get out but his body was limp with fear. Sanemi on the otherhand struggled more than ever. And he broke the ropes around his legs. He moved slowly at first, then sprinted to Genya.

Kagaya shouted and Genya screamed. The Kakushi pushed down and Genya took one last, terrified look at Sanemi and Muichiro then started to disintigrate.

Sanemi screamed and stood next to Genya's dying body. Muichiro, finally finding the strength to escape, shot out towards them. He fell to his knees at Genya's side and said, shakily, "Don't die, don't die, Genya, please, don't die."

But Genya was dying. He was dying and then he was dead.

Muichiro sobbed and Sanemi turned and shouted at Kagaya who said, calmly, "This will be an example. All of you must not follow Muichiro and Genya's. Understood?"

It was quiet as everyone there stared at him with shocked expressions.

Then, Muichiro said, "I fucking hate you." He turned and stalked off, tears still streaming from his eyes. Sanemi followed with a similar sentiment and slowly but surely, the rest of the Hashira left—helping each other get out if they couldn't.

Mitsuri left last and she looked Kagaya in the eye and said, "I cannot call you Master anymore. I am disappointed.. and.. I won't work for you. I will work for Kiriya. He will be my Master."

Then she left, leaving the Ubuyashiki mansion in silence.

{Word count: 1804}

The one time Muichiro and Sanemi get along

Anyways,

The stoopi wheel chose: Sentenced to death, Panic, Homophobia, Execution The way it said sentenced to death AND execution..

#kny #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #ds #angst #gay #genmui #genya x muichiro #sanemi shinazugawa #muichiro tokito #angsty #oneshot #genya shinazugawa #homophobia #kagaya ubuyashiki #fanfiction #fanfic #kny fanfic

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pouletaulait · 4 months

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"Do you even intend to quit – not really" 🧐

After reading Chapter 58 I thought about this exchange between Yashiro and Kage for a bit:

At first sight this might suggest that Yashiro actually considers staying in the Yakuza. I think based on what we know and how this statement is framed though, I come to the conclusion that this suggests the exact opposite in fact; Yashiro’s reluctance to stay in the Yakuza shines through yet again.

Granted, in the above scene Yashiro does in fact say that he doesn’t really want to quit BUT what he said before that stood out to me. Confronted by Kage about how he’s still affiliated with the Yakuza he first diverts his question by saying „don’t say things as if you’re an ordinary person“; I think this points out that Yashiro doesn’t like to think of himself as that different from Kage (or „civilian“ people in general, probably), he’s sorta putting the two of them onto the same level… outwardly he appears to lower Kage’s „status“ as a law-abiding citizen to his own, but, objectively speaking they both know that Kage is not in fact a shady person (at least from what I can tell, after all, he doesn’t appear to be affiliated with any „shady“ people apart from Yashiro and Kage always complains about Yashiro dragging him into these affairs). So, what this ends up doing is lifting Yashiro’s status up (I hope I’m phrasing this in a way that makes sense). Anyway, I think what this conveys is that Yashiro still looks down on Yakuza members (he’s definitely not proud of being one) and that he’s still not fully comfortable with people viewing him as a member or even acknowledging his Yakuza-status himself. He then goes on to say that it’s not easy to leave. Now, this could suggest a) that it has been on his mind (which we already know to be true) and b) that he feels the need to justify the fact that he’s still affiliated with them. Only when Kage questions him again Yashiro finally says that he doesn’t REALLY want to leave. His way of phrasing it doesn’t sound super convincing and he probably says that to get Kageyama off his case and also because, if he is honest with himself, he still can’t see himself actually taking that step after all. I know I might be reading too much into this but it stood out to me that Yashiro didn’t just throw Kage a snarky comment like „why the hell wouldn’t I still be a member?“, in the same vein as his first comment „what kind of upstanding guy runs a shady illegal casino?“ Instead he is somewhat opening up to Kage in his own way.

Anyway, this conversation is yet another puzzle piece that plays into the theory I’ve had from the beginning, that Yashiro will leave the Yakuza eventually. From all we know so far, Yashiro has never really come to terms with being a Yakuza and has generally a very negative opinion of them. The topic of Yashiro struggling to accept this role and the re-occurring questioning of what makes a Yakuza, who’s a good Yakuza, who’s not fit to be one, etc. strongly suggests to me that this is an integral part of this story as a whole and is most probably gonna be relevant to the conclusion of the story. It’s made clear that Yashiro never wanted to be Yakuza in the first place and he’s still reluctant, like… some 20 long years later 😯. I don't want to include too many quotes here because there are far too many instances that could be mentioned and this post is already getting too loooong, as you'll see 🫣, but there are some I'd like to mention. First I'd like to point to one quote from Yashiro that leads me to believe that to him being a Yakuza is not in fact his real identity but rather a role he is playing. He says to Ryuuzaki in Chapter 5:

He sees himself more as an actor rather than a real Yakuza and interestingly enough, that’s what he had aspired to become as a teenager: (aspire might be too strong of a word here but I think in a way he really did):

Now, I know that I'm arguing that Yashiro is talking about himself here ,even though, he's not just referring to himself in his comment to Ryuuzaki but the fact that he talks about Yakuza being just like actors in general and then further generalizing his statement to „people spend their lives acting“ still plays nicely into Yashiro's perception of his own life which will become relevant in a bit *bear with me*; it suggests that he thinks that people are not really free to be themselves because they have to play their role which emphasizes his passive approach to life in general „I have lived my life accepting it all“ (I reference this quote further down).

Every time Misumi tries to drag him in deeper, Yashiro is acting completely reluctant. We first saw this in the very beginning of the story when Misumi and Yashiro talk about the succession and Misumi says to Yashiro „be mine once more“ (Yashiro doesn’t want to give him an answer), when we learn through Hirata’s secret recordings about the details of another conversation between Misumi and Yashiro in Chapter 14 (Yashiro still doesn’t give a straight answer) and we see it again in Chapter 36 when Misumi basically says to Yashiro „don’t forget what you are“ after the time-skip (Yashiro distracts Misumi from the conversation by provoking him). He doesn't agree to anything but he never outright refuses either (he's completely passive).

His reluctance is further demonstrated by the fact that after the time-skip Yashiro’s not really a full member anymore. He used what happened after Hirata’s attack on him to the best of his abilities in a way to distance himself from the group but he couldn’t take the last step. But this clearly points to Yashiro wanting to get out for good.

I think it’s noteworthy that the only time he completely rejects the idea of quitting (as far as I remember), is in Chapter 27 when he speaks to Ryuuzaki in the back of the police car:

This stands out to me because he says this after he’d made up his mind that he was gonna die. So why keep fighting it at this point? (I’m so glad our cute boy is not in such a dark place anymore 😭)

Yashiro has also tried to keep Doumeki out of this world because he cares so much about him. Unfortunately, he wasn’t successful but the statement Yashiro made about the Yakuza in Chapter 22 becomes relevant again, now that Doumeki got a back tattoo (which as we all know made Yashiro furious beyond belief). Yashiro said something along the lines of „do you have any idea how many upright citizens walk around out there with full body tattoos? And how many Yakuza wear normal business suits?“( I hope this translation is somewhat accurate . I had to take it from the official German translation which is not the most exact at times but the only English translation I could find, didn’t seem to be correct 😅) Basically he’s saying, it’s never too late to quit. This was some unfortunate foreshadowing if you ask me but it gives me hope that Doumeki’s status as a full-fledged member and him getting a tattoo won’t prevent them from leaving the Yakuza world behind.

I just cannot imagine Yoneda-sensei making this aspect such an integral part of Yashiro’s character and bringing this topic up again and again if it isn’t gonna be relevant in the end… I know it might be a red herring but I really doubt it at this point. I read the manga as a story of a traumatized survivor of SA finding happiness in life (yes, I’m very hopeful that both Doumeki and Yashiro are gonna make it out alive because anything else would be too cruel🫣). For Yashiro the Yakuza is a hindrance to his freedom and happiness because it’s not who he truly is as a person and as long as he stays he’s going to be under Misumi’s control and Misumi is gonna try to use him, just like his stepfather and all the other men who SAed him when he was a teenager used him. In a way he’s still this powerless child getting used by others. He was an easy target for Misumi because Yashiro was „completely indifferent about himself“ as Misumi put it. This indifference stems from the abuse he suffered. When Yashiro got shot he remembered the SA and he says: „I have lived my life accepting it all. I’ve felt no sorrow. I’ve blamed no one. My life can’t be said to be anyone else’s fault.“ This expresses exactly what Misumi saw in Yashiro: He’s so broken that he doesn't even feel anger, he is beyond caring about himself, his well-being, his future. Putting it differently; he doesn’t love himself and he doesn’t think that he deserves love or a different, better life. This is why he doesn’t really put up a fight against this fate. He’s still passively accepting everything.

To sum this up, it’s mainly his trauma that prevents him from quitting, just like it keeps him from being able to accept Doumeki’s love. Since I believe this story is about Yashiro overcoming his trauma and finding happiness, I think it would only be fitting that once he’ll be able to accept that he is deserving of love, hope and happiness, he’d finally find the courage to take control of his own fate and break away from the path that he felt forced to follow.

And yes, I'm aware that quitting won't be that easy because of Misumi's obsession over Yashiro BUT even though I don't like Misumi too much and I think he's a creep, he's in his own way quite lenient when it comes to Yashiro, I have to give him that. So, I have high hopes that he actually meant what he said about "caring about Yashiro as a person" and will let him leave without too much trouble.

Of course we don’t know much about Doumeki’s plans for his future but if Yashiro and him end up together (which is what I’m hoping for) he’ll most likely go along with Yashiro’s wishes, I guess 😉 And I know, sweet Nanahara would be disappointed but I bet Yashiro and Doumeki would still find a way to adopt their big baby boy into their little family 😜

maybe they’re gonna open up a beach bar in Hawai’i and Nanahara would flirt with the guests and give away all the drinks for free 🤣

On a more serious note, I hope I didn’t get any of the quotes completely wrong. Nuances tend to get lost in translation so it’s kinda "risky" to base a theory like this solely on translations but most of it comes down to my personal interpretation of the story anyways. And I’m sorry if most of this seemed too obvious but I got the impression that I seem to feel more strongly about the fact that Yashiro might gonna leave his days as a Yakuza behind than others in the fandom and I felt the need to present my case 😉

If you actually made it through my ramblings to down here, you deserve some 🍪🍪🍪 😘

#saezuru chapter 58 #saezuru #saezuru tori wa habatakanai #twittering birds never fly #saezuru analysis #spread your wings and fly away yashiro #fly away far away #spread your little wings and fly away far away #now I can't get that song out of my head #spare me mr mercury #don't stop me now I'm having such a good time I'm having a ball

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