#break's weakness is dealing with kids tbh

[fivekrystalpetals]

So, my headcanons were actually canon lol

Love how sincerely mochijun informs Break can't cook (ig she is like please sorry for breaking fangirls' hearts but your man sucks at cooking)

Lottie's a surprise knives whips cooking okay girl you go

Plus, Break's profile for quick reference heh

Both are lying about their age lol we are ~24 years old totally

source: x, x, x

[animeomegas]

Hello ^~^

I would like to request neji, gaara and itachi (or whoever you want, really!! I really just want pup interactions) and the things that they let their pups get away with and things that they definitely would NOT let their pups get away with. Been reading your head cannons with their pups and I am obsessed!!

Hello! Pup headcanons are so much fun~ I hope you enjoy!

NEJI

What does Neji let his pup get away with you ask?

Nothing.

Okay, well, that's not entirely true, but he is pretty strict when his pup is young.

Ultimately though, he's weak to almost anything that his pup asks for to learn. His house is filled with expensive hobby objects that his pup used once and then forgot about.

Cameras, clay, chemistry kits, wool, countless how-to books.

Neji really prioritises learning and enrichment, so he rarely says no to purchases needed to learn a new hobby.

Obviously, kids are flaky, but everytime he says "what about the thing I just bought you?"

his pup says "but this time I reaaaaalllly want to learn this, and I'll keep at it, I promise!"

They rarely do, but Neji caves every time.

And what does he never let his pup get away with?

Everything

Swearing.

Even when his pup is an adult he tells them that he doesn't want to hear them use bad language. He just thinks it's incredibly disrespectful for them to use that sort of language around him, their parent.

He knows they use it with their friends and that's fine, but he's their father, not their friend, so he doesn't want to hear it. Ever.

GAARA

So, what does Gaara let his pups get away with?

Interrupting him at work, for sure.

He's just soooo weak for his little ones, they are his biggest priority, so while he might lightly scold them if they barge into the Kazekage's office without a good reason, he's too soft to actually stop them.

Whether his pups are crying toddlers brought in by his mate, or school children on their way home, or even teens having a rough day, he invites them in, pauses his work/meeting, and gives them hugs and some of the snacks that he keeps in the bottom draw for them.

He's been known to keep his toddlers on his lap while in important meetings as well.

Because he's Kazekage, sure, but Gaara never forgets that he's a father too.

What do Gaara's pups never get away with?

Hmm, Gaara is very relaxed and lenient, but lying to him is something he takes very seriously.

It truly breaks his heart and trust if his pups lie to him about big things. Obviously a toddler lying about eating a cookie is not a big deal to him, but his older children covering something up and lying to his face... it hurts him.

He's not asking for 100% full transparency all the time, but if he asks a serious question and they lie, then he finds out that they lied, he's hurt enough to ground them and take away their privileges for sure. And his disappointed face is punishment in of itself.

ITACHI

Itachi is sort of a middle ground between the other two. He's nowhere near as strict as Neji nor as lenient as Gaara.

So what does he let his pups get away with?

Occasional fake 'sick' days.

He's a little ashamed that he's so lax about this, but if one of his pups is sad, or stressed, or even just wants to stay at home and cuddle with him all day, he gives them the day off from school.

Itachi sort of wishes he could home school them, but it's important for Uchiha integration into Konoha that the future clan head's children go to the main academy school.

But he still gets these occasional special 'sick' days where he puts off all chores to cuddle and play with his children uninterrupted for the day.

But what is he strict about?

Fighting between siblings.

He won't have his children being mean to each other or purposely winding each other up.

He has been known to project a teeny bit. Viewing his children as him and Sasuke subconsciously. He doesn't even know that he does it, tbh, all he knows is it makes him very tense and anxious when his children fight, even playfully.

His household is thankfully very low on conflict, but when his pups do fight or bicker, he gives them something his alpha has lovingly dubbed as the 'sibling speech'. It's a long speech about loving and supporting each other and being a team etc. etc.

Itachi isn't creative enough to invent the 'this is our get-along shirt' but if someone ever brought it up, he would at least consider it XD

[creatingblackcharacters]

My favourite Black character is Hollis Forsythe from Psychonauts 2!

She's the second-in-command to the Head of the Psychonauts, who is indisposed during the plot (he got kidnapped, long story), meaning she's in charge of a psychic spy organization.

When she was a student under a neurologist, she did some revolutionary research that her advisor stole and published as his own work, without her even as a second author. In retaliation, she used her psychic abilities to essentially scramble her advisor's brain. She ended up regretting this, and got the help of the Psychonauts to undo the scrambling. Her skill and knowledge was recognized by them and she was offered a position. (honestly I think her advisor deserved it but legalities, legalities)

When you meet her in the game she's very straight-laced and down to business, but when you go into her mind you realize underneath that she is full of anxieties and worries, mostly about the Psychonauts' finances and the safety of the interns (who are all teens/tweens that she's responsible for). It's implied she has a complicated relationship with her parents, who the fandom theorizes are represented in her mind by a couple who talk about their child more like an investment than a human person. She also tells Raz (the main character) that "all families are terrible". Deep down she feels that she has to surpress all her emotions and can't reach out for help, in case she's seen as weak. Instead of talking to people about her issues, she checks herself into Psychoisolation (basically sensory deprivation but for psychics) and deals with things herself.

During the game she's burning the wick at both ends 24/7. At the end when the Head of the Psychonauts is reinstated she immediately cashes in her saved up vacation time for a 2-week vacation to the tropics, having realized that she deserves a break. Things will not fall apart without her !

Hollis is really interesting to me, especially the hints at the Tragic Childhood:tm: (I'm a sucker for those haha). From the hints we get, it sounds like she had parents who pressured her to be the perfect Gifted Kid and so she learnt to just hide/internalize everything, become afraid of risks, and became a bit of a control freak to ensure things were done Properly and Her Way (which I very heavily relate to). I feel like her messing with her advisor's brain was sort of all the pent up emotions just Exploding after years being hidden. Joining the Psychonauts helped her be in a more supportive environment but didn't necessarily undo the unhealthy coping mechanisms - which she only starts working on at the end of the game.

The devs haven't confirmed a Psychonauts 3 but hopefully whatever new Psychonauts stuff they make gives Hollis more backstory and follows her further character development. Unfortunately, after the first act of the game she's more-or-less a background character, which irks me :/. She's not the only Black character in the game, there's also Adam Gette, but its still kind of sparse pickings in an otherwise diverse game. Psychonauts 2 is very fun though. I recommend playing it if you haven't !

Somehow, I feel like I could have guessed that this was a Black mama before knowing about her lmao. It's probably the hairstyle. She better than me, feeling bad about it. Stealing my grad work?? Scrambled brain for breakfast! "Talk about their child like an investment" WHEW you don't have to hit me like that! Tbh, Hollis sounds like an amazing deconstruction of the Strong Black Woman archetype and how that wears on you (and again, I'm always for Black Woman Wrath). All this in Psychonauts? And she doesn't keep relevant 😭😭 oh that hurts me. I love to know she exists, though. Thank you!

[beanghostprincess]

Sanji finds out that she has a trans little sister Reiju told her through mail. She really can't forgive them for how they treated her but her heart would be breaking if she knew because she knows that yonji is fucking miserable. She wants to help but she knows it's going to be a fight not only with the family but with the sister but she's willing to do it. Fuck it. She has nothing else to do.

Yonji of course would feel jealous and hates Sanji even more. Every time she looks at her bounty just sends her into a rage she hates her so much. She starts lashing out at her family especially her dad and Reiju the most. Her lipstick started going missing frequently along with nail polish. She finds it in yonji's room. (emptied and destroyed)

After a fight she finally confesses she's trans. Showing an overwhelming amount of vulnerability (she's an UGLY and violent cryer). Reiju comforts her the best she can, she is a little frightened by the aggressive hug. They're a lot closer after and Reiju is just supporting her the best she can, keeping her escape plan with sanji a secret.

anyway, I think the Vinsmoke kids are genetically modified physically, but I really feel like their cruel and apathetic nature is just environmental. They were praised when they were being tough and ruthless. Any kind or empathetic act was punished stunting their emotional development and understanding

Sanji can't forgive them for what they did but she's still the way she is and of course, she can't let a trans girl suffer the same way she did. It breaks her heart to think about Yonji like that, really. She tries to ignore it. To say "Well, she'll deal with it on her own the same way I did". But she can't. She's too good. She's constantly worried and it's pretty obvious because Luffy notices. But Sanji doesn't want to be a burden once again... Luffy practically forces her to admit she wants to go help Yonji, tbh. So Sanji ends up talking to Reiju to see what they can do. Tbh I think the rescue mission is a bit, uh, hard. Yonji refuses to accept help because it makes her feel weak, and she doesn't like the fact that it's Sanji of all people the one helping her. But anyway-- I think that after a very emotional argument and heart-to-heart, they end up understanding each other better. Yonji manages to escape that nightmare finally (yay only 2 brothers to save from their dad left) (Reiju is already saved, okay, she's staying for them mostly). Btw, I like to think Niji and Ichiji don't have any issues with Yonji being trans and they actually are more supportive with her than with Sanji (because they're supportive of her but, like, there are all of these feelings too of resentment so it's a bit complicated).

Yeah, I mean- I don't think you can actually modify a human to keep them from feeling. And if Judge actually did, there's no way these kids won't develop empathy of their own at some point. They're just,, So repressed and fucked up that it hurts to watch.

[amiharana]

currently declining to study for bio and am instead thinking about college au revalink where they have an apartment together because they are such Boyfriends and link is a bio major because he just Loves Nature but he's struggling with studying (can you see the self projecting😁🙏) he definitely has gifted kid burnout

meanwhile revali is a major perfectionist like if he gets below a 90 on anything he wants to start crying and tbh even a 90-95 is too low for him, don't ask me what he majors in though idk

anyways they are struggling together but link is just not having a good time and is stressing out studying so much he forgets to take care of himself so revali has to get him to remember things like eating regularly or showering or sleeping ANYWAYS i just felt like projecting onto revalink🫶

as a fellow bio major with gifted kid burnout who doesn't wanna study for bio (can you believe i still have a fucking bio lab due tomorrow. it's spring break for me rn. blasphemy.), i 'm 100% all for this projection COUNT ME IN!

link is totally a nature guy but i lowkey feel like he would make a great veterinarian 🥺 he's just a little guy who loves his silly little creatures 🥺🥺🥺 what do you think about revali going to flight school to be a pilot 😳 like i think if revali wasn't doing something viciously intense like. becoming a neurosurgeon or some shit, anything related to aviation is absolutely right up his alley. DEF agree with him being a perfectionist. a 99.9% will make revali lose his shit, he'll be in his professor's office hours taking up the whole time just arguing why he deserves a 103%

link brings home strays all the time and gives revali the 🥺 eyes, and revali is very weak for both link and a cute little creature, but he has to be the voice of reason since they realistically cannot take care of a pet full-time with how demanding school is on both of them. so to compromise, they foster the strays and take care of them with the local vet until they can be taken to a shelter for adoption. link gets hands-on experience which is good for his vet program but he also cries his eyes out every time they send off one of the animals because those are his babies 🥺 link with his strays is that one tiktok that's like BITCH I'M A MOTHER!!!!! NO DRAMA!!!!!

to deal with link's post-foster pet depression, zelda brings her puppy terrako to their apartment to let link cry and play with him, while revali just rolls his eyes (and secretly is looking into surrounding shelters and pet stores to find the perfect pet for the both of them once school isn't so intense for them anymore 🥺)

do you think they have study dates at a cafe or do they stay home and rot in the living room studying together? because i love the idea of study dates but if link is a bio major looking to become a vet and reval is an aviation student trying to become a pilot, these bitches must be stressed out of their mind i think. the week before finals week they're camping out in the living room and haven't slept in their bedroom for a couple days, the room is covered in papers and diagrams and books and pens and markers and flashcards and sticky notes. revali's hair is a mess which is a rare occasion, and it's held up by one of those hair claw clips, he has his glasses on, meanwhile link is lying facedown on the floor having his third breakdown of the hour. in this au i'm thinking that revali is a decent enough cook but neither of them have the energy or the time to go to the grocery store or kitchen to cook an actual meal, so they're living off of takeout and instant noodles for those two weeks. but revali definitely is the one in charge of time maintenance and prying link's ipad out of his hands to make him take a shower or drink water

it all pays off in the end because they both get high grades on their finals!!! link and revali cheer but immediately go to their bed, curl up around each other and sleep for the rest of the weekend because these bitches are exhausted 😭 hashtag ScholarLife

[dragonofthestone]

cryptidsncurios asked:

SFW Ask Meme - O W L

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Depends something he'd have no problem talking about or answering if asked from the get go, but for the most part he tends to keep everything quite close and is very careful and particular what he reveals and to who.

Trust is a big thing and takes time to earn, and especially in his case where if the wrong person were to find out certain things about him it could/would be very dangerous. For himself or for anyone actually close with him.

Smaller details like his love of music or interest in the stars are easily learned and through getting to know him he might slowly reveal more to it- such as his guitar playing or star charts (which he doesn't show a lot of people)

lab!life makes him even more cautious and slow to reveal things- which is mostly just details on the lab tbh. And truth be told they're still learning things about themselves constantly.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without their partner?)

For sure.

To even get that far to begin with, that person would have to be someone incredibly special and important for such a strong bond to form. Their partner/signifcant other is someone who can bring out or see sides of himself he may not have noticed or known before, and someone he can truly be himself around, let walls down.

Now important to note that Timaeus would never describe themselves or say they feel or felt incomplete before their Partner but it does bring about a new feeling having someone like that in their life, and should anything happen to change that it would likely break him to have that taken away

As even amongst his closest of friends their is always things that are hard to share or avoided, parts of himself that would be seen only by his Partner/ Significant other.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

SO good. Although he'd deny it, try to be humble and argue he's not that good/ think he'd be a good parent.

But he's just so good with kids, loves them. Growing up he frequently got asked to babysit for friends and neighbors, along with helping out with his little bro has made very good at dealing with kids.

While most of the time a big softy, and kinda weak for them- if someone could convince him to do something it'd probably be a kid, it's hard to say no sometimes. But he's not a total push over, he does also know when to put a foot down, there's a time and place for everything.

Generally over all is pretty good at adjusting to whatever is needed and fits the kids age as well.

Still makes mistakes now and then of course but over, great with kids. Someone you can trust with em for sure.

--

Lablife! Has no idea what to do or for that matter doesn't fully know what a 'kid' is. Meeting Ai and Yu all he saw were just smaller people and I'm not sure actually realizes/ is aware they are kids - just another thing someone needs to explain to this guy.

If it was a real young kid would be curious at first until they got loud then would probably avoid - least till they stopped being loud lol.

Now if it's animal kids/ baby animals we're talking about he's great, for a lab experiment he's a got a surprising paternal instinct that will kick and just wants to protecc, to an extent it probably extend to non animals as well- like if sees someone in danger would want to protecc you know.

[xaracosmia]

ꕥ — WELCOME TO NEFE COSMIA, ODILE. 🌓

ꕥ  — OOC INFORMATION;

name / alias: arte(mis) age: 24 pronouns: they / she ooc contact: smearedcanvases twt, forgedsplendor tumblr other characters in xc: getou suguru, the goddess of resentment ( and celiami malinao )

ꕥ  — IC INFORMATION;

name: odile age: 44 pronouns: she / her series: in stars and time canon point: post game app triggers: n / a

personality: she’s a fucking old lady.

technically, not really, because forty isn’t old, and more than that she doesn’t want that to be her personality, she really doesn’t— but when your entire party is, at least, two whole decades younger than you, practically half your entire life time ( and double theirs, what an awful thought ) it’s kind of inevitable. she takes the position with grace, though… and a bit of an attitude, but she deserves that at the very least.

odile’s learned some things in her forty years; not a whole lot, that’s why she’s out here traveling in the first place, has the moniker of “the researcher” in their silly little party, so on and so forth. for all her crankiness she cares for them deeply, and she’s more than happy to impart whatever wisdom she has upon them; despite her craft type, she is firmly, proudly, undoubtedly their rock.

something your muse struggles with: patience. she’s cranky.

your muse’s greatest strength:  … also patience. of the emotional type! 

history / background: 

odile was a liar by omission.

or perhaps that’s not quite right. it’d be “by omission” if isabeau had said nothing, and she continued to say nothing— but the moment he’d questioned it, she’d had the choice to lie, or to come clean.

is it possible to lie without saying a single thing? that is how odile felt that afternoon, the way the kids start verbally wrestling with each other in their attempt to crack her open; to them, this was a weakness in the shell, an opening, and it’s easy to toss them the bone and watch them fight with each other like puppies, playful and with teeth but no fangs.

she’s fond of them, more than anything. born in ka bue but here in vaugarde to learn, she finds her greatest teachers are a bunch of twenty somethings and an actual, literal child. of course, she knew from the very beginning of her journey, that little of her studies would be found in libraries, or schools, or houses— but she finds herself easily and quickly in these first strangers, then friends, now family.

mirabelle and isabeau. then siffrin. then bonnie. the search for herself is never ending, but she’s certain, with them by her side, that it’s right there— nestled between their quiet, beating hearts. all of theirs.

powers / abilities: 

CRAFT SKILLS. in stars and time’s equivalent of magic. rock paper scissors, pretty literally: odile’s a paper type, so she’s weak to scissors, resistant against rock, you can figure it out. she’s also capable of using all three craft types. craft type determines the palm shape when attacking— or is it the other way around? who knows. whichever it is, odile attacks with an open palm.

Scissors III. deals scissors damage to an enemy.

Rock III. deals rock damage to one enemy.

Paper III. deals paper damage to one enemy.

Slow IV. slows down enemies for a few turns.

Paper α V. deals big paper damage to one enemy.

Craft Buff. strengthens one friend’s resistance to a craft type for a few turns.

Craft Break. makes an enemy weaker to a craft type’s attacks for a few turns.

Craft Break α. makes an enemy weaker to all craft types for a few turns.

inherent abilities: 

EXAMINE. analyze an enemy. this just means she’s perceptive tbh but she’s in an rpg

MEMORIES. she’s got some! truthfully i’m not sure how they work considering siffrin’s the one in charge of them but these are out there somewhere in the aether…

Memory of Odile. +5 to all stats. 

Memory of Tonics. health items used by odile restores more hp.

Memory of First Strike. attack speed up at start of battle.

Memory of a Secret. +50 attack.

items / weapons: 

DENSE BOOK. book of spells. probably

GEOMETRIC GLASSES. she’s got bad eyes

OPAQUE GLASSES. boosts attack and crit chance, but lowers defence. 

starting ability: scissors iii starting item: geometric glasses

extra:

she’s afraid of heights like me and i like that

might add more but we’ll see ( explodes )

discord id: edgeoftheuniverse

passcode: hi

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU (KILL ME IN THE MORNING) ; SUGURU GETO

synopsis; everyone has a weakness. some are harder to get rid of. (or, alternatively; geto befriends a non-sorcerer as a child.)

word count; 10.0k

contents; suguru geto/reader (not explicitly romantic but the subtext is there), gn!reader, geto-typical angst, childhood friends to [redacted], mild gore, suguru geto’s defection but with added angst, twisted depictions of love, depictions of stalking, depictions of death/murder, general bloodlust (geto wants to kill u soo bad but also not really), unresolved yearning, hurt/no comfort, curse user geto is his own warning tbh

a/n; ok so. this is kind of a mess. just my own take on geto’s childhood and defection + how i think he’d deal with a non-sorcerer reader after defecting……. so it turned out kinda. Dark. it’s entirely sfw to be clear!!! just sorta twisted. in conclusion i love my cult leader wife who wants me dead <3 (pls listen to ’kill me’ by indigo de souza it is SO geto)

suguru geto meets you in the afterglow of sunset, by a dusty summer creek.

it’s his special place, hidden in the outskirts of your tiny town; a place where the water glimmers with silver-hued fish, and all the biggest cicadas reside, singing softly and waiting to be caught.

a place where he can be himself. alone, with no one to curse him.

— except, this time, he isn’t alone.

your crying face is the first thing he sees. big, wet tears, cascading down your scrunched-up face, accompanied by little sniffles as you sit there. curled up into a ball, knees against your heaving chest.

the next thing he sees is the bruise on your leg. a scrape on your knee, gritty and a little bloody, but it’s not so awful. he can tell that it hurts, though — you bite your lip to stop yourself from trembling, like you’re trying to be brave. but you look pained. 

and it sends a tremor running through his very soul.

suguru was born with a bleeding heart, an empathy unusually developed for his age. always pushing him forward, coaxing him into taking action; this nagging desire to protect, to nurture. born with an inability to avert his gaze from the suffering of others.

so when the two of you lock eyes, he manages a smile. warm and soothing, even though deep down he’s alarmed. but he masks it, slathers over it with something kind, something comforting — and he can tell that it works, from the way your teary eyes seem to soften in the buttery hue of the afternoon glow.

you’re crying. and suguru finds himself wanting to wipe those tears away, more than anything. you look small, and you’re in pain.

(protect the weak, urges some voice in the back of his mind. insatiable. protect those who can’t protect themselves.)

he asks for your name, all while cleaning your wound. the wince that slips from your lips when the cold water of the creek licks at your knee makes his heart clench.

but you tell him. you tell him your name, as the sun sets in the horizon, and he tells you his. 

suguru. a sweet kid who sees you fall and patches you up. a cool kid who teases you a little for being so clumsy. who holds your hand tightly in his own, to make sure you won’t fall again.

the sun melts away beyond the cluster of trees that surround you, its burning glow breaking through the gaps between the branches and dyeing the summer creek a deep red. illuminating your blurry silhouettes, as you walk back home. hand in hand.

and that’s how it begins.

the two of you grow closer, in the same way flowers who share a stem learn to lean on each other, grow in the same direction — a mess of mingled roots. a natural connection, blooming out of nothing more than a sweet coincidence. that kind of blissful, innocent childhood friendship.

the kind you never have to question.

you learn very quickly that suguru isn’t like the rest. that when compared to all the other kids you know, he’s mature, almost mystical, like he knows something they don’t.

you learn that there’s a gentleness to him, one he could never fully hide. one that shines through when he looks at you, when you play and laugh to fill the silence of the hills overlooking the small town you both live in.

you also learn that he can see ghosts.

curses, you’ll both come to learn, but that’s later. for a child in a remote town, isolated and alone, the familiarity of the ghost stories that adults tell you is the only kind of comfort suguru has to cling to. something lighthearted, to explain the predicament that haunts him — the flickers of black in his vision, that lingering taste of charcoal on his tongue.

suguru is different, you realize, different from the rest. and you eventually learn, from him, that you are far from alone in that belief.

in the town you both had the misfortune of being born into, suguru is the black sheep. his parents think there’s something wrong with him. the other kids think there’s something wrong with him. he isn’t right in the head, they whisper, he sees things that aren’t there.

(it’s a debilitating isolation that never truly leaves him.)

so suguru learns to stay silent, learns to keep his pretty little mouth shut, learns to lie. it’s easier that way. easier to survive, in the remoteness of your tiny town, with all the adults who scorn him and look at him like he doesn’t belong anywhere at all.

and suguru learns to be content, in that solitude. that heaven-granted isolation. a lone white chrysanthemum, in a sea of red and lavender; blossoming alone.

but then suguru meets you.

and, contrary to everyone else, you don’t think there’s anything wrong with him. when you tell him that he’s different from the rest, you mean it in the best possible way. you say it with starlight in your eyes, gleeful, giddy. like he’s special, not broken. like you’re also tired of those other kids, those sneering adults, the silence of a town so isolated it could crush a child’s heart.

like you have something in common. like you’re the same.

and you stay by his side. throughout the most difficult years of his early life, when he’s still growing accustomed to the duty he’ll have to bear for the rest of his life, you’re there. every single day. to smile at him, to speak to him like you’re both just normal kids — even though suguru is well aware that he’s anything but normal.

(when he’s with you, he feels like it, though. feels like he’s just a normal boy, like there isn’t something glued down wrong inside his brain. something twisted, something that needs to be plucked out.)

suguru finds comfort in you. in your presence, in the notes you pass him when classes get boring, in the way you cling to his sleeve while exploring the woods during recess. in the way you grin so brightly after managing to catch a firefly in the darkness of the summer night, all proud and toothy, a childlike innocence he wishes he still had.

you’re sweet, and understanding, and suguru thinks you might be the coolest person he knows. you’re his friend, his very best friend, his one and only.

and when he tells you what’s wrong with him — when he tells you what he can see — you ask him something that will forever rest in his subconscious. a flicker of precious, fleeting, genuine acceptance, one he won’t ever feel again. not until he meets a certain boy with blue eyes, but that comes later.

(a memory he’ll return to, over and over again. even after all the evil in the world has already descended upon him like a crackling hurricane.)

what do they look like?

there is no judgement in your voice, in the way the question slips from your lips. no mocking laughter, no silent rejection or whisper of crazy, evil, wrong. there’s only you, the way you’ve always been, curious and understanding and wise beyond your years.

suguru decides, right then and there, that he’ll protect you forever. no matter what.

you can’t see curses. you aren’t like him, in that regard, and he learns that quickly. and as suguru grows up, grows a little taller, a little wiser, he is glad that it’s true. he’s glad, because he already knows what kind of road lies ahead of him.

he already knows what kind of world you both live in, how unforgiving it can be. how many people die every day, every second, because of monsters only a select few can even see. he already knows that curses aren’t the eccentric, silly ghosts you were hoping for when you were kids — but pure, unadulterated evil.

(he already knows what they taste like.)

and suguru takes careful measures, day by day, to keep you away from it. as much as he can without lying outright. you’re curious, by nature, almost fascinated by curses and sorcery and everything you do not understand. an endearing trait, though it exasperates him to no end.

someone like you has no business sticking their nose into that kind of cruelty, he thinks, that kind of bloodshed.

and you’ve always been clumsy, a little scatterbrained. enough to make him worry instinctively when you’re out of his sight. like when you tripped and scraped your knee, by that tiny summer creek, all because you wanted to catch a dragonfly.

so he tries his best to keep you away from it, all of it, away from a darkness he knows would swallow you whole. away from the small, weak curses that sometimes litter the woods or the schoolyard; away from his cursed technique, the disgust of a power he never once asked for. 

(he never lets you see him swallow those things, never lets you witness the way he throws them right back up again before it happens so many times that he grows used to the disgust. you’re sharp, though, and he can’t hide the grimace that always lingers on his features.

you don’t ask — you only give him a packet of gum, to chew away the taste with, and suguru thinks to himself that he’ll love you forever.)

time passes by, slowly but surely, and the two of you stick together.

and as he grows into his teenage years, so much weight already resting on his tiny shoulders, suguru has already developed some sense of it all. of his ability, of the world of sorcerers. he’s already spoken to people like him, has already been made well aware of his potential. 

he’s already been given a choice, a choice that was never really a choice at all, but he decides that it doesn’t matter.

suguru decides to become a sorcerer. to train his abilities, to hone his skills. to eventually move away, from the stifling silence of that town, the silence that was only ever filled by you.

and suguru thinks to himself that he’s doing this for you. that in doing this, in being this, he’ll fulfill his promise to protect you.

(forever. no matter what. he echoes the words in his mind like a prayer.)

suguru wants to protect those who cannot protect themselves. those who are weak, those who are alone, people he has the power to help.

but more than anything, above all else, suguru wants to protect you. 

you are the most precious thing in his life. and if he can turn the world a little brighter for you, just a little bit kinder, then isn’t that enough? isn’t there enough meaning in that to give him the strength he needs?

there is. suguru decides that there is.

so when he tells you about his plans, under a pleasant, ephemeral starry sky, he does so with conviction. he knows that you will understand, because he knows you. you’re his best friend.

and he’s right. you do understand. you’re proud of him, and he’s your best friend, too.

i’ll support you, no matter what. 

the instantaneous answer makes suguru smile. not the kind of smile he plasters on to appease the adults around him, nor the smile he wears when he needs to lie convincingly. a full, genuine smile, that reaches his eyes and blossoms like a flower in the light of the moon; a warm, gentle smile, one you’ll always, always associate with him. 

(forever and ever. no matter what.)

and when suguru eventually has to leave, for a high school he’ll spend the next few years of his life living at, he carries that conviction with him. his choice is steadfast, unyielding, inevitable. the only one that matters.

the whistling of the wind breaches his ears, as you both stand on the platform and wait for his train to arrive. a spring breeze caresses your skin, and suguru’s bangs flutter in the wind. sunlight scatters across the train tracks and seagulls cry out in the distance, and the acute sensation of a parting lies heavy in the air.

it’s embarrassing. it’s childish. suguru wants to claim that he isn’t a child, anymore; that he wouldn’t give in to hesitation, at the sight of your meek expression. that he wouldn’t cry, at the thought of moving away from his best friend.

but the slight puffiness under his eyes is evidence enough. evidence of the tears he shed last night, when the reality of the situation finally dawned on him. 

suguru doesn’t want to part from you. he’s nervous, too — leaving you alone in that town, all by yourself, with no one around to protect you properly.

it's stupid. because deep down, he knows that you’ll escape too. that you’ll come after him, no matter how long it takes, that'll you'll both end up in tokyo. that you'll end up together, despite his duty as a sorcerer — eating soft serve ice cream cones, playing shooting games at the arcade, strolling around the big city aimlessly. doing all those things you always talked about doing.

because the two of you will always, always find your way back to each other. just like how he found you with that bruise on your leg, all those years ago, a fated encounter as natural as the glow of sunset. two lone dragonflies, who always meet somewhere in the middle of a dusty summer creek.

still, suguru can’t help but feel sad. a little lost. he can only hope you don’t notice the soft frown on his face, the faint redness of his eyes. 

(then again, when have you ever not noticed something he was trying to hide?)

there's no need to worry about it, suguru knows. he’s never had to worry about you judging him, looking down on him. never you.

and when his gaze falls on your face, after the train he’s supposed to board screeches to a halt behind him, your own tears are enough to make him realize how silly he’s being.

he laughs, from the bottom of his stomach, when you tackle him into a hug and tell him with teary eyes that you’ll come visit. he squeezes you especially tight, in a boyish fashion he can never quite hide from you, and murmurs into your ear that he’ll be waiting.

he asks you not to forget him. you laugh through your tears, and tell him that you never could.

before he has to let go and step into the train, you tell him that you love him, and his grin blooms with honeyed affection. he ruffles your hair, always gentle, always teasing, always the same suguru.

he tells you that he loves you, too.

— then he’s gone.

(you’ll forever regret not convincing him to stay.)

the two of you stay in contact, all throughout his first year. texting, calling — making sure neither of you get the chance to forget the other. suguru tells you about his life, his missions, his classmates, leaving out all the gritty details. and you listen; attentive, curious.

at one point, you even visit him. his friends tease him relentlessly, but all he does is roll his eyes and flick their foreheads, biting back a smile. that makes you laugh, and he’s relieved that the sound hasn’t changed in the slightest.

and suguru stays the same, throughout that one first year. he is steadfast, unyielding, decisive. he has a conviction he’ll never let go of, and people he's vowed to protect. people he needs to protect. 

(non-sorcerers, is what he tells satoru, and he means it. but suguru chooses to omit the fact that he specifically wants to protect one single non-sorcerer, above all else.)

and suguru is happy, with his choice. thoroughly and wholly. the road ahead of him will be long, full of obstacles and thorns, but he always knew that would be the case. and he knows that it’ll hurt, that it’ll be tough, but he also knows that this is what he sincerely wants to do. what he was meant to do. the only choice worth making.

suguru is content. suguru will not falter.

— then, his second year descends upon him.

riko amanai dies. toji fushiguro dies.

satoru gojo becomes the strongest sorcerer of the modern era.

(and suguru geto is left behind.)

it is a slow, sinking realization. one whole year to lose sight of his goal, lose sight of the conviction he held onto so tightly. one whole year to feel it slip through the gaps between his fingers, helpless to stop its course. everything grows muddled, molding, rotting before he has a chance to root it out — and all he can do is wait, as it festers like bile in the bottom of his gut.

suguru geto falters.

(he doesn’t quite know who he is, anymore.)

words he’s swallowed down like curses all his life keep flooding his subconscious, building up inside the back of his throat, spinning and spinning and spinning inside his brain until he feels sick enough to throw up. evil. crazy. protection. responsibility.

duty, duty, duty —

(what does that word even mean?)

suguru doesn’t remember. he can’t recall what made him step onto that train with such conviction, how he was able to smile so assuredly. how he was able to laugh, from the very bottom of his gut, as if it was the easiest thing in the world. he just can't remember.

who is he doing this for? what meaning lies in all this pain? 

suguru keeps watching, hoping for an answer that’ll save him just enough. waiting and watching. he’s always just watching, isn’t he? never changing anything. always too late, too weak, too fucking useless to stop even a single person from dying. 

he watches helplessly as a little girl gets shot in the head, for the crime of having been born different, for the sake of simple currency. watches helplessly as satoru carries her lifeless body in his arms, across a room full of people so vile that some deep, rotten, intrinsic part of suguru just wants to —

but there would be no meaning to it.

(does there really need to be one?)

suguru honestly doesn’t know, anymore.

riko dies.

(curses spring up like flies. he devours and devours.)

then haibara dies, too. 

(in the distance, he thinks he hears the sound of clapping.)

sorcerers. non-sorcerers. curses.

the words begin to rot inside his mouth, like wilted flowers, syrupy sweet and nauseating. crumbling on his tongue, numbing his senses until it’s all he can taste. a mouthful of honey, sticking to the walls of his throat, too sweet to stomach.

this is wrong, he thinks. everything is all wrong.

everything is wrong and i don’t know how to fix it.

— and then there’s you.

during your third year, both of you are busier than usual, but still find the time to talk when you can. the normalcy of your little stories is a comfort, to suguru — but also makes him burn with something he fears may be close to envy.

you tell him about your new school, your new town, your new beginning; bright and dazzling. one that suits you just fine.

the two of you are different, he realizes, all at once. some part of him always knew. you were born to be happy, kept away from the bloodshed, hands unsullied by the deep red that always dries beneath his fingernails. there was never a place for you in the world of curses. and he’s glad, that it’s true, he always has been, but —

(resentment festers in his gut. he can’t tell how long it’s been there, and he’s afraid to know the answer.)

these days, suguru takes a little longer to answer your texts. his voice comes out sounding a little more fatigued when he’s speaking to you through the phone, and he doesn’t talk as much as he used to. your voice soothes him, though, he thinks. just a tiny bit. but it’s enough.

(he’s doing this for you, too. he can’t forget that.)

and when you come to visit him, during his third year, suguru is surprised. surprised to see you, standing outside of his dorm, bags full of his favorite snacks in hand. smiling.

you look the same as always.

(he’s the only one who’s changed.)

it’s a pleasant surprise, though, despite everything. he really did miss you. in his life, your presence alone has been nothing but a comfort, for as long as he can remember. even now, when everything feels so blurry and uncertain, you appear to him as a flicker of starlight; shining through the darkness that’s been plaguing him for the past year.

so he tries to smile, tries to sound the same as always, but he knows you don’t buy it. you know because you know him, despite everything.

suguru wonders what you would think of him, if you could hear the thoughts he’s been having these past few weeks. he wonders what he looks like, reflected in your eyes. he wonders how much he’s changed since you last saw him.

(he hasn’t felt like himself in months.)

your presence is like a balm, to his soul, but it also seeks to hurt him further. because you’re still the same. still so understanding and wise and patient. you can tell that he’s fading, and he can tell that you can tell. but he doesn’t want to tell you why. he refuses to open up to you, because what would that accomplish? how could you possibly understand?

how could you understand his hatred, his resentment, towards the very people he’s supposed to protect? he told you that, himself. he decided to protect them, on his own accord. that’s his duty — steadfast, unyielding, inevitable. that’s all it was ever meant to be.

protect the weak. protect the ugly. protect everyone except his comrades, until all of them lie dead in a pile of maggots and tangly limbs and buzzing flies.

a bitter, heavy kind of vomit settles inside his chest, his throat. and somewhere deep inside suguru’s mind, in the very bottom of a drawer he vowed never to open, the image of non-sorcerers shifts, distorts, flickers on and off under the light.

protect those monkeys until his very last breath.

(what a fucking joke.)

you couldn’t understand. he doesn’t want you to. he promised himself that he would keep you away from that kind of darkness, no matter what, and —

and you’re the only good thing he has left.

not only that — you’re a non-sorcerer, too. and suguru knows what that means. if what his brain is telling him is true, if that’s really how it is, then you are no exception. then you’re just like the rest, something lesser, nothing but a —

(he thinks he might throw up.)

suguru does not tell you anything. despite everything, despite your pleading expression, despite the heavy bile at the bottom of his gut. he does not tell you what is truly wrong. he does not open up to you. 

and that is suguru’s first act of betrayal, to you. before he even betrays the jujutsu world.

(it is perhaps the only betrayal he’ll ever feel any kind of remorse over.)

you try, though. persistent in your affection. he loathes how little you’ve changed, how brightly you still shine when reflected in his eyes. you sit right next to him, under a pleasant, ephemeral starry sky, stars blurred by the light pollution, and tell him what you always have.

i’ll support you, no matter what. 

…

suddenly, all he can hear is the whooshing of the sea. as if he's been pulled underwater, a heavy weight tugging at his limbs, lungs gasping for air that doesn't exist. pure static, in his ears, a sharp crack of something. like a rib, or a train of thought. all he can taste is saltwater.

the dam begins to break. it cracks at the edges, like two giddy children poking a stick into a puddle layered with ice, giggling at their scattered reflections. memories resurfacing, images flashing in his subconscious. suguru looks at you like he’s lost. something inside of him breaks, disintegrates into a pile of despair. 

because you don’t understand what you’re telling him. you don’t understand what he thinks about doing, sometimes, when the nights are especially long and the school is especially empty and the taste of curses lies especially thick on his tongue.

you don’t understand. you never will. 

but you’re smiling at him, so very gentle. so accepting, so all-encompassing of everything that’s good, everything worth cherishing. just like always. 

suguru recalls your teary face; when you scraped your knee, when he left that town behind. he recalls all the ways you’ve soothed him, saved him, in all the years you’ve known him.

i’ll definitely come visit. i love you.

i’ll support you, no matter what.

what do they look like?

— suguru falters. these days, that’s all he ever seems to do.

how could he hate non-sorcerers, when you’re among them? how could he hate a world that has you in it?

(he can’t, he can’t, he can’t. he can’t hate you. not you.)

the words that spill so very easily from your lips break him. he can’t tell if you’ve mended the damage, or only worsened it. he can’t tell where the jagged hole inside his chest ends and begins. he can only tell that it’s extending, extending, extending.

suguru wants to fall apart. he wants to fall apart, for only you to see, because you’ve always been the only one who could ever understand. the only one who wouldn’t turn your eyes away from him, even back then. the only, only one. the only other white chrysanthemum.

he wants so desperately to be honest with you, to let every dark thought he’s ever had flow out from his lips. for you to hear, for you to scorn or to accept at your leisure, doom him or bless him, a bleeding dog at your feet. to get rid of the tangled mess of thoughts inside his muddled mind — to just let go of everything, even if it’s only for a minute or two. just a second would be fine.

suguru wants to drag you down with him. drag you down into the depths, into the abyss, to share the weight of his suffering. so that you can be together, just like you always have; through thick and thin. always and forever.

but he doesn’t.

(and what a betrayal that is.)

suguru keeps his pretty little mouth shut, and he gives you a smile. a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, the kind he always wears when he needs to lie convincingly.

he could tell you so many things. could ruin you completely, take you down with him. hand in hand, staining your unsullied skin with the blood on his own. into the gaping maw.

but at the end of the day, he chooses not to.

suguru chooses your peace of mind over his, just like he always has, and feeds you a vague half-truth. not quite a lie, but something that ignores the underlying question of your statement, a silent plea for sincerity. something deep and true, but almost sorrowful.

i know, he says.

i know you will.

the moment does not save him. but suguru does feel just a little more hopeful, a little less like he’s slowly rotting from the inside out. a little less like he’s completely and utterly alone, isolated in his agony.

you are the same as always. and what a relief that is. 

(for you, he can wade through the hell for just a little longer.)

when it’s time to say your goodbyes, suguru can tell you aren’t satisfied. that you wish you could do more. but he also knows that you won’t push it, because you’ve always respected him in a way no one else ever cares enough to do. 

before you leave, you tell him that you love him. in a quiet voice, a whisper, as if trying to squeeze some sincerity from his chest — a last-ditch attempt at reaching him. he squeezes your hand, instead, and doesn’t say it back.

suguru just smiles, flimsy, a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

you look like you want to say something, but you don’t.

and he watches you go, with forlorn eyes, until the dot that is you gets too small to distinguish from the darkness of the night. until he can almost delude himself into thinking that you’ve turned into a star. he watches you go as if trying to burn the sight into his memory, as if this is the last time he’ll ever see you.

(the curse of i love you rots in his mouth, unspoken, unvoiced.)

two weeks later, suguru stands in front of a cage, covered in blood.

the girls in front of him, skinny, frail, crying — beaten and exhausted — look at him like he’s a god. him, pale, smiling, with blood staining his white uniform, bathed in moonlight —

like some kind of angel of death.

suguru soaks up the metallic scent of the room, basks in that sickeningly sweet feeling of release. he soothes the girls, as best he can. he leads them away, careful not to let them see the bodies. 

(there isn’t much left of them, anyhow.)

suguru geto makes his choice. the only choice that matters. 

he will twist himself into a curse. he will devour his ideal, until it’s all that’s left of him. he will embody it, become it, through and through. it’s fine if he dies in the process, it’s fine if everyone dies — just as long as it means something.

that is the conviction he will carry with him. the decision to only ever see the line between ends and means, the bright light at the end of a never-ending tunnel.

the blood of an entire village is on his hands.

(a part of him wants to throw up. another grins with ecstasy. every part agrees that it was inevitable.)

their screams weren’t beautiful. they were aggravating, revolting, the wretched buzzing of bugs ringing like static in his ears. but it felt good. it felt just. something in his bones settling into its rightful place, a spark of affirmation.

and suguru doesn’t stop there. as if desperate for the cup to finally run over, to make sure that there truly is no going back, his feet take him to a place he always hoped he’d never have to see again.

when suguru returns to that stiflingly silent town, to kill his parents, you are no longer there.

it’s not a surprise. he knows you escaped, long ago, just like him — just like you always said you would. not quite to tokyo, to your grave disappointment, but you managed to find some other town to live in. bigger, better. the new beginning he always hoped you’d get.

suguru does not want to think of you. he doesn't want to remember your face, the sound of your laughter, the way your eyes shone in the light. he wants to erase every single trace of your existence from his memory, if only to protect you from the person he will soon become. or perhaps only to spare himself the heartache of it all.

but when he passes by that one summer creek, forgetting you becomes an impossibility. 

his eyes gaze at the silver-hued fish, sparkling beneath the moonlight, the big cicadas singing sadly under the shadows of the trees. he closes his eyes, and breathes in the solitude, and recalls a child with teary eyes.

suguru knows what school you go to. he knows what your town is called, what your street looks like.

and it is far, far away from the town he’s in. far from tokyo, too. 

— and suguru is relieved.

(it gives him an excuse not to hunt you down just yet.)

the sight of his childhood home stirs no fondness in his heart. it is empty, it is silent, it is the same as always. and now it doesn’t even have you in it, anymore.

so it doesn’t matter.

suguru moves on with conviction, with bloodstains scattered across his clothes, seeping into the fabric. the screams of his parents don’t mean anything — they blur together with old echoes of evil, crazy, wrong. 

(there is something wrong with that child.)

their blood sticks to the soles of his shoes and he is repulsed by their fragility. their blood stains his shirt and he is elated by the irony of it all. all he sees is a blur of red. 

the road before him becomes clear.

finally, there truly is no turning back. that one sliver of good still left in him, crushed beneath the heel of his boot. at last. homicide, patricide — the more he adds, the easier it’ll be. easier to distance himself, easier to convince himself that his choice matters. that the blood of mere animals is a small price to pay for the future he envisions.

that he is right. that he is just.

(self-affirmation. what a holy thing it is.)

there is still much left for him to do. so suguru leaves the town behind.

he leaves that tiny summer creek behind.

it is a premature death; a resignation of identity. he isn’t an adult, not yet, but he has long since stopped being a child. he stopped being a child the moment he saw a bullet go through the skull of an innocent girl, the moment he saw haibara’s ghostly pale skin. no sorcerers stay children for very long.

none of it matters, anymore.

time passes with a speed that’s almost frightening. 

suguru disappears, almost entirely faded, leaving only geto in his wake. a new person, an entirely different human being — ten years of living in an echo chamber, ten years of forming his personality in the shape of something twisted.

(something almost divine.)

and geto is right. just. geto has conviction, and that’s all he needs. everything goes according to plan; geto has a goal, and a family to pursue that goal with, to pursue that goal for. everything finally feels just right. breathing feels a lot easier. living feels a lot easier. 

but everyone has a weakness.

and there is one thing, only one thing, that still acts as a thorn in his side. something that holds him back, a stain yet to be wiped away, a piece of gum stuck to the sole of his shoe. a tattered memory, clinging to his subconscious as if haunting him.

(i’ll support you, no matter what.)

if only you could see him now.

when geto left his old life behind, he did not contact you. he did not say goodbye. he threw away his phone, deleted every single thing that someone could use to locate him with, and left. he hasn’t heard from you in years, hasn’t spoken to you. 

but he has seen you.

geto knows where your town is. what your apartment looks like. he knows what university you go to, where your go-to café is located. 

so resisting the temptation eventually becomes impossible. 

he tries not to think of you, he really does. he tries to act like you are nothing, to him, because you aren’t. you are proof of weakness and a fragility that geto loathes, proof of his own foolishness, his young naivety. you are everything he hates and everything rotten and everything he’s vowed to cleanse from the earth.

but, despite that undeniable truth, geto cannot help but seek you out.

he tells himself that it means nothing. that he’s only doing it to make sure he knows where he’s got you, like a predator watching over their prey, preparing to lunge out of hiding when the moment is right. because geto knows that your death, at his hands, is inevitable. what you are is a weakness, a connection that lingers on his skin like a mold, one he still has to the creatures that disgust him so.

so it’s inevitable.

in reality, he should have killed you first. before his parents, before the village — he should have killed you, because that would have solidified his devotion in a way nothing else ever could. but he didn’t. 

geto likes to think of it as a symbol, of sorts. that he’ll save you for last. the same way children eat every last part of the cake, greedily, before gulping down the strawberry. every single non-sorcerer will be dead by the time he gets to you. you’ll be the one remaining obstacle, the one final stain to rinse away before his dream becomes reality, the one thing still standing between him and the divinity he seeks. 

it is an honour, geto thinks, an honour he would not bestow to anyone but you.

but until that time comes, all he can do is watch over you. silently, so you don’t notice. always from afar, sometimes through the eyes of the curses he’s bound to. just to make sure that you’re still alive. that you haven’t tripped over your shoelaces and gotten yourself into a car accident, or gulped down a mouthful of food too fast and choked to death, or anything similarly pathetic. he wouldn’t put it past you. really, he has no idea how you’ve survived this long without him.

weak, fragile, clumsy. soft enough to sink his teeth into. you are everything that geto hates. you are nothing, nothing at all.

(and you are the same as always, despite everything. what an aggravation that’s become.)

he watches you, anyway; like a god finding amusement in his creations, an omniscient overseer watching you stumble day to day. he watches as you live your life, as you talk to other people with that familiar smile on your face. it hasn’t changed in the slightest.

he watches you laugh, watches you grab a crêpe from a street vendor, watches you cry when you think nobody is there to see.

(the sight sends a tremor running through his soul, one he desperately wants to pretend not to feel.)

on melancholic summer days, when the sun paints the sky pink and golden, he watches you clutch onto his old sweater. one you always said you were going to return, but never did — never got the chance to. you used to tell him it was too comfortable not to steal. that it smelled like him, that it made you feel less lonely. geto so tenderly wishes he could have forgotten those words, by now.

but he watches you, in the solitude of your apartment, as you bury your face in the wool and inhale the fading tinge of his old cologne. then you cry and cry, like a child, until the moon rises in the sky; until you’re breathing softly, lulled to sleep by his scent.

(geto thinks to himself that you are a fool, to still miss him after all these years.)

it’s not an everyday occasion. most days, he does not think of you. there are many other monkeys to kill, many things to discuss. there’s money to be made, plans to be forged, wars to be brewed. geto is a busy man. a family man, no less.

but when boredom is all he can feel, he still finds himself seeking you out. just to make sure no one has gotten to you before him. just a god enjoying the struggles of a lesser being.

that’s all it is, geto tells himself. that’s all it’ll ever be, from now on.

no one needs to know if he spends the occasional morning checking up on you, curious if you did well on that exam you were studying for. no one needs to know if he absorbs the curses that sometimes cling to your fragile skin, gulping them down before they cause too much damage. no one needs to know if anyone who gives you a little too much trouble suddenly disappears off the face of the earth. 

no one needs to know if he reminisces, every once in a while, when the summer nostalgia is too much to bear. about your childhood, about that question you asked him — a million years ago, back when the center of his universe was a single summer creek. 

(no one needs to know if he finds comfort in your presence, even now.)

on days when the moon hangs low in the sky, and geto can’t choke back the longing in his chest, he sits by your bed and watches you sleep. a forlorn expression on his face, lips stuck in a tight line. it’s risky, careless, but he’s helpless to the temptation. 

most nights, you lie perfectly still. so still he can almost delude himself into thinking that it’s over, that you’ve passed on, that he won’t have to kill you after all. sometimes you twist and turn, mumble something unintelligible under your breath that he doesn’t catch.

he wonders what you dream about. he wonders if you ever have nightmares, if they’re ever about him. he wonders why he even cares at all.

geto resents you. resents you for existing, for smiling every day, for being a bridge between him and lesser creatures. he resents you, resents you, resents you.

(self-affirmation. what a holy thing, indeed.)

— he could kill you so easily. 

he wouldn’t even need a curse to do it. a flick of his pinkie would be more than enough. that’s how fragile you are; asleep, right in front of him, breathing softly while he watches you like how the fox watches the lamb.

(he could end all of this, right now, in the silence of the night. in your most vulnerable state.)

and yet, geto allows the opportunity to pass him by.

he can’t get too greedy. that’s what he tells himself, as he slips out of your window in the dead of night, leaving your sleeping figure behind him. it’s not the right time. he can let you sleep, for just a little while longer. the bags under your eyes have looked especially heavy, recently.

(he tries not to remember the sleepover you had as kids, when he stayed perfectly still as you dozed off on his shoulder. doing his best not to wake you, watching you fondly until the sun began to rise. back when all he wanted was to protect you.)

geto knows that you know he’s not dead. he knows because he’s almost certain that satoru spoke to you, back then, even if he probably didn’t let you in on any details. because he knows that you’re sharp, sharp enough to know that he’s alive.

and even if that were not the case, geto knows because he’s sent you gifts. letters. absentminded, almost taunting, cruel in their joviality — always anonymous, always mysterious and vague and impossible to trace back to him. but he knows that you know who they’re from.

a little dance, if you will. geto haunts you like a ghost. he never lets you see him, but he lets you know that he’s there, sometimes. just out of frame.

he can only hope it’ll eventually haunt you to death.

(if it ends up as a comfort to you, instead.. then, well — it is what it is.)

all of it is a safety measure in disguise. a way to satisfy the yearning inside his chest, without coming too close. that doesn’t mean he never falters, though.

every once in a while, he feels strangely compelled to talk to you. to waltz into your home, in a lighthearted fashion, to soak up your shocked expression. to ask how you’ve been, casually, and watch you stammer, stumble over your words — he can imagine the face you’d make, the way the lilt of your voice would tremble. would you cry? he can’t help but wonder, sometimes.

yet he always resists the temptation. careful, cautious, with every move he makes. like a shadow. he deliberately leaves no traces of himself behind, no breadcrumbs for you to follow like the curious creature you are. geto lets you know that he’s there, but he doesn’t let you see him, because if he talks to you he knows that he’ll kill you. and he can’t have that, not just yet. 

eventually, he’ll do it. he’ll do it, and he’ll watch as your blood stains the silk of his robes like the inevitability it is. but not yet.

you’ll be the last one, the last one he’ll kill. the final proof of his devotion.

until then, he can have this. this sickeningly sweet scrutiny of your life, your life without him. the sound of your laughter, the reflection of untainted light in your iris.

(you are the same as always, and you are a weakness that geto is learning to live with.)

he can’t rest, won’t rest until it finally ends. until the curtain calls on your bloodied body, until he feels the cold skin of your palm against his lips.

only then will he finally know if it was all worth it. only then will he be free of this yearning. only then will he be able to say that the last remnants of suguru have been well and truly cleansed from his soul, that there is nothing left of the person he was.

only then will geto be able to call himself wholly divine. 

but until that time comes, he can do nothing but watch you. when the temptation begins to crawl under his skin again, when he needs to remind himself of what he’s fighting for. that one thing, at least, never once changed; suguru geto has always fought for you. for your protection, for your survival, for your demise.

for your happiness, in life or in death.

(geto hates you, loathes you, resents you for being what you are; but suguru will always, always love you. forever and ever. no matter what. 

and that will be their undoing.)

suguru geto dies without saying goodbye to you. 

if there are any regrets to speak of, any at all, then maybe that’d be it. he never got to see that shock on your face, never got to hear you stammer in the way you always used to when you were nervous.

in the golden hue of sunset, the last of his resentment finally fades away. the curse known as geto disappears, and what remains is no more than a ghost — the ghost of suguru, the person he was, the person he never quite stopped being.

and when geto disappears, when the last of his resentment fades away, suguru finally allows himself to think of you. fully, without interruption, without unspilled blood festering beneath his tongue. just one single touch of sincerity, one last indulgence before it all ends. he thinks of you, you as a person, not you as a non-sorcerer. he gives your memory the respect it deserves. something worth cherishing.

he wonders what you’re doing, right now. he wonders if you studied enough for that exam next week, if you found a good gift for your friend’s birthday party. he wonders if you still miss him, even though he'll never be deserving of it.

satoru stands in front of him, genuine, sincere. and suguru thinks that he is a fool, just like you; to still have any kind of affection left for someone like him. after he left you both behind, that summer.

satoru doesn’t curse him. suguru wishes he would.

a soft bout of laughter falls from his lips, as the sun sets behind him, and he knows you would have found the sight breathtaking. you always did love sunsets, didn't you? the sun was setting when he found you with that bruise on your leg, he recalls — such a miniscule detail. he wonders why he remembers only now.

suguru chokes back his tears, still smiling. it’s a smile of love. a smile of regret. he thinks of satoru. 

at least curse me a little at the very end.

those should be his final words. he should avert his gaze, follow the script, tear his eyes away from the only other person besides you who ever truly knew him —

but he doesn’t. he can’t. suguru looks straight at him, at satoru, into his eyes, so blue they seem to gleam in the orange hue of the melting sun. sparkling like little galaxies, like the crinkling of soda pops, like crystallized summer skies. he looks beautiful, as beautiful as he always was.

(i wish i had told you, suguru thinks. i wish i had told you everything.)

in a voice so small he barely hears it, so tender that geto would’ve felt disgusted to his very core, suguru asks his best friend for one last favour. he’s not sure why, not sure why it matters —

but maybe, just this once, it’s fine if it’s meaningless.

satoru listens, intently. he looks at his best friend with eyes so soft it makes suguru want to laugh and cry and go back to a time when they were all happy. but they can’t, that choice was lost ten years ago — he threw it away. smothered it beneath his boot heel. there was never any going back, from the very beginning. 

satoru answers his plea. one final favour, one best friend to another. 

of course.

a shaky breath. he can’t tell who it came from.

of course i will.

suguru smiles. a full, genuine smile, that reaches his eyes and blossoms like a flower in the light of the sun. it’s the last time anyone will see it.

satoru clenches his jaw. he crouches down, and presses his fingers against his best friend’s battered body, right over his bleeding heart. he will never, ever forgive himself for what he's about to do.

(suguru already has.)

and the moment before the last flicker of light leaves his eyes, suguru chooses to think of you.

he thinks of your smile, the way your lips curled up at even the smallest things. he thinks of your curiosity, how it always lead him back to you. he thinks of what could have been.

he thinks of that question you asked him, all those years ago — how accepted it made him feel. that sensation of being understood. suguru thinks you saved his life, that day.

(he never got to thank you for it.)

you were his childhood friend. his nearest, dearest, oldest one. 

suguru doesn't believe the world he lives in is kind enough to allow him a second chance. and he doesn't think he really deserves one, either way.

but if there is a next life, if he’s lucky enough to be reborn —

then suguru hopes he’ll be born as a dragonfly, so he can find his way back to you.

he’ll meet you, again; in the afterglow of sunset, by that dusty, forgotten, tiny summer creek. framed by silver-hued fish and cicadas, and the silence of a town that glimmered while you were both in it.

he won’t be able to wipe your tears away, won’t be able to clean the bruise on your knee — but he can be with you. and maybe, in your next lives, that’ll be enough.

(what a lovely thought.)

suguru smiles, and lets a final breath of air course through his burning lungs.

— it tastes like summer.

there is a silent understanding, between the two of you.

it’s been ten years since you last spoke to satoru gojo. it wasn’t a very pleasant conversation, and somehow, you doubt this will be an exception. an acute awareness lies heavy in the air — and deep down, some part of you knows what he’s about to tell you.

(as if it was an inevitability.)

gojo doesn’t smile. his voice has no masked amusement to it, no sense of joviality. if you strain your ears, you think it may even be wavering, slightly, so faint it’s hard to tell for sure. just that one low shiver of his lips, saying more than words ever could.

he doesn’t beat around the bush. and you see that for the kindness that it is, despite the ice cold chill that creeps into your veins when his words spill out into the air, a full body shiver traveling down your spine.

he tells you that suguru is dead, and you don’t flinch. you don’t even cry. that comes later.

in the moment, all you can do is nod, a little pitiful, teeth digging into the flesh of your bottom lip to stop it from wobbling. like you’re trying to be brave. 

truthfully, you had a feeling that was the case.

sometimes, it was as if you could feel him. just barely out of reach, a certain cologne lingering on your windowsill, a box of cookies you’ve liked since you were little delivered to your doorstep. a sudden feeling of being watched. a note wishing you luck on whatever exam or driver’s test or job interview you had the next day, accompanied by a silly smiley face so distinctly suguru it made you want to cry.

— how cruel of him.

but you couldn’t help but feel comforted by it, all the same. it made you feel like he was still with you, somehow, like he still cared. even though he disappeared from your life without saying anything. even though gojo told you explicitly all those years ago to stay away, if you ever saw him, as if he was suddenly dangerous —

but you could never be afraid of him. you don’t think you have it in you. 

to you, suguru will always just be the boy who helped you up when you scraped your knee, all those years ago. a sweet, cool kid, who held your hand firmly and gently wiped the blood off your skin.

(he’ll always be your nearest, dearest, oldest friend. even if you aren’t his.)

but lately, there’s been nothing. you haven't felt any traces of him at all, no lingering gazes boring into your back. so you knew. deep down, maybe you always kind of knew.

gojo looks at you with compassion, understanding. and without him having to say it, you know he loved suguru too. you know because his breathing is shaky, because his eyes look puffy from hours of crying; you know because grief is like a stench, thick and heavy, overwhelming, one that clings to your skin and haunts your very being. just like love.

and you can smell it on the both of you.

(you both loved the boy who died for his ideals, the man who was so moral it killed him.)

the news will sink in, later. you are sure that you will crumble, and you are sure that you will cry. you’re sure that the road ahead will be a long one, full of obstacles and thorns. but that’s fine. you’ll deal with it when the time comes. suguru was always a little mystical, a little too good to be true.

maybe you always sort of assumed things would end like this; that he’d walk ahead without you, with all his whispered secrets and gentle lies. 

(asshole.

he could have given you a call, at least. even just once.)

for now, all you can do is try to keep your trembling skin intact. and you assume that gojo will leave, now that you know, that this was all he came here for. just a messenger of death, coated in a grief so strong you doubt he’ll ever be rid of it.

but gojo doesn’t leave. 

he hands you something, instead.

a polaroid, you quickly realize. a photograph, of three kids — one with white hair, one with brown hair, and one with black hair. the black haired boy is trying hard not to smile, you can tell. the other two have got their arms around him, squeezing his body tightly with matching grins, throwing up peace signs. he looks at them with exasperation in his eyes, but you can tell that there’s a love there. you can tell, you know, because despite everything, you still know him.

a lump forms in your throat.

it’s not the original copy, is what gojo tells you, apologetic. you’re almost certain that he kept it for himself, and you don’t blame him. i’m sorry. but i wanted to… you know.

(he wanted to give you something to hold onto.)

the gesture is a little bit awkward, just a tad clumsy. but it’s a genuine concern, a sincere kindness. you aren’t really surprised that suguru spent his last moments with this man instead of you.

gojo continues to speak, and you continue to listen, attentive — hungry for anything to mend the hole in your heart. but your eyes never once stray from the photograph.

(suguru looks so, so happy.)

he tells you that suguru talked about you a lot, back then. and without him having to say it, you know what he really means is he loved you a lot. the words of consolation ring like static, in your ears. it hurts. the hole in your heart just keeps extending, extending, extending.

gojo notices. so he gets to the point, the final point, the only one that matters. this is his duty, too — granting suguru’s last request. the only one he ever asked of him in words.

(it’s the least he could do, for the man he loved so dearly, the one who left him behind in the shadow of summer.)

he tells you that there’s one more thing. that suguru asked him to tell you something, that it was the last thing he ever said. words that he wanted you to hear, more than anything.

gojo’s voice does not waver. it is not his place.

you listen. you listen as if it will bring him back. you listen as if it is the last thing you will ever do.

and gojo speaks.

the words mean everything, and also nothing at all. how very like him. they bounce off the walls of your apartment, spilling into the suffocating air, echoing inside your mind. cutting into your bloodstream, rooting themselves in a particularly soft spot deep within your ribcage, chrysanthemums blooming from your flesh. petals filling up your stomach until you can scarcely breathe.

the final words of your childhood friend. your nearest, dearest, oldest one; suguru geto, who you will always love, in the same way the sun loves the moon, as naturally as breathing.

the dam breaks. the sky shatters. the sob you choke on tastes salty, and gojo looks remorseful, his figure blurred by your tears. everything comes crashing down around you — an inevitability you were hoping to put off, in the same way suguru put off talking to you all those years.

and now, finally, he tells you his honest feelings. when it’s already far too late. how very, very like him.

(tell them i’m sorry. and that i hope their exam goes well.)

— honestly. what a fucking asshole.

not once did you ask for an apology. you never wanted one, never thought to even wish for it. you didn’t need one.

all you wanted was for him to come back to you. to find you, again, the way he always did.

tears cascade down your scrunched-up face, big and childlike, but no one’s there to wipe them away anymore. you cradle the photograph in your hands, savouring every single memory you have of him. all the love your heart can muster.

the tears never seem to end. they continue to run down your cheeks, until all you can smell is sea salt, until the sun has set in the horizon, until the moon has hanged itself in the sky. a silent comfort, but it’s not enough. it never will be.

a sniffle pushes past your lips, and you hear yourself laugh — bitter, raspy, gentle all the same. what a moron, you whisper, a soft lull of your tongue. didn’t he know?

(you forgave him long ago.)

bonus 👀

[alessandramortt]

Hmm

[mymarifae]

another thing i've been thinking about lately is ralsei, actually, and how i'd like to see him grow in future chapters..... kid's been alone all of his life. his black and white view of the world is understandable. for the first time, he's seeing the world with all its complexities. he's learning that "heroism" doesn't look like it does in the fairytales. he's learning that simply being ingratiating and kissing up to others isn't what real kindness (and friendship) looks like. and he's learning that there are people in this world who need to be stopped with force, and they like. deserve it. kissing up to them won't work. kindness isn't the end all be all solution.

im talking about spade king.

but like, i think susie is the best person for ralsei to befriend and grow closer to and learn from right now. the thing i've always adored most about her character development is that she stays Susie. she's abrasive and rude and loud and she makes mean jokes and she's stubborn and she doesn't take any shit but she has a kind, loving heart. this isn't treated as a contradiction to her other traits; her other traits are not erased in favor of simply being kind. because being a weak-willed doormat who only serves other people is not what kindness is about.

they complement the character growth they both need to undergo. susie needs to open up and trust more (she's off to a fantastic start im so, so proud of her), and ralsei needs to like. grow a spine. and stand up for himself. especially when it comes to the player/red soul/whatever you wanna call it -_ because there's no way he doesn't know about that little tidbit.

he makes a biiiig deal about not needing to fight in this world but then... if you go in and make him fight he won't say a word. and there's that thing he says if you beat the stuffing out of his dummy: that it's okay to hit him. if you want. which has me so... kid. honey. sweetie.

he's spent his whole life thinking he has only one purpose. to serve. to fulfill this vague prophecy. he doesn't want to hurt others, he doesn't want to be hurt, but... who is he to protest? he doesn't know anything about the world, after all. he's just another piece on the chess board. the being hitching a ride in kris's brain must know what it's doing.

he's not seeing himself as a full person... it breaks my heart, tbh. but susie. susie has opened his eyes a little bit. he's learned the nuances of friendship and being kind and being a good person best because of her. i think the more time he spends with her and the more he gets to know her, the more we'll start to see him come out of this little shell he's built for himself.

since he's likely fundamentally connected to kris themself (being their old horn headband. or . otherwise. idk?), i also think his character growth will mirror theirs. kris has gotten more expressive since ch1, in their ACTs and expressions and body language (that we don't get to see in sprite form but.) they're finding loopholes in the control we have on them. as kris wins back more of their autonomy, ralsei will become bolder.

i think it'd be good to see him put his foot down and refuse at some point, should the player continue choosing needless violence. he deserves a choice, too.

[robinofinashiro]

request from anon: “Hi, can I request yandere alphabet for Kyojuro Rengoku 👉👈Thank you and have a good day Queen.”

pairing: yandere! kyojuro rengoku x fem reader

request status: OPENED

A - Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

rengoku does not give a singular fuck who sees him when it comes to giving you affection! you’re in the public? you’ll be holding his hand, kissing your cheek when he feels like it, and if it’s that bad, he’ll do a quickie in the bathroom. 

B - Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

very messy! he doesn’t care. if he sees someone getting too close to you, he’ll make sure to get rid of them as soon as possible. he can’t let anyone get close to you. he’ll go to the ends of the earth to make sure that you’re by his side and that no one comes in between the two of you. 

C - Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

honestly, he’ll mock the hell out of them when he feels like it’s necessary. if you’re purposely doing things to annoy him or going out of your way to piss him off, he’ll make sure to remind you that you’re never leaving him. other than that, he’ll treat you like you’re a princess! you deserve everything in the world and he’ll give it to you if he feels like you deserve it. 

D - Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

despite from the sweet nature that he gives off, he will do ONE thing against your will and that’s to have kids. he needs to continue his family line and since Senjuro isn’t working to be a pillar anymore, he needs to make sure that someone continues that and it might have to be his kid. 

E - Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

rengoku, when he feels like the time is right, will bare everything to his darling. come on now, you’re gonna be his wife, right? it’s only right that you know what his baggage is! he doesn’t care if you judge him or not, when it comes to this sort of thing, he kinda wears his heart on his sleeve. 

F - Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

he would be kinda pissed. you’re supposed to be this perfect wife/darling and by you acting out, he doesn’t sit well with that. why can’t you be more like Sanemi’s wife? a perfect little darling that just sits there and waits for her husband like she should. punishment is a whole other ballgame that i will touch on later. 

G - Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

absolutely tf not. how can this be a game to someone? rengoku is the kinda person where if he meets someone that he falls madly in love with, he’ll stick by you until one of you dies first and even then, he might commit sewerslide if you happen to be the one to go first. however, he might get a kick watching you trying to leave him bc it’s nearly impossible to leave where you’re trapped.

H - Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

rengoku’s affection, jesus christ. that shit could get mad annoying. if he’s had a particularly bad day, just brace yourself and let it happen bc he will be one affectionate mf. it could get to the point where he’ll be affection even into the next day if it’s that bad. 

I - Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

literally a picture perfect life. (very much the american dream in a sense). he wants kids, hell, if you want pets of some sort, he’s down to adopt a few dogs or whatever you or your kids want. he just wants everyone to see that his family is perfect and how far he’s willing to go for them. 

J - Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

oh absolutely. rengoku is the type of mf that if he sees someone flirting with his darling, he’s ending that shit QUICK. he cannot and will not let it happen. clearly it isn’t your fault so he’ll console you that you had no way of knowing what that scums intentions were and after he’s done with that, he’ll try to find the person to give them a lesson. 

K - Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling

he will be very clingy like i said. he wants everyone to know that his relationship is perfect but in private, double that. he’ll make sure that you know you’re loved and that he wouldn’t trade his life with you for anything in the world. 

L - Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

he would try the attempt to court you at first. rengoku is someone who is very charming so 8/10 times, it’ll work. however, if you’re being stubborn, that’s when the other side of rengoku comes out. but if you do decide to date him willingly, he’s the sweetest mf ever. he’ll bring you courting gives to every date, etc, etc. 

M - Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

honestly, rengoku is seen as the black sheep in the sense that he’s always readily happy and enthusiastic. not much changes when he’s in the public. unless you happen to piss him off in public, seemingly the only time when he would change his personality. 

N - Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

he doesn’t try to do it often, he hates seeing you hurt. but if you happen to actually piss him off to the point where you need to be punished, anything ranging from being alone for days to sexual punishment (that i wont be going into detail for).

O - Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

not many tbh. you have free range into his entire estate. however if he has maids working around, they know it’s best for them not to talk to you. he wont let you leave his estate to speak to anyone. you have the right to anything as long as you’re not trying to leave or get into contact with someone. he’ll even let you visit your friends or family as long as he’s there. 

P - Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

eh, he’s about 50/50. he can be very patient with you or be ticked off almost immediately. more than likely tho, he’ll deal with your shit most days. the days that he doesn’t, it’s probably bc he had already probably had a bad day and you’re just making shit worse. 

Q - Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

if you die, rengoku won’t move on and like i said before, he’d probably commit sleep forever. if you escape, he’ll spend the rest of his days looking for you. regardless if you escape or die, he won’t move on. you’re his and you will remain that way important person in his life. 

R - Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

to a certain point, he’d feel guilty. i think the only thing eating him up is the unethical part in all of this. the fact that he’s basically abducted you and refuses to let you go. but will he ever let you go? absolutely not. you’d have to kill him before that happens. 

S - Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

i see the only way this happening is bc of his life. his childhood wasn’t the greatest but it wasn’t exactly the worst so idk, i think more than anything it was out of curiosity and probably seeing others do it that make him snap. 

T - Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

if rengoku isn’t at fault for making you upset, he’s HEARTBROKEN. he doesn’t like seeing you that way and he’ll find the person that did it and make them pay for it. HOWEVER, if he was the cause of it, he almost turns into a wall and brushes it off, probably murmuring that you deserved whatever it is that made you cry. 

U -Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

honestly no. he wouldn’t only bc he’s very much the person that finds the classics of being a yandere as the only way to do it. anything like killing your darling or along those lines are way to extreme for him and he doesn’t like it when others step out of line. 

V - Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

SENJURO RENGOKU. his little brother is also his world and i think if you catch kyojuro in a situation where you can exploit senjuro, he might give in but honestly, it probably won’t hurt and it’ll be worse for you when he finally has you alone. 

W - Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

like i said before, only if it was necessary. he wouldn’t ever intentionally hurt you if you didn’t deserve it. he doesn’t like seeing you hurt and he hates seeing you cry so only if it came to you being a brat would he then actively physically punish you. 

X - Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

ehhhhhh, not really. he sees this relationship as 50/50 however he did kinda worship you when he wasn’t your boyfriend/husband but he would go different lengths in order to win you over. he doesn’t really care what he has to do, he will make you his whether you like it or not. 

Y - Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

tbh, it doesn’t take long before he snaps. if he sees you going out with someone and he feels like you might leave him, that’ll be a point. if he sees you being too free, that might be another point. in general, less than a year before he snaps. hell, less than half a year. 

Z - Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

mentally, YES! physically, if he needed to. but not to the point where he’s killed you. 

[river-bottom-nightmare]

you know what i want? i want some more of that time when jack drake benched tim after he found out tim was robin. specifically, i want jack drake having to deal with the fact that his son is robin.

oh he’s angry. his son goes around beating up criminals and breaking the law and he knows batman. but the thing is, batman and robin have been these distant, almost mythological figures for so long. gotham thinks of the duo as heroes, as not as people. and jack drake didn’t realize what exactly constitutes as being robin.

jack can’t hear his son anymore, not unless he wants to. granted, he had always been a quiet child. but now, his footsteps were completely silent. his breathing was almost nonexistent. his voice could carry across a room if he wanted, then shroud itself in fog, muffling it instantly. tim would just suddenly appear, at the kitchen counter, in the office, next to or behind jack. jack never saw him coming. and when jack reminded his son of these things, albeit a little shakily, tim blinked in surprise, as if he wasn’t even aware he was doing these things.

there are scars all over his body. objectively, jack knew that. batman and robin fought brutally, of course they would be injured. seeing the marks littered all over tim’s skin, however, is another matter. there are slashes and stabs. puckered skin that looks like a bullet hole. clean lines with little hashes, a nicely healed and well-taken-care-of injury. ugly, jagged streaks that scream pain, that jack felt nauseous seeing, let alone having the strength to bear it. tim acts like they’re normal, acts like assimilating all these scars were a mark of progress, a mark of strength. he rubs lotion on them a couple nights a week, falling into a routine. there’s a story behind each and every one of them, a life saved behind each and every one of them. jack doesn’t know whether to be somber or relieved at the fact that tim will never tell them to him.

tim’s reflexes are catlike, his instincts sharp, his mind always working a split-second faster than anyone else’s in the room. jack will accidentally drop something, and tim will catch it out of the air, easy as breathing, and hand it to him. as a test, jack dropped a ceramic mug filled with coffee on purpose. it landed in tim’s perfectly outstretched palm, not a drop of the drink spilled. tim was still on his phone with the other hand, but he looked away enough to raise an eyebrow at jack. jack didn’t question how tim knew he had done it on purpose. tim knows things, things that he has no reason to know, until he explained how he knew them. he had all of jack’s nervous tics memorized, apparently, and picked up things from other people uncannily accurately. dana poured acceptance and affection into the kid, and jack loved her for that, but he knew that tim scared her, just a little. jack was left wondering when his son had become the modern-day sherlock holmes.

and tim knew people. he’d casually reference batman or nightwing in a conversation, acting as if he knew them personally. which. well. apparently he did know them personally. but it wasn’t just the heroes from gotham, no. someone had once called tim while he, jack, and dana were cooking dinner together, sort of a bonding activity. tim had answered, then put the call on speaker, then continuing to chop a couple vegetables. (he looked far too comfortable with a knife in his hand. tim flipped it between his fingers and in the air with an ease and grace that made it impossible to tear his eyes from. and he wasn’t even trying.) then the sounds of an explosion came in, causing jack and dana to flinch, but tim didn’t even more. apparently, the flash was calling him, all the way from central city, where he was fighting killer robots, and asking for advice because apparently, someone named ‘bart’ had told the flash (the! actual! flash!) that tim had worked out a way to defeat them once before. tim advised them on how to get under armour platings and where the weak spots were while mashing potatoes with a fork. then tim said goodbye and good luck with a cheerful tone before hanging up. because apparently the flash calling him was something that didn’t faze him anymore. jack never said anything about the pictures hanging up in tim’s room, of a too-small kid in a robin suit, a boy in a leather jacket and an earring, someone more hair and goggles than boy, a girl with a confident smirk flexing her biceps, a girl with a bow and arrow, and a literal ghost. he also didn’t say anything about the photos of tim and that boy in the leather jacket, just to two of them. in those pictures, tim was laughing harder than jack had ever seen in his life.

tim was still his son, but he wasn’t entirely himself. jack couldn’t get rid of robin, no matter how hard he tried. tim moved like a predator when he was just walking down the stairs, a new grace in his movements. his eyes flicked to all possible exits any time he entered a room. he was no longer afraid to walk the streets of gotham at night, treading calm and sure even as jack and dana hurried quickly home with their shoulders bent. 

his son was important. his son was powerful. his son walked and talked and laughed amongst gods, and they showered him with respect. jack was beginning to think he was foolish for ever believing he could take robin away. 

tbh you cant just tell your superhero-vigilante son to stop superhero-vigilante-ing and expect him to be normal. superhero-vigilantes aren’t normal.

tag list: @comicsandhoney @dangerduckjpeg @yesboopityboop @birdy-bat-writes @anothertimdrakestan @astroherogirl @thebatsandbirdsofgotham @subtleappreciation

[theartofdreaming1]

Slightly paraphrased, but Peeta talking about that moment he developed his crush on Katniss is just too sweet 😊

As usual, my thoughts regarding this week’s prompts and random thoughts on chapters 22-24 are below the cut (sprinkled in some psychology thoughts again).

heart

Honestly, I think the people in Panem would perceive the whole everlark storyline the same way we perceive and react to our ships on tv (desperately wanting to reach through the screen, shoving the characters forcefully together, screaming “And now, kiss!”); especially the Capitolites who barely recognize the tributes (or people in the districts, in general) as people. The people in the districts would definitely view the whole thing more under a “reality tv” kind of lens, questioning how much of the relationship is real or not (we know that Finnick certainly thought that the entire thing was just a spiel, until Peeta hit that forcefield). The time spent in the cave must have been pretty convincing, though.

mind

I think that Katniss is still torn here - On the one hand, she kind of wants to believe that Peeta is actually into her (remember the happiness she felt when Peeta told her how his crush on her began, and it all added up and seemed so real), but on the other hand she’s terrified of that possibility because A) lingering trauma from her mom’s depression in response the Mr. Everdeen’s death, B) Katniss never even considered falling in love, so that’s a sudden unexpected thing to deal with, and C) maybe it’s just for the sake of the Games; and wouldn’t that hurt, getting your hopes up only to learn it was only for show? (How about we ask Peeta about that?)

soul

Yeah, that quote about Peeta only eating stale bread also struck me as quite sad. It just further adds to his understanding how there should be more to life than just survival, though. (One day, I’ll make that post about Peeta, Katniss, and Maslow’s pyramid of needs, I swear! I’ve already gathered some research material)

Chapter 22

My mother’s hand strokes my cheek and I don’t push it away as I would in wakefulness, never wanting her to know how much I crave that gentle touch. How much I miss her even though I still don’t trust her. - Ugh, I can’t... Katniss misses her mom, misses being cared for😢 I’m so glad we’re going to see her patch up her relationship with her mom in CF... On a different note, Katniss craving that gentle touch just perfectly illustrates why she’s so drawn to Peeta, who is generally such a gentle soul (I mean, he’s literally the person stroking her cheek here 😊)

He [Peeta] doesn’t seem angry about my tricking him, drugging him, and running off to the feast. Maybe I’m just too beat-up and I’ll hear about it later when I’m stronger. But for the moment, he’s all gentleness. - As I was saying... 😉

“I’ll go hunting soon,” I say. “Not too soon, all right?” he says. “You just let me take care of you for a while.” - I love them so much😊🥰 And then Peeta makes sure she’s well-fed and hydrated, he rubs her cold feet and tucks her into the sleeping back... and she let’s him! 💗

“He [Thresh] let you go because he didn’t want to owe you anything?” asks Peeta in disbelief. “Yes. I don’t expect you to understand it. You’ve always had enough. But if you’d lived in the Seam, I wouldn’t have to explain,” I say. “And don’t try. Obviously I’m too dim to get it,” he says. - Oof. This exchange here is interesting in many ways: 1) it highlights their different experiences, tied to their different socioeconomic backgrounds, basically, and 2)  that Katniss is very much aware of this difference, but we also see hints of her own ignorance here - because Peeta didn’t have to starve in his childhood, she thinks that he can’t possibly understand this level of hardship; but there are other ways in which one can suffer/lack fundamental needs, which brings us to 3) Peeta’s response about being “obviously too dim to get it”; I think this is a clue to his mom being also verbally abusive towards him: she called him “stupid creature” when he burnt those loaves of bread for Katniss and when he’s losing it in the attic of the Justice Building in D11 in CF he is mad that Katniss and Haymitch keep things from him “like [he’s] too inconsequential or stupid or weak to handle them”, which - to me - sounds like he’s tired of being treated that way (i.e. the way his mother treats him)

“I want to go home, Peeta,” I say plaintively, like a a small child. - God, this is a teenager in a murder-arena who feels like wanting to go home is a childish notion instead of a totally legitimate wish for anyone in that situation, regardless of age 😢

It’s not that Peeta’s soft exactly, and he’s proved he’s not a coward. But there are things you don’t question too much, I guess, when your home always smells like baking bread, whereas Gale questions everything. What would Peeta think of the irreverent banter that passes between us as we break the law each day? Would it shock him? The things we say about Panem? Gale’s tirades against the Capitol? - Geez, Katniss, give Peeta some credit here! A) It’s not like Peeta can walk around District 12 talking publicly about the injustices happening there - she and Peeta hadn’t even talked with each other before the reaping, whereas Gale is her best friend who rants to her while they are outside the confines of D12 and B) Peeta is literally the one who introduced the whole “not a piece in their Games”-idea to her; why would he be clutching his pearls over Katniss and Gale’s irreverent banter?! Just because Peeta didn’t live on the brink of starvation (she again brings up how his house smells like bread and - at this point - still thinks that the family running the bakery actually gets to eat what they produce just like that), doesn’t mean he doesn’t see how shitty life in D12 is - he can still want better conditions for those who are worse off than him!

“I did do the right thing,” I say. “No! Just don’t, Katniss!” His grip tightens, hurting my hand, and there’s real anger in his voice. “Don’t die for me. You won’t be doing me any favors. All right?” - Well, we’ll see this song and dance again in CF...

And while I was talking, the idea of actually losing Peeta hit me again and I realized how much I don’t want him to die. [...] And it’s not about what will happen back home. And it’s not just that I don’t want to be alone. It’s him. I do not want to lose the boy with the bread.” - I wish CF Katniss would remember this moment when she is questioning her motives about saving Peeta’s life in the arena - You. Care. For. This. Boy! You. Value. Him. For. Who. He. Is!!!

This is the first kiss that we’re both fully aware of. [...] This is the first kiss where I actually feel stirring inside my chest. Warm and curious. This is the first kiss that makes me want another. - Whoo! Is it hot in here or is it just me? 😉

I’m struck by his immediacy now. As we settle in, he pulls my head down to use his arm as a pillow; the other rests protectively over me even when he goes to sleep. No one has held me like this in such a long time. Since my father died and I stopped trusting my mother, no one else’s arms have made me feel this safe. - He makes her feel safe in a murder-arena!!! 😭 This is the kind of stuff that makes everlark just a top tier romance, tbh

Peeta telling Katniss about his crush starting on their first day of school 🥰😭 - and her reaction to it... For a moment, I’m almost foolishly happy - yes, because you have a crush on him, too! - and then confusion sweeps over me. Because we’re supposed to be making up this stuff [...] So, if those details are true... could it all be true? - YESSSSSSSS!!!

“You have a... remarkable memory, “ I say haltingly. - as a severely socially awkward person... I felt that lame response in my bones 😅

“You don’t have much competition anywhere.” And this time, it’s me who leans in. - God, this would be such an amazing moment if it didn’t get tainted by that immediate sponsor gift, which just serves to muddle Katniss’s feelings with her sense of survival, further complicating her relationship with Peeta... *sigh* 

Chapter 23

“What was that you were saying just before the food arrived? Something about me... no competition... best thing that ever happened to you...” “I don’t remember that last part,” I say, hoping it’s too dim in here for the cameras to pick up my blush. “Oh, that’s right. That’s what I was thinking,” he says. - Peeta is the master of being a cheeky little shit and adorable flirt at the same time

“So, since we were five, you never even noticed any other girls?” I ask him. “No, I noticed just about every girl, but none of them made a lasting impression but you,” he says. - I appreciate that while Peeta has had a crush on Katniss forever, he clearly didn’t spend the entire time pining after her, oblivious to the rest of the world - he has a life outside of Katniss Everdeen, but ultimately, it all lead back to her

A disturbing thought hits me. “But then, our only neighbor will be Haymitch!” “Ah, that’ll be nice,” says Peeta, tightening his arms around me. “You and me and Haymitch. Very cozy. Picnics, birthdays, long winter nights around the fire retelling old Hunger Games tales.” “I told you, he hates me!” I say, but I can’t help laughing at the image of Haymitch becoming my new pal. - Laugh all you want, this is going to end up being your future anyway 😄

He [Haymitch]’s at something of a disadvantage because most mentors have a partner, another victor to help them whereas Haymitch has to bready to go into action at any moment. Kind of like me when I was alone in the arena. I wonder how he’s holding up, with the drinking, the attention, and the stress of tring to keep us alive. - Katniss is already worrying about her “new pal”, I see ;)

Maybe he [Haymitch] wasn’t always a drunk. Maybe, in the beginning, he tried to help the tributes. But then it got unbearable. It must be hell to mentor two kids and then watch them die. - Honestly, that sounds absolutely awful...

Poor, Katniss, when she learns of Thresh’s death :( - But no one will understand my sorrow at Thresh’s murder. - It’s horrible how compassion and basic human decency gets construed as ‘weakness’ in the world of Hunger Games (esp. the Capitol)

Then I escape into sleep, comforted by a full belly and the steady warmth of Peeta beside me. - Honestly, I think a word analysis of THG-series could be interesting; how often does Katniss mention “warmth”, “steady/steadiness” “safe/safety/security” in connection with “Peeta”?

“We make a goat cheese and apple tart at the bakery,” he says. “Bet that’s expensive,” I say. “Too expensive for my family to eat. Unless it’s gone very stale. Of course, practically everything we eat is stale,” says Peeta [...] Huh. I always assumed the shopkeepers live a soft life. And it’s true, Peeta has always had enough to eat. But there’s something kind of depressing about living your life on stale bread - Katniss is starting to realize that the lives of the merchants isn’t a cushy as she thought; also, in a way, we see a “prettier” version of how Panem treats the districts overall -> feeding the districts just enough that they can do their work (plus/minus a couple of people who’ll die of starvation, but at a small, for Capitolites insignificant margin), but not so much that they are in good shape to rebel; here, the merchants of D12 have just enough that they can live a “decent” life (they know it could be worse -> the Seam), but they don’t have enough to live a free, comfortable, self-determined life either. This also just further drives a wedge between the inhabitants of D12 (the merchants won’t want to rebel because they don’t want to get ‘demoted’ in their lifestyle, starving like the people from the Seam, and the Seam folk feel resentful towards the merchant people, while also not having the resources to rebel, due to their awful socioeconomic conditions)

What would be my life like on a daily basis? Most of it has been consumed with the acquisition of food. Take that away and I’m not really sure who I am, what my identity is. - It’s so sad who Katniss has been so consumed with ensuring that her most base needs are fulfilled that she barely has had the time to really figure out who she is and what she wants from life (If we’re talking Maslow’s pyramid of needs, Katniss would primarily be stuck on the lowest tier 😢)

At least, we’ll be friends, I think. Nothing will change the fact that we’ve saved each other’s lives in here. And beyond that, he will always be the boy with the bread. Good friends. - Honestly, Katniss counting on being good friends with Peeta after the Games is the highest honor she can bestow on him at that moment (she’s so into him, lol); of course, knowing that their relationship is going to be a bit rocky once they’ve come back makes this thought a little sad... but we also know they’ll make up (and out ;) in the future

Peeta licking his plate and blowing a kiss out to Effie is such an adorable goofball-moment 😊

I cover his mouth with my hand, but I’m laughing. “Stop! Cato could be right outside our cave.” He grabs my hand away. “What do I care? I’ve got you to protect me now,” says Peeta, pulling me to him. - This moment would be so cute (also, Peeta’s so confident in Katniss’s skills to protect him, which is adorable - toxic masculinity who?) but... Ugh, he’s just so giddy here, it kind of breaks my heart for when he learns later that (at least some) of Katniss’s reactions were just for show

“If we want food, we better head back up to my old hunting grounds,” I say. “Your call, Just tell me what you need me to do,” Peeta says. - Love how Peeta’s always ready to follow Katniss’s lead :)

Ideally, I’d dump Peeta now with some simple root-gathering chore and go hunt [...] “Katniss,” he says. “We need to split up. I know I’m chasing away the game.” [...] “Show me some plants to gather and that way we’ll both be useful.” - Teamwork! If it weren’t for Katniss worrying for Peeta’s safety, they’d be on the same page here

“What if you climbed up in a tree and acted as a lookout while I haunted?” I say, trying to make it sound like very important work. “What if you show me what’s edible around here and go get us some meat?” he says, mimicking my tone. - I really like how Peeta’s challenges Katniss here; he doesn’t just go along with everything she says, while still being quite reasonable

I feel like I’m eleven, again, tethered not to the safety of the fence but to Peeta, allowing myself twenty, maybe thirty yards of hunting space. [...] I allow myself to drift farther away, and soon have two rabbits and a fat squirrel to show for it. - I don’t know, but Katniss feeling tethered to Peeta makes me think of Mary Ainsworth’s attachment theory, according to which children with a secure attachment to their primary caregiver use  their “attachment figure as a safe base to explore the environment”... Of course, Ainsworth’s Strange Situation was conducted with young children, but attachment styles are supposed to influence the relationships we form with people in our later lives as well (including romantic relationships)... I dunno, just a random association that popped into my brain 😅

Chapter 24

Peeta’s a whiz with fires, coaxing a blaze out of the damp wood. - Heh, Peeta sure knows how to handle fire, huh, Katniss (or should I say: Girl on Fire?) 😏

I order him into the sleeping bag and set aside the rest of his food for him when he wakes. He drops off immediately. I pull the sleeping bag up to his chin and kiss his forehead, not for the audience, but for me. Because I’m so greateful that he’s still here, not dead by the stream as I’d thought.  - Aww, this is so sweet (and domestic)!

It’s funny. I feel almost as if it’s the first day of the Games again. That I’m in the same position. [...] But no, there’s the boy waiting beside me. I feel his arms wrap around me. - They are a team! Katniss doesn’t have to face the horrors of the Games alone anymore! It keeps boiling down to this.

[tratserenoyreve]

other lil details that are hummin thru my brain from little nightmares 2 (spoilers):

- six has violent tendencies, but so does mono. you can at various points see six doing things like attempting to throw toys into the incenerator, and breaking apart a mannequin’s hand, but it’s also mono who was first to grab the shotgun, can optionally attempt to use a meat cleaver in the hunter’s cabin (it breaks), and thought it was a good idea to smash in a bedroom door with an axe. mono just seems a bit more physically weak than six (has to throw his full weight into smashing things vs six being a speed demon wrestling things with her bare hands).

- each time mono interacts with the televisions to tune the signal, you can see six attempting to hide before panicking and at least once reaching out to stop mono from approaching it. throughout the game, six indeed yanks him out of it, expressing fear, and in the final time mono does it and releases the thin man, you can see her point at mono angrily and shaking her head at him. kind of understandably weirded out/mad at him for releasing another problem they need to deal with. mono, of note, appears really out of it when this happens.

- this is like. the one time six actively expresses anger/frustration at mono. kind of admirable tbh. even if the player pushes her around or interrupts her attempt at burning a toy, she just gives mono a sort of “really?” gesture.

- even after failing a couple times to save six from the thin man, in her monster form she is NOT immediately hostile to mono. she even still responds kinda positively to mono calling to her, shuffling away from her lil “nest” and overall being amicable/pitiful. it is only when mono begins to try and break what six was finding comfort from that she becomes hostile.

- mono from the very start was driven to keep going to the tower, and i believe when you start the game he’s already been using his powers to teleport closer, ending up in the woods with the hunter. it kind of reminds me of the game “inside”, where the protag is inexplicably pulled onward to an unknown goal despite all dangers. similarly, mono doesn’t always seem to be fully in control of himself, either as a side effect of his powers or due to the signal itself. his official description tho does still describe him as being “kind” and “protective”.

- these things added together make six dropping mono in the tower make sense. in the end, she’s a very hurt kid, and mono repeatedly pulled her onward thru danger possibly for a selfish task, one he may not even be in control of, and while six put up with his entire journey to this point, him breaking the music box and yelling at her broke that trust. it’s real sad! mono trying to release six from what might be the tower’s warped influence was pretty violent, and eerily each time you smash the music box mono is warped into a space where he has to smash a door open with an axe, repeating the action he made when he met six. sort of like a representation of boundaries being broken.

- if you get the full ending, you can see six exit thru a telivision and be confronted by her glitching shadow. honestly, with how the shadow helped a very concussed mono get to the tower, i don’t see it as a malignant force. i actually would not be surprised if there is a sequel where six has to fight against this shadow, which ironically seems to represent her past innocence. would be interesting for the shadow that people blamed for six’s behavior in little nightmares 1 to actually be a kind entity trying to catch back up with her.

[koshicoast]

A few shinkami headcannons because I love them more than anything

Shinsou has a growth spurt and practically towers over Denki by their second year (for all intents and purposes, Shinsou has always been in class 1A)

Denki grows a little bit but not that much, he’s not complaining though, he gets Shinsou to grab stuff on the top shelve for him or has him hang up posters in higher places in his room (the only downside is that he has to get on his tippy toes for kisses but usually Shinsou will just bend down like a good boyfriend)

They go on dates every Sunday, It’s their day and it doesn’t matter what they’re doing as long as it’s just the two of them

They could be studying or doing homework or exercising or anything really and they’ll call it a date

The rest of the class knows better than to try and contact either boy on Sunday

“Normies worship Jesus on Sunday but I worship Shinsou” - Denki, at one point in time

Shinsou loves playing with denki’s hair, he buys different kinds of hair clips just to put them in denki’s hair

he just likes how the colors pop out

He especially likes to see purple hair clips in denki’s hair

Tbh it doesn’t have to be hair clips, it could be a scrunchie or a rubber band or a headband; as long as it’s purple it does wonders to shinsou’s heart

Denki likes playing with shinsou’s hair too but more than that he likes seeing Shinsou in yellow clothing

Shinsou doesn’t wear bright colors a lot usually sticking with black or cool tone colors

But when he does wear yellow, Denki just gets all mushy no matter how small it is

It could be yellow earrings or socks or something and Denki will wear a love sick expression all day

Despite being in the hero course, Shinsou still gets incredibly insecure about his quirk and how some people only see him as a villain

Denki, without fail or hesitation, tells Shinsou what a great hero he’s gonna be, he talks about how Shinsou is gonna inspire a new wave of underground heroes and how he’s gonna be some kid’s Aizawa one day and how proud he is of him (The first time he said that, it makes Shinsou sob. It makes denki cry too bc he’s a sympathetic crier so they just lay in bed holding eachother)

He also tells Shinsou how no matter who’s the number one hero, Shinsou will always have first place in his heart. And that Shinsou is just as much as any other hero out there and even a little more because he’ll be underground

Denki just loves his boyfriend so much and whoever planted the idea that some quirks are just made for evil is going to get electrocuted >:(

Denki will also pepper Shinsou in kisses saying things like ‘you are so kind’ ‘you’re an amazing person’ ‘I love you so much’ ‘You’re my hero’ and just a bunch of stuff so by the end of their heart to heart Shinsou is feeling a lot better

Denki gets insecure about how ‘dumb’ he is and how he’ll probably just end up hurting civilians or himself before he hurts a villain

Shinsou hates how that’s how Denki views himself because Denki is one of the kindest people in the world and doesn’t even realize it like the first time Denki told him that insecurity, Shinsou looked at him and was like ‘are you..you’re serious? Denks, You’re one of the most clever people I know’

Whenever Denki mentions it, Shinsou he just squeezes the blonde and lets him cry out his frustrations before telling him that ‘he’s not an idiot or stupid and that it’s okay not to understand something as fast as others and that it’s okay to learn differently and it’s okay’ (Shinsou will always try not to cry but a few tears fall anyways bc he just wants denks to be happy without feeling like he’s a fuckup)

Shinsou never lets Denki call himself an idiot or stupid, even in a joking way.

They don’t fight a lot because of their personalities like

Denki is a people’s person and is really in tune with other’s emotions and by default is a pacifist unless otherwise

Shinsou isn’t a people’s person but he’s observant due to his quirk bc of how he’s been treated in the past, he’s also good at picking up on people’s body language

Most times it’s just small disagreements and even then they communicate the best they can and try to compromise

If that doesn’t work then they’ll give each other space so the disagreement won’t turn into something ugly

They’ve only fought once and it was the worst (and best) thing for them

The fight happened after a mock rescue mission goes wrong and there were weeks of stress and tension leading up to it

It was messy and bad like really bad

“I just don’t get why you have to run into danger!” Denki screamed. The whole dorm could probably hear them but he didn’t care, not when his boyfriend was looking at him like he just lost his mind.

It was supposed to be a simple training exercise. Simple. Go in, defeat villains, rescue the ‘hostages’. It was not that simple.

*insert how badly the mission went and Shinsou ran towards the danger to help or smth idk*

It gets pretty rough between the two of them because they’re both pretty emotional people

Shinsou thinks denki doesn’t want him to be a hero and denki thinks Shinsou doesn’t want to be with him

It’s a lot of insecurities + stress + yelling

Denki is the first one to break, he’s a lot more emotionally sensitive than Toshi and everything is just crashing down and he hates it

“Do you just not want to be with me?!” He cries, unable to keep the tears at bay any more. He hates arguing with people, especially when that person happens to be his boyfriend. He gets it, he does! Toshi is training to become a hero and so is he but that doesn’t make it easier. Doesnt stop the shot of fear whenever he watches the other get hurt, doesn’t stop the late night self deprecation, doesn’t stop the anxiety he gets whenever he sees Toshi run head first into danger.

But he gets it and somehow it’s a bitter realization.

Because Hitoshi’s priority is the job they signed up for and Denki’s is Hitoshi.

The fight ends with tears on both their parts and they call it a night, too tired to scream anymore

They sleep in their own rooms that night

The next morning they agree to take a break, not a full break up, but some time away. Space away from each other to prioritize and think.

(Now ive seen fanfics where everyone picks denki over Shinsou and i hate that so fuck you, class 1A are both their friends and they’re all family and try and to help each other I will die with that statement)

Surprisingly the two most helpful people are Bakugou and Kirishima

(Actually not that surprising, they’re the longest couple in the whole class, dating immediately after Kamino)

Bakugou and denki have a heart to heart

“You’re both dumbasses” Katsuki sighs heavy, passing another tissue over to the sobbing blonde. He’s not good at these kinds of things, but Kirishima told him he could help the electric blonde more than he could so here he is. “You gonna tell me what’s wrong or just cry?” He asks, not without a hint of worry though. He pretends to ignore it.

So denki tells him everything and his insecurities

Oh. Yeah, Kirishima was right.

“You think I’m an idiot” Denki mutters quietly, harshly rubbing his eyes.

“No” The older blonde shakes his head, plopping down on the bed next to the other. He doesn’t turn to meet yellow eyes, his own trained on the All Might poster hanging directly across from them. He feels Pikachu’s curious gaze on him so he decides to elaborate more, knowing the sooner he helps the sooner he doesn’t have to deal with this anymore. It’s totally not because he’s gotten soft. Absolutely not.

“Trust me, Zombie Eyes looks at you like you put the fucking stars in the sky. It’s disgusting to watch.” He crinkles his nose in disgust earning a small laugh. “People like him and I, we gotta work twice as hard. Not saying that no one else does but it’s different.” He stresses the last word. “People like Ei or Deku or even you, people already see you as good so all you gotta do is get stronger. They don’t question your character, your morals, they don’t look down on you for having a weakness. People like Zombie Eyes and I though?we gotta work hard just to prove that we’re good. That we were meant to become heroes. Every action we do is put under a microscope and analyzed.” He explains.

“We’re assholes by default, It’s how we were raised. Not saying it as an excuse though. He was in the shitty system and I had shitty parents, no adult taught us shit like love or how to properly deal with feelings.”

Stupid Deku tried with him but he didn’t even know how to deal with his own much less some angry blond kid’s.

He takes a deep breath, pushing back faint memories of his childhood. The younger hasn’t said a word but he can tell he’s listening so it’s fine. “We can’t just turn off how we are. If it’s frustrating for you and Ei, It’s worse for us. Like we know logically that we’re good people, that we changed but that’s now how our brain sees it. We push ourselves because that’s all we know how to do, it proves to us and everyone else that we bled for our spot here. That we made it. Having friends is hard because we compare ourselves to them and draw our own conclusions to their actions. Being nice? Our brain says it’s a trap. Showing some human fucking decency? Our shitty brain says it’s an act. Being in a relationship? Laughable. We’re just villains pretending to play heroes to everyone else.”

He takes another deep breath, forcing himself to look away from the poster, flashbacks to their first year briefly passing in his head. Okay yeah, not going down that route. He looks over, making eye contact. He wonders if this is how Kirishima feels whenever he’s trying to cheer him up. Wonders if it’s just as hard. This better be worth it, everyone has been miserable. (Shitty thing about having been through life and death situations together is that everyone has bonded and become close like a family so when one of them is sad it’s like everyone is fucking sad.) (He loathes it because even he gets worried.)

“But despite that he still loves you.” He says softly, almost whispering like he’s telling the other a secret. “Fights his demons to hold your hand and all that shit”

Shinsou loves him? Loves him?

“How do you.. how do you know?” Denki whispers, throat sore. “We fought so badly last night, we were screaming at eachother.”

“He treats you the same way I treat Ei.” He answers,

“He changed his priorities around to try and accommodate for another person in his life, you became more important than training or studying. He takes days off to be with you, cuts his studying short if you need a break. It might not seem much to others but for him that’s huge. He came in with this one track mind but then you came along and he scrambled to balance everything. And then you two got your shit together and started to go out and I’m pretty sure he got scared”

“Scared?” Denki asks, the thought almost funny to him.

“I did.” Bakugou admits as Denki’s eyes grow wide.

“I was petrified. When Ei started to become more important than hero work, I freaked. It’s not that loverboy is choosing being a hero over you, It’s because he doesn’t understand that he can have both. He thinks everything important is a choice- that if you want something you have to give something up. He chooses hero work and he loses you. He chooses you and he loses hero work.”

“But he’s not going to lose me or hero work”

“Kinda sounded like you did give him an ultimatum though”

The realization hits him like cold water.

Shinsou gets a similar talk with Kirishima

It helps, a lot

They don’t immediately go back to eachother, instead spending the week with their everyone else and just taking time for themselves

Shinsou knocks on Denki’s door Sunday morning and they finally talk things out

It’s also the first time they say ily!!

Anyways after that fight they work harder on communicating especially when it comes to things like hero work

It’s not perfect bc their dumb traumatized teens but they’re trying and they know their lil family will always be there

I haven’t slept but yes thanks for sticking around if you’re reading this

If ur interested in shinsou’s talk with Kirishima lmk

[crimeronan]

Can you explain the appeal of Julian Blackthorn? This is a genuine question because I read the books and came away utterly bored by him and unconvinced of his moral greyness as opposed to like, Adam Parrish’s. He seemed so one dimensional to me but I want to know if I’m Wrong TM considering I tend to be very very biased toward my favourite characters and bored by the rest, and my favourites were Mark and Kieran. So maybe I just didn’t pay him enough attention??

it’s been a while since i wrote any earnest tsc meta but cringe culture is dead and the chance to infodump about my julian thoughts has me vibrating where i’m sitting so.  yes okay.

technical stuff

(aka: things pertaining to How The Story Is Constructed)

cassandra clare’s characterization has become much stronger just in general since she first began writing the series like twenty years ago

perhaps most importantly: the more recent stuff i’ve read from her has involved characters who actually grow, change, and learn from their past mistakes 

rather than repeating the same stupid decisions over and over again

and over and over and over some more

seriously take a shot every time someone in tmi miscommunicates or self-destructs in ways They Have Learned Not To Do for no real reason. u will die of alcohol poisoning

in tda this shines ESPECIALLY with the evolution of mark, kieran, and cristina’s relationship, but that’s a separate post

clare’s trademark is also the angsty traumatized jerkass love interest with a secret heart of gold

the woman is almost singlehandedly responsible for draco in leather pants and the proliferation of this kind of character type in fandom and teen lit. this isn’t a criticism it’s me marveling at how if you commit hard enough to a single trope you truly can change the world.  follow your dreams

sad jackass with a heart of gold isn’t an Inherently Problematic Character Type

but poorly done it can lead to relationship dynamics in which one partner is constantly being hurt by and then forgiving the other despite them making no real effort to change, because they are narratively absolved due to being sad

(there’s a lot of this with earlier jace content.  in some ways i think will was later created specifically to be a same-archetype protagonist who actually does get called on his shit and grow. that’s also another post)

also if all of your sexy male love interests are tortured jackasses with a heart of gold then people start calling you a one-trick pony

enter julian blackthorn!

from the very start everything about him is designed to be the INVERSE of the heart of gold jackass.  which immediately makes him interesting just from a meta perspective

(mark and kieran are also both alternate angles on this time-honored archetype.  mark gets the heart of gold and kieran gets the jackass and then they’re both much more deeply messy than that.  yet another post)

julian is kind, self-sacrificing, empathetic, artistic, emotionally supportive, responsible, and favored by old grannies everywhere

so a completely nonthreatening milquetoast guy, right

immediately forgettable if you’re only here for the dramatic conflicts and shithead antics of clare’s other protags

except that he is A Mess

and that he has structured his priorities very carefully, and they are as selfless as you expect from The Hero (TM) but they are also Not Heroic (TM) and they do not align with the moral framework The Hero (TM) is supposed to use

moral ambiguity in characters always exists in relation to their narratives imo. you mention adam parrish - trc’s narrative already mucks around in different ethical shades of gray, and adam falls on the canon scale about where julian does on his canon scale.  both more willing than the average pov character to do the ruthless thing or make the fucked-up choice if the ends justify the means; both with an intensely strong sense of internal priorities that they adhere to at all costs, both so unbelievably fucking down for murder; etc

i do think there are ways julian’s choices could have been pushed even further, but considering the number of readers who hate his guts already, i can see why clare opted not to go for the most controversial possible conflicts

so we’re flipping the narrative

instead of seeing this angsty bad boy and peeling back the layers of his trauma to find his heart of gold, we’re seeing the put-together selfless family man and peeling back the layers of his Responsibility Mask to expose the rotting husk underneath

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

THAT IS FUN AS FUCK

then when julian DOES lash out in hurtful, uncontrolled ways, he has significantly more narrative justification for it than most of clare’s protagonists (will elaborate in characterization thoughts)

julian is also interesting as fuck because of how his struggles allow for a more in-depth look at the failings of shadowhunter society, something that’s also sorely lacking in clare’s earlier work

his apparent amorality is simply the result of him making pragmatic and impossible choices because he has been faced with fucked-up ethical dilemmas since age 12 Because Society Has Failed Him

which opens the door for narrative exploration of how and why he’s been failed so badly & what needs to change

i also love that he has such a coldly calculated way of analyzing situations and allowing harm to occur when need be, bc a lot of clare’s early protagonists have such a bad case of Rush In And Get Myself Killed Because I’ve Got Feelings About Impulsive Heroism syndrome that i wanna push them in front of a truck

probably there’s other meta narrative stuff i could say but i’m stopping myself and moving on to character analysis

characterization stuff

(aka: reasons why i’m also attached to him in a vacuum)

i don’t read him as one-dimensional at all tbh

u may feel the narrative pushes “ruthless julian blackthorn” too much without delivering enough actual ruthless julian But i don’t think that’s the same as having only one dimension

from the get-go, the big question centered on julian is always “how far are you willing to go?” and the narrative pushes the stakes slowly higher and higher to continuously test julian’s “the price is always justified” mindset

he has a far more layered and realistic response to trauma than clare’s early protagonists - trauma affects every single aspect of his personality and how he conducts himself, and the effects vary depending on the circumstances

his conviction that he has to be the perfect parent to his siblings because they will fall apart if they see him show weakness??  rooted in how he feels like he’s fallen apart since losing the stable adult support he once relied upon

his willingness to hurt semi-innocent people, commit coldblooded murder, manipulate people using political leverage, allow harm to befall any stranger if it protects his family??  rooted in how he has already had to ask himself how much he’s willing to sacrifice, and how his family is his only source of stability when the world has never done Shit for him

his conviction that he has a darker heart than anyone else because he killed his possessed father, even though intellectually he knows he was saving his brother’s life??  rooted in having no means of processing this trauma and being unable to voice his feelings for fear of backlash from a deeply non-understanding society

the way he represses every single negative emotion he ever has, to the point where emma - his actual literal magic soulmate who can feel his emotions - is startled to find him hurting or angry??  once again all about how he has to be the perfect father or he’s failed completely

the way his anger is so totally disproportionate to different situations and the way his negative emotions can only come out in completely uncontrolled breaks??  all that repression baybey.  this kid has not processed a single bad feeling in five years.  every single real grievance and petty annoyance has been festering indefinitely inside him like a slowly spreading infection

julian’s arc involves him needing to get thru being his worst self to actually start to heal

as in, he has to actually learn to acknowledge his feelings, take care of himself, lean on his family, and let other people take some responsibility

he also has to learn that in his quest to be the perfect emotionally controlled authority figure, he has not actually learned how to control or deal with his emotions. like. At Fucking All. good god

the narrative setup is also about asking “how far are you willing to go?” until the answer is finally “not this far.  not this far”

and once he reaches that point, he has to reevaluate everything about how he weighs his priorities and morals and plans, etc

(i also like that emma has a perpendicular arc in which she’s always the one tempering julian and telling him “no we can’t go that far” until she’s willing to do something horrific that he absolutely won’t and HE has to stop HER. very sexy)

it’s also just really nice to have a character who’s learned to relate so well to literally every single member of his family while still having a very detached ruthless interior consciousness. i have similar feelings about how adam teaches himself to love people, but with julian it’s spelled out more explicitly in canon & it’s a more central character theme

i’m sure i’m also forgetting stuff here but this post is long enough so i’m gonna say good enough

and like i said in the tags on my other post, there are things i’d personally write differently if it were my story - plot points i’d shift, character contrasts i’d up, themes i’d explore differently, pacing i’d adjust, etc.  i have plenty of ways i could be nitpicky and editorial about the effectiveness of julian’s arc.  but i also don’t feel like writing them out at the moment & none of my critiques on effectiveness have an impact on the core appeal of his character 2 me.  he’s so fucking good