#i have sUCH SEVERE BRAINROT ON THIS SCENE

[sweaterregrets]

-you got a cool dramatic end.

-fuck you.

(please no spoilers im only on 12.5)

[kanerallels]

Don't you just love it when you've briefly stepped away from an obsession but then you get new content to do with it and it results in you going Absolutely Insane about it again?

[spontaneousglitterbees]

(click for higher quality, text description under the cut)

welcome to the hydraulic press channel

[Begin comic description:

Scene begins with Kokichi and Kaito during the offscreen Hangar Scene of Chapter 5. Kokichi, having been shot and poisoned, lay on his back on a hydraulic press. The first panel shows him from the side, with Kaito out of view behind machinery. Presumably, they are in the moments before enacting Kokichi's plan.

KOKICHI: "Momota-chan?"

KAITO: "Ouma?"

KOKICHI: "Before I die (which should be very shortly). I... need you to tell me something."

Zoom out. The camera focuses on the distance between the press and the control balcony. Kaito responds, "If robots didn't already have them I'm sure Miu—" Kokichi cuts him off. "Not that."

Zoom back in on a deliriously bemused Kokichi, who is slowly pulling the portion of Kaito's coat that will be trapped with him under the press over his still-bleeding right shoulder. "Did she hit it?"

Three small panels in succession show a confused close-up of Kaito's face: "... What?" as Kokichi fires back "On my jacket... the stitches make an 'X' pattern on the back!" Kokichi holds his crossed index fingers over his head, the intersection highlighted in purple-pink.

Cut to Kaito at the control panel of the hydraulic press, leafing through Kokichi's planning notebook with rigid shoulders and a determined expression. Meanwhile, from his position below, Kokichi less speaks to Kaito than in his general direction: "I'm such a nice murder victim, Momota! Ahahahahaha, I even showed her where to aim!"

Kaito is mildly alarmed as he hears a weak "Nishishishishi" from the press as Ouma loses steam, and he cringes as it progresses into a cough so severe it jars the outline of the speech bubble from its background with an overlain spatter of purple-pink blood. Kaito looks away from the press and toward the toilet where the two earlier attempted to flush Ouma's clothes and disrupt the future crime scene. A close-up confirms that the crossbow bolt went through between the large 'X'-shaped stitches on the back of Ouma's jacket, not through the center of an 'X'. Kaito sighs, and mumbles. "Oh, Maki...."

Regaining enough resolve to smile (and, perhaps, taking a few notes from Kokichi), Kaito forces a thumbs-up gesture Ouma cannot see. He lies through his teeth to comfort the dying kid with a morbid joke he just knows Ouma will prefer to any platitudes: "Yeah."

Kokichi, laying with his head tilted to one side and having determined he is isolated and out of view enough to cry, expresses genuine shock as he listens to Momota go on.

"She got it. 'Dead' center, Kokichi."

Ouma, crossing his arms over his chest as though he were to be lain in a casket, looks up at the top of the press with tears in his eyes. Even now, he forces himself to grin (or, since the expression is deep enough to affect his eyes, it may just be real. Dead men never need to tell.) "H-eh. Nice." His thoughts resound around the panel, unspoken. "but... I know that was a lie. Am I... proud?"

The camera pans over to a side-view of a sobbing Kaito and the shadow of an Exisal behind him as Kokichi's thoughts continue: "M-Maybe Mr. Luminary of the Stars..."

The final panel shows a side-profile view of a relaxed Ouma horizontally on the press, the sleeve of Kaito's coat dangling over the side behind him. He has one hand still crossed over his chest as the other lay palm-down at his side. His eyes have closed, perhaps for the last time. He smiles.

"wasn't so boring after all."

"Goodnight...."

End description.]

[frostbite-the-bat]

DJ CADENCE IN THE HOUSE!!!

[vhalesa]

First drawing of the year and ofc it’s them :D

[raiiny-bay]

slowly building the monster boys' cabin in blender :-)

[alatusxiaoo]

hiii i swear tg i am still alive 🧍‍♀️ finals are around the corner so i rlly need to study hard and all 🫠 but i’ll be posting updates on the smau hopefully by next next week <33 ily all stay safe and healthy guys

[eightmakesonebraincell]

ateez as royals who fall for you (hyung line)

read maknae line here

genre: royalty!ateez x fem!reader, fluff, angst, smut, crack, a brainrot and smutfest of royal tropes

length: 12.8k

c/w: very nsfw scenes - mdni, explicit language (dirty talk, swearing, insults), death, violence, blood & injuries, weapons, heavy & mature themes (sex work, murder, assassination, execution, mentions of misogyny)

a/n: this has simultaneously been the pride and joy of my life and the bane of my entire existence for the last 2.5 months 🥴 and tumblr is an inept incapable CLOWN who cannot handle the full 24k worth of bullet points so here is the hyung line first - maknae line coming soon (yumi @sorryimananti-romantic can vouch for my unsuccessful 3-hour attempt at formatting them into a single post)

hongjoong

pov: you're the king's royal courtesan

“fuck,” hongjoong lets out a deep growl from within his chest as his head dips down to rest against the crook of your neck. “you’re just as tight as last time”

when your hips involuntarily buck from the pleasure, he nudges your thighs further apart and keeps your wrists pinned above your head

he can’t help but let out another groan when he feels your walls clench around his cock as you adjust to his thickness

“i thought- god,” a moan escapes you after he thrusts his hips against you, “thought you never fucked the same woman twice”

“i don’t,” he simply says

and it’s true

hongjoong is one of the youngest princes to have ruled during the kim dynasty, having risen to power after the previous king succumbed early to an unknown illness

he has the choice and selection of all the courtesans available within the palace and outside its walls

hongjoong also has a reputation of being highly sought after by everybody, not just amongst courtesans

it’s not only because he is devilishly handsome, knows how to properly fuck somebody dumb, and is the literal king

the main thing that makes him so desirable and unreachable?

he never sees the same courtesan more than once

“yet here you are,” you hook your legs around hongjoong’s waist to gain leverage and meet his thrusts with your own hips, “between my legs for the second time”

you smirk when he curses and throws his head back

his grip on your wrists tightens and his voice drops dangerously low

“the first time doesn’t count because i was meant to see lady chae. so really, this is the first time i’m requesting for your services”

he silences you from retorting by pressing a bruising kiss against you, lips messily attaching to yours before trailing down the sharp angle of your jaw to bite your neck

you are a courtesan for people of nobility and royal status

part of the ‘house of flowers’ and commonly referred to as ‘flower courtesans’, you and the other women are highly-sought after for the companionship you offer

you are well protected by the house of flowers though - the services of companionship that you provide is requested by your client, but is ultimately accepted or rejected by you

lady chae, another of the flower courtesans and one of your closest friends, is requested by the king for her services

it is quite clear what it is going to entail and you both spend several of the following nights giggling and whispering scandalously to one another

whether the rumours about his stamina will be true

whether lady chae will be the first to break his one-fuck rule

except when the day of the meeting comes around, she spikes a sudden fever

lady shin, the head of the house of flowers, takes all but one look at her before ordering her to bed rest despite both of your attempts to, albeit unconvincingly, persuade lady shin that chae’s fever would only serve to help make the king’s dick warmer

lady shin is not amused to say the least

with the last minute hitch, the king agrees for you to be sent out to him as a replacement instead

and you end up being the flower courtesan who he breaks his reputed rule for

(lady chae is initially jealous, understandably)

(but very quickly, she appears to be even more excited than you are as she combs through your undergarments for the “sluttiest set” that she can find)

your attention is brought back as hongjoong flicks his tongue over your hardened nipples, continuing to drag his length in and out of you while your back arches off the bed

you tease in between short breaths, “are you really bringing up another woman’s name while you have your cock inside me?”

“you brought it up first,” he reminds you, accentuating his answer with timed thrusts

you grind your hips against his, chasing more friction against your clit as you feel your high approaching

“why?” he snakes one of his hands down between your connected torsos to rub messy circles against your clit, smirking as he asks, “are you getting jealous already?”

for that, you clench down hard on his cock, immediately feeling the way it throbs inside of you as you bring him closer to his orgasm too

“as if. fuck off”

your words are hardly audible from the whines that are leaving your mouth due to the added pressure of another finger against your clit from your retaliation

“i’m close,” hongjoong releases his grip on your wrists so that he can straighten his body, anchoring his hand on your hip instead so that he can fuck you and rub your clit with his other hand with renewed vigour

when you hear him groan, “cum for me,” the string snaps and your whole body quivers in his hold as your orgasm washes over you

hongjoong’s hips gradually stutter to a pause, an occasional thrust inside your clenching pussy as he milks out the rest of his cum inside of you

he finally eases himself out of you and hums in satisfaction as he watches his cum slowly leak out of you

hongjoong drops down beside you, toned chest covered in a sheen layer of sweat as it rises up and down with his pants

when your fuzzy mind has cleared a little from the blissful haze of your orgasm, he strokes his fingertips along the side of your thigh, along the curve of your ass, and over the dip of your waist just under your breasts as he says, “you better not be jealous. first one to get jealous loses”

“if anyone’s going to get jealous first, it’s you,” you scoff back

he raises an eyebrow

oh yeah?

he shoves his leaking cum back inside of you and fingers you to another orgasm

now that shuts you up

for a man who barks, he sure has no bite, because you find yourself being notified by lady shin several days later of yet another request for your services under the king’s name

and another request turns into another

and every single time, hongjoong makes sure that the only word leaving your lips for those many hours is his moaned name

but at the same time, the more you and hongjoong meet, the more he just savours in your simple companionship

he asks you to teach him how to embroider because you’ve mentioned before it’s how you like to spend your free evenings

he rifles through your bag of materials that you bring

you smack his hand away at the carelessness with which he’s upturning everything

“what’s this?” he holds up a large, wooden hoop before trying to fit it through his head, “a necklace?”

“i wonder if people know they appointed an idiot to be king,” you say as you gently unscrew the hoops and demonstrate how to align a piece of fabric between the rings

he watches with interest as you screw the outer hoop tighter until the fabric is nice and taut and then repeat the process so you both have one to work with

you have to help hongjoong thread his needle too, because apparently the king’s fingers are only good for scissoring you open

you weave your own needle through the fabric at a slow pace whilst telling him the different names and uses of the stitches you’re showing him

except, when you look up to see if he’s following?

his own hoop has been abandoned to one side and he’s leaning against his hand as he gazes cheekily at you

“were you even paying attention?”

he sounds a little too confident when he answers not at all

in return, hongjoong shows you how to write hanja the next time you meet

he positions himself behind you with his hand over yours as he guides you through different characters stroke by stroke

he claims that there are specific ways of applying pressure to the brush so he has to be holding your hand at all times

you most definitely roll your eyes several times but you indulge him anyway

there are a lot of giggles and teasing pushes when you accidentally dip the end of your sleeve into the ink and you try to spread it onto his robes too

(the calligraphy may or may not become forgotten when hongjoong pins you down to stop your cheeky behaviour, because things naturally escalate whenever he has you under him)

you two do eventually manage to finish one decent-looking scroll of characters which he ends up gifting you so that you ‘don’t forget’ about him when you’re not with him

when you walk back into the house of flowers, the hanging scroll perks lady shin’s interest as you walk past

“hongjoong taught me how to write my name today”

lady shin waggles her eyebrows at you suggestively because of how casually you refer to the king, for which you nudge her with a shoulder

she laughs then asks to have a look

you unravel the paper to show her but then she makes a funny noise

“that’s not your name? these are the characters for- oh,” she cackles scandalously to herself, as if she has made a secret discovery

“what does it mean?” you hurry to clarify

you wouldn’t put it past him to have taught you a crude phrase instead, like ‘best tits’ or ‘biggest ass’

lady shin lets out an amused exhale, handing the scroll back to you

“it says, my flower”

you’re looking at those exact characters from where you lay on your bed when a knock sounds on your door several days later

lady shin steps into your room with a warm smile as you greet her

“you have an appointment with lord min tomorrow, but the king has just inquired about your service availability for tomorrow,” she informs you. “would you like me to give him the usual answer?”

this isn’t the first time a clash has occurred, particularly with the increasing frequency with which hongjoong requests to see you

you have always told lady shin to ask for hongjoong’s pardon and to offer him an alternative time or day, because in the end, you still need to maintain a professional and admirable reputation as a flower courtesan

and as you open your mouth to tell her ‘yes’, your eye catches the scroll hanging on your wall

my flower

you hesitate

“actually,” you look away from the hanja, “i’ll see hongjoong.”

lady shin gives you a motherly smile as she nods in understanding and closes the door behind her

the next day you see him, he excitedly points out the large tambour frame in his room that he bought just a few days prior, claiming you two can work on a big embroidery patch together now

you give him one look then demote him back to the small embroidery hoop because he still hasn’t learnt his basic stitches yet

(that’ll teach him to not pay attention when you’re demonstrating, ha)

you relent and end up going through the different stitches with him again anyway

and you find that he’s actually not that bad with embroidery once he’s actually focused on the task at hand

it’s nice, basking in each other's presence while he threads his little square of fabric and you work with the large frame you have now essentially claimed as yours

not that hongjoong minds; he did buy it solely to make you happy

and then you offhandedly mention that someone had gifted you a handkerchief with your initials embroidered on one of the corners the other day

“i actually have it on me, in fact,” and you take it out from where it’s tucked into your waist so that you can show him

he juts out his chin as he peers down at the delicate letters, huffing, “it’s pretty, i guess”

then as an afterthought he tacks on, “bet i could do a better job”

“are you jealous right now, kim hongjoong?”

said man is hellbent on avoiding your eyes as he picks up his needle and thread again

“no i’m not!”

“whatever you say,” you smirk

after that day though, you don’t receive another request from hongjoong to meet until two weeks later

which, in the grand scheme of things, really isn’t much

but in comparison to the frequency at which you are used to seeing him, the frequency at which your body is used to having him, it is much too long

you are almost beginning to wonder whether you shouldn’t have brought up the handkerchief gift

yet, he greets you with his usual teasing squeeze of your waist, dangerously close to your ass

you make a move to follow him through the doors to his chambers but he turns around to produce a silk cloth

he starts to blindfold you, whispering sultrily, “i have a surprise for you”

you feel the hairs on the back of your neck raise at his tone

guiding you inside, hongjoong gently pushes you down so that you sink into the plush duvet of his bed

“do you trust me?” he whispers

trying not to dwell on the urge to lick your dry lips, you answer, “of course”

you feel him tugging slowly on the string that holds the front of your corset together, loosening your dress with tenderness like you are a fragile gift

you shiver when your shoulders are suddenly exposed to the cold air

and then the sensation is followed by the warmth of hongjoong’s soft exhales along the expanse of your collarbones as he leans closer to fully disrobe your shoulders

you have to remind yourself to keep breathing

“you can look now,” he tells you

you remove the silk cloth from around your eyes, unsure of what to expect

it takes a few blinks to readjust your vision to the room around you but then your eyes finally focus

and you gasp

there, hung on the wall with its striking viridian green, shimmering threads and intricate swirls on glorious display, is quite possibly the most stunning dress you have ever laid eyes upon

“try it on,” he encourages

but as you step closer, you realise the lacing across the front of the corset and running down the sleeves of the top dress is in fact, not lacing

it’s patchy

it’s uneven

it has empty areas

but it is no doubt embroidery

“did you…did you make this?” you reach out a hand to lightly caress one of the embroidered flowers, not quite daring to believe that hongjoong would go to these lengths for you

“of course,” he wraps his arms around you from behind and presses a light kiss against your temple, “i’m not losing to a lousy handkerchief”

“is that why you disappeared for two weeks?”

you let out a laugh, sinking into his embrace, because the image of the great king holed up in his chambers for days on end, hunched over your dress with a needle, thread and frown on his face is just too endearing

he lets out a warning huff as he turns you around in his embrace to face him

upturning his hands, he shows you the tips of his fingers and grumbles, “i poked myself so many times for you and you laugh at me?”

you bring his hands closer to your face, pressing light kisses to his fingertips as you smile, “thank you, joong. i love it so much, i really do”

he looks at you impossibly soft

under his tender gaze, something suddenly rushes to your very core

you hold one his hands steady in front of your lips then swirl your tongue out in an experimental lick over his fingers

it’s almost captivating how quickly his pupils dilate and zero in on your tongue

so you dare to bring his fingers into your mouth

you suck on them a little harder

a little deeper

and then you moan around his fingers, “i want you”

he lets out a groan himself, feeling the front of his breeches tighten as his cock twitches

“i- fuck, i didn’t give the dress to you in hopes that it would lead to this,” yet despite his words he is stepping you backwards so that he can pin you against the wall

“i know, but i want you,” you palm his growing bulge, your knees going weak at how hard he already is. “and i need you. now.”

he doesn’t need further encouragement

he shoves the remainder of your clothes aside before inserting his fingers roughly between your folds

it doesn’t take long for him to bring you to your first orgasm, curling his fingers relentlessly as you ride them

he spreads your cum over your pussy and you buck your hips with a whine when he circles over your clit briefly

then he’s turning you around and bending you over, one of your hands bracing against the wall, your other arm held behind your back by hongjoong’s firm grasp

“fuck, you’re so wet,” his whole body shivers with pleasure as his cock slips right into you

the obscene sounds of his hips slapping against your ass and your slick being pushed back into your hole over and over again fill the room

and to the clenching of your pussy from another orgasm, hongjoong also cums into you with a guttural groan of your name

he gently carries you to his bed and lays you on top of the covers

he leaves your side for a moment and you listen to him rummage through something while you try to regain control of your quaking legs

when he comes back, you feel him gently spreading your legs and then the ticklish sensation of a soft cloth along your inner thighs

a whine escapes your lips when he rubs over your sensitive clit and hongjoong grips your thigh a little tighter

“be careful what pretty sounds you’re making if you can’t handle another round”

it isn’t until he finishes cleaning you up and lies down next to you to start wiping himself down that you look over and realise what it is that he’s been using this whole time

your mouth drops in disbelief

when hongjoong notices your expression, he smirks, “the man who gave you this has no idea his handkerchief is being used to clean my cum off your thighs”

“hongjoong!” you flush with a laugh. “you are definitely jealous, aren’t you?”

“yes, i’m fucking jealous,” he growls, “you’re the only one i want. you’re the only woman i’ve been requesting for since i’ve seen you. and i want to be the only one who gets to have you, too”

you confess, “well, you can have all of me. because i’ve started refusing other people just for you”

he looks at you for another moment before he’s suddenly straddling your hips

“change of plans,” he says breathily, “i need you again”

“very good plan,” you grind up against him

and then you pause, mirth starting to bubble in your throat, “one last thing though”

hongjoong looks down with amusement in his own eyes, wondering what could possibly be so funny

“that handkerchief?” you start, struggling not to laugh when his eyes immediately narrow, “i never said it was from a man. it was a gift from lady chae”

seonghwa

pov: you're his royal guard

as soon as you notice the movement out of the corner of your eye, your body reacts straight away

you murmur seonghwa’s name with a tight voice and move to position yourself in front of him, unwilling to risk the prince’s safety

one of your hands grasps the hilt of your sword, ready to unsheathe it at the first sign of danger, as your calculative gaze darts between the two young men stumbling closer on the dirt path and the line of forest trees from which they appear

they are wearing simple tunics and breeches with their colour faded and seams loosening from wear

from what you can discern, they are simply commoners, but that does not rule out the possibility that they are bandits

seonghwa seems to think otherwise, though

unsurprising but still grating

the prince places his hand on your shoulder gently in a silent reassurance and request for you to step aside

albeit reluctantly, you force yourself to move to his left

it becomes clear to you as the two figures stop just shy of a few feet away that the term ‘men’ was pushing it - their faces are young and they appear to be no older than seventeen or eighteen

the young strangers dip their head in greeting, one of them apologising as well as he pulls out a tattered map that he extends out for you two to see

“my companion and i are traveling to the village norshaw but seem to have lost our way. would you be able to point us in the right direction?” the one with the map asks

“of course,” seonghwa offers with a kind smile

you watch as the three of them step closer together to look more closely at the map

on high alert, and just as you are predicting, you see the companion shuffle closer to seonghwa, hand inching towards the leather pouch that hangs from the prince’s belt

you catch the subtle motion of seonghwa’s eyes flickering down just an inch

because of how well you understand his body language, you know that it means he has already noticed the thieving intention

but because of how well you understand seonghwa, you know that he isn’t going to do anything about it either

so you strike in his stead

your hand darts out to snatch the thieve’s wrist, twisting his forearm upwards so that he is forced to lean awkwardly towards one side to prevent his elbow from snapping

his partner drops the map, letting out a string of curses and hesitating for all but three seconds before he turns around to flee

scoffing, you threaten the one who is still in your hold, who then bolts with his tail between his legs after you release him

"did you really need to scare them off like that? it's not like i had any money in the pouch anyway," seonghwa chastises with a chuckle

"yes," you deadpan. "i did not spend the last two hours of our trip pausing every fifty meters to wait for you to pick up a rock because you thought it looked pretty, only for them to be stolen by a pair of petty thieves"

"it would have been funny to imagine their faces after realising what they stole," seonghwa grins

“mhm,” you hum, “and the next thing you know, you’ll wake up to your palace ransacked, because word in town is that you can steal from the prince and get away with it”

he levels you with a boyish scowl, “you’re so dramatic. what are you, my mother?”

“no, but i am your royal bodyguard”

“exactly. you are my bodyguard, not my brainguard. if i am to be swindled of my pretty rocks, then so be it”

you roll your eyes out of exasperation, but everything is swiftly forgotten minutes later when you point out a heart-shaped rock and seonghwa rushes over to pick it up

it has been like this ever since the incident occurred - him, the sunshine; you, the sunshine protector

it has been almost four years since it happened

somebody had attempted arsenic poisoning of not only seonghwa, but also those working under him

you had noticed strange discolouring of the silverware in the kitchen and on the table serving his dinner, which prompted an investigation and subsequent discovery of the perpetrator

an act of betrayal and treachery by one of his closest relatives - his very own uncle

seonghwa was - still is - too merciful and tender-hearted to punish his uncle, even if the severity of his uncle’s crimes warranted execution

to have his trust broken so shatteringly hurt seonghwa more than if he were to actually have been poisoned

you still remember like it was yesterday; the sight of the prince slumped against the wall, weighed down by chains of turmoil and despair as whispers fly through the palace of the weak-hearted prince who is unable to deliver fair judgement

it is the sight of the prince looking so small and lost that drives your feet forward to stand before him

as the soft draught coming through the windows tugs gently on your tresses and the flickers of candlelight illuminate the glint of steel in your hand, you make a decision

“i’ll be your sword,” you pledge

not just as his royal guard, but as his haven when he is forced to face corruption and wickedness

and when you see the way his shoulders immediately sag with relief at your declaration, the way he nods like a child who has been reassured that everything will be okay, you tell yourself that seonghwa will never have to dirty his hands as long as you are with him

you will be the dark to his light; the yin to his yang

quietly, you see to it that his uncle is executed for his crimes - your statement to the rest of the palace that prince seonghwa is not to be mocked

neither of you bring it up again, but seonghwa knows

he pulls you into a wholehearted hug, arms enveloping you securely as his chest shakes with shuddering breaths of thank you over and over again

you rub your hand up and down his sturdy back soothingly

it is an action that simultaneously reciprocates his embrace and his crossed line of professionalism

one that starts the shift in dynamic between you both, boundaries of sought comfort blurring with friendship and then something more

where seonghwa is too trusting and too soft-spoken, you become his skepticism and his voice

“you should be more wary of others,” you always remind him

“and you should be more trusty of others,” he’ll retort

yet, he will never make a decision that does not receive your input nor one that you do not agree with

where seonghwa is too gentle and too humble, you become his sword and his shield

you do not waver when you strike down foe, and friends turned foe alike

you speak up and establish firm boundaries when others take advantage of the respect he shows everybody regardless of their class or status

and yet, if you find yourself on the receiving end of someone’s condescension or discriminatory treatment, be it due to your rank as a guard or identity as a woman, seonghwa will be advancing forward to defend you before you can do so yourself

where seonghwa is too innocent and too bushy-tailed, you become his eyes and his caution

your morning walks together always last for longer than they are scheduled for

he stops to watch every butterfly and bumblebee that flutters along the flowery path, and he waits for caterpillars to crawl onto a leaf that he holds by the stem so that he can move the critters off the pathway

you love to watch him and his glittering eyes, his cheeks rosy from happiness and from the air still crisp with morning dew

but you also make sure to watch his surroundings with greater vigilance because the quiet peace that the freshly awoken sun brings simultaneously increases the likelihood of a targeted attack against him

as much as you rib him for being a marshmallow personified, however, and as much as he banters back that you are more than welcome to resign at any time, neither of you want it any other way

seonghwa carries out a lot of gestures that he justifies to himself as being eternally grateful for you and the things you do for him

he likes to gift you flowers he has plucked from his garden or the bushes he walks past that remind him of you

(“that’s actually just a very pretty-looking weed, but thank you, seonghwa,” you tell him on more than one occasion)

(it’s adorable, because the next time he finds a flower, he goes to the length of certifying that it is indeed a flower with the merchant who sells bouquets in the nearby town before presenting it to you, eyes gleaming with pride)

you stand still and let him tuck a flower behind your ear, sometimes braiding your hair gently so that he can weave and secure the stem into your hair, holding your breath as his features fill with the same enrapturement that he would admire a beautiful artwork with

after you voice this out one day, seonghwa supposes to himself that there is not much difference between an artwork and you

not that he’s attracted to you or anything - you just…have an objectively attractive face

yes.

especially when your usually-piercing expression is softened by fatigue, guard no longer up as you sleep slumped over a desk while accompanying him during his late night of studies

he does not realise his feet have moved until he is right beside your resting form, as if the soft exhales escaping from your slightly parted lips are a siren’s song

seonghwa tenderly brushes your stray locks away from your face and behind your neck

except he forgets to account for the fact that you are trained to sleep on the brink of consciousness

the squeal that leaves his mouth when your reflexes kick in and you almost slit his throat resounds at a frequency so high you almost believe it comes from your own mouth

you have a grand time watching his beet red face stutter out an excuse as to what exactly he was doing so close to you

needless to say, that is the last time seonghwa ever tries to do anything while you are sleeping

but as much as he bumbles around, he also reveals his perceptiveness when you least expect it

like now, as you accompany the prince to one of his meetings with numerous advisors and ministers

it is relatively dull and uneventful, mostly a cordial appearance to maintain amicable and loyal relationships with his subjects

conversation is limited to pleasantries and at one point, seonghwa even points out the calligraphy paintings hung at the back of the room

everyone nods with throaty laughs as if the paintings are indeed the most exquisite and tasteful artworks they have ever laid their eyes upon

when you and seonghwa arrive back at his chambers following the conclusion of the meeting, he walks over to his bed and shakes the sleeves of his robe over the expanse of his duvet

and out drops a neatly-wrapped sweet, followed by another, then another, until there are enough to amount to two handfuls

baffled, you look at seonghwa, because these are the very same treats that had been plated on the tables during the meeting

“you smuggled candy out of the room?” you try to keep the amusement out of your voice

he peers into his sleeves to ensure there are no more stragglers, before turning to face you as he waves his hands over the small collection of goods on his bed

as if they are-

“for you!” he exclaims almost proudly. “i saw you eyeing them during the meeting so i took some for you”

okay

most definitely proudly 

you feel something tickling you from within, as if he has reached through your chest to directly caress your heart with a delicate finger

“when did you even…” your voice trails off when it comes out a little fonder than you are expecting it to

“remember the paintings i pointed out?” seonghwa giggles, and you think that the hand in your chest is now cradling your heart completely. “i swiped the sweets when everyone was looking back at them”

“thank you, hwa,” you settle on saying, because you do not trust yourself to say anything else

that is more than enough for him, though

which, of course it is - this is seonghwa, with his huge heart that fills easily with the smallest of things

he eagerly hands you one of the treats and you unwrap it to place into your mouth

you’ve had these before, but this one that he has specially grabbed for you tastes remarkably sweeter

you wonder if his lips will taste the same…

but then you accidentally bite your tongue, hard enough to draw blood, and you realise just how wrong you are for letting those fleeting thoughts into your mind

because while you navigate the world in thick droplets of red and sharp glints of silver, seonghwa sees the world in soft hues of pastel and gleaming rays of yellow

how could the two palettes ever blend together harmoniously?

so instead, you grant yourself one last moment of selfishness and pull him into a hug, a gesture that toes the already shaky borders of professionalism yet can still be excused under the guise of friendship

you realise that he has always meant much more to you, but that is what this will stay as - a mere realisation

seonghwa wraps his arms around your form as he relaxes into the way your bodies naturally meld together

it’s strange how easily you slot into his life, his thoughts, his heart

he wonders whether it’s possible for feelings of appreciation to run so deeply and potently within somebody, like a drug that he cannot get enough of

and when you take a step away from him, leaving his chest feeling physically and emotionally empty, he wonders if he is perhaps…

in love with you

following that incident, it is almost as if a switch flips - both of you take several steps away from the line that has been danced around

but neither of you notice the distance because you are both consumed by your own thoughts

until one of your usual morning walks around the castle walls of his palace

seonghwa is wondering whether the bushes you walk past remind you of the flowers he used to gift you and you are debating whether to reach out to brush a petal out of his half ponytail 

then, like deja vu, your eyes flicker towards the burst of movement as a figure covered in black comes darting forwards with their blade raised intended for murder

you immediately start to unsheathe your sword, feet poised and prepared to defend-

until you are harshly tugged back and the prince steps in front of you to parry the strike that the assassin tries to land

it takes your lifetime of training and experience to snap back into focus and thrust your sword into the enemy’s exposed side

when you are sure he is dead, you whirl around to descend upon seonghwa with a voice trembling from both anger and relief

“what in the world were you thinking?” you yell

“i-”

taking a step forward, you toss your sword to one side, “no, actually. you weren’t thinking at all”

“i was afraid that you would get hurt!” he takes his own step closer

“that is my duty!” the volume of your voice raises even more. “i am willing to lay down my life to ensure your safety! i have been guarding you for years now and you have never acted this way. what has changed?”

for a moment, the only sound that punctuates the silence is your harsh breathing

seonghwa swallows

“my feelings…” he whispers, a stark contrast to the peak of emotions you have been riding. “my feelings for you have changed”

your throat tightens at his words

it is your turn to whisper, a noise of confusion leaving your lips

he takes another step closer, bringing himself to stand right in front of you as he looks down earnestly into your eyes

“i’d rather be the protector, and you be the protected”

“but…why?” your heart races with anticipation

“because i’m in love with you” 

right at the invisible border that has been separating you two for as long as you have been his guard, seonghwa now stands, hands wringing together as he awaits a response

“then that makes the two of us,” you confess

you step forward to take your familiar spot on the other side of the line, except this time you do not stop

you stride over the boundary completely to stand by his side

raising yourself onto your tiptoes, you pull him down slightly by the front of his doublet so that you can press a chaste kiss to the corner of his lips

it stretches wider and curves upwards under the nurturing of your own smile

you can’t help but give him another kiss on the other side of his mouth to match the one you just gave him

“from now on,” seonghwa starts, “i’ll be your sword”

you wouldn’t really, and you will fight him to let you continue being his guard, but that doesn’t stop one last teasing question from escaping you

“does this mean i get to retire?”

yunho

pov: you're part of a rebel group

the crown prince is not in his fucking library

for the past three weeks, the crown prince has always been in the royal library at night

until today

under normal circumstances, his royal guards and staff would be alerted to ensure that the deviance in routine is a conscious decision and not an issue of the crown prince missing

except doing that would make your job significantly harder…

considering you have been ordered to assassinate him.

you’re part of the ‘red sun’, a revolutionary movement aiming to overthrow the current monarch

following the debilitating state of the king after falling ill and the subsequent coronation of queen jeong into power, she has since then established numerous royal decrees to keep everyone under her reign on a tight leash

a leash made of barbed wire

people are quick to become resentful and thirsty for an end to the dictatorship and bloodline

although he has made limited public appearances, the crown prince has also developed a reputation rivaling the queen’s

within the second year of the jeong dynasty, red sun has already amassed a multitude of supporters

the focus is currently on growing in numbers, preparing for an imminent revolution and picking off corrupt royals and noblists, be it through incrimination or assassination

dealing with those in positions of higher power is a task only completed by an elite selection of red sun rebels who have distinguished skills and traits that set them apart from peasants and commoners

and you are amongst the elite team

which is why you find yourself staking out on the tiled roof of the imperial palace, clothed in black with a mask and hooded cowl covering your face that blends you in with the darkness of night, on the orders of a higher-up to assassinate the crown prince

except the target is missing; the information you were given is wrong

which never happens

you can’t risk staying around for much longer, especially now that the crown prince has broken his routine

he could be anywhere and so could his royal guards

you shift your body to a crouch and place your hands on the cool tiles beneath you, ready to leave

only to spot a figure, crouched just like you are, on the opposite side of the roof

their face is a black hole of nothing within the shrouded confines of their hood, but you can feel their gaze piercing into you all the same

you run

you scramble to the edge of the roof and nimbly leap off the curved eaves to the neighbouring structure of the study room

when you glance backwards, you see the man - physique now obvious - is keeping up easily along the stepping stones of roofs

this game of cat and mouse isn’t going to work for long

if you don’t get caught by him first, you’re both going to get caught by the palace guards

so you make a split decision and alter your next trajectory lower

keeping your arms outstretched for the eaves, you grab on tightly when your fingers touch the edge of the roof and use your core to kick your legs up to stop your body from slamming into the wall from the momentum of your jump

you let go and drop to the ground like a feline, noiseless, and slink towards a line of trees

then you wait

he’s good, you note to yourself, when the only sound that alerts you to his presence is the quick scuffle of his feet as he softens his impact against the wall and the muted thud of his body landing on the ground

“state your purpose,” he demands, voice low yet firm

you ignore him to ask, “who are you?”

now up close, you can see that the man is wearing attire almost the same as you are, identity also hidden by the his bandana and hood-

wait

even the dark red stitching that subtly replaces the original seam on the right shoulder of his outer clothing is the same

the same as those on the elite team

“one of you,” he confirms your suspicions

except you don’t recognise his voice nor his build

being one of the earliest members of the rebel organisation, you are familiar with all the members who carry out missions like yours

he is not one of them; not one you can trust yet

when you don’t speak, he adds on, “we need to go. the safehouse might be in danger”

we

he refers to the two of you so easily, as if you and him are an unspoken team

you cannot trust this man until you know for sure he is part of red sun, so you ask him

“when is red most beautiful?”

it is a vague question with a fixed answer

one that reflects the heart of the revolutionary itself

during the sunrise of a new beginning 

“during the sunrise of a new beginning,” the man says resolutely

the tension releases from your shoulders 

“okay,” you opt to abandon your original mission. “let’s check on the safehouse”

the man offers you a hand to hike yourself up onto one of the outer walls of the palace before he jumps up himself with ease

you both flip over the top and land in unison

the moon illuminates the ground beneath your feet as you both sprint into the surrounding forest

the safehouse is really just a small hut situated far enough from the palace to stay inconspicuous, yet not close enough to the outer borders of the kingdom to risk discovery by the frequent border patrols

you both slow down as you approach the clearing, steadying your breaths and treading with cautious steps

and then you hear it

the shattering clang of a desperate parry

all it takes is a quick glance at the man by your side before your eyes harden with purpose and your steps are dashing in unison towards the hut

you’re both hit with the smell of a metallic tang in the air, and it’s not from your drawn swords

bursting through the door, you quickly take in the scene before you

several red sun members are scattered around the hut and slumped in varying degrees of injury

it’s easy to spot the intruder; they’re yanking their sword out of a body’s torso as they simultaneously turn to look at you

and it’s hard to miss the royal insignia of the jeong monarch on their chest plate

you have the element of surprise

but only for the next few seconds

you leap forward with the thud of footsteps of your partner following almost immediately, side-stepping once you close the distance to dodge a haphazard swing

there’s a brief break in defense when the enemy tries to aim for another strike that leaves the gap in the side of their armour exposed

you feel the slight resistance of your sword entering flesh as you thrust it forward into them

except when you try to tug it back out, a hand grasps your own and the hilt of your sword, stopping you from stepping away

the enemy has realised they are not going to make it out of this alive

but if they are to die, then they are going to take one last person with them

you.

you see glint of metal as they use their other hand to swing their sword down onto you, only for it to be deflected at the last second by another sword

the man you have met for barely an hour is now at your side with his towering protectiveness

in one smooth kick, his long leg sends the other careening into the wall of the hut with a mighty slam

you feel yourself jerking forward from the enemy’s grasp still on your hand

but the man next to you quickly tucks you into his side before you are also sent sprawling

“check on the others,” he briefly says, and then he is striding towards the fallen intruder

you only spare him another quick glance and then you rush to the nearest figure on the ground

you go around checking for pulses, and for those who are still breathing, the extent of their injuries

there are several casualties but nowhere near as many if you and the man had not come to check on the safehouse

which suddenly makes you pause in your tracks

how did he know about the attack in the first place?

you stretch your legs from their squatted position next to one of the red sun members and turn around to confront him

except…the man has disappeared

and so has the intruder’s body

days later, the question of whether you will chance upon the man again tonight flits through your mind when you find yourself perched in the very same spot on the tiled roof of the palace that gives you a clear view of the royal library

you have received another order to assassinate the crown prince as soon as you see the opportunity arise

this time, the note is accompanied by a cyanide capsule, a non-verbal message that this mission is to occur with your life on the line

you spot him

he’s preoccupied by the scroll in his hand as he makes his way through the shelves of parchments

you wait until he’s walked far enough into the library before you drop down from the roof, keeping your stance low to ensure you stay hidden as you silently move closer

you take out the jagged dagger from its sheath by your waist as you anticipate it will be too difficult to wield your long sword in the narrow aisles

and there the crown prince stands

he has his back to you, exposing him to your mercy

mercy that you have no intention of showing him

the cruel heir to the throne of an even crueler dictatorship deserves none

“it’s you again, isn’t it?”

you freeze

the crown prince still has not turned around to address you, but you can feel the dark gaze of his eyes on you as if he were looking at you

“you were here a few days ago”

fuck

how he knows you have no idea

what you do know though is that you have about two seconds to make a move before you lose this chance to assassinate him completely, and quite possibly, lose your life as well

the pill you have hidden in the breast of your tunic feels heavy

“you are part of red sun, are you not?”

this time the crown prince does turn around to face you, but it isn’t the nonchalance with which he reveals your identity that makes your head reel

it is the warmth and softness in his gaze and the hint of a smile on his face that does

what the actual fuck

you’re convinced that the crown prince is not only heinous, but also batshit crazy

“i am,” you spit out at him, “with orders to assassinate you, in fact”

his mouth thins into a tight line, “the orders you have received are false”

“sounds exactly like something a crown prince would say to avoid being assassinated,” you scoff

but then his next words change everything

“red is most beautiful during the sunrise of a new beginning”

before you have time to fathom the bomb that has just been dropped, your heads swivel simultaneously towards the entrance of the royal library when a voice calls out for the crown prince

“hide,” he hisses urgently

and then he’s stepping further away to conceal your presence as best as possible

you hear the shuffle of footsteps approaching before they stop, dangerously close to where you’re crouched behind a bookshelf

“apologies for interrupting your time, crown prince,” they say

from where you are you can see the crown prince’s expression clear as he lets out a small huff, “i have told you many times to just call me yunho”

“of course, crown prince yunho”

even though you can’t see the other person’s expression, you can hear the amusement in their voice

they continue, “i have the information you have requested for”

“thank you,” you see him - yunho - receive a small scroll. “the queen does not know?”

“no, i made sure to be as discreet as possible”

yunho thanks the other once again and your eyes nearly fall out of their sockets when he bows his head in appreciation as he dismisses them

is this the same crown prince as the rumours?

and what is he doing behind his mother’s back?

you don’t realise you’ve been staring dumbly at him until he’s back in front of you with amusement on his face

he stands tall and proud, robes accentuating his stature and nobility

“who exactly are you,” you dare to ask

your voice is small - you feel small, crouched at his feet like a stark physical representation of the power he holds over you

but then he takes yet another step closer and kneels down so that your eyes meet at the same level

“i am the leader of red sun. the creator of the whole revolution”

your ankles actually do give out at that and you have to seat yourself on the floor

because how is any of this possible?

you must have voiced your thoughts out loud, because before you know it, yunho is crossing his legs and making himself comfortable on the floor right in front of you

it makes you feel so strange

the crown prince’s willingness to make himself an equal before you - and even to his staff from earlier

yunho starts to explain

a change in monarch, particularly one of such dictatorship, requires massive momentum and synergy; something he cannot produce alone nor without the support of the people

thus, red sun came into existence for the exact same reason you and all the other supporters have joined

in hopes of a sunrise one day that marks a new beginning

a new leadership

except recently he has had growing suspicious of the presence of a traitor within the organisation, which were confirmed the night the safehouse was attacked

“that night…that man was you,” you realise, “and that’s how you know who i am”

he nods, “and that’s also how i know your orders are false.” yunho nudges you playfully with his knee, “pretty sure i never ordered for my own assassination”

yunho continues to explain that he had taken the intruder back for interrogation, but then you frown when he reveals the enemy had swallowed a suicide pill before any information could be gained

he has an inkling that someone in a high position of power is involved, since the pills are almost impossible to gain access to, but it cannot be ruled out as a coincidence

“hang on,” you pull down the top of your tunic in a hurry

yunho scrambles to cover his eyes and turns his head as he jokingly sputters out, “woah okay, this is moving a little fast don’t you think?”

you tug impatiently on the sleeve of his robe, telling him to look

yunho hesitates for another second before lowering his hands and realising you have-

“a suicide pill?” 

you look at each other, because this can only mean one thing

the pills are not a coincidence; the enemy is much closer than yunho would like

you’re both unsure how much time there is until the traitor decides to order someone else to assassinate yunho, or worse, decides to finish the job off themselves

but from that very night of discovery, you and yunho work together incessantly against a ticking time bomb

it’s a delicate balance between finding as many leads as you can and spreading out your investigations to stay under the radar

yunho tries to look further into the cyanide pills while you try to uncover any information regarding the order you had been given

whoever is behind it all has kept their tracks hidden well

there isn’t much to report from either of your ends whenever you sneak into the palace to meet up with yunho

but he makes it very hard for you to feel discouraged when he makes your meetings seem like casual catch ups between - you dare say - friends

you have yet to catch him by surprise whenever you drop down from the roof in front of him in an attempt to scare him; he has an uncanny ability to sense your presence

except, you think you prefer being unsuccessful, because your indignant grumbles never fail to bring out his toothy grin and an excited body jiggle

other times he is the one trying to fluster you

“remember that time you literally tried undressing yourself in front of me-”

“i was taking the pill out to show you!” 

you bring your thumb and index finger closer together in front of your face and squint at the gap

“i am this close to changing my mind and assassinating you after all”

he gets a kick out of it, pretending to beg for your mercy, “oh please spare me, your majesty”

other times, yunho teases you for always keeping your cowl and mask on

“bet it’s because you’re ugly or something,” he jokes

and you bite back that he had his face covered too when you both met, so you’re one to talk, ugly

“but since then i’ve always shown you my face as the crown prince. you can see me nice and clear,” he suddenly leans forward, so close you can see the dip of his cupid’s brow. “what do you think about me now?”

you swallow hard

you’re glad you have your mask on because you can feel your face rapidly heating up

“i think…” you gently cup his jaw, “you look better with your mask on,” as you nudge his face to the side

you cannot help but join in with your own chuckles at his laughter and boyish glee

and eventually, you two have a breakthrough

yunho manages to trace the cyanide back to a traveling merchant operating under the guise of selling rare herbs and medicine

in the transaction ledger, there is an unusually large purchase under the name of ‘lee minjun’

“i’m sure i’ve seen the name before somewhere, but i can’t remember where,” yunho huffs

you let out your own huff at his elbow that has very naturally taken a rest on your shoulder

pulling out a stack of paper, you spread it out onto the table before you two

they are past records of certain red sun missions that, upon looking back, seem suspicious

“i noticed a mark on a couple of them, a drawing or character perhaps? except none of them are fully intact. it’s almost like the paper was accidentally marked”

you point them out to yunho in hopes that he will have a better idea

he doesn’t - not at first

not until he chances upon two that vaguely align with each other to form a clearer image

“this-” yunho runs his hand through his hair, “this is butler lee’s stamp. my father’s butler.”

the king’s butler?

lee?

your eyes snap to yunho’s, just as his meet yours

“lee minjun”

you sink back in your seat

there’s now definite proof that the king’s butler is at the very least involved

the question of why and what for remains

in fact, you and yunho would not put it past the queen either to be involved too

there is a long moment of shared silence as you both mull over what this means for the future

yunho breaks the silence first

“after this all ends…do you want to work for me, officially?” he clears his throat, “will you stay by my side?”

after this all ends

you two must still uncover butler lee’s motives; likely part of a much grander scheme involving queen jeong too

you two must still bring down the whole monarch; with the support of red sun, yunho needs to sit on his rightful throne

the sun has yet to rise but you can see the faint hues of orange and twilight blue in the horizon

the new beginning is close

and at that, something in you relaxes

crumbles and disintegrates with utter relief

“it would be my honour to stay by your side forever, yunho”

and then you are removing your hood and mask, daring to breathe and feel alive and hopeful for once

ironically, yunho chokes on air

you glance at him to find that he is unable to meet your eyes

you think your eyes are deceiving you because-

the tips of his ears are a glowing red

you could definitely get used to seeing the usually calm and collected crown prince become a shy, blushing mess

the corner of your mouth rises with smugness, “like what you see?”

“you should really keep your hood and mask on,” he mumbles

“and why is that?” you humour him

he finally looks at you

and when he sees the shit-eating grin plastered across your face, his shoulders suddenly fill out again with confidence and cockiness to match yours

“because,” his voice deep and flirtatious, “with a pretty face like that, you’re going to distract me from my duties”

yeosang

pov: you're in an arranged marriage with him

ever since you could understand the words coming out of your parents’ mouths, you have known that you will be married to yeosang

it just made sense

for the respective princess and prince of two powerful kingdoms to join together, leading to increased power and stronger allies

it is tradition for the pair to meet their chosen spouse for the first time only when both parties have turned sixteen, and even then, subsequent meetings are rare until the time of the actual wedding

so you spend the first sixteen years of your life infatuated with the idea of your prince charming - of prince yeosang - wondering what he looks like, what his personality is like, and how you two will fall in love

and when you finally reach that long-awaited first meeting, prince charming is everything and more than what you have envisioned

if angels with broken wings were exiled to earth, they would look like yeosang

he is soft-spoken and slightly reserved, as any awkward teenager meeting their future spouse would be, but you don’t miss the way that his eyes overflow with adoration and his shoulders shake with exuberant giggles whenever his little sister, yeoreum, comes tottering into the room

he always bends down onto one knee to match her eye level, uncaring of the stains that mark his pants even as his mother narrows her eyes in disdain, and he listens with utmost sincerity when yeoreum tells him about the secret pink and glittery fairy she spotted in the courtyard 

they remind you of the relationship you share with your own little brother, juwon, who is barely half your age and height, yet has you wrapped around his little finger

you lean down closer with a hum at the soft tug on your dress to hear your little brother whisper conspiratorially into your ear, “he looks stupid”

if looks could kill, yeosang would be dead right now

you stifle a laugh as you flick juwon’s chin affectionately at his sudden display of childish jealousy

if anything, you’re pretty sure you are the one who looks stupid

stupidly in love

because walking away from that first meeting with yeosang and his family, you know that you are absolutely smitten for the prince

unable to quell the restlessness of having to wait until the next unforeseeable meeting, you pick up a quill that very same day you return to your palace and start writing

it takes you all night, the gentle gleams and winks of the stars keeping you company until they rotate shifts with the songs of the waking world

but by the time you have crossed out and scrunched your way through rolls and rolls of parchment paper, you are satisfied with the letter you have written

the letter addressed to prince yeosang, which you task eunju, one of your maids, with passing it to the royal couriers for delivery to the kang palace

it is a simple letter, thanking him for the enjoyable day, yet it holds the deeper message that you are interested in him and would like to become better acquainted before your marriage

you wonder whether his cheeks will flush a pretty red as his butler hands him your letter

whether he will trace his fingers delicately over the curve of your words

whether he will bite back a smile as he pictures you saying the words to him

two weeks pass, and you approximate the letter to have just been delivered to his kingdom

and although you desperately wish for him to immediately sit down with a quill in hand to pen out his reply, you wait and give him a week before you eagerly start counting down the days until the arrival of his letter

your whole life you have been able to wait patiently

you wonder what has changed now that mere weeks feel like an eternity

the day yeosang’s letter is due to arrive, you are sporadic bursts of giggles, twirls and skips throughout the palace

even juwon is starting to become sick of getting swept up into a crushing hug to the cheery tune of i loveee youuuu every single time you pass him

nothing can bring you down from cloud nine

only…the letter never comes

not the day after, not the week after, not the month after

you’re disappointed, of course, but you busy yourself with reasons why yeosang has not replied, and you don’t give up

you send him another letter, and then another, and another

sometimes you just tell him about your day - what made you smile, what made you sad, something interesting you saw, something your little brother said

other times you tell him about yourself - your hobbies, likes and dislikes, aspirations, fears 

and you also wonder about him

you ask what he likes, what he smiles at, what makes him sad, what his dreams are

with each letter that you hand over to eunju to be delivered, it becomes harder and harder to stay optimistic - not even the words of encouragement from your favourite maid lifts your spirits

you continue like this for over a year, still yet to receive a reply 

until-

you do.

it feels like you are brought back to that very night of your first meeting, feeling so very alive as hope and excitement cascade into your body the moment eunju hands you a letter with a smile

with shaking hands, you fumble to unpeel the wax seal and free the envelope’s contents - a single piece of paper, neatly folded

your mind races with anticipated words and explanations

perhaps he had been too shy to reciprocate your letters earlier

or perhaps your letters had been lost in transit

you unfold the parchment as the hairs on your skin raise in anticipation, only to find it blank save for one scrawled sentence in the middle of the paper-

stop sending me letters.

and just like that, the clock strikes twelve

your carriage reverts into a pumpkin

and your carefully curated story of prince charming disintegrates into ashes

you don’t write to him again.

years later, the stacks of parchment scrolls on the wooden desk of the guest room you are currently residing in feel like a fresh slap in the face each time your eyes land on them

they are a stark reminder of your very own letters, the cold rejection you received, and the irony of the only letter you ever received again following his being one from the kang monarchs, announcing the proceeding of the royal wedding between you and their son

now, only a few days newly-wed to yeosang, the king and queen are gracious enough to let you sleep in one of the guest rooms temporarily, under your claims of adjusting to a life in a new kingdom and as a wife

really, you are trying to avoid yeosang for as long as you can

you spend your time instead getting to know his little sister better, which is why you find yourself sitting side by side with yeoreum, legs dangling off the edge of your bed

she eyes the vase of flowers on your bedside table curiously, “did you buy that?”

“no,” you reach out to touch the baby’s breath, “someone delivered it to my room”

you had offhandedly mentioned to some of your staff the other day that flowers would make your room look more homey, and you had woken up the morning after to find the beautiful vase teeming with flowers next to you

“why?” you ask yeoreum when she hums thoughtfully

“it looks just like the vase in my brother’s room, but he’s weird about it. yeo never lets anyone touch it, much less have it”

you blanch a little, “in that case i’ll give it back to him later then”

“you don’t like it? or…you don’t like my brother? my brother talks about you a lot, you know,” she reveals

caught off-guard by her perceptiveness, you reveal that you have been hurt before

you don’t specify by what exactly or who it is that you’re talking about, but she seems to understand regardless

later that night, sweet yeoreum barges into yeosang’s room and with as much feistiness as she can muster, she glares at her brother and interrogates, “what did you do to make her upset?”

before he can so much as blink, yeoreum concludes, “you boys are dumb. go talk to her and fix it or something,” and then walks out with a huff

there’s no one there to witness it, but yeosang nods anyway

heart feeling a little heavy after your conversation with yeoreum, you head towards the kitchen to seek solace in the sweet pastry you are usually served each morning

the first time you tasted the danish pastry, decorated with strawberries and cream cheese, was when you had traveled to yeosang’s palace at the age of sixteen for your first meeting

you remember the blissful expression that had bloomed across your face with your initial bite, and no dessert ever captivated your tastebuds quite the same way ever again

if there is one good thing out of this arranged marriage with yeosang, then it would be the reunion between yourself and the strawberry danish

“your highness,” the head chef bows, followed by the rest of the staff in the kitchen, “how may we help you?”

when you ask for one of the pastries, the head chef apologises that there are none

“but we can make you one now, if you do not mind waiting”

you tell him not to go to the trouble and ease his worries, “i just thought there may have been leftover pastries”

“we make only one fresh every morning, specifically for you,” the chef explains, and confusion must settle across your features because he adds on, “his highness has expressed that you may like them”

oh?

flustered, you can only muster a short response of, “i do, thank you,” before you smile once more and excuse yourself

because of all people to notice and remember such a small detail, and then to go out of their way to put in the request with the kitchen on the off chance that it was still true, it was yeosang? 

first the vase, and now this

you feel something deeply buried inside of you start to stir but you rush to nip it in the bud

your head and your heart are beginning to wage war against each other and suddenly everything feels like it’s too much

when you reach your bedroom, you throw open the double doors to step out onto the balcony, welcoming the chilling breeze of the darkening sky

you’re tired of fearing rejection if you open up

you’re tired of questioning yeosang’s intentions

and on top of it all, you suddenly miss home and you miss your parents and you miss juwon and-

“are you okay?”

yeosang’s soft question startles you, having missed his knocking at your door

he walks closer to join you out on the balcony when he sees that the answer is obviously a no, and he prompts you again, “what’s wrong?”

thoughts of vases and strawberry pastries flit across your mind

you start with half truths

“just missing my little brother”

“you love him a lot, don’t you,” yeosang smiles sweetly, “i can see it in the way you take care of yeoreum”

you can’t help the heat that slowly creeps up the back of your neck and to your ears, because it implies that he’s noticed all the times you’ve showered his little sister with the same love you give to juwon

it implies he’s noticed you

“what’s your fondest memory of juwon?” he asks when you nod

something within you thaws slightly at the fact that yeosang remembers your little brother’s name

you step closer to the edge of the balcony so that you can overlook the garden outside your room a little clearer, resting your hand on the railing as yeosang waits patiently

“we used to have this game we played. we had a lot of gardenia flowers growing around our courtyard and juwon loved cutting some to make me a mini bouquet,” you pause to shake your head with a chuckle, “it drove our mother nuts”

“doesn’t sound like it stopped him from continuing though, did it?” yeosang questions with mirth

“no, it didn’t,” your heart aches with fondness. “he would use a certain number of gardenias and make me guess what phrase containing the same number of letters he had in mind” 

it never failed to tug your mouth into a smile whenever juwon giggled at your attempts to guess the flower phrase, even when most times he would bound away whilst singing answers like y-o-u s-t-i-n-k or d-u-m-b d-u-m-b

yeosang supports himself on the railing with one hand as he nearly folds in on himself in laughter, and before you know it, you too are gasping for air and wiping away tears from your eyes

when you both calm down relatively enough, only intermittent chuckles leaving your lips, yeosang clears his throat and scratches his neck awkwardly

“i know it might not be much, but maybe we can go out into town tomorrow and it might take your mind off things? and we can bring yeoreum along if that makes you feel more comfortable, because you’ve probably spent more time alone with her than you have with me?”

you don’t admit it, but you’re already feeling a little better, so you decide to tease, “are you asking me out on a date right now, kang yeosang?”

“oh, well, we’d be doing things a little backwards since we’re already like, married…but, yes? maybe? is that okay?”

it’s yeosang’s turn to flush a deep red as his usually composed demeanor is reduced to stutters, but you don’t notice under the faint glow cast by the moon now reigning the sky

“yeah, that’s okay”

you and yeosang smile fondly as your little trio stroll through a nearby town the following morning, his younger sister skipping ahead to peer at the colourful trinkets being sold at the market stalls, and your own small squad of royal soldiers following behind at a respectful distance

it’s kind of endearing how yeosang points out item after item, asking whether you like it or whether you find it pretty, in a not-so-subtle attempt to learn about your preferences

you have to stop him from buying you something from every second stall you both pass, but you’re unable to convince him from purchasing a small wooden toy as a gift for juwon, insisting that you give it to your little brother the next time you see him

the more you actually interact and talk with yeosang, the harder you find it to associate him with the memory of the yeosang in your rejected letters

because the equation of the letters, the vase and the pastries just does not add up

as you two sit under the awning of a small shop, watching yeoreum play with the shopkeeper’s dog, you find yourself unable to hold back anymore

“why didn’t you reply to my letters?” you break the silence, trying to hide the hurt laced in your voice

yeosang looks at you with wide eyes as his mouth stutters open

and in the smallest voice you have ever heard him speak with, he says

“you wrote me letters?”

your eyebrows knit together as your eyes dart back and forth between his, searching for any hint of deception

“too many to count,” you confess, “until you sent a letter telling me to stop…”

“impossible. i never got your letters” 

your head recoils back as you try to make sense of his words, “but-”

“wait,” he interrupts

yeosang reaches into his robes, pulling out a small, wooden block, extending it out closer to you as he asks, “do you recognise this?”

upon closer inspection, you realise it’s a square seal stamp

it has the character ‘姜’ carved into it and you’ve seen it enough times to know it represents the kang family name - but the inscription that stylises the border is unfamiliar

“not the seal, no”

he swallows apprehensively, “i stamp all my letters with this to certify authenticity”

you let his words sink in as they throw you into a sandstorm of bewilderment

“but then-”

but then who wrote the letter?

and where did all your letters go?

the only people who would have known about them would be the royal couriers and…eunju

a memory flashes through your mind - the moment she handed you a letter with a smile

no, not a smile, you realise

a smirk

you are simultaneously overwhelmed with betrayal, guilt and apologeticness

yeosang doesn’t push you for a response, and you come to recognise that you are also grateful

“i’m sorry for doubting you,” you tell him

it’s nowhere close to the amount of things you want to confess, but it is a start, one that yeosang picks up on and understands immediately

“no, i’m sorry you felt the need to doubt me,” he offers. “that i didn’t make you feel loved enough”

“but i did, actually. the vase and the pastries, then our conversation last night…and even today”

he blushes a deep red as you list the things off with your fingers

“you weren’t meant to find out about the first two,” yeosang admits as he ducks his head shyly

then he suddenly perks up with a sudden thought

he ruffles inside his satchel that had been abandoned to one side, mumbling, “my sister said i did something to upset you…so i um, got you these” 

he turns around to reveal a bouquet of flowers, looking a little rough for wear after being hidden in his bag all morning, but his clumsy consideration only serves to makes your heart skip dangerously

“forgive me?” he asks cheekily, and you both giggle at the absurdity of his question because it should very well be the other way around

“if you insist,” you take the bouquet into your hands

and finally, you allow the chains around your heart to fall away, “i can’t say no to my husband, can i?”

yeosang lets out a little squeak as you look at the bouquet more clearly, counting the number of flowers

you turn to ask if he remembers the game you told him about, but the way yeosang suddenly finds the patch of dirt near his foot absolutely fascinating tells you everything that you need to know

eight flowers

eight letters

i l-o-v-e y-o-u

[house-of-angst]

Y'all mind if I talk about Present Mic's quirk for a second? Great.

So, my partner and I have been having Erasermic brainrot lately, and while we were binging content with them, I became interested in Hizashi's voice quirk. I began searching stuff about how sound/volume works, and linking it to his canon stuff.

I'll just say, the info I found makes him a pretty scary guy. It's a shame he's so underused in both canon and fanon.

Frequency

First of all, I want to talk about something everyone knows about him: his quirk is potent enough to shatter glass. Now, when it comes to decibels, it's always important to consider the time and distance a certain note is held for, since these can impact the "hit" a certain sound wave can have when influenced by effects such as the air or vibrations.

(Please keep this in mind for the reminder of this post)

When it comes to glass, however, it breaks almost instantly under the pressure of his voice. Our most constant example of this is the man's poor lenses, but there is a scene I'd like to talk about the most, it being he one where he completely shatters Shigaraki's tank.

One might argue that the glass was already weakened from Mirko's kicks, but that's honestly part of something that makes this so impressive to me; Mirko's legs are strong enough to straight-up rip a high-end Nomu's head clean off, yet this tank was tough enough to withstand two attacks from her - including her ultimate move - before starting to leak; and the fact she was heavily injured doesn't fly here, as we very clearly could see she wasn't holding back one bit.

Now, let's get technical.

According to Google, a normal tone of voice would be around 50 decibels, while the required to shatter glass would be a minimum of 105. For comparison, that's roughly the same volume as a jackhammer. Now, you might be thinking, "Oh, that's not so bad! Some singers can do that!" and you'd be right, but there's also some other things to consider. Allow me to explain.

Some singers can reach a pitch that can make glass vibrate enough for it to break, but I've personally only heard of this happening if the person has their mouth close to a smaller, empty cup, and even then the volume would be distributed around. Hizashi, on the other hand, was standing several feet away from this reinforced tank and was able to shatter it immediately, using the directional speaker around his neck to aim the volume. This would naturally require for him to hit even higher decibels, specially when you take into consideration that one's frequency must match the glass' for it to vibrate, which drastically increases when it's dampened. (Read next topic for more info on this)

And then there's his glasses which, like I've stated before, are the most common thing he breaks with his voice. Obviously, this is not directed and it's not a total shatter, but there is something to be observed; say, did you know the necessary volume for lenses to crack, when not being directly aimed at, would be that of a nearby shot from a highcaliber gun? That's roughly 140-170 decibels.

Harm factor

Boy, oh boy! I'm betting most of you were looking for this part when you clicked the read more, right? Look no further, I've got you covered, you just better remember what I mentioned before about distance and duration.

Hizashi's parents were unfortunate enough to have a mutant child that was born with his quirk already active, and I'm willing to bet a newborn doesn't have the slightest bit of control over a power as destructive as a sonic-powered voice, which immediately resulted in everyone in the room bleeding from the ears.

Sound-related ear bleeding is most commonly associated with a ruptured eardrum, which can happen at around 150 decibels and is about the same as a jet engine taking off. While a baby most likely unleashed his maximum voice power on the first breath, I believe something like that would, thankfully, only develop fully after puberty, just like with non-powered people like us, since his quirk is a drastic intensification of a common function and not a new ability altogether.

With that being said... The Finals Exam.

In this, Hizashi was standing very far and, even with the directional speakers, there were many obstacles in the way that kept him from landing direct soundwaves on the students. Regardless, Jirou's ears bled in less than 30 minutes being exposed to this.

This could have happened due to the fact that she has a hearing quirk, which would make hers much more sensitive, but let's study this, shall we? We don't have the exacts of what happened there, but the students are visibly uncomfortable upon the first soundwave, which would suggest it was at about 120 decibels upon impact (with 85 already being enough to cause damage to your ears) and being emitted even higher by him, considering distance muffles volume. Still, I think all that would be nothing compared to the scream he let out after those bugs started crawling on him, with how unfiltered that was.

With Jirou, it comes to no surprise this volume at this distance and time almost rendered her deaf, and realistically would take several months of healing time. How much do you want to bet Hizashi got a solid scolding from Shouta? I mean, it was supposed to be a challenge, but homeboy came this close to breaking her quirk.

Another thing I want to point out is that his voice is powerful enough to actually fucking launch people, and this only happens due to an event called acoustic trauma, basically meaning Hizashi can surpass supersonic levels. Although, it's important to note that this effect is caused mostly due to pressure and not so much as sound, so while it's not freakishly loud (about the same as thunder), it can still cause hearing and psychological damage.

! WARNING !

The following part contains graphic mentions of injury, and death. Do not proceed if these are sensitive topics for you.

Now, we look at the disturbing side of Hizashi's quirk. Buckle in, because it's a wild ride.

Remember what I commented earlier, about him having to hit even higher frequencies to be able to shatter Shigaraki's tank? First of all, as the doctor was sent flying, this qualifies as supersonic, but that's not all. To shatter such a protected tank, with liquid inside increasing the density, he'd have to hit over 200 decibels; which is considered extremely dangerous and most definitely fatal, as the threshold of pain is of 115-140 - this can cause damage such as crushed ear bones, ruptured lungs, or embolism. For comparison, this would come close to standing right next to a Saturn V Moon Rocket during launch, and is no longer considered a "sound" due to the vacuum.

With that being said, the man came very close to dying by Hizashi's hands (voice?) twice. Not only was he so close during the lens incident, literally being inches away from his face and in risk of getting his eardrums ruptured already, but if Mic had decided to raise his voice even more during his rage, it'd be possible for the frequency to make the doctor's inner organs malfunction, or straight-up burst from the pressure.

But that's not the worst part.

After establishing that the lethal amount of over 200 decibels would be necessary to shatter the tank given the circumstances, if he exceeded 240 and the doctor happened to be in the way of this, it would be enough to cause his head to explode upon impact. That old man better be grateful that he was standing a feet few away, and that the supersonic blast blew him away a bit more, or it'd be an immediate game over.

With all this being said, how devastating would it be for this guy to scream his rage out?

(Please keep in mind that many of the extreme cases in this are actually impossible to happen in a real-life scenario and are purely speculation!)

[bamsara]

Bam, how do you post such long chapters in such a short amount of time? How Bam. Tell me Bam.

rapid irreversable onset of brainrot

chronic pain flare up perfectly this time of year so im bound to one spot and cant do normal household chores, travel, but i can sit in front of a laptop

rapid onset of brainrot

constant daydreaming about writing scenes

i have several documents and text messages to myself that are just random scenes that need to be put together

brainrot

[wordy-little-witch]

Brainrot is kicking in, work has me by the throat, I am so tired

Enter: self indulgent sillies

Shanks and Buggy both were kidnapped very often as children - be it by Marines, enemy pirates, Whitebeard on occasion, random ass guys targeting two unattended children, whatever.

They both have gotten so desensitized to it that they don't even get scared anymore. It becomes more "I'm not held here with you, you're stuck here with ME" type of situation.

Buggy is sassy, snarky, rude and sarcastic. Shanks pops in now and again with some completely out of pocket shit that sends Buggy into hysterics. Think that scene from Helluva Boss with Blitzø and Moxxie being kidnapped.

This complete lack of care extends well into their adulthood - Shanks because it's honestly kind of funny that someone had the audacity to try him, Buggy because sarcasm and sass is his defense mechanism.

Enter: Cross Guild.

Marines try an infiltration mission to Cross Guild, but they severely underestimated the organization. Mihawk was off island at the time, so they thought that the biggest powerhouse who could identify them via observation haki was gone. Buggy notices immediately both because his haki is oversensitive and he's gotten scarily good at reading body language. Crocodile, when informed, proposes they give the squadron what they want with interest.

A series of unfortunate events lead to Buggy and some of the crew shackled and in the plaza. Buggy's got seastone cuffs on wrists and feet both, and has failed to mention the mini transponder in his hair piece. The Marines made the mistake of cuffing him behind his back, thinking it would limit his knife skills. They don't know that Buggy's anxiety and paranoia has lead to him having a secret pin in his boots specifically to pick locks.

Buggy then proceeds to roast the men with all he's got while he works.

The others present are both confused and fighting laughter as the commanding officer gets more and more pissed off before he finally backhands Buggy dark enough to split his lip. Then a hand clutches his throat, lifting him slightly. Buggy splutters. The marine grins, a nasty thing, demands Buggy apologizes, complaining about the blood on his white sleeve. Buggy tries to speak and can't from the lack of air.

"Oh," the officer coos, "what is it? Finally going to beg forgiveness?" He loosens his grip just enough for Buggy to get some air, lowers enough for the other to go on tiptoes to get a strangled breath. Buggy cracks an eye open, a smile blooming on his face.

"H-Harder, daddy~"

The Marine drops him in disgust.

No matter what they try, Buggy has a come back. Crocodile is listening in, and Mihawk, upon arriving back, has joined him to avoid the navy presence. They're both a bit stunned, a little intrigued, and mayhap rethinking some preconceived notions of the clown.

Especially when there's sound over the transponder snail, a little clink, thump, a shout, and something wet.

"Well," Buggy's voice carries over. "Who's next? Come on, I haven't got all day, you already made me miss two appointments, you dull Neanderthals."

There's a sound like a sword being drawn, a war cry, and Buggy chuckles. "Ohh. You're stupid, huh? That's okay, Buggy likey dumby~"

Turns out even in seastone cuffs, even in twice as much as a typical pirate or criminal wears, Buggy is more than capable of taking out a squadron. He uses his surroundings to his advantage, fighting dirty and taunting them playfully, much to the admiration of the other's present. One cuff is off his wrist, but three more are still on him, cutting off his powers. He still manages to not get cut until the near end.

Even then, it's because one of the stragglers tried attacking his chained subordinates. Buggy gets a cut to the cheek, mild and harmless, maybe needing stitches, but he's furious. "No no no," he grits out, "You're playing with me right now." A stolen sword sinks into an opening with ease. Buggy leans in close. "Don't you ever fucking touch my children. Understand?"

No response. Buggy shifts the sword. There's a scream.

"Understand?"

"Y-yes..."

"Yes what?"

"Y-yes... s-sir."

Buggy snorts. "I was looking for your majesty." Then he yanks the blad up and out, leaving the body to slump to the ground. He turns to the few remaining. "Well?"

Buggy handles it on his own, the followers are even MORE fanatic, and Crocodile and Mihawk are facing a sudden and unexpected paradigm shift while watching Buggy happily eat a bowl of ice cream, kicking his feet happily and simply vibing like it's a typical Tuesday afternoon.

[lxmelle]

Geto was loved even in death.

Wouldn’t it be nice if he were judged by his intentions in the afterlife - wherever that was? He had suffered living with the love he had. We see through the eyes of those left behind, that the ill deeds didn’t define him, as strange as that may be to us as readers in the real human world we live in. Geto’s influence and loving nature were far reaching; Gege certainly made him so treasured by many even after his death. If Gojo was touched by his caring influence, this was also Geto’s will he passed onto his students.

NOT spoiler-free as I’ll be referring to the recent chapter, 255.

I wrote this the other day:

And honestly it’s long enough; here’s part 2.

Is it obvious I’m suffering from brainrot? All my drafts from jjk brainrot are rivalling my thesis/dissertation from way back (lol)

Here is more under the cut:

I’m really moved by the reasons for why Miguel and Larue have decided to join in the risky fight against Sukuna.

It’s very obvious that Miguel is reluctant at first. He says he he’d rather terrible curses arrive at his shores than to fight with Sukuna, adding that he doesn’t see himself having any ties with Japan any longer.

We can deduce that this was part of Gojo’s plan for the possibility that he dies/loses, and I had a post about this saved in my drafts - but I guess I never got around to finishing it. Basically, in sum, he will achieve giving Geto a cremation (avenging him) and gets to show off to his students (which he does enjoy) by going all out (soo satisfying), and in the worst case scenario, he loses but gets to go all out, weakens Sukuna (for the rest to handle), and idk if he really is that romantic (so it’s really stsg headcanon fantasising) he will die on the same day as Geto.

The Opening theme is rather beautiful in that it interprets Gojo having the words, “we’ll meet again” stuck in his throat, which he doesn’t say. But I’m a bit weird and tend to separate anime from manga. But it’s worth noting that here.

I digress. Back to Miguel and Larue who have moved to speak privately without Yuta.

In a previous post I wondered aloud about what Yuta knew about Geto from others aside from being villainous and I guess this implies he doesn’t know much, since he wasn’t close to Miguel enough to sit around to chat with them. It makes sense.

Miguel and Larue both agree they followed Geto in jjk 0 because they wanted to see him become King. What does this even mean, really? Gege, you’re missing stuff out again!

Nevertheless, we understand how reluctant Miguel was. He enquires that Larue intends to do, clarifying: is it for revenge or to take Geto’s body back?

And it seems like their main motivation for putting their lives on the line... is to honour Geto’s memory. Like a traditional ritual one makes for the dead (customary in Japan on death anniversaries - not limited to the year, but also number of days).

It’s incredibly moving how much they love him. This is actually what led Miguel to reconsider. We see him go silent as he thinks “...” before he reaches a moment of clarity/a decision.

Tbh I have issues with interpreting his statement in between the two panels (re: hell) in Japanese - it doesn’t directly indicate if he is referring to the former part of the conversation (whether he thinks Geto is in hell), or the latter (he thinks the battle will be hell). The phrasing goes like this: “no matter how I think about it: it’s hell.” - I’m not a native speaker so it’s difficult for me to be certain which is right. But the consensus is as translated above. Larue thinks Geto is in heaven, Miguel thinks it’s hell, and we see the airport scene where presumably Haibara and Riko with Kuroi have been there for over a decade. lol. Who knows!

So the bottom line is… regardless of where they think Geto ends up in the afterlife, Miguel is willing to give Geto a send off that’ll even reach hell. Or, despite it going to be hellish, he will do it. It also seems so heartwarming how they still emphasise family and friendship in wanting to fight together - perhaps things we can surmise had meant something to Geto.

They will fight Sukuna because it is for Geto. Geto was so loved that they would risk themselves - not for a title, not for revenge, but out of … love. Again. That’s pretty damn loving. Can we imagine what Geto did and was to them, for them to experience such loyalty and reverence?

Sadly, it goes without saying that Geto’s body being used as a vessel and puppet by Kenjaku has possibly evoked an emotional response by those who cared for him - namely Mimiko and Nanako, and also Gojo. Arguably, even if it were a death without his body being hijacked, Gojo did refuse to cremate his body or have it processed “by the book” of jjk high through Shoko. If that’s not out of a form of love (or “consideration” as Kenjaku put it), I don’t know what is.

The twins went against what Geto wanted for them (to carry out his will) to fight against immensely power beings in hopes they could bring him home. Those were their reasons to fight. Gojo scheduled 24th December - this was after he teleported to Kenjaku immediately upon unsealing so he could bury Geto. We saw Larue and Miguel’s. Toshihisa is alleged to be quite weak, and despite potentially being considered a son to Geto (if his life situation did mimic that of the twins’ - source: jjk character book), he opts to follow the inherited will as prescribed by Geto.

It’s all love. Geto was loved, I’m telling you. I want to shout if off the rooftops because that man just looked so darned sad and deranged after he lost it.

So. Continuing where I left off: Everyone thus far has had a reason to go into battle with Sukuna. I wonder what / who will actually reach him? I hope it’s Yuji ... and that Megumi will react again at some point. They have their own themes relating to love and purpose. I’ll leave them to someone else more familiar with their characters to write about!

And now I’m going offside quite a bit, but it’s still of relevance to Geto and the theme of love that seems to surround him. Way back to jjk 0 and Hidden inventory.

I wanted to just bring this into the picture as well now that I’m already writing a post on that topic, but please feel free to stop if you’re bored now.

So. Jjk 0!

There were direct parallels with Yuta & Rika and Gojo & Geto. This was also confirmed by the director when discussing their vision for the movie. The light novel also drew a link between Geto and Yuta where they were described as being too sincere for this world.

There is a direct theme of love - the type, is open to interpretation.

Kenjaku also makes reference to this in the Shibuya arc. So to me, it remains relevant. Love in its many forms is somewhere in what Gege wishes to convey thematically.

Within jjk 0, Geto seemed to pursue power but this was also a symbolism where power = love. It is twisted. In light of recent events, we know that the pursuit of power leads to the dilution and even absence of love. Love that gives birth to power becomes cursed. So it seems.

As we know, Yuta bound his lover to himself to gain power.

If only he had Rika (metaphor for love: Gojo) he probably wouldn’t have had to skulk around the shadows consuming curses which he hated doing. Geto was lamenting on the past in the above panels. He probably was determined to carry on, as he vouched to give it all he got (Haibara’s last words to him echoing here).

A flashback to the past:

Geto doesn’t do things in half-measures. To avoid hypocrisy, and I headcanon that it was a merciful killing to protect them from him, he kills his parents. To die by his hands than to be used as a pawn to get to him. For them to see the horrors their son could be capable of. It is so very wrong, and we can see the twisted nature of his love in this interpretation.

And Gojo delivers the ultimate blow that leads to Geto reflecting - depicted by the mysterious ellipses “…..” (gege really likes the reader to work hard huh) - insinuating it is impossible for Geto, so don’t even bother trying. The blossoming possibility of discourse was nipped, as the strength differential was implied - you’re the strongest now, whereas it used to be “we”. There was no more place for Geto; it was probably a misunderstanding. Gojo was protecting everyone in his own way, and the only way he knew how.

For power, Gojo was a source - but Geto couldn’t do that in Shinjuku, nor earlier in the arc, when Gojo himself was on the brink of insanity and deferred to Geto about annihilating humans as he held Riko’s dead body. Geto in the scene above acknowledges their different paths they needed to take - Gojo had a place as part of the elite at the school - Geto was already facing an execution order.

And after hearing Gojo’s condescending tone in an emotionally-fuelled attempt to reach out to him. He turns away to protect his friend from himself, and himself from his friend. Anyway, I touched on this in my previous post. Geto feels they had fought and didn’t deserve a place next to Gojo. But deep inside, even his body remembers the sound of Gojo’s voice, reacting to it when called despite his soul no longer being there.

sigh. Moving on... back to jjk 0:

After witnessing the bonds through willingness to sacrifice and the love between these students, Geto was really moved. Gojo trusted Geto retained his sense of humanity / love / idealism - even if it would lead to him sacrificing himself.

He was finding it difficult anyway:

He could always empathise with love. I suspect he tried his best, but the binding vow for Yuta’s life was also just the cherry on top to make Rika super saiyan.

Kenjaku knew Geto probably could’ve won though, had he been more selfish.

Geto conceded without a fight with Gojo. Maybe it was a matter of trust in that they both knew his living on borrowed time. As the light novel insinuated, this was the only way it could ever end. And Gojo would have to carry the curse that was Geto. This seems... so cruel.

He did his best. He perhaps always wanted the love but set it free.

He did so many things for others in spite of himself, in sacrificing himself, in staining himself with blood drenched hands.

Avenging Riko by killing Sonoda. Note how manipulative “humans” are by using Jujutsu rules against them.

He embraces a life of smoke and daggers. Living in lies and half truths in order to live, survive, and find justice in a wicked world.

Watch me closely, I’ll protect you, I’ll avenge you, this is how you protect yourself.

This is the path I’ve chosen.

I’m not saying he was right or justifiable. His character is just tragic. The system had set him and others to fail.

The worm foreshadows Geto’s maternal nature. Calling him “okaasan”. I mean, this very worm had a binding vow with Toji. And now it calls for a new owner? I’m not sure if Gege had anything else in mind with this... is the womb protrusion domain Geto’s? But that’s tied to a sorcerer’s soul…. Anyway, I digress again. (Sorry). Geto did have a martyr complex and was written captivatingly well by Gege. The extra touches where how he has been perceived by others and the effect he has (and continues to have) on those we see.

And I just want to leave this heartbreaking thing here:

Source from twitter/now X:

Wouldn’t it be so sweet for Geto to get one (love declaration) at the end of his life, regardless of the way you perceive Gojo and Geto’s relationship?

Wouldn’t it be nice for him if he could know that his family who he instructed to flee had all loved him, adored him, and would honour his sacrifice in differing ways...

Instead, a form of love meant his body was desecrated and used by Kenjaku. His girls were killed, and his full potential was not quite realised at all.

If only things were different.

Gojo should have kept him in his basement!

But at least, I think, Gege is giving Geto some love even after his death.

For that I’m thankful.

And thanks for reading if you made it this far with my rambling!

If you want something more light hearted I have a fluffy fic up on AO3 (it isn’t great but i enjoyed writing it to fantasise about what happens at the airport) and if you want more angst and pain, please browse my tags (lol).

[henchy5824]

My newest project is a scene inspired by the #666 live on air series from the amazing @prince-liest Go check out their stuff!

Jazzhands

SO I've never done lighting before. I live in perpetual darkness. I don't know what light looks like, can't you tell??!

I've had to actively hype myself up to draw Alastor and I kept putting it off. The intimidation factor with the strawberry pimp is pretty high....

Alt version below

"something violently teal-colored", you say? "fluorescent purple cap", you say? Say no more fam ❤ Of course it would be Nuka-cola-quantum. What else is there?!

They both have a bad day, I feel like. Vox is wearing the most scraggly looking shirt that was not yet chucked in the laundry and he doesn't even care that it's buttoned unevenly. Val is on a date without him, after all.

Alastor has one of those bad hair days. He kept going through his hair all day. Not sure about the ghostly sensation of Vox scritching his ears the day before.

Also: I don't know why Vox would have pcb patterns on his arms on the outside of his body but the idea seemed hella sick, so I had to draw it.

So headcannon time:

-Vox would be the type to have the most designer- and bare-looking kitchen in the history of Hell. Velvette designed it for him and he didn't mind.

-He's got a Potoro Marble countertop and he uses it to eat takeout straight out of the cardboard box and microwave meals straight out of the tin they came in.

-If the appliance isn't fisher price-coloured, it's not VoxTek and therefore has no place in his kitchen.

-The most used appliances are the coffee machine and the microwave.

-He has more barstools but the only one he uses is the one Alastor is currently sitting on. Vox only lingers in the kitchen to scroll on his phone while his meals are heating up or the coffee is brewing.

-He does own a knifeblock and several high-grade kitchen knives but they are still in their packaging in one of the drawers under the counter. He only uses his claws to perforate his microwave meals.

-He does own pots and pans....somewhere.. They are also VoxTek branded.

-Of course he would choose the most retro-50s-looking wallpaper possible. It drove Velvette up the wall but he insisted.

Things I've learned while doing this piece:

-How to use colour swatches

-Being sensible about layers and which layers will interfere with others

-Using light gradient boxes and swatches (omg so helpful)

-Actually using a colour pallette

-The perspective tool!

-Creating a colour filter by applying opacity. (yea, as if I actually knew what I was doing!)

Thanks for reading my brainrot and sharing in my continued effort to draw somewhat adequately looking stick figures and badly lit settings!

[lucienarcheron]

Spirit Meets the Bones 12.5 [Bonus Scene]

Author’s Note: This bonus scene would take place around the beginning of chapter 12 as Eris x Iris have started to get to know each other and spend more time together.

shoutout of @abruisedmuse ily for letting me get all SMTB brainrot on you <3

tagging: @climb-the-mountian | @vanserrass | @positivewitch | @readthelastpaage | @zenkindoflove | @animezinglife | @clockwork-ashes | @stormycleric | @eastofatlanta | @carolynmezzosoprano | @carnythian | @runningwiththeoceans | @readychilledwine | @goldenmagnolias | @thedarkinmansfield | @mali22 | @maidr-00 | @electromagnetic-waves | @theeternalstruggle | @devilsfoodcake22 | @the-midnightwriter | @moonfawnx | @weesablackbeak | @ladywhilemia | @illyrianshadowhunter | @alohaangels | @moobell55 | @bibliophiliaxvignette | @easchies | @feysandfeels | @thelovelymadone | @corcracrow | @aboggoblin | @teddyhoneybear

Find it all here.

Eris cleared his throat and breathed deeply before plastering a smirk on his face and knocking on his little brother’s front door.

It took a moment before Lucien opened the door with a blink and then quirked his brow.

“Eris.”

“Lucien.”

“To what do I owe this great pleasure, brother of mine?” Lucien asked as he stepped aside and gestured for Eris to step in.

“As much as I cherish seeing your adorable little face, I’m actually here for your wife.” Eris said, the corner of his mouth turning up. “Elain?!”

Lucien closed the door behind them with an eye roll and followed his brother. “She’s in the garden out back,” he replied dryly. “What do you need from her? Having more wife troubles?”

Eris paused, causing Lucien to knock into him, and turned to glare at his little brother. “I don’t have wife troubles. I would simply like to see my little sister and discuss with her how she’s doing.”

“And ask her about your wife troubles.”

Eris’s glare intensified. “I don’t know what you’re referring to.”

Lucien only smiled. “Pillow barricade still there?”

“The thing you speak of doesn’t exist.”

“Ah, that means it’s still there,” Lucien said, nodding knowingly. “She’s not wooed by your endless charms?”

“She is wooed just fine,” Eris mumbled, scowling. “Mind your business. You’ve barely been mated. Need I remind you of your pining, little brother?”

“Need I remind you that it was mutual and how we’ve been happily mated and married for two years already, big brother?” Lucien replied with an easy smile. “Just admit you’re a terrible husband with no game and I’ll be more than happy to help you.”

“I don’t need your help, you fool,” Eris said with a light shove. “Your mate is the smarter one of you both so if, and this is a big if, I needed assistance with the so-called wife troubles, which I do not have, I would ask Elain.”

Lucien’s mouth slowly turned into a smirk, and then he snorted. “Wow, you must be really terrible in bed.”

It was Eris’s turn to roll his eyes. “It took you two years to get your mate to even talk to you but now you have the nerve to talk about my bedroom skills.”

“You keep deflecting, big brother,” Lucien said with a sigh. “As if you don’t know the exact circumstances of my mate and I. You, on the other hand, must truly be terrible in the bedroom and outside of it for your wife troubles to be this severe. Your visits have increased, I see.”

Eris scoffed. “So? I can’t visit unless I need something? Do you want me to stop visiting?”

“Couldn’t stop you even if I tried,” Lucien said with a laugh. “But we both know you don’t miss me as much as you miss Elain — which I don’t appreciate.”

“Are you jealous of your wife because I like her more than I like you, brother dear?” Eris said with a sarcastic smile.

Lucien rolled his eyes. “No, I just don’t see why she has to deal with your whining constantly. Go whine to your own wife.”

Eris’s smile immediately turned into a scowl as the tip of his ears heated. “Leave my wife out of this.”

“And you wonder why my immediate assessment is how terrible you must be in the sack.” Lucien said with a snort then held up a hand before Eris could reply and asked him with his most serious expression, “You…do know where the clitoris is, right?”

A heartbeat passed and Eris did the only logical thing he could think to do — swing his fist at Lucien’s face.

Lucien ducked with a laugh. “Are you truly swinging at me in my own home?”

“I will break your nose if you say anything else that’s stupid.” Eris seethed.

“You sure your hand will handle punching me? It must be so hard on you after all your alone time. I’m surprised your hand isn’t constantly cramping.”

“I’m sure you’re very familiar with what a cramping hand and limp dick must be like since you had to deal with it for so long.”

Lucien grinned. “I never said anything about a limp dick but now you’re really pulling my sympathies, Eris. Your situation is far worse than I had predicted.” he said and with a most sincere expression, Lucien put a hand over his heart and added, “I’m so sorry for your condition, brother. I’m sure a healer can help.”

Eris snarled and before Lucien could stop him, pulled him in a headlock that quickly turned into Lucien ramming his fist into Eris’s side which would have turned into a downright brawl had light footsteps not entered the room and a throat cleared.

Eris and Lucien both froze, their limbs intertwined as they turned their heads to find Elain standing with hands on her hips and a raised brow.

“Really?” was all she asked then gestured with her hand, exasperated. “Untangle yourselves. Now.”

Shooting each other a glare, the two brothers shoved away from each other.

“Ugly git.”

“Slimy asshole.”

“Rude behavior.” Elain added and held out her hands. “Every time? Every single time?”

“Your husband is very rude.”

“He was being mean to me!”

Elain rolled her eyes. “You’re both mean to each other. I thought we talked about this, hm? Got past it?”

“He talked about my wife!”

“Lucien!” Elain scolded.

“He made fun of our two years of pining!”

“Eris!”

“You walked right into that one, Lucien.”

“You’re the one that started talking about limp dicks, Eris.”

Elain blinked then glanced up towards the ceiling. “Grant me patience, gods,” she mumbled. “Lucien, weren’t you in the middle of something?”

“Yes, I was, my love. I merely wanted to give my big brother a warm welcome,” he said with a grin that Eris responded to with a glare. “Make yourself right at home, limp dick. I can’t wait to give Iris my sympathies in person soon.”

“Oh fuck you.” Eris replied and glared at Lucien’s back as he leaned down to kiss Elain then waltzed out of the room, his middle finger waving goodbye from the air.

“Why are you married to him again?” Eris mumbled as Elain gave him a knowing look and walked over to him.

“Because he has great hair.” she replied with a smile and promptly wrapped her arms around his waist in a tight hug.

“Great hair doesn’t make up for how annoying he is,” Eris replied even as a small smile found its way to his lips, and hugged his little sister in return, squeezing her tight. “How are you, little acorn?”

“Is everyone little to you?” she said with a laugh and pulled away to look at him. “Little acorn, little Lucien, little gazelle?”

At the knowing look Elain gave him, Eris’s shoulders slumped, and he sighed. “I...am having a hard time.”

Elain blinked innocently. “A hard time? I thought it was the opposite problem you were having?”

Eris scowled immediately and Elain giggled. “Your mate is a terrible influence.”

“We both know who the real terrible influence is,” she said with a grin then tugged on his elbow. “Come on back to the garden so we can discuss this in private.”

“You say private when Lucien clearly knows too much already,” Eris mumbled and let Elain drag him outside. “You said you wouldn’t tell him anything.”

“To be fair, I don’t have to tell him. He’s picked up on it and despite the aggressively childish behavior between you two, he cares about you a lot,” she said with a chuckle. “He likes to check in and make sure you’re okay.”

“Or just make fun of me,” Eris grumbled. “He listens in from some open window, doesn’t he?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Elain said brightly and gestured for him to take a seat by the garden.

Eris sulked momentarily, watching as Elain slipped her gloves back on. He pursed his lips and debated saying anything. It wasn’t like anything major had happened. But…

“So.” Elain began carefully, eyeing him. “Did you find out what her favorite flowers are?”

“Carnations. She likes them all but red ones are her favorite.”

Elain blinked then gave him a sly smile. “Do you know what red carnations symbolize?”

“It’s the color of my blood soaking the pillow when she slits my throat.” He deadpanned and Elain shot him a withering look.

“Could you not?”

Eris gave a long-suffering sigh. “What does it mean, Elain?” he asked dully, and Elain chuckled, throwing a weed at him.

“Love.” she sang. “And affection.”

Eris blinked then snorted. “That does not apply here.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I know my wife.”

“You’re barely getting to know your wife.”

“But I still know her more than you do at the moment.”

“Sure, but do you know her heart?” she said and batted her eyelashes with a wide smile that immediately had Eris snorting.

“It’s as cold as mine.”

“Well, someone drank his dramatic juice this morning.” she said with an eye roll and Eris scowled. “What happened?”

“Nothing happened,” he said rather defensively. “I just…”

Elain paused her digging to raise a brow.

“I don’t… like feelings.”

Elain laughed. “No. I would’ve never noticed.”

“Elain.” he said through gritted teeth, crushing the weed in his hand.

“Eris.” his sister-in-law replied with a sweet smile, and he narrowed his eyes at her.

“If you make fun of me, I won’t share things with you.”

“I can call Lucien and have you share things with him instead if you’d like.”

“I would much rather die, thank you very much.”

Elain laughed again and Eris’s lips twitched into a reluctant smile.

“You know, feelings are a part of relationships. A big part, actually.”

Eris sighed. “I know. I still don’t like them.”

“So how are you sharing your interest if you don’t like having or sharing feelings?”

“I’m mostly irresistibly annoying.” he said with his best charming smile and Elain snorted. “Though she is very mean to me in return.”

Elain rolled her eyes and threw another weed at him. “So, you two had your big talk. You’re spending more time together. You seem to be flirting up a storm. What’s the issue?”

Eris pursed his lips and twirled the stem in his hands. It took him a moment before he finally answered. “I…am not sure,” he said. “I am nervous. This makes me nervous. She makes me nervous.”

His sister-in-law only chuckled softly, her hands busy in the dirt though her eyes flickered back up to him. “Is it because it’s going well? You’re not used to it, and it makes you skittish?”

“Used to what, exactly?”

“Someone spending time with you without some scheme or ulterior motive involved,” she replied with an eye roll. “You’re not used to spending time with people who aren’t doing the same.”

Eris’s face heated and he ran his tongue across his teeth. “Well, you didn’t have to say it like that.”

“Why don’t you throw her over your shoulder and show her how you're really feeling?” Elain said with a sly grin and Eris’s brows shot up.

“Elain, so scandalous of you to suggest such a thing.”

“Every wife likes to be swept off her feet.” she said firmly and gave him a superior look. “Don’t tell me you’ve been kissing your wife without some kind of grand sweeping gesture?”

Eris pursed his lips again and looked away, eyes focused on the dirt to hide his expression. Sure, he shared some things, but he sure as shit wasn’t going to say anything about the nonexistent physical relationship he had with his wife.

He craved a kiss. Eris was dying to know the feeling of her lips on his. But he wouldn’t push. Not this. He would work at her pace even if he killed him.

Even if he jerked himself to death. Which seemed very likely at the moment.

“It’s not like that between us.” he said quietly and finally gazed back at his sister-in-law who was giving him a small knowing smile. “She’s not comfortable enough yet so we have been taking it very slow.”

“And is that what’s making you nervous? Taking it slow when you’re used to running through everything?”

Eris shrugged. She was getting too good at reading him, almost as good as his own mother, and Eris wasn’t sure he was supposed to like that feeling so much.

Elain straightened and slipped her gloves off before sliding next to him and tapping his hand.

“You know, I’ve always thought you had more to you than meets the eye.” she began softly. “And getting to know you better, watching you build a stronger relationship with Lucien…as much as you like to pretend otherwise, you have a big ‘ole softy hiding in here that’s trying to come out.” she said and tapped his chest, right over his heart.

Eris promptly wanted to assassinate himself.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” he mumbled, scowling immediately and Elain rolled her eyes.

“I think Iris is the person you need to share that with the most and I think it makes you nervous that you desperately want to.”

Eris scoffed and looked away, his scowl deepening as the tips of his ears reddened. “I don’t desperately want to.”

“Gods Eris, you’re so desperate you positively reek of it.” Elain said with a laugh and Eris shot her a glare. “I think it’s hilarious and oh so wonderful. Besides —“ she paused to give him a stern look. “I may not know Iris just yet, but I do know flowers and their language. When someone has a favorite flower in a specific color, it’s usually because they are drawn to those things.”

Eris felt his face twitch. He wouldn’t read into it. They were just flowers.

“Why am I even listening to you? You married Lucien. Your judgment is clearly skewed.” he said with a childish pout and Elain immediately shoved him with her elbow.

“Don’t talk about my love like he's anything but perfect.”

“He’s my brother and he’s very ugly.”

“It must be so hard for you to deal with Lucien being so much more attractive than you are.” Elain said with a sweet smile that was anything but sweet. “How terrible it must be for you to be living in his shadow constantly.”

It was Eris’s turn to roll his eyes. He pushed her face away with his hand gently, earning him a yelp of protest. “No one is more attractive than I am but since you’re delusional, I’ll allow you this error in judgment.”

“I bet Iris thinks you’re very attractive, doesn’t she?”

“When she’s not too busy trying to stab me during our training sessions, she finds me downright delicious.” he said with a smug smile and Elain laughed again, shoving him.

“You’re so full of yourself, no wonder you’re too nervous to be nice around her. How will you function without all that ego?”

“It’s part of my charm.”

“But, of course.” she said then shook her head with a sigh, standing. “Come on you lovesick fool, let’s make you a nice bouquet so you can take it with you to impress your wife.”

“I am not a lovesick fool.” he immediately protested. “I barely even like her.”

“Oh really? Who is the delusional one now?” she said with a knowing look and Eris scowled as she tugged him along with her. “The flowers are a good step towards showing your feelings. You can keep it up from there.”

He scowled further. “But that still makes me nervous.”

“It’s good you're nervous. It means you care.”

“Of course I care.” he replied faster than he could stop himself. “She’s my wife.”

Elain smiled at him warmly and patted his arm. “Then I think a lovely bouquet of red carnations will be just the thing to show it. We wouldn’t want you to lay it on too thick now, would we?”

Eris gave her a small reluctant smile. “No, we can’t have that.”

And so, he followed her through her garden silently, watching as Elain mindfully picked out her best carnations. He knew Iris would like it and tried to clamp down on the smile attempting to escape him just thinking about her face lighting up when he handed it to her. She seemed to enjoy that he had flowers delivered regularly now but hadn't given her one directly yet. It should be perfect.

As Elain picked out another flower, Eris softly added, “She likes peonies too. I think the pink ones would look good with the red carnations.”

Elain paused and turned back to him with a grin. “Oh? And do you know what those symbolize?”

Eris rolled his eyes with another small smile. “I’m sure you’re going to tell me anyway.”

She laughed then elbowed him gently. “They symbolize happy marriage, good luck, and prosperity.”

Eris blinked and squinted at Elain’s too knowing of a smile. Running his tongue over his teeth, he waved a hand, his cheeks heating slightly as he looked away from her and said all too quietly, “Throw in more of those. I’ll take all the luck I can get."

[bougiebutchbitch]

This is definitely hand me down info, and I can't be bother to check cause I'm not on Twitter. But apparently there was some discussion of a scene being cut that, according to Con, was removed because it made Ed 'irredeemable'. Season 2 already went some really dark places, so I'm wondering what your thoughts on it are?

I'm also asking you because the comments were full of people who would have loved to see it. Because to them, Ed is totally fine no matter how reprehensible and abusive his behaviour gets. And I just. You're one of the few non-brainrotted people here sometimes I like to get in touch with reality

I am...... so very intrigued and would love to see it. But I'm also very glad they did decide to cut it.

As much as I love Ed as he is in canon (i.e., dark, flawed, genuinely trying (sometimes), but selfish and occasionally cruel, with untreated severe childhood trauma and related mental health problems, and 0 healthy coping mechanisms to his name) I loathe with a vengeance every person who uses him as a platform to parrot their age-old victim-blaming bullshit of 'um, if you had a Sad Backstory you can abuse and torture people as much as you like! And you 'deserve' abuse if you are in any way an imperfect person. Yes, I believe this is a totally normal and correct stance to have about real life as well as fiction'

So as much as I would love Ed no matter what he did, because I think he's a multifaceted and fascinating character, the mere thought of the bullshit his die-hard stans would be spouting already makes me nauseous lmao

I am once again reminding people that it is totally okay to like characters who do bad 'irredeemable' things. No, you don't have to write essays justifying your love of that character. In fact, you don't need to justify shit to anyone.

Just....... maybe....... don't die on the hill of pretending abuse is okay if you don't like the victim/the victim said a mean thing once. It's that simple.

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

Imagine that after defeating the devil (or Lucio) Mc gets a bit stronger physically and more powerful in magic how would the M6 react to Mc accidently breaking something without knowing their new strength?

Like for example: Mc was walking through the door and didn't let go of the handle quick and ripped it off its hinges. Cue both Mc and M6 staring in shock.

Or breaking a hard metal without struggle.

-🐙

The Arcana HCs: When MC is a little too strong

~ octopus friend, thanks for the prompt! I've actually already written a set of headcanons for something like this (I'll add it below) but the scene you described is so perfect I had to make a sequel XD Enjoy! - brainrot ~

Related: When MC is stronger than they look

Julian

The two of you were out and about in the South End Market, perusing the stalls when he let out a shout and pointed

There's an exceptionally icky man sliding through the crowd, lifting wallets from people's pockets left and right. Julian, being the hero he is, begins to give chase and calls for you to assist him

The street's too crowded, so you hustle through some back alleyways and pop back out further up the street

Your lover's indignant yelling has tipped off the pickpocketer and the scoundrel is running full speed right past your alleyway, your beloved trying and failing to give chase a good ten people away

In a last-ditch effort to stop him, you reach out and manage to grab the icky man's arm. You dig your heels in and yank

Only to watch him go sailing backwards, over several people's heads, bounce off of a pile of carpets, and land in the canal

Well. It seems you've gotten considerably stronger

Julian catches up to you quickly, initially concerned for your wellbeing and determined to ensure that you are unharmed

Once he does, you'll have to escort him home as quickly as possible, because he finds your strength too attractive to appropriately contain himself

Asra

There's a story behind how the two of you hitched a ride with the cabbage man during your post-Devil trip all over the continent

You had stopped in the capital city of a nearby country and the two of you were having a grand time wandering around, trying new foods, meeting new people, and finding new mischief

As you're passing through one of the major marketplaces, your attention is grabbed by an unusually large wash basin careening through the streets bearing a motley crew of teenagers

Asra's springing into action before you can, sending out waves of magic to move people out of the way and propel the seemingly jet-powered bathtub the rest of the way across the square

It's a cry of "my cabbages!" that pulls your attention to one unfortunate vendor who has left his cart parked directly in the path of the tin of troubled youths

You only mean to pull the obstacle out of the way (really!) but your tug sends the cabbage cart up over your head, on a short arc through the air until it lands safely on a surprisingly sturdy booth roof

When you turn back around, the crowd is watching you slack jawed, the cabbage man is in grateful ecstasy, and Asra is on the ground in tears, wheezing with uncontrollable laughter

Nadia

You had been doing some research in the library to assist with Nadia's "revive Vesuvia" project and stumbled on some old manuscripts detailing earlier blueprints of the city layout

As soon as you find it and the bundle of useful information it was stored with, you rush out to fetch your beloved Countess and show her your discovery

The two of you are walking back through the halls, her eyes resting on you fondly as you summarize what you've found so far

You're so caught up in conversation that you don't think twice about the library door when you approach it. It was unlocked on your way out minutes ago, it's safe to assume that it still is on your way back in

You face Nadia, groping behind you for the handle, about to ask her what the amused expression stealing across her face is for as you tug open the door

Your question is answered for you when the screech of bending and snapping metal grates across your ears, Nadia's face quickly going blank in shock

She steps forward slowly, inspecting the damage you caused when you ripped over twelve deadbolts out of the palace wall before turning back to you with a disbelieving laugh

... so it seems that the door wasn't unlocked, after all

Muriel

You're working in the clearing with him when you accidentally make yourself nature's greatest problem child

There's an annoying infestation of a certain type of plant recently that the chickens keep eating even though it isn't good for them

You're tired of your soft-hearted lover bringing vomiting poultry into the hut at all hours of the night to nurse them back to health, only for the foolish birds to go straight back out and eat it again

So you're spending your morning hunched over the grass, clearing the area section by section of the godforsaken herb

There's sweat trickling into your eyes, making it difficult to see, and when Muriel calls your name you don't look at the next thing you've grasped, only giving it an angry yank as you answer him

You're thrown off balance when the root you pull turns out to be way longer than the weeds you were dealing with earlier, landing on your back just in time to see the tree above you slowly rotate and crack

You barely have a second to process the situation before you hear a shout and feel yourself getting scooped up and out of the way, a whole section of that tree's root system still in your fist

Muriel spends the next half hour staring silently at the uprooted tree, deep in thought as the chickens huddle at his feet

Portia

Most of the time, being the partner of an ambassador is exciting in a fairly peaceful manner. Stressful days occur when the nobles Portia negotiates with don't cooperate or storms happen at sea

In today's case, though, it begins with sighting a pirate ship off in the distance. You thought at first that they would know better than to go up against a boat like yours, but it seems they don't

Soon enough the enemy is bearing down on you, cannons out, the crewmembers on deck visibly armed to the teeth

Portia's not one to take this lying down - she is Mazelinka's unofficial granddaughter, after all - and is bellowing orders to the sailors to ready your own ship for battle

"MC!" she shouts, "Get those cannonballs closer to the railing!"

You scramble to the pile of cannon fodder and snatch one up. It's way lighter than you expected, so you blindly hurl it in the direction of the cannons facing the enemy ship and bend down for the next

The deck becomes oddly quiet split seconds before you hear a distant crash and yell. You straighten up and turn around in time to see one of the enemy's masts shatter and fall into the waves

Portia's laughing into a shared kiss before you can ask her what's happened. "MC," she cackles, "MC, you fantastic fool."

Lucio

Today's job has been rewardingly difficult. It's not every day you go up against a stone giant, but this one was terrorizing an entire town for weeks on end before the two of you showed up

It hadn't been very promising at first, Lucio's sword being one of the first things to go, but then you were able to figure out that the loud growling was coming from its stomach and not its mouth

Once you negotiated its access to the local food supply the misunderstanding was quickly cleared up. You turn from the happy ending to see your darling Lucio cradling the now-wrinkly blade

He's distraught - this sword is one of the remaining relics from his countship and it's served him very well over the years

You take it from him before he discovers that it won't be able to slide so neatly into its sheath and take a look at it. It's not a total pretzel - it just needs to be stretched out

You give the two ends of it a tug, as if to affirm your assessment, and before your eyes the metal creaks and straightens. You accidentally leave a divot at the tip in the shape of your thumb

Lucio's too puffed up with pride and joy to question it - he's already waving it in the air and claiming all it needs now is a sharpening

But he is going to look into powering up his gauntlet, if possible