#yes he died. its what should have happened in like the very first moment. but man did not fuking stop to run away. he should have.

[i-bring-crack]

I feel like the author actively tried to make the anatgonist more psychotic so that Jin Woo could have the higher moral ground.

-Hwang Dong Su tries to take revenge for his brother despite being a bad person? oh no later it is revealed he just like killing people.

-Kang Tae Shik is out there killing criminals who abuse the power of being hunters by sexually assulting someone? next line yeah he is also just doing this for fun and becasue killing people is better than monsters.

-Thomas Andre is a person who wants to protect his guildmates at all costs and will fight anyone who tries to hurt them?

A smile broke out on Thomas Andre’s face as he licked his lips. That fool Hwang Dong-Su no longer mattered in this fight. There was only one way to restore his damaged pride. And that would be to… ‘….Kill that impudent b*stard….’ - chapter 191

well... i guess that doesnt matter as much.

There is also not mentioning the fact that every other antagonist is just:

Serial Killer (Dong Suk and lizards)

A monster who wants to kill (even though that "no choice except fight" mana crystal could have been explored)

The one that just likes killing for fun (Monarchs, Ant King, albeit Beru did get explored more but thats becuase he is a shadow :)

And Goto Ryuji

[tsukimefuku]

blunt trauma ♰ nanami kento

summary: your mission is to execute a curse user. the issue? said curse user is nanami kento, your former high school classmate and the man who you still secretly love.

tags and cw: dark content, no use of y/n, sorcerer!f!reader, villain!nanami, +18, explicit smut (mostly rough with tender moments hate/love sex), unprotected sex (wrap it, ppl), masturbation, oral (f receiving), pv, from enemies to enemies who fucked 👍, drama and angst (i’m a latina who grew up watching telenovelas), mentions of death, canon-typical violence, ptsd, cursing, hurt/no comfort, this man is saltier than the sea and turned it into everybody else's problem. 

wc: 7.5k

notes etc.: somehow it became a character study. this is my rendition of what i think gege would make nanami to be like if they followed their original plan and had nanami be a villain. inspo list is so huge i had to make a playlist, i got carried away.

writing/reading soundtrack: playlist link ; main songs → way down we go (kaleo) and daylight (david kushner).

disclaimer: i do not in any way approve of (or encourage) the relationship depicted here. it is toxic and bad for all parties involved. this is fictional and should stay that way.

oh, father, tell me ♰ do we get what we deserve?

It felt like the air had been beaten out of your lungs by the very one and only blunt blade you ever knew when you heard the news from Gojo.

Of course the first thing he did when he finished wrapping things up was calling you. If roles were reversed, and this had been Geto, he wouldn't expect any less from you.

During the School's Exchange Event, Jujutsu High was attacked by multiple high grade curses and curse users.

One of them was your former best friend from high school, Nanami Kento. 

"Are you certain it was him?"

"Absolutely," Gojo replied on the other side of the line, "there were traces of cursed energy from his cursed technique. He was also spotted by one of MeiMei's ravens."

"And how many students did he…"

"Two students from Kyoto."

Your head instantly felt dizzy.

"He also killed around a dozen assistants and people securing cursed objects underground."

"Shit… shit," you muttered, forgetting for a few seconds what words were and how to form a coherent sentence. Following suit, your stomach dropped with a sinking ache the moment you made the obvious realization, uttering the most painful thing you had to say in your life — even worse than he's gone, so many years before.

 "This will earn him a death sentence, won't it?"

Gojo was silent for a few moments.

"Hey…"

"Tell me. I can take it."

After a bated breath — from your end, mostly — he confirmed your worst fears.

"Yes. It will."

Ever since Geto's and Nanami's defection, you and Gojo had a special type of shared sorrow over each other's failures to save the people you both loved the most. Call it trauma bonding or codependency, but you developed an unwavering sense of loyalty towards one another.

For that reason, he already knew what you were about to ask him, and you only would because you knew he wouldn't find it in himself to refuse it.

"When it happens, please, have me be appointed as the executioner."

"Of course."

Sitting with a glass of whiskey while gazing out of the window in an understated house just by the outskirts of Sendai, Nanami couldn't say he was fulfilled, unable to grasp the concept of feeling in any way elated ever since his teenage years. However, he was definitely satisfied that this plan had worked.

He managed to put a dent into Jujutsu Society, aiding Geto — or, at least, someone that looked like him, not that Nanami truly cared about it by this point — in retrieving multiple cursed objects that would be used for their inevitable fallout.

There had been a few casualties, though.

Two students and many personnel died — or rather, met their fateful end by the edge of his blunt blade —, but some deaths should be expected if Jujutsu Society was to be brought to the ground, down to its last brick.

Ever since that fateful day when he was nothing but a tall child sitting beside the cold corpse of his best friend, Yu Haibara, Nanami had simmered what would become a cauldron of absolute venom-dripping rage against Jujutsu Society.

To hell with saving other people — what about them? What about the teenager that would never grow to be a sorcerer, who became an inanimate nothing before ever getting the chance of making something out of himself? 

That face… Nanami could never forget it. It haunted his dreams, even a decade later. Such a stark contrast between the light-spirited smiles and this cold, gray monolith that laid in the morgue.

They had no right to rob their students from their youth, much less from their lives, but that's exactly what Jujutsu High did when they didn't even bother to check the mission appropriately before dispatching Haibara and Nanami to a certain death.

Nanami escaped, but just barely, by the skin of his teeth. Haibara, however, wasn't blessed with the same luck, and drew the short straw when his hitched final breaths met their end against Nanami's shoulder. Nanami, who carried his best friend on his back, desperately tried to win a losing race against death. 

Help was late to arrive.

They were too late for Haibara.

And, in a sense, they were too late for him, too.

The worst part, though, was when they were finally being transported all the way back to Jujutsu High. As he glanced over Haibara’s cadaver, now covered by a body bag, one particularly insensitive assistant very rudely stated, “at least there is a body to be buried.”

At least

There is a body 

To be buried

Those words echoed in his head for what felt like eternity. Was that the best they all had to hope for? To at least have remains left behind for the mourning?

In any case, that was why, even though he had to kill, Nanami never mangled any of his human victims — something not easy to do, given how his technique worked and how easy it was to split someone in half.

You had noticed this perverted benevolence while looking over the necropsy reports, a realization that just added insult to injury.

Let there be something for the funeral, I suppose, was what he told himself.

In his own twisted way, Nanami figured this was a kindness very few sorcerers received at their tragic ends, and decided he'd definitely be more compassionate than what Jujutsu High put their sorcerers through. 

In his eyes, those from Jujutsu High who died under his will were the ones granted a truly merciful death.

His peace was disturbed by the sound of the entrance door being brutally kicked in, flying its way across the living room. He pulled his blunt blade from the side of his armchair with his free hand, but quickly put it down when realizing it was you that had just barged inside.

He knew you very well — well enough to be certain you wouldn't come swinging at him immediately.

"I can see you still have a temper. Destroying the door wasn’t necessary, I would've opened it for you," he stated, sipping on his drink.

"I don't care," you retorted, "I guess you already know why I'm here, in any case."

"I do. You're here to carry out my death sentence," he stated, completely unbothered, as if talking about the weather.

As if he was just mundanely stuck in his ways. 

You huffed, placing your hand over your sword's handle.

"Precisely."

"We haven't spoken in a long time, why don't you take a seat?" Nanami inquired, pointing at the armchair right in front of him. "I want to finish my drink."

You glared at the curse user, as he, unfazed, kept gulping on his whiskey. Nanami was wearing a black buttoned shirt, black pants and black oxford shoes, and you couldn't help but see him as a grim reaper — this was a somber look, fitting for the equally somber man who carried it.

For a second, you took in his features — you hadn’t seen Nanami for a few years after the last time you crossed paths.

His shoulders had slightly broadened, and he still bore the same chiseled face, framed by his sand-blond hair neatly slicked back.

Nanami’s eyes traveled over you quickly, apparently doing the very same thing.

Time had left its marks. It was evident you both had grown up — and apart.

You knew this was a shit idea, but entertained it enough that you actually walked towards the chair and sat down. There were definitely things to be talked about, and you just about had a million questions for him.

Most of them, however, boiled down to what you immediately asked.

"Why did you do it?"

Nanami put his glass on the coffee table right in front of you.

"It was a necessary means to an end."

His words came with frost-bitten coldness, his voice embodying the monotone you once loved, but eventually, grew to hate.

You scoffed, incredulous at his reply, involuntarily clenching your fingers around your katana's handle as it laid on your lap.

"Necessary means to an end? Nanami, you killed teenage sorcerers!"

"As I said, and I don't like repeating myself," he interjected, "it was a necessary sacrifice for a greater cause."

"You're such a hypocritical, self-righteous ass!"

Nanami sighed, clearly displeased.

"We have always been able to keep some semblance of respect for each other, despite our… differences. Do not use that foul language with me."

You laughed bitterly, no amusement or fun in your voice as you did.

"Do you think I can still have an ounce of respect for you after what you did? You murdered my people! They were all sorcerers. You killed students, Nanami! Jujutsu High's students! Just like Haibara once was!"

He shot his eyes at you, and the aura of his cursed energy grew sinister at your words. 

"Don't say his name."

Yu Haibara, arguably the glue that kept the trio together. You were hot headed, Nanami was intransigent, and Yu was the conciliatory ray of sunshine that kept you two — but you, particularly — from constant quarreling as classmates nearly every day.

But back then, you'd argue with Nanami with love.

This wasn't the case now.

Not entirely, at least.

"He was my best friend too, the three of us were! Do you really think this is what he would've wanted?!" you questioned him, equal parts hurt and enraged.

"I'm not one to ponder on could've or would've been's. Haibara is gone."

"I'm not a would've been!"

You could still remember it. The day you realized why dealing with Nanami and hearing his sharp comebacks riled you up so intensely. 

You finally understood you were in love with him.

Ever since the first day you met Nanami, you envied the way he'd be able to keep his feelings in check when you constantly felt like falling apart. You felt jealous at how he was considered a greatly competent individual, regarded by all as the best of your class, while you were basically viewed as a ticking bomb nearing explosion. And finally, it made you livid the way how everyone treated him like the informal leader of the trio when the three of you were out on a mission together.

However, those were the same things that got you to admire your friend and, eventually, fall in love for him.

That day, you asked Nanami to meet you outside after class by himself — much to Haibara's dismay —, because you had something to tell him. It was a Tuesday afternoon, and the unforgiving sun of summer was already setting, casting an orange glow through the leaves of the tree you were both under.

After confessing your feelings for him and bracing yourself for being shot down, because why the hell would Nanami Kento, the brilliant, competent, and mature second-year, have any interest in the chaotic, hot headed mess you were, you realized he actually looked surprised. After taking a few moments to collect himself, Nanami told you how he had thought you actually hated him.

At last, somewhat nervous — but definitely intent on not letting it show —, he confided he had affectionate feelings towards you as well.

Your first kiss was awkward, as it would be expected out of two inexperienced people such as you and Nanami were at that age, but it carried the sweet taste of a blue spring marked by teenage years' innocence.

It felt like a promise.

Unfortunately, such promise was unmercifully cut short the very next day, when Nanami and Haibara were dispatched to their life-changing mission.

What an irony it was that, in the end, you were the one to actually mature over Haibara's death, growing up to be an upstanding sorcerer, loved and admired by peers and students alike, and Nanami was the bomb to blow up in everybody's faces.

What a cruel irony.

"I was there too, and I'm still here, having to pick up the pieces of what you deliberately destroyed!" you rasped, angrily.

"You weren't a 'would've been'? Where were you when we needed you? When I needed you?" his voice didn't conceal the tinge of hurt that those questions carried.

What a fucking low blow.

"Nanami, that's not fair. There wasn't anything I could've done in that situation, and you know that!"

You blamed yourself for a while for not going on that mission with them, until you realized that you too would probably have died if you were there. From the three, Nanami was the only one strong and fast enough to pull off an escape like he did.

He diverted his gaze back to the window.

"You were the one to bring up hypothetical scenarios. Let's indulge in them for a minute, shall we?" 

Nanami glanced back at you, and his next words brimmed with bitter resentment, even if his voice sounded more calm and collected than ever.

"You see someone you supposedly love slowly sinking into darkness. What do you do?"

"Don't you dare, you condescending prick! I asked you so many fucking times what was going on. You were the one who shut me out!"

Your voice carried a decade-old pain that resonated from the depths of your soul.

It came from all the times you entered his dorm room with his favorite sandwich after he had cooped up in there for days on end, and he didn't even bother to eat it. Every time you asked him to talk to you, said you were there for him, and was met by a vacant stare.

And, at last, the time when he cruelly blamed you for not being there when Haibara died.

The way he coldly told you about Haibara's last words.

According to Nanami, Haibara said he wanted to speak to you one last time, at least to bid you farewell.

And you weren't there.

Oh, the viciousness with which he blamed you, and decided you owed him something for this perceived failure. 

The next time Nanami talked to you, he asked you to leave Jujutsu High with him, just like Geto did, and swore to destroy them. You tried, pleaded, implored for him to reconsider and stay, but the very following day, you were met by an empty room where the person you once loved used to be. 

That emptiness had, paradoxically, filled you wholly with grief.

Gojo once told you that nobody could save someone who didn't want to be saved.

You still thought you should've tried harder, in a childish attempt at giving yourself an illusory semblance of control over that clusterfuck of a situation.

This is the gap inside our psyche that feeling guilty tries to fill, isn't it?

We can only feel guilty about the things we could've changed, right?

Your voice sounded decades older than yourself, burdening the weight of multiple lifetimes of hurt and grief. Your soul was too old for your own good.

"How can you find it in yourself to blame me for this?! No… This is a prison of your own making. You built the house of cards that is tumbling down on your head as we speak entirely by yourself."

He huffed intensely through his nostrils — Nanami’s version of a snort —, looking the other way before proceeding, each syllable hitting you with the deadly precision of his cursed technique.

"You abandoned us, leaving me and Haibara to fend for ourselves, just like Jujutsu Society did."

By that point, you began yelling, and your voice reverberated all across the room.

"The hell I did!"

You had to take a deep breath before proceeding.

"I just couldn't get behind this dumb idea that we should become curse users and bring down Jujutsu Society."

"Why didn't you come with me?" he finally asked, in an amalgam of pain, sadness, longing, anger, and stinging resentment. "I would have followed you to the deepest recesses of hell if you asked me to."

You huffed, laughing angrily in between your teeth, before thrusting your words like thorns against him.

"Funny you should say that. You'd go anywhere for me? How about staying? Why couldn't you have stayed for me, then?!" 

Perhaps that request was egotistical, but you didn't care. If only for a moment, you wanted to give yourself this small privilege — to want in a world of duty.

"I was the one actually left to fend for myself, right inside the belly of the beast, and you couldn't have cared less."

He stared at you, nothing in his eyes other than the void left behind after his spirit got killed with his best friend so many years ago.

"I didn't stay because… Because," Nanami stated, with a grave finality, "and you're the one who chose to stay. You're still actively choosing to, just like you did back then."

"That's not a good enough answer," you replied with a bad taste in your mouth.

"It's what you've earned," he coldly replied, "but in case you change your mind-"

"Enough," you interrupted him, incredulous that even after everything, this man had the nerve of suggesting you'd ever be interested in running away with him. "It appalls me you would even consider I could… After what you've done? No, never."

Nanami sighed, and for a brief moment, seemed to be actually disappointed under his resigned, polished visage.

"Well, then. Let's get this over with, at once."

In a split second, you pushed your chair on the ground, falling on your shoulders and rolling on your back, dodging his lightning-fast attack. It left a crater behind, right where you were seconds before. Nanami jumped over the fallen armchair, and you dodged him once again, spinning on your heels, unsheathing your sword as you did so, to deal a beheading blow on the back of his neck.

However, right before impact, you faltered, slowing down your movement.

Your own body held you back from taking his life.

He didn't seem to notice.

Nanami bent down just in time to avoid the blow, and swung his blunt blade towards your kneecap. You were quick on your feet, and jumped back, putting a good distance between the both of you.

"I can see you're actually fighting to kill," he noted, getting up on his feet.

"Of course. That's what I came here to do," you spat in his direction.

"You were never the practical one."

You scoffed.

"Guess I learned something from you."

He smiled at the irony of that, but his eyes didn't follow his expression. 

Nanami lunged at you, but while you thought he'd deal his next blow in your direction, he hit your footing, having you fall on the ground. Abruptly, his blunt blade descended in your direction, but you were able to catch it and have it slip to your side using your katana supported by your hand behind it, sending a sharp, loud sound around the vicinity, trembling against the bones and flesh of the house.

You rolled on your side when he struck a new hit in your direction, leaving another gaping hole on the floor, and you jumped yourself up. 

Before you could attack him, however, he took you by surprise, and you lifted your sword to defend yourself. Nanami hit your katana with his blunt blade, breaking it near where the handle and the steel met, launching your body back on the wall.

The impact knocked the air out of your lungs, and you fell to your knees, unable to recover yourself as you got up. Instantly, you heard his quick, steady steps sprinting their way in your direction.

You were cornered.

This is it.

You braced yourself for the impact, closing your eyes. You remembered his technique perfectly.

Precise, just as he was.

Deadly, just as he was, too.

You were to die at the hands of the man you loved, who had become a murderer and only a distorted, broken version of whom you used to truly love.

This seemed like an oddly cruel way to go.

However, the impact never came.

His blunt blade stopped as it was about to hit your stomach, and you opened your eyes, just to see his face mere inches apart from yours. His mountainous form blocked your view from anything else behind him, and Nanami, at that moment, actually looked like the menace he truly was. 

“Why were you appointed as my executioner?” Nanami asked, much to your surprise.

“I asked to be,” you answered, holding his gaze as something went through his eyes. A hint of anger, most likely, and some sense of betrayal, certainly. 

“So, you want to kill someone you once loved? You were always prone to self-penitence, so it stands to reason you’d do something idiotic like that.”

You scoffed, grimacing at him, feeling your entire body incandescent with rage.

“I fucking hate you, Nanami.” 

He inched his face even closer, brushing your noses against one another, eyes stone-cold and hauntingly vacant.

“I hate you as well.”

For a moment, you wondered if he had really stopped his blade before impact. You didn't expect it, but hearing those words felt like you just had been hit, victim of a blunt trauma, at how much they tore you apart. 

The same blunt trauma that severed the Nanami you once knew — the teenager with bangs, who'd always be carrying around a few spare changes to get soda cans from the vending machine for you and Haibara, in his own understated kindness — and this empty monster looking back at you.

"Good. Finish me off, then, and get your revenge for a crime I never committed. Being unfair and an all-around self-centered asshole certainly suits you, fucker."

His hand made its way up your neck, and you were pressed against the wall. The grip was firm, but not enough to choke you — it came more as a warning than anything else.

"I already told you to stop using that foul language with me," he ordered, low voice simmering with genuine irritation.

"Then make me," you challenged him, hoping for this torture to be over as fast as possible.

Just fucking kill me already.

His blunt blade fell with a thud on the floor, and you were confused for a moment, wondering if he really wouldn't give you the kindness of a quick demise. Did he plan on choking you to death?

Did he hate you that much?

His other hand came up, but before you could do anything to try to resist — which would be nothing but a futile attempt at survival, given that Nanami was physically much stronger than you —, his fingers snaked their way through the back of your hair, tugging it at the roots. 

His mouth clashed against yours, all teeth, tongue, anger, and hunger, and instantly every nerve in your body flared up with a raging fiery ember you hadn't felt in years. All the pent-up resentment, hurt, and desire you had for Nanami swirled together in your gut, guiding your hands up his hair, as you also pulled on it intently, robbing him of a gasp.

You intertwined your tongue against his, and he unceremoniously bullied his own inside your mouth, leaving no crevice unexplored, as his hand on your neck descended towards your waist, where he clenched his fingers with a vicious grip. You whimpered against his lips, and he grunted in return, pushing his body on yours. His throbbing growing cock could be felt, even through both of your clothes, as he pressed it right against the edge of your pants.

When you finally parted after what seemed like a not-long-enough eternity, you huffed and panted, and albeit less than you, he was panting too.

"I fucking… hate you…" you gnarled, glaring into his eyes. The hazel-brown gaze you once adored was now clouded and dark, like the muddy waters of a deep lake.

"Shut the fuck up," Nanami groaned back, strongly cupping your cunt with his large hand. You whimpered in surprise, and he pulled you in harshly for another kiss, letting go of your hair and sex to sink his fingers on the backside of your thighs, pulling them. You immediately jumped up and threw your arms around his shoulders, as he manhandled your legs to have them hooked around him.

He quickly took you both inside the room, and tossed you on the bed, having you gasping in surprise. Before you could catch your breath, he climbed his way on top of you, pressing your body down, and clashed his mouth against yours again, making you actually lightheaded from a lack of air.

You pushed against his chest, grunting uneasy, and surprisingly, he parted his lips from yours.

"What?"

You panted heavily, nearly hyperventilating, and mindlessly rested your hand on his cheek.

"C-can't breathe…" was all you mustered up to say, trying to replenish oxygen back into your system.

His eyes softened so discreetly you nearly missed it, and his cold-ivory enclosure slightly cracked under the affectionate touch he didn't expect.

Nanami had no idea how much he had craved it ever since you parted ways, and hated himself, just a little, for how much such an innocuous gesture stirred his old feelings up, throwing his heart against his chest in a fluttering rush.

I should be over her by now, dammit.

Nanami also brought his hand up your face, and ghosted over your cheek for a second before sliding his fingers delicately down over it.

You also weren't prepared for that, and your chest tightened all over your heavy heart as you remembered your first kiss.

The way he'd cup your face in his hands.

 So delicate, so lovely.

This touch, at this very moment, felt like a painful reminder of everything you had lost.

"Kento…" you cooed, voice strained in your throat, with all the things you were sure you'd never say.

He hummed your name in return, and kissed you while sinking your body against the mattress. This kiss was different, as his lips brushed gently over yours, and his tongue tenderly teased over the seam of your mouth. You welcomed him in, and you both explored these deep waters tentatively, as he upped the intensity after each stroke of your tongues against each other.

He tasted like whiskey, and bread, and the tainted love left behind as nothing but a reminiscence of less grueling days. You couldn't help but feel robbed by him.

You both had been missing out on this for all these fucking years.

"Why did you have to go?" you asked, pulling back from him, a tinge of anger to your cadence, and another of pain in your face.

"Why did you have to stay?" he spat back at you, equal parts saddened and resentful.

His mouth made its way to your neck, and you gasped with the sensation of his warm breath mingled with saliva against your skin, as he licked and bit his way around.

You couldn’t find it in yourself to push him away, and your eyes burned with the prickling sensation of tears that wouldn’t come. You were starved for his touch, his smell, his body, even if this was the murderer of your students, of your friends.

In your head, you felt like digging a hole and throwing yourself in it, to wallow in the misery of realizing that you were about to fuck the murderer of people you loved, and that it felt good.

A pool of heat and fire shot down your insides as your heartbeats throbbed in between your legs.

You hated yourself, and on top of it all, hated Nanami. 

Hated that you couldn't help but still love him, even after all he had done.

This was the setting tension in between the both of you, the two extremes of hate and love pulling against each other, all while the tug of war rope refused to snap to either side.

He pulled your shirt over your head, tossing it aside, and you undid his shirt, unzipping his pants. He unzipped you too, and quickly enough, took off your pants along with your panties with a single sharp tug.

Back to rough, but not entirely, it seemed.

His hand glided against your thigh and his fingertips slipped over your entrance, getting completely glazed by your already dripping arousal. He grunted, a guttural and intense sound deep in his chest, giving you another bite on the soft skin of your neck.

"Hate me?" Nanami asked, teasing his digits over your cunt, "doesn't seem like it."

You managed to scoff at him, which would prove to be a mistake.

"Go fuck yours-"

Before you could finish your sentence, he dove two of his fingers inside knuckle-deep, without any hint of a warning, forcefully stretching your walls around them. You immediately let out a whimper so pitiful you wondered if that was really your voice.

He seemed satisfied at that. Perhaps, even elated.

"Good girl," Nanami whispered right beside your ear, nibbling against your earlobe with his teeth, sending shivers down your spine. He began sliding his fingers in and out, and you bucked down against his hand while moaning and mewling, walls sheathing his digits as he finger-fucked your cunt, neglecting your clit as punishment for calling him a condescending prick earlier.

His palm rucked against your dripping folds, echoing wet slaps all throughout the room, as your arousal kept pooling on his palm.

He mumbled softly against your skin, bringing his mouth up to brush against yours, "hate… you still love me."

You instantly drew one of your hands to slap him in the face for this hurtful teasing, but he had quick reflexes — quicker than yours. He dodged himself back as your hand hit the empty sheets, and edged his fingers to hit against your soft spot, pressing it so violently, you let out a strained cry from the shooting overstimulation pain.

"Ah- Shit!" you shouted, face all scrunched up.

"Can't you behave for once?" he chided, "why is it so hard for you to j-just-“ 

Nanami’s breath hitched in his throat as he grunted, unable to finish his sentence.

You shut him up the only way you could think — grabbing his cock harshly over his boxers. It was extremely effective, and he immediately humped his length against your hand, while lowly groaning.

With trembling hands and a violent snap, you haphazardly pulled his boxers down to his mid-thighs, as his fingers kept mercilessly bullying their way inside you, sending vibrating waves all throughout your body with every thrust.

“Stop… telling me… ah-aaah-“ you rolled your eyes back with a loud moan, struggling to keep a train of coherent thought, gnarling your next words,  “what to… ah- do!”

His cock sprang out, slapping against his belly. The tip was already flustered red, leaking with pre-cum, and had a long, prominent vein on the underside.

To punish him back for the roughness, you grabbed his length with one hand, and with the other, pressed the middle of your palm against his flushed tip, glistening his arousal around it with enough force to jump across the divide between intense pleasure and painful overstimulation.

Nanami cursed with a feral voice through his teeth, immediately biting the side muscles of your neck with no semblance of restraint, making sure to leave a purple remnant of pain etched on your skin.

“Ah- ouch! Fuck!” you spat out, tightening your grip around his cock, but weakened enough to release the tight pressure against his tip, letting him fuck into your hand. His hips bucked erratically, and his lips pressed a quick kiss right where he had previously bitten.

He couldn't help it.

Suddenly, Nanami stopped his rutting fingers to press his thumb against your already throbbing clit. That instantly had you seeing stars as you cursed loudly in between moans and grunts, drawing your free hand to his head, ferociously tugging at his hair, as heat pooled in your lower abdomen like fiery embers of coal.

He grabbed your arm, pulling it away from his shaft, and removed his fingers from your walls, having them clenching around nothing at such a sudden emptiness. You began complaining, only to have your voice cut short by his tongue slipping its way inside your mouth, in a sloppy, wet kiss. 

Parting from you, Nanami’s eyes were glassy, and you were absolutely sure your gaze must’ve looked just as hazy as his.

In a brief moment, before you realized it, he slid himself down, and unceremoniously lapped at your already sensitive clit with his warm tongue, hot breath tickling against your sensitive skin.

Both of your hands descended towards his hair, brushing over his golden and now messy locks more tenderly than you expected. Nanami suddenly shivered and moaned into your cunt, edging his tongue down your folds and back, eyes fluttering shut the moment he tasted you entirely.

He felt a tinge of pain clench at his chest, realizing this was the taste he had missed out on for all that time — your taste, which would surely ruin him forever.

Nanami’s pain, however, was quick to turn into outrage, as he began sucking on your clit relentlessly, eliciting the most animalistic sounds you had ever uttered.

You instinctively tried backing away, and he pulled on your thighs, holding them with such a violent force that his hand was sure to leave an engraving of his digits over your plush skin.

Nanami was intent on dragging this orgasm out of you by any means necessary.

You had never given him anything he wanted from you — be it the company to fight against Jujutsu High or the same unwavering loyalty he had for you. So this was something he’d take.

If you wouldn’t be by his side, then the least you could do was to cum for him so fervently, he’d be sure to ruin you just as much as he felt like you had ruined him. You owed him that, or so Nanami thought.

“Aaah-- Kento! S-slow d-… fuck!”

You came with a thunderous shout, jolting your hip forward as your thighs tightened with inhuman strength to the sides of his head. Nanami made sure to deliciously lick your way down from your high, applying such a precise and perfect pressure on your clit that you could’ve wept from sheer satisfaction.

After your legs went limp, he slowly climbed his way back to you, pressing kisses all over your body, leaving a ghost of heat wherever his mouth traveled. When Nanami finally reached your face, he put his forearms against your sides, hands over your shoulders, caging you in, as he pressed his mouth against yours in a slow kiss.

You were floating in a calm sea, salty waves caressing your body every time they passed through, and it felt cozy. Inviting, even. As he parted his lips from yours, Nanami gazed into your eyes in the way he used to.

For a second, you got catapulted into the past, and the orange sun that warmed your cheeks through the leaves as you kissed for the first time seemed to shine its rays over again.

With his arms around you, the nonsensical feeling of being protected washed over your heart.

“Come with me,” he whispered with a sultry, husky voice. 

“Kento…” you cooed, sighing, wanting nothing more than for this moment to extend for infinity.

But it couldn’t.

You didn’t go with him, so many years ago.

And wouldn’t go now, either.

That wasn’t how it worked for the both of you.

Nanami understood it, and what seemed like another crack against his unwavering walls had formed the moment his brows furrowed above his eyes.

“Fine, then,” he said, with a tinge of genuine hurt to his voice.

You parted your thighs to accommodate his hips, and he obliged, guiding his hand down to align his cock against your entrance. You bent and hooked your legs around him, pulling him in, and as the tip of his length got pressed against your dripping cunt, he gasped slightly over your lips.

Nanami sunk in slowly, going through your already relaxed ring. However, it apparently wasn’t relaxed enough, or perhaps he was just too big, because you could feel every inch of stretching his cock made against your walls as he slowly bottomed out inside your cunt.

His mouth fell open and you exhaled a moan into it, breaths mingling together. You two drank each other in. Nanami pressed his forehead against yours, and you both held each other’s gaze, as he pulled your left wrist above your head, holding it there, pushing you down the mattress by your waist with his other hand.

After a moment for you to take him in, Nanami began rolling his hips into you, while his hand kept bruisingly pressing your wrist against the mattress. You could feel his balancing act of trying to love you and wanting to hurt you at the same time.

You weren’t so different from him in that sense, though. Your nails got dragged down his back with abrasive force, and for a second, you considered drawing blood from him. He grunted, and you saw the spark of cold-hearted anger flash through his now dimmed eyes.

You both wanted to love each other just as much as you wanted to hurt each other.

In a more forgiving universe, perhaps, he’d hold your hand tenderly, intertwining his fingers in yours. Maybe you two would be in the kitchen as he showed you one of his favorite bread recipes, and share quiet moments of understanding companionship when remembering those who had left this world too soon.

But this wasn’t that universe, unfortunately.

He was to die, and you were to carry out his execution. 

Except you couldn’t, because even if you still tried to cling on to any sliver of morals, even if his life was something yours alone to take, the mere thought of a world without Nanami was far worse than the reality of a world in which he was a murderer.

You insisted on fighting a losing game, and much to no one’s surprise, you lost. 

Good riddance to me, I suppose.

His grunts came hitched and stuttered against your mouth as he was now rutting himself into you, biting your lower lip hard enough to almost pierce the skin with his teeth. You moaned loudly, dragged around with pain and pleasure, the combo that seemed to summarize the gist of your relationship.

He let go of your wrist and descended his hand without a warning towards your already overworked clit, glazing his thumb against the ring of arousal you were leaving around him before starting to make circles around your nub. Your moans came out cracked and faltering, as you tried to resist the instinctive urge of fleeing that the overstimulation was eliciting.

“Give me… one more,” Nanami groaned lowly against your cheek, planting multiple kisses down the side of your face and your chin. His hair — which had already fallen from its usual slick arrangement — brushed against your fluttering eyelids, momentarily weaving golden sand colors over your your vision, and you drove both your hands to the back of his head, pulling him in for another kiss. 

You could kiss him like this forever. 

You actually wanted to, at that moment.

To his request, you nodded, and this was probably the first time you acquiesced to any request Nanami had ever made to you. 

Fulfilled, his thrusts and his finger over your clit became increasingly erratic, as he was now moaning your name against your mouth. You pushed your tongue over his, sliding your hands up his head to tug at his roots, and that was all it took to tip him over the edge.

Nanami came with a muffled groan, having your tongue still pushed inside his mouth, and kept pumping himself inside you trying to keep the comedown at bay. His thick, white cum got glazed all over inside you, and the slaps of flesh and skin began sounding ever more wet than they already were.

You weren’t so far off, with your walls fluttering around him, and he noticed it, keeping his now trembling thumb pressed and circling intently over your clit. With one perfectly applied nudge on your sensitive bud, Nanami finally pulled you over the edge along with him.

Some tears began pooling on the edges of your lashes, and all your emotions — anger, sadness, grief, longing, and a particular brand of despair you cultivated during the last decade — came crashing down as he wrenched your second orgasm from you.

Your body convulsed under him, fluttering walls expelling his softening cock out, as you shouted and grunted into his mouth. You didn’t know if you were more furious at yourself for still loving him, at him for loving you, or at Jujutsu Society for jumbling you both like pawns to be tossed around until you two were broken beyond repair.

Angry at them for sending the young out to have their spirits crushed too soon. For all the deaths no one got to mourn because there was too much work, too little time, and the wounded were always left behind to fend for themselves.

Just like you were.

And just like Nanami was.

You sat at the edge of the bed while putting your shirt back on, and looked back at Nanami, who had his buttoned shirt open over his chest.

“Are you still resolute on your decision of not coming with me?” Nanami asked, with a tinge of eagerness. Or maybe it was just your imagination.

You pondered for a moment, and knew exactly what the answer to that question was.

“Yes. I’m not coming with you.”

For a second, you caught the faintest glimpse of the person he used to be. Something aching to genuine disappointment.

The longing that flashed through him, unfortunately, was quick to go, as he began buttoning his shirt down, averting his gaze elsewhere.

“Why?”

“Because I’d hate myself for the rest of my life if I did,” you stated, sighing before continuing, “and it’s not because I can’t kill you or because I love you that I don’t despise you. You crossed an uncrossable line.”

He pursed his lips, and almost felt regretful for the path he chose.

Almost, since regret now would come ten years too late.

“You can’t go back. They will know you let me go,” Nanami remarked. Be it from him or from looking around this house, Jujutsu High would surely hold you accountable for this — for willingly letting the curse user and murderer, Nanami Kento, escape their wrath.

“I know that,” you replied, a tad bit more defeated than you expected, “that’s why I’m fleeing to Hokkaido.”

He sighed and looked at you. You held his gaze, feeling a little hint of anxiety at what he seemed to be simmering under the surface.

With a warmer expression — or as warm as he could muster it up to be  —, Nanami spoke again. 

“I truly want you to come with me. You’d be safer. We’d… be by each other’s side.”

For a moment, you faltered, open lips with no sound coming out of them. Blinking yourself back to Earth, you asked, “you mean together?”

Nanami kept silent, but nodded, waiting for your response.

He wasn’t just asking for you to come with him, but to be with him.

You wanted to. You did. Something Nanami never knew was just how much you wanted to follow him when he asked you the same thing, so many years ago.

But even though you wholeheartedly loved him with every minute part of your being, your loyalty lied elsewhere.

Not with him, but with the people he had killed.

Well, at least that was the comfortable lie you were capable of living with.

It would destroy you to realize the loyalty you had for the murderer of the people you loved. 

In the end, even if you weren’t a teenager anymore, you were just as much a hostage to your feelings as you had always been.

The ticking took a long time, but the bomb eventually went off.

With a decade’s old delay.

“I… just can’t. I can’t.”

Nanami reclined himself against the wall over which the bed rested, closing his eyes as he supported the back of his head on it. 

He never told you, but this moment broke his heart all over again.

He felt pathetically small.

Guess we get what we deserve, after all.

“You really do have a taste for penitence,” Nanami noted, his voice barely concealing the bitterness that tainted those words.

You scoffed, getting up on your feet, ready to leave as the first rays of sunshine began bleeding through the thick curtains that covered the bedroom’s window.

“Go to hell.”

He chuckled, a sound you hadn’t heard in a very long time. However, it sounded off-key. Wrong.

Sad.

“We’re already here.” 

At the end of it all, he wasn’t wrong.

You were doomed to always keep leaving each other.

If only the world had been a little kinder.

But kindness, it seemed, wasn’t in the cards for you.

End notes: I’m silently screaming. Oh my, this one took way longer than expected, but I enjoyed the writing process during every step of the way (I mean, if that wasn’t evident already from the fact that I made a playlist for this 😂). I forgot how much I was a sucker for gut wrenching angst. Hope you enjoyed it too! 🦉

-

Tag list: @actuallysaiyan @diogodxlot @jadedjane @redlikerozez @voiceless9000

@marvelousfanfictionbitch @kentocalls @ohhheymessa @magical-girl-b @simp-manhwa

@codenamesongbird

[brawltogethernow]

—

L fell over from his customary seated position, died in his nemesis's arms, then came to in his customary seated position.

  He fell over.

  "Richard?" said Wammy, the alias he'd been using four cases ago. "Are you alright?"

  "Watari?" he said dumbly, into the floor. Wammy was dead. He hadn't wanted it to be true, but he had been sure when he saw the data kill switch had been flipped, pieces of information slotting together to form a whole even when he didn't want them to. His own hand had carved him into a device that did this process automatically. It was too late to deny facts.

  "What?" said Wammy like he didn't recognize the Japanese alias.

  L pushed himself up halfway off the ground. "Fuuuuuck this," he said, and fell over again.

⁣

"Why me?" he wondered aloud. "Does this happen to everyone killed by the murder notebooks? I can't investigate an infinite multiverse, Weatherby."

  "Probably not," conceded Wammy. He was currently humoring L gamely. L had been able to provide multiple descriptions of future events that would confirm he wasn't cracking up, but none of them had happened yet. He had never been much of one for keeping track of the date regarding matters where someone could do it for him, which didn't help. Well. Wammy would come around.

  L was humoring himself, too, for now. There was no point assuming his mind wasn't reliable. Using his brain to run diagnostics on itself could wait until it seemed necessary. If he was having an Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge moment it was certainly going on for a very long time.

  He ground his molars against each other. The Kira murders had been supernatural, but clearly guided by a hand that either was mortal or thought the same way. So far, this seemed...random.

  "I don't like this," he informed the room, and incidentally Wammy. His latest sugar cube tower collapsed and split into two factions, one falling into his tea and the other scattering across his desk. Tea sloshed out of its cup in futile pursuit of the desk faction.

  He picked up the teacup by the mostly not sticky handle and sipped it, pursuing the grit at the bottom of its basin. He put it down and but his thumbnail. It was slightly sweet. He needed to wash his hands. He added, "Well. I like it better than being dead."

⁣

He sent the party interested in his current case an e-mail with enough key bullet points of the solution for them to clean up what was left of it themselves, which was more than he felt like doing for a rerun of a case. If he were stuck only rehashing already closed cases he might entertain the theory that this was Hell. But the world was wide, he had only lived a year or so beyond this in the first place, and the Kira case was still open.

  He tried to console himself that Light Yagami possessed one of the most ruthlessly brilliant minds L had ever encountered. This did not make him feel any better about being beaten by a fucking child. L was an extremely petty man about things like that.

  (He had been a worse minor. If he had been eighteen as well when faced with such an infuriating suspect, he would probably have been the one instigating physical altercations. He would have broken Light's perfect nose instead of playing around with him, and then maybe he wouldn't be undead.)

  He gnawed his thumbnail, brain too itchy to be content just pressing it against his bottom lip where he could usually stop. He knew on one level of thought he was risking ending up with sore and bloody cuticles, but it was not the level primarily in charge of his teeth and hands when he was stressed. Was he stressed? Extremely, yes. But should he have been? His life wasn't even in danger, nor was Wammy's. Kira hadn't claimed his first kill yet, probably hadn't acquired his weapon, that awful, intriguing, unassuming notebook. And when he did, L could just...

  L didn't even have to do anything. He could just ignore it, and stay ensconced in whatever HQ he chose. Name unrecorded, face unknown, existence not relevant to Light Yagami's twisted morals. He already knew all the key mechanics of Kira. The method, the means—he was sure he'd already known the why. He had all the answers he wanted. Light had given him his answers.

  His true face... It was all the confession L had needed. An honor, even.

  Ha!

  L didn't need anyone's sanction to solve the Kira problem, either. He could steal the notebook. He could hire a hitman.

  Dull pain and the taste of blood alerted him that he'd bitten through his thumb.

  He popped it into his mouth to keep blood off his keyboard. No, he didn't want to kill Light Yagami. He probably should kill Light Yagami, but he didn't want to. He wanted to... To...

⁣

Of the many casualties of the Kira case, there was no one he cared to intervene for he hadn't led to danger with his own hand. (Should he have cared more about Beyond? Eh, he'd interfere if Wammy brought it up.) Even Naomi, who he hadn't spoken to in years, should have no reason to return to her home country if L didn't repeat old plays.

  ...He wondered if he was perhaps taking the wrong lessons about treating people as expendable from the situation.

  He tapped his fingers. Naomi. He had liked her.

  He spent an hour at the keys confirming where she was. The sun had set around him, at some point, leaving him in a black room with the monitor a white inferno at the center. Moved to Burbank, engaged, retired. She must be bored out of her mind in an empty room of her own making. No wonder she had died over this case too.

  He hoped it was exciting first. Light had never mentioned her.

  Focusing all of her faculties on her boytoy only for a killer to take him away... She must have gotten very unlucky to have not proved a bigger obstacle.

⁣

After it came clear that L was reporting his experiences accurately (or hallucinating his confidant's confirmations), Wammy sat silently for a subjectively long minute and forty-seven seconds.

  "What is it like?" he asked at last. "Dying."

  "I don't know, I was kind of distracted," L deflected, because this is true.

  Wammy gave him a blank yet communicative look.

  L bit down on his other, less raw thumb. Why hadn't Wammy come back with him, possessed of his own experience to draw on? Was there another Wammy, elsewhere, who has gone back alone?

  Could it be he really didn't die? No. L was sure.

  Kira had done that, but even spider-scrabbling blunted fingertips at the bottom recesses of the linty pockets of his heart, L couldn't find it in himself to feel too righteously indignant. L was the one who had wanted to win badly enough he'd anted up his allies in their game. He had been cocky. He had been too cavalier.

  "Frustrating," he answered. "Like when you can't stay awake even though you're in the middle of a project."

  The brain, whirling determinedly away even as it stopped receiving fresh blood, as the vision narrowed down to a thin line, a screen shutting off uncaring of whether it was the end of the program.

⁣

He researched relevant players he hadn't been aware of at this point. All were transpiring to be about where he'd have plced them.

  The web of events was elaborate. But that could have been dream logic. He'd tried, but never gotten the hang of, lucid dreaming. He was not sure he would be truly convinced this was happening until he'd discovered a why.

  He hovered his overful teacup not quite at his lips. Next, he could find a backdoor into the TCPD systems, but...maybe...

  He wormed into Yagami Light's computer instead. After 24 hours of passive data collection this provided him with Souichirou's passwords and how Light concealed he was using them.

  It was very amateur, which was the best way to hack an organization that thought it was going to be hacked by professionals. Casual exploitation of loose security.

  It was child's play on top of this to get a day-old visual on Light. L looked at the security photo and felt a thrill up his spine. Ah, death really didn't change me for the better at all, he thought.

⁣

"What's next in the docket?" asked Wammy, tidying up the workstation they were slated to abandon. (L remained on his computer chair and let this happen around him.) He was content to follow L's lead, even knowing he had led them both to their deaths.

  "I want to find out why I've come back in time, and how," said L. "...But I don't have any leads to speak of."

  "Except young Yagami," concluded Wammy, who was not an unclever man.

  "I don't want to return to the Kira case," L admitted.

  "Completely understandable," said Wammy without judgment. He was not an overly moral man, either.

  L fidgeted. Flopped somewhat. "The Kira case is the most interesting case on the planet right now," he said.

  Wammy waited.

  "But I already know how he kills," L sulked. "And dying kind of hurt."

  Wammy's mouth pursed at this. But he only asked, "What are you planning, L?"

  "I'm going to insert myself," announced L, rising and stepping out of his chair. "What do we have in liquid assets right now?"

  "What will this be put toward?" inquired Wammy.

  L rolled his eyes up toward the ceiling and thought about it, chewing his lip. "Shenanigans," he declared.

  He realized he had forgotten a social step and stopped his creep for the exit. He swiveled his head around. "Though Weatherby, if you want to return to the school for a year or two, or perhaps go on vacation—"

  "I'll go where you go," interrupted Wammy, chilly.

  L pursed his lips, finding now he'd began it that this was not the perfunctory check-in he'd taken it for. He said, "I would prefer if you didn't die."

  Wammy sighed. "A similar sentiment is why I will accompany you."

  L turned back around. "I see," he said, nodding. "Emotional blackmail."

  "This time I trust you to take the appropriate precautions," said Wammy.

  "Ugh," said L. "You're no fun."

⁣

To enact his very ingenious and only partially driven by general doubt in reality and spite scheme, L got a job at a pastry chain in Tokyo.

  After less than a single afternoon, the manager deemed L unfit to serve customers (this was correct), so he was shuffled onto glazing duty. He accepted this without complain as, due to the pop-up-cum-cart-style layout of the establishment, this still allowed him a clear view of anyone patronizing the establishment. Moreover, he did not especially want to serve customers.

  He despised the thin plastic sanitation gloves, which felt like rather than protecting his hands they moved the barrier of contaminated flesh up to his wrists, oils creeping and substances splashing upwards, until he wanted to decontaminate his arms up to the elbows and down to the bone.

   It's for the case, he told himself even though there was no case, not really. It was the same process of steeling himself to put discomfort aside for a greater cause.

  The greater cause this time was just bullying Yagami Light.

  This is a cinnamon roll of great justice, he told himself, then held it up to eye level and examined it, debating whether to eat half of it in front of his manager. For great justice.

⁣

His fingers twitched. He solved cold cases from his backlog and sent in tips about them thumb-typed on a PDA on his lunch breaks. He was so understimulated he contemplated playing some stocks, which he was trying to cut back on. He had more money than one person could ever need and than he had any inclination to redistribute responsibly, and also he acclimated to them the way some people did to pachinko.

⁣

The manager sat him down. "I have been informed I can't fire you," he said.

  "Yes," said L, who had purchased the chain before applying for the job.

  "But I want to," said his manager, like it was important L knew.

  "That's fine," said L. He pulled an industrial tub of cold icing over, stuck one finger into it, and licked it.

  The manager's mouth flexed murderously. L entertained himself briefly by imagining this scheme if Light was his manager.

⁣

When Light finally walked in, L had been shuffled back to cashier duty to get him to stop licking the donut icing, where he would remain until customer satisfaction dropped untenably low. With a pull that was gravity-inevitable, they locked eyes across the room, and a realization was clear to L at once:

  He's bored again.

  Without anyone challenging to oppose him, Kira was already getting bored. A smile spread like an ocean oil slick over L's face. Or perhaps like the mysterious and ever-widening sticky spot under the second stove that no one could seem to mop up.

  Everything was falling in line with his loftiest expectations. Light would crawl on his knees right to L. He didn't realize it, but he was desperate.

  And L would lead this insufferable man, in his supplication, right through the mystery floor goo.

  L favored Light with his (he was told) very unsettling customer service smile. "Welcome to Cinnabon," he said.

—

AO3

[sailortongue]

As YOU Wish

pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

wc: 1.1k

summary: on the search for a particular book, you have a brief encounter with the owner of a local bookstore. But perhaps the ex-FBI agent also finds himself in search of something more after meeting you

cw: based on the netflix show You so Spencer is a red flag here

an: my cousin wrote the summary and it sounds so cute i had half a mind to rewrite this to just be an innocent meet cute

--------

The bell above the door chimed, signaling to Spencer that a customer had arrived—the first of the day, actually. He glanced up from the register to see a young woman about his age enter. Beautiful, he thought. He was taking in every aspect of your appearance as quickly as he could. The way you styled your hair, the color of your eyes, the worn-out pair of Converse that rivaled his own pair. He shook his head once to clear his thoughts, not wanting to embarrass himself before he even had the chance to ask for your name.

He plastered a smile on his face and greeted you with a “good morning”.

“Good morning,” you said, returning the smile.

Spencer watched you roam around the store, seemingly browsing more than looking for anything in particular. He noticed the way you gently ran your fingers over the spines of some of the books before pulling them from the shelves to read their summaries. Definitely cherishes her books. But no matter what book you pulled, it was always returned to its place. Spencer began taking notice of the way your eyes roved the many titles available, a small frown becoming more and more prominent the more you looked. Maybe you are looking for something. He voiced his thoughts aloud and called out, “Can I help you find anything?”

You turned to face the admittedly very handsome employee. The smile you gave him this time was one of embarrassment, feeling unreasonably foolish that he’d noticed you struggling to find what you were looking for. From Spencer’s point of view though, that embarrassment looked an awful lot like shyness, which was easily interpreted as interest. Hopefully as much as he had in you.

“Yes, please. I’m trying to find The Princess Bride,” you answered.

Spencer thought about it for a moment, trying to remember if it was in the fantasy, adventure, or romance section. “It is . . .” he started, dragging out the last syllable as he walked farther into the shelves with you following close behind. “right here,” he finished, gesturing to the book in question.

“Thank you!” you exclaimed excitedly. Just before you were going to reach for it, an idea struck you. You hoped and prayed that he’d understand, otherwise you’d just be embarrassing yourself again. Should that happen, you'd simply never come back to this store and would probably dwell on it for the rest of your life. You decided to take the chance anyway. “Fetch me that book?” you asked him.

Spencer looked at you incredulously. Is she serious? The shelf is barely above her head, she could reach it with no pro— 

He chuckled as he realized what you were referencing. He grinned down at you as he pulled the book from the shelf. “As you wish.”

You giggled as he handed it to you. “So happy you understood that. I think I would have died of shame if you didn’t.”

That got a true laugh out of the handsome man.  “I’ll admit it took me a second to get it, but that was perfect. Have you read it before or just watched the movie?”

“I’ve read it before, but my copy has up and vanished. It’s one of my favorites, so it was imperative that I get another one.”

He nods as if in understanding but his expression is one of confusion. “If it’s one of your favorites, then how did you lose it?”

“I just moved here recently. Went through all of my boxes but still can’t find it, so I’ve chalked it up to it getting lost in the move.”

“Well then, I’m glad to have been of assistance. Is that all you were looking for today?”

“For today, yes, but I’ll definitely be back. I don't think I’ve ever been in a bookstore as cozy as this one.”

Spencer beamed at you, pleased with your praise of the shop he’d worked so hard to establish. “Thank you. I worked very hard to make it that way.”

You looked at him quizzically. “You designed the shop?”

“No, I own it,” he said humorously. “Spencer Reid, owner of Reid’s Reads. It’s nice to meet you,” he introduced himself, even going as far as to offer you his hand, which ordinarily he’d never do. But the thought of initiating any kind of skin-to-skin contact was too thrilling to pass up.

“I’m Y/n, it’s nice to meet you, too,” you said, shaking the hand he’d offered.

“If that’s all you need then I can go ahead and get you checked out?” His eyes were wide and expressive as he looked to you for confirmation.

“Oh. Right.” Heat rose to your cheeks unbidden and you tried your best to keep your emotions in check. But unbeknownst to you, Spencer was a former FBI agent that specialized in such things, not to mention a certified genius. How cute. She’s blushing again. He also took note of the poorly hidden upturn of your lips. Why so shy? Just smile at me, sweetheart. 

He gestured for you to walk ahead of him. “Ladies first.”

He followed behind you to the register, glad for the opportunity to check you out in more ways than one.

You placed the book on the counter, and Spencer resumed his position behind the register. He scanned the book and read out the price to you. Pay with a card. Pay with a card. Pay with a card. he chanted mentally. 

Bingo. You pulled the piece of plastic from your wallet and handed it to him. He read the name as subtly as he could. You’d given him your first name, but a first name wouldn't be enough to find you online. He swiped your card and bagged your book, making sure to let his hand brush against yours as he handed the items to you.

“It was nice meeting you, Y/n. Do come again.”

“Oh, I will. Have a good day!” you said as you were leaving, giving him a small wave. The bell chimed as the door was opened again, and his eyes remained on your figure as he watched you through the large windows at the front of the store until you were out of sight.

With your full name now committed to memory, he planned on finding every trace of you online that he could as soon as he was home from work. He was no Penelope Garcia, but this wasn't something he particularly wanted the FBI involved in.

And so, for the rest of the day, his thoughts were consumed with only one thing: you.

[nightfall-1409]

like its ok to wish that hunter did more to get crosshair out but i will say PLEASE stop saying that rescuing the literal helpless child from the child murdering fascists was somehow wrong of Hunter.

also like. can we stop undermining the very clear and obvious way that crosshair liked the power that he was given in the empire, especially over others, he was radicalized. he convinced himself that the war crimes were justified in the name of power. that is a far bigger problem and something that is going to haunt him far longer and requires a lot more to undo and forgive (and some people will never and should never do that, and others can't bc they are Dead)

to say it was all the effects of the chips, at this point in the series, its just not true. the events of aftermath specifically are 100% the chip. Everything after that is up for debate. We don't know when it was taken out, but at some point it was, and crosshair's pov is that it doesn't matter when, bc he likes where he's at. Had he not been abandoned by the empire on Kamino for so long, I doubt he would have ever changed, had Cody not deserted after confronting him about what it was the clones were doing, I doubt he would have ever changed. Had he not been forced to see Mayday's struggle and fight to bring him home and still after everything they both gave after everything suffered mayday died not in battle but because someone couldn't be bothered to even try to help him, I don't think he would have changed. I don't think Hunter could talk him out of it, and maybe he didn't try hard enough, or really, at all. Crosshair's version of loyalty, though, is blind, unquestioning, a soldiers loyalty. Obeying what they were doing, things that Hunter couldn't obey, and would have made him a monster to do.

But I can't imagine the disgust I would be forced to contend with if like, my family member came forward like "oh yes we're built to be soldiers, that doesn't mean preserving or protecting innocents, It means power and killing those who get in my way. its my purpose in life and i think you're stupid for not getting over the moral objections" like what do you even say to that. Hunter at that point had SEEN what the empire was doing. They both had, their home planet, (and head canons aside, all clones did in fact, in canon, see it as their home.) orbitally bombarded to secure power. How do you talk someone out of that, if fundamentally what your disagreement is on the value of life. You don't. Hence Hunter's demands in S3E5 to know what changed. What finally made Crosshair realize what he believed, about power and his purpose, was wrong.

Crosshair didn't want out. Crosshair was upset they didn't stay. He saw their purpose as being with the Empire. They escaped and ran and deserted. If they weren't with him, in the Empire, then they should die, like the Jedi, and Crosshair did absolutely believe that.

So this is all to say that. they are not equally responsible for what happened to their squad. Crosshair didn't have a choice at first— but once he did keep running right over that line. And a lot of us hoped that he was lying about the chip, that he wasn't entirely responsible for all that he did. But he was. That's clear at this point.

Even the whole chip matter— it's prolly really hard for Hunter to separate it. logically, he knows it was partially the chip at this point. But at that point in the story he watched someone he was incredibly close to nearly kill them all and at the time he had no idea why. If Hunter'd not grabbed Omega by the leg and tripped her she would be shot dead. If omega hadn't surprised Crosshair by shooting his gun out of his hand he would have killed Hunter. He shot wrecker, to use him as bait against the rest of them? Like, again, we all knew about the chip, but I can understand the emotional toll of such a thing bc he DIDNT at the time. The betrayal in that moment? How do you let it go?

But thats all fine! its interesting its character development and its the story they were determined to tell. But like. we can be honest.

Now if someone thinks that im wrong i'd love to know what exactly hunter needs to be sorry about, and why he's equally responsible that doesn't like either downplay the war crimes and murder and doesn't throw Omega like directly into harms way and under the bus.

[smytherines]

I love One Step Ahead for all the obvious reasons (gay angst), but also because it is so packed with little storytelling moments. Also it just seems exhausting. So much happens in that song:

1. Motorcycle chase (with office chairs)

2. Boat chase

3. Staff fight

4. Sword fight

5. Vigorous musket loading

6. Run up the staircase

7. Hang glider chase

8. Fistfight

9. Run halfway down the stairs again

And the entire time they are doing all of this, they're belting out a vocally demanding song. I mean, no wonder Curt Mega had to take a breath during that final note. That's a feat of endurance. I simply would've passed out and died.

One Step Ahead is one of my favorite setpieces of all time. In anything. Ever. It is so impressive, and it is even more impressive when you realize this was done by a tiny little independent company with the theatre budget equivalent of $1.50. Unreal. It should not be possible.

And the thing is, One Step Ahead is the perfect narrative counterweight to A1P1 (Spies Are Forever). The amount of thought they put into this is just stunning. Because here's the thing: A1P1 is also incredibly physical. For most of the song Curt and Owen are on the move, they're going up the ladder, they're fighting goons, they're going down the staircase, they're running.

But more importantly, Curt and Owen are touching a lot in A1P1. And yeah, that's fun in a swoony curtwen vibes way, but its also incredibly important to the narrative. They are touching a lot, and when they aren't touching they are standing just a little bit too close together. Its subtle enough that you initially dismiss it as a stylistic choice, but once you have the full context it is remarkably intimate.

Those are important details- like the way Owen has his arm around Curt and is literally holding his hand when they're talking to Cynthia. Its meant to tell us that they are together. In the romantic way, yes, but also they're just aligned, working together, on the same page. They are partners here. They literally have each other's backs.

And that's down to Curt Mega and Joey Richter selling the absolute shit out of these roles, and genius choreography by Lauren Lopez, and Corey Lubowich being the director of all time.

The digital download BTS has a part with Joey and Curt rehearsing the bit where they do the hug, and right after that they're trying to figure out what cool action poses to move into and Corey says that he wants to see something with them "connected," which is just... yeah, that's the perfect word to describe what is going on in A1P1. These two are connected.

So then we get to One Step Ahead. At the very beginning, Curt does the arm clasp with Tatiana. The first time they did this, Curt had a flashback of Owen. Owen was still his partner in his heart. But this time that bond is severed. Curt thinks of Tatiana as his partner now.

We get into the action of the song, and Curt and Owen do not touch. Even when they are very physically close together, there are weapons between them. In A1P1 they had lots of moments with their backs turned to each other, trusting each other, working perfectly in sync. In One Step Ahead they are facing each other head on. They are literally and figuratively fighting. They are breaking up.

The only moment during this sequence where they are actually touching each other is when Owen slaps Curt, Curt punches Owen twice, and they do that lock up move. They're only touching to hurt each other now.

And its so subtle and well executed that you don't really think about the parallels between these two scenes the first time you watch them. But you feel it on an emotional level. They had about ten minutes to establish the relationship between these two, and they used that ten minutes so effectively that the staircase scene ends up hitting like a ton of bricks.

Just. I love this show. I love how much TCB and Curt Mega and the rest of the cast care about this show. I'm so grateful they keep coming back to it. I cannot wait to see what they do with these scenes for Spy Another Day.

[maarrgarr]

The Unknown Heir

part three

masterlist of the Unknown Heir.

Gojo Satoru x fem! reader

Synopsis: The reader returns after being gone for two years and leaving her boyfriend, Satoru, without giving him a reason. But now she doesn't come back alone.

Warnings: English is not my first language, possible grammatical and spelling mistakes, some plot changes.

A year and a few more months passed since that event, and it seemed that karma was taking its revenge.

That sweet lady who had given you a job in her real estate agency had died of a heart attack. Although at first it seemed that her children were going to take over the business, they all declared that none of them could since they already had their respective jobs. And so you were left without a job.

It was a very hard blow, not only the loss of your job, but also the death of that lady whom you considered a mother.

Although you had your savings, you hated the fact of being left without a fixed income, so you started looking for a job, but this time you had no luck. Many of the jobs were part-time, and you didn't like the idea of leaving Ryusei with someone else for so long. And the ones that weren't part-time, didn't want to hire you as soon as they heard you had a son who was almost two years old. And to top it off, none of them could offer you a salary even close to what you had when you worked at the agency.

"I don't know what to do" you said frustrated to Ieiri through the call, "Well, you always have a very reliable option to choose from" she told you, while you were preparing food for Ryusei, "Oh yeah? which one?", "You can always go back and practice as a teacher here" you let out a laugh, thinking she was joking, but you stopped when you realized she was serious, "Ieiri, it's not an option to go back, tell me, how am I going to show up at school with a two year old, who happens to look like a copy of my ex-boyfriend, Gojo Satoru, who it should be clarified also teaches there? it's crazy". Of course you had thought about going back, from the first moment you did, but you didn't have the guts to face Satoru and tell him the truth. "Y/n, are you seriously thinking of not telling him, you said it yourself, Ryu is a copy of his father and therefore, surely, he's going to have the same skills as Satoru, and that makes him the future heir of the Gojo clan", there was silence in the call and she spoke again "Besides you not only have to go back for that, you also have to claim your place in your clan, your father disappeared more than a year ago and you're still the only heir". You got a shudder when you heard that, you weren't interested in claiming anything and you didn't think it was right to do so either.

"Think about it, you know I can talk to Yaga-sensei and I'm sure he will be very happy to welcome you here again." Masamichi Yaga, besides having been your teacher, was like a dad to you, he always understood you and helped you in everything, you remembered how Satoru always bothered you saying that Yaga-sensei had a preference with you and it wasn't a lie.

"Okay, I'll think about it" you told her, "Alright, I'll call you later, say hi to my cute nephew" she replied. "When he stops eating and pays attention to me, I'll tell him you said hi" you heard her laugh on the other end of the line, "Bye Ieiri" and they both hung up.

You walked over to your son and stroked his white, slightly messy hair, but he continued to eat and watch a children's program on the TV. "Hey Ryu" he finally looked up at you, his big little eyes that seemed to reflect the sky, just like his father's, and the corner of his mouth a little smeared with food, almost killed you with tenderness, "Would you like to go live near Aunt Ieiri?" you asked him and his eyes seemed to sparkle more than usual, and a smile formed on his face, showing his little teeth, "Yes, yes!" he replied. Ryusei adored Shoko, even though he didn't know her in person, he loved talking to her on video call and loved when she sent him toys as gifts.

Even though you were so scared, you made up your mind. You were going back to Japan. You needed work and maybe it was time to face the problems you left behind when you ran away.

And mostly, it was time to tell Satoru the truth.

Hii, I am very happy for the support I am receiving and I thank you very much🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷.

I was just dropping by to tell you that the question box is open for any request you want to ask me!

@idktbhloley

[inmyhorrorsera]

S5E8 "The Roast" thoughts:

Ok, I watched this episode three times and I'm still smiling. I love when you think and episode is gonna be about something because of its title and then surprise you when its all a misdirection (see also: Succession's "Connor's Wedding").

At first Laszlo's err… state intrigued me, love everyone projecting and imposing their own insecurities (Guillermo's secret, Nadja's hex) as a reason on why he is behaving like that. And of course it's a stupid reason 😭.

"And a flat pepsi for Guillermo". Oh Nandor, that's the worst thing you ever done to Guillermo, that's the worst thing you could do to anyone. And yes, I remember a certain S4 episode.

I screeched like a bird when Colin mentioned dreaming about being a baby under Laszlo's care, not only because I wanted this shit to happen since the past finale, but also I really thought the episode was going on that direction (and also bc its another W for my predictions).

Having said that, LOVED the nonchalance of Nadja and the others when they were like 'no, it wasn't a dream, that totally happened'.

I mentioned it in a separate post: they really had a Sweet Dee in IASIP moment when The Guide gave the roast idea, only to be ignored and then the same idea being stolen by a dude who is celebrated.

Seanie's poor brain it should be soup at this point, we don't know if he can hazily remember the event like it happened before.

What can I remember is his line after Nadja's roast because it was one of the biggest laughs for me: "Women CAN be funny!" I fucking loved it so much, it's the perfect condescending shit straight men say all the time, even when they're trying to be complementary to you they can't stop being garbage. It was a simple line but Anthony nailed the delivery and timing. Seriously, rewatch that part.

At first I was confused why all the jokes were so mid, but shortly I realized this episode wasn't about the roast at all, lol.

Just by watching screenshots of other users I noticed that in the scene of Nandor resting his head on Guillermo's shoulder there's a BIG flame between them. LMAO. There's no way that is unintentional.

Good for The Guide being the catalyst of Baron Afanas learning the truth. I was demanding more screen time for her lately, so having some incidence in the main plot goes on the plus column.

The other guests present at the roast being shocked at the knowledge of Guillermo killing vampires surprised me; I always assumed Guillermo being a familiar/slayer was a known fact in the vampire community after his very public massacre at the Théâtre des Vampires.

Fuck yeah when I realized this is a Doug Jones spotlight episode, I just fuckin ahgdjkaksdf, love him, perfect, no notes.

The Baron being terrifying!! Guillermo was seriously scared for the others and he barely tried to show off his Van Helsing abilities.

Nandor and Nadja begging the Baron to not hurt Guillermo!! 😭 Them being dragged while grabbing the cape!! 😭 They're spiritual siblings to me!! 😭😭

They really reminded me a little bro and sis begging their mom to not hit their beloved older brother with the chancla for talking back or something.

I fell for the two fake-outs with the sack lol I'm so gullible when it comes to vampires I guess.

NANDOR PAINFUL SOUNDS (MOANS???) WHEN HE BELIEVED HE WAS IN FRONT OF GUILLERMO'S INERT BODY. IT WAS SAD BUT ALSO A LITTLE HORNY!!!

"At least he died doing what he loved: beating off in the toolshed."

A wonderful small detail: After Laszlo opened fake Guillermo with the knife he cleaned his hands on The Guide's dress.

Idc if you think its dark, the whole 'Nandor will kill you and then kill himself' bit becoming a recurring joke it's peak writing.

I wish I can say something more serious about Baron Afanas' sadness over how boring his life is now. But I just keep thinking that the way he talks about his homelife with The Sire and the Hellhound sounds exactly when a dude has a middle life crisis and suddenly he doesn't enjoy his marriage anymore. They're husbands!! And I loved how cunty he looked at the end all half-charred (see posted gif) Queen!

Now, the Nandermo of it all: What more can I say than incoherent screaming and foaming from the mouth? Episodes 8 are all about them again!! Nandor on the window looking all cliched melancholic heroine of a romance novel?? How relieved he was when he found him in the coffin??? Him still remembering Guillermo's card word for word???!! Knowing that this toxic dark sided devotion goes both ways???!!! Borrowing the words of Fleabag: THIS IS A LOVE STORY.

Seriously, I know all these soft Nandor moments are here so the heartbreak when he learns about Guillermo being turned it's even bigger. But still denying that there is a romantic undertone between these two it's just being purposely adamant at this point (i'm looking at you wwdits reddit). Even if nothing explicitly romantic happens on screen, just by watching these moments, I know, we know.

Now, go listen to the ending song again. You will not regret it.

[forevermore-quoth-the-kitten]

Soul Animal Obey Me AU Part 2

MC arrives in the Devildom but it's without their animal, the animal that represents their soulmate. Diavolo quickly makes it right, but the animal in question is a bit shocking.

Part 1

Diavolo

Diavolo is a busy man, so he sends Barbatos to fetch your soul animal in his stead. he's quite surprised when he visits later, after you've gotten it, that Lucifer seems very stressed out because of your new accommodations.

Diavolo's confused about it, but Lucifer only pinches the bridge of ihs nose and tells Diavolo that he had an area prepared for the large cat, but you refuse to leave it and it gets upset when away from you, so he's having to convert the room in question into a bedroom for you.

semantics of it aside, Diavolo is surprise to hear you have a large cat and heads to your new room, taking a look at the small ballroom set up for a very large cat with demons knocking down a section of wall leading into the next small room that would be the actual bedroom connected to the cat's area.

it was hard work but Diavolo mentally promised to pay Lucifer back since this was his exchange student these changes were being done for. after that though, he headed to what was originally your room, where you should still be for the time being.

Diavolo knocks and announces his presence so you know who's coming in, and when you let him in his voice dies in his throat at the sight of the lion you're lounging with on the floor.

dark fur, red mane, and golden eyes. even besides that, Diavolo can feel his own presence in the lion, and he blinks to when you question if hes ok.

yes- yes, he's fine, just very surprised. but- Diavolo's voice dies in his throat as he sees the look in your eyes, and he knows you already figured out what he had. you looked pensive and he found himself smiling softly.

he sits and pulls out his DDD, very happy but keeps calm for your sake as he shows you his folder of pictures and videos of his own lion.

in the back of his mind he's already thinking of what needs to happen so he can make you his married partner someday. but mostly he wants to see how your animals will get along since that will speak towards what your relationship could look like.

when they meet and immediately start playing and grooming each other, Diavolo is completely positive that you'll make a fine partner. after all, he's had your lion for years, hes watched it take care of him and other demons and even go so far as to groom the Little D's and even a caught off guard Barbatos on one occasion. he already knew his soulmate would make a fine ruler one day.

Barbatos

Barbatos is a solitary and very busy man, but he's often seen with a dog as his side. whether its carrying something or has packs and is running errands for Barbaots or its just walkign around pulling a little wagion with the little d's in it for some fun, the dog is a common sight and every knows you don't touch Barbatos's dog.

Barbatos finds himself taking more breaks then he ever has before since it cmae into his life, his young master often chuckling when he finds Barbatos laying somewhere with the dog on his chest or is being corraled somewhere to rest.

he at first found it annoying and tried to ignore it, but the dog was relentless and he found himself enjoying the breaks he was forced to take. he would be fetching your soul animal for Lord Diavolo if it weren't for one of those breaks, but alas, he's being laid on and isn't allowed to go anywhere just yet.

when he is let up he finds you've already gotten your animals and thinks nothing of it until he's making his rounds at RAD to make sure all is well when he sees sees a paniced demon running down another hall. Barbatos is about to see what the matter is when he freezes at the sight of a black dog with short green accents racing after it and its not until a few moments later he sees you chasing after both that Batbatos is in motion again.

the dog has cornered the demon and he recognizes the bag he'd chosen for the exchange students in his hand. the dog its growling but its hackles are raised and you're standing behind it, panting, and telling the demon to give your bag back.

Barbatos walks into view and you jolt as he stops at your side, but the demon, in the face of him, stops sneering and meekly hands it over. barbatos sent them off towards the office for punishment, but doesn't take his own leave just yet.

he finds himself looking at the dog now sitting next to you, calmly. he finds himself asking what type of dog it is and you answer that it's a saluki. a slow smile pulls at his lips as he turns to you, you're obviously embarassed but he pays it no mind and asks if you'd join him for tea soon?

you accept and he leaves, but not before placing a kiss on the back of your hand, because Barbatos is nothing if not a gentleman.

later, when you come over for tea, the dogs lay next to each other with the dog very of Barbatos laying protectively around yours.

Simeon

Simeon's excited to meet the human exchange student that's not Solomon, as he'd already known Solomon to some degree and he doesn't know you at all.

you talk about the mix up and how your soul animal had to be fetched after you arrived, which is sad but a bit amusing, and he doesn't think much of it.

not until he and Luke bring some treats Luke had made and wanted to share with the inhabitants of the House of Lamentation and he leaves the ktichen hearing your voice, only to see you sitting at a window with a white dove with a brown chest perched on your hand.

he goes bright red at the gentle warm affection you're showing it, frozen half in sight, covering his mouth and trying very hard to keep silent so hes not caught.

he's caught because the dove turns to him and you look over, smiling at Simeon.

the smile makes his embarrassment fade away some amount and he smiles back, coughing to clear his throat and letting you know he and Luke brought some treats.

Simeon is about to ask about your dove when you both hear loud shouts and Luke's voice being key among them. you quickly move past him, the dove perched on your shoulder.

Simeon watches you handle the situation and it's not until a little bit after when it's calm again (and Beel's no longer trying to eat everything before anyone else could get some), when you ask him why he's been flushed earlier.

Simeon coughs into his hand, turning red again, but admits that he himself has a dove for a soul animal, hoping you get his meaning.

it takes you a moment but you do get what he means and its silent between you two as you both blush, but then you start laughing a bit about it and it grows easy between you two.

later, when your doves meet, they snuggle up together and preen each other as you and Simeon chat about whatever comes to mind.

Solomon

he's a scheeming asshole and Solomon knows it. hes certiainly not expecting you to show up for your first study session together as teh human exchange students with a silver long haired cat, but he suddenly understands why you seemed to have mixed feelings about spending time with him when you first met a while back.

he can safely ask and assume your cat is a bastard and you agree. you tell him you found him in a dumpster and that's why he acts like garbage, the jab makes Solomon pout but you don't take it back.

hes not expecting you to, but he is amused as how reluctant you try to seem when it comes to getting to know him because of how smart and bastard-like your cat version of himself is.

Solomon's pretty sure the main reason that you agree to spend more time with him is because when you two are together, so are your cats and the only time his behaves is around yours. which is very appropriate since he does the same thing.

at least it means you spend more time together though and Solomon gets to know you better, so you start coming over to see him, not to make each version of him behave.

and once you're properly close, if he starts to show his bastard-like tendencies in hopes of getting you to play pranks and experiment with him, then where's the harm in that? that demon from history class could use some embarrassment, and it never hurts getting on Diavolo's favorite's list and his brother's good list by giving Lucifer cat ears or something.

[simlit]

Chosen of the Sun | | forest // seventy-four

| @sani-sims | @maladi777

next / previous / beginning

EVE: Your Grace! KYRIE: Mm, I thought we were on a first name basis. EVE: laughs What a terrible time to joke. KYRIE: I think it’s the best time. What happened? EVE: You collapsed. I’d thought the curse had overcome you. KYRIE: No, at least, not yet. It was my fault, getting all worked up over… Indryr warned me it’d get worse before it got better. EVE: An admission like Taiyo’s would be hard for anyone to hear. Even without what you’d done for him figuring into the equation. He’s only just left now, I can go and fetch him— KYRIE: Don’t trouble yourself. If he wants to come in his own time, that’s for him to decide. EVE: I would rather you rest comfortably, but I feel it’d be wrong for me not tell you— HIGH PRIESTESS: Kyrie. KYRIE: Well, if it isn’t the other shoe. HIGH PRIESTESS: You told me you’d alert me as soon as he was conscious. That was our arrangement. EVE: He’s only just awoke. At least give him a moment to think, if not breathe. HIGH PRIESTESS: Yes, well, he is awake now. You’re free to leave. EVE: I’d rather stay to make certain he’s well— HIGH PRIESTESS: I can make certain myself, or will you not allow me a moment with my son? KYRIE: laughs Oh, stars above. The gods are full of jokes these days. If I’m alive at all, it’s because of Eve’s consideration and skill. You could do her the honor of showing at least a modicum of respect. HIGH PRIESTESS: I am endlessly grateful for your contributions, My Lady. Now, please. A moment. EVE: scoffs Very well. KYRIE: Is this the sort of behavior you would show to one of your precious Chosen? It’s incredible you can’t even fake civility in the face of this ceremony you profess to care so much about. HIGH PRIESTESS: Don’t patronize me, Kyrie. While you lay here like some negligent child. You asked me to trust you once again, and here we are. The sheer scope of your irresponsibility is truly astounding. KYRIE: Why should I have to live long enough to hear you lecture me a thousandth time? If I had one wish at all its that this curse would kill me quicker. HIGH PRIESTESS: Do not speak so recklessly. KYRIE: I’ll speak as I wish, if only because my voice is the one part of me you can’t control. HIGH PRIESTESS: And what will your sister say when she returns? KYRIE: Don’t threaten me with my own sister! For all you know, Alphanei is dead. And maybe you do know it, Gods be certain you’d never tell me the truth. There must be a reason she’s beyond my sight. And maybe I’m glad of it. If the last month has taught me anything, it’s that being Chosen of the Moon is nothing but a prison. If this is how you treated her all these years and I stood idly by, oblivious to what she endured, then I wish you would have neither of us. HIGH PRIESTESS: Your sickness has made you delusional. You’ve grown up inside these very walls. Tell me what have you wanted for? Nothing. I have done everything in my power to protect you both. To keep you safe— even from yourselves. But you have always been the troublesome one. Ever since you were a child. Caught in your own head, selfish and stubborn. HIGH PRIESTESS: Do you know how many mages I have sent north? How many elven knights have traveled out to retrieve Her Grace? Do you know how many have died in that pursuit? No, Kyrie. I spared you those details so you did not have to live with guilt of just how important you really are. KYRIE: As tools. But not as people. Regardless, now that too is on my conscience. We never asked for this role. We never had that choice. And because of this city’s insistence on a corrupt ritual, hundreds have been subjected to needless slaughter. If I could end it all by forfeit of my life, I would not wait a moment longer. HIGH PRIESTESS: Always a fool. I’ll send for the King’s clerics. And after you are cured of this, we will a find more suitable way to proceed. ASTER: Your Grace, heard you were awa— Oh. Am I interrupting something? KYRIE: Not at all. Mother was just leaving. HIGH PRIESTESS: Hmph.

[wouldntyou-liketoknow]

When a Tomb Becomes a Womb (Part 1: Rings)

Well, it’s finally happened: I wrote a story for a movie rather than YouTube Egos. (Not that this is gonna become a regular thing, mind you. Lisa Frankenstein just so happened to check all the right boxes for my hyperfixation and brainrot.) 

(Disclaimer: While I agree that Creature doesn’t really need an actual name to be a great character, I still decided to give him a headcanon name—which is Callum, since I think it would fit him— just because this entire story is from his perspective. Mentioning his "true," pre-death name just seems logical. Neither of the characters in this story belongs to me. Lisa Swallows and The Creature are the property of Zelda Williams and Diablo Cody.)

(Trigger Warnings: implied murder/death, implied violence, gore/blood, mentions of electrocution and fire, scars, body horror, dismemberment. Please let me know if I missed anything.)

The soil was loose and soft. It yielded to the shovel’s rusty spade quite easily.

Though many emotions were thrumming through Callum’s skull at the moment, surprise wasn’t one of them. 

While dark clouds had clogged up the night sky, hiding the stars and moon and bloating with rain that would fall sooner or later, the current season was warm, and so the ground wasn’t too firm. 

This plot had only been filled hours ago. This grave was fresh; infinitely fresher than his had been.

By now, Callum estimated that it’d taken at least half a day for him to crawl up through the ground and breach the surface like one of the several worms slithering around inside him.

He hadn’t exactly been in the right headspace to consider it at first; back then, all he’d been able to know was light and electricity and shuddering and pain and. . .Lisa’s words. 

Lisa’s words. 

The same thing that fueled Callum to escape his tomb was now guiding him to free Lisa from hers, all with the same amount of violent tremors and desperation.

It was poetic, honestly. 

Perhaps it would’ve been a bit more poetic if he didn’t have to get so filthy in the process.

Oh, well. He could take care of that later. (Besides, the stains on his clothes were nothing compared to the layers of grime and mold and fungus that had been caked all over him on that first, fateful night.)

Right now, unearthing his beloved without getting caught seemed like a much more important thing to focus on.

His grip was vicelike around the wooden handle as he threw one shovelful after another to the side.

Almost there, Callum thought. (If he could speak, he’d be repeating that mantra in a whisper like his life depended on it. Which. . .well, it logically didn’t, but it technically did. The same went for Lisa.) Almost there. 

He’d wanted to take her away sooner. He would’ve been perfectly fine with forcing her family to waste money on a casket. Really, what good was a casket if you buried it empty? 

But the distinct lack of a corpse would have just caused more problems. As dense as her family seemed to be, they’d still know that the shiny, glowing box (Lisa had called it a. . .tanning bed? If memory served?) wouldn’t have been capable of reducing a person to ashes no matter how dangerous it was. 

He knew she wasn’t dead. Not completely; not truly. Yes, the combination of electrical currents and fire may have worked its horrific magic on her body. . .but that magic just hadn’t followed through altogether as it probably should have. 

The way the bed had convinced foreign limbs to function as intended mere minutes after Lisa sewed them onto him. . .the way it had rejuvenated his centuries-dead flesh bit by bit. . .

It had some kind of similar effect on Lisa. The vast majority of her had died, but there was still a strong, stubborn ember of something in her that was very much determined to live. 

Callum knew that very well. He’d seen proof of it before being forced to flee from the fire.

But Lisa’s family didn’t. As far as they knew, she was gone and never coming back. So, if she just disappeared before they could bury her, then they’d have an excuse to try and track her down. And if that happened, neither she nor her husband would get another chance. . .

Callum ground his jaw, putting even more force behind the shovel. 

The hole grew deeper.

The pile of disturbed earth beside it grew bigger. 

The dull, scraping tempo of grave-robbery began to sound like hitching gasps and sobs.

Just as the clouds started ominously humming about their plans for the night, the shovel reverberated after finally, finally, finally striking something much more solid than dirt.

Callum tossed the tool aside in favor of getting down on his knees, now using his hands to clear away a blanket of finer, thinner soil. 

He hoped Lisa could hear him digging. (Though if that was the case, then the state of her brain could potentially make her think that the sounds were echoing from somewhere farther beneath her. Which would be. . .less than ideal, as Callum didn’t enjoy the idea of scaring her again. )

Even in his anxiety, he subconsciously shook his head. Lisa had taken him in and repaired him even after being initially terrified. Lisa trusted him, loved him; if she didn’t, then he never would have woken up in the first place.

More time passed, and a soft, cold gleam suddenly manifested in the darkness.

Glossy wood. 

The coffin’s upper door. 

Callum groped at the edge of it, tugging with all his strength.

An odd, warm feeling skittered up his spine and shook through his ribcage. 

A low creeeeaaak rattled through the air as the lid was pried open.

. . .And there she was.

___

Callum had always been a fast learner, and yet he still had no idea what to make of his pulse. 

It’d been extremely jarring when he’d first awoken. The days that followed, it was irregular. Sometimes he could feel it, sometimes he couldn’t. It was always soft—following more of a murmur than a steady beat—always irregular, barely there at all.

Right now, however, it both sounded and felt very far away. More present than it had been when he’d performed a highly unorthodox beheading on that stain of a man who’d upset Lisa. 

Hell, it almost seemed louder and stronger than it had been on the most recent evening he’d spent with Lisa; the one that saw the two of them embracing and reeling and dreaming together. . .

Everything else was a blur as he brought her to her new bed, carrying her like the bride she was. He had to move slowly, carefully, feeling more anxious and unwieldy than ever. 

Well, at least until he laid her down, making sure the pillow offered enough support for her neck.

After that, he was much, much more erratic.

He sprinted about the house, tearing almost every other room apart as he searched. It felt like several hours had passed by the time he finally found what he—what his beloved—needed: a white, sterile-looking container. He opened it, just to be certain, then tucked it under one arm and hurried back over to the bedroom.

Every square inch of Lisa’s body was blistered to hell and back, adorned by a network of puffy, angry-looking veins that, had her heart still been beating, would have more or less threatened to burst at any given moment. Red and raw, several sections on her arms, legs, and chest having peeled off to reveal glistening tissue.

Her mane of thick, curly auburn hair had been reduced to a few small, fried patches that clung to the charred flesh of her scalp with a strength similar to bubblegum and well-intentioned vibes. There was a possibility that she’d died with her eyes open, but the awful swelling of the skin around their sockets had sealed them shut. 

None of that mattered, of course. 

Lisa was still just as beautiful as when Callum had first met her. She always, always would be. 

. . .Even so, those injuries had to be dealt with. Despite what Lisa had said before about accepting a person’s flaws, Callum’s instincts told him she wouldn’t appreciate being left to resemble a puppet made of half-raw-half-cooked steaks.

Callum set the medical kit down on the nightstand, ferreting out generous rolls of gauze as he loomed over the side of the bed. 

The world finally seemed to slow back down as he got to work.

It didn’t take long for him to find a gentle, precise cadence as he wrapped bandage after bandage after bandage around his beloved’s form. Something in the back of his mind wondered if this was what spiders felt like when they spun strands of silk together to make their webs.

Although Lisa’s skin hadn’t been rendered translucent, the burns in some places went deep enough for Callum to catch a glimpse of her organs. Both of her lungs were blackened, seared, sunken. Her heart was equally misshapen, now boasting a similar appearance to a blob of melted wax, looking like it was seconds away from collapsing in on itself. 

But even as all the carnage was swallowed up by more strips of gauze, Callum could still see the heart twitch. The movement only lasted for half a second or so, but there was no doubting that it’d happened. . .

Lisa still had a chance. She would never be truly alive again, but she could still come back.

She couldn’t wake up by herself. . .but she wouldn’t have to.

He’d find a way to help, just as she’d done for him. 

Callum blinked for the first time all night, and his hands were suddenly free; he was suddenly sitting at the foot of the new bed.

Lisa was cloaked quite literally from head to toe in clean, snow-white bandages. It was like he'd made the perfect combination of shroud and wedding dress for her to wear.

The thought made a small smile tug at his lips. 

Then he shook his head.

He couldn’t relax just yet. There were other things to be taken care of right now. Two other things, to be specific. 

Callum got to his feet and crossed the new bedroom to quietly close the door. He ventured down a narrow hallway, peering at an assortment of unfamiliar pictures hanging on the walls around him. Disposing of them would probably be another chore for him later.

His footsteps sounded hollow and heavy as he descended the staircase. (Unlike Lisa’s former home, the floors of this house were all hardwood rather than carpet. True, they wouldn’t muffle noise very well, but it was still quite a lucky coincidence.) 

He’d found this house completely by accident, when he’d still been trying to follow Lisa’s path. 

Even with the remnants of that lightning bolt sparking in his stagnant blood, even with Lisa’s voice echoing through his resurrected mind, it’d still taken so much time for him to truly wake up. He grimaced at the thought of how long he’d had to crawl around the cemetery before he could stand upright. 

(And that wasn’t even mentioning the state his vision had been in. The layers of rancid slime and dirt clinging to his face had made everything around him blurry and distorted. The fact that his eyes were also full of maggots at the time certainly hadn’t helped.)

He’d had to wander the surrounding woods for hours and hours before he could finally walk. The rot in his bones had kept his movement slow and uneven, but a bad limp was still better than collapsing every other moment. 

Callum wasn’t sure how the house’s previous owners hadn’t seen or heard him that night. They certainly had a few hours ago, but that wasn’t a factor anymore. 

He crept into the living room, where he paced a few slow circles around the fresh corpse lying in the center of all the controlled chaos. The crimson splatters now adorning the floor, the walls, the sofa’s floral print almost seemed to glitter.

Another carcass could be found just a few feet away, sprawled across the wide threshold that led into the dining room. The face was obscured, as blood was still leaking out to add to a large puddle that continued to slowly spread, inch-by-inch. 

Callum folded his arms across his chest, drumming the nails of his replacement hand against his cheek. He remembered what Lisa had said when he’d silently begged her to help him find new parts; a contemplative murmur about there being bad people in the world. . .

Her relief and gratitude when he’d bludgeoned that horrible excuse for a mother to death.

Her cathartic happiness when he’d dismembered the scum who’d tried to put his filthy hands on her.

Her tearful joy when she eventually realized why he’d risked so much to take a particularly crucial piece from the ignoramus who’d dared to play with her emotions. . .

It had all been so wonderful to see.

Those victims had all hurt Lisa, and they likely would've hurt others as well. Their deaths wouldn’t be an actual loss to the community.

But this. . .

Lisa definitely wouldn’t have approved of this. Yes, she’d understand why Callum had done what he’d done; after everything they’d been through, of course the two of them needed a quiet place to stay, if only for a while until they found somewhere better. A place that was a fair distance from both the town and the cemetery. A place just like this.

But. . .

A raspy sigh escaped Callum’s lips. 

He'd work with more tact in the future. 

Once Lisa was awake, things would be better. He’d listen to her input. They would make important decisions together.

Callum’s eyes wandered about, eventually settling on the axe—the same one Lisa had taken from her father’s garage—he’d left propped up against the adjacent wall. It was slathered in gore, to the point that its wooden handle was just as red as the paint on its blade. 

He approached to pick it up, letting the weapon’s belly rest on his shoulder. Then he stooped down, using his free hand to take hold of the first corpse’s wrists. More of the floor was painted red as he dragged it into the kitchen. He retraced his steps to collect the second body, coming dangerously close to slipping on the blood as he hefted his victim onto the countertop.

The next hour or so was filled with dull thuds, with splintery pops and cra-A-a-cks, with the drip-drip-drip of thick fluid oozing down the lower cabinets and plopping onto the floor. 

The axe was too heavy to be the most precise tool, but it was still efficient. It only took a few good swings to sever limbs from torsos and heads from necks. 

Callum couldn’t bury either of these bodies. Not right away, at least. Fortunately, he soon discovered that there were more than enough black trash bags under the sink to work with. 

Lisa’s body obviously needed repair, but he wasn’t sure which repairs should come first. (He knew she’d require a new pair of eyes, but he didn’t want to risk forcing her current ones open just yet.) Would it be better to take off her old limbs and put new ones in their place, or to simply slice off layers of skin and attach a new barrier to her burnt flesh?

Wait and see, a voice in his head suggested. Callum nodded to himself; when Lisa was able to communicate again, he’d organize these plans with her. It was only right, after all. 

Callum set the axe down by the sink, now focusing on wrapping up the detached pieces of human in tight, layered cocoons that crinkled with every second. Packing all the bundles into the freezer and refrigerator in a way that kept them from sliding right back out was far more aggravating than he would’ve cared to admit, but he managed. 

He gave pause, however, when it came to the two remaining pieces. 

A pair of forearms, to be specific, with their hands still attached. 

One from each corpse. 

Something small and metallic glinted around the fourth finger on each of them. 

The first ring had a very simple design: just a smooth, golden band. 

The second ring, meanwhile, was silver, mounted with a shiny stone.

It wasn’t a diamond by any means. Callum couldn’t tell what kind of gem it was, honestly. But it was gorgeous—it’d been carved into a smooth, perfect orb. It reminded him of an ember at the heart of a firepit, boasting a graceful mix of orange and red with a few soft hints of yellow.

The colors reminded him of that one night. 

Callum shoved the forearms into hiding with all the other parts, the two rings now nestled in his palm. With that, he exited the kitchen, an unfamiliar spring in his step as he ventured back up the staircase. Yes, he still had an enormous bloody mess to clean up, but this took priority. 

His odd, partial heartbeat echoed in his ears as he re-entered the new bedroom and knelt down beside the bed. 

Slowly, delicately, Callum took one of Lisa’s hands in his. He pressed a small kiss to her bandaged knuckles before sliding the new ring onto her finger. 

It fit perfectly. Just like the gold ring did for him. 

As for the odd-yet-sweet candy loop he’d made do with for the original proposal. . .well, he decided to leave it on the nightstand. 

Just in case Lisa wanted to keep it when she woke up.

@mblume125 @upstartgeek @paper-cuts-and-fresh-bruises @queenofcandys @magpierose753 @therulerofallpotatos @blue-spider-official @chofisaquino @strangewerewolf @alienbactria @aphroditeinarms @weallpartyatybcpatricksfuneral @scootis-the-scoot. @cherryycocaine @sammispook @creepycrow31 @radisyn @allthesecottoncandyskies @that-random-assassin @shelf-life-of-the-party @big-sad-world @lisascreatures @we-were-d3stined-t0-expl0de @artnormal @cr-0-wsworld @bllops-world @night-writer-writer @bunnygirlgracesworld @occasional-trash @a-live-wire @babi-gir @secretly-larry-daley @fawns-things @confused-hufflepuff-screaming

[luvghostie]

idk if requests are open or if you did this already but main 4, craig, tweek, and butters with their s/o listening to their heartbeat? Like they instinctively put their head on their chest whenever they cuddle? ig with butters and tweek they just ask tho. if its too many ppl tho just the main 4s good. have a good day!

Of course, it’s so adorable!! This is the main four, I'll do the other three in a separate post. Sorry it took so long, I hope you like it<3

╰┈➤𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐇 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒

𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐀 𝐒/𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐒

𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐑 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐓.ೃ࿐

{𝘎𝘕 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 + 𝘓𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘨𝘦}

Cartman: ...um what the hell are you doing?

When you guys first started cuddling he was confused by the gesture as no one had done that before. However, over time he got used to it and would ask what his heart sounded like.

Out in public, he doesn't like very touchy/cuddly PDA. It's nothing that has to do with you but more the fact of him being anxious.

The moment you guys get alone or around people he trusts, he'll apologize for seeming cold and will cuddle for hours.

Sometimes when listening, you can hear his heartbeat speed up. Whenever you ask about it you always get the same response.

“It's uh- high cholesterol?”

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

Kyle: does my heart sound normal?

Kyle is perfectly okay with you listening to his heartbeat. He even is attentive to your heartbeat occasionally.

When cuddling he tends to talk about unexpected things. The conversation can be anything from his family to what's your favorite socks. He's open about everything and will tell you how he's feeling. In return, he hopes you do the same and won't hide your real feelings.

Out in public, Kyle is all about PDA. Hand holding, snuggles, he doesn't hide it. That is unless you're at his house and his parents are around.

If they're away or he's not having to take care of Ike, he'll ask to cuddle. It's like a need of his and Kyle is very glad you're open to it anytime.

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

Kenny: *muffled* you're so cute!!!

Kenny is attention and touch-starved therefore, out of all the boys he'll be wanting to cuddle 24/7. Oh, you're sick? He'll cuddle you back to health. Your upset? He'll be there with open arms to give you love.

I have a feeling Kenny wouldn't know boundaries or personal space. So if you didn't want to be cuddled you'd have to explain to him. He might think he did something wrong for a while and will do anything to make it up. Literally, ANYTHING.

PDA is a must for him even if you're just holding his sleeve. He wants everyone to know that you two are together.

When you listen to his heartbeat it probably won't be normal. He dies and comes back every other day, so an unusual heart isn't anything that bothers you.

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

Stan: w-what are you doing y/n?

Stan is very shy and so when you cuddle he'll be very silent. You have to start most conversations or ask about his day to get him talking. Yes, it can be annoying but the first time he talked first it startled you.

Stan will watch you listen to his heartbeat trying not to turn red or throw up everywhere. He's an anxious boy around you and even all his friends know that. He goes to them for advice on what to do, maybe, how he should cuddle properly? Stan just feels like he doesn't make you happy as he does and he'll try harder to improve.

If you want to do PDA you'll have to approach him first or it won't happen. He desperately wants to but it's kinda complicated in his head.

“I- would love to hold hands y/n.”

[celticcrossanon]

BRF Reading - 8th of August, 2022

This is speculation only

Cards drawn on the 8th of August, 2023

Question: Have William and Charles grown closer since the death of Her Late Majesty?

Note: I started this reading hoping for a yes answer, that they had grown closer, that their relationship had deepened because of the shared grief - and then I saw the cards. Sigh.

Interpretation: Not really.

Card One: The Ten of Swords, reversed

The Ten of Swords is a card of despair, betrayal, hitting rock bottom. In the reverse, the meaning can be a recovery from a betrayal/despair/hitting rock bottom, or it can be an intensification of the upright energy.

The energy I get from this card is of a betrayal, and of a slow recovery from that betrayal that was still happening at the time of Her Late Majesty's death. What I am getting from the energy is that the trust between the two was completely shattered because of the actions of one party. It took time to recover from that betrayal, and time to decide to see if the relationship could be repaired, and the first slow steps to repairing the relationship were taking place when the Queen died.

I feel a lot of hurt, and it is expected hurt, which in some ways makes it worse - whoever was betrayed saw it coming and was expecting it to happen while hoping that it would not - so a lot of hurt, and then quite a bit of time apart to heal, and then the decision to try and rebuild something from the broken relationship, and then the death of Queen Elizabeth II. The image I see of the relationship at this stage is of a vine just uncurling its first shoots and tentatively reaching across the distance, so it was in the early stages of reaching out and seeing if something could be rebuilt when Her Majesty died.

I drew clarifiers for this card. I asked "Who was betrayed" and the card I drew was the Hierophant, the BRF as an institution, and the underlying energy was the Four of Wands, the family, followed by the Ten of Pentacles, the family and its legacy. So someone did something that was seen as betraying the BRF and its legacy, and also as betraying the other person's family, and that caused the trust between Charles and William to shatter (I'm not getting a clear answer as to who felt betrayed of the two of them, so that suggests the situation could be complicated as they could both feel betrayed by the other person, or one could feel betrayed and the other didn't think they did anything wrong, etc and so forth).

Card Two: The Seven of Pentacles, reversed

The Seven of Pentacles is a card of harvest, of rewards, of putting in the work to see something grow, and of deciding whether you should continue to put in the time and effort, of whether you should weed the garden and abandon the project. In the reverse, it says there is no harvest, no reward, a lack of effort was made or the work was left unfinished, and there is no result or a poor result.

In this deck, this card also represents choices and loyalty. The craftsman Daedalus is sponsored by the king, but he is asked to help the King's wife betray her husband (be unfaithful to him). So it has an energy of choosing who or what are you faithful to, deciding where to invest your time and energy.

The energy of this card is that someone has invested their time and energy in the wrong places. They have been tempted away, like the wife tempted Daedalus, and they have invested their time and energy in something that has given them a very poor outcome.

For me, this card is talking about Charles investing time and effort in Harry and his wife, and betraying the monarchy by his actions in enabling the people who are trying to hurt the monarchy. I think Charles saw some short term gain in supporting Harry and Meghan and he went after that.

Card Three: The Tower, reversed

The Tower is a sudden, shocking moment or event that completely destroys part of your life and you have to rebuild from the rubble. The Tower in reverse usually means avoiding or delaying this event, or resisting change.

The energy from this card says that the event is the death of Queen Elizabeth II, and the energy is of rebuilding both the internal world (grieving, adjusting to life without her) and the external world (managing this event as a member of the BRF and being mindful of its affect on the general public) after her death. Charles and William were both grieving after her death and they both worked to represent the BRF in the period of mourning that followed. The energy is not of two people growing closer in a shared grief, but of laying differences aside for the moment in the sense of 'this is bigger than both of us, let's work as a team and do what has to be done'. There was a shared sense of loss, but I'm not getting any energy of them turning to each other for comfort during the grief, or the grief building a bond between them, or anything like that. "United in appearances but separate as people" is the best way I can describe the energy.

Card Four: The Six of Pentacles

This is a card of charity, of giving or receiving material help or support, of giving and taking being balanced between two people.

The energy of this card is of Charles on his throne, handing out status/money/awards to other people. It reminds us that after the death of Queen Elizabeth, Charles is now king, the ruler, and William is the Prince of Wales, the heir.

Charles has given things to William - he has created him as Prince of Wales and Earl of Chester, two titles that do not automatically go to the male heir (unlike the titles of the Duke of Cornwall etc). William has received them. However, the energy here is not of a loving father giving gifts to his son. It is of an overlord, a king, giving his one of his men his rightful dues (what is due to him under the law and by custom). In return, the King will expect certain things from that man.

The scene at the coronation where William recited the oath to be the King's liege man came into my mind when I picked up this card. In the old days one of the duties of the liege man to supply soldiers for the king, so many of each type, and the lead them in battle. In current times, things are different, but that expectation of support and of fighting on the king's side remains in the energy of this card. Charles expects William to support him unquestioningly and to fight alongside him in any battles he has. William may have other ideas than unquestioning obedience to his father's wishes.

Card Five: The Three of Pentacles, reversed

The Three of Pentacles is a card of working together on a larger project, of being part of a team. Reversed, it means that the people can not work together, they are not a team. This is the energy that is coming through this card.

The energy of this card says very plainly that Charles and William can not work together as a team. Their aims, their methods, and their approaches are too different for them to work as a team on a larger project with any degree of comfort. They can work separately towards the same goal, or each can have their own part that they manage, but they can not be yoked together as a team. It just does not work. Their ideologies are too different (as an example, compare the formality of Charles's offices when he was at Clarence house to the casual informality of William's office. It is like working in a suit and tie compared to working in jeans. The two just do not mix, even though each is fine by itself).

The card has three people offering their pentacles, their work, to a fourth person, with the three people standing side by side as if they are part of a team. It could be that Charles (the single person, the manager) is asking William (one of his underlings) to work on a project with one or more other people, and for reasons of his own William is saying No (the rumours that Harry and Travalyst would be working together and become part of Earthshot come to mind - it is that sort of situation and refusal).

Underlying Energy: The High Priestess

The High Priestess is the card of the unconscious, intuition, patience in a situation, and secrets.

The energy of secrets comes through strongly. On the card, the woman is blocking the way from the underworld to the earthly word, so things hidden will not come to light. The energy is of secrets - someone wants them exposed, and someone wants them to be kept hidden. This tension underlies all the cards above, from the breaking of a trust/betrayal through the death of the Queen and ending in a refusal to work as part of a team under the other person. Secrets, especially hidden secrets, are causing some or all of the tension between Charles and William.

The other energy of this card is of patience, and things taking time. Once the first grief over Queen Elizabeth's death has passed and both Charles and William have settled into their new roles, then, if both people still want it, the initial rebuilding of some sort of relationship after it was shattered can continue if no other circumstances occur to prevent it, but this will proceed slowly and it will take time and patience on both sides for the rebuilding to happen.

Cards: Four out of six cards in this reading are reversed. That is not happy energy. Things are not the best between William and Charles.

Major Suit: Pentacles appear in three out of six cards. Pentacles are about wealth, assets, status, and other material things. The issues in this reading relate to the things represented by the suit of Pentacles. Status is coming through as a strong energy - keeping someone elevated when they shouldn't be, or making deals with the devil to expand your status.

Conclusion:

I do not see any evidence of William and Charles growing closer after the death of Queen Elizabeth II. Instead, I see a story of a relationship and trust that was shattered by what one or both parties saw as a betrayal of the BRF and of that person's home life, a betrayal that was caused by one party wanting an expansion of their status, and that overtures were being made towards rebuilding something when the Queen died. Since then, the two have worked together but separately to move the BRF through the funeral, they have grieved separately, and they have had to adjust to their new roles. Charles gave William his rightful position as heir (Prince of Wales and Earl of Chester), but in return he expects William to support him unquestionably, and William can not do that. There are indications that Charles wanted William to work in partnership with specific other people and William refused. Charles and William can work towards a common goal but they can not work together on the same team. Their relationship is still recovering from a betrayal that shattered the trust between them. It can possibly recover over time, but it will be a slow process, needing patience and understanding from both of them, and it is by no means certain that something can be rebuilt from what was wrecked. The question of secrets, what to reveal and what to keep hidden, and the tension caused by opposing views on this underlies all the events mentioned above.

[mrbensonmum]

TV Show - Dr. House | House M.D. VII

Unstoppably we are approaching the end of the third season (currently at S3E20, House Training), and I'm wondering, as my memory refuses to reveal, what major event occurs that causes House to reform his team or leads to drastic changes. Yes, I admit, I'm really looking forward to seeing Thirteen (Olivia Wilde) and also Martha M. Masters (Amber Tamblyn), although I think Masters might take a little longer to appear.

It's quite exciting when you've seen everything already, can remember a lot, but a rewatch helps to put all the puzzle pieces back in the right order. Yes, one could think about it, but I enjoy the suspense.

One of the scenes that made me laugh a lot back then has already come up, namely when House compares a patient's body to the German railway system. Back then, the comparison might have been somewhat accurate, and yes, even in the original, he makes the same comparison with the same cities (Berlin & Düsseldorf), but unfortunately, the German trains, whether regional or long-distance, are nowhere near as good and punctual anymore. I've been wondering the whole time if it was like that back then, but no, today it's definitely worse. Just thinking about how many times I got stranded at a train station last year, BIG UFF!

Otherwise, after the Tritter thing, things are moving rather slowly, and I don't think that's a bad thing at all. The highlight, of course, is the romance between Chase and Cameron, although it's almost over by now. I vaguely remember a wedding in the future and maybe even a divorce? No, I'm sure about the wedding, but I don't think there was a divorce. Oh, I also remember the big bus accident involving Wilson's girlfriend. There's a lot more to come!

Speaking of which, I think the dynamic between Wilson and House has changed a lot since the incident with the prescription pad. At first, it seemed like everything was over and they had no future, but now the connection seems stronger than ever. We also saw that in the story with Cuddy, when they both tested each other to see how far they would go. And then just saying "Night House!" "Night Wilson!" to each other, that's a true bromance, ladies and gentlemen! (I know, I'm late to that party!)

But now there's a very heavy episode on, as once again, an important topic is being addressed, one that often unfortunately gets overlooked in every society, Alzheimer's & dementia. Foreman's mother suffers from Alzheimer's, and I know, it really affected me back then because my grandmother died of Alzheimer's, and my mother is showing the first signs of it now. This disease steals the mind first, then the body, and we should talk about it much more and do much more against it. I know what it's like to watch a person lose themselves in the darkness of this disease, and believe me, you wouldn't wish it on anyone. Once again, a topic highlighted by the series and one that should continue to be addressed. I'm currently wondering if House is airing anywhere on regular TV in Germany, but I don't think so at the moment. That should change because yes, it can be fun and enjoyable for about 45 minutes, but it's also a topic of conversation that might find resonance in the workplace or similar institutions, and suddenly a disease is lifted from its obscurity and brought into the real world. THAT'S IMPORTANT! However, there is another important aspect in this episode that must not be overlooked. Doctors make mistakes, and these mistakes can end up being deadly! Of course, nobody wants to talk about it in the real world, and doctors usually don't admit to such things. It's another issue that's hushed up, but the series brings it back to light, brilliantly! Also, the fact that House performs an autopsy afterward for research purposes may seem strange and odd at first, but it's also about finding out where things went wrong. Yes, it's also to stroke one's own ego, but it's also to prevent such things from happening again.

I won't manage to finish the end of the third season today, but there was another remarkable appearance. In the last episode (S3E19, Act your Age), part of the supporting cast of Bones made an appearance. We saw Joel David Moore and Carla Gallo. And in the episode before that (S3E18, Airborne), Pej Vahdat was one of the passengers or Foreman's substitute.

A little thank you to everyone who diligently reads and shares my Dr. House posts. I'm just doing this for fun, but it's cool that it's well-received and my little analyses are being shared. Thank you very much!

[dannyphantom-justiceleauge]

I kinda wanna see Jason & several others get a bit of a reality check.I've seen comments that Bruce trains kids as 'child soldiers' &??? The only child soldiers are Damien & Steph?? And they didn't become them because of Batman??

From what I recall, Dick, Jason, & Tim all insisted on vigilanteism. Like, Bats TRIED to get them to just stay home where it was safe, but they refused!

Like, what do people expect Bats to have done? Lock them in a dungeon & never let them out?

It's about a 50/50 that would've even worked & on the 50% chance that they did get out, they would've immediately started crime fighting again!

Or, should Bruce have just left them to their own devices, like "not my problem?" They would've either died trying to be heroes on their own & without guidence or grown up to hate the Bat even more for his apethy towards their problems.

Like, whether Jason, or anyone else, likes it or not, Bruce training them was a best case scenario.

All Batman did was try to heard them in the least dangerous direction that he could by giving them the tools to not die a horrible death.

Obviously, it didn't always work (i.e. Jason), but what does Jason expect Bruce to have done in his situation? What would've been the better alternative?

Honestly, I think the problem is that his anger is too big to pin onto just one person, but at the same time, he doesn't want to admit that he got himself into the situation that got him killed. Jason decided to chase after his birth mother without Bruce's aid. Jason went to Ethiopia. Yes, it happened because the Joker believed that there was some sort of connection between Todd & Batman, but how could Batman control that?

Like, I'm not saying that Jay doesn't have a legitimate right to be furiously angry at Bruce. I just think that he should focus on the things that the overgrown furry could actually control & did not handle correctly.

Like, the fact that he was hurt about Tim becoming Robin is understandable, but he didn't really have all the facts to understand the context surrounding Tim becoming Robin. Like the fact that Bruce was not functioning well without a Robin or that Tim refused to just stop when he wastold to. There was more to the situation than what Jay was aware of.

At the same time, his arguments about Bruce not avenging him or burying him with the Wayne name. I can understand that & actually very much agree with him.

Batsy should've killed the Joker or, at least, walked away while Dick did it if he wasn't strong enough to do it himself.

But, he didn't. And I get not wanting your kid to have to walk around with that kind of guilt hanging over his head, but reviving the effing Joker went WAY too far.

At the same time, Jason also should've just killed the Joker the moment he got the chance to. Deciding to use the sack of shit to punish Bats, was a dumbass idea. He should've shot his ass & then double, triple, & quadruple tapped, just to make sure.

Then, if he wasn't to be a dramatic asshole, put the Joker's head on a pike in the most visited part of Gotham with a sign with some sort of literary quote. Something to the tune of "Hey ho, the Wicked Witch is dead" or something with that sort of message.

As for the rest of the Joker's body? I'd suggest going the route of John Haigh. Just to be safe...

Gruesome, I know, but you know what? Whatever it takes to clean out the garbagio.

I know what you mean. I think the fandom and people outside the family give brice greif about the child soldier thing more than the kids themselves do. As far as ive seen dick, jason, tim, damian, and even steph own that robin is something they chose. It wasnt sething batman necessarily made them, its something they needed to do. Batman gets a lot of critism, like wise the league has argued about having sidekicks and teams like the titans and yj because theyre children. More often than not i see conflict about the adults trying to take the hero persona away, than about being given the cape in the first place.

But it can be complicated. I have heard the kids regret being vigilantes and regret what they've been made into by the job. So dick will never regret saving lives but he does regret his inability to settle down, the trained to a fault paranoia, the physical scars and mental wounds. The blame of that doesnt fall on batman or bruce. But on some level all kids feel like their parents are supposed to protect them and there's a point where you realize they can't. This is even more true when your a vigilante and exposed to untold danger. Bruce is a man and he isnt perfect so he can't protect his kids from everything. That hurts him more than it hurts his kid. But its still difficult to get hurt and be disappointed that yoir dad, that your hero wasn't there to save you.

Which brings me to jason. I recognize where you're coming from with jasons anger being irrational and all over the place. But what you gotta understand is that

1. He went through a rediculous amount of trauma. Like the time line of events is: bruce accused him of murdering a guy who commited suicide, jason got mad and found evidence of his birth mother, so he ran away to Ethiopia, he and bruce met up their almost coincidentally because bruce was tracking the joker and that communicate bruce didn't care that jason ran away, jason gets beaten with a crowbar and his mother also gets hurt because the joker is a bastard. The joker sets up a bomb and jason struggles to get he and his mom out despite his wounds. The bomb goes off and jason dies right as batman arrives. Then 6 months later jason wakes up and has to literally claw his way out of his own grave. Afterwhich he is catatonic qnd living on the streets until talia finds him

2. He was being manipulated. Talia found jason and trained him with the league and put him in the lazerus pit so he could recover higher brain function. She gave him everything he needed to train and get vengeance and framed it as a favor to her beloved. But she didn't tell the whole truth and didnt have all the information. Her actions here weren't altruistic. Its heavily implied she was sending jason as her loyal soldier to get rid of tim to clear the way for Damian.

3. The lazerus pit is essentially a drug that amplifies emotions. You could think of it as jason being on steroids. While his actions and emotions are his own they were amped up and irrational. So a lot of his irrational behavior and half thought out plans and stupity can be tied back to him having this 'drug' in his system. Emotions take the wheel and make people stupid without drugs amplifying things

But as i said his actions and the root of his feelings are still his own. So as to the why jason is so angry... well its not just that he was replaced or that he died. It that his death seemingly meant nothing. Jason died and seemingly nothing in gotham changed. He didn't see bruce greive. He didnt know that bruce almost killed the joker twice or that dick temporarily succeeded. He didnt know tim wasnt chosen but decided for himself to be robin. What jason aw was that within months of him dying there was another kid in his cape running around gotham and making quips like jason never existed. He saw the joker, his murderer, still on the steets still torturering and killing people. He saw bruce wayne with a new adopted kid. He saw his tenure, his life, the job that he died for reduced to a memorial in the bat cave with a plaque saying "a good soldier". Not a good son. No one but bruce and alfred were at his funeral.

So jason wasnt mad that tim replaced him. He wasnt mad that he died trying to save his mother. He was made that it seemingly effected nothing. That his death meant nothing to his family and it meant nothing to gotham.

If he wasnt mad at tim than why did he almost murder him? To send a message and to teach a lesson. He wanted tim to understand that robin is dangerous and that Bruce's protection was an empty promise. Jason could have killed tim in titans tower, but he didnt. Because tim dying wasnt the goal.

Why go through a convoluted plot to make batman do it? Well, initially it was jason being irrational. He got it into his head that bruce needed to prove that he loved him, to prove that hed protect him by defeating the monster. Jason wanted Bruce to choose being his dad over his no kill rule. And bruce chose the rule.

So that seemingly said, bruce doesnt love him, possibly never loved him. And this is further exhasperated by bruce sucking at communication. Bruce didn't just chose not to kill the joker when given the ultimatum, he threw a batarang at jason. Bruces will said jason was his biggest mistake. Bruce meant it in a 'i fucked up' way but jason took it as further 'adopting and you was a mistake'. Its shit and with the magic equivalent of .drugs further clouding things. Jason having tantrums and always shotting on bruce and the fam is understandable even if its not fair.

Why not kill the joker himself? Well part of that is fear. Jason has tried a few times to kill the joker and between the fucker being somewhat immortal for convoluted reason, trauma making jason freeze up, and outside interference it just hasnt taken.

As for bruce himself not killing the joker or bruce reviving the joker after dick killed him... well that comes back to the rule itself and bruces motivation for never killing. When bruce was younger he wanted to kill the guy who killed his parents. And alfred explained that taking a life is permanent and puts a weight on your soul. Its something you cant take back and something you have to live with forever. Showing people mercy, giving people a second chance is always the kinder option. Bruce made his rule initially because hes a kind person and he didn't want to carry the weight of murder. Likewise he revived the joker after dick killed him because he doesnt want dick to live with that weight, to live with that regret. Later on the rule took a more sinister tone because batman has seen who he becomes when starts killing. He also knows that if he starts killing hed never stop. Its a weird moral absolute but he knows if he could excuse killing the joker he could excuse killing anyone. And eventually anyone would include people who can change and innocents.

Its a little dumb of a moral absolute but its part if Bruce's character. I think its important to recognize the strength that it takes to show mercy to someone a shitty and undeserving as the joker. That kinda why theyre locked into being nemesis. The joker is ar his core nihilistic. He creates suffering because life is hopeless and nothing matters so may as well laugh at the pain. Batman is someone whos felt a lot of pain and is angry at the world that hurts people, but he is someone who gave himself hope and he is someone who sees the good in people even when they dont recognize the good in themselves. He is merciful and that is an act of kindness.

I do think the joker is beyond redemption at this point. It's the trolly problem at the end of the day: is the jokers recovery worth the lives of everyone hes killed tortured, drugged, and maimed? No. If the joker were to get suddenly better and regret his actions, it wouldnt bring anyone back and very few people would forgive him. Hed never be able yo reenter society or have a normal life. Hes never been a character who deserved mercy, but mercy isnt something you give because it's deserved. Personally i'd be more merciful to the jokers victims and put the fucker down.

But thats not my call. It isn't even really batmans call. At the end of the day batman is just a man in a suit. He isnt god and he isnt judge, jury, or executioner. To kill is a choice and batman chooses not to.

A better question is why the jokers life and death is considered batmans responsibility? And why is murder what jason needs for bruce to prove he loves him? I think thats where jason needs the wake up call. Murder isnt a normal response to having your kid murdered, even if im sure all parents going through that think about it. So why does jason need bruce to kill him so bad?

To feel safe. Jason can never feel safe so long as the joker is around and a dad is supposed to keep you safe. Bruce didnt.

Murder and mercy is where their breakdown of communication is. Bruce choses to be merciful to the villains he's fighting. Jason choses to kill the monsters so the victims can feel safe again.

- Hestia

[fruitcoops]

hi eve!!! have loved all of your oknutzy stuff recently !! Was hoping you’d write a coops fic while Remus was PT maybe just appreciating how much he does / Sirius treating him to something special (nice meal, back rub, etc) after a long day of work?

Yes! Love me some PT Loops learning that--*gasp*--people are allowed to love him. Coops credit goes to @lumosinlove, Hattie is mine!

TW referenced minor injuries

7:45—Admin

Remus’ vision blurred with exhaustion. “No sleeping,” he mumbled around a yawn. His eyes still felt too heavy, too sticky with sleep to function like they should. “Morning, morning, morning, stay awake, stay awake, you can fit a nap in later.”

No, you won’t. Someone was going to fuck up a joint during practice today. He could feel it tingling at the back of his neck like the breath of a lunch-stealing poltergeist. Remus gazed mournfully at his calendar and the list stuck to the left side of his computer screen, scrawled in a sloppy hand before practically falling into Sirius’ car the night before—his handwriting was already questionable past 6 pm, even without a day like that. Like this one was shaping up to be, too.

His computer gave a cheerful chirp: You have a meeting in [15] minutes with [Thompson, Admin]!

Somewhere back home, Sirius was still in bed. Cozy. Warm. Sleep-soft. Probably curled on his side, long legs clad in flannel, his body in a gentle arc that formed a perfectly Remus-sized hollow against his middle for prime snuggling…

“What would happen?” he wondered aloud, drumming his fingertips on the fake wood. “If I skip, what are they gonna do? Fire me? They can’t fire me.”

His eyes slid from a near-solid block of color-coded events to the crisp Post-It with its endless list of non-work tasks.

“God, they would totally fire me,” Remus muttered. As if they haven’t been looking for a reason to do it since January. He took a moment to stretch both arms over his head and crack his back; from the looks of it, the remaining 6 minutes would be the last bit of leisure time until he went home or died, whichever came first.

10:00-2:45—Clinical + Walk-in

“What are you doing?”

“Being productive.”

Moody snorted from the general vicinity of the doorway.

“Seriously,” Remus continued over the rhythmic thud of his forehead against the wooden cabinet of the break room. “This is a better use of my time than talking to Tremzy.”

“More broken fingers?”

Remus huffed. His forehead was finally starting to transition from aching to blessed numbness.  “Told me it was a jammed knee. How’d it get jammed, Tremz? I dunno. Did you turn too hard? Uh, I twisted it. What a little son of a bitch.”

“Since when is Tremblay from Texas?”

“Remind me that I love my job, please.”

“You love your job and you love those boys.” His forehead hit something softer the next time around. Remus let out a slow breath through his nose as Moody adjusted to grab him by the face and gently pushed him back into a proper standing position. “That brain pays your salary, Lupin. Play nice.”

“This brain is currently on strike due to workplace abuse,” he said into the rough skin of Moody’s palm.

Light flooded back in and Remus squinted, blinking in the sudden change. Moody scanned him with a critical eye. “You eaten yet today?”

“Yeah.”

“What’d you have?”

“Wagyu steak and pan-friend potatoes.” His stomach clenched at the very thought. Moody’s expression was distinctly unimpressed. Remus sighed. “A bagel and a granola bar, two hours ago. I have a meeting with Dumo in 3 and a half minutes about his lower back pain ‘cause he refuses to admit he’s over the age of 28, so if you’ll excuse me…”

“Choke down another granola bar and I’ll let you leave.”

“Moody—”

“You’ve got 2 minutes and 55 seconds.”

Remus scrubbed both hands down his face. Not for the first time, he wished he was a little meaner, or at least mean enough to push past into the hallway. Sirius would have. But he wasn’t Sirius, and he was hungry, and there was almost certainly a peanut butter and chocolate bar somewhere in the back of the cabinet…

Bingo. Putting his job on pause had never tasted so good.

4:30-6:00—Ref. 20-47

The afternoon passed in a series of signatures and papercuts, broken up only by a 40-minute period of double-checking everyone’s skates and pads before evening practice. Remus heard the team arrive in a distant stampede and braced himself for the inevitable grilling—where are my shoulder pads? I left them drying last night, though. What do you mean they’re in my stall?—only to be left, beautifully, wonderfully alone. It appeared his extra work the night before had paid off.

Sign, stamp, stack. Remus glanced at his watch; 28 referrals completed in just under 90 minutes. That left only two items on his work calendar (he decided to ignore the ‘home’ chores Post-It for now), a number that had seemed unfathomable seven hours ago. The admin meeting felt like another universe.

He stood on shaky legs and groaned softly at the ache from sitting too long without breaks, bracing on the edge of his desk for a stretch to stave off a calf cramp. A smart person would take 10 minutes and do some light yoga, run a couple drills once the guys went home. Remus’ neck twinged when he checked the clock again—just as he thought. No time to be a smart person.

Remus wrinkled his nose at his desk chair before easing himself back into it. The future was difficult to imagine when his brain was that fuzzy.

“Two more,” Remus told the tiny granite wolf taped to the top of his computer monitor. “That’s it, and then I can go home and have a good dinner and kiss my boyfriend and sleep for ten hours.”

He flexed his throbbing hands and pushed the keyboard aside to make room for two sheets of paper to lay side-by-side. Sorting health forms was easy, repetitive, and…

6:00-6:30—Nap

Remus woke up.

His computer was off. Good sign, he thought, letting his eyes slip closed again. Done for the day. His hands took a moment to come back online. Then the familiar ache in his legs. Then a sudden pinch in his lower back when he tried to turn into the touch caressing one side of his face, and a new voice shushing him as a hand eased his back into a more comfortable spot. Remus grumbled wordlessly.

“Re.”

He made a noise of acknowledgement. One side of his face felt stickier than usual.

“Hey. Loup.”

“Lis’nin’.”

“Time to wake up.”

“Am.”

“Sure you are,” Sirius laughed quietly. Sneakers squeaked on linoleum as he shifted and Remus burrowed into the worn-soft fabric of his shirt. He smelled good, a little sweaty, like he did after warmups or a couple loops around the basement rink. Warm in the crook between neck and shoulder, just like Remus had left him that morning. Sirius’ chest hitched with suppressed laughter for a moment—there was an odd sound like rustling paper, and then an unpleasant tug on one side of his face.

Remus jerked awake by another degree and felt his neck heat with embarrassment as Sirius finished gently peeling a health form off his cheek. “Sorted ‘em,” he explained around a yawn. “Fell asleep.”

“Quoi?”

“The paper. Sorted it.” His head felt all muggy, mouth tacky like he had been sleeping with it open. “How long was I out?”

“I’m not sure.”

Remus frowned. “Time’s it?”

“6:35. I just came to say hello.”

He hummed. Sirius’ hand slid down from the back of his head to give his neck a gentle squeeze at the nape—it popped a few neurons back into place, and Remus blinked blearily at him before leaning forward to rest their foreheads together.

“Hello,” he said into the sliver of space between them. “Missed you.”

“I missed you, too.” Sirius’ thumb stroked circles over the top of his spine, turning Remus’ bones to mush. “Busy day, huh?”

“Mmm.”

“Do you know what you want for dinner?”

Remus couldn’t help his sigh. Dinner. Number one on the (literal) laundry list that needed to get done before he could drag himself into bed. Sirius would be starving when practice was done, and it was only fair that he figure something out—maybe he could ask Sirius to throw a load of dishes into the washer before rinsing off. Yeah, he could do that. “Chicken and rice?” he suggested. Quick, easy, season and bake. 40 minutes start to finish.

“Sounds great.” Lips pressed to his forehead, a little dry from warmups but as pillow-soft as always. “I’ll be back at 7:45?”

Remus smiled into their next kiss. “See you then.”

8:15-8:45 pm—Shower + Dinner

Ahead of schedule, Remus thought as they pulled into the driveway and Sirius turned the ignition off. Bonus points. If they kept this up, he might be able to let the broccoli bake for an extra five to ten minutes for some extra crunch. “D’accord,” Sirius said under his breath as he ducked out of the car and jogged around.

Remus paused, bewildered, when the passenger door opened and Sirius held his hand out. “…what?”

“Come on.” Sirius held his hand a little closer; Remus felt a blush creep to his ears when he took it and let Sirius help him from the car like—like some sort of celebrity. Sirius dipped down to kiss his cheek, taking the backpack from his shoulder in the same motion.

“What is this?” Remus laughed.

“What, I’m not allowed to carry your bag for you?” Silver eyes glittered with amusement. “I can be romantic.”

You are a grown man, don’t get fluttery over that. Remus bit his lower lip around a smile. “You can.”

“I showered at the rink, so you can head up,” Sirius continued, opening the door with ease despite the two bags hanging off him. He intercepted Hattie’s welcome tackle and tossed the nearest tennis ball down the hallway for her to chase, gesturing for Remus to go ahead of him. A lopsided smile made Remus’ heart squeeze. “The beast has been tamed. After you, mon amour.”

He cast a quick look around the living room and kitchen when he entered—no surprises yet. Nobody hiding behind the couch with cake and balloons for…something important, presumably. Fuck, had he forgotten an anniversary? Anniversary of what? This time last year, he and Sirius had both been unhappily aboard the train of useless pining.

Then again, being sweet and silly and chivalrous for no reason at all was exactly the type of thing Sirius would do, when he thought about it. “Thanks, baby,” Remus said as he toed his shoes off and leaned up for a kiss.

Sirius nudged their noses together, one hand going down to soothe Hattie’s excited tippy-taps. “Pas de problem. Now go, shower, I know that look on your face.”

Remus caught him by the front of his shirt before he could turn away and pulled him down for one more chaste peck. “I love you.”

“Love you more.”

8:25 pm—Shower and…dinner?

Sirius hadn’t let him start the chicken, rice, or broccoli before ushering him upstairs with a playful smack to his ass. Remus wasn’t quite sure what to make of that, but he had been standing under the hot water for about five minutes now and honestly didn’t have the capacity to read too far into it anymore. The water took the last of his higher brain functions with it as it swirled over his aching feet to the drain. More than once, Remus’ thoughts tried to wander toward the Post-It still stuck to his computer monitor, but for the life of him he couldn’t remember what it said.

Maybe that was okay. Maybe he could take another couple of minutes to steam himself like the dumplings from their favorite shop down the road, taking in the warm air and blowing out the day’s stress. He hadn’t done that many consecutive clinicals since college. A break was well-deserved.

8:45 pm—Put on pants

**Correction: 8:45 pm—Put on Sirius’ pants and sweatshirt

The bed was far too tempting for its own good. If Remus’ stomach wasn’t growling like a hellbeast, he would have given in to his weak mortal urges and buried himself beneath the sheets the second he stepped out of the shower.

He rolled the waistband of Sirius’ sweats twice to keep them up, then slipped on his oldest, most threadbare Lions hoodie. A welcome gift from James, if Remus remembered right. One of many attempts to offer friendship to their newest, coldest rookie.

Remus stuck his nose in the neckline and inhaled deeply. How far they had come since those first silent days.

Fuzzy socks made the outfit complete and offered the gentle padded compression he had been craving since noon. He cracked his knuckles as he headed back down to the kitchen, stifling a yawn in one frayed sweater cuff, and paused at the bottom of the stairs to give Hattie’s ears a scritch. “Hello, princess,” he laughed while she gave his hands a thorough inspection. “You’ve got bedhead, c’mere. Did you have a good nap after your dad left? I know, I was gone forever.”

“The couch was still warm,” Sirius called from the other room with an audible smile. “I checked.”

“I bet you two went to the park, huh?” She stared back at him, tongue lolling, tail thudding against the floor before she pushed her entire head into his chest. The fur of her neck was silky smooth between his fingers; Remus pressed his nose to the top of her forehead and let himself relax into the velvet softness.

The air smelled different when he raised his head, blinking in the dim light. Hattie put her paws on the lower stair and began her nightly routine of making sure he wasn’t secretly hiding treats behind his ears. “Baby?”

“Ouais?”

“I can—” Remus broke off when another burst of steam sent the smell wafting into the living room. Sirius had used the good paprika. Christ, his heart was going to burst. “I said I could make dinner.”

“Chicken and rice, yes?” Sirius appeared in the doorway with a sweet smile and popped a green bean in his mouth, shrugging. “I got it.”

“You got it.” He got it. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to.”

Remus’ hands stilled over Hattie’s ribs. He could feel her breathing, steady one moment, erratic with intensive sniffing the next. It seemed she had accepted the fact that he was not going to sneak her cookies and trotted off to go whine at Sirius, leaving Remus alone on the stairs. “You got it,” he repeated quietly to himself.

9:00 pm—No…plan? No plan.

Dinner was amazing. They were both too tired to talk much, but the minute they sat down Sirius had twined their ankles under the table, and there they stayed for the next half hour while they ate in companionable quiet. The rice was only a little undercooked.

Sirius liked to read or watch a show after evening practice most days, and Remus usually found himself a spot between thick thighs or tucked up against Sirius’ side to join him for an hour or two. But Sirius had taken their dishes with a kiss to his forehead and put them right in the dishwasher—and started it—before taking Remus by the hand and pulling him upstairs.

Remus watched him change into his pajamas and put his day clothes in the hamper at the same time, relying on muscle memory to brush his teeth while his mind whirred. It wasn’t that Sirius never helped around the house; the man was more of a neat freak than he was, some days. But something felt…different. It felt more intentional.

“So,” Remus started once he had rinsed his mouth out and shuffled aside to share the sink. The words stuck in his throat for reasons he couldn’t name. “Tonight was—tonight was really nice. Thank you.”

Sirius’ brow furrowed in confusion. “For dinner?”

“And the other stuff.” Why was it suddenly so hard to say what he wanted? “You know, the dishes and feeding the dog and holding the door and…all that.”

Sirius hummed and bent to spit out his toothpaste before he half-shrugged. “It was normal stuff. You were tired. I could do it, so I did.”

Remus just stared at him as he went back to brushing his teeth, already rummaging through the cupboard for the mouthwash. “Thank you.”

Sirius hummed his thanks when Remus passed him the mouthwash bottle; when he was done with his teeth, he turned, taking Remus’ face between gentle hands to kiss him, minty fresh. “I missed you today. And yesterday.”

Don’t swoon, don’t swoon, don’t swoon—“I missed you, too.”

Perhaps spending two days cooped up in his office had had more side effects than just draining his energy. He let Sirius take more of his weight with a slow exhale, and a moment later felt big hands rubbing along his aching muscles. “It’s silly,” Sirius said, his voice low. “I almost wished I had a real excuse to come see you.”

“For your own sake, I don’t,” he mumbled into Sirius sleep shirt.

There was a gentle pressure at the top of his head; Remus hid his smile in the nearest bicep. “You do so much for so many people,” Sirius sighed at last. The hands on his back maintained their steady motions. “You spend all day fixing their problems. My problems, too. I just—” He paused. Remus loved how carefully each word was chosen. Another little press made his stomach swoop. “I want you to know that you don’t have to do everything by yourself, Re. I can handle Hattie, I can do chores, I can cook. Maybe not well, but—”

“It was fantastic, Sirius.”

“Merci.” Sirius’ arms tightened around him for a brief pulse. “I can help. Let me help. I want to. This is, like, the bare minimum.”

Sometimes Remus couldn’t believe just how lucky he was. A day that used to end with boxed mac and cheese and falling asleep in the creaky twin bed of his apartment, occasionally still in his work clothes, now ended like this. And if he had his way, it would go like this forever.

“Okay,” he said, tilting his head up. The corners of Sirius’ eyes crinkled with a smile. “Alright, I’ll try. But don’t try to do everything for me, either, yeah?”

“As if I could get away with that,” Sirius laughed, bending down until their lips brushed and happiness fizzed through Remus’ whole body.

A double yawn interrupted their third-fourth-fifth kiss and they broke down into laughter; Remus went willingly when Sirius tangled their fingers together and made a show of dragging him to bed, bundling him up in the covers before settling down with a nuzzle to the back of his ear. His knees tucked up behind Remus’—his arm wound protectively over his torso, forming a perfect Remus-sized hollow.

10:00 pm—Rest

Remus was asleep before Sirius had taken two breaths.