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intheshadowsbehindyou · 3 months

Note

your snipers are GOOD STUFF and i’m just here for how he would work (nsfw wise) with a s/o who is INCREDIBLY down to be bullied and hunted for sport and will frolic around like a deer giggling the whole time like he’s a fairy tale prince and not a gangly string bean who is filled with nothing but spite and predatory lust

I had contemplated my regular format but I think straight up fanfiction better fits this.

Sniper X Prey Reader: Primitive Instinct (NSFW)

Warning: Prey/predator shit idk what the kink is called, breeding kink

Mr. Mundy hated the feeling of primal lust when other things mattered more. He often felt broken, and inherently wrong to desire the warmth of his body intertwined with someone else’s when he should have been focusing on something else. By nature he was a hunter. Focus and mental clarity even in the darkest of hours was most important when that rifle was up to his face. He could be sad and lonely for only just a moment. Just a second in eternity. But never more than that.

For if he delayed more, he wouldn’t be focusing hard enough. All of his senses alert to every single thing imaginable. An assassin could not afford one little slip up. Less the outcome would be self explanatory.

Still, he found himself constantly distracted tonight. In the highest point of Tuefort he stood atop a water tower’s catwalks in pitch black darkness. In front of him was the distant, dim lights of the enemy BLU base. A set of ugly buildings that looked more like a factory than anything else. His night vision scope was a smuggled artifact from his hometown. It worked flawlessly despite the long trip to join Team Fortress several years ago. The cold air bit at his skin but he remained stiffly in place like an unmoving stone. Boldly standing out in the open with no regard for his own safety. He knew the difficult position he was in would make it nearly impossible to get a clear shot at him. With multiple cardboard boxes off to both his sides, it obstructed angles.

Sniper shut his eyes. His lungs took in maximum air and exhaled carbon dioxide. He counted each second, carefully controlling his own breath.

One, two, three, four…

The old assassin heard a sound off in the distance just to the right of him. As he suspected, his theory about using this BLU water tower as a nest was validated. He turned the rifle towards the source and sure enough he caught the silhouette of an intruder rummaging through the bushes.

One, two, three, four…

His previous thoughts were proven to be more of an intruder than the unlucky person he was scoping at. For a second, Sniper unwillingly diverted his attention as those lustful desires crossed his thoughts again. He swore he saw the image of a beautiful, smooth, naked body of a woman flash in his mind as quickly as the blinking of an eye. His breathing immediately became muddled again. He could even hear his own heart rate skyrocket. All it took was one little slip up. An annoying intrusive thought.

Sniper had lost location of the person’s head through the dense foliage. They disappeared behind the bramble, and Sniper had to suppress the sudden unyielding rage shoot through his bloodstream. Every bone in his body wanted to throw his damn sniper rifle across the desert and see it break into multiple pieces below.

“Bugger me!” He cursed quietly. Slamming his fist on the box he was resting his rifle on. Somehow, he didn’t even care if an apposing sniper heard him. The faster he died, the better.

Sniper held his fist, which was now wracked with pieces of wood. He was lucky to be wearing gloves. The wood didn’t pierce his skin at all. Still, now he had to growl and grumble while he pathetically pulled the shards of dangerous chips out of his left hand. If the others saw him — especially scout — they’d undoubtedly tear him a new one that he’d forever internalize until his dying days.

An assassin can’t fucking afford to miss.

His moment of self loathing was interrupted by the creak of the ladder below the catwalks. It was subtle, and barely audible. Like a wild cat’s tiptoeing through the forest. Sniper stopped dead in his tracks and his eyes slowly rolled to the source. Fearlessly, he put his hands back on his gun and waited. If he made any sudden movements toward his SMG on the floor next to him then he’d surely alert the stranger. The catwalks were sensitive with age in certain places and disregarded stealth.

The person on the ladder paused when Sniper halted his complaining. Which showed him that they were listening to him too. It didn’t quite strike him as odd, but what did indeed baffle him was then the sudden sprint up the ladder. As if the person wanted to be heard.

The scruffy man gritted his teeth. A little bit offended that somebody — even if it was a teammate — which let’s be honest that’s the only reasonable explanation for it — would approach him so casually like he wasn’t a huge threat. It messed with his ego and made him want to shoot the person regardless of who they were.

“Sniper?” A voice asked quietly. It was you, of course. The new mercenary. The youngest out of all of them. A thorn in everybody’s side with your naive youth. Who the hell in their right mind would hire such a young adult for this profession?

The older man tried shutting his eyes and focusing his breathing again. Blocking out any other annoying stimulus that distracted him. (You were the annoying stimulus.) He figured you were just up here thinking he’d be a willing ear and whatnot. As if he’d ever do something like that.

“Sniper!” You whispered a bit louder.

Sniper nearly found it within himself to haul his gun as promised earlier. He gripped his rifle like he was choking somebody. “God! What?!” He asked louder than he wanted to.

You glared at him. The lack of amusement in your eyes was noted and rudely ignored. Sniper shrugged his shoulders in a very, very pressuring gesture to get on with it. You didn’t even know how he had the patience for hunting animals.

“The others wanna know if you want some coffee.” You say. Your mouth curling into what would be a snarl if you hadn’t somewhat mastered the art of controlling yourself near these mercs.

“Who the bloody hell asks their colleague if they want coffee at three in the fuckin’ morning?!” Sniper’s voice pitched high in genuine concern. Like he had somehow realized he was answering to the most stupidest person imaginable.

Sniper’s condescending words didn’t sway you. You were too tired to react anyway. “By the way, was that you pointing your gun at me?” You asked curiously.

He paused, and that’s how you knew you struck a cord. The revelation couldn’t help but peak your interest. The way he tensed up and threatened to grip the edges of the box to the point of breaking the entire thing. He was SURE he was incapable of being seen. Your words had completely shattered what was left of his fragile self esteem. If anything there at all at this point. It was entertaining to see this supposedly self proclaimed unemotional assassin break like a twig. You titled your head and the side of your lip almost twitched into a smile.

“You think this is funny, don’t you?” He asked bitterly. Without any second hesitation or regard, he whipped out his kukri from underneath the boxes and started marching toward you. To say you were a bit stressed was an understatement.

Sniper shoved you backwards into the wall and dug the blade into the planks near your face. It hit the wood with an unpleasant noise that sounded like it had cut through flesh. It made a chill go up your spine. Nonetheless, you braved the sudden aggression. These types of crazy reactions were just common day-to-day events. You turnt your nose away from him as he got close to your face and breathed down your neck. It was heavy and quick. Like he was inches away from eating you. His chest pressed up against yours. You couldn’t tell if this was meant to be personal or not. But it felt… disgustingly delightful. Like you were eating candy.

It felt like you were being eyed by a hungry bear that wanted to tear into you and leave nothing behind. To drop the blade and ravish your delicious body. Sniper all the meanwhile could not even identify his own body’s mistake for adrenaline being arousal. A large, blunt object pressed against your inner thigh when he pressed down harder. His veins visible from the grip on his blade. You realized all the blood flowed to his companion. A thick, wet member prodding at you and quietly pleading for relief.

“What did I tell you? I’m a hired gunman. I’m not some friend of yours, and i’m not somebody who’s gonna joke with you. Gotcha?” You could hear him bombarding you but the butterflies in your stomach spoke of delightful things.

You wanted to mate with this hungry animal, until his balls were completely empty and his insatiable appetite was temporarily satisfied. You slipped under him and tore away easier than expected. Dodging an attempt on your head, you hopped up onto the boxes and shuffled as he tried slashing at your ankles. A sickly mischievous smile crossed your face, as for what seemed like forever, you dodged his countless attempts on your life. Jumping on and off the box, and causing him to run in circles around the tower. Sniper was beginning to feel like he was on some sort of babysitting duty. He was also getting angrier.

As fast as you came in, you booked it down to the ladder and slid down it. Sniper being less athletic however, had to hurry down the steps one by one. All the meanwhile complaining “Bugger, bugger, bugger, bugger!”

His anger was comedic in every way possible. You ducked underneath the brambles and patiently awaited the handsome man’s arrival. You decided to not let yourself suffer any longer. Maybe him by extension as well. Those primitive urges were something that your ancestors developed as a beautiful way to bond. In what world would you simply throw away the opportunity? As Sniper reached the bottom of the water tower, you half-assed an escape attempt but as expected he jumped on you before you could even crawl through the other side of the bush. You had no idea that toothpick of a man would hurt so much. Dead god.

“Gotcha!” He proclaimed. pinning you on your belly with his entire weight. He sat on your legs. Like a cat whose paw was on a mouse’s tail. You wondered if it was possible he’d break said legs.

He was proud of his catch, but you had no heart to tell him you gave yourself deliberately. That penetrating blunt organ was all you fixated on right now. It was all you wanted. The idea of that divine organ crushing your insides sounded like heaven. The gentle breeze of his warm breath met your ears and neck again. You couldn’t help but lift your face up to meet it. Sniper found himself meeting his lips to your neck too.

The tension broke. The two of you had clearly felt the same way. Although Sniper tried his hardest to hide his beastly instincts, nature always won in the end. The moment his lips nibbled your neck is the moment that you both individually consented. A grumble escaped your throat and it sounded like you were pleased. Which in turn pleased Sniper.

Lust is such a complicated thing. Anger and annoyance can lead to it if you go down the right path. The older man began to court you. Prodding his member against your flank to offer you a good time. He shifted your legs up and got you into a mating press. Underneath those layers you could feel him dripping with anticipation.

To test the waters he forwardly thrusted up against your clothed body. Earning another blissful sound from you. Though sniper was dead silent, his rugged breathing spoke volumes. He aimlessly humped you like a horny dog and forgot his own self control. Wildly slapping his concealed dick against your pants.

“Sniper—“ You tried to get his attention. Realizing this was counterproductive without bare skin visible.

He continued slapping against you recklessly. He couldn’t hear you, and frankly you couldn’t blame him. Sniper was determined to breed you. He was surging with hormones and ready to pump you full of his children no matter the cost. He sounded like a growling werewolf the way he began expressing his pleasure. His silence leaving him. The scruffy haired man bit down hard on the back of your neck to hold you in place. The extra skin there made it so that you weren’t hurt. Just scruffed like a cat.

You were stuck there for hours. A large man using you as his sextoy. Not even once did he slow his pace. Not even after multiple times cumming. It was only when the sun came up did he even consider.

What a wonderful thing that the gift of procreation is.

#tf2 #team fortress 2 #medic x reader #spy x reader #demoman x reader #tf2 x reader #heavy x reader #sniper x reader #tf2 x you #it’s fucking 4 AM and i need to sleep

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izuhan · 1 year

Text

coming home exhausted︱stray kids (maknae line)

pairing: boyfried!skz x gn!reader ︱ genre: fluff, comfort slight hurt ︱warning: a little suggestive, grammar mistakes, not proofread, FELIXDFJIGEFJKDGFJKG

a/n: idk if i made these long or what but it might not be like the hyung line part but i hope you still enjoy this! i might have not been possessed by whatever that was at that time, I tried my best hhehe

⸝⸝han♡ᵎ

— no matter what anyone says about it, (affectionately) annoying you with pictures of him whining with text below, middle, or above will be a sure tactic to put you off work and head home early.

— with the immense amount of “I'M LONELY COME HOME” texts, voice messages, and annoyingly adorable photos do concern others, hell, even him. after sending them with a huff, cheeks puffing cutely in his hoodie—different scenarios come and bother his mind.

— whether that might be you scolding him to prohibiting stuff to happen he will space out with a blush-- not hearing the door clicking open, bags on the floor making a thud, keys clashing against one another, and a han spacing out, and you, slumping against him.

— he has this adorable habit of spacing out and blocking the world but himself. you love it because you could do almost everything as you let him stare at the ceiling or you, we are talking about wide-eyed han, face blank and almost like a cat preparing for an attack and han? he just jolts, the first resort either to hug you and tell you about his wild thoughts, or run to you and hug you while he tells you about his wild thoughts. (mostly animal wild thoughts, yes, of course.)

— however, without a glimpse of his thoughts being of you, you sneak and flopped atop of him. you melt, he's warm, you’re home, you think to yourself. you smile and softly sigh, no energy to say anything other than a sweet “hi ji,”

— seungmin once said “y/n’s voice he can hear, ours vanish.” it’s true. your voice will break through the trains of his thoughts. he practiced not to react violently, and he’s glad he did.

— his heart would leap a mile, his brain processing the sight of your eyes gently shut, your arms lying beside him, and your body close to his. every beat of his heart tells him to haul closer, or at least press a little harder by embracing you gently, eyes closing shut with the biggest smile he’d ever made today.

— han would feel his heart ache when he pulled your face even closer to his as you do the same, smile crumbling away as tears race down your cheeks. his own producing tears at the corner of his eyes, he sat up suddenly, the couch didn’t have enough space for the both of you and the last thing han wanted at this moment was to hurt you even one bit.

— so he would carry you again, wrap your arms around his neck, and your legs around his waist. you would repeatedly slur “i love you, i love you, i love you, i love you, i love you,” on the way, he would burst into a fit of beautiful laughter, carefully taking care of your clothes, kissing your temple and your hair, arms up, the shirt he's wearing slipping off his body.

— “it got warm with my temperature, that would calm you right?” another kiss on your arm, raising up and down as the shirt settles, “i love you,”

“not the right answer, baby. geez, they did a number on you huh?” and another set of kissing on your tears-stained cheeks, and eyes. “i'm not liking how they're treating you there,”

“i can manage, there's still a little left to work on, but i can manage,”

“can't convince me, you sound like a broken record. i hate it.”

— han would shut you up with more kisses and would let you do anything to him in that state of yours. let you pinch and play with his cheeks until it feels numb, play with his hair until sleep hits you while he hums to the tracks he’s working on, hitting two birds with one stone. you lay flat on his chest or he lay flat on your chest, or on your side, watching over his baby either falling asleep or enjoying his presence. after all, you deserve it-- everything nice and lovely.

⸝⸝felix♡ᵎ

— you know he plays games right after he’s done with work and you’re still not home, though you know he times his games to be sure he’s done by the time you arrive to enjoy the luxury of the night. and so, he wouldn’t notice your late text of overtime and coming home late, right? No.

— he loves you, he has said that multiple times you need an earful of his love confession, and you two would cry over it after one is uncertain of another’s love and affection.

— but today, you wish he wouldn’t love you as much because knowing your lover and how he could be upset with a slight change of plans you two agreed upon--coming home late, expecting him to be in his room playing computer games could be a relief.

— but there he was, arms crossed, a look which translates to trouble. “i saw your messages. you took another co-worker’s shift, and the reason was that you’re free and reliable?” he’s sitting on the sofa, the frown on his face could never be good to be something different.

— neither of you is fond of fighting, either resolve it as quickly as you could or sleep next to each other with a heart shattered and hollow. “you’ve been doing too much already, haven't you noticed? you don't talk to anyone anymore.”

— felix would never be afraid of talking ill to the world you both live in if it were to be treating you like shit for these past few weeks. “even i don’t get to hear your voice often, all you do is work,” uncontrollably, he puffs his cheeks a bit, a childish act he and han shares.

— and you laugh, raw and hot tears as your breath hitch for a moment and fall on your knees. you feel sorry for him, and for yourself. you don’t even have anything to prove yet here you are, so miserable and pathetic and so exhausted troubling your only escape from reality. you simply couldn’t notice felix holding you as you fell.

— “s-sorry lix, forgive me—” but because he is your escape and he’s much more aware of it than you are, he cries with you. truly, what you’ve heard about humans crying easily being disguised as angels can apply to him; how can he be so precious?

— and despite his being upset he carries you to bed with him, hovering on your body seeking his warmth and weight which he doesn’t give yet. what he gives is a sight of his many ways of conveying his love, “drink up first bub, then let's cuddle.”

— you want to break into tears again, waste the water he put in the effort to deliver to you just so your waterworks breaks down because you love him too much and he loves you too. “such a crybaby, I'll lock you up with me for a while yeah? i can’t let you beat yourself up like this, bub.” you gulped everything, smiling and bopping his nose. “sounds scary, lixie.” he pouts, kissing your lips and guiding your head back to the pillows, caressing your head as he smiles between the kiss.

— “maybe it is, but i want you to be healthy and happy, if you're unable to do so by yourself, let me have this opportunity and make you achieve those in my ways.” he kisses you again, pressing his weight against yours, studying your many expressions before settling down beside you, holding you dearly.

— and of course, you would let him, why wouldn’t you?

⸝⸝seungmin♡ᵎ

— coming home for seungmin is a reward and an end-of-the-day kind of thing where nights or midnights could be in between memorable and barely memorable, or a blur. he does his usual routine while you do yours. no one interrupts anyone, all could be heard were the sounds of the water running, bottles opening, grunts, groans, and subtle satisfied moans after a long day-- before a silence would ensue once both are done and gazes would meet, twin hearts calm before starting beating rapidly.

— you could say he prefers silent nights, away from the noise of the world, and create one with you.

— as much as he likes silence when the home is without you, he can't meet your gaze and race to the bed, or lovingly smile and hold your hand.

— and on those nights he felt alone, he dwells on things he should do before bed while you expect him to sleep before you. how dare you think of that?

— but of course, that was only his mind speaking to him before he would grab his journal, writing ‘again, my love is late. i await for y/n’s gaze and presence yet again. i feel greedy. this is the worst.’

— and his manifestation of your arrival would soon come through when you're summoned right in front of him.

— his hands tremble at the sight of his lover, who always greets him with a smile, reaching for his hand—you look awful as ever. swollen eyes accompanied by darkened eye bags, lips trembling, and nose runny and red. “y/n—”

— it will always be a shock to see you in such an exhausted state and it drives him crazy to think you’ll let yourself descend like this. it’s immoderate, but he did stay calm and collected to avoid panicking you furthermore.

— seungmin would ease you down with his voice and his embrace, purposely making you fall in his arms and kissing your forehead gently. he would carry you to the bedroom now that your gazes have met, and rather than hearing your apology, he focuses on how you’re breathing.

— “you can’t go anywhere tomorrow, you need to stay here and rest,” and you wouldn’t protest his idea because you know better than do that since he will give you a reason to stay and unable to go anywhere other than stay in his arms.

— you would lace your fingers together, taking your time drinking in yourself some of seungmin’s cute expressions because he’s remaining still, not wanting to disturb what you’re doing as he flutters himself. it tugs at his heart violently, hopeless at how lovely you look whilst exhausted, “thank you for taking care of me, i love you,” weakly, you would catch his lips on yours, and almost immediately, though still reminding himself you’re exhausted, he would give in, taking the lead as he puts you on his clothes.

— you love to giggle after kisses, and he loves every second of it he does it himself as well. “i love you too,” and a kiss would end your night, recharged by seungmin’s everlasting love.

⸝⸝i.n♡ᵎ

— i.n’s youth-ness comes out when it comes to you. his friends tease him about wanting to go home with you when there’s always a chance to like some high school romance. nevertheless, he doesn’t care.

— he loves waiting for you because he knows you’ll hurry up and meet him where you agreed upon. above all else, your figure getting closer to him while you wave and call for him was always adorable it makes his heart warmer than on summer nights.

— there is an ulterior motive for sometimes spotting a hotel or a spontaneous trip to a hot spring or a shopping spree or simply stopping at some shop to buy anything. always and always, when you’re done with your work and stick to his side to go home, he would always and always, wants to spend those moments filled with nothing but the loveliness of your relationship, if that makes sense. he wants to be able to see sides of you he hasn’t seen before and show you the sides of him he’s ready to show. he wants to be able to hold hands freely, steal kisses till you’re flustered and red, until you’ve reach home.

— there are times you were late, but no worries, you still arrive though slightly more tired and his plan to walk around a park and swing would vanish for another night.

— tonight was quite the same, though a bit different-- you arrived 4 hours late.

— obviously, he was a bit upset but worry overshadowed everything once he has you in his arms then to a cab, then to your shared apartment.

— all happened too fast because he saw your face fighting the urge to cry.

— and he was right... and still upset.

— you would not cry to him. you ate and left to shower. and he hates it. how you’re avoiding him just because you could lash out and say things you don’t mean.

— “y/n, let’s take a bath together.” he doesn’t mind whether your face twists in confusion or how your exhausted face heats up to a beet-red color, he didn’t mind your protest when he carried you, pressing your head close to his heart. “let me take care of you, okay?” you wouldn’t have the heart to counter him, just no.

— the bath would be prepared at the right temperature in silence and a bit of conversation to conversation only to fall in silence once more. he would attempt another conversation but stopped midway to splash water on your face.

— “now you can disguise your tears,”

— he would distance himself, creating room for your legs and... for you to come to him. it seems unfair on both ends. you need comfort, yet here he is acting horribly. “i’m not one of them to have you lie to me and pretend you’re alright.”

— yet his plan to have you come to him soon shatters as your tears began to betray you, your eyes set and seeking for him. your hands looking for his in panic. plan butchered, i.n would immediately embrace you in the bathtub, paying no mind to the water out on the floor. “so—sorry...”

— his heart aches, seeing you like this but would make up for it with his body pressing against yours, holding you so dear and close. as you cry nonstop, he would too. apologizing and promising to take care of you and react appropriately next time.

— your heart would soon warm-up against the cold water, and you could sleep in this position you’re in. though you wouldn’t want to, though i.n’s grip on your waist were gentle and loose, you would want to stay awake.

— “is it alright to tell me what happened?” he would ask, feather-light kisses on your shoulders. it continues until almost every part of your body would be covered in his traces, and would still go on in bed, where, again, he wishes for you to stay with him the next day to which, obviously, you agree. you can never say no to him.

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fairy-eclipse · 2 years

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AHHHHHHHHH invisible string was so good! Your writing is absolutely divine *chefs kiss*. Would you ever try to make a part two for "Devil's Sweet Demise"? IDK I love the grumpy/sunshine trope. It's completely fine if you don't want to!

Devil’s Sweet Demise II

Pairing: Tom Riddle x Reader

A/N: due to my inability to shut up this thing is LONG and it’s not even finished yet :’] editing was so painful you don’t understand i’m sobbing on the floor ahhdshaj. what do you mean it’s been three months 😒😒

anyway here’s 5k words of tom being a total jerk in denial, thank you anon and thank you to @sociomoon for the original idea !!

Part 1

Disdain on their faces. Cold creeping up his skin.

The day Tom had known happiness was off the table was the day they shunned him, left him standing there in his oversized, threadbare shirt—he’d watched in silent resentment as their game of Hopscotch played out on the concrete. It had hurt only a little to realize that despite his best efforts to acclimate to their mob mentality, the place would never be home. And company would come in the form of twisted thoughts and talking snakes until hell froze over.

Even when the memories have been blotted out, buried in the depths of his mind and left to stew over in the hush of night, every now and then Tom can't help but remember. Remember that unlike the anger and hatred that runs through his veins forevermore, happiness will never be a familiar feeling.

Until in comes the most frustrating little badger he’s ever met, lugging rainbows and sunshine and unwelcome feelings by the boatload.

And Tom, with his knack for persuasion, can proudly say he can elude blame for most things. It’s not his fault everyone falls for his carefully-crafted smiles and well-woven lies, or intimidation works wonders on the student body. Or that fountain pens are more convenient than quills.

But as much as he wishes he could, he just can't find any rhyme or reason to the fact that your presence is…an antidote.

A strange remedy for the jagged pieces of his heart.

"You know,” your gentle voice carries from above, and Tom is pulled from his reverie to the sound of lush grass rustling under your feet. “You really have a thing for secluded places."

In a vast courtyard teeming with dense crowds and lone studiers, of course it’s you who finds him.

Tom raises a derisive brow. “Perhaps it’s to get away from you.”

He sees to it that you don’t miss the way he shifts in some semblance of an invitation.

Laughing, you step out of the June sun to plop down beside him against the trunk of an old elm tree. Going on a few thousand years, if Tom has to guess. Its winding, leaf-coated branches cast dancing shadows across the ground.

“Classes drained the soul out of me.” You let out a muffled yawn.

Like a kitten.

Tom frowns.

He’s no stranger to intrusive thoughts, but lately they’ve been odd. Unpredictable. Not to mention it’s only when you’re near that they seem to materialize, and, well, he isn’t so sure what that could spell. To analyze a yawn, for Merlin’s sake…

But you’ve always been a bit of a distraction, haven’t you?

The rhythmic drumming of your fingers on your lap can attest to that.

He watches as a faint smile pushes at the corners of your lips and a dreamlike quality glazes over your irises—both tell-tale signs that you’ve come bearing good news.

Not that he cares or anything. It’s none of his business, none at all because honestly what does it matter if you—

"You’ll never guess what happened today.” You declare, triumphant when you meet his eyes.

Tom’s breath catches in his throat. “Hm?”

Maybe the earth can swallow him whole.

You beam. “Professor read over the report from my tutor this morning. He told me that at the rate I’m going I’ll be caught up in no time!” You clasp your hands together. “On top of that, I passed my practical exam with soaring colors, so things are going swimmingly."

Tom had forgotten about your struggles in Charms—arguably the easiest subject Hogwarts has to offer. He can sympathize with needing a little assistance in Arithmancy, maybe even Runes to some extent. That is where the average student has their pitfalls, after all. Charms, though?

It certainly isn’t common, to say the least.

But he really wishes you’d quit looking at him like that. He wishes the radiant twinkle in your eyes wasn't so adorable and you’d stop grinning expectantly like his acknowledgment would make your entire month.

Yes, nobody should be behind in Charms. Tom decides he doesn’t particularly care.

"That's a decent amount of progress in just a few weeks.”

There’s a moment of peace, a second of placidity before Tom’s brain turns into turmoil.

Why did he say it?

To make you happy? For the sake of something so trivial as your feelings, with nothing to gain for himself? Impossible. He’d never stoop to such—

“Thank you!”

Your infectious smile boasts only sweetness and light, but to Tom’s absolute horror it’s in that instant that you decided to inch closer—he has no time to prepare himself before he’s falling into a heaven comprised of the fragrant smell of your shampoo and the softness of your gaze, an erratic tha-thump reverberating throughout his chest all the while.

Distantly, he sees your mouth moving, knows you have to be talking, but God has breathing always been such a laborious task?

Well, the world can burn for all he cares because nothing else matters save for the heat radiating off your shoulder. Nothing else compares to the bliss.

“—om?” Concern seeps into your tone.

No, no, no. It has to be wrong, all of it.

He fights desperately at the haze for his bearings, wills his focus to trickle back in and reins to be found again. All too slowly the stupor relinquishes control and the feeling of repulsion emerges from the fog, shame not far behind. Tom closes his fist around a tuft of grass.

He sees it now, in all its foul glory. He has it muddled up—the point where wanting ends and doing begins—and if there ever is a master of self control it’s him. The patient, composed, self-restrained student extraordinaire. It’s degrading that a mind of his caliber could simply stop functioning. Frozen, reduced to nothing, like a used parchment purged of its contents.

Could he be possessed? Insane?

Tom knows he’s insane, has to be for the plans he’ll carry out and unspeakable things he’ll do in the coming years. But this is a different kind of insane. It’s the kind that challenges all he’s taken to be set-in-stone, that threatens his beautiful, tragic world of black and white and red.

It's the kind that could sever the rope between mere life and immortality.

And yet Tom can’t decide whether it’s a curse or a blessing when you cast your eyes away in lieu of foraging through your satchel.

He’ll have to…look more into this matter. He’ll tear up the library in his wrath; he’ll search all over, high and low and in every nook and cranny until the thirst is satiated—

“Tom, Tom, Tom. Tomato. Tomfoolery. Oh, there you are!” You find his eyes once more, completely oblivious to the pathetic feeling closing in on him. “This is for you.”

A book flaunting loose threads sits on your lap, worn and flimsy.

Tom knows it’s one of those muggle stories you like to read, ones with the plotlines he can never understand and messages he can never grasp. It isn’t that he doesn’t want to—he’s tried at one point, and he does indulge in muggle literature on occasion (it’s not his fault they’re informative)—it’s just…well, he doesn’t think he can.

"I wouldn't have picked it for you if I didn't think you'd enjoy it," you assure him matter-of-factly.

He blinks. By no means are you adept at reading him, but it is strangely pleasant that someone should see past the anger and ire into his quieter, rarer emotions.

"A little broken, I know." An amused chuckle escapes him at that. You grin sheepishly. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t love it.”

Sincerity on your face. Warmth hugging his skin.

Your fingers brush against his as you press it into his hands.

But how can he dare dream of anything more when darkness is a constant in his life? He has never wished to see the rainbow, has never found any appeal in a kaleidoscopic world until you stumbled into his life. You ebbed away at the corners of his concrete barriers until little by little the light shone through the cracks.

And Salazar. He wants to do something to you right then. Something way out of line, something that goes beyond his protective urges and against everything he believes in.

Regardless, he can always break away, can't he? When the time comes, he’d toss you into the pile of people who served their use and then he'd never have to deal with that stupid fluttery feeling in his chest again.

Yes. That is what he'd do.

So things are good, wonderful even; they’ve never been better and Tom has never been happier, at least he thinks that’s what it has to be. For once it’s not the promise of power or the vow of eradication that get him up in the wee hours of the morning.

And things are good.

Right up until they aren’t.

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵

“My Lord.” Mulciber fidgets nervously in the gold candlelight. Clears his throat. Once. Twice. “Do you think...will there be enough time to find the chamber before vacation commences?” He grips the rim of the table with ring-clad fingers until his knuckles turn a pasty white.

Tom bites back a sneer. Coward.

"You fret for nothing. While you incompetent fools were lazing around, I was scouring every inch of this castle. I'm quite certain I've found the very place Salazar Slytherin built his foundation on."

Tom bathes in the outbreak of gasps and elated cries before silencing them with a hand.

"I will not be disclosing the location; I alone will find a way to open it, though I doubt any of you would have proven to be of help anyway."

Tom watches them deflate, like he’s pierced their spirit with a needle. Perhaps this way they’ll learn that with him, making an impression takes more than a feeble attempt or two. Besides, he has yet to discern the loyal from the fainthearted and with so many things that can go wrong, there is no room for mistakes.

He holds everyone’s gaze for a few tense seconds (most of which end in rather pitiful quivering on their part) before continuing on.

“As I have discussed previously, our years at Hogwarts are drawing to a close. We have time, of course, some of us more than others, but we must plan every move meticulously.” Tom allows himself a satisfied smile. He’s been so painstakingly careful, so thorough in drawing up the plans and in due time every ounce of his hard work will be recognized. "The infiltration of the Ministry plays a pivotal role in my—our success, thus each of you must ensure your positions are secured—”

"You're infatuated with that Hufflepuff."

A sharp intake of breath, and then silence befalls the room. All eyes flick to Avery; some with disbelief, some with poorly concealed excitement, but he pays them no mind.

"That's what's taking you so long, isn't it?” The boy hisses vehemently. “Ever since you met that poor excuse of a student, you've been putting off the purge. You’ve known about the Chamber’s whereabouts, haven’t you? Why is it that you haven’t acted by now?”

He pauses to feign contemplation, a slender finger tapping at his chin. “I’ll take a wild guess; it’s because that little mudblood is sufficient enough for you.”

And just like that the stillness is back, though this time it is an illusion; it can’t exist, not when the unmistakable buzz of fear and apprehension crackles in the air.

No one rushes to Avery’s defense, but Tom doesn’t need legilimency to know—he can see it clear as day—that it’s a unanimous agreement.

Red swirls in his vision.

An audacious Avery leans back in his seat as if accepting a major victory, boastful smirk intact. He lets his accusation sink in before he adds, like salt to injury, like an arrow piercing right through Tom's heart:

"You know what I think? I think you've gone soft."

Jaws drop and eyes widen, but Tom only smirks back, nauseating and sickly sweet.

He could torture him right now. He could turn his skin inside out and make him feel pain in all the worst places. He could reanimate the darkest stages of his trauma and dangle him by the ankles like a marionette until he begs for death's cold embrace.

And what’s stopping him? It’s nothing he hasn’t thought about before. Nothing he hasn’t come close to doing.

Would you be afraid of him if you found out?

Tom sputters.

Who are you to come up in his thoughts at a time like this? How dare you traipse over every line he’s ever created and exist there as if you’ve always belonged?

He suppresses his flaring, burning rage and tries, unsuccessfully, to even his breathing. No, it's hardly worth getting his hands bloody over. Besides, he'd rather not have to clean up the mess.

"Leave. All of you. Now." He manages to choke out.

It’s a scramble for the door.

Good. Fear is good.

His last follower has barely bolted before he’s pointing his wand at the long teakwood table and thundering out an Incendio. With each careless flick of his wrist, searing flames consume the conference space and it’s not until dark, ashy smoke obscures his vision that he takes his leave.

The door to the secret room clicks shut behind him, but the release has done little to assuage his fury.

He paces the length of the hallway outside.

The nerve. How could he suggest something so preposterous?

Everyone involved in his cause knows to never bite the hand that feeds them. And Avery has been feeding out of his palm ever since he took him in and gave purpose to his otherwise meaningless life.

Tom should tail him right now, really. Find him. Curse some sense into him. Who does that dull, privileged snob think he is? That daft, good for nothing—

But he's right.

Avery is right. Dead on, nail-on-the-head right.

He’s fallen for you; hook, line, and sinker.

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵

Tom isn't at the library the next afternoon.

You tell yourself he's busy, that he probably has a million duties to carry out and the world isn’t going to cave if he doesn’t show for one day—still, the little tug on your heart speaks for itself. Call it sentimental, but the study sessions have become something of a tradition.

And Tom’s usually a stickler for tradition.

“Looks like it's just you and me,” you tell the waiting pile of homework on the table.

You can practically hear his exasperated whisper in your ear. For Pete’s sake, stop conversing with inanimate objects as if they’ll miraculously bestow upon you the solutions or so help me. You grin.

It appears you’ve come to rely quite a bit on his forceful encouragement, because twenty minutes later your parchment is emptier than the porcelain flatware in the Great Hall after dessert, and only one thought reigns supreme on your mind.

“So much for productivity,” you mutter sullenly.

It hits you right then that Tom Riddle is taking up all your headspace.

When you had met him in this exact spot on that fateful night, you never would’ve guessed that he’d be so drawn to you. So adamant on getting to know you. You share no common ground with his other friends—egotistical, haughty, you’re-so-beneath-me blood purists who command the open-mindedness of jellyfish.

But despite what your confidantes claim, you truly think you’ve seen a side of him no one else has. Because when he’s with you, he sheds the rigid golden boy demeanor for something relaxed and content and dare you say it, warm.

Of course you had plummeted headfirst into your emotions. How could you not? Your affections for him have been growing by the day, and you doubt this is some silly old crush that’ll peter out with the last of summer.

No, the feeling extends way past friendship, you’re afraid.

You entertain the idea, play around with it and roll it over the edges of your brain, let it circle through before reluctantly storing it away for next time.

For the guilt, it’s always there; overbearing and unshakable and clawing at you. Surely it’s immoral to think of a good friend in such a way, especially when it seems good friends are all you’ll ever be—you’re no fool to neglect his detachment towards the whole topic of romance.

You groan. You’ll have time to dwell on it later, but for now there are more pressing matters to at hand. For starters, the conference with your D.A.D.A professor that starts in approximately…fifteen minutes.

You bid the librarian goodbye and wave to the old, regal portraits on your way down the long marble staircase, unceremoniously scouting for vanishing steps.

“Safe and sound,” you sigh when your feet reach hard ground.

Sunlight spills through arched windows into the ever-majestic halls, which are empty save for the occasional wandering student. With the early summer weather, everyone must be congregating outdoors again.

Tap tap tap!

Rushed footsteps and a sudden blur of motion at the end of the corridor bring an abrupt end to your solitude. You halt in your step, just managing to catch the barest glimpse of an outline before it rounds the corner in one swift turn.

Curiosity killed the cat.

A grin breaks over your face. But satisfaction brought it back.

And quick as a fox you’re trailing after the shadow, only a little ashamed that the promise of a distraction outweighs any sense of responsibility you might have. An instant later, a pair of spotless dress shoes accompanied by pristine, ironed robes come into view.

Why, you’d recognize that statuesque figure anywhere.

"Tom!" The prefect freezes mid-step, tension written in every line of his body as he reaches into his pocket and shuffles to his side ever so slightly and right ahead of him stands...

The girl's lavatory?

He swivels around as you approach, wand in hand. "Tom! There you are—"

Except he doesn't look very much like Tom.

There's something manic in his eyes, a ferocity in the way he peers down at you that sets your fight or flight instincts ablaze. His fingers curl restlessly at his sides and you have the horrible impression that you’ve just interrupted something very important.

Tom scowls, regarding you with a coldness so foreign, so unfamiliar you almost recoil under the scrutiny.

But everything your body tells you pales in comparison to the concern that overtakes you.

“Are you alright?” You place a tender hand on his arm, your initial excitement dimming at his state. “You seem ill. Should I escort you to the nurse?”

Tom stares at you, unblinking with those glacial eyes.

Ouch. You tear your gaze away and push down the fears that threaten to surface. There are a million different possibilities, but it'd do you no good to ruminate over any of them right now.

“Come on.” You tighten your grip and steer him toward the stairwell, mindful to take slow steps—you know it’s a fragile peace when eggshells are what you’re treading on.

Still, you’re thoroughly unprepared for the force that wrenches the arm out of your grasp.

The shock registers slowly. It’s a colossal punch to the gut, but all the same you try to keep the woundedness off your face.

“I am not in need of your assistance.”

His voice is low, devoid of its usual silkiness. Chills form a serpentine path up your arms and down your back, raising goosebumps all over your skin until you’re shivering.

Indignance claws its way past the alarm. “Is that why you didn’t show up?” You retort. “You’re normally awfully insistent on cramming as much studying as you can. Vital lucubration, or whatever you call it. I figured you might’ve needed to—”

Tom cuts you off with a scoff, all scorn and vitriol.

“That,” he enunciates slowly, “is none of your concern. I am not quite certain when such brazenness entered the picture, but it is not appreciated."

You blink owlishly before taking a much needed breath. “I don’t understand. Could you start from the beginning? I’m certain we can figure this out, it’s just the story is a little convoluted right now and—well, actually, I don’t even know what the story is.”

“This is a waste of time,” Tom chides. “I’ll make one thing clear: we are not friends.” The crazed stare has vanished, replaced by something eerily vacant. You’ve always wondered how he does that so quickly. “And I believe you’ve helped enough as it is, so if you’ll excuse me I’ll be seeing to my duties now.”

But he doesn’t leave, just crosses his arms and waits expectantly for you to turn away. To go.

You’ve helped enough as it is.

You have the sinking feeling that if you walk away now, you’ll be walking out of his life forever.

We are not friends.

Your pulse races. How can he say all those joy-filled hours you so often look back on amount to nothing? How can he brush you off like you’re just another speck of dirt on his clothes?

Maybe, when it all comes down to it, he’s no different from the rest of them.

“What part of your duties, pray tell, consists of going into the girl’s washroom?” You demand incredulously, voice shaking and mind reeling because Merlin there is no way this was all a ruse and you fell right into it like a blindsided, delusional moron in lo—

Tom stiffens, and you watch, mystified, as the mask of calm falls off. His nostrils flare in anger and he takes a step closer to you, only this time it doesn’t feel anything like the afternoon under the tree. Only this time it’s threatening.

“Fine. I’ll spare you, is that what you want?” He laughs mirthlessly, long fingers running through raven curls. “Since you’re so insistent on pretending to care for me? Fine. It won’t touch you. You have my word.”

Your vision blurs, though from the exasperation or tears you can’t be sure.

“Spare me what?” Your books drop to the floor with a resounding thud. “My concern for you has never been a pretense. That’s ludicrous! You’ll never begin to comprehend how much I care for you. As a matter of fact, I...”

You can’t say it.

His eyes are on you, curious and searching and scathing, but all you can do is helplessly stare back at him. You dig half crescents into your palms.

This time when he speaks, you’re prepared for the flames that come with it.

“I don’t know what you’ve done to me,” Tom all but spits, and you’re wishing for the quiet to blanket you once again. He pauses, if only for a second, tone turning subdued. “The lightness in my chest, the nerves spiraling out of control, the…the…” He gestures wildly. “Floating feeling whenever you’re near.”

“I was satisfied with my perception of the world, so sure and unwavering in my decisions until you came along. You’ve turned all I’ve known upside down.”

Your blood freezes inside your veins.

Tom frowns at his hands. “I’m suffering the consequences, even when you’re not near. Every waking moment is you running through my thoughts and I am not dramatizing when I say it is driving. Me. Insane. I’ve had enough. This ends now.”

Your despair falters just enough for a sliver of hope to take hold. “It doesn't have to end.”

“It must.”

It pains you, it does, but you say it anyway.

“If that’s what you really want.”

The rigidity on Tom’s face lets up slightly, though you could’ve sworn you caught a flicker of something akin to regret.

You squeeze your eyes shut and inhale. “Just...about what you said. I know feelings are daunting, but I promise whatever you’re experiencing is perfectly reasonable.” You think back to the memories you share, as if that’ll make saying the next part any easier. “In fact, Tom I think I—”

“Stop,” he whispers, dangerously calm, yet somehow you know the fury has returned tenfold.

Your heart plummets.

“Get out of my way.”

And is it bad that you sense the undercurrent of something dark in his words? His intentions?

It doesn’t feel of your own accord when you rush to block his way back.

Tom levels you with a death glare, and you have only a second to ponder over whether you should be six feet under before his eyes are flashing a horrifying crimson. You give ground for every stride he takes towards you until a thump indicates that you’ve backpedaled to the lavatory entrance.

You watch in dread as Tom turns his attention to the inside, yearning written all over his features and for one harrowing second, you think he’s going to hurt you to get there.

But then he’s stepping away, away, and in the blink of an eye he’s gone.

And for the first time, you think there's more merit to your friends' warnings than you gave credit for.

You slump onto the floor. You wish you were in any condition to make sense of what transpired, but all you know is that it feels like your spirit has been zapped away. The strain on your chest persists even as you push it down, and then you feel a crushing snap before it all comes undone—caged sobs wrangle free from your throat and salty tears rain down upon where your smile had held just moments ago.

Has it really only been a week since you and Tom had that conversation in the courtyard? Since you lent him that book?

You wish you could retrace your footsteps, find where it all went astray.

“Waaah!”

You almost jump out of your skin.

“Waaaaah!” The sound, high-pitched and lamenting, can only be coming from inside.

You rise to your feet.

“Hello?” You venture from the doorway. Your voice ricochets off the stone walls. The place is well-kept, complete with four shiny sinks situated below a mirror and a row of wooden stall doors left fairly unchipped.

“GO AWAY!”

You may or may not be one stone’s leap away from hysterics (who’s to say?), but you think you’ve had enough scares in a day for the whole of Hogwarts. Besides, no one should be howling like their life is ending, and smiles make the world go round.

“Would you like to talk?” You goad gently, taking note of the leather shoes peeking out from under the far stall. "You can say the word again and I’ll leave you be.”

You cross your fingers behind your back, pray with all your being that this one won’t end in a full-blown lash-out session.

To your relief, the wooden door swings open a few moments later and a pale girl with long brown pigtails, round glasses and a blue tie steps out to face you. No older than fourteen, from the looks of it.

“Olive Hornby made fun of my glasseeeees,” she wails, and the noise grates against your ear. You wince.

“I’m sorry.” You place a comforting hand on her shoulder. “I, for one, am of the opinion that your glasses look just fine.” She flushes at that. “Although if this is a recurring thing, I’d like to talk to her for you—only if you assent, of course, but it’d give me peace of mind.”

Her puffy, bloodshot eyes light up and suddenly it’s as if she were five years younger, a hopeful child with stars in her eyes. “R-Really?”

You nod. “Really.”

Her sobs subside to sniffles and the pout on her face morphs into something bashful. “Thanks…”

“What’s your name?”

“Myrtle. Myrtle Warren.” She takes off her glasses and wipes at the fogged-over lenses with the fabric of her clothes.

“He comes in here often, you know.” She peeks at you from under her lashes. “Taps on surfaces and makes these strange hissing noises, like it’s a language he’s fluent in." Her tone turns wistful. "I stay silent and listen because it’s all so mesmerizing…”

“Who does?” You frown.

“You know who.”

“Wait. Don’t tell me...”

But Myrtle only giggles, brows lifting in amusement. “Good luck on your boy problems.”

Then she’s off.

You stare after her in shock.

You catalog the new information, an onslaught of burning questions and what-ifs invading your mind in a trice.

One sticks out in particular. It’s afflicting and unnerving and you don’t want to consider it, but it prods and pushes at you until you’re forced to cave.

What exactly would’ve happened if Tom had gone in there today?

Nothing good, that’s for sure.

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵

The note comes a week—dense with radio silence and carefully averted glances—later, tied by a silken ribbon (high-end, no doubt about it) to the leg of a beautiful owl with raven feathers.

Now it rests, protrusive and unbidden in your lap as the root of your apprehension for the past half hour.

You pick it up and set it down again. Fidgeting in your beanbag chair has only fueled your restlessness, but now that the adrenaline’s gone you’re really out of options.

And if you’re being completely honest, not knowing is killing you more than anything.

You slouch in resignation and raise the letter to your face.

“Helga help me,” you whisper to the portrait above the mantelpiece.

It reads something about how he’s been awfully occupied with responsibilities and how he’d like to have a chance to make up for lost time and would you be so inclined as to accompany him to Hogsmeade tomorrow afternoon.

There’s a palpable, gaping hole in the place where an apology or explanation should be—or an acknowledgement of anything that went down, for that matter. You don’t know what you were expecting.

A week ago, you would’ve been delighted at the prospect of going on a date with the Tom Riddle. Squealing in ecstasy and bouncing on the balls of your feet. Now all that’s running through your head is maybe the rose-colored glasses you see with have only made you blind in the end.

Crackling orange embers engulf the parchment with a satisfying hiss.

You’ve never been one to hold a grudge, but If he wants your forgiveness—he’ll have to try much harder than that.

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵

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cursedvibes · 6 months

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Idk if I’m the only one who feels a bit sentimental about ch240-243. It’s just got me thinking about how there’s actually someone for everyone. Like you know how people might think they’re weird or they’re being perceived as strange and off-putting by those around them but, in fact, there will ALWAYS be someone who matches your vibe and celebrates your individuality. What a beautiful thing connection is.

I’m not even sure if it’s intended by Gege but the last 7? chapters have been greatly influenced by themes of loneliness and connection and (in my opinion) Takaba and Kenjaku are no exception. Both somewhat lonely in what they do, in what they’re passionate about, both are misunderstood and perceived as “weirdos” by those around them, finding each other and being able to connect through comedy, giving each other what they longed for (Kenny’s “it’s been centuries since my heart danced like this” and Takaba’s “my dream stage… I don’t want this to end”). It’s just… wow?

Also I saw a little analysis about how there are two roles in Japanese comedy-duos, basically one person is telling the jokes and acting weird and the other is acting more serious by fending off the partner’s jokes, so in ch.243 it was Kenny and Takaba, respectively. Takaba’s talent as a comedian shone through as he’s generally more serious and his previous attempts to act as the one who cracks the jokes all the time led him to failure (ch241). But now, thanks to Kenny taking up the “unserious” role he was finally able to finesse his performance. This is such a unique battle out of everything we previously had… “I don’t want this to end” me too Takaba… me too…

P.S. im kinda manifesting that one day you’ll write a fic about these two 🥲 I absolutely adore your works

There's always someone out there who matches you perfectly and it might be the person you least expect, like Japan's worst terrorist or a depressed comedian. Sometimes it also might take you a millennia to find that person, but that makes it all the more worth it when you do.

No but seriously, I totally understand you. It's amazing how Gege managed to build up such a deep connection between Kenjaku and Takaba and thereby not only gave us some much needed further characterization for one of our main villains, but also fleshed out someone who used to be only a comedic side character. Although the fact that Takaba would have more depth was already foreshadowed in his introduction. If anything, him becoming a comedic sidekick was more surprising.

The focus on loneliness, love and being able to connect with other people in the last chapters was very intentional I think and I honestly like how much the approach to these themes differs between Kenjaku and Sukuna. Besides my problems with the Gojo vs Sukuna fight, those topics were brushed on there, but not really explored in depth. Until we got Takaba vs Kenjaku. The main difference here and what allowed us to get a deeper understanding of the themes and how they relates to these two characters is that contrary to Sukuna's fights, Takaba and Kenjaku's fight was more a dialogue where they both discussed their feelings on building connections and became a better person through it. Both of them learned something new (also about themselves) and came out of it as changed people. It's not just one person barraging the other with their issues or slapping their egos around.

Yorozu vs Sukuna is very self-serving. Yorozu is lonely and she thinks having Sukuna by her side will help her, but she is ultimately not interested in really connecting to him, she just projects her own issues onto him. She says herself that having his corpse would be enough. She wants to own him, her attraction to him is because she sees herself in him and her love is a love of herself, there isn't really anything romantic or sexual to it. Similarly, Sukuna has no interest in her either. The fight is only there so he can try out the new CT he just got. Both are essentially in their own world and while it is nice that Yorozu makes a weapon for him, they don't actually connect. Yorozu wants to teach Sukuna her understanding of love, but he already has his own and neither of them budge on their positions or make concessions.

Gojo vs Sukuna is a bit difficult to summarize because it's kinda all over the place and we don't get much from either of them in terms of character development or thoughts in general until the last chapter. Still, it's again someone trying to build a one-sided connection to Sukuna, wanting to teach him love and failing. I would say Gojo is a little more successful than Yorozu because at least Sukuna acknowledges him and says he will remember him. Gojo says he didn't manage to reach Sukuna and teach him "love", but he left an emotional impact. Sukuna changed Gojo to a degree, but only so much as in he killed him and thereby shoved him off the pedestal he put himself on and what kept him from having equal relationships with people. Bit late for that and it won't actually have any long-lasting consequences for Gojo because well he's dead, but it's something. Ultimately, there is no change in Sukuna's character however. There is a physical impact on him from the fight, but not much in terms of emotions. He isn't forced to reconsider any of his positions, he isn't challenged in his character. If anything it only got reinforced because he's confirmed to be "the strongest".

Kashimo vs Sukuna is another instance of someone coming with their issues to Sukuna and pressuring him to fix them. Kashimo wants to build a connection to Sukuna and I think they are actually more genuine with their intentions than Yorozu, but there is still a one-sided connection. Their relationship isn't balanced. Sukuna is supposed to give out wisdom, but Kashimo has nothing to offer him and while it is nice that we got a deeper look into his philosophy, there is nothing he really gained from his interaction with Kashimo. We are learning new things about Sukuna, but he doesn't. I think this will only happen when we get to Yuuji vs Sukuna because Yuuji affects Sukuna on a deeper level than any of the other three. He's the only one that can meaningfully challenge Sukuna because they would finally leave the premise of Sukuna's whole worldview (strength) behind. But we'll see.

Takaba vs Kenjaku is very different. If we were to compare it to the formula of the previous fights, Takaba comes up saying "Let me teach you about love (comedy/fun)" and Kenjaku's response is "Oh I've actually been dying to hear about this. Give me your best shot." Since the start of the Yuki fight Gege has put more emphasis on showing us that Kenjaku is essentially just bored and lonely. They want to connect to people, that is the easiest way to entertain them as well and they don't actually enjoy entertainment without having anyone to share it with, but they and their longstanding goals are what's hindering them. Their plan distanced them from their closest friend and left them quite desperately searching for new companions. Their plan also motivates them to kill Culling Game players, despite them seeing it actually as a waste of potential. That's how they entered the fight. They want to be entertained and they want a new friend. Takaba offers that to them.

I think initially Takaba's offer wasn't entirely sincere, just a ploy to distract them. He might've been already interested in Kenjaku's motivations for causing all this suffering, but he didn't actually expect them to connect so well and so quickly over their shared interest in comedy. First, Takaba gets challenged however. We learn he wants a partner just as much as Kenjaku. He can't enjoy comedy anymore because he needs a partner to succeed in his performance and deep down he is actually just searching for someone who understands him. Due to getting so fixated on performing successfully and pushing himself to lean into types of performances he doesn't actually like that much (playing the funny man), just for the approval of others, he also ended up pushing the people he did perform with away. He couldn't take any criticism and only continued further down the wrong path, leaving him depressed. A less extreme version of how Kenjaku tended to isolate themselves and subconsciously worked against their own interests.

Kenjaku makes him realize what he actually wants, that he has to change himself, his approach to comedy and that he needs to actually try to connect to people and not shy away from it in fear of criticism. This is already different from the previous fights. They both have an investment in the other and want more than simply beating the other person into following their worldview.

Then we get Takaba forcing Kenjaku to reflect on themselves and what they actually want. Despite how persuasive his CT is, Kenjaku's realization that they are having fun in playing around with these silly scenarios and that they for once are actually enjoying the Culling Game for what it is (a chance to meet interesting players, not just a stepping stone for something greater) doesn't seem to be fake. The nature of his CT also makes them realize that if they want to survive they have no choice, but to open themselves up a little bit and cooperate with each other. That's when both of them finally reach their true goal.

They have to work together because that's the only way Takaba can fulfil his wish to perform comedy with a partner, someone he actually connects with and who understands him. It also provides Kenjaku with the friend they have been looking for. Someone equal (as a comedy partner would be, Takaba is able to keep up with their imagination, just how they countered his made-up scenarios earlier), who won't bore them. As Kenjaku said afterwards, they actually had fun, despite the quite mundane scenario. There was cursed energy involved, but what made them actually enjoy the show was the trading of jokes and improvisations they both had to keep up with. It doesn't need some world-shattering CT to entertain Kenjaku, they just previously lacked that connection that would make them appreciate the entertainment they are getting more.

As you said, the positions they take during the show is important here too. They started out with Kenjaku as the straight man and critic and Takaba doing goofy antics as the funny man. Both roles that don't really suit either of them, which is also part of why Takaba never managed to be funny in the past. During the show Takaba is finally able to make his true personality shine and have people understand and like him, despite how he can come off as quite serious. Kenjaku on the other hand was able to be as silly as they want to be. They kept that part of their personality down previously because it would only distract them from their goal and fulfilling their carefully curated plan. We see the evidence at the end of the chapter. As soon as Kenjaku gives into that part of their personality and gets lost in their performance with Takaba, they get taken out and their merger plan is compromised. By indulging in what they actually want, they lost control over their proclaimed long-standing goals (probably, we will see how things develop).

I've seen Kenjaku's "you were super funny" compared to Sukuna's "stand proud", but that doesn't quite work, I think. Sukuna is comparing Jogo to himself and complementing him for how much he managed to measure up, while Kenjaku is commenting on how they enjoyed their fight together or more specifically the comedy show. They reassured Takaba that he is funny, but they don't view it as him having measured up to some standard they set. That is primarily because they could only achieve that goal together. Their comedy relied on a partner and they both only had fun because they had each other. Alone it would be meaningless. The entire point of their stand-up show was that the "fight" wasn't a competition anymore.

Takaba and Kenjaku were able to become partners and form a connection because they were actually able to open up to each other and take the other's personality and character into consideration. That's what differentiates them from the previous three fights and is also why they were successful where Yorozu, Gojo and Kashimo failed.

Kenjaku is open to change and new experiences and after some convincing embraces the connection they are being offered, while Sukuna stays almost completely closed off to others (with the exception of Uraume it seems).

It really was a great fight and it's very unfortunate that it is over and ended the way it did. We'll see how things develop. I would be really interested in seeing if and how Kenjaku's connection to Takaba might influence them in the future and how they will approach their merger plan. Currently it seems like Yuuta kind of ruined all the progress in terms of character development they made thanks to Takaba, but who knows...

If you're interested, I did write a fanfic about the two, where I also vented my feelings about their relationship a bit :)

#ask me about Pinchan and you will get an essay lol #I want to make a post at some point where I go a bit more in depth on similarities between Takaba and Kenjaku #their goals how they try to build connections and how their previous treatment of others prevented them from reaching them #asks #jjk spoilers #kenjaku #takaba fumihiko

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liauditore · 8 months

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For the ship bingo, perhaps ethubs or boatboys?

sorry it took so long to get to this i got so excited someone asked me to talk abt ethubs i went into a coma 😭😭

Ethubs

um uhh umerm ethubs yeah etho and bdubs and last life and mindcrack UHCs and eyah yknow um yeah

you know that one post that's like "inside my head is a five page essay with footnotes and when i speak it's just ouhghh blorbo he is so shaped". that's me with ethubs. not even kidding ethubs is the ship that made me finally "get" shipping in general, mcyt or not. i. words. i care them.

and uh there's. not rlly anything i can say i think that my ethubs moots haven't already said? They've been friends forever, they play off eachother super well, "he loves me", they're both so obsessed and in need of eachother but at the same time would rather eat raw, unpicked cactus than admit that, etc etc they're so unwell

im just gonna skip on over to the song lyrics bit cus i. they make my brain short circuit i cant even sentences.

The scarlet summer is gone and peaceful gray is draping the city Alone, I reach out for you to hold me tight, shivering Always the days spent with you warmed my heart and kept me from freezing Although I knew they were gone forever But in my pain, to me you came like the warmest breeze "On nights so cold I know you need some company."

Though only in lonely and freezing times, we held each other close to keep from feeling hopeless nothings And now again I can see summer fast approaching like a storm that there's no stopping Repeating in a cycle Like our mistakes

My love for you is endless, just like the deepest sea And like the ocean blue your complications speak to me I've come to understand you, your parts and inner workings My sun only in winter Only when I need you or else you won't need me

Leave you in Summer, Yet You're In My Fluffthoughts (Ashe translyrics) (sidenote this might be one of my favourite music videos of all time)

Falling so deeply while clinging to love But even so, I feel my heart and it’s floating up above Your true face, such a passionate one, shows your beauty, coming in a flood True, all of our short-lived youth will someday come to end Ah, even so, in my view, it starts right now, yet again

And every day, I found I prayed for you to be always full of happiness that remains Ah, just like this, please wait right by my side, please stay

Tablet (Will Stetson / sayriris translyrics) (after watching LL the first thing i did was make a MV to this song with LL Bdubs and it was still the most insane thing ive ever done fuelled by pure gargoyle inspiration juice)

I wouldn't say they're ~~Divorced~~ quite yet cus Idk if they were ever really married as much as just plain endlessly obsessed with eachother, which they still are. But they definitely broke up lmao

but yeah uh their chemistry is great. bdubs said it best. they've been thru the trenches together.

Boat Boys

Thankfully much less thoughts about these two or else this post would get way too long lmao. I like them but I'm not too insane about them I guess? Etho's very awkward near people he isn't used to which was fun to watch but made their interactions kind of limited for a lot of DL I feel.

Joel's obsession with Etho is hilarious and seeing Bdubs get jealous of his #1 ethogirl status getting challenged is great fun. He's definitely gone through a bit of an arc from "I KILLED ETHO! I KILLED ETHO!!" in Last Life to "Eefo D:< You're making me nervous, eefo D:<" in Double Life to whatever the cow divorce situation was in Limlife. It seems like Etho's otherworldly status has been nerfed in his head and he's much less intimidated by him, while still admiring him in that 'childhood hero' sorta way.

I think because of that I've always seen them a little bit as more of a mentor/prodigy relationship than anything else? Specifically one that Etho is not even aware he's in. Eitherway, I don't really ship them in the romantic sense 🤷‍♂️ etho's just way too aloof and joel's got too much fangirl energy for it to be anything intimate lol

#asks #ask games #trafficshipping #ethubs #smalletho #i love joel smallishbeans have i mentioned i love joel smallishbeans #but yeah i would have so much more ethubs art if i wasn't such a perfectionist abt them </3 #they drive me insane

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cannibalisticskittles · 4 months

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While I could work with the mission triggering at one heart (painful but narratively good in a way I guess? English is not my first language) I feel like the mission masterclass should start at 4 hearts at least.

That is when his daily dialogue can be "you've proven to me your diligence and worth, and so I have decided to teach you my ability to punch people into space. Yes… just keep being a good friend to me, and soon, very, very soon, I will teach you the space punch!"

Why is he trying to teach you that at one heart?

no, yeah, i totally get what you’re saying. if he starts making comments about wanting to teach you to space punch at 4 hearts, then the mission where he tries to teach you to space punch shouldn’t happen before that point.

given the option between having the mission where he tells you you're his only friend trigger at one heart (i weep), and having it trigger at, y’know, a time that makes sense with his other quest + with his dialogue (because seriously, the fact that he seemingly references the mirror quest in masterclass even though i got masterclass like four weeks before the mirror quest is ridiculous. it definitely feels like the quests were designed to unlock in the opposite order)... i would choose the latter. heartbreaking as it is (tho also satisfying, as you've said) to have him consider you a friend so easily, it just… clashes right now.

i wonder if it’d be better if he’d had a second quest. like, maybe if masterclass was split up – the ‘first friend’ bit and the ‘space punch training’ bit happening in different quests. have a short little quest trigger at one heart where he muses that you're doing a lot of Friend Stuff so… maybe you're friends? and he should return the favor? and he, idk, drags you with him to go fight monsters. or makes you fight them so he can critique your form (and then finish them off w/ a single punch, naturally). maybe it unlocks the ability to have play dates with him at that point, earlier than any other character, because he's decided that you're friends now. so, naturally, he will allow you to bask in his presence more easily. or, maybe he doesn't make a decision abt whether you're friends and it's framed more like a quid pro quo; you've done things for him, so he'll help you out by showing you how to be a little less useless in a fight, lmao. and then the space punch stuff happens after the mirror quest, after reaching at least four hearts, bc now he knows you're friends and will bestow upon you the honor of the space punch.

idk! just… something to balance out the fact that This Man Is Lonely And Friendless As Hell while also not conflicting w/ his dialogue and other quest. splitting up quests like that might not be as narratively satisfying (having him super casually tell you you're his first friend and not getting time to process that because he's more excited about teaching you to space punch was a bit of a gut-punch lmao) but i’m not a dev, that's something they should've sorted out in a satisfying way, but. didn't.

point is: u right.

#mtas pen #mtas #anon #for my fic i'm referencing the events of masterclass as though they happened AFTER the mirror quest and AFTER the builder bonds w/ pen more #bc it Just Makes More Sense that way.

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wikaliyag · 1 year

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hi, so i've become a tomgreg enthusiast just before the fourth season aired (i basically devoured the whole three seasons of succ in four days lmao). i don't really engage in social media and fandoms anymore but i would like to share my thoughts on the tomgreg relationship and the final season itself.

i would like to start with the fact that i was actually really surprised how explicit their relationship was in the first three seasons (in a way it still really is, but we'll get to that), since from what i knew about the show it was supposed to be something perfect for your 'normal' media consumer out there, just some business stuff, so with that logic i assumed it will be as heterosexual as it can get to not offend anyone (i mean homophobes). but the second tom and greg were together on the screen my brain materialised the 'i know what you are' dog meme and i loved it. it didn't feel superficial, it was something different, fresh and ugly and toxic and just real. seeing these two just be horrible to everyone (including each other) made sense and then seeing them finally lower their gourds down and care for only each other also made sense. so my main point is that it made a lot of sense for them to go with the dynamic and to just make it the way it is. i believe wholeheartedly that it is a genuine representation that i so desperately wanted, since i'm so done with all that 'gay ppl can't be horrible pieces of shit and have to be unnaturally perfect and good'.

it isn’t as explicit as other queer relationships in media but that’s kinda what makes them so unique and fun to watch. they don’t have to kiss or to say ‘i love you’, cause we already have that confirmation through how they act towards each other. from ‘would you kiss me?’ first interaction to the ‘i will take care of you’ declaration, like he really didn’t have to do it, i believe he might have just been lonely in the roy kingdom and greg was the same, not in the inner circle but still a part of the family. that was the reason why he was so attracted to greg from the beginning. the nero and sporus speech, when tom decides to pour his whole heart into that speech and greg just responds with nothing, so tom awkwardly drops his smile, cause he thinks that he might be the only one that feels that way. (it was so fun to me cause for some reason i love to see tom suffer, idk why don’t ask me). but then greg immediately asks if tom is okay, cause he does care about tom and maybe he is just super oblivious to tom’s feelings at that point. in the fourth season greg allows tom to throw him under the bus during social interactions just for him to look better. he also is okay with tom treating him like shit throughout the whole show, even though he could have just leave him and try to suck up to his family more (as we can see in this season it is actually possible for greg to somehow have a working relationship with his cousins). i could give you so many more examples but we all get the point. it is not sexually explicit and it doesn’t have to, queer relationships are not only about sex or physical intimacy in general (though we still get all that patting on the back, stomach, shoulders ect., even all that whatever it was in the first ep from greg), it’s the emotional connection too. and we did get that.

if it comes to the fourth season, i must admit that i agree with a lot of criticism. the characters feel really off to me. and i will focus on greg for a bit. this season he is suddenly gross and says stupid things, like he is a total imbecile that can’t think for himself (like i get it, he was always a little dumb dumb and ofc he can say gross things, it’s just that these are his only character trades right now, that’s the problem). he is definitely not qualified enough to be in a position that he is now but the greg from the second or third season would at least try to pinch some of his own ideas (even tho they are shitty) or maybe try to give his honest opinion on something, now he just goes ‘yeah it’s dope man’ and moves on. if it comes to tom i would say he is handled quite well, it might be because macfadyen is an absolute acting genius, but him being a total flop and trying so desperately to be on a good page with all the people that he betrayed makes sense. he is scared he is soon going to lose everything and it makes him do everything in his power to not let that happen, he is a total mess emotionally (and we love to see it). that includes coming back to shiv. even though he stood up for himself and i really wish he could just leave her and finally be happy alone, he has to be the a good and obedient husband once again, that’s his only way of saving himself. he says that he loves shiv for the money but i think there is also an actual unconditional love there, it’s just not a thing that she will understand, so he must speak in another language - a love for money and power. she then gets it and lets him in. but then you can see in a way that tom looks at her, that there is something more to it than the prestige of being married to a roy.

and now the tomgreg relationship. we don’t see many scenes of them and yes it hurts a bit, since you wait a whole ass week for an episode and you don’t get much of their interactions but i saw someone saying that ‘they don’t need to show us tom and greg plotting together, cause we already know that. they focus on the dynamics of the relationships that are currently changing and tomgreg is as solid as a rock’ (obviously paraphrasing that one). i so agree with that, we don’t have to see them to know, it would be amazing to get more confirmation and just to see them both be all giggly middle aged men together but we already know where we stand. they have the deal, they work together behind the scenes, i bet that is exactly why in the sixth episode they went to an empty room, so that they can update each other on their secrety and confidential stuff. and why is greg gregging for ken and tom is suffocating himself in a toxic relationship with shiv? it’s simple, because it’s their plan to do so. they hope that at least one of the relationships will stick and save them from their doom. they will jump ships to whoever will be willing to not throw them away. this way it makes sense for us not to see them all that often together because we see them executing their plan, separately on camera but actually together. i hope that this will be addressed in the last four eps, it would be actually kinda fun to see maybe one of them or even both of them betray each other for their new friends/lovers to just be betrayed themselves and end up together anyway. it's what they deserve.

#tomgreg #just some thoughts #succession #i still love the show and i will watch it till the end

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snurtle · 2 years

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idk if you're still doing these but i'd love if you do a character opinion bingo on orihime and/or renji. i saw your bleach red au art a few months ago when i was reading ahead before the anime premiere and i've been Rotating It In My Mind ever since, i just love your take on both characters

First off, this is just such a nice comment! :D So nice, in fact, that I drew a doodle for it. I'm always surprised when other people engage with my silly AUs. Rotate away! Let's play in this space together! I've actually got a couple of short scene comics in the works for RED that will probably be done around January if I'm being honest with myself. (I’m busy, I’m slow, and comics take a long time!)

Originally, I wasn’t going to do the rest of the bingo memes that I still have asks for- (sorry!!!) it’s been a while and it felt like the general Vibe of things had moved on, but you’ve shot a friendly arrow into my ass about it so PERHAPS I will!

I’m choosing to just do Orihime for this, because I ended up writing an Essay and Renji... I don’t know if I’m coherent enough about Renji to do a bingo on him without breaking down into garbled eldritch signs and scratched pictograms on cave walls. Orihime is the safer choice. Less of a cognito hazard. More legible. So under the cut she goes! I hope this suffices for you anon.

[Edit: 5/6/2023 cut removed by request for record keeping! <3 ]

LADIES AND GENTLESNAILS WE HAVE OUR FIRST BINGO!

I’d like to preface this by saying Orihime was not one of my favorite characters the first time I read Bleach. What can I say? We are all a series of nesting dolls, and the things we relate to change as we add layers to our hearts. With age, experience, and another read, she is ABSOLUTELY one of my favorite characters in anything period. I have a lot of feelings about her, and a lot of them are “oh god why did you get married so young” and “while I understand where this narrative train is heading I want to get off!!!” So like any good AU fantasizer... complicated! :D

So let’s just take the bullets in order, shall we?

they are soooooo cool looking:

Orihime (circa Soul Society Arc to a vague point somewhere in the Arrancar Arc) has a very unique facial structure! She’s got a large forehead and downturned eyes that make her seem a little mournful even when she’s smiling brightly. Honestly, it’s a VERY neat bit of character storytelling through design, and while I could never beef with an artist for style creep, I’m sad that her unique features seemed to even out and become more standardized as the manga grew loooooooonger and Kubo aged everyone up.

Beyond that, my girl is ADORABLE and I like her slightly off kilter fashion choices; they really speak to someone who both

- had few/strange/ill-equipped adult influences in her life to guide her early clothing choices

- has to tailor her own clothes to fit a body out of place.

It’s just.. I could just go on forever about this! Orihime’s design isn’t complicated, but it’s informative, and that’s not something I can take for granted in a visual medium. The choices Kubo made in those areas of her design give us a window into her personality.. Which is to say, a lonely, grieving teenager who’s had to teach herself to Person while hanging onto the razor wire of societal expectation and threat. (not unlike our other protagonists, no? Ha. Our poor Karakura kids.) You can tell something is a little off about her. Her hair is wrong, her face is wrong, her clothes are...wrong. Ish, if not skillfully amended. Like she’s not doing great at camouflaging, but she’s existing in the shadow of the benefit of the doubt and that will just have to do before her star really starts to shine.

wasted potential:

“I reject your version of reality and substitute my own!” -Orihime at some point, probably.

That’s insane. That’s mindbreakingly, hand-twirlingly eye poppingly FUN. In a world full of near misses, sword skill expositions, and by-the-skin-of-your-teeth victories and losses, ONE imaginative girl can just go. “Uh. Y’know, I don’t like this very much. Nope. Nope nope nope.” And the world reorganizes itself to fit the shape of that NOPE. Her ability to reject the consequences of actions and events she wasn’t even there to witness is just.. Game breaking. But ultimately, those powers are the expression of a personality, and the personality belongs to a person who... really doesn’t care much about power at all- at least, not for its own sake. Orihime is a healer, a time bender, a bastion, a judge who can interact with the binary of the universe at large-- aaand that’s never really expanded on.

Everyone who sees her Do Her Thing universally goes “what in the bugfuck is this” because it Just Does Not Compute. It’s not supposed to be possible! And conveniently, no one ever has to dig into that because Orihime does less on-screen exploration of her abilities and more just... Yaknow. Standard heal-y forcefield-y stuff. Occasionally, resurrect-y stuff. Which is fine I guess because it serves the story’s focus, but for a person who is name twinsies with [VEGA]:

> Vega has been extensively studied by astronomers, leading it to be termed "arguably the next most important star in the sky after the Sun"

HMMMMMMM. The sun, you say? The sun, which serves an important symbolic role in Bleach, The Sun, and The Moon, and -The next most important STAR in the sky- HUH?? HUH???? YOU’RE TELLING ME THESE CELESTIAL SYMBOLS CAN TRIO? IN THIS ECONOMY?

and the mythological figure of “the daughter of the king of heaven”

Orihime (織姫, "Weaving Princess"), daughter of the Tentei (天帝, "Sky King", or the universe itself) [ https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tanabata]

🤔🤔🤔🤔

I JUST FEEL LIKE THIS MERITS. YOU KNOW. SOME EXPLORATION. BECAUSE THAT’S NOT NORMAL. THAT KIND OF THEMATIC WEIGHT ISN’T NORMAL TO JUST DROP ON A CHARACTER THAT ISN’T GOING TO EXAMINE THE GUN CHEKOV GAVE THEM. AND IT’S JUST A LITANY OF “HUH. SOMETHIN AIN’T RIGHT WITH THAT GIRL.” AND THEN THE SERIES ENDS??? WHAT’S UP WITH THAT

they’re deeper than they seem:

Okay look this is a pet headcanon of mine, but I think Orihime isn’t actually a Fullbringer in the normal sense. Rather, I think she classes closer to Ywhach, Gerard Valkyrie, Ukitake, and Aura as in “bearer of [a] legacy of the Soul King.” As in a significant chunk to full-organ, or some kind of convoluted lineage/heir thing. It’s the only thing I can think of that makes Her THING make sense to me, unless her personality, her attachments, and the influence of Whatever Hollow Nyoomed by her in utero just... lined up perfectly to create a cosmic loophole big enough to string the Milky Way through. Which would also be cool! I love dark horses yanking the rug out from underneath “places where the cool powers are SUPPOSED to come from.” And we see that Nel, the Hollow most closely associated with Orihime, has healing powers via her ... uh. vomit, so it’s not as if there isn’t precedent for a healing-ish factor to come out of Hollow power, but STILL.

(I’m also not touching the whole ‘The Hyogoku and/or Ichigo gave them powers part of canon. I recognize it. I also think it’s intentional obfuscation of where her powers ACTUALLY come from because Bleach isn’t afraid to give characters conflicting sources of information.)

And also, Uh. I feel like this bingo square may have been referring to personality, perhaps, in which case I suppose I could have been talking about Orihime’s rampant trust issues. She feels so intensely the weight of mutual burden that the moments where she’s open about her problems are vanishingly rare, and then covered up by jokes, minimized. Sometimes- sometimes often- she performs cheerfulness like a thank-you card in exchange for that burden of care. (It’s expected. It’s all she can do. Isn’t it?) IIiii COULD talk about guilt, and envy simmering below the surface, or an aversion to conflict that is 75% moral pacifism, 25% fear (sometimes. percentages are as wiggly as hearts.). And all of that being under the hood of someone who looks like she’s daydreaming mid conversation, when she’s actually clocking 95mph on the Advanced Interpersonal Risk Calculus Highway.

Or I could keep yelling about cool powers, because I think I’ve said this all before?

Unfortunately, Orihime’s proximity to Ichigo’s sun (especially in a romantic context) means that her fine details are sometimes blown out or overlooked in favor of making sure everyone knows that here’s a SEXY FEMALE TITS BIG ONES (urahara), but she’s also classical, she’s a moral center, she’s so powerful and tragic and accepts so much sacrifice so gracefully as is her duty and speaking of duty she gets married right out of highschool and has a kid almost immediately ayoo--

And yk. Some of those things are endemic to shounen manga, or are just kind of common in portrayals of Women Who Elevate Those Around Them (much like Masaki, or Kanae). It’s not like those things are inherently bad. But I don’t have to like them either. Weird Girls becoming Mature Women(tm) is something that will never interest me and actively repels me on most days because of the rote, tired way I’ve seen it written. I like messy women and disaster people and complicated, unusual lives. You can be happy without even the semblance of Destined Nuclear Family normalcy and frankly, I’m less interested in Punks And Weirdos becoming well-adjusted and accepted than I am in Punks and Weirdos clawing out a space for themselves and everyone being very uncomfortable but unable to coerce them otherwise. (This is a power fantasy.)

So while I’m (shrugs) on Orihime’s fairytale ending in canon, it’s not my bag, it gives me the heeby jeebies, and I don’t really want to work within the framework of that ending for my fan stuff!

I like them enough to project my own issues onto them:

Ah, to fear and envy those who can excel in the system designed around you all as if it’s as natural to them as breathing. Ahhh, to feel like the one bright blue piece in the milk puzzle. (Also, if anyone was going to get some of that good ol’ fashioned MORAL SCRUPULOSITY PANIC, it’s going to be Orihime. It has to be her.)

they got done DIRTY by fans:

Must I recite the old magic once again? The ancient curses? The shipping wars of yore? Those ancient battlegrounds of “girl-ed power” and “to be feminine is to err?” Nay, I wish it not upon anyone. The only dirt upon Orihime’s name was that of conflict between humans, for how could anyone say that another person’s work made in joy was wrong? I refuse to deride the work of my fellow fans... u_u ✨ ✨

(Which is to say in normal talk, what I hate most about Orihime Fan Zones isn’t any of the art or fic or headcanons people have of her! How could I possibly hate that? It’s just how much damn controversy she stirred up by existing in perceived conflict to Rukia. Waugh!)

i’m mentally ill about them:

And I’m not even done yet!! If you’re still reading this, brava!

they work better as part of a dynamic:

This is a funny one. Orihime is actually one of a few characters that I think would stand perfectly well on her own- she’s not a bit character, she doesn’t really rely on any gimmicks for her place in the story- her personality is well-faceted and we’ve seen plenty of her internal workings. But the thing is, Orihime’s weirdness is more vibrant when she has someone next to her who has a more rigid sense of propriety. The same is true in the opposite scenario, in which, instead of a straight man to her comedy routine, she has a co conspirator to hype up her shenanigans.

they’ve never done anything wrong in their life <33:

This is derogatory.

I want to see Orihime fuck up, BAD. The bad things around her happen TO her, pretty much universally. Even her social flaws are both relatable and normal and don’t really cause any conflict that isn’t internal and localized to herself. If someone rallies her or rags ON her in a way she can’t relate to, she flinches or stonewalls. She’s harmless. I would like to see her bite. Or . Step on a bug. Or snap at someone. I’d like to see that fear response cause something to break, irreparably. SOMETHING. PLEASE!!! PLEASE.... But no one really blames her for anything, even avoidance. No one really beefs with her on anything besides propriety, that I remember. Her fighting is a silent resistance. Unfortunately I think this response puts me on a psychic wavelength with Ulquiorra, and now I’m going to go wander the desert about this while I try to recover. (Wait, was that slap she gave him the only time we see her snap?)

Which is mostly just to say, she’s a perfectly nice normal girl, and she’s lovely, but anything I write with her is probably going to explore the consequences of severe avoidance and silence, rather than the virtues of them. Because in a story about ghosts and supernatural powers, I don’t really need my gals to be blameless, and I like to think about how people deal with guilt when it’s actually warranted, rather than self inflicted. Ideally, I’d also like it to be more severe than a slap, but you know.

And that’s a bingo!

THANK YOU SO MUCH for coming to my mental illness ted talk about my 1# ANGEL ORIHIME INOUE, MS. STAR ABOVE THE WELL OF TRUTH, BEST GIRL 10,000 HOURS PLAYED!

Please remember that I treat all my favorite characters like chew toys, I enjoy shredding them, and don’t forget to grab your belongings on the way out! Thank you again for the nice comment and bout of motivation anon~

#The final word count on this is close to 2000 #EEP...#character opinion bingo #bleach #long post #orihime inoue #Renji is just going to have to get his own post if I do one for him at all #im so sorry but also i'm not and also i'm SO flattered if you read this whole damn thing #woo!#bleach red au #im tagging it under the au because of reasons (i will not elaborate)

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apirateslifefor--smee · 2 months

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support women's wrongs: a majke de spell playlist ( @majkemaniiia )

prairie girl by rah rah

i did something bad by taylor swift

bring me to life by evanescence

pierre by ryn weaver

nothing matters by the last dinner party

free by florence and the machine

you know i'm no good by amy winehouse

hounds of love by kate bush

still sane by lorde

run by daughter

prairie girl by rah rah

I am a prairie girl Straight to the bone I'll cut you off on the drive back home I spend my winters alone Yeah there's just no place quite like home

I feel like this song is so underrated lol I used to LOVE it in high school. This song is about being a #tough girl but also maybe you fall in love a little bit but NO YOU DON'T you get the hell out of there before you can get hurt. And it just felt like a good place to start for Magica who is very self-sufficient and independent but I also think somewhere deep down she is kind of lonely... but anyway it's fine she's a prairie girl!!

2. i did something bad by taylor swift

They say I did something bad Then why's it feel so good? They say I did something bad But why's it feel so good? Most fun I ever had And I'd do it over and over and over again if I could It just felt so good, good

Sorry sorry one thing about me is I'll sneak tswizzle onto these playlists. Obviously this song is about a lot of different things and not necessarily about summoning demons but like lowkey it could be. Magica is kind of the weird one in her family for being into shadow magic and I just think she'd be like ok u say i did something bad... but WHY'S IT FEEL SO GOOD!!!!

3. bring me to life by evanescence

Wake me up inside (save me) Call my name and save me from the dark (wake me up) Bid my blood to run (I can't wake up) Before I come undone (save me) Save me from the nothing I've become

Stay with me here lol. This is less about the lyrics and more about the VIBE. Like if there was ever a song to summon demons to it'd be this song. You know what I mean? I really don't think that's what this song is about but I just had to put it here for the vibes.

4. pierre by ryn weaver

And I fell for a vagabond, a month at tops Lied and said his bike was in the motor shop Drove my car once and made the tire pop Still we had some fun, till I came to 'Cause I wouldn't be with you

This song is about hooking up with a bunch of guys who are probably con artists/grifters/liars because you're running from your feelings about someone. And idk if that's true for Magica but I DO think she is like simultaneously really savvy but also drawn to liars at the same time. Maybe because she is a powerful lady and can handle herself so she might as well have a little fun. Also I just think this song is whimsical and witchy idk you get the vibe.

5. nothing matters by the last dinner party

I put my heart inside your palms My home in your arms Now we know nothing matters Nothing matters

I also kind of put this song here more for the vibes than the lyrics because it sounds kind of witchy and whimsical but I also think it goes with the theme of Magica's hot girl energy. She's here to fuck around and get what she wants and as I said she can handle herself etc so if ppl try to use her she will also use them!

6. free by florence and the machine

I'm always running from something I push it back, but it keeps on coming And being clever never got me very far

Once again the theme of running from something! Magica is always on the run but I think she also knows herself really well and knows what she needs to feel #free. Whether that's dancing or magic or something else. Also once again we are here for vibes. Florence is always a witchy vibe.

7. you know i'm no good by amy winehouse

I cheated myself Like I knew I would I told you I was trouble You know that I'm no good

To me this song is about thinking you're the bad guy and then finding out actually the person you're with is also the bad guy and still managed to hurt u even though u thought u were immune to that! And I think it gets at Magica's vulnerability despite this powerful witch exterior she has.

8. hounds of love by kate bush

Among the hounds of love And feel your arms surround me I've always been a coward And never know what's good for me Oh, here I go, don't let me go

I am obsessed with this song lately?? I wanted to give Magica one love song bc I think she should get one <3 This song is about feelings coming for u like a pack of hounds and you're like you know what let's just give into it! And I know this is not Magica's usual vibe but once in a while we see her soft side and I love that <3

9. still sane by lorde

Only bad people live to see Their likeness set in stone What does that make me?

I loveeee this song. It's so creepy and evocative. I think this song could be about the consequences of making yourself very powerful and like dealing with the fallout of that. What happens when Magica faces what she's done?? Will she ever?? Much to consider...

10. run by daughter

I don't know what we're doing I don't know what we've done But the fire is coming So I think we should run

Returning to our run theme! I don't know what the speaker in this song has done to make them have to run, but Magica is always careful not to have anyone look too closely at what's going on with her demon niece! And again I thought this song had a very creepy/witchy vibe so it seemed like a good place to end.

#magica #swyntask #playlist

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faebriel · 9 months

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howl’s moving castle but rainduo (platonic ofc)

CRACKS MY KNUCKLES. hmc is such a Classic nonnie so i had to do a bit of thinking to get it right (well.... to get it right in my head. but i feel everyone here is familiar enough with my particular kind of rainduoisms by now) but i think the outcome is a fun one :] i'm just gonna put my thoughts into bullet points

now originally i wasn't sure who should be who (oh my little bottle blonde anarchist......) but i did decide to put wil in a howl ish role and niki in a sophie ish role on the basis of how hard howl weaves narratives around himself and how hard sophie does not GAF. that element of them stood out so much that i was like okay cool that's how we'll do it

so niki is doing something semi unfortunate with her life. NOT baking that's for sure. holding onto an empty shop for a long-gone (not that she admits that bit to herself) old friend, and she's quite lonely. and then after crossing paths briefly with the local dipshit wizard she gets cursed by a snooty ass witch of the waste (idk who this would be.... open to suggestions i suppose)

and wilbur is the least competent wizard ever :] why bother to stay in wizard school when you could mix your own potions and refuse any and all help out of pride and trade your heart away to a fire demon for some companionship?

(i'm taking this as another opportunity to spruik albatross wilbur btw i know the wings aren't as striking as sleek crow-black but - )

the fire demon in question is fundy, who sort of came into existence as a being with a personality and such after falling from the sky and receiving wilbur's heart. wilbur smothers him too much. there's not many other people he keeps around to smother. fundy wants out honestly

(oh and it's not super relevant but i think tommy is markl hehe)

so niki marches off to track down the wizard who she overheard the witch mentioned and... starts baking in his kitchen. okay a rainduo thing is being almost too familiar with each other let's be honest. but yes i think they latch onto each other quite quickly. niki is at first just looking to have her curse cured but being old and hanging out in the house with people who actually seem to give a shit about her is freeing in a way, no more getting tangled up in the politics of her small town as it lunges towards involvement in the war, etc. wilbur thinks she's fascinating.

as for the broader "what's happening in the world" perspective i was thinking it was something along the lines of the antarctic empire being at war with another power, drawing all of these small towns and microcountries along with it.... wilbur is supposed to go home to his family but he doesn't want to because he's afraid of facing the trail of small, easily destroyed countries left in his wake, he doesn't want to deal with phil's questions or the scrutiny that he expects from phil. instead, he tries to sabotage the war effort on his own from the frontline

so he keeps receiving letters from phil, but he can't bear to face him. solution? uh.... get niki to go lol. it's even on the grounds of a small country wilbur once ruled (niki had to squeeze this information out of him like a sponge, and she only heard an inkling of it thanks to fundy), now called manberg, which ceded to the empire in the war.............

surprise! it was actually schlatt trying to pull Some Bullshit as a revenge trick. he roasts the other witch and then almost sinks wilbur and niki into the Void but despite his tendency towards problem avoidance, wilbur steps in to defend niki and they just barely make it away. that being said, niki has learned a lot about her new friend through this adventure that he has not been willing to divulge himself, and it stings. why does he shut her out?

also notable: wilbur gives niki a ring inset with three diamonds to help her find her way home

the atmosphere in the castle is not fantastic after that, all their fun little memories bitter now. wilbur swings between talking freely about ripping the armies apart with his bare hands (claws? talons? that secret is out and he keeps evading all of niki's questions with nervous laughter and quips about monsters) and saying absolutely nothing at all. his suicidal tendencies are the elephant in the room that basically everyone else refuses to talk about, except his own too-grandiose and vague comments on the subject.

niki tries not to stew over feeling excluded. the lonelier she feels, the worse her curse gets.

wilbur takes her to a flower field, blooms rolling long into the horizon, and for a moment she thinks they might be fixing things. (she's so wrong)

through a series of mishaps (perhaps a visit from one of niki's friends..... i feel bad doing eret dirty like that though lmfao) henchmen start breaking into the house just as bombs fall upon the city. niki is put into overdrive to keep the castle from falling apart as the city burns around them. wilbur, who is already doing extremely too much flying around and causing problems in the midst of bombs dropping decides to go exacerbate the issue in an attempt to go out in a blaze of glory. unfortunately for him niki, fundy and tommy are all stubborn sons of bitches who will be extremely pissed if he fucking dies, so we pick up the castle and start moving

okay yeah i kind of think the rest of the story plays out not too differently from the movie? niki gets split up from her friends when the castle breaks down and attempts to kick a dent into a mountain when she realises she's alone again. unable to find wilbur himself, with the last bit of power from the diamonds he gave her she finds the doorway into his memories and sees the moment he and fundy met..... they were both very lonely. very sad. she shrieks out to both of them to look for her in the future

she stumbles out of the memory and finds a pile of feathers wilbur and woooo forehead kisses and wooooooo niki finds fundy again and puts wilbur's heart back even if it means they both might leave her again. BUT THEY DON'T even if they're not all in the castle 24/7 niki now has a few nice friends and is so submerged in that feeling that she doesn't even notice the curse breaking.

and the war ends!! and maybe they even talk about their hurts!! the hurts they carry and how they hurt each other!! and they keep on living!! and they all live best friendily ever after <3

#im sorry it took so long to get to your ask anon!! usually i like to wait until the hubbub around one au has died down before i answer more #to make sure each one gets its day in the sun yk #but apparently hunger games au is sticking around!#also i almost went on a Litany discussing like. fix its in relation to this kind of au for rainduo but its late so i refrained. but i think #its really sweet that you were thinking of this story and it made you think of rainduo nonnie hehe #anyway thank you very much for your ask!! <3 #asks #rainduo #aunonnies

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remyfire · 10 months

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"things you said when you were scared" and margbeej?

"Things You Said..." Meme (idk who sent this in because it wasn't my usual subject, but their spirit possessed me and it's 2.2k words augh. PAIN. First time writing in Margaret's voice so it's almost more a character study at this point BUT I HAD A GREAT TIME THANK YOU—) (CW for incredibly brief, almost nonspecific mention of fear of being shot and of being taken captive by an enemy force and sexually assaulted)

The moment they've pulled the Jeep off the road, BJ grabs for Margaret first, his satchel second. With her heart thudding as fast as a rabbit's, she keeps her feet sure, her knees high, bounding along with him through the brush.

"Where are we—"

"Just trust me," BJ murmurs in a confident voice better suited to a general than a mild-mannered surgeon, and perhaps that's why she listens. If it was Pierce, if it was Klinger, if it was nearly anyone else in the world, she's certain that she'd hear their hesitation and bite their head off instinctively, but Captain Hunnicutt's different.

He always has been.

Perhaps it's his height that makes him better know where they're going. Perhaps it's instinct. But either way, when a small shack in the copse of trees swims into focus, Margaret huffs out a sharp sound of relief, one that she immediately muffles by slapping her hand over her mouth. God. God. She can't keep herself quiet for even a goddamn second? They're not alone on this road. They'll be lucky if their Jeep stays in its little hiding place there, skewed between the brush and the trees, bathed in shadows.

Margaret is swiftly coming to a point where she wishes she could consider rejecting Colonel Potter's requests for her to accompany surgeons during emergencies to frantic, blood-soaked aid stations, because it seems every time she does, there's nothing but hell, enemy forces, and incredibly dangerous situations waiting for her.

And she isn't simply referring to the threat of death. Not anymore.

Right as they near the shack, BJ pulls sharply ahead, his long legs pumping faster than she's ever seen them go, and she half-fears he might be leaving her behind. But he practically rips the door open, a fist raised, and sticks his head in as he skims the darkness. By the time she reaches his side, he wraps a massive hand around her wrist and yanks her in right behind him.

Calling it a shack was a bit extreme. The one she and Pierce huddled down in for one of the greater regrets-or-perhaps-not of her life was at least capable of being a desperate but serviceable living space. This feels less like it's made to be occupied, more like it perhaps was put together to hide caches of things. She thinks absurdly of the small building her grandfather built on his property just to hold his tools, but he was never quite as rugged and put-together as she used to think men were all supposed to be. It had collapsed within a month after a particularly difficult wind came through.

When BJ shuts the door, he catches it right before it can slam. For a moment, they're in dusty darkness, panting together.

There's a small gap in the wall, the only thing allowing a cut of brilliant daylight through, and BJ steadies himself with a hand on Margaret's shoulder as he comes up unfathomably tall on his tiptoes to peer through it.

"What do you see?" she hisses.

He holds up his other fingers, a silent plea for quiet, and she doesn't dream of betraying it. He's a prankster. He's a quipper. He's put her underwear up a flagpole. But there's a calmer history between them, unlike with Pierce—that agonizing, lonely year with McIntyre where Margaret cycled between desperate want and furious embarrassment—and though she's all but trembling in the dark, BJ is still.

In a way, it's almost enough to make her disgusted at herself. She's lived on Army bases all her life, dreamed of making it her career, accomplished top marks in her training. This is supposed to be a way of life for her. Yet he's the one who is so sturdy.

For the first time, she catches herself wondering what he's lived through to make him learn to be so still in these moments of incredible fear.

There's a scuffing in the distance, like a stone being kicked, and BJ tightens his grip on her and all but drags her to the far back of the shack. She trips over something unseen and he cups her elbow, helps her steady herself, guides her with both hands all the way to their goal.

Her back hits the wood and BJ's chest collides with hers, all but pinning her in place and knocking the wind straight out of her. She grabs a fistful of his shirt, just needing something to hold onto, and as her eyes finally begin to adjust to the darkness, she can make out the situation they're in. BJ has her whole body covered with his, both hands pressed to the wall on either side of her head, the equivalent of a human shield. His head is turned, gaze fixed on the door.

A stick cracks, closer than the rock.

God. God, no. She's here again, she's fucking here again, unsure if what's waiting for her in the span of the next ninety seconds is a bullet through her skull or a stranger dragging her off to use her as they see fit. The spike of terror almost blinds her, almost turns what tiny crumbs are left somewhere in her stomach.

"It's okay." BJ's words are nothing but a breath, barely a hint of sound coloring them. "Just hold on."

And all at once, she's so grateful that the person she's in this experience with is someone like him, that God hasn't seen fit to punish her by saddling her with another traumatizing one-on-one deathtrap with Pierce where they're constantly dueling to see who's going to take charge. It's the thing tornadoes are born from—the sharp chill of her fear, the almost soothing warmth of knowing he won't go down without a fight, that she'll have to practically be ripped out of his rigor mortis grip.

Not for the first time, she wonders how many of her other nurses can see how easily Captain Hunnicutt steps into the role of husband, provider, caretaker when the situation calls for it.

Not for the first time, she hates how sharply it overtakes her every time, that ache to be the only one who receives it, that knowledge that it never would've been an option.

Men like BJ Hunnicutt don't make it through high school, much less college or medical school, unclaimed. Someone is always smart enough to see such a sharply-rising stock value. But that doesn't mean she doesn't ache.

It doesn't mean she can't feel him watch her in turn.

Far from them, she can barely make out the elegant curve of an unfamiliar language, and she pulls harder at his shirt with a stifled whimper.

"Margaret, it's all right." One of his warm hands finds her cheek, his thumb brushing over her skin as though seeking tears to wipe away.

Suddenly it's paramount that he knows. He has to. He needs to understand, or, or— "I don't want to—"

"I know."

"I-I don't want to die before I tell you—"

"We're not gonna die."

"But—"

He presses his palm against her mouth, body trapping hers against the wall, whisper so low it's barely audible. "Whatever it is, Margaret, tell me after the war. Do you hear me?"

Her chest goes tighter, bubbling irritation at the thought that he believes he controls her voice, but there's another crack. A long series of tall blades of grass brushing together. Just loud enough that he must've been listening for them in her frantic moments of blurting.

She bites the inside of her cheek punishingly, and as though he feels it, he rubs ever so faintly over her skin with his ring fingertip, and when she thinks of the band on it, she squeezes her eyes shut.

In the darkness of her mind, she can hear the movement of what must be enemy operatives, their steps and their language both, but she can smell BJ. She can feel the weight of his grip, of his body. It's as though those two senses are fighting a war of their own against the fear stoked by her ears, and against all odds, they even seem to be winning.

She might not be brave right now, but she can be strong and true, and thank God she doesn't have to do it alone.

They wait, silent. Seconds tick by like hours. The world has never been as infinite as it is in this moment.

But like everything must, life resumes.

The footsteps fade. Seconds pass. A minute. As time rediscovers its natural rhythm, so do their bodies refocus on their current positions, and the drugging relief that floods Margaret starts to taper off when BJ moves first. He lifts his palm from her mouth, but he doesn't hurry away. He drags his hand slowly down her chin, little by little, until just the edge of his thumb catches on her bottom lip. He's right there. Right there. Close enough to suck. To taste. To add to those two senses that were already consumed by him.

She becomes aware of the slow breath he takes, deep and full, how his stomach brushes the curve of her breasts. As it so often has since coming to Korea, the edge of her fear twists in knots around her pooling desire, creating a hypnotic new connection between the two that she's not sure she'll ever be able to understand. To break.

"Hunnicutt." No. That doesn't feel right. Not now. Margaret swallows the knot in her throat, forces herself to whisper what feels somehow like the most intimate thing she ever has. "BJ—"

"After the war." His thumb stays. God, it shouldn't. She needs to wrench his hand away, begin the slow process of forgetting the pattern of his thumbprint against some of her most sensitive skin.

She begins to shake her head, but the tickle of his fingerpad makes her freeze and press her palm harder against the wall behind her. She endures it even still as she speaks, leaving a dozen impossible kisses there as she shapes her words. "At this point...I'm not sure the war is ever going to end." Or if it does, that we'll both survive it. Or if we do, that we'll ever be really, truly out of it.

There's a pause spanning all of time and space where BJ curls the hand against the wall right by her head into a fist, where his tanned face goes ruddy and flushed, where his eyes pop like stars against a sky and smolder as fiercely as a sun. When he finally lifts his thumb from her lips, it's painted the same gleaming coral as the mouth it left behind. "It has to," he murmurs raggedly as he steps backward, leaves her body chilled through.

At first, she thinks he's leaving her behind. It takes her a few seconds longer to realize he's scooped up his satchel and is lingering at the door, putting his back to her so she can gather herself—so he can do the same.

Not for the first time, Margaret misses the young woman who didn't have to compose herself. Nineteen-year-old Margaret would've slinked up behind him, wrapped an arm around his waist, nuzzled between his shoulders, murmured something so playful and silky that he would've taken her right there on the floor. She would've gone straight back to her dorm room and crawled in bed with Lorraine and giggled out her gossip, playing through every moment from start to finish.

But she's not that girl anymore. She's a woman who's been the mistress time and time again. And though she'll never tell BJ that she heard every whispered piece of gossip about him and Lieutenant Donovan that her nurses spun, his devotion to his wife continues to be the most powerful aspect of him that she prays will never be shaken.

She needs to believe that men that truly, deeply, achingly devoted are real. Because if they're not, then what on earth is left for her?

Margaret takes a deep breath and presses a hand to her stomach, trying to soothe the riotous nerves inside. At least it's quiet. No more sounds. No godforsaken shelling. As she lets out the shivering air, BJ rubs the back of his neck, his shoulders shifting here and there.

"Does it look clear out there?" Margaret murmurs. "Are we safe?"

"As safe as we can be," he confirms just as quietly. "If we wait much longer, we might be risking an actual patrol, not a couple of stragglers."

"Then by all means." She hurries forward, reaches toward his hip to move him out of the way, then freezes before she can touch him. No. She's done all this work to calm herself back down to the same woman who could handle an entire unseen landscape of snipers, if she had to. If she's going to imagine the shape of him under his fatigues, then she'll save that for her quarters once the moon is peeking out. "Shall we?"

"Let me?" BJ asks. She nods. He steps out first, a hand behind him to keep her at bay, then nods. As he moves forward, she stays right by his side, sensing that quiet authority, that confidence he has that if he can't guarantee her safety, he'll at least die trying.

Yet another point in his favor. Yet another endless bullet to add to her long, long, long list of hopes for a lifetime lover, if she even still deserves one.

#AUGHHHHH #margaret would like to stop being put in situations please cia was enough #ask meme answers #bj hunnicutt #margaret houlihan #margbeej #beejmarg #my writing

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