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deadsetromance · 1 year

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RUN WHILE YOU STILL CAN

(not my gif!)

party poison x gn!reader

summary: nearly a year after you left the diner, you find yourself back in zone six. this time, you've got bad news.

warnings: open ending (ish), general mentions of violence, mentions of death, language, non-edited writing

note: and finally...the last part! i planned to publish this earlier, but i got sick, so i had to take a break from writing :( either way, i had so much fun writing this, and i hope you enjoyed it <3

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your car sped through zone six, and you cursed yourself for not being able to drive faster. it was a matter of life or death, and you sure as hell hoped to beat the phoenix witch to your destination. besides, you owed this particular group of killjoys a favor.

☠︎ ☠︎ ☠︎ ☠︎

you left the diner early in the morning.

carrying nothing more than your blaster and the clothes on your back, you had disappeared into the sand. following jet star's directions, you headed south until you found route guano. from there, you hitchhiked the zones, sticking with any group of killjoys that would take you in.

riding solo through the zones was rough. sometimes you managed to cruise with a pack of 'joys for a day or two, but you were alone more often than not and always in need of supplies. you spent sleepless nights by dying fires or crammed into cars overflowing with killjoys.

you managed to get your hands on a car of your own, after winning a high-stakes bet. from then on, you spent your days driving through the zones, often making deliveries for carbons. at night, you bundled up and slept in the back seat or hit the red line when dracs got too close for comfort.

there was a constant nagging in the back of your mind that told you to keep an eye out for red hair. you asked around when you pulled into a village or made a stop at tommy chow mein’s, but all you got was radio silence. it had been nearly a year since you had last seen party poison and his crew, and you were starting to think they never existed.

you never found your crew either.

☠︎ ☠︎ ☠︎ ☠︎

the sun beat down on the sands as you drove past the picket fence, and into zone six. there was a reason you didn’t drive out here often, the same reason dracs didn’t bother to patrol way out here. it was nothing but sand for miles.

few killjoys camped out in zone six, partly because it was so out-in-the-open, and because there were still spots where radiation hung thick. sure it was the safest place in the zones, but it was also the emptiest. you could drive for miles without seeing anything, no people, no buildings, nothing. it made you realize how lucky you were when you came across the diner.

now, you’d be lucky if you were heading in the right direction. you avoided route guano after you heard it was being patrolled, and you were as good as lost, the map lying next to you useless. your fuel gauge was in a steady decline, with the cherry pit in your stomach growing by the second. you were running on nothing but a quarter tank of fuel, and pure adrenaline.

zone six was a killer, but you were a killjoy on a mission, and you’d be damned if you didn’t try to make it out alive.

☠︎ ☠︎ ☠︎ ☠︎

your car was kicking up too much sand.

you’d be visible from miles away, but it didn’t matter to you. you couldn’t afford to slow down. not when your car was about to die on you, and definitely not when you could see the diner. or at least it looked like the diner, you were still too far away to be able to tell. you didn’t have any other choice but to drive straight toward it.

☠︎ ☠︎ ☠︎ ☠︎

you made the drive in less than two minutes. you were sure your car was about to burst into flames, but you had made it to the diner. party poison and his crew scrambled out the door, guns drawn in a hellish parallel. you would have laughed if you weren’t focused on slamming on the breaks to prevent running them over.

suddenly nothing was fast enough. you couldn’t get out of the car fast enough, couldn’t run to stand in front of the group fast enough. you couldn’t hurl yourself into party’s outstretched arms fast enough.

killjoys were cold and callous, living fast and dying young. they didn’t show affection easily, if at all. only hippies and those new to the zones openly brandished their fondness. you didn’t know why you were hugging party poison, and he didn’t know why he was hugging you, but it just felt right.

“long time no see tumbleweed”

☠︎ ☠︎ ☠︎ ☠︎

you would have loved to say in your little piece of heaven wrapped in party poison’s arms, but you knew what you had to do.

“you have to get out of here,” you spoke, pulling yourself out of his hold and back to the car. “there’s a cloud of at least a hundred dracs coming your way,” they were on edge again, stiffening as hands tightened around blasters. “i counted five scarecrows, but who knows how many more there are.” you began to throw supplies from your car into a pile.

“now?” they looked panicked, unprepared. you knew dracs never patrolled out in zone six, so why now?

“yeah, i was riding ahead of ‘em. i’m sure they saw my dust trail.”

party poison was quick to snap into their leadership role. any worry he had shown before was gone, and his directions were firm, “alright, you guys get the supplies, i’ll bring the car around”

“you got it party.” the others rushed inside, and you could hear the clatter of cans and strings of curses as they gathered what they had.

you moved to follow the others inside and help out as best you could, but the redhead had other plans. with one hand he pulled you in the direction of the garage, while the other fumbled with the keys.

“you came back,” they breathed, turning to look at you.

“i had to,” you offered little more than a shrug as you helped load supplies into the trunk. “i couldn’t let it go all costa rica here, i owe you.”

he stopped your busy hands, holding them in his. his eyes were soft as he smiled down at you. you knew there wasn’t much time, but you could wait a minute.

“i looked for you,” you grinned “no one knew anything. i half thought you were a mirage”

“ghoul went mad when i wanted to keep looking for you. said i should just let you go,” he countered, laughing at your teasing expression

"well, i’m here now aren’t i.”

“yeah. you gonna ride with us, or do you need to take your car back to your gang?” he turned back, throwing in the last of the equipment. his eyes were hopeful as he slid into the driver's seat.

“i uh, never found the rest of my crew. and i don't think my car can last another chase.” grimacing, you turned to look at your smoking car, before jumping in the passenger seat next to him.

“that blows. but hey, the offer still stands, if you want to run with me…with us, you’re welcome to.” with a smile, he laced your fingers together and pulled out of the garage.

“yeah, i think will.”

that was it then, your decision had been made. you’d ride with them till the day you died, running from dracs and shooting to stay alive. you’d run with the fabulous killjoys till the stars fell from the sky, and the world ended. whatever came first.

#party poison x reader #party poison #reader insert #x reader #gerard way #gerard way x reader #my chemical romance #mychem #mcr #fanfic #mcr fanfiction #killjoys #sfw #brief mentions of death #brief mentions of violence #deadsetromance

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system-hottakes · 27 days

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Not a serious hot take, but the endoskeletons from 2014 indie horror franchise Five Nights At Freddy's are the only endos I support

-- Umbrella

lmao, same. the only endos I support are Fnaf endos, because at least they're honest when they try kill me

#Endos from Fnaf are the only good endos #anti endo #did system #system #actually did #alters #did #endos dni #hot takes #hot take #did osdd #Tw mentions of killing #Very brief #/#Tw mentions of death #Not sure if I have to TW this #But I am just in case

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thatsashitplan · 1 year

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the haunting of bly manor/thobm incorrect quotes/textposts part 1!

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emhasthoughts · 7 months

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Gertrude and the cat-avatars

Summary: Gertrude let one cat in. Said cat has a habit of bringing in other cats.

A/N: During @dcartcorner's stream the topic of avatars as cats came up and I decided to write a little something for it. I have another part with the Distortions that might be posted later. Also worth noting: I do not own a cat, never have, I'm horrible with cat breeds, so I've tried to describe Simon/Peter/Elias through this art and Mike's look is taken from this

Lastly: Not beta read by someone else, just me and my lil google document.

Pt 1, You're here! / Pt 2, Michael and Helen Distortion, Agnes / Pt 3, Annabelle, Jude, Oliver / Pt 4, John, Jane, Maxwell, Manuela / Pt 5, Jon, Martin, Sasha, Tim / Pt 6, Melanie, Daisy, Basira, Georgie / Pt 7, Jared, Gerry, Nikola / Bonus, a visit to the vet / Halloween bonus!

Simon was the first cat she actually adopted. It had been one of her coworkers who had wanted to get rid of him due to their financial situation and asked Gertrude about it. Claiming that he was old and an inside cat, easy to take care of. She had agreed. Thinking it would be easy and that, in the worst case, Simon would not live for long after getting him. She could not have been more wrong.

Sometimes he could have passed as a kitten. Rather small for what he was meant to be, thin despite the amount of food he ate, his gray fur was not fluffy enough to hide how thin he could look. Despite it all, the veterinarian had claimed him healthy. He was also not that much of an indoor cat. Sometimes, whenever he felt like it, he would wander out of the house, sometimes gone for days. Gertrude did not mind it that much. He was a rather loud and talkative cat after all.

Simon also had a habit of getting more cats to her doorstep.

One day she opened the door to see small Simon standing proudly in the middle of two new cats. One looked nearly ridiculous next to him. Light beige and at least three times bigger and fluffier, with yellow eyes that sort of made it look like he did not want to be there. To the other side was a mainly brown cat, who seemed to be in a perfect middle of size and fluff. A bit of white around the eyes, nose, stomach and paws. He looked at her with judgemental green eyes and for a moment she worried if a cat could actually see into someone’s soul. Since they kept coming back she had named the two Peter, the fluffy cat and the other Elias.

Peter came and went. Similarly to Simon, he could be gone for days, maybe even weeks. Whenever he was home he was with Elias and/or Simon, being quiet and calm. Elias was probably the most judgemental cat she had ever come across. He was not really loud or overly talkative, but he could spend hours in a corner just looking at her without blinking. It was a bit creepy and sometimes it felt like he was secretly planning to kill her in her sleep.

Four months ago Simon was gone for a week, only to come back in with a very disgruntled cat. Looking rather similar to Peter, though smaller, thinner bit of brown around the eyes, paws, tip of ears and tail, including a branching scar most visible on the back. Despite the cat not being a small kitten, Simon still managed to drag them there. The cat had seemingly accepted its fate, making Gertrude question how far from home they were.

She had taken the cat to a veterinarian the day after. It was a male, named Mike, who had once belonged to a couple that passed two years before in a house fire. The scar was older, though it had gotten infected over the two years. She had gotten more of a rundown of everything that was wrong with Mike and she planned to simply let him up for adoption, except Simon did not seem to leave Mike’s side. So, Gertrude accepted Mike in. If only until he was healthy again, by then Simon would hopefully be over it.

Since then Gertrude had tried to throw Mike back on the streets while Simon was away. Except the pair kept coming back. Which caused her current situation. Sitting on her sofa, trying to watch TV, except she found herself staring at Mike, who had made himself comfortable on the shelf next to a vase, glaring back at her. His paw slowly raising towards the vase, never breaking eye contact. Gertrude narrowed her eyes. Until -

There was no crash. The vase was no longer on the shelf but it was also not shattered on the ground. Her eyes did not leave the falling - flying? - vase. It did not really stop the small cat from glaring at her.

Gertrude had no real clue how long it was like that. The vase floating on the spot, her looking at the vase and Mike glaring at her. Like a picture, frozen in time. At least until -

CRASH

Well fuck.

#mike crew #simon fairchild #peter lukas #elias bouchard #gertrude robinson #cat avatars #mention of past fire #very brief mention of death #tell me if I should add anything

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solarstarsz · 1 month

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i have a few fun and happy theories ‼️ (part 2 to my post about sirius not attending james and lily’s funeral)

Remus was definitely the only friend of theirs that went to the funeral, because he was the only one that didn’t die, run away and fake his death, get arrested, or obliviate himself.

So now imagine Remus standing alone in a crowd of witches and wizards from all around that have come to honor Lily and James. Pictures are snapped of the grave, later to be seen in the ‘Daily Prophet’ above a caption stating that You-Know-Who had so easily killed the Potters, yet had trouble with Harry and fell in the action.

Thinking, he should’ve done something. He knows there was no way he could’ve known, but theres this voice that follows him around until the day of his death that repeats; it’s all your fault.

I believe Professor McGonagall was desperately scavenging the world for a substitute, if the funeral was on a school day. (if it were not, she obviously would have gone and thats boring because im an angst hungry monster).

No matter how she much pleaded and begged for someone to take her roll just for a day, there were no volunteers. So she was stuck teaching Transfiguration that day. When she heard anything about them she shut them out, and for an eternity like Remus, the guilt of not being able to say one last goodbye followed her around.

She was able to shut it out and not reveal why the events of October 31st of 1981 meant so much to her.

Until in 1991 she was reviewing the list of incoming first years, and she stumbles across the name Harry J Potter, and her mouth gets dry as she recalls the day of his parents’ demise.

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eternalglitch · 8 months

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Can you tell me about your rats? You have any favourite pictures of the? ^^

My phone storage is half rat photos. I'll go into the creatures under the read more.

I brought home Kili and Ori in early August, 2021. They were sisters, and my intended 7th and 8th rats after a break from owning any due to college.

Unfortunately, there was a slight mishap where their litter sexually matured a week early and surprise... I ended up with eight extra rats two weeks later.

Although Ori took to motherhood without an issue, Kili's three (rat) kittens did not make it past the first 24 hours. As a result, the breeder and I decided to give back Ori to raise her litter until they could be adopted that October.

Rats are not usually able to be kept alone, however, and Kili had been huddled in a corner, unresponsive, after her loss. In an attempt to help her, Thorin was adopted and introduced as my 9th rat while Ori was MIA.

(^ day 1 of Thorin and Kili being introduced.)

They bonded very quickly, and when reintroduced to Ori two months later, all three got along great.

Personality wise, they're all fairly distinct, although the sisters resemble each other a bit more for obvious reasons.

Ori is the most excited to be picked up and held, and will come running for any attention. She is the common culprit that chews holes in my clothes, and has the least interest in high energy activities (I've never seen her use the wheel in their cage.) She enjoys splashing around in their water bowl with her paws and making a mess. She'll also insist on taking all of the bedding at the bottom of the cage and stuffing it in the hammocks.

Kili is the most cuddly of my trio, and I rarely get pictures of just her because she is often curled up with one of the other two rats. She's the most likely to come sleep on my lap when I have them out at night, and boggles the most. She has a funny habit of squirreling away all of the food, so when I feed them in the morning she takes all of the food, puts it in a corner, and the other two just know to go take from her storage. Lately the others have been overgrooming her a bit so she's often missing patches of fur on her shoulder blades despite my best attempts.

Finally we have Thorin, who is the most unique rat I've ever had both markings-wise and personality-wise. She's a bit more like a cat while the other two are more like pocket dogs; she detests being picked up and will only briefly tolerate it to be moved to the play area, and is not particularly interested in being pet, either. What she does do is come running over to lick my hands and arms. It's not unusual for me to be minding my own business and she'll grab my hand / bite my finger to drag it closer to her so she can start grooming me. Incredibly silly animal. She spends hours on the wheel in their cage every night and is half of the weight of Ori, so I can always tell when she's the one perched on my leg.

#glitch answers #my pets #rats #I'll stop here though HAJKHSKD I have literally hundreds of rat photos #brief mention of animal death

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megabuild · 4 months

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would you be down to summarize the podcast ep briefly ?<-guy who sucks at podcasts

i had clipped some stuff for the first part already so i'll add them in!

bdubs cites steve carrell as an early inspo, because the office was popular at the time he started making videos; he also talks about watching looney tunes as a kid and says his delivery as a character is similar to daffy duck

(impulse also cites bdubs as an inspo of his own, goes as far as to say he mimicked him in some early videos)

skizz talks about bdubs' delivery and acting being part of the reason people assume the life series is scripted. they also have a nice acknowledgement of the problems that come with planning and scripting.

bdubs mentions seananners, coestar and his brother pungence as some of the first people he saw playing minecraft.

impulse say that in bdubs' first video he promises to become one of the best minecraft builders there is. bdubs gets very humble and mentions again that he's not good with compliments.

bdubs says he draws now but before minecraft had basically no creative talent, outside of music, which he had to work hard at. skizz goes on an insane tangent about his high school girlfriend drawing a pointillism piece of a lion that seamlessly transitioned into sean connery halfway across the page. i had to rewind this part a few times because i kept losing track of what the fuck he was talking about

bdubs initially kept being a youtuber a secret from his wife, who he was still dating at the time, and planned to give it up when he got married and become a contractor full time. however, when he told her about it, she encouraged him and was the person who suggested he take it full time; bdubs himself says that since it was a family business, he would never had given it up without her encouragement.

impulse talks about meeting the mindcrackers as a fan, and how bdubs took the time to speak properly to every kid at his table and give them autographs, to the point where the building actually closed up and he still had people waiting- so he took them all out and did more autographs and meets in the parking lot

they talk about beau the trucker, his streamer persona, and how that came about (it was generikb's idea). bdubs said part of the reason he switched to streaming at that time was because content creation is a 24/7 job and it was putting strain onto his wife who was struggling to take care of their two children. i can't really summarise this well as it's a personal anecdote but it begins at about 38 minutes in. he also mentioned he was very nervous about singing on stream.

this leads into them talking about the "dark moments" and valleys in the career of a youtuber, where bdubs discusses the death of his daughter ivy rose; again, i don't feel comfortable summarising this, but it's a very touching discussion of how he couldn't imagine making content again but decided he didn't want people to associate her with him not making videos anymore. it starts at around 52 minutes in.

that brings them up to him coming back to hermitcraft season 6, where the video ends! bdubs promises to talk about his onlyfans in the next episode.

#wasp #asks #child death #< very briefly mentioned #sorry you said brief. but i have autism

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goodwillfidgetspinner · 9 months

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oh i miss drawing things where the perspective makes no sense

#henry emily #charlie emily #technically also #the puppet #fnaf fanart #fnaf #making henry go mad with despair and attempt to rebuild charlie as an animatronic was a good idea actually #i just. mmmm. the fnaf games AND novels dont know what an animatronic is and use that interchangeably with robot #and they arent the same #and henry would have been to greif stricken to make a functioning sentient robot me think #hes a pizzeria animatronic engineer #tahts his strong suit #he should have made her #and realized that even with her “back” and “alive” he still can only speak to her by programing her repsonses. shes a puppet #no use of his skills can bring a living person back. and he has to grieve that #i think thats what they were trying to do with the novels? the first one at least #with his death and all #but then they retconned it and hes alive or something idk.#hes a really tragic character in my eyes i just wish they allowed him to exist outside of brief mentions and whatnot

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phantastragoria · 9 months

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The tragedy that is the majority of viewers not catching onto the fact that Gamora had tons of internal cybernetics and an entirely replaced skeletal system when those are the only things that will remain long after she's gone.

#lex thoughts #universe: mcu #gotg thoughts #ive seen many people assume the silver markings were just. weird alien makeup and not the metal poking out of her skull #but granted i can't really blame them when the only mentions of the internal stuff being a quick aside during the briefing on Xandar #but. i still think about it and how it never really got brought up. almost as if it didn't matter because it was all mainly on the inside.#odd and offputting.#especially when it was always made a point to highlight the cruelty of involuntary body modification enacted on Nebula and (mainly) Rocket #bummer moment sorry i just can't get over vol 3 and watching everyone try to cover up her death as if it didn't happen #and that meaning they didn't go to Vormir so they'd be able to give her a funeral nor do they even seem very bothered by that.#very sad and depressing when yondu was allowed one and appearance beyond the grave multiple times but gamora..? Denied.#i also dislike OG Groot becoming nonexistent to the team post Vol 1 so i guess you could say the precedent had been set. but #even rocket buried a piece of him in that planter.#i wouldn't want to be a bunch of metal bones rattling around but i guess you don't always get a choice #and Gunn's tweet that he did think to include OG Groot and Yondu in Rocket's afterlife scene. but very specifically left out Gamora. sigh.

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kudossi · 1 year

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carry me to innisfree

She finds herself on a precipice, grass under her paws and gray sky overhead. The smell of salt and the sound of crashing waves fill her senses; her claws dig into sand-strewn soil; her fur lifts with the ocean breeze, strong and stalwart, whipping steadily away from the rising sun. Below her lies ocean, depthless and desperately, achingly blue; beyond her lies water, leaping endlessly toward the golden, rocky shore.

The sun-drown-place, she thinks, and feels at once the age of eight moons and eighty season-cycles. She reaches at once for Feathertail, dead for countless pawsteps; for Tawnypelt, buried seasons ago; for Stormfur, lost to the crags of the mountains; for Crowfeather, who had closed his eyes only moons ago and had never opened them again. She does not reach for Bramblestar; she does not question why. She simply exists, with the ghosts of her friends almost corporeal at her sides, and watches as the wind plays with the waves, salty ocean spray spattering at her paws.

A pale bird swoops overhead, white and soft, feathery gray; with a bolt of delight, Squirrelflight recognizes it as a gull. It had been so long since she had chased them over sand and into the waves, their calls echoing against rocky cliffs. Brambleclaw had snorted, unamused; Feathertail had joined her, swimming through whitecaps and pouncing clumsily on birds until, with the exaggerated air of someone too good for noisy, troublesome birds, she had pulled the largest fish Squirrelflight had ever seen from the waves.

“You look like a drowned rat,” Squirrelpaw had told her, laughing, as Feathertail struggled with a fish bigger than both cats combined.

“Better than looking like a drowned squirrel,” Feathertail had countered, and then Tawnypelt had joined the fray, chasing an odd-looking creature across the shore, all hard shell and hard, straight tail and weird, wiggly, bug-like legs.

“What is this place?” Stormfur had asked, tipping over a bug-prey of his own.

“I don’t know!” Squirrelpaw had replied, delighted, and gotten a mouthful of saltwater for her trouble. She sputtered and spat and dissolved into giggles, lungs seizing and aching and burning, happier than she’d ever been.

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deadsetromance · 2 years

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GRAVEHEAD

(not my gif!)

party poison x gn!reader

summary: while waking up to a group of hostile killjoys is scary, what’s even scarier is the fact that you have no idea where to go next

warnings: general violence, mentions of death, slightly ooc, language, non-edited writing.

note: here’s part two! writers block was a bitch, but i think this is as good as it’s going to get, so i’m happy with it :) keep an eye out for the final part!

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there was no code of honor in the zones, no honor amongst thieves. this meant that the man in front of you could shoot you if he really wanted to. you knew that some killjoys were trigger-happy, shooting before anyone could say a word. you hoped this wouldn’t end like that.

the sound of your heart pumping in your ears made you dizzy. there weren’t many possible outcomes–you either lived or died–and the longer you waited for something to happen, the more you were sure you would be dead.

you were more than surprised when he slowly, slowly, angled the blaster away from your face. it wasn’t set aside yet, and they kept it in their hand just in case, but it wasn’t as much of a threat. still, you didn’t dare move even the slightest bit, and you kept your focus trained on the gun.

his eyes were fiery as he questioned you. “what are you doing in here?”

maybe it was because you hadn’t been shot yet, or even the events of the night before that left you stunned.

“i asked you a question. what the hell are you doing here?” he jabbed the blaster in your direction as he repeated his question. his finger danced on the trigger, leaving you no choice but to answer.

“i- i was looking for shelter, and i thought this place was empty…” you held your breath, waiting…“‘m not looking for trouble, honest.”

the group was unreadable, their masks staring unblinkingly at you. what if they didn’t believe you? what if they didn’t care? what if…. your life balanced on a series of what-ifs. but all your worries couldn’t prepare you for what happened next.

what if they let you go?

☠︎ ☠︎ ☠︎ ☠︎

the one with the curly hair was the first to approach you. he passed you a can of power pup, a wet rag, and even offered to bandage your shoulder. you hadn’t realized you'd been shot. he treated you (and your wound) with a smile, before leaving you alone in a booth.

they had already started eating by the time you had cleaned yourself up, but they had left an empty seat for you at the table. whether they let you sit with them out of pity, or acceptance you weren’t sure. you sat with them anyway.

“where’s your crew?” the one with the tattoos asked, halfway through his can of power pup. you hadn’t touched yours yet.

“sorry?” you weren’t able to process the question before the group made hearty sounds of curious agreement.

“where’s your crew? d’they know where you are?” he was beaming with curiosity, and it made you feel sick. should you lie to him? make him think that you have somewhere to be?

“uh…they were dusted in a firefight. last night actually.” the table fell silent and you pushed your food around.

“oh..”

☠︎ ☠︎ ☠︎ ☠︎

they didn’t talk to you much after you told them what had happened. they kept to themselves, shooting pitiful looks your way, and whispering amongst themselves.

you sat on the counter, watching the curly one–who you learned was called jet star–flip through a magazine.

“what zone am i…are we in?” you asked, looking up from the blaster in your lap.

“we're smack in the middle of zone six. ‘bout as safe as the zones can get, ‘cause dracs don’t bother to come all the way out here.”

“six?…er, how far is route guano from here?”

“’s about an hour's drive south from this place. it’ll take longer on foot though,” he said, turning to look at you with concerned eyes “why’d you ask?”

“don’t want to spend too much time in one place. plus i figure it’s best if i get out of your hair…”

“it’s getting late and it’s not an easy walk. you’d never make it before sundown, and walking at night is a death sentence.” you frowned at what he said, but you knew he was right. “kobra probably could've driven ya, but the cars busted.”

“oh…”

you were about to speak again when someone called for him. “hey jet, i gotta transmission for you from dr. d!”

“shit!”

and so you were alone again.

☠︎ ☠︎ ☠︎ ☠︎

the sunset was pretty, the sky painted brilliant shades of orange and red. you had a perfect view from your spot on the front steps of the diner.

you heard someone walking up to the door, “hey…mind if i sit?” it was the redhead–party poison–standing in the doorway.

“go for it,” you smiled awkwardly, shuffling over to make room on the stairs.

“hey, i’m sorry for earlier. it’s just…strange when you come back from a supply run and a ‘joy you’ve never seen before is covered in blood, asleep in a booth.”

“naw…it’s alright. no hard feelings or anything.” you knew you would have done the same thing if there was an unfamiliar killjoy in your hideout. that’s just how things worked.

“oh okay… ‘m sorry about what happened to your crew. do you-what happened?” his question seemed innocent, and you knew he was trying to help. but your mind flashed back to the swarm of dracs, laser beams, and the screams of your friends. it was too much for you to think about, and you looked down at the sand as your grief washed over you.

“i can’t really remember… we pulled over to check out a satellite, and all of a sudden we were swarmed. few of ‘em made it to the car and got out, but they left me n’ the others. it’s really just a blur….”

you didn’t speak for a while after. instead, you both sat pressed up against each other listening to the sound of the wind whip against the sand.

party poison spoke up again, as the last light began to fade from the sky. “jet told me that you were asking for directions to route guano?”

“oh, uh yeah,” you didn’t think he’d ask, nor that jet star would have told him. wouldn’t they have wanted you to leave sooner? “i didn’t want to overstay my welcome. the sooner i leave you guys alone the better y’know?”

“hey, it’s no problem. i mean killjoys gotta help each other out,” they shrugged, acting almost like he offered his hospitality to every wayward killjoy he found. “and anyway, if…if you wanted to join our crew, you’re welcome to. i mean you lost your group and all.”

you were silent for a moment, not knowing what to say. he seemed genuine…but still, you knew your crew was out there. “i-i don’t want to be too much trouble. i think i’ll just stay for the night, and make a break for the highway tomorrow.”

“where will you go?”

shit. you hadn’t thought that far ahead. “i dunno. could try to hitch a ride from someone, and go on a ghost hunt lookin’ for the others. maybe i’ll ride solo for a little while.”

the surprise on his face was evident. and you understood why.

killjoys didn’t live long. they had a life expectancy of three years once they made it out of battery city. if they were lucky.

lone killjoys–those who were reckless enough to go it alone, or those who had given up–hardly made it for half of that. without a crew, a killjoy riding solo was as good as dead.

“be careful,” he said, pushing up off the stairs, and heading back inside the diner.

“i’ll try.” with one last look over your shoulder, you followed him.

you’d be gone by the morning.

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desert-fern · 7 days

Note

May is mental health awareness month. I just want you to know that I am here for you. Just remember that you are loved.

Okay Vix, this made me seriously cry. May is a very hard month for me for a variety of reasons that include the deaths of a lot of people that I was very close to (all separate days, but this month sucks), so seeing this message made me all teary.

Mental health and mental illness are no joke and as someone who struggles regularly with depression and ADHD, I feel the nasty effects very often. I so appreciate that you are there for me and I hope that you and others know that I am here for you all as well.

This community has been rocked by some nasty and scary shit, but we need to be there for one another every month, not just May.

🩷🩷🩷🩵🩵🩵

I love you all.

#talk to the houseplant #mental health #mental health awareness #Tw: brief mention of death #anxiety and depression #TGM community

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lonelysucker7 · 4 months

Text

Cigarettes out the Window

Pairing: Kaine Parker/Louise Kennedy

Summary: Based on the comic “Spider-Man: The Lost Years” (Specifically issue #3). Kaine Parker remembers his intimate time with detective Louise Kennedy and those cigarettes she never stopped smoking.

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: Heavy angst, mentions of death, mentions of violence, drug references

Not proofread. Wanted to make this after I got inspired by a song. Is it a song fic? Not really, but you could feel the references in here. The fic no one asked but the one I needed haha.

Enjoy!

………………………………………………………………………….

Kaine grew accustomed to the smell of cigarette smoke over the years.

Everywhere he walked, his nose caught the scent of burn wafting in the air from someone smoking in a dark corner. Or someone dangling their hand mindlessly out the window with the stick in their fingers as he swinged through the city.

But every once and then on the top of a rooftop, the highest there could be in Houston he would stare up in the night sky watching the stars glow. And its beauty becomes interrupted by the smell of smoke.

Even at the highest peak, it was always there.

She was there. Louise Kennedy.

A blur of memories that came back to him even in his sleep, startled him awake and he gasped her name out. His mind raced and his eyes searched the darkness of the hotel room and found nothing. Heard nothing.

Kaine would check on the sleeping Aracely, making sure she was alright and unharmed. Then he would leave to hang out on the balcony, taking an overview of the city lights go on and off like little flames in the night.

Nothing would beat their glow except the moon, the stars, the sun and a lighter.

In his own silence he thinks back to those many years ago…

………………………………………………………………………….

“Louise, why do you smoke?”

The half dressed blonde woman looks back over her shoulder towards the man on the couch who called for her attention. Her pink lips stretched to a friendly smile.

“They calm me down from my high. Or at least, feed more pleasure to it.”

The man nods a little, processing her words carefully. He thinks back to their shared kisses of intimacy and the tongue in his mouth swirls a little inside, tasting the faint flavor of smoke. It was sweet and sour.

His mind snaps back to reality as the couch sinks a little and the weight of Louise’s body acknowledges her presence. He can feel himself starting to smile as her head rests on his shoulder. He watches the way her lips move around the stick adjusting it to comfort, and her nose exhaling the smoke from there.

The way she does these things, it’s strange and amusing to him almost. But he can’t help but wrinkle his nose a little and lift a hand to rub the smell away. This action catches Louise’s attention and she leans away from him slightly.

“Oh, sorry about that Kaine.” Her hand comes up to remove and burn out the cigarette on the tray, but her wrist is grabbed gently by him. Kaine shakes his head and assures her.

“Don’t mind me ruining your moment. I’ll get used to it in time.” He offers a faint smile to her. Louise smirks a little in return and she nods, feeling his hand carefully pull away from hers. She drags another bit of the cigarette in her mouth and exhales slowly, letting out a soft giggle.

Louise reaches again for her cigarette and she turns to Kaine, raising it up to him. He eyes it curiously, the smoke following its swift trail behind it. Kaine gets the hint she wants him to try it out. With the back of his hand, he pushes it away from him and says,

“No thank you. I… I don’t like it.”

Louise raises an eyebrow, making a face that she couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

“How could you not like it?”

“Don’t really like the essence of it.”

“So you’ve never tasted it?”

“Never.” Kaine raises an eyebrow as she scoffs in response. She inhaled the smoke again and exhales it with a sigh. She says,

“Everyone smokes here. Am I supposed to believe that easily you don’t?”

Kaine snorts lightly. “I’m not like anyone else.”

Louise rolls her eyes a bit, and she waves him dismissively. She shifts in her seat and amusingly says, “How many times will you go on saying that?”

Kaine shrugs, pushing some of his curls closer to his face almost creating a curtain between him and Louise. He mumbled, “As much as I need to remind… myself.”

Louise sighs a little bit more loudly, and she gets on the couch to sit up on her knees. Her hands trail up to his arm and she leans closer to him. Kaine could smell her perfumed scent mixed in with the smoke, as he closed his eyes when he heard her soft honeyed voice near his ear.

“You're right. Remind yourself that. But let me add that it’s because you’re unique. Much more than anyone else here. You’re my one in a million.”

Louise's warm hands moved around his body, snaking her arms around him. In the gentle embrace Kaine leaned more into her and let himself be comforted. The tension in his body became relaxed and both him and Louise leaned back on the couch together. He rested his head on her chest, listening to the calm heartbeat and breathing of her smoking.

The dark room is silent for a moment as he breaks it with a soft monotone voice.

“I think I’ll try it out sometime these days. Smoking.”

He feels Louise’s hand pat him lovingly on his back. A soft chuckle rumbles from her.

“Whatever you say sweetheart. I’ll be here for your first.”

………………………………………………………………………….

On the night of her funeral, Kaine did everything in his power to avoid attending. But after everything, after murdering her it was hard not to go back. A final goodbye at least.

For the night he crashed (literally) in her apartment. Kaine remembered how he slept on the couch that night, afraid to go to her room and not find her there despite knowing she was gone.

Everywhere the lingering smell of cigarettes and Louise’s sweet perfume held him on a chokehold. The room illuminated with the glow of the moon, keeping him both awake and asleep.

Eventually he walked to the curtains and closed them completely, leaving him and the darkness in each other's company.

Kaine stared at nothing in the darkness as his tears streamed down the sides of his face. No sound was uttered as he cried and he could feel himself falling apart by the minute. So much for being one in a million. At this moment he had wished Louise pulled the trigger of the gun on him.

The weight of her betrayal was still fresh in his mind as her facade fell and became the monster he overlooked. Her twisted heart capable of fooling a love to a monster left him so blind and vulnerable. And yet in his mind he still insisted he was something, anything to her. She did spare him. She really did…And both paid the price for their faults.

Her screams couldn’t leave his mind as she struggled violently to be let go of his hold, her back pushing against his chest. He recalled his nose burying near her hair as he smelled her one more time. And the feeling of her delicate neck breaking and burning in his hands was a brutal reminder of the horrible joy he got from relieving the burden Louise had become to him. The many times he kissed that neck and face he never saw what the outcome would be in the end for those parts.

Now he knew.

………………………………………………………………………….

He left her place the moment the funeral had passed, bothering to clean up whatever mess he left. Underneath the couch he picked out the pack of cigarettes that she must have dropped and become lost.

Mindlessly he shoved those in his back pocket. And checked the place once again. And left.

Atop the buildings he ran and jumped, the rain crashing down to hit him in the face like a whip. Remembering when he first arrived in Utah, the first thing he saw was the graveyard. Not like it mattered to him at the time, only imagining what he would be like dead in one of those places.

For Louise to make it her final resting place was no surprise. How she died could have ended up differently.

He would have preferred her death to be the hand of her own smoking addiction. Get lung cancer once she aged. One where she’d be a dead woman walking.

Living, but dying.

At last he arrived at the graveyard, and he wasted no time walking around each place to find her name. He could have laughed if he realized it should have been obvious which one was hers. Everyone had their own set of flowers, dead and alive.

Louise Kennedy, had none.

Stopping in front of her, he slowly felt his chest swell up with the bubbling feeling of guilt and anger. It was pathetic and almost pitiful to see how her area was completely empty. Maybe she had no family close to her mourning for her. He didn’t sit down on the ground, instead squatting and hunched over as the rain poured down on his head. Kaine didn’t say a word, and just lowered his eyes feeling incapable of reading her name carved on the headstone.

His legs and body began to hurt from the position he was on and he decided to sit in the moist ground. He felt everything soak him up. His face was becoming wet and he couldn’t tell which of the wetness between the rain and his tears were.

Oddly, it was warm.

In his seat he shifted a little as his eyebrow raised when he felt something discomforting from behind his pants. Pulling it out, a shaky breath exhaled from his mouth. His chest hurt even more now that he was holding something very close to the person that once lived: Her pack of cigarettes.

The box was warm in the grip of his hand. Maybe he didn’t bring flowers but he brought her favorite thing. His silence and the soft trickle of rain hitting the ground were present in the background as he kept staring at the box. The edge of his thoughts kept insisting him to do something right now. In that instant an idea popped in his mind. He stared at the ground of her grave and back at the small pack and a startling giggle escaped his lips.

He remembered how he never really tried his first cigarette. She said she would be witness. And here they were: together again. Such a perfect final goodbye for them both. Shaking the box to his ear to listen if there was enough, he gritted his teeth in satisfaction. He turns to her grave and a rough mock in his tone rings out.

“Share a final smoke with me, Louise. You said you were gonna see me. Now watch.”

Staring at the pack he turned it in his hand noting the wrinkles on the surface. He paused when he noticed a faint pink smudge, and dented teeth on the side. The pad of his thumb traced there a little, feeling the small bumps underneath his fingertip. The pink smudge spread slightly to the right.

Lipstick.

Perhaps her hands were busy at the time and must have held the box in between her teeth. Well no more of that now. Shaking the box, two cigarettes dropped out onto his palm and he pulled out a lighter he had found on a nearby counter.

He ignited the lighter to life with a shaky thumb, taking a couple tries to make the spark. The open flame flickered in and out from the rain that crossed its way. Nearing both cigarette tips, they gently began to burn red and smoke emitted from them.

He closed the cap and tossed it aside on the ground near her headstone. With both sticks in his fingers, he shifted in his seat on the ground. He raised one towards his lips, muttering,

“One for me…”

His chapped lips wrapped around the stick, adjusting them comfortably with a small roll.

“…And one for you.”

He stretched forward and jabbed the cigarette in the middle of the dirt as it stared upwards. Sad quiet eyes watched it fight, keeping itself burning, but the weight of the rain was too much. The stick slowly shrunk down in the dirt, unable to keep its shape intact. The faint sizzle of the stick began to wane, the smoke whipping in the wind.

In an instant… The burn was gone.

Too bad.

Now it was his turn.

Carefully he took a slow drag of the cigarette with a pucker, closing his eyes as the smoke of nicotine settled in his lungs. The rich and nasty flavor settled on his tongue like nothing. The familiar taste of her kiss instantly coming back to him and his eyes watered. The rain pattered on his hair heavily, matting down his curls and they stuck on his breaking skin. His breathing ragged a little, already feeling the pinch on his throat and lungs at the same time, and his hands dug the soft earth beneath him.

A haze moved in his mind, almost leaving him in a trance like state. He lolls his head to the side and his eyes read the letters on the headstone.

R…I…P…L…O…U…I..—

“ARGH—!”

Kaine’s body aggressively recoils forward as the cellular degeneration kicks in, and his mouth drops the cigarette onto the ground. His hands reached up to his face, gripping his cheeks as he felt the skin stretch and rip a little apart. He lets out a bloodcurdling scream as the pain of smoke in his lungs and throat adds to his trigger. It burned and cooled, like chewing a mint gum and drinking water. He chokes out his tears, coughing out and huffing as much fresh air he can to ease his pain. His sight keeps being blurred by a mix of his tears and the rain.

His eyes keep darting at her headstone, and he shuffles desperately forward quickly pressing his face on the surface of it. He felt the coldness sink calmly onto his skin, wishing for her warm arms to wrap around him. Just like she always did.

Please… please Louise…

The rain kept on and the rumble of thunder came and went from time to time.

The pain eventually left, and he was left in a mess of grime, dirt, blood, and the taste of smoke. Gently he pulls himself away from the headstone and moves back, gritting his teeth feeling his bones shake inside him.

The feeling of wanting to go home ached immensely. But what home? After this what now? Questions he would soon have to respond on his own with any hope he had left. And that was the problem. He hoped too much.

Kaine pushed himself up from the ground, staggering back with a groan. His eye catches the box of cigarettes on the ground, sticks spilled and stained with dirt from his thrashing.

He didn’t know what to do except push the box near her grave and with the heel of his foot, started grinding it down. And he kept doing it and doing it and doing it, a new found rage burning again. He never liked them anyway. He probably never will. His mind rushed in an angry thrill,

I hate you I hate you I hate you—!

“…I-I love you.”

Hurriedly he pushes the dirt and grass onto the cigarettes, burying them and flats it out as if nothing had happened. And he turned away from Louise’s grave, not wanting to look at her again. He walks away with the bitter taste of her cigarette on his tongue. The rain settled down to a quiet drizzle, the peppered stars on the night sky twinkling.

She will never leave his mind. If there was smoke, she would be there.

Always.

#kaine parker #Louise Kennedy #I hope i didn’t make anyone cry #I cried writing this hahah #writers on tumblr #writer #I said “frick hw I wanna do this instead.#No I don’t smoke #Don’t do drugs kids #I had to look up people smoking and hear them talk about their experience #Ik this is the least ship anyone wanted but it’s the one I needed to be explored a little #Angst #death mention tw #tw violence #tw drugs #Oh by experience I mean like how do cigarettes taste like and all that #Smoking has a new meaning to me now #spider man #It’s just only brief in the beginning that’s why and the rest is just what happened afterwards #Did I even explore the relationship? I’m starting to think not really #This fic is NOT canon to the story I repeat it’s just a FANFIC #marvel comics #Also teeny reference to the lovely #aracely penalba #Spider-Man: The Lost Years #Louise Kennedy/Kaine Parker

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icycoldninja · 25 days

Text

He failed (Angeal x reader angst)

TW: Blood, death, brief mentions of guns, dark themes, and angst themes. If you are not comfortable with these themes, DNI.

⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️

It was late at night; you were returning from visiting a friend's house, though you probably should have stayed the night. It was dark, the streets were empty, and most people, save for a drunken man crying on the curb surrounded by empty beer bottles, were asleep. You sighed, wrapped your arms around yourself, and kept walking down the cold roads.

"Probably should have stayed at F/N's house..." You mumbled, wrapping your arms around yourself when a chilly wind whipped past you. You continued down the street, nervously glancing around, making sure you weren't being followed. Several minutes of unsettling silence passed before you heard a loud clattering from somewhere behind you. Startled, you whirled around and peered into the shadows, not finding anything. Disturbed, you turned and broke out into a mad dash, heading towards a busy intersection. It was then when you heard them approaching.

"Heya, baby girl. You look lost."

You turned and saw three burly men, far bigger than you, standing there with weapons. You gasped and turned, trying to run away, but one of them rushed forwards and grabbed you by the arm. It was so fast, so sudden. You were scared out of your mind right then--how could anyone move like that?! You struggled, but their grips were like iron vises; escape was impossible. You screamed for help, but didn't get to for long, because one of them clamped their meaty hand over your mouth, silencing you.

Still, you continued resisting, all the way until you caught sight of a white feather falling from the sky. Your eyes widened in surprise as you watched it delicately land on the ground, unnoticed by the thugs. Hope rose in your heart as a familiar figure crashed to the ground, startling your assailants.

"What the-?! Who the hell is that!?" One of them shrieked, unhanding you and staring up at your rescuer with fear.

"Angeal!" You squealed, happily running into his arms.

"Y/N," He greeted, wrapping you up in his beefy biceps and pinning you to his chest with his fluffy, white wing. "Are you alright?" You nodded, turning back to look at the terrified street punks who'd run off crying for their mommies.

"I'm so glad you're here. I was afraid..." You sighed, burying your face in his pectorals. Angeal chuckled softly and kissed your forehead.

"Don't worry, I'm here now." You nestled deeper into his touch.

"Thanks, Angie. I love you." Angeal kissed you again, then wrapped an arm around your shoulder and led you down the street.

"I love you, too, Y/N. I'll always be here to protect you." You laughed and hooked your arm around his lean waist, snuggling against him as you walked.

"I'll hold you to it."

About a month or so later, Angeal huffed out a worried sigh and checked his phone. 12:45 A.M.

You were late. Too late. He sank back into the couch and folded his arms, trying to calm the uneasiness brewing in his heart--a feat that proved impossible.

"This doesn’t make sense." He grumbled. It really didn't. You hadn't gone anywhere except to work. Coming home shouldn't take until midnight! Angeal stood up and headed for the door, sure that something bad must have happened. He was already halfway down the road when his phone rang. It was from your phone. Relieved, he answered the call. "Y/n, I've been so worried-"

"Hello, S.O.L.D.I.E.R." Rasped an unfamiliar voice. Angeal's pulse suddenly went into overdrive. He'd been right, something had happened to you. His white feathered wing burst from his back and he rocketed down the street.

"I bet you'll be excited to know that we have your little girlfriend," Continued the thug. Angeal's breath hitched at these words, but he continued speeding onward. "If you want her back, you'll meet us by the old warehouse in the Sector 8 slums. You come alone. Bring anyone with you, and we'll kill the bitch." The thug then laughed and hung up.

Angeal's heart throbbed in his ears as he raced towards the location the thug had described. He didn't care what he was running into, saving you took top priority. He was a S.O.L.D.I.E.R. anyway, a few punks meant nothing to him. He soon landed in front of the warehouse, finding it to be dirty and decrepit, though that was hardly a surprise. As he approached the door, shock and panic overcame him, for on it hung a note with the words "Fooled ya!" Scrawled on it. Angeal stared at the note and knew what it meant: He'd been tricked.

"Y/n!" He shouted, literally ripping aside the door. "Y/n, where are you?!" It wasn't until he heard a weak voice call out his name--your voice.

"Angeal...."

Internally panicking, Angeal followed the sound of that tiny voice to a stack of steel boxes supposedly filled with sand in orderto make them difficult to move. Adrenaline fueling him, Angeal threw the boxes aside, revealing the bleeding, bound woman behind them.

"Y/N!" He shouted, dropping to the floor and hastening to undo your binds. When you didn't respond, he shook your shoulder gently. "Y/N...look at me, please."

Your eyes drifted in the direction of his voice; glassy and dull.

"Angeal....that you? I...I can't see...it's so dark..." Angeal pressed you closer to his body, tears starting to run down his cheeks.

"Shh, save your strength. I'm here. I'll get you help." Wearily, you reached out a blood-soaked hand, struggling to close it around his large forearm.

"I...I...just wanna tell you..." You paused to slowly take in a deep, agonizing breath. You felt so unbelievably winded, as if you'd just run a marathon even though you hadn't done anything. You were aware of the cause of this--the bullet wound that burned and ached in your lower abdomen, as well as the river of blood that bled out from it.

"Y/N, please..." Angeal begged, clasping you so tightly, it hurt. "You cannot die. I-I promised you...." A weak, soft, barely noticeable smile crept across your face.

"I want...you...to know I...love...you...Angie..." You tried to hang on, but you felt so, so, tired. Your breath left your body in a long, slow exhale, feeling the pressure and pain coursing throughout your body slowly dissipate as you did so. The last things you heard were Angeal's stifled sobs as he clutched your corpse to his chest.

The man who had once promised to keep you safe now held your dead body in his arms, crying over it because he failed.

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akiras-wolf · 8 months

Text

CHAPTER 236, Y/N GOJO.

SYNOPSIS: you’re Y/N Gojo, the second heir to the six eyes. Satoru is your older brother. You look just like him. (kinda bad synopsis but give it a chance)

WARNINGS: manga chapter 236 SPOILERS, mentions of the after life, sucky writing?, gege’s bad decisions, female pronouns

A/N: wrote this in class because i literally cannot get chapter 236 out of my head. do NOT read if you haven’t/don’t want to see the manga leaks because this takes place in that chapter.

I also kind of wanna write a fic where reader is a gojo who impossibly has the six eyes among her brother, bc it’s something i’ve been daydreaming of FOREVER. if i do write that, it’ll probably have better writing than this lollll. anyways, spoilers below :)

“I will win.”

He didn’t win.

Gojo Satoru had sought out to fight Ryomen Sukuna knowing he wouldn’t win. Knowing he wasn’t truly the strongest. He thought Sukuna shared the same loneliness as him; that of a person who has transcended their own mortality, but Satoru was wrong. He was so wrong.

Ryomen Sukuna, the strongest Jujutsu sorcerer; victor of the battle.

Y/N stood there.

Her brother was in two halves, a smile resting on his cold, deceased body.

She stood there.

Her eyes were dazed. Was this her awakening?

She almost didn’t hear it at first, but there was Sukuna’s voice.

“I will never forget Satoru Gojo.”

Her head turned. He spoke. He spoke. He spoke.

Awakening was supposed to feel calm; but calmness was the last thing she could possibly feel. Akira was filled with rage. It was evident in her face. In the way the crook where the eyebrows met the nose crinkled. In the way her pupils were constricted, showing the six eyes that once resembled her brothers. In the way she had to physically stop her body from shaking.

Y/N’s eyes burned into Megumi, but she didn’t see Megumi. She saw Sukuna. And unlike her brother, Megumi’s body was none of her concern.

It took less than a second for her to be gone from her original position. It took less than a second for her to appear behind Sukuna, her eyes feral. It took a second for Sukuna to slash her down the way he had her brother.

She saw a bright flash of white, forcing her to close her eyes. When they reopened she saw Satoru. And Geto. And Nanamin. And Haibara. They were all dead.

They were all dead, yet here they were, standing in front of her, in a cafe of sorts. It was a peaceful atmosphere. Quiet. Completely contradictory to the chaos and destruction in the living world.

Her eyes darted between the group. They were all younger versions of themselves. Satoru was the first to speak.

“Y/N? Was it Sukuna?”

Y/N nodded. Was she dead. Did she fall the same way her brother did?

“Did you give it your all?”

No. She didn’t give it her all. The fight had just started and she was already dead?

“I shouldn’t be here. I-” Y/N struggled to take this all in.

She couldn’t have died. She couldn’t have let Sukuna win.

“Satoru, I need to go.” Y/N still had her cursed technique reversal.

Unlike her brother, she had spent more time focusing on honing that. One day she’d be the sole wielder of the six eyes and limitless. That day had painstakingly come.

The last thing Akira had seen before returning to her body was Satoru smiling at her. The same way he had smiled in his death.

She was back in her body, in the same position before she had “died.”

The look on Sukuna’s face would’ve made a great picture to hang on a wall. To look at it when you’re feeling down, and to remember how Ryomen Sukuna had been shocked for once in his life.

Satoru Gojo was not the only enigma of the cursed world. Y/N was a curse herself, as two six eyes cannot coexist.

“Domain expansion.”

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