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nkogneatho · 2 days

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— 𝐒𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐀 𝐂𝐎𝐖, 𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐊 𝐀 𝐌𝐀𝐍

—characters: gojo, toji, geto, sukuna, nanami, choso

—cw: lactation ofc, fem!reader, nicknames, aphrodisiac (the milk), intoxication, masturbation, semi-public, dry humping.

—a/n: i have officially surprised myself with how insane i can really be. ya gurl so thirsty she created her own universe where men gib milkies 🧍🏽‍♀️

introduction to the universe:

Evolution took place a little differently in this universe. A mutation caused hormonal presence that triggers monthly lactation in men for 3 to 5 days, and it usually starts in their early 20s. It is studied that it does not serve any purpose of feeding like female lactation, but might be an indicator to arousal, and even a mating call due to accurate findings of natural aphrodisiacs in the milk produced by the thin gland located in a breast. It also pains a lot and causes swelling of nipples. While scientific advancements have yet to develop a pill that might solve this problem, the most effective natural method to be proven is letting another person suck it.

𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔

It had been quite a long day at work. You knew you were the last to arrive home when you found his boots messed on the floor.

“Toru?” You called out his name, failed to receive a response. “Toru, baby, ' m home.” The wooden door of the shoe cabinet creaked as you closed it after placing the footwear in their place.

The house smelled…sweeter, felt warmer than usual. Making your way to the bedroom, you found clothes scattered on the floor near the entrance. The door was ajar which means your eyes had quick access to what was happening.

“Fuck! Ah! Ah! Mhmm.” You watched in surprise as your boyfriend kept fisting his cock, but wait. Something was different. You moved closer and found his hands squeezing his tits, milk oozing and drenching his naked body. But his heat doesn't arrive until next week. You thought. It was not uncommon for heats to arrive irregularly. It only meant that his hormone level had increased due to sexual frustration. Your eyes scanned his position, his movements. A hand reaching down to rub the wetness forming between your legs. You couldn't take it anymore.

“Need a hand?” You asked, announcing yourself in the room to let the man know he wasn't alone.

“Oh fuck! I thought I locked the door,” he panicked, yet he didn't remove his from his cock, just another arm covering his chest.

“And deprive me of this treat? I don't think so, baby.” You walked closer until you were hovering over him, kissing softly. Heat always has Satoru acting needy and you knew it.

“Touch me, doll. Please.” You smiled at his eagerness.

“I will do more than just touch.” Slapping his wrist away that were blocking the view of his lovely tits, you pushed him until he was laying flat. Your clothed pussy grinding in his naked cock as you leaned and took one of his nipples in your mouth.

“F-fuck.” he stuttered. “Don't. I am early this month. The flow is too much—ngh—you'll get high.” As if that was going to stop you? You started sucking more aggressively. He was right. The flow really was too much because you found yourself gulping a mouthful of his sweet milk, as your other hand reached down jerked his cock.

“Baby…ah! Keep doing that. I am close.” He is so silly to think he can relieve himself on his own when it never works. “Holy fhhuuck! Gonna c—aahhh!” You watched as he arched his back, white spurts covering your hands and other white liquid wetting your jaw. You sat up, removing your top as you already felt dizzy.

“We're not done, Toru. Wan'you to fuck me nasty while I suck your milk.” And he was hard again at your words.

𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈

You loved spring. It was your favorite season to go out. Not too cold. Not too hot. Just the perfect amount of wind and sun. Apparently, it is also a perfect season for outdoor dates. You and Toji preferred to stay in most of the time but the cherry blossoms were too precious to be enjoyed from your windows or TV screen.

“Toji, you ready?” you asked your husband, packing things in your cute pink purse.

“Uhm, princess? Think we might need to cancel the date.” His muffled voice emerged through the bedroom.

“What?” You yelled as you stomped to the bedroom. “What do you mean we might need to c—oh…" Your legs stopped, body taken aback as you stared at his shirtless body, tone muscles and triceps flexing as he squeezed his tits, squirting the milk out.

“I am over-lactating.”

“What happened to the breast cups?”

“Look at me princess. 'm leaking too much. They ain't gon' hold it. Agh fuck!” He spat angrily as you watched the milk travel down his abs, covering it in sweetness.

“Fuck the date. I have a better plan.” You winked at him.

“Shit. Calm down, ma—ugh. Y'er gonna bruise my tits." You were riding his rock, rocking your body back and forth on his crotch while sucking his swollen dark peachy nipples. Your hands struggled to hold his chest because they were bigger than it, causing your nails to dig into the skin.

“Mmh lvove yvour mwilk shwo mwuch.” Your dirty muffled comments vibrating on his skin.

“Y'er drunk, ma. Ya like to get drunk on daddy's milk, hmm?” He cooed, planting a spank on your ass.

“Lwove it.”

“Hm mhh,” he chuckled. “Nasty fucking girl. Move—ahh! Move faster. Need to cum.” You followed his orders, not looking up once to meet his eyes but busy soaking in the drug and flavor of his milk.

“Ngh—twoji, too much. Wan' a break.” You complained, but he was not going to let you stop. This was your plan after all.

“Nuh uh! Don't pull that now.” He grabbed your ass and started bouncing them up and down. You felt so insides bursting with pleasure, cheeks burning up, eyes rolling back. “Gonna cum, ma. Make sure this pussy drinks all my cum as you stuff your mouth with my milk—gahh! fhuck fhuck! fuuuuck!” He was talking as if you had a choice when one of his hand forced you down on his cock as he painted your hole in his cum, while the other hand pushed your face further against his tits. He watched as milk overflowed from the side of your lips. “Such a good girl f'me. You wan' more?”

𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀 𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍

Sukuna tend to get a bit crazier when he was in heat. He fucked you with more strength, came a lot more than usual. It was hard to keep his mood balanced. You tried to suggest him some diet during those days of the month, but he refused to eat greens. A big man like him fancies flesh. Furthermore, why does he need a diet when he has the most proven effective method?

“K-kuna…agh! Too biiig." You cried. Sukuna had you on top of him, his big body splayed on the king-size bed—that surprisingly was almost the same size as him—your thighs trembling, kneecaps digging the mattress as you struggled to keep hi dick inside. Your head was telling you to get off it. Yet, your tight little cunt craved more of him.

“Hmm,” he chuckled. “Your pussy has a habit of biting more than she can swallow.” His teases were humiliating. Your hands rested on his chest, tongue reminiscing the sweet taste of his milk. Even though you were not completely dominant in this relationship—it is hard to be one when you are dating a man like sukuna—there were times when you initiated the things he would usually pester you about. Your lustful eyes gave him a look he hadn't seen before. Soon, he felt your hands tightening around his tits. Now he knew what you were up to.

“Want a taste, my woman?” All you could do was give a light nod because most of your strength was busy rolling your waist on his cock. “Go ahead. Suck my milk out.”

Without a second thought, you found your lips kissing his puffy pink nipples. You could feel the veins throbbing as you were suckling his juice out. Sukuna's milk was sweet with a hint of tanginess. Nevertheless, you loved it.

“Shhit! Calm down woman. I am not going anywhere.” His words were just background noise to you because all you could hear is squelching of your pussy and your slurps on his tiddie.

“Mmghh! Don't tell me you're planning on getting drunk.” His shoulders adjusted themselves to get a better position. “If you are—fuck. Then don't expect me to go easy tonight.” You unlatched your mouth from him for what seemed like after fifteen minutes to finally speak.

“Want you to ruin my pussy, kuna. Mmh,” you jerked your hips forward. “Want you to fill my mouth with milk as you do it.”

“Get off.” His tone shifted from somewhat sweet to serious. You followed his orders anyway. You both exchanged positions so now he was on top of you.

“My dirty human. Better stick to your words, darling. I am not planning on stopping until you're drenched in my cum and my milk”

𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔

You always knew Suguru's heat cycle. As the days approached closer, he used to become more and more whiny and clingy, arguing with you over petty things. His behavior did a 180° on these days.

Earlier today, you had a discourse over chores. He nagged at how you should keep things in place, or you won't find them when you need it. You understood where he was coming from, but the work had taken quite a toll on you that you barely had energy tonight. He just wouldn't let it go, and you grew more frustrated. You yanked him by his wrist, dragging his giant, muscular body to the shower. And here you were, stroking him off as you nibbled, and suckled on his tits. The continuous pour of warm water stimulating both of you.

“This is what you wanted, right, sugu?” you looked up, chin nuzzling in his cleavage. “Nagging me the whole day. You just wanted your tits sucked.” His brows scrunched together. A large hand approached your face, cupping your cheeks. He had his fingers digging the muscle on your face until they squished together.

“Behave,” his voice stern. “Just 'cause 'm in heat doesn't mean you hold the upper hand, baby.”

“Oh, but I do, Sugu—*spank* Ah! What was that for?”

“For teasing me. I know you love drinking my milk, princess. Get to it 'cause I can't take it nomo.” He pressed your face against one of his boobs, your nose pressured a little above the nipple, forcing the spurts of milk out.

“You gon' let it fall down the drain?” Your immediate action was to cup his tiddy with both of your hands—his chest was too big to use one—massaging all of the juice out. You opened your mouth and let it aim at your tongue.

“Fucking hell! This is why—mmghh easy, princess. 'Tis all sore.”

“I gotchu, sugu.” You eased out the movement of your hands, gently kneading them.

“Fhuuck, yes. Just like that.” Other hand travelled back down, grabbing his throbbing boner, squeezing the base as you squeezed his nipples. Geto planted a kiss on top of your head. “Holy shit. Still can't believe you're mine.” Your lips morphed into a smile, teeth still grasping his nipple. “Look at'cha. My milk's getting your high already.” He picked you up bridal style, your tongue still licking his puffed chest, as he kicked the bathroom door open that lead to your bedroom. “You got your treat. Time f'me to get mine, princess.”

𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎

Working 9to5, staring all day at a computer screen is what your life had been all about. You switched companies to think you might get something new to do, but to no one's surprise, it was the same. Except, this one man you were crushing on since day one.

Nanami Kento was a gentleman they described in those fairytales. Always so respectful, kind and damn he was a big feminist. Although, with him being the perfect husband material, you were still never going to cross the line because you were co-workers. That didn't mean you weren't allowed to crush.

“And then Mr. Sasaki from HR department knocked the beer over,” your TL chattered. Nanami wasn't the one to gossip, but Sakurako-san was your team leader and older than everyone. She wasn't a bad person but oh boy did she love tea. You fake gasped to give her the reaction she wanted, as you side-eyed Kento who looked a bit uncomfortable.

“Then he had the audacity to—”

“Excuse me,” Nanami withdrew halfway from the conversation he wasn't even participating in much, walking away abruptly.

After a few minutes, you decided to look for him to make sure he was alright. Of course, as a co-worker, you should. Nothing related to the heart eyes you give him, right?

You stomped towards the corridor almost making a left until you heard loud coughs reverberating through the walls of the men's washroom. You swore it was him. Furthermore, you shouldn't have gone in. What were you thinking? It was a men's washroom, for fuck's sake. But what if something happened to him? Sure.

Pushing the door in a hurry, you entered, almost tripping. “Nanami-san—” You did not whether you should be embarrassed, shocked or horrified. Maybe all three.

“Are you okay?”

“You shouldn't be here, l/n-san.” True. But seeing him squeeze his tits, and milking himself down the drain was the sight you were blessed to see. You locked the door behind, the clicking of the latch making Nanami hold his breath, “What are you doing?”

“You're going to let all that milk go to waste, Kento?” His dick twitched. You never called him by his first name, and now you were asking inappropriate questions along with calling him Kento.

“L/N-san, this isn't right—”

“Shhh. Just wanna help you. We're colleagues, aren't we?” He nodded.

Without breaking any eye contact you hopped on the counter, hands reaching for his nipples glistening with milk under the off-white light. You pressed your palm against his chest, feeling the liquid staining it, only starting to cramming the swell more. Kento lost his composure, hands falling flat on the counter, head on your shoulders. Couple of shaky breaths, fading soft moans leaving his lips. Pushing him back for a second to only latch your tongue on the dark pink bud, you were sure you're way past the appropriate relationship of just work buddies.

“L/n—ah! Can I?” He darted his eyes down where the tent peeked out his gray formal pants. You smiled. Knowing he needed friction, you adjusted your pencil skirt, and wrapped your legs around him, boner pressed against wet patch on your panties. Nanami felt like he was in heaven. He started humping against your clothed pussy, being rough contradictory to his gentle innocent touches to you before. But it was only reasonable given the fact that he was in heat.

He never knew the feeling of being milked from both ends, but now when he came, he ruined his whole expensive suit. The edges of the mustard yellow shirt becoming translucent with his milk, with a dark spot on his pants between his legs. He let out a shaky breath, apologizing as he slowly came back to his senses.

“What are you apologizing for? I started it,” you said as you hopped off the countertop. “Let me know if you ever need more help, Nanami-san.” A wink from is what caused his cheeks to turn red. “I'll bring you spare clothes from your desk.”

𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎 𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐎

Most lactation in men started in their early twenties. Although, it wasn't unusual for some to start late. There was nothing medically wrong with them. But you've heard things about. How much more it hurts, and how more they leak on their first heat if they do get late.

You've been dating your boyfriend Choso for almost a year now. He hadn't start lactating yet, which is why you researched enough on this topic just in case. Personally, you've never been physical with men when they're in heat. Not because it is not your thing, but your relationships were too short to actually be comfortable in experiencing it. Of course, you would never do anything with Choso at his displeasure just because you wanna try it. You love him too much. But the thought would never leave your mind. What would he act like in his heat? Well, it was your lucky day. Because you came home to a whining lactating man.

“Cho…baby, are you okay?” You rushed to him in concern. Choso was on the bed, hair down with tears in his eyes as he pressed his chest together.

“Babyyy, It hurts. I don't know what is happening.” His hold on your wrist a little too tight. “Fuck. It hurts so bad. Make it stop. Leaking too much and my cock hurts too.” You could hear—feel the desperation in his voice. His cock was on full display as his boxers dangled near his ankles. The swollen tip shining with pre-cum seducing your mouth. But your mouth was needed more elsewhere. You remembered your first sex education class, how men in heat can be relieved if you milk and suck their tits. You discarded your clothes, getting bare and settling on his lap. Your hole rubbing against the body of his shaft as you pressed your tits against his, kissing his forehead.

“Cho shhh. Baby you're fine. You're just in heat. 's gonna be alright. 'm here, okay?” He sniffled as you pampered him. “Gonna take good care of my boyfie.” You left a trail of lipstick stains as you kissed his body, slowly trailing towards the puffy nipples. You looked up at him for consent, only to continue when he whispered a “please”. With your tongue darting out, you soaked in the view before licking a stripe.

“Shit,” Choso cursed. You do it a few more times until you're finally sucking on it like a popsicle. “Fuck. Ah!” It was indeed too much because with only fifteen seconds in, your mouth was already full of his milk, leaking from the corner of your lips. It wasn't a normal amount. But given the fact that it was his first, that too at this age, you brushed it off, focusing back to sucking. You gulped the milk, each sip making you dizzy. It made you grind harder against his cock, moaning along with him. His whimpers making you wet, and his dick enjoying your slippery pussy.

“Wanna cum. Please. Wanna cum, baby.” He begged and you started fastening your pace. The sheets were wet, along with your neck and tits as he shot spurts of sweet milk in your mouth that dripped down your body. Some of it sneaking its way down between his dick and your cunt. You held on to his shoulder, giving his chest a few slaps, making him rut harder against you that the bed started creaking.

“Cumming. Fuck, I am cumming. Ah! Ah! Ah! Ngh—holy fuuuuck!” Your own orgasming cunt could feel his dick twitch as it shot a load out. His hardened nipples turning soft. He immediately cupped your cheeks, pulling you up. “I love you so much, fuck. Thank you.” He said before he kissed you, his tongue lapping against yours, tasting himself on you.

@kiffenisstupid @pastelle-rabbit @lxnarphase @teddybeartoji @rizzmin @yuta-nation @evxelisy @hellkaiserinphoenix @ffsg0jo @princessoflalaland @baekinola @chuuyasboots @cathybarn @togamest @katsukichu @blkkizzat

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slayfics · 1 day

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Katsuki and Hitoshi fight over you.

Warnings: characters ages up, NSFW themes, angst

1k words

Explosions went off atop the building's roof as Katsuki continued to detonate his quirk. He thought it was his lucky day to run into Hitoshi. Until he realized what this fight would consist of.

Unable to expel his frustration in his usual insults and vile comments, due to Hitoshi’s quirk, Katsuki focused on setting off explosions.

Yet, Hitoshi had come a long way since his time at UA. Expertly bouncing around and using the capture scarf to swing and avoid the explosions.

Katsuki had wanted to knock the lights out of Hitoshi’s eyes for some time now. Ever since he found out about you two. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t wrap his mind around you giving a hero like Hitoshi the time of day. What did you see in him?

So, when he ran into the brainwashing hero, he thought his wish was finally granted. However, now amid a spar with Hitoshi, the bitter realization sat in. He wouldn’t be able to say all the nasty words he saved up for the hero.

He wasn't able to tell Hitoshi that he wasn't a worthy enough hero to be with you. That he was a pathetic punk boy, Grimace-looking, Eeyore mother fucker. If he said any of the things he desperately wanted to, Hitoshi would brainwash him, and the fight would be over. Katsuki let out a huff of air and another explosion that Hitoshi dodged.

"We can talk like adults instead," Hitoshi said sliding across the roof.

Katsuki ignored Hitoshi's pleas and came at him with another attack that Hitoshi barely evaded.

"Trust me Bakugo, you don't want to do this," Hitoshi warned him. Katsuki's eyes flashed with fire, challenging Hitoshi. Despite Katsuki's continued silence, Hitoshi could understand his declaration of war clearly, and he wasn't lucky enough to dodge the next attack. Katsuki landed a blast on Hitoshi sending him flying and knocking against the roof railing.

"Fine, have it your way," Hitoshi said recovering from the blast and pulling on the railing to stand up. Finally, being pushed to his breaking point, Hitoshi decided to fight back. The only difference is that Katsuki's quirk worked with blunt power, while Hitoshi's focused on a psychological level. Hitoshi only had to break Katsuki into saying something, and he wasn't afraid to play dirty.

Hitoshi turned the dials on his voice modulator as Katsuki prepared his next blast.

"I want you to hear how she sounds for me," Hitoshi said, turning one last dial on his mask, as Katsuki lunged at him again.

That's when it happened, the sound that took the breath out of Katsuki's lungs. Your moans came from Hitoshi's mask. They were sweet and sexy as hell; the problem was you were moaning Hitoshi's name.

Katsuki fumbled for just a moment letting go of his blast, giving Hitoshi plenty of time to avoid it. Your moans came louder and faster from Hitoshi's mask, "Toshi... Toshi... Toshi~"

Katsuki bit his tongue biting back curses and rage, blood rushed through his mouth. The taste of copper dripped down his throat from the deep cut now on his tongue.

This was just an imitation of your voice. Yet, it sounded so real, and Katsuki knew it had to be true. Hitoshi had to have heard your moans himself to imitate you so perfectly. Worse. It meant he heard them more than once. Studied them.

Your moans increased to what Katsuki recognized so perfectly to be you reaching your climax, and it all came crashing down on him. You had cum for Hitoshi.

Katsuki lets out another blast, it's strong, too strong. Hitoshi barely gets out of the way. Katsuki huffs, fists clench. What's worse is you sound so fucking hot, and he can't help but feel the heat that runs through his body at hearing you again.

"We can stop this," Hitoshi offers, but Katsuki's frustration peaks, as more blasts fly. Katsuki's wrath and jealousy start to boil over into something he doesn't recognize.

Hopelessness.

Someone else is pleasuring you and there's not a damn thing he can do about it. The scene that flashes in Katsuki's mind makes his stomach sick. He can see the lavender-haired bastard on top of you, thrusting into your heat and the fucked-out expression on your face.

So much resentment and nowhere to put it, not even a damn word he can say for himself without losing this spar. He feels the lump in his throat form, and he can't stop it. His tongue almost bit in half, the tears finally form and cascade down his face.

Hitoshi notices this and gives Katsuki one last chance, "I'll stop if you do."

Katsuki keeps going, but his blasts aren't the same now. There is less passion behind them. It's sad to watch. Hitoshi barely has to dodge anymore. Katsuki's knees are weak, and his movements are slow and shaky.

"Not giving up, yet? Fine, hear what she said about you," Hitoshi speaks, changing his mask once more to imitate your voice.

Your voice breaks through Hitoshi's mask again. This time it’s your ugly cry that Katsuki knows so well. You're gasping for air as the words pour out, and it’s so clear it sounds as if you’re really here, “I loved him, but it wasn’t enough. He was always going to choose to be number one over me,” your voice cries and hiccups.

You had cried to Hitoshi about how Katsuki failed you, and now this was the outcome. Then comes the image in Katsuki’s mind, Hitoshi has his arms wrapped around you comforting you through your tears. Katsuki wants to rip you out of Hitoshi's arms, but he can’t because he drove you there.

Katsuki's knees give in, and he collapses to the floor. Gasping for air, his body racked with panic, fire extinguished. Taking rapid shallow breaths, he tries to regain himself.

Hitoshi walks over to the man he's brought to his knees without laying a finger on him.

"You done? Maybe next time we can talk like adults," Hitoshi mocks. Then departs, leaving the blond hero alone on the roof.

sinners: @izarosf1833 @stoned-anime-babe @lees-chaotic-brain @lunathewonyoungstan @sebsvertigo @unofficialmuilover @maddietries @fiannee @i-heart-carlisle @derangedmango @matchat3a @peachsukii @reneinii @pastelbakugou @abadbitchblogs @deluluforcarlos55 @pinkpurpledreams @that-one-fangirl69 @dreamcastgirl99

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sorcerersandskillusers · 1 day

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Fyodor and the Devil: Analysis of Fyodor's motives and role in the narrative

Asagiri has stated that he based Fyodor not on Dostoyevsky the author but on a specific scene from one of his books The Brothers Karamazov where Ivan Karamazov confronts “the devil” in his room.

(It's a really good book, you should read it if you have time. Also. fun fact, Fyodor and the devil wear the same hat, “His soft fluffy white hat was out of keeping with the season.”)

Having read the book and gone over this scene, I realized that this could be used to find out a lot more about Fyodor as a character than we see in the story, including a potential glimpse at his real motivations.

A bit of context for the scene. Ivan Kramazov is a clever but deeply trouble man who has struggling with the concept of God and rationalising him with the cruelty of humanity, at one point while very sick, Ivan starts seeing a man in his room who claims to be “the devil”. Their conversation is a fascinating look at morality and why evil exists in the world, and if you look at it closely it reveals a lot about the role of a “villain” in a story.

This line from “the devil” is really interesting to me, and seems to explain a lot about Fyodor’s character, as well as align perfectly with how Asagiri has described Fyodor in interviews:

Before time was, by some decree which I could never make out, I

was predestined 'to deny' and yet I am genuinely good-hearted and not at all inclined to negation.

'No, you must go and deny, without denial there's no criticism and what would a journal be without a column of criticism?'

Without criticism it would be nothing but one 'hosannah.' But nothing but hosannah is not enough for life, the hosannah must be tried in the crucible of doubt and so on, in the same style. But I don't meddle in that, I didn't create it, I am not answerable for it. Well, they've chosen their scapegoat, they've made me write the column of criticism and so life was made possible.

Basically the devil is saying that he was created because without evil then good means nothing, if everything was perfect then nothing would happen or change, life couldn’t exist, so he was forced to be that evil even though he never wanted to be.

This is so similar to how Fyodor is described in the BSD exposition 2020:

Fyodor is the antagonist, he is the villain of the story, that is the role he plays. This explains why he chooses to commit so many atrocities in the name of “following God's plan”. It even connects to his line in The Dead Apple, and his ability name. He is both crime and punishment, as “crime” or sin originates with the devil, but it's also the devil who punishes sinners.

(I mean the title of the episode he is introduced in is literally “My Ill Deeds Are the Work of God” by committing evil acts he is fulfilling God's purpose for him.)

And if Fyodor is really based on “the devil” it's very likely he also either does or used to wish for release from this role that was assigned to him, but he knows that he cannot stray from his path or the story will cease to exist. My evidence for Fyodor wanting to be free of his mission is just one interaction, when he kills Karma.

Look at Fyodor's expression here, this is the only time in the entire series where we see him look truly sad. This isn't an act, there is no one there for him to trick, he simply says a quiet prayer for the life of a boy who's only purpose was to suffer and die.

This next part of “the devils” speech actually seems to fit very well for Dazai, it's interesting since he is the narrative foil to Fyodor and clearly is a very similar character.

We understand that comedy; I, for instance, simply ask for annihilation. No, live, I am told, for there'd be nothing without you.

If everything in the universe were sensible, nothing would happen. There would be no events without you, and there must be events. So against the grain I serve to produce events and do what's irrational because I am commanded to.

For all their indisputable intelligence,men take this farce as something serious, and that is their tragedy. They suffer, of course... but then they live, they live a real life, not a fantastic one, for suffering is life. Without suffering what would be the pleasure of it? It would be transformed into an endless church service; it would be holy, but tedious. But what about me? I suffer, but still, I don't live. I am x in an indeterminate equation. I am a sort of phantom in life who has lost all beginning and end, and who has even forgotten his own name.

This ties perfectly into Dazai and Fyodor’s debate on the nature of God in the sky casino arc.

Dazai here points out that it's not perfection and harmony that make the world move, it's the irrational, it's the foolishness and stupidity of humans who charges into life making a million mistakes but always finding ways to fight on through it. Here Dazai and Fyodor represent the conflicting sides of “the devil” with Fyodor embodying his mission to drive the world and Dazai embodying his secret love for, and wish to join, humanity.

“I love men genuinely, I've been greatly calumniated! Here when I stay withyou from time to time, my life gains a kind of reality and that's what I like most of all. Yousee, like you, I suffer from the fantastic and so I love the realism of earth. Here, with you, everything is circumscribed, here all is formulated and geometrical, while we have nothing but indeterminate equations! I wander about here dreaming. I like dreaming. Besides, on earth I become superstitious. Please don't laugh, that's just what I like, to become superstitious. I adopt all your habits here: I've grown fond of going to the public baths, would you believe it?

And I go and steam myself with merchants and priests. What I dream of is becoming incarnate once for all and irrevocably in the form of some merchant's wife weighing eighteen stone, and of believing all she believes. My ideal is to go to church and offer a candle in simple-hearted faith, upon my word it is. Then there would be an end to my sufferings.”

“"Why not, if I sometimes put on fleshly form? I put on fleshly form and I take the consequences. Satan sum et nihil humanum a me alienum puto."*

* I am Satan, and deem nothing human alien to me.”

This piece from the devil feels like it could be a description of Dazai’s character, his wish above all else to find happiness and love as a human despite believing he is a demon. Both Dazai and Fyodor have strong ties to the Devil, both of them are often described as demonic or inhuman, with emphasis placed on the darkness of their souls and the isolation they feel due to their minds.

But the difference between them is how they dealt with it, Fyodor chose to embrace it and fully commit to his role in the story as the ultimate evil for the greater good, but Dazai has always shown a fasciation with humans and has spent his life trying to connect to them and find meaning in his existence.

Finally, let's look at what we can learn about Fyodor’s motivation. Fyodor is the villain, he is the final obstacle the protagonist has to overcome, he is the driving force behind so much of Atsushi’s life and the reason so much of the series has played out at all. He sent Shibusawa to torture Atsushi as a child, he was an informant to the guild who put the bounty on Atsushi making the mafia turn on him, he was involved in the guild invasion, and obviously he was the master mind behind cannibalism and Decay of Angles.

If he is aware of his position as the antagonist, then he also is probably aware Atsushi is the protagonist, he knew he was the “envy of all ability users” after all, so he knows Atsushi has some significance to the world as a whole.

Atsushi is also the “guide to the book” which is seemingly Fyodor’s end goal, so even though Fyodor doesn’t seem to be focused on Atsushi, he has been indirectly influencing his whole journey up to this point. This also explains why Fyodor is only moving actively now, because the protagonist has appeared and his role as the villain can finally be fulfilled and he, like “the devil” can finally get the “annihilation” he asked for. Hence, Fyodor’s true goal is to erase himself from the narrative.

There is actually quite a lot of evidence for this. The obvious part is that Fyodor wants to rid the world of ability users while he himself is an ability user, he cannot exist in his perfect world.

Then there’s the fact that in the Dead Apple, Fyodor calls himself “crime” if Fyodor is “crime” or “sin” then a world free of sin would not contain him at all

Even when Fyodor talks about sin, he says how humans are easily manipulated into killing each other, while he constantly manipulates characters into killing each other, he is the cause of the sin he fights.

A really strong bit of evidence is this interview with Asagiri and Harukawa

Not only does Asagiri reiterate Fyodors role as the person who moves the story, Harukawa specifically mentions that Fyodor might be trying to create a world without ability users because he thought it was a “bad thing to do” aka the action a villain would take that would lead to a hero stopping them.

“Dos-san is the biggest villain in the story so far, but I have continued to draw him with spaced out eyes that are neither righteous nor evil for a long time. The only time I drew his eyes completely white was when he said he would create a world without skill users. It was because, in reality, we would decide what is evil or not by our own scales, but I wasn't sure if he himself was doing it because he thought that was a bad thing to do.”

This also connects to how Fyodor was able to understand Gogol when no one else could, Gogol is chooses to fight against the way the world is to prove to himself that he truly is free. Fyodor, who is bound to play a part in a narrative, would understand that feeling and that longing to be truly free.

To be clear, I don’t think that Fyodor is really a good person whose just been trapped in an awful position against his will, we see many times that Fyodor revels in his cruelty and enjoys killing and torturing others. Its the same with “the devil” in the book, although he hates the job he was given, he tells Ivan stories of the people he’s corrupted and seems very proud of himself for it.

My personal interpretation is that the sadistic zelot personality Fyodor displays is a mixture of a mask and a coping mechanism, kind of similar to Yosano developing a sadistic side to help her deal with the guilt of half killing people in order to heal them. I think it makes sense that after centuries of cruelty and manipulation a person would become detached and stop really caring about the lives he destroys.

This analysis is partially unfinshed but I wanted to post it now and see what other people think of it.

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miss-musings · 1 day

Text

Parallels between Anakin Skywalker/Darth Vader and Crosshair from "The Bad Batch"

GENERAL PERSONALITIES & EARLY LIFE

Both of them are fiercely loyal to the people they care about

Both of them are absolute SassMasters

Both have a scar/tattoo over their right eye

Neither had a proper childhood, as they were both trained for combat starting at a young age

Both have special abilities/enhanced senses compared to the average human, and they were trained (read: groomed) because of it

Both of them were part of a unique brotherhood (the Jedi and the clones, respectively) that, at one point, spanned the entire galaxy during The Clone Wars

Both have a complicated relationship with an older brother/father figure in Obi-Wan and Hunter, respectively

Both lost their right hands in a fight with an evil counterpart (Although, for Crosshair, this happens much later in his life)

POSSIBLE FORESHADOWING IN TCW Season 7?

As I pointed out in a separate post, in "The Clone Wars" Episode 7.02 "A Distant Echo," we get a moment of foreshadowing with these two characters.

In the episode, Anakin and his friend/captain Rex and the four original Bad Batch brothers are on a rescue mission together. About halfway through the episode, there's a moment where the six of them split up to search a tower. They're basically at a T-intersection, and while the other four go one way, Crosshair and Anakin go the other.

(Link to a gif post of the moment here.)

These characters literally take the same path.

By doing so, they are separating themselves from their loved ones (Anakin from his friend Rex, Crosshair from his brothers) and choosing the opposite path.

I realize this might've been unintentional on the writers' part, because I'm not sure if "The Bad Batch" series was in production yet when TCW Season 7 released, but holy hell! That's some insane foreshadowing right there!!

THEIR TURN TO ‘THE DARK SIDE’

Both betrayed their brothers and other loved ones by deciding to serve the Empire, and it's around the same time in-universe

Order 66 specifically becomes a pivotal moment in their respective stories. For Anakin, it's when he first takes on the name and mantle of Darth Vader and exterminates the Jedi; for Crosshair, it's when he's first torn away from his family due to the Empire's mind control via the inhibitor chip

Both have at least one opportunity to come back but decide to continue serving the Empire/Dark Side of their own accord (Anakin on Mustafar in ROTS // Crosshair on Kamino in TBB S1 finale)

While their battle attire was dark-colored before they betrayed their loved ones and started serving the Empire, afterward, both characters start wearing all-black armor

Despite all their loyalty and sacrifices, their masters/employers are ready to throw them away the minute they find a better or more convenient replacement

Both were burned while trying to kill their older brother/father figures

Both initially had hair, but after being burned and getting scarred on their heads, we only ever see them bald on-screen

Both seem to suffer from an "in for a penny, in for a pound" mindset, which is partly why they stay with the Empire for so long

While serving the Empire, both commit all of the war crimes!! :(

Both have multiple scenes of them killing their own officers/troopers, and they both seem to take some amount of pleasure in doing so

Blinded by anger and rage, both are ready to hunt down their older brother/father figures at a moment's notice, and ultimately attempt to kill them several times (Vader in the "Obi-Wan Kenobi" series // Crosshair in TBB Season 1)

Both attempt to kill their own kid at least once. (Vader in ANH // Crosshair in TBB Season 1)

(Side note: if you don't think of Crosshair as one of Omega's dads, I recommend you review my post about S3 Crosshair speed-running Hunter's Dad Arc and/or my CrossDad S3 episode ranking. Because, if you're not on board with the idea that Crosshair is Omega's dad, you're not going to enjoy the rest of this post.)

THEIR REDEMPTION & FINAL MOMENTS

There’s a whole plot line about them trying to find their kid at a secret base (Vader in ESB // Crosshair in TBB Season 3)

When confronted by their kid, both characters believe they are undeserving or too far gone to be forgiven/redeemed (Vader: "It is too late for me, son" // Crosshair: "Omega. Don't risk anything for me. I belong in here.")

At some point, both characters' kids challenge them on their true intentions and decisions to stay with the Empire. (Luke to Vader: "Then my father is truly dead." // Omega to Crosshair: "I wanted to believe it was the inhibitor chip that made you like this, but I was wrong.")

Both of them ultimately find redemption and forgiveness because their blonde kid refused to give up on them (Luke to Vader: "I know there is good in you. The Emperor hasn't driven it from you fully." // Omega to Crosshair: "You're still their brother, Crosshair. You're my brother too.")

A large part of their redemption arcs is saving their kid from being held hostage and tortured by the Empire (Vader saving Luke from the Emperor // Crosshair helping Omega escape Tantiss both times)

While a much larger battle impacting the fate of the galaxy rages on nearby, both characters' final on-screen act -- the climax of their respective stories -- is saving their kid from one of the Empire's worst villains (Vader saving Luke from the Emperor // Crosshair saving Omega from Hemlock)

Both of them ultimately help thwart Palpatine’s plans for immortality/reincarnation(?) by destroying his primary body and his cloning facility on Tantiss, respectively

Their final on-screen reunions with their kids are very personal and emotional. For Vader and Luke, it's the only time they see each other face-to-face. For Crosshair and Omega, it's the first time they ever hug on-screen.

Their last lines of on-screen dialogue are talking about their daughters with another family member (Vader to his son Luke: "Tell your sister you were right" // Crosshair to his brother Hunter: "If I'm off -- I can't risk Omega.")

The final shots of them on-screen are a 'family portrait' type pose with their older brother/father figure and other loved ones, and their kid/s are nearby

(This list is subject to edits/additions if I think of anything else! If you have any ideas, include them in the comments or reblogs. Thanks!)

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akazuki7 · 2 days

Text

Talk To Me

Gojo Satoru x Therapy

Contents: satoru being stupid, reader is a therapist, reader is sugurus sister, didn't adress it that much because my hands hurt and I'm lazy, mention of character death, I honestly don't think this is very romantic probably more platonic, I hate this actually for some reason, this is the longest shit I've written in a while

Note: Satoru doesn't know reader is sugurus sister because she has a different last name, and while she was studying at the same school suguru never knew he had an older sister reader knew she has a younger brother but she never approached him or said anything to him what she regrets the most

And do not attack me yall I don't know how therapy works okay? I've never been there even tho some people tell me I should go to therapy

"Suguru geto is dead."

Your hand froze, the pen you were holding punched a jagged hole through the paper, which became surrounded by a spreading pool of ink. You stared blankly at the damaged sheet, the room falling silent around you in a suffocating hush.

Your gaze slowly met the somber expression of the man seated across from you. "Why are you telling me this, Principal Yaga?" you asked, your voice laced with a veneer of mournful softness.

The man shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "He was your younger brother-"

"No," you interjected firmly, cutting him off. "I do not know such a man, so please do not speak of him to me here." The harshness in your tone was palpable as you released your grip on the pen, crumpling the ruined paper into an uneven ball and tossing it into the nearby wastebasket.

"You were always a terrible liar, you know," Yaga remarked, reaching a hand out to gently wipe the tears that had carved burning paths down your cheeks. "I would have believed you if your eyes weren't betraying so much grief."

"I'm not crying because of him," you protested desperately, though your futile attempts to stem the flow of tears proved fruitless.

"Child..." Yaga murmured, pulling you from your seat and enveloping you in a comforting embrace. You clung to him tightly, burying your face into the reassuring solidity of his chest as you surrendered to your sorrowful outpouring.

After some time, you finally managed to regain your composure. Yaga handed you a stack of files, and your eyes immediately fell upon a photograph of a white-haired man.

"There is someone I need you to help," the dark-haired man began. "Satoru Gojo." You uttered the name of the renowned child prodigy, staring at Yaga with a look of confusion.

"Satoru and Suguru were close friends, with a deep connection to one another..." Yaga trailed off, his expression heavy with concern. "The one who ended up killing Suguru... was Satoru himself. And he is not in a good mental state."

"I know I'm asking a great deal of you, to help the person who took your brother's life, but-"

"I'll help him," you interrupted, offering Yaga a weak, but resolute smile.

The man's eyes widened with surprise, but his gaze remained clouded with worry. "Are you sure you'll be alright?"

You simply nodded in response, steeling your resolve to assist the one who had taken your beloved sibling from you.

___________________________________________

It's absolutely preposterous. No, wait - it's downright hilarious. Satoru Gojo, of all people, being forced into therapy? What a cruel twist of fate. He never wanted this, never needed this. Yet, for some unfathomable reason, he's been strongarmed into it, all thanks to Principal Yaga's meddling.

Surely, this has to be some sort of twisted joke. But alas, he has no choice in the matter. It's either submit to this ludicrous therapy session or risk losing his teaching position - a job he cherishes, as it allows him to continue molding his students, pushing them to heights greater than even his own.

And so, here he sits, in this cozy little room, across from a woman armed with a pad and pen, scrutinizing him through his thick black shades. How is he, a sorcerer tasked with the mastery of curses, supposed to confide in this simple human about the intricacies of his life? She likely doesn't even have the faintest idea what "cursed energy" is, let alone the trials and tribulations he faces on a daily basis.

But he can't ignore the neatly maintained amount of cursed energy emerging from her.

Of course, he has no intention of revealing anything of substance. If he so much as mentions the nature of his work, she'd probably have him committed to a mental institution faster than he can blink.

"So what brings you here today, Mr. Gojo?" the woman asks, her voice dripping with false sweetness, a saccharine smile plastered across her face.

Satoru huffs heavily, the irritation seeping into his tone. "I'm not here by choice. Principal Yaga forced me to come here."

"I know," she responds, and Gojo raises a brow, surprised by her candor. "And I can see that this is your first time here."

"I'm asking you why do you think you're here," the therapist probes, her brows furrowing as Satoru satoru shifts in his seat, crossing his legs defiantly.

"Because I was forced to be here-" he begins, only to be swiftly interrupted.

"Why?" she presses, her tone infuriatingly calm and measured.

Satoru falls silent, staring at her blankly, his irritation palpable. This is supposed to be his time to vent, and yet she keeps interjecting, undermining his attempts at explanation. He already finds her immensely grating.

"Mr. Gojo?" the therapist gingerly tilts her head, awaiting his answer. Satoru sighs heavily, the frustration clear in his voice.

"Because Principal Yaga thinks I'm in desperate need of therapy," he spits through gritted teeth, the mere recollection of that argument making his blood boil.

"What about you? What do you think?" she probes further, her expression maddeningly serene.

"That all of this is stupid. I'm not in need of therapy - I'm perfectly fucking fine," satoru retorts, turning his head away to gaze out the window, where the rain has now begun to fall. He's the strongest sorcerer, for God's sake - he doesn't require aid from anyone.

"You wouldn't be here if you didn't need it," she calmly asserts, and satoru can feel his nails digging into the flesh of his biceps through his clothes, crescent-shaped indentations surely imprinting his skin.

His gaze snaps back to her, a scowl etched upon his features. "The hell you mean?" he spits, his tone dripping with venom. "I just told you I was forced to be here. Why the hell don't you understand that?"

"If you were actually fine, Mr. Gojo, you wouldn't be here," the therapist repeats, her saccharine smile infuriating him to no end.

"Since it's your first time here, I'll explain to you how therapy works-" the therapist begins, only to be swiftly cut off by satoru's acerbic retort.

"I know how it works. I spill my guts out to you, you give me some useless advice, write some bullshit on your pad, diagnose that I'm somehow mentally ill - blah, blah, blah," he interjects mockingly, rolling his eyes with palpable annoyance.

The therapist pauses, staring at him for a moment before chuckling softly. "Therapists aren't actually supposed to give advice, as we know that it won't help our clients in any meaningful way or may even make them feel worse. So we avoid doing that. Rather than giving you advice, we guide you to see how your feelings, thoughts, choices, and actions affect one another. And we teach you about emotions, thoughts, coping skills, facing fears, and more."

Satoru scoffs in return, unimpressed. It doesn't matter to him what her job description entails. How the hell is he supposed to feel comfortable when he's paying a person to listen to him? She doesn't genuinely want to hear his problems (not that he has any, of course). And who knows, she'll probably gossip about the shit he says with her friends.

"Now, how about you start telling me about your day?" she inquires, switching the subject, having likely noticed his lingering irritation. Satoru scoffs, as though that were a mind-numbingly dull question.

"My day? Same as any other day," Satoru shrugs. "What do you want to know? The weather? I took a very interesting dump in the morning? Got myself some food, did whatever the hell teachers do - the usual."

The therapist sighs, seemingly ready to give up on that line of questioning, or perhaps regretting having asked it in the first place. Even so, she jots something down on her pad, and Satoru isn't sure if what he said was actually so worthy of being noted.

"Do you seriously have to take notes? What was so important in my answer to write down?" he questions, his tone mocking.

"Everything you say is important, Mr. Gojo," she replies with a hum.

"Really? Is it really that important that I took a dump this morning?" Satoru laughs derisively. Therapy is a joke, as far as he's concerned.

The therapist looks at him with those eerily calm eyes once more, her irritatingly artificial smile still plastered on her face. "You're a teacher - what did you teach your students today?"

What.

"Aren't you supposed to ask me what subjects I teach?" Satoru looked at her suspiciously, wondering if Yaga had somehow explained to her that he is a sorcerer.

"You're a jujutsu sorcerer. There's no need for me to ask what subjects you teach," she replied calmly.

Satoru leaned in, his elbow resting on his thigh as he held his chin in his palm. "You seem to know a lot about me, doc. Just who are you exactly?" A grin appeared on his face, as he considered the possibility that she might also be a sorcerer like him. Outside of the jujutsu domain, humans don't typically know who Gojo Satoru is.

"I'm your therapist," she simply replied, and his brow twitched slightly. "You know what I'm asking, miss."

"What do you think?" She tilted her head, smiling at him. Of course, she would turn the question back to him - it always has to be about his feelings and thoughts in therapy.

"You are a sorceress," he muttered, no longer doubting the amount of cursed energy he felt in the room. She must be a skilled sorceress, able to maintain her cursed energy at a small, unnoticed level surrounding her.

But why would Principal Yaga assign a sorceress to him? Was this some kind of trick? The woman before him is probably not even a real therapist. Still, he's never heard of her name before - perhaps she's a sorceress from another nation?

"Close. I was a sorceress," she revealed.

Satoru's brow furrowed. Why did she quit? And why did she become a therapist? Just who is she exactly?

"Now, why don't we get back on track?" she inquired, smoothly switching the subject and ending his train of thought.

The rest of the session was simply her attempting to get to know him better, or rather, analyze him. However, satoru did not give her that opportunity. Why should he? Yaga had only instructed him to attend therapy, not that it had to be effective. Honestly, satoru did not particularly care about this endeavor.

Why should he divulge information about himself to someone he barely even knows? Not to mention, she is being paid to listen to him - she is not doing this out of her own volition or good-hearted intentions.

She likely does not truly care about his problems (not that he has any, in his opinion). So why should his feelings and thoughts matter to her? She is merely performing her job, nothing more, nothing less.

Satoru has no intention of pouring his heart out to a complete stranger he knows little about. He understands that therapy is meant to provide him with a safe space to be vulnerable and open about everything. But he does not feel comfortable in this room.

___________________________________________

Satoru sighs, leaning his cheek against his fist as he relaxes in the chair in front of her.

"You worry too much," he says casually. "Why don't we ever talk about your feelings? We only ever talk about me."

Satoru is aware that she only wants the best for him. He simply does not care. He is here because it is mandatory, not because he wants to be. He does not believe he needs therapy, despite her claims otherwise. As his therapist, of course she would tell him he requires this treatment.

It has been a month since their therapy sessions began, and satoru has not been the least bit cooperative. The only aspect he has enjoyed is the freedom to freely criticize the higher-ups without anyone chastising him or telling him it is inappropriate.

She would always listen intently to every word that came out of his mouth, diligently noting things down in her little pad. Honestly, not even his own students gave him the same level of attention that she bestowed upon him. He couldn't help but appreciate the fact that his feelings mattered in this space, that what he said truly held significance. He liked that. And he couldn't deny that he enjoyed her undivided attention on him.

"Because I'm your therapist, and I'm supposed to listen to you. Not the other way around." She sighed softly, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "How many times do we have to go through this conversation?" She looked utterly exhausted, and he almost felt a tinge of guilt for making this so difficult for her. Keyword: almost.

He knew that she was simply doing her job. But he didn't care - he would make her tired of him until she gave up on him.

Yet, at the same time, the thought of her giving up on him left a bitter taste in his mouth. He didn't really want that.

He shrugged, smirking. "As many times as you want to," he said, with his ever-present sense of humor. "I can keep dodging questions all day, if you like. I'm perfectly fine just existing in this room while you try to wrangle me into being vulnerable."

"However, I can't say the same about you, doctor." He taunted.

"I am not trying to make you vulnerable, I'm trying to help you understand your feelings and maybe find solutions for your problems, Mr. Gojo," she said calmly, as she crossed her legs and leaned back into her chair.

Satoru rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, yeah," he said, waving his hand dismissively as he slumped against the back of his chair. "Help me understand my problems. Solve them. Figure out why I am the way I am. Heard it all before."

He knew he had to be here, in therapy, every week. However, that didn't mean he had to be vulnerable or cooperate with all this touchy-feely stuff. He simply didn't like that kind of thing.

"What makes you the happiest, Mr. Gojo?" She began asking him again. Seriously, how many questions did she prepare for him every time? He couldn't deny that he didn't dislike the fact that she worked so hard, just for him.

Hm.

It was a question he had genuinely considered. What made him the happiest?

"Fighting," he said after a pause. He gave a casual shrug. "I enjoy fights. They're fun. And when they get hard, it makes me want to try even harder. So... I guess that's what makes me the happiest - winning a difficult fight."

"The rush of adrenaline makes me feel... I don't know, excited? You know," he muttered, finding it somewhat challenging to articulate.

She scribbled some more notes in her pad. "Is there any fight that made you especially happy?" she then asked, her gaze shifting back to him from her pad.

"Mhm," he hummed, a small smirk forming on his face. This was a fun question for him. "Well... there was the time I got to fight a special grade," he said, the smile widening as he recalled the memory. "And that time I beat Toji. That's a really good memory."

"I would've died. But he didn't use a cursed tool, and didn't cut my head off," he chuckled, as if it were something to be happy about. "You should've seen the look on his face when he saw me, the one he supposedly killed, still alive and kicking."

"But I can't say I'm not grateful to him. Because I got to finally learn how reverse cursed technique works," he said with a wide grin on his face, and she followed suit by taking more notes in her pad.

He noticed her actions and stared at her with an exaggerated eyebrow raise. "Go ahead, make your notes about me being a sadist and liking to inflict pain or something. Then go back and analyze it with all your other therapist friends."

"I already said this before, whatever happens in this room will stay in this room, Mr. Gojo," she replied. "So be not afraid to spill anything to me."

"Yeah, yeah," he smirked, amused.

"What's my diagnosis, doc?" He tilted his head, staring at her as she lifted her head up from her pad to meet his gaze. "I'm a very bad person, don't you think? I love the pain I inflict on curses, I love the way they fear me, the fear in their eyes makes me feel so fucking excited," he laughed loudly.

"And when their blood taints my skin and clothes, it's such a disgusting texture yet it makes me want to be covered more with their blood. It feels so fucking amazing," he stared at her, awaiting a visible reaction, but he was met with nothing but an empty smile and empty eyes.

He hates this. He hates her. She's just an empty shell.

"You're just as crazy as I am, doc. Aren't ya?"

___________________________________________

But before she could say anything, the session had already ended, and Satoru was quick on his feet to get out of there.

Satoru rolls his eyes at her words and sighs. He leans back into the chair and spreads his legs, getting comfortable.

"This is such a pain," he mutters. "Do we really have to talk today? There's nothing to discuss. I'm peachy keen."

"Mr. Gojo, I need you to be a little more cooperative," she uttered gently.

"Do you, now?" Satoru's tone was dry, like sandpaper, his expression unchanging. He tilted his head slightly to the side. He could tell she was running out of patience, but that didn't stop him from being intentionally difficult. In fact, it made it more fun for him. "Yes, it's for your own good."

Satoru chuckles a little bit. "Aaaand here's the old 'it's for your own good' trope again, huh?" He shook his head, feigning mock disappointment. "I thought we were done with that by now, honestly."

"I do think that you really need this," she said seriously. "Look, Mr. Gojo, you might show your playful and cheerful side to everyone around you, but that is only a way to make them feel safe around you. I don't know what it's like to be the strongest, but I know that it can get pretty lonely standing on your own on top."

"You make it sound like I'm unhappy or something," he replied, shaking his head again. "Is it really so crazy for you to think that I'm perfectly fine being by myself? That I prefer being alone?" A small smile appeared on his face again. "I'm not lonely, doctor. I get more attention than I want, actually."

"That's not it," she sighed, shaking her head. "I know you have friends, you're a pretty talkative person and also a person who's approachable." She gave him a small smile. "Still, being surrounded by people doesn't mean that you feel the warmth of comfort. You keep them around you but still hold a certain distance between you and them that you never let them cross. You never let people get too close to you, which is a problem because you're isolating yourself from the world even if you think you're doing the opposite."

His small smile faded, and he rolled his eyes as he began to look agitated. He sat up, leaning forward towards her, his elbows on his knees. "What's with the armchair psychology? Where are you even getting all of this? You don't know me. You can't just assume these kinds of things based on just a few therapy sessions."

"I'm sorry if this is making you uncomfortable, and please do correct me if I'm wrong. But there are a lot of people who feel lonely even while being surrounded by people," she sighed.

"Regrettably, I struggle to forge meaningful connections with others," he murmured, running his fingers through his hair. "They fail to comprehend me. They do not know the true me. They would be unable to accept me as I truly am, so I ceased exerting the effort. I stopped attempting to force something that was simply never going to materialize. Therefore, I shall keep everyone at a distance, for that is what they deserve. I do not grapple with the kinds of issues you presume I do, so desist in your efforts to analyze me."

She replied softly, "They are unaware of your authentic self because that is the outcome you desire, Mr. Gojo. If you are unwilling to be truthful about your personality and emotions with another individual, can you genuinely call that a connection? A relationship? It is all constructed upon walls of deception, intended to keep them at bay."

Satoru's response was tinged with bitterness. "So you are asserting that the fault lies with me for people's rejection, correct?" He leaned forward, his arms crossed defensively over his knees. A sardonic smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "I have made attempts to be honest with others. I have exerted the effort before, yet all I ever received in return was judgment and fear. I shall not place myself in that position again."

"The fault does not lie with you that they do not like you. However, the fault lies with you in presenting a false persona to them daily. Allow me to pose a question - from all the individuals surrounding you, can you name a single person who truly knows you?" she inquired.

Satoru's expression darkened at her words, the façade he maintained for others striking a chord. How could she discern this about him? It irritated him, albeit slightly. His gaze hardened with annoyance.

"No," he admitted in defeat. "I am surrounded by those I call friends, yet not a single soul among them truly knows me."

"Why not try opening up to them?" she suggested. "I will not ask you to confide in me, for I understand you do not particularly enjoy conversing with me, and that is perfectly acceptable. However, I am certain that at least one person would be willing to listen. Believe it or not, if they truly care for you, they will accept you with all your vulnerabilities and flaws."

A scoff escaped his lips at her proposal. "I'd rather not," he stated firmly. There was a sense of finality in his tone, and he was resolute in his decision. He had no desire to open up to anyone. That struck him as a waste of time.

"Even were I to open up to someone, there is a zero percent chance they would genuinely accept me for who I am. It is merely wishful thinking on your part, and you know it," he added.

"I would be truly delighted if you felt inclined to open up, Mr. Gojo. I sincerely implore you to believe me when I say I am fully attentive and receptive to whatever you wish to share," she sighed.

"Yeah, yeah..." he responded dismissively.

Satoru maintained his smirk, genuinely impressed by her unwavering conviction. He leaned back in his chair, stroking his chin pensively. "Why are you being so uncharacteristically kind?" he inquired. "Most therapists I've encountered are arrogant, know-it-all types. You, on the other hand, seem far too amiable. I'm not entirely convinced."

His expression suddenly hardened as he leaned forward, pointing an accusatory finger at her. "You're deceiving me," he declared. "You must have some ulterior motive. Therapists do not pose those ostensibly benevolent questions out of pure kindness. You must be attempting to extract something from me - perhaps a salacious story to sell to the press, or you may have a reporter willing to pay handsomely for such information. Or, it could be that you are merely trying to bolster your own image, and I am the unfortunate individual you intend to 'utilize.' Well, let me inform you of something, my dear."

He seized the arms of her chair, pulling it forcefully towards him until their faces were mere inches apart. Satoru could hear the subtle hitch in her breath, a sign of her surprise at his sudden, assertive action. Maintaining unwavering eye contact, he leaned in closer, a smirk playing on his lips.

"You should understand," he whispered, "that I am no stranger to individuals who believe they have me all figured out. So no matter how genuine you may seem, my dear, I am not so easily cracked." With that, he reclined back in his chair, releasing his grip on her seat. "You'll have to try something else."

For a moment, she remained silent, before letting out a soft sigh and offering him a gentle smile. "Thank you for your honesty, Mr. Gojo." Her words, rather than indignant, carried a sense of empathy.

Satoru's eyes widened in surprise. He had expected her to refute his accusations, to insist that she harbored no ulterior motives. But instead, she had responded with gratitude for his candor.

He stared at her, waiting for the other shoe to drop, for her facade of kindness to crumble. Yet, it never did. This woman, it seemed, was genuine in her compassion.

"If you feel uncomfortable in my presence, please do not hesitate to request a different therapist," she suggested, her tone measured and understanding. "I would be more than happy to make the necessary arrangements."

Satoru's expression darkened at her offer. "No," he said, his voice harsher than he had intended. He paused, taking a breath to regain his composure. "No, I want you," he stated firmly. "I'm cooperating, aren't I? If I wanted someone else, I would have requested a change long ago."

Satoru took a deep breath, his expression softening slightly at her gentle suggestion.

"You were more cooperative than before. And I appreciate that," she said, offering him a warm smile.

Satoru blinked in surprise. He had not expected such a genuine acknowledgment of his progress.

"So... what?" he asked, tilting his head as he considered her words. "You're saying you're proud of me?"

"I am. You're doing great," she hummed softly.

To both her and his own surprise, Satoru suddenly burst out laughing – a loud, unrestrained sound that filled the small space as he leaned back in his chair, clutching his stomach in an attempt to catch his breath.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he managed after a moment, taking a deep breath as he looked at her. "That... that just took me by surprise."

"No, please don't apologize," she quickly reassured him. "I must say, this is the most expressive I've seen you in this room." She chuckled lightly.

Satoru couldn't deny the truth in her words. His laughter finally subsiding, he smirked, crossing his arms. "Expressive? I guess if you count 'laughing like a maniac' as being expressive, I can agree."

He paused, a touch of amusement still in his tone. "I guess I'm improving, if I'm entertaining you."

"So, got something else to ask me, doc?" he inquired, a hint of challenge in his voice.

"Tell me, do you know who you are, Mr. Gojo?" she asked, her gaze steady and her tone sincere.

Satoru's features twisted into an expression of annoyance at the question. "Of course I know who I am," he retorted, the defensiveness evident in his tone. "What is this, a therapy session?"

"I'm not asking you about the position you've been forced into, and definitely not the personality made up," she said, shaking her head. "I'm asking you – do you really know who you are?"

He let out a dry laugh, the irritation seeping through. "Who I really am? What kind of question is that? Are you seriously going to ask me to define my entire existence right now? Are you expecting me to have some groundbreaking revelation or something? Because I hate to break it to you, doctor, but I'm tired of all this self-reflecting nonsense."

"Tell me the first thing that comes to mind when you think about yourself," she sighed, her patience unwavering.

Satoru tilted his head back with a sigh, closing his eyes. He was doing this not because he genuinely wanted to, but to get her off his back.

After a few moments of contemplation, he responded, "The strongest. I'm unreachable, untouchable."

"If you ask someone else the same question," she trailed off, "what's the first thing that comes to mind when they think of Gojo Satoru? They'll reply with the same thing. But is it really what you want?"

He opened his eyes, looking at her with a furrowed brow. "What I want?" he said, his voice filled with disbelief. "What I want is for you to not ask me weird questions that have no point or answer. I'm perfectly fine with being unreachable and untouchable. That's how I's always been. It's the natural order of things."

"Is strength really what defines you?" she asked. He raised a brow. "What's your point?"

"Do you know who you are?"

"Tell me, will you be Gojo Satoru without your powers?"

This question - it struck a chord within him. He remembers the day Suguru left, and the question that had remained unanswered until now. He had chosen to ignore it, but now it was haunting him once more.

Without his powers? His powers had been such a central focus in his life; he'd never truly considered his life without them. He... didn't even know who he would be. He was Gojo Satoru, the strongest of the strong. Take that away, and who was left?

He couldn't answer that. He simply remained silent, looking down at his hands, his grip tightening on his knees as he felt a sense of defensiveness.

But then, he stopped himself, his grip loosening as he looked at her, still frowning but with slightly less irritation in his expression.

"The therapy session is over," she said softly. "I want you to think about this question and try to find an answer to it."

Satoru let out a sigh of relief. Thank goodness, the session was finally over. Despite being overjoyed that he no longer had to continue, his expression darkened a little, his brow furrowing in thought. He knew he would be thinking about this, whether he wanted to or not. She didn't even have to ask.

He stood up from the chair and left the room without giving her a last glance. He heard her say something about how he should take care of himself.

The drive back to the Gojo Clan's compound was spent in relative silence. Ijichi kept a watchful eye on Satoru, who remained uncharacteristically quiet. His thoughts were consumed by the question posed to him during the therapy session.

As the car pulled up to the gates of the compound, Satoru suddenly spoke. "Ijichi," he said, his voice carrying a hint of uncertainty, "if I weren't the strongest, would I still be Gojo Satoru?"

Ijichi's gaze shifted to Satoru, surprise flickering across his features at the unexpected question.

"Of course," he replied without hesitation. "Your strength is a significant aspect of who you are, but it is not the essence of your identity." He watched Satoru for a moment, noting the expression on his face. "May I ask why you're asking this, Gojo?"

"Just something that I thought about," he said dismissively.

The rest of the evening was spent in a haze of thought for Satoru, tossing and turning in bed as he wrestled with his questions, doubts, and insecurities. They swirled in his mind, keeping him from finding respite. He had never felt so uncertain, so lost before. Who was he without the mantle of the strongest? What did he even have left?

He tried to shake off these thoughts, to push them to the back of his mind, but the questions persisted, gnawing at him like a relentless ache.

Gojo's thoughts returned to the question she had asked, "Do you know who you are?" He couldn't help but scowl at the recollection. He had taken offense to the question then, but now, alone with his thoughts in the quiet of the night, he found himself truly grappling with the magnitude of that question.

Who was he? This question had never posed a challenge before. He had always known who he was - the strongest. That had been his identity for as long as he could remember.

___________________________________________

The days that followed were restless, as her questions flooded his mind at all times - while teaching, on a mission, or at home. Her question occupied his mind constantly.

With a heavy sigh, he pushed himself up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. There was no point in lying here, unable to sleep. He needed air.

Satoru grabbed his jacket and threw it over his shoulders before quietly making his way out of the room, the floor creaking under his feet in the otherwise silent compound.

As he walked, the echoes of his footsteps reverberating down the hallway, he couldn't shake off the persistent questions that had been plaguing his mind all night.

He reached the entrance of the compound and stepped outside into the cool night air. The stars twinkled above him, a blanket of sparkling lights against the inky sky. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, savoring the quiet and the solitude.

But even in the silence of the night, the questions stayed with him, refusing to give him peace. He found himself facing an identity crisis that gnawed at him like never before.

Satoru walked, the snow crunching beneath every step his feet took. He walked with no destination in mind, hoping that maybe the movement and the fresh air would help clear his mind. Yet, no matter how far he walked, he couldn't escape the questions that haunted him.

Suddenly, the thought struck him - perhaps he needed guidance. But who could he turn to? His mind flitted through the people in his life - Nanamin, Ieiri, Ijichi, but ultimately he dismissed each one. They would never understand what he was going through.

But the thought persisted. He couldn't shake off the idea of her help. She had already managed to get under his skin, planting this seed of doubt that had grown into this existential crisis. Perhaps she was exactly the person he needed right now.

Satoru clenched his fists, silently cursing to himself. He had always prided himself on being in control, but now, here he was, considering seeking help from the very person who had caused his turmoil in the first place.

But it was late at night, would she even help him if he called her right now? Would she help him without getting paid, without being in that stuffy room?

As the dial tone rang through the line, anxiety began to creep into his mind. What if she didn't answer? What if she hung up once she realized it was him? He had never called her outside of their sessions before. Why would she answer now?

After what felt like an eternity, the line clicked open, breaking the silence. Satoru's heart pounded in his chest. She had actually answered.

"Hello? How may I help you?" Her voice was sleepy and confused at the late call.

Satoru hesitated for a moment, the sound of her tired, confused voice sending prickles of guilt through him. Should he really be doing this? But he had already come this far; he couldn't back down now.

"It's me," he finally said, his voice low and a little apologetic. "Gojo Satoru. I - I need help."

"Mr. Gojo?" She was suddenly wide awake, she didn't expect him of all people to call. "Of course, where are you right now?"

"I'm... I'm outside," he replied, a hint of shame in his voice. He didn't know how to explain where he was or what he was doing out so late. "I was walking. But I can't stop thinking about that question you asked me in the session that day. And it's driving me insane. I - I need answers."

"Can you be more specific? I'm on my way— ah, shit!" She cursed as she hit her foot with something she wasn't able to see in the dark, she quickly put on her jacket and her scarf and went downstairs.

Gojo heard the clatter and curse from her end of the line, making him flinch slightly. He felt oddly guilty for waking her and even making her come out at this late hour.

"Be more specific?" he repeated, his irritation seeping into his voice. "Isn't it enough that you threw my whole world off-balance? Now you need more specifics...?" But his tone softened as he mumbled, "I guess it'd be better if you were here."

"No. Where are you right now exactly?" She asked, putting her shoes on and finally going outside as it had begun snowing. She quickly got into her car.

Gojo huffed out a sigh, glancing around to get his bearings, "I'm about three miles north of Jujutsu High."

He was still outside the compound, which meant he had walked a considerable distance in his thoughts. The snowflakes were slowly falling from the sky, each one descending gently to the ground. Gojo stood there, watching them fall, waiting for her to arrive and, hopefully, provide some clarity to his chaotic thoughts.

"Okay, stay where you are. I'll be there in 10 minutes." She said as she started driving. "Tell me how you've been feeling today?"

Satoru rolled his eyes slightly as he heard her questioning. This woman just didn't know when to quit. But he was here for an answer, so he might as well satisfy her with some small talk beforehand.

"I've been feeling lost," he admitted after a moment, his voice tinged with vulnerability. "Like everything I've ever known about myself has been turned upside down." He paused, a hint of resentment in his voice. "All because of what you said during the session."

"I see. It's good that you've thought about it, Mr. Gojo," she muttered softly.

"Is it?" he snapped. "Because right now, I feel like you've thrown my whole world off-balance. And for what? Because you wanted me to 'think about it'?" Satoru let out a bitter chuckle. "You're cruel, you know that? Or perhaps you just find pleasure in messing with my mind."

"A person needs to know themselves before trying to help themselves." She said. "You don't know who you are."

"And whose fault is that?" He muttered under his breath, his frustration growing. "I had this issue before, but I had somehow gotten rid of it. But now that you've planted this seed of doubt again, all I can think about is questioning who I am. It's maddening!"

He let out a bitter chuckle again. "Are you happy now, that I'm having this crisis?"

"Thank you for sharing your feelings." She said, as if trying to comfort him.

"Don't act so sweet, like you actually care about how I feel," he snapped. He was tired, irritated, and at the end of his rope. "You have no idea what this revelation is doing to me. My whole identity was built upon being the strongest. If you take that away, what's left of me? Who am I without that identity?"

She parked near Jujutsu High, getting outside of her car. "I do know what you're feeling right now, believe it or not I was in the same state that you were in." The snow crunched beneath her shoes as she started searching for him.

Satoru scoffed slightly, disbelief clear in his voice. "You know what it's like to have your entire identity shattered like this? Please. As if you could ever understand my struggle. I've dedicated my whole life, my very existence to be the strongest."

He shook his head, his expression a mix of bitterness and desperation. "But now, all I have are questions. Why am I here? Who am I, if not the strongest? It's like a never-ending abyss of uncertainty."

Here is the expanded version of the dialogue with more descriptive language:

She strode towards him, her eyes finally landing on his familiar form. "Turn around," she instructed gently.

Satoru's brow furrowed slightly, confusion etching across his features at her sudden command. After a moment's hesitation, he slowly pivoted to face her, his expression guarded, eyes wary.

"Where's your blindfold?" she asked, her voice tinged with concern.

He blinked, surprised by her question. In the whirlwind of emotions, he had nearly forgotten about the blindfold when he left the compound. But what did his lack of the customary covering have to do with anything?

"I don't have it," he responded slowly, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly. "Why do you ask?"

"I don't want you to have a headache." She spoke softly, aware of his unique situation - the six eyes that made him perceive the world differently, often leading to painful migraines. Reaching up, she untied her own scarf. "Here, put this on."

Satoru stared at her, a mix of surprise and wariness evident in his gaze. He was unaccustomed to anyone showing him such genuine concern. She had already managed to see through his carefully crafted bravado and delve into the depths of his mind, and now she was extending this empathy? It was unsettling.

Still, he hesitated for a moment, torn between his reluctance and the throbbing ache pulsing at his temples. Finally, he reached out and gently took the scarf from her outstretched hand.

Satoru carefully wrapped the soft fabric around his eyes, tying it securely in place. It felt unusual, a stark contrast to his familiar blindfold, yet it offered a surprising sense of relief. The gentle pressure against his eyes was soothing, and the plush material was a comforting contrast to the chill of the night air.

He took a shallow breath, feeling a slight easing of the headache. He couldn't deny the scarf was helping, but it felt peculiar to be seen and cared for in this way.

"I want you to think about the moments in your life that didn't involve your powers," she said gently, her words a gentle nudge.

Satoru's expression darkened slightly at her prompting. His life had always revolved around his abilities, especially after discovering the rarity of his Six Eyes.

But the thought did pose an intriguing question. He had never truly considered the times when he wasn't constantly using or contemplating his powers.

After a moment, he spoke, his voice laced with a rare vulnerability. "What if there are no such moments?"

"Right now, right here. You aren't using your powers," she pointed out. "I'm sure there have been many instances in your life where your abilities weren't the primary focus - going out with your students, spending time with friends, studying, taking walks, even just everyday tasks like eating or running errands."

Satoru's frown deepened slightly as her words sank in. She was right. In that very moment, he wasn't relying on his Six Eyes to protect himself or perceive the world around him.

He couldn't deny the existence of those more mundane, seemingly insignificant moments in his life that didn't revolve around his powers. Simple joys like laughing with his students, or the solace he found in the company of his friends - times when his abilities weren't at the forefront of his mind.

"You're human, Mr. Gojo," she said, her tone gentle yet firm. "So, please, don't treat yourself as if you're not. Your power is a part of your identity, but is it really everything about you? That's the question you need to ask yourself."

Satoru's breath caught slightly as her words sank in. He had spent so many years defining himself by his power, by his role as the strongest, that it was difficult to imagine there was anything else to him.

But she was correct. His abilities were a part of him, but they did not encompass his entire existence. He was more than just his powers. He was a jujutsu sorcerer, a teacher, a friend, a human with emotions and a complex inner world.

"Now let me ask you again," she trailed off. "Do you know who you are, Mr. Gojo?"

Satoru exhaled slowly, feeling a sense of clarity wash over him. He understood now what she was trying to convey. His identity was not solely tied to his powers. There was so much more to him than that.

He lifted his head, the scarf over his eyes lifting slightly. His voice was quiet but sure.

"I am Satoru Gojo. Jujutsu sorcerer. Teacher. Friend. Human. And so much more."

"Exactly." She chuckled. "I'm proud of you."

Satoru felt a flicker of something unfamiliar stir within him at her words. He had never heard someone express pride in him, at least not on an emotional level. Usually, it was about his prowess or his accomplishments in battle.

He gave a small snort, trying to downplay how her praise affected him. "You make me sound like a child, Miss Therapist," he muttered, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Oh..sorry, I didn't mean to come across that way," She quickly apologized.

Satoru waved her apology away with a dismissive hand gesture. "No, no. I wasn't offended or anything like that," he reassured her. "It's just..a little surprising, that's all."

He gave a small laugh, shaking his head slightly. "People usually praise me for being the strongest, not for being...human. But it's not a bad feeling, to know that someone is proud of me as a person. So thank you."

"No. Thank you for being truthful with me, Mr. Gojo," She hummed softly.

A small chuckle escaped Gojo's lips, a hint of amusement in his voice. "You know, I'm not sure why you're thanking me for doing the bare minimum," he teased. "Being truthful should be expected, shouldn't it?"

"I'm thanking you because I know how difficult it is to be truthful about yourself with someone and to be truthful with yourself," She chuckled.

Satoru's smile widened slightly. Her words carried a sincerity that resonated deeply within him.

"You're right," he agreed, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's not easy. In fact, it's damn near impossible sometimes." He took a deep breath, letting out a small sigh.

"Being honest with yourself, and with others...it requires a certain level of vulnerability and courage, and frankly, I'm not always very good at it."

Here is the response with more detailed and descriptive wording:

"That's perfectly understandable, you are only human and thus not impervious to imperfections. We all have our flaws, fears, and moments of fallibility at times. But that is what makes us distinctly human, what sets us apart from the animal kingdom. We have the capacity to learn and grow from our mistakes, to confront and overcome our fears, and to refine our shortcomings. " She spoke softly, her voice tinged with a gentle empathy. "You should never forget that you are just as human as anyone else—" Her words were suddenly interrupted by a delicate sneeze.

Satoru flinched slightly as the unexpected sound pierced the crisp, cold night air. On some level, he was somewhat relieved that her soothing words had been cut short, as they had started to hit a little too close to home for his comfort.

"Bless you," he murmured, his tone a curious blend of playful teasing and genuine concern. "It seems the frigid weather has gotten the better of you."

"Sorry about that...I'm just not terribly well-suited for cold climates," she admitted, rubbing her hands together in a futile attempt to generate warmth.

Satoru couldn't resist the temptation of a mischievous smirk. Here he had been feeling vulnerable and exposed, and now the tables had turned, with her appearing to be the one struggling against the biting chill.

"That's not something one usually hears from someone who was living in the northern regions," he teased, unable to resist the opportunity to poke a bit of fun. "I thought the hardy folk up there were practically immune to the cold."

"Well, you see, I wasn't actually born and raised in these parts, i just lived some years there." she chuckled.

"Ah, I see," satoru nodded, a playful glint sparkling in his eyes. "So you're not a true northerner. That certainly explains a lot."

He paused for a moment, a mischievous thought crossing his mind. "But you'll never truly adapt if you don't embrace the cold," he declared dramatically. "And what better way to do that than by engaging in a good old-fashioned snowball fight?"

Without warning, she hurled a tightly packed snowball directly at him, the frozen projectile striking him with surprising force.

"You should be more careful!" She laughed as she scurried away.

Satoru was momentarily caught off-guard by her sudden attack. He blinked, stunned for a moment, before a wide grin spread across his face.

"Oh, it's on now," he declared, his eyes twinkling with competitive delight.

He swiftly leaned down, scooping up a handful of snow and shaping it into a compact, aerodynamic ball, before launching it towards her with remarkable precision.

"Agh!" She groaned as the snowball hit its mark, but her laughter quickly followed. "Cheater!"

Satoru chuckled, not holding back a hint of smug satisfaction. "Cheat? Perish the thought, my dear," he declared, his tone dripping with feigned innocence. "I'm merely making use of my natural talents."

He quickly formed another snowball, his movements quick and elegant, and with a flick of his wrist, he released it, aiming straight for her. "I am, after all, the reigning champion of snowball warfare," he boasted.

"Hey! Go easy on me!" She laughed again, retaliating with a well-aimed snowball of her own.

"Easy? What is this, a snowball fight for beginners?" Satoru teased, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. He dodged her projectile with effortless grace, his steps light and fleeting like a shadow.

He swiftly countered with his own snowball, a perfect shot that struck its target, causing her to stumble slightly. "Come on, you can do better than that," he taunted, reveling in the adrenaline of their playful conflict.

"No fair!" She whined as she threw another snowball, this time finally hitting him squarely. "Ha!"

Satoru let out a theatrical groan, pretending to be wounded by her snowball. "Oh, the agony," he clutched at his heart dramatically, a grin betraying his amusement. "I've been hit! What a catastrophic defeat this is."

Not one to be outdone, he swiftly retaliated, launching a flurry of snowballs in her direction with deadly accuracy. "You can't stop the king of snowballs!"

She deftly dodged his barrage of snowballs, her movements agile and nimble. "The rightful queen of snowballs will reclaim her throne!" She chuckled as she threw another well-aimed projectile.

Satoru raised an eyebrow at her declaration, a sly smile playing on his lips. "Oh, is that so? The rightful queen of snowballs, you claim to be?"

He evaded her snowball easily, his laughter echoing through the night. "Well, let's see how rightful you truly are!" He retaliated with a series of perfectly aimed snowballs, each one a testament to his skill and precision.

Some snowballs found their mark, but she quickly retreated behind the shelter of a nearby tree, emerging to launch her own volley of icy projectiles in his direction. "You're cheating!" She accused playfully.

Satoru laughed heartily, his eyes glinting with a competitive spark. "Cheating? Or simply better at this than you?" he teased.

He ducked, weaved, and dodged her snowballs with a casual ease that made it appear as though he were dancing rather than engaging in a fierce snowball battle. "Admit it, darling. I'm just naturally gifted at the art of snowy warfare!"

"Nuh uh!" She laughed, her voice filled with playful defiance as the relentless snowball fight continued.

As the intense battle of wits and wintry wonders wore on, their laughter filled the night air, echoing through the trees. Satoru's competitive spirit was fully ignited, and he wasn't holding back. His movements were swift and precise, each snowball hitting its mark with remarkable accuracy.

"Admit it, admit it!" he called out, his voice teeming with playful taunting. "You can't defeat the Snowball King!"

"The queen will reclaim her rightful place!" She said playfully as she suddenly ran up to him and tackled him, sending them both tumbling into the soft, powdery snow. "The king has fallen!" She laughed triumphantly.

Satoru's eyes widened in surprise as he felt himself falling, his balance thrown off by her unexpected attack. He landed on his back with a thump, sinking slightly into the snow, a look of mock indignation on his face.

"Oh, so that's how it's going to be, queen?" he chuckled, his tone filled with playful defiance. "You really think you can take down the king with a sneak attack like that?"

"Yeah!" She laughed as she straddled him, triumphantly launching a handful of snow directly into his face. "Payback!"

Satoru sputtered and spluttered as the cold, powdery snow landed on his face, momentarily obscuring his vision. But the unexpected sensation of her sitting atop him, coupled with the icy touch of the snow, sent a shiver of exhilaration down his spine.

He blinked, his eyes glinting with a mischievous sparkle as he grinned up at her. "Oh, you think that's payback? That won't do. I have a reputation to uphold, you know."

And in a sudden, swift motion, he flipped them over, now pinning her down to the snow, a triumphant smirk spreading across his face. He took a handful of the icy powder and gently placed it in her mouth before she could react. "How does snow taste, my queen?"

She quickly spat out the snow, coughing and sputtering, but he merely laughed in response as he collapsed down beside her, both of them lying in the snow, their breathing heavy from the exertion of their playful battle.

After a moment of catching their breath, satoru turned his head towards her, taking in the sight of her flushed cheeks, a result of the cold. He couldn't help but find her endearing in that moment.

"I would like to know more about you, miss therapist," Satoru murmured, his curiosity piqued. She was silent for a moment, contemplating his request. "What would you like to know?"

"I don't know... perhaps you could start by telling me why you decided to quit being a sorcerer?" Satoru's expression sobered slightly.

Here is the response with more detailed wording:

She paused for a moment before speaking. "I was previously involved in a perilous mission and perished back then, but I still clung desperately to life. So I made a binding vow, offering my cursed technique in exchange for the preservation of my life, I suppose." She shrugged, as if the matter was trivial. "I'm sorry to hear about your experience," I responded sympathetically.

"It's alright, the practice of sorcery simply was not meant for me. Instead, I have decided to become a therapist, helping people who are part of the jujutsu community, as I understand the daily realities they face as sorcerers."

He hummed thoughtfully as he looked back up at the sky. "That explains why I have never heard of you before," he mused. "Do you have any surviving family members?" he inquired.

"They have all passed away," she replied solemnly.

"I see," he said quietly.

"I apologize for-" he began.

"No need to apologize," she assured him. "I understand your curiosity."

73 notes · View notes

anonymouscheeses · 6 hours

Text

Drew my favorite! Sammy is the best I love her character smm >:3 she's also become more relatable with the problems she's been ignoring in episode 3! So I might kin her more now but thats fiine... I haven't watched past ep 3 SO NO SPOILERS ON THIS POST TY!!

AND THEN MY PRECIOUS BABIES 😭 YASAMMY FOR LIFE‼️ UGH IM SO GLAD THAT THEY ARE ACTUALLY CANON IT MAKES ME TEAR UP! BROOK IS SHIPPING THEM EVEN IN DEATH 😍 I CANT BELIEVE SAMMY SAID YAZ IS PULLING AWAY FROM HER?? NONONO IM NOT READY FOR ANGST. ESPECIALLY BETWEEN THEM TWO?? NOO!!

Anyway since I haven't watched the entire show I'm gnna theorize real quick heheheh

SO. The dinosaurs are definitely being controlled by someone but who? I'd say kenji's dad but I'm not sure, I kinda forgot what happened to him 😭 he's still alive tho right? So I wouldn't put it off the table but it could also be Dr. Wu or whatever tf his name is I completely forgor abt him. Anyway to the stuff im actually interested in- BROOKLYN. SHES DEFINITELY ALIVE. RIGHT?? (Don't answer that) THERES NO WAY THEYD KILL OFF THE BEST CHARACTER RIGHT??? THERES NO WAY. PLUS THEY ALREADY RECASTED HER IN THE FLASHBACKS(btw I think the voice is pretty good! Idk if people have complained abt it yet but if they have... shut up??) SO WHY WOULD IT MATTER TO KEEP HER DEAD? THATS A WASTE OF MONEY PLUS. PLUUS. idk. I just kinda want her alive bro.... SURVIVE BROOKLYN. SURVIVE.

Also Yasammy marriage proposal one day? Please? 🗣🔥🔥

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respectthepetty · 3 days

Text

Pride Petty Watch - LiTA (Sky/Prapai) 1/3

The crowd picked Love in the Air as the first show to ever move off of my Petty List, so I'm watching it and recapping my experience, and oh boy, is it an *experience*. I wrote about the first seven episodes in two parts [here and here], so it's time to dive into the next six episodes!

Woot woot!

I had to make sure I didn't click on episode one again because it's the same scenes showing again. This is the third time they have been shown? Fourth? I'm here for one thing and one thing only. Quit bullshitting LiTA and GIVE ME WHAT I CAME FOR!

Oh my God, my heart just jumped into my throat with this music and this lighting behind this devil.

I know how their story starts. I already knew. I will be not be upset at him. I will not get into my feelings about this even though this music and lighting are hellbent on making Prapai seem like The Worst™

I would love to claim "pink = 💕love💕" but not today, Satan.

Sky saying "Where's the condom?" as more of a demand rather than a question and the arch of his back are an appreciation post in themselves. This is transactional and he is not here to make friends.

WHY AM I BEING SHOWN RAIN AND PAYU AGAIN?! If you don't have enough material for thirteen episodes, just say it! Because my boy disassociated, went on autopilot, and is now tucking this nightmare away in a dark corner of his mind in true Trauma Compartmentalizing 101 fashion, yet I gotta see Payu and Rain's Daddy x Baby nonsense another round?! I only respect one person in this house and the rest of these men can choke. I wrote what I wrote.

Hold up, Prapai was AWAKE when Sky left looking like that? And now he is reminiscing about it in all black with that black rose of death lapel pin? *Arthur Fist*

I support queer rights AND queer wrongs, but this show is testing me like I'm fucking Frodo having to deliver a ring to the depths of hell in the month of Pride. Sky just went home and cried on his bed, while this woman is talking about getting over heartbreak because Prapai can't stop thinking about this one-night stand. I cannot be queer and *here* in these conditions with el diablo smirking every two seconds.

KinnPorsche, my old enemy, we meet again. Didn't think I'd see you here, but it tracks because where there is a rich bastard incapable of getting over the poorer man he wrongfully exerted power over, there will be a robe, wine, and a sex worker. (That boy looks like the Memory in the Letter lead)

"I feel sorry for your prey" - Everyone is too busy looking at the metaphorical weather that represents the characters to notice the red alert standing right there.

On God, if a man called me like that without telling me his name and proceeded to just . . . be creepy, it'd be on like Donkey Kong. I was raised by Sidney Prescott from Scream and if a man wants to play games over the phone, then he needs to be prepared to die. And what is it with this show trying to distract me with with these problematic men working out? I know they are attractive, but as Michelle Visage stated "stop relying on that body!" AND NOW CREEPY TEXTS, and the only thing Sky thinks is a "man like that wouldn't be into [him]" . . . BL boys would greatly benefit from feminism.

Prapai, you have to get less creepy. You just have to because this is not it, my man. You are throwing out the beginning-of-a-psycho-killer vibes and I cannot. I simply. Can. Fucking. Not.

Sky is pissed at Rain, threw the flowers, and has Prapai listed as "Psycho" so it's clear who has the brain cell of these weather boys, and it's the one whose back is hurting FROM CARRYING THE WEIGHT OF THE DAMN WORLD ON HIS SHOULDERS!

I will not be swayed by the sunflowers, the fact that Prapai is aware Sky is a Sad Boy, or the blue. As far as I'm concerned, by the end of this episode, Prapai is still the devil. NEXT EPISODE!

The energy between these two is giving me GMMTV "brothers," and that is not a compliment.

I'm not going to fault Sky for not throwing away the flowers because reuse, recycle, re-

WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING?!

*took a six hour break and contemplated the meaning of life, made an avocado smoothie then poured rum in it, started doing yoga then ended up in savasana, which means I just laid there and looked at the ceiling, and finally I remembered the gorgeous Zani is in this show, so I returned*

This boy is me and I am him. I'm so chill that if I got any cooler, I'd be an ice cube. Just chilling. So chill. The chill is immaculate. I am meditating. I am praying. I am one with the storm. I'm the chillest. Climate change no longer exists because I'm just, so, fucking, chill. ~Let's continue~

I don't want to give Prapai any credit because I already told my mom I hate him which means we are sworn enemies in this life and future ones as well, but him noticing that Sky spaced out even though he immediately jumped back into flirting mode, and him reinforcing that he thinks Sky is attractive in any state including this one should be an issue because he is still focusing on Sky's body, but he doesn't know Sky well enough to have anything else, so . . . one whole point for Slytherin, I guess.

Rain is not a real one and if Sky was a rapper, this in when he would have dropped the ultimate diss track cementing his place in academic rhetoric for all eternity. Even if I didn't know about his ex, I could have read that expression, but Rain? Once again, one brain cell, and Sky has it.

I want to give Prapai the points for the food, but he doesn't even know what Sky likes, so this is White Man Ambition at its finest. Thank goodness that Sky is throwing it awa-

NOT THE FUCKING RED AGAIN!

Dear Reader, I'm going to level with you here one and a half episodes into this arc: I now fully understand The Fuckery. I greatly appreciate the 126 people who picked this show because this is the perfect example of what I keep reading about a MAME series. The abrupt shifts between aggressive flirting, dick jokes, and trauma is jarring. I knew the kidnapping was coming for Rain, but hearing Stop say that Rain would be sexually assaulted by his gang of men if Payu didn't stop fighting back was the most violent moment of an already physically violent event that, strangely, did not affect me until that very moment. I know what is coming for Sky, yet having these intercuts of Sky's abuse, although effective, are humbling in a way I was not expecting. Because what I had thought I was walking into was a trashy watch with gratuitous sex talk and some drama, but what I'm experiencing is a lot of emotional discord as the story swings between extremes while refusing to balance itself out. There is no middle ground in this show. I will continue to be petty about this watch, but I get it now in a way I was never going to grasp without watching one of her series and I'm graciously realizing I would not have survived TharnType because even as Prapai connects the dots that something *very bad* has happened to Sky based on his interactions with Sky, he smiles because . . . well, because.

So even though Sky and Prapai's arc is smaller than the first, my watch is going to be in three parts instead of just two because . . . well, because.

~Let's continue~

I'm going to try really hard to give Slytherin points here, *grinds teeth* so even though this man is stalking Sky, he gets credit for showing up, which according to the great philosophers, is half the battle. Also, I know his lapel pins are important, so the sunflower and the bee after he gave Sky meaningful sunflowers is a nice sentimental touch, but he gets no points because HE COULD'VE OFFERED THE BOY A RIDE! The perfect pitch was right there, yet he swings and misses.

I don't listen to true crime podcasts, but I feel confident that most cases start with a stalker using several devices to contact their victim after his primary mean is blocked. Basically, I need Prapai to do as Sky's shirt says and "CHILL THE FUCK OUT!" I'm trying to give him points but he refuses to exhibit any level of chill. None. No chill. Not ice cube. Just sad hot puddle of zero chills.

I felt *something* between Sig and Som when they were arguing across the tables in episode seven, but now I know Sig is trying to instigate a fight with Som just so he can have that boy's hands around his neck. I respect it.

Sky is having a breakdown because of the onslaught of texts Prapai keeps sending him from multiple devices and as he huddles in the fetal position begging to be left alone having bursts of anger, the phone begins to vibrate signaling more texts are coming through. The director, Ne, also served as an editor on Only Friends, and if he whispered in Jojo's ears to make Ray's bathtub scene just as gut-wrenching as this, I just wanna eat some soup with Ne and know like "You good, boo?"

I am fighting for my life in these trenches!

Rain picked up Sky's phone and told Prapai to come to the hospital. Rain? Rain who was on his knees begging for Sky's forgiveness after he gave Sky's number to Prapai? As in the Rain who was told to stay out of Sky's business? Like the same Rain who Sky looked in his face and told him he would never be with Prapai? THE RAIN WHO IS NOW GIVING PRAPAI THE KEY TO SKY'S APARTMENT?! That Rain?!

"I made a promise to Rain" - Pero like . . . why do you have to make promises to not fuck with unconscious and sick people? Cause shouldn't that be a given? No? Mmm. Interesting development.

I have only watched two episodes. TWO! I'm not even halfway through this AND I know how this ends. No amount of knowledge or spoilers has properly prepared me for this journey, and now I'm scared and I want my mom to come pick me up.

But here I am. Clicking on the next episode.

pinche cabrón

#love in the air #Pride Petty Watch #I only love and respect Sky but I already knew that #but it's funny because Rain is now enemy number one #in a room full of problems‚ Rain continues to be the biggest problem #imagine that?!#but I get it now #oh do I get it #like all of it makes sense now #EVERYTHING!#Thanks for picking this show y'all #and I do sincerely mean that

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voidcat · 3 days

Text

— a broken record

characters: aventurine/you, the ipc, original planets & characters, xianzhou alliance (mostly mentioned)

notes: 3.5k of a beast! Hello, hi, as I’ve mentioned before our mc has a prewritten history and backstory which will be revealed as the story goes on, hence the shifts of perspective you’ll come to see as you read & as I write. Second part of this chapter is an example of this. The storyline begins linear but this will be distorted as the plot goes on. Hsr characters and ipc doesn’t have full of revealed role so I’m taking creative liberties and adding planets, systems and characters when I see benefiting the story. I hope I do the characters justice and you guys enjoy this as much as I do:) love yall bye<3

songs: Too Sweet, It Will Come Back, A Dramatic Irony

i. it will come back

The corporation has its eyes everywhere; but not all those eyes belong to them.

It is a well guessed and partially accurate fact, that their arms and limbs, eyes and noses spread far and wide, recording every instance big or crucial; watching intently to plan their next move.

The IPC spreads far and wide, beyond stars and planet systems many don't even know the existence of. But as there is a price to everything, their range comes with its cost.

His heels echoing on the stone pavements, Aventurine knows of the strategists and analysts the corporation has working under them. Just because he is yet to meet one in the flesh does not make them any less real, though that’s where the rumors seem to hint at. An urban legend at best, exceptional people all in their own field, always watching, observing, recording, collecting information.

The rumors start after this part, where their loyalties lie.

It is something not many care about frankly, everyone has their reasons to work for— or under the IPC, it’s not up for others to judge why someone would willingly work for them, harvesting data for them; nobody knows for certain whether these analysts travel from one location to another, or stay stationed at certain spots for long periods of time; do they like to watch planets burn and shackled, or are they prisoners of the corporation via the extension of someone dear, with hostages and deals one’s forced on; all these questions and more nobody dares to ask around.

As people stare at him, Aventurine walks towards his target, the classy looking pub across the street, the best and most prestigious in the area, known for its delicacies and safety, or so the people of this planet think.

His outfit is the same, the flashy peacock holds his head high, a smirk adorning his face, eyelids low, he is well aware of the attention he gathers, as intended., Ggo on, keep staring, a voice inside him says.

Like anyone else in his line of job, he didn't give much thought to those rumored, but now there is a spark, and his eyes intently roam the place as he enters, hat in one hand, he keeps close to his chest.

There are signs for those wandering eyes.

Or so the people whisper about the urban legends. No one sticks out exactly yet, those kinds would not end up a myth if they stuck out like a sore thumb.

It was pretty much the same with the history of IPC and how it gets the job done, their tactics and course of action always following a system, even with the risks taken, the gambles taken into account, there was always a formula, a pattern that follows– then he decided to take a look at some records and found out interferences happened.

The why of it remains a mystery as of now, the how does not take much; they hold the information, it is up to them how many cards they lie on the table, how much they keep to themselves and how they name their price. A little rebellion as much as they can afford maybe, is it their conscious or just selfish desire, or to feel that they hold the strings above all; he is yet to find out.

Eyes on his target, he makes his way to the secluded booth, greeted with enthusiasm laced with a little fear. Not many people of this planet know of the outworlders traveling beyond stars, only those who rose to their respective ranks are given access to such information after all.

The arrival of IPC is both something that sent them into frenzy; excitement of the ‘what-if’s, fear for the worst case scenarios. They don't need to know of the fates of those erased from the maps to get that survival instinct kicking in.

Eyes lazily gazing over the marshall and the gambler, you take a sip from your drink, allowing the ambiance of the place to take over.

A delightful tune to your eyes, no hungry gaze locked on you for once, a decent cocktail by your hand and a job almost done. The planet itself isn't too advanced but more or less up-to-date with the systems surrounding itself; or the ones in charge are, which is a great deal considering certain systems and planets’ situations. Better to have some sort of an idea than to jump in blind. The gambler’s interactions seem to near its end, still managing to captivate the small crowd around himself until the very last second, flashy smiles and dazzling gestures. From the air around him and the happy but reluctant face of the marshall, you can safely assume a deal has been struck between the planet and the IPC, one can only hope it won’t bring destruction and grief with it, or that all life will cease to exist by the time that comes; with the IPC, one can never know for sure, when it is resource-rich planets they intent to use and mine.

Sweet tunes of the piano and bass remain vibrating in the air, a cello and a small set to keep up the rhythm. The little gathering dispels yet not all of them leave, scattering around the place.

He arrives by your side sooner or later, still making sure to take his time and talking with few others he must’ve seen worthy of their word or to kill time somehow. By the time the gambler sits by your side, you let your finger dance over the rim of your glass, half of the whiskey already gone, faint notes of its scent lingering in the air.

Aventurine tilts his head to the side, beginning with a line not too daring but equally natural and tame; nobody wants to scare people away within a few words, and he has plenty of time before he is expected back in the headquarters of IPC.

instead of a reply, you grace him with a smile and your fingers wrapping around your glass.

Taking your smile as a sign to keep going, he takes the seat next to you, resting his forearm on the counter. Faking a gaze at his clothes, “It seems I must've overdone it.” he says halfheartedly, in question. The voice of a man who knows all too well what he was going for, a sheepish smile that feigns innocence, fully aware of the cheap acting it’s putting on. Warming the atmosphere, creating an air of comfort and ease, friendliness and truce.

“Cannot say for sure,” you hum, “up until now you’ve had everyone’s eyes on your person,” your fingers relax around the glass, “which is more or less how the usual crowd operates, you only happen to beat the others to the quota today.”

He listens as you speak, noting how you talk in sync with the music. As primitive as the planet might be, the access to data was plenty and right under his palms, yet such small details are lost, he wonders if the music lacks lyrics or if they play it here so, just to bring out the conversations happening.

“Well, lucky me, or how else could I find myself a spot near yours truly?” he exclaims, both of you aware how cheap and easy the compliment is.

“I doubt you would have any struggles.” you say as you bring the glass to your lips, taking a small sip of the ashy drink. As true as it is, he takes a step back, filling the space with a smile instead.

Do you find him so charming that you would allow him to draw near any other way or have you noticed how he stands out among the rest as well– your spot here at the bar does not have the best of view but anyone with a slight curiosity could notice it was a certain class he had a meeting with prior. Maybe it's the difference of status you mean, that his meeting alone would be intimidating. Yet it isn’t enough of a reason to justify this possibly, this particular establishment isn’t one anyone can waltz in, hence the reason it was chosen for today’s meeting.

Humming to the melody, you take another sip. “How do you find the establishment so far?” you inquire and at your question, he chuckles. “I see, I see, I should’ve held back a little, maybe leave the hat back at home, huh?”

Only at his words you seem to notice the hat by the counter, your fingers leaving the glass to play with its rim instead, feeling the fabric and the details adorning the garment.

“I wouldn’t know.” you say, closing your eyes, “But speaking for myself, I’m quite fond of the combination so far.”

Silence falls over for a while as the music continues.

“What brings a lovely person such as yourself, alone at the end of the workweek, to a place better enjoyed with someone else?”

Unnecessarily long, his brain jabs at him, but he doesn’t care, from your reactions, you seem to enjoy the rambling and the coyness.

“Exactly what you’ve said at the end.” is your reply. Nails hitting against the glass, you draw out a melodic series of clanks. You follow the rhythm well, he notes, with recognition and following at hand, it is no difficult feat to speak in sync, allow the music to swallow and put your words into spotlight.

“Perhaps the most prestigious place around here, and a little pretentious in the eyes of some– like a certain face I happen to be avoiding, but that’s where the charm of it lies, wouldn’t you agree?” you change the topic and bring it back to where he left, giving him two options, two different roads to take.

Is it the ex that is pretentious or does he find the location as such; he has a feeling the answer to this remains ‘both’.

“The ambiance manages to be intimidating and capture a warmth to it, too.” he says, “a troublesome ex perhaps?” Why pick when you can have it all, he is willing to take it and where it’ll go, until you put down the stop sign.

“And delightful melodies all around, truly a safe haven at times.” you continue his words. “Not really, just his own person, blue hair to match his soul. It often felt like, with his own goals set in mind, ambitions and beliefs, what other people thought to be pretentious was nothing more than a misconception frankly.” you sigh.

“And yet, too much to deal with at the end of the day, hm?” Aventurine asks.

With melancholy on your face, you only close your eyes and nod with a hum.

“You remind me of him.” your words catch him off guard, a lightning bolt down his spine, he finds himself straightening up in his seat.

At his sudden reaction you hold back the chuckle that's by your lips, “with all the contrast you hold to him, relax,” until you cannot, and giggle, “it seems I’ve gotten rusty, my apologies, I was trying to–” you ramble off, unable to finish your sentence.

Cute, he thinks, and another part of him finds it impressive how despite it all, even when words seem to escape your grasp, you still manage to speak in rhythm.

A new song begins playing, with a slight change of tune and color, making Aventurine raise his head without noticing.

“Have you ever thought as if some songs– music can resemble a person?” Your question pulls him out of his bubble. With your chin resting against your fists, you stare at him with big, shiny eyes. The ‘how so?’ rests on his tongue, “It can depend on the song, and the person, I’d assume.” he plays it safe. “How do the lyrics to this one go?”

You let out a hum in sync with the music again, you must’ve heard it plenty before, or just like it to a certain degree.

“I wouldn’t know.”

You say it matter-of-factly, like a kid stating they like ice cream.

The initial surprise wears off and he allows another smile to bloom on his face, unable to rid of his furrowing brows and the confusion still lacing his beating heart.

His eyes quickly go over the place and he cannot spot a single musician in sight, just an old looking gramophone by the bar, behind the counter, jolting by itself at times, as if giving out its final performance. He could swear he saw a small batch of musicians when he entered, they must’ve taken a break perhaps.

“Whoever’s behind it must be an excellent compos–” “honey, you make this so easy.” Your words glide off with the melody, yet something about it sticks out, poking at his ears, something in his guts tell it is distorted.

Yet you keep smiling at him, almost a dreamy, singsong state to your person.

“What is it that catches your attention to the music here?” He hears you speak, eyes looking for the musicians he swears were there several system hours ago.

Swinging slightly to the melody, he knows better than to not keep someone waiting.

“How it brings out the words spoken by whom you’re speaking.” He states, like a kid answering for a pop quiz they’ve been memorizing for all week long.

“And how it drowns out anything else from the outside.” You complete for him, “that's the main reason this place is often sought out by a certain class.”

He has noticed it too, of course, every planet primitive or advanced, always have their ticks and tricks to separate classes and to feel important in their little bubbles.

Eyes finding yours, Aventurine finds your expression to be distracting, you should know better than to smile like that, naive yet sharp, pure yet knowing, holding the secrets to some sort of concept he does not even know the existence of.

He weighs whether to speak next or wait, but it seems you won’t be making any moves until his begins.

“It must’ve been difficult to compose pieces with such a certain goal set in mind though, I’d be delighted to meet the geniu–“ “Oh, how I wish we too had lyrics to accompany our songs just like yours beyond stars.” Your exclamation cuts through the air like a dagger.

What you’ve said registers a bit later than he’d prefer but his face pales before his consciousness gets to work.

“Oh but you didn’t know, did you?” Your voice tone hasn’t shifted much since the moment he has met you, but he begins to find it grating, how you seem to enjoy toying with him, to the best of your abilities.

“Not many outworlders do, none at all, if we are being frank here.”

“And why is that?” Aventurine asks you, glasses pushed to the bridge of his nose, his demeanor a tad more intrigued.

“Now that…” you begin, leaning towards him slightly, “I truly don’t know.”

Hands clasped before you, you take your eyes off him as if this is just some casual date between citizens of the same village.

“But I know what your lot says, that this is a primitive planet at best, just happened to be lucky and advance in certain areas.”

This much information at your hands, you must be among the ranks of government officials. It does not come as a surprise to Aventurine that the Marshall would bring along more than just manpower to an important meeting, determining the destiny of countless lives.

“It is only fitting that the art here has evolved to the form it once had when life was anew and the people had nothing but fire, stones and one another, walls of the caves to draw on, piles of wood to set fire to.”

He takes notice how you avoid using the word ‘devolve’, you must’ve seen something in this turn of events that makes it different to what it used to be, possibly more than just the state of your species.

Not so long after this rundown that you take your leave, still humming the same song from before, Aventurine finds himself wondering what meaning have you attributed to it— and by extension, to him?

And by the time he is back on the ship, preparing his report, his mind begins to forget about you already.

It is unlikely that fate will cross his path through this planet again, reading its name in future reports will be the most at best. The songs however, take their places at the back of his mind, playing over and over when he has just lied down to take a moment,

An interesting detail, indeed, he thinks. But the question remains: was it left out deliberately, or truly only known by the natives of the planet, unable to be reached with no interaction nor contact? Sloppy work or is something bigger at play?

Ii. a dramatic irony / l’inverno

Luofu is ever changing and eternal, as it ever was, just as its citizens are.

Yet today is not one of those days, today, your countless days of watching, noting, and occasionally drinking tea, pays off; the anomaly is on the move, and so are abominations of abundance. Posing the picture perfect threat, as they are meant to be, you wait to see how fruitful this one will turn out to be. Planting seeds often results in disappointment, for most of them require constant care. It’s the matter of collecting those that can stand on their own that enrich one’s wealth.

The anomaly that was supposed to become an abomination themselves stand between the people and the abominations of the stage, one fist clenching, other readying the makeshift weapon, eyes going back and forth, telling those they once swore to protect to stand back.

It is too early to celebrate but you think a nice dinner in Aurum Alley to treat yourself after the day comes to an end would not hurt a soul. Whispering small words on what to do and not, ‘hey didn’t we keep dental records back in the day as well?’, silently entering in and typing in the name of that lost warrior to their system… such things shouldn’t necessarily earn you a pat on the back– it’s not your fault the people have grown slow and dull with the days of peace they are born into. A tea against the artificial sunset wouldn’t hurt a soul, and it certainly won’t hurt the financial resources of the IPC though.

Your job, though what it entails is often unclear, is no rocket science as the people of the blue planet once said. It’s where and how you plant the seeds of suspicion that matters, how you goad them all the while making them feel the ideas were theirs to begin with, just a little nudge toward the right direction, no big deal there.

Focusing back on the present, you go over the expressions people seem to carry. Despite the fear in their eyes, the people watch the ex knight with hope, chests rising high because they have faith they’ll leave this place alive.

Yet something still stinks.

You have left the ‘how’ of the ex knight managing to live out like a regular knight, stranger occurrences have begun to appear at a rapid rate nowadays, got everyone in a frenzy, even the IPC, which, in and of itself is a great deal of success. With the path of Akivili under the spotlight once more, the horizon seems a little wider for you; creating discordances within the flow of events now that their attention has been divided.

You return to the scene before you and notice how the fist does not only clench but seem to hold, then you recall how the time forsaken warrior jumped right into the abominations as they picked out the innocents lying on the ground– not a distraction but a set up.

Setting up the stage before the grand finale, a knight defying time and logic, you can see in their eyes and body how the rumored impulsive nature has evolved, shifted into a new path, bringing along with it a technique unique to its time and person.

You watch as the lights go out and the show starts. It lacks the elegance it was rumored to carry but you’d not be surprised, this is something borrowed, something learned, without their old master, there is no longer a correct way of applying it yet they still play it like a violin, pull the strings and trap the abominations in, one by one, three by three, they try to attack but the knight deflects faster than them.

Then taking a pause, steadying a step back, they look back and tell the people to evacuate the space. As you watch people hurriedly go all around, desperate to help in some way, one running off to alert the authorities, your eye catches a string not shining like the rest, positioned oddly.

In the shadows, nobody sees, and it the crowd, nobody notices you moving.

Crouching down, you pick it up and place how the rest seem to be angled.

Satisfied when you see the golden, light-like shine return to it; a glance at the knight and you see them move, enduring the hits and swinging out the makeshift bow, performing like a violinist and radiating trust with every step. Nowhere near their master yet but quite on the way and more than enough.

By the time the backup arrives, the young swordmaster of ice and soldiers behind him arrive, you take your leave, pulling up your hood, you bring a hand over to your face, letting it sit and feeling the change.

The Alliance seems to be doing well under the general and from the looks of it, it will continue to do so. The nearing presence of the IPC won’t hold as serious a threat as it may to other planets.

The representatives of the company don’t seem to notice your presence as you walk past them and toward the alley.

Among their ranks employees with duller and duller senses, one might even be hopeful as to think the downfall of the corporation will begin shortly.

#a broken record #aventurine #honkai star rail #aventurine x reader #aventurine x you #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #aventurine fanfiction #hsr fanfic #hsr fanfiction #gender neutral reader #aventurine fanfic

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spotlightlowlife · 3 days

Text

Helluva gaslight

Cresent Full moon.

Literally sat typing as this opening song plays. The first two minutes should convince anyone who isn't open to this show receiving criticism that they atleast missed something.

Why is Blitzø so enthused to hook up with Stolas?

Or is this simply what people expect because the ship comes before characters, ignoring the power imbalance and losers discomfort?

Well we get a simple answer. Blitzø is horny. Blitzø who easily hooks up with others is horny for Stolas, why, because it's been a while, a couple of months of Stolas passing up their usual transaction and simply offering him the book instead, which is conveniently something we have never been shown, which is a massive miss Blitzø is our main character and we couldn't see his first and second reaction to this major change and how it spilled into his daily life? All that matters is the drama that comes from him not giving Stolas his perfect answer?

On a lighter note, the cherubs are back.

So are DORK, they now work together and blend into a singular non entity, but they have potential atleast, they're all rather cute in their uselessness. Turns out DORK are actually high up in government, they send priests and little child soldiers out to work these, have access to teleportation portals and generally a load of freedom and power, when previously they simply lived up to their company name?

Somehow though, they manage the miracle of achieving even less.

Team Rocket manage to look more professional and menacing, and I don't mean the competent team rocket from pokemon black and white, I mean the classic forks who's plans literally blow up in their face 99% of the time.

We are outright told that Blitzø now has freedom with an asmodean crystal but at the same time crystal owners are infact is under Ozzie's jurisdiction, something I wondered a while ago.

What are these rules and regulations?

Is there really no way he's now working for Ozzie?

Doubtful since anyone who is supposed to be liked can't do wrong, dispite this being hell with a hierarchy that we're reminded of but have yet to see in practice, despite Verosika using her crystal to cause debauchery amungst youth on earth and being responsible for a monster attack, despite Barbie using her crystal to market in the drug trade when even hell sees drug use as something bad. Where does Ozzie fit into this?

Another big miss because Blitzø now being in another sinister deal only this one being a contract he didn't subscribe to in any way could be a good storyline.

Then again, looking at the casual soul ownership in parent series Hazbin Hotel, maybe not.

Getting back to the only issue to manage to hold any weight

• Blitzø is horny

• Blitzø and Stolas power imbalance

• Stolas refuses sex

The episode seems framed in a way to have us believe that Blitzø has power here simply for having a sex drive?

He is interested in trying out new things, so what, let us not forget what the arrangement is, in exchange for a vital tool that allows him to work, to support the family he has made and give himself a bit of a break in his miserable life, he has sex once a month with horny prince Stolas who initiated this, gets to let lose and be satisfied, got a ticket out of his dreaded marriage (that was forced on him and he had nothing to lose in getting out earlier).

We move forward with Blitzø discomfort at Stolas's perversion and general lack of interest in being around him being fine yet Stolas's mood changes we must follow this shift in his direction. Blitzø is invalidated for being open to sex on this occasion, despite all of what we have seen, dispite making his feeling clear on that occasion he had the option of initiating their out of agreement date to go further chose against it, dispite learning that this is now atleast the third occasions that Stolas has not wanted sex so it simply hasn't happened.

In a moment Stolas presented Blitzø with a gloomy mood, abruptly altered their agreement for good, presented him with an unexpected and game changing gift and cornered him with a complex decision to be made about their future, but not long after Blitzø manages to communicate how he feels back but dispite this being their allotted time together, Stolas teleports Blitzø out the house because he doesn't like what he's hearing. Blitzø said something similar prior, Stolas in all his preparation had time to plan that uncomfortable conversation. Again, who has the power here?

To add to power imbalance, there is another glaring issue...

Codependency

Blitzø also got yet another shallow, dismissive and ignorant opinion on his predicament, this time off Loona who smugly suggested Stolas was simply getting bored with Blitzø.

Now hold that...

Remember Fizz, who had fallen out with Blitzø many years ago, in one of their first sensible conversations since they were youths decided that Blitzø was so bothered by Stolas because he cared.

I'm not saying it isn't possible that he cares but what is highly HIGHLY HIGHLY common is someone who is mistreated heavily focusing on their mistreatment and those who mistreated them. Not many can just switch off and not think about it, especially if it is current or continues to have a lasting impact. Blitzø ranting about how cheated he us in the social structure and being nothing but a plaything for someone powerful are things adults tend to empathize with and it's insidious to meet this triggering topic 'clearly you care'. Atleast Fizz doesn't really know any better, Loona has little excuse.

This was honestly step one in cheapening Ozzie and Fizz's relationship because even though it was obvious from their introduction that they served to be what Stolas and Blitzø could have, this notion should be a notion alone because it disregards their inappropriate exchange and Blitzø's evident discomfort, so they're not the same and comparison makes Ozzie x Fizz a quick shortcut.

Cobined this suggestion that Blitzø was overreacting with the suggestion that he of all characters is boring and what do we get? Another setback.

No doubt all these messages are leading up to Blitzø needing to be the one to change his ways not for himself then ho on to prove himself.

#helluva boss critical #helluva boss critique #helluva boss stolas #helluva boss blitzo #helluva boss fandom

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twstfanblog · 3 days

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Ooh, ooh!

I wanna know your family headcanons for most/some of the guys beyond the vague confirmations of who's got one parent/both.

Like, names of those confirmed with siblings their names/personalities, maybe something on what you think is up with Vil's mom/Deuce's dad?

God the WORLD BUILDING that's still locked in my fucking head. Just know I've been going through everyone and I've got most of the boys unnamed family figured out. Most don't have names yet but I have made moves onnsome of them to give them large extended families like Jamil.

Lord Vil's mom. If I remember correctly, he mentions her in his birthday robes card? And he does not care for her. So the split between her and Eric was messy enough that Vil has a neutral/negative opinion of her. The way the headcanon is shaping up is that she started dating Eric for clout in her own budding acting career. But once she had Vil, she treated him more like a prop than her child, and Eric took issue with that. I could see her trying to have split custody but being only able to have visitation rights that she does not use.

Deuce's dad can go many a ways if only because I don't think he's ever talked about??? So, Mr. Spade's character is free real estate based on the AU I put him in. Some of them I have him as an excited dad to be who sadly passes before Deuce is born. Others I have him as a deadbeat who walked out on his wife after she gave birth. One thing I've kept though is that Granny Spade is Deuce's paternal grandmother who steps in to help Dylla when Deuce's dad leaves. They hardcore bond and Dylla just starts calling her mom now.

Bonus round. RIDDLE'S DAD. I believe it was confirmed somewhere that Riddle's parents aren't divorced, and he knows both of them. They're just...I'm calling it separated. Riddle's dad hasn't lived with him and his mom since Riddle was really young, but he sees him at like event dinners for charities. I also canon they're so separated that Riddle's mom just legally changed her and Riddle's last name to her maiden name. They aren't divorced, though.

So, since he has like no non shitty adults in his immediate family, I gave him a maternal uncle based off of the Dodo. He was disowned by the family, and Riddle's mom never talks about him, but Riddle learns about him in his third year. Uncle Dodo is very irresponsible and does not think shit through, but Riddle can tell he does things that he believes will make others happy. Riddle just has to be real quick in explaining that no, the fire hose would NOT water the roses faster.

#twisted wonderland #twst #disney twst #twst wonderland #family headcanons #riddle rosehearts #vil schoenheit #deuce spade

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rapha-reads · 2 days

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I tried to resist the urge but at the end of the day ranting about Romeo and Juliet is my most favourite thing to do, and ranting about vampires is also in my top 10 regular hobbies, so...

Louis, Lestat, Armand and Balthasar, or, a R&J x IWTV unplanned rant.

Under the "read more" because it got long.

Balthasar is introduced in the play as "Romeo's man", often modernised in various adaptations as his valet or his page. The footnote in The Arden Shakespeare 2012 edition states that:

"Shakespeare introduced the name for the part in the play, though it is not, of course, his invention. The name, which is also found in Comedy Of Errors, Merchant of Venice and Much Ado, occurs only once in the text of R&J, even though the character speaks nearly 30 lines in the final act."

Three things from that only: it's a common enough name, at least in Shakespearian texts, that the character could be switched for another one; he's so inconsequential that he barely even managed to make his name known ; yet despite his apparent unimportance, his role at the end is extremely crucial in closing in the tragedy.

What lines does Balthasar speaks and whom does he speak to throughout the play?

Man waits until Act III scene 1 to make his entrance. Given his function as Romeo's man, you'd think he'd be a bit more present before that point, but no, Balthy waits until everything's gone bad to arrive like "Grandma, it's me".

Romeo asks him "How doth my Juliet? That I ask again, / For nothing can be ill if she is well." The beginning of his answer could lead you to think that he's about to lie so that Romeo can still be "all well", but, naaaah, sike, he's here to deliver news and he's going to do his job. And the way he does it doesn't leave any details to the imagination:

"Then she is well and nothing can be ill. Her body sleeps in Capel's monument, And her immortal soul part with angels lives. I saw her laid low in her kindred's vault, And presently took post to tell it to you. O, pardon me for bringing these ill news, Since you did leave it for my office, sir."

"Her immortal soul"... We'll come back to that point when we'll get to the vampires. Interesting to note that he says he saw with his own eyes Jules' laid down in the Capulet's tomb, but there's no indication in the text prior to that line that he really did. Some stage adaptations have Balthasar lurking around as Capulet and Cie put her in it, most movies totally ignore Balthasar's entire role - which I will come back to in the second part too. In a way, one could think that Balthy didn't see anything, he just heard the news like any other Veronese people, and didn't wait for more information or even actual confirmation and hurried on ("took post") to tell his master. Which, he does say it himself, that's his job, to keep Romeo informed of the going-ons of Verona in general and Juliet in particular. But, man, what are your sources, actually? Whose your informant? What authenticity does your information have, except from "source: myself"?

And then homeboy has the audacity to tell a desperate and ready to commit all kinds of violence Romeo to "have patience. / Your looks are pale and wild, and do import / Some misadventure." You think?? After this we lose track of Balthy while Romeo goes soliloquising looking for his cuppa poison. ... I don't want to tell you how to do your job, Balthy, but aren't you supposed to always follow your master closely...? How are you losing him so easily? Well, to be fair to him, Romeo does send him to "hire those horses", but that's a really thin excuse.

Balthasar reappears then in the Comedy of Situations that is "everybody and their mothers come visit Juliet's body" (you know, Warm Bodies did have a point; the zombies and necrophilia jokes do write themselves). First he enters with Romeo, and then for once shows some working brain cells when Romeo tells him to peace out and he tells himself "For all the same, I'll hide me hereabout. / His looks I fear, and his intents I doubt." Yes, thank you Balthy, maybe stay inside the crypt itself... Nope, okay, I don't know where he hid but Paris "14yo is perfectly acceptable to marry when I'm 30" Escalus makes his own appearance unbothered and unstopped. Great scouting skills there. Granted, he was the first on the scene actually, but if Balthy really hid close by, he should have witnessed the altercation and maaaaybe stop it. But no. I think he's having a drink with Paris' page. Current body count: 3 (yeah, Juliet's not dead yet, for those following).

Then Friar Laurence arrives on the scene. Oh, hello, Friar My-Ideas-Will-Definitely-Work-Trust-Me-Bro. Balthy emerges from the shadows (from where? Who knows, not me and certainly not Willie the Bard himself; homeboy was lurking, planning the best moment to reappear to create maximum chaos I guess). Their discussion goes something like this:

Laurie: who're you? Balthy: come on bro, you know me. Laurie: oh, hey Balth, so nice to see you? But what the heck are you doing here? Balthy: yeah I'm here with Romeo that fail emo lord lol. Laurie: Romeo? Whaaaat? How long has he been here? Balthy: eeh, 30 minutes? Maybe 45? Dunno but it's been a while. Laurie: Jesus fucking H Christ, okay, let's get into the fucking crypt. Balthy: no thanks, without me. I told Romeo I was leaving and if he sees me still here he's going to break my neck. Laurie: ugh, fine, you coward. I'll go alone and I'm not even afraid. Actually I lied I'm scared out of my mind but I'm better than you so nah! I'm going in. Balthy, walking away: oh yeah, another thing, I was napping, ahem, keeping watch, and I think I dreamed, I mean, hallucinated Romeo killing another dude. But I don't think that's real. Anyway, hasta la vista, losers! [Exit] (sadly not pursued by a bear)

I paraphrased, naturally. And... That's Balthasar's last lines. So to recap: he's supposedly Romeo's man, hence, by his job's function, supposed to always be with him and protect him; he only appears at the end of the story to make sure that no one else can get to Romeo first and maybe tell him about Laurence's plot. He always says he's going to keep an eye on Romeo, or tries to get him to stop, but actually never does anything. Literally, by his own admission, while he's supposed to make sure Romeo doesn't do anything drastic visiting Juliet's tomb, he took a nap: "As I did sleep under this yew tree here"! And the only two people he speaks to are Romeo, whose sole purpose at this point is to die, and Friar Laurence, whose role is to fake-kill Juliet, which leads to both of them dying.

Given all of those elements, one could then consider Balthasar's role in the play as an agent of Death. Death being a character in Her own right in the play, according to some readings (I admit, the idea of Death being the one pulling the strings as Fate would do is something I very much like but is very much inspired by the French musical).

So. Balthasar, agent of Death, purposefully or accidentally, but undeniably, leading the main character to his own death and carefully not stopping nor even interacting with characters who could stop the final act.

And that's who Louis-as-Lestat compares HIMSELF to. Yeah, Louis calls himself Balthasar, let that sink in. So, spoiler alert for those like me who haven't read the books, but Armand later on is going to lie and tell Louis that Lestat died in the fire that burned down the theatre, lie that Louis will totally believe and that will certainly influence the decades of his relationship with Armand. We know Louis is absolutely not over Lestat, we know Lestat is weak at this point, and wants to scare Louis but also get him back, and we know Armand is a lying liar who lies and twist the truth to better serves him. And we know Armand was jilted by Lestat and while he (genuinely?) loves Louis, he's also bitter that Louis got what he himself couldn't get. We also know that Louis is extremely conflicted by his vampiric nature, that he's a stone cold killer but he's also constantly trying to get away from it, that he hates himself and all vampires but also hates humans and all of humanity. We know Louis feels immense guilt at what he thinks is Lestat's murder, and that this guilt is weighing on him enought hat he conjures up a mental Lestat to follow him around and sass, bitch, moan, comment and critique for him.

So, why is it interesting that Dreamstat calls Louis a Balthasar?

Let's go back to two points already evoked earlier. Balthasar makes a point of mentioning Juliet's immortal soul - in the text, it's evident enough, they're Catholics, Heaven, Hell, bla bla bla. Transposed to the idea of vampires, it does lead one to question first if vampires have souls, secondly, what are the limits of immortality. It links to Louis' questioning of his faith, the morals that he fiercely defends but abandons rather quickly when they don't suit him anymore, and his survivor's guilt vis-à-vis his brother first and Lestat secondly.

The second thing is the way Balthasar is generally erased from the known Romeo and Juliet narrative. From an intradiegetic POV, Louis could mean it as "I'm Balthasar because this story is not my story, I barely even appear, only at the very end, and even then, I'm not important, and I certainly do not want to be the focus of attention" (which could also be linked to the coven complaining that Louis hunts sloppily and will expose them all, and that's actually a point in the Death's emissary column, huh). From an extradiegetic POV, the writers might have chosen to compare Louis to Balthasar because in most screen adaptations, the first part of his role is given to Benvolio (announcing Juliet's death) and the second part (talking with Laurie) is totally erased. Which means that people who haven't read the play (or have but aren't totally obsessed with it *cough cough*) and only know the story through the movies or the musical, would have NO idea who Balthasar is. And that's what Louis tries to be: a nobody, a Monsieur-Tout-Le-Monde, unimportant, invisible, unknown. The way Balthasar is for everybody. Quasi inexisting.

And the final part of the parallel, and that one is definitely extradiegetic, is that Louis brings Death wherever he goes (although maybe in a way, after Lestat and the woman vampire in Romania, Louis thinks that of himself too, but let's not go there just yet). His arrival in Paris is what disturbs the equilibrium of the coven, makes Armand questions what he's doing here and how long he can keep going like this, drives Claudia even more away from him, and intensifies the resentment and inner conflicts of the coven. Which will all lead to the theatre burning dow, the coven dying, Claudia dying, Lestat presumed dead and 70 years of toxic married Loumand. Unintentionally, the way Balthasar seemingly unintentionally too, doesn't protect Romeo, which leads to not only his and Juliet's but also Tybalt and Mercutio's deaths (and Paris too). Unintenionally, but who's pulling Balthasar's strings, Death, Fate itself? Who's pulling Louis' strings? Armand? Lestat? Or is he such an unreliable narrator that he's passing himself as a victim of circumstances while the reality is that he's fully aware of what he's doing...? To be determined.

If you've made it to here, thank you so much and don't hesitate to tell me what you think! You can find my Tybalt/Mercutio fic here, and my essay on adaptations of Tybalt and Mercutio on screen here.

#romeo and juliet #interview with the vampire #amc iwtv #r&j #iwtv #interview with the vampire season 2 #iwtv s2 #iwtv spoilers #shakespeare #balthasar montague #louis de pointe du lac #lestat de lioncourt #armand de romanus #meta #iwtv meta #r&j analysis #rapha talks #rapha writes #that was fun!!

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sulfies · 3 days

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So Altaïr and Ezio use terms of affection all the time with Desmond, but it doesn't look like Desmond uses any back to them. Like Altaïr and Ezio call Des Habibi and Tesoro all the time but he never calls them by cute pet names.

When Connor shows up, before they realize Connor isn't his given name, do you think they get confused when Desmond calls him Rathonhagé:ton? Like they think Desmond is calling him something sweet because they don't realize that's his name? I think Ezio would be especially bitter about it.

Anyway hope you're having a good day! 🩶

Not the call out, didnt realize yall noticed💀 I just dont like english pet names that much😭 I sadly dont see him the type to use "babe, hon, sweetheart, love etc" He probobly would actually I just dont like writing it lol He does enjoy getting called petnames tho

rather than pet names I like to think he on rare occasions (being drunk, wanting to annoy them, make them do smthn for him) uses the Shortened names like Connie/Radoo, Ezy/ez, Alty (never rlly normally tho) or If he really wants to rile em up "Mentor/é" "My prophet/s" "assassin" their own nicknames back at them" etc

Oh and.. "sir/s" tho thats just me wanting that kink in there :9

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That Idea is so smart tho and fun do

imagine with Ezio going "so when will I get a cool cute name from you like Connor? Ive been here longer than him :'(" and Desmond just looks at him unimpressed and maybe calls him fucking stupid in Connor's language.

realistically 2 smartass assassins would figure it out themselves that its probobly his real name💀 but its fun for dynamics so I dont think dumbing characters down is bad I just try to keep it away from becoming idk too... Ooc and trope-y? Even tho they are litterally ooc antime I draw them interacting lol

They would probobly be more jelous that they cannot pronounce it also (the accents dont help....Connor doesnt even want to hear Ezio try it tho he does appriciate them not giving up)

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I think Connor also wouldn't use petnames(esp english ones) but maybe he would give Desmond a Kanien'kéha name? Bc he knows Ezio and Altaïr would not be able to pronounce it (I am not sure tbh I have not researched the language or the native-culture on how love language works yet)

Maybe he would call Desmond "spirit" the first time he appears and just stick with it sometimes

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And ty I had a great day❤️ ate good food that I didnt have to pay for... What more could I ask🥹

#The english nicknames dont tickle my brain right :9 #im sorry #:')#asks

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matchesarelit · 1 day

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Pikmin! (Spencer Agnew x Gn!Reader)

A video game themed bar was exactly what you needed, maybe even a little more...

Smosh Masterlist

Requested: Sort of... 'reader meets him at a bar and than they go home together and have a fun nerdy time at his place' -anon

A/N: Sorry anon they don't make it home, also hope you like video games, I thought it was a safe bet for a Spencer fan, Hope you enjoy.

Warnings: Mentions of fighting (mortal combat game play, smash bros)

W.C: ~2.1k

You'd been eager to try this place since your 'for you' page had all but taunted you with it while you were sick in bed with the flu. So crossing the threshold, the outlook of a dive type bar decked out in gaming memorabilia was both overwhelming and exactly what the doctor ordered.

LEDs behind the bar were mesmerising as they throbbed and changed, it was only after you'd straddled a stool that your eyes floated up past the assortment of alcohol, to the large collection of consoles and plug-ins suspended above.

Eagerly seeking out your favourites, you simply nodded when an approaching figure inquired after the stool to your left. Snaking your gaze down the shelving, your stare fell low enough to catch the figure of the bartender on the other side of the bar. The older woman was watching you with an amused smirk, clearly your enraptured state was not a rare one among first time visitors. Casting a glance to her headwear, you noted the Mrs Pacman sitting on her headband as you considered your drink order. Opting for a familiar brand you retrieved your phone from your pocket to pay, the case making it difficult as usual, as the bartender produced a bottle and left with a smile.

As you sipped your beverage you let your focus flit around the bar, There were a few larger screens with small groups of people crowding controllers and consoles, there were more displays and shelves chocked full of all sorts of gaming nostalgia and a few retrofitted old computers playing arcade gameplay.

Finding yourself watching more than a few rounds of mortal combat on an old box TV, your attention only shifted as a rather larger group of spectators erupted in cheers on the other side of the space. Noting some other set ups around the bar, ones much less crowded that that one, you stood from your chair, drink long since drank in many an unconscious sip as you'd watched the fights.

There was a couple duelling in some newer game you couldn't recognise, a group of older people screaming their encouragement alongside a woman playing pinball and lucky as ever, right at the back in a little alcove, there was an empty GameCube setup. Although a few other familiar titles lined the small area, the screen was already displaying your game of choice; Tony Hawk's Pro Skater 3.

After frying your own console years before you'd been itching to get your hands on this game for a while. Yet as if it was only yesterday you found yourself navigating the menu with ease, selecting a map you felt you might recognise, the name sounding somewhat familiar, possibly one you'd sold your soul to over fifteen years before.

Admittedly, navigating the menu came easier than recollecting the controls, but after a few minutes you were finding your groove well enough to hit a couple special moves and terrorise a few pedestrians.

Concluding your first level you'd indulged in the character select menu, although finding the original Tony Hawk much too nostalgic, you continued on all the same.

Before continuing, you took a brief glance around your little station, cautious someone else might be wanting a go.

Satisfied by the empty space around your chair, and the empty one by your side, you continued on to the next location. Finding yourself revisiting some favourite tricks and areas from years before, you felt yourself relax into the game, it was only when as you sat back in the chair and the stats for the completed level popped up that you noted the presence of someone talking by your side.

'-still can't believe you stuck with Tony, Demoness all the way'

Turning towards the voice you caught sight of a man around your age, sipping some colourful concoction, as he shifted his gaze from the screen to you.

Although, you noted to yourself, the mess of curls adorning his head surely meant his sight was solidly obstructed, so how he managed to notice which character you'd chosen was a mystery.

He was nonchalant as he plopped into the chair by your side, and you felt yourself of similar affect as you responded,

'Well, I must admit my old favourite was the Eye Guy as I knew him, but its been so long i wanted that Vanilla playthrough effect ya know, nostalgia and all that.'

'Oh I'm very familiar. Do you mind if I have a go?'

Hand gripping the back of your chair you go to move,

'Of course I'll just-'

'You don't need to leave, I'll only probably play the one level, I was never the best at Pro Skater,' His words were said softly vet with a surety that left no room for argument,

'Are you able to hold this?' He seemed hesitant to ask as he continued scouring the space despite holding his drink out in your direction.

'Keep me here just to hold your drink did you?' your tone was light enough that despite the flush on his cheeks he still held it out when he saw you nodding.

You took it into your hands, holding the glass in your lap atop crossed legs as you watched him grasp the controller and navigate the menu just as you had done.

As he began to play you let your eyes drift from the menu to the assortment of games along the wall, spotting a couple of old favourites you made a note to try them if you got the chance later.

Returning your attention to the screen you sat in the relative silence of the little alcove, enjoying the small sounds and voice lines from the game you'd long forgotten the AI were capable of, until the man by your side spoke up.

'How do you do the... The double flip? I'm completely blanking' He looked momentarily back to you as his character drifted about the landscape,

'Oh its just the same button as flip, just twice,' your voice was soft, hoping not to come off as patronising with the simplicity of your answer.

'Oh yeah, simple eh?' He laughed it off easily as he turned back to the screen, watching him go on to try, and nail, the trick, you smiled to yourself.

Concluding a second level you'd urged him to play, he handed the controller back to you as you returned his drink.

'Did you want to play another level? I'm thinking of changing the game,' letting your mind drift once again to the cases along the wall, you considered your options.

'Nah I'm good, what're you thinking?'

'Ooh, im not sur- OH' You cut yourself off as a certain title caught your eye.

Tugging it free of its sleeve you held your choice aloft, being careful of the disk surface of course,

'Luigi's Mansion? Good choice...' his words although genuine came with a familiar hesitance.

'I know right I've-' Your excited reminiscence was cut short as he cut in,

'...Fair warning; their copy doesn't work'

'Oh damn...' you slid the disc back into its place

'Agreed, I felt exactly the same when I tried booting it up last week.' He watched your movements before scooting his chair back a bit and starting up again, 'They do have the third one on a switch over there,' he pointed his drink in the direction of the largest crowd in the room, the chalkboard wait list filled to the brim in progressively smaller and smaller writing desperate to be fit in. 'But you'll probably be waiting a while.'

Your lips sucked into a defeated line, you moved your gaze back onto the man by your side. His own focus set on the glass beneath him as he seemingly attempted to skewer the floating lime on his straw. You noted that just as you'd thought before, his hair had clouded the space between his eyes and the drink.

'Do you have any suggestion then? Any that work?' You pondered with a laugh as you flipped through the cases, the sound drew his attention back to you, not that you noticed as he remained silent, stare caught on the back of your head.

A few moments of silence later and upon finding nothing you turned back to him, a brow raised as you sat awaiting his response.

'Oh um, there's always Smash?'

Nodding slightly you put the controller on the tabletop and began to search for the disc, 'I never really played it, you'll have to show me how...' Unsure where the confidence came from for that request, you stalled slightly in taking the game out, and replacing the other with it before sitting back down.

Letting your peripherals catch what you refused to look directly at, you watched as he nodded, his lips pursed for few too many moments before parting with a soft utterance, 'uh-yeah of- of course'.

Holding your hand out for his drink you held out the controller with the other, and as you felt the weight of the glass in your hand you studied the screen as he began a match.

'So with this one you have all the regular moves, which use the regular buttons but, for example, Falco's Phantasm you need to use- '

His explanations were comprehensive and before long, you were playing and winning matches on your own, well mostly on your own. The man beside you seemed unable to stop himself from leaning closer and pointing out special attacks you could manage at any given time. By the time you'd won your second stage his shoulder was knocking your own, his face inches from yours.

Sitting back in your chair once again, all but pooped from the adrenaline rush of such a victory as your character filled the screen almost as happy with themself as you were, you felt the warmth of his closeness fade as he followed your lead, slumping in his own seat.

Your short reprieve was cut short however as a voice, much harsher than that of the man at your side, crackled from behind you,

'Sorry, Are y'all done with this console?'

Sharing a brief look with him you shrugged and glanced to the bar, a small nod was enough for you as you turned and addressed the newcomers, 'Yeah, we are. Go for it'

Stepping out of the alcove you moved no more than a metre, before turning back to check for him. Part of you expected him to leave for another spot in the bar, another console, but a bigger part of you was sure he wouldn't, at least not yet.

Sitting up on a stool you grabbed your phone to pay for a drink yet as you waited you addressed the man once again by your side.

'Well that was great fun! Little bit of nostalgia is good for the soul, ain't it?'

'Definitely. Although... Are you sure you haven't played Smash before?'

'Weeelllll... I admit I have played some of the newer ones at parties and such, but I really thought it'd be completely different on such an older console.'

Your cheeks were hot at the reveal, it wasn't as if you'd lied, but the suggestion you'd done so to get him to help you was an interesting one.

A small smile on his lips, he fixed you with a playful glare, the crinkling of his nose a dead giveaway. Never the less you played along, dropping your phone to the bar top and raising your hands in the air as if to profess your innocence.

'I promise. Next time though, I'll have to get your help on something else, something have no idea about, maybe Pikmin? I assure you I have absolutely no clue about that game.' Your face as stoic as you could manage, not very stoic at all, you watched as his smile splurged into a wide grin as his eyes looked between you and the phone discarded on the between you on the bench.

The device was hugged by a bright red silicone case with a telling red stem that ended in a single green leaf dangling off the top end.

You continued, 'What even is a Pikmin?' Getting the question past your lips without laughing between syllables was a struggle, but a worthy one as he soon broke into giggles at your sincerity.

'Well, you seem completely cluel-' He was interrupted as your phone rung out a hearty Pikmin!

'... Completely clueless... and that's okay, I'm happy to help.'

'You're too kind...' You trailed off realising you still didn't know his name.

'OH... I'm Spencer by the way,' Nodding, you failed to supress the smile that had spread across your lips as you spoke,

'Well, Spencer, I really need your help. So how about nex-'

Pikmin!

#spencer agnew #spencer agnew x reader #smosh #smosh x reader #smosh imagine

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