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linkspooky · 1 month

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Maki Zen'in vs. Ryomen Sukuna

The past two weeks Maki has faced off against Sukuna. While it seems that Maki and Sukuna's face-off has followed the traditional formula of every individual Sukuna has squared up against so far. That being Sukuna fights them trying to bring out their best, praises them before swiftly defeating them. It's followed the formula so far, with Gojo, Kashimo, Higuruma, and Yuta. Yuta surveys their "taste" as unique sorcerers, and then quickly consumes them.

However, I am going to argue that there's a reason Sukuna takes a special interest in Maki that differs from Gojo Kashimo, Higuruma and Yuta and it's because the two of them foil each other.

1. Skin and Blood, Bone and Marrow

To badly quote Kant, and Johane Fichte thesis and anti-thesis are both necessary in order to make a statement.

Immanuel Kant's Critique of Pure Reason (1781) created the thesis / antithesis dyad, within two statements.

Thesis: "The world had a beginning in time, and is limited in regars to space."

Antithesis: "The world has no beginning and no limits in space, but is infinite, in respect to both time and space."

Fichte turned this dyad into a triad. A set of two contradictory ideas that is resolved with a third statement, synthesis. In order to make of synthesize a new idea, thesis and anti-thesis must meet first.

Are synthetic judgements a priori (before / precending) possible?

No synthesis is possible without a preceding anti-thesis . As little as antithesis without synthesis, or synthesis without anti-thesis, is possible; just as both cannot be born without thesis.

In other words no idea cannot exist without the opposite idea, and no new statements / judgement can be made without exploring these two ideas in opposition to one another.

I spent so much time explaining this philosophical concept because fights in Jujutsu Kaisen aren't just excuses for Akutami Gege to add more elaborate rules to the power system, and give the power-scaling bros more material to argue about. They are a clash of ideals between the two characters fighting, oftentimes with both characters embodying opposite philosophies. At this point it's not subtext, but literally text, Sukuna calls fights a clash of ideals.

Sukuna is not just fighting to physically conquer Yuji, at this point he wants to win in a clash of ideas to, he wants to disprove the ideals Yuji carries in his heart and all that he represents.

Mahito too, all the way back in Shibuya, called his fight with Yuji a clash of truths, rather than the fight between good and evil that Yuji imagined it to be.

Thesis and Anti-thesis are both necessary to make a statement. Yuji cannot prove his ideals to be true, without clashing with Sukuna first, and the same for Sukuna, Sukuna can no longer disprove Yuji's ideals as false without recognizing his ideals and fighting them head on.

There's a statement on twitter I want to steal that summarizes the matchup of every mini-arc in the Sukuna fighting arc so far.

To summarize Lmfalolawholebunchanumbers point, Mahito and Sukuna acting as antagonists challenge the ideals of the protagonists, but while Mahito represents the reverse of humanity's ideals, Sukuna is against the concept of hodling onto any consistent ideology himself. Sukuna in fact believes that all the ideals of the sorcerers that challenged him in the past were false and flimsy, and is troubled by the fact that Yuji holds onto his ideals no matter what.

I already somewhat explored this in this meta, Sukuna's Anti-Enlightement. Where I argue that Sukuna's ideals resemble nihilism, but even then I wouldn't label Sukuna a nihilist because Nihilism is still a set of beliefs and Sukuna doesn't seem to hold onto any consistent ideology or belief system at all. Trying to assign any human branch of thought or motivation to Sukuna doesn't quite work, because Sukuna's point of view isn't one of a human, but more like an inhuman curse, or even a deity. In other words a calamity.

"Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster. And if you gaze long enough into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you.” Beyond Good and Evil Part IV Frederick Nietzsche

Nietzsche used the abyss as a metaphor to summarize the unknowable psychological complexity of human beings. You stare at the abyss trying to comprehend it. Which means when facing the abyss, the abyss forms in your mind. Anyone who tries to understand humans must face the fact they are incomprehensible. Anyone who tries to create some meaning to life must confront the fact that the world is so ridiculously overcomplicated and random it's impossible for the human mind to fully comprehend.

The abyss as it exists is a place of danger where it's easy to lose sight of your search for meaning, or even yourself, but in order to grow you have to confront the deepest, darkest part

Anyone who tries searching for the truth, risks confronting the idea that they may be wrong, risks questioning their values, risks confronting the fact that what they believed meaningful might have no meaning at all - and therefore the abyss widens inside of them, they might abandon idealism all together.

Anyway, enough boring philosophy more or less every single person who fights Sukuna risks having their ideas feel false. Or to paraphrase the twitter user I quoted above, most of the characters that try projecting their own human ideals onto Sukuna, find not only do they misunderstand Sukuna entirely, but Sukuna doesn't care about their ideals and disproves them.

Gojo and Kashimo (and before them Yorozu) all try to fight Sukuna, believing they could make Sukuna understand them and understand Sukuna in turn only to find they were misreading Sukuna entirely.

Gojo makes a big deal of trying to bring out Sukuna's best to prove that Sukuna is not alone standing on the top, only to be met with Sukuna basically going "I don't really care."

When you confront the abyss, the abyss opens up inside of yourself and your ideas may prove to be false. No one who's faced Sukuna so far, has been able to conquer that abyss, in fact Sukuna keeps rendering their ideals to be false. Perhaps because they are just projecting ideas onto the abyss, looking at Sukuna instead of looking at the abyss inside of themselves.

They want something from Sukuna that Sukuna can't give them, they're looking externally for Sukuna to give them easy answers instead of looking internally. Not one of them is able to form a new idea or make a statement because they're not willing to confront anti-thesis.

The exception to this pattern so far is Maki. There's a reason I've been hammering on about the abyss so much, it's because in this most recent chapter Sukuna calls Maki "a true void."

In one sense, there's the technical power system reason why he calls Maki a void. Maki is someone who gave up all cursed energy in order to strengthen her physical body, whereas in comparison Yuji who also mainly fights with his body and super strength, but unlike Maki, Yuji hasn't broken away from cursed energy and is instead soaked in Sukuna's cursed energy.

However, not only has Maki cast off cursed energy, unlike Yuji who has suppressed his own identity to become a cog in favor of his ideal of having a role and supporting other people, Maki has let go of the idea of protecting others and instead focused entirely on the idea of improving her own strength.

Though, not entirely by choice as Mai sacrificed herself, but Maki's awakening and becoming of herself happened when she let go of Mai, and protecting Mai or reforming the Zen'in for Mai's sake. Not only did Mai take cursed energy with her when she died allowing Maki to break free of cursed energy, but she also let go of her ideal of protecting Mai. Losing her cursed energy went hand in hand with losing her "goal" and almost immediately afterwards she loses her goal of trying to prove herself to the Zen'in or become clan head and just exterminates them entirely.

Everything Maki lived for is gone, so what does Maki live for now? Herself mainly, and the concept of total freedom that comes with no longer tying yourself to others.

In that way, I'd say that Maki almost resembles Sukuna the most, because if Sukuna represents the void that others must confront Maki is the only character that has opened up the void inside of herself. As Sukuna said unlike Yuji who's half-assed in his idealism, Maki's shaved away everything and is contemplatng the void. Almost to reflect this, Gege's done away with most of Maki's internal narration and most of her internal dialogue is focused on either how to win, and how to bring out the fullest of her abilities.

Maki's opened up and contemplated the void inside herself, and in that way she's done away with self-doubt like most of the characters are facing, she's not projecting her anxieties onto Sukuna or wishing for him to answer or resolve her identity crisis like Gojo and Kashimo. She doesn't even have an identity crisis.

In fact, Maki and Sukuna resemble each other so much by both having a void inside of them it makes me wonder if Twin Theory is true that Sukuna also achieved his perfection in Jujutsu by either fusing with his twin in Uterus or cannibalizing his twin somehow.

Even in the fight itself, Maki's the one who's most laser focused on winning, whereas Yuji and Yuta's strategies fail because they're too concerned with saving Megumi who himself at the moment does not wish to be saved. (Saving Megumi is a good thing though, I'm just making a point that Maki much like Sukuna only sees herself winning the fight and prioritizes that above everything else. It's not like she's against saving Megumi either she didn't argue against Yuta and Yuji taking a shot at it). It's just she's the only one who like Sukuna only sees the fight in front of her and doesn't worry about other people. She's laser focused on the win is what I'm saying).

I don't think it's just the fact that Maki has cast away cursed energy that's drawn Sukuna's attention, but the fact that while she represents his anti-thesis focusing on only strengthening the human body, they also share many similarities between them.

They're both the void.

Sukuna even says that Maki's existence denies Jujutsu itself.

Sukuna says that Maki is the only person who's forced him to have a role, and in a way that's true, because by denying Jujutsu, she represents the void that Sukuna has to contemplate now. In a way she's played an uno-reverse card to Sukuna's philosophy of revolving his entire life around strengthening Jujutsu and being the height of Jujutsu.

Sukuna now has to prove Jujutsu's superiority and contemplate the fact that is ideal might in fact be wrong.

Sukuna and Maki both represent the ideal of what one can achieve in the pursuit of strengthening the body, versus strengthening Jujutsu, Hajime even comments that Sukuna's body is absolute perfection.

Not only that, but they both represent the opposing philosophies established by Kenjaku and Yuki, Kenjaku sees the future evolution of humanity as optimizing cursed energy, and Yuki envisions a future of breaking away from cursed energy entirely and even namedropped Toji and Maki both as examples of those ideals.

There's a reason that Gojo is troubled by Toji and remembers his loss to Toji years after the fact, Toji deeply troubles Gojo not because he beat him in a fight and caught him off guard but also because his existence challenged everything Gojo believed to be true.

Gojo is the first inheritor of the six-eyes, and Limitless in hundreds of years, he exists solely for Jujutsu as Nanami said, he was also someone who was arrogant at seventeen and was handed everything at birth, who has always been held up on a pedestal by Jujutsu Society. Yet the only person who seriously challenged Gojo and forced him to evolve before Sukuna rolled around was Toji, someone who is the scapegoat of Jujutsu Society, and who is looked down upon by the the three clans. Suddenly, the inherent superiority that Gojo believed in, all the things he thought made him great b/c he was the peak of the Jujutsu world was called into question if a mere monkey could challenge him.

Toji too, stuck around and fought Gojo because he felt a pressing need to disprove the philosophies and ideals that Gojo represented. However, Toji in this fight lost because he succumbed to the void.

He deviated away from his set of ideals and fell prey to his inferiority complex rather than staying true to himself in face of the void.

Gojo's enlightenment itself comes from facing the void that is Toji Zen'in, and then conquering that void by conquering his own biases against Toji that made him let his guard down. Yet, his defeat against Sukuna comes from the fact that he couldn't conquer the void, he couldn't find his own answers instead relying on Sukuna for an answer and because of that Sukuna reduced him back to a human being again with the world cutting slash that cut through the infinity.

In other words in just two chapters Maki vs. Sukuna have embodied a philosophical battle that has been raging in Jujutsu Kaisen since basically Hidden Inventory, and maybe even the beginning of the manga itself and it is what do your ideals, the ideas you live for mean in face of the void / death. Are they worth holding onto, can you create a synthesis from confronting and overcoming your antithesis, or will you too succumb to the meaninglessness that Sukuna represents?

How do you find meaning in a world where death is random, where anyone can die at any moment, a world that is inherently unfair where good things happen to bad people, and selfish monsters like Sukuna get whatever they want who win because they are selfish and step all over people and take what they want.

Confronting Sukuna means confronting the fact that the world may be empty, and we may all be just killing time until we die.

The lines skin and blood, bone and marrow which is what Sukuna uses to refer to the source of is strength (Jujutsu) and the source of Maki's strength (the physical body) are a reference to Bodirahma asking his disciples to understand his teachings.

"You have attained my skin. You have attained my flesh. You have attained my bones. You have attained my marrow."

In other words neither Sukuna and Maki are entirely right, the true understanding comes not from Jujutsu, or the Body, but from both, from skin, flesh, bones and marrow.

In other words, a statement requires thesis and anti-thesis. It's not Maki and Sukuna that are right, and something can be learned from the clash of their ideals.

What I'm saying is basically that JUJUTSU KAISEN is a story with THEMES and I love it.

#maki zenin #ryomen sukuna #yuji itadori #satoru gojo #jjk meta #sukuna #maki zen'in #jujutsu kaisen meta #jujutsu kaisen theory

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anitalenia · 1 month

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₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐀𝐑 𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑 .𖥔 ݁ ˖༘⋆𐦍⊹₊ ⋆

⋆˙⟡♡ 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐀𝐑 𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑. ✧･ﾟ: * 𝔀𝓮𝓵𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓮 𝓽𝓸 𝓔𝓾𝓭𝓸𝓻𝓪𝓼, 𝓽𝓻𝓪𝓿𝓮𝓵𝓮𝓻. 𝓲𝓽 𝓼𝓮𝓮𝓶𝓼 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝔀𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓭. 𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓮, 𝓲'𝓵𝓵 𝓽𝓪𝓴𝓮 𝓬𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝔂𝓸𝓾 . ⋆˙⟡♡✧ ℕ𝔸ℕ𝔸𝕄𝕀 𝕂𝔼ℕ𝕋𝕆 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑙𝑜𝑠𝑡 𝑖𝑛 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑑𝑎𝑟𝑘 𝑤𝑜𝑜𝑑. 𝑡𝘩𝑎𝑛𝑘𝑓𝑢𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑡𝘩𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑎𝑛 𝑒𝑡𝘩𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑙 𝑤𝑜𝑚𝑎𝑛 𝑡𝘩𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑖𝑛 𝑤𝑎𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔. 𝑎 𝑤𝑜𝑚𝑎𝑛 𝑤𝑖𝑡𝘩 𝑏𝑒𝑎𝑢𝑡𝑖𝑓𝑢𝑙 𝑤𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝘩𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑠 𝑤𝘩𝑜 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑒𝑑 𝓱𝓮 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓰𝓸𝓷𝓷𝓪 𝓫𝓮 𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓻𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽 . . . ₊˚⊹.* ♡ *.⊹˚₊ 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐀𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃 ✧‧₊˚

၄.၃ ݁ ˖ִ ࣪₊ ⊹˚ 𝓹𝓪𝓲𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰 ₊˚✧ 𝕥𝕣𝕒𝕧𝕖𝕝𝕖𝕣! nαnαmí kєntσ x 𝕕𝕒𝕣𝕜 𝕗𝕒𝕚𝕣𝕪! rєαdєr

၄.၃ ݁ ˖ִ ࣪₊ ⊹˚ 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼 𝓽𝓸 𝓴𝓷𝓸𝔀 ₊˚✧ the reader will have very long hair and dark navy blue eyes for the sake of the story. I tried to be as vague as possible in every other aspect. this will also be in multiple parts, like a mini series. I’m not sure how many parts there will be 😔

၄.၃ ݁ ˖ִ ࣪₊ ⊹˚ 𝓪𝓷𝓲𝓽𝓪𝓵𝓮𝓷𝓲𝓪 𝓼𝓪𝔂𝓼 ₊˚✧ I took a different approach when writing this than I usually do, or in other words a different writing style than usual. Tbh, I know it’s not my best writing but it’s not the worst either. So please tell me if the writings good, I’ll definitely appreciate it !! Also, Sugar Water is one of my favorite songs by Cibo Matto, I definitely recommend it 😫✨. Thank you, and enjoy the story ✨ nanami header and gray sparkle divider made by me 💖

⋆˙⟡♡ 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒄𝒖𝒓𝒓𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒍𝒚 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑷𝑨𝑹𝑻 𝑶𝑵𝑬 𐙚 ‧₊˚ . 𝜗𝜚𝒕𝒘𝒐 𝜗𝜚𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒆𝒆 𝜗𝜚𝒇𝒐𝒖𝒓 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁

⋆⭒˚. ࣪˖ ִֶָཐིཋྀ 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐋𝐄𝐆 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 the sun was quickly setting — either that, or the trees were so thick it made the sky look black.

Nanami couldn’t be sure; he was too focused on the pain in his leg and the pounding in his head that made it hard for him to think clearly, his vision blurring with every pulse.

Was it day? Had it been only hours since he escaped with barely his life? How long had he been wandering through these dark woods with nothing but his own wits about him?

Nanami had no clue.

Long enough for twigs to stick in his hair that’s for certain, long enough for mud to cling to the sweat on his skin and stain the fabric of his clothes. Long enough for his mind to blur the reality of hours and minutes that time itself seemed to stretch and bend forever.

He was sure he was leaving a rather noticeable blood trail behind him for those beasts to follow him and yet it seems they hadn’t — they must be too busy sucking out the marrow of his companions to bother with him.

Nanami couldn’t argue with that reasoning, however. With an injury like his, bleeding out like he was, he was bound to wither away eventually; he was already a walking corpse.

A morbid thought, but his macabre reality.

The forest floor was brown and black slush, muddy from the light rain that squished and sloshed under his boots. His glasses were dotted with water and his leg shot pain straight up his spine with every dreaded step forward yet Nanami wouldn’t give up — he couldn’t.

Not when his boots sunk into the mud and he had to pull his legs out of the earth to move, not when he smeared water on his glasses when he’d push them up the bridge of his nose, not when every step felt like a millennia of war battling in his calf… he smelt of his own blood and misery yet he conquered on, further into the dark wood with splinters in his palms and blisters on his toes.

A part of him was drawn forward anyway, drawn towards the mystery of the shadows and the fortune that may just await him if he continued on just a little farther. A symptom to his love for adventure; he was always weak to the allure of intrigue.

It was also hope.

Nanami couldn’t die here, not like this, not after all of his adventures and misfortunes and treasures. He was a traveler after all, a born adventurer; he’s faced many great monsters and beasts and traversed the most dangerous of terrain — fierce lions with claws of blade and savage wolfs with teeth of daggers, fiery lava pits and cataclysmic grand canyons.

He’s been dealt with far worse things than a clawed leg — he’s been poisoned and stabbed and bit and bludgeoned and nearly flattened by an avalanche yet this seems to be the one injury to ruin him despite them all.

A damn cut.

Maybe his bad luck had finally caught up to him.

Maybe it was purely by chance and blind, ignorant luck that he survived those encounters at all, maybe it had been luck that saved his life tonight.

He didn’t believe in luck but maybe that was just it.

Maybe he’d die from blood loss first before the infection set in; he hoped he’d just collapse into the forest floor and let the mud swallow him as his body weakened and his blood pooled around him to soak into the dirt.

At least he wouldn’t feel it when he rotted into the soil and roots buried themselves in his bones, when flowers would eventually sprout from his decay and grow gardens.

There was always beauty to be found in ugly things he guessed, a rule just as simple as beauty could be recycled from the horror of something else.

Something beautiful to come from something dead, something finally meaningful to come from his meaningless purpose.

No.

Nanami swallowed down that dreaded feeling, motivation bursting at his seams and ripping at his shirt, pooling at his feet and pounding in his ears as he stepped onward with a clenched jaw and sore muscles.

He was determined to live, determined to find something or someone or… he was bound to find safety eventually, some kind of sanctuary, even if it took him all night (if he even lived that long).

He walked a little longer until he stumbled upon a thick berry bush that seemed to block his way further; it was dark blue berries he certainly didn’t recognize and definitely didn’t trust to eat no matter how badly he needed the energy.

Nanami took that as a sign, stopping against a tree trunk to rest his throbbing leg for just one minute — a minute he couldn’t really spare. He leaned down and put a hand on his one good knee and huffed and sighed, panting weakly and tiredly; he really wanted nothing more than to be in his big comfy bed back in Hawksborough, surrounded by the comfort of his own home and safety of his room.

A few quiet moments passed with him like this. Him leaned against the tree, tired and haunted with nothing but the sounds of nature and the weariness of his own fragmented breath surrounding him.

Then, then he heard something rather remarkable, something that had his breath stop and his back straighten.

It was a hum, a beautiful, deep hum that seemed to resonate in the air around him and shake the leaves of the trees and the petals of flowers on broken stems.

It started out faint, like the strings of a harp between soft fingers. Then it crescendoed into something greater, deeper, like if someone were to play the keys of an organ and each heavy note echoed on the walls of an empty cathedral; hauntingly beautiful.

It certainly did, it echoed in his chest so hard he could feel his ribs shake.

It was a melodically smooth sound, coming from somewhere close to him but yet everywhere around him; it was hypnotic and bone chilling and mesmerizing all in one and Nanami felt a shiver run down his spine at the sound of it as the hum seemed to grow louder the more curious he became.

He looked around the darkness for anything to hint at where the sound was coming from, but saw nothing except black air and the twisted limbs of trees.

Nanami gulped down the pain in his body with a sore throat, then winced as he stood up straight.

His leg throbbed and his head was starting to ache but with one final push he managed to scramble his way through the berry bush where the hum seemed to drown in his ears and coo at his brain; something told him he was going the right way.

He grind his teeth at the thorns pushing and breaking into his skin, ripping at his shirt and tearing at his seams.

When Nanami was through, a dirty mess of ragged clothing and mud, he stumbled into the grass with a grunt, falling to his knees and landing on his bruised palms.

“Fuck…” He muttered painfully, never one to cuss but too damn frustrated not to; he’d forgive himself for it.

Nanami took a moment to relish in the agony of his battered leg; he didn’t even realize the humming had stopped until he picked his head up to see where he was.

And by the gods Nanami was in utter awe of what he saw.

There was a bright blue pond a little ways ahead of him, surrounded by flourishing plants and flowers and vines that all seemed to glow vibrant colors of blue and gold. The water itself was sparkling and bright, reflecting cerulean pools in the flora around it.

Iridescent blue weeping willow trees hung around the water and seemed to whisper longingly to the wind that caressed their leaves. The grass was long and wispy surrounding the blue bosque that seemed to sway and dance all on their own accord, to their own little melody.

The air itself was sweet and sprinkled with little golden fireflies that buzzed happily around him; it was like a portal to a whole new thriving world.

Although, it was eerily seductive; Nanami wanted to stay in the grandeur blue arms of this utopia forever, but something in the way his hair stood up on his arms and his heart pounded in his ears told him he wasn’t completely safe to do so.

Nanami pushed that thought aside, not necessarily in his right mind to pay attention to what his body was subconsciously telling him.

He was too wide eyed and breathless, for even the wind seemed so fresh and magical every pore in his body felt alive and tingly — he even felt the pain in his leg stop, some sort of euphoria flood through his nerves. Unless he just became so accustomed to the pain he couldn’t feel it anymore.

It was so beautiful and unlike anything he’d ever seen; how he wished he could take a picture and write it down in his journal so he could remember this place forever… if only those beasts hadn’t ripped his satchel off him.

Nanami blinked, once, twice, then pushed himself off the ground with all the strength he could muster. He was dirty and torn and completely out of place in such an ethereal land; he felt almost guilty for tainting its grass with his muddy shoes.

Still, he stumbled further into the mysterious place as the soft sound of wind chimes twinkled somewhere around him, not loud and obnoxious but soft and gentle, a lullaby almost that made him feel sleepy, like the notes themselves were wrapping their velvety arms around him and pulling him in.

He didn’t resist it, looking around in awe at the paradise in front of him as he took a couple steps forward. He caught the movement of two butterflies playing together in the air, their dainty wings glimmering with glowing white sparkles and a vivid sky blue — he even swore with every flap of their wings it left a trail of delicate golden dust behind them.

He watched with wonderment as they faded somewhere into the trees, then turned his head to look back at the pond; the real treasure.

He felt his mouth salivate, all too aware of the dryness in his sore throat now as the water swayed and tempted him into its crystal blue depths. He knew he should’ve been wiser about this, hesitate for just a moment and linger on the possibility of entrapment but his thirst wouldn’t allow it; a pathetic, wandering fly in a deadly flytrap.

Nanami took two strong steps — all the strength he had left — towards the ponds edge for some much needed refreshment, falling down to his knees at the waters edge. The buzzing of nature seemed to drown out behind him in a mesh of forgotten sound as he scooped up a handful of water and eagerly drank it out of his palm.

He didn’t bother looking at his reflection; he knew he was an utter mess and always hated to see himself in disarray. He must’ve looked vaguely threatening to any outsider who saw him — not that anyone did (as far as he knew).

The water rippled as he drank from it, the liquid cool and translucent blue in his dirty palm he had haphazardly wiped on his trousers.

It passed over his dry gums and throat in a refreshingly cold blast with every gulp; it tasted so good and clear he could even feel the chill of it going down his throat.

With three more frantic gulps Nanami had had enough; his stomach was full and his thirst was quenched as he leaned back on his palms and looked up towards the sky in a spared moment of relaxation.

It was a dark navy blue sky twinkling with yellow and gold diamonds, no moon in sight but he didn’t care as he got lost in the coolness of the air on his narrow cheeks and the way it wrapped around his aching body, warping between the tears of his shirt and washing over his warm skin.

It was the opposite of how he used to sit on a cliffs edge and soak in the warmness of a golden sunset after a hard journey. He didn’t want to feel the heat of a days end on his glowing skin so much as he wanted to bask in the cold stillness of a breezy evening.

He hadn’t known how he got here and he didn’t bother trying to figure out how; as an adventurer such as himself it was always about the journey rather than the destination itself anyway, but not in this case.

In this case he couldn’t be happier that the troublesome voyage had ended and he had finally reached where he needed to be — maybe needed was a strong word but he’d rather be here than out there. It was certainly weird to think that way, and it went it against his very passions but… he’s been through too much in this night alone than he’s ever really suffered through in the totality of his life.

Nanami felt disappointed in himself for thinking so, guilty even, like he was betraying this metaphorical odyssey he was destined to travel on. Still, for the first time in his career Nanami was relived to be off his feet.

He sighed wistfully, fingers sinking into the soil as cool air flooded his lungs. He closed his eyes as he relished in the feeling.

Nanami didn’t even feel it when his elbows buckled under him and he fell back on the grass, only seeing a glittering blue sky and yellow diamonds behind black, closed eyes.

The water went still once more and the blue went black.

You studied the contours of his face delicately, your hands intertwined in your lap and your legs tucked under you as you did.

The room was small and cozy, lit by nothing but a soft blue flame in the corner that crackled and popped every few moments, tendrils of butterfly bush hanging from the ceiling and walls. The room smelt of honey and sweet rain, dark and joyfully dreary but you saw his face just fine.

He was quite handsome, you couldn’t deny that.

His blonde hair all in disarray, his narrow cheeks and sharp nose, his thin pink lips and angled eyes.

He was handsome.

You narrowed your eyes at him curiously, raising a delicate hand and gently brushing your cold fingertips over his cheekbone.

His skin was smooth and warm, cheeks flushed a light pink. It was always a small envy of yours — the warmth of humans. You were so cold all the time, your skin like crystals and frigid like snow.

Your fingertips fluttered over his blonde eyelashes, unable to keep your hands off him.

You wondered what color his eyes were. Green? Brown? Blue maybe?

You were eager for him to wake, your boredom having become tiresome and your patience having become thin. Still, you didn’t want to disturb his sleep just yet. The poor man had been through so much already; his leg was still healing, wrapped in bandages and honey salve and you certainly didn’t want to add any extra stress that could damage him further.

Really, you loved to stare at him with no complications, enjoyed the thrill of blatantly admiring his beauty before he could wake up and you’d inevitably make him uncomfortable, before he’d say it was improper to do so.

You were selfish in that regard, in many regards.

This man, you hadn’t learned his name nor his origin, but you knew he had been in the dark woods at a time he should not have been.

He was tall and brave, strong and perseverant, that much you knew and that much was certain. It was why you liked him so much, it was why you spared him.

But who was he?

He was no real threat to you and that was all that mattered.

You smiled softly, bemused and smitten, when his nose crinkled in his sleep. You gently dusted away a stray blonde hair that had fallen out of place.

You seemed to have bothered him then, because not a moment later did his head turn slightly and his lips part to exhale — he was waking up.

Finally.

You settled your hands back in your lap before he could notice, staring down at him with a sweet, welcoming smile in hopes to comfort him as his eyes fluttered open to look at you.

You gazed back into them delightedly.

Mm, they were brown.

Nanami had woken up with an ache in his skull and a sting behind his eyes, lost in a daze of twisted black thickets and enticing blue ponds; the sensation of featherlight fingers tracing his cheek tickled his brain and made his skin itch.

The first thing he smelt when he came to was blueberry pie and sugar, the sweetness of it making his mouth water but his stomach twist.

He wanted to eat something, badly, but he also wanted to throw up.

The air was warm around him, comfortable and pleasant, his sore back laid on something soft and plushy. He didn’t feel any reason for panic as he found himself melting into the comforter — whatever the hell it was he couldn’t be certain — against his better judgment.

Nanami tried to gather some sort of sensation in his body, tried wiggling his fingers and his toes but all he felt was nothing, numbness. He couldn’t even feel the pain radiating in his leg anymore.

He found that worrisome; maybe it was finally his time, maybe his luck had finally run out. Maybe he was lying face down in the forest floor right now as his mind conjured up the smell of his favorite pie and the feigned comfort of his mattress as a sweet gesture to bid him a final farewell.

Hell, if death was this peaceful he would’ve never been so against it.

Then he felt another whisper of skin across his forehead, soft and untraceable. If it wasn’t for the stark coldness of whatever it was touching him he would’ve missed it.

With the coldness making his skin shiver Nanami quickly found himself grounded back to reality. He wasn’t dead, he couldn’t be. Death didn’t exhibit the mundane concepts of hot or cold; temperature had no purpose in a void of nothing.

He was very much alive if the sound of his heart beating in his ears and the chill on his forehead was anything to go by. He even felt the tips of his fingers tingle as feeling came over them again, numbness having lingered in his bones for far too long.

He somehow found the strength to open his eyes.

For a brief moment he saw a blurred vision of black and blue. The shadow of a pale, azure colored light shining from somewhere, flickering in and out. It made a headache settle into the cracks of his skull and spread a torturous ache throughout his head.

He couldn’t stop the groan from leaving his lips as his hand flinched up towards his temple.

“Oh no, it seems you have some head trauma, it’s best not to strain yourself right now.”

It was a voice, soft spoken, barely above a whisper that piqued his interest immediately.

His vision focused on you once the pain faded; the girl next to his bed side with glittering dark eyes and a wickedly charming smile, wearing a baby blue colored dress embroidered with delicate flower designs; vines and flowers all intertwined in a tangled mess of thorns and petals that reminded him so greatly of the dark wood.

A sheer, glittering lily white shawl was loosely hung around your shoulders, hair in wavy tendrils down to your waist that pooled around your thighs. You were certainly pretty and unassuming.

He could tell you were a frail little thing, gossamery and lovely in a dainty sort of way but he also knew better than to underestimate you; appearances always deceived and there was no greater trick than the feigned purity of an impure thing.

Thankfully, he was not one easily fooled.

Nanami looked back up at you after a quick study of your form — your posture and seemingly innocent facade that did nothing to comfort him — so he just stared at you distrustfully, dark brown eyes narrowed cautiously. He noted the feigned sweetness of your lips as they curved into a small smile and the mischievous twinkle in your eyes as you gazed down at him; he felt preyed upon, the same feeling he exhibited in the meadow.

Kento had been through enough near death experiences in his life to recognize a snake when he saw one, for even the devil had come as a beguiled serpent so who was he to know if you were any better? He felt uneasy under your vehement stare, like a mouse in a cobra pit.

It was peculiar and uncanny, you yourself were frightening and unusual, no doubt a cacophony of horrors wrapped in a cute little bow with pretty blue eyes. He knew you could have anyone fooled, but he was too good, too experienced in the matters of trickery to recognize a fellow trick when he saw one.

Nanami was on the cusp of your deception, giving you a heady stare from beneath stern eyes.

He subtly leaned further away from you.

You flickered your gaze between his stare with an amused look, noting the change in his aura surrounding him as he regarded you tentatively.

You were honestly impressed by how quickly he seemed to have caught on to your true nature, not all humans had the innate sense of danger that he did; something in his gut had told him you were a vile, dangerous thing, and his instincts were telling him to run.

Even though it was unfair to categorize you as such, it was only fair to assume, and not necessarily distinguished too far from the truth anyway.

You sympathized with his ornery skepticism, not wanting to scare him any further so you just smiled down at him in the sweetest way you could fathom. You waited patiently for him to gather his thoughts and wit. Although, it seemed his mind was already made up.

“How are you feeling?” You asked in a nonthreatening, soft tone, raising a hand and barely touching the flushed skin of his bare chest, only enough for your fingertips to graze across his skin and grab his attention.

You were pleasantly thrilled at the feeling of his warmth under your fingertips, but Nanami just shuddered like a ghost had touched his bare soul with cold, lifeless hands.

His dark eyes quickly flickered down to where your hand had touched him, covering it with his palm like you had just struck him. Your fingertips seemed to have jolted his skin with a sudden frigid coldness that throbbed through his veins and made his heart stutter. He flinched at the shock of it, not seeing the way you had to bite back a smirk at his indignation.

He looked up at you with a sharp inhale, “I’m quite fine,” Nanami cleared his throat and tried to sit up straighter in an attempt to look half as intimidating as you did, “now who are you?”

You smiled at him, already loving the sound of his voice as he spoke to you; smooth, sharp, demanding, washing over your skin like the warm water of a hot spring. He was entirely too serious and you were too smitten. You could hear the underlying hatred he seemed to already have for you, hear the way his heart raced in his chest and see the way his fist tightly clenched the blanket between his long fingers.

You made him nervous and he made you pathetically giddy. You didn’t care about his fear however, for he would soon learn to become accustomed to you given the proper time spent together. All you really needed was just a little patience until then, after all, could you really blame him for being a bit standoffish given his bizarre situation?

You felt amusement pull at your lips as you folded your hands back into your lap, looking down at him with navy blue pools that reminded him so much of the pond he had so eagerly drank from, “Your savior. You’re welcome for that by the way.”

Nanami leered at you, the hair standing up on his arms as you spoke. Your voice was sweet enough but coated with undertones of something more sarcastic, something more sinister.

“Savior? I sincerely doubt that.”

You felt your smile pull harder at his pride; you couldn’t help it, he was like a frightened squirrel shrinking away from you with his tail between his legs, but trying desperately hard to appear like he wasn’t.

You heard the hardness in his voice though, the rigidness in his tone, the overcompensation for fear.

“Well, how do you explain where you are then? I hardly believe you got here on your own.” You teased him, gesturing to the dimly lit room around you and granting him a large, impish grin.

Nanami didn’t bother looking around, keeping his eyes narrowed in on your face and his hand on his stomach; he didn’t trust not having his eyes on you.

“Whatever the case may be… I can assure you I’m fine. I don’t need whatever it is you’re offering, and quite frankly, I don’t want it.”

You sighed lethargically at his stubborn insistence, staring at him for a moment as your shoulders slumped.

“Is that so? Then stand and walk out. I’m not stopping you traveler. You’re free to do as you please.” You teased him once more with a smirk on your face, gesturing towards the exit behind you — a rectangular opening in the wooden wall shielded by strings of diamond hanging off the top rim.

Of course, you knew he couldn’t leave anyway.

Nanami glanced at where you were pointing coldly, intrigued by the glances of blue-green trees — it seemed like — peeking through the swaying beads.

He didn’t move his head, only his eyes, considering.

There was no way you would just let him walk out that door.

He looked back at you, then looked down at his foot which he had almost forgotten about. It was heavily wrapped in big blue-green leaves he didn’t recognize, sealed tight with a sticky, glossy coating. He raised his brow curiously, face stoic.

You followed his gaze with a knowing smile, “Oh, that’s right… you can’t walk.” You looked back up at him, grin having not left your face.

Nanami clenched his jaw at the cheery way you seemed to say it. His biceps strained as he adjusted in the bed to sit against the wall completely, ignoring the ache in his spine and the heaviness sat on his broad shoulders. Flowers tickled the back of his neck and a small fur blanket slid off his hips as he did.

You stared heatedly at the flexing veins in his arms and the tightness of his abs, the smoothness of his human skin and the rigid curves of muscle on his virile body; he was beautiful and magnificent, like a diamond tenderly molted and pressed over the course of eons. Only a god who truly loved him could dedicate such time and care to carve him — every muscle and vein, from the tips of his toes to the strings of his blonde hair he was perfection.

You couldn’t let him leave you, not now, not after you’ve heard the whiskey smoothness of his voice and seen the chocolate of his brown eyes. He was everything you wanted and everything you desired.

Nanami swallowed once he was settled, glaring at you with his fist bundled in the black fur of the blanket you had laid on him.

“I can tend to my own wounds, I never asked for your help. I wish to go back home.”

You couldn’t help but giggle at him, raising a hand and covering your mouth as you did.

“Home? Your home is far away, you need to rest.” You laughed at him like he was silly, attempting to lay a consoling hand on his thigh with blue and white crystal bracelets jangling on your wrist.

Nanami gripped your hand before you could touch him however, keeping it locked in a tight grip between his strong fingers. He ignored the coldness of your skin in his grasp while your heart jumped at the feel of his warm palm wrapped around you.

“I don’t have the patience for your games. Where have you taken me and what do you plan to do with me?”

You huffed at the rudeness in his tone, slowly pulling your hand out of his grasp and laying it back in your lap.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at him.

“Could you stop being so hostile? I’m not going to hurt you… besides, if I wanted you dead would I have patched your leg? Would I have cleaned you? Would I have brought you to my home?” You said exasperated, giving him an annoyed look as impatience settled over your blood like a thin sheen of syrup over a plate of berries.

That was a flaw of yours, your impatience.

Nanami looked down at his body when you mentioned it, seeing that he was now wearing a white button up shirt with the buttons left undone, his broad chest exposed to you in a way he didn’t doubt you orchestrated. His lower half however was merely covered in a set of blue striped boxers he heavily recognized as one of his own.

He clenched his jaw at that, feeling exposed and vulnerable in a whole new definition of the word.

“Don’t worry I didn’t bathe you per se. Just washed away the dirt I could find on the already exposed areas.” You leaned closer to him with a playful smile, voice a teasing whisper, “I didn’t peek, promise.”

Nanami cocked his head at you, “No pants?” He deadpanned, ignoring your previous statement.

You flickered your eyes down to the blue boxers he wore, then back up to his face with the same kittenish smile on your lips.

“Oops. I must’ve forgot.” You lied flawlessly if only nonchalantly, leaning back away from him to your original sitting position.

Nanami frowned at that; he almost sneered at you, but managed to remain calm as he stared at you with irritation inflamed in his brown eyes.

You bit your lip to hide a widening smile.

“Well, did you hear what I said? I’m not trying to hurt you. I found you lying in the grass covered in your own blood and dirt… I thought you were dead, I would have felt guilty if I just left you there. So I brought you to my home and I fixed your leg. I did a rather nice job, don’t ya think?” You spared him a story that wasn’t necessarily a lie but not necessarily the whole truth either. It was a simpler version of events you knew he’d have no problem brushing off.

Nanami, of course, didn’t believe you anyway. He believed you had found him, yes, but not how you had claimed to. He believed there was more to the story, details you pointedly overlooked and purposefully forgotten.

He swallowed tensely, his strong body stiff and rigid like he was preparing for something to happen, heart beating in his ears and anticipation buzzing at his finger tips.

He wanted to question you, ask every question and hear every answer but he was too smart to blatantly antagonize someone he didn’t know. He knew you were off, maybe not entirely there, but he didn’t know what you were in the sense of your capabilities. He knew your small frame was misleading, your wide smile deceptive, your pretty little eyes twinkling stars of mischief behind glittering pools of blue.

You weren’t to be trusted and you weren’t to be taken lightly; you were strange and otherworldly beautiful; a kind of deadly combination he’s never had good experiences with in the past. Sirens were enticing just as you but nowhere near as cunning, pirates were fearless just as he but nowhere near as smart.

He refused to be the drunken, belligerent fool falling into your deep, hungry waters.

“Could you tell me your name? That way, we won’t be strangers.”

He eyed you with a clenched jaw and narrowed eyes, knowing he needed to play this silly game of yours the right way if he ever planned on getting out of here. If things went according to plan you would soon be the pliable object of his carefully curated manipulation, the one with all the questions and none of the answers, the trickster who would soon be the tricked.

He gave you a disinterested, cautious look, raising his chin at you, “Kento. And yours?” He replied shortly, not necessarily interested in hearing anything you had to say but knowing it was better to play along with your delusion than reap the consequences of not.

You hummed pleasurably at that, ignoring his question altogether, “Kento…”

You beamed at the sound of his name despite his impudence, loving the sound of it being pronounced in your voice, the way your tongue moved around every letter in your mouth as you said it.

His name was handsome, he was handsome.

You leaned towards him once more as a sense of demented idolatry swelled in your chest; you wanted to be close to him, feel his ribs enclosed around your lungs and hear his deep voice in your head. Hear his heart beat in your chest and feel his blood mesh with yours — you wanted to be one, to think, to feel, to have him.

He could see the almost manic look in your eye as you looked at him. He was disturbed by it, tried to lean away but couldn’t, already pressed as flat as he could be against your black, wooden wall.

You bared him a wide smile that glimmered the whiteness of your sharp teeth, “We’re going to have so much fun together…”

𝜗𝜚𝕤𝕦𝕘𝕒𝕣 𝕨𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕞𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥 ✧･ﾟ: *

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mxlktxa · 11 months

Text

ᴅᴏ ɪ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ɴᴇʀᴠᴏᴜꜱ?

ᴍᴏᴅᴇʀɴ!ᴀᴜ ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ; ᴀʙʙʏ ᴀɴᴅᴇʀꜱᴏɴ x ꜰᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴄᴡ; ɪ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴡʀᴏᴛᴇ ᴜᴘ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ʙꜱ ꜰᴏʀ ᴀ ᴍᴏᴠɪᴇ ʀᴇꜰᴇʀᴇɴᴄᴇ (ʙᴏᴜɴᴅ 1996), ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴍɪɢʜᴛ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ʙᴇ ᴀʟʟ ᴏᴠᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘʟᴀᴄᴇ, ɪᴛꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ᴘʀᴏᴏꜰʀᴇᴀᴅ (ɴᴏɴᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ᴛʙʜ) ᴀɴ; ɪᴅʀᴋ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴘʟꜱ ᴅᴏɴᴛ ᴀꜱᴋ ᴍᴇ ɪ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ʙᴏʀᴇᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴀᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴜꜱᴇ ᴀ ᴍᴏᴠɪᴇ ʀᴇꜰᴇʀᴇɴᴄᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ᴍʏ ᴏᴡɴ ꜱᴀᴋᴇ *･῾ ᵎ⌇ ⁺◦ 💮 ✧.*

"Do you want to have a baby with me?"

Abby turned to me with a blank face, slowly turning to confusion but with a little smile. I glanced around then back to her, puckering my lips and shrugging. Her chuckle soothed me a bit, knowing she wasn’t going to say or do anything out of pocket. She turned herself away from the dishes, hand in her hip and smirking.

“Yeah… A mini us,” I grinned. Abby pulled me close to her, kissing my forehead and letting her hand search for mine, “Just imagine! Our baby running around, ‘mommy, look at what I found’! Wouldn’t that just be so cute?”

“Of course. It melts my heart just thinking about it,” Abby flicked water from her hands onto my face, going back to do the remaining dishes.

After wiping myself down, I hopped up on the counter to take in her side profile. She was just so beautiful, so gorgeous. I just wished her father came around more often so I could thank him for making her the person she is today. And, of course, how amazing she looked no matter what she did.

“You good?” she asked, glancing at me then back to her dishes. I stayed silent, happily staring at her. She froze in place, now side-eyeing me. I let out a quiet giggle, covering my mouth.

“We should have a baby.”

“I’m not exactly equipped for that, y’know.”

“We can figure something out,” I nodded, “I read somewhere that you could use your bone marrow to turn into sperm.”

“Seriously?”

“Mhm! So you are equipped just not in the way someone would expect,” I gave Abby a smug look, blowing her a kiss and winking, “I want a baby.”

“Then let’s make a baby,” Abby giggled, after I do these dishes.”

I hopped off the counter only to stand behind her and hug her tightly, wishing the dishes would just so themselves so we could just cuddle and have time to ourselves. We could just talk, sit in silence, or be wrapped up in each others arms. Abby and I were just happy to be in each other’s presence even if we were pissed off with each other.

“Do you think I’d be a good mom?” I questioned not even really thinking about it at first.

“Baby, you’re nothing like your mother. I think you’d be the world’s best mom. The whole word would want to be you,” Abby chuckled, turning off the faucet and drying her hands, leaving the dishes to sit in the sink. Abby placed both hands on either side of my face, rubbing her thumbs on my cheek.

“Yeah?”

“Of course, baby. You’re the sweetest and kindess girl I know,” Abby kissed my forehead, hugging me tightly and swaying a bit, “you’d be an amazing mother and wife.”

We giggled at her comment, backing away in sync. Staring at each other, I started picking at my nails, Abby was making me way more nervous than I should be. Her eyes scanned my body language, obvious that I was a little skittish. A smirk grazed her face, now looking me up and down. I held back a giggle, staring directly into her eyes to try and show I wasn't intimidated by her whatsoever.

“What's the matter, Y/N?" her tone came out a little lower than what it already was, she knew that I wasn't simply nervous but a bit lustful as well, "you seem uncomfortable. Do I make you nervous, baby?"

"Really? You're using a movie reference? On me?" I laughed at her reference, shaking my head and crossing my arms at her, "oh, my god, Abby! No way! There's no way!"

"What?! Was it not good?"

"No, it was but that movie?"

"I think Bound is a good movie! They're literally us, you're Violet and I'm Corky!"

"I disagree, I would be a terrible Violet. But you as Corky? Beautiful."

"Shut up, you're perfect for her," Abby chuckled, bringing me in for a kiss. I rolled my eyes, closing the distance between us, both of our hands snaking around each other and our bodies producing more heat than they already were.

"You were definitely making me nervous," I backed away from her, pulling her towards the staircase with a bright smile, "Corky."

Abby scoffed, letting me lead the way to the bedroom, shaking her head, "I could tell."

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signedeclipse · 1 year

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Hiiiii! Could I get the human flesh ask with Enmu, Gyutaro, and Daki? Thank youuuuuu!

Daki | Enmu | Gyutaro [X Reader]

In which their s/o mentions their interest in eating human flesh.

Daki

Daki didn't eat in the way demons typically did; she was more like a serpent, absorbing them through her scarves and leaving no trace at all

This meant you weren't exposed to it often, not unless her brother was around- but even he kept it to himself or his own privacy, there was just a mess left after

Just through glimpses, you'd learned how to see when Daki was 'eating', she was far more relaxed, usually in her demoness form laying back with you

You wondered what it tasted like, if she ate it like this because she was disgusted in it or if it was just to keep you away from it as much as possible

She had never offered you any, not that you expected her to

While laying down with her one day, you asked if she would be willing to let you try something

Cue the 'what? Why would you want to do that? Have you eaten today?'

She's obviously a bit concerned about the behaviour

But ultimately shrugs it off

The next time her brother comes in, she mentioned it to him, to which he gives you a small piece of the flesh

Daki cleans up your face from any droplets of blood, and if you can't finish it she happily eats the rest

She loves the colour it leave son your lips, but tells you not to do it again

Enmu

It would suffice to say that Enmu was very open about his qualities, usually using towering mounds to devour beings whole, even from right next to you as if it were nothing

He didn't like when people spoke to you loosely, acting as if he wasn't there, so he liked to put on a show for you

Even in his kisses, you'd taste the lingering blood in his canines, or mixed into his saliva

Enmu never really thought about giving you human meat, though

He knew demons were made to process and tear into it better, and you seemed happy with your own food, so why consider such a thing?

But when you'd stare at him curiously, he joking teased you by offering a chunk of someones thigh

You played with it in your hands for a bit, which stained and dripped with the red, before hesitantly biting it

Your teeth barely broke though, so it was useless and you sort of just ended up choking down some of the blood that gushed out

Maybe it wasn't for you

But Enmu was very amused

Gyutaro

Gyutaro didn;t like the idea of seeing you more demon like, so he ate with his back turned to you if not in an entirely different place so you wouldn't consider it all that much

He already has a sister as a demon, and he wasn't sure how he'd feel about his s/o being one too

You weren't allowed any dead bodies or horrible sights because he wanted to keep you as normal as he could, to keep that light shining

But there was no denying that you were a curious person

First, you tried animals bone marrow and bone broth, because it was very similar to a humans

But it didn't satiate the curiosity, so you tried to ask Daki to sneak you some

Of course he found out and scolded you, but he mentioned he wouldn't be mad if you really wanted to try

He knew you wouldn't like the taste, so he wasn't surprised when you ran for the sink after

Serves you right

Authors Note - I cant remember if this is the third or fourth of these requests, but please enjoy! Ive been loving this mini series a lot haha, I think some of the demons are a lot more careful than these guys

#daki #daki x reader #enmu #enmu x reader #gyutaro #gyutaro x reader #demon slayer #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer headcanons #headcanons #kny headcanons #kny #kny x reader #kimetsu no yaiba #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #x reader #reader insert

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xoxoproject21 · 7 months

Text

Project 21 Season 9 Results

Solos

Copacabana (Cece Chung):

4th place mini solo (Jump Las Vegas)

5th place mini solo (24 Seven San Diego)

7th place mini solo (Radix Anaheim)

3rd place mini solo (Nuvo Santa Clara)

4th place elite 9-11 solo, 2nd runner up ELITE MISS JUNIOR DANCE (KAR Redondo Beach)

3rd place mini solo (NYCDA Santa Clara)

All That Jazz (Aliya Yen):

6th place mini solo (24 Seven San Diego)

Before It Ends (Aliya Yen):

1st place mini solo (Nuvo Santa Clara)

Mink, Schmink (Aliya Yen):

1st place mini solo (24 Seven Anaheim)

Hollyrock (Delaney Anbardan):

7th place mini solo (24 Seven Bellevue)

Ode To The Blue (Bristyn Scifres):

6th place junior solo (Nuvo Meadowlands)

Little Secret (Bristyn Scifres):

4th place junior solo (Jump Las Vegas)

5th place junior solo (24 Seven San Diego)

Perderse (Bristyn Scifres):

9th place junior solo (Nuvo LA)

It cannot be (Bristyn Scifres):

3rd place junior solo (NYCDA Santa Clara)

3rd place junior solo (24 Seven Anaheim)

Interrogation Room (Berkeley Scifres):

7th place junior solo (Nuvo Meadowlands)

L.O.V.E (Berkeley Scifres):

3rd place junior solo (Jump Las Vegas)

4th place junior solo (24 Seven San Diego)

Cornet Man (Berkeley Scifres):

5th place junior solo (Nuvo LA)

4th place junior solo (NYCDA Santa Clara)

1st place junior solo (24 Seven Anaheim)

Woman (Chloe Mirabal):

5th place junior solo (Jump Las Vegas)

10th place junior solo (24 Seven San Diego)

2nd place elite 12-14 solo, Elite Miss Teen Dance (KAR Redondo Beach)

13th place junior solo (NYCDA Santa Clara)

Cold Hearted Snake (Leilani Lawlor):

7th place junior solo (Jump Las Vegas)

7th place junior solo (24 Seven San Diego)

10th place junior solo (Radix Anaheim)

Taking Note (Leilani Lawlor)

4th place junior solo (Nuvo LA)

3rd place junior solo (Radix Dallas)

4th place junior solo (24 Seven Bellevue)

This Will Be (Madelyn Nasu):

7th place junior solo (Jump Las Vegas)

6th place junior solo (24 Seven San Diego)

Absolutely Final Goodbye (Sara von Rotz):

5th place junior solo (24 Seven San Diego)

5th place junior solo (Radix Anaheim)

Light Surrounds (Sara von Rotz):

16th place junior solo (NYCDA Vancouver)

3rd place junior solo (Nuvo Santa Clara)

Champagne Taste (Sara von Rotz):

1st place junior solo (24 Seven Anaheim)

Showcase only - already won 1st (24 Seven Bellevue)

Awakening (Kira Lieberman):

5th place junior solo (24 Seven San Diego)

7th place junior solo (Nuvo LA)

10th place junior solo (NYCDA Santa Clara)

Somebody Help Me (Elliana Anbardan):

6th place junior solo (24 Seven San Diego)

2nd place junior solo (NYCDA Santa Clara)

1st place junior solo (24 Seven Anaheim)

Showcase only - already won 1st (24 Seven Bellevue)

Heartburn (Regan Gerena):

4th place junior solo (Nuvo Santa Clara)

4th place junior solo (Radix Dallas)

3rd place junior solo (24 Seven Anaheim)

Silhouetted In Sunshine (Gracyn French):

1st place teen solo (Jump Las Vegas)

2nd place teen solo (24 Seven San Diego)

Paul is Dying (Gracyn French):

3rd place teen solo (24 Seven Chicago)

2nd place teen solo (Radix Anaheim)

3rd place teen solo (NYCDA Santa Clara)

Pale Blue Sun (Gracyn French):

3rd place teen solo (Nuvo LA)

3rd place teen solo (Nuvo Santa Clara)

El Tango De Roxanne (Gracyn French):

3rd place teen solo (24 Seven Anaheim)

Black Sea (Richie Granese):

5th place teen solo (Jump Las Vegas)

4th place teen solo (24 Seven San Diego)

5th place teen solo (Radix Anaheim)

4th place teen solo (24 Seven Anaheim)

The Way You Take Up Space (Richie Granese):

7th place teen solo (Nuvo LA)

7th place teen solo (Nuvo Santa Clara)

Nebula (Stella Eberts):

5th place teen solo (Jump Las Vegas)

8th place teen solo (24 Seven San Diego)

Nothing More Simple (Stella Eberts):

5th place teen solo (Nuvo Santa Clara)

6th place teen solo (NYCDA Santa Clara)

3rd place teen solo (Radix Dallas)

4th place teen solo (24 Seven Anaheim)

Bone Marrow Stem Cell (Liliana Barajas):

7th place teen solo (Jump Las Vegas)

8th place teen solo (24 Seven San Diego)

Falling Inward (Liliana Barajas):

10th place teen solo (Nuvo Santa Clara)

Echo (Allison Choi):

10th place teen solo (Jump Las Vegas)

5th place teen solo (24 Seven San Diego)

Let's Fall (Allison Choi):

4th place teen solo (Nuvo LA)

15th place teen solo (NYCDA Las Vegas)

Sing It Back (Brooklyn Ladia):

3rd place teen solo (24 Seven San Diego)

7th place teen solo (Radix Anaheim)

5th place teen solo (24 Seven Provo)

Moon Song (Dillon Barron):

8th place teen solo (24 Seven San Diego)

Beneath the surface (Dillon Barron):

19th place teen solo (NYCDA Santa Clara)

The Clock (Brooklyn Lieberman):

9th place teen solo (24 Seven San Diego)

More Than One Time (Brooklyn Lieberman):

2nd place teen solo (Nuvo LA)

Happiness (Brielle Lieberman):

10th place teen solo (24 Seven San Diego)

Going Under (Brielle Lieberman):

2nd place teen solo (Nuvo LA)

10th place teen solo (Nuvo Santa Clara)

Liquid Slow (Makeila Bartlett):

7th place teen solo (Nuvo Santa Clara)

Red Shadow (Makeila Bartlett):

17th place teen solo (NYCDA Santa Clara)

To Build A Home (Airi Dela Cruz):

14th place teen solo (NYCDA Santa Clara)

Back To Black (Leighton Werner):

10th place teen solo (24 Seven Anaheim)

I Dare You (Avery Reyes):

3rd place senior solo (Jump Las Vegas)

Tell Me Why (Avery Reyes):

8th place senior solo (Nuvo Santa Clara)

3rd place senior solo (24 Seven Anaheim)

The Silent Word (Sammi Chung):

3rd place senior solo (Jump Las Vegas)

2nd place senior solo (24 Seven San Diego)

2nd place senior solo (Radix Anaheim)

In One Ear (Sammi Chung):

6th place senior solo (Nuvo Santa Clara)

3rd place senior solo (NYCDA Santa Clara)

5th place senior solo (24 Seven Anaheim)

Fame (Lexi Blanchard):

4th place senior solo (Jump Las Vegas)

Did not place (Nuvo Santa Clara)

5th place senior solo (24 Seven Anaheim)

Catching Smoke (Lexi Blanchard):

7th place senior solo (Nuvo LA)

9th place senior solo (NYCDA Santa Clara)

Red Desert (Kameron Couch):

4th place senior solo (Nuvo Tulsa)

Volant (Kameron Couch):

6th place senior solo (Nuvo Santa Clara)

5th place senior solo (24 Seven Detroit)

4th place senior solo (NYCDA Santa Clara)

6th place senior solo (24 Seven Anaheim)

NERA (Katie Couch):

5th place senior solo (Nuvo Tulsa)

Winding and Unwinding (Katie Couch):

10th place senior solo (Nuvo Santa Clara)

5th place senior solo (24 Seven Detroit)

15th place senior solo (NYCDA Santa Clara)

6th place senior solo (24 Seven Anaheim)

Siren (Mackenzie Couch):

Did not place (Nuvo Santa Clara)

6th place senior solo (24 Seven Detroit)

11th place senior solo (NYCDA Santa Clara)

7th place senior solo (24 Seven Anaheim)

Rework (Loila Rhee):

4th place senior solo (Nuvo Santa Clara)

7th place senior solo (NYCDA Santa Clara)

7th place senior solo (24 Seven Anaheim)

Duos/Trios:

To Cross Paths (Katie + Kami Couch):

2nd place senior duo/trio (Nuvo Santa Clara)

3rd place senior duo/trio (24 Seven Anaheim)

Groups:

Too Many Fish In The Sea:

1st place mini group, 1st mini jazz, Best NU Group (Mini) (Nuvo Santa Clara)

1st place mini group, 1st mini jazz, Critics choice winner (Mini) (NYCDA Santa Clara)

1st place mini group, 1st mini jazz, 11 O'Clock (Mini) (24 Seven Anaheim)

With A Little Help From My Friends:

2nd place junior group, 2nd junior jazz (Nuvo Santa Clara)

2nd place junior group, 1st junior jazz (NYCDA Santa Clara)

1st place junior group, 2nd junior jazz (24 Seven Anaheim)

I Am Adrift:

1st place junior group, 1st junior contemporary (Nuvo Santa Clara)

Junior overall high score, 1st place junior group, 1st junior contemporary, Critics choice winner (Junior) (NYCDA Santa Clara)

2nd place junior group, 2nd junior contemporary (24 Seven Anaheim)

Big Noise:

1st place junior extended line, 1st junior jazz, Best NU Group (Junior) (Nuvo Santa Clara)

2nd place junior extended line (NYCDA Santa Clara)

1st place junior extended line, 1st junior jazz, 11 O'Clock (Junior) (24 Seven Anaheim)

Pose:

3rd place junior extended line, 1st junior ballroom (Nuvo Santa Clara)

1st place junior extended line (NYCDA Santa Clara)

1st junior ballroom (24 Seven Anaheim)

We Disappear:

2nd place teen group, 3rd teen contemporary (Nuvo Santa Clara)

2nd place teen group, 2nd teen contemporary (NYCDA Santa Clara)

2nd place teen group, 3rd teen contemporary (24 Seven Anaheim)

You Don't Love Me:

1st place teen line, 1st teen jazz, Best NU Group (Teen) (Nuvo Santa Clara)

Judges Pick, Teen overall high score, 1st place teen line, 1st teen jazz, Critics choice winner (Teen) (NYCDA Santa Clara)

1st place teen line, 1st teen jazz, 11 O'Clock (Teen), Studio Pick (24 Seven Anaheim)

Break My Soul:

1st place teen extended line, 1st teen jazz (Nuvo Santa Clara)

1st place teen small production, 2nd teen jazz (NYCDA Santa Clara)

1st place teen extended line, 2nd teen jazz (24 Seven Anaheim)

Leave Room For Change:

3rd place teen extended line, 2nd teen contemporary (Nuvo Santa Clara)

1st place teen extended line, 1st teen contemporary (NYCDA Santa Clara)

2nd place teen extended line, 3rd teen contemporary (24 Seven Anaheim)

Knives Out:

4th place teen production (Nuvo Santa Clara)

1st teen large production (NYCDA Santa Clara)

2nd place teen production, 2nd teen hip hop (24 Seven Anaheim)

West End Girls:

1st place senior group, 1st senior jazz, Best NU Group (Senior), Studio Pick (Nuvo Santa Clara)

1st place senior group, 1st senior jazz (NYCDA Santa Clara)

1st place senior group, 1st senior jazz, 11 O'Clock (Senior) (24 Seven Anaheim)

When You Least Expect It:

3rd place senior group, 2nd senior contemporary (Nuvo Santa Clara)

2nd place senior group, 1st senior contemporary, Critics choice winner (Senior) (NYCDA Santa Clara)

3rd place senior group, 2nd senior contemporary (24 Seven Anaheim)

Scholarships

Jump

Mini Jump VIP

Winner:

Runner up:

Cece Chung

Junior Jump VIP

Winner:

Berkeley Scifres

Bristyn Scifres

Runner up:

Madelyn Nasu

Leilani Lawlor

Chloe Mirabal

Teen Jump VIP

Winner:

Gracyn French

Runner up:

Liliana Barajas

Allison Choi

Stella Eberts

Richie Granese

Senior Jump VIP

Winner:

Lexi Blanchard

Runner up:

Sammi Chung

Avery Reyes

Nuvo

Mini BreakOut Artist

Winner:

Aliya Yen

Runner up:

Delaney Anbardan

Junior BreakOut Artist

Winner:

Bristyn Scifres

Berkeley Scifres

Regan Gerena

Leilani Lawlor

Kira Lieberman

Chloe Mirabal

Sara von Rotz

Runner up:

Savanna Musman

Elliana Anbardan

Olivia Armstrong

Madelyn Nasu

Teen BreakOut Artist

Winner:

Gracyn French

Stella Eberts

Runner up:

Liliana Barajas

Allison Choi

Richie Granese

Brielle Lieberman

Dillon Barron

Makeila Bartlett

Airi Dela Cruz

Madelyn Kim

Brooklyn Lieberman

Brooklyn Safford

Senior BreakOut Artist

Winner:

Lexi Blanchard

Kameron Couch

Avery Reyes

Runner up:

Katie Couch

Sammi Chung

Mackenzie Couch

Loila Rhee

24 Seven

Mini Non-Stop Dancer

Winner:

Aliya Yen

Runner up:

Cece Chung

Delaney Anbardan

Junior Non-Stop Dancer

Winner:

Regan Gerena

Berkeley Scifres

Bristyn Scifres

Sara von Rotz

Elliana Anbardan

Leilani Lawlor

Savanna Musman

Runner up:

Kira Lieberman

Chloe Mirabal

Madelyn Nasu

Olivia Armstrong

Teen Non-Stop Dancer

Winner:

Stella Eberts

Gracyn French

Brooklyn Ladia

Mady Kim

Leighton Werner

Runner up:

Dillon Barron

Allison Choi

Richie Granese

Brooklyn Lieberman

Brielle Lieberman

Lilly Barajas

Makeila Bartlett

Airi Dela Cruz

Senior Non-Stop Dancer

Winner:

Sammi Chung

Mackenzie Couch

Kameron Couch

Katie Couch

Avery Reyes

Runner up:

Lexi Blanchard

Loila Rhee

Radix

Mini

Winner:

Runner up:

Junior

Winner:

Regan Gerena

Sara von Rotz

Leilani Lawlor

Runner up:

Teen

Winner:

Gracyn French

Richie Granese

Runner up:

Liliana Barajas

Allison Choi

Stella Eberts

Brooklyn Ladia

Senior

Winner:

Runner up:

#project 21 #season 9 #P21season9results

38 notes · View notes

skyethebisexualwolfwizard · 4 days

Text

#wizardpostingn't #pool #polls #wolf #wolves #pet #pets #minecraft

14 notes · View notes

saintsenara · 6 months

Text

this piece was written for @ladiesofhpfest monthly minis, focusing on andromeda tonks.

grief is a theme which has been prominent in my reading and writing lately, and one aspect of grief which i am particularly drawn to at the minute is the fact that grief can often make the grieving quite unpleasant. the rage of grief, its vindictiveness and petty cruelty, are subjects which i think this fandom often shies away from. after all, nobody likes to think of their faves being horrible in their sorrow.

but i think andromeda makes a good case study for this feeling. i'm always struck in deathly hallows by how there's such a potent undercurrent of anger and disapproval in the way she deals with harry and hagrid. i like the description of her looking haughty - above and beyond the visual comparison it draws between her and bellatrix - and i like her complete lack of interest in doing anything other than talk about tonks and her fear for her.

i've written a lot about how i think someone in andromeda's position would understand the risk which tonks has taken on by joining the order (i'll die on the hill, written about in several of the pieces i did for the fest this summer, that she is aware that bellatrix has convinced voldemort to leave her and ted alone, which then becomes forfeit). and so here i'm thinking about just how furious she'd be when her fear and rage and warnings about that risk were proven to be completely justified - set around dirge without music by edna st. vincent millay. because andromeda does not approve. and she is not resigned.

Spring did not amble into summer that year, as it usually did.

It did not drift with mellow ease from April’s pale into May’s gold, lying idly on the grass in Richmond Park with the cracked-sugar coating on mini eggs on its fingers. It did not wake up one morning and put all its jumpers into storage, then fish them out again three days later when there was still a chill in the morning air. It did not spoon mint sauce onto its Easter lamb and watch as the tendrils of the broad beans curled themselves around their frame.

Death was squatting in her house, disarraying the furniture and stretching the sleeves of her cardigans, a winter’s dirge in his horrible voice and a sepulchral damp trailing in after him whenever he opened the door.

And although she had prided herself for years on her skill as a hostess, she was growing furious with her unwanted guest.

May was a month of rain and of rage.

For all the others - the other mothers in the club she had not asked to join, whose company she loathed, whose losses she refused to comprehend - it seemed that May was a month of silence.

She could picture them, sitting mutely by empty beds, the ephemera of childhood clutched in their white-knuckled hands, as if it will help clear the fog. She could see them searching through the gloom for the glittering past; the memories of summer’s haze which parents cast unthinkingly away, believing that there will never be a time when they will have to beg death to let them remember the way a seven-year-old face looked on a particular May morning.

She could picture them, sitting mutely by the fresh-turned earth of newly-dug graves, spring’s white flowers - apple blossom and yarrow; baby’s breath for their unbreathing babies - laid before headstones slick with the unseasonable squall. She could see them letting the rain mingle with the tears on faces rubbed raw, until the one cannot be distinguished from the other in the drops falling to the earth.

But she could not sit. She could not search or cry.

She could only spit; and snarl and scream until her teeth clashed through the dry and splitting skin of her lower lip and blood pooled in her mouth.

While death laughed at her.

They had never been able to work out where Nymphadora’s talent - the clay suppleness of tendons and bones, the shape-shifting malleability of skin and marrow - had come from.

Ted had been a solid man, substantial in the way that bookshelves are: never rickety; never uneven; smelling of wood polish and leather. He contained a hundred thousand little treasures; he was a source of knowledge, a place of solace on rainy days; a best friend in the aftermath of a lonely childhood.

And she herself was solid, in the way that music is: the tempo can be varied but the notes remain the same. One sister can strike out on her own, but there is a refrain which follows her, the same funeral dirge which lilts in the air after her sisters, letting the careful listener know that these three women are one and the same. No matter what one was pretending.

Nymphadora had none of her father’s solidity. She was an opal: gaudy and colour-changing and brilliant, but with a softness beneath it all. She was fragmentary and fractured. She had wanted her jokes to be laughed at. She had wanted to be taken seriously.

She had wanted to be loved, in all her contradictory, flesh-and-blood glory.

She lay now beside her lukewarm lover in the earth.

She did not speak to her daughter when she visited the graveyard, its pathways washed with rain, a yew sagging against the church’s ancient walls. She did not speak to Ted either, though he mouldered next to his daughter. She did not leave flowers leaning on their headstones. She clenched her fists until her nails pierced the dry and splitting skin of her palms, and blood dripped over her wedding ring to the ground.

She was too angry at them both; at how they had clearly been in cahoots to turn themselves into food for the worms, and leave her pouring tea for death and keeping the radiators blasting. This is how it had always been - Ted’s gentleness turning into permissiveness when it came to Nymphadora throwing herself from the tops of trees or telling old ladies who reprimanded her on her knicker-baring miniskirts to go swivel, and she was forced to become the strict one, the one who disapproved of burping and pot noodles and joining the Aurors.

Neither of them had ever listened, adventure twinkling in their identical eyes and schemes whirring in their swashbuckling minds. They thought her silly - nervous and elegant and a lover of order. In their unkinder moments, they thought her rigid, icy, cruel. She could still picture Nymphadora at the breakfast table - sixteen and sulking over being told off for overindulging at a party and being sick all over the hydrangeas - and how it had felt to know her eyes were raking over her mother’s heart-shaped face for the fragments of Narcissa and Bellatrix that a quiet life in a Muggle suburb could not erase.

But look at that. She was right and they were both dead. And she was furious.

She did not speak to her husband when she returned to the house, where death was laying on the sofa instead of babysitting. There were crumbs on the coffee table, the gingery shards of a whole biscuit now snapped and softening. Like Ted - with his hair the colour of saffron cake and his eyes like spring water - would be in the damp of May’s earth.

As a child, her after-dinner habit had been bridge - a constant torture since Bella would never pay attention long enough for them to have a really good game. As an adult, it was coffee and chocolate liqueurs on the sofa with Ted.

As a widow, it appeared to be screaming.

The morning dawned as grey as all its cousins; May was a month of rain and of rage. Death clattered around the kitchen, leaving eggshells on the floor and teabags staining the worksurface with their tannic drool. The disorder made her skin itch.

She looked at herself in the mirror, her face prickled and pink from a shower which had scalded her. The heat was a comrade; the water was boiled up to a flesh-burning point, her blood was hot enough to eat her marrow, turning her from the inside out into mulch. Somehow it all evened out.

Ted and Nymphadora were competing over who could decompose the quickest, laying in the graveyard and giving thanks for all the damp. It would putrify them all the quicker. Still, how shocked they would be when victory was snatched from them before their sightless eyes. If there was a prize for shattering first, the person they’d left behind would win.

Her day was one of half-drunk coffees and constant movement. She could not sit, there was no way of relaxing with a magazine on the sofa when death was leaving so many crumbs. There was no way of staying in the house when there were so many fragments lurking on shelves and in wardrobes. Ted’s jumpers curled up like newborn kittens in a drawer; his mismatched socks were lined up like limp orphans in the laundry basket.

A hairbrush, entangled with bright pink strands, lay on the stairs. She had told Nymphadora to take it up with her the last time she went to bed. Her daughter hadn’t listened.

She was so angry at her.

#asenora fics #andromeda tonks #fragments #ladies of hp fest #monthly minis

26 notes · View notes

cloudypariah · 4 months

Text

Sergeant Johnny “Soap” MacTavish Masterlist

- Echoes in the marrow. 𑁍 You try to reconcile how you feel with the simple but harsh truth that Johnny has left you for dead during the apocalypse. In all fairness, you did ask him to. 𑁍 (Johnny “Soap” MacTavish x fem!Reader, Zombie Apocalypse AU)

- Hole in eleven. 𑁍 You think it’s silly, but for Soap it’s just another challenge he suggests in his neverending journey to woo you, his favourite neighbour. It soon becomes clear, however, that Johnny MacTavish has never played a game of mini golf a day in his life. 𑁍 (Johnny “Soap” MacTavish x fem!Reader)

#sergeant john soap mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #johnny soap mctavish x reader #call of duty masterlist #masterlist #cloudypariah writes

19 notes · View notes

wrencatte · 3 months

Text

mini-fic 2!

post-Tanalorr, Cal and Merrin meditating but it's actually a little more heartbreaking (?) than it sounds. There ARE cuddles though! And comfort! Merrin POV. 1.2k words Ideally, this is platonic only because I'm not much of a shipper like in general, but it can be taken either way. ...It's 4am and I'd made the decision to go to bed before my brain went NO and this happened...

After it’s all done, they leave Tanalorr.

They have no provisions and an unexpected small child to care for now, they can’t stay. Merrin doesn’t mind leaving so soon, not when this place causes that particular expression on Cal’s face. He had been so excited. So, so hopeful when he’d been nearing the edge of having no hope at all, and now…

She sighs and turns away from the communications terminal. They’ve made it out of the Abyss and not long for Koboh now. Cal doesn’t say anything before he stands and disappears into the engine room. Merrin watches him go for a moment, then looks to see Kata is also watching him. She’s a sweet thing, Kata Akuna. Quiet, clutching her stuffed Mookie with a wary – and weary, she notes – look on her face. Her aura sings of deep grief, but there’s something else there as she continues to stare in the direction Cal went. Merrin doesn’t pry though she’s terribly curious.

Kata sniffs and finally looks away, rubbing her cheek on Mookie’s head. She’s tucked into the corner of the seat Merrin used to take way back when Cere sat where Merrin sits now. She looks small sitting there, Cal’s jacket draped over her shoulders. She doesn’t acknowledge Merrin watching her, if she realizes it at all, as she pulls her legs close and buries her face in her knees. Merrin politely turns away then, standing and stretching casually in a way she knows Greez doesn’t believe. That is fine.

“I will be back,” she informs them, patting BD’s head reassuringly, and then doesn’t wait for a response before she follows Cal.

He doesn’t use the engine room often anymore, she knows. Merrin found him in the cockpit or standing over their maps at random times in the night. But she knows that’s where he will be now, there is nowhere else to hide.

Merrin doesn’t knock. She enters quietly, eyes immediately drawn to the figure kneeling in the off-set space to the right. Cal sits in perfect meditation, like she has seen him sit a dozen, no, a hundred times before.

All those times, she’s always felt…calm. Soothed even. As if nothing could go wrong. Everything was alright in the galaxy.

Now, though, after everything, there is the threat of violence in the air. A raging fire she can feel in the very marrow of her bones. His turmoil writhes around him, projected in a way that Merrin is still unused to. It makes her heart ache for him. If he were not so deep into meditation, he would ask her to leave. He did on that first night, after Nova Garron, his sorrow and rage thick and choking. She hadn’t left him then, and he didn’t slip back into meditation. They sat together in silence long into the night.

She does not leave now either.

Merrin doesn’t think she’ll ever leave him again.

She sits on the little cot against the wall and watches him silently. There is sweat on his brow and a dampness to his eyelashes. What was once a peaceful thing, is now a nightmare. Merrin waits patiently, unhurried, though she aches to reach out to him, to comfort him in some way. But she waits. The air grows heavy, hotter and colder at the same time. She feels like she is about to be crushed under it all at any moment. It’s difficult to breathe.

Still, she does not leave.

Instead, she is there when Cal’s breaths hitch and he flinches, expression pained. He opens his eyes, staring unfocused into the far distance, tears shining on his cheeks. She doesn’t rush him and is rewarded in, that when his awareness comes back in pieces, she is still the first thing he looks at. He blinks slowly, his inner struggle visible, and opens his mouth, but all that comes out is a rasp.

Merrin smiles. “You’re alright,” she says – it’s not a question. There’s no concern or reassurance. It’s a statement of fact. A solid, unwavering announcement that Cal Kestis, for all his struggles, is, in fact, alright.

Cal breathes shakily. “It’s so loud,” he whispers, barely a breath.

She slides off the cot and mirrors his position, only she offers her hands to him, palms up. His fists tighten on his thighs, hesitating long enough she thinks he will refuse, but then then reaches for her, places his hands on hers. He’s trembling. She cups his hands firmly – and that, in of itself, is gentle – and presses her thumbs over the back of them. She can feel his pulse on her fingertips, too fast. Like a bird already in desperate flight.

“Listen,” she tells him. She regrets they aren’t planet-side, where there is more to hear, but she knows what is here in the Mantis will be enough.

“Merrin…”

“Shush. Listen.”

Cal almost-smiles, something soft in his eyes even though there’s still tears in them as well. He closes them without hesitation, his hands limp in hers.

Softly, Merrin starts to sing in Dathomiri, a language she has found herself using less and less over the years. It felt as if there’d been no point. It hurt too much to speak the words of her Sisters with no one around who would understand her. She knows Cal speaks it, if only the basics, due to his psychometry, and that just adds to the fondness and love and understanding she’s trying to project.

She sings for their losses and their grief, yes, but she also sings for what they have, guiding Cal into reaching out instead of in, and to listen her heart, to Greez’s, to Kata’s. She knows when he finds the child, the Force lurching and coiling wildly, but she does not let him linger on it. Instead, she picks out that other thing she’d felt from the girl, a feeling of safety. Because for all that he loved her, in Bode Akuna’s last moments, he was not safe for her, but Merrin and Cal were.

She sings it into blooming, and for Cal to reach for it as well. His breaths hitch again, something soft and broken yet a little more healed than before. Merrin smiles and rubs her thumb soothingly over the back of his hand.

They meditate for who knows how long. And Merrin sings the whole time. When they come out of it, Cal is looking at their clasped hands, looking less lost. The air is still in turmoil, but there’s ribbons of the Cal Kestis she knows slicing through it bit by bit.

“Greez does not need you for landing. BeeDee is more than capable, if they can get along,” she tells him. Cal looks up questioningly at her through his eyelashes. “Come.”

She stands, tugging him up with her. His knees crack loudly in the silence. Merrin doesn’t acknowledge it – but does make note to see if there’s anything that can be done about that later – and settles him on the cot. It’s not very big. But she urges him back and climbs in with him, keeping herself between him and the door.

Merrin curls around him, and he curls back, tucking his face in the hollow of her throat, arms reaching around to keep her close. She can feel his tears on her skin and his breaths on her collarbone. She presses her face into his hair, and chooses a different song to sing this time, one that guides someone to sleep.

She barely gets through the opening melody before Cal is out like a light.

#cal kestis #nightsister merrin #jfo #sw jfo #kata's feelings are complicated but she definitely feels safer around Cal and Merrin than she did around her dad #in those last few moments #and she might struggle with that idea #feeling safe around the guy who killed her dad #but that's not what Merrin needs right now #my writing

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