#(lmao most of the content i make just ends up being for myself)

[reds-writings]

jealousy, jealousy!

(pairing: rust cohle x fem!reader)

a/n: hello! welcome to my first bout of writing! feedback is greatly appreciated and i hope you enjoy! there isn't much rust content on here so i figured i'd create it myself lmao

warnings: cursing, steamy scenes but nothing too crazy, sorta sexism, marty hart being himself, rust being pigheaded, mentions of sex, etc etc let me know if i missed anything (minors just don't bother interacting regardless thank you!)

word count: around 5.8k

-----

Never did you think that sitting in the passenger’s seat of Rustin Cohle’s red Ford pickup could have you seething as it did now. This wasn’t at all how your night was supposed to go and the culprit of said unsavory evening was sitting right next to you, cigarette pinched between tense fingers and eyes set hard on the dark highway ahead. The stubborn bastard had made no move to turn on the radio to save you both from the borderline unbearable silence. All you had was the humid Louisiana air from his rolled-down window flowing into the truck’s cabin and you couldn’t quite find it in you to be grateful for the fact he seemed to have kept in mind you detested the smell of that sour burning tobacco. 

Just who the hell does he think he is?

The question that repeated itself a mile a minute in your Coors-addled brain as it fought to catch up with all that just occurred not even a mere hour prior. Rust, as you already well knew, did not bother himself much when it came to others unless it strictly involved the endless trials of his work. That was the line he drew on a daily basis. Nothing could be clearer than the fact that Rust had little to no capacity for getting truly personal with most who existed in his orbit.

It was something you dealt with a bit better than the likes of your other partner Marty day in and day out at the CID. Though he may be one mystery wrapped in a more or less fucked up enigma, Rust’s way of functioning stayed relatively consistent. You didn’t dig often given that he wasn’t up and ready to offer much in the first place. He was sharp and strong-minded. Possessing most qualities that make well for a good investigative partner. Lines didn’t get muddled. It was how you preferred it. Up until recently, that is.

You didn’t have much nerve or will to go down that route right about now. 

Earlier in the day…

Your fingers were cramping at the end of typing the last dregs of the day’s reports. This recent case was starting to weigh heavier and heavier as an influx of countlessly cryptic details revealed themselves with each milestone of the investigative process. Something about this being darkly occultish as it was made it all the more daunting. There was a sense of underlying dread that this was something bigger than all of you. A sentiment you found yourself sharing with at least one of your partners: Rust. Marty on the other hand was still on the fence, not totally in the business of believing this was more than just some twisted piece of shit who had nothing better to do with his time. You wish you had half the mind to reduce it down to something so simple.

Strange things were not that of an irregular occurrence around these parts. Though said strange things didn’t have the habit of making it to the limelight as the Dora Lange case had. This wasn’t the type of case where one could be fine with just leaving it at work and picking it back up when they returned the next day as normal. Its disturbing details twisted themselves into every fiber of your daily life since that poor girl was found posed in Erath. It was better to eat, sleep, and breathe this case so that it may be solved all the more quickly. 

A world with one less monster like the one capable of committing a murder such as this is was a world where you could maybe sleep a little more soundly. 

Rolling your shoulders back, you twisted your aching neck side to side, resounding with an aching series of pops. God, I need a drink. You thought to yourself as you leaned back into the roller chair at your desk. The clock on your floor’s wall read 6:02. With all the work on your part done you figured you could slip out with much complaint. Stiffly rising from your spot, you started to pack away any necessary belongings into your well-loved messenger bag. Marty glanced up from his notes with a small quirk of his brow, “You headin’ out?”

Throwing your hair up to save yourself from the impending humidity from outside you replied, “Yeah. Need to wash the day off me and go grab a drink or somethin’. Bein’ out talkin’ to them church folk in the heat nearly all afternoon then witnessin’ Rust make that one boy shit himself was enough for the day.” 

Marty snorted to himself at that while Rust made no move to acknowledge your statement from his spot as he analyzed his comically large ledger. The blonde sipped his evening coffee as you finished gathering your things, “Don’t get too crazy tonight now. Lots to do in the days to follow I reckon the more this case stays befuddlin’ as is.”

You scoffed lightly, “I don’t doubt that. I’ll probably just head to that Blue Gator joint off the highway. Grab a few beers. Maybe a dance should one be willin’. Need’ta let loose is all.” 

“I’m sure any fella would be delighted to spin the night away with the likes of you, darlin’. Leave it at just dancin’ will ya?” Marty snickered a bit as you scowled and flipped him off idly. You notice in your peripheral Rust go still with a pen in hand but he didn’t make any move to look up or participate in the conversation. 

Continuing, you fix Marty with a half-hard look, “I’m sure you have your extracurricular activities beyond the job so it ain’t a sin to have my own. Anways, this is hardly an appropriate conversation to have betwixt coworkers, Martin. Keep your nose outta it.” 

Marty let out a surprised guffaw and placed an offended hand over his heart. Rust still hadn’t moved an inch from his position. When you let your gaze drift over towards the silent half of the duo you were met with that cold blue stare of his. The mere instance of contact left you feeling funnier than you’d prefer as of late. Things were starting to blossom into something a little different between you two after the few months of being in each other’s presence. He had been starting to open up in a manner he hadn’t bothered to when he first transferred to the CID here in Louisana. His presence had been quiet but no less intimidating, leaving you and Marty at a loss of what to do to prompt him out of his self-imposed shell.

Now, as this new case unfolded it seemed to trigger a sudden release of the deepest tidbits of his…intense opinions and values that went on within the inner workings of his mind. Marty often found himself wishing that Rust never bothered to open his mouth at all. Anything coming from the brooding Texan seemed to offend Hart on some deeper level one way or another.

For you, while it was not all that pleasant to constantly hear how fucked up we as a collective were and how life had little to no meaning, were intrigued nonetheless. You believed that Rust was just as human as everyone else despite him pushing himself as far away from that narrative as possible. He was just broken in a way that couldn’t ever be truly reversed. So while his infinitely dismal ramblings left you feeling more defeated about life than anything else at times, you couldn’t find it in you to really hold it against him. 

When it came to your dynamic, he seemed to have more of an unspoken respect for you than most of your colleagues did within the department. It wasn’t some radical declaration made by him that clued you in on the matter. He mostly just treated you the same as everyone else. Not inherently negative nor too positively outgoing where others could accuse him of giving you some form of special treatment. He listened to you and took your input into genuine consideration which was more than you could ask for when it came to working alongside any of your other male counterparts. However, there were these little instances within the recent weeks that had your mind (and heart) taking another route when it came to how Rust Cohle just might regard you. 

First, it started with fresh coffee materializing on your desk by the time you’d be strolling in at morning time. Two sugars with one cream and always in your favorite green mug ordained with hand-painted daisies. Very specific and not at all a detail that Marty ever bothered himself with remembering about you in the time you’d known each other. Not that you ever really cared. No one else here would ever think to offer you a damn thing unless it was maybe the lovely receptionist up at the front.

It wasn’t until one night you had forgotten your keys at your desk and made your way back inside the assumingly empty department only to find the Rust Cohle with sleeves pushed up to his elbows in the small office kitchen cleaning your daisy mug that you’d left haphazardly in the sink before leaving. You watched in silent awe as he had set it gently aside after drying it for what you assumed was for the next morning where he’d be the one who dutifully made your memorized coffee order in secret before your arrival. To him, the act was probably meaningless. 

To you, the simple scene made your heart squeeze in a way you didn’t think was possible. 

Next, it occurred when he started offering you rides to and fro after your car suffered a nasty rear-ending thus needing to have it sit in the shop for the time being. At first, it was a little nerve-wracking to be in close proximity without Marty present to break any drawn-out silences but after a while you’d found yourself in a rhythm you could call your own. Sometimes you’d talk, sometimes you’d sit and listen to whatever old country cassettes he had stowed away in his glove compartment. It was never dull to you. 

Each car ride had you piecing together factoids that unfurled into the evergrowing idea that was your new(ish) partner. You still found yourself sharing more about your own life than he did more often than not but you were okay with that. Even if he wasn’t the most reactive of men, you knew he held on to every word. Anything he decided to sparingly share had you doing the same with a reverence you weren’t sure you carried for anyone else.  

After getting your car back and no longer needing his chauffeur services a silent agreement had followed. Neither party was completely ready to let go of the pleasant thirty-three minutes permitted to be spent together outside of work. It was decided that he’d drive you home on nights you happened to leave late, deeming it too dangerous to be traveling home at odd hours in the night although you had already been doing so plenty before he manifested into your life.

Eventually, he even found himself at your house one day after having determined that your porch steps needed fixing…or that your gutters should be cleared…or that the lawn was looking a little too overgrown than what was acceptable. Small acts where you felt that maybe he wanted to be in your presence a bit longer than normally desired when it came to his usual limits of socialization.

Seeing him working around your property with that sweat-soiled wife beater of his and those lithe, god-given arms made that squeeze in your heart reach new heights and your tongue feel like lead. Who knew such pictures of domesticity could have this intense of a hold over you? You usually prided yourself in not being so easily affected by men. Though it wasn’t necessarily news that Rust was his own brand of a striking handsome that stood out against most men you’d come across. The sweet tea you’d supply for the dreadful heat when he’d carry out his projects ended up being more for your own benefit than his.

You caught yourself feeling greedy for more of his presence as he made himself an increasingly present fixture in your life. Which realistically…couldn’t lead to any sort of good. 

Bringing yourself back to now, his gaze held an emotion you couldn’t quite place. Hell, most times it was hard enough to know exactly what he was thinking unless he outright declared it. Maybe it was disapproval? Judgement? It wasn’t likely that he wanted to hear about your potential escapades. You probably wouldn’t want to hear of his either (not that he ever does speak of it if he even engages in that sort of activity) but you’d be coming from a different place on that matter. He returns to the pages of his ledger after deciding to break the staring spell, “I don’t see what sorta grand company could be found at an establishment such as the Green Gator.”

 His tone came out a bit too passive for your liking. Bordering the ugly lines of judgy which was something that rubbed you wrong entirely, “It’s the Blue Gator-”

“Oh hush up, Mr. High and Mighty. Not every man is as intellectually driven as you find yourself. Most men want fun and ain’t gonna pass it up when it’s in front of em’. They don’t need nearly as much as you do to get their rocks off.” Marty angles himself towards Rust in his chair, already willing to bat for you in his more than unhelpful way. 

Rust just scoffed and shook his head slightly, “Wouldn’t expect a thing from anyone in this vast shithole…buncha ignorant shitheels with no sense of fuckin’…” He muttered the rest of his ramblings detailing the severe lack of intelligence that the people of Louisiana seemed to hold while bringing his attention back to his ledger. 

His shoulders were set in a harder line than usual. Marty got a kick out of it all, reducing Rust’s distaste to not being able to participate in normalcy like anybody else in the world could.    

On your end, it struck a nerve that he clearly found your plans more than dissatisfactory. It left an unpleasant taste in your mouth to be on the potential receiving end of Rust’s ruthless judgments.

“You forget him, y/n. You have yourself a good ol’ time with whatever strappin’ young man of your choosing should he be lucky. Don’t let grumpy guss piss on your parade.” 

You find yourself grimacing at how much focus on you and the prospect of potentially getting laid has been put. You look back to Rust but he seemed to be no longer interested in your presence, back in his own world and on the case. Patting Marty on the shoulder you finally make your way to head out, “G’night. I’d love it if we never brought any of this up again. Page me if anythin’ comes up.” 

“Y’got it, darlin’. You stay safe.” Marty points at you a bit more seriously and you nod in slight exasperation with a soft ‘got it’ before officially leaving. Rust hadn’t said another word which left you feeling all sorts of confused. Relieved he didn’t further insult your plans for a night out? Disappointed he didn’t put up much of a fight when it came to you maybe trying to avoid any of your current problems with the company of another man? You don’t know what you expected but you did know that you needed to get it together and just let this shit go even for just one night. 

And what a night it would be indeed. 

Night at the Blue Gator…

The night was proving to be a bit more than uneventful. Perhaps uneventful was just about the only thing your mind could handle at the given moment with everything else going on. The lingering feeling of Rust’s disapproval had also left you more affected than desired. With a few Coors in your system, you find your gaze a little hazy as it passes around the kitschy establishment.

Some George Strait song filters through the bar on top of the active chatter of the patrons taking up a surprising amount of space for a Wednesday night. The cute little black dress you managed to find in your closet and squeeze into was becoming less than ideal as you found yourself hearing the siren call of just calling it quits and crawling into bed back home. Clean sheets and reruns of something like The Golden Girls…absolute fucking heaven right about now. 

Briefly pressing your perspiring bottle to your forehead, you soon enough were roped into a dance as some lively Brooks and Dunne tune came on. The fella who managed to drag you on the dancefloor was decent enough. A bit short and plenty bald… with maybe a tad too eager of hands for your tastes that left you feeling a bit removed from the experience as a few more songs went on. You weaseled yourself out of the crowd after ‘promising’ baldy (named Rex or Tex but who’s to really care) you’d make your return after grabbing a refreshment. 

Making your way to the bar your legs come to a sudden halt at the sight of a familiar figure slouched on a stool. After your brief shock shifted into a brewing irritation, your feet found themselves mobile again as you sidle next to Rust and order yourself another drink. He put out his cigarette as soon as you were near his side but made no motion to speak so you find yourself shooting first.

“For a place you couldn’t bother gettin’ the name right of you can color me surprised to see you here.”

“A man ain’t allowed to drink after work?” Is his flat reply. 

You put your hands up in mock defense, “No need for my permission. Just didn’t think you’d grace the simpletons ‘round here when you can have a drink for free and in peace in the comforts of your own home.” 

Rust didn’t have anything to say to that, instead lifting his own drink to his lips, “That man sure had a grip on ya. Doesn’t seem the type you’d to give the time of day to. Less’ you’re that compelled to blow off steam.” 

The thinly veiled nonchalance of his insult didn’t go past you. Instead, it caused you to bristle only in the way you could when you had a few drinks in you, a bit more sensitive and a helluva lot more confrontational. Who was he to judge how you spend your time? Let alone who the hell you spend it with? You set your new drink down with more force than necessary and felt your face starting to get hot. 

“I can dance with just about anybody.”

“That’s been made clear.”

“And why in god’s name do you care exactly just who it is I dance with?”

“Don't remember ever givin' the implication that I quite cared.” Calculated blue flitted over you as if bored. But you knew better.

“I’m sorry, did you just come here to make me out to be some desperate whore for drinkin’ and dancin’ when I’m a grown-” That got his expression to fall with something closely resembling alarm. 

“That ain’t-”

“Last I checked I can do whatever I so fuckin’ please. Do not go insertin’ yourself in the aspects of my life in which you are not fuckin’ concerned. Some of us are lonely and tired and can’t take comfort in stupid murder manuals or severe stretches of solitude. Call it my shitty programmin’ but that’s just how it is for most people. If I wanna drink and let a greaseball feel me up then that’s entirely up to me! Shit, it might be dumber than hell but it’s not like I’m gonna sit and wait around for you to make a move! That’s if you even feel a speck of the way I’m startin’ to towards you. Knowin’ you you’ve probably noticed and just like to see me embarrassed or somethin’.”

 Everything was coming out like one big bout of word vomit. There was an even deeper change in Rust’s demeanor but you were too tipsy and too angry to pay much notice. The burning behind your eyes grew stronger as you threw up a finger to jab at his shoulder,

“It is not up to you to judge people for the shit they do that you deem is beneath you every chance you get. You’re not perfect yourself and I know you know it. But thanks anyway for making me feel like a fuckin’  stupid loser-” Your heated rant was interrupted by a fat mitt of a hand making its way around your waist. 

“This fella botherin’ you, honey?” The hot whiskey-riddled breath of Tex or Lex or whoever the fuck immediately made your nose wrinkle in disgust. Your patience had run its due course for the night as you roughly shoved him off you,

“Oh come off it, Dex-”

“It’s Rex.”

“I don’t care no more I’m leavin’.” You threw a couple bills on the bar’s surface before making your move past both the offending men. Rex had different ideas and made the choice of gripping your arm tightly without much remorse despite your loud protest. 

“You still owe me a dance, bitch. Where d’ya think you’re goin-”

“You best get your hands off her, boy.” Rust’s glare was off-putting even to you. Rex was either too stupid or too drunk to really care as he attempted to yank you back towards him. With your heart racing, all you could think to do was take your heel-adorned food and stomp on his booted one hard. The short bastard yelped as he let you go, giving you the room to skirt past him far enough just in time for Rust to take him by the collar and send him reeling with a swift punch.   

Rex surprisingly regained momentum and took his chance to get a lick back at Rust but his opponent was already plenty steps ahead of him. Rust took Rex’s fist, twisting it behind the shithead’s back, and slammed his head into the bar countertop with a sick thud. A commotion had well enough formed by now and it was your obvious cue to start hustling your way out. Rust spit on the man who now had made a home on the sticky floorboards before turning to you. Your chest was heaving as you made way to open your mouth but he wouldn’t hear it as he grabbed your arm and started leading you out. 

The bar doors slammed open and the persistently thick air of the South drove you further into rage. You yanked your arm a few times until finally freeing yourself from his clutches. He didn’t stop to acknowledge you, instead making his way toward his truck as if expecting you to faithfully trail behind.

“Where exactly do you get off?!” You demanded, struggling to keep up in your heels which then had you electing to nearly fall over yourself trying to rip them off.

No answer.

“I’m talkin’ to you! What the hell is wrong with you?” Your feet were finally free on the warm pavement of the parking lot. You still received no reply.

“RUSTIN.” Your throat nearly felt raw at the volume of your hollering. He stopped at his truck’s passenger door and opened it. The blood in your veins thrummed while your head and heart felt like they were going to burst out of their respective places. 

“Get in the truck.”

“Absolutely not.” 

“You’re drunk-”

“You ain't one to talk. Don’t think I ain’t seen those bottles of cough syrup in your car or them pill bottles you got! I’ll make it just fine-"

“Y/n.” His low baritone left no room for argument, nor did his hard stare. You felt like a petulant child staring back at him with your arms crossed. 

Your will to break was unshakeable but you had the inclination that if you pushed him hard enough he’d have you in that passenger seat even if you came kicking and screaming. Huffing out a harsh breath you half stomped your way over and climbed in. Grabbing the handle for yourself you slammed the door before he had the chance to close it for you. You felt a lick of petty satisfaction when you saw his shoulders drop and a hand come up to squeeze the back of his neck. It wasn’t often you could catch Rust off-guard, let alone see him visibly exasperated.

After a moment or two, he rounded his way to the driver’s side and got inside with noticeably less ruckus than you did. He lit a cigarette as he pulled out of the parking lot, but not before rolling down the window in consideration of you. Bastard. 

“My car better find its way back into my damn driveway come morning.” 

He remained silent for the rest of the way.

Back to the present…

Pulling up to your house, the truck hadn’t even made a complete stop before you unbuckled and hastily hopped on out. You only stumbled a bit as the old Ford squeaked behind you in what was probably the harsh fashion in which Rust must’ve slammed on his brakes at your sudden escape. You heard the truck get thrown into park and a heavy slam of a door shutting as you quickened your pace up the pathway to your front porch. Your heaving breaths were drowned out by the frogs and nearby cicadas that created their own little symphony on your property. You knew Rust was following you but you naively hoped you’d make it up to shut the door in his face just in time. 

'Fuck, I forgot my shoes.’ Was your narrow thought as you fumbled for your key ring in the endless depths of your purse. Rust’s footsteps grew closer causing you to whip around and shove him back with a clumsy force much to his surprise. 

“Don’t you come followin’ me! I’ve had just about enough of you!”

“Listen-”

“No you listen! Never have I been more embarrassed than you’ve made me tonight. Never have I felt more stupid and small all because you decided today was the day I’d be on the shit end of your scathing criticisms! You can fuck right off with that mess. I’m goin’ to bed.” You turned to start your trek before he spoke up again,

“My intentions were not to come by and make you feel stupid.”

A near-jarring laugh clawed its way from your system, “Oh, so that’s your twisted way of makin’ a girl feel cared for. Is that it?” 

He let out a frustrated sound, “What’d you mean by startin’ to feel a certain way towards me. Back at the bar.”

Your heart nearly dropped out of your ass just then. Did you really blab on about that somewhere in the middle of your tirade? God, you could just about go feed yourself to the gators right now. Work would no doubt be complete hell after this nightmare of an outing.

“Take it how you want it. I know with you being as perceptive as you are it shouldn’t come as a mystery what I might feel. You do plenty towards me that’s had me foolishly thinkin’ there could be a one in a million chance of somethin’ but no dice. So what I want to know is why did you follow me out. Why did you come all this way to ruin my night.” 

The silence was biting as he offered up no explanation. He seemed to be trying to figure out that answer himself. Instead of the petty satisfaction you felt from seeing him at a loss earlier, he seemed well and truly bothered now which left a sinking feeling in your gut. The thought of the immovable force in front of you being this bothered when it came to matters involving you just made you all the more disoriented. There was only one other plausible explanation as to why he went through all this trouble to insert himself into the mix. 

You could almost fall to your knees laughing at the sheer ridiculousness of your creeping realization. It couldn’t be. There was just no way. But given the miserable look of Rust’s obvious inner battle on what he should decide to say to you had you gawking. 

The man was jealous. Rustin Cohle, feeler of nothing and believer of none, was jealous. A fit of giggles made their way out of you before you could help it. It might’ve been in poor taste during the seriousness of the moment between you both but you couldn’t stop. Rust seemed all the more distressed as if he’d been caught red-handed. Stripped bare in front of you despite no real accusation of his behavior being made quite yet. 

“If I knew any better I’d say you were plain jealous, Rust. Can’t say I see you bein’ capable of actin’ so irrationally. I thought entertainin’ such primal notions was too beneath you. Especially should it involve lil ol’ me.”

But he was indeed more than susceptible to all the irrational factors of his so-called programming when it came to you. You were beautiful. Mind, body, and soul. Your presence brought things to the surface he didn’t believe he could ever have the experience of feeling again. It scared him shitless. Having to face what was making his old tired heart beat into a lively rhythm again after convincing himself things of that nature were abysmally futile. Even as you stood in front of him now, with eyes and hair looking something fiercely wild, feet bare and dirtied from your lack of shoes in that high-cut black ensemble you had on. He absolutely knew that he couldn’t bring himself to deny what his programming was demanding of him when it came to the unknowing hold you had over him. Flexing his shaking fingers as if to render them steady he took a slow approach to you. 

This was a moment where you had neither the sense nor the imagination to anticipate what he’d do next. It was as if your heart had forgotten how to keep itself beating. This was the closest you had found yourself in his proximity. Being able to see every fine detail of the tragically beautiful man in front of you could have left you speechless for the rest of your days.

A large, calloused hand came to cup your jaw then the other followed. Both nearly took up the entire sides of your face, and their warmth made you feel as if you were on fire. His grip was firm… more so intenful if you were to put a name to it. Eyes searched each other in the most tortuously bated moment you’d ever found yourself being victim to. If you were to move an inch or look away the spell might be broken forever and you think you might just collapse if that were to happen. When had you gotten this dramatic?

Kiss me. God, kiss me. Just kiss me. You thought over and over as if willing it into his mind. Then, as if he heard you through some unspoken link, he did. 

It was like being let in on one big universal secret that couldn’t be fathomed by most. Never had you thought a kiss could wield as much power as Rust’s did. For being such a hard and withdrawn individual, the feeling of his slightly chapped lips on your plush ones felt nothing short of soul-bearing and endlessly warm. Trailing your hands up his broad chest, the quick pitter-pattering of his heart didn’t go past you. Drawing your palms up further you reach to lace deft fingers into the sandy waves that you’d secretly been aching to touch for a while now. His breath faltered as you pulled back for a brief moment. It wasn’t long before the invisible magnet between you both had you returning for more. 

The kiss turned more intense, bodies pressing and molding into each other as if you could become one entity. His tongue traced the seams of your lips and you had no qualms with letting him invade your senses further. The need for air was becoming harder to ignore but no force on earth could rip you away. The desire for him was something you’d not felt for another person in you’re not sure how long. If not ever. His breath held traces of the Lonestar he’d been cradling and the cigarette he’d deeply pulled on the way here and it had you absolutely hooked as it curled into your mouth. You didn’t know how long the pair of you stood on your porch necking like a bunch of desperate teenagers but by the time he pulled away you felt dizzy at the sight of his flushed complexion and swollen lips. Possessiveness gripped your being at the thought of being able to have such an effect on him. You. No one else. 

Rust’s grip loosened on your heated face as he planted one last sweet kiss on you before stepping away entirely. It was a shock that you had any remaining strength to keep yourself upright. His expression seemed a bit more relaxed, a bit too casual for what just transpired. There was a brief pause. 

“Don’t go out dancin’ anymore.” 

With that, he turned and made his slow descent back to his truck. Snapping out of your daze once the words sunk into the crevices of your Rust-drunk brain you quirked a brow, 

 “If that’s your odd way of layin’ claim on me I think I’m gonna need to ask for a more straightforward redo, mister.” 

You saw his shoulders shake slightly in amusement as the night found itself ending on a more playful albeit confusing note, “G’night, y/n.”

“I’m bein’ serious, Rust. You can’t just kiss a girl like that then waltz on out. I have questions.” You pointed.    

 “I’ll see ya tomorrow.” The cowboy gave a slight wave and then got into his truck. Oh, you could wipe that subtly growing smirk right off his stupid face. His dry sense of humor made its presence known at what you thought was the most inopportune of times. You stood there watching his truck disappear into the night, the ghost of him sticking to you like molasses. Your fingertips graced your buzzing lips and you could’ve started giggling again like some schoolgirl. How ridiculous indeed. 

You were so not letting any of this go when you got into work tomorrow.

#rust cohle #rust cohle x reader #true detective #marty hart #true detective imagine #rust cohle imagine #true detective season 1 #matthew mcconaughey

[saltydkdan]

Salty i wanna get into Baki which one do you recommend,the manga or the anime?

Oh you just woke up the fucking beast (I'm so sorry).

I LOVE this question, and as a recent Baki fan myself, I can tell you that getting into the series as a Western consumer can be rough if you don’t have a basic guide to know what you’re getting into…. so that’s what I’m gonna make this post (TEEHEE).

This series has gotta be one of the most insane shonen- actually no- one of the most INSANE PIECES OF FICTION I've ever experienced, and I NEED more people to check it out. Like, LOOK AT THIS SHIT DUDE.

Baki out of context somehow even puts Jojo's Bizarre Adventure to shame. The way I usually pitch it to people is that Baki is as insane as people THINK Jojo is before they read it. Shit is just... MAN LMAO. OBAMA IS FUCKING IN THIS.

Unlike more popular stuff like Dragon Ball and Hunter x Hunter, a lot of this series has just never been officially localized, so knowing where to start, and even how to support the series, is a hard task if you don’t know what you’re doing.

Thankfully THAT’S WHAT YOU HAVE ME FOR. This Tumblr post is gonna be your one stop shop for how to get into Baki as an English speaker (and it’ll give me some space to ramble about one of my latest favorite series).

But uh before we get into the nitty gritty, wanna put some trigger warnings for the series for those who may want to know. Listen, I know how some of these are gonna look to the average person, but this series just be like that sometimes, if you can’t take stuff like this trust me it’s insanely valid. You’ll understand if you choose to take the plunge.

SERIES TRIGGER WARNINGS:

Animated Blood/Violence, some animated gory imagery, Incest (???), Nudity, Urine stuff, Bigfoot/Animal Violence, Death, Uncomfortable looking muscles, and one instance of sexual violence (offscreen)

If you are comfortable with all that (and again, valid as fuck if you aren’t) then let’s talk BAKI!

First off, Manga or Anime?

You would think that either would be fine, but my personal recommendation for Baki as a beginner, is to watch the anime over reading the manga. Simply put: The anime is a lot more widely available and accessible in English speaking territories, and is fairly easy to support officially with its current iteration.

For whatever reason, the manga just never really took off in the West when compared to other series, so it was only ever officially released in English a handful of times, and they only ended up publishing the first few volumes. Theoretically, you can read the first few books to start, but the entire series all together is legit longer than One Piece at a whopping 1,203 chapters, so you are gonna run out of material real quick. The fraction of officially available manga barely scratches the surface of the series.

Even if you’re stubborn about reading the manga and want to try reading fan translations, they come with their own separate batch of issues. Plenty of fan scans you can find online range from wildly outdated, to generally being poor quality at best. There’s even some fan translations that just straight up make shit up and don’t even properly translate the original script. Adding in extra dialogue and slurs randomly to make the text seem way edgier than it actually is.

Full disclosure, I wanna cut through my bias here and say that there are indeed some great scans available on the internet if you look hard enough, especially for the more recent content! But they aren’t super easy to track down with how the series is formatted, and you may accidentally find yourself reading the story out of its proper order.

The watch/read order of Baki is a bit of a toughie for new people, but is actually pretty simple once it’s explained. The story of Baki is split up into multiple different series, kind of similar in format to Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure. Though instead of “Parts”, Baki is split up into completely different manga and TV series. This is why many fans get confused initially, especially with the watch order, because it isn’t laid out in an easy to understand way at first glance.

The most well known series are currently streaming on Netflix, but those aren’t the ones you wanna start with. Nope, the story of the Baki anime actually starts way back in 2001, in a TV show that isn’t streaming officially online. Now if you want to watch out of order, I’m not gonna stop you. You can do whatever you want, by all means, but you’re gonna be missing some VERY important story context, and some characters just won’t hold the same weight.

So if you DO want to watch in order, come with me my friend. Let me show you-

BAKI’S SUPER COOL AND NOT AT ALL CONFUSING WATCH ORDER:

Baki the Grappler (2001) (24 episodes)

This is the original 2001 anime adaptation, the very start of serialized Baki anime. You’re gonna wanna start here trust me.

This series isn’t streaming anywhere officially online, but you can find it… places. Seek it out, trust me, because otherwise you’re gonna pay way too much for out of print DVDs on Ebay. Thankfully though you have options! The series is both subbed and dubbed (as well as every series I discuss from this point forward.

This show is the very start of serialized Baki anime, the very beginning of Baki Hanma’s story. Although it’s not in the way you may think. Despite this being the earliest point in the Baki timeline, it’s actually an adaptation of a later story arc from the manga.

Now I know what you’re thinking, “Didn’t you just say this is where I should start? Why is it adapting something from later in the story?”, and yeah it’s valid to be confused. While yes this is the first ever Baki anime, for some reason the staff behind it made the decision to move this later arc up a bit from the original manga. In my honest opinion, I feel like this is actually a great decision.

As you will see as you watch, this honestly FEELS like this should be where the story begins. The escalation of power and storytelling from this point onward feels very natural, and you won’t miss out on anything or spoil yourself whatsoever on later events.

This is the de facto best starting point.

Grappler Baki Maximum Tournament (2001) (24 episodes)

This is effectively the second season of Baki the Grappler. For whatever reason they decided to title it something else, and while this is the norm for the series later on, this name change is weird because it adapts an arc from the original manga just like the first season of anime I just talked about.

Whatever lol.

Anyway this series, much like the previous, isn’t officially available as of now. So your best option is to SEARCH for it. SEARCH on the INTERNET. Or y’know. The good ol’ expensive out of print DVD on Ebay route.

In my opinion, compared to the first season, this one feels a bit slower paced and a bit of a slog at points but HOLD STRONG TRUE BELIEVER. This season is the introduction to a lot of mainstay characters in the series. Many of which you will come to love, even if you don’t know it yet.

BAKI (2018) (39 episodes) (NETFLIX)

This is the modern adaptation of Baki. After the last series ended in 2001, the anime went on hiatus for 17 years before it was announced that it would be coming back with a modern coat of paint.

Contrary to what you may think, this isn’t a ground up reboot. It’s a continuation of the exact point they left off years ago, right after the Maximum tournament. The only thing that kind of sucks about this is that, at least for the English dub, they replaced most of the voice cast. Most of the new VAs do a great job, however you may need to get used to Yujiro Hanma having Shadow the Hedgehog’s modern VA from the games haha.

Thankfully, you can officially support this series easily via Netflix. Normally I’m pretty eh on Netflix as of late, but this being the only way you can support the show officially in the west, I personally recommend it.

Baki Hanma (2023) (39 episodes) (NETFLIX)

This is the most recent anime! It’s also on Netflix.

Me and my friends just got to this on our watchthrough together.

Anyway, this is my list! If after you catch up you wanna hop into the manga and read the fan scans, I’ve heard that you can start on Baki Hanma/Baki Son of Ogre (chapter 183).

Hope you enjoy the funny man punching show! Feel free to report back and tell me how you feel about it (positive OR negative)!

Like I said, I've been watching the series with friends on Discord every night or so when we're free and MAN. Baki is fucking AMAZING WITH FRIENDS. It just never slows down after a certain point, and it just gets stranger and crazier.

#salty asks #saltydkdan #long boys #baki #anime #manga

[angi-writes-filth]

An art student's ramble about Lobo from Puss In Boots

As y'all know I'm a visual artist so ofc I'm aware that a HUGE part of creating visual content is intentional. Like, chances are if you see something being made a certain way, there was thought behind it. There are references being made and/or this was done with a specific intent in mind.

So ofc the moment I saw THIS

I was like.... why?

Why why why?? Why the pose? Why is it so symmetric? Why the balance in all the scenes and his figure and design WHY??

(rambles about visuals, possibly grotesque imagery and talks about death, various gods, and tons of pictures BEWARE)

Then I realized HOW MANY REFERENCES to other Gods/omens of death The Wolf has??? Like:

Death. Straight up.

(I don't think I need to explain myself for this one...)

Kinda cool how they decided to include a more "scythe-looking weapon" at the end, only when Lobo decides to get serious. Kinda like he's becoming more "Grim Reaper-y" when he stops playing around. More on DW's choice of weapons for our edgy furry friend later honhonhon.

Big Bad Wolf

The universal, historical omen of death. Present in many stories like Little Red Riding Hood and The Three Little Pigs to name a few. Always the ultimate symbol of evil (fun fact: Most old bedtime stories we know today are passed from generation to generation; by the time these were created and put to use, it's most likely they were either made to warn children not to wander off into the woods for fear of being eaten predators, or for the risk of running into criminals shunned out of society and who normally retreated into the forests since they had no other place to live and couldn't leave the fiefs.)

Wolves are also predators that chase their preys, and exhaust them before going in for the kill. Much how like he does during the movie.

Also, it's possible Lobo isn't even the true form of Death in this universe. It may very well be the form he adapted to scare off Puss in particular; because canine v.s. kitties amirite?

(this could also be a huge stretch but the dark patch of fur on his face reminds some people of a bird, which could be interpreted as a crow. i personally think it's just a design element to attract more attention to the face/make his eyes stand out more but i included it cuz why not).

El Silbón/El Silbador

"El Silbón" (The Whistler; also known as "El Silbador" in Colombia) is a legend from Venezuelan origin of a young man condemned to carry the bones of his father, whom he himself killed.

It is said if his whistle is to be heard, the more far away it is, the closer you are to your death.

Could also explain why the hell the Wolf is Latino LMAO. (Hearing him talk full sentences in Spanish scared me to Death haha get it? d-death)

Charon's Obol

The bribe for Charon, the ferryman who carried the soul through the river that divides life and death.

Osiris

This was one of the things I found interesting the most lmao. Like, I knew that pose reminded me of something...

I've read many people attribute this to Anubis, but from my research, it's actually not. This pose was used in sarcophagus by Pharaohs to resemble the God of the Underworld and Judge of the Dead, Osiris. What Osiris holds to his chest are a crook and flail.

Wikipedia offers the following explanation:

Traditionally crossed over the chest when held, they probably represented the ruler as a shepherd whose beneficence is formidably tempered with might. In the interpretation of Toby Wilkinson, the flail used to goad livestock, was a symbol of the ruler's coercive power: as shepherd of his flock, the ruler encouraged his subjects as well as restrained them.

AND NOW WHAT I ACTUALLY WANTED TO TALK ABOUT!!!

Lobo's Symmetry

Okay this is a purely personal take, but am I the only one who found it incredibly interesting how balanced and symmetric his design is?

A rule of thumb when designing interesting-looking characters is to say fuck you to symmetry and balance. It usually works for a much more exciting silhouette and generates more visual interest. However, in Wolf's case, they made a ton of effort to make him look extremely symmetric.

His face doesn't have any distinct marks that separate one side from the other.

His cloak is a triangular shape that converges somewhat in the middle (the only element that breaks the overall perfect sillhouette).

And they went out of their way to divide the Grim Reaper's signature scythe into two: Which he usually holds to his sides, almost at the same height. Like, why would they? Why bother to do all that?

WELL WHY DON'T WE ASK OUR KINGS OF SIMMETRY THEMSELVES, HUH?

T h e E g y p t i a n s (insert papyrus font here)

Symmetry is usually seen as the ultimate form of perfection. It is unachievable by most human standards, so it is notably known for causing feelings of detachment to a figure, even if it is recognizably human.

If you had a person who was entirely, perfectly symmetrical on both sides of their face, changes are, the uncanny valley effect would be triggered. Try grabbing a picture of a person's face, flip one of its sides and connect it with the other....... Looks weird, right?

The uncanny valley effect is normally used to depict images of deities and the like, because it usually instills the most literal form of 'fear of God'. Something that is so perfect that, by its presence alone, it makes you feel awkward.

The same principle is used by architects in churches even today: The more other-wordly, detached but still recognizably human you get, the more a person is made to feel powerless and awkward. Thusly, easier to control.

In summary, Wolf's design is made to look as symmetric and balanced as possible because he's supposed to feel other-worldly, even before we find out who he is. He's supposed to resemble something unachievable by human standards because he's not human. He's supposed to look out of place because he's Death. Straight up.

Every aspect of Lobo's design is sooo carefully thought out I just LOVE IT. Like have you noticed how his eyes stop giving off light during the scene we find out he's actually DEATH???

I JUST-- I LOVE THE WORK DREAMWORKS PUT IN THIS CHARACTER. I LOVE HOW HE'S JUST SIX MINUTES INTO A 1 HOUR 40 MINUTES MOVIE AND HE SOMEHOW STILL STOLE THE SHOW. I LOVE HOW YOU SPEND EVERY MINUTE GLUED TO THE SCREEN, ABSOLUTELY TERRIFIED OF WHEN YOU'LL HEAR THAT STUPID WHISTLE NEXT.

Edit: I don't understand why, but Tumblr is fucking with the formatting and I've been trying to fix it, but I can't. It's genuinely upsetting me lmao but yeah. I promise it looks better when it's in my drafts but the moment I save it, it justttttt does whatever it wants. I'm so sorry! Edit: I THINK I FIXED IT GUYS say THANK YOU to fumbling with HTML, fucking everything right up to the point where the post itself doesn't know what to do and gives up with my ass like "OKAY OKAY I'LL FIX THIS MYSELF GOD"

#I'm not a furry BUT #That's the worst sentence I've ever written in my life but HEAR ME OUT OKAY #I'm not a furry but I'd LOVE to rub Lobo's belly #HE LOOKS LIKE A DOGGYYYYYY!! #He triggers my monkey brain who sees a fluffy canine-like creature and thinks OHHHH WHO'S A GOOD BOOOOYYY //intense belly rubs #Makes me wanna scratch behind his ears when they flop around after he removes his hood HE LOOKS SO CUTEEEE #When he's not like....... Looking into my soul through the screen that is #dreamworks #dreamworks animation #puss in boots #puss in boots 2 #puss in boots the last wish #puss in boots death #puss in boots wolf #puss in boots lobo #angi rambles filth #No one's gonna read this shit I already know #But I needed to get all this out of my system #And I don't wanna spam my friend Lunxi's DMs even though it's HER HUSBAND I'm gushing about #DEADLYROCKET SHIPPER HASTA LA MUERTE ÑAÑAAÑÑAÑA

[taeyegu]

introduce me a good person — 014. the light

previous // next

word count — 839

warning(s) — wonwoo fainting lmao

by the time y/n finally arrived to wonwoo's office (thirty-five minutes late by the way), she finds wonwoo curled up into a shivering ball on his couch in front of his desk.

"wonwoo?" y/n's soft voice startled wonwoo and despite his messy appearance from almost having a mental breakdown at the thought of y/n ditching him, he got up to allow his friend in and to shut the door of his office.

"y/n, h-how are you?" wonwoo wanted the ground to swallow him up... it's been almost a few weeks since you've seen her and the most he can muster up is 'how are you'?

he was grateful to see her smile, "well i just got out of a five hour surgery if that gives you a hint." she giggled, "and by the way, i'm sorry for keeping you waiting, i wanted to freshen up a little bit before i saw you." the softness in her voice almost made wonwoo melt.

"no problem! i was fine!" his awkward smile totally gave everything away but y/n didn't bother to say anything. she was probably just as nervous as he was.

the two friends sat down across from each other. wonwoo took a deep breath to ready himself for this conversation. despite them being friends for a majority of their lives, this was probably one of the hardest conversations wonwoo was about to partake in. even his med school interviews cower in the face of wonwoo having to actually talk about his feelings in front of the person he's been in love with since he could remember.

"i'm sorry." the both of them announced at the same time.

"what? why are you apologizing y/n?" wonwoo was puzzled, "i should be apologizing, i was acting stupid this entire time."

"i know!" y/n laughed, "but i was being stupid too and i was basically egging on soonyoung, jun, and jihoon to help me." y/n startled twirling the ends of her hair. it was a habit she had picked up during their med school rotations as a way to help soothe her whenever she was nervous. however since they started their job at svt hospital, she decided to cut her hair shorter to keep herself from fiddling.

"joshua and i are just friends. i don't know whatever plan the three stooges put up but joshua and i are just friends wonwoo."

a huge weight lifted off his shoulders because honestly if this was going to be another unrequited love situation, wonwoo was honestly going to probably move to live at the north pole and wallow away in his sadness.

"oh thank god." he couldn't even hold that comment in, "y/n, i'm not the best at timing but you should know i've been in love with you for as long as i can remember." his deep voice tinted y/n's cheeks pink. "i thought i was always content with just being in your life but when i found out sejun was cheating on you, i couldn't control myself. i know you deserve the best... even if the best isn't with me."

before wonwoo could continue with his speech that he spent the last two days rehearsing in his room, y/n interrupted him.

"wonwoo you are the best for me." it was wonwoo's time to sit there stunned, "i liked you since college but sejun always told me that you only saw me as a friend and i just believed him since you two were friends/roommates--"

"i hated that guy with all my guts y/n, he makes me sick!" wonwoo interjected like a child.

"i realize that now..." a small sigh left y/n. "even though the timing for us is a little off, at least we're here now."

"that's all i could ever ask y/n." wonwoo reached across the coffee table to grab her hands. "but before we continue with anything else, i also wanted to apologize. i was being stupid and irrational. i hurt you and our friends and i'm so sorry."

y/n's soft hands covered his in a reassuring way. "i know i'm emotionally constipated but i'm working on it. i'm bettering myself for myself and hopefully for you too y/n."

"you don't have to better yourself for me wonwoo." y/n's gentle voice comforted him, "i love you just the way you are."

"i know but-- wait what?!"

"hm? did something happen?" y/n questioned, genuinely confused as his reaction.

"y-you just said that you l-love me..." wonwoo barely whispers.

y/n nodded confidently. "yes i did." she smiled, "you said you love me too!"

wonwoo felt his head spinning again. the love of his life knows that he loves her? it's not the end of the world but when did he confess? isn't love too serious right now? oh god why is he seeing the light right now.

and the last thing wonwoo hears is y/n's shocked voice calling out his name as he passes out on his couch.

#imgp #seventeen #seventeen fanfiction #seventeen fanfic #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen smau #seventeen social media au #seventeen x reader #seventeen x y/n #svt #svt fanfiction #svt fanfic #svt imagines #svt scenarios #svt smau #svt social media au #svt x reader #svt x y/n #wonwoo fanfiction #wonwoo fanfic #wonwoo imagines #wonwoo scenarios #wonwoo smau #wonwoo social media au #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo x y/n #wonwoo angst #wonwoo fluff

[simplyreveries]

hewwoooo i was the anon who requested the trey + vil with plus-sized reader :3 i really love your writing!!!! so expect me to come back here pretty often :D you can call me 🫀 anon from now on hehe (and also expect all my requests to be platonic except for trey oop)

im here for another request !! may i request the shroud brothers, vil, leona and trey with an ignihyde!reader ?? my self-insert is actually an ignihyde student based on the fates so i cant really insert myself into twst x readers with yuu!reader lol. no pressure tho <3

here ya go!! I'm super happy you liked my other one, I apologize for this one's wait i got busy!<3

idia shroud

it’ll take a while for the two of you to become any sorts of close. i can imagine your meetings (even though he's your own DORM LEADER lmao) will be brief and vague, sometimes seemingly halfhearted when he is forced to tell his dorm something, to which he usually just messages.

you’ll find him lurking and leaving his room in the late hours to get something or go the sam's mystery shop if it's still open for instant food or stuff of that sorts. nevertheless, you still are an ignihyde student so you two do seem to get along pretty well. even in those short moments— he finds himself being okay around you.

i guess you could say he is relieved you're one of the few people who won't make idia feel utterly awkward or uncomfortable running into so that's definitely some sort of a relief for him. in fact, that usually entails you two ending up hanging out together or doing something stupidly fun together.

ortho shroud

aside from idia he actually did make an effort to get to know you in the first place and in his attempts to get idia out more, suggested you guys hang out at times! he’d claim and tell idia how interesting of a person you were— plenty of stories as someone who even has been or lived in their homelands, the shaftlands!! he wants to see everyone in the dorm get along well. so, you may see him actively trying to get you and idia to be friends as well haha

im sure you two did become unlikely friends though it's inevitable, especially with ortho. he is happy to see his brother get along with you, its very common soon enough that you guys commonly hang out together.

ortho is very sweet whenever you pass him by in the dorm or in school always saying "hello" or asking how you're feeling. he's happy to be able to get along with others in his dorm.

vil schoenheit

he's curious about you quite a bit considering he knows how the reputation of ignihyde students are well…. very reclusive and don't really interact much with others and other dorms. he has worked with ignihyde students in the past with favors and needing stuff for his film making club (like the magical wheel he needed for epel once) which usually makes him prompt to coming towards you a lot to inquire and get any tech and gadgets that could be used for films they're making… even if you may not be the most outgoing person, he’ll surprisingly feel quite easy to talk to.

if you tend to take on the habits of your fellow dormmates or your dorm leader, he will once in a while tell you to make sure you're taking care of yourself and make sure you're doing things like self-care or sleeping right. it's nothing harsh or anything but it's a small way he looks out for you as he gets closer to you throughout time.

you're like a favored student of his from that dorm, he has grown to be pretty fond of. you've piqued his interest enough and helped him out too that he does seem kinder to you in ways.

leona kingscholar

originally, he really had no interested talking to or frankly being around any of that dorm. besides like idia during dorm leader meetings, he barely even knew anyone there despite it being at least his 4th year in that school. he still finds it, unusual and even strange that you've become rather close to him (even if that may feel one sided but it's just leona ok)

he does tend to feel more content and okay with you if you’re more on the quieter side anyway. he does grow a small sense of fondness to you— he even finds himself slightly surprised as your the last person he expected to garner his attention. but nevertheless, you found yourself nicely close to him even if he doesn’t show it the best.

leona sometimes makes quips or teases about your own dorm, how considerably different the two may be. especially a lot at first before you two grew closer, he just found it strange almost, to find yourself close to him.

trey clover

its funny because besides like ortho or idia and maybe a few various students of that dorm here and there in the school— ever so introverted and quiet he doesn't see that many of your dorm. even cater himself admits he doesn't seem to really know or have any friends from that dorm and he's cater! trey will muse he’s beaten cater at that by dating one.

you may have to get used to his dorm being pretty social, considering all the events they hold whereas you’re probably used to the cold and quiet ignihyde dorms. you may have to even adjust whenever you decide to come over and see trey, especially with people like cater or ace who are heavily social.

he hopes you’ll grow and find yourself comfortable there, you’ll find him laughing bashfully when pointing out their antics in comparison to the dormmates you're used to. you'll find him chuckling asking how you manage to put up with some of them, he can only imagine how different it must be for you.

#twst #twst x reader #disney twst #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst headcanons #twst wonderland #twst imagines #twisted wonderland #trey x reader #idia shroud #ortho shroud #vil schoenheit #leona kingscholar

[namazunomegami]

Into the Void

Pairing: Geto Suguru x gn!reader

Synopsis: Geto is so succumbed to his ideals that you have no choice but to run. But the hunt for you is more than a simple chase. It's resurrection. It's repentance. Just like in the parable of the lost sheep.

CW: canon compliant, established relationship, predator/prey, injuries, blood, toxic dynamics, heavy religious symbolism, emotional distress, dissociation, tiny bit of hurt/comfort, yandere behavior, Geto is a manipulative ass how surprising

WC: 5.2k whoops

Credits: my dear @notveryrussian for proofreading but tbh I should start calling you my editor from now on lmao. I'm glad you enjoyed my sneak peeks so much 💕

Song rec: since I can't control myself, I picked 3 songs by Nine Inch Nails that gives the perfect vibes to the story. For the exposition, I recommend Heresy, mostly because the lyrics resonates with the reader's thoughts about Geto. For the escape/chase part, I picked Eraser for the creepy vibes and reader's slowly deterioriating sanity. For the closing part, I picked A warm place because it's a comforting yet a bit gloomy track

A/N: Saying that this idea possessed me is an understatement. Initially I only wanted to put effort into the whole chase scene but obviously I started to add lore into the whole thing. And since they grew on me and I simply love their dynamic, a part 2 is on the way yaaay.

Minors shall not interact unless they wanna get punched.

And a usual warning for dark content. I wanted to keep it mild but I couldn't. Maybe I'm a lil bit too skilled when it comes to writing about fear.

It’s all too painful to think that maybe running away with Geto wasn’t the best idea.

Of course you loved him, you loved the twins too and the makeshift family you created, it really healed some of the wounds you received in the past. But you wished it would’ve stayed that way. Living together, somewhere far away, isolated, in peace. Have a fresh start, build a nest for the four of you and fill it up with love.

But he had other plans.

There were a lot of improvements in the initial phase of your plans. Building community, uniting the herd. You enjoyed some reverence from the followers too. Eventually the initial number of breakthroughs began to stagnate, despite all the effort. It became routine, like you were being dragged through the same day for years and years without end. When you were faced with even more setbacks, you started to realize that you basically never left the temple and it soon began to feel like a cage. Golden and holy. It was draining to see people lose their sense of individuality and how he became their only source of validation. It was torment. Living life as an idol of worship tucked into a forgotten corner of a church. Praised like a twisted Gothic Madonna with a blue cloth over your head, but in reality you weep, you’re their Mater Dolorosa, with swords piercing your sorrowful heart.

The most devastating thing about realizing you’re not fit to run a cult, is the fact that you lack the most understated yet important aspect of it: believing in the agenda you want to spread. How could you guide all those helpless, simple-minded sheep while questioning whether your destination is real or not? Maybe that Canaan has nothing to do with milk and honey, instead it’s just a pile of rubble.

You soon got tired of it all. His drive, his goal, all too impossible to achieve. Maybe he knew he could never make it happen, but it consumed him regardless. You’ve lost the most cherished parts of him to his hatred, his deeply repressed rage against any injustices he had to deal with after the infamous Star Plasma incident.

You weren’t sure about your feelings towards Geto anymore. Were you afraid of him? Angry at him? Bitter? Disappointed? Worried? It all turned into mush, a grotesque, black liquid as the thin walls of the temple slowly made you feel like they were closing in on you. You had no idea how much time you had, until your unresolved feelings will taint the whole place.

You always circled back to the worst possible action to protect your soft, aching heart… When you thought that nothing will change for the better, you wanted to run away. You wanted to hide. The ambivalence of your feelings towards him weighed on your heart and conscience, like a thousand stones. You loved him, yet you loathed what has become of him. Despite that you trusted him with the map of your soul, made it through all the highs and lows of your relationship so far, all the deep abysses of pain and suffering.

Maybe you should run, just for the sake of it. To test how it will make you feel. Will it make you feel freed? At ease? Will it lift the weights on your chest? Will this sense of incoming doom vanish?

Maybe you should find Gojo. He wouldn’t condemn you, but he would be disappointed. If you set your judgement and resentment to aside, he’s the only one who can talk with the higher ups to scratch your name off the list of curse users who are on death row.

How much time did you need to forge your plan? Not even a single minute. It was only natural for you to memorize everybody’s routine, how to distinguish the sound of their steps, to pick a timeframe when nobody is lurking around the halls. The first (and probably last) time you were glad those who have hurt you gave you a skill, besides the ability to harness cursed energy of course. They made you stealthy, alert, observant.

And when Geto left you to cater to his followers, you decided to put your plan into action.

Your body is strung tight with the tension of waiting, agitation making you feel as if you were unraveling at the seams - but something deep inside of your mind pleaded for you to stay. Agony and anxiety were plaguing you until you’ve found enough courage to get up and sneak out. Now, you had the chance to show off everything you’ve learned: sliding the doors shut so slowly that they don’t make a noise, walking down the corridors with socked feet, carefully putting the middle parts of your feet on the floor, instead of your heels, easily avoiding those parts that creak.

Sometimes, when he was immersed in his thoughts, he was amused by how faint your steps sounded.

An involuntary instinct warns you. It’s trying to convince you that he can see you through the eyes of bodhisattvas residing in the thangka paintings decorating the walls. You almost give up your quest as you glance at the depiction of Vajrabhairava. In all its anger, with its six faces and twelve limbs. A dreadful beast that defies death itself.

You don’t want to do this to him, do you?

You look away from the painting, focusing on getting your shoes on and climbing out through the window. As you’re squatting on the windowpane, you can see all of Tokyo stretched out beneath you. You’re a little bit annoyed that all temples are built on a mountain. A long way to go, but you can never know when this place will turn into a funeral pyre.

It’s a little bit too easy. There’s no sign of surveillance curses nearby, you only need to slide down on the wet tiles, jump up high, land in the mud and let yourself be swallowed by the darkness of the forest. You specifically picked your least conspicuous clothes to blend into your surroundings perfectly. And the cold and murky night will let you go safely. The leaves will conceal your tracks.

So many things are working in your favor tonight.

You know there’s no need to rush. You can only draw attention to yourself if you are running around, creating noise and disturbing the wildlife. You don’t even use a flashlight, you have to get used to the darkness, the full Moon will guide you with all her dazzling light. And after that, Tokyo will do the same, with its crowded streets and all its places to hide.

There’s a weird kind of tranquility in your heart. How the cold prickles your skin, the moisture in the air, the faint noise of the creatures dwelling under the leaves, up in the trees, singing, chirping, crawling. The scent of wet soil, the gentle caress of the wind…

Now, you feel free.

As you walk deeper and deeper into the woods, you feel lighter, you feel like you could fly away, like you could dance all the way towards your destination. You’re thinking about actually doing that, as if you got possessed by a strange spirit…

But the uneven, slippery ground makes you fall right into the mud. You squirmed a little, trying to get hold of a tree trunk and then…

Silence, dead silence.

Your heart sinks deep in your chest.

You know what it means. When nature falls silent. There’s…

There’s a threat nearby.

A primal instinct tells you to run.

There’s no way, there’s no fucking way that he already noticed you were gone.

Twigs whip at your skin as you’re running mindlessly. Wherever you end up, it will be fine, as long as you can enter the outskirts of the city. The cold night air stings your throat, your heaving breath leaves your mouth in puffy clouds. You feel the urge to cough, deep from your bone-dry lungs.

The ground beneath you turns soft and steep. You lose your poise, stumbling and rolling all the way down until you fall from a high clod of rain-washed soil. Your body collides with a cold, wet, yet incredibly hard and flat surface, fraying the skin on your palm and face. Your back and shoulders will be bruised by tomorrow, painting your body with black and blue spots. The pain ripples through your entire being, paralyzing you for a couple of moments.

As you slowly gathered your battered self from the ground with a grunt, you realize you landed on a road. It’s a good sign, you’re not so far from civilization. But instead of following the road, cutting through the forest is the wiser decision.

Your relief is short-lived, just like a may fly.

A sinister feeling takes hold on you. It makes you freeze, squeezing your insides. Like you’re sitting in the jaw of an eldritch beast. You slowly turn back to the direction of your fall.

The lights are flickering.

You grab on the guardrail for dear life. You try to fill your lungs with shaky breaths, your heart desperately beating against your ribcage. Your trembling knees barely keep you upright, yet nothing can make you move. You have been found, you’re defeated, there’s no point in running away from him. The injuries, the already forming bruises will only deplete your strength.

How could you fight him? You’re aware that if he wanted to, he could break your bones and twist your body at the joints with an arm behind his back.

How could you outrun him? He’s capable of summonning a swarm of curses before you even take a step.

How could you make war with him?

Three of the lamp lights were already out, you stared into the darkness, the boundless abyss right before your eyes. You can’t even force yourself to blink.

And when the lights came back on, he was just standing there. Without breaking a sweat. Your pulse feels non-existent.

What infuriated you even more was that he wasn’t wearing his gojo-kesa. The motherfucker even gave you a head start by changing into something comfortable before he came to fetch you. Or simply he noticed your absence later than you expected.

Whatever, both is bad news for you.

He doesn’t utter a single word, he merely walks towards you. Slowly cornering you. Feasting on the terror on your face. Meanwhile you can’t unravel what could possibly be going on in his mind. The only thing you notice is that those violet sparks in his eyes are so sharp they could cut yours out of their sockets.

Should you give up? Should you beg for forgiveness?

But then, an idea blooms inside your mind.

You don’t hide your fear, you let your body tremble freely, fingers desperately clinging onto the metal, with your shoulders hunched to protect your neck and your wide, frightened eyes stare back at him. Letting him believe that you won’t fight back. That he can take you back to the temple and throw you back into your cage.

And when his foot hits the bisector, you jump. Right into the nothingness behind your back.

You fall on leaves and broken twigs again. You roll and roll with such speed you can’t comprehend the growing distance. Not even having an idea of how far you’re from him. Small rocks, branches, hardened roots of trees, bones all cut, scratch and pierce you. But you endure it, you’ll undergo any torture if it meant you’ll be freed. Your only hope is that the adrenaline will deal with the pain.

Suddenly, you violently crash into a tree, the ridged texture imprints deeply into your stomach. Acid bursts from your throat. Your diaphragm didn’t avoid the hit either, breathing is not unlike Sisyphean task as you try to get your shaking limbs to stand. Your mind is disturbed by the lack of air and your desperate attempts at getting yourself together. You’re wheezing like a dog. You must look pathetic, you think.

It takes almost all of your mental strength to calm down and slowly breathe through your nose, your lungs finally opening. But Geto won’t let you recover, you hear the fallen leaves getting crushed under his feet. You take a few sharp, ragged breaths, like it’s the last drag of a cigarette before the train comes and then, you move.

You hide behind a thick pine tree, palms covering your mouth and nose. The lack of oxygen is just another frustrating hindrance to your successful escape plan. Dizziness fills your head like a thick fog and sucks the strength out of your shins, needing to lean against the trunk to keep yourself standing. You try to conceal your cursed energy with all your might. A tracker who’s untraceable is a useful pawn in the hands of the higher ups, this skill made you a cherished student back in the day. Back when everything was so… no, it’s only the nostalgia making you wistful, it wasn’t any better.

The rustling gets quieter, you wait until the sound eventually dies. An almost muted sigh of relief leaves your lips in a thick cloud, dancing in the cold air.

From the corner of your eye, a floating form cuts through the pale moonlight.

Looking closely at its shape, you realize what kind of curse it is. The beetle looking one that attacks instantly once it senses movement. You can’t believe it, you’re going to -

The curse drags itself into your aura, scanning your form that is fused with the pine. Every muscle is tensed, you’re stiff as a board, you suppress every reflex in your eye and empty chest. You’re just like a statue, a corpse, showing no signs of life. Only an agonizing scream echoes inside your skull. A scream that puts mental breakdowns to shame.

It’s like an eternity until the curse finally disappears from your sight.

You definitely look exhausted, your body is limp and heavy like lead. But you must keep going at all costs, even if you have no idea how many curses are sent after you. You walk around the mountain instead of going down like he’d expect it.

Slowly yet surely, you calm yourself down. You know that you’re still in his grasp, but you still have a chance to outsmart him. You go deeper and deeper, you’re near the heart of the forest now. The moonlight barely crawls through the leaves, it’s easier to navigate according to what you hear rather than to what you see. The surroundings are growing eerie, you ache for light and warmth. And the longing sucks a bit of spirit out of you.

Before you can start questioning yourself, the sound of running water fills your ears.

A narrow, yet fast running stream plowed through the forest. Though you were unsure of staying close to the stream, going through it and getting to the other side sounds like a smart idea. As you take a reluctant step, you realize the water is ice cold. And when you dive into it further, enduring the strong current, it’s not as shallow as you believed. You’re submerged all the way up to your thighs. At its deepest point, the stream hugs your waist. The cold makes your movements slow and rigid, your teeth clang together in a frenzy. The bottom is filled with smooth, flat pebbles, they make it easy to - 

You slip on the rounded, polished stones and fall into the stream. The freezing temperature makes your skin shrink, it prickles you like a thousand needles. Scared, you crawl around the bottom, trying to get a hold of something and emerge back to the surface. A sharp, burning pain wakes in your palm, tears streaming down your cheeks. You try to swallow your scream, but it wants to burst from your lungs, you grunt and whimper until you can bite down on your sweatshirt, letting the material muffle your shout. Your gaze fixates on your hand and even in the darkness of the night, you see blood oozing from the deep cut, from your own torn flesh. The urge to retch is strong.

You palm is plunged back into the cool water, in hope of easing the pain.

He calls out your name right behind you.

You crawl out of the water, running from him, just as before. It doesn't matter how many times you trip, fall, stumble. It doesn’t matter how your fresh wounds end up in the mud, you don’t have it in you care about the pain or the looming threat of an infection. You hear him trying to reason with you. You must come back home, you’re injured, you’re bleeding. He must take care of you.

Why are you running? Where could you go? Who’s going to help you recover?

No, you mustn’t let your determination crumble. But oh… it sounds so easy. Giving in to your hopelessness.

An evergreen bush becomes your shelter to collect yourself and check on your wound, which is aching from all the dirt and is still bleeding. Water is dripping from your hair, your clothes are soaked, makes it easier for the cold night air to bite into you, to shake the whole length of your body. Your fingers are hardly moving and have no strength in them. The adrenaline is starting to wear off. You feel alone, small, and vulnerable. You’re freezing, scarred and aching. All the things you see in the dark twist into creepy, threatening forms. Everything that surrounds you is suddenly dangerous. As a lonely spider crawls within your field of vision, you flinch. The world around you is evil and everything is after your flesh.

And the only person who can save you is the one you’re running away from.

What are you going to do now? Fight, flight, or freeze? Which instinct is going to win this time? Because comprehensible thoughts won’t work on you. Every little layer of a fully-fledged human with a conscience has been stripped from you. You left them scattered everywhere in the woods. You’re nothing more than a primordial shell of a being.

Ceremonial horns wake in the distance, soon followed by howling. They let the dogs out to hunt you down. Poor, little hare. Your own stupidity has woken up the beast.

Who is like unto the beast?

You defeat the paralyzing dread and decide on flight. You dash out from the bushes, but - Oh… your eye. Your soft doe eye. There’s something in it. And your tears have an oddly metallic taste on your tongue.

And power was given him over all kindreds, and tongues, and nations.

You wish you could see yourself from the outside, but you’re probably nowhere near as majestic as you think you are. Right now you feel like you’re the fastest, stealthiest creature who’s ever lived, even if your muscles are almost torn, weak, and tensed. This is the last crumb of your strength, this is your all.

And all that dwell upon the earth shall worship him.

You don’t dare to look back. You know he’s there. He’s so close, he’s orbiting around you like a moon does with its planet. As if all of this is a dance. A hunt is a dance with a coital rhythm. And mother nature is the audience to your deadly waltz.

And he doeth great wonders, so that he maketh fire come down from heaven on the earth in the sight of men.

He takes your hand in his. Gentle and kind. To not scare you any further. You snap like an electric current under his touch, but you break free and zigzag between the trees.

He grabs your waist. Forcefully. It scares you this time. You escape from his embrace before he can swallow you whole. But he might have bit your throat during the process, you feel something trailing down your collarbones. You hear your bones crack.

It was all a mistake. You are a mistake. But mistakes can be forgiven, right? He has forgiven you so many times, you can’t even think of a number.

You slide down on a slope, leaves stick to your clothes, and you drop onto a thick trunk of a fallen oak. Tensive pain ripples in your side. You should stand up and run, but you can’t move. You won’t move. What’s wrong with you? What kind of prey gives the fight up before its last breath? But you think about your frozen limbs, the pain in your palm, your back, your shoulder blades, everywhere. You think about home… you want to go home or be left here to die. But the thought of dying here, alone, makes your heart palpitate rapidly, like there’s not enough air to fill your lungs. Your breathing becomes desperate, panicked even. Your chest hurts, your ribcage is ready to break apart by your racing heartbeat. You press your palms against your head, clawing into your hair. Every little morsel of you is bursting into a tremor. The connection between your mind, your body and the world cease to exist. And that lovely, unlimited stretch of space inside your consciousness is shaken, it’s in utter chaos. Breaking into tiny little pieces, like glass, like porcelain. Tears and plucks like paper and fabric. Shrieks and wails, rejecting the only thing that makes all creatures on this plane of existence agitated over their own mortality.

You’re doomed.

Unconsciously, your limbs curl into the very same position you took when you saw the world for the first time, protecting your belly and face, making you seem small. Geto knows you only do that when you fear what might happen to you, despite being unaware of the kind of terror your brain had subjected you to. That’s why he approaches you slowly, making no sudden movements as he picks you up gently, like one would lift a porcelain figure from the ground. When you open your eyes, he had already settled you into his lap as the manta ray curse lifts the two of you up to mount the skies.

You have no idea if he hunted you down or saved you from your own demise.

What a defiant, ungrateful creature you are, you think. You tried so viciously to run away from your burden, and now you feel safe with him again, you dare clinging to him, you dare seek his warmth. The contradicting thoughts and desires torture you on the way back. There’s only one faint voice inside your head that’s capable of calming you down, able to keep your sanity intact…

You’re the lost sheep, and he’s the shepherd who searched all over the world to find you. And he’ll bring you back to the flock, and he’ll love you more than the rest of them.

Your false god. Your fallacious savior. Will he forgive you if you repent on your knees? Until they get bloody and bruised?

Back at the temple, he refuses to let you take even a step on your own. You weren’t born to run, to soil your soles with the ground that filthy monkeys walk on. You’re meant to be worshipped, to claim the whole world as yours beneath dainty, soft feet.

The warm lamplight and the comfort of your shared room helps you unwind. To shift back into a much more civilized, humanlike state. And as you practically glue yourself to the heater, you notice more dirt, more cuts, more blood marring your flesh than you expected.

When you take off your grimy sweatshirt, shoes, and socks, Geto is towering over you. There’s nothing imposing about him, he looks rather troubled as he sighs.

“What do I do with you?”

You roll your eyes. Oh, the good old rhetorical question. He has no idea if he should treat your wounds first, bathe you or break your leg just like the Gospel says.

“Come, let me take a look at your hand.”

You see your reflection in the mirror, and you’re horrified. Your right eye is bloodshot, a deep cut is splitting through your lower lip. You’re drenched in mud, already dried on your face along with some patches of wine dark blood. Together they seal the scraped skin on your cheek, makes your hair stick together into thick strands, accessorized with pine leaves and other remains from your little hike. You’re blistered and torn, you can barely recognize yourself.

It's pleasant to rinse your hands with warm water at the sink, but the sight makes your stomach twist. That nasty wound is too deep, it has to be sewn shut. A shiver races down on your spine when you see the first aid kit. He soaks a fresh gauze pad with wound solution and guides it towards the gaping cut with a pair of tweezers. The sting is horrible, the burning sensation rivals acid being poured straight into your flesh, it makes you grunt and hiss. He gives you a moment to breathe and collect yourself then he continues, despite your whimpers and twitching, tensed fingers. But the pain pales in comparison to when he swipes a new, clean pad inside your wound, cleaning it of all the filth. A pathetic cry erupts from your throat.

“Stop.” you sob, pulling your hand away to hug it close to your chest. You’re too distressed to realize that the temporary discomfort is necessary. But maybe this whole act is nothing but another one of his silly little games.

He places a finger under your eye, close to your lashes and collects your tears. The sight of you crying is somehow not worth of savoring to him. Before any little drop of your sorrow and regret can roll down your cheek like diamonds, he smears them, as if they could make your misery vanish. Well, they can’t. It frustrates you that you can’t let your feelings manifest because he’s ready to devour them just like his curses.

He doesn’t care that your face is caked in dirt, blood and tears, he lifts your chin up to kiss you. Deeply. You’re not reprimanded for not kissing him back.

You were right, he’s definitely toying with you. He makes it hurt before he soothes the ache. He creates a connection in your mind. Like you’re the dog of Pavlov, slowly conditioned to associate him with anything that makes the human heart fill with delight.

The tiles attract your attention much more than watching how the curved needle dives into your skin, how the thread closes the wound proficiently. Your features soften for a moment. Shoko would be so proud of him... Not for the reason he got so good at it though. He learnt to treat his wounds for the sole purpose of not letting a non-sorcerer doctor ever touch him.

He’s crazy. Vile. Petty. And delusional. It drives you crazy too.

But when your stitched hand is wrapped up in bandages, you seriously think about thanking him for putting up with you. For not being angry at you.

“Maybe this will make you reconsider your actions next time.” he remarks in a flat tone, concealing what’s going on in his mind.

You keep your gratitude to yourself.

But it’s not an easy task when he continues spoiling you, with so much care that it rivals motherly love. How he rinses all the grime out of your hair, how he gives you a moment of peace in a tub filled with plain, warm water, no bubbles or scented oils to irritate your scarred, sensitive skin. He dries you, brushes your hair and fills the whole bedroom with the calming notes of lavender and cedarwood coming from the incense burners. But he’s just so fixated on your injuries… every scratch, every surface level cut is thoroughly sanitized. It’s still humiliating, even when you’re the one sitting comfortably on the bed and he’s kneeling on the floor.

You’re afraid the extra pampering will twist your reasoning and resolve. That’s all part of the mind games he plays. You know he’ll go out on his way to prove that the world outside is cruel, that this is the only place where you’re safe, loved. In his proximity, under his hand.

And somewhere, deep down, you admit that he’s close to convincing you.

It makes you mad, you want to tear him to shreds, you want to weep for him just like Mary did under the cross. There’s still care, there’s still love under all those layers of burning hatred. What remains is twisted though, but it is there.

After you’re patched up, he glances up at you, thumb brushing your lip right next to that nasty cut. His other hand is resting where your thigh and knee meet. It’s a sign, a warning.

“Was it worth it, little lamb?” his tone is soothing and playful. So close to being outright mockery.

You reflect in silence, averting your gaze from him. All those scars and discolored skin, your disturbed mind, and the ache in your bones - you realize that your stupid little plan was futile. Totally unnecessary, it’s no achievement you can be proud of. At least if you’re not as masochistic as to pride yourself on your injuries. But the fact that he can recognize the parallels coats your answer with bile.

“No.”

Because you know that you can be so much more… There’re unlimited possibilities to a repented non-believer. And now you know that being his doubting Thomas has no benefits.

Maybe you did lose your faith in him, like the lamb in that story, to eventually realize how much you need him and vice versa. But you’re not satisfied with being a lost sheep. You just haven’t decided on your role in his Gospel yet. This is your call, you don’t know exactly which part of him calls out to you, but you’re satisfied with either of them. Whether it’s a prophet, a messiah, a beast, or the devil itself. The fallen Morningstar who used to be the favorite.

This can be your true Genesis.

“Go on, break my leg if you want to. There’s meaning in that, at least.” you dare echo his last words to Gojo, clean and low.

And your bones remain whole.

You’re relieved. Though you’re sick of his maneuvers with your mind, you’re aware their purpose is not to hurt you or punish you. These aching limbs of yours go limp as he crawls into bed next to you. The arm you were scared of coils around your waist. Viciously tight, much like a snake. The snake that corrupted Eve in the garden. The one that made her sin, got her cast out of paradise, the one that turned her whole world upside down. And maybe Eve did fall in love with the serpent, the worst creature that God had ever created. But even though he caused the fall of mankind, the serpent freed you from the clutches of a jealous, ungrateful god who denied knowledge from his own creations. Now you have the passion to rebel, to prove your creator wrong, to avenge his mistreatment. Give in to the temptation of your snake, believe his honeyed words, accept the fruit for a second time. Because you still remember the taste, oh so sweet and luscious. And with all the power he wields, you can win back your lost Eden or re-build it on earth, the home you’re both yearning for. It’s a promise between the two of you, silent, because words are not needed, only closure.

Something warm blooms inside your chest. Yes, that’s it! You can finally feel it now…

The very first ounce of belief.

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #getou suguru x reader #jjk x reader #suguru geto x reader #idk why but geto is very downward spiral coded to me #fun fact the title is another song by nin lmao #and i dont delibaretely write him as a yandere but somehow i finish a fic and reread an then... whoops he's yandere #geto suguru x reader #meesa writes

[redtsundere-writes]

Jinx | Sukuna Ryomen

mmafighter!sukuna ryomen x coach!reader

Part 2. The New Coach.

Beginning | Next →

Sypnosis: Sukuna Ryomen is a fighter with anger issues. Beating his ass once won't stop his shitty attitude. The training session is on. Contents: Jinx AU. Fighting. Cursed words. Sukuna is always angry. Itadori and Sukuna are brothers. Reader and Sukuna have top energy. Word Count: 2927 words. Author's Note: So I posted this in AO3 like two days ago, and I forgot to post it here lmao. Sowwy uwu

When Sukuna said he wanted to start immediately, he wasn’t joking. He ordered me to follow him to start away. We returned to a gym full of confused fighters, witnessing the strongest fighter dragging his new coach by the arm. Nanami scolded him, telling him that he should be more careful around me, but Sukuna didn’t give a shit about it. He was really a tough one.

“You are not doing the sit-ups correctly. Don't bend your back,” I ordered as I watched Sukuna's posture like a vulture. His breath was shaking with each sit up, sweat was starting to show up gradually under his armpits, and he was focusing on doing the exercise correctly. At the end of the day, he is a boxer, it is understandable that he doesn’t like leg workouts. He was visibly upset, but if he doesn’t want to be defeated by a floor fighter, he should start training and thinking like one. 

The secret to becoming a great floor fighter is flexibility. Using your legs in your favor will always lead you to the good path. Being a floor fighter requires being intuitive, and sometimes, creative. Most fighters are often used to only using their upper body to defend themselves and use their legs just to move fast, Sukuna is one of those. I needed to change his mindset. 

The sight of one of the fighters caught my attention. He must be one of the younger fighters in the gym. He was a thin, black haired boy with curious blue eyes. I didn't pay him any mind because maybe he was just a fan of Sukuna, and he was watching him and not me. 

I ordered Sukuna to do stretching exercises. Trying to reach for your toes sitting down is something that sounds easy in theory, but it's pretty hard in practice. I saw him struggling to even reach them with the tip of his fingers. Sukuna groaned under his breath, trying to do the exercise right. His black tribal tattoos stretched, following the flow of his tender skin. 

“I know you can,” I cheered behind him, pushing his sweaty back with my palms to make him reach further. 

I felt around his back with my curious fingers to learn his anatomy. His shoulders were wide, his shoulder blades; sharp, and his back was super tensed. It was like I was feeling a giant brick wall. My hand traveled to his shoulders, being careful enough to not tickle him. I squeezed the curvature to inspect them. 

“What the fuck are you doing?!” He yelled at me, abandoning his posture to look at me. I slapped the back of his head. 

“Look forward!” I yelled back. He squeezed his teeth to avoid saying something else, focusing again on the stretching exercise. “Can you just relax? You are tenser than a suspect of murder.” I said, pushing his shoulders downwards. 

“Sukuna is always tense, it’s in his nature.” A woman behind me said. A brunette with deep eyes and clear skin, aside from her tired violet eye bags. “My name is Shoko Ieri, I’m his physiotherapist,” she introduced herself. I introduced myself as well. She looked like a very serious and observant person. Even though she didn’t have a friendly face, I could see that she took her job very seriously. 

“Sukuna had a therapy session now,” she said. Sukuna sighed and stood up. Without seeing me or saying goodbye, he went to one of the healing rooms. I ground my teeth upon the lack of consideration, I had to remember myself who I was working with. Apparently today’s training was done. 

“It looks like you will accept the job.” Nanami approached me while I was putting away my stuff in my bag. His face was more relaxed than in the morning.

“I've wanted the job since I entered,” I answered, unwrapping the bandages off my hands. 

“Really? You didn’t look like it,” he said. 

He was right. There was an explanation for it. Last night I researched everything I could about Sukuna. If his manager told me that he goes all out to get rid of his coaches, I need to go all out as well. I had to make sure Sukuna could see that he needed me so he could maintain his champion title. 

“The key of a good coach is to make the trainee see the clear power difference. As a light heavyweight champion, Sukuna struggles to see that difference,” I explained with a wise voice. I knew what I was talking about from experiences. I was a woman in the middle of a male dominated world.

“You were planning to fight against him from the beginning?” He asked curiously. I just nodded. This was my only way to make him see and know what will be the result of his next fight if luck isn’t by his side. 

Nanami led me to his office, so I could sign my job contract under the conditions we previously talked on the phone. I had fixed schedules, which allowed me to continue teaching jiu jitsu lessons on the weekends. The pay was excellent and made me feel like I was in the UFC again. I was happy everything went according to plan, I just needed to continue having Sukuna under my wig. 

Also, Nanami let me know that Sukuna had an upcoming fight in two months, so I had to be really strict with him so he could be ready. When I heard the name of his opponent, I knew I had to take things to the next level quickly. 

“It’s so nice having some time away from that brat,” Gojo said as he stretched his arms while sitting on the office couch. “I was praying for this day to come.” 

“What day?” I asked. 

“The day somebody kicked his ass. His ego meter has gone through the roof. I didn’t know if I could handle him anymore,” he explained, visibly irritated. 

“You don’t seem to be too fond of him,” I commented. 

“Don’t get me wrong. Sukuna is great, an amazing fighter, but he is just too stubborn,” he said. I thought the same way. His technique, adaptability, and strength were obvious. Yeah, he was an asshole, but a very impressive asshole. 

“How long have you been training him for?” I asked him, curious about how he got the job. Did he have to do something like I did?

“Sukuna and I went way back, I was his first coach. I met him when he was 10 years old.”  I knew Sukuna was 22 so that meant he had been coaching that little shit for over 12 years. 

Gojo must be a saint by this point. I bet Sukuna was one of those brats with too much energy and time on his hands. I could picture him bullying his classmates and running around the dojo while Gojo tried to give the lesson. 

“He was always like this?” 

“Nah, he was worse before. His little brothers were the ones who got the nice genetics from his father.” Gojo pointed to the window to another pink-haired boy, he was with the black haired that caught my attention earlier. They were running on a treadmill while chatting. He had a bright smile and a friendly vibe. “He is a great kid. He works really hard, but Sukuna is on another level.” 

Exiting the small sports office, I made my way to the elevator to go home, but the boy with black hair and Sukuna’s little brother caught my attention again. Now they were discreetly looking at me, whispering things to each other. Now, I needed to know what they were whispering about. 

“Can I help you?” I asked them as I got closer to them. They looked at me with a spark of surprise in their eyes, as if I caught them in the act. 

“Hey, my name is Yuuji and my friend, Megumi, just wanted to ask you something,” the friendly pinky said while pushing his friend to step forward. Yuuji seemed to be someone genuine and friendly. On the other side, Megumi was reserved and poker-faced. 

“Hi Megumi, what can I do for you?” I asked like he was a new student in my gym. 

“I saw the fight today, you are very talented,” Megumi complimented me. I didn’t know if he was genuine or not because his voice was monotone. “I was wondering if you could you give me some fighting advice,” he asked. I checked the hour since I wanted to go home, but it was pretty early. I was still in the mood for some training, plus these two can be a lot of help because they know Sukuna more than I did. 

“I’ll do it if you buy me a sandwich later on,” I asked with a smile. They looked at each other in excitement and they accepted. 

Training Megumi felt completely different to training Sukuna. Sukuna was a fierce beast with a destroyer punch, while Megumi was a strategist with a quick wit. His posture was great, his punches were connecting well, and his moves were well thought. He was punching my gauntlets with precision, following my pattern of moves. 

“You are doing it great,” I said while attacking him with the gauntlet so he could punch them to my speed. “But this is mixed martial arts, not fake wrestling.” 

My left gauntlet was supposed to be horizontal, signaling that he needed to dodge. Instead, I slapped him across the face and he dropped to the floor. Yuuji covered his face to not see his friend flop. Megumi grunted, struggling to get up from the surprise attack. 

“You are talented, kid. You just need to act more by instinct and not mind, do you get it?” I asked. Megumi nodded, getting back on his feet with grace. “Let’s go. One more time,” I prepared myself with the gauntlets.  

“What the fuck are you doing?!” Sukuna asked me angrily, standing outside the area we were practicing in. Apparently, his therapy was over.  

“We were in the middle of something, don’t you see?” I asked, not paying him any mind. This wasn’t enough for him. He stomped on me and tried to take my gauntlets by force. I squirmed around to release from his grip around my wrists. His hand was so big compared to mine, so it was hard to get away. “What the fuck are you doing?!” I asked. I pushed him away from me with my elbow and he finally released me, 

“Who give you the right to coach someone else?! You are my coach and only mine!” He yelled, catching the attention of the surrounding fighters. I scoffed as I took the gauntlets off, I wasn’t in the mood to train anymore. Megumi tried to enter my defense, but I stopped him. 

“My contract stipulates that I can’t coach other active UFC members and fighters. Coaching Megumi doesn’t interfere with my contract,” I explained, keeping my cool. 

“This is my fault, brother. It’s just a one time thing,” Itadori said to Sukuna, trying to calm him down, but he was still throwing daggers at me. 

“I don’t give a shit what your contract says, if I say you quit training this little shit, you stop!” He screamed once again. 

“Megumi is a rookie and falls two divisions under yours. He is not a threat,” I defended him. 

“But he is the son of my next opponent, you stupid bitch,” he groaned. 

This caught me by surprise. I looked at Megumi looking for answers, but I just needed to take a good look at him. The resemblance was so obvious, how I didn’t see it before? He was a compact version of Toji Fushiguro, Sukuna’s next opponent. 

I have watched Toji’s fight live and on TV, and he was a real menace in the heavyweight division. He fights so naturally, fighting for him is as normalized in his body as walking. He always looked so calm and bored while fighting that it’s scary. 

“I only admitted him here because he is Itadori’s friend, so stop playing around and focus, or you’ll lose your job on the first day,” Sukuna threatened me. 

“Fine,”  I scoffed. Sukuna passed aside, pushing my shoulder to get back to his training. He knocked me out successfully. Yuuji followed him to keep trying to change his mind. 

“I am so sorry, I should have told you before,” Megumi apologized. 

“Don’t worry, I should have noticed before. You looked like your father,” Megumi’s face softened when he saw that I wasn’t mad at him. 

“Everyone says that, do you know him?” He asked, taking his boxing gloves off. 

“Not personally, he used to go to my old gym when I first started,” I explained. “He is an excellent fighter, why don’t you train with him?” Megumi shook his head at the idea. 

“He told me that if I wanted to ‘be better than him’, I should train away to get experience,” he explained. I could get behind that logic. 

“Well, I hope my advice today will help you to achieve that goal faster.” Megumi thanked me and continued with his training alone. 

A month passed by, and every training session with the champion was a challenge. Sukuna is not the type of person who likes to receive orders whatsoever, so I had to adjust my sentences every time I had to ask him to do something. For example, I now say “Let’s do some pushups” instead of “Give me 50 pushups.” Sukuna is just a big brat waiting for a reason to make a tantrum. I sometimes needed to remind myself why I was doing this in the first place. 

“A good kick is not just about strength, it's about precision and speed. It’s about focusing on a target.” I told Sukuna, who was focused on my words. “Show me your best kick.” I asked him while patting the punching bag. 

I stepped aside so he could have the room to himself. He breathed deeply and did a standard kick so powerful that it made the punching bag swing. It was quite impressive, and he was quite proud of himself. I applauded him for his execution. 

“Did you like that?” He asked me with a smirk. 

“Yeah, I do like it, but it was too slow. Anyone could dodge that with an arm block. You are better than that,” I said as I made him step aside from the zone. “I want a quick swipe.” I said before kicking the bag as fast as I could with perfect form. The bag barely moved, but it sounded way louder than Sukuna’s. 

I heard someone clapping behind me and I thought it was Sukuna, but I was totally wrong. It was a tall man with long, raven black and deep, piercing eyes. I could see from his clothing that he wasn’t a fighter. He was wearing a maroon turtleneck with black pants and nice boots with a cross body bag. 

“That was a great kick,” he complimented me. 

There was an aura of mystery around him, a sense of depth that beckoned to be explored. He was like a riddle wrapped in an enigma, his heart guarded by walls built from his complex past. Yet, there was an undeniable warmth there, a flame that could ignite with the right touch. That aura was ruined by Sukuna of course. 

“What the fuck do you want, Choso? Can you see I am in the middle of training?” Sukuna scoffed at him. Choso’s aura completely changed from this cool, mysterious guy to a poker-faced boy who doesn’t want to deal with the king of the ring. 

“Where’s Yuuji? He asked me to bring him his lunch,” he explained as he pulled out a well wrapped lunchbox. 

“I don’t know. Maybe he is training, grabbing some water or fucking Megumi in the locker room, I don’t know.” Choso rolled his eyes and then looked at me. 

“You must be the new coach. Yuuji told me about you,” Choso greeted me with a respectful bow, which I reciprocated. 

“Oh, I see. Are you his friend?” I asked, Choso was about to answer, but then Yuuji came running up to him. 

“Hey, bro! Thanks for bringing my lunch, I was starving.” He excitedly said with a bright smile as usual. Choso smiled back at him and then checked his watch. 

“I should go back to work. It was nice finally meeting you,” Choso said goodbye and quickly left the gym. Yuuji followed him on the way out. I followed them with my eyes until they got to the elevator. 

“I hate when people just distract me from training,” Sukuna scoffed as he practiced the kick that I showed him. 

“He was cute, who is he?” I asked him curiously. Sukuna smirked at me. 

“You must be joking, right?” He asked. 

“Why would I be joking?” 

“I am not man winging my brother with my coach, hell nah!” I gasped as soon as he said that. 

“What? Your brother?” I asked in disbelief. 

“He is the middle one. Yuuji and him are pretty close,” he said before replicating my kick almost perfectly. Sukuna was a complete asshole, but he is an incredible fast learner. 

“You are not close to them too?” I asked him as I watched him prepare himself for another kick. 

“They are just another distraction,” he stated before kicking the bag perfectly. He is so insufferable sometimes.

Next →

Masterlist.

Order your own fanfic! (Starting price: $5 USD)

Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!

Btw...

#fanfic #fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen #jjk imagine #fluff #sukuna ryomen #bullet fic #jjk fluff #modern au #ryomen sukuna #jinx #jinx manhwa #jujutsu kaisen sukuna #sukuna #jjk sukuna #jujutsu sukuna #megumi fushiguro #megumi x reader #yuuji #itadori #fushiguro #jujutsu kaisen megumi #jjk megumi #megumi #jujutsu megumi #jjk gojo #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #jujutsu gojo #gojo smut

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Am I (33, f) the asshole for bringing up a childhood story that made my cousin (36, f) uncomfortable in front of others?

Obviously based on the title alone, I'm an asshole, but I think I might be justified and would like a second opinion.... thanks!

So a little back story for context....I love my cousin. I truly do. We all grew up together so all of us are more like sisters than cousins. my cousin is beautiful, loud, and boisterous. She's loves to get attention and will try to get it anywhere she can. She posts on FB multiple times a day about her job, kids, or relationship. She's the golden child and she tries her hardest to live up to that reputation. She's the type of person who will get out of her car after a good song dancing and singing at the top of her lungs, especially if there are other people around to watch her, much to her kids dismay lol. She just knows how to have a good time and I honestly love that about her. I tend to be more reserved and relaxed, so I get a kick out of our differences.

But with that, she tends to be.... disingenuous... when someone steals the spot light from her, even when it's unintentional (which is the majority of the time, like they will just be sharing a story from work or something). She will act unbothered by it, but then her attitude will totally change. she will be fake nice and then bring up something that will make the person either embarrassed or want to retreat... then go right back to being content when the attention is back on her again. She does it so often, I kind of expect it to happen every time we hang out.

So here's the part where I may be the asshole... we're at a playzone for one of our other cousins kids' birthday and we're in a good handful sized group of adults chit chatting. A few people I've never met before but she knows them and we were all getting along just fine.

People tend to naturally be drawn to me because I try to be open and get along with most people, so I've been on the receiving end of my cousin's attitude a handful of times and this was one of those times lol. I'm typically not bothered by it because I'm a pretty confident person for the most part and I know my cousin well enough not to take it personally, but this time annoyed me because this is now the 5th time she's bringing this story up. It was like she didn't get the reaction out of me that she wanted the first 4 times, so now she really needed to land it this time. So I gave her a reaction....

A few minutes before I was sharing a story that the others were impressed by, I guess, but we moved on from it and I didn't think any more of it. Then while we were all talking, I believe I excused myself because I let out a small burp. So she goes, loudly so the group can hear, "do you remember when you were 6 and you were crying to your dad because your butt was itchy and you wanted him to scratch it? I don't know why, but your burp reminded me of that". So I'm like "ok? So?" Kids cry for stupid shit all the time and I was a stupid kid lmao. So I brushed it off but she decided to keep pushing it! And was like "yeah you were crying because you didn't want to scratch your ass and you sat there crying until it went away"

I was and still am unbothered by the story she brought up but I was more than a bit annoyed that she wouldnt let it go, so without much thinking I said "no I don't remember that as clearly as you do.... But I do remember my sister slapping the fuck out of you for saying something racist (we're half Asian) and out of pocket. Then you cried to your mama then she told your mom that you were lucky that all you got was a slap to the face... do you remember that?" She went ghost white, looked around the group and said "family is funny like that, huh?"

So am I the asshole for bringing up a story that made my cousin uncomfortable?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

[xxsabitoxx]

Team Bucciarati & Accidentally walking in on you while you are changing

Warning: all characters are 18+ in this situation, kinda suggestive content ahead if you squint? Well beside Mista’s but… really nothing crazy lol

Reader is female!

A/N: I have like 37 fucking JJBA smuts I could finish yet here I am writing this stupid shit LMAO — also my phone is acting so infuriating lately so please bear with me if there are any typos Proof read? Never

Giorno Giovanna

He knocks, every single time, so how this even happened is beyond him. Maybe it was because your door was slightly ajar, maybe it was because it was only the two of you home in the apartment the entire gang shared, whatever the reason was… Giorno still failed to knock. “Y/n do you ha—oh.” He froze midway through the door, eyes widening ever so slightly as he looked at you. You were mid-change, a shirt on but no pants, panties sticking to your frame as you turned to face him. “Giorno!?” You yelped, grabbing the closest item to shield your lower half — in this case it was your pillow. “I’m sorry I…” he was turning around so you only saw his back. “I just wanted to ask you something but it can certainly wait till you are decent…” he was making his way back out of your room, face burning just as brightly as yours.

Bruno Bucciarati

He wasn’t thinking, knuckles hitting your door a few times and pushing it open without waiting for a response. “Y/n I need you to help me with this paperwork…” he locked eyes with you, his tired brain taking a second to process that you looked shocked. “B-Bruno!” Your hands were over your bare chest, hugging your breasts tightly. He blinked once, twice, three times before his cheeks were turning neon red. You’d never seen him exit your room so quickly, hand over his mouth as he clicked the door shut. “My deepest apologies…” he was muffled from behind your door but you could still hear the embarrassment in his voice. “I am… so so sorry… forgive me I…” you began to laugh, reaching for a shirt to throw over yourself. A second later, you were opening your bedroom door. “No need to apologize, Bruno. It’s alright.” Your cheeks were still warm, but it felt less awkward seeing how shy he had gotten. You found it rather cute.

Pannacotta Fugo

It’s a rare occasion for Fugo to even come close to your room. He probably couldn’t even accurately describe it if he wanted too. So how he ended up where he was now? So red in the face he was nearly purple? Was still a mystery to him. “Oh? Hi Fugo.” You smiled, reaching for your perfume, it seemed you were oblivious to the fact that you were only in a pair of panties and a bra. His mouth was hanging open, eyes comically wide as he tried to process what he was seeing. “Fugo? Are you alright? You usually don’t come in my room?” For you, it wasn’t really a big deal. I mean you’ve all been to the beach together before, you weren’t really showing that much more skin at the moment. “Earth to Fugo? Did you need to tell me something?” Your hand waving in his face was the only thing that snapped him out of it, mostly because of your new proximity. “I-i’m so sorry! I don’t even know why I came in here! I’ll just let myself out I…” he was still muttering as he left, hands coming up to hold his face once he was out of your sight.

Narancia Ghirga

You’re used to it by now, he quite literally never knocks and always lets himself in. “Hey Y/N! I need to ask you…” you jumped, moving to cover yourself before realizing it was just Narancia. You mostly zoned out when he started asking you questions, some how you’re half assed answers seemed satisfactory for him. Most of the time, Narancia sat in your room talking your ear off as you got ready for the day. He was, in every sense, not phased seeing you half naked. Of course he’d never seen you in anything less than a bra and underwear, but in your eyes it was the same as being seen in a bikini. Narancia was just…Narancia. “Where do you even come up with these questions?” You slipped a shirt over your head, laughing as he tilted his head. “I dunno.��� Was all he could give you, eyes training on your CD collection as you rummaged through your closet for a pair of bottoms. Really, it didn’t even phase you anymore.

Mista Guido

The last thing he expected was to get a face full of your ass when he walked into your room. “Merda, y/n! You could kill a man with a sight like that!” Always a smart ass… and a flirt. You rolled your eyes, straighten from where you had been bent over rummaging for pajamas. “You scared the fuck out of me, Mista.” He made his way into your room, throwing himself on your bed. “Ah well, you scared me too with an ass like that. The very thought of you sitting—“ you picked up your pillow and began hitting him with it, laughing as he attempted to block. “You are such a horny bastard.” You shook your head, finally flopping yourself beside him when he stopped putting up a fight. “I can’t help it! Having a roommate as good looking as you… who loves to walk round half nude…” the pillow was hitting him once again, this time both of you couldn’t contain your laughter.

Leone Abbacchio

He was only walking into your room because Bucciarati sent him to get you… what he failed to do though was knock. “We’re going to dinner, hurry your ass up so we can…go…” he froze, eyes matching the size of yours as you instinctively covered yourself with your towel. “Why wouldn’t you knock?!” You felt your face getting warm, knowing full and well that Abbacchio had quite literally just seen all of you. “I—“ he swallowed, as much as he didn’t want to admit it, even that quick glance of your body was engraved into his mind. “I’m sorry…I…” he was stumbling backwards out of your room, praying his cheeks weren’t turning as red as they felt. “J-just hurry up so we can go get dinner…” his voice was strained, quite unusual for him, which was making the situation all the more awkward. “Okay…” you croaked, mentally reminding yourself to lock your door from now on.

#Jojo’s bizarre adventure #jjba #jjba headcanons #Jojo’s bizarre adventure part 5 #golden wind #jjba vento auero #vento aureo #jjba scenario #giorno giovanna #jjba giorno #bruno buccerati #jjba bruno #jjba brainrot #leone abbacchio #jjba abbacchio #pannacotta fugo #jjba fugo #jjba fanfic #narancia ghirga #jjba narancia #mista guido #jjba mista #bucciarati gang #bucci gang #bucci gang x reader #jjba x reader #jjba smut #sorta #xxSabitoxx’s work

[markantonys]

I came across a Twitter thread that said the set up for the docks when it comes to the Warder bond between Lan and Moiraine was handled much better in the books cause in the show they feel like the mechanics of the Warder bond was too vague/not explained well in the show that they weren't able to connect with Moiraine and Lan's emotional conflict in s2 because of it. And I am a bit confused cause honestly I don't think the books explain how the Warder bond works at all from what I remember. Just making a lot of wild claims about how everything about the books are better and how the show is fumbling when they haven't even read half the series yet (show first to book reader). Just this trend to shit talk every choice the show makes when you don't even know the full complete story is wild to me

haters: the show hasn't done enough to explain how the bond works

all the screentime across 2 seasons the show has dedicated to showing how the bond works which the haters kept complaining was a waste of time better spent on rand having swordfights:

like literally what do they want lmao some people will never be satisfied!

but the mention of the "mechanics" of the bond is interesting to me because i think we may be hitting upon 2 different types of viewers here: the minority of lore enthusiasts who need to understand every single detail about how things work or else they will be upset and lose immersion, and the majority of audiences who are content with a general understanding of how things work and don't get hung up on details, or will at most go "hmmm i'm not sure if this makes sense, but it's a cool story beat so i'm happy to shrug and move on".

the former category were going "but what weaves is moiraine doing now? did they actually unbond and now she's remaking it from scratch? i thought the bond was only masked? this is such a plothole, it doesn't make sense, i can't concentrate on anything else about the scene" during the 2x08 moiraine & lan beach scene, and the latter category were thinking "what a beautiful and emotionally satisfying moment of seeing them come back together!" and that's it. and probably similar for the rest of the season. if somebody felt unable to connect with the emotional aspects of that storyline, i would bet it's because they felt too unclear about the mechanics of the state of the bond and couldn't let go of that confusion enough to sink into the emotional aspects. (which is really more of a personal thing; my show-only mom was definitely keyed into the emotional aspects of this storyline and didn't get bothered about some mechanics being left vague. in fact, i think she would've just gotten confused if they'd tried to explain the mechanics in more detail djkfjg bless her.)

undeniably, the show does not explain magic mechanics in as much depth as the books do. but that is because it's banking on the very fair assumption that the majority of audiences don't need to have this level of detail in order to enjoy and understand the story (and may get more confused than they need to be if they ARE given this level of detail). i'll admit that s2 was a bit muddled on What Exactly Is Going On with moiraine and lan's bond, and i found myself a bit confused by the mechanics at times, but that never impeded my appreciation or understanding of the emotional aspects of the storyline because i'm someone who is happy to shrug and move on if the mechanics of how something is functioning in a fantasy story aren't making total sense to me.

also, moiraine & lan at the docks won't happen until the end of s3 and it's very very possible we might learn even more about bond mechanics earlier in s3 via elayne and birgitte (who will be good candidates for explaining some New Bond Basics that it wouldn't make sense for moiraine and lan to talk about since they've had theirs for 20 years), so like..........maybe they should just Watch And Find Out.

it's also very interesting that this is coming from someone in the show-to-book pipeline because i honestly would not be surprised if a lot of their base knowledge for how warder bonds works was absorbed..........from the show. and they just don't realize it. granted, if they started with new spring it might be different because i'm assuming new spring goes into a lot of depth about how warder bonds work (though i don't know for sure, i haven't read it). but if they only read EOTW-TFOH, they sure as shit are not gonna have gotten much info about bonds *from the books* because we barely spend any time with characters who are part of a bond during those books. we get, what, maybe a couple chapters total of moiraine or lan pov and then start diving into it a tiny bit more in TFOH with elayne and birgitte, but it's really not that much from what i can remember - and i can't remember very well, because i went into the books already having a very solid understanding of the concept of the bond thanks to all the work s1 put into showing it. i do not remember learning anything significant about the bond in the first 5 books that i didn't already know from s1.

it's also so strange to me in general to see people start with the show, then go to the books, and then start hating on the show because as a show-to-book pipeline person myself, all going to the books did was make me go "wow thank fuck for the show, it will fix X, it will fix Y, it's already fixed Z" basically constantly. it made me 10000x more grateful for and appreciative of the show and the way it's choosing to tell the story!

#i won't lie a part of me is always like #'i bet this is a lifelong bookcloak making a fake account to pose as a show-to-book person' #whenever i see people claiming that they started with the show and then read the books and now prefer them djkfgjg #i know everyone prefers different things in stories and the show's priorities align way more with my personal ones than the books' do #and not all people will feel the same way. but it's just such an incomprehensible take to me as a fellow show-to-book person! #anonymous #answered #wot book spoilers

[directdogman]

In my own writing I struggle with giving each character their own voice (speech patterns, phrases they use) and in Dialtown each character is super specific. Are there certain things you had to remember for each character, other than Oliver using his fucked up slang lmao.

When I write my characters, I can usually hear them in my head to some extent. Like, I can picture how it would feel to talk to them, or if I tuned out while one of my characters was chattering away about something, I can kinda hear the unintelligible static.

If you want me to write a lil essay pointing out differences in how the characters in the main cast are written, alright, I'll bite:

Verbal ticks help differentiate characters for me. We all know about Randy's stuttering, but there's more than just that in how the characters' sentence structures affect how we see their speech.

Karen's sentences tend to end in periods, if they aren't questions or if her voice isn't raised. Almost all of Randy's sentences, meanwhile, end with ellipses (…) or hyphens to indicate he trailed off/stuttered his way through the ending. Oliver does occasionally end sentences with ellipses or hyphens, but defaults to periods and often exclamation marks, as he's pretty excitable. This alone shows the difference in tone/confidence that the main 3 have without changing any words.

The characters all use slightly different terminology when they speak. Oliver's fucked up slang is only a part of it, he also uses theatrical language, often framing sentences creatively and in a way that absurdly beefs up the word count of his dialogue. He uses fairly atypical adjectives, surrealist language. He refers to himself in the third person sometimes. He uses imperfect tenses in order to make his sentences longer/less uniform. I'll give an example, from when Gingi asks Oliver if film reel movie projection is magic:

"I consider myself a sorcerer of FILTH, perhaps (an apt conjurer of muck/grime), but this artform isn't QUITE witchcraft NOR warlockery, I'm 'fraid."

Okay, putting aside the bizarre content of the sentence itself, one curious thing to note is that the whole sentence is full of words that don't convey any additional information. Conjurer is a synonym of sorcerer and he uses two synonyms for dirty AFTER already using filth. Guy loves theatrical language and will structure his sentence to make sentences much longer, so he can fit more of it in. But, then ends the sentence by taking a whole syllable away from the word 'afraid' and abbreviation it, like speaking with an accent. Oliver's sentence pacing is completely different to other people because of the volume of odd language he uses. In the context of the game, he's also drawing the player in by creating a pause, as the next line is:

"No, the actual "beaming" work comes from our dear old movie projector, and possibly my greatest love: Big Bertha!"

He likes Big Bertha and enjoys talking about her, and he tries to draw Gingi in and get Gingi invested in this thing by drawing out the introduction and forcing Gingi to wait for him to introduce Bertha in suspense. Randy volunteers info as if he thinks you're gonna hit him, unable to stand silence and hence, the sound of his own thoughts.

To contrast, Karen uses direct language, mainly. I wouldn't call her speech robotic, as most of the time she can retract language, she does (I am->I'm, I would->I'd, etc) but usually she uses direct tenses, and takes fewer words to say what she needs to compared to, say, Oliver. Generally, the words she uses tonally matches what she says. Weirder, less usual words come out when Karen is reacting to something she finds weird/illogical.

Norm's speech could be described as someone with a heavy accent who's well read, but is slightly insecure about being well-read. He uses words like 'y'all', 'ain't', 'reckon', retracts words like 'to' as 't'', but if you pay attention, he occasionally uses technical, academic language that doesn't match the aesthetics of the rest of his language. You can take the boy away from book learnin', but ya can't take the book learning outta the boy.

Billy is aggressive and generally, his language is designed to make the player feel bad in some way. Generally speaking, he's either insulting you, mocking your knowledge of the world, pointing out something you said as stupid, or is using words like 'lmayo'. Billy doesn't care much about the player, but is interested enough to talk to the player as a means to offend/demean them until you run out of things to say or leave, frustrated, which is Billy's goal. If you view what he says in this lens, you'll see this accurately describes how he speaks to you.

Billy uses surrealist language occasionally to seem more hellish and inhuman, but often, uses fewer words than other main characters. Subconsciously, it's to convey that Billy doesn't respect you enough to use more words. When Billy DOES use big words, it's exclusively on purpose and exclusively to subconsciously belittle Gingi, like when he refers to Gingi as a 'amphibian moron'.

God, similar to Billy, tends to use fewer words than most other characters. He often gives formulaic dialogue responses. There's no psychological play here, God just genuinely doesn't care how Gingi or anyone else sees him or if his tone/phrasing is improper because he knows how little respect people in Dialtown have for him anyway and embraces it.

Sometimes though, he does use uncommon synonyms for words, a byproduct of having lived so long through other times/eras. The references he makes are much the same. Fucker occasionally references ancient Greek figures and expects the references to land, as if everyone present somehow would've once somehow met these ancient fellows.

Mingus uses formal, impersonal language, and tends to use uncommon synonyms for words. The purpose of this is to subconsciously belittle the person she's speaking to and affirm her social class.

While she'll skirt past a commonly used word for a rare synonym in order to make her speech sound more dignified, she rarely leaves out pronouns in sentences. The reason for this is because most of her speech has an indignant tone. She's complaining about some shoddily done action or what she feels is a lack of service. So, the last thing she'd want to do is miss the opportunity to rant directly about her grievances in direct terms. Creative phrasing isn't used to replace pronouns but used to more elaborately phrase the error someone has committed to further emphasize her dismay. EG:

"You created the entire universe, and yet, the ability to perform a simple CARTWHEEL eludes you?"

Instead of saying "can", she says "the ability", instead of 'can't do', it's 'elude'. Hell, instead of 'do', it's 'perform'. But, both at the beginning and end of the sentence, she doesn't think to phrase the sentence in a way to avoid repeating the word 'you'. Like I said, the flourishes are just to drive the point home that she sees herself as above the person she's speaking to and to reaffirm how absurd she sees the limitations of others.

How Jerry talks is basically the conflict within a well educated but defeated man whose brain is decaying from years of substandard life. His speech, like his brain, is in conflict. His job dictates that he should always use terms of respect, like sir/ma'am, but he curses too. When he raises his voice, his sentences are often short and abrupt, but the words he uses tend to be elaborate and rarely used. Jerry is educated, has opinions on stuff. His mind is wasted at his job, and even through his defeated cynicism, you can subtly see that Jerry wants a better life through the words he uses.

Jerry's speech patterns are actually quite close to the narrator, and this is intentional, actually. The two characters share a few things in common that affect how they speak. Namely: Having to deal with Gingi's antics. There's almost a tired parental tone to both.

I could ramble for hours (please don't let me do this), but those are some examples of core character writing differences, namely in how I try to use language. Incorporating subtleties into the dialogue is good for separating characters and when you plan these out so that these placed differences are specific to traits that the characters have, your work'll feel more alive and be more satisfying to analyze later. Overthink. Overthink overthink overthink. It works, at least for me.

#dialtown

[antebunny]

So there's a subgenre of fics in the Harry Potter fandom wherein a person conceived while one of their parents is under the influence of a love potion will become aroace at birth. The origin, afaik, are two insidiously awful decisions of JKR combining: 1) she reinvented date rape drugs/roofies aka love potions, without realizing it I guess, and 2) she said that Voldemort was asexual, because she's never seen a marginalized identity she didn't spit on.

Since Merope Gaunt (Voldemort's mother) used a love potion on Tom Riddle Sr. (Voldemort's dad) I guess people got the idea that what if love potions caused asexuality? And asexuality + aromanticism, of course, meant evil. Here's an excerpt from one of those fics in which Bill Weasley explains being aro/ace to Hermione:

[Image ID]

"No. I just dated because that was what you did. I never really felt anything for them. A few kisses, plenty of hand-holding. I made out in a few broom closets, and had one very uncomfortable make-out session up the top of the Astronomy Tower that I eventually ended by pretending I heard Filch coming past on a patrol. I even tried making out with a guy once in case that was it–nothing. I never told mum about that, of course. Good wizards don't shame their families like that."

"There's nothing wrong with being gay, you know."

He shrugged. "It doesn't apply to me anyway. I'm not gay. I wasn't anything, and I was trying to accept that and be content with it. It was good enough. Until I met Fleur." His eyes lit up with joy as he spoke about her.

[Second Image ID]

"Look, the point is with her allure from being part-Veela, I love her. Like I can never love anyone else. I don't want to lose that. You don't understand what it's like to go through life feeling nothing for anyone else. I've dated people I said I cared for, but I wouldn't have died for them. Well, out of logical choice I might risk my life, but not from love. But I would die for Fleur. Do you understand? She makes me a better person. I would do anything to make her happy. I'm not alone in the world anymore."

She nodded slowly. "I see." It wasn't so much him manipulating Fleur, as him permitting her to manipulate him. Into feeling. "I didn't realise it could be that bad." She still thought he should confess, but it didn't sound like he was hurting Fleur–he really did love her.

[End Image ID]

I read this fic years ago, and at the time I genuinely had not thought about my sexuality at all. I would've never called myself aro or ace. Still, reading this felt like being repeatedly punched in the face. I kept on waiting for Hermione to say something similar to what she said after Bill made a homophobic comment. After all, she went out of her way the first time, didn't she. Instead, what I got was essentially:

Bill: I don't usually feel romantic or sexual attraction. So there's something wrong with me.

Hermione: Yeah lmao. But there's nothing wrong with being gay!

I've been (reading) on Ao3 since 2016, and in all that time I've seen plenty of subtle racism, sexism, etc. But I've never seen anything as plainly stated as this. To this day I have yet to hear any aro/ace people describe the experience of being aro/ace in any of the following ways: "How could I forgive myself if we brought a child into the world to suffer the emptiness I lived with my whole existence[?]" /"You should be unable to love." / "You don't understand what it's like to go through life feeling nothing for anyone else."

I could not understand why Bill described it as "emptiness" or "feeling nothing." I still cannot find a single aro/ace person who would describe themselves as empty. The most I have ever heard is: "I wish I was normal" (meaning I wish I fit in, I wish to be accepted by other people). Historically, many aro/ace people married and had kids, conforming to societal norms, and I am sure many believed there was something wrong with them or hoped to grow out of it. I was one of them. On a very personal note, I suspect that my father is too. I am certain that he's never heard the terms asexual or aromantic in his life. But if you think I'll ever discuss his sexuality with him, you're out of your damn mind.

Now, I know it's really easy to find this fic from these quotes. I chose to include them anyways because I think it's important to show how blatant it was. My Tumblr blog isn't exactly a platform, but for the five people reading this: please, please do not go after the author. I truly believe that they had no ill-intent. In the comments of this fic, a few people bring up variations of "it sounds like Bill is just aro/ace" and the author is consistently understanding. Here are some of the author's comment on that fic:

[Image ID]

I very much understand what you're saying. It's a tricky thing for me to address, however. For the core idea I'm playing with is basically the evilness of "love potions". And part of that is exploring JKR's idea that Voldemort, being unable to love due to his mother using a love potion on his father, was a *monster* because of that. Perhaps that doesn't come across very clearly (there's a little bit more of it in the prequel), that it's one of the assumptions I'm trying to undermine. ("Love potions are funny/romantic", "Voldemort is a monster because he could not love", "Harry's power was that he could love - he's not a monster like Voldemort", "There's nothing wrong with selling love potions to teens/adults because it's not 'real' love".)

I feel like I'm already poking at the inherent problem of framing "people who cannot love" as "monsters/psychopaths" by showing Bill and Harry's struggles with self acceptance, and Bill finding a way to love (though do note he'd been making peace with the idea he wasn't attracted to anyone, prior to meeting Fleur). I really don't like the canonical take on love-redeems/love-is-the-best-power/the-loveless-are-monsters, so I'm messing with it a bit. Exploring other people than Voldemort, ones we admire, who are also dealing with being unable to love. Does that make sense? Now, that doesn't mean I'm doing a perfect job at it, but I'm trying my best to explore that theme around the edges of my Dramione story.

[End Image ID]

The author's intention was to show how other characters, made aro/ace via love potion like Voldemort, were not evil or sociopaths. I don't know why all the characters were so aro/acephobic, but sometimes fics get away from you and you don't address everything you wanted to. I don't know why the aro/ace characters had so much internalized shame and hatred when the term bachelor has been in use for centuries, but we fanfic authors love writing self-esteem issues and I would be a hypocrite to say otherwise. I don't know why the author never tagged acephobia or internalized acephobia, but no one HAS to tag anything.

I don't know if the author ended up writing that fic where Harry comes to accept his aro/asexuality. It's totally understable if they didn't; I have failed to write many fics that I really did want to write. Sometimes it's just like that. I really, truly believe that the author had the best of intentions and is not aro/acephobic, just severely misled on what that experience is like.

My beef is not with this author. I used their words to highlight a reoccurring and popular sentiment that I hate. My real beef is that this fic is popular. This is an entire subgenre of Harry Potter fics. I actually decided to write this post because some random person on the internet said, a few days ago, something along the lines of: "Remember when JKR invented a date rape drug that turned people into sociopaths? Yeah…" (And also because I was up until 3 am last night writing a dumb trash angst one-shot about it).

I'd wager that the vast, vast majority of people who write or read those fics don't feel the same way. But the condescension is baked into the very premise of that trope. "Oh poor you, it must be so hard, so lonely going through life without ever loving another person. You must feel so empty inside."

It's actually people who say similar things that make me feel isolated. Most of the time I feel free, like I've cracked this secret code, like I'm able to see things clearly that people so hung up over sex and romance can't. Other times I feel so left out I wish I was "normal." Mostly, being aro/ace is lonely, annoying, exhausting, and liberating.

It wasn't until last year that a friend told me that some people actually do have trouble speaking to someone they've never met before, just because they find that someone attractive. I thought that only happened in stories. But I don't want to get nervous meeting new people based on their looks, I don't want to treat people differently based on how much I want to have sex with them. I wish my friends in high school had never pressured me to come out as bisexual. I wish all the other similarly liberal, queer communities I've found since didn't insist on associating sex and dating with emotional comfort. I wish I could magically stop my parents from expecting me to ever get married and have kids.

But I can't.

Anyways, that's it for today. I'm not sure what the point of writing this was. I really don't want anyone to get hurt or attacked because of it. This is not a callout, or a hate brigade, or any sort of call-to-action. I don't want people to get up-in-arms about this. I'm just tired. I suppose I just wanted to put my feelings out there, and well, this is my Tumblr.

#asexuality #aromantism #aroace #acearo #aphobia #acephobia #asexual #aromantic #harry potter #harry potter fandom #harry potter fanfiction

[idyllic-affections]

HELLO!! YOUR BAIZHU WITH CHRONICALLY ILL READER IS THE BEST THING THAT'S EVERY HAPPENED!!! I've never seen a blog that does only platonic things, and as an aroace person, IT MAKES ME SO HAPPY! I wasn't too sure if you requests were open or not, but I was wondering if you could make either some headcanons or a fic where the reader (from that series) has a flare up or gets sick and Baizhu takes care of them? I'm unfortunately sick right now (just in time for when my final school assignments are due, slay 😍) but found family and hurt/comfort are literally the best thing ever, and, if put together, I'm pretty sure will cure me /j. If you requests aren't open, then please disregard this message!

Anyway, I gotta go sleep before the fever messes up my brain (if it hasn't already); so good bye, and thank you again!!

a slip of the tongue.

summary. how does baizhu care for his junior herbalist when they fall ill?

trigger & content warnings. flu-like sickness, lighthearted mentions of death.

tropes, pairings, fic length, & other notes. hurt/comfort-ish. baizhu & reader. 1.1k words. they/them pronouns for reader. this post is an expansion of invisible disability? it's rather visible to me & contains vaguely implied spoilers for baizhu's story quest.

author's thoughts. hello lovely!!! thank youu <3 i am slowly collecting people that like this series like how i collect shiny rocks. its great to get a request related to it. i hold this series very dearly, so please (and this goes for everyone reading this!) never be shy to send thoughts about it or requests related to it. anyway, i love catering to aroace folk, you all are so special to me. im on the aro spectrum myself, so i get it. i know from experience that it can be super frustrating looking for fanfic content that's non-romantic. please remember to take care of yourself! i totally understand the feeling of needing to finish final assignments while being sick. me and you are in the exact same boat LMAO... my requests are always open btw! ive no intention of ever closing them. in the end, i went with our poor reader being sick rather than having flare ups, since i already briefly touched on that idea in employee benefits.

how does baizhu care for his junior herbalist when they're sick and out of commission?

baizhu is most often the first to know when they're sick or otherwise unwell. he's so impossibly attentive to their bodily condition, simply because their health is partially his responsibility. he's their teacher. what kind of mentor would neglect to take care of their apprentice? a bad one, that's what kind.

(he also feels somewhat indebted to them—even though they're chronically ill, they're always doing anything they can to help him recover after his "secret art" treatments. even though he's the doctor, they've helped care for him on more than one occasion. he has to return the favor whenever he can. just because he's older doesn't mean he gets to freely take advantage of their kindness.)

if he's not the first to know, he's the second, because the only instance where he wouldn't know first is if they woke up ill at home.

he'll always end up being the second to know, at the very least. someone will inform him of their condition, whether that be a parent or a sibling or another family member. sometimes a friend of theirs may tell him, such as xingqiu, chongyun, hu tao, or xiangling.

in hu tao's case... she may be distrustful of him, but she does tell him when they aren't well. [name] is a childhood friend of hers. she cares about their health and, surprisingly, doesn't want to put them in the ground just yet!

even though she dreads the path they've chosen to walk down... she still cares for them, very much so.

(junior herbalist!reader's lore drop is finally here?!?!?)

regardless of how baizhu finds out, they'll end up being cared for at the pharmacy.

though he could prescribe them medication and let them be taken care of at home...

he often wants to care for them himself.

gui has asked why in the past, and baizhu really has never had a good answer for him.

he's really not sure why he wants to be the one to monitor them. perhaps it's because it gives him a sense of calmness and reassures him that they're recovering well.

after all, if their condition were to rapidly decline for any reason... he could fix it.

(to some others, his concern might seem overprotective. unnecessary. however, something as simple as the flu has been known to take lives. he worries that, because of their chronic illness, they may be more susceptible to a severe case than others are.)

he has the means to save them if something like that were to happen, and undoubtedly, the life of his sweet and kind apprentice is one that deserves to be saved and protected.

perhaps it's also because it seems to put qiqi at ease; baizhu's noticed that she gets fidgety in [name]'s absence during work hours, but when they're ill and being cared for at the pharmacy, she functions very well and often even remembers to check on them herself.

sometimes when they have a fever, qiqi may sit by their side for minutes at a time and just press her little cold hands on their forehead to cool them off. she also ensures that they stay hydrated.

both baizhu and gui find this behavior very endearing. qiqi cares deeply for her big sibling (despite the fact that she's technically older...). her bond with them is something very special and sweet to bear witness to.

bubu pharmacy's work environment is familial and tightly knit by nature, so it isn't too hard to imagine that something would feel wrong if one of the four herbalists were gone for whatever reason. even those who don't work there are affected by the absence of one or more of the pharmacists.

overall, baizhu takes very good care of them when they fall ill.

he monitors them closely, hand-crafts their medicine depending on what they need, makes sure that their fluid intake is maintained...

he dotes on them tbh.

"Ugh..." they groaned, blearily blinking up at their mentor. Baizhu's hand against the feverish skin of their forehead was cold; they couldn't help but lean into the gentle touch. "Bàba?"

He didn't point it out. He hardly even acknowledged their words, as if he were somehow used to it. He only smiled, hand stroking tenderly over their disheveled hair, taming the defiant strands no doubt caused by restless sleep. "So sorry to wake you, dear."

Even Changsheng was quiet—she only hummed thoughtfully from her place around Baizhu's neck. Normally, she'd find something to tease them about (usually because they started it!), but now... she seemed to know that it just wasn't right to tease them in their hazy state of mind.

Gui was quiet, too. He was surprised. He had never heard them address their mentor such an... informal way, let alone with familial terms. He did once briefly think that the dynamic they had with Baizhu was awfully family-like, but...

It was still unexpected.

"Come, now. It's time to take your medicine again, and then you can go back to sleep, okay?"

Gui watched, still silent, as they hummed in absentminded acknowledgement, rubbing their eyes ever so slightly. It didn't seem to help them come to at all; their gaze was still distant and unfocused and they didn't even realize how they addressed the doctor. If they did... they'd probably apologize, embarrassed, but they showed no such emotion. Baizhu gently guided them into a sitting position, rubbing small circles on their back.

Gui handed the cup filled about halfway with herbal medication off to the doctor. Baizhu gingerly guided it to their lips, knowing very well that the guidance was needed; they looked half-asleep sitting up. Archons know they were in no condition to successfully do it themselves. They took the medicine without so much as a whine about its bitterness—they only grimaced slightly after swallowing. Gui supposed that they never really were one to complain about it, even when fully coherent. 'I think it would set a bad example for others if I complained,' they once told him. 'Plus, it's not like Dr. Baizhu gets some kind of sadistic pleasure from giving medication to me, so there's no reason to complain. It's herbal. There's nothing to be done about the taste... I know he doesn't like taking it either. Hehe. It's kind of funny, actually, like we're hiding some kind of company secret. Herbalists who don't like the taste of herbal medicine.'

It was only after he left the room with the doctor that he pointed it out:

"They called you bàba."

"Hm?" Baizhu hummed, turning to Gui. "Oh. Yes... [Name] has done it quite a few times, actually, whether that be because of fever delirium or a slip of the tongue. I don't mind it. It only means that they feel safe enough to be vulnerable here. Qiqi has done it a few times, as well. Those two are only children, so... it is to be expected."

Gui then smiled, nodding. "It's cute."

Baizhu couldn't help but agree, his lips tilting upwards into a little smile himself. "It is."

please consider reblogging, it helps me out quite a lot!

#aphelion's headcanons 🌸 #: [ the junior herbalist! 🌸 ] #favoniuslibrary #astronetwrk #platonic genshin impact x reader #platonic genshin #platonic genshin impact #platonic genshin x reader #platonic baizhu x reader #baizhu x reader #genshin impsct x reader

[sukunasweetheart]

a sequel to when he falls in love.

warnings; yandere/toxic sukuna, dark content, manipulation, murder, mild nsfw

Sukuna finally catches the pesky journalist who has been on his tail for numerous years.

“You think I’m the only one? He’s going to get rid of you lot as well, once he’s done with me.” He’s tied to a chair, rendering him immobile.

Heavy footsteps make an entrance into the scene, and the men part themselves to reveal none other than the corrupt man himself, standing proudly between. He smiles triumphantly, his shadowed face looking down at the journalist at hand.

“You couldn’t be more incorrect. I treat my people and my belongings reasonably... unlike you.” Sukuna speaks rather quietly, using a low voice, but not a single word goes unheard.

"You’re nothing but scum. A corrupt leader. I’ve seen you throw away people like they’re nothing. Are you gonna do that to her too? Is your wife aware of the things you do? Or is she just one of your belongings, like the rest of them?"

At the mention of his wife, Sukuna’s face sours up a little, and the journalist can’t help but show a little smirk at the reaction. It was his job - to tailor his questions so that they jab at the specific individual.

"As expected of a journalist. You do nothing but seek answers to pointless questions. How annoying." He kicks the chair that he is sitting on, sending him to the floor.

"I'll humour you for a bit, and answer your last one. Since I’m nice," Sukuna crouches down before the journalist who grinds his teeth and scowls at him.

"My wife, did you mention? Whether she's my belonging?" He mocks, gently pushing away the strands of hair that obstruct the man's face with a smile. "You must be mistaken. She doesn't belong to me. She's a part of me." He says this with mellow eyes, as he recalls your pretty face. He stands back up.

"The quintessence of my soul, if you will," Sukuna almost lets out a chuckle at the words that spill out of his own mouth. "And I'm sure you're aware of this by now - but I take very good care of myself."

The journalist grows silent, realising that he's being serious. One of the men standing around comes to lift him back up - adjusting him so that he's sitting again.

"I leniently let you run around for quite a bit, as irritating as you were. But getting in contact with my wife was a line you should’ve never crossed." Sukuna heads off to the exit and turns back slightly. 

"Have a good trip to the afterlife!"

And all the journalist hears as a knife gets plunged into his neck - are the echoes of Sukuna's boisterous cackling as he freely walks away.

-

The moment Sukuna gets home - he's met with you, who greets him with an embrace, like every other day.

"You ended a litte later than usual. Did something happen?" You ask him. "I apologise for that, darling. I had to exterminate a rather frustrating problem today," he tells you, resting his hands on your face. "But don't worry. It's all been taken care of."

Sukuna asks to take a bath with you, claiming that he wants to relax this evening. You laugh at his request, but gladly accompany him in the shower, where things lead to a little more than just bathing.

some additional headcanons for this au;

you’re not aware of this, but sukuna always has protection monitoring you - and he hires only the best who are able to blend in with normal everyday people

these secretive bodyguards give him daily reports

its because he has a lot of enemies and/or journalists trying to get in contact with you

but also in general, he just likes knowing what you’re up to everyday when he’s not glued to your side

has cameras around the house too, but this one you’re aware of because he’d told you that they were for security reasons. don’t wanna have intruders around

but what you don’t know is how they basically follow you around most of the time lmao

so when he’s bored at work, he takes breaks by spying on you through the cameras that only he has access to <3

the only places that don’t have these cameras are the bathrooms

also the protection doubles when he has to go on an overseas business trip (if he doesn’t manage to successfully take you along with him)

sukuna will call you, while he’s looking at you making coffee in the kitchen for breakfast

he’s so warmhearted to you despite the coldhearted things he does to everyone else

maybe you will also eventually start a family with him

sukuna rejoices at the idea of putting a baby into you

also its almost uncanny how... you never get into arguments with him?

he knows you so well that he knows what he needs to avoid in order to not get in conflict with you

people dont seem to believe you when you tell them that you simply never get into arguments w him

and when he finds that you disagree with a decision that he wants to make, he uses his little manipulation skills again

it happens so naturally you don’t even notice

every choice of his is in the best interests of you and his children - and if he needs to mold your little mind into thinking the same, he shall do it

and he sees nothing wrong with it - hes not hurting you or anything, is he?

+ sukuna sucking on ur tiddies after u start producing milk for his children

as a “taste test” he says

Its sweet and the fact that its produced by you turns him on

so once he starts he cant stop, even as you’re quivering beneath him and telling him 'no more'

he’s great as a father, and his genes must be powerful because all of his children have a little bit of his traits embedded within them

cunning, intelligent... though you can’t help but feel concerned when they sometimes have a tendency to be a bit manipulative

i wonder which parent that one came from?

just like their father, they all love you very very much.

feel free to ask more questions on this bc i love this au a lot

#sukuna #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna #jjk x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x reader

[jeonqkooks]

goodbye :)

not really lol this was clickbait 🤠

BUT now that i have your attention, i am going on a semi writing hiatus tho. i feel like this is long overdue. i'd like to start off with a couple weeks, maybe a month, maybe longer, idk? we'll see how it goes.

i'll still be relatively active on tumblr - answering asks and whatever bullshit i usually do - and discord (bc let's face it, i have nowhere else to be lmao) so i guess this is mostly a formal announcement for myself so that my brain can process the fact that this! bitch! needs! a! f*cking! break! 👏 it's not like i even have a regular update schedule to begin with, so for most of you things will probably feel the same. but tbh for me, writing doesn't feel as fun as it used to. it hasn't for a while, and neither has being on tumblr in general (some days it fully feels bad being on tumblr but i'm still Here bc i do not know what to do with myself lol).

don't get me wrong, i still love writing and i still want to write. but i just want to be able to actually enjoy it instead of feeling pressured to do it, yk? so i just need to find the spark again bc right now it feels like a chore and we definitely don't want that 😕

also - i feel like most writers go through this at some point - i keep (unintentionally) comparing myself to other writers and a bitch just cannot stop lmao. i've noticed that whenever i feel stuck while writing, i'd look to others and i'd think "damn, why can't i do this or that?" and that'd just make me feel worse lol miss girl gotta work on that. i mostly keep stuff to myself and lately it's been a little More than usual and i don't want to keep going when i obviously need a break only to end up overflowing one day and impulsively deleting my account (i probably won't lol this is my permanent address)

i'll use the time off to get back into reading too - god knows i haven't been reading fics as much as i used to. apologies to all the writers whose works i've been dying to read for so long but just haven't had the energy to sit down and dig in. reading is one of my main sources of inspiration (i made this blog bc i loved reading so much that it inspired me to write my own shit!) so hopefully that'll help the process too ✌️

unrelated to the writing bit but i also kinda want to use the extra time to start working on a professional portfolio and maybe jump back into my wack ass redbubble shop lmao

sooo yeah. i'm not gonna pull a one direction and just ride off into the sunset for good lmao. if anything, i hope i'll pull a bangtan and bounce back with even more content and vigor than before. maybe this is jeonqkooks chapter two 😎

maybe this was a bit dramatic lmao but anyways, sorry to anybody who thought i'd be leaving. unfortunately, you're stuck with me until tumblr gets swallowed up by the sun <3

#take two playing in the background for eternity #i’ll see you dorks around #this has been a post

[dnpbeats]

No but actually on the topic about the fuchsia phone case joke. I sometimes find it so hard to reconcile the images and videos of them then, with a)the two idiots we know now, but also just the two people we now understand them to have been at the time.

I see dan making a slightly off colour joke about phils phone case looking gay, and then i think the scared closeted 20yr old, trying to desperately figure himself out, and qhen i try to match them up, in some ways it makes so much more sense and in others it feels like my brain is short-circuiting.

I guess I just always wonder what those jokes and comments actually meant to them at the time. When I first started watching them, way back in 2015, I always understood the jokes they made as being in the same context as when my straight peers/friends made them. Misinformed but not malicious. As coming from the perspective of a straight person who didnt really think about what they were saying. But now obviously we have context, and now im a full raging lesbian myself, who similarly made gay jokes/comments when I was still in the closet, and I'm just starting to realise what mustve been going on in their heads. Like, im not saying the fuschia phone case comment was some desperate desire to be free and open or whatever, it was a joke and it wasnt a particularly deep one, but there is an added layer to it. Dnp laughed for more than just the fact that the 'fuchsia phone case looks gay'. They laughed bc they knew who they were, they were making fun of the whole 'having a purple phone case means your gay' concept in the first place, and they were just two closeted 20-somethings, existing in a world that wasnt ready for them yet. And yeah it was just a stupid joke, but thinking about it too much has made me a little emotional so here we are.

Hi!!! I totally understand this. It’s been wild going back and watching their content with the knowledge we have now. Like I, as most people did, presumed they were queer before they came out. But it’s absolutely a different experience thinking that and knowing that. While I was watching ditl it hit me that like. They were a closeted couple while filming that, and that’s not speculation, Dan confirmed that. And it kind of hit me in a way I can’t describe, but honestly part of it did make me sad. Just like, knowing what it must’ve been like for them. And I totally get what you’re saying about the gay joke. Like for them obviously part of it was like “oh haha making a gay joke when we’re gay!” But it’s also like… making a gay joke because you’re closeted and that’s as close as you can get to publicly being yourself. And even then, whatever the exact joke was, they cut out part of it. Which honestly was probably a good call lmao but, yeah. I agree that specific joke wouldn’t have been some like grand moment in their lives or that it’s that deep at the end of the day. But it’s just knowing that things/jokes like that were probably a regular occurrence and for a while that was like what they had yk? Making gay jokes and then cutting them out, because they didn’t want them to be misconstrued but maybe bc they hit a little too close to home

And now look at them. Joking about eating jizz on the gaming channel for all the world to see

#dan and phil #ask #anon