rarepair hell

a blog dedicated to isshiki madarai x soushun murasame, something nobody ships but me ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[naraku]

@iisshiki‘s Super Gay otp as commissioned from @prospails ( who you should def look into commissioning if you have the chance tbh ) for her SS present !! 💜

[alwayskaysanova]

send me a pairing and a number and i'll write you a drabble

“Come over here and make me.”

“Have you lost your damn mind!?”

“Please, don’t leave.”

“Do you…well…I mean…I could give you a massage?”

“Wait a minute. Are you jealous?”

“Is there a reason you’re naked in my bed?”

“I almost lost you.”

“Wanna bet?”

“Don’t you ever do that again!”

“Teach me how to play?”

“Don’t you dare throw that snowba-, goddammit!”

“I think we need to talk.”

“Kiss me.”

“Hey, I’m with you, okay? Always.”

“So, I found this waterfall…”

“It could be worse.”

“Looks like we’ll be trapped for a while…”

“This is without a doubt the stupidest plan you’ve ever had. Of course I’m in.”

“The paint’s supposed to go where?”

“You need to wake up because I can’t do this without you.”

“We’re in the middle of a thunderstorm and you wanna stop and feel the rain?”

“I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice.”

“Just once.”

“You’re the only one I trust to do this.”

“I can’t believe you talked me into this.”

“I got you a present.”

“I’m pregnant.”

“Marry me?”

“I thought you were dead.”

“It’s not what it looks like…”

“You lied to me.”

“I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified.”

“Please don’t do this.”

“If you keep looking at me like that we won’t make it to a bed.”

“You heard me. Take. It. Off.”

“I wish I could hate you.”

“Wanna dance?”

“You fainted…straight into my arms. You know, if you wanted my attention you didn’t have to go to such extremes.”

“Hey! I was gonna eat that!”

“Have I entered an alternate universe or did you really just crack a smile for me?”

“You did all of this for me?”

“I swear it was an accident.”

“YOU DID WHAT?!”

“If you die, I’m gonna kill you.”

“Tell me a secret.”

“Hey, have you seen the..? Oh.”

“No one needs to know.”

“Boo.”

“Well this is awkward…”

Writer’s preference

[munasak]

murasame, tie undone and gasping for breath: I’m sorry I’m late!! I was…doing things…..

isshiki madarai, at the back of the room, very quietly: i was things

[muradarai]

omg what would their costumes for any kind of costume party look like? and what are their favourite drinks? how do they party, like, how drunk do they get, how wild, how silly?

Murasame chooses the costumes honestly, Isshiki decides he’s going to go as his brother and he thinks it’s the funniest fucking thing in the world but nobody thinks?? He’s funny??? Honestly he’s just lame 

So Mura chooses some cheesy bogus thing and Isshi goes along with it, it’s usually one of those fucking pun costumes or some really obscure reference to something nobody gets but Murasame thinks is so clever and hilarious and honestly, like, stop them, just collectively fucking stop them

DORKS

Isshiki doesn’t drink (not until after the tragedy that is :’) ) and Mura kind of…sips on one thing (doesn’t matter what it is) and suddenly becomes a danger to himself bc he’s so fucking unused to it 

he is a horny drunk holy shit hhnnn guard ;) my body ;) isshiki san ;) i f you know what i mean 

Isshiki jst carries him back to his room and stays on his couch to make sure he doesn’t wander off and hurt himself

so the next Social Event they go to they pretend they’re really cool and bring flasks as an excuse not to drink but….the flasks have fuckgn apple juice or some shit i hate them

[munasak]

he makes my heart scream color. 

the kids aren’t alright - fall out boy | teenage dirtbag - wheatus | polaroid - imagine dragons | colors - barcelona | technicolor beat - oh wonder |  gone gone gone - phillip phillips | kiss it better - he is we | lighthouse - the hush sound | boats + birds - gregory + the hawk | dark doo wop - msmr | things we lost in the fire - bastille | angels - the xx | kryptonite - three doors down | king - lauren aquilina | home - phillip phillips | saturn - sleeping at last | the end of all things - panic at the disco | find a way - safetysuit | is there somewhere - halsey | you - keaton henson | dead hearts - stars | i wanna get better - bleachers | i won’t let you go - hedley | weight of living - bastille | hazy - rosi golan | ghosts that we knew - mumford + sons | wires - athlete | end of all time - stars of track and field | magnolia - the hush sound | begin again - purity ring | i walk the line - halsey | say when - the fray | crawl (carry me through) - superchick | i’m gonna be (500 miles) - sleeping at last

( x )

[munasak]

ahaha….leave it to me to ship the 2 characters that 95% of the fandom doesn’t even know exist, why do I do this to mysELF 

drawn as a commission by the incredibly talented @kiyotakabunnymaru !!! \o/

[muradarai]

HOGWARTS HOUSES PLEASE!! (for both obv)

OKAY SO THIS TOOK ME A LONG TIME TO FIGURE OUT BC I TAKE HOGWARTS SORTINGS EXTREMELY SERIOUSLY AND I ONLY KIND OF TRUST POTTERMORE QUIZZES SO HERE WE GO

First of all, Murasame is a Ravenclaw.  Like, I had some resistance about that idea, because it felt like “oh haha yeah, student council president, probably, like, in the Smart House or something” but it actually goes a lot deeper than that.  

Ravenclaws value individuality more than any other house really does.  They are defined almost entirely by their own curiosity.  

To be in such a high position at a school like HPA, you really have to understand why HPA exists in the first place.  A major goal of the academy itself is to study talent, not only to cultivate it.  It’s part of the reason that the Kamukura project was considered the crown jewel of the academy. So an appreciation for all different sorts of talent would be an important trait to have as somebody with that amount of influence and involvement.  

The other thing is, that Ravenclaws and Slytherins tend to share a similar trait.  Ambition above all else, and a willingness to all but throw anybody else under the bus when it comes down to it.  Not even necessarily for personal gain, but because of understanding.  

Murasame’s decision to keep silent about the tragedy was him choosing the integrity of the school over justice.  He understood, at least cognitively, that there was nothing that could be done for those who were already dead. And then, his PTSD-induced meltdown showed that this wasn’t what he wanted for himself at all, and that he was acting on  (what he assumed to be) the best interest of the school, helping to cover up the incident even though he obviously very, very deeply wanted revenge.  It’s a line between selflessness and selfishness that Ravenclaws and Slytherins tend to ride a lot more than the other two houses. 

So Ravenclaw, but a strong argument could be made for Slytherin as well.

As far as Isshiki, that’s harder.  

I was tempted to say Slytherin, partially for the snake motifs, as well as their seemingly unyielding drive.  But he doesn’t seem to aspire toward greatness for himself.  Slytherins tend to be leaders, not followers, and Isshiki sees his role as complimentary to somebody or something greater, as opposed to the individualistic worldview that Slytherins tend to take on.  So.  

Here’s what I think.

Isshiki Madarai is actually, in my opinion, a Hufflepuff.  They tend to be humble and  prefer to blend into the background, but they are incredibly protective of those they care about.  And they are a force to be fucking reckoned with. 

This is from the Pottermore welcome message:

Hufflepuffs are trustworthy and loyal. We don’t shoot our mouths off, but cross us at your peril; like our emblem, the badger, we will protect ourselves, our friends and our families against all-comers. Nobody intimidates us.

And as I’ve said before about other characters, when they fight, it’s because of a deep-seated sense of justice, oftentimes unlike Gryffindors.  There’s no showoffishness, it’s just because of what they believe is right.  

Hufflepuffs normally don’t go around picking fights unless they or someone they care about happens to be cornered.  In which case, like.

Pick a god and pray, tbh.

[muradarai]

The way you said “I love you.”

11.  With a shuddering gasp.

You don’t remember the last morning that you woke up in anything other than a cold panic.

You’ve known, cognitively at least, that he’s there, that he’s safe, that the very last flickering ember of war has been extinguished for almost five years.  The earth reverted to what it was before that chaos.  Peace is a distant, glossy memory to you both by now, like an old film reel that had been dripped on by distilled turpentine, but that alone doesn’t render it unrecognizable.  The wreckage is still there, of course, it takes more than a few years to erase the footprints of armageddon.  But people walk the streets freely now, unafraid.  

None of this stops you from envisioning the horrific things that could be done to his body, that almost were done to his body.  And for a split second you wonder, every morning, if this moment is the most terrified you’ve ever been, as your eyes wretch open and you gasp for a shaky breath.  It’s the same, it’salways the same.   He isn’t cut open at the stomach, or being actively skinned alive, begging you to drive a stake into his heart and put an end to that unimaginable amount of pain.  He’s sleeping beside you, or maybe you woke him up again.  But he’s okay.

He knows, too.  He’s told you that you scream in your sleep sometimes.  Occasionally about your brothers, but mostly about him.  It isn’t anything foreign to him, though.  He’s been screaming in his sleep since the night that you and your broken body somehow carried him out of the school.

You always hold him when he wakes up.  Sometimes you talk to him until he falls back asleep, telling him decade-old stories about you and your brothers that he’s heard a hundred times before.  Sometimes you softly hum the melody of a song that you know his mother used to sing to him as a child when he was sick.  You know your voice isn’t particularly soft, or melodic, and your pitch is never quite right, but it soothes him enough to send him back to sleep, even if it’s for only another half an hour before he’s plagued with shakes and nightmares again.  

And then sometimes, if the nightmare was about you, and only if he asks it of you and you know he means it, you make love to him then and there.  

Making love in the middle of the night like that is much different than any other time of day, be it by the formality of candlelight or the quiet playfulness of midmorning.  There are nights when you can go for hours and hours, orgasms upon orgasms, and there are days when you lift him onto the counter or against the back wall and just fuck him until he can’t breathe.  It’s not always soft, but it’s always tender, it’s always loving.  (Between the two of you and all you’ve seen, all you’ve been through, there’s no way it could be anything but.) Even so, no small amount of tenderness can come close to those moments after he believed he lost you for good, when he needs desperately to be held, to be touched, to be reassured that you’re there, you’re there, and you’re staying.

This time he dreamt that you were taken apart, piece by piece, fed some tar-black drug through a needle to keep you awake through the whole ordeal.  When he told you, he half screamed it, and even as you move inside of him now, you can feel his fingertips search your skin for scissures.  

If you thought he was crying from pain, you would stop.  But his legs wrap around your hips to pull you as deep as you can go, to take you to the hilt, body arching up to meet yours halfway.  He wants to touch as much of you as possible, as though the parts of you that he saw shredded apart with a bonesaw could be plastered back together in your sweat and your trembles.  

It’s almost overwhelming how much smaller his hands are than yours.  You could easily snap his bones if you wanted to, and that’s part of why you barely press on them at all, even as you slide your palm from his forearm to his wrist, and then as you slip your fingers in the crevices between his.  Your other arm rests beneath you, supporting the weight of the two of you on your elbows, as you hold him tight against your chest by the small of his back.

He pulls you deeper still, the air of the bedroom silent and still besides hot, labored panting and the shifting of sheets beneath and above your bodies.  It’s a bit warm in the room for you, especially to be making love, but years ago he told you offhandedly that cold weather makes his muscles ache.

Even as the room grows louder, grows hotter, and you can feel the inner part of his thighs shudder around the space between your hips and your waistline, you can tell that his goal isn’t orgasm.  He intends to do this until you run out of moonlight, or until you collapse, or both.  To touch you everywhere he can reach, to have you touch him everywhere that you can reach.

His face and yours are mere millimeters apart now, and your lips graze one another every three or so thrusts.  And then there’s a moment, where his hand twitches underneath your own - his breathing turns to soft whines, you feel him tighten around you.  You know he doesn’t want it to be over, and you slow.  

The hand that was intertwined with his travels the length of his arm, of his body, to meet the other one underneath him.  It’s only when you hold him like this, so close, so completely, that you understand how small, how fragile -

…There’s sobs coming from between his teeth.  You feel a sharp digging of pain along your spine, but you allow him to burrow his nails into your skin without complaint.  He’s anchoring you, holding your body here on earth with him as he fights with his own fear that you will vanish into thin air if he so much as loosened his grip.  You know.  You’ve had those nights.  

As much as you hate yourself for it, he has nicks and scars along his backbone for that very reason.

The “I love you” is whispered in a shudder, half-breaking over the sob still caught in his throat.  

The “I love you too” is whispered the exact same way.

[muradarai]

The way you said “I love you.”

22. Muffled, from the other side of the door

The idea of giving up doesn’t cross your mind, even after you feel your collarbone snap on the seventh contact.

By the ninth, the twelfth, the seventeenth, you know that it’s probably jutting out of your skin.  If you don’t stop, you might drive the jagged piece through the artery where your jaw meets your neck and bleed yourself out.  If you don’t, you’ll keep going. You’ll snap your neck, surely, on one of these collisions, or fracture every bone in your shoulders, in your spine, in everything that’s slamming against what you presume is the weakest part of the door.  You’ll disintegrate your bones from the outside in, grinding them to dust as they continue to break, to pierce your skin, and to be sanded down by collision on collision on collision on collision - 

You might have left to find something bigger to throw against it if you felt you had the time.  Hell, it may have even saved you time that you’re currently wasting, breaking your body against a thick layer of metal that won’t so much as shift under all of your weight coming at it over and over.  The door isn’t giving.  Your body will be in splinters by the time you so much as dent the deadbolt.  You know it’s inefficient, you know it’s never going to work, but you can’t bring yourself to look for another option.

There’s a sliver of an opening at the very bottom.  It’s why you're terrified to leave them.

You...you can hear their voices.  

You can hear his voice.

And all of the crunching, the gushing, the cracking around it.  

I-I’m s-s-s-sorr...r - y.  You hear him sob.  He’s crying so hard that he can barely hitch his breath into that pathetic, forceful squeal that you hear next.  

I-I- I- I - ‘ mmm S-s-s....

Crunch.  

S-s or...I’ m s-s

Squelch.  

Sorr....y, I’m sorry I’m sorry I-I-I-I-I-I-I’mmmmmmmm - sorryimsorryimsorryimsorryimsorryimsorryimsorryimsorryimsorryims-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s- ....

Snap.

You only register that your legs have given out beneath you when you feel your nails dig into them.  You could be drawing blood underneath your jeans.  You don’t know.  You really don’t care.  

... And then suddenly you’re caught between accepting one of two equally true, and equally incapacitating realities.  It has to be one or the other.  If you accept both, you may never move again.  

You either accept the fact that your body is far too broken to help anyone, that this door is never going to crack, that the students inside are completely and entirely at the mercy of both one another and Enoshima’s ability to keep her word - 

Or you accept that with every squelch, with every crunch, with every unmistakable clang of metal hitting fragile, hollow bone...

Every splash of human flesh hitting against the walls like common ground meat...

...

...It’s relief.  You’re feeling relief.

You swore to protect them, and yet with every terrifying, painful, inhuman death - 

...

Aha. Ha. 

H h a a.  AH a.  H a.  

Your chest hurts.  You think for a moment that the difficulty breathing has to do with a likely punctured lung.  It doesn’t.  

It’s that you’re sobbing so hard that you can’t draw breath.  

Your teeth are clenched together so tightly that your jaw aches.  Your eyes are screwed shut, and you can’t rip them open, force your sight to come back and drown out the senses that do know what is going on in that room.  Drown out the sound.  The smell.  

The taste.

The air is thick enough to leave a layer of heat and blood and bodies on your tongue, and you want to vomit.  You would, if your body trusted you not to choke on it with as hard as you’re already racking.  

And even then.  

All you know, all you can think of,  -- 

..

..

I love you.

...

...

.......

It’s the first time you say it, and it’s hissed into existence like a prayer, through locked jaw and spasming throat.  

I love you.  

...

It almost is a prayer.  The universe has shifted for less.  If you pray, if you grovel, if you beg hard enough, with enough conviction, enough sincerity, if you - 

... 

I-I --- I.... 

I love you. 

IloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyou

You say it until you’re screaming it.  

You say it until your voice is hoarse and sore and saying it again feels like swallowing broken shards of concrete.  

....

You say it until Izuru Kamukura is announced the victor, and the door finally gives.  

...

When Enoshima cuts your throat, you drive yourself into her knife.

[muradarai]

[I’m probably going to do those one at a time in separate posts tbh!! :0]

[mottainaiiii]

The way you said “I love you.“

Some fluffy, some angsty prompts

As a hello

With a hoarse voice, under the blankets

A scream

Over a cup of tea

Over a beer bottle

On a sunny Tuesday afternoon, the late sunlight glowing in your hair

As a thank you

As an apology

When baking chocolate chip cookies

Not said to me

With a shuddering gasp

When we lay together on the fresh spring grass

In a letter

A whisper in the ear

Loud, so everyone can hear

Over and over again, till it’s nothing but a senseless babble

When the broken grass litters the floor

From very far away

With no space left between us

As we huddle together, the storm raging outside

Over your shoulder

Muffled, from the other side of the door

Through a song

Without really meaning it

In a blissful sigh as you fall asleep

Broken, as you clutch the sleeve of my jacket and beg me not to leave

A taunt, with one eyebrow raised and a grin bubbling at your lips

When I am dead

Slowly, the words dripping from your tongue like honey

Too quick, mumbled into your scarf

In awe, the first time you realised it

In a way I can’t return

On a post-it note

Before we jump

As a goodbye

[muradarai]

if they had to make plans for an average weekend in the fall, what would that weekend turn out to be like? what would they typically do?

OKAY SO…they’re really good about planning things and sticking to plans even if it’s weeks in advance because they’re used to having such a tight schedule anyway but 

Normally on the weekends they like to stick to one or two things!!  Like maybe one big thing that takes up either a half or a full day and they don’t have to worry too much about missing anything that day and they can just.  Relax for once.  

When they do go out it’s usually someplace quiet, like hiking or exploring old places.  Murasame loves locations that are rich in history, and honestly Isshiki just loves watching Mura have a good time and tell him all about wherever it is that they happen to be visiting!!  They don’t do a lot of formal tours, though, since they like to go at their own pace :’> 

They also enjoy exploring abandoned places tbh!!  But the skeevier the place, the more of Isshiki’s brothers end up tagging along out of sight Just In Case.   Mura is aware of it, though he pretends not to be.  He thinks it’s sort of sweet.

SOMETIMES they go to like, amusement parks but that’s usually just with a big group, like a class outing!  Even then, they end up breaking off for most of it and just walking around the place.  Murasame loves the aesthetic of thrill rides and explaining how they work, but neither of them really ride anything.  Isshiki doesn’t fit on most things because he’s Huge, which ends up turning him into a stress case when Mura gets on anything that looks even remotely dangerous when he isn’t there.

Also bookstores!!!!  Really old/unique ones.  With cats inside.  :’>

[munasak]

th is is…..nsfw muradarai #stuff……………. rip

Keep reading

[muradarai]

if they were to move in together, what would the flat look like? what kind of furniture, how would the rooms be desgined, would it only be the two of them or more people..?

I think it’d be the two of them, honestly!  But with a spare room because Isshiki’s brothers sometimes come over :0 

I see it being like.  A small apartment, I think?  Neither of them really require much space.  Like a living room + two rooms + a little kitchen!!  

Their bed is like.  Huge.  For one thing 

Partially bc Madarai takes up So Much Space in his ENORMITY and partially because it’s…..their favorite place to do The Business..so they have very soft sheets + their dresser has a lot of candles on it bc that’s B) how they like it tbh

THEY HAVE A BIG BATHTUB TOO LIKE IT’S SO OBNOXIOUS AND UNNEEDED BUT THEY HAVE ONE AND THEY HAVE SEX IN THAT TOO

The second room has like.  A smaller bed than theirs but it’s still nice.  Very simplistic :0 

AND THEY HAVE A LOT OF POTTED PLANTS??  Y EA

UM SO the kitchen area is really cute it’s just like one table that’s too big for 2 people really but.  Bc Isshiki’s family is over so much they like having a big place to eat ;v; their pantry + fridge are very organized as well, they leave notes for each other on the fridge (theoretically it’d be stuff like grocery lists or w/e but it’s usually like “good morning!! I love you!!! have a good day okay!!!) 

in the living room they have a lot of chairs and a big big couch.  They didn’t have a tv until they played fuckin mario kart or w/e at one of Isshiki’s brothers’ places and Murasame developed a blood feud w/ Nishiki and discovered a desire within himself to Git Gud

[munasak]

when you make love to him 

he asks that you rest the part of your hand

between your thumb and your fingers at the base of his throat

because he wants to surrender to you his worst fear, 

his darkest, bleakest memory

(or it isn’t)

(but the others he tries to forget) 

Keep reading

[muradarai]

actually, who IS the king and who is lionheart?

THIS QUESTION IS WONDERFUL THAT SONG WAS ALMOST ON MY FANMIX but it’s Too Predictable you know.  It’s kind of a groaner

Tbh when I break it down I see it as like 

Murasame = King

Isshiki = Lionheart

NOT ENTIRELY because Mura is the leader of the student council and I’m drawing royalty imagery there (though that’s part of it.)  

The thing is, a lot of my ships are the same, and the roles that each person plays in the ship is effectively the same too.  

Like.  “Fallen leader + person who would protect them with everything they have” describes almost all of my OTP’s to an extent.  Pearlrose.  Xavierine.  Even Ishimondo fits this bill in certain cases.  Most of my OTP’s involve healing in some way.  In fact, I think all of them do?  

SO a lot of the interpretation of certain songs comes from my interpretation of it in the context of similar ships.  

For example, I can apply a lot of the same songs that I apply to SteveBucky to like.  Post-tragedy Muradarai too, with Murasame filling the role of the person changed fundamentally by an incredible amount of trauma.  It’s all the same.  All my Damn Ships is the Same

ANYWAY this was way too extensive than this question warrants but B) ORz

[muradarai]

first of all this blog is SO. good. i love you so much for making it!! thank you!! ok and here we go with the questions i guess ~ how do you think they would come to actually agree to each other to start dating? like, do they talk it out? is one of them just blurting out a confession and the other's just like "well i guess we're gonna through with this"?

THANK YOU KAREN AND THANK YOU FOR ALL OF THESE QUESTIONS GOSH DARN… 

FIRST OF ALL I think there’s going to be a Lot™ of pining on both ends before anything actually comes to fruition?  Like it takes a long time for either of them to admit anything.  :’) 

BUT…WHEN THEY DO they’ve both been so blaringly god damn obvious that they’re completely in love with each other but they both write it off as wishful thinking.  LIKE to anyone else that isn’t them it’s.  Not hard to figure out and that confession should Not come as a shock but alas 

There’s a lot of ways it could actually start, though?  :0 actually, there’s two main ones I’m thinking of. 

THE FIRST IS…one of them ends up just.  Admitting that they have feelings for the other and it’s way too god dang formal like they take them on this long walk and Confess and it’s….really cute… and then they find out it’s reciprocated and they’re like .//////. !!!!! 

AND THEN THEY JUST… they kiss once and hold hands on the way back and it goes pretty much unspoken for the rest of the week aside from.  They now hold hands sometimes.  And Mura will rest his head on Isshiki’s shoulder and cuddle and such, so Isshiki’s just like alright well what the fuck are we.  What Are We 

BUT he just kinda.  Lets it happen and assumes they’re just?? Friends still who Happen to hold hands occasionally which makes sense bc haha who would expect that someone like Soushun Murasame would actually have significant feelings for his bodyguard of all people ha……whoever expected that must be pretty Sad right………. how #pathetic……………..

UNTIL Murasame has some meeting with some important dude in the Higher Up Chain and Isshiki is there with him like he always is, just.  Standing behind him and eyeing the dude, just trying to unsettle him a bit.  Make him very, very aware that this 6′10 Behemoth is standing there ready to stomp on him like a little bug if he tries anything skeevy.  The usual. 

AND THEN MURA introduces him as his boyfriend and Isshiki’s intimidation tactic goes out the dang window bc he gets visibly shocked and it’s.  The Cutest Thing Bye

THE OTHER WAY I can see it going is that they don’t really admit anything until after the tragedy.  (This is in a “both of them survived everything somehow because my denial runs deeper than any other personality trait I have” au.)  They both sort of.  Assumed that they’d never see the other one again and when they did it was very.  ;v; 

And they basically confess on the spot and just.  Run.  Tbh

:’)