#//i love me a woman who could break many bones in my body with a single hand if she wanted to but doesnt bc she loves me <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

Bruce Wayne. 2

.⋆｡Batman’s Kryptonite｡⋆.

Bruce Wayne x plus size reader

Bruce works too hard but unluckily for him, you’re more stubborn than he is

Warnings: reader can be sunburnt, fluff, mentions of showering together, workaholic Bruce

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

5k Follower Celebration

Bruce was nothing if not a hard worker. He continuously worked himself to the bone to keep everything afloat and for that, you really did admire him. He used his privilege to help so many people both in his day job and his night job but god did you find it hard to spend time with him.

His brain seemed fixated on his goals, even in the quiet moments where there was nothing to do. Nothing ever got his full attention, not even you, his loving girlfriend.

“How long has he been down here?” You crossed your arms over your chest as you observed Bruce who was currently hunched over his new project, blue eyes firmly fixated on the delicate wiring. Alfred sighed heavily through his nose.

“Since the moment he returned from the airport after dropping you off.” Your eyes widened to the size of dinner plates.

“That-“ You took a deep breath in an effort to calm yourself down. “I knew a week long girl’s trip was too good to be true. I’ll take care of this, take a couple days off.” The older man nodded and left the cave with a fatherly squeeze to your shoulder.

As soon as you heard the elevator doors shut, you shed the thick cardigan and long sleeve shirt you were wearing, leaving you just in leggings (that Bruce absolutely went crazy for) and a thin undershirt that did little to disguise the colour of your bra. Your steps were light but not completely silent, it would do you no good to sneak up on the Dark Knight.

Even centimetres away, you could feel the tension in Bruce’s muscles, like he was wound up for a fight. He jumped only slightly as you laid your hands on his shoulder blades but he quickly eased into your tough, letting out a hum of acknowledgement. “Back early?”

“Actually, I’m right on time.” His hands faltered and you knew that his dark brows were pulled up like they always did when he was coming out of a work-related trance. The chair turned yet your hands never left his skin, now resting on his strong chest as he looked up at you. His pupils dilated, slowly overtaking the stunning blue of his irises as he took in your attire.

“Are you sure?”

You chuckled. “I have the sunburn to prove it.” He grunted, obviously not quite believing you, or he just didn’t want to admit that he hadn’t obeyed your suggestion of taking some time off when you were gone. 

“You were supposed to come back on the fifth.” Bruce tried to argue as his eyes flicked back to his work. You knew that look, it was his ‘I want to end this conversation so I can get back to work’ but you knew exactly what to do to distract him.

“It is the fifth, my love. Maybe you need to take a break. How about coming upstairs with me and we’ll have a nice hot shower?” Your touch slowly migrated up his chest to his jaw and Bruce’s eyelids fluttered under the attention. But he just as quickly tensed up again, catching onto your game.

“Sorry sweets, I have work to do.” He attempted to turn his chair back around but you stepped between his spread legs, pinning him to the spot with your body. 

Your bottom lip turned out into a truly award winning pout and you sniffed. “But I missed you baby, I just want to spend some time with you.” You could actually see his will beginning to crumble. One more step.

Tears filled your eyes. “Do you not want to spend time with me?” 

He knew that they were crocodile tears but they tugged at the mass of guilt in his chest anyway. “Do not. I said no. Those puppy dog eyes don’t work every time. Fuck- fine.” Immediately, your tears disappeared and you beamed at him.

“Great! Maybe I’ll also show you the new bikinis I got on the trip.” Bruce groaned and let you pull him to his feet, abandoning his half-finished work.

“You are a cruel woman.” He complained as you dragged him to the cave’s exit. You looked back at your boyfriend with a wink.

“I just know Batman's kryptonite.” You teased and though he wouldn’t admit it out loud, Bruce wholeheartedly agreed. You definitely knew how to get him to fold.

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[guiltyasdave]

constellations in his eyes

pairing: Dave York x f!reader

summary: Your fiancé stands you up on your birthday. Dave doesn’t.

word count: 736

tags/warnings: infidelity, shitty boyfriend, angst, fluff, kissing, able-bodied reader, reader has hair, no use of y/n

a/n: this is based on the song high infidelity by taylor swift and written for @beskarandblasters’s taylor swift drabble challenge. i love taylor and this song and dave, so this was very fun 🫶🏻 check out the whole challenge masterlist here!

follow @guiltyasdavenotifs for fic updates and find my whole masterlist here :)

dividers by @saradika-graphics <3

It’s your birthday, April 29th.

Rain is soaking through your dress, the drenched fabric clinging to your skin, wet strands of your hair sticking to your forehead. Unfamiliar lips are pressed against yours. You don’t remember the last time you’ve felt this happy.

You’re supposed to meet your fiancé for dinner tonight. When you call him, you’re already seated at the table, waiting for him to meet you there.

“Give me a break,” he sighs at your demand for an explanation, “I’m sure you’ll find someone else to buy you dinner.”

“Excuse me?”

“You know what I mean. None of those guys from your office available tonight?”

“Fuck you.”

You slam the phone back onto the table, swallowing down the angry tears that are starting to well up in your eyes. You have been dealing with his unreasonable bouts of insecurity and jealousy because you’re working in a male-dominated field for way too long. You had hoped that he would get over it eventually, but it had rather gotten worse, mixed with remarks about how he made more money than you and how thankful you should be that he took care of you.

After staring down at the table for a few moments, you pick your phone back up again. If this is what he thinks of you any way, you might as well give him a reason to.

“Hey. Can you come and pick me up, please?”

Of course Dave could. You’re often assigned cases together, are often huddled up in the office when it’s already dark outside and your colleagues have gone home. You like working with him, like how quiet but straightforward he is, how he understands your way of thinking. You like him.

You’ve been out for drinks before, to celebrate successfully solved cases, but nothing more, no matter how many times he hinted at being interested in more. Because you’re not that kind of woman, despite what your fiancé apparently thinks.

Until now. It’s your birthday and you’re gonna spend it with someone who actually likes being around you.

When you walk out of the restaurant, he’s waiting for you, his brow furrowed in concern, immediately asking if you’re alright. You nod, mumbling something about a change of plans, nothing to worry about. You can tell that he doesn’t buy it.

He’s walking you down the block to his car, one hand at the small of your back. You feel yourself melting into him and his calming presence beside you, into the self-assured way he’s taking charge.

Neither of you had expected the sudden downpour, soaking the both of you to the bone within seconds. You stop in your tracks, staring at him in surprise for a second, before you burst out laughing.

You stumble over your own feet as you try to keep walking and instinctively grab his arm. He turns in your direction and steadies you, an amused smirk on his face, his hands a heavy weight on your hips, his touch burning into you.

You lean in and kiss him before your mind catches up with your actions. He stills for only one moment before his lips start moving against yours with a caressing urgency that makes your heart clench with longing.

Your hands cling to him, to his shirt underneath your fingers that’s just as drenched as your clothes, to the broadness of his shoulders that’s sending a rush of excitement through you. The absurdity of the whole situation makes you giggle against his mouth and you feel the rumble of his own laugh more than you hear it while his arms are wrapping tighter around your waist.

You don’t care that you’re in the middle of the sidewalk, that rain is still pouring down on you, that this is not the man that you’ve agreed to marry.

Because when you open your eyes, he’s already looking at you, the lights of the city reflecting in his dark pupils, like constellations that you want to get lost in. For the first time in forever, you feel seen. Your fingers burrow into his hair and you pull him closer again, connecting your lips with his once more.

When you reach his car, he opens the door for you and asks if he can take you home with him. You say yes.

None of it feels real, but you feel more alive than you’ve felt in a long time.

thank you for reading! if you liked this, please consider reblogging, commenting, sending an ask or interacting in any way. it’s really what keeps writers going <3

[ryomens-vixen]

Please make a second part to your Sukuna grieving headcanon because I will physically hang myself and whirl around as a corpse since I cannot take this angst !!!

Your wish, has been granted! ⭐ I'm sorry if it's short

Grieving!Sukuna headcanons pt2.

Plot/Summary: Each year on your d3athdate Ryomen emerges from his temple to wreck havoc upon any and every neighboring town and village in a thousand mile radius or more. Many townspeople think it'd be better to put the King of Curses out of his misery, but the others have a different idea in mind. Resurrecting the one person that can tame this maddening beast...

Content: Fluff, Angst, happy Sukuna, Necromancy, pet names.

Word count: 🤷🏾‍♀️ sis ion know good luck.

Grieving!Sukuna Pt1

Grieving!Sukuna Who grumbled in agony after hearing your sweet voice call out to him. Thinking that it may just be another illusion of his, one that haunted him ever since the death of the love of his life.

Grieving!Sukuna Who slouched in his throne shielding his ears from your voice that called to him again. All he could think in that moment was the tears in your eyes and the way you fell cold in his arms as he held you that day.

Grieving!Sukuna who placed another hand over his own eyes because the mere sight of you pained him beyond belief oh, but when you climbed up the bones below his throne eagerly to greet your Lord, did he finally open his eyes-

Grieving!Sukuna who stared at you in disbelief as you greeted him in that strange way you always did- what was it? Ah, you always fell to your knees at his feet, taking the nearest hand of his to perch your lips upon. Oh did he miss the way your soft lips feverishly kissed the back and palm of his hand.

"Are these damned Eyes of mine deceiving me... Or"

He grabbed her face in between his thumb and pointer like he always did in response to your greetings. He chuckled, "Have I truly gone mad over these years."

Grieving!Sukuna who could almost feel his heart burst out of his chest from just hearing that sweet, sweet melody.. Your voice. But who could blame him for questioning your mere existence? You literally passed away right in his arms- he could still feel how cold your body had became after the hours he had held you.

"My Lord, How I wish this was all the trick of thee eye, but... When I arose from my eternal slumber there was a strange man with a staff over me- H.. He spoke that if I do not come to you, then there would be hell to pay! "

She took his large hand into both of her own and gently, but loving nuzzled the palm of the hand with her cheek. "So far seeing you in such a state is hell enough to me... I never thought I'd see the day where you shed a te-"

Grieving!Sukuna who sprouted an extra mouth in the palm of hand which he used to passionately and desperately kiss you with.

Grieving!Sukuna Who leaked such fluids from his eyes that Dampened his face for years in the sight of you. Yet his hand just wasn't enough he wanted to feel your lips against his own, Ryomen craved it as if he'd die without such a thing.

"Damn you, woman.. How I ached for you, grieved for you, craved you, and you just- *Silence* *Inhale & Exhale* There you are spouting nonsensical nothings of necromancy... Well I'll be damned if I didn't take advantage of it."

Grieving!Sukuna who sweeped you into his arms with the quickness. Holding you by the fat of your thighs, one hand around waist the other on the arch of her lower back. The kiss that he pulled her into was damn near suffocating~

Grieving!Sukuna who would barely let you break away from such a breathtaking kiss. Each time you attempted to pull back Ryomen would growl, grip you tighter as he bit onto your bottom lip to pull you back in.

Grieving!Sukuna who finally after a bit of coaxing pulled away, then hide his face in the nape of her neck so she couldn't see such an embarrassing sight... The king of Curses, crying.

"Y- You must NEVER speak of this to no man or be prepared to-"

"Meet my untimely demise, My Lord? I would Never utter a word!?"

All he could muster was a deep chuckle to try to cover up his obvious sniffling. "Good Girl, So you truly are my sweet concubine, my naive wife, my little pet~"

"My Lord, I was always yours... Even in death"

Sorry this probably sucked so much ass, but thank you for giving me a chance to write something I'm not very good at aka fluff!

[ghouljams]

Can you tell me more about the corset thingy like how long we can wear them or what kind of material suitable to replace the bra

Yeah I love talking about corsets.

So I will start out by saying corsets aren't for everyone, and there's a definite learning curve to them. There are also definite draw backs to corsets that I will get into briefly, but can be compensated for.

What you're looking for in a daily corset is going to be a cotton fabric, that you can wear comfortably under your clothes but over something like a tanktop. You want an "overbust" corset that's going to cup your breasts comfortably, and keep them in place. Most corsets these days are made for "slimming" but that shouldn't be your goal when corset shopping.

My personal favorite corset shops are: Timeless Trends, and Mystic City Corsets.

It's important to note that before bras, corsets were made to the individual's measurements so they were literally made to fit. These days it's all about knowing your measurements yourself, but there's still a LOT of variety in corsetry.

So the reason I advise a cotton corset is because they're more breathable, they're more comfortable against the skin, and they clean well.

For fit: you want something that feels like a tight hug. You should be able to breathe fairly normally in your corset but you'll have a little trouble bending over at first. You will NEED to season your corset. Seasoning is just breaking in the boning and making it contort to your specific body shape. This means 2-3 hours of daily wear for the first two weeks and then building up your time slowly. You want your body to be used to the corset before you start wearing it for 8 hours a day.

Corsets provide back support as well as breast support, a lot like a back brace, but this can also lead to some core weakness if you're relying on the corset to "lift" you. It should be lifting your breasts, and you shouldn't be slouching in it. It's something to keep an eye on, but isn't something to worry about. If you're taking care of your back, and using your core to stand up straight you won't have any issues.

A good corset is going to be pricey. I'm not going to sugar coat it for you, there's a reason bras became more popular. Corsets get hot, they're a lot of fabric, and if you're not used to them they can be incredibly uncomfortable, but they're also just underwear.

There's so much bad press around corsets these days, and a lot of it is so perplexing to me.

Did you know men hated corsets? Yeah. Hated them, because they were an added barrier between them and the woman they were attempting to grab.

Did you know only noble women tightlaced? Most women who wore corsets/stays wore them only as tight as they needed to keep their tits where they wanted them. Hell women worked in corsets, they couldn't afford to be out of breath like the noble ladies could.

Did you know that many corsets were tied with a single lace to make it easier for women to tie them themselves? Also corset hooks were common in a lot of ladies rooms to help them tighten the corset by themselves!

Look bras are... fine, I mean I try not to wear them when I can but I'm also part of the tiny tittie committee. They're more practical for large scale manufacturing, and they're easier to market at 1/4 the price of a corset.

If a corset isn't right for you, I highly, HIGHLY, suggest measuring yourself or getting fitted to find the right bra size for you. It changed my life and I lost a lot of the shoulder pain I was getting from wearing the wrong bra size. A Bra That Fits will do all the math for you with a few really simple measurements. No one (outside of sewing classes maybe) really teaches you how cup size is determined so most people just sort of wing it, and it can end up putting you in extremely uncomfortable bras.

Just in my personal experience with ABTF I went from an A cup to a C cup and my bras fit SO much better now. My boobs didn't get any bigger and they don't look any bigger in the bra, but the bra actually fits and holds everything the way it's supposed to. Don't be afraid to be comfortable, and don't be afraid to do right by your body.

[sketch-guardian]

Imagine the students with an mc who’s like a middle aged man and has a beer belly, I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone write about a loud middle aged man in obey me

You're right, I guess I haven't seen many headcanons about such theme either🤔so I'll do my best to fix it☺For my headcanons, however, I usually use a gender neutral MC to make everyone feel included, so I hope this small change won't bother you too much🙈(I also apologize for the delay😥classes have started in uni again and I'll have less and less time to reply to asks, I might need to close the askbox for headcanons soon😭):

"RAD CLASSMATES+NEW EXCHANGE STUDENTS WITH A MIDDLE AGED MC WHO HAS A BEER BELLY"

DEMYA

Demya loves a bit of meat on bones, she can appreciate the thinnest or most muscular physiques too, however she would find a bit of plumpness charming, because it would make her mouth water. Middle Aged MC however wouldn't have to fear being mauled, because as Demya's mate, they would be off limits and have privileges that others would not be granted. Demya may nibble or kiss Middle Aged MC's beer belly out of affection while liying down on it during cuddle sessions in her soft nest, so hopefully Middle Aged MC doesn't mind having some marks, in easy-to-hide spots. Since Demya and Middle Aged MC are both troublemakers and food lovers, they would likely be a loud and occasionally chaotic couple, but still very much in love

DOMNRA/MOBIM

Domnra is a pretty fit and sporty demon, however he wouldn't force Middle Aged MC to follow his training regime, he would leave the choice up to them, depending on how they feel, Domnra would joke about Middle Aged MC deciding to settle down with a demon of all the available options though, at such an age too. Domnra could become Middle Aged MC's drinking buddy, celebrating with glasses of alcohol and getting angry at TV, shouting and breaking havoc, Domnra would mostly be a depressed drunk though, as if Demonus eased his anger issues. In quieter moments, Domnra would hold Mobim in his arms and rest his back on Middle Aged MC's soft beer belly, playing some music to listen to together, making sure to satisfy both of their tastes in music

AZUL

Azul is a twink, so the idea of ​​carrying Middle Aged MC in his arms or holding them on his lap without using magic would be quite out of the question, at least for Middle Aged MC at first, because they wouldn't want to risk hurting Azul with their weight, however he would likely be into such stuff and, as a demon, he would still be rather resistant, so as far as he is concerned, Azul would let Middle Aged MC crush him, hell he would even thank them. Being quite eccentric, Azul wouldn't care if Middle Aged MC made a racket, to be fair he's chaotic too so they would be one of the wildest couples at parties, and if they were to suffer from insecurity due to their age or chubbiness, Azul would remind Middle Aged MC of their beauty through drawings and photographs, or straight up physical intimacy such as kisses and hugs, if the first options didn't work. Azul would like Middle Aged MC to feel confident in their own body and if they wished to lose weight, he would support them, suggesting dancing as a fun exercise

ZURI

Many demons would wonder how the hell Middle Aged MC managed to woo an ethereal and elegant woman like Zuri, the answer probably being their charm and genuine feelings winning the demon over somehow, making her overlook their appearance for a while, their relationship could almost remind a bit of the one between Morticia and Gomez, in a certain sense. The occasional loud mess might upset Zuri, who often gets migraines due to her hectic work, therefore she would appreciate if they could spend some quiet quality time together, while occasionally sharing a glass of Demonus. However, Zuri would still attempt at helping Middle Aged MC with their drinking problem and would try to clean them up a bit, by buying them expensive suitable clothes that compliment their figure and curves

ODON

Not gonna lie, the first thing that came to mind when thinking about a couple made of a middle-aged human and a horror beyond comprehension was Gravity Falls, specifically Stanford Pines and Bill Cipher, even if the dynamic would definitely be different. For Odon, most people, both on Earth and in Devildom, are quite young when compared to them, even Lord Diavolo, so they wouldn't really pay too much mind to Middle Aged MC's age, only if pointed out, it wouldn't make any difference though, especially because Middle Aged MC would still remain the youngest, even compared to the only other human in the exchange program (Solomon). Odon wouldn't care about Middle Aged MC's appearance, considering that the form in which they technically presents themselves doesn't correspond to their true monstrous appearance, so Odon would love Middle Aged MC no matter what and their messing around wouldn't even bother the eldritch horror, on the contrary it would amuse them, plus Odon would keep Middle Aged MC company while they drink, to make sure they're okay, drinking a cup of green tea instead of alcohol. Odon and Middle Aged MC would often lounge together, like an old married couple, on a couch covered in a flannel blanket while reading books, in the comfort of Odon's cabin in the woods. It would be cute to imagine such a domestic life

REMIEL

Remiel is aware of how fragile and short life can be, she considers it precious and would get quite concerned over Middle Aged MC's health status, from a logical and medical point of view. Their age would also remind Remiel of how little time she has left with Middle Aged MC and therefore, despite some somberness, she would try to enjoy as many moments as possible with Middle Aged MC, kindly trying to help them change their harmful habits, not wanting the day in which she will have to assist their soul in reaching the afterlife to approach so soon. Remiel, apart from her wings, has cold skin, so being in Middle Aged MC's arms, pressed against their soft and warm beer belly, would certainly be a new, but pleasant experience, a source of heat, perhaps enough to lull the angel of death into a light nap, which she would honestly need, as she often attends to her celestial duty. Middle Aged MC being loud would surprise Remiel, since she is more used to a calm and isolated environment, however it wouldn't bother her too much, since she literally has two uncles and an aunt, who don't know much about the concept of being quiet, whether it's because of her powerful voice (Fury), his heavy step (War) or his shenanigans (Strife)

NATHANIEL

Nathaniel would notice Middle Aged MC's age and size, however he wouldn't give too much weight to such details and would focus more on their affinity and how to spend time together. Nathaniel would be quite capable of handling Middle Aged MC being loud, after all he isn't the Archangel of Patience for nothing, however if Middle Aged MC bothered him too many times during his meditation sessions, then Nathaniel might decide to take revenge, it would be unclear how or when and Middle Aged MC would live for a while with anxiety, not knowing what to expect and when the angel would strike, usually it would just be a little tease anyway, because he's lenient. Being very chill, sometimes, Nathaniel would let Middle Aged MC sit on his lap while he meditates or while they rest like, playing with their belly as if it were a stress reliever and resting his head on their shoulder, finding the act very therapeutic. As for drinking, Nathaniel would just make sure Middle Aged MC doesn't overdo it

URIEL

Even Uriel would have no idea how Middle Aged MC managed to capture her heart and yet, much to her embarrassment, they still somehow accomplished such feat, however, due to having a reputation, the warrior angel would appreciate if Middle Aged MC avoided being loud or messy while she's busy with important celestial matters. Uriel knows how fragile humans can be and how many things can contribute to a premature death, therefore, not considering Middle Aged MC's lifestyle healthy, she would try to help them exercise, stop drinking and eat healthy, at least Uriel would do her best to not turn the experience into military training. One thing Uriel would be able to do with ease would be lifting Middle Aged MC in her arms, without effort or trouble, no matter their height or how big their beer belly is, Uriel is strong and Middle Aged MC would be like featherweight to her, so that would probably make them feel like royalty. Uriel would also enjoy the contrast between her sturdy body and Middle Aged MC's soft one

[bones4thecats]

➸ I Loved You; Demon Slayer × Late! S/O

MANGA SPOILERS Characters: Shinobu Kocho and Kyojuro Rengoku (separate) A/N: My ass is currently crying on the inside right now. These two dying broke the shit out of me when I read/watched it. So, to compensate for my wish for angst, I added some cute fluff in the endings! Hope y'all do like this! ➥ Summary: Some say love lasts for as long as two people live. But only the people who truly felt love understand... it lasts beyond life.

╔══════════════════════════════════════════╗

╚═════ Shinobu Kocho ══════════════════════════╝

🦋 The ragged breaths of a woman echoed into the ears of the high-ranked demon behind her. He smiled and brushed his fan to cover his mouth as he chuckled, taunting the slayer without speaking any words

🦋 She glared back at him and gritted her teeth in anger. She had waited many years for the opportunity to kill him. In the name of her sister, in the name of her lover, and in the name of everyone else he had killed and devoured

🦋 Standing up, she gripped her sword tightly. All of her energy was now being put into the next moves of hers, just enough to break him down and allow his real self to come out, and just enough to weaken him for her master plan to emerge from the mist

🦋 It only lasted a few more minutes until she was being held tightly to the demon's chest. He had fake tears fall from his rainbow-colored eyes as she began to scold him for everything he had done to the deceased and living

🦋 As the bones in her back began to break, she saw a flash of light from behind her. The pain began to fade as she realized where she was. It wasn't the same room where she fought through everything, it was a beautiful land, covered in flowers and animals of all kind playing with one another

🦋 A butterfly flapped its wings and landed on her finger gently. Its wings slightly moved as it situated itself and practically laid on her. It was odd for such an action from a wild animal, but she could push that behind her. It was quite cute

"It's nice to see your face once more, Butterfly."

🦋 Her eyes widened as she spun around and saw a figure there. An almost-matching Demon Slayer uniform on them, the only thing keeping them apart being the haori. It had a moth-wing pattern with fluff at the bottom, contrasting with her average butterfly-wing one. But, she loved it

"Hello again, Shinobu."

╔══════════════════════════════════════════╗

╚═════ Kyojuro Rengoku ═════════════════════════╝

❤️‍🔥 The sun rose as the blade and skin clashed against once another. It had been a while since it had begun. This fight of demon versus human. Of Uppermoon vs Hashira. And it was slowly coming to an end as the light grew around everyone

❤️‍🔥 The Hashira kept his smile as the Uppermoon glared and watched in wonder as he stood strong despite the injuries dealt to him during their battle. It was ironic, really. He had never seen such vigor, such... passion to protect others like he was now

❤️‍🔥 The demon smirked as the Hashira replied to his question with a powerful-boost of energy. This was going to be the end of this strong-willed creature. Whether he or the younglings wanted it to be or not

❤️‍🔥 Flames surrounded the two as they began to end. The nichirin blade of the Hashira's dug into the demon's body as he yelled and raised his right fist to send another brutal hit into the slayer going against him

❤️‍🔥 As the burning-material faded into nothing, so did the questions of the slayers waiting a ways away. A cough emerged from the slayer as blood began to spill from his mouth. The demon had done it. His punch... had punctured the Hashira's stomach. A clean-cut through

❤️‍🔥 Despite the efforts of the younger-slayers around him, he couldn't stop his destiny from being fulfilled. He was injured beyond any kind of refuge. He was destined to die then and there. No Kakushi could help him

❤️‍🔥 While the final words of his exited his mouth and moved his underlings to tears, two figures appeared a ways away. One stood there as another walked up to him. They kneeled and looked into his one-good eye. They smiled as his eye widened and he realized who this was

"Y/N... mother. Did I do well? The responsibility I... I took upon myself to fulfill. Was I successful?"

"I'm so proud of you, my son."

"Rest now, my love."

[jarofstyles]

FICTOBER DAY 13- Taunt

Helloooo. I hope you enjoy, sorry about the wait!!!

This is a blurb from Dirty Business hehehehe.

FICTOBER

Patreon

WC- 1.2k

--------

“Are you trying to taunt me?” His rough voice traveled through his office, eyes peeling over Y/N’s costume. She rested with her hands braced on the dark wood of his desk, her slightly unbuttoned blouse giving a peek into the lack of bra that was hidden underneath. 

Harry had been working in his new and improved office, leaning over his keyboard and writing a scathing email when his door had been unlocked from the outside. Only one person held the key to this place, so he knew who it was, but he was very surprised to see the vastly different outfit his lover had on. Tight black pencil skirt, tempting stockings clinging to her legs. Her shirt was a stark white button up with a slightly relaxed collar, black buttons going up most of it until it reached the middle of her tits- where she so kindly had left a bit unbuttoned for his viewing pleasure. He could hear the clicking of her patent leather heels as she approached the desk, her red painted lips smiling at him as she had greeted him with a ‘Hello, sir.’. She even had her hair up in a smart bun with a pencil tucked behind her ear. 

“I don’t know what you could possibly be talking about, Sir. I came to check on you, because obviously you’ve had some grueling work.” Her painted pout went straight to his crotch, matching red nails tapping over the cold wood. “It’s the day before Halloween! I know you take your job very seriously, but don’t you want a break?” Her pout morphed into a nymph like grin, leaning further over the desk with her dip of her breasts showing just a bit more- and as much control as Harry normally held, Y/N was his true weakness. Anyone who had eyes would know that. 

She had dressed up as a sexy secretary, a tempting wet dream right in front of him. He had been stressed all day and she knew he was going to be late home for dinner, so instead she had come to him. He held a lot of love for this woman in his heart but it seemed to grow each and every day. Both the costume and her thoughtfulness, knowing and sensing when her partner was frustrated and needed to take a break made him horny. 

Y/N had often told Harry he was working himself to the bone- and he was. He had to prove that he deserved his position, he didn’t actually get it just because he was with the owner’s daughter, so he spent many nights on his computer and putting in double the effort. While Y/N knew and understood once he had explained it to her, she didn’t like that type of strain on him, so the giving girl made her her personal and very serious mission to make him relax. 

“Come on. Don’t you want to have something sweet, Sir?” Her heels snapped against the ground as she rounded the desk, Harry’s arms crossing over his chest as he watched her approach. He would probably not get this email done, but watching her fingers pop another button on her shirt made his jaw clench up and suddenly, that prospect was okay. “Anything you’d like… Just let me know what you need, and I’ll let you have it.” Her body moved to stand between his legs, sitting her bum against the lip of the desk and taking his hands from their folded state to grab her hips. 

Harry was only so strong, squeezing her hips as he glanced at her with a narrowed glare. “I’ve got things to do, Y/N. I pay you to be my secretary, not my caregiver. But…” He looked down at her chest, feeling her soft hips in his hands and his cock throbbing in his briefs. “If you want to be any good at your job, you can go above and beyond this once.” Removing his hands, he moved his chair back and gestured to the floor. “I want to cash in on that something sweet. Get on those knees and suck me off. Want to cum down your pretty little throat to take the edge off.”

Y/N’s smile widened, looking giddily at him as she immediately did as asked. It took her a second, hiking up the skirt so she had a bit more mobility, falling to her knees as her greedy hands immediately went to his belt. “Thank you, Sir. You won’t regret it.” She whispered, nudging her cheek against the trousers on his thigh. This little roleplay was something she had stashed away for their halloween party adventures, but thank god she had a backup. Harry had been at the office overtime for all week, and she wanted to make him feel good, damn it. 

The moment her mouth was wrapped around his prick, Harry’s shoulders began to deflate, leaning back in his chair as he watched the red lipstick smear on his skin, her lips stretching around the girth. Perhaps she was a bit overzealous in her quickness to take him further down, gagging on him and startling him slightly as he tugged her up by the hair and sent her a look. “Careful, pretty thing. Love hearing you gag around me, but be careful with it. There’s no rush.” He released her hair, chuckling as she went back down and licked up the excess saliva on him before popping him right back into her mouth. 

“There we go. Cleaning up your messes, such a perfect little thing. Taunting me into taking breaks, love distracting me. Don’t you?” her hum against him made his thighs tense, vibrations making him groan. Y/N was no stranger to what he liked, but it still amazed him that she was so fucking good at it. 

Time moved as he leaned back in the seat, guiding her with his hand as she bobbed up and down on his cock, feeling his balls tighten as she pulled back to lick over them. It was a weakness, a garbled moan leaving his throat as he pushed her further into them, her mouth suckling at them and her hand messy as it stroked him quickly, firmly. The wet sounds filled his office, along with his harsh breathing, and he was stupidly close. He had good stamina usually, but the combination of everything had him feeling it in his gut as he pulled her off of his balls with a wet sound from her mouth. 

“M’gonna cum.” He whispered. “Stick out your tongue, baby. There we go, lay it flat.” He took over, smacking the tip of his cock over the pink muscle as he felt his balls pull up, groaning as he felt it. “Here it comes, angel. Take your treat.” He watched the stripes of cum spurt over her soft mouth, over her tongue and lips as she blinked up at him with her bambi eyes. Streaks of mascara had fallen a bit down her cheek from making herself gag a little, but it was a picture perfect scene as his toes curled in his shoes, mouth open as he finished on her tongue. 

[rainisawriter]

To Be Family – Yamato (PSF #2)

Ficography

Genre: Halloween, fluff, family

Prompt: Family, Friends, Loved Ones (@flufftober)

Word Count: 4,594

Pairing: First Person, Yamato, Hisako

World: High&Low

───── ⋆⋅🍂⋅⋆ ─────

I blinked, watching as a young girl tugged her father down the sidewalk. Their destination was the pumpkin patch where they would choose the perfect pumpkin for carving a Jack-o-lantern. She giggled happily as she ran down the rows, searching for the perfect one. Her father followed slowly, a loving smile on his face.

Family… that’s what they are. They’re a family.

That’s something I never understood. I’ve been on the street since I was a small child, abandoned by the people who brought me into this world. Despite everything, my life wasn’t as hard as one might think.

There was a community of homeless people that lived under the train tracks and they were kind. They had nothing and yet they were still willing to offer the shirt off their back to help someone else. I didn’t really understand that, either.

Not having a family never really bothered me. After all, if they were willing to leave me on the side of the road, there’s no telling what they might have done if they had chosen to keep me. That was fine with me. I learned to survive on my own. I didn’t need nor want a family.

I’ll admit, though, that my resolve tended to waver around the holidays when families were out in droves. It was at this time that I liked to people watch, observing how kids act with their parents and vice versa. They often came in many different forms. Some kids clung to their parents while others acted as if it burned to be near them. Some families were constantly bickering while others had only nice things to say.

It made me wonder what kind of relationship I would have had with my own parents. Would we have gotten along or argued over everything? Would they want to spend time with me during the holidays? Would my father bring me to the pumpkin patch before taking me to pick out my costume?

I couldn’t say for sure, but something at the back of my mind told me he wouldn’t. It was obvious they didn’t want a child, so going out of their way to take me out for the holidays probably wasn’t even on the table.

The wind picked up and I could feel the air becoming moist as rain approached. I pulled my jacket tighter around my body though it did little to provide warmth – it was far too thin and full of holes. No one even spared me a glance as I walked down the street toward the homeless camp.

In this city, though, that was a good thing. Though there are plenty of normal folk around here, the city is overrun by gangs and thugs who believe the law is there just for them to break it. The cops don’t get paid enough to care, either, and several of them are in the pockets of the more established gangs.

Being invisible meant you were safe and being invisible was something I excelled at.

Thunder rumbled overhead as rain began to fall from the gray sky. It was like ice against my skin and I picked up my pace. The bridge was still pretty far away and I knew there was no way I would make it. The rain was steadily falling harder, soaking me to the bone.

I darted to the overhang of a nearby store, pressing my back against the building to try and avoid the rain. I hugged myself tightly, trying to control my shivering. 

The bell above the door chimed as it was opened, an older woman appearing in the doorway. She opened up her umbrella before leaving the safety of the store and I stepped back just in case I was in her way.

The movement caught her attention, dark eyes glancing at me. “Oh, do you not have an umbrella?”

I shook my head.

“I can take you home, then,” she offered with a warm smile.

“I don’t want to bother you…”

“It’s no bother at all.”

I hesitantly stepped closer until the purple umbrella covered us both. “Thank you, ma’am.”

“Just call me Hisako.”

I nodded.

“Lead the way, dear.”

“Okay.” I started to slowly walk, not wanting to go too fast and leave the safety of the umbrella. As much as I loved the rain, I wasn’t too fond of being in soaking wet clothes. 

A gust of wind blew across the street and I shivered, goosebumps rising up across my skin. 

“Hold this for a moment, won’t you?” She held the handle out to me and I took it from her, watching as she pulled off her brown jacket. Before I could protest, she draped it around my shoulders.

I wasn’t sure what to say, feeling surprised and confused by the gesture.

Hisako just smiled softly at me. “I don’t want you to catch a cold. Go on, put it on properly.”

I handed the umbrella back to her before slipping my arms into the sleeves. It was warm and smelled faintly of her perfume and lavender, smells which tickled my nose when I breathed in too deeply. “Thank you.”

It wasn’t long before we reached the tracks. Several tents had been set up beneath it, squeezed in close together to make room for everyone. Graffiti covered the stone pillars holding up the bridge and trash littered the area. 

I stopped a few feet away, knowing how weary everyone could be around strangers. “Thank you for walking me home. Here is your jacket.” I started to pull my arms out but she shook her head, a frown on her lips.

“Keep it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t relieved that she was willing to let me keep it. It was much warmer than my own and didn’t have any holes in it.

“Do you really live here, hun?”

“Yeah. I have for several years.” I shrugged a shoulder, turning my gaze to the group huddled around an oil drum. They had thrown paper into it and lit it on fire for warmth. 

The homeless camp mostly consisted of middle aged to elderly folk who fell down on hard times and simply couldn’t get back up. I was the youngest member of the camp and, thankfully, they had been willing to look after me. 

They didn’t go out of their way or anything, but they always made sure I got fed and wasn’t sick or injured. I’ll always be grateful to them for it because they didn’t have to look after me, they chose to. I realize it’s probably just pity but that’s okay. I’m still thankful towards them.

“Where are your parents?” She inquired softly.

“Dunno,” I shrugged again, putting my hands into the pockets of the jacket to warm them up. “My mom got married but her new family wasn’t fond of me so she left me on the side of the road. She promised to come back but it’s been… three years? I don’t know who my dad is.”

“I’m sorry…”

“It is what it is. Thank you again, Hisako-san.” I bowed to her politely before leaving the safety of the umbrella, jogging over toward the safety of the camp.

Takashi was eyeing the woman wearily, his arms folded over his chest. He was the pseudo leader of the camp, making sure no one did anything that could jeopardize the others. He was a hulk of a man, standing at six feet tall with a large gut. 

“Who’s she?” He grunted when I got close.

“She walked me home because it was raining,” I explained to him, moving closer to the fire. 

“You know it’s against the rules to bring outsiders here. It puts us all at risk.”

“I know. Im sorry, boss…”

Takashi hummed, stroking his messy beard. The streaks of silver stood out against the thick black hair, looking like tiny lightning bolts. “Don’t be naive. Humans are rarely kind unless it benefits them in some way. To the outside world, we are a mere stain they wish to be rid of. Never forget that.”

I frowned at the flames, my hands balling into fists inside the pockets. “Right…”

“Now go get changed out of those wet clothes before you catch your death. Matsumoto managed to catch some fish today. They should be ready soon.”

“Yes, sir.” I bowed my head to him before heading over to my tent. It was tattered and old, handed down by one of the others when they managed to get their hands on a better one. There was barely enough space for one person and I was sure it was made with a child in mind.

I was always cramped when I slept, part of my body hanging out the flap. Between that and the uneven ground below it, I always woke up with a sore back and a crick in my neck.

I reached for the black bag in the corner of the tent, pulling out a change of clothes. They weren’t clean by no means but at least they were dry. After struggling with the lack of room, I headed back outside. 

“There ya are, kiddo!” grinned Matsumoto, showing off his missing teeth. He held up a thin metal rod, showing off the fish that sat on the end, nearly charred black from the flames. “Look! We’re eating good tonight!”

I couldn’t help but smile at how proud he was. He spends most of his days trying to catch fish for us but he’s not a very good fisherman. Most days, he just returns with apologies and promises to do better next time. It’s nice to see the rare moments when his hard work and dedication pays off.

I settled down beside him, taking the rod with a smile. “Thank you, Sumo-san.”

“Of course! Eat up before it gets cold.”

Truth be told, I didn’t like eating whole fish like this. It just felt wrong to me and I was always nervous that I would accidentally eat the bones and choke. It’s something I witnessed in the first week I was here. The guy eat the entire fish whole while barely chewing and he ended up dying because a bone got stuck in his throat.

I was only fourteen at the time, so it’s something that’s always stuck with me.

Beggars can’t be choosers around here, though. We’re lucky to be eating fish and not half rotten food found in a dumpster so I won’t complain. 

I smiled at the older man. “It tastes great. Thanks for your hard work, Sumo-san.”

“Of course, kiddo.” He smiled warmly, throwing his arm around my shoulder. His eyes appeared more glassy than they had been a moment ago. “We’re family. We gotta look out for each other because no one else will.”

I nodded slowly, unable to hold back the frown that tugged at my lips.

───── ⋆⋅🍂⋅⋆ ─────

A yawn passed my lips and I shook my head to try and wake myself up. I leaned my head back against the tree, looking at the darkening sky from beneath the bare branches. It was probably about five or six in the afternoon so I knew I needed to be heading back to camp soon. I was getting hungry, anyway.

I yawned again as I jumped down from the tree, scaring the couple that had been walking by. I sent them an apologetic bow of my head before heading in the opposite direction. I made it halfway without issue, but it was rare not to see some shit going down in Sword.

“Come on, don’t you wanna share with us, baby?” A guy licked his lips as he spoke, making the young girl in front of him back away in disgust.

“No, thank you,” she replied politely before trying to step around him but he blocked her way. His friend stepped up behind her, trying to pull the plastic bags from off of her arm. She had clearly just returned from shopping.

“You can’t just go walking around with food that smells that good and not share. It’s mean.”

Takashi always taught me not to get involved in the affairs of others and, for the most part, I listened, but these were just two bit thugs. It’s not like they were members of Sword or anything. The girl didn’t really seem like a fighter, either.

Clicking my tongue, I took a few steps toward them. “Yeah and trying to force someone to do what you want is also mean.”

The man’s eyes fell on me, narrowing. “Mind your own business, brat.”

“You’re in public, bro,” I sent him a deadpan look. “It’s the business of whoever the hell happens to be unfortunate enough to hear your disgusting voice.”

His friend snickered at the insult which only seemed to make him angrier. He stalked over to me, fists clenched and his top lip pulled up like he smelled something foul. “This is your last warning. Piss off.”

I glanced at the woman, meeting her worried brown eyes, before glancing back at him and straightening my back. “Nah, I don’t think I will.”

He cooked his fist back, aiming it for my face but he was slower than Takashi was, making it easy for me to dodge. I grabbed his wrist tightly and spun around, forcing his arm to twist along with me. My foot slid in front of his and he tripped, falling face first onto the ground with a grunt, his arm still twisted in my grip. 

When he tried to push himself up, I put my foot between his shoulder blades and narrowed my eyes at his friend who had slowly begun to advance. 

“Walk away or I break his arm,” I ordered, twisting it more so he would cry out in pain.

He swallowed, looking between me and his fallen friend before slowly backing away. I waited until he was a good distance away before turning my attention to the guy beneath me.

“Learn not to be such a prick,” I muttered, pressing against his back again before finally releasing him.

He scrambled to his feet, clutching his shoulder and glaring daggers at me. His eyes flickered to something behind me before widening and he turned on his heel, taking off down the street. 

“Naomi!”

I glanced over my shoulder to see a hulk of a guy running toward us. He was as tall as Takashi but he was young and fit, his clothes tight against his muscled body. Now this was someone I knew I couldn’t fight.

He came to a stop in front of the woman, panting from the run. “Oi, are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Yamato.”

He scowled at her, eyes narrowed. “I told you not to come to this side of town, didn’t I? This is outside of Sannoh’s territory!”

Sannoh? My eyes widened, a feeling a concern settling in my gut. Sannoh was one of the five leading gangs of the Sword district and their fighters are strong as hell. 

“Don’t scold me like a child, idiot!” She scowled back. “Greeninny’s is the only store in Sword that sells pumpkin spice and I need it for the cookies.”

I slowly stepped back, keeping my eyes on him should he choose to attack. Getting mixed up with Sword is not something I wanted or planned to do. Unfortunately for me, he noticed the movement.

His dark eyes narrowed at me, shifting so that his large body acted as a wall between me and her. “Who the hell are you?”

“She helped me,” replied Naomi, trying to push him out of the way but he didn’t budge so she stepped around him instead. “Thank you for your help. My name is Naomi and this big oaf is Yamato.”

Yamato grunted, his eyes falling to the jacket I was wearing. His brow furrowed as he took a step forward. “Oi, where the hell did you get that?”

I took a step back, body tense as I prepared to flee. “None of your business.”

“Like hell it’s not my business,” he snapped, easily closing the distance with his long legs.

I dodged the hand that tried to grab me, turning and darting into the alleyway behind me.

“Yamato, stop! What are you doing, you dumbass?!”

The alleyway wasn’t very wide so his large body slowed him down, allowing me to put some distance between us. As soon as I cleared the alley, I darted to the left, slipping through an open door just as he turned the corner.

The owner looked at me strangely before returning to his task of sweeping the floor, something I was grateful for.

───── ⋆⋅🍂⋅⋆ ─────

I squatted down in front of the pumpkin patch, gently resting my finger atop a small pumpkin plushie that sat in front of the fence. It was barely bigger than a baseball with a stem that curled to form a perfect circle. It wasn’t even that expensive, but it was still more than I had.

Even if I did have enough, it would be a foolish purchase. 

The needs of the many outweigh the desires of one.

That’s what Takashi would say, I knew. As badly as I wanted the cute little thing, I knew what little bit of money I had should go towards food for the camp. That was a need, not a desire.

I hung my head, sighing sadly. I tapped the little plush on the head. “One day, little guy… one day I’ll be able to bring you home. I hope you’ll wait until then.”

I stood up, suddenly feeling as if someone was watching me. I quickly scanned the area with narrowed eyes, but I saw no one looking in my direction. Everyone was minding their own business as they searched for the perfect pumpkin. I rubbed the back of my neck, shaking my head to try and rid myself of the feeling before heading off.

Using the eight bucks I had gotten for helping a woman clean her gutters, I was able to get a small bit of food for the camp. It honestly wasn’t a lot, especially considering how many of us there were, but it was better than nothing. Hopefully, Sumo-san was able to catch some more fish, as well.

Thunder rumbled overhead as I stepped out of the store. As I tilted my head back, I felt tiny drops of cold rain pelt my face, the sky filled with dark clouds. I tugged my jacket tighter around my body, lowering my head before starting toward the rail bridge. 

Lightning streaked across the sky, a group of girls crying out in surprise when thunder clapped loudly. They rushed inside as if the sky itself was about to swallow them alive. The jacket Hisako had given me was made of leather so it did a good job of keeping my upper half dry. I couldn’t say the same for my pants and shoes, though. Nothing worse than wet socks.

The rain suddenly stopped hitting me, the pelting sound of rain filling my ears. I blinked, glancing upward to find an umbrella covering me.

“You’re gonna get sick, idiot.”

I whirled around, wide eyes staring at Yamato in surprise. I stepped back when I realized how close he was, my body tensing up as he quickly followed, keeping the umbrella over us both.

“Will you knock it off?” he scowled, grabbing my arm so I couldn’t exit the safety of the umbrella.

“What do you want from me?” I demanded, eyes narrowing at him. “I didn’t touch your friend so just leave me alone.”

“I know that.”

“Then what do you want?”

“It’s not what I want, it’s what that damn old lady wants.”

“Huh?” I tilted my head in confusion.

He motioned toward the jacket with his free hand. “That jacket belongs to my mom.”

I folded my arms over my chest protectively. “I didn’t steal it.”

“I know. My mom gave it to you.”

“Your mom?” my brow furrowed. “Hisako-san is your mom?”

“Yeah. She sent me to find you. Come on.” He started to walk in the direction of the rail bridge but I didn’t move, watching him with a frown. When he realized I wasn’t following, he scowled and jogged back over to cover me with the umbrella again. His lips parted but I cut him off.

“I understand. She probably regrets giving it to me, it seems expensive.” I started to shrug the jacket off but he put his hand up to stop me.

“She doesn’t want the jacket back, idiot.”

I frowned. “What does she want, then?”

“Ask her yourself,” he muttered, jerking his head in the direction of the camp. 

I slowly started forward, unable to relax with this man towering over me. I could feel the strength radiating off of him and knew I would be royally screwed if he decided he wanted to fight me. And with the level of sanity Sword members have, they don’t even need a reason to fight you. They will just because they can.

Not only that, but I knew Takashi wasn’t going to be happy about strangers coming to camp. He was going to scold me for sure, and his lectures were brutal.

Hisako was sitting around the fire with Takashi when we arrived. Rather than the tension I expected, they seemed quite relaxed and even appeared to be enjoying each other’s company.

“Oi, I found her,” called Yamato as we stepped under the cover of the bridge, allowing him to shake the water from the umbrella before closing it.

The older woman smiled warmly when she saw me, standing up from her chair. “I hope my bratty son wasn’t too rude to you.”

“Who’re you calling bratty?” scoffed the male, sending her a scowl.

I glanced at Takashi for any indication of why she was here but his expression remained neutral as he watched us. “Um… not to be rude, but, why are you here?”

“Well,” Hisako glanced at Takashi who nodded. “I would like to give you a place to live.”

“Hah?” I replied quickly, flooded by disbelief and confusion. 

“I’d like to adopt you.”

Why, I wanted to ask, but I chose not to. “I appreciate the offer, but I’ll have to decline. This is my home and -”

“No, it’s not.” Takashi stood up, folding his arms over his chest. “This ain’t no place for a kid. Hisako-san is offering you a chance to have a normal life, to not turn out like us old timers. You’re gonna take it.”

“What? No, I -”

“I’m not asking. From this point on, you are banned from this camp. This is no longer your home.”

“But…” I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know what to feel.

Takashi’s gaze softened as he approached me, taking me by the shoulders. “It’s rare to get a second chance in life. When it’s presented to you, you have to take it. Don’t let this chance slip away.”

“I can’t just leave,” I sent him a pleading look. “What about you? What about Sumo-san and everyone else? What about -”

“We are all adults that ended up here because of poor choices. We’re adults and can take care of ourselves. You’re just a kid -”

“I’m not a kid,” I scoffed in annoyance. “I’ll be seventeen this year and -”

“And you’ll let this nice lady provide you with a stable home, as you deserve.”

“Taka-san…”

He smiled, ruffling the top of my head with his large hand. “You’ve been here long enough. Go live your life. Find the happiness you’ve lost. We’ll still be here, waiting to hear about everything you accomplish.”

I swallowed hard, throwing my arms around his waist and burying my face in his chest. “Thank you… for everything. I’ll come see you soon, I promise.”

Takashi chuckled, hugging me back tightly. “I know you will. Go be everything we failed to be, kiddo. Make us proud.”

“I will. I’ll work hard and, one day, I’ll come back with a place for all of you.”

He chuckled again, squeezing me before gently pushing me away. “Get outta here.”

I frowned at Hisako. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

She smiled warmly, reaching up to rest her hand against my cheek. “I’m positive, dear. Let’s get you home and into some dry clothes.” She took me by the hand, leading me toward her son. 

I glanced back at Takashi but he had already turned his back to me. I didn’t miss the faint trembling of his shoulders.

───── ⋆⋅🍂⋅⋆ ─────

I stared in the mirror, readjusting my clothes with a frown. Today was my first day of starting at my new high school and I was feeling nervous about it. Last time I was in school was at the start of middle school and I didn’t really fit in.

Would it go the same way?

There was a knock on my bedroom door before Yamato entered. “Oi, you ready? You’re gonna be late.”

I released a shaky breath as I nodded, glancing at my reflection once more before grabbing my messenger bag. It’s only been two weeks since I started living with Hisako and her son, but it already felt like home. She was so kind and loving toward me, something my own mom never had an affinity towards.

Yamato was rough around the edges, but he had slowly begun opening up to me. I’ve always wanted an older brother and he filled that role perfectly. I’m still not fully convinced that he approves of his mother’s choice, though. 

He threw his leg over the bike, turning the key and revving the engine. I sat behind him, arms tight around his waist so I didn’t fall off. As we got close to the school, the other students looked at us in surprise. Most of them walked to school or took the bus and I doubt any of them came to school on a motorcycle driven by a hulk of a man wearing a leather jacket.

Probably not the best first impression…

The bike came to a stop and I climbed off, clutching the strap of my bag. “Thank you, Yamato-san.”

He rolled his eyes, sending me an annoyed look. “How many times do I have to tell you to stop being so formal?”

“Once more, Yamato-san,” I smiled, quoting our favorite movie.

His lips twitched up at that, amusement in his dark eyes. “Yeah, yeah.”

I bowed my head and started toward the school, trying to ignore the stares of the other students. I only made it a few steps before he called out my name.

I turned, barely managing to lift my hand in order to catch the object flying toward my face. I blinked down at the tiny jack-o-lantern Keychain.

“I was gonna get you the big one,” admitted Yamato, rubbing the back of his head. “But it was sold out when I went to the pumpkin patch. That’s all they had left.”

I cradled it to my chest, offering him a genuine smile. “I love it, thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome… sis,” he smiled back, revving the engine before taking off.

I probably looked dumb, standing there with a goofy smile as I clutched the Keychain to my chest, but I didn’t care. It was the first time in my life that I actually felt wanted and… well, it was a really good feeling.

Thank you, Hisako. Yamato.

───── ⋆⋅🍂⋅⋆ ─────

-> High&Low/Rampage Taglist: @kiraaaeon, @simpforchuchu, @star2fishmeg, @thatpoindexterpixy @manhwabtch

-> General Taglist: @asterhaze, @mrskenpachizaraki

[stupidrant]

(Atreboda Victorian era AU) Okay I'm back. And I have my thoughts a bit more together now, those two previous asks were written by an enthustiastic young person 🥹 my fingers were shaking, I had to take breaks to kick my feet and giggle because I really, REALLY love this idea. i don't post on AO3 because I have beef with them BUT I DIGRESS; Let's continue where we left off, shall we?

~

Upon seeing Angrboda talking to that... mere son of a blacksmith, whose hair resembled a half-eaten chestnut. A lanky young man with not a single sophisticated bone in his body, what could he possibly offer her granddaughter? Gryla knew she had to act now or risk being shunned by the very pillars of the aristocratic society. For eternity. She knew all too well about the consequences of love that challenges the rigid norms of the high society. Her son married a woman from another family, and even though Angrboda's mother was elegant in every way - she defied the social expectations of what it means to be a lady. She refused to be confined to the strict role. That meant humiliation for Gryla, as she remembered all the mocking sneers, scornful looks, and contempt from her peers.

And look at the both of them now... Six feet under. Beyond devastating incident, but was it all worth it? Damaging the family name, their reputation? Gryla cannot answer this, but what she does know is that she won't let Angrboda meet the same fate as her parents.

Although she looks at the young couple at the bench, talking loudly, with two slobbering dogs around them (Angrboda's gown is going to be ruined, it's gnawing at Gryla.) she wants to walk up to them, scold them, and forcibly take her granddaughter home but... She decides to let them be. For now. Gryla hurries back to the masion, trying to hatch a plan to secure a suitable match for Angrboda. There's the charming son of the haughty duchess, the marquess knows a wealthy viscount with many estates, and the baroness' ambitious nephew. Such prestige! This makes her confident in stopping Angrboda from consorting with the boy of the lower class.

Gryla sits down on the parlor chair, and commands the maids to bring her papers, pen, and plenty of ink. And a cup of tea. Writing these letters might take some time...

~

Meanwhile, Atreus and Angrboda were still sitting on the bench, incredibly immersed in their conversation about artistic expressions. They also talked about their dreams and aspirations, and Atreus reveals that he wants to travel the world. What a coincidence, for Angrboda herself has always loved the idea to see the world. To see something else than the ancient mansion she's caged in!

Shared laughters, good humour, and the sheer excitement of finally being able to talk to a like-minded person made time go by very fast. Atreus was enchanted by the young lady's delightful personality, full of joy and radiance. Her brown eyes were warm, sweet, and so lovely. And Angrboda was captivated by his sincerity, his earnest smile, and heart that she feels like was indeed made of gold. She has never felt so exhilirated to meet someone who truly cares, someone who doesn't looks at status or class; but at their humanity.

But the time has flown by quickly. The sun is about to set, and Angrboda has to excuse herself. Whatever she's going to listen from her grandmother is not going to pretty, but it's not like she hasn't heard it all before... "Thank you so much for today, Atreus. I think this might be my favourite day I've had so far." she says while she smiles, standing up to smooth her gown.

"N-no, thank you! I mean, thank you, my lady for taking out the time to sit with me! You must have had a busy schedule. Yet you chose to forgo all of that..." Atreus scrambled to get up, closing his sketch book. Speki and Svanna standing on his sides, wagging their tails. Angrboda giggles and pets them both. "Trust me, Atreus. I would rather be here than with my grandmother. One day I will tell you all about... I promise."

Atreus nods in understanding. Suddenly, it's as if his body moves on his own. He has no idea where he got the courage from, but he takes Angrboda's hand and places a delicate kiss on it. Her soft hand lingered in his own.

The young lady blushed deeply and his her face behind the fan. She curtsied and bid farewell, walking quickly on her way home.

Now Atreus stood there for a while. Way until Angrboda was no longer in sight.

He jumped in joy and whooped in such a high volume, people around him thought he was going mad. But he didn't care. Speki and Svanna seemed to join in the celebration, the joy was infectious. He walked back to his house, singing and humming to himself. He can't wait to see her again. Well, she does want to see him again, according to her demeanour that is, so it's natural that they will meet once more.

Won't they?

enthusiasm by young person is literally the reason why this blog exists trust me i understand😭😭😭😭 SHE’LL BE FINE GRYLA 😢😢😢😢 HALF EATEN CHESTNUT IS DIABOLICAL LMFAOOOOOOOOOIO

[fioras-resolve]

Playing Style Savvy for the first time has been pretty cool, delving into a kind of game we don't usually play and getting to experience the fashion world as trans women. (Incidentally, I say "we," we're a plural system. Please don't get mad, at least not in the replies. I'm Maya, I love fashion, and that's about all you need to know.) But playing it has also called attention to something that I just cannot ignore as a fat trans woman, which is the lack of body diversity. So, let's get into it.

So, I wanna start with a concept I'll call "the world of pretty." This is a fictional setting where just about every character is some kind of attractive. Style Savvy is obviously a world of pretty, but so is Final Fantasy, Hades, a lot of anime, and the portfolios of plenty of artists on this site. And this is a good, fun thing, you know? It gives the work a kind of appeal that's incredibly straightforward to understand, so I don't need to dwell on it for too long.

Here's the thing, though. I am, as I said, a fat trans woman. Not many worlds of pretty include someone with a body like mine, because trans bodies are so often forgotten, and fat bodies are simply excluded from a lot of people's idea of what an attractive person looks like. So when Style Savvy doesn't even let me be an XL, the implication is that my actual body is not worth having in your world. And that's not even to mention the limited or non-presence of people of color in many of these works. When I realize that my own body is excluded from a world of pretty, the illusion shatters.

Now, the fact I mentioned tumblr artists as an example of this might raise some eyebrows. After all, this kind of thinking can easily drive someone to hassle an indie artist about changing their style or preferences. I don't want to encourage that here, and if you've received grief about not drawing fat, trans or PoC characters, I'm sorry that happened, and it shouldn't have. I've been in the position of wanting to have this kind of conversation, but knowing it could easily get drowned out by people who do not fucking speak for me. I just want you to be mindful that, when you make attractive character art for a long time, you inevitably create a world of pretty, for good and ill. I can't tell you how to use that power, but I want you to know that it's there.

And, additionally, there are excuses, some better than others. Final Fantasy and Style Savvy are both inspired by high fashion and normal people fashion respectively, so it makes sense their characters all look like models. Worlds of pretty are very marketable, and it can be a hard sell to break from that mold. And it is genuinely hard to have diversity in your work, in a way I will explain right now.

Okay, look. To give Style Savvy its due... gamedev is hard. I would know, this body does it all the time. So like, if you're making a game with any kind of visual element, you need either sprites (2D drawings basically) or models (Basically 3D puppets with potentially hundreds of moving parts). And these models will almost always require a rig, like, a skeleton with bones and joints, that determines how the model can move.

From a production standpoint, you can crank out new characters from the same base model, much easier and faster than if you spent the time building another model with a unique rig. I can't speak for this exactly, because we've never done 3D dev before, but it's just way less of a headache and a hurdle if you're trying to get the most "content" out of your limited budget of staff and time. It just makes sense not spending the time to make different body types, especially in a game like Style Savvy where they'd also have to do a metric shitton of work modeling all the clothing for each distinct body type. I understand this. We sympathize. But what it means is that fat bodies are not in the games' world of pretty.

(hey, Angie here now) so like, i am not immune to the world of pretty. it's part of why i like the things i do, and it's part of why i picked up style savvy to begin with. even as the illusion shatters, i still like a lot of media and artists that don't really do body diversity. but at the same time, as i was playing style savvy i started imagining a version of it that actually did have what i wanted, and used that to create an even more positive experience. like, imagine playing one of these games, playing a clerk at a boutique, and then a trans woman comes through the door, bashful about her looks but desperately wanting to find something that suits her. i'm imagining a world of pretty that includes all body types, that finds beauty in every body. and i know i can't create this because i'm a lowly game designer... but i imagine it and i start to feel happy.

[soranihimawari]

Somewhere Only We Know

Pairing: (implied) Nanami x reader x (platonic!) Gojo

Word Count: tbd

Rating: MA

TW: language, a beheading is mentioned

"Perhaps it's about time you knew of what happened to this place," you sigh into your coffee mug. It's been nearly three lifetimes since you've made the journey home. Your child, a halfling, stares up at you from the trunk they sit upon.

"You always asked about your father," I smile sweetly as I think about the yesteryears. "He was a proud man, like you."

You put the coffee mug down next to your child. The blonde streaks in their hair are now a silvery white, aged with wisdom and grace. A few scars surely litter their clothed body, hunting curses is a nasty business, however today was a special day.

Inhaling a deep breath, you begin your tale with the old addage, "Once upon a time..."

The land was a dark and cruel world-filled with reddened earth and volcanic sand. Quite barbaric, yet you seemed to have thrived. Evolutionary lines occur like normal, until the paranormal begins to develop along side it.

Centuries later, as time would have it, you did come to be born in this world. You were dubbed a ghost-royal. Your family had failed to successfully hide you as they were mere peasants. Peasants in the outer kingdom of a peculiar ring of the cursed world. Being a mortal here is a taboo, yet here you were with your parents' initial regenerative gene.

Over time, you grew into an adult, wild and free in your choices. This attracts the attention of curses. They report back to the oddities of your hobbies. In your mortal life, wars break out every now and then, you somehow out maneuver the enemy invaders most of the time. Skills like you being a keen strategist has you catching the eye of a king.

This king, this tyrant, chooses to send his cursed minions after you.

You've been quick with your wit, strategies, and whatnot can only get you so far. Mortal short-sightedness has now led you to be on your knees, chained up like a criminal. The king of curses sits on his throne of skulls. He leaves you with a choice: join him as a mortal eye or have your line end with you.

"As long as you don't have a loving bone in your body, my allegiance lies with you," your eyes are determined. "Whatever keeps me alive."

And alive it has made you. Body modifications, surgeries, etc. Time progressed around you and you had turned 30 years old according to the mortal realm. Your books in the tower carved out for you in the palace has left you bored. You can't keep reading the same books of witchcraft, myths, and legends especially if you are one yourself. Dubbed the Ghost Royal, you were seen by many of the king's men as a pet, a most valued concubine, or just a mortal milking the fascination of the king.

Regardless, one night, in the middle of the king satisfying his woman of choice, you make a bold move as you were told to merely watch. Watch as he kisses her, holds her, fucks her forwards and backwards, moaning in elicit pleasure when all four arms and stomach tongue entertain her. You are curious if you could even make those sounds, those faces, so you boldly ask at the height of their ecstasy:

"Lord Sukuna? Let me visit the surface world...it's for research purposes," your voice is background noise after a particularly loud moan coming from the woman.

A grunt of acknowledgment is heard from your lord and master, so you make it out like a thief in the night.

Summer's eve has come to pass. You break out of the mausoleum the last stairs that Charon guided you to. Death has a place in all religions and creed, even myths die, yet you press the golden coins to the old boat driver. The world you've read so much about is modernized. You walk around in old robes with singed threads. Many of the people who see you walk out of the cemetery give you weird stares. Either they are in awe of you, or the fact you speak a language no one can barely understand makes things a bit complicated.

Things become more tumultuous when you see a man, around six feet tall, cerulean spectacles, sharp features, hone in on you. He has someone with him. A gray haired annoyingly talkative friend, perhaps? When the first one sees you, he nods to his friend who also gives you a look of acknowledgement. Are they sorcerers like you? Or are the foes who fight against the tyranny of the king you serve.

Needless to say, they both approach you. With one on either side, they gently grab your arm and lead you down a close alleyway.

"What do we do?" the white haired one asks. "We can't just leave a fine person here on her own. They did come up to the surface..."

"Gojo," the one on your right is thoroughly annoyed. You might not understand what a 'Gojo' is, but you understand the distasteful tone. "They are a curse. Look at how they're dressed. Must've come from Sukuna's hellscape."

You must've seemed terrified or rather your features relaxed, bowing your head in defeat for being found out.

"Look, Nanamin, ya made 'em deflate," the one you new was called Gojo now speaks.

"Do we exorcise it?" Nanami does not hesitate, gripping the handle of his cleaver.

You glance up tilt your head to the side before you open your mouth to speak. You're trying to say no in every conceivable language, attempting to plead your case why they shouldn't. However, you should know your master's reach is a far one. Mahito, the one he sends after you, enters the cemetery and soon finds your location.

Things were about to get worse before they got better.

"Oh, it's you," your ears know that voice anywhere.

Sighing you pick up the wilted flowers you replaced. You glance up at the shaded tree, recalling how once upon a time, you came here with those two human sorcerers who taught you how all life-cursed or not-is precious. How you saw past their entertaining banter makes you smile while you let Mahito go on and on about his latest adventures with the one they all fear: Kenjaku. Needless to say, Mahito turns to leave and right before he is rightfully beheaded, you give him a warning:

"Mahito, watch where you're going. I hear Malaysia's got a present waiting for you."

You barely hear the slice of the air as strands of iced periwinkle hair contort in the wind. A beheading well deserved. You turn your attention to the two graves. Granted, it's nearly been a century (a blink of an eye to you), however you kneel down and burn away the excessive moss growth: "rest now-both of you."

[myromeow]

!! contains spoilers for season 2 of Succession generally but MAJOR episode 10 SPOILERS !!

-

Shiv Roy was never satisfied. Whether that was in her work life or her love life, Shiv was always striving for the best angle. She would never settle for something that was any less than what she thought she deserved. Then why, why was it so hard to find someone who could keep up with her? But no, that wasn’t it, because even someone like Nate couldn’t satisfy Shiv in the end. Then there was Tom. In theory great, but still not enough. It was her interest that always, inevitably, waned.

I suppose Shiv always knew, but shoved it so deep down out of necessity. It was hard enough in the business world to be a woman as it is. She had to work ten times harder than her brothers to be taken seriously, and face ten times as much criticism when she fucked up. Misogyny was a bitch, but homophobia was worse. Never mind that her own father is the king of right wing news media, and has single handedly done more damage to the societal position of ethnic and sexual minorities than perhaps any other person in America. The world, even. Never mind that his reaction would break her, surely negative. Not out of hatred for queers specifically—Logan hated everyone, after all, especially his own children. Shiv could imagine his disproving gaze, one she was all too familiar with. His lecture on how, if it ever came out, it could, no would scare the shareholders. It would ruin everything. Never mind all that. Never mind that her first kiss was with a girl in boarding school, who left after the second term. Her first heartbreak. Never mind that the best sex she ever had was during a threesome, kissing some girl she hasn’t seen since. Never mind her disappointment when Tom said no to the threesome with a girl she’d picked out on the Roy’s yacht. Shiv could’ve fucked her anyway but the risk was

too high. Too many snakes lounging on deck chairs and sipping drinks around too polite conversation. Too many eyes. Shiv Roy liked to be in control of the narrative, the when, where and who—no interruptions or mishaps.

She sat glumly on the beach next to her husband, face frowning like a child who’d been scolded, suppressing her tears that showed up on queue. She loved Tom, is what she told herself. Maybe she did. She’d loved how easy he was to convince, how trusting he was, almost like a dog. A big soft lump, sentimental enough to get choked up at their wedding. But his vulnerability, his weakness was also why Shiv could never love him the way he needed her to. Shiv did not have a soft bone in her body. And dogs learn not to trust humans that hit them, over and over again.

Shiv Roy was never satisfied with anyone. Whether that was due to her narcissism or her abidance to compulsory heterosexuality, was anyone’s guess. Shiv had built her icy grave, cold and frigid walls unreachable by all human warmth, totally isolated.

She lay in it.

A/N — I know it’s is a hotly debated topic if Logan loves his kids but imo Logan thinks he loves his children (as Brian cox says) but REAL love is shown in actions not just words. In practice, he doesn’t love them anymore than he can use them for his own benefit. You see how quickly he throws Kendall away after u know what. Like Shiv and Tom, who she used and needed at a vulnerable time in her life when they first got together, but when someone needed to be sacrificed for the company and it was in her self interest, she would throw him under the bus in a heartbeat. Also Shiv’s face in the beach scene really reminded me of a child who’d been told off and was having a strop hahahhaha.

Please if you have any thoughts on this let me know in asks or reblogs! (I can’t reply to comments as this is a side blog). This was inspired by my pinned post on Shiv & comphet and is cross posted to my AO3

[apenitentialprayer]

article by Sunita Puri, published October 5th, 2024. Bolded emphases added.

The first person who taught me something about death and defiance was the mother of a family friend, an older woman who had moved from Punjab to the United States to be closer to her son. I remember her as delicate and draped always in pastel salwar kameezes. After she was diagnosed with breast cancer, which moved quickly to claim her bones and her brain, her desire to return to Punjab intensified. When my parents told me about the end of her life, it was with a mixture of disbelief and conviction: She survived the days-long journey to the village where she’d been born—laboring to breathe for nearly the entire flight, grimacing through prayers when she ran out of pain medication—and died two days after she arrived.

I thought of her story this week as I read about former President Jimmy Carter’s intention to live long enough to vote for Kamala Harris. Carter, who has been on hospice for well over a year, turned 100 on Tuesday and has survived far longer than many expected he would. The notion that he has rallied in order to contribute in one final way to American democracy raises a familiar question that arises in my own work with patients and families: Do we have some control, conscious or not, over when we die? Can a person stretch the days of their life to include a last meaningful act or moment?

As a palliative-care physician, I have encountered the phenomenon of people dying only after specific circumstances materialize. There was the gentleman whose family held vigil in the intensive-care unit while he continued on, improbably, even without the support of the ventilator, dying only after his estranged son had arrived. There was the woman whose fragility precluded any further chemotherapy, but who survived long enough without it to witness the birth of her first grandchild. There was the woman who was deeply protective of her daughter, and died from cirrhosis only after she’d left for the night, possibly to spare her the agony of witnessing her death. The unexpected happens frequently enough that I tell patients and families that two timelines shape the moment of death: the timeline of the body, governed by the more predictable laws of physiology, and that of the soul, which may determine the moment of death in a way that defies medical understanding and human expectations. When people wonder about the circumstance of the last heartbeat, of the final breath, I can see how they never stop searching for their loved ones’ personhood or intention, a last gesture that reveals or solidifies who that person is.

Despite the prevalence of stories suggesting that people may have the ability to time their death, no scientific evidence supports this observation. Decades ago, several studies documented a dip in deaths just before Jewish holidays, with a corresponding rise immediately afterward, suggesting that perhaps people could choose to die after one final holiday celebration. A larger study later found that certain holidays (Christmas and Thanksgiving, in this case) and personally meaningful days (birthdays) had no significant effect on patterns of dying. But this phenomenon doesn’t lend itself easily to statistical analysis, either: The importance of holidays, for instance, can’t quite stand in for the very individual motivations that define the anecdotes shared in hospital break rooms or around a dinner table. And the human truth that many recognize in these stories raises the question of whether we believe them any less fully in the absence of proof.

Palliative care often involves helping people confront and develop a relationship to uncertainty, which governs so much of the experience of illness. And when my patients tell me about themselves and about who they are now that they are sick, willpower often makes an appearance. Many say that if they focus on the positive, or visualize the disappearance of their cancer, or fight hard enough, they will win the battle for more time. I hear in their words echoes of what Nietzsche wrote, what the psychiatrist Viktor Frankl used to make sense of his years in German concentration camps: “He who has a why to live for can bear almost any how.”

And we want to believe that love or desire or commitment or heroism is still possible right up until the very end. As my patients grow sicker, and as death approaches, I talk with them and their families about what they can hope for even if a cure isn’t possible. That, in fact, death can still contain something generative. A time that may have seemed beyond further meaning becomes instead an opportunity, or an extension of the dying person’s commitments to their country, their family, their dreams. Soon, President Carter will be able to cast that vote: Next week, Georgia registrars will start mailing out absentee ballots; early voting begins the week after that. His promise to himself is a reminder that dying cannot fully dampen purpose, even as a person’s life narrows.

The idea that willpower can be an ally against death is appealing too, because it offers the possibility of transcendence, of defying the limits that the body, or illness, may impose. But, having also seen the many ways that the body does not bend to the mind, I do find myself regarding willpower with caution: What if you as a person are a fighter, but your body simply cannot fight the cancer any longer? I wonder, with my patients, if they can strive for more time without shouldering personal responsibility for the limits of biology. Similarly, two people on ventilators may love their families equally. One may die only after the final beloved family member arrives, whereas the other may die before the person rushing across the ocean makes it home. We don’t always know why. If Carter casts his vote and dies shortly thereafter, that might affirm the notion that others, too, can write the final sentence in their story. But what would it mean if Carter died before casting his vote? If he lived another year, or if he lived to see Donald Trump take office again, or watch the election be violently contested? Living with loss requires remembering that we can locate the person we have loved or admired in any given set of events that comprised their life, not just the last one.

I try to imagine my family friend’s long flight from Los Angeles to Delhi, and her ride in the taxi back to Punjab. I think about how she found a way to endure what she was told she couldn’t, all to feel beneath her feet the soil she knew best, to die in the one place that she felt belonged to her. What if her doctors had been right and she had died on the plane? My family might have mourned her single-mindedness, or we might have admired her defiance nonetheless. What makes these stories so compelling is that they remind us that death, however ravenous, cannot devour hope or possibility, even if what transpires is not the ending we imagined.

[damienthemortician]

Hi Night!! I was wondering... If you could tell me about the bones? (Vaughn) Some? Like how come he was born a bunch of bones? Does that mean he invented bones? :O I am very intrigued :O

I was laid there, in the fresh soil of this earth, gazing at the night sky. Newborn stars emerged from nebulae in a chaotic pattern, stringing together the lace of the cosmos. I never questioned who I was, where I was, or what I came from, I was cradled by dirt, dead from the moment I was born. A light turned to look at me, more complex than any star I watched, it had a face of swirling patterns and a gaze that of a new parent, lovingly looking at their child, I was loved, and the light put their hands to my face, and told me my purpose. A god was born that day.

^ The poem I wrote about Vaughn's "birth", which yeah he was basically poofed into existence as a bunch of bones, giant ones at that as his bassinet was the face of a hill, consider it a godly stillbirth as he was only allowed life again by divine intervention and a higher power giving him life and his purpose as a god of war.

Medical grade yapping under the cut

A lot of Vaughn's iconography is that of a parental figure or the absence and memory of one, he is formally called the Warfather and sees the vampires he made as his children, which vampires in his world are created via a person A dying without a proper burial, B dying with a lot of hatred from those around them, warranted or unwarranted, or C dying by their own hand or the hand of a lover's to become a vampire.

Vaughn essentially represents those who are led down dark paths due to not being nurtured as a child and having to find family in others not of their blood, as well as soldiers who have no other home than the battlefield due to how much war changes a person, and the ones who do die in battle Vaughn takes care of their souls as the family is left to grieve.

As for his relationship with other gods, Vaughn had a bit of a thing for the Sun (eh the goddess representative) when humanity was still forming and Vaughn's nature had yet to truly manifest, he enjoyed arguing with her and watching primitive life wage small wars. But the straw that broke their already weak relationship came during the dark ages of humanity. A nun that had long turned away from her god was ousted in front of her village, she had been deflowering the would be husbands of other women and breaking up many loving marriages, she was tried and hung, the village folk not even bothering with a burial as they cast her body to the woods for the animals to have at. Vaughn took interest in her corpse, letting her have one more chance to wreak havoc, a creature of the night that sucks the essence from the living as payment for the disrespect they received in life. The Sun was furious with him, breaking off their relationship* and damning any vampires to burn to ash in her light, and that is how it has been for centuries, with some revisions and exceptions as time has passed and the surviving vampires have aged.

*Yeah no they still get together from time to time, I mean the Sun absolutely hates Vaughn but he's also a freak so it works out

Vaughn also has a divine daughter, in that he cursed the bloodline of a Sun worshiping family to eventually produce an incarnation of himself, or a "vision" as it's come to be called. Sariel was the daughter of a renowned and skilled vampire hunter, but the dark and grim called to her, the stories of demonic creatures that tempted the good from the dark, only intrigued her. She was a fighter growing up, sparring with children her age and always reigning victorious, eventually she managed to overpower her own father in a fight, and then offered to hunt with him, but she had other ideas, a soft voice in the dark would speak to her on evening walks, cold hands with no pulse would become laced with hers, and Sariel would find love with a vampire woman. Sariel's father would wake to find her missing, and a visit to a Sun worshiping kingdom would have him met with the tragedy of a priestess killed in cold blood, no clues but the signs of struggle, and deep punctures in the priestess' neck. Sariel would begin her adventures, now Valkyrie, newly initiated as a vampire with her lover, and the divine child of Vaughn.

As for the other three apocalypse gods, I'khira is the god of famine, The Starved God, and for the time being he and Vaughn have a small thing between them too, but there's not much detail to what they have. Erebus is the god(ess) of death, Lady Silence, and she doesn't ever take sides in what is essentially a divine high school drama, she's less a harbinger of death and more the act itself of death, leaving the souls and judgement of those souls to their respective gods. Ysenia is the god of pestilence, The Mooncalf God, and its birth could be a story of its own as its technically a child of the Sun in that it was a defect sprout when plants were still forming, but it and Vaughn almost see each other as siblings, as illness and health often battle much like opposing armies, but Ysenia does its own thing and isn't interested in love or companionship, since not much to love in a mass of infectious creatures, diseased plant matter and cancerous human tissue yknow?

Erebus (first two), Ysenia (left) and Valkyrie (right) I have yet to draw I'khira because I don't know how best to portray him

[acourtofquestions]

EoS Chapter 57:

spoiler “more” bar of safety🙃

— I’m calling this Chapter LORCAN DON’T DIE; wow times have changed😅😅 — Current hope… Can Aelin like double oath him?😂 if Gavriel and Fenrys had 2 opposing blood oaths could she cancel out Maeve’s order? I don’t want them “blood-oathed” to anyone frankly but it feels like a possible short term solution and IDK at this point 🤷‍♀️ — Mostly I just wanna see Elide come home to the Court of Terrasen & have a “traumatized children” now as healing adults moment🥹

“She had imagined Aelin's power, dreamed of how it had shattered the glass castle. She hadn't considered that the reality of seeing it unleashed would make her bones quail in terror.” — always seems to be a mix of awe and horror

— The fact she’s able to read Lorcan really is a gift😂

— Aelin & Rowan fighting over who gets to defend who in stance😂🫶

— all about “sending messages” these days

— “But what would she even say to Aelin? Hello? How do you do? Please don't burn me?” — it’s giving as you can see I am very small and have no money😂

— “A gentle hand touched her shoulder. Pay attention. Look around.” — Lorcan mate telepathy? Mother Marion? Or Annieth?

— sure pull the classic “I don’t care” I’VE SEEN THAT BEFORE ROWAELIN MANORIAN ETC. (I know where this is going😂)

— all Lorcan had left was her🥹

— SHE DOVE FOR HIM

— FENRYS BABY NO DONT TOUCH OTHER BB

— “Lorcan's onyx eyes were unreadable as he scanned her face. And then he said quietly, "I wanted to go to Perranth with you." Lorcan dropped the shield. — It was not a hard choice. And it did not frighten him. Not nearly as much as the fatal wound in her arm did.” — I am dead inside

— “Lorcan had been born from and gifted with darkness. Returning to it was not a difficult task.” — seems to share the “witch theology” of Manon

— “But letting that glimmering, lovely light before him die out ... In (his ancient, bitter bones, he could not accept it.”

— “She had been forgotten--by everyone and everything. And still she had hoped. And still she had been kind to him. And still she had offered him a glimpse of peace in the time he'd known her. She had offered him a home.” — sobbing now

— he knew Fenrys didn’t want to either (I even think Gavriel is trying to drain his power)

— also where is Aelin here?

— even half dead Elide is fighting for him😭

— YES INNER CADRE KNOWLEDGE FOR THE WIN YES QUEEEEENS — SO THAT WAS THE PLAN!!!

— finally some successfully thought time

— I love EVERY Aelin enterance😂

— “Young, and yet her face ... It was an ancient face, wary and cunning and limned with power. Beautiful, with the sun-kissed skin, the vibrant turquoise eyes. Turquoise eyes, with a core of gold around the pupil. Ashryver eyes. The same as the golden-haired, handsome man who came up beside her, muscled body tense as he assessed whether he'd need to spill blood, a bow dangling from his hand. Two sides of the same golden coin. Aelin. Aedion.”

— “Young--she felt so young compared to the woman who approached. There were scars all over Aelin's hands, along her neck, around her wrists ... where shackles had been. Aelin slid to her knees not a foot away, and it occurred to Elide that she should be bowing, head to the dirt.” — the way Aelin’s descriptions keep shifting and also the fact AELIN bowed😭 (finally elide getting the respect she deserves + big sister “if you hurt her speeches) THE FAMILY IS TOGETHER AGAIN — “This was real”

— "You look... so much like your mother," — now I’m losing it for good

— "I'm so sorry." How many years had those words been locked up? — But Aelin didn't break her stare, even as tears continued cutting through the dirt on her cheeks. "Your mother told me to tell you that she loves you--very much. Those were her last words to me. 'Tell my Elide I love her very much.'" For over ten years, Aelin had been the sole bearer of those final words. Ten years, through death and despair and war, Aelin had carried them across kingdoms. And here, at the edge of the world, they had found each other again. Here at the edge of the world, just for a heartbeat, Elide felt the warm hand of her mother brush her shoulder.” — Aedion's turquoise eyes softened. "It survived. We survived." — "I'm here," Elide said as Aelin fixed those unnervingly vivid eyes on her, "because of Kaltain Rompier."

— and NOW MANON’S BACK & they know the others safe too 🥹

— “A shadow instantly lifted from Elide's heart, a whispering presence now silenced.” — and now Aelin has two carry two… she’s getting too drained… I’m worried😭

— Manon and Aelin back a it again🤣 (Ch. 57 spoilers for later; once Ansel joins in it’s gonna be crazy)

— “Tried not to make it seem like she hadn't just met her queen, her friend, her court, and ... somehow now found Lorcan to be the safest of them all. Manon smirked at Lorcan. "Your claim on her, male, is at the very bottom of the list." Iron teeth slid out, turning that beautiful face petrifying. Lorcan didn't let go. Manon crooned in that way that usually meant death, "Don't. Touch. Her." "You don't give me orders, witch," Lorcan said. "And you have no say in what is between us." Elide frowned at him. "You're making it worse." "We like to call it 'territorial male nonsense,"" Aelin confided. "Or 'territorial Fae bastard' works just as nicely." "Am I forgetting another term of endearment?" The warrior-prince's eyes glowed, even as his face remained set with predatory intent. "I think you covered it." Aelin winked at Lorcan. "You hurt her, and I'll melt your bones," she merely said, and walked away. Aedion looked Lorcan over and snorted. "Aelin does whatever she wants, but I think she'd let me see how many of your bones I can break before she melts them." — at this point this entire chapter is amazing lol I can’t get over any of it also the amount of facial expression reactions people must have to Aelin (I need an adaptation for things like this lol)

— ONE SILVER ONE GOLD (two sides of the coin)

— "That power could just as easily destroy her, you know." "I know," Rowan admitted. — NO THANK YOU

— “It had been a song that had made his magic erupt in kind.”

— She glows (drop that skin care routine queen😂)

— Final few things: (before final note) is the white wolf just a nickname then and Aedion isn’t actually? — SHE SOOTHED LORCAN🥹 — can everyone admit to being mates already? — the CONTRAST of Manon & Aelin — I LOVE THESE BOOKS

— "Such a good dog." Rowan gave him a lazy smile but refrained from commenting on the delicate, dark-haired young woman who now held Lorcan's own leash. — cackling I love our tattooed golden retriever😂 AND NOW (again) ONTO 58

[repetiita]

@lostusagis SAID :

The scent of blood always drove him insane with the need to make it spill more. The excitement of a well fought fight, that came so rarely had him filled with excitement and overwhelming adrenaline. Humans were so much more fragile than Yatos. They broke so easily, like stepping on a twig. Kamui would simply grab one and end up accidentally hurting them due to his own incredible strength.

It was amusing though, watching as they'd scream for mercy right before he'd snuff their life out.

Yeah.... Beg even more.

His most recent victim did just that. He cried after being defeated, begging Kamui to let him live. Spouted crap about having a family, as if the Yato would even care. Kamui would only smile when thrusting his hand through the guy's chest. Then watching as the light leaves the guy's eyes once Kamui would remove his now blood covered hand.

When the body would fall onto the ground, Kamui would look content. That's when he'd notice a woman there. Hues of blue turn to look, curiosity.

"Yeah? What do you want? Looking to die next?" An eerie cheerfulness goes along with those words, way too happy for someone who just committed such a deed.

From the looks of this nosy stranger, he'd get the vibe that she experienced hell and back. Perhaps even a few fights under her belt. Kamui wanted to know more about that, hence why he'd take a few steps towards her. The adrenaline from his fight made him liable to attack like a wild boar at any second.

"I'm always looking for more opponents, but not many people on this sad little planet can provide that for me. How about it? I'm still pretty excited after my last kill, and I'd love to have another. Especially with a person that looks like they've seen hell." The smile on his blood covered face truly resembled that of a sadistic demon looking for it's next victim.

"I would love to hear how easily all the bones in your body would break once I get my hands on you." (Canon)

Like a moth to a flickering flame, the scent of depravity brought her to an all too familiar scene. Strewn along the floors were bodies upon bodies. Torn and tossed around like discarded dolls. Steps slowed at the sound of ragged breathing. Shaking, whimpering like a cornered animal pinned beneath the bodies of its brethren. Panting pathetically, adorned in crumpled, bloodied finery she dare not dream to attain was a rather rotund man. Sweaty for a dead body laying amongst countless cadavers. Beady little eyes looked up at her ; his life-line. The only way to get out with his life, even if he needed to push another body into the red-headed Yato to get away, he would.

I'll do anything !

". . . Anything?"

Cowardice took many forms. Desperation allowed a rushed contract with a stranger as danger drew closer.

Her head turns to her tag along, "You'd have to hire me." Her tongue hung heavy in her mouth as filthy hands left her. Her skin prickled where she was touched, bacteria crawled along bare legs as pathetic cries for help fell from his pursed lips as she walked into the carnage. Eyes watching a limp thing collapse to the ground like a sack of potatoes.

Another body dropped to the floor.

"Yeah? What do you want? Looking to die next?"

"I don't think this place allows people without memberships in." Eyes scanned the room, a man acting alone, most likely an amanto judging by the lack of weaponry on him. . . Judging from the amount of fighters left strewn along the ground, the owner of underground fighting ring must be the man quivering behind her.

"Slow down," Like an empty can, she laughed with no substance. "Some of us are a little sturdier than the humans you like playing with." Maybe.

What was the worst that could happen?

↳ unprompted ask :: always accepting !