#{ And it's not like he's incapable because he's weak like a human. }

[chronosbled]

Mister Dickson, how have you come to love a witch?

☣ — “A witch?” The words that come forth ever so clearly lack the usual playful tone that his voice normally possesses, making it evident that — whether she was a witch or not — he didn’t appreciate the term in how the question was asked. ‘How have you come to love a witch?’ As if she wasn’t worth loving in the first place. As if, just because she wasn’t human, she wasn’t worth loving. As if she wasn’t lovable. That thought alone was more than enough to make the smile on his face fade, leaving nothing but a blank canvas for an expression. “Do you think she’s a witch? Do you think that, because she’s different, she isn’t worth the time nor the effort I put into her?” His voice soon turns cold as he speaks, taking a single step closer towards the stranger, until they were backed against a nearby wall. “I can assure you that she is worth it. Every. Single. Second. She has always been worth far more to me than most of these useless human females that want nothing more than someone’s money and reputation.” Yes, that’s right, because every other woman that he’d met only ever wanted him for one thing or another — his money, his looks, his family name, his reputation, the things he could give them, the things he could do, the things they could brag about — but in reality, would scream and run in fear once they found out he wasn’t what they thought he was. Those that called him a monster. Those that no longer breathe after making such a claim.

☣ — “I love her because of the fact that she’s different. I love her because she isn’t afraid of me. I love her because she understands the pain and suffering I have gone through because she has also suffered. I love her because she loves me for how I am and doesn’t try to change me, instead she tries to help me achieve the things I strive for, she encourages me more than anyone else ever could. She doesn’t care that I am not mentally stable, nor does she care that I have done things that would make most humans claim me insane. She simply loves me. She loves me.” The fabled tale of achieving true love that had been spun for as many years as he could recall, dancing around within his mind ever since his mother had read him his very first fairy tale storybook — it was something that resonated deep within his being, even when he couldn’t understand such a feeling — he had been fascinated with such a concept, not because it seemed ideal, but because it seemed so foreign to him. The older he became, the more he began to crave the love and affection of someone he held dear, but alas... he had never been blessed by such a thing no matter how hard he strived for it — perhaps it was his fault for wanting such things from people that he clearly meant nothing to — his grandfather had never been capable of love after all. “Crystal will always be more important to me than anything else. She will always come before my studies and my work. She will never be second place in any sense of the word. She was able to take someone utterly incapable of feeling any type of human emotions... and somehow able to make them feel every positive emotion that could ever be felt. She was able to make me feel as if my heart didn’t belong to that of a monster, but a human being. She was able to make me feel human.”

☣ — His hand moves slowly, eventually coming to rest upon the strangers shoulder while the other hand seemingly disappears behind his back, emerging only a few seconds later with a rather large blade, the serrated edge resting gently against the other’s throat. “Now,” a barely visible smile begins to take over his features, “surely you see just how lovely a person she is? I’m sure that you understand completely why I love her, because if you don’t, then I’m afraid I’ll have to show you just how far I’m willing to go to show you my love for her. After all,” blade pressing further into the other’s neck just enough to draw droplets of blood, “I’m sure she would love to meet you. You would make a nice snack for her... and how she does love to play with her food~.”

[gracerings]

still stuck on louis staying with armand after the trial to get back at lestat. this is louis 101 and I’m COMPELLED. he punishes lestat by withholding his affection and giving it to someone else like he always did when he wanted him to suffer. he KNOWS lestat loves him endlessly and has deep insecurities about not being loved, he knows he is lestat’s weakness and he uses it to punish him for his role in the trial. and lestat knows armand’s true role in the trial and still he lets it happen, he lets louis be with armand, something that ultimately entraps louis in a metaphorical (and literal) prison for 70+ year. and it’s so good because NO ONE has the ability to hurt us like the people we love most. and that’s why I think the discussion about who deserved what that’s been going on is ultimately pointless. it doesn’t really matter in this case if lestat deserved louis’ cruelty or if lestat should have told louis the truth immediately, because the point is that they’re only capable of inflicting such deep wounds to each other because they are incapable of letting go of each other. their obsessive love tangled up with hate and resentment and lust and memories both fond and painful and the daughter they shared and whom they both failed, the blood that binds them, the century of carrying each other always, their synced-up heartbeats, the fact that lestat is the only person left alive who knew louis as a human. there’s too much history, too much intensity, too much emotion for them to be anything but what they are, a black hole that swallows everything around them, a hurricane they’ve both been swept up in, an endless loop of toxic obsession and infinite devotion that is both draining and addictive. and that’s why it’s the tragic gothic romance to end all others.

[angelfoxx]

how about a petit reader like 1.53 or 5'0 (size difference) with keegan, ghost or konig?

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° ❝ HI, SHORT STUFF. ❞

… in which you’re (much) shorter than they are.

FEATURING: simon “ghost” riley, könig (does he have a last name or anything???) & keegan p russ.

WARNINGS: suggestive per usual. daily dose of shameless keegan hornyposting

NOTE/S: as a relatively small girlie myself (5’5, so not as short but still not tall) this one makes me giggle. tee hee tall babies tall babies

★ SIMON “GHOST” RILEY.

✦ — He’s six foot four. Add on whatever height those boots give him, and he’s got a good foot and a half on you. It makes him even more intimidating in the beginning, because he’s just…a big guy. He’s loud and kind of scary and he’s just a fucking tank of a guy, all flat muscle and ridiculous height.

✦ — Once you two are…acquainted, physically…he sort of uses his size to his advantage. Not necessarily sexually. He’s quick to act as a human shield if anything is thrown your way. His first instinct when you two are in a crowded room is to shadow you, which is totally fine, but he’s enormous and so you can just sort of always see the edge of his silhouette in the tops of your peripherals.

✦ — You’re so much smaller than him, and beyond his usual hurt-my-troops-you-hurt-me demeanor, now you two are involved — and you’re so much smaller than him, and you’re so…little. You’re so little and it’s not that he thinks you’re weak but you’re so much smaller than him and most of the other people on the base. So when he sort of fights your battles for you, frets over you doing certain tasks on the field, et cetera, it’s not because he thinks you’re weak or incapable. He’s just…you’re so fucking short compared to everyone else. And he likes you. And you like him. And so he’s going to watch out for you even when it’s sort of pointless.

✦ — His public demeanor towards your size might be mildly annoying at times, but behind closed doors it’s a bit…different. Bringing up how overly protective he is of you results in a minor argument — when he finally lets slip that it’s partly because you’re so much fucking shorter than he is, you’re quick to argue that you’re just as capable as he is. You’re just as capable as anyone else on the base is.

✦ — He wants you to understand that he’s not coming from a place of total insanity. Most of the people on the base are guys, and they’re also usually over six foot. You’re a foot and then some shorter than almost everyone on the base. Physically, you’re at a disadvantage — and he proves that by picking you up under both arms and just…holding you there. He wants to show you that maybe he has a good reason to be “overly careful” with you. He cares about you, and you’re at such an obvious imbalance in a high-stress, rough working field.

✦ — Oopsie. Difference in size…mm. Mm. Suddenly, it seems less annoying and more arousing.

✦ — You stop complaining after you’re thrown back-first onto Ghost’s bed and the guy fucking blots out the ceiling because his shoulders are so broad and he’s tall enough to literally swallow you under his shape.

✦ — At some point, you stop complaining about Ghost being so physically overprotective of you. Actually, when there’s a crowd attending a debriefing, one of the soldiers swears that when Price mentions heavy artillery and Ghost sort of stances up behind you, a close shadow clearly unhappy with the idea of you manning the big guns, you reach back and pull his arm around your waist. Oh, and you seem to zone out looking at the way his hand is so much bigger under yours. That too.

★ KÖNIG WHATEVER THE FUCK HIS SURNAME IS.

✦ — Six foot ten. Six foot fucking ten. What the fuck? Why is he so tall? That’s almost seven feet. What the fuck? What the fuck?

✦ — He knows he’s tall. Obviously. He’s the kind of person to bully people with his height; if he’s involved in a heated argument, he’s no stranger to standing upright (he usually slouches) and sorry, but a seven-foot-tall man wearing an executioner’s mask, staring down at you from his colossal fucking height? You’re toast. Whoever he’s arguing with generally excuses themselves because dude, what the fuck? What the fuck. Hell no.

✦ — Keeping in mind that a lot of his men (and women) are on the taller side, you waltzing in at five feet tall almost makes him laugh. Because like, you’re short to everyone else, but everyone else is short to him. So you’re fucking tiny. He keeps calling you ameise, which you later learns means “ant”. He’s calling you an ant.

✦ — You’re a good soldier. In good fun, he’ll compare other soldiers to you; he’ll tell them that they’re being outshone by “eine kleine ameise”, which sort of pisses you off but you do remember that it’s a joke. Sort of. You are very short and you are outdoing other soldiers.

✦ — If/when you two get in a relationship, he’s keen to use his height against you. You go to find him in his office? He’ll stand up just so he can talk to you from two feet over your head. He’s leading a debriefing? He’ll make a point out of having you stand near him so that every time he straightens up, you have to deal with how fucking huge he is.

✦ — With his jests at your height, you often try to return the jokes. Every time he comes through a doorway, you rush over and ask if he needs ice for his forehead. Because, you know, he’s hitting his head constantly. Every time he’s on the field with you and you have to get in any sort of vehicle, you tell him that he’ll have to skip out on the ride because he’s too fucking tall to comfortably fit in the thing and putting him on the roof would make you guys an enormous target.

✦ — Your jokes sort of die down though when you’re pushed up against the wall, toes brushing the floor and breath shuddering. He’s got both forearms pinning your shoulders down and he’s pistoning his hips unfairly hard up into you and he’s sort of breathlessly laughing a wheezy cackle in your ear. “Why so quiet, meine kleine ameise? No words?”

★ KEEGAN P RUSS. THATS MY LAST NAME TOO BTW

✦ — He’s six foot one. So his height difference to you isn’t as excessive as the other two seen above, but…

✦ — He’s the most irritating about it. Probably. Because you’ll think everything is fine — he won’t think of you as any less, and he’s fully confident in your capabilities, et cetera — but the minute he gets you alone, the short jokes start. Is it chilly down there? Do you find the stairs too steep? A new truck came in this afternoon, but…well, it’s a little lifted, so you won’t be driving it. You’d only be able to get in with a step-stool — no way you’d be able to reach the pedals!

✦ — He’s insufferable. He’s fucking insufferable. It’s like you’ve opened up a Pandora’s Box of stupid fucking jokes that Keegan finds ridiculous. This shit gets genuine laughs from him. Maybe it’s the jokes or maybe it’s your reactions to them.

✦ — If/when you two are in a relationship, the jokes take a dirty turn. You’re trying to get in his pants? He’s biting his cheek and saying that he’s not sure he’ll fit, and you’re two seconds from slapping him. He makes random comments about how your knees will never turn red because you don’t even need to kneel in order to suck him off. Et cetera. Half the time the jokes go over your head and it takes you a good ten or fifteen seconds of being confused in order for you to realize that he’s making sex jokes at you. By that time, he’s usually turning away and biting back amusement.

✦ — He seems to take a great joy in bringing you stupid gifts. Ever the romantic; if you’re both scouting on a looser mission, he’ll pick you flowers. Specifically, though, he’ll pick you tiny flowers. Or, like, petals. He asks you to carry his rifle and walks behind you because apparently it’s the same height (or taller) than you are and it’s funny to watch. At one point, he gets his hands on a tiny model gun and he’s practically bursting at the seams to gift it to you as a “proper size gun”.

✦ — He knows he can make those jokes and get under your skin. He doesn’t care, though. When he’s laying in his barracks with you sitting on his stomach and jabbing him in the chest with that stupid toy gun, he’s just smirking like an idiot. He finds how easy you are to irritate so incredibly fun to mess with. He’s just sort of egging you on the whole time. “Yeah? I’m bothering you? I’m frustrating you?”

✦ — You’re still complaining and whining, so eventually he just starts flipping the script. He’s saying it’s so good you’re short because it makes it so much easier for him to flip you over and pin your shoulders down, and it makes it so much easier for him to wrap his arms around your mouth to keep you quiet when you two are tangled in his sheets at night with his teeth buried in your shoulder and his hips flush to yours, and you fit so nice and snug around him…

[vidavalor]

Crowley and Plosives

@kimberleyjean asked in my recent post on rings and apostrophes why it is that I think Crowley pops the consonants of words at times, as in "BooK. shoP", and if there is a technical term for what he is doing. There is.

Let's talk about Crowley's exaggerated plosive sounds--as well as his little "mmm" thing-- and what this all probably has to do with his hiss.

In order to talk about why it likely is that Crowley pops specific consonants when he speaks-- with it being more pronounced at certain times than at other times-- we first actually have to talk about his hiss.

Crowley's hiss is less of a separate sound and more of a slur of what's known as a sibilant sound in phonology-- it's the sound of the letter s or the letters sh. If you say the word "sash" aloud, you're using sibilant sounds twice over-- once at the start and once at the end of the word. While Crowley could probably just hiss like a snake when he's in human form, we never actually hear him do that. We hear a hissing sound manifest in his sibilant sound when he is speaking-- which is to say when he's being a human over a snake. The same is true of Lord Beezlebub, whose fly buzz sound affects their speech. In their case, their sibilant sounds turn into the letter z to mimic a fly (as in, "It izzzzz written" on the tarmac in Tadfield in S1).

Sibilant sounds are part of a group of sounds known as fricatives, which are all softer in sound. They are grouped together based on how your mouth and throat move in forming the sounds and how much air is needed to move through them and in what way to say them. The letters k, p, t-- and sometimes d, b and g, depending on the word and the position of the letter in the word-- are "hard" sounds and are known as plosives. These are the sounds that Crowley tends to pop or to which he gives exaggerated emphasis in his speech. My theory as to why is basically that David Tennant decided that Crowley would feel the hiss is weak and react to it by popping his plosives to seem more intimidating, which really does go along with Crowley's psychology well.

Crowley's hiss is a feature of what of him is a snake and, as a result, will show up in the times that a snake would hiss. That means the slurred sibilant sounds show up primarily in situations in which he feels a sense of vulnerability. Snakes hiss when they're stressed or under duress and they hiss if you try to interact with them while they are digesting a big meal. In demon snake terms lol, it means Crowley is most likely to hiss in exactly the moment he does not want to (when he's anxious or afraid, which is usually when around other demons or angels). He probably cares a bit less about slurring sibilant sounds around Aziraphale after a big meal--or a "big meal"-- and Aziraphale actually probably likes it a bit as it's his life goal to keep that snake blissssssed out but the hissing around other people thing?

Crowley hates it. He haaaaaaates it. There is evidence of Crowley hating the slurred sibilants in a few scenes.

One is that when he shapeshifts into a monstrous snake to scare the guy at Tadfield Manor in S1, Crowley doesn't hiss at him-- he roars. Like a lion. (Lions are also on the arms and legs of his reason-for-therapy-alone throne chair in S1.) And this is his reaction when he makes the guy faint from fright:

He loves it. Ah, control...

Because Crowley is a lot of things, really-- he's a snake, yeah, but he's a big cat, he's a crow, he's a nightingale, he's a black swan, he's a horse... we could go on. To control the hiss when he wants to is to feel in control of himself.

We all know how much Crowley seeks as maximum control over how he's perceived by others as he's capable of generating. It's a normal response to all the trauma he's suffered. It's probably worth considering as well that Satan's attacks on Crowley render him incapable of controlling his own mind and body for the duration of the assault. He doesn't have the option to speak or, if he does, the words aren't his own. These are bodily autonomy violation issues and the result is that Crowley hates anything that makes him feel weak and the fact that he has in the hiss what amounts to a nervous tic that is a symptom of his anxiety disorder makes him feel out of control of himself.

Another example of him hating the hiss is when he intentionally slurs the sibilant s sound while mocking Heaven:

Crowley is not just talking about composers in this scene in general but using first-class composers as innuendo for sexual partners and mocking Aziraphale's potential choices if he gets stuck in Heaven for all of eternity. He does so by combining soft fricatives and his slurred sibilant hiss, showing how he equates the hiss with a sense of what he considers weak and unattractive.

The other scene that suggests this-- and shows how Crowley pops his plosives as a counter to the hiss-- is actually the end of the apology dance, when Crowley pops a t so hard, it's almost its own word: "You were righTTTTTT."

The apology dance scene and its hard T as the final note of the mock-submissive dance also makes it clear that, unsurprisingly, Aziraphale knows what the popped plosives are all about. Plosives are, well, explosive. They have harder, louder, more dramatic sounds. It seems like Crowley pops them both as a measure to counter his hiss and as a measure to try to control it. He's taught himself to respond verbally with intensive plosive popping instead of hissing, which is also why we don't actually hear him hiss all that often.

One of the only times is almost immediately after this:

Because saints and demons preserve us, it's Master Crowley, right? But then Satanic Nun!Nina interrupts them and Crowley starts slurring his sibilant sounds in sarcastic response to Aziraphale telling him that he didn't need to put the woman in a trance.

"Oh, oh, 'xcccussse me, ma'am, we're two supernatural entities looking for the notorioussss SSSSSon of SSSSSatan. Wonder if you might help us with our inquiries?'" How he controls the sentence, though, is really interesting. The extra-exaggerated sarcasm of the last sentence helps him regain control enough that the final 's' in 'inquiries' isn't hissed and he's back in control of it. He's also almost amping up the sibilant sounds he does slur sarcastically as well. Part of why it comes out here is that he allows himself to be less guarded with his speech in front of Aziraphale.

We've actually only heard him hiss his sibilant sounds about three times, if memory serves me correctly, and two of them are related to Heaven and Hell-- the two moments I mentioned above. They're examples of him trying to control-- and then sarcastically wield-- the hiss. (Particularly "celestial harmonies", which he did entirely intentionally.)

There's also one more positive instance of a sibilant slur though and that's this: "Yessssss, the 'Reign of Terror.'"

The long hiss of a "yesssss" in this scene is not one that bothers him because drawing out a sibilant sound during a sexy conversation with Aziraphale is a very different situation than one about or involving Heaven or Hell.

If you look back on the series, there are probably no more popped plosives than in Crowley trying to ascertain just wtf Gabriel is doing in the bookshop wearing nothing but their tartan bedsheet.

"WHaT. Arrre. You. DO. ING. In. THis. BooK. ShhhOP?" 😂

Crowley was literally terrified (and also losing it internally because he just jumped and basically screamed at the sight of Gabriel) and there's a very brief "shhhh" in "bookshop" that starts to slur and has him practically shouting the "OP" to finish the word without full-on hissing. It's a scene built around the plosives, really.

Gabriel probably understands Crowley's manner of speaking more than "Jim" did in this moment as Gabriel has his own affected way of speaking. His defensive speech has the same need for a sense of maintaining an appearance of control and dominance but is usually less about emphasizing plosives and more about conveying a sense of power through a perceived sense of "manliness" in a smug, corporate sort of way. The way he says "but as The Almighty likes to say: 'Climb Every Mountain'" in that 'CEO saying the bullshit company slogan to a junior employee at the company retreat' sort of way.

Gabriel usually uses intimidation through lower, more frighteningly measured tones that carry the sense that if you pissed him off, he would explode and it would not be pretty for you. It's what makes the moment when he does actually a bit shocking and that's when you hear the force come out in his speech a bit.

He pops plosives in the curse and owns the 'fucking' in that sentence as a result. That is top shelf use of a curse word, in that it's selective enough and pronounced in such a way as to give it real power. You know he's going to lose this round because he can't win it but you're still kind of afraid of him-- maybe for the first time.

But Jim? Jim has none of this.

Jim is a guileless lovebug who doesn't understand why Crowley would feel the need to speak-shout at him and pause dramatically so his "I. AM. DUSTING." response is priceless. Jim over-emphasizes all of the sounds because he doesn't know why Crowley only emphasizes the plosives and he pauses dramatically between the words more out of confused repetition of Crowley's speech pattern to try to relate to Crowley than out of understanding that it was meant to intimidate him. He uses the same sense of theatre that Crowley uses without any context as to why Crowley feels like he has to and, as a result, it guts Crowley's whole attempt to intimidate him to compensate for his own feelings of vulnerability.

Crowley and Aziraphale both are fascinated by words and the evolution of language and they speak every language in the world. This means that they both have the ability, in theory, to correctly speak in any accent in the world, which is necessary to be able to pronounce the words in every language. Between that and his self-conscious, trauma-adjacent, plosive/fricative issues, as well as just being interested in how things like pronunciation informs the evolution of language, Crowley is more aware than most of how he sounds when he speaks.

But there's also that his unique way of speaking-- when combined with his low, rumbly voice-- can be very sexy and he's aware of it, namely because it's clear that Aziraphale thinks his sounds-- all his sounds, along the full spectrum of them-- are hot. As a result, we also have scenes in the series wherein Crowley will sometimes heavily emphasize plosives-- and fricatives-- around Aziraphale just for fun because to do so has become a part of how he speaks and because the angel likes it. An example: the "lotsss of GooD DeeDsssss" bit of this:

That Aziraphale likes the full range of Crowley sounds is symbolic of the fact that Aziraphale likes the full range of Crowley, full stop. As a result, Crowley plays around with how he enunciates words, often drawing out parts of them in ways he knows Aziraphale will enjoy. His "oo" and "ou" sounds are often elongated into an "oooh"; he softens fricatives to a breath at times when speaking more gently. At other times, he amps up his RP accent and emphasizes certain words in a sentence with pauses and heavier enunciation ("canopy", "astonish") to maximize their appeal and to draw Aziraphale's attention to them, usually also for wordplay-related reasons ("did you smite them with your wrath?" in Lockdown, for example.)

Then, there is that part of their language thing also appears to be an interest in onomatopoeia, which are words that have derived in language not from a connection to other, previously-existing words but from the sounds of Earth. Crowley, in particular, loves onomatopoeia, and likes to weave words that are that into his conversation-- "frou frou", "whoop", etc.. The word "hiss" is onomatopoeia. Unlike other etymology posts I have written or will write, there is no "derived from the Old French x" or "from the Latin x" or the like for the history of "hiss"-- it's just literally that people heard a snake hissing and said that sounds like "hssss" and so we're going to call it a "hiss."

While Crowley has issues with his anxious snake hiss, though, he actively likes to make the pleasurable sound the humans (and angels and demons) can make-- the ultimate in onomatopoeia. The word that is actually more his anti-hiss than his popped plosives:

"Mmm."

"Mmm" is derived from nothing more than the human sound of contentment. It's an often almost involuntarily hum of pleasure-- the human sound of satiation. There is no other history to the word but that and there has not been since beings began to exist.

Crowley makes the sound unconsciously but he also makes it consciously at times when speaking with Aziraphale because he knows Aziraphale likes the sound of it. Case in point: the very obviously intentional "mmm" in the Edinburgh phone call (and the heavy, exaggerated plosives emphasis on what followed it):

"Mmm" is also something of an etymology joke as well because, at last count, I think I had at least twenty-five instances in a note file here about intentional wordplay between Crowley and Aziraphale that focuses on frequently confused words and phrases (to founder vs. to flounder; whoop vs. whoomp; wittering vs. withering; to get a wriggle on vs. to get a wiggle on, etc..) which I bring up mainly because, especially when written, "mmm" is frequently confused with "hmm", and the etymology of "hmm" is pretty funny from a Good Omens perspective.

While "mmm" is a sound of pleasure, "hmm" is a sound made of consideration, a kind of pause in a sentence to acknowledge something that was spoken and to either suggest you're giving it thought or to show hesitation over what was said-- or, possibly, both. While "mmm" is a contented sound derived from the human body, "hmm" is onomatopoeia because it is imitative of a different, very specific sound in nature...

...it comes from the droning sound of buzzing bees.

To Crowley and Aziraphale, "hmm"-- the sound of hesitation and reflective contemplation-- is a sound of the insects that are symbolically the angels and that's amusing to them since the humans frequently swap it out with their signature sound of pleasure while Crowley and Aziraphale do not find much about Heaven very arousing.

Crowley's new favorite hobby in S2 is making dirty jokes that are going over Muriel's head-- some of which, like his handcuff innuendo while getting Muriel to take him to (literal) Heaven, are a bit on the surface. Others, though, like the frequently confused words wordplay of using "mmm" in protest of Heaven instead of "hmm" in the "mmm, bees" moment after successfully getting one over on the angels-- are examples of just wordplay jokes that Aziraphale would have found funny that Crowley was amusing himself with in the moment.

Crowley is definitely not the only one of the two of them amping up those mmms though. The only bee who has his attention is playing right back...

...and the mmm thing is not exactly new, either...

...like for him to mmm his way through an entire barbecued ox five minutes after this...

Original post that prompted this response:

[shellem15]

One thing that bothers me in a lot of Shen Jiu fics is that they often make him too repentant. Like my man canonically would rather get turned into a human stick than apologize for his actions. This man has never said "sorry" in his life.

And you know what? His unrepentantness is what makes him such a good character! He knows he's doing wrong. He knows he's a terrible person. And he continues to be horrible, not because he doesn't think it's wrong or even because he doesn't care, but because he believes himself to be, on the most basic and fundamental level, a monster. (Also, that whole "only the stong survive and if you're weak you deserve it" thing he's got going on)

Why bother pretending to be something you aren't? When people will always see the rot within you no matter how high you rise, no matter how hard you try to hide it. Apologies have never gotten Shen Jiu anywhere; people assume the worst of him no matter what he does.

And I don't think SJ is incapable of feeling sorry for his actions, it's that he can never express that regret! In words, at the very least. If he lets go of his pride to genuinely, verbally apologize, the rest of him would crumble. He physically cannot, he would not survive going back to (what he sees as) begging for forgiveness.

I think if he ever did try to "make amends," it could not be in the form of a verbal apology. It would be through actions, most likely subtle actions at that (remember he will never willingly explain himself to anyone ever). He will never admit regret. That would be akin to giving in and rolling over like a dog (and he will never let himself be a dog again).

[moutainrusing]

illness

987 words, @wolfstarmicrofic

Poking Sirius’s forehead was his mother’s wand. Running the length of Sirius’s body was his father’s wand. Tradition of the Black heir turning sixteen: make sure he had no disabilities. No setbacks, disadvantages, handicaps.

With stern frowns, they analysed the results. Then, “Get out.” They faced each other in shock, having said that simultaneously. He has both?

“What?” Sirius croaked.

“GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!” Orion bellowed.

Walburga shoved Orion, caterwauling, “GET OUT OF MY HOUSE, YOU CRETIN!”

“NO SON OF MINE, YOU CRIPPLE!” Orion screamed.

“HE’S NOT MINE, EITHER!” Walburga roared. (Now she was yelling more at Orion than Sirius…?)

His parents’ faces had twisted, fury curling their lips, passion blotching their cheeks red, anxiety shaking their hands, regret furrowing their brows, sadness freezing their voices, sharpening them to ice. They blamed themselves for his disabilities. Their genes, their problem. Upset he turned out this way, riddled with issues. Bitter, because how could life do this to them? If word got out, eyes would turn to them. This is your invalid? Makes sense.

Sirius nodded slowly, eyes prickling. He didn’t want to be disabled. The first thing people saw about him: the fact that he was incapable, helpless, hopeless. They would judge him while pretending they weren’t. There was always stigma around it. He was weak, dumb, weird. “I— I’ll go. But… what’s wrong with me?” He looked at his parents pleadingly. Fix me.

“Mental illness and physical,” Walburga scoffed.

Orion snarled, “Won’t live past thirty, wretch.”

“Unstable in both mind and muscle. They’ll all give up on you, as they should. Immobile, paralysed.” Walburga laughed shrilly, “Get out.”

“While you can still walk,” Orion sneered.

Sirius nodded silently, a sob choked up in his throat. When he shut the door, he heard his parents break. He followed suit, in tears on the street.

- - -

“I DON’T GIVE A SHIT THAT YOU’RE A WEREWOLF, REMUS. I’M IN LOVE WITH YOU!” Sirius took a deep breath. “You,” he jabbed Remus’s chest. “Being. A. Werewolf. Doesn’t. Matter.”

“But it does.” Remus shoved Sirius’s hand away pitifully. “I’ll hinder your life. You can find love with someone worthy, live a beautiful life until you’re grey and old—”

“I’LL NEVER BE GREY AND OLD!” Sirius yelled, not catching the words before they left his mouth. His eyes widened.

“What?” Remus stammered.

Sirius laughed harshly. “I’ll probably die before you. In fact, I’m the one who’ll hinder you.” He bowed dramatically, “I’m sick.” He jabbed his chest, “I can already feel it. Y’know how you call me clumsy?” Sirius smirked depravedly. “Well, that’s my muscles spasming. Ain’t working properly. They’re giving up on me like my parents did. Like you’re doing. And I’m crazy?” Sirius cackled, “That’s my brain. Fucking disabled.”

“Sirius,” Remus whispered.

Sirius pointed frantically, “See?! Already scared of me!”

“No, Sirius,” Remus shook his head softly. “Whatever is going on is not a problem. Nothing’s wrong with you. You’re human.”

“Yeah, right, say that to yourself,” Sirius scoffed.

Remus sighed, “It’s different—”

“Is it though?” Sirius glared. “I’m gonna die early ‘cause of something I can’t control, something people still blame and judge me for. Their discrimination is more pointless than I am.”

“You’re not pointless,” Remus argued.

“And you?” Sirius returned, eyebrow raised.

“I’m not…” Remus winced, finishing pathetically, “Pointless.”

“Ha!” Sirius crowed victoriously. “You don’t believe it! How am I supposed to believe that being disabled isn’t a curse when you act like that?! When everyone acts like that?! You coo and reassure someone else it’s okay, but when it’s you?!”

“I…” Remus was at a loss for words.

Fine. Sirius had way too much for both of them. “Why do you add on to the discrimination already there?”

Remus shook his head helplessly.

Sirius prodded, “Why can’t people let us be? Everyone’s gonna die, so let us be happy. When I first found out, I hated myself. But then I realised that even with disabilities, I am still myself. I’m still brave, smart, whatever. I never stopped. And my parents’ve always been wrong. Of course they were wrong about disabilities, too. I dunno what’s gonna happen to me, but then, does anyone? You could get caught in an accident any day! We could die any day! You’re a werewolf, but you never stopped being Remus. You never stopped being thoughtful, beautiful, lovely, mine. My friend,” Sirius clarified, smiling gently.

Loud again, “But we should be more if we both want that. Let us want! Take all the love you get, because so many people will deny you the best life you deserve. So what if it doesn’t last? If it’s not always happy? Let yourself live.”

Remus was crying. While Sirius could still move his fingers, he brushed the tears away.

- - -

Sirius did make it to thirty. Wheelchair-bound, unable to move a muscle nor talk, brain functioning perfectly, heart beating a love song for Remus.

He could move a few muscles. His thumb: up and down, up and down as he pressed the button of a Muggle invention to form words on this screen.

He could write books on anything, all the knowledge of OWLs and NEWTs and beyond firmly stuck in the crevices of his brain.

Remus pulled a chair up next to him, having also made it to thirty: grey-haired, smiling, walking with a cane, tired, living, bones aching, thinking, dreaming, being.

Scanning over Sirius’s document, Remus’s eyes lit up, and he turned to Sirius with a grin. “You’re the smartest person I know.”

Sirius couldn’t say anything except stare at Remus in awe. But that was okay, because Remus had enough words for both of them.

Remus leaned towards Sirius, giving him enough time to roll away if necessary, before slotting their lips together. “You’re amazing. I love you,” Remus mumbled. Sirius put all his effort, energy, love towards smiling into the kiss. Nothing happened, but he knew Remus could feel it anyway.

[youremyheaven]

Vedic Astrology Observations

1. Punarvasus tend to be very spiritual if not religious. They find peace in prayer. Another thing I've noticed is that they are very sexually conservative (probably because of their cat yoni). Mariah Carey, Punarvasu Moon was a virgin when she married her first husband and waited until marriage to be intimate with her second husband as well. She was engaged to James Packer for 18 months and they reportedly never had a physical relationship.

Miranda Kerr, Punarvasu Moon was in a relationship with Evan Spiegel for 3 years and waited until marriage. Drew Barrymore, Punarvasu Moon has said that she's been celibate since her divorce in 2016.

2. Mariah Carey, Punarvasu Moon speaking of the nature of light & time , her memoir has multiple chapters titled with light-related names and even sooo many of her songs , including Butterfly (Punarvasus are connected to butterflies)

3. Moksha gana nakshatras embody the trickster archetype. They also often argue or provoke people simply for the heck of it. 2/3 Moon ruled naks (Rohini & Hasta) are Moksha gana and it makes sense as to why they fuck with people just because they can, they have nothing to gain from it and it serves no purpose, they're evil for the heck of it. They'll go to any length to ruin you even if they ruin themselves in the process.

Moksha means liberation in Sanskrit (Sanskrit is a classical language like Latin that is pretty much only used in a scholarly context) and is one of 4 purusharthas or motivations assigned to the 27 naks. The others are artha (wealth) kama (pleasure) and dharma (duty). Moksha would be located at the very top of Maslow's hierarchy of needs, which means an individual with Moksha gana naks has transcended all the other base level motivations of accumulating wealth, seeking pleasure and doing one's duty. What is left to do now? If an individual is evolved, they actually seek liberation through their spirituality but if they are not, not only are they unbothered by any ordinary human motives, they lack the ability to devote themselves to anything ordinary because they simply dont care about getting a job or building a house or whatever. this means they also kind of exist beyond normal social norms?? go up against a Moksha gana native/Moon dominant person and the kind of arguments they'll use against you will reveal this nature of theirs. like they will have zero issue using your every vulnerability and insecurity against you just to win an argument or put you down. they hate to look "weak" so they will tear you apart just because they can, with no regard for any history you share. there are people who defend this by saying "oh well i was mad" babygirl everybody gets mad, but if someone isnt raising their voice, being petty or singling you out and bringing up your past to make you crumble, its not because they're incapable of it, its because they have principles.

Moksha gana naks love to play devil's advocate.

4. Rahuvians have bad memory, they probably repeat the same stories in different ways every few weeks lol

5. Saturnian women often marry billionaires according to Claire Nakti and I recently found some more examples of that:

** Mariah Carey, UBP Sun was engaged to Australian billionaire, James Packer who used to date Miranda Kerr, Pushya Rising (both these women are also Punarvasu Moon), Miranda is now married to the CEO of Snapchat.

** Lisa Manobal, UBP Sun is dating Frederic Arnault, a French billionaire

** Elle Macpherson, UBP Sun was in a relationship with Arpad Busson with whom she had 2 kids (he's not a billionaire but he does have a net worth of $500 million)

6. Nominative determinism, literally "name-driven outcome", is the hypothesis that people tend to gravitate towards areas of work that reflect their names.

but i thought i'd use it in the context of astrology and how most people are subconsciously given names that reflect their nakshatras

ex: Angelina Jolie

the name Angelina is an expansion of Angela which is derived from the Greek word Angelos which means "Angel" or "messenger". Angelina has Revati Moon which is a deva ("godly" nakshatra) and Jolie is the French word for "pretty" and Angelina has Venus in 1h and is Pushya Rising (these were two of the biggest beauty indicators according to Claire's research)

(its so cute to me that her name is literally Angel Pretty bc damn right she is)

Yara Shahidi (Revati Moon)- Yara is the name of a water spirit and in Portuguese it means "Water lady" (Yara has stated that her name means one who is close to your heart, but names can have several different meanings) and Shahidi means "witness" in Persian. I feel like all of that really ties together with Revati being in pisces rashi and the last nakshatra that is "witness" to everything else etc

[arachine]

eye is twitching at size difference!neteyam whether it be w a human or na'vi. eye twitching n toes curling ESPECIALLY at nervous neteyam whose tail and ears are twitching bc his ass is hot and bothered n trying to hide it bc??????? example setter big responsible brother neteyam can NOT show anybody he's weak as hell when it comes to his (future?) mate. istg like let's just say the village is throwing a feast or whatever and the women are dancing w the men/their mates and he's just mesmerized by her n when she approaches him takes his hand and leads him to the dance BOY IS JUST WEAK IN THE KNEESSSSS ready to start whining n twirling his hair like i KNOW this would happen he told me himself

MMFFFFF!!!! oh my god. fuck you.

+ human! reader, suggestive

+ note :: me when i am physically INCAPABLE of elaborating on a thirst, so i turn it into a full fledged drabble LOL! also fuck that damn oxygen mask…it be fucking up the vibes so it doesn’t exist in this 😍

he’s like seated by the fire right. just sulking, brooding—you know, as per usual. the feast had commenced some time ago, and now the clan was scattered in clusters, just laughing, conversing, drinking (whatever the na’vi equivalent to earth alcohol was)—and then, you come in. 

well, you don’t just come in—you’re dancing, and it’s not just you. there’s a line of na’vi women parading through the clearing, all dressed in fancy garments (suited for dancers), ululating and gyrating their hips. amongst these experienced women, you stick out like a sore thumb. not because you’re dancing particularly bad, but because the line depresses drastically in height when it gets to you. but it’s cute, he thinks. adorable, even. 

usually, you’re a clumsy little thing, but right now you have this aura about you. it’s something fierce—and with every step, every twirl of your arms, and shake of your hips, he finds himself teetering closer and closer to the edge of his seat. 

and your eyes? your eyes haven’t left his since you stepped foot into his peripheral vision. they’re darker in color compared to his, but the amber hue flames of the fire light them ablaze. calling him, luring him—like a siren, and he, an unfortunate sailor who’s fallen into his own trap. 

when you round his section, you circle around him. once, twice, three times. his head is on a swivel, eyes never leaving yours as you make your way to the fire. 

you’re only dancing. it’s not like he hasn’t seen this exact same dance hundreds of times, with these exact same garments, and these exact same women who prance around seductively teasing men—because he has. a many of times. but…this was different, intimate. in a way that he couldn’t quite explain. 

and now you’re leaving your place around the fire and women, striding up to him all gracefully. he’s so entranced that he doesn’t process that you’ve grabbed his hands, nor does he process that he was now standing, and walking with you to the fire, and—

“wait, wait, what are you doi-“

but he’s already too far to turn back. he has to commit, especially since all eyes were now on you and him. this was calculated. an attack on his very name and the reputation that he’s so carefully crafted over these past few years. 

see, the thing about neteyam is…he doesn’t dance. he never got the chance to just goof around growing up, not like lo’ak, especially not like lo’ak. no, he was too focused training, and sparring—being primed for war. when you grow up with responsibilities that only an eldest child can be burdened with, you don’t dance. 

“i do not dance,” he tries to pull away, but to no avail. your grip on him is vice and your eyes are fierce, a silent assurance that you were not to be trifled with, at least not now, while there are stares. he surrenders his body to you, lets you pull him deeper into the abyss. 

for a while, he stands there rather awkwardly, just shifting side to side as you walk circles around him. moving just enough to appease you, but not enough to look like he’s enjoying himself. you’re not the least bit impressed, though. you know he can do better. much better. 

“stop being so rigid, move your body,” you poke his side, earning a playful hiss. “i want you to copy me, look, mimic my movements.” you back away slowly, swaying your arms side to side and whirling your fingers up to the sky before letting them drop in front of your face—palms facing outward, fingers spread. 

when he repeats it, you press your palms together, peeking through your fingers. in this moment, there is nobody else. just you, him, and the fire. eyes staring back into eyes, two souls connecting. now that he’s so close, he can see just about every detail of your irises. 

they’re not as dark as he’s always thought them to be, there’s a sparkle behind them. a light or fire that flickers brightly, and he can see himself, too. a mirage of himself burning in the fire. he doesn’t want to look away but then you’re backing away again, laughing and spinning wildly, and he tries to reach for you but you dodge his advances. catch me, you mouth. catch me. 

faster than he can blink, you end up behind him. playfully, you pull his tail and when he spins to stop you from doing it again, you stumble backwards. before your body has the chance to hit the soil, he catches you. lean, strong arms taking you into his hold: one supporting your neck and the other on the small of your back. there it was. that clumsiness.

“dancers are supposed to move with grace,” he whispers teasingly, his face so close to yours you can feel the warmth of his breath, “that wasn’t graceful.” he wants you to take the bait. take the bait, take the bait, take the bai—

“oh, mr. ‘i don’t dance’ is critiquing me now?” you bite. it took a second for you to answer him, partly because you were trying to come up with something slick to respond with, but mostly because of the proximity. his eyes were pretty, too pretty for a smug little shit like him. “guess the student becomes the master.”

he laughs in the interstice of your neck, pulling you up slowly to your original vertical position. eventually, the music begins to come to a somber decrescendo, signifying the end of the song, and you two quickly remember the audience surrounding you. 

“find me later,” you say into his ear. his tail shoots up from the insinuation. “i can teach you something else that isn’t dancing.” 

[crownmemes]

Mean Sentences, Vol. 7

(Mean sentences from various sources. Adjust phrasing where needed)

"Look at you; relieved you didn't disappoint. That's a weakness."

"It really does suck being you, doesn't it?"

"You're incapable of human connection, so you want everyone to be like you!"

"How did they manage to get so many snobs in one place?"

"I liked you better when you were dying."

"Can I ask you a question? Are you insane or just stupid?"

"You're a collection of impeccable, elaborate masks in orbit of a stunted heart."

"You truly are pathetic."

"I am disappointed. I should have thought that you would have devised something more original."

"Were you born heartless, or did the job make you like this?"

"My professional and personal view is that you are poison."

"I want you to listen to me because I think you've needed to hear this your whole life. You aren't a good person."

"Can you comprehend even for one second that this is not about you?"

"Nobody wanted to work with you. Nobody wants to work with you now."

"Nobody will ever love you in the way he loves me."

"You've got friends?"

"No, I'm not okay, but that doesn't mean I need anything from you."

"I don't care about you. Not anymore."

"You're cute, but you're not that cute."

"You really have no decency, do you?"

"You're a hard, callous bitch! You're just using me!"

"Whatever gave you the impression that I was remotely interested in your private life?"

"Human? You don't deserve to be human."

"Why should I help you? What have the likes of you ever done to help the likes me?"

"I'd call you an idiot again, but at this point I'm starting to doubt whether you understand what I mean by the word."

"Have you any idea how ridiculous you sound?"

"You are a precocious boy who is perhaps ashamed at how much he likes attention."

"I detest you more than you could ever know."

"When have you ever had a lasting relationship?"

"Your ego is astounding."

"Everyone was right; you're not very nice to know."

"You're nothing but a goddamn coward!"

"You're so banal. In fact, you're so banal it's almost a talent!"

"You're a monster, you know that?"

"Your lack of understanding does not obligate me to explain."

"It's hard to find something in a man who rejects people as much as you do, you know that?"

"You don't belong here. You never belonged here."

"You were doing so well. Now you're being simply foolish."

"Don't you ever get tired of hearing yourself talk?"

"Of all the lies people tell themselves, I bet that's the most common."

[megu-meow]

missin' you crazy - Gojo Satoru

gojo satoru x fem.reader

Summary: moments when Gojo misses you and tries to cope with you being away.

Satoru always did everything so that he wouldn't depend on anybody but himself. Growing up, he was given everything, he didn't have to do anything on his own - that shows when he moves into the Jujutsu Tech dorms and he's the only one incapable of doing his own laundry, however, he always preferred being alone for his emotional well-being. He was conditioned into thinking that friends, family, and lovers were only sources of weakness, and the Strongest must not have weaknesses. But people change in high school and that most certainly applies to the prodigy of the Gojo clan as well. Firstly, he befriends his classmate, a dark-haired kid with the ability of Curse Manipulation, Geto Suguru. The two of them click instantly, despite their different upbringings and their clashing personalities. They wreak havoc around campus together, making every teacher and student aware of their immense power and the dominance they have over the entire Jujutsu World. So when you get admitted to the Tokyo branch of the two existing sorcery schools, you are already aware of the potential your upperclassmen have. However, you're not the type to settle, so you challenge yourself to work hard enough to get to their level, and for the first time, Gojo Satoru meets someone he finds to be intimidating. Not only are you determined and hot-headed, but you're also kind-hearted and gentle. Satoru cannot help but blush every single time you ask him about his well-being or every time you bring him souvenirs from your missions from around the world. Gojo finds himself slowly falling in love with you, a big no-no for him, based on the teaching of his clan members. However, he wouldn't be the Strongest if he let anyone but him influence his decisions in life, so he asks you out anyway and is thrilled when you agree, because no matter how arrogant, spoiled, and insufferable you think he is, he also has a big heart and he's sweet, considerate and gentle towards you.

Over time, Satoru learns that you're sent away abroad a lot, given how your cursed technique consists of you being able to speak any language, imbedded with cursed energy that can manipulate humans, curses, sorcerers, and curse users alike. It's a unique and powerful technique that Gojo admires, one that is considered extremely useful around the globe. And with you, his favorite person on the entire planet, being away comes an unbearable amount of suffering - so he says.

The first time you take on a longer mission overseas, it's around three or four months into your relationship. Satoru is being driven back to campus by an auxiliary manager from the airport, where they dropped you off approximately ten minutes ago. His eyes are glued to the display of his overly expensive flip phone, an obnoxious message from you opened, one full of emotes he would usually consider silly, but his heart aches from knowing that this is the last point of contact he would have with you for the next two weeks. The year is 2006 and cell phones are not developed enough to maintain stable connection across the globe, so he knows he won't hear your voice or see your face until you come back to Tokyo. As soon as he arrives back on campus he looks for Shoko and Suguru, maybe they could distract him enough so that he forgets how much he misses you. It's a new feeling for him, it somewhat pisses him off, not one person was important enough for him before that he would experience how missing someone would feel like, but here he is. Miserable.

"You look rough, champ." Shoko teases from the top of the girls' dorm building, where she and Suguru are sharing a cigarette.

"What happened, Satoru? Did they run out of strawberry mochi at the convenience store?" Geto asks curiously. It's not every day that Gojo's smile is wiped from his face or the bounce is missing from his step.

"No, I don't want mochi right now." the white-haired sorcerer sighs dramatically, as he teleports to the roof and sits down beside his friends.

"Oh, something's definitely wrong. You always want mochi..." Shoko exclaims.

"I KNOW WHY HE'S SULKING!" Geto states with a wide smile, trying to contain his laughter "Didn't our beloved kohai, Y/N leave for a long mission today?"

"You're right, Geto, she did!" says Shoko, while Satoru stays quiet, his eyes focused on the ground under him, his long fingers fiddling with a loose thread on his school uniform. "Do you miss her already, Gojo?"

"I guess so... We didn't spend much time apart since we started dating."

"You're smitten, Satoru!" Geto says matter-of-factly and flicks his best friend in the head to annoy him even more.

"Yeah..." the wielder of the Six Eyes agrees and disappears in an instant, teleporting into his dorm room. He hopes that waking up early and running around helping you pack all day tired him out enough so that he could go to sleep straight away, but he's totally wrong: he's been tossing and turning for hours now, unable to sleep, thinking about how you're so far away, possibly still on a flight to get to your exotic destination. He's huffing, dramatically flailing his limbs around as he turns into his back, eyeing the blank, perfectly white ceiling of his dorm. He remembers the fluorescent stars decorating your room, he thinks about how calming they are when it's pitch black outside and there's no other source of light when he wakes up beside you in your bed in the middle of the night. He turns again and suddenly gets a whiff of your sweet perfume and he shoots up, looking around the darkness surrounding him. He spots one of your plushies that he gave to you on your second date, that time you went to an arcade and he promised he would get you any stuffed toy you wanted. His plan miserably failed, but then he used his technique at ring toss, wielding the air around so that he could succeed and got you the stuffed penguin you were eyeing the whole evening. He picks up the toy, bringing it close to his chest as he buries his nose into the soft fur in between his fingers. It smells exactly like you, a mixture of your perfume, your shampoo, and body wash as calmness takes over his tense muscles. Sleep comes easy after that and the next 13 days fly by just like that, he keeps the toy close to his person the whole time, having it around gives him a sense of security, one that he didn't realize existed while he was around you before.

After 14 days you're finally back in his arms, he's at the airport waiting for you, of course, with a bouquet of flowers and an explosive amount of energy. He swoons a bit when he spots you, in one of his expensive, black sweatshirts and he teases you for wearing it, however, you don't mind, you tell him without hesitation that it was the only item that could provide you the comfort to go through your mission without him. He smiles widely, pressing a loving kiss to your forehead, but he doesn't mention his newfound attachment to your stuffed penguin.

The second time you leave for nearly a month, Satoru is dealing with a lot. His best friend just recently left Jujutsu High to become a curse user, a murderer (Gojo hates referring to him as one, but it's the truth). You don't want to leave either, it's evident from the endless tears that are running down your face. You want to assure him, that you love him and you'll always come back to him, but the "L word" is not something you've said to each other before and you know talking about feelings is not the Strogest's forte, so you stay silent, trying to express your strong emotions towards him with long embraces, soft, loving kisses and mindful squeezes to his hands. He understands, more than ever, that you're just as committed to this relationship as he is, he knows you're not going to leave him like Suguru and you will never develop insane beliefs that would turn the entire Jujutsu World against you. You're more level-headed than that. So he decides, he's gonna confess to you, he's gonna admit he's irreversibly in love with you, but no words leave his mouth. He doesn't know why, he thinks it's because he recently lost one of the few people he allowed to get close to his heart and he doesn't want to admit something that would make him vulnerable. The real reason though, is that those words have never been spoken by the Strongest for anyone besides his mother. So he spends the whole time you're away contemplating his decision to let you leave without telling you how he really feels, his brain drifts towards the scene at the airport even while fighting a Special Grade curse he would consider amusingly weak on any other day. He doesn't sleep, he overworks himself, but that doesn't affect him as he conditioned his brain into healing itself constantly. However, at one point the tiredness takes over him and he shuffles instinctively towards your dorm room where he falls asleep instantly in between your familiar sheets. That night he dreams of you, he cannot quite recall the details, but he knows he wakes up with a smile on his face and that's the point where he decides he would tell you he loves you the moment he picks you up at the airport. He does exactly that and you say the words back in between tears because you're an emotional mess every time you two get reunited.

The third time, he's already a teacher at Jujutsu Tech and the two of you have your own house inside the school barriers. Satoru spends a lot of time on missions as well and he doesn't like leaving you completely alone, so knowing that you're safe inside Tengen-sama's protection gives him a level of calmness but he never stops worrying for you. However, it's the first time you're leaving him since you moved into your shared home and he suddenly realizes that home does not necessarily mean a place, but a person. The first time he truly felt at home somewhere was in this exact house when the two of you moved in, but without your music softly playing, the smell of your cooking lingering around and your soft hums/giggles it's not the same. When he gets home late from a mission he notices your absence from the couch, your curled up form waiting for him with tired, but happy eyes. The heater setting is the same as he put it on a few days ago, not slightly higher, because you're not around to complain about being cold. He walks towards your shared bedroom with his head hanging low and he looks around the usually comforting space with a lonely sigh. He walks up to your vanity, your jewelry box open, displaying all the beautiful pieces he gifted you over the years. Images of you wearing them run through his mind, the domestic scenario of you asking him to put on your favorite necklace for you in the morning. He always complies, leaving kisses on your neck and collarbones, inhaling your scent that never changed since high school. His eyes drift towards the slim band around his ring finger and he smiles, because you made an oath to return to him every time you leave.

A few days later you're back, as you get older your missions shorten because you finish them in a smaller time frame than expected. You're cool and talented like that. The house fills with your music and the smell of your cooking again, the giggles can be heard as well after Satoru starts tickling your sides while he admires the smile plastered on your face lovingly.

The fourth time, Itadori walks around campus, looking for his teacher. He's late for class and after an intense battle between the three first-year students, it has been decided that Yuji had to be the one to look for Gojo. However, he's caught by Principal Yaga, whose blood instantly boils upon hearing about Satoru's slacking out.

"Follow me, Itadori. I know exactly where that idiot is." the intimidating adult starts walking down the corridor, towards the staff offices. He guides the kid to your office and he opens the door widely. Yuji steps in and he instantly notices his teacher, fast asleep on your couch with a fluffy, pink blanket around him as he embraces your stuffed penguin close to his chest. This has become routine of Satorus over the years, as he slowly learned how to cope with your absence. He knows you spray both the blanket and the stuffie with your perfume before you leave because you know what he's doing every time. You've received numerous pictures of him in this exact state from Shoko over the years and your heart swells with love every time.

"Whoa, whose office is this?" Yuji asks looking around. He admires all the different memorabilia you’ve collected from your travels around the world.

"It belongs to Y/n-san. Gojo loves sleeping in here when she's away." the principal explains, as he tries to shake Gojo awake, but fails miserably because of his infinity.

"That's a bit creepy, isn't it?" the boy asks, not quite understanding the situation.

"Not when she's your wife and you're the clingiest person to ever walk on this earth."

"GOJO-SENSEI HAS A WIFE?" Itadori exclaims in shock, fishing out his phone from his pocket to text Nobara.

"Yeah, the prettiest one as well." they hear from the couch as Gojo gets up and stretches. "I'm sorry for being late to class, I don't get much sleep when..."

"...your pretty girl is out of town, we know Satoru! Now get back to teaching!" Yaga exclaims and Gojo mutters an obnoxious 'scary' into Yuji's ear.

The boy giggles and they both leave towards the classroom they're supposed to be in. As soon as they get there, Nobara bombards them with millions of questions, demanding to see pictures of the 'idiot that tolerates Gojo' and is surprised when Megumi scoffs at her, warning her not to refer to you as an idiot. However, Satoru is glad to show them all his favorite pictures and he tells the kids stories about you, ones that are new to Megumi as well. Gojo Satoru is not alone anymore, on the contrary, he hates being alone. However, over the years he learned how to cope. At least he knows you will always come back to him, no matter what. As long as he's surrounded by your scent, your belongings, Megumi, his other students, and the stuffed penguin is close by, waiting for you to come back is not as hard as he first imagined.

[heedmywarnings]

One last time

(Full Chapter)

In which you insult them one last time. (Aka me insulting pixels even tho I'm on Hiatus)

(Written when I was on Hiatus lmfao)

Warning: Cursing, lots of them.

》 - Chapter 2

Masterlist

♤~-~♤

You were finally captured. It took three months to get where you are, standing before you are the Archons who participated in the hunt, and now they will execute you.

"Before you here, is the Impostor that stole our beloved deity's face" Barbatos started, looking down upon the people, "As if you didn't" you said, barely a whisper "Would you like to repeat that, thief?" The Goddess of Justice whispered on your ear as she pulled your hair, "I SAID, AS IF YOU DIDN'T" you repeated, the crowd gasps because they are very very shocked because they gasped.

Also this moon cake im eating doenst taste good.

"What?"

"You were born from the desires of people, meaning if Decarabian wasn't a tyrant then you wouldn't even be born!" The crowd screams defending the Wind God, "Oh come on! He stole the face of his DEAD friend!" You yelled, "Don't get me started with how he abandoned his nation for the tyrants to just invade Mond. Lady Venessa freed Mondstadt from the Lawrence clan!" Technically, Venti did help but you need to get the crowd on your side.

"That's enough," Ei said approaching you as she unsheath her sword, "You also abandoned your nation! What? because your sister, THE TRUE RULER of Inazuma died?" At this point everyone is appalled.

"T-"

"Don't even get me started with you, you rat tailed motherfucker. You literally made a deal with the fatui, you knew Childe was gonna summon Osial and you let it happen. More so, you faked your own death because you didn't feel like ruling over Liyue? Or was it because you finally understood that you're just incapable of being an Archon? The only reason you survived the Archon War was the adepti and yaksha that you expended!"

"..."

"And who's to say you didn't commit any crime?" Ei said after the shock had dissipated, "What crime!? How do you think a mere mortal were to steal a God's face!?" You screamed through a horse voice, now you've got everyone talking, (like the jury in the Ace Attorney.)

"Is your god suffering from sever little-bitchitis to the point you'd hunt anybody who look REMOTELY similar to them?"

The Archons were stunned, it seemed like you made everyone hold their breathe. "Such blasphemy won't go unforgi-" "I don't need your forgiveness, you cockroach arthritis-suffering bitch," you cut Zhongli off.

"Hey now...let's not say something will regret, huh?" Nahida said, through the familiar gentle voice, "I won't regret anything that comes out of my mouth." You replied, not finding any reasons why Nahida should be insulted.

"By far, the only Archon that ever helped the Traveller was the Dendro Archon! And she was even locked up!" You said, "You, Barbatos, you just avoided any talk about traveller's twin. Morax, why did you sign a contract that silences you about their twin? Do they scare you that much? Are you really that weak and pathetic?" You said apathetically and sarcastically.

"I am under a contract, and I must abide by that contract," Zhongli replied with a more... confident form, you can't wait to crush it, "Didn't you also sign a contract with the mortals of Teyvat that you'd never hurt them? WELL WHAT ABOUT ME? WHY AM I AM EXCEPTION?" Technically, he didn't, but if they were gonna use lies and deception to win this argument, you might as well do the same.

"Because you're nothing but an Impostor, not even worthy to be called human" Ei said, striking her blade on your thigh, you gasped in pain. "Hah! And what are you? You were an Impostor that created another Impostor because you can't handle the guilt of being one!" At this point it was useless to argue, they were pissed off but the people? They don't believe you, but they've also lost faith to their Gods.

And so, what did you achieve? Death and your name on the history textbooks saying that you were the reason that Teyvat rebelled against their Gods...

So, are you ready to resurrect later in life to attack the Archons (verbally) once more?

Next chapter coming out idk when

[dreamyelectronicmusic]

Sunday snippet, purple edition

Since I am apparently incapable of actually finishing anything these days, here’s a little snippet that’s tangentially related to today’s theme so I can pretend I have written something for Simon’s month. Slightly nsfw below the cut.

----------------------------------------------

Looking unfairly pleased with himself, Wille started doing up the remaining buttons on his shirt, which really had no business being as enticing to watch as it was. Wille had very nice hands and surprisingly nimble and talented fingers, that wasn’t anything new. And the way the stiff double cuffs framed his slender wrists, the silver cufflinks glinting as his hands moved… yeah, okay.

Simon met Wille’s eyes when Wille let his hands fall down to his sides. He smirked smugly and stepped back from Simon, turning to the ornate wardrobe to get his tie. It was one Simon hadn’t seen before. He would have remembered, because it was a deep shade of purple. 

He knew it wasn’t a random choice. Wille thought of purple as Simon’s colour, that was an established fact. Simon would never forget the way his heart had flipped when Wille first told him why he had insisted on wearing purple nail polish for weeks on end back when they lived in different cities and went to different schools. The truth that hadn’t become any less disarming for being long known was that Wille loved marking himself as Simon’s. It was another reason why he would love being married – he would wear the hell out of a wedding ring.

And now he had gone and got himself a purple tie that he was going to wear to a ridiculous royal event. And everyone would think it was just a tie, but Simon would know it was Wille saying “You can make Simon stay behind, but you can’t make me any less his.” That was just the sort of thing Wille did, little casual displays of devotion that Simon was somehow expected to cope with without going weak in the knees. And not so weak in other places. 

He dug his fingernails into his palms to keep himself from reaching for Wille, knowing that if he touched him now, he would not be able to control himself. Instead, he watched as Wille knotted the purple strip of silk around his neck, meeting Simon’s gaze in the full-length mirror. He knew he didn’t need to say anything for Wille to know exactly what he was feeling. He saw colour rise in Wille’s cheeks, his nostrils widening with a shaky intake of breath. He finished tying his tie, smoothing it down his chest with a slightly unsteady hand. It was a heady feeling, knowing that after all this time, Simon could still affect him like this by simply looking at him.

He could almost feel the fabric in his hand as he imagined himself grabbing the tie to pull Wille closer and crush their mouths together. He could push him back against the mirror, drop to his knees, open his fancy trousers and swallow him whole. Have him coming down Simon’s throat within minutes. It would be quick and clean and efficient. Simon knew exactly how to get Wille from zero to sixty in no time, it was so easy. He could send him off to that pointless ceremony with time to spare and without a hair out of place, just a little wobbly-legged and considerably more relaxed. He could –

“Simon,” Wille said in a low voice. “I have to go in a minute.” Despite the hint of warning in his tone, he turned around to face Simon, his gaze as intense as ever.

“I know,” Simon said innocently and licked his lips. Wille’s eyes tracked the movement like a cat watching fish in a tank.

“So don’t look at me like that.” 

“How else am I supposed to look at you?” Simon stepped closer, letting his eyes wander down Wille’s body. It was a genuine question, because really, how? Simon was only human. 

Wille’s eyes were wide and dark when Simon met them again, his lips slightly parted and so so close. Simon wasn’t going to kiss him. He was going to do anything, he wasn’t going to be the one to give in to the tension. But if Wille touched him first…

“You’re a menace,” Wille growled and took a step back, putting some very unwelcome but probably necessary distance between them. 

“I thought you liked that,” Simon pouted a little, pushing away the twinge of disappointment. Being responsible adults was really tiring sometimes.

Wille rolled his eyes fondly. Turning back to the wardrobe with obvious reluctance, he took out his suit jacket. As he shrugged it on, he glanced over his shoulder and murmured, “Later.”

Oh yes, definitely later. Once Wille came back, Simon would not let him get away again until he was done with him, and it would not be quick and clean and efficient this time. Not when, as Simon could see now, Wille’s pocket square was purple, too.

[oldandcrusty]

What Avvar mage training tells us

Not enough people talk about the Avvar, which is a shame because they have some amazing history and practices. I find the way they handle mages to be especially enlightening and based as fuck.

So I made this post to summarise it!

In the above video, I captured two conversations with the Augur of Stone-Bear Hold, and Sigrid - the mage-in-training who went into a self-imposed exile. I'll summarise what mage training looks like for the Avvar, and then delve into the implications.

Augurs are the spiritual leaders of the Hold, but are not necessarily mages - though they often are.

Spirits are called 'gods' by the Avvar. The Avvar do also have named gods, and these appear to be particularly powerful spirits.

Mages among the Avvar bind themselves to a spirit in order to be trained - i.e., they become 'abominations' in the eyes of the chantry, which Dorian confirms in the video. This occurs at a young age, in Sigrid's case when she was a child.

The spirit becomes the mage's trainer. Years later, when the training is done, the mage releases the spirit in a ritual which requires only a small sacrifice (like a bird) and a vial of lyrium.

If a mage cannot release the spirit, then the situation is handled carefully. In Sigrid's case, she just didn't want to say goodbye to a good friend. She goes to the Augur after this, and he confirms that they are working on helping her overcome her loneliness.

If the reason is they are truly incapable of releasing the spirit (they are 'weak', though it's unclear what this means), then the Hold and spirits watches over them to prevent them from growing 'sick'. The Augur implies that if the mage does sicken and endangers themselves or the Hold, they are euthanised and pass away peacefully in their sleep. He says it is a very sad event.

What are the implications of this, then?

Reversing 'possession' can actually be really easy. We knew it was possible from DAO, but now we see that it need not require a massive amount of lyrium or blood magic. If the 'possession' does not happen in a state of extreme desperation/distress (which the Circle and Templars love to put mages in), then reversal is simple.

Mages who cannot release the spirit might 'sicken' - and I suspect that's what they tried to show with Anders. What 'sicken' means is not clarified by the Augur, but from our Anders experience we can piece together that the Augur means they grow mentally and physically unwell. But even this can be prevented or mitigated with proper care.

It appears to be very, very rare that mages among the Avvar turn into the types of abominations we fight in the games, because the Augur never even mentions it happening.

So, in conclusion: The Avvar treat their mages with the most humanity and compassion of everyone, resulting in very few instances of violent abominations.

(Note: tbh I have no idea wtf the Dalish mage training is like because the games contradict themselves even within the same clan, so I can't really draw comparisons to the Dalish, unfortunately.)

[driftwithme]

Have you ever thought about how fearless Mako is portrayed?

She dyes her hair the color of kaijus blood.

She looked at a jaeger with PLASMA CASTERS and decided to add CHAIN SWORDS.

Mako saw criticize Raleigh Becket's skills to his face and then proceeded to defeat him, proving she was not all talk no bite.

She's 21-22 years old and she's already acting like Pentecost secretary/advisor.

Her first drop was a fucking double event and she found a way to slay a kaiju almost on space.

While she claimed revenge on her parents.

Every other pilot around her has been doing that for years now. They are brave by experience and before that, they were brave because they had to be, okay?

Mako Mori is Stacker Pentecost's child and like him, she's the most fearless motherfucker ever on that movie and any kaiju should tremble in fear if she appears on battle. Neither Stacker nor Mako has mercy. They are bad in the head, capable of anything to exterminate those aliens. Insane !!!!!

Although for me, the best part is that they are also human. Mako is afraid of disappointing her adoptive dad, she is afraid of reliving her traumas, she's hopeful and vulnerable too. Pentecost hides his weakness because he doesn't want others to think him incapable or pity him. He is a man who loves his daughter and fears losing her. He doesn't want to see her hurt.

Mako is such a freaking good character. C'mon.

[anemonelovesfiction]

Kinktober 18- Mirror Sex

Rotxo x human fem reader

Warnings ⚠️: Fingering mostly, Insecure reader (just slightly angsty I guess?)

Translation Station

Olo’eyktan: Clan leader

Tsahik: Clan spiritual leader

Marui: home

Syulang: flower

Yawntutsyìp: darling

Word Count: 4.1K

Becoming one with the Metkayina wasn’t hard, there were slight differences between them and the Omatikaya, but that was from a human standpoint. The expectations of the Na’Vi- the Sully’s- were different, hence their harsher orientation. But there were times where we could chat and get caught up over everything that happened, mainly with Kiri, it helped being the same age and having similar interests.

She’d helped me get used to their new way of living and even spilled the gossip on whatever was happening around us. But most importantly she’d told me about the bullying they’d experienced around the son of the Olo’eyktan. I’d refused to become an easy target for him, especially since I was human myself, so I often beat him to the punch and called myself out or made comments about our ‘incapabilities’ before he could.

“Don’t let go of the-“ Lo’ak stated as I attempted to hold on to the net before it started slipping in my hands, burning my palms. The pulling never stopping and I’d been forced to let go, placing my burning hands into the water to cool them down, I wasn’t expecting the fish to fight back or even being strong enough to do so.

“Are you okay?” Neteyam asks as he walks over to check my hands, lifting them out of the water, carefully running his thumb over the reddened mark. I could hear Ao’nung sucking his teeth, he often did this whenever I messed up, pissed him off, or showed up to work with them.

“I get it. I’m weak and you can’t trust me to do anything.” I rolled my eyes and take my hands from Neteyam’s while glaring at the teal boy. He makes a face and appears to have wanted to say something before glancing over at his best friend- and adopted brother- before turning his head and furrowing his brows like a child.

“Do they hurt?” Rotxo manages to take my gaze away from the rude teal boy and I give a soft smile, shaking my head, but turning to look away from him just as quick.

“I’ll be fine, gotta stay useful for you guys.” I say and hope it comes off as a joke but after a while of having to say these things I started to believe them, not even bothering to put on a playful smile on my face.

“We should probably try again.” I stated and lean into the water, picking the net up, and feeling a hand hold my wrist before the net slips out of my grasp.

“Go see the Tsahik.” The nicer of the two boys stated, this was the first time his stare reached my soul, the objection died in my throat and I simply nodded, walking off but still hearing the boys start to argue. I couldn’t make out exactly what was said as they talked too quickly but I didn’t want to turn around and get caught in the middle of it.

“How are your hands?” Kiri asks once I’d finally sat next to them. Eclipse was due soon and we were supposed to have met for dinner, I resist the urge to roll my eyes, I knew she’d find out because of Lo’ak’s big mouth.

“They’re fine, did Lo’ak run his big mouth to you again?” The question was rhetorical although Neteyam could have also mentioned it.

“No.” She answered truthfully and I sit by her, a bewildered expression glued to my face, the question was rhetorical until she said that. I raised a brow but she only offers a smile, she knew something I didn’t and I hated when she did that, I suck my teeth.

“What?” I asked her.

“You’ll see.” She says ominously and it irked me when she acted all mystical.

Most of dinner went by normally and everyone was busy having their side conversations, we typically talked as a family on our way back to the marui and into the night as we lied on our mats, it was always nice to hear how everyones day went, but I was about ready to sleep myself. I’m not excited to have to fish again tomorrow but I knew I had to pull my weight.

“Hey,” A teal body sits next to me just before I found it in myself to leave for bed, I was tempted to call it an early night and let Jake and Neytiri know I’d be going to the marui, but it appears life had other plans for me.

“Hello,” I respond toward the nice boy, I had a bad habit of using their monickers instead of their names in my head. Ever since Kiri and I talked about what had happened to them, she often used the little nicknames for me to keep track of her story, and I continued using those nicknames to describe them.

“How are your hands?” He asks and peers over as if wanting to look at them, I had no idea why I found myself showing him my bandaged palms. I’d been given some kind of salve to help with the burning sensation mixed with something for swelling, the thinnest of bandages placed right on top to help my skin absorb it.

“They’re fine.” I responded as I look down at my hands, I’d trained myself to never look the bully in the eye, and ended up losing my confidence for silently challenging Spider and the rest of the Sully’s with my eyes as well, I had a hard time looking directly into anyone’s eyes anymore.

“I’d like to show you something, if you’d allow me to, of course.” He stated calmly, I didn’t feel a sense of urgency to agree either, he had kept it pretty nice and open for me and it made me smile internally. I always wondered just how close Ao’nung and Rotxo had been considering they both seem completely different.

“Uhm-“ I look back over to notice the Tsahik had sat down at some point with her husband and they conversed with Jake and Neytiri.

At some point of the conversation Tsireya and Ao’nung had joined between Lo’ak and Kiri, Spider sitting between Kiri and Lo’ak, closing off the circle and excluding myself, whether that was accidental or on purpose I’d kick his ass later for it, he hadn’t been sitting there before.

“You do not have to-“ His tone sounded as of it held slight disappointment and I found myself staring right into his honey green colored eyes, tempted to make the boy feel better, and embarrassing myself with how abruptly I’d stopped him.

“No, no.” I stated rather quickly, eyes widening at my reaction, before looking away from his eyes with a blush dusting my cheeks. “I don’t mind, I can go.”

“Okay, come on.” He holds his hand out for me to grab and I eye it suspiciously, him and Tsireya had been the only ones to not make fun of my extra finger, but it still made me wish to have hands like theirs. I hesitate before grabbing his hand and he smiles, standing himself up and waiting for me to follow his lead, I look between our hands and his eyes before settling my other hand on the ground to help me stand up.

It doesn’t take long before we escape the prying eyes of most people. Some stared at us as we walked away and it was funny to watch how many of them failed to be discreet about it, I knew everyone was nosey, but a lot of them were too comfortable showcasing it. I laughed internally, they thought something was going to happen and it wasn’t.

“What do you need to show me?” I asked as I finally come within his home and notice a gigantic glass-like object hung on the wall of his marui, how he managed to do that I was unsure but I could see my reflection and looked away again, turning to face him.

“I wanted to show you,” He starts while placing a hand on my shoulder lightly, pressing against it to turn me, my brows almost kiss in confusion but allow his hand to turn me around. I still face the ground but keep my ear on alert for the rest of his explanation.

“Yourself, through my eyes.” He stated and I turn my head back to look at him, wondering what he meant, before feeling my chin being redirected at the mirror, never once having caught a glimpse of his face, until I looked through the mirror at it, already catching his eyes on me.

“Wha-what do you mean?” My furrowed brows could already tell him I had no idea what he meant and he just smiled at me. He settles himself down onto his knees and we’re almost the same height, if by almost I meant a full head taller than myself.

“I do not like when you say negative things about yourself.” He stated and the confusion starts again, was he just going to compliment me? Even before being the way I was I never accepted compliments well.

“I’m just beating Ao’nung to the punch line.” I laugh lightly, not really how I would have laughed had I actually found it funny, his lips thin in disappointment.

“Why do you feel the need to do that?” He asks, eyes still on mine, and I could feel my throat becoming dry, making sure to thickly swallow whatever saliva I could gather.

“N-no reason?” I asked pathetically, but my answer was honest, I had no real reason to have started saying those things. I guess I got in my head about Kiri’s story and figured the only way to prevent the bully- Ao’nung- from making fun of me or a reason to hate me was to say what I felt he would say in that moment.

“Hmm.” Rotxo hums but it didn’t seem to be about my terrible explanation.

“Has anyone told you to stop?” He asks with genuine curiosity twinkling in his eyes and I seem transfixed on them, unable to look away, tempted to turn to face him again, eyes turning toward my left before he speaks up.

“Look at me through the mirror.” He stated so sternly that my eyes fly back toward the mirror, giving him a slight nod, showing I understood that he needed me to look through the mirror and nowhere else.

“Well?” He raises a brow and I feel weirdly warm, he had asked a question beforehand and he needed an answer, I draw in a breath and answer.

“Kiri and ‘Teyam said to stop.” I admit and feel relieved having been able to answer his question.

“I’m telling you right now, it needs to stop.”

I just stare at the man on his knee’s beside me, his body was comically large compared to mine, yet found myself compelled by him at the same time, allowing myself to nod along toward his words as he stares at me expectantly.

“I need to hear you say you won’t say those things anymore.” His voice was stern, his facial expression was stern, my legs felt like jelly.

“Or what?” I raise a brow in interest and he thins his lips once more, I had no idea what had caused me to defiantly say that, but I had, and it upset him.

Although we didn’t stand face to face with the mirror, I could see some emotion swim through his eyes. I could feel myself turning my body getting ready to say something smart, before seeing him shuffle and end up in a seated position, scooting further back on the floor of his marui, and dragging me down with him, landing on my bum and kind of in his lap. His legs were outstretched beside mine, allowing me space but keeping an arm wrapped around my belly to keep me seated.

“Rotxo-“ I begin to protest but am cut off by his gruff voice.

“Say it.” He demands.

The tone of his voice makes it harder for me to want to turn around, so I look back toward his eyes, fury swimming through them. He was waiting for me to say what he wanted me to say, but this was ridiculous, right?

“I- I won’t sa-say those things a-nymore.” I find myself stuttering as I struggle to get through the phrase and am tempted to look down but I would have missed the sweet smile tugging at his lips, my heart started beating erratically and I wanted to see him smile more often.

“Is that all?” I asked trying to appear bored and wondering if I could go back toward my marui I shared with the Sully’s but he shakes his head.

“No, syulang, we’re just getting started.” He whispers in my ear and I gasp, shocked at how I had reacted, turning my face and end up smashing my lips on his, he backs up quickly.

“That was meant for your cheek.” He stated as if he too had been shocked, glad to know he wasn’t planning this, but I let out a nervous laugh.

“Yeah why would anyone want to kiss me?” I asked mid-laugh only to finish with my own lips thinned as a frown forms, eyes widened slightly, as if I had just been caught red-handed saying something I wasn’t supposed to. His own brows furrowed in slight frustration, he is looking directly into my eyes -through the stupid mirror- and I can’t find it in myself to look away.

“Maybe something other than intimidation will get you to stop saying those stupid comments.” He grumbles placing one hand on my hip, the other trailing down my jaw, taking a hold of it semi harshly. It doesn’t hurt but I wince at the action, he turns my face toward his and I can practically see the frustration permeating off his body.

“Like what?” I wanted to smack myself after those words left my mouth. A smirk painted his features, as if he was waiting for me to challenge him, I’d never seen him smirk, just the bully, but I liked it a lot better when Rotxo did it.

“Keep your eyes on the mirror. Do not turn your head for a second or I stop. And when I ask, you will say only good things about yourself, yes?” He isn’t really asking, it was rhetorical, but I nodded either way, feeling my lungs ache for a breath which I feel is granted to me once he lets go of my chin. My head snaps back to look at the mirror and I catch his eyes.

“Can you tell me something you like?” He asks and I resist the urge to groan at his sparkling eyes, shaking my head and I could feel the frown tugging on his lips, not because I didn’t like anything about myself, I could feel the heat starting to travel down south and I didn’t want to embarrass myself in front of this gentle giant.

“I like your eyes,” I felt my breath escape me after I stated that and he chuckles, kissing my temple again, his hand had slid off my chin earlier but was placed on my chest, ready to grab my chin for attention, but I wanted his hand to wrap around my throat and choke me.

“I meant about yourself.” He smiles, the hand on my hip gently stroking that side of my body, not dipping below my tewng or above my beaded top.

“I can’t think.” I admit and the hand on my side stops moving but I that wasn’t the hand I was needing to move, my chest felt heavy and I could feel my heart continuing to thump against the ribcage, I know he could too.

“Your eyes are beautiful, especially when they catch the sun just right, they look like they glow.” He stated and it feels like all breath is knocked loose from my lungs.

“Your nose is different and adorable. Your lips are full and plump, I often wonder how they’d feel against mine.” He stated in my ear again, shit.

“Rotxo, what?” I cut myself off as I feel his lips trailing my jawline. I need him to stop for a second, but a second is all it takes for him to turn my face toward his once more, planting a soft kiss on my mouth and feeling the heat coming off his lips and onto mine. I whine at the loss of heat on my lips, having felt my face move back toward the mirror on its own, just to find myself capturing his eyes with mine, my breath hitches and I can see his smile.

“Now you say something.”

“I like you.” I blurt out as I attempt catching my breath and his smile is wider now.

“I mean about you, silly girl.” The hand on my chest slides down between my breasts and I moan at the slight feeling of the beads sliding against my nipples, feeling ashamed at how overly sensitive I was at the moment.

“I like when you touch me,” I let the words fly out, I knew I wasn’t answering his questions but being around him as he caresses my body like its a fuckin’ fiddle wasn’t going to help me say anything less embarrassing.

“Hmm, yeah? I like touching you too.” He digs his lips onto my neck and plants kisses there and it causes me to gasp.

“Please,” I throw the word out there, not even sure what I was begging for, but wanting him to continue pushing whatever agenda he had planned, I just needed to feel his hands on me.

“Not until you say something you like about yourself.” He’s a persistent man, thats for sure.

“I like myself, I do,” I attempt to plead with him and he chuckles, bringing his eyes up to meet mine. I knew I looked as pathetic as I sounded, but seeing him look back at me was worth it.

“Of course you do, yawntutsyìp, but I need an honest answer.” He explains and I let our a short frustrated grunt.

“M-my hair, I like my hair,” I answer honestly. My hair was pretty to me, I could put it up easily, I could braid it beautifully, it was long, its the reason I was particular about who cut it.

“I like the length, I like how shiny it is, its the thing I take care of the most.”

Just then I felt a hand caress my hair gently and felt my spine shudder at the sensation. I was also particular about who got to touch my hair but his touches were gentle, caring, soft, he could definitely touch my hair anytime he wanted.

“I can tell,” He smiles and places a kiss right on the back of my head, right where my hair was. “I always wanted to run my hands through it.” He comments sweetly.

“Please touch me,” I stated pathetically to feel his hand stroking my belly gently.

“What else, syulang?” He asks and I feel like I’m about to lose it, but just as quickly think on my feet, feeling accomplished in my answer.

“M-my legs,” I admit.

“They’re long, hel-helps me swim.” I stutter and feel his intense stare on me, but my eyes were closed, until he pinched my thigh with the hand that had been on my hip. I opened them just as quick as the pinch had come.

“Eyes on me, pretty girl.” He stated but doesn’t allow himself to kiss on my neck or jawline, I pout slightly, I liked feeling his lips on me.

“Why are you pouting?” He asks as a hand comes up from my belly and underneath my beaded top, my breath hitches as he cups my left breast, feeling its weight in his hand and allowing his thumb to stroke up against my nipple, my gasp clearly audible as his ears flick at the sound, standing at attention to focus on me, my cheeks heating up.

“Answer.” He reminds me and I moan lightly as a response.

“Need you,” I admit with a whine. He seems pleased with this answer and smiles once more.

“What do you want me to do, pretty girl?” He asks and I felt dizzy, his second hand caressing my thigh from where he’d pinched it while lazily running his thumb over my nipple again.

“Everything,” I mumble and feel my eyes closing again to enjoy the feeling of his hands coming closer toward the spot I needed it most. “Please,” I beg again, moving my hips slightly.

“What do you like about me?” He asks so quietly I almost miss the question, my eyes find his and a lazy smile spreads through my face. He’d placed his hand overtop my loincloth and stopped moving it.

“Your eyes,” I stated in one breath, continuing, knowing that wasn’t enough. “They’re honey-green and make you look so handsome, like a pretty boy.” I mumble and his face softens sweetly, hand pushing my loincloth to the side, thumb pressing between my lips and applying gentle pressure on my engorged clit, rubbing small circles on the already slick covered bud.

“Ro,” I sigh happily and close my eyes, biting my lip, feeling his caresses, only to feel him stop all motions, reminding myself to open my eyes.

“Good girl.” He praises and I whine.

“You promise you’ll stop saying those bad things, right?” He asks and I nod.

“Good girl.” He repeats and kisses the side of my neck and I find it easy to move my head to the side to accommodate him. He also wastes no time sliding a finger in, a long moan leaving my lips as be continues paying close attention toward my bundle of nerves, my thigh shaking.

How is it that he’d just started all of this hard work but managed to get me soaked by doing minimal shit, the man had only started kissing my neck when I became a mess for him, holy fuck.

“Oh shit,” I let the English phrase slide out as he picks up speed.

“Can you take another finger?” He asks and I hesitate to answer.

“Just wanna make you feel good, pretty girl, can you?” He asks again and I nod.

“Put them all in, fuck,” I mutter in-between moans as he sticks a second one in and I feel full. The feeling of his fingers settling in my cunt had me feeling hot all over.

“Look at yourself yawne.” I look up and see his fingers shoving themselves deep inside my pussy, slick covering his entire hand, and I’d failed to notice I was moving my hips to match his thrusts.

I could feel my hands squeezing flesh and realize I’d grasped his beautifully thick tattooed thighs in the palms of my hand, hence the slight burning sensation. I let out a gutteral moan and watch him smirk in the mirror just to insert his third finger, scissoring his fingers to stretch and I couldn’t hold myself back.

“Ro, I’m close, so close.” I try grounding myself by squeezing his thighs but feel like I’m on the edge of a cliff and feel the need to jump without a parachute.

“Be a good girl and come for me, syulang, I want you to drench my hand in your juices so I can taste you before shoving my hot, thick cock inside of you.” His voice had deepened a bit as he said that, I could feel my cunt squeezing his fingers.

“Let go for me, pretty girl.” He begs sweetly and its as if he coaxed the come out if me, my walls fluttering as I came, a pitched moan leaving my lips as I stare at my gaping pussy greedily clamp down around his digits. I kept my eyes down low and couldn’t find it in myself to look away, mesmerized by the workings of his fingers inside of me as I kept coming.

My labored breathing was hard to try and calm down after the events that had unfolded. His hand had already been covered in my juices, but at this instant, it was dripping. He could only pull his fingers out, I hissed at the feeling, and watched him through the mirror, bringing his hand up toward his mouth, closing his lips around his fingers and letting his eyes shit as a moan rumbles through him. I could only bite my lip as I felt another wave of heat awaken within me.

“You’ve taken cock before, right pretty girl?” He asks as his dry hand reached over to untie the knot that held his loincloth together. No hostile tone in his voice and I nod at his question once more.

“Good,” He seems to smirk again while settling himself on his knees, cock hanging low, it curved downward and seemed pretty fucking hefty.

“Same rules as before, syulang, keep your eyes on the mirror, if you don’t, I stop.”

[distort-opia]

Do you think joker could take any kind of an interest to bruce wayne without knowing he is batman?

Any kind of interest? I think he might kidnap Bruce Wayne for ransom, or target his money and company. He might even see discrepancies in Bruce's act as a womanizing buffoon, and be partly intrigued by that-- it's not like Joker is incapable of interest towards other people who aren't Batman. Maybe he'd play around with him a bit, have fun with digging into the darker sides of Bruce. He enjoys flirting and pushing people's buttons, especially if those people have control issues (exhibit A: Lex Luthor).

But personally, I don't think (supposing that Joker truly has no clue Bruce is Batman) he'd ever develop the obsession or the feelings he has for Batman. Batman is the one Joker relates to, also because he sees the two of them as having become something more than mere mortals. Joker is not a disfigured outcast, Batman isn't a sad orphan boy, they're now more than that: symbols of chaos and order, figures of myth. In canon, Joker has known for a very long time who Batman really is, and whenever Bruce Wayne is directly addressed...

Batman: Endgame

Batman: Joker War

He hates "Bruce Wayne", because he considers him too human and too weak. That's obviously also because he thinks Bruce's humanity is dragging Batman down, but it's not hard to extrapolate to a situation where he doesn't know Bruce Wayne is Batman (especially if you take the last panel into account). Rich and out of touch with reality, holing up in his castle on the hill. Born with privilege and spending it to run away from the trauma he went through as a kid. So even if Joker would momentarily be intrigued with Bruce Wayne alone... I don't think it'd end well. Or last very long. No matter what he did, Joker wouldn't see him as an equal-- a fellow monster who peered into the meaninglessness of the world and started to wage a war on it. That's Batman.