#╳+┤Centuries in the Making+├+╳+(Head Canons)

[theirwolfbicanthrope]

See, regardless the intention with the new Nosferatu what I see over and over especially on Twitter with -no joke- over 400,000 likes are posts about how all this happened because Thomas was way too invested in getting a promoyion instead of staying home and fucking his wife

I mean, it's hard to have sex with your wife if you don't have a home. just saying.

Really, though, the victim blaming going on with these takes makes me so frustrated. Even IF we ignore that Orlok already knows Ellen and feels entitled to her, even IF we ignore that he is doggedly determined (now that she's married to someone else) to show up and reclaim her for good - Thomas. Had. No. Choice.

Not to rant at you, anon, just using your ask to go off on this narrative.

The thing is - Thomas is already in debt at the start. That it's to his friend doesn't matter to Thomas. Honestly it might make the debt seem even worse. He is indebted to Harding financially, he and Ellen are not off to the most secure start, he's already been away for a while due to the honeymoon - this actually is vitally important for them. He needs his job. He was already late - if he hadn't been so late or hadn't realized it, he likely would have stayed home longer. But he couldn't. Then when he's offered this big, lucrative deal, he can't refuse it. Knock commenting about 'if you close this sale, you're job is guaranteed' isn't just tempting him with success, it's also threatening him with failure.

What happens if Ellen relapses and they're destitute? What happens if Ellen is having her seizures again, the sleepwalking, the melancholy, what if it gets worse? Ellen of course is still in the sweet honeymoon phase and thinks that love will be enough to stave those things off because so far Thomas' mere presence and affection has worked. But the thing is, that high is going to come back down. It happens in even the most wholesome and genuine of relationships, and stress - especially financial stress - will not do them any favors. Will not do her and her mental health and her attempts to keep her bond with Orlok suppressed any good whatsoever. I mean, that's basically what is happening in the film. The more they struggle financially, the more desperate things get, the greater the fissures and cracks that form in their marriage, giving Orlok more opportunity to come in and use it against them. Which is quite literally what he does. Thomas staying home, refusing the job, etc., only changes the how and when.

Ellen doesn't quite get it because based on what we know of her background and her father, she's never struggled to make ends meet, she's struggled with wealth and status being used against her. Of course she comes at this from the angle of 'being in a wealthy household didn't protect me', which Thomas can't understand. Neither can Ellen understand Thomas' perspective of being in debt to someone, worrying about failing to provide. I don't think it's simply that Thomas wants to make Ellen comfortable and have a life like she used to - he quite literally is worried that he cannot provide for her at all, especially if she gets sick (mentally or physically).

Like, Thomas in the 2024 movie isn't solely and completely driven by financial success - if you contrast him in the film with how Eggers originally wrote him in the 2016 script or how he's portrayed in the 2023 remake, this Thomas comes across to be more of the mindset that 'having financial success and being of similar standing to Ellen and Friedrich will make everything fine and I will be good enough to deserve her love and his friendship.' The driving factors are really that Thomas a) wants everything to be will for him and Ellen and b) wants to live up to the rigid societal standards of his gender. He's insecure, and he's overcompensating. Which isn't great but is a relatively normal character flaw, and certainly isn't one that is so inherently damning. His love and concern for Ellen still factor into things. He's not turning into a money-obsessed, toxic masculinity-minded asshole or something of the sort. That's why as soon as he's no longer naive to this darkness in the world - the things that Ellen has known of all along - his motivation shifts entirely to protecting Ellen. He understands now that unfortunately, in this rigged, supernatural game they're all trapped in, money means nothing. Money can't save Harding and his family, it certainly won't save Thomas and Ellen. But even IF he had known that all along - it wouldn't have made a difference.

Thomas and Ellen still need to live, Thomas would have to leave for work, and would have to take that job that sends him over to Transylvania. And if somehow they could circumvent that? Orlok still would find a way to separate them. Orlok would still come to Wisburg. Thomas is not the hero in this story, he's the damsel in distress, and unfortunately for him, while he gets to make it out alive, the actual hero who saves the day does not. Thomas loses his wife, but that is not his fault. It's not his fault he got assaulted, traumatized, left for dead, and it's not his fault he couldn't save Ellen. It's not his fault she died.

Ellen was doomed long before she met him, and that wasn't her fault, either.

anyway, all this to say - I'm glad I'm not on twitter. I'm glad I can block people with these takes.

[simptasia]

you know britpicking? like where an american writes a fanfic set in england, or with an english character, and they get an english friend to look through it and check through it to see if the terms and phrases are accurate? (eg. flat instead of apartment)

well i propose there be such a concept for star trek

because people in star trek talk differently than modern humans. they use different words, different slang, phrasings. yes, they can speak casually but mostly it isn't like us. watch any of 90s trek and you'll see These People Do Not Speak Like Us

and, no disrespect, a lot of fic does not reflect this. and it irks me. they just speak like modern day people instead of... star trek characters. i personally think part of the fun of writing trek characters is writing it out to how they speak and how they would think

hell, this isnt even a fanfic problem. modern trek has this issue too. i think outta laziness. they have their people talking (and when in casual wear, dressing) like 2020s people and it pisses me off

its part of why strange new worlds feels like a high budget SNL skit

annnnyways. i propose this idea be called fact trekking

[kavehayati]

Chappel Roan saying she’s sad she’s demisexual and then there’s me being aroace as a whole like don’t you think I’m even more sad 😭

[a-prekliatyvlk]

Honestly Ya’ll can thank Turbo for this one but like. 

Thinking about what happens to the pack as a whole if Katia and Artem die is heartbreaking. 

The twins are SUPER old. Like dirt old and honestly they might not live another thousand centuries. Something as easy as a broken heart could kill both Katia and Artem. 

So realistically thinking about what might happen to the pack is talked about alot in stages. 

Stage 1: 

If someone hurts Katia and or Artem enough to be felt through the pack. IE a pack member dying or Katia and Artem’s mate rejecting them. The pack goes into Protection mode. This means that the magic keeping the pack together basically takes the pack and hides them. No one can stay. You are taken from your mate and deposited in a safe space. 

Most likely this safe space is the middle of no where or better yet, of plane meaning another dimension or world. Once this happens it’s hard for anyone to find the pack. It will be like they disappeared. Places of business boarded up, homes disappeared. Gone. DONE. 

Stage 2: 

This is centuries later, I am talking like a human mate would be dead before this step would come. Violet would be the only wolf allowed to travel between worlds or places. Honestly speaking Violet is as close to a wild wolf as anyone can be so she would be able to move between worlds or whatever. 

So most likely at a place were the pace used to be youd see a rando white wolf there. Violet making sure that everything is okay. She would in fact visit other’s to make sure that they understood maybe their mates are okay or something of the like. 

Stage 3: The finale Stage

This stage would be either them staying wherever they are in obscurity and dying in that plane. Or them coming back when the magic power’s of the pack allow them too. If they are allowed to come back it’s going to be a very long time. Like I am talking about 21st century to the 60th century. They will be gone so long no one possibly will remember them. That is the pack magic’s defense to protecting them. 

If this happens, Eva wil be running the pack. Everyone decided a long time ago that it was going to be Eva who was going o run it so she would be if Katia and Artem decided to kick the bucket. 

[lordofthestrix]

becoming a worm for a week or being compelled to think himself Elijah again for an hour

Send  me  this  or  that  questions  for  my  muse  ! Out—out are the lights—out all! And, over each quivering form, The curtain, a funeral pall, Comes down with the rush of a storm, And the angels, all pallid and wan, Uprising, unveiling, affirm That the play is the tragedy, "Man," And its hero the Conqueror Worm.

[lecliss]

I've still been fucked up ever since I found out that(according to an actually plausible timeline), Konoha has only existed for like 90-something or whatever years??? It's not like. Fucking 200 years old or whatever. And that Madara died when he was 74 but he had himself hooked up to, fuckin what was it??? The Gedo statue?? A tree?? Whatever. In order to keep himself alive and you look at him all old and crusty and think he's like. Over a hundred at least. But no, that man's 74. He's just an average fucking grandpa!!! And Hashirama had been dead for a LONG while, so he actually died pretty young all things considered. And that also means Mito died like. Fuckin. I'm guesstimating here but in her 60s I guess???? But it's a significant thing that the Uzumakis have longer than average lifespans so like. What the fuck is the average life expectancy in Naruto for this bullshit to make sense???

[kiss-me-muchoo]

𝐊𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐜 || 𝐉𝐢𝐧𝐮 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary_ Jinu left behind the woman he was supposed to marry, centuries later, he finds her again, learning that she was cursed to reincarnate until she was able to find real love (+ she was helping the demon hunters)

warnings_ cursed!reader, canon divergence, lovers to enemies to lovers, magical realism, fluff, angst, tension, reader implied to be foreigner but not actual descriptions, perhaps cringe, lengthy fic, no proofread (editing later)

notes_this is the second time i fall for an animated character, first time was miguel o’hara and i still love him very much, im 21 and not ashamed to write about this lol

♫ ♪ Saja Boys horrid playlist

✰ Index (+ fics here)

୨ৎ───୨ৎ───୨ৎ───୨ৎ───୨ৎ

The wind was blowing so hard that your hair was a mess, flowing freely and getting tangled.

With a big smile on your face, you could only feel the adrenaline of running towards the end of the village, where the wild meadows awaited. And so did your lover too.

Men were going home after spending the whole day fishing, and women were carrying baskets of freshly made silk and linen too. Children were already gone, probably taking a bath in a big warm pot.

Women your age were already in bed but you couldn’t wait.

Not when Jinu was waiting for you at the meadows, even less when you had news to share with him.

Two weeks ago, your lover asked your father for your hand in marriage. At first, your old man said Jinu had nothing to offer you, that it wouldn’t work out. But the more you convinced him of how much you loved him, that you didn’t need to live in a palace to be happy, he started thinking differently.

And that night, as you ignored your quiet grandmother’s scary eyes, your father approved and allowed you to marry Jinu.

Your father’s mother was a mystery, she couldn’t speak, she was quite intimidating and you swore you could hear her sing in the middle of the night. Even your own mother seemed displeased by her presence, but didn’t say anything.

It was at the beginning of the meadows, when your running pace quickened. The beating in your heart mixed with joy and anticipation to get to Jinu.

When your head turned to look at the undergrowth nearby, your heart nearly stopped.

There was your grandmother, with her long grey hair and a beige gown. The sight was like a ghostly encounter, it sent shivers down your spine. It felt like a bad omen. Your stomach turned but you only ran faster. Thinking it was your mind playing tricks with you, you only kept running. Only that filled with fear.

Until you spotted a tall figure, you knew it was your home. Upon hearing the crack of branches, Jinu turned to look at you, and when he saw the many scratches in your face and arms, he grew worried.

“What happened to you?” He asked while inspecting your face.

“I guess I shouldn’t run like that again…” you answered with an attempted chuckle, opting to ignore the encounter with your grandmother.

His warm hands traced every scratch and while it burned, you would never move away from his touch.

“I have wonderful news, Jinu…” With a big sigh, you collapsed in his arms before speaking again. “My father said yes. We can marry now…”

You couldn’t see, but his face dropped, he remained quiet and when you felt he wasn’t hugging you back, you knew something was wrong.

“Jinu?…” you asked letting him go.

He stared at you in silence. You could see his perfect skin shining under the moonlight, his soft black hair that always smelled like tea, and the clothes you offered to wash for him and his family every week at the river nearby.

He was the only person you could imagine sharing the rest of your life with. But…

“We are not going to marry…” the words sounded unsure, even scared to say them out loud.

You stood there speechless, in shock. Suddenly the moonlight and Jinu himself weren’t enough, you started feeling the cool air hit against your body, making you shiver.

“Why?”

“I- Look… I found a better opportunity at…” you looked down at his hands and you saw a golden bracelet in his hand. Your face turns into one of disgust. Only people allowed into the palace wore that bracelet.

“Why would you do this to me?” Your hand dropped to your stomach, feeling the anxious feeling creeping all over. You couldn’t feel worse. And when Jinu remained still, in silence, your eyes grew teary.

“So you don’t love your family enough?” You asked and he looked down, ashamed.

“You don’t love me enough to marry me and find a better opportunity together?” When he still didn’t look up, you grew mad.

“Look at me when I’m speaking!” In a rush, you grabbed his chin and pushed it between your thumb and index finger, forcing Jinu to look at you.

“I’m sorry…” he attempted to say.

For the first time, you couldn’t feel the peace and comfort through his eyes. You could only see greed.

He gave up on you to pursue a better life; alone.

“You’re not sorry. You’re selfish and a bad man…” you spit out, letting go of his chin with anger. “Just know that every pain we cause comes with some karma to pay...”

You turned to run away, hearing Jinu calling your name, but you didn’t look back. You came back home running just as you left. Only that tears came as well.

Quietly, you opened the door of your humble home. There wasn’t a single candle illuminating the place, meaning that it was very late.

“That boy made a deal with a demon…” you nearly jump and died right there after hearing that voice.

When you turned to the corner of the chimney, there was your grandmother in her rocking chair.

Suddenly she could speak.

“You’re a witch?” You asked with terror when she stood up.

Her grey hair and almond eyes matched the aura of a witch who kidnapped children and made unimaginable things.

“I was disappointed when I gave birth to a man instead of a woman…” she revealed, making you feel beyond uneasy. “Imagine my surprise when I had a granddaughter who grew up with a fiery need to find love instead of keeping the lineage she comes from”

“I am not a witch” you firmly stated.

“No, you should’ve trained to be a huntress and that’s your biggest mistake” the more the old woman stepped closer, the more you wanted to run away. It was already enough pain to have Jinu’s words in your head repeating over and over.

“That boy preferred to follow a demon so his wishes could be granted, excluding you”

“Enough!” Your parents could be awake at any moment, and that would be worse, but you couldn’t hide your anger towards your said grandmother.

“May your soul be doomed until your heart beats with blood again” she started repeating in slow whispers, making you cry and yell back at her to stop.

“I said enough!”

Your left arm started burning, you cried in pain, until you ended up on your knees.

When you urgently inspected the skin, a trail of symbols appeared like magic ink. And when you looked up, the old woman was gone.

Nobody heard you, and nobody questioned your tattoo the following morning. When you knocked at Jinu’s mother's house, she told you through tears that he had actually left for the palace. That day your grandmother was found dead and within days, you and your parents were gone, back to the occident to finish your first life.

[Actually centuries later…]

A summer opportunity turned into an undefined job. When you left home to go to Korea and be a makeup brand creative director, you weren’t prepared to be gone for more than a month. But as the weeks passed, you found yourself accustomed to a new life. You started getting into the entertainment industry, with K-pop idols to be more specific.

Until you got the chance to make a collaboration between the makeup brand you were directing and Huntr/x or Huntrix. You had just met them and the three girls were nice, friendly, and were curious about the concept you were offering to them.

“And this is a cyber glam concept for the photo shoot…” you said while passing the three girls a bundle of pictures and collages.

“I love this, I think it’ll fit us perfectly” Rumi replied with a wide smile.

“Yep, agreed. This might be the one” Mira added, winking an eye at you.

“What do you say Zoey?” You finally asked the black haired girl who looked with detail at the concept.

“l-o-v-e it!” She yelled with excitement, hugging the papers against her chest.

“Sounds like we have a deal then…” the girls nodded at you and you excused yourself to have a little break.

After they picked the theme for the campaign and the break, the girls would have to try on costumes and pick the makeup for each one of them. But in the meantime, you would eat.

Outside the building, there was a little park with benches and lots of trees. You spotted an empty picnic table and you decided to have your salad and chicken katsu there.

It was nearly empty, not even the sound of the hatred city could be heard. Perfect place to feel pure peacefulness.

You ate in silence, a man in a business suit passed by and you heard the click of his formal shoes. He was hot, perhaps early thirties but very good looking.

And you remembered it had been so long since you had a boyfriend, the last relationship you had was back at home during middle school. It lasted years and took away a lot of the joy you were supposed to experience as a teenager.

When would you find real love?

An online palm reader said that it seemed hard for you to find a partner and that you were cursed. You asked if you could have your sixty dollars back but she blocked you.

You wanted a man who could be your best friend. To have a thing where souls seemed to be connected.

Distant sounds made you snap out of your delusions. Awkwardly, you stood up, looking around to find the source of the sounds.

Stepping into the bushes, you heard a growl. You froze.

A demon was taking the soul of the businessman you saw earlier.

Your loud gasp made the creature jump and try to attack you, tackling your body.

You tried to push the demon away, its touch hot and burning your skin, claws digging into your forearms, and saliva sliding down your neck.

You had always seen demons since you were a kid, but never interacted with them.

“Y/N!” Far away you saw Mira running towards you with Rumi and Zoey behind, carrying weapons. “Catch this!”

The woman threw you a fan and even in the middle of chaos, you sent Mira a displeased look.

“That’s all I had!” She yelled coming closer.

You tried to open the fan and noticed it was a regular item, not enough to kill a demon. With the demon trying to get your soul, you tried to set free the arm grabbing the fan.

Somehow, you managed to push the demon and before it could literally destroy your face, you felt your hand sliding the fan against the throat of the creature. And in a second, the creature vanished, leaving sparkles behind.

You frowned and gasped in horror.

“You’re a demon huntress like us!” Zoey yelled once the girls made it to your side.

“What?” You asked in confusion. “I’m a normal human being. I’m not-“

“Yes, you are! Look at the fan Mira gave you!”

But you weren’t exactly normal. Normal human beings couldn’t see demons so often, and they didn’t feel the constant sensation of déjà vu. At that moment you wondered if the palm reader was right. Were you cursed?

Mira and Rumi helped you to stand up.

When the four of you looked at the fan, it didn’t look the same, it looked like… a weapon. Similar to the ones the girls carried

“This is so weird” you whispered while shaking your head.

Rumi came closer and touched your shoulder with comfort.

“It’s okay, you might be confused but we can help” she said with a little smile.

“In fact, we’d actually also need you as well” Mira added with crossed arms while Zoey picked up the fan.

You sighed. Was there any other option?

“I don’t have much of many options… Right?”

“Nope” said the three girls with mischievous smiles.

…

Everything changed so drastically in a week. You moved into the same place with the Huntr/x girls and started moving away from the makeup brand creative director and more to be the biggest girl band creative director.

You designed their newest costumes and you couldn’t stop listening to their newest release “Golden”. In terms of demon hunting, you had assimilated the situation and you started helping them. The more you heard them talk about the hideous Gwi-Ma and types of demons, you got to be able to see the world as they did. With blue, but with growing red spots.

In your room, you've got to write and ramble as you used to do before. Only that you forgot to lock the door, even to close it.

“Are you singing ‘Golden’?” Startled, you looked at Rumi in horror.

“Yes, I told you I loved the song…”

“You can sing!”

“No I don’t” you say with a little smile.

“YES, YOU CAN!” Mira and Zoey screamed from the living room.

Rumi and you burst into laughter and you shrugged.

“I like singing. But.. I don’t know…”

“You could be an idol one day” Rumi said with enthusiasm.

“God no!”

“Yes! You can sing, we know you can dance and you have tons of creativity to do something cool”

“I don’t know, Rumi…”

Through the door frame, Mira appeared, looking uninterested in her phone.

“The doctor said he’s having us look at Rumi” she said.

Both of you nodded and when Mira disappeared, Rumi grabbed your arm before you could stand up from the bed.

“You can count on me that I won’t tell them about your patterns” you assure her after seeing her worried face.

You had seen her arms by accident. And you weren’t scared, but confused and curious.

“Thank you, y/n” she said with a smile.

“Sure. But you have to tell them…”

Rumi nodded, as she watched you changing into a jumpsuit.

…

The Huntr/x girls forgot about one extra box of medicines for Rumi. You went back inside the clinic and when you got out, you could hear a crowd and music. And then you spot your friends at the end of the hallway.

Confused and irritated by the sudden change of plans, you jog towards the girls who decided to walk closer, getting lost in the crowd.

“What is going on?” You asked.

“We bumped into some hot guys and turns out they are a new boy band” Zoey turns to tell you with fake disgust.

“Yeah and these two were drooling for the one with abs” Rumi joked, making fun of them.

“We were not drooling” Mira said while rolling her eyes, trying to convince you. You only chuckled.

“Look at them, they dance perfectly in sync” Zoey commented.

Saja Boys; sure what the hell.

♫ ♪ You’re all I can think of

Every drop I drink up

You’re my soda pop

My little soda pop ♫ ♪

What a lame and silly song; you thought.

And then you found yourself mumbling at the melody. So you were finally able to see the group of apparently perfect men. It was such a catchy song; you then thought.

Pastel hairs, colorful clothes, cute faces, and… That face.

As if you had entered into a noise-canceling bubble. You locked your eyes with the leader and an indescribable sensation started covering all of yourself.

He was tall, with perfect skin, perfect features, black hair and… he seemed so familiar.

“Look at me when I’m speaking!”

“I’m sorry…”

“You’re not sorry. You’re selfish and a bad man…”

Voices started to fill your head. Then images, of you in an ancient village, coming from the occident with your family. Meeting a man who became your best friend. He asked your father to marry you. And then… he left you.

Jinu…

Then the woman who cursed you.

“May your soul be doomed until your heart beats with blood again”

You nearly fainted when you heard the music again.

“Are you alright?” Mira asked and you started shaking your head.

“I want to leave” you managed to say with a broken voice.

And then you felt it, his eyes on you.

“What?” Rumi asked once she looked at you so distressed and anxious.

“Don’t ask, just help me take her out of this!” Mira told her.

The girls hurried to move through the crowds and when the Saja Boys' music started to sound distant, you sighed in relief.

The worst part? You knew he had seen you.

…

The smell of herbs filled the wide living room. At the table in the middle rested your smelly cup of tea. Rumi, Zoey, and Mira looked at you with wide eyes and expectant faces at your marked arm.

That night you four had followed the Saja Boys and tried to fight them. You helped Rumi to slip away from Jinu and you seemed to be his weakness, since he let go of your friend easily before you two disappeared from his sight.

“So you are cursed to reincarnate until you find love?” Zoey asked.

“I guess so… Things can’t stop getting weirder” you admitted in a low voice.

The trio of girls exchanged looks.

“And Jinu was the man you were going to marry?” Rumi asks politely, then you nod.

“We were poor, and I never wanted more but he… disposed me. Like we never meant anything…”

You bent to grab your cup of tea under the curious look of the girls.

“My paternal grandmother hated me for pursuing love instead of listening to her to become a witch, sorceress… Now I think she was a demon huntress. So she was pissed at me for not continuing the linage. And she cursed me…”

“Wow, this is… A lot of info” Zoey commented, throwing herself on the couch.

“Huntrix is strong and will manage just fine. But… I don’t think I can kill him” you admitted with a slight blush appearing in your cheeks.

“I can’t believe what I’m gonna say but… Maybe Juno didn’t mean to hurt you and his family” Mira said, earning shocked faces from everyone. “What? I mean, the whole story sounds like a folktale but it’s real. They must be soulmates”

Soulmates… Jinu was a demon. And you hadn’t talked to him in 400 years.

“I promise I will try my best to focus on the Honmoon and not on him” you add before drinking the tea in one single shot. “Now, this tea will make my memories a little blurry for some days. So… let’s not talk about this again, okay?”

The girls looked at you with a little bit of pity. But they nodded back at you.

…

The effects lasted two days. You spent locked in your room writing a few songs for Huntr/x, as well as making a collage for their upcoming performance at the Idol Awards.

Soft music played as you went in and out of your balcony. The heat was starting to become unbearable and you decided to work outside since the mosquitoes didn’t reach the height of your home.

You sang fully relaxed as you moved across the room. Printed images of ideas of the graphics and everything are scattered and a sudden blow of wind made a slight mess of the work you had already done.

“Oh no…” you whisper, kneeling to collect all of the images.

One was missing and you couldn’t find it until a hand offered it. You jumped right there, literally crawling backwards.

When you looked up, there you had it.

The reason why you were cursed and recently developed mixed feelings for.

Jinu was eyeing you with attention.

Both of you stared for what felt like an hour. Your palms were sweating and still holding the images as if they depended on your life.

“You remember me” he stated, the sound of his voice only confirming every flashback you had, every feeling you felt. It was real… You actually loved that man centuries ago.

“The moment I saw you I remembered everything…” you knew he started eyeing you up and down the moment you looked away from his eyes. Just like he used to do when he watched and got all wet when you washed clothes in the river. You blushed, just like you used to do as well.

“How?” He seemed to not be able to believe it. That he had his great love right upon his eyes. You looked the same but… so different. Your soul had changed, from a bright blue, it was shining in green. Meaning that your soul had been overworked. And then, you showed him your arm with the odd symbols.

“When you left, my grandmother cursed me for choosing you above the lineage of my family” you revealed while accommodating the pictures like you had them before the wind came.

“I reincarnate. I can’t remember how many times I’ve lived, but I’m pretty sure I always die young. And I will continue to do so until I find real love”

Jinu kneels across you, the images and papers being the only barrier between you two. You looked up to meet his gorgeous gaze again only to find him looking at you in awe.

“What we had was real love” he placed his hand on top of yours and it left you speechless for a second. A strong feeling of nostalgia hit you. His touch was cold now, but even there you felt the warmth you used to feel.

But you could also see his faint patterns, making you remember he was a demon. And you, an unofficial demon huntress.

“You treated me like I was nothing” you spat out with anger.

He sighed, looking at his fingers with yours before you could move your hand away.

“Yes, and the moment I tasted the luxuries of the palace I regretted it. I couldn’t leave anymore, I made a deal with Gwi-Ma and I was forced to face the consequences of my acts” he says with desperation and a hint of pain. “I wanted to give you and my family the world. And when I knew you weren’t included, I was still selfish. And for four hundred years, I’ve been consumed by the guilt”

“Good, because you deserve it. You’re a demon and that’s the least you could feel as such a thing” you said with lots of venom as you yanked from his hand.

“And now you’re a demon huntress…”

“I just help my friends…”

“I never meant to hurt you. I’ve spent all this time lounging to have you right in front of me and tell you how much I’m sorry. That I need you and I don’t think I’ll ever want someone as bad as I want you”

You stood up, turning around, doing your best to ignore the pang in your heart and the pulsing of your arm, right where the tattoo was.

Was it rightfully fair to be mean? Maybe not… but you were scared after all. Having Zoey, Rumi, and Mira right at the other side of the door, and a demon with you wasn’t ideal.

And you started remembering how much you loved him. And how happy he made you.

“If you truly want it. I can help you break the curse. I’d do anything for you, y/n…”

You stared at the wall in silence, feeling the wind come again. And when you turned around, Jinu was gone.

…

You should’ve known it was a trap orchestrated by Rumi and Jinu. When Rumi convinced you to go on a mission to a random rooftop to help her rehearse, you had no problems. Until you spotted him at said rooftop already.

“It’s none of my business but I think it’s quite worth it to make you two talk…” Rumi said with a nervous smile as the Derpy tiger and bird in a hat followed your friend away.

You sighed loudly, throwing your head back and putting your hands on your hips.

“I- I don’t know why Rumi is doing this. It’s dangerous…” you admitted out loud.

Jinu steps closer, eyeing you up and down, this time, catching his gaze on you.

“What are you looking at?” You asked suddenly feeling nervous.

“Your body, face, every mole and birthmark you had are in the same place…” you didn’t think he would remember. But he was proving you wrong.

And his comment affected you so much that you didn’t notice the moment he stepped beyond your personal space. You tried to step back, but he grabbed your waist with his big hands and the gesture made your legs feel wobbly. Slowly, you started to remember the exact shade of his eyes, the pink of his lips, and the size of his hands.

“You really missed me that much?…” you dared to ask with a sultry tone of voice.

Jinu blushed. His cheeks turned pink and his lips formed a nervous line, which made you chuckle.

Unable to resist the proximity, you placed both of your palms on his chest and immediately transported both of you to those summer nights at the village. Midnight sighs and soft touches, eager to wait till marriage but unable to ignore the curiosity hidden under the robes.

“I don’t even know why you’re here. What do you intend to do. But-“

“I feel it too…” Jinu finished for you.

Even when you knew that under that perfect skin, eyes, and lips you used to kiss every day, there was a demon. But deep down, you knew you’d love him despite all.

You stepped closer, hands pressing tightly against him. He leaned forward, holding your hips and you closed your eyes already knowing you’d be able to taste his lips again.

“We gotta go… Zoey and Mira are wondering where we are” Rumi said appearing in the middle of the scene, shocked to see you and Jinu tangled together. “OH! Uh- I’m sorry…”

“It’s not what you think so!” You hurry to tell your friend.

“It is what you are thinking but uh- yeah…” Jinu awkwardly said.

Shame invaded you and you don’t even look back at Jinu. You caressed the cat’s head and the tip of the bird’s hat before smiling to yourself as you started following Rumi.

“What was that?’ She asked while teasing.

“Nothing” you say, your smile growing bigger.

…

“No, no, no. Don’t wake up…” you heard a distant voice, but you eventually woke up.

In your bed was Derpy and the bird were sleeping. When you looked to the right, at the edge of the bed, there was Jinu. In pajama-striped pants and a hoodie.

“I didn’t want to wake you up…” he admitted with shyness.

“You just wanted to stare at me sleeping like a creep?” You asked with sarcasm, rolling onto your side and yawning.

“What? No! I just-, I wanted to see you…” Jinu said, combing his hair, a sign of nervousness.

“Where is your gang?”

“Sleeping… As we should, I guess”

“Are they your friends or did you just recruited them?”

“A little bit of both” Jinu confessed with a smile.

“If things were different. I’d ask you if I could meet them, I don’t know why but I’m curious…”

“Fair point, half of the world is too” you knew he wanted to hold your hand. So you just moved it closer to him.

“So you’re now an idol? Singing you’re my little soda pop?” Your question filled with teasing made him blush and it earned you a playful punch on your hip.

“It’s catchy…” Jinu attempted to defend himself and the band.

“It is… I’ve started singing it with Zoey”

He held your hand and it made your stomach flip. Then traced invisible patterns across your face.

“This is how I remember your skin. But I also really like how you look with makeup…” slowly, you smiled at his words.

“The modern look also fits you well. You look hot…” it was his time to blush, and it made you cackle.

Jinu loved making you laugh, he loved everything that involved you but being able to make you laugh again, made him feel less demonic and more… human.

“I’m gonna miss it” he said gently tapping at your cheek.

“What thing?” You asked in confusion.

“Everything about you…” he admitted. “That was the deal with Gwi-Ma, I stop Huntr/x and I get all my memories erased”

You frowned.

“But I don’t want you to forget me…”

His heart stopped. His throat tightened and he had to hold your hand more firmly.

“Sleep, beautiful” he said as he started to brush your hair with the tip of his fingers.

In seconds, the gesture made you go back to sleep.

…

Jinu was going insane.

You almost kissed him, and he appeared in your bed to tell you that he wanted to forget everything. Only for you to tell him that you didn’t want him to forget you. It nearly made him cry.

You asked him about the things that made him happy and you told him you wished things were different.

Then the Idol Awards happened. And you yelled at him when he and the rest of the Saja Boys ruined the Huntr/x performance. Zoey and Mira grew mad at you for helping Rumi keep her patterns secret. And as Jinu used his voice to attract people, he realized how unfair he was being to you once again.

The woman he loved was cursed because of him. And he couldn’t actually help you. Or so he thought.

You still loved him, he knew.

Jinu didn’t think twice before jumping from the stage to help you when he saw a demon scratching your face.

He saw you using your fan but it only attracted more creatures.

It was still a mystery to him to know how you learned to fight and for how long you trained. There were a lot of unanswered questions. Immediately forgotten when he got rid of the demons and offered you a hand to stand up.

He could at least try to save you. To stop you from reincarnating once again and living a memorable life.

“I love you!” he screamed.

“What?” You screamed back.

“I love you! And I will always do” Jinu said and you couldn’t help but fear and grab his arm. “We’ll meet again, my dear…”

“What are you doing?” He sighed and gave you a smile filled with joy and sadness at the same time.

You looked back at Rumi, fighting against Gwi-Ma himself on the stage and you understood Jinu’s plan.

“Jinu, don’t you dare…”

“It’s the only way to end this!”

“No, don’t leave me alone again!” It broke his heart. Seeing you with tears in your eyes and begging him.

He kissed you and this time you couldn’t do anything but focus on the way his lips moved against yours, carefully trying to remember every detail. Promising to remember that kiss for the rest of your life.

You looked at his real form. His demon glowy eyes, the lilac skin, and darker patterns covering him. His fangs and pointed fingers. You couldn’t give a fuck.

“I love you” he repeated making you accept that he had made up his mind.

“I love you too” you admitted between sobs.

Even when he started running back towards the stage, you tried to pull him back, to keep him with you. But he went ahead. The only thing you did was to pull a rusty bracelet from him, the gold bracelet he got to get into the palace back then. You sobbed harder, getting rid of demons that still attempted to get your soul. And as you watched Gwi-Ma disappear as every demon and Saja Boy, the bracelet turned into ashes. Your tattooed arm pulsated and when you looked at the skin, you gasped in shock. The symbols had disappeared, and the skin was free from any mark.

…

For the whole world, it was the biggest performance in the history of K-pop, to Huntr/x and you, more than just a performance.

Your friendship with the girls only strengthened and they convinced you to do he craziest thing you’d done so far. Debuting as a soloist…

Using Y2K and sequined themes, you built a concept and soon, with Zoey’s help, you were able to create songs. Mira trained you to be a great dancer and Rumi vocalized with you every night. Even before your first song was released, you already had many fans. At the same time, haters disliked you for allegedly using Huntr/x to gain fame of your own but most of the people seemed to be loving you and your debut song “Karmic”.

And of course, it was related to him. The song being about shining despite being bound to face karma for trying to get back a man you loved and who was gone.

It had been two months to be exact. Your debut happening only three weeks later after everything happened. It was your only escape to not focusing on the scar his departure left.

Maybe you were free from the curse. Your skin free from any proof of said curse. But completely scarred by Jinu’s memory.

In a dream, everything was darkness. And the only thing you were able to see, was that old lady who centuries ago was your grandmother, the woman who cursed you.

“Curse begone, make a wish…” she said.

You froze, then she showed you the rusty bracelet you pulled off from Jinu.

“I want him back. I want him to be happy and have everything that made him happy. I want him by my side and to be happy for the rest of my life with him” you yelled with tears in your eyes.

And then you woke up, tears actually came and you wiped them away.

It was the day of your debut album and first mini-concert. Rumi, Mira, and Zoey literally threw open your door and came to sit by the feet of your bed.

“Are you ready for today?” Zoey asked.

“Yeah, I think so…” the three girls smiled at you and started rambling about the busy schedule you had for the day.

“We’ll be by your side the whole day, don’t worry” Rumi assured you.

“Thanks, Rumi”

You stood up to look at your balcony and the sky was full of small clouds that made it look so dreamy. The skyscrapers shone with the sun’s reflection and a Saja Boys comeback giant poster was hanging from one of them.

A SAJA BOYS COMEBACK GIANT POSTER WAS HANGING FROM ONE OF THE SKYSCRAPERS!!!!!!!!!

“Uh… girls, Are you looking at the same thing as me?” They stood by your side and gasped in shock.

“No way” Rumi whispered.

“No. It might be a song they recorded before and the people who managed them are desperate to keep making some money” you assured them, also assuring yourself.

“Yeah, y/n is right” Mira agreed with you, arm around your shoulders.

You looked at Jinu, smiling in the poster.

How badly I miss you, my love; you thought.

“Are you okay with seeing… him?” Mira asked.

You nodded, smiling. Unable to feel sad, because that day was all about you.

“Yeah, let’s go to have some breakfast” you replied, hugging the girls.

“Bobby is here” Mira revealed.

“BOBBY!” He became your manager as well and you liked the man. He was a great guy and even a friend.

You had so many questions about the upcoming concert and presentations.

But you were excited, so you decided to enjoy the day with your friends as well.

…

If the public could describe you in two words, that would be: sultry and cutting-edge.

Half of your songs being dance/club hymns and the other half being crude, strong lyrics with unusual sounds that created an artistic sense.

Singing full songs glued to a microphone covered in rhinestones and then dancing while singing was a little bit more ingenious than you thought. But you were having so much fun. Changing into different attires in less than a minute and having sips of water in between was exciting.

Mira was cheering, satisfied with how good you danced.

“Look at the piece of art I created” she joked with Zoey and Rumi.

“I love that part of the choreography” Rumi added as they watched you.

“Yeah but let’s calm Bobby. He’s on the verge of collapse after seeing how sensual the song and dance are” the trio of girls started cackling, looking at their manager who looked nervous at the public and sponsors.

But everything was in order.

Until you got to the after party. A club a few blocks away from your place with the girls. A lot of magazines and artists wanted to be at your party. As unbelievable as it sounded, you were officially a celebrity and idol. Far from being tired, you danced with Mira all night, and couldn’t stop laughing along with Zoey and Rumi.

But you needed to take a break. To savor happiness alone for a moment. You stepped out to the empty terrace of the place and the distant music was the only sound. The sky was almost completely dark and you sighed in disbelief. You turned around, leaning backwards against the railing, and saw a man approaching.

You thought it was Bobby. But no…

You stopped breathing and for a second you thought you had died.

How was it possible that Jinu was standing, looking like a human and very much alive in front of you?

You threw yourself into his arms, and he was actually there. Tears prickled in your eyes and you heard him chuckling as he hugged you back.

“Is this real? I’m not drunk and making all of this in my head?”

“No, you actually brought me back…” he whispered in your ear, then kissing your temple over and over again. “You smell a lot like alcohol actually. But it’s real…”

He was joking, Jinu was joking. But there you had the love of your many lives in your arms.

“You re-appear after I saw you dying and you decide to joke right now?”

So the dream was real…

“I woke up and I was here. My mom and sister live, and the Saja Boys too. A call from our manager telling us that our comeback was scheduled woke me up” he said. “I thought I was dreaming but no. Then my mom asked me if I wanted to have breakfast and there was my sister looking at you in the tv. You were singing a song and… I just knew it was real”

“I had a wish in a dream and I begged to have you back” you revealed. “So your soul. Is finally yours again?”

“I got trapped in Rumi’s sword. But your wish set me free… thank you” Jinu grabbed your cheeks and smiled fondly at you.

“For the man that I’ve been in love with for centuries? Everything….”

“Even after all the pain I caused you, you save me and willingly keep loving me?” you shrugged with a smile.

“You’re worth it. You were since the moment I met you, Jinu” you accepted, placing his hands on your waist and pushing him down to kiss him.

His cheeks felt hot under your palms and you knew he was blushing once again.

Amidst the kiss, you smiled. And he felt that pure joy again. He could finally live with you just like it was ment to be the first time. He could be a man his age and breathe knowing he would age and fill his purpose along you.

“We both are idols now” he commented with a little smirk.

“Are you ready for all the scandal we’ll cause when our fans learn that we’re together?” You asked him, still in his arms, not daring to move away as Jinu chuckled.

“The sooner the better. I didn’t like many of the looks people would throw at you at the concert…” he revealed with a disgusted face and your eyes went wide.

“You saw me?”

“Of course I did… And I have to admit I’m quite surprised” his teasing tone made you laugh nervously but also nudge him playfully.

“Why? Did you like my outfits? And the way I danced?” Making him nervous, you cackled.

“I’m not used to this modern you yet” he said.

“Well, buckle up, honey. Cause I’m hardly letting you slip off of me and I’m not changing” you threatened before kissing him again.

“Good for me” he assured you while gasping for air and returning to passionately kiss you.

In the modern times you were leaving, Jinu and you didn’t have to wait till marriage. And thank goodness, because you wouldn’t have to explain much to Mira, Rumi, and Zoey the following morning as to why Jinu was in your bed and why the rest of the Saja Boys rested with a hangover at your place with them.

୨ৎ───୨ৎ───୨ৎ───୨ৎ───୨ৎ

Taglist: @nina-from-317 @gloriousqueen101 @birbtweettweet @akariis4snowball @nekee-lilac02 @yourtypicalhuman09 @ffcfffr @ilovemuhusbandnanami @foxxbee-2963 @hara23 @akeaaan @kaorisakamotofan @kyuki07 @siasoup @vvidka @bitchpleaseeeeeeeeee @oreeowe @anakinsrilgirlfriend @thecordelialetters @vixyvlo @iviorienne @loonalockley @bre99 @ateezswonderland @crescent-z @gina239 @aerrz3 @theblackestbitch

♫ ♪ reader’s inspired debut setlist:

•Karmic is similar to Zen from JENNIE in my mind

1. Spark - WINTER AESPA solo

2. Me Against The Music - Britney Spears, Madonna

3. Lifestyle - LISA

4. So Hot You’re Hurting My Feelings - Caroline Polachek

5. earthquake- JISOO

6. Sober II (Melodrama) - Lorde

7. THAT’S A NO NO - ITZY

8. Fetish - Selena Gomez, Gucci Mane

[josis-teacup]

Leading Candidates The Next Pope: Who Are The Frontrunners to Succeed Pope Francis?

Source

Luis Antonio Tagle (Philippines)

Currently the betting favorite at 3:1 odds, Cardinal Luis Antonio Tagle, 67, is considered a strong contender to continue Pope Francis's progressive agenda.

Tagle, an advocate for inclusion and evangelization, has significant experience leading the Congregation for the Evangelization of Peoples and was a trusted figure in Francis's inner circle.

AN: upon further research he heavily opposes abortion and same sex marriage

Pietro Parolin (Italy)

At 4:1 odds, Cardinal Pietro Parolin, 70, is one of the most experienced Vatican officials. In his role as the Vatican's Secretary of State since 2013, he has played a major part in diplomatic affairs, including sensitive negotiations with China and Middle Eastern governments.

Parolin is seen as a moderate theological candidate, someone who could provide stability while still maintaining some of Francis's reforms. His deep ties to Vatican bureaucracy make him a strong contender for those who favor continuity.

Peter Turkson (Ghana)

Currently at 5:1 odds in betting markets, Cardinal Peter Turkson, 76, is a well-known figure in the Church's social justice circles. As former head of the Dicastery for Promoting Integral Human Development, Turkson has been vocal on issues such as climate change, poverty and economic justice.

Turkson's election would mark a historic moment as the first African pope in centuries. The most recent African pontiff was Pope Gelasius, who served from 492 to 496 AD. Born in Rome to African parents, Gelasius was known for his extensive theological writings and strong advocacy for charity and justice for the poor.

Peter Erdő (Hungary)

A leading conservative candidate, Cardinal Peter Erdő, 72, is currently at 6:1 odds. A respected canon law scholar, Erdő has been a strong advocate for traditional Catholic teachings and doctrine. He previously served as head of the Council of European Bishops' Conferences and has emphasized theological orthodoxy.

For those seeking a return to the conservatism of John Paul II and Benedict XVI, Erdő would represent a major shift away from Francis's approach.

Angelo Scola (Italy)

At 8:1, Cardinal Angelo Scola, 82, is a long-standing papal contender. He was among the favorites in the 2013 conclave that ultimately elected Pope Francis. Scola, a former Archbishop of Milan, has deep theological roots and appeals to those who support a more centralized and hierarchical Church.

His traditionalist stance makes him a strong candidate for those looking to pivot away from Francis's reforms, but his age may work against him.

[pinkmirth]

thinking about s/o who likes to dress up their vampire bf (yes i'm talking about adrian) and they always make sure that he likes the outfit too. he's just so pretty i can't 🥺

𝜗𝜚 ࣪ ˖ 𓈒 “DOTE” FT. ADRIÁN ‘ALUCARD’ ȚEPEȘ! ⸻ ( 2k+ ) words of ⨾ fluff + suggestive/nsfw, alucard x fem!reader ( black-coded ), canon-divergent, set in the set in the 15th century (1400s), established relationship, lowercase intended, explicit language, minors shoo!

my love letter! ౨ৎ ₊ ⊹ oh my goodness luna, i adore this!!! doting on adrian and clothing him sounds like a dream! it’s moving enough for me to want to put it into words . . . i ended up writing this out to be a teensy bit sentimental, if that’s okay! i feel like he’d be hesitant to receive affection but eventually ends up reveling in it because it’s just what he needed! adrian truly deserves some loveee, and i’m here to give it to him >.< please enjoy, and thank you so much for reading! ❤︎

there’s something you and your lover like to call the ‘ echoes, ’ simply put, for any noise that bounces off the walls resounds throughout the entire castle. it’s a reliable system, and adrian’s able to use it to call your attention from anywhere within it.

“darling,” there goes his soothingly silken voice, ringing out all the way from the east wing. at times, you’re amused at how it can reach you from this far. “would you come over and give this a look, please?”

at his plea, you’ll be there. so you settle down the leatherback-book you’d been reading, slinking the pad of your finger beneath a page to fold it by the crisp outer corner.

“coming!”

you’re sure he feels you nearing, courtesy of your shallow-heeled footsteps thudding upon the wine-red shag of his home’s romanian rugs. he acknowledges your presence by swinging open the door to the primary bedroom.

you didn’t think you’d have to tiptoe around mountain-sized heaps of clothing upon entering adrian’s chamber— his closet’s practically ravaged. although, living with a dhampir was never known to be an experience short of surprises.

in the midst of all the madness is where he stands, still adorned in his cream nightgown. he’s got a garment clutched in one hand and a pullover tunic in the other. the subtle veins running along his slender hands makes his grip look exasperated. alucard appears to be having one of those days— where nothing feels just right.

“what’s all this, dear? thought you’d have been dressed by now,” you call out, making your way around a stockpile of trousers to approach him. gently, your delicate hands come to settle upon the broad expanse of his clothed chest. just as he figured it would, your touch immediately soothes him.

the man sighs before he speaks. “i apologize,” adrian peers down at you from where he stands, dropping both items to rest his hands on either side of your hips, “i’ll make sure to clean up afterwards.”

“no worries,” you hum, offering him a warm, sweet smile. when he tends to grow reckless, you know what he needs most is a dash of affection. “you wanted me to take a look at something, yes?”

“i did,” he mumbles, sunny eyes flitting over to his plundered closet, “though now i’m seriously reconsidering every single piece that i own.”

you don’t make a point to say it, but you know it isn’t about the blouses or the pants or any of those things. it’s his mind that tends to run rampant on all that’s been and all he’s lost. at tines, it manifests into agitation, a period of overstimulation where one thing makes him shirk and another gets him withdrawn. despite it all, he’s consoled that you’re here to reel him back in and distract him from himself in that dreamy little way that you do.

“show me the one you were last contemplating on, adrian.” you do it with such ease, pulling him out of his own head and bringing him back into the moment. for a good second, he thinks of just how lucky one man could possibly be.

“go on,” you pat his chest, and his lips flit up into a subtle grin. now more content, adrian scours for it and eventually plucks it off an embroidered chair situated in the corner; only God knows how it got there.

pinched between his index and thumbs, alucard holds up the top, exaggerated sleeves and all, presenting it to you; a simple chestnut colored option that shares the same wood-like hue as the bedpost.

“my twelfth option of the day,” he snidely notes. his sarcasm pries giggle from you. “what do you think, love?”

“it’s quite pretty,” you tilt your head, inspecting the piece with sparkly, concentrated eyes. he admires the way a wispy strand of hair falls along to drape against your face. just precious, he believes.

“it’s a little puffy at the sleeves, though.”

“i knew it,” adrian attests, “this is too . . . flouncy.”

“oh, forget what i said! it’s the perfect amount of flouce.”

“no no, it’s far too much. it’s practically screaming at me.” to that, you chuckle a bit. he can be ever so keen to such minute details.

theatrically, adrian mounts the nearby bed and flops atop the tousled sheets, an exhale leaving the depths of his chest upon impact. “i suppose this is just an ‘only-underwear’ sort of day.” you nearly add that he might as well free himself as a whole and go naked, but the poor man would flush so badly that you choose to refrain.

“you know, adrian,” you scan over his collection, eyeing the finest of silks, puffed shirts and ruffles. his wardrobe practically looks fitting for that of wallachian royalty. “i could make it easy, choose an outfit for you.”

its sudden, how he sits upright and turns to you. his eyes blink just a bit wider, a little slower. alucard’s mouth strikingly quirks upwards in a way that makes you believe he hadn’t been comfortable with the idea— almost as though you’d been meaning to treat him like a child.

“you’d . . . dress me up?”

you retract in the slightest, “only if you’d like. it isn’t a must—”

“please,” he ultimately responds, tone soft and low, “by all means.” it had just been the thought of the sheer intimacy that dazed him. you selecting what would fit him best through your eyes, pulling himself free of his clothes, revealed unto you as you’re dolling him up . . . it all sounds so touching and right now, he wants nothing more.

he can feel palpable relief roll off of you in waves as you beam, “sounds perfect, then.” he calms himself and fixes his countenance, gracing you with a sincere smile. rosy pigment scatters itself upon his face. you catch onto that hopeful glimmer in his eye, one that shows he’s pleased though you can’t quite place it. he’s too softened to say that gratitude has overcome him.

your back is facing him as you rummage around and take your pick, “undress while i put something together, alright?”

“bold request,” adrian characteristically quips. you merely laugh, “you should be bare once i turn around, you hear?”

he hums in acknowledgment, although he opts for tidying up the room first. you can’t see him with your back turned, yet you know he made use of his vampirian speed to grab and fold all his clothes that’d been thrown-askew, including the night attire he’d already been wearing. it amazes you that it only took him a solid eight seconds to complete it all.

“i’m sure that’s convenient,” you muse, turning his way with your selections in hand. alucard’s bare now, adorned in nothing other than his undergarments. a plain and skimpy pair of beige-white breeches shouldn’t excite you so— but god, they hang so low on his hips it’s like they’re barely even there. and how could you possibly ignore the way the cloth clings to his thighs? his arms look strong and coiled like wire, and the chiseled lining of his lean torso is embellished by the fleshy-pink scar that runs past his abdomen all the way up the center of his firm chest.

adrian can only hold your gaze for so long before realizing that you’re drinking him in. consciously, he pivots his head the other way as though to escape it, allowing his lengthy hair to drape down and cover the flushing of his fair cheeks.

you inch up to him, setting the clothes on his bedside. you find his larger hand to interlace with your own, and he only grows redder. there’s an indescribable pride that comes with being capable of riling him up.

“oh, don’t tell me you’re shy,” your hum is sugary like marmalade, “i’ve seen you before . . . you’re beautiful.”

“oh my god,” he whispers, pressing a palm to his heated face. sometimes adrian finds you to be too sweet. he isn’t sure how you haven’t yet succeeded at killing him with all your flattery. he bashfully smiles, cheeks warm as you stand high on your toes to peck them. “you and that mouth of yours.”

“i’ll leave you alone before you overheat,” you tease, halting your affections to return to the task at hand. “you love to toy with me,” he breathes out, and your giggle confirms it. you then display your choices; fitted pants of black leather paired with a warm-tan blouse, one that brings out the shine of his sharp eyes and adds a flush of vitality to his fair skin. interestingly enough, it resembles the color of his golden hair. you’d gone with something similar to his typical style so that he’d feel comfortable wearing it; though you know he’s been rather picky today.

“is it okay?” the way you await his approval makes his heart throb right within his chest. if only you knew that you handpicking anything for him was enough to make him fall in absolute love with it. it had never really been the outfit— he’s sure he just needed you all along.

“more than okay.” he smiles up at you, lips soft and pale-pink. you wonder if you’d end up altering the mood if you leaned down to kiss him. “well chosen, dear.”

“i know just what you like, don’t i?” you sound quite delighted, and it warms him up inside. ��but of course. it’s my closet, after all.” the both of you share a knowing laugh that makes you feel so wholesome, so bound. you’ll be sure to commit the feeling to memory.

he then rises to his feet, standing a solid foot above you as he works his way into the bottoms you chose. a pout overtakes you, pretty lips pursed as you whine, “i could’ve done that!”

“you’ll get to fix the blouse. sounds fair, yes?” adrian knows if you were to have worn his pants for him, the hard-on he’d sport would’ve been more than embarrassing. you’ve seen each other vulnerable a good amount of times, and made love even more than what could be counted, but during a moment like this would only sully the mood, he’s sure.

with a hum, you give in. “fine,” your fingers trace against the threading of his shirt, “sit back down for me. you’re too tall for me to dress you from here,” alucard’s always found the contrast in size between the both of you to be endearing, especially whenever you go on to mention it. you’re surprised he decides to choose obedience instead of poking fun. he takes his place upon the bed and makes room for you to settle atop his lap. it’s instinctive, how quickly his hands reach for your waist. he rubs them along the patterning of your corset.

“arms out,” you’re a little less content when his touch leaves you, though you adore how well he listens. you ease the top over his head, onto his arms and finally onto the rest of his frame, tucking away the mussed locks of wavy blonde hair that fall array.

“i’ll brush it out for you later, adri,” you murmur, smoothing down the frizz before bringing your hands to cradle his cheeks. his face looks simply ethereal this close; flawlessly structured, handsome yet elegant. once again, his hands find their rightful place upon your sides. you watch him melt in your very hold when you coo, “my pretty boy.”

he whimpers a lowly call of your name. “thank you . . for all of it.” you know these sort of pocketed moments mean so much to him. his gentle pitch wavers with the subtlest hint of desire; you’d know the sound of it anywhere. still soft-spoken, though the slightest bit deeper. raspier, even. he only reserves such a tone for you.

your response is hushed, just about breathless, “always, adrian.” the pair of you are so close that the straightened tip of his nose grazes against your own. when the tension grows too thick and you can no longer escape his lips reeling you in like magnets, you finally lean into him and let your mouths slot, warmth blooming between you. his lithe fingers roam and you suckle at his bottom lip, prying a soft groan out of him.

alucard kisses you with longing, the span of his fangs subtly clashing against the pearly white of your teeth as he works at prodding his tongue inside, nipping at your lips and tasting of you. he frees out soft, little ‘ i love you ’ amongst all the licking and sucking.

you both wind up toppling down onto the bed, with his back to the mattress and your squished breasts to his heart. making out with a man such as adrian always gets so heavy; you’re panting into each other's mouths, swallowing up the other one’s sounds, and you just can’t seem to help but slowly roll your hips into the stiffness of his crotch. a handful of minutes with him already has you entirely soiled.

“this is becoming something else,” alucard breaks away with a huff, fighting himself not to rip off the clothes you just adorned him in.

but fuck, you aren’t helping. “allow it, then . . .” is your solution, bringing the plush surface of your lips to suckle along his jaw, against the column of his throat, right down his neck . . . no point in refraining now. you eased him of his worries, and he only wants nothing more than to repay you.

“quite a shame, dear.” it truly is— especially considering that you put together such a stylish assortment for him. “now everything must be undone.”

© 𝒫𝐼𝑁𝐾ℳ𝐼𝑅𝑇𝐻! ⸻ all rights reserved! do not steal, plagiarize or repost any of my works. please and thank you! ❤︎

[spectralreplica]

PMMM Precure AU! It was fun trying to keep their outfits recognizable while trying to make them look more cohesive. Homura's is definitely the most changed, so I hope it still looks enough like her???

The themes would be gemstones, jewelry, and wishes. I'd probably have their Cure names be gemstones, maybe Opal/Morganite, Sapphire/Turquoise, Topaz/Citrine, Ruby, Amethyst, but I'm not strongly attached... Transformation item is supposed to be like a little faberge egg style jewelry box with the ring as a key TroRouge style!

Vague plot idea: There's a big important magic gem that can grant any wish, guarded by the Kyubeys for generations. The last person who successfully used it was a princess centuries back, but she vanished mysteriously and no one remembers what she wished for anymore... (Definitely she was NOT lost in time and will NOT show up later on with her own thoughts on if the Precure are doing things correctly...)

To activate it, you need to gather enough energy from granting people's wishes. Recently there's a coven of witches going around bespelling people into serving them and stealing their wish energy... Unclear on the end goal, but it doesn't look great! So one baby Kyubey heads off alone to try and awaken the Precure to fight them off and claim the big wish for themselves, to maybe bring back the princess???

Possibly Sayaka becomes a witch for a while, probably due to being disillusioned by actually meeting The Princess plus realizing the Kyubeys have not been totally honest. Kyoko's backstory is not quite as harsh as canon (also she didn't have magic to accidentally brainwash people), so instead her dad just became erratic to the point of losing custody, so she + Momo are growing up in an orphanage/foster care... Definitely the elder Kyubey is up to something...

[mononijikayu]

wife — nanami kento.

“I don’t like the way they’re looking at you.” You whisper to him. “Let them, honey.” he said, his deep voice rich with certainty. “That’s all they can do.” He took your hand, calloused but gentle, and squeezed it just enough to send a rush of comfort through you. His thumb traced the side of your hand in a subtle, soothing gesture. The cool metal of his ring finger brushes against your skin with intent.  “They should know that I am exactly where I choose to be. I’m a married man, after all.”

GENRE: alternate universe - canon convergence;

WARNING/S: romance, marriage, nsfw, rated 18 and above, explicit content, kissing, making out, rough sex, p to v sex, toilet sex, orgasm, humor, profanity, pet names (baby, honey), possesiveness, jealousy, characters speaking in sexual innuendo, mention of sexual euphemisms, depiction of explicit sexual content, if your partner isn't nanami kento then don't have him ladies, gents and non-binary friends;

WORD COUNT: 6.6k words.

NOTE: nanami kento won the poll, so here we are!!! its relatively shorter than the current style i have, but i hope you still like it. and yes, i added a spoiler for shoko and geto's sister (since shoko won #2 in the poll, she also gets a fic!!!). they are still together cause god knows they need love and care after all they have been through. anyway, i hope you all enjoy this!!! i love you all and see you in the next one <3

masterlist

if you want to, tip! <3

THIS WAS A RARE OPPORTUNITY.  You don’t like going to these high social events at all, not even outside Jujutsu society. You were a homebody, you adored having time to yourself. But you can’t ignore Gojo Satoru’s invitation. Even if you want to.

He’s been so good to your Kento and he’s always making sure that none of the old farts are making his life miserable. So you felt inclined to go. You felt inclined to play a little bit with this world. 

The grand hall of Gojo manor was resplendent, a wash of gold and white with shimmering drapes that caught the light of the crystal chandeliers overhead. Gojo Satoru was not thrilled to host the gathering. But since it was his duty as the Gojo clan head and he had to play nice with all these people — he gave in and threw the party.

Of course, he refused to make it exclusively a sorcerer only gathering. He wanted to ensure that it was open to everyone, even yourself. That in itself breaks tradition. More often than not, it was only sorcerers, especially those in the higher echelons of Jujutsu society, who were allowed to come and enjoy such liberties. 

But of course, Gojo Satoru was not such a man of tradition. He hated it, as much as your Kento. So, of course, to enjoy you and Kento’s company and to spite all these snobs, he made sure to invite you and everyone else.

You find that you’re at least enjoying the building’s architecture. You were a fan of architecture, in all forms and culture. You and your husband Kento shared that passion, more so when you both were in Denmark or when you both were in the countryside. 

Still, Gojo manor was not too bad. You marvel at the intricate carvings on the walls depicting centuries of legendary battles and heroics of history gone by. Each one was a reminder that this was not just a gathering but a showcase of the Jujutsu world's most powerful and influential. 

Sorcerers mingled, their robes embroidered with clan symbols and sigils that spoke of generations of power and prestige. Conversations buzzed with a mix of guarded politeness and subtle rivalry.

The room alive with an undercurrent of competition disguised as small talk. The sound of polite laughter mixed with the clink of glasses filled with aged sake, its delicate aroma weaving through the air like a ghost.

You stood near the buffet table, the scent of delicacies. Gojo Satoru did well with getting everything together for this, especially the food, all high quality — only the best of the Gojo clan head’s tastes. You both think the same in that exquisite taste. 

That certainly is why you were excited to taste everything. From the perfectly grilled yakitori, dainty bowls of ikura don, to the plates piled with fresh sashimi and brilliantly wrapped hamachi. They were all wafting around you. They were all perfect for you.

“I regret wearing this dress.” You tell yourself in a small mumble. “It’s too tight and I forgot Gojo likes good food like me. I thought he would have left it to his goons to decide the food menu…”

You were dressed in an elegant but simple gown, a deep navy blue that skimmed your figure without the drama of glittering embellishments or the boldness of vibrant silks. Compared to the ostentatious displays around you, it felt almost understated, but it was you.

You could hardly care about the fashions of Jujutsu society. You liked your fashion. And your husband did too. That was all that mattered. You adjusted the silver cuff on your wrist, a small but meaningful gift from Nanami, its cool weight reassuring against your skin.

You glanced around, eyes catching a few familiar faces. There was Nitta Akari from administration and management, gesturing animatedly as she spoke with her colleagues, her face flushed with excitement. Mei Mei stood nearby, her icy beauty undiminished by the cool smirk she wore. 

She held court as always, eyes sharp as a hawk’s as she listened, spoke, and effortlessly commanded the attention of everyone within earshot. Hell, there was Usami too — but he was surrounded by those vultures from the conservative factions. 

But most of the women were like the wives of powerful clan leaders. They represented their husbands, who thought it too boring to join the gathering or rather were abandoned by their husbands to do other things. 

Yet they were powerful women in their own right and they wanted you to know it. They wanted for you to see it, so badly. Their outfits elaborate displays of status, from the gold-threaded kimonos to the jewels woven into their hair.  Their makeup was meticulous, brows arched and lips painted in deep shades of crimson or plum. 

Most of them were interesting to gawk at. But you were certain they thought the same about you. Especially those specific women. It was those more haughty women, clan women under the big three who glanced your way with subtle, evaluating eyes.

You could feel their scrutiny as tangibly as the satin ribbons brushing your wrists. A fan fluttered as a woman whispered behind it, her gaze cutting sideways toward you. She looked as haughty and dry as her entire face.

“Do you think she really fits in here?” one murmured, just loud enough for the question to reach your ears.

“I heard she’s not even a sorcerer.” came the response, this time with a touch of incredulity. “Yet they let her come near our children, to teach them about a world they don’t dwell in. Pathetic waste of time!” 

You pretended not to hear, reaching for a skewer of yakitori to busy your hands. But your pulse quickened, not with embarrassment, but with the awareness of the reason behind their thinly veiled curiosity. They must have been Zenin women, perhaps married to the higher ranked men in Zenin Naobito’s circle. You felt bad for them, yet you also hated them. 

But you knew that wasn’t the case for their hatred of you. Not exactly. It wasn’t the fact that you were an outsider, a non-sorcerer working as a window at Jujutsu High, who taught mundane subjects like history and literature to the students. 

Nor was it that the students often liked you better, seeking your lessons as a respite from their harsher training. It was the reason these women whispered behind jeweled fans and exchanged glances tinged with envy: you were the much beloved wife of Nanami Kento, the stalwart, handsome, and sought-after grade one sorcerer.

From across the room, you caught sight of him. He stood among a small circle of colleagues, the sharp lines of his tailored suit a contrast to the flowing robes around him. His expression was as stoic as ever, but there was a small shift when he saw you, a softening in his gaze that no one else would notice. 

To everyone else, he was the unapproachable, severe sorcerer who never let his guard down. But you knew the way his bright eyes would close just slightly when he was tired, the low chuckle he reserved for evenings spent at home, the way his voice lowered when he told you stories of his youth.

“Good evening.” came a familiar voice that broke through your wandering thoughts. You turned to find Ieiri Shoko standing beside you, her expression one of relaxed amusement. 

She was dressed in an elegant black ensemble that perfectly complemented her laid-back demeanor, a glass of sake dangling effortlessly from her fingers. Her sharp eyes glimmered with mischief as she surveyed the room.

“Evening.” You greeted back at her, your lips sharply echoing into a smile. “Why are you alone? Where’s your darling at?”

“Oh, surrounded by those pathetic vultures.” She pointed at the table where she was talking with the Kyoto women, smiling brightly. “Ugh, I hate those freaks. I can’t believe she’s around them. They’re not even worth an ounce of her giggles.”

“Geto–san has to make good with people somehow.” You pointed out to her, humming. “Connections are just connections. But you’re her lover. It’s been some years. Breathe, Sho.”

She rolls her eyes, before smiling. “Yeah, yeah.”

“How have you been?”

“Good, as always.” Shoko retorts back, humming at you. “I just wish I had cigarettes. But she said if I tried to smoke tonight, she wouldn’t let me hit.”

You laugh at her bluntness. “I do the same to Kento too, but with his alcohol. You both have to be kept on a leash.”

 “Oh the things we do for love.” She sighed heavily before looking at the ones glaring at you both. It wasn’t hard to notice those clusters of sorcerer wives eyeing you with thinly veiled intentions. “You’re doing well against their scrutiny, I see.”

“Barely. But I do find myself enjoying it.” you admitted, a small laugh escaping despite the tension. Shoko’s company was always welcome; her nonchalance had a way of making everything seem less dire.

Shoko took a slow sip from her glass, savoring it like she savored every moment. She shifted her gaze to one of the wives, a woman with a crimson kimono embroidered so elaborately it looked more like a tapestry than a garment. The woman was whispering behind her fan, eyes darting toward you and Shoko with a practiced side glance.

“Ah, her again. I thought she wouldn’t be here after she got exposed for her affair.” Shoko said, rolling her eyes with exaggerated flair. She leaned closer, voice low but biting. “Careful, she’s liable to sprain her neck with how much she’s been glaring. I heard last time she tried something that intense, she nearly fainted from holding her breath.”

You stifled a laugh, your shoulders shaking with barely contained mirth. Shoko’s dry humor was like a breath of fresh air, slicing through the tension with an effortless charm. The woman in the crimson kimono noticed your reaction and stiffened, her cheeks blooming with indignation.

“Let them look, let them whisper. Let them be jealous of you.” Shoko said, turning her eyes back to you. Her voice shifted to something more genuine, the mocking edge softening. “They’ll keep wondering because they can’t figure it out. You’re different, and they hate not understanding something. It’s their worst fear.”

You exhaled a breath you didn’t know you were holding, the knots in your chest loosening. Shoko’s words were more than just comfort; they were a reminder that your place here wasn’t defined by others’ perceptions but by your own truth and by the fact that Nanami stood beside you, unwavering.

“Thanks, Sho. I appreciate it a lot.” you said, voice steadying.

She gave a small shrug, the kind that said don’t make it a big deal. With another sip of sake, she nodded toward the buffet. “Now, let’s hope they restock the good tempura. If not, someone’s getting cursed tonight, and it won’t be me.”

She winked, then sauntered away, leaving you with a smile and the indelible impression that you weren’t as alone as you sometimes felt. Once she moved to the corner to see about the temperature, you could feel from the corner of your eye.

You saw the clan wives exchanging glances again. Their perfectly painted lips tightened just slightly as Nanami Kento, breaking from his group, made his way toward you, every step a quiet declaration.

“Is it true? She’s the one married to him?” another ignorant one whispered, leaning into a group of women whose gazes darted in your direction.

“Yes, the one with Nanami Kento, the number two of the first grade sorcerers.” another foolish one confirmed, unable to keep the hint of envy out of her voice. 

You turned slightly, pretending not to hear as you picked up a small plate of delicacies. You did not care for what they wanted to say about you. You were more focused on your desire to taste the dishes. The laughter and clinking glasses around you felt muted under the weight of the tension gathering nearby.

The whispers turned to sharp murmurs, punctuated by gasps and scandalized looks. But perhaps that bothered them even more, because they started making more comments.

“Who does she think she is, that no name wanna be?” The foolish one whispered, loud enough for people to hear her. But perhaps she does not realize she was not being discreet. 

The ignorant one scoffs in disbelief, shaking her head. “What a snob! How can Nanami-san be married to her?”

Shoko heard enough of it and turned around almost immediately from the dishes to the ladies. They jumped out of their seats. She rolls her eyes at them. It was as though she was just as annoyed as she was bored with them. 

“Honestly, get over yourselves. You all look like desperate idiots.” she said, a lazy smirk tugging at her lips as she leaned casually against a marble pillar. Everyone was now looking at them. Aren’t you at least going to have the gall to say it to our face, lady Kawami?”

The woman in the crimson kimono, lady Kawami, known for her sharp tongue and her greedy  ambition gasped, her painted lips parting in shock. Beside her, another woman with intricately styled hair and a pinched expression scowled deeply. 

“How dare you—”

“Isn’t that the truth?” Shoko’s laughter was light and mocking, yet the glint in her eyes held no softness. She tilted her head, pointing a perfectly manicured finger at Lady Kawami’s reddening face. “You think Nanami Kento would like an ugly face and a bad attitude like yours? Ha! You wish!”

The crowd that had gathered to eavesdrop was stunned into silence, eyes flicking between the women like spectators at a duel. The foolish one’s face turned a deep shade of red, while the ignorant one sputtered, looking moments away from summoning her husband and causing an uproar. 

“You cannot talk to us like that!” she shrieked, voice pitched high with indignation. “My husband will hear of this!”

“Now, now, lady Kawami, you shouldn’t treat my guests like that.” The familiar, light-hearted voice of Gojo Satoru interrupted the escalating tension. The two women felt their eyes widen. They quickly bow before him. “It’s so disrespectful, don’t you think?”

Heads turned as he approached, dressed in an exquisite black and silver kimono decorated with the Gojo clan crest. Even in traditional wear, he managed to exude a casual, almost irreverent charm. His dark, round glasses perched on his nose added to the effect as he lowered them just slightly, revealing eyes that shimmered with barely concealed amusement.

“Ah, Gojo-sama.” Lady Kawami said, trying to mask her fluster with a demure nod, but the tension in her posture betrayed her. “I didn’t mean any disrespect towards her, but surely you can understand that—”

“Oh, I understand completely, lady Kawami.” Gojo interrupted, a playful grin spreading across his face. He pushed his glasses back up, letting them catch the light so that the rest of the room was reflected in them. “I understand that you’re boring my dear friend Shoko, and frankly, I can’t have that. Her girlfriend wouldn't be so happy, either. And of course, I love my friend’s happiness.”

The subtle ripple of suppressed laughter ran through the more observant bystanders. Lady Kawami’s mouth snapped shut, her eyes narrowing dangerously. It was rare for someone to speak to her like that and get away with it, but this was Gojo Satoru. A man whose reputation as the most powerful sorcerer in the room and quite possibly the world would mean his words carried weight that no amount of social maneuvering could deflect.

Shoko’s smirk widened as she raised her glass in mock toast to Gojo, her eyes gleaming. “Well, look who decided to save the day. Dashing, really, Gojo.”

He winked at her. “Anything to make sure tonight stays interesting.”

The ignorant one, still seething but now cautious, looked between Gojo and Shoko before settling on silence. The power dynamics had shifted too sharply, and she knew better than to push further. No one can go against Gojo Satoru and not face repercussions. No one. And it would have ended up badly for their husbands and their families if they did. 

You exhaled, tension releasing from your shoulders as the spectacle unraveled. A small, knowing smile touched your lips as Kento's eyes found yours from across the room, his expression softening just a fraction, and you knew that you weren’t alone in facing these moments. You were surrounded by friends who would always have your back, in their own unique, if slightly chaotic, ways.

The room’s atmosphere gradually loosened, tension shifting back to its usual simmering undercurrent. Gojo’s playful banter had disarmed the scene, leaving only the embarrassed scowls of lady Kawami and her cohort. Shoko took another sip of her sake, the glint of satisfaction in her eyes clear as she watched the women bristle and disperse.

“Good job not throwing that plate, masterful control.” Shoko said to you, her voice carrying a hint of approval. She nodded at the untouched delicacies in your hand. “Would’ve been a waste of good food.”

You chuckled softly, appreciating her humor. “Shouldn’t you be saying that to yourself, Sho?”

“Well, I mean, that’s true.” 

Gojo laughs. “Shoko would have done worse than that and we both know it.”

“Hm, but I would have you carry my food to my table.”

“Oh? Then people would be surprised, how anyone can force the Gojo clan leader to do anything on a whim.”

Before you could respond, a presence behind you made the small hairs on your neck stand up in recognition. You turned, and there he was—Nanami Kento, striding toward you with the kind of quiet confidence that set him apart from the rest.

He looked ever so handsome, your husband. But when you get him even more up close? It’s a different story. He looked even more like a god when he stood before you this close.  

He took in the scene, eyes flicking over the lingering crowd, Gojo’s smirk, and Shoko’s knowing look. Then his attention settled on you, warm and steady. “I see I missed the entertainment.” he said, his voice deep and even, but with a trace of curiosity.

Gojo lifted a hand in a lazy wave. “Ah, Nanami, you missed Shoko here defending your lovely lady’s honor with an admirable lack of diplomacy.”

Kento’s brows lifted slightly, his gaze darting to Shoko, who shrugged, unbothered. “They deserved it.” she said, as if that were the most obvious fact in the world.

With a quiet exhale, Kento nodded, accepting the unspoken truth that you were protected by bonds deeper than mere duty. He reached out, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. The small gesture spoke volumes, his touch grounding and reassuring. 

“Are you alright?” he asked, eyes searching yours for any trace of discomfort.

You smiled up at him, your earlier tension melting away entirely under his gaze. “I am now.”

The corners of his mouth twitched in what might have been a smile, subdued as always but unmistakably there. The few remaining onlookers, who had hoped to catch a new drama unfolding, exchanged glances before deciding they had better places to be.

Gojo clapped his hands, shattering the delicate silence that had settled. “Well, now that we’ve cleared the air, what do you say we toast to another evening of society’s finest theatrics?” His grin was as wide as ever, his glasses reflecting the chandelier’s light like a pair of miniature suns.

Nanami shook his head, but there was a hint of amusement in his eyes as he glanced at you, then back at Gojo. “You never change, Gojo.” he muttered, the ghost of a smile touching his lips.

“And wouldn’t it be boring if I did?” Gojo countered, raising a brow.

Shoko raised her glass, smirking at Gojo before tipping it toward you and Nanami. “Unwavering loyalty and keeping things interesting!” she said.

You lifted your plate with a grin, and Kento, never one for dramatics, simply inclined his head. But the unspoken promise in his gaze, the silent support he offered, said more than any toast or witty comment ever could. In a hall filled with power, it was that quiet moment, surrounded by friends and the one who held your heart, that resonated most.

Soon enough, Shoko returned to her girlfriend with her plate stacked with food on one hand and the other holding a glass of wine. Her girlfriend, Geto Suguru’s younger sister, was waiting for her at one of the tables by the back.

Of course, Gojo Satoru returned to moving about and greeting everyone, but he seemed to have been halted by lord Kawami, probably trying to get things straight and settled. No one likes losing his favor after all. It was better that everything was smoothed out with him.

The incident however did not stop the women from continuing to look at your husband wantingly. One of the clan leader’s wives, her jeweled fan hiding half her face, whispered something to the woman beside her. They glanced over, eyes narrowing as if they could decipher what spell had ensnared someone like Nanami Kento.

“They’re watching again.” you murmured, feeling a twinge of jealousy and self-consciousness.

You immediately caught the glance of a woman adorned with a striking emerald necklace that glittered every time she turned. Her expression was polished and unreadable, but the pointed way she looked at you sent an old, familiar discomfort crawling up your spine.

Kento’s presence next to you was a calm in the storm, an anchor against the waves of whispers and stares. He tilted his head slightly, just enough that the room’s golden glow cast warm highlights across his sharp features. His eyes, serious and unwavering, met yours.

“I don’t like the way they’re looking at you.” You whisper to him.

“Let them, honey.” he said, his deep voice rich with certainty. “That’s all they can do.”

He took your hand, calloused but gentle, and squeezed it just enough to send a rush of comfort through you. His thumb traced the side of your hand in a subtle, soothing gesture. The cool metal of his ring finger brushes against your skin with intent. 

“They should know that I am exactly where I choose to be. I’m a married man, after all.”

A silence swept over the nearby crowd, as if Nanami Kento’s words, though spoken softly, carried through the hall like a sudden change in the wind. The clan leaders’ wives, women who could command a room with a flick of their eyes or a whisper laced with intent, shifted uncomfortably. For all their power, their meticulously curated reputations, and the alliances they upheld like prized heirlooms, they had never been the center of such unwavering devotion.

Akari from administration glanced over and offered a subtle nod of approval, a small smile playing on her lips as she resumed her conversation. Mei Mei, sharp-eyed and ever perceptive, caught the moment as well. She raised her glass, her smirk deepening as though to say, well played.

The subtle tension that once swirled around the room, woven through glances and whispers, began to dissipate. Some turned their attention back to their conversations, laughter resuming, but not without the occasional glance in your direction, this time tinged more with begrudging respect than judgment.

“Kento, baby.” you said softly, a small smile breaking through as your heart settled back into its natural rhythm. The weight of self-consciousness fell away, replaced by a warm sense of belonging that his presence always seemed to ignite.

“Hmm?” he replied, his gaze still watching you with an intensity that was rare for him, except when you were alone.

“Thank you, baby.” you whispered, squeezing his hand back.

His eyes softened, the smallest, barely-there curve of his lips showing just the hint of a smile meant only for you. “There’s nothing to thank me for, honey.” he replied, tilting his head as if to read your thoughts. “It’s simply the truth.”

══════════════════

IT HAPPENED AS QUICKLY AS ONE COULD BLINK. But you suppose you can’t help it. Your desire for pleasure was fast when it came to Nanami Kento. Much more so when you’re jealous. BUt you knew your husband liked that. More than he likes to admit to you.

You felt a delicious rush of power as you yanked him closer by his tie, leading him out of the crowded hall. Away from the watchful eyes and mingling strangers, it was just the two of you in the quiet, dim hallway, with only your quickened breaths filling the silence.

The door closed behind you, and before you could say another word, his hands were on you, strong and possessive, pressing you back against the cool tiles of the bathroom wall. His fingers traced over your hips and along your waist, leaving a tingling heat in their wake.

It was as if he was memorizing every inch of you all over again. You looked up at him, catching his gaze; his eyes were heavy with desire, and the way he looked at you made your knees feel weak. He was entirely yours in that moment, and you were entirely his.

Your hands slid up his chest, feeling the warmth beneath his shirt, his heartbeat echoing your own. His mouth was on yours again, the kiss deep and ravenous, filling the space with the sounds of quickened breath and desperate touches. The world beyond the bathroom faded, leaving only the two of you, tangled in each other.

When he pulled back to look at you, you could barely catch your breath. His hand found the curve of your neck, fingers tracing gently along your jawline, and your own hands gripped his shoulders, grounding you as your pulse raced.

“You’re so good….” you managed to whisper breathlessly, your voice trembling as you tried to form words. "Kento….." you murmured, the words spilling out between gasps, each syllable almost a sigh as you clung to him. 

The intensity of his gaze made you shiver, your own desire reflected in his eyes. He leaned closer, his breath warm against your cheek, and you felt a thrill ripple through you as he whispered your name. His breath felt hot, so tenderly warm against your skin. And even more so when he said your name in that breathy way. That made you feel even more excitement.

For a moment, you both paused, catching your breath as the heat of the moment washed over you. His fingers brushed along your cheek, his thumb tracing the corner of your mouth, as though savoring this quiet, charged moment before pulling you back in with the same raw, electric passion.

And in that hidden space, the two of you lost yourselves, caught in the perfect, unbreakable intimacy that felt like a world away from the bustling party. If you both had your way, both of you would have been locked away from the world. All you needed was each other.

His hands explored with a possessive tenderness, each touch leaving trails of fire across your skin. You let out a shaky breath, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as he pressed his lips along your jaw, down to the sensitive spot just below your ear. You shivered, feeling him smile against your skin, clearly pleased at the effect he was having on you.

You pulled him even closer, fingers moving from his shirt to his tie, loosening it slightly, just enough to slide it off his neck. Your breath hitched as he leaned in, his eyes fixed on you with a focused intensity that made you feel as though you were the only person in the world.

"Can’t believe you dragged me out here, honey." he murmured, his voice low and teasing, his words sending a thrill through you. "But I’d follow you anywhere. I’ll make love to you anywhere you want me to."

His words made your heart race, and you felt the butterflies from earlier stirring again as he leaned in, his mouth meeting yours with a new urgency. It was as if all the tension from the night poured into that kiss, building into something raw and unstoppable.

As he pulled you closer, his fingers gently brushed your hair back from your face, and you caught his gaze, breathless. You couldn’t help the small, breathless laugh that escaped as you looked at him, both of you a little dizzy, a little wild.

“This is dangerous, you know, baby.” you whispered, a playful smirk dancing on your lips as you tightened your hold on him. But he only raised an eyebrow, his own grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Good.” he replied, his voice a low murmur. "Wouldn’t have it any other way."

Soon enough, you were under his thumb. His movements grew rougher, each thrust deep and unrelenting, sending a surge of sensation through you that bordered on overwhelming. Every press of his body against yours was a heady mixture of strength and passion. 

And it was all you could do to cling to him, fingers digging into his shoulders as the intensity built. His pace quickened, and you felt your back arch instinctively, unable to control the way your body responded to him.

Your breaths came in sharp, shallow gasps, each one catching in your throat as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge, his touch both possessive and tender. Your senses blurred; the world narrowed down to the feel of him, the heat between you, the way he whispered your name against your skin in a voice that was both rough and reverent.

Every movement, every thrust sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, each one pushing you further until you were lost in the sheer intensity of it all. You gripped him tightly, almost desperately, as though grounding yourself against the delicious onslaught. 

His name left your lips in broken gasps, and as you met his gaze, the shared passion and vulnerability in his eyes were enough to undo you completely. Everything about your husband makes you feel alive. Especially at this moment. He was good at making you cry for life.

In that moment, you felt yourself surrender, giving in fully to the dizzying rush, to him, and to the warmth and bliss that consumed you both. You shifted slightly beneath him, the heat of your body still trapped in the shared intimacy of the moment. The words escaped you before you could stop them, your jealousy bubbling to the surface. 

"I saw the way they were looking at you tonight, baby." you whispered, your voice a blend of frustration and desire, your fingers gripping his shoulders tightly. "All those women... They were ogling you, making eyes at you, and I couldn’t—"

His breath hitched at the raw honesty in your voice. His eyes darkened, a flicker of something primal flashing across his face. Without breaking his rhythm, he leaned closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he growled, "Don’t you dare think about them. You're the only one I want. I only want my wife. My little precious wife."

His words were a balm, but the way his body moved, the deep, relentless thrusts, were what truly silenced your insecurities. The force of each movement was almost punishing, his hips driving into you harder, making your head spin with pleasure. His hands gripped your hips, steadying you as he picked up speed, his breath ragged against your skin.

"You think I want them?" he asked, his voice a dark, velvety rasp. "No. It's you, only you. Always been you." His words came out in desperate gasps, the intensity of his thrusts growing, pushing you both to the edge. "You’re mine. No one else matters."

You moaned, feeling a thrill surge through your chest, his raw claim igniting something deeper within you. His pace never faltered, and as he rams into you harder.

Each movement seems to strip away the last remnants of your doubts. Your body responded, the tension in you winding tighter, tighter, until you were sure you'd break. You could barely speak, your voice hitching as you met his powerful thrusts with a soft whimper, your body rocking with the force of him.

"I’m jealous, baby. I always am." you admitted, your hands tracing down his chest, grasping at him desperately, the words slipping between gasps. "But you're mine too. Only mine."

"Always have been, honey. Only yours." he replied, his hands pressing you harder into the cold tile as he moved faster, pushing you further toward the edge with each heated thrust. 

His voice was a low growl, his rhythm unrelenting, and you could feel him losing himself as much as you were, both of you consumed by the need, the overwhelming desire to claim and be claimed.

The moment his lips crashed into yours, everything else seemed to melt away. The overwhelming intensity of the kiss mirrored the urgency of his movements, his body pressing deeper into yours, each thrust sending waves of heat through you. The kiss was possessive, his tongue claiming yours with the same hunger that burned between you both.

As he pushed deeper, his rhythm becoming relentless, you felt a broken cry escape from you, a mixture of pleasure and raw emotion that you couldn’t hold back. His eyes, dark with desire, caught yours, and for a moment, you saw something deeper than just lust—something primal and protective, something that made your heart race in a way you couldn’t explain.

"You’re so fucking beautiful, honey." he whispered against your lips, his voice rough with the same need he’d been building in both of you. “My wife is so fucking beautiful.” 

His hands moved to your hips, pulling you impossibly closer as he thrust deeper, pushing you to the brink, your cries turning into soft whimpers as your body was caught in the storm of sensation. It felt so good, it always has been.

The deeper he is, the deeper the pleasure fills you. The more you cry out and moan. The more he tries to defy the possibilities, thrusting deeper to fill you more and more.

The tears that pricked the corners of your eyes weren't from pain—no, it was something more complex, something that left you breathless. It was the weight of the connection, the force of his touch, and the emotional release that you hadn’t expected.

All combined into something that made your chest tighten with overwhelming feeling. You cried because he was inside you in every way, not just physically but emotionally, each thrust deeper, each kiss harder.

Kento pulled away slightly, his thumb brushing away a tear that had slipped down your cheek, his breath hot against your face. His eyes softened for a moment, but the hunger in them never dulled. 

"You’re mine, only mine, wife." he breathed, his voice low but full of meaning, before kissing you again, harder this time, as though proving to you what he’d just spoken.

The kiss deepened as he pulled you even closer, his body pressing against yours with a fervor that made your entire being hum with raw need. You could feel every inch of him, every movement of his muscles, and it was as if the world had disappeared entirely, leaving just the two of you tangled in this electric, consuming moment.

His thrusts became more forceful, each one driving deeper, pushing you to the edge of something wild and uncontrollable. Your nails dug into his back, clinging to him for support as his mouth moved from yours, trailing down your neck, biting and sucking as he marked you, claiming you completely.

"Don't hold back, honey." he murmured against your skin, his breath ragged. "Let go for me. I need you to feel this... all of it."

You couldn't hold back, not anymore. Not even if anyone was to hear outside. You didn’t feel bad about being this loud because it was your pleasure. About the pleasure he was giving you. He was making you feel good and you wanted him to know it. 

“Good baby, my good little wife. Take me. Take me whole.”

His words hit something deep inside, and you cried out, your voice a broken whisper as your body surrendered fully to him, to the pleasure, to the overwhelming emotions that swirled inside you. His name escaped your lips in a desperate, breathless moan, and the sound seemed to spur him on, his pace quickening as he met you with relentless urgency.

Each thrust pushed you further into a frenzy of sensation, and the pleasure that had once been distant now consumed you completely. The tears that had been building in your eyes spilled over, not from pain, but from the intensity, from the way his body moved with yours in perfect rhythm, from the way he made you feel so utterly seen, so completely his.

Kento’s hand moved to your face, his thumb gently swiping at the tears on your cheek, a tender touch amidst the feverish passion. His eyes softened for just a moment, but then they hardened with desire as he kissed you again, his tongue tasting your lips, your moans swallowed by the deep kiss.

"You're everything to me, honey." he growled, his voice barely audible between breaths. "And I’ll make sure you never forget that."

His words, the way his body pressed into yours, the way his hands held you so firmly. It all built up to something so deep, so visceral that you couldn’t tell where your body ended and his began. Everything inside you snapped, the waves of pleasure crashing over you in a rush, leaving you breathless and shaking in his arms. 

Your cries were mingled with his own as he lost himself in the moment, the sound of skin against skin filling the small space as you both gave in to the release, the powerful culmination of everything that had been building between you.

As the waves of pleasure slowly subsided, leaving both of you breathless and spent, the quiet hum of the room returned, only now it felt like a distant memory compared to the electric tension between you. You both lingered in the aftermath, bodies still pressed together, hearts racing in sync. 

Your breath was ragged, your fingers tracing the sweat-slick skin of his back, grounding yourself in the sensation of him still so close. The room was quiet, save for the soft rustling of your clothes and the echo of your breaths.

But just as you began to collect yourself, a sound broke the stillness—a soft thud of footsteps, followed by the faint murmur of voices. Your heart skipped a beat as the realization hit. Your boldness had gotten inflated by sanity. 

You both hadn’t noticed the soft creak of the door, hadn’t heard the hushed conversations approaching. And then, before either of you could react, the door was pushed open, revealing the clan wives, standing in the doorway, eyes wide with shock, mouths agape.

Kento’s gaze flickered to the doorway, but when he saw the surprised looks on their faces, he didn’t flinch, didn’t move away. He stayed right where he was, his hands still possessively on you, his lips curled into a confident, unbothered smirk. He looks at you, mesmerized by you. By his want for you. Nothing else mattered. Decency, rules, proportionality — they’re done when he makes love to you.

Yet when you looked at him. Nothing else mattered. You too also didn’t care now. A sense of defiance rose within you, the fire from before still burning strong. Without a second thought, you pulled Kento closer, your hands grasping his face as you tilted your head up to meet his lips. The kiss was fierce and unapologetic, claiming him fully in front of everyone who dared to look.

You pulled away slightly, just enough to look him in the eyes, your voice low but steady, a possessive edge coloring your words. "You're only mine, hm? Forever, baby." you whispered, your fingers gently tracing his jawline as you met his smirk.

His gaze softened for a moment, his lips curling into a grin that sent a shiver down your spine. "Always, honey." he replied, his voice a low rumble that held all the certainty in the world. “Forever.”

The clan wives stood frozen once again, caught between disbelief and curiosity, but neither of you acknowledged them again. You didn’t need to. Kento's words, and the way he held you, told them everything they needed to know.

You were his, and he was yours.

Forever.

[muletia]

𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 ⋆. 𐙚 ˚

[tfp] obsessed!orion pax x human!reader

summary: what if optimus' obsession bypassed his memory loss? what if he was so infatuated that even his past self yearned for you?

cw: fluff, pinch of angst, canon divergence: orion is taken by the autobots, obsessive thoughts, clinginess, orion literally cannot be left alone for one(1) second, tbh nothing happens in this, i just wanted to write obsessed!orion interacting with you, bad writing, silliness

word count: 4700

"Come to the base. It's urgent."

As you stare at the terse message from Ratchet, your chewing slows and stops. A storm of questions whirls in your mind, panic creeping into your body. Before you can even type a single letter, your phone rings. The caller is none other than the Autobot medic himself. You answer in less than a second.

"Hello? Ratchet, please don't scare me—what exactly happened?"

"It's about Optimus." Your heart skips a beat. "During the last mission, he was... injured. Or, to be precise, damaged."

"Is it serious?" you ask, pacing nervously around the break room. Lunch now long forgotten. "Will he be all right?"

"Physically—he's never looked or felt better. Mentally, however... that's a different story. I'll explain the details when you get here. And make it quick."

"Hold on, wait—I can't just leave work early like that. There's a whole procedure for this. I can't just waltz out, even though I’d love to leave right now."

"...In an hour and a half, I expect to see you here at the base. See you then."

He hangs up. You stare at your phone screen for a moment, replaying the conversation in your head. Something serious must have happened—Ratchet wouldn’t disturb you at work otherwise. And it involved Optimus... You bite your lip, torn by indecision. You need to at least make sure he's okay, to see with your own eyes what Ratchet was talking about. Otherwise, you'll regret your negligence and spend the rest of the day worrying.

Shoving the half-eaten sandwich into your bag, you rush to your computer to draft a request for early leave, praying fervently that your boss will grant it.

You kept pressing the gas, speeding toward the base, trying to balance obeying traffic laws with worrying about the Autobot. You knew he had been preparing for a mission recently, he had told you about it during a ride you shared, but you didn’t expect it to end like this. Maybe you should have, considering you were associated with a race of aliens deeply embroiled in a centuries-long war, but you always pushed such unpleasant thoughts to the back of your mind, wishing your friends the best. Now, though, all the worst scenarios were coming to the surface. Had he fallen into a coma? Was his processor damaged? Had he died? You didn’t want to think about such an ending. Optimus was alive. You were sure of that.

Seeing the familiar red rock, a tight knot of anxiety gripped your throat. In a few moments, you were about to drive into what was practically your second home, not knowing what awaited you. You glanced at the clock. You were half an hour late—well beyond the time Ratchet had given you.

As if on cue, the medic called you again.

“Don’t enter the hangar. Leave the vehicle at the entrance.”

Before you could say a word, he hung up, leaving you to sigh in frustration.

Following his instructions, you parked at the main entrance and made the rest of the journey on foot. The lights seemed especially harsh, glaring into your eyes as the tunnel stretched endlessly ahead of you, as if warning you, giving you one last chance to turn back. But no force on Earth could stop you now. Determined, you marched forward, needing to know what had happened to your friend.

The hangar was full of Autobots, their sheer presence intimidating. You had thought you were over the feeling of smallness that came with being one of the humans among them, but now it hit you again, hard, dredging up memories of when humans in their midst were still a novelty. You froze for a moment, your courage momentarily disappearing in the shadows of giants.

It wasn’t until your eyes landed on the reason you had left work early that you began to breathe again. Optimus stood there, seemingly whole and healthy, facing the platform where the kids likely were. Relief washed over you. He was alive. Your heart was still racing, but the weight of dread lifted slightly, leaving you braced for the next wave of bad news.

"Hey, sorry I’m late. Work took longer than I expected," you called out.

Your voice immediately caught his attention. Optimus turned to you so abruptly that it shocked everyone present, abandoning the conversation he had been engaged in. Tilting your head back to meet his gaze, you were surprised when he knelt down on one knee, making himself more accessible. You still had to look up, but now his face wasn’t obscured by his… windshields.

The first hint that something was off was his smile—wide, cheerful, and curious. Optimus didn’t smile like that, not even when something genuinely delighted him. Worry started gnawing at you again. Something was wrong.

"Greetings. You must be our next human ally, correct?"

At first, you were at a loss for words. Of all the scenarios you had imagined, memory loss hadn’t even crossed your mind. But before the conversation could veer into awkward territory or panic could take hold, you managed to reply, mirroring his smile.

"That’s right."

"You seem… familiar. As though we have met before."

The hangar fell silent, the atmosphere thickening.

"Of course he would remember her," Ratchet hissed under his breath. You shot him a glare filled with venom.

Focusing back on the mech before you, you forced a calm smile, masking the whirlwind of emotions inside you. You felt like you were on the verge of exploding—uncertain whether to jog his memories or pretend this was truly your first meeting. Why hadn’t anyone given you guidance on how to handle this?

"Erm, well…" you began, only for Ratchet to step in and spare you.

"Humans can look quite similar at first glance," the medic interjected. "Orion, this is [Name], the last human who should know of our existence."

A flicker of something lit up in his cyan optics—something indefinable, known only to him.

"Greetings, [Name]. It is a great pleasure to meet you."

He extended a servo toward you. Tentatively, you clasped one of his digits, ignoring the ache in your heart. This shouldn’t have been happening. You shouldn’t have to forge a new relationship with someone so dear to you. It felt uncanny—like he was wearing Optimus’s skin but was someone entirely different inside. It was unnerving, disorienting. Yet this stranger had knelt before you, reduced himself to your scale to show respect, just as Optimus always had. It was a glimpse of his alternate self, a sign of the inherent honor and kindness he still carried.

"Hello, Orion. The pleasure is all mine."

Letting go of his servo, you gave him an apologetic smile, signaling the end of the conversation. You needed answers, clarity about the situation, before you could decide how to proceed. As Orion straightened up, you stepped past him toward the platform. You could feel curious optics on you, particularly his, as you fist-bumped the kids. Unbeknownst to you, Orion clenched his servo in the same way you had during your handshake.

"So," you said to Ratchet, "what happened?"

The medic sighed, clearly weary of recounting the story yet again. But you had to know. You listened intently, the details unsettling and at times horrifying, but you felt a growing sense of calm. At least now you knew what you were dealing with—what topics to avoid, how to act. The relief faded, however, when you learned that the first attempt to restore Optimus’s memories had failed, and no date had been set for the next.

As Ratchet spoke, most of the team dispersed, leaving only you, the medic, and Orion in the hangar. Taking a moment to process everything, you glanced at Orion, catching his curious gaze.

This was your new reality. Optimus was gone, yet not entirely, standing just a few meters away, watching you intently. It was too much to dwell on. You needed something to distract yourself.

Standing from the couch, you headed down the stairs. You figured you’d be here for the rest of the evening, so you might as well find something productive to do.

"[Name]?" Orion’s voice stopped you in your tracks. He looked genuinely concerned. "Are you leaving already?"

His behavior puzzled you.

"I’m just going to grab my things. I’ll be right back."

"I see. May I accompany you?"

Oh, that was adorable—especially with the hopeful tone in his voice.

"I’m not sure you’ll fit in the tunnel in your current form," you teased with a laugh. "It won’t take long. I’ll be back in a minute."

This time, you quickened your pace.

For several hours, Orion's life had been filled with uncertainty. He didn’t know how he had ended up on this planet, who the Autobots around him were, or why they called him "Prime" when he felt he was unworthy of the title. And now, another enigma had appeared—you. Orion could not rationalize the overwhelming need to be near you. He had felt it the moment he laid his optics on you. The need to stay close, to converse, to observe. The need to know you better. Never before had such intense emotions stirred within him for anyone, let alone a stranger. But you weren’t a stranger. This may have been your first meeting, and he may have spoken to you for the first time, but you were not unfamiliar. Of that, he was absolutely certain.

Seconds stretched into minutes, and minutes into hours since you had disappeared into the tunnel. He regretted not following you, even if it meant transforming into his alt-form. At least he would have kept an optic on you, preventing the gnawing feelings of confusion and longing from devouring him from inside.

Ratchet watched his friend closely. He recognized that look, that body language. He knew what it signified, what storm was brewing in Orion’s processor. Optimus had been the same when it came to you. For a brief moment, his friend was back. Too bad it was under such circumstances.

"Do you really remember that woman?" he asked.

"I am not certain," Orion replied, still gazing toward the tunnel. "I feel like she is not a stranger, even though I know this was our first encounter. And as… Prime, if I indeed held that title, was she close to me?"

Primus.

"Perhaps closer than any human, but only Optimus knew to what extent. That might explain why you recognized her."

"Then she is special."

"Everything points to that."

Orion glanced at him, offering a faint smile. For reasons Ratchet couldn’t quite explain, the gesture was hard to look at. Fortunately, you emerged from the tunnel, giving him an excuse to start working again.

"See? I told you it’d only take a minute," you laughed, a black backpack slung over your shoulder.

Orion didn’t confess the truth—that by his reckoning, you had been gone an eternity. He watched intently as you climbed the stairs and took a seat on the couch.

"So, Orion," you began, "what did you do on Cybertron?"

Oh. You were curious about him? Truly? He had never thought of himself as particularly interesting.

It was fortunate that you were not looking at him because his body language betrayed his embarrassment.

"I was an archivist. Do humans on Earth have similar professions?"

"Of course. You know, I’ve always admired archivists. It’s meticulous work, requiring patience and nerves of steel—if you know what I mean. Anyway, it’s an important job, and anyone who takes it up is very cool in my book."

"Cool?"

"You know, fascinating, impressive, admirable."

"Does that mean that... in your optics, I am… cool?"

He asked without thinking and immediately regretted it when you gave him an amused look. Embarrassed, he tilted his helm downward. For such a towering and formidable being, he was also astonishingly skittish. It was peculiar to see a former Prime in such a light, but it made him more relatable, more emotionally accessible. Even so, you couldn’t deny that you missed Optimus.

"Of course, you’re cool to me."

That answer brightened him. A spectacle of stars dances in his optics.

You returned to typing on your laptop, but Orion had other plans for you.

"It seems I still have much to learn about this planet."

"I think you’ll catch on quickly. Besides, if it makes you feel any better, the other bots don’t know everything either. If you’re ever unsure, just ask. I’ll do my best to help."

"Thank you, [Name]. Your kindness is very important to me."

"Anytime. If you’d like, you could also explore our literature—it’ll give you a good insight into what humanity is all about. That sounds like a fitting activity for an archivist, doesn’t it?"

He would much rather have you as his sole source of knowledge about your species, as it meant spending more time with you. He wanted to know not just what you were but who you were—your interests, where you worked, how you spent your free time, your philosophy, beliefs, and hobbies. Everything you were willing to share. He wanted to know you inside and out, to solidify this sense of connection and make it real. And if you wished, he would bare his own secrets, reveal his spark, and show you every part of himself. Perhaps then you might look at him just for a second longer.

"Yes, I believe that would be an enjoyable activity. And what is it that you do?"

He asked question after question, each answer adding a new layer of understanding about you. He shared a little in return, preferring listening to you—your opinions, your perspective.

Time passed swiftly in your company. Relentless and unforgiving, it waited for no one. Orion realized this when you set aside your device and began stretching. It was a mesmerizing sight—your movements were so different from those of Cybertronians, fluid, and light. That was until the air was pierced by the loud crack coming from your back.

Energon froze in his fuel lines, and his spark leaped to his intake.

"[Name]? Are you alright? Are you harmed?"

"Hm?" you hummed, confused. He looked as though calamity had befallen him, as though you’d been beheaded. Then you remembered—it was Orion, not Optimus, and the human body was weird. "Oh, that. Don’t worry, I’m fine. It’s perfectly normal." To prove your point, you began cracking your knuckles, stopping quickly when you saw his horrified expression. "Okay, sorry about that. But really, I’m fine. I just need to stretch."

"Alright…" he replied, though he didn’t seem convinced. You couldn’t blame him.

You rose from the couch and stepped down from the platform, intending to take a short walk. Panic erupted in his spark. Oh no. No, no, no. He didn’t want to be left alone, not after such a jarring experience. He wouldn’t let you out of his optics now—not even for a moment.

"May I accompany you?"

"Of course!" you replied without hesitation, smiling—a gesture he immediately mirrored. "It won’t be very exciting, though."

"On the contrary, I find you to be a most intriguing individual."

"Oh, thank you," you said, clearing your throat, embarrassed. Compliments delivered in that baritone still flustered you.

Together, you ventured deeper into the base, bypassing various sections. In the training room, Arcee worked on her speed, while Bulkhead struck a makeshift punching bag fashioned from an old car. The children watched the spectacle, occasionally entertaining themselves. You both quickly slipped past the always-open entryway and continued on your way.

“[Name]?” Orion inquires. You turn into an empty hangar with a high platform, starting to ascend the stairs.

“Hm?”

“How do humans attempt to court their partners?”

You hadn't expected that kind of question. You stop mid-step, pondering your answer. When you look at him, his expression is dead serious, though his optics betray a determination. Why would he want to know this? You decide it’s probably mere curiosity.

“It depends on the person.” You continue climbing the stairs until you finally reach the top, now level with his faceplate. “Some buy gifts like flowers, others go on elaborate dates. But the common factor is spending time together, and getting to know one another. Feelings tend to develop naturally that way,” you explain. “Actually, that’s an interesting topic. How did it work on Cybertron?”

“Similarly. However, instead of exchanging ‘flowers,’ we presented rare metals or crystals to leave the best impression. To demonstrate strength and potential as a partner.”

“I know a few people who would totally fall for that approach. Heh, I’d be thrilled to get a geode myself.”

Orion suddenly lights up. Were you suggesting something or just sharing an opinion? Whatever it was, he felt compelled to try. To prove himself worthy. Perhaps he could even find the ‘flowers’ you mentioned.

“I see. Thank you for enlightening me.”

“You’re welcome?” you reply, unsure exactly how you’ve helped, but the sight of his broad smile and bright optics makes it all worthwhile. He was utterly adorable.

The two of you chat casually until you’re forced to check the time. You inhale sharply, and Orion tilts his head slightly, curious about your reaction.

“It was great talking to you, but I really need to go. I have work tomorrow and I’d like to get some sleep.”

Panic flashes across his face. He had enjoyed your company so much. He didn’t feel alienated or alone when he was with you. The sense of connection played a significant role, but Orion had already let you into his spark. He had found a safe harbor in you and wasn’t ready to drift away just yet. He wasn’t ready to let go, even if the world around him were to crumble.

“May I accompany you?” he asks, desperation seeping into his tone.

“Excuse me?”

“May I accompany you?” he repeats, now begging.

“My home isn’t exactly designed to host a giant robot. Besides, it’s dangerous and... wait, do you even know the traffic regulations?”

His expression answers the question, but he still attempts to defend himself.

“I have acquainted myself with them partially.”

“Who has the right of way at an uncontrolled intersection?”

He opens his mouth but quickly closes it again, visibly crestfallen. He looks as though he might cry.

“Orion, we’ll see each other tomorrow,” you reassure him. “The first thing I’ll do after work is come here.”

He frantically searches for an argument to keep you with him—anything to prolong your company. Then he remembers his first encounter with human children.

“Every child was assigned a guardian who escorted them home and ensured their safety,” he states, refusing to give up. “Do you have a protector?”

“Unofficially, that was Optimus…”

“Then I would like to carry on his mission.”

“I’m not a child, Orion.”

“I understand that. I merely wish for your safety, [Name],” he explains earnestly. “And… I would prefer not to part from the company most dear to me.”

Your thoughts drift back to something he said earlier—how he recognized the bond you once shared, even though this was your first conversation. He hadn’t recognized Ratchet or anyone from his team—only you.

You tried to put yourself in his position. To suddenly find yourself in a foreign place, surrounded by strangers addressing you by a false name and feeding you information that might as well be fiction. And then, in a world where nothing is familiar, someone steps in—someone you vaguely recognize. You might not know their name, but you know there was once a connection. Wouldn’t you cling to that tiny thread, desperately pulling it closer if someone tried to take it away?

Orion had found solid ground, and you were unintentionally trying to undermine it. You exhale softly. You already knew you’d be saying goodbye to sleep tonight.

“Alright.” His smile makes it all worth it. It’s as though you’ve handed him a star from the sky. “Let’s see what Ratchet has to say about all this.”

"I see no objections."

Orion looks at you with excitement sparkling in his optics.

"Wow, that was quick."

"It's a good excuse for Orion to explore the area and get accustomed to his alt mode."

The medic refrains from adding that if the former leader remained at the base, he would likely have wasted away in longing for you, lamenting to every sentient being that he couldn't wait to see you again. Though the comment teeters on the edge of his glossa, he opts for discretion. Optimus, at least, had never vocalized his peculiar obsession with you quite so openly.

"Should anything unusual occur, contact me immediately. Someone will come for you in the morning," Ratchet advises his friend before turning to you. "Good night, [Name]."

You thank the medic for his diligence and ask him to take some rest, earning a piercing glare that almost feels lethal, then retrieve your backpack and head toward the tunnel. Orion stays close by, not leaving your side even after transforming. Ever the gentleman, he opens the door for you, visibly delighted at the prospect of your first shared drive together. In his mind, this was more than a mere drive—it was a deeply intimate act, almost akin to inviting a partner into one’s private space.

But his dreams are promptly shattered when you inform him that you have your own car.

The journey is uneventful but nerve-wracking; you constantly check your side mirror to ensure Orion is still following you. Thankfully, there are no issues, and he even remembers to use his turn signals when necessary. Everything proceeds smoothly until you pull into your driveway and are struck by a dreadful realization: Will a Peterbilt even fit in my garage?

You park your car to the side, leaving Orion enough space to drive safely. Exiting your vehicle, you open the garage door and wave at him to proceed. You nervously bite your thumb, watching the massive truck carefully edge into the space. There are barely three centimeters between the roof of the truck and the ceiling. When you close the garage door, the already limited space shrinks further.

"So, do you regret your decision now?" you ask, stepping around to the front of the truck.

Orion transforms with meticulous precision, carefully positioning his limbs and helm to avoid damaging the walls. The process goes well until his helm grazes the ceiling with an audible thud, dislodging a few small pieces of debris. He winces slightly and rubs his helm but offers you a warm smile.

"I do not regret my decision."

"Pfff, well, that's good. Are you all right?"

"I am unharmed."

You can’t help but feel guilty for confining him to such a cramped space, but it was his choice. If he insisted, he would simply have to endure it. Of course, that meant you would have to endure it, too, as the issues began almost immediately.

"All right, I’m going to grab my things. I’ll be back in a moment."

He panics again—something you’re beginning to expect from him.

"Please, do not leave me."

His voice is unchanging. A deep and thick baritone that permeates your body, speaking straight to your soul. It is strange to hear the same voice coming out of a shamed and uncertain being, begging you for company.

"I’ll only be gone for two minutes."

You reach for the door handle, but his servo shoots forward, blocking your exit.

"Orion," you chide, your tone sharp and reprimanding.

He doesn’t meet your eyes, his apprehension laid bare.

"Please, I do not wish to be alone."

"Two minutes," you say firmly, though your annoyance falters when you see the raw emotion in his optics. Sighing, you place a hand on the edge of his digit, catching his attention. "I’ll be back. I promise."

He believes you, of course he does. He trusts you to return, yes, he even knows it. It doesn't change the fact that he is frightened, he feels alone, and your proximity calms the storm raging through his processor. His whole body is clamoring for you, screaming for you to stay with him. He craves bodily contact, he wants your soft hands to stroke his metal and your lips to whisper sweet nothings. He wants more, he wants to feel the softness, more, more, more.

He takes his servo away.

"Good mech."

As you disappear through the door, Orion buries his face in his hands. Despite his embarrassment, he can’t suppress a grin. He had enjoyed that moment—far too much.

He wants to hear you say it again.

When you return, you’re carrying a blanket, a deck of UNO cards, some snacks, and your laptop. Orion beams at the sight of you but frowns when he notices you shivering.

"Are you cold?" he asks with concern.

"Hmm? A little, but I’ll warm up soon."

Without warning, he gently scoops you up in his servo, handling you with the utmost care. The shock is brief—you don’t even have time to protest before he places you on his chassis. His servo remains loosely wrapped around you as a precaution, but your back presses against his warm metal frame. Tilting your head up to glare at him for pulling such a stunt, you find him already watching you, amusement dancing in his optics.

"Ask next time before you do something like that," you scold lightly.

"I make no promises," he teases, earning a playful flick to his digit.

"I was planning to play UNO, but since you pulled that move, let’s watch a movie instead. Unless you’d rather do something else?"

"I leave myself entirely at your mercy."

He would have been content doing nothing as long as he could hold you close.

"All right, then. A movie it is."

It's hard for him to keep up with the plot when he's overstimulated, but he tries, because your questions encouraging discussion come out of nowhere. And it was just at moments when he started to drift off, when the optics shifted from the tiny screen to you; when there was only you and him in the world. Sometimes, however, he would focus for longer, especially during the romantic scenes. He longs to experience something similar with you, an indestructible, sappy love. To recite poetry into your ear and watch you blush, to announce to everyone how much you mean to him. To bestow expensive gifts, the geodes you mentioned earlier. He needs your tender words, your praise, your touch. You could do whatever you liked with him, and he would give you his spark.

He worries when you fall silent for too long.

"[Name]?" he calls softly, leaning closer to check on you. Relief washes over him when he sees you’ve simply fallen asleep. Poor thing—you must have been exhausted.

Still, a part of him resents it. He wanted to talk to you longer, watch more films, learn more about human romance to win your favor. But he knows his thoughts are selfish. Setting the laptop aside, he carefully covers you with his other servo, creating a cocoon of warmth and safety.

He's not sure he'll be able to recharge. At least not now, when he was too absorbed in devouring you with his optics. You felt safe with him. You gave him your trust. You chose him.

A spark of possessiveness sweeps through his processor. He doesn't want to let you go. He doesn't want you to go to work tomorrow and leave him for eternity. He also knows he shouldn't think that way. The spark goes out.

Watching you sleep, his processor churns with thoughts. You trusted him. He vows to prove his worth tomorrow, to show you just how deep his feelings run.

Because he doesn’t know how much longer he’ll be himself. How much longer he will remain as Orion Pax.

[a-prekliatyvlk]

                      Scent Profile of the Muses PT. 1

I really wanted to do a deep dive into my muse and make some scent profiles for them. This is an alphabetical list of the scent profiles of my muses. You will note that some of the muses have some of the same scent profiles because of A) being the same type of supernatural and B) pack life man you kinda mix scents or even family will have some matching scents. I will also have on here the bonding scent so other’s get an idea of what that smells like. Hope you enjoy. NOTE: anything that says Unusual is either a memory trigger with no real scent profile for it or just undertones. 

Bonding Scent: Musk. Cinnamon, Vanilla, Cedar and Sex. 

Abbott King: Water, salty almost. Warm: Sage and Bergemont. Woodsy, Leather, Oakmoss and Cedar. 

Aiden Zhotmir: Spicy, cinnamon / pepper. Woodsy, Leather, Oakmoss and Cedar. Oriental, Amber, Tobacco and Musk. 

Alexander Arsenyev: Soft, Cinnamon, Vanilla, Sandalwood. Woodsy, Leather, Oakmoss and Cedar. Floral: Orange blossom, Jasmine. 

Alica Tesárová: Flora: Jasmine, Rose, Lilly, Lavendar. Citrus: Grapefruit and Bergamot. Woodsy, Oakmoss and Cedar.

Alojz Chrobák: Warm: Cinnamon Sage and Bergemont. Woodsy, Leather, Oakmoss and Cedar. 

Ania Vukaxin: Spicy, Cinnamon / Pepper. Woodsy, Leather, Oakmoss and Cedar. Floral: Orange blossom, Jasmine.

Archer Trajkovski: Unsual: Sunshine / Bark. Mossy Woods, Amber and Sandalwood. Woodsy, Leather, Oakmoss and Cedar.

Argider ‘Hawk’ Azarola: Unsual: Gun Cleaner. Dry woods, Smoldering and Smoky. Woodsy, Leather, Oakmoss and Cedar. Citrus: Grapefruit and Lemon.

 Artem Vukaxin: Unusal: Old books. Sunshine. Woodsy, Leather, Oakmoss and Cedar.  Vanilla, Musk and Amber. 

Arthur Kráľ: Florial / Fresh Lavender, Sage, Bergemont, Orange Blossom, Grapefruit. Smokey

Aster Adam Otčenáš: Unsual: Ink. Warm / Spice, Pepper, Cinnamon, Smoke. Citrus, Orange, Grapefruit. Woodsy, Leather, Oakmoss and Cedar.

Aurel Pekár: Unusual: Death, Blood and Screams of Agony. Spice, Pepper, Cinnamon and Clove. Woodsy, Smoke, Ash, Oakmoss and Cedar. 

Ava Sklenár: Floral, Rose, Lilly, Jasmine. Fruity, Peach and Pear. Spice, Smoke and Cinnamon.  Wood, cedar. 

Caleb Sklenár: Spice, Smoke and Cinnamon. Fresh, Lavender and Sage. Woodsy, Oakmoss and Cedar. 

Cecília Pivovarčová: Spice, Pepper, Musk, Cinnamon. Fruity, Peachy and Apple. Woodsy, Leather, Oakmoss and Cedar. 

Clarence Castor Otčenáš: Citrus: Lemon, Orange and Grapefruit. Warm, cinnamon and vanilla. Woodsy: Smoke, Leather, Oakmoss and Cedar. 

Dacian Vuk: Unsual: Grease. Aqua, Rain / Ocean notes. Woodsy, Leather, Oakmoss and Cedar. Spice, Pepper and Cinnamon. 

Dante: Unsual: Rot / Decay. Smoke. Woodsy, Leather, Oakmoss and Cedar. 

Dionýz Ojdanic: Woodsy, Leather, Oakmoss and Cedar. Citrus: Lemon and Grapefruit. Warm / Spice, Cinnamon, Sage and Vanilla

Dominic Arsenyev: Unusual: Acrylic Paint.  Soft, Cinnamon, Vanilla and Sandalwood. Woodsy, Leather, Oakmoss and Cedar.

Drah Petrov: Unsual: blood. Spice, Pepper, Cinnamon, Smoke. Woodsy, Leather, Oakmoss and Cedar.

Duncan: Unsual: exhaust and Musk. Smoke. Woodsy, Leather, Oakmoss and Cedar. 

Dušan Novák: Floral: Peach and Apple. Warm, Cinnamon and Clove. Woodsy, Leather, Oakmoss and Cedar.

Elijah Čížik: Unusal: Blood and ash. Smoke. Spice, Cinnamon, Clove and Nutmeg. Leather, Cedar and Lemon. 

Emma Khomiakov: Floral, Jasmine, Vanilla and rose. Woodsy, Leather, Oakmoss and Cedar. Smoke. 

Ethan Khomiakov: Citrus: Lemon, Grapefruit and Bergemont. Woodsy, Leather, Oakmoss and Cedar. Smoke. Floral. Jasmine and Vanilla. 

Eva Arsenyev: Furity, Peach, Apple and Vanilla. Soft, Cinnamon, Vanilla and Sandalwood. Woodsy, Leather, Oakmoss and Cedar.

Galen King: Citrus: Grapefruit and Orange Blossom. Warm: Sage and Bergemont. Woodsy, Leather, Oakmoss and Cedar. 

Grimaldo ‘Woodpecker’ Villalobos: Unsual: Grease and exhaust. Woodsy, Leather, Oakmoss and Cedar. Spice, Clove and Nutmeg. 

Iryna Cech: Warm, Vanilla, Cinnamon and Nutmeg. Woodsy, Fresh Cut Grass, Oakmoss and Cedar.

Isidoda Soika; Spice, Cinnamon, Musk, Vanilla and Orange Blossom. Fruity. Peach and Apple. Woodsy, Leather, Oakmoss and Cedar.

Iskra Otčenáš: Unsual: Ash and Burning Fire Wood. Warm / Spice, Pepper, Cinnamon, Smoke. Woodsy, Leather, Oakmoss and Cedar.

Jackson Sklenár: Unsual: Smoke and Blood. Fresh, Lavender and Sage. Woodsy, Oakmoss and Cedar. 

Katia Vukaxin: Unsual: Blood and a Full Moon at Night in the Woods. Warm, Cinnamon and Vanilla. Fruity: Peach. Woodsy, Leather, Oakmoss and Cedar. 

[stychu-stych]

Could we have some of your Lamb head canons please?

I'm going with my modern au because it's my little obsession right now sijssj

I'm cutting the post so it wouldn't be so long. The whole description is below

So the whole thing with Old Faith as the most powerful religion and Bishops is mostly the same like in the game. The world looks similar to our in 1700s, sheep was hunted down over the decades and Lambert was in the group of the last ones. That group was caught and killed, Lamb was lucky enough to be outside the camp at this time but they didn't enjoy their freedom for so long. As a single sheep it was hard to survive on their own

Lamb seeing their wife for the first time sjsbsjsh

Lamber was caught some time later by bounty hunters. However, an accident happened when Lamb tried to escape one night - there were shot in the stomach badly enough that further travel was impossible without them bleeding out. So since Lamb was going to die anyway, the bounty hunters figured out they'd at least bring Old Faith their head. They didn't wait for Lamb to bleed out first, so that death wasn't fast or easy.

First years as a cult leader weren't easy. Taking care of the flock, learning how to fight, figuring out how rituals work, it was a lot for young Death's vessel. Lamb couldn't get used to their new role for some time. But Ratau was a huge help, beloved rat-dad was as much supportive as he could

After their first century as cult leader, Lamb began to feel comfortable in their role, perhaps a little to much I would say. Their grow their wool and started to pay more attention to their appearance and to the things that brought them pleasure. They started to fully enjoy their immortal life, to be too self-confident focused too much on themselves. They liked being in the center of attention, with the flock fully devoted to them. They even started to add a new tattoo with every kill of a Bishop or their the most devoted followers (as a trophy)

Beginning of XX century, Lamb become TOWW's little killing machine, no fear of death or pain. Ready to die, just to stand up and go killing again. They were fully devoted to Narinder in the most toxic way, ready to do absolutely everything just to make their god satisfied. Lamb didn't even realize how obsessed they were with Narinder at that time

Modern times, with Narinder already indoctrinated into the cult. Lamb as a selfish, egocentric, ready to do everything to achieve their goals bastard. Still unhealthy devoted to Narinder but this time in a different way - on one hand madly in love with him, on the other hating him with all their heart because of he did to them. Either way both of those strong feelings keep them close to him

Jeez this post took me more time to write than to draw djdbdjdj I'm soooo bad at writing

[ducksido]

I LOVE YOUR WORKS Practically going to tumblr to see it, I wanna request a houswardens having s/o who has unreal beauty? And has soft melodic laugh, I am just liking the trend of unreal beauty AHHHH I wanted to do myself the fic but you will do it better[sry just love you fics they look like canon]

(thank yew ❣️❣️)

Riddle Rosehearts Riddle was raised on rules, not daydreams. But when he looks at you? Logic flies out the window. You don’t just look beautiful—you’re unreal, like a fairytale vision spun from silk and moonlight. The first time he hears your laugh—soft, chiming, and full of genuine warmth—he forgets his entire sentence mid-way.

“I-I… you’re… no, I mean—ahem! You shouldn’t laugh like that in public—it’s… distracting…” His ears are as red as his hair. He gets flustered trying to enforce rules around you, but deep down? He loves that he’s powerless to your smile.

Leona Kingscholar Leona’s seen plenty of beautiful people, but you? You're on a whole other level. He calls you “Herbivore”, but the way he looks at you—like you’re some mythical creature who wandered into his den—is pure reverence.

“Tch. With a face like that, you’ll give the sun a complex.” He pretends to nap through your laughter, but his tail always flicks toward you when you laugh—like it’s trying to chase the sound. You're the only one who can make him willingly move from his nap spot… just to hear you laugh again.

Azul Ashengrotto You’re his Achilles’ heel. Azul, ever-calculated, tries to maintain composure around you—but when you walk in, glowing like ocean pearls with that melodic laugh that ripples like waves? He short-circuits.

“W-Would you mind… not laughing like that during meetings? It’s hard to think straight when you sound like a lullaby.” He fantasizes about bottling your laugh like a potion—something precious only he can hold. No business deal could ever compare to the way you smile just for him.

Kalim Al-Asim Kalim adores you. He's stunned every time he sees you—like he forgets you're real. Your laugh? It’s his favorite song. He claps, spins, and cheers when he hears it.

“You're like a genie’s wish come true!! Even your laugh sparkles!!” He shows you off like a precious jewel—not out of pride, but pure awe. He throws lavish parties just so others can see what he sees: someone too beautiful for words, with a voice soft enough to tame storms.

Vil Schoenheit Vil is the standard of beauty. And yet—even he can’t help but pause when you walk into a room. He studies you with a critical eye at first… but soon finds himself breathless.

“You’re… quite literally dazzling. And that laugh? It’s like perfume for the ears. How am I supposed to stay composed?” You’re the only one who could make the Queen himself stumble over words. Vil admires your grace, your softness, and the way your beauty is effortless. He won't admit it out loud, but you make him feel insecure—in the best way.

Idia Shroud He thought ethereal beauty only existed in RPGs. But then you appeared—with that glowy, surreal aura and a laugh so gentle it makes his chest ache.

“You… you’re not like a ghost or a simulation, right? B-Because you look like you phased in from another dimension or something…” His hair flares hot pink whenever you laugh. He replays your voice in his head like a cherished OST. He’s convinced you're some kind of mythical NPC that accidentally wandered into his world—and he's not letting you glitch away.

Malleus Draconia To Malleus, who has wandered centuries alone, you are a vision he never thought he’d witness outside a dream. Your beauty transcends mortal standards. He doesn't just admire you—he worships you.

“Your laughter… it soothes the thorns in my heart. You must be a forest spirit, come to enchant me.” He finds himself smiling whenever you’re near, your presence brighter than even his beloved gargoyles. You’re his lullaby. His light. His reason to want the company of others—for once.

[velidewrites]

So anyway not to be inexcusably horny on main but um. Do we talk about Eris enough? I fear we do not. Remember how, especially in ACOWAR & ACOSF, SJM makes it a point to remind us Beron is the oldest, longest reigning High Lord? The most cruel one? A threat people have been trying to eliminate for centuries, if not more? Arguably, apart from Rhysand, Beron is the most powerful High Lord in Prythian, and even Rhysand approaches the idea of killing him with caution.

ANYWAY. I was skimming through WAR--

HIS VOICE WAS LOW WITH WARNING jesus christ -- Eris "Sit The Fuck Down" Vanserra vs Beron "Yes Son I'm Sat" Vanserra has got to be one of my favorite scenes in this book. Suddenly I'm remembering Eris is a direct result of two of the canonically most powerful bloodlines in Autumn and I CANNOT be chill about it. We have so many hints in that book that Eris is holding back and waiting for the right moment to strike and I can't help but wonder -- just how much of his power have we seen yet? And then there's this:

I'm going to ignore Azriel's obvious "The only thing I want to be facing is Eris's mattress" agenda for a moment here and focus on another thing -- the entire NC already considers Eris a threat. They already think he's dangerous enough that it's better to have him as their brother's boyfriend an ally than an enemy. Because what happens when he inevitably succeeds in killing Beron and becomes a HL himself? What happens when he no longer has to hide just how powerful he is so that Beron doesn't suspect a thing?

I'm not saying anything that hasn't already been said in this fandom but I never promised to be anything but horny here. I just think Eris "leave it to those who know how to play the game," Eris, who Beron himself is secretly afraid of, needs a little more screen time so I can respond appropriately (bang my head against the wall)