#(he still wants it. he still wants to feel that again. power or completeness or just not being alone in his body anymore.

[secretivemessenger]

okay im way too far into brainrotting about an amputee bf that i wrote a whole thirst thing about it.

☆ cw: top m!reader , cock-warming , calling a hole 'cunt' like once , belly bulge

★ not proof-read

☆ dark nsfw content ahead

Imagine being with someone whose both legs are amputated. He's completely dependent on you as you feed him, carry him around, fuck him like a worthless slut.

Imagine him whining and thrashing around as you have him cockwarm you while you tap around on your phone. Manhandling him into your lap, easily slipping his shorts off to gain easy access since he doesn't wear any underwear, shove him down firmly on your cock and feel him tightly clench around you. His little, tiny cock would squirt pre all over his stomach as he whines and whimpers while you focus solely on your phone. Whenever he would move, you would tightly hold his waist and give a harsh smack to his ass, making him gasp and stay still as you whisper sweet words to him about how good he's doing for you.

Imagine doing your little office work to see him crawling over to you under the table, he would use his hands to help him up, but he still wouldn't be able to reach. Won't you help the poor man up? You would if it wasn't so fun watching him struggle and cry out for you to help him. Whoops, and your hard just from seeing his tears and his miserable state. You would slip down your pants and boxers all together and grab him harshly by the hair, pulling his whole body up till his mouth is just on your tip as you tell him, "Get to work; I'll help ya stay up."

Imagine his lips sloppily wrapping around the head of your cock as you hold up his body. Swirling his tongue around the tip, slurping on it like it was the most delicious dessert he ever tasted, shoving his tongue inside the foreskin and pushing it back to finally reveal the head. Using his hand to fondle your balls while he focuses solely on your head. Yes, adorable and all, but it's not enough for you. Hold his head in place and thrust into it like a sex toy, no matter how hard he cries and begs for you to slow down while your cock fucks his mouth. His small cock leaking pre would be your indicator that he's loving it. Not like you need one; you know he loves it when you fuck his throat like a cheap whore.

Imagine being unable to pay any attention to him as you're very tired; he would beg and try to seduce you into fucking him, but you can't. So you lay down and drop down your pants and tell him to do it himself. You would watch closely as he strokes and plays with your cock to get you hard and into shape, then he would use his hands to support himself onto your cock; he doesn't even have any need to prepare himself as your yesterday activities were enough to have his hole ready to take you at any time. But he still needs a bit of adjustments as he tries to slowly lower himself on your cock using his only method of support, which is his hands, although he's not very strong when you're not helping him, so you would grunt when the power in his hands fails him, making him drop balls deep on your cock. A loud scream could be heard as you felt a warm liquid on your stomach, realizing he came just by being impaled on your cock. God, you wanted to watch him struggle on your cock more, but how could you just lay there while he looked this miserable?

Imagine losing all morale at that scene, not like you had any. Just grab a hold of his waist with your hands and bounce him up and down your cock, thrusting up at the same time fucking him fast and deep. Not long, and he's cumming all over himself again. It never fails to amaze you how tight he can get, like his only purpose is to be a milking toy for your cock, a reusable 'cunt' for you to dump all your fluids into. How much time has passed? You haven't a clue, all you know is that you came so many times deep inside of him. You manhandled him into many positions, hugging his waist and fucking into him like he was a sex doll, pressing him against the mattress, fucking him hard enough that he almost fell off the egde bed, so deep inside of him his stomach bulged with your cock. Press on it and watch him cum all-over himself once again. After you were finally satisfied, you would just leave him panting and crying on the bed with a dildo almost as big as your own cock lodged inside his hole, preventing even a single drop of your cum to slip out as you went to shower, leaving him to lay in the dirty bed surrounded by his own filth.

oh man i may be going insane i need more of this, idk what happened to me but i felt the sudden urge to write this forgive me.

[mintmatcha]

our toddler’s dad is monoma btw

Your little guy always runs up to him with the wettest little "Daaaadddddddyyyyyyyy-" and Monoma always picks him up and swings him around until they're both a little ball of giggles.

"Did you have fun with mommy and her boyfriend?" Monoma sticks out his tongue and your toddler mimics it, shaking his head violently.

"No!"

"That's right, Daddy's the best, huh?" Your kid is much too big to bounce around and yet Monoma does it anyway. It honestly pisses you off, how well they get along. You almost wish he was bad at this- it'd give you more of a reason to hate the guy. "You love me the most, right?"

"I- I-" His little tongue still isn't good at making sentences. It feels like it fights with his brain sometimes, like he doesn't have the thinking power to say what he really wants. "I love eb-berrybody-"

"But-?" Monoma leads.

"But daddy the most." His son completes in the exact same tone.

"That's my man!"

You step in. "Neito, that's not cool."

With a roll of his eyes, Monoma rubs his nose into your son's cheek, wriggling out more laughter.

"We love mommy too, right?" he urges. "We love mommy sooo much?

Again, your son is a mirror image of his dad.

"Sooo much!"

[moonstruckme]

Omg 8k! I’m so happy for you love! May I request hot cocoa for poly wolfstar with the prompt “new years party” or “baking together”? (whichever one you choose!)

Thank you lovely!

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 728 words

“Well, what are we supposed to give them? Crackers?” 

“I don’t see what would be so wrong with crackers,” says Remus, sounding already weary and increasingly vexed. 

“Only crackers, though?” Sirius is in a restless mood, his excitement for tonight’s party mounting and the volume of his voice along with it. “I just don’t see how it can be possible that there aren’t any grapes left anywhere in town. Was there a grape plague I didn’t know about?” 

“They were sold out. I don’t know what to tell you. Crackers will be just as good.” 

“That’s a completely different food group, darling!” 

“Sirius,” you call, hoping to spare Remus from further irritation (and thus spare Sirius from the consequences), “can you come tell me if this looks alright?” 

You’ve strung lights all across the ceiling of the sitting room, strands of blue and white overlapping and casting the whole space in their glow. Sirius’ eyes seem to glimmer as he comes in, admiring your handiwork. He’s in his outfit for the party already, though you’re both waiting until later to do your makeup together. You’ve got plenty of time; it’s only just getting dark outside, and no one is expected to arrive until at least eight. 

“This looks amazing, sweetheart,” he says, audibly relaxing. “It’s perfect; you’ve done beautifully.” 

“You don’t think it’s too dim in here?” you joke. 

Sirius grins as he walks over. You’re a couple of feet taller than him on your step stool, but he doesn’t seem to mind, touching his lips to your navel while his hands hold the backs of your thighs. You predict him and set your hands on his shoulders, sucking in a breath when he pulls you away from the step, lowering you down. 

“How’d you manage it?” he asks, looking back up at the lights while his hand runs absently up and down the dip of your spine. A few of the white strands wink in and out, twinkling above you like stars. “I can’t even see any of the hooks.” 

“They’re in there,” you tell him. It had taken you a while to figure out how to hide them well, but the abundance of lights ended up covering for you in the end. You take a piece of Sirius’ hair between your fingers, admiring the blue sheen on it. “Baby?” 

“Hm?” 

You press a kiss to his lips, gentle and loving. “Keep in mind that you’re the one who forgot we’d need food until the last minute,” you tell him sweetly. 

Sirius pouts. “Why do I have to remember everything?” 

“Because you’re the only one of us who wanted to have a party.”

“You said,” Remus recounts as he comes in, still sounding vexed but fond around the eyes, “and I quote, I’ll take care of everything.” 

“Doesn’t bloody sound like me,” Sirius mutters. His hand is still moving affectionately over your back, though. 

“Dove.” Remus graces you with a smile, ignoring your sulky boyfriend. “The lights look lovely.” 

“Thank you,” you say, squeezing Sirius’ shoulder before pulling yourself from his arms. You take Remus’ hands and look up at him with your sweetest, most imploring eyes. “Can I ask you for a favor, please?” 

Remus narrows his eyes at you like he knows what you’re about, but his lips twitch as he holds your fingers. “Hm?” 

“You know that trifle you make for Easter?” You wait for him to nod. “If I went to the store and got the stuff, do you think you might be able to make it again tonight?” 

You look to Sirius. “That’d be good, right? It might go nicely with the champagne.” 

Sirius grins at you. “Brilliant girl. I’m remembering now why we keep you around.” 

You turn back towards Remus. You can feel the power of Sirius’ pleading look adding to yours from behind you. After a long moment, your boyfriend capitulates with a sigh and a kiss to your head. 

“Alright. I’ll make you a list.” 

“Thank you, my love,” Sirius says, saccharine sweet. 

“This party is more trouble than it’s worth.” Remus turns, too slowly to conceal his smile. “If anyone tries to make me sing karaoke, I’ll shut the whole thing down before midnight.” 

Sirius’ expression looks crushed. “But—” 

“Shh.” You pat his shoulder, watching Remus go. “James’ll harass him once he gets here. Pick your battles.” 

[ultravioletrayz]

KINKTOBER

╰┈➤ DAY ELEVEN: SIZE KINK w/ KÖNIG

You giggle and huff as you're held helplessly over König's broad shoulder, his rough palm spanking your ass with his free hand as he carries you effortlessly into his quarters. With an almost amusing lack of care considering his position within KorTac, he dumps you onto his rickety bed, the mattress practically swallowing your body in it's warmth.

König is quick to undo his belt, throwing it across the room as he yanks his pants off with a grunt, in a rush to feel you on him in such a filthy, unprofessional way. But that's precisely the reason he takes advantage of these moments with you. Moments to leave the rest of the world behind, and let it all out by completely ruining any and every part of your sweet body.

"On your knees, Schatz." König whispers, and as you gaze up into his glazed over azure eyes, you're utterly under his command.

As you kneel before König on the worn-out mattress of his quarters, your eyes trace the contours of his powerful body standing over yours. The sight of his huge cock never fails to make your head spin. His veins are thick and prominent, throbbing with angry need as his flushed tip oozes pre at the thought of how cute and obedient you are for him.

His muscular thighs flex as he pumps his cock a few times before smacking it down directly over your face, his huge, heavy balls nestled just below your chin, the weight of them causing your jaw to drop slightly. You feel a slight heat as precum leaks out of the tip and onto your forehead. You lean back slightly, hoping to catch some of his essence with your tongue, but König frowns and shakes his head.

"Not yet," He whispers. "I want you to take it all in first."

König rests his enormous balls on your chin, the weight of them causing your jaw to drop slightly. You're smothered beneath his hulking shaft, as König merely smirks at you, smugly admiring the fact that his cock stretches over your entire cute face. The unkempt, dirty blonde hairs decorating his base caress your chin, brushing against your smooth skin as he taps his monster cock against your cheek a few times before pulling away.

His cockhead brushes against your lips, teasing them before pressing firmly against your mouth. You part your lips slightly, breathing in his musky scent as he pushes further inside. König groans in pleasure as he feels your warm breath bathing his throbbing tip. He pulls back just enough to look down at you with a mix of lust and amusement.

"Such a perfect girl." König coos, admiring how his cock alone dwarfs your face. "Open wide for me, hm?"

Reluctantly but eagerly, you open your mouth wide enough for König's cock to slide inside, pushing past your lips and into your throat, causing you to gag reflexively. König chuckles darkly as he watches you struggle to accommodate his girth, causing him to grab your jaw tightly with one hand, holding your head still as he thrusts his hips forward again and again.

Each powerful stroke drives his cock deeper into your throat, stretching your tender flesh and filling your cute mouth to the point of borderline pain due to the stretch. You try to moan around him but all that comes out is a muffled groan. König grunts in approval, his hips moving faster now as he loses himself in the feeling of entirely overpowering his sweet little maus. His other hand grips firmly onto your hair, pulling gently but forcefully as he uses your face as a personal fleshlight, pounding into you without mercy, basking in every moment of control he has over you, his precious girl.

@lykasdump @fuji5

[stxrslut]

BEG FOR IT 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

pairing; ceo!rafe x pa!reader

summary; getting in trouble with your boss is never good in any sense, but with the particular personality that rafe cameron has, you know you're in deep shit, no matter how completely accidental or unintentional your mistake was

content; abuse of power, boot humping, dacryphilia, humiliation

authors note; none

there are better situations to be in than yours, that’s for sure. walking towards the office of your boss, you wonder why you ever even decided that the business world would be a good place for you to step foot anywhere near, no matter how small or insignificant your role in it really is. 

making a decision that could put this whole corporation at risk without even running it by anyone was never your intention, never your intention at all. it was a mere accident, you thought it was something random and unimportant you were doing, until mr cameron called you.

on the phone his voice had reeked of suppressed rage, even though he was quiet and calm, and he didn't use too many aggressive words, you could tell, you could tell because his voice had inadvertently struck the fear of god in you. 

his office is on the very top floor, which allows for plenty of thinking time on the elevator ride up, forty five seconds to be exact. in that forty five seconds you decide that you are willing to do absolutely anything to keep your job. the elevator stops and you step out, making your way to his office.

“come in,” he says in a composed sentence, but the fear is still there when you hear it. you push the heavy door and step inside. his desk is alone in the middle of the room, a large cushioned chair seats him behind it. there are large windows that span from floor to ceiling across the whole back of the room. there are a couple of hallways at the sides that lead to other meeting rooms, and youre also aware of a small private living quarter, though, even as a personal assistant, youve never had the liberty of entering them.

mr cameron is sitting in his chair, supposedly signing paperwork. he doesn’t look up when you come in, “you know what you did,” he murmurs lowly, face not faltering from that hard icy expression youre so intimidated by.

you immediately resort to being pathetic. “I'm so sorry sir! i didn't know i swear, i didn't know what i was doing.” you step forward, speaking quickly and panicking obviously. “I will never do it again! from now on i will double check everything, i promise.” his eyes finally flick up to you and he raises an eyebrow before leaning back in his chair. 

“you have put this company at risk,” he begins calmly, “if I wasn't as high in my field as I am, this would be an unsolvable issue, we would be done.” he informs you. you feel like your heart might drop out of your ass. 

“well it is solvable right, so it's okay?” you say tentatively. you need this job, he knows you need this job, there's absolutely no disguising it to him that you’re desperate. “please dont fire me, I'll do anything.” 

he watches you, like he's studying your facial expression and trying to read your thoughts. “you'll do anything?” he raises an eyebrow in a questioning look. that one sentence you uttered has now opened a whole new world of possibilities to him.

you nod quickly, “yeah! I'll take overtime or– or I could run more of your errands… uhm.. i could start bringing you lunch every day, i can–” he cuts you off by silently raising a hand and shaking his head.

“those are all things that you are already expected to do.” he says, “to keep your job you would have to do something… outside of your contract.” his tone changes, and you suddenly realise that he wants you to do something twisted.

you can think of the type of thing. and god, it would be a terrible thing for you to do. it goes completely against any moral you’ve ever had, to do a sexual favour in order to keep your job. it's twisted, if it ever got out your career would be ruined everywhere. but your career is already ruined if you don't do it. you can't afford to lose your job.

“what… what do you need me to do?” you swallow thickly, the shame already swallowing you whole at the implication of the actions you may be about to perform. you become aware of the unlocked door, what if somebody walked in right now, you would be fucked.

“come here and kneel.” he speaks curtly, pushing his chair back so there's space in front of him. you’re practically shaking with trepidation as you ever so slowly kneel down in front of him. your skirt rides up as you do, leaving you almost uncovered, completely visible if he was just a little bit lower down.

you expect him to say something, give you a command, but he doesn't. what he does is unexpected. he puts his foot forward. that's it. he extends his leg and places his foot right in front of you. shiny black dress shoes that look practically new, not a single scuff on them.

you frown in pure confusion. you are completely taken aback. what is he even expecting you to do? he knows that you don't understand and so he leans forward to clarify, “sit on it, grind on it.” your face twists in unexplainable emotion. “and then beg me for your job.” 

you feel every moment of pride youve ever had slip away as you rise up and shuffle forward so that one leg is on either side of his foot. then a tear slips down your cheek as you slowly lower down to place your panty covered pussy onto his shoe.

it's a sudden sensation, the laces are rough against your sensitive area. you don't like it, but oh, the pressure does incite an involuntary sensation of pleasure there. you can't help it, it's only natural. mr cameron knows it too.

your movements are shaky as you start to push your hips up and down, subsequently grinding down on his shoe. you wobble a little, not knowing if you should grab his leg for support and so you play it safe and don't. 

“you’re not begging.” he tells you, his tone so unbothered that it makes you wonder how many times he may have had someone do this for him. you take a moment to bring yourself to look at him, but the moment you do the pathetic words begin to roll off your tongue like they're the only ones you know.

“p-please. let me keep my job.” you cry, “I have debts, I'll never- uh- I'll never be able to live without this pay.” your voice is all broken apart, every time there is a twinge of pleasure down there you have to let out an uncontrollable sound. “I'll never make this mistake again mr cameron.” 

oh it goes on for minutes. long, shameful, disgusting minutes. you don't stop talking, begging, grovelling. your words only become more incoherent though, as the pleasure grows, you have no choice but to hold him for support.

your movements become erratic and he watches you. a sick smirk is planted on his face as he watches. It brings him a sick sort of pleasure to see you so desperate. he takes pride in the way he's taken advantage of you, he doesn't care how horrid or immoral it is. 

it escalates more when that knot forms in your stomach. you can't keep begging, you are overtaken by pleasure. for a few seconds you nearly forget about the situation you’re in and then the pleasure comes to an end.

your head snaps up to him immediately. you decide it's safe to stand back up again and so you do. “sir..” you say tentatively, hoping, praying even that he will now at least consider letting you keep the job.

he is silent for a moment before he looks up, “i have an errand for you to run.” 

you nod immediately, happy at the insinuation that you still have some sort of duty, despite what you have just been made to do for it, “of course sir, what do you need.” 

“take my shoes to be polished.” 

[filiazpink]

🩷"OH PRIMUS,,,"🩷

orion pax x femme + superior! reader x d-16 warnings: suggestive language (like- once but still), darkwing being darkwing, i’m a sucker for cheesy stuff, really minor transformers one spoilers (?)

summary: orion finds himself completely enamored with one of his superiors and d-16 doesn’t really mind it, until one day, you show up at the mines.

a/n: my very first tumblr fic!! i might post this on my AO3 account as well! hope this reached your expectations considering more than 200 people voted for this prompt on my poll  =͟͟͞͞(꒪ᗜ꒪‧̣̥̇) ill get to some of the other prompts shortly after, i just wanted to know which one would be best to start with (and to properly introduce my writing to tumblr teehee) !! comments and reblogs are highly appreciated !! ENJOY!! 💞💞💞

word count: 1139

proofread: minimal (lemme know if there's any errors!!)

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orion simply couldn't stop thinking about you.

your shiny and colorful armor, your beautiful optics, your height and strength. that voice. the power and authority you had over him. that power rivaled sentinel prime’s in his eyes. everything.

she was simply breathtaking. 

…

“earth to orionnnn, come on, rust bucket!!” pink servos waving at him frantically snapped the red and blue mech out of his trance. focusing his glance, orion watched as elita-1 gave him one of the scariest faces he’s seen yet, followed by d-16 behind her with his arms crossed, looking at his friend with a disappointed expression.

“what’s wrong with you?! you broke protocol, AGAIN!” elita pulled the miner to his feet, groaning in annoyance. orion’s dumb dopey smile quickly turned into a shocked frown and he was about to ask what he did now, but thankfully, his friend answered for him.

“orion, buddy, i know,,, i know you just wanted to save jazz from that explosion but you almost got killed doing that, man.” d-16 looked to the side, avoiding his friend’s gaze.

“you can’t keep doing this, pax. ONE more stunt like this and I’LL be the one to get-”

“what happened here??” elita snapped her head towards the newcomer’s voice, expecting maybe another miner, but her angry scowl quickly faded away once she saw who it was.

it was elita’s superior. 

it was you. 

oh primus, beautiful, amazing, spectacular you. orion felt a rush of warmth cover his face as you walked in along with,,,

oh- with darkwing. of course he was there with you.

STILL- you just showed up with no prompting, and two days in advance no less?? clearly, this was important.

orion fixed his posture and tried to dust off any grime he had on him. d-16 chuckled quietly at his best friend’s excitement, before turning his attention to you.

“(y-y/n)! i thought you were coming to check on our sector in t-two days! i’m so sorry you have to see my team like this i swear it was an accident-” the poor pink bot stammered, much to darkwing’s amusement and to your confusion.

“what accident? the cave collapsing? that’s normal, elita-1. don’t worry about it. you’re telling me it was a complete accident so i will take your word for it.” hearing those words coming from you made elita feel like she was just told that sentinel finally found the matrix of leadership.

“oh, thank you, thank you,,,” orion and d-16 watched as elita continuously thanked her superior, chuckling. 

“well, that means we don’t get our butts kicked too, thank primus miss (y/n) was here.” the red and blue miner said, walking away from the scene with his pal.

“yea and now we can just finish this shift and relax-”

“d-16?” the two stopped in their tracks, slowly turning around in an almost comical way to face the much taller femme bot. 

orion’s servos trembled. he felt embarrassed, he was over here making a fool of himself with how obvious his crush on you was. literally everyone who steps foot in the mines knew about it, aside from, clearly, you. heck, even darkwing seemed to know, considering that despite his optics not being visible, he clearly was glaring at the cog-less bot.

or maybe it was just his usual routine of hating them.

d-16, however, gulped and let out the tiniest of “yes?”. ohhh boy, what now?? did she assume that the cave collapsing was his doing?? did darkwing tell her that-

“you’re at the top of your ranks here, correct?” his train of thought was interrupted by your soft voice, watching as you knelt down to his height, placing a hand on his shoulder, which shocked him a bit. orion stared at the polished hand on his best friend’s rusted shoulder with envy, his optics narrowing just a smidge.

“i already spoke to elita about this, but i also want you to hear it. i’ve heard some great things about you, and how you excel amongst your ranks. so i just wanted you to hear this.” d-16 felt frozen.

‘what is this,,, feeling? my face is burning,,’ oh indeed it was. his face flushed in a deep blue as he anxiously waited for your next words. just your soothing voice got him like this and he simply couldn’t understand why.

“,,, i need you.”

,,,

WHAT???

the first to react was darkwing, who let out a very outraged grunt of confusion, as if you just cheated on him with a MINER of all people in his face, followed by elita, the other miners and orion gasping, everyone turning their heads towards the two.

“,,,w-what?” the gray miner’s voice box barely even processed his astonished question. he felt as if his circuits were frying up by how hot he felt. 

orion’s expression showed bewilderment and a hint of betrayal. this,,, wasn’t fair?? well- he knew it wasn’t d-16 who said that to you, but he still couldn’t help but feel jealous.

he wished it could have been him.

but then finally, you realized what you just said and removed your hand from the shorter bot’s shoulder, standing up straight and bumping into darkwing’s chest armor. “oh- p-please excuse me. i- uh, i chose my words wrong.” 

the onlookers decided to stop eavesdropping, realizing it was a simple mistake on your part. that made orion sigh in relief, which didn’t go unnoticed by d-16. but his attention was quickly brought back to you.

“my apologies, i- i would never say such things- not during work hours, i’m sorry- what i meant to say, i need you- as in i need you to help keep up the good work to motivate the other miners to do the same. it helps your ranks as it helps mine if we all put our parts to make a difference. s-so, yea.” you looked around, avoiding eye contact, a small blush remaining on your face. both miners nearly swooned at such a cute expression on your face.

“i just needed to do an early check up according to sentinel, that’s all. thought i’d try and give some pep talk and you can see i have to work on that,,” you giggled before clearing your throat and staring down at the mesmerized bots.

,,,

“goodbye.” and with that being said, you quickly marched back to the main exit with a very, VERY jealous darkwing in tow. 

orion turned his gaze to his best friend, who watched you depart with a dreamy look on his face. the red and blue bot sighed and gently shook his shoulder.

“d?,,,” oh he knew. 

he recognized that stare. the same stare he gave when he saw anything megatronus prime related, that same glimmer in his optics. it was that same spark that orion had when he first saw you.

oh primus.

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

🩷send me a burger !! : ko-fi💗 🩷visit my other socials !! : socials list💗 🩷writing requests rules !! : info list💗

[dissapointu]

i love your writing so much!! you are so quickk! may you do how arcane characters would react to a partner who is very confident in themselves and the reader doesn’t hesitate to stick up for the arcane characters??

STOPPP, you’re making me blush, like seriously 🥺🥺 THANK YOU!!

———————————————————————

Jinx

She eats this UP like candy. You stand up for her with that no-nonsense, “Touch her and find out” energy, and she’s immediately wrapped around your finger.

“WOOOOO, BABY!” she yells, pointing at whoever dared cross her. “They’re with me, loser!”

Later, she’s buzzing, practically climbing onto your shoulders while you’re just trying to sit down.

“Do it again,” she whispers dramatically. “Defend my honor or whatever.” She’s obsessed and thinks it’s the hottest thing ever.

Vi

Oh, Vi is smirking so hard it hurts. You’re out here, no hesitation, ready to fight her battles before she can even crack her knuckles.

“Alright, alright, relax,” she says, pulling you back before you throw hands. “They’re not worth your time.”

But later? She’s grinning ear-to-ear, punching your arm like, “I like that fire. You’re pretty badass, you know that?”

You’re her ride-or-die, and if anyone messes with you two, it’s curtains.

Sevika

Sevika is TORN between being annoyed and completely wrecked by your loyalty. She’s used to handling everything herself, so when you step in like, “Back the hell off before I make you,” she’s like, “Excuse me?!”

But deep down? She’s got that little flutter in her chest, even if she’d rather die than admit it.

“Don’t go getting yourself hurt on my account,” she grumbles after, lighting a cigar. But there’s a softness in her eyes that says, “You mean everything to me.”

Silco

Silco is living for this, okay? You defending him—him, the guy who trusts no one—just solidifies that you’re not like anyone else.

He’ll give you that slow, calculating smile and lean in close.

“My dear,” he murmurs, “you truly are one of a kind.”

He’ll never ask you to step in for him, but when you do, it cements your place as his equal, his confidant. You’re his anchor in a world full of chaos, and he’ll treasure you for it.

Vander

Vander is SO PROUD of you. Like, it physically pains him how proud he is. You step up with that big “don’t mess with my man” energy, and he’s in the background, arms crossed, smiling like a soft dad.

“You’re incredible, you know that?” he says later, pulling you into one of his massive bear hugs.

But he’ll also gently remind you to pick your battles because he doesn’t want you getting hurt. (Still, he’s telling the whole bar how lucky he is to have someone like you.)

Ekko

Ekko is absolutely FLOORED the first time you go off for him. He’s used to fighting his own battles, so having you step in and defend him catches him completely off guard.

“Yo, did you just—?!” he starts, but then he’s laughing, shaking his head. “Okay, okay, I see you.”

He’s hyping you up like crazy after. “That’s my partner, y’all!” You’re basically a power couple now, the ultimate Zaunite dream team.

Jayce

Jayce gets this big, goofy smile whenever you defend him. Somebody’s coming for his ideas, and you’re like, “Actually, maybe listen to the genius who invented Hextech? Just a thought.”

He’ll pull you aside after, blushing like crazy.

“Thanks for that,” he says, scratching the back of his neck. “You didn’t have to, but… it means a lot.”

You’re basically his number one hype person, and he’s OBSESSED with how confident and supportive you are.

Viktor

Oh, you defending Viktor? Immediate heart eyes. He’s so used to being underestimated that your fierce loyalty completely disarms him.

“Thank you,” he says softly, avoiding your gaze because he’s blushing so hard.

But later, when it’s just the two of you, he’ll pull you into a quiet hug and whisper, “You’re remarkable, you know that?”

You make him feel like he’s worth standing up for, and that’s everything to him.

Caitlyn

Caitlyn is secretly swooning every time you step in for her. Someone’s giving her grief, and you’re there, shutting it down with total confidence.

“Darling, you’re going to get us both in trouble,” she teases, but her smirk says she loves it.

She’s used to being the one standing up for others, so having you in her corner feels like a breath of fresh air. She’ll thank you later with a sweet kiss and a soft, “I’m lucky to have you.”

Mel Medarda

Mel is ALL ABOUT IT. You stand up for her in that smooth, confident way, and she’s just sitting there like, “That’s my partner. Aren’t they magnificent?”

Later, she’ll take your hand, her voice low and honey-smooth.

“You never fail to impress me,” she says, her gold eyes sparkling.

Mel loves how fearless and self-assured you are—it’s the perfect match for her own power and grace. Together? You’re unstoppable.

Ambessa Medarda

Ambessa watches you step up for her with that little smirk of hers, arms crossed like she’s sizing you up all over again.

“Well done,” she says, her tone full of approval. “You’re as bold as I hoped you’d be.”

She loves that you’re fearless enough to stand by her side, and she’ll absolutely reward you later (in her own very Ambessa way).

Heimerdinger

Heimerdinger is SO FLUSTERED the first time you stick up for him.

“Oh my goodness, I—I hardly know what to say!” he stammers, his little ears twitching like crazy.

He’s not used to that kind of boldness, but he’s touched beyond words. Expect him to shower you with gratitude and possibly build you a tiny invention as thanks.

Salo & Scar: They’re both a little thrown at first, but they respect the hell out of you for it. They’ll grumble something like, “Didn’t need your help, but… thanks,” but you can tell they’re grateful.

Maddie: Maddie’s laughing her head off. “Damn, you’ve got some guts! I like it.” She’s telling everyone in Zaun about how badass her partner is.

Lest: Oh, sweet Lest is a blushing mess. She can barely get out a thank-you because she’s so flustered, but she’s touched beyond words. Later, she’ll quietly tell you, “You didn’t have to do that, but… it means a lot.”

TL;DR: You being super confident and standing up for them? Peak power couple energy. Whether they’re swooning, smirking, or silently crying inside, every Arcane character is down BAD for your fearless loyalty.

[thenationofzaun]

Arcane and Ideological Clashes

Tags by @coolseabird

I'm glad I'm not the only one who feels this way. One of season 1's themes I loved was the philosophical and ideological debate between Silco and Vander (and then Jinx and Vi). I adore the personal character-driven aspects too, but the thing is, they don't have to be mutually exclusive. Ideologies can be extremely personally informed/motivated, and in the case of these characters, they were. Every part of their worldviews were shaped by their circumstances, their lives, experiences, and relationships with other characters. For example, Silco surviving the murder attempt by Vander and how this very personal betrayal motivated him politically, to be unrelentingly extremist in his methods. Or Vander feeling personally guilty for all the deaths on the Day of Ash, leading to him forming a political deal with Grayson to subdue the undercity from ever stepping out of line "for their own good". Because when you live in these kinds of dire conditions, there really is no way to separate the personal from the political.

Though season 1 didn't explore these themes with the sisters as deeply as I would have liked, the crumbs were there! Especially for Jinx. Yeah, she's selfish and personally-motivated, but her actions are nonetheless political. When it comes to her political opinions, the first season itself only gave us crumbs ("We kicked the enforcers butts, imagine what the whole of the Lanes could do!" as a kid, and then later Silco tells her that the children of Zaun deserve more and she seems to listen pensively, but never comments on it). Every act of political violence by her in the first season was given a personal motivation (she wants Silco to think she's strong, she wants to confront Caitvi on the bridge, she wants to avenge Silco). But writers comments outside the show gave us more - one of them said online that while Jinx understands Vander, she disagrees with his worldview and aligns with Silco's views on fighting topside. So that confirmed that Jinx does have an ideology and it aligns with Silco's, even if she was mostly preoccupied with personal matters in S1.

Vi on the other hand was completely neglected by season 1. All of her thought process and political opinions post Act 1 were left entirely subtextual. Act 3 was the worst offender because it's there that she makes her most controversial decisions (betraying Jinx to the Council and attacking the Shimmer factory with enforcers). However, again there were crumbs that one could string together to form interpretations. In S1E2, Vander basically convinces her that rebellion against topside is futile as it would likely lead to the deaths of her loved ones. She then decides to give up her desire to fight them and turns herself in to the enforcers. What follows is 7-8 years of being beaten and abused and downtrodden by topsiders in prison. Yeah, I can definitely see how this experience would only confirm Vander's words, that Piltover's might is too much to overcome, not without heavy casualties on their side. That rebellion is futile and the best thing to do is to keep your head down and don't invoke their wrath.

However, it was a fellow undercity citizen who murdered Vander and took her sister. And when she returns years later, she finds that he is still in power, has significant influence and a large number of followers in the Lanes, and no one has overthrown him. One line that really stood out to me was one she said to the brothel madam Babette in S1E5 - "From the looks of it no one down here lifted a finger to stop Silco". How juicy is that! She feels resentful towards her fellow Zaunites for not avenging Vander and taking down Silco in her absence. She feels betrayed, abandoned, left behind by her own neighbours. Her sister changed under Silco, her home changed under Silco. And everyone moved on without her. Expanding on this could have been such a natural way to justify her class treason by joining the enforcers. She thinks Piltover is too strong for Zaunites to beat so there's no use rebelling against them anyway. So why not use their might against her Zaunite enemies? Zaunites themselves "won't lift a finger" to stop violent gang leaders so why not use topside's power to do it? "What loyalty should I have to my class, if the people from my class abandoned me like this?" I could even see how being wronged by Zaunites could hurt more than being wronged by Piltovians - she could see it as the latter owing her nothing while the Zaunites are supposed to be her family and neighbours, who owe her more.

Again, season 1 itself did jack shit to delve into these feelings nor her trauma from prison. But the crumbs were there. I happily used them to form my own interpretation to justify her bizarre decisions and was satisfied. But then season 2 rolls around. They had the blueprint and chose not to use any of this rich material. How do they justify her joining the enforcers? Do they explore any of the complex feelings of resentment Vi may have for her home and class? Nope, she joins after hearing how her crush talked her up to colleagues. How do they justify her fully turning on Jinx and disowning her sister? Do they explore Vi's loyalty to her foster father Vander, and her acceptance that Jinx chose to betray him and side with his murderer, then try to murder Ekko for years? Nope. In fact, she forgets about Ekko and never mentions him again lmao. Rather she seems to turn on Jinx because she attacked the Council??? That seems to be the turning point for Vi, the thing that makes Vi view Jinx as a monster. "She killed the tyrants who oppressed me all my life, how dare she😤" ???? It would make sense for Vi to view the attack as stupid and reckless, again just like Vander said - fighting topside only brings more wrath to the undercity. But they don't even do that. They never explore Vi's political opinions and how she agrees with Vander's "compliance for our own good" stance. They never touch on her time in prison and how it may have compounded Vander's views. Instead they make it so Vi seems to sympathize with the Councilors and condemns Jinx's bombing because of some generic "violence bad" moral.

It's so stupid too, because they completely forget about Grayson. That's more PRIME material to justify Vi's enforcer arc. If Vander, her mentor, allied with Grayson, Caitlyn's mentor, then why shouldn't she ally with Caitlyn? She could easily use the Vander-Grayson peace deal to make herself feel better about her class treason. "He allied with enforcers to keep the undercity in check for their own good. So will I. Putting on the uniform is just the next logical step. I will take out the gang leaders and Silcos that Zaunites are too weak to stand up to. My parents were wrong to fight against topside, rebellion is futile. Jinx is wrong to fight against topside and will only get more Zaunites killed in the resulting retaliation. They can call me a traitor but I'm doing this for their own good."

All the pieces are there. Instead they never bring up the Vander-Grayson deal. Caitlyn and Vi have never even spoken about either of them in their entire relationship lmfaooo. They don't even know that their beloved mentors knew each other. They never speak about anything of substance. The only crumbs of an ideological clash we get in season 2 is the argument in S2E5. But it's all from Jinx's side - "I wish I was just seeing things when you decided to throw in with the Piltie goons who murdered mom and dad." But then Vi replies with some lame insult, then they're having a cheap slapstick comedy fight, and Vi never reckons with this. She never expresses what she thinks of her parents dying fighting topside. Then the Piltover vs Zaun war is completely abandoned and the plot focuses on Warwick/Hexcore/Noxus. And we don't get any more explorations of the ideological/philosophical clash that the sisters represent. Is it worth it to rebel against an oppressor if you lose yourself and all your loved ones to violence, but at least those in the future reap the benefits of your fight? Is it worth it to comply for the safety of yourself and your loved ones, if your people will eventually suffer a slow death and never have a future? What are you willing to sacrifice for your revolution? How far will you go? They handled this theme beautifully with season 1 Silco, then said "alright that's enough" and dropped all effort when it came to season 2. And from the trailers of Act 3, it looks like Vi will be convincing Jinx to fucking help Piltover against Noxus. Which is just gross lmao.

[saddleups]

hi it’s me again who requested the video tape!! thank you for that and i loved it 🫦

it’s so hot to imagine james being a single father… he adopts laura after the leave ending, idk it makes me so 🤸‍♀️ imagining james as a single father. and gentle morning sex. that’s also cute!

-🧚‍♀️

★ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 . . . 1.7k

★ 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐒 . . . request , complete. JAMES SUNDERLAND X F!READER !! 18+ SMUT MDNI !!

★ 𝐂𝐖 . . . just sweet vanilla sex <3 p_rn w/o a plot !

★ 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 . . . omg hello !! i'm glad you liked it , i had a lot of fun with it and i kinda , sorta wanna do a second part lol. your mind for the gentle morning sex ?? gentle and intimate with heavy eye contact ... sedate me

The first light of dawn spills softly through the curtains of your shared bedroom, casting a warm, golden glow over the room. As the first light dances over your face, your lashes flutter, and a quiet groan slips from your lips. You stir, feeling the familiar warmth of James pressed behind you, his arm draped over your waist in a protective hold.

Reluctantly, you crane your neck to check the time, only to realize it’s early. Much too early. The small shift of your body stirs him, and you feel his hand flex around you as he starts to wake.

“Sorry, hun,” you murmur, voice still thick with sleep.

“’S’fine,” James responds, his voice a low, drowsy rumble. “I needed to get up early anyway to drop Laura off at school.”

You let out a soft laugh, barely more than a whisper, “Like, six a.m. early?”

A quiet groan rumbles from his chest as he pulls you just a little closer, his fingers tracing gentle circles along your side. “Maybe not,” he admits, voice softened by sleep, as if savoring this rare moment.

James nestled his face into the crook of your neck, his breath warm against your skin. These moments, so rare and precious, were hard to come by with a child running through the house, always lurking around, popping up at the most inconvenient times.

A little nuisance, sure—but you wouldn’t trade it for anything. In this quiet sliver of dawn, with only the sound of his breathing and the faint hum of morning outside, you tasted a fleeting slice of domesticity.

His lips brush against the sensitive skin of your neck. You tilt your hed to the side, giving him better access, James takes full advantage. He peppers your skin with soft kisses, leaving you breathless. The friction of his stubble against your skin is a delicious mix of roughness and tenderness, making you arch into him.

"James," you breathe, your hands instinctively reaching back to grip his forearm. The heat between you is palpable, a silent promise of the passion that always seems to simmer just beneath the surface.

He nuzzles deeper into the crook of your neck, his breath warm and steady. "Do you have to get up?" he asks, his voice husky with desire.

You shake your head, even though he can't see it, lost in the sensation of his lips moving lower, tracing a path down your shoulder.

"No," you reply, your own voice catching in your throat. "Not yet."

His hand moves higher, cupping your breast through the thin fabric of your nightgown. The simple touch sends a wave of pleasure through you, making your nipples pebble instantly. He teases one with his thumb, the friction electric against your sensitized flesh.

"Mmm," you moan softly, turning your head to capture his gaze. The intensity in his eyes is overwhelming, a green blaze that promises so much more than this fleeting moment. It's a look that speaks volumes, one that says he wants you as desperately as you want him.

James leans in, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. The connection is immediate and powerful, his tongue sweeping into your mouth to tangle with yours in a dance as old as time. Your bodies mold together, fitting perfectly as if made for each other. His free hand slides down to cup your ass, pulling you even closer, the evidence of his desire pressing insistently against your thigh.

You break the kiss, gasping for breath, your heart pounding in your chest. "James," you whisper again, this time with a hint of urgency. "We shouldn't..."

He silences you with another kiss, this one softer, almost reverent. "Shh," he murmurs against your lips. "We just have to be quiet," he says with a hint of playfulness.

Encouraged, you scoot closer, your body pressing against him. Your breath hitches as your thigh brushes against his hardening length.

"James," you whisper, voice barely audible.

He just looks at you, his lips parted as if he’s about to say something. But then his gaze drops to your lips, and the intensity in his eyes makes your heart race.

"Please," you whisper, almost begging now. "Take me."

His breath catches, and you feel his entire body tense up for a moment before he exhales slowly. His hand moves from your cheek to your hair, tangling in the strands as he pulls you closer. He kisses you then, a soft, lingering kiss that speaks volumes without words.

When he pulls back, his eyes are dark with need. "Are you sure?" he asks, voice low and rough.

You nod again, your fingers gripping his arm tightly. He shifts slightly, turning so that he’s half on his side, facing you. The straps of your nightgown have come undone. James' slips his hand down to cup your breast, his thumb brushing over your already hard nipple. The sensation sends a jolt of pleasure straight to your core, and you let out a small gasp.

"Quiet," he reminds you, but there’s no reprimand in his tone. Only concern and affection.

You bite your lip, nodding once more. He leans in, capturing your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, rolling it gently. The pressure builds, and you feel yourself getting wetter by the second.

Your hand travels down to his erection, wrapping your fingers around him. He’s hot and hard in your hand, and you squeeze gently, eliciting a low groan from him.

"God, you’re so beautiful," he whispers, his breath warm against your ear. "So perfect."

Your heart swells at his praise, and you move your hand, stroking him with slow, deliberate movements. He closes his eyes, his head falling back as he revels in the sensation. But you want more, need more. You guide his hand down to your entrance, where your arousal is already slick and ready.

He hesitates for a moment, looking into your eyes as if seeking reassurance. You give him a small, encouraging smile, and he dips one finger inside you. The sensation is intense, and you bite your lip to stifle a moan. He curves his finger, finding that sweet spot inside you, and you feel your body clenching around him.

"Fuck, you’re so wet," he mutters, his voice strained. "So wet for me."

You nod, unable to form words, your focus entirely on the way his finger feels moving inside you. He adds a second finger, spreading you open, stretching you. The pressure builds, and you feel yourself teetering on the edge of release.

"James," you gasp, your hips bucking against his fingers. "I want more."

He removes his fingers, only to replace them with his cock. He pushes inside you slowly, inch by agonizing inch. The stretch is delicious, overwhelming, and you grip the sheets beneath you, trying to stay quiet. He pauses when he’s fully sheathed inside you, his eyes locked on yours.

"Look at me," he commands, his voice firm but gentle. "Don’t look away."

You obey, your eyes locked onto his as he positions himself above you. The thin veil of sheets that once shielded you both falls away, exposing your bodies to the powerful heat emanating from James.

As he traps you between his arms, your legs instinctively part wider for him, begging for more. With a smirk, James teases your slick entrance with the head of his throbbing cock, relishing in the sight of your wetness mingling with his own precum. "Beautiful," he whispers lowly before plunging into you once again, claiming you entirely.

James starts to move, thrusting slowly and deliberately. Each stroke of his cock fills you completely, the sensation building and building until it’s almost too much to bear. He watches you intently, his expression a mix of love and raw desire.

"That’s it," he murmurs. "Feel it, baby. Feel how good this is. How good we are together."

His words push you closer to the edge, and you feel the orgasm coiling deep inside you. Your breath comes in short, shallow gasps, and you’re trembling all over. He speeds up, his thrusts becoming more urgent, deeper. His thumb finds your clit, rubbing in tight circles as he fucks you.

"Yes, yes," you whisper, your voice breaking. "Oh God, James, I’m going to come."

"Let go," he urges. "Come for me. Let me see you fall apart."

The command pushes you over the edge, and you cry out softly as the orgasm rips through you. Your body spasms, squeezing him tightly as you ride out the wave of pleasure. He continues to thrust into you, chasing his own release, his breathing ragged.

"I’m close," he grunts, his thrusts becoming erratic. "So close."

You reach between you, wrapping your hand around his cock where it meets your entrance, pumping him in time with his thrusts. The added friction sends him spiraling over the edge, and he groans your name as he comes, his seed filling you.

He collapses onto you, his weight pressing you into the mattress. For a moment, neither of you moves, lost in the afterglow of your combined climaxes. Finally, he lifts himself off you slightly, his eyes still locked on yours.

"You okay?" he asks, his voice hoarse.

You nod, smiling up at him. "Mhmn, thank you baby."

He leans down, kissing you softly, his tongue flicking against yours. The kiss is tender, almost reverent, and it leaves you breathless. As he pulls back, he gives you one last, lingering look before rolling off you and pulling you into his arms.

"Sleep now," he whispers, planting a kiss on your forehead. "We’ll talk later."

You snuggle into his embrace, feeling safe and cherished. The dawn light filters through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room.

Then you hear it, right outside the hall. "Hey! Where's breakfast?"

It's Laura, you turn to him and chuckle. James sighs, his forehead resting against your shoulder as he mutters, “Guess our peace and quiet's up.”

You chuckle, whispering back, “Think we can get away with pretending we’re still asleep?”

He gives a low, tired laugh, “Tempting. But knowing her, she’ll barge right in.”

Right on cue, Laura’s voice rings louder, impatience growing. “Hellooo? I’m starving in here!”

James groans playfully, rolling his eyes. “Alright, alright! We’re coming!”

You share a small, conspiratorial smile before he plants a quick kiss on your cheek, muttering, “Let’s face the little monster.”

[gunpowder-gemini]

Hi I have many many thoughts on Dandadan and where specific characters are going in the story, so incoming ramble posts lol. I've got thoughts on Okarun, Turbo Granny and Kinta specifically.

WARNING: SPOILERS FOR THE MANGA THROUGH CH. 175

First up: Okarun!

So obviously he's lost his turbo granny powers bc he's a good boy who keeps promises, but him having yokai curse powers is like, half the concept of the manga right? (The other half being Momo getting powers due to alien abduction). So clearly, he's gonna get them back because we can't just have one of our two main characters permanently sidelined. The question is just HOW.

I'm pretty sure Turbo Granny is gonna come back, she's a major supporting character and she had a whole little montage panel of Reasons To Stay despite her saying she has none but I'll get into that in a different post lol. HOWEVER! I don't think she's gonna give Okarun her powers again. I mean, they're HERS. And she just spent all that time getting them back why would she give them away again? So Okarun can fight? She can use her powers way better than he can, so if they're needed SHE'LL use them.

I think Okarun is gonna develop his own spiritual powers like Momo's.

In the recent chapters it's gone out of the way to highlight how ridiculously fit Okarun is now. Like, SUPER fit. Most obviously in the fitness tests, where he blew everyone out of the water:

But also in the fight against the pygmies he easily kept up with Aira, who was in her yokai form at the time.

Which I mean, it makes sense that he got fit - he's been fighting for his life as an after-school hobby lol. Obviously continually training to handle Turbo Granny's powers AND fighting things would result in him getting incredibly fit. But they've like REALLY emphasized it these past few chapters. It feels like they're really calling attention to it, you know?

But that in and of itself isn't the real reason I suspect he's got his own spiritual powers. It's actually because he can enter Empty Space.

So per the Serpoians, Empty Space is something aliens create that only pulls in humans with high spiritual power so the aliens can capture and study them. It's why once Aira got her acro silky powers she could enter Empty Space.

Okarun's high spiritual power wasn't his, it was Turbo Granny's. He was able to enter Empty Space because he had her power, but without it he's just a normal kid. So once he gave it back he should be unable to enter Empty Space. And yet:

He's gets pulled into Empty Space to fight the pygmies. He himself calls that out as strange! He shouldn't be able to! He doesn't have Granny's power! But there he is! So he must still have high spiritual power!

I think he spent such a long time with Turbo Granny's full power inside him, utilizing it so frequently, that it changed him. Either it awakened latent spiritual power within him or left behind an imprint of itself, I'm not sure lol. But I think he's developed his own version of Turbo Granny's power. I think it'll be a bit different from her, but still similar (I don't think they're gonna give him a completely different power ya know?). I suspect it'll come with a cool form change to his yokai form, like a costume upgrade lmao.

Furthermore, I think this happened because of the Danmanra arc. During that arc, in the final fight against the Fairy-Tale card, Okarun went all out three times.

He's never been able to do that - it's been kinda implied it would kill him. But through the ~power of love~ he managed to pull it off, and I think it is going to have an effect/consequences. I think this moment here changed him in some way, and it might be the catalyst for him developing his own version of Turbo Granny's powers.

Further to that point is Count Saint-Germain. He cornered Okarun, got him to yield and clearly intended to take his powers, but didn't.

I suspect it's because he wanted Turbo Granny's powers, but Okarun no longer has them. I think he either doesn't know Okarun has his own powers, or he does know and is waiting for Okarun to properly awaken them before he takes them. I'm like 90% sure the Empty Space in the pygmy fight was caused by him. Empty Space is pretty clearly outlined to be an Alien Thing and while the pygmies are spirits/yokai/whatever, Count Saint-Germain is probably an alien given his affiliation with the Kur. AND he was the one who gave Keiko the knife and the mission to steal Momo's power. Since Okarun got pulled into that Empty Space, if pretty boy here didn't know Okarun has some hidden spiritual power, he sure does now.

Either way, Okarun yielding to him here is definitely a Chekov's gun that's gotta fire at some point, and I've got theories on that but I'm gonna save them for my post on Turbo Granny lol.

Anyway TLDR; I think Okarun has his own superpowers like Momo now and we're gonna see them awaken in this arc.

Thanks for reading!

[tinfoil-jones]

Gravity Falls: A Few Minutes Won't Hurt

Summary: Alternative Title: Repressed Baptist Seduces Menace to Society. I said I would post the smut chapter in CH.13 of For Your Own Good if that chapter got 10 reviews, and I got those within like 2 hours. Well, I'm an author of my word(s), so here's your NSFW Fiddlestan content. Cross-posted on AO3 Here.

One shot from my other work, "For Your Own Good", but you don't necessarily need to read it first to read this.

Rating: E for language and sexual content. Also this whole thing is just smut with some plot and feelings.

WARNING: TW/ Mentioned past sexual abuse.

Of all the things Fiddleford thought he was willing to do to help his dear friend and colleague Stanford, seducing his identical twin brother to buy time while he fixed the houses power grid was not one of them.

While Stanford didn't ask him to do this specifically, he had asked him to distract Stan just long enough for him to get the power back up. And what else was he to do?

Drugging him was an option, but keeping him here against his will was already morally objectionable, he didn't want to add drugging him against his will (again) too. He had at least some standards here compared to Ford. Plus, Stan had an alarmingly high tolerance to substances anyways. He still shivered in remembrance of the crushed Ambien incident.

Brute force was also an option, but Fiddleford had no weapons on him. Hand-to-hand combat? Fiddleford was a lot stronger than his willowy build would lead others to believe. He grew up on a farm with hogs, and he had the strength to back it up. But Stan was a fighter - not just a fighter, but someone who's lived the past decade having to fight to survive. Fiddleford has personally seen what a rat in a corner can turn into, and he wasn't going to see what happened when the same thing happened with an adult man who was bigger than him. Not to mention, on the way downstairs, Fiddleford saw the man had already grabbed the items Ford had confiscated from him when he was brought in the first time, which included a switchblade and pair of knuckle dusters. It didn’t matter how strong Fiddleford was, when he was completely unarmed and Stan was most definitely not.

Reasoning with him?

There was no reasoning with him - and what could Fiddleford possibly tell him? That he needed to be held captive against his will in some mad scientist's basement in the middle of the woods? Stan couldn't even be convinced Stanford was really his twin and they looked almost exactly the same.

So that left, as Stan so eloquently put it, a 'honey trap'. Stan had been flirting with him relentlessly since they met and Fiddlefort had to bet all of his chips on the chance that Stan was actually attracted to him, and not just doing it to mess with him. Although not a betting man, Fiddleford must have made the right bet because now he was pinned against the wall, chest-to-chest with one wrist being held over his head, and a chapped pair of lips against his own.

Maybe, just maybe, Fiddleford was just looking for an excuse…

Given Stan's initial aggression, Fiddleford had fully expected the vagabond to go all-in on this encounter - with tongue, teeth, groping, and all. Yet, Stan was only kissing him - firm, but not rough, and no tongue. The grip on his wrist wasn't even hard, almost like it was a suggestion or invitation. With the power out, most of the lights in the basement laboratory were also out, but there were just enough autonomously-powered machines down there to keep them out of the pitch dark.

Stan put his remaining hand on Fiddlefords shoulder and lightly pushed it down, exposing more of his neck. He withdrew from the kiss and started instead planting butterfly kisses on the engineer's neck and throat. Just enough pressure to make Fiddleford feel hot under the collar, but not enough to leave marks.

Flustered at this almost romantic treatment, Fiddleford wrapped his free arm around Stan's waist, pulling him closer- close enough to rub their crotches together. Fiddleford had already undone his belt and zipper, leaving his trousers halfway down his thighs with only his briefs covering him, while Stan was still fully dressed save for his hoodie which he'd slid off earlier.

He noted Stan stiffened up for a second, but then relaxed again. Curious. He was so eager about this, and yet he was showing some signs of what seemed to be apprehension. Fiddleford would have to keep an eye on that, he wasn't going to do this if Stan actually didn't want to.

Stan nuzzled his chin and then moved onto trailing kisses along his jaw.

Fiddleford chuckled and turned his head to peck his lips "Stan," he teased with a heavy breath "I didn't realize you were such a gentleman."

Stan didn't respond, instead letting go of Fiddlefords wrist, which quickly moved down to hold the other man's hip.

"May I?" Fiddleford asked, thumbing the hem of his jeans - Stan didn't wear a belt, likely because of his thicker gut. Stan nodded, and took a step back.

Fiddleford turned them around so Stan's back was against the wall instead, and he was in front of him. Licking his lips a bit, Fiddleford undid the button and zipper of Stan's jeans before kneeling down and yanking both his jeans and boxers down to his knees.

A slight, full-body tremour ran through Stan's body and he almost seemed to back up even more against the wall as he was exposed. He wasn't completely hard yet, but his tip had a generous bead of precum already forming.

Fiddleford licked his lips again- usually this wasn't something he did, because his throat was sensitive, but given Stan's other actions so far he doubted he was going to try to face fuck him like so many other guys tended to do.

Fiddleford licked him from base to tip, before eagerly engulfing just the head. He didn't want to start off with too much all at once, he wanted to savour this a little bit. He heard Stan gasp aloud but abruptly stop.

He looked up as he slowly took in more of his length- he was surprised to see Stan had slapped his hand over his mouth, presumably to keep quiet. He was looking down at Fiddleford however, and when their eyes met his face turned an interesting shade of red and his eyes rounded out just slightly, almost like he didn't expect Fiddleford to look at him at all.

Fiddleford took in about half of him - that was enough to ease his throat for a moment, and he could feel the appendage swell and stiffen under his ministrations, giving him a perverted sense of pride.

He felt Stan place a hand on top of his head, and he quickly exhaled through his nose as he mentally prepared himself to be fucked in the throat and his hair to be yanked. Which was always fun, but he preferred taking his time.

However, that isn't what happened. Thick, calloused fingers tangled into his sandy blond locks, but not enough to pull at his scalp, and instead began stroking his hair back. Hesitant at first, before finding a clear rhythm to follow.

It was Fiddlefords turn to blush. All of this gentleness was the exact opposite of what he expected from Stan and he almost felt guilty for even assuming the vagabond would be rough or demanding. Fiddleford shoved his free hand down his briefs and gripped his own member, palming himself best he could in his current position.

Humming, he started to bob his head - slowly at first, but picking up pace after a few tests on his throat. He internally pouted that the only response he was receiving was well-muffled noises he had to strain to hear.

Fiddleford pulled his mouth off of Stan's dick, leaving an obscene string of saliva between himself and the weeping tip. "Stan," he said, looking up at the other man, who seemed confused, "I want to hear you." When a look of uncertainty crossed the vagabond's eyes, he added "There isn't anyone down here besides you and me, and the cameras don’t work right now, it's okay."

Stan slowly removed his hand from covering his mouth, and Fiddleford flashed him a small approving smile before quickly swallowing down most of his length in one movement.

"Fuck-!" Stan gasped, his tone so surprised and lewd it made it worth Fiddlefords now stimulated gag reflex. Fiddleford felt himself harden up even more and he jerked himself with even more vigor.

It'd be a good time now to switch to the main act, but it sure would be a shame if he didn't get a taste... especially with that deep, pretty moaning egging him on like this.

Though his hand movements stayed light and affectionate, Stan began to shake and stutter "-F, g-gonna-... I-Im close."

Fiddleford used the hand on Stan's hip to press him against the wall as far as he could, while taking his entire member, gag reflex be damned. Stan practically cried out as he cummed, and Fiddleford swallowed it all eagerly even if he had to cough a bit because of his now angry throat. It took a few strokes for Fiddleford to follow him in release, and his hand was cramping because he hadn't pulled himself out of his underwear to do so but he couldn't force himself to care about that right now.

Fiddleford slowly pulled off, feeling Stan's fingers continue to stroke his hair, albeit a bit clumsily with the aftershocks still wracking his body. "Y-You're pretty good at that, stretch." The brunet chuckled breathily, and Fiddleford felt his own face go hot "What else are you good at?"

Swiftly wiping his mouth with his lab coat sleeve, Fiddleford stood up again and cupped Stan's cheek with his hand, lightly rubbing his jaw with his thumb, which Stan leaned into almost unconsciously, his pupils dilating even further.

Fiddleford brought his face close to Stan's, close enough to feel each other's heavy breaths. "You're just the sweetest thing - like a summer peach. How about I show what else I can do?"  He offered, boldly moving his hand from Stan's hip down to his ass.

Stan breathed out a small laugh "Think you could handle me?"

"Only if you want me to."

Stan relaxed a bit more at that "All yours, specs... You got a condom?"

"Yes-" Fiddleford hastily felt around his jeans for his wallet, and after fumbling a moment Stan got a thoughtful look in his eye before reaching down to his own discarded jeans and sheepishly handing the engineer the wallet. "You stole my wallet while I was-"

"Force of habit. Sorry." Stan apologized, though Fiddleford doubted this would hinder him from doing it again in the future.

Rolling his eyes, Fiddleford rifled through it for a condom, which he quickly produced "Do you have lube?" He asked thoughtfully, though he doubted it. He personally wasn't against using spit but he knew it wasn't that effective.

"Don't need it." Stan answered a bit too quickly. When Fiddleford gave him a curious look, he added "I had some fun in the bathroom while you guys were gone."

"Is that all you do when you're left to your devices?" Fiddleford teased, even as felt his lower regions twitch back to life at the implication. "I must say I'm almost intimidated to be entertaining someone so... voracious."

"Did you eat a dictionary for breakfast this morning, specs?" Stan teased back, rolling his eyes "I don't exactly have a lot of stuff I can do down here… bathroom’s the only private place."

Fiddleford leaned his head against Stan's shoulder and gave himself a few tugs to harden up again- just enough to properly apply the condom. Through the contact he could feel and hear the other man's breath hitch, and his heart rate increasing further. But he also started to... shiver? Just a little, subtle enough Fiddleford wouldn't have been able to see it, but enough he could feel it while being so physically close.

"Wait." Stan said as he abruptly put his hands on Fiddlefords shoulders just as Fiddleford finished applying the condom, not to push him away, just to get his attention. Fiddleford glanced back up at him to see his eyebrows knitted together in concern.

"What's wrong darlin?" He asked.

"Nothings 'wrong'," Stan insisted, but paused "you... You're nice, right? You'll be nice?"

"Nice...?" Fiddleford blinked in confusion.

"You're not going to try to fuck me so hard I'll bleed?" Stan clarified, and there was a grim edge to his tone, like asking Fiddleford to not hurt him was an exception and not a rule "You'll... stop if I asked you to?" There was hesitation when he asked, as if he was overstepping and asking for a favour.

Fiddlefords eyes widened "Of course- Stan of course I would stop if you wanted to stop! Why would you think..." He trailed off when Stan's eyes almost seemed to dull, and grew a bit shiny, a hint of tears.

"I was in prison, Fiddleford." He explained, slowly, strained, "The guys there aren't like you... they don't ask. They're not nice."

"..." In spite of the compromising position and state of undress they were in, Fiddleford straightened up and pulled Stan into a tight hug, which surprised Stan but he didn't push him away "Oh Stan," he said, kissing his cheek lightly "I'm so sorry. You didn't deserve that. No one deserves that."

Breath slightly shaky, Stan didn’t return the embrace, but hid his face against Fiddlefords hair. Considering Stan’s tendency to talk about his various trauma as if it were a joke ir a point of pride, this must have been the first true moment of vulnerability the vagabond had allowed himself in who knows how long. At least, the first one that Fiddleford had seen himself.

"We don't have to do this, we can stop here." Fiddleford assured him, but Stan shook his head.

"I want to- I want you. I like you a lot. I just... I don't want it to be like the other times..."

Fiddleford nodded and pecked his cheek again. "Okay... I'm going to pick you up and we can do this against the wall, is that alright with you?"

Stan quirked a brow "I'm fine with that position, but are you sure? I'm not light." True, not only was Fiddleford considerably thinner, but despite one of Stan's nicknames for him being ‘stretch’, he was also a touch shorter than both of the Stan twins.

“Saddle up, city boy.” Fiddleford said with a wink, before abruptly grabbing Stan by the hips and lifting him straight off of his feet, balancing him between the leaning forward of his own hips and the wall.

“Woah- ah.” Stan briefly gasped in surprise before quickly throwing his arms over Fiddlefords neck, and his legs around his hips, clinging for what he perceived to be dear life. But Fiddleford didn’t seem to struggle holding him up at all, as though he were as light as a feather. “I-if you fucking drop me…”

“I won’t, don’t you worry none.” Fiddleford assured. When he was sure Stan was holding onto him tightly enough, and leaned forward so he could have him more properly pinned between himself and a wall, he let go of him with one hand - pausing to make sure Stan wasn’t unbalanced - and reached down to grasp onto his own cock. He was still a bit sensitive and flaccid from his recent orgasm, but that was going to change very soon. “Are you ready? This might sting a little.”

Stan just nodded, still keeping his arms over Fiddlefords neck but leaning back slightly, trying to keep his body as slack as possible, allowing the engineer to slip inside of him with little resistance, though Stan did still hiss slightly through his teeth.

“Lord have- mphh.” Fiddleford moaned as he pushed up, pulling Stan down enough to where he could be fully hilted. He felt very soft inside- and so, so warm. He could tell from the few times they’d physically interacted before this that Stan ran a bit hot, but nothing like this. It was enough to make his head dizzy, enough for a rare swear word to slip out of him “Fuck, you feel good.”

“You too.” Stan muttered next to his ear, before burying his face into Fiddlefords neck. For a moment they both just stayed like that so Stan could adjust to the intrusion properly. After a few moments, Fiddleford rolled his hips upward, softly, experimentally, and when Stan gave him a slight hum of approval, he continued to do so with more vigor.

Gravity did most of the work for him, he could push Stan upward as softly as he wanted but he always came down much harder and that was the friction that was driving the engineer insane. It didn’t take long for Fiddleford to start snapping his hips up in tandem with the other man coming down on him. He would have started pulling him down if he didn’t remember Stan’s anxiety about being treated rough.

Stan shifted his arms from over Fiddlefords neck so he could cup his face with his hands- his eyes were still as impish as ever, but they were hazed over, Fiddleford could only register that fog as lust before Stan pulled his face in so they could kiss again. Fiddleford fluttered his eyes closed and breathed heavily through his nose as he daringly introduced tongue- something which Stan allowed this time around.

As sweet as Stan;s more romantic inclinations were, Fiddleford was honestly very pent up. Yes, he’ll admit privately to himself at this moment - might as well, he was balls deep in the other man - that yes, he had been using the honey trap as an excuse. Stan had been so relentless with his attention and flirting that it’d been increasingly difficult to not feel a certain way about it in these past weeks.

Stan was crude and used dark humour to cover his multitude of trauma’s, and he made it no secret he was an unabashed scoundrel who would jump right back into criminal mischief the minute he could. And his uncanny resemblance to Stanford had made Fiddleford a bit uneasy at first - how could he possibly be attracted to someone who looked exactly like his best friend? What did that say about Fiddleford? And there was the most glaring issue of Fiddleford being an accomplice to Stanford holding Stan prisoner against his will.

Wanting to have sex with your best friends identical twin? That was bad enough. Wanting to have sex with someone you were holding captive in a basement in the middle of the woods? That was just immoral, unethical, and illegal. 

Those issues didn’t go away, per se, with this encounter. But there wasn’t anything Fiddleford could do to physically keep Stan from tossing him aside like a tumbleweed and just leaving, so Stan had only agreed to a quickie because he wanted to. If that really wasn’t the case, Fiddleford didn’t think he could forgive himself.

But it was really difficult for the sinner to hate the sin when said sin was this tight and hot around his dick, stimulating the nerves in his groin so much that shocks of pleasure shot up and clouded any thoughts Fiddleford had involving logic and ethics.

“Hey, you.” A flick against his temple brought him back out of his head, he could see that Stan had separated from the kiss and they were just panting each others hot breaths again “Pay attention to me, won’t cha?”

When all Fiddleford could do was nod dumbly and snap his hips up and not respond with actual words because absolutely no blood was going to his brain, Stan let out a shaky laugh - pretty close to a yelp given its timing with a particularly steep thrust - before grabbing his shoulders and pushing at them slightly to get his attention.

“Y-You’re pretty tightly wound, huh? Lemme do some of the work here.” Stan offered, and motioned behind both of them “Sit in that chair and I’ll ride you.” Fiddleford nodded and made sure he had a tight grip over him before walking a few feet backwards - Stan was not a fan of this - until he was seated in the chair.

“You coulda just put me down…” Stan huffed, although this didn’t deter him from scooting up a bit before sinking back down, letting out a pleased sigh as he took in all of Fiddleford, and pausing. Fiddleford gripped Stan’s hips with both of his hands, tempted to start moving him himself but deciding to instead watch what the other man would do. 

Stan at first grinded his hips down in a small, circular motion, before beginning to lift himself up, and then dropping back down while tightening around him, making them both moan in unison. Keeping one hand on Fiddlefords shoulder, he moved his other hand down to stroke himself in tandem with his movements.

“Was this- hhah- what you were thinkin’ bout earlier?” Fiddleford began, voice straining to stay even “When you were diddlin yourself?”

Stan paused abruptly and really seemed to consider stopping entirely before continuing his current movements, jolting slightly in pleasure when Fiddleford thrusted upward into him just as he was moving down “Th-that country accent is cute and all, but if you say that word again I’m out.” He chided gruffly, still actively palming his wet and swollen member.

“Not answering my question, darlin.” Fiddleford teased a bit, though he knew he was pushing his luck against Stan’s patience, so he didn’t tease any further when Stan didn’t answer. Maybe after the fact.

Pressure built up in his lower abdomen, good pressure, and Fiddleford felt like a knot being pulled as taut as possible, about to snap-

“Oh f-fuck I’m gonna fucking cum.” Stan practically whined out, unknowingly voicing his partners thoughts. His movements on Fiddleford became uneven and frantic and as did his hand around his dick, his eyes rounding out but his pupils constricting as he became wholly focused on reaching that peak. Tightening his non dominant hand on Stan’s hip. Fiddleford reached over with his other hand to replace Stan’s, taking over his rough jerking with a firm but more delicate touch, much easier with all of the precum he was leaking out.

“Loooord, Stan-. L-like that, just like that-.” Fiddleford rambled, his entire body and especially his face burning “You’re doin so good- you feel so good, I don’t wanna stop-.” If he weren’t so busy pitching woo, Fiddleford might have noted how strange it was that Stan had dug his hands into his hoodie pockets and taking them out just as quickly, but it was so quick he might not have noticed anyways. 

Fiddleford was the first to cum this time, the feeling of the engineer tightening his grip over his length as impulsively roll his hips for friction to ride out his orgasm, it sent Stan down the same cascade of release, Fiddleford coming with almost a shout and Stan with a moan similar to a deep sigh.

Fiddleford hadn’t even started coming down from the high of peaking before Stan abruptly shoved his mouth against him, while also grabbing his wrists and pinning them down on the armrests on either side of the chair. The roughness surprised Fiddleford, but maybe this is just how Stan got right before the afterglow? Regardless, Fiddleford wasn’t complaining, he simply fluttered his eyelids closed and returned the kiss; despite the aggressive entrance, the kiss itself was as gentle and almost chaste as the ones they’d started with. 

Riiip

"Uh-? Huh?” Fiddleford broke away from the kiss at the strange, sharp sound he heard to his left; he looked over to his left to see that his hand on that side was now zip-tied to the armrest, before he could react properly he heard the same ripping sound as before and looked over bewildered to see Stan had just finished securing another ziptie on his other wrist, rending Fiddleford stuck to the chair and unable to free either of his wrists.

“I’m really sorry about this.” Stan muttered as he pulled off of him; he kneeled down to reach over to tuck Fiddleford’s now flaccid cock back into his pants, and quickly re-doing his fly and belt for him. Once he finished with that, he walked over to his own discarded pair of boxers and jeans and yanked them both back onto himself.

“Wait.” Fiddleford almost stammered “Did you just-? Why?”

“I gotta say, I didn’t think you had it in you specs.” Stan said as he dressed himself again, and in spite of what they’d just been doing less than a minute before, Fiddleford felt himself flush. “You’re more devious than I thought you were. Unfortunately, you weren’t going to out-scheme me.” With the nearby sink, Stan quickly washed his hands and wetted some paper towels, and briskly walked back to wipe up the cum he’d practically sprayed onto Fiddlefords chest. 

 “Did you plan this?”

“I probably woulda fought you if you tried stopping me in other ways.” Stan admitted “But I told ya, honey traps are one of the oldest tricks in the book. A reverse honey trap? People don't see that one coming, not even smart ones like you.”

Fiddleford huffed to himself - on one hand, he did feel some humiliation for his own plan backfiring against him; on the other hand, it was Stan's cleverness and gile that had endeared him to the vagabond in the first place. “So what was that to you, then?”

Stan was still kneeling in front of him, pausing right after he tossed the dirty paper towels into the nearby wastebasket. For his part, he did look conflicted. “I meant what I said earlier, Fiddleford.” He told him, standing up just enough to lean over and kiss his cheek “I like you a lot. And I had a great time with you just now. But I didn’t break out of five prisons just to rot in some mad scientist's basement, no matter how hot his assistant is.”

Fiddleford felt his heart skip a beat. The whole time Stan had been down here, he went out of his way to not use his or Stanford’s names, he went out of his way to exclusively refer to them by nicknames. But one particular behavioral quirk Fiddleford noticed in Stan was that he did know their names, but he would only use them if he was being sincere. Given his unscrupulous disposition, that wasn’t often. 

“I like you too, Stan. I’m not saying that to trick you or keep you here.” Fiddleford replied, Stan nodded and briefly pecked his temple before standing fully upright and taking a few steps back.

“I wish we coulda met some other way, but I’m glad I did meet you. In the future, if you ever make friends who aren’t insane, and I’m not dead in a ditch somewhere, we should meet up again. If you want to.” Stan turned heel and started his way up the stairs and out of the basement.

Fiddleford didn’t have a response; what could he possibly say? He’d played a game and lost because he underestimated the other player. 

He waited for Stan to be out of earshot, before muttering out loud to himself. “Standord owes me after this… He owes me big time.”

Just as he finished that sentiment, all of the lights flickered on, and many machines whirred back to life. The power was restored.

The End… Go Home.

[windvexer]

How do you feel about the stance that you shouldn't read tarot for yourself about a situation that upsets/ worries you while you're still feeling upset about it?

I think it's a solid stance.

I've been reading tarot for a really long time, and the one thing that has always remained true for my practice - and what I have seen in others - is that you can't produce an accurate reading without impartiality.

Emotions are information, and that information overrides impartiality. In my experience this is true when it comes to tarot and indeed all forms of divination.

It has been a very long-standing rule of mine that querents should never send me background information on a question. That is because the background information leads me to form a judgment, and then I can't accurately interpret it.

And this is for a third party, probably someone I've never even talked to before. And my emotions can still override impartiality.

"Can I get a relationship reading for J? We had a falling out 2 months ago when I caught him texting other girls but now I'm giving him a second chance but he's being secretive with his phone again."

Okay, well now I feel a certain way about J. And no matter what cards I pull, I am going to have this emotionally driven narrative in my head. Even when I try to push it away, it's going to cloud the reading. Those emotions are going to discolor my interpretation, even if I pull cards that are technically accurate.

Imagine how much more distracting and misleading that emotional information is when it's my life, my strong feelings, and my personal investment in the outcome of a situation.

Getting an accurate reading under those circumstances is very difficult.

In my experience, while I'm upset it is very easy to produce readings that seem to be intense, solid, and affirmative according to my own verifications - only to realize later on that I literally just made the whole thing up, and none of it was true at all.

In addition, it's a bad idea in terms of mental health. If I'm already upset and anxious about something and I pull negative cards, I'm kicking myself while I'm down.

I'm not saying a person has got to be emotionless to perform divination. But I do think that a person has to stand in their own power. (Interpret that as you will). If you can find your power in being upset, like standing in the eye of the storm, perhaps you can read accurately while actively upset about the situation. I can't, and I don't think many people can.

So it's not as if being upset on a topic "magically" ruins the card pulls, or something like that.

I just think that it ruins our place of perspective, so that we are digging in the mud looking for a path forward, when we really should be sitting on a nice throne looking down at a map.

I think it sets you up for failure, and puts you at a very high risk for feeding yourself complete nonsense that you've decided is actually true, and then making bad decisions based off of bad intel.

And, IMO it's very unhealthy to let your moods hinge on whether you pulled a good card or not. Your emotions shouldn't be dependent on whether you pull Sun or Devil. But I think that people turn to divination in these circumstances precisely because they want to feel better. It's a risky game, and it's not a good idea to get in the habit of letting tarot poke at your bruises.

[tsartistry]

I love the Niobe kidnaps Lester AU! I’m already so invested in it! But I have many questions…

1. How does Leto (aka mama Leto) feel about this?

2. What is/how are the Apollo kids feeling? Are their powers not working as much or what?

3. How is Olympus doing? Is someone doing apollos work? Are they trying to investigate or are they trying to pretend that nothing is happening?

4. Did Lester/apollo gain their powers back before Niobe kidnapped him? And since he’s being brainwashed did he forget he does have powers if he gained them again or are they just completely gone?

5. Will Lester/apollo have a love interest?

And last question for this post I swear lol does Lester/apollo ever show signs of their powers once and awhile? Like for example if their hair starts to go blonde suddenly?

Sorry for so many questions, I’m just so invested in this AU ever since I discovered it lol I keep going back to this tag just to reread everything :3

1. How does Mama Leto feel about all this?

in a nutshell?

For the past several thousand years, Leto's had a lot of trust in Zeus. Even during Apollo's trials, while she was begging him to end the trials and restore her son's divinity, she still trusted him. Surely if Apollo succeeded at his trials, then Zeus would keep his word and restore him to Olympus. And if he failed -- she did not want to think about him failing, but she still trusted she would see her son again. Somehow.

But now, it's not a matter of success or failure; Apollo is just gone. Leto can't find any trace of him, and suddenly Zeus isn't giving her any answers. She can't exactly bring wrath down upon the King of the Olympus the way she did Niobe millennia ago. All she can do is ask everyone she knows for help finding her son, and stew in her worry as she waits for any scrap of information.

She's not doing great.

(Whenever she finds out about Niobe's involvement, all that anxiety turns into RAAAAAGE)

2. What is/how are the Apollo kids feeling? Are their powers not working as much or what?

Their powers are weakened, but still working! Their spirits... not so much. It's not like Apollo to give them radio silence. When they ask the other gods for information, they provide no answers. But where Leto was filled with anxiety, the Apollo kids are on the cusp of despair. The only thing they're holding on to is Nico saying he didn't feel Lester die; But if that's the case, where is he?

3. How is Olympus doing? Is someone doing apollos work? Are they trying to investigate or are they trying to pretend that nothing is happening?

I hadn't thought about who was doing Apollo's work, but thinking about it now, it's probably either Hermes or Artemis. Maybe they switch off? Hermes has a precedent for handling Apollo's animals, and Artemis would want to ensure her brother's position as sun god is cared for and not usurped. She saw what happened to Helios, after all.

But Olympus is tense. Zeus is convinced that Apollo went into hiding, perhaps hoping that Zeus will come begging for him to come defeat Python --

Oh, yeah, Python's still around, by the way! He's still digesting the power of the Triumvirate, and still has complete control over Delphi, and there is now a risk of him using his power and position to start taking control of fate. With every day that passes, the serpent's power grows, and the tension among the Olympians builds.

Unfortunately, fate has decreed the absent Apollo would be the one to defeat the serpent. But Zeus will not stoop to begging Apollo to come back; That would be showing weakness! He's fine waiting out his son's little tantrum. He's just making it harder for himself, after all; Every day Python grows more powerful. But that's Apollo's problem. Why should Zeus be worried about an evil serpent possibly taking control of fate itself?

Yeah, Zeus is panicking. He pretends to know where Apollo is, but he's as clueless as everyone else, and it's terrifying. Even in the guise of a mortal, what could make an entire god disappear so suddenly? And could Python pull the strings of fate to force the Olympians to fall?

Despite his efforts to look cool and collected, the other Olympians are starting to see the cracks in his facade. Poseidon especially is starting to smell blood in the water, so to speak.

4. Did Lester/apollo gain their powers back before Niobe kidnapped him? And since he’s being brainwashed did he forget he does have powers if he gained them again or are they just completely gone?

I wouldn't say they're gone, but I would say he does not have access to them. The power still exists, but he cannot reach it.

The brainwashing and the lost powers are two separate things that were done to him. Niobe actually did some magical shenanigans (with the help of a Greek goddess I won't name just yet, it's someone who has never appeared in the Riordanverse) to actually remove parts of Apollo's soul to prevent him from accessing them.

5. Will Lester/apollo have a love interest?

I don't have any plans to write any romance for Lester, but who knows, maybe as I'm writing I'll get struck with inspiration! But the story's already complicated enough, haha, romance might tangle it up even more.

And last question for this post I swear lol does Lester/apollo ever show signs of their powers once and awhile? Like for example if their hair starts to go blonde suddenly?

Yes! While he's lost access to most of his powers due to Niobe's meddling on top of Zeus turning him mortal, she overlooked his music powers! It's actually a plot point that he can use music and rhythm to guide people's emotions and movements.

I like to imagine that if he practices hard & concentrates, he can trigger an entire diegetic musical number. The kind where he can get a whole crowd singing and dancing together. Unfortunately that sort of thing is difficult to convey in writing.

Sorry for so many questions, I’m just so invested in this AU ever since I discovered it lol I keep going back to this tag just to reread everything :3

aaa that makes me so happy!! Please don't feel bad about asking questions, it helps me fill in details I hadn't thought about before :D

speaking of Apollo's music powers, here's a bonus doodle

[thundersarts]

a little snippet from the friends with benefits to lovers jeggy fic i'm working on <3

"I'm pretty sure the property manager hates my guts already. I've been doing my best to go unnoticed so she won't complain so I can prove to the landlord that she's been targeting me.”

“Why do you have to prove it?”

Regulus looks back at the apartment across from his’, a sigh leaves his lips. “I don't want to stay here for much longer,” his voice is a tad lower, likely trying to avoid being heard by any of his neighbors. He unlocks the door and only after both he and James slip inside he speaks up again. “I don't like feeling like I'm being monitored. I know managers are supposed to keep an eye out, but she keeps lurking. And I know I'm not doing anything wrong, but it still feels very…”

“Cathartic?”

Regulus nods, wincing. He sits down on the couch and starts to untie his shoes. “I have five months left on the contract. I thought about starting to look for other apartments around the area, but I want to show my landlord that I'm not being irresponsible. I just… I don't want to live like this again.”

In moments like these, James misses being a teenager. In his Hogwarts days, after hearing Regulus say all that, he would've called an official Marauders Meeting™, how they liked to call it, and would teach Mrs… He didn't quite get her name, and he doubts Regulus would give it to him, either way.  He and the boys would figure out a plan to show her that using her power as manager to try and harass Regulus out of the building wouldn't just go without any confrontation.

But… James knows better, now. He knows why it's completely off the table, and he knows why Sirius hasn't heard a word of this situation from Regulus ─ he tends to be pretty irrational when it comes to his brother, and he would most definitely get him kicked out, five months left or not.

Contrary to popular belief, James has matured. It tends to happen to everyone, at some point.

It happened to Regulus, too, James is sure, because the Regulus he first met, the Regulus who lived under his and Sirius’ parents, would've let it slide and endured. He would've stayed in the shadows for five more months, and then maybe left, if the hope for her to have changed, just a bit, had died.

Sometimes, James can see so much of Sirius in Regulus. It goes both ways, really. Yet, in times like this, James sees only Regulus.

“I take it you're trying not to cause any trouble?” James says, leaving his bag on the counter.

Regulus looks up at him, a small glint of mischief in his eyes. “I'm on my best behavior. All of her mistakes will be pretty baseless if I just keep being good.”

James smirks. “You're always pretty good, aren't you?”

[qveenpoppy]

things i noticed in my pilot rewatch:

wolf almost immediately grabs a glass of champagne when he walks into the wedding with his first patient. i know the show's hinted at him having drug issues, but maybe he has some alcohol ones too? (unless that idea was abandoned since the pilot was written/filmed.)

"except now we're prescribing drugs instead of taking them." "speak for yourself." yeah he's definitely still dealing with those drug issues. i feel like the show's mostly implied for that to be a past thing (we've only seen him take anything twice, to my memory? not counting 1x09's upcoming flashback sequence) but i wonder if/when that'll become an issue again (maybe another patient loss that hurts wolf harder than roman's did? like a father figure, that'll bring back his feelings of guilt over his dad's death?)

it's tiny but i feel like van's crush is hinted at here, with him offering ericka an extra pair of scrubs (while jacob cockily jokes about his being too big for her) and the way he sneaks a glance at her while she changes (not in a creepy way, it's like a nervous/shy kinda way).

he also smiles at her when she yells at jacob while they're searching for hannah's childhood home, after jacob un-empathetically says the kids would be better off with their dad (guess van likes strong women; girlboss/malewife vibes? lol)

"do i ever have to talk to him again?" (wolf talking about nichols.) lmao, you're gonna be in love with him in about 6 episodes from now. also someone write me some pilot era wolfnichols hate sex.

"name one person you like who's not a patient." "you, i like you!" he's so autism-coded ❤️

wolf still uses cassette tapes in his car (which is also quite old, since it still plays tapes), what a grandpa

carol has a picture with michelle obama in her office (not really an important thing to notice, but i thought it was cool)

there's a line in one of the flashbacks (apologies for not quoting it verbatim) from muriel about "keeping our differences to ourselves", which probably explains why wolf isn't super open about his facial blindness. (and probably applies to all of his other traits that make him "different", like his sexuality, or popularly headcanon'd autism. i mean, i know he's open about his sexuality now as an adult, perhaps as a way of rebelling against his mom, but, as we may see in more flashbacks, he probably kept it to himself for quite a while.)

van is completely frozen when hannah has her seizure, he even backs up a little when she falls out of her chair. probably didn't wanna touch her and experience a phantom seizure.

whoever directed the ep made zach & teddy look like they're the same height when nichols confronts wolf and kicks him off the case. i guess it keeps them, literally and figuratively, on the same level in the dispute. but now we all know that wolf's actually shorter, and it's funny how that's been primarily highlighted when they're fooling around with each other. (i know it's an intentional directing tactic, though, bc a similar thing was done in the batman v superman movie when bruce and clark stand eye to eye - henry cavill is also 3 inches shorter than ben affleck. emphasizing the height difference would imply a power imbalance, which you don't want in these sort of gray zone conflicts!)

"the only way this will work is if we open up to each other." [nichols walks by and catches wolf's eye] foreshadowing

(i don't mean just like foreshadowing their romance, but maybe also the impact that nichols will have on wolf, getting him to open up about his past and whatnot. same, perhaps, for nichols, since we still hardly know anything about his background, besides his military experience and implied own closeting.)

(could also quite easily and literally refer to their work relationship, as we learned from that interview with teddy that, despite their romantic connection, they're still going to have some disputes about patient treatments in future episodes/cases.)

[arcanarix]

Make That Double, Ch11 - Yan!SatoSugu X Fem!Reader [AO3]

❥ Word Count: ~6.8K

❥ Warnings: none in this chapter

❥ Summary: Double the trouble, or double the fun? Difficult to say when you're unfortunately roped into the affairs of two powerful shamans who can't leave each other alone, either.

Slower moments have become a bit rarer, and you cherish the moments where Geto keeps his hands entirely off of you. Especially around the twins, he’s come to respect the idea that you want to keep those matters entirely separate. Even if in his mind, he might think that a happily married couple who can’t keep their hands off each other is a healthy thing for the twins to see, you just don’t want to entertain it yourself.

Because no matter what he thinks, none of this is fucking real.

Geto and the twins have taken the liberty to take you out, first to a bakery as per tradition (the girls can’t go without their sweet treats), then a stroll around the park (again, as per tradition), and Geto insists remaining behind for a bit for a picnic and some sight seeing. While you engage with the twins, he sets aside time for solo meditation in the fields.

“Mom! I’m so excited for you and Mr. Geto to get married!” Nanako exclaims in the middle of attempting to snatch one of their hand-held game consoles from Mimiko. Mimiko huffs at her sister, keeping the console just out of Nanako’s reach while she’s got her brows furrowed in concentration, trying to beat another level at a classic Sonic the Hedgehog game. “It’s going to be so great for you to really be our Mom for real!”

“Nanako! For fuck’s sake,” Mimiko scoffs as she shoves her away. “Wait your turn! I’m almost done with this level and then you can play!”

“Girls,” Geto cautions from afar. “Be kind to each other! Remember I don’t like to see you two fight.”

“We’re not fighting!” they shout back in unison and you can’t help but hold back a little snort at that. Typical sister behavior.

“She’s just being rude as usual,” Mimiko sneers while shooting a glare at her. Nanako fumes, her nostrils flaring.

“Well you’re just hogging the game!” Nanako shoots back while scrunching her nose in disgust.

You find your lips twitching into a little smile at the exchange. Such a normal one in spite of the world they’re in, where you’re still not sure if you can make any sense of it. But little moments like this—where they behave like people and not like they’re plotting to change the world to fit an agenda that doesn’t seem plausible in the long run—it doesn’t feel that way here.

“So which one of you is the older twin?” you ask playfully, knowing full well that’s not the sort of question you want to ask twins.

“I am,” Mimiko points out in a matter-of-fact tone, side-eying her sister, and Nanako huffs in response. Such animated reactions from Nanako which is hallmark for the younger sibling in your experience.

“It doesn’t matterrrrrr because I’m the prettier one,” Nanako retorts while sticking out her tongue. Mimiko rolls her eyes at that and the game plays the level complete jingle when she hands the console over to Nanako.

“Finally! Sheesh, you take forever to beat these levels,” Nanako taunts as she navigates her character—she prefers Tails while Mimiko goes with Knuckles or Shadow—through the next underground level.

You giggle again at the scene and freeze the moment you feel Geto’s presence creep up from behind you, settling beside you and pulling you into his chest. You don’t say a word, shutting your eyes as he presses a kiss to the crown of your head and then to your temple. His arms snake around your waist, securing a protective hold.

“You seem like you’re enjoying yourself,” he murmurs, his tone tender, and his eyes flicker with a bit of amusement, but not from tormenting you this time. No, no—he’s happy you’re trying to make an active effort to be a part of this family.

For a moment, things go still between the two of you, and it’s not uncomfortable, exactly. You take notice of the way the sun’s warmth bathes your skin and you ground yourself with the sound of the soft rustling of leaves as soft gusts of wind rushes by. The more you concentrate on grounding, the more you can feel the pounding of Geto’s heart. A gentle ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump rhythm may have been a therapeutic one if it’s from someone else.

But you remember your place. You’re not free yet.

He calls your name and your eyes snap open again. He glances down at you with his eyes shining in the sun, twinkling like the little gemstones those violet eyes of his resemble. Yes, he does appear something akin to royalty, but he’s a slippery serpent beneath that fair facade.

“Yes, darling?” you whisper, wishing dearly to escape to another reality where you’re not in this cage.

“I love you,” he murmurs into your skin as he presses another kiss to your temple. “We all love you.”

He can believe that all he likes, but you know it can’t be true. Your fingers play with a few stray strands of his hair which gleams so brilliantly in the daylight. He does have such beautiful hair and such beauty is wasted on a man of his nature.

“I know,” you reply, but you don’t know. Not really. You’re not sure if you can ever believe a word that comes out of his mouth because there’s always going to be something else to decipher. “I know you do, darling. I’m happy that you’re happy with me.”

His finger trails along the gold chain on your neck, admiring how it reflects the light. That same finger dares to dip lower to trace little patterns along your collarbone and you suppress a shiver throughout your body.

“You make me the most alive I’ve felt in years,” he remarks—he’s been saying that a ton more lately, you notice—his tone reverent, like he’s praying to you like you’re his God instead. His hand finds yours, intertwining them as his thumb massages along your knuckles. Soft. Slow. Gentle. But each touch leaves behind a tingling sensation like in a way he’s marking you in a much more discreet way, in a more insidious way. You feel as if you’re restricted from movement or from any true protest, his hold on you tight, suffocating, much like his overall presence in your life is.

Somehow this feels more intimate than any time you have with him in bed which somehow feels impersonal and detached. “All I wish is that you feel like you belong with us because you do, my love.”

The smile that forms on his lips is soft; it’s such an unusual sight—like he’s trying to find some inkling of the man he might have been once upon a time before you came into the picture. Your lips purse; what kind of man had he been in the past? Any different to the version of himself now? At one point, has he tried to be kind?

You don’t know why you’re so curious all of a sudden, but if there’s anything the world has taught you, it’s that villains in the story are made, not born right off the bat.

“Sheesh, get a room, Mr. Geto,” Nanako grimaces while watching the two of you interact. Mimiko has a blank but you can definitely read displeased expression on her face. Your complexion pales at the remark and Geto can’t help but laugh in that empty and condescending way of his until his shoulders shake and he adjusts you so that you’re in a more comfortable position in his lap.

“I’m sorry, Nanako,” he replies through a string of hearty chuckles. “Don’t mind us. You focus on your sister.”

“Kind of hard to do that when you’re making it all gross and hot and heavy and we’re stuck watching it like non-consenting voyeurs,” Nanako quips with a flat look on her otherwise animated face. Mimiko hums in agreement.

“Well, at least we know Geto hasn’t forgotten how to charm a woman,” Mimiko points out with a note of sarcasm as she quirks an eyebrow. “For a while there I was concerned that with you being all work and no play you had forgotten how to find pleasure in the simpler things in life, Mr. Geto.”

You cover your own flushed face, and you can feel Geto’s gaze avert to you and the embarrassment sinks deeper into your very core of your being. You don’t even know why you feel this way but you have made it a point in the past not to behave in such a way around the twins.

You don’t even like entertaining this.

“You two,” Geto objects, and you can’t believe you see him fighting back a flushed face himself. This is the first time you have seen him lose his composure like this. “Don’t make me ground you both again.”

Nanako gawks, appalled, sticking her nose into the air before twisting herself fully away so she doesn’t have to witness the two of you faux doting on each other while she tries to focus on the Sonic level she’s still in the middle of completing.

You laugh openly again at her reaction and are then cut off as Geto jerks you to his direction, his lips hovering just above yours as your bewildered eyes bore into his before they squeeze shut the minute his lips meet yours. This time the kiss isn’t forceful or invasive, but coaxing. Gentle. A hand rakes through your hair as he deepens the kiss, the flat of his tongue resting over yours. As he pulls away a barely visible line of spit connects your lips and he breaks off the connection with a little flick of his tongue. His face is still flushed but more so from arousal than embarrassment.

“My love,” he rasps in a seductive manner, cradling your face.

“We all adore you so,” he reminds you again.

You don’t protest when he captures your lips in another passionate, consuming kiss—mostly because it might cause a bit of an unwanted scene—your arms snaking around his neck, your lips moving against his to appease his efforts. That’s what he wants, isn’t it? To seem normal, healthy?

You can do that. Just for a while longer.

The day you loathe is rapidly approaching. Miss Suda has taken the liberty of assisting you with your wedding preparations along with a few of Geto’s other servants. Geto has all the money in the world to throw away for the sake of the spectacle, and he’s all about showing off.

You stand there motionless before the large mirror spanning one wall almost like an accent, hands to your sides as Manami Suda fusses around with the silk of your wedding kimono. Her fingers are nimble, deft; her voice remains soft with that underlying edge of disdain (whether toward you or toward Geto is hard to discern for sure); her words with you are jagged and sharp like the jewels on her neck.

“I know you don’t want to do this,” begins Suda, her tone lacking any true comfort in them. “But I guess, playing the long game comes with its compromises.”

You do not respond to that. More like you don’t have any real response to that that won’t come off as bitter and vindictive which you do have every right to feel. Because if there’s one aspect of your agency Geto can’t change, it’s your right to feel the way you fucking feel.

In a way, you think of your silence as another way to protest. It’s one she dismisses easily with a sigh, though. She continues to shuffle around you as she adjusts your kimono, examining, assessing every curve and crevice of your body, determining your measurements, practically eyeballing it and not really utilizing the tape measure in her hands. Almost like this stuff comes as easy as breathing for someone like her, and given how effortlessly fabulous you think of her, it can’t be too far off.

The kimono she’s chosen for you is a beautiful one, but wearing it feels like a ball and chain, just a bitter reminder of your sorrows since your arrival here and now Geto hopes to pin you down permanently.

“For a week before the binding ceremony, you’re expected to fast along with Geto,” Suda explains, her voice still as detached as ever like she’s discussing something completely arbitrary like today’s weather. She gestures for you to lift your arms, her eyes scrutinizing the intricately patterned silk as it falls gracefully around your figure. “Then during the first ritual, he’s going to mix his blood with yours, but not the other way around this time for obvious reasons.”

Your eyes flash with irritation, undirected at Miss Suda of course.

Gee, you might have never guessed! Your lips curl into a bitter little smile at that notion. How can it be otherwise with someone like Suguru Geto, their ‘enlightened one’? Someone who can never dare taint his pristine sorcerer blood with that of a lowly monkey like you, even if he claims to love you. This marriage feels more like a purification process.

What an audacious way to put it, but that seems right up Geto’s alley.

“So what else should I know about the ceremony?” you dare to query like you’re interested in what to brace yourself for but your voice drenched in sarcasm. You fail to mask the bitterness in you but you figure it doesn’t matter around Miss Suda. As a woman, she understands your plight, your disdain, your reluctance to accept the status quo, and certainly empathizes with you but she has to maintain some semblance of her mask should Geto waltz into the room uninvited.

“Well, a long-winded speech from Geto, I suppose,” Suda answers with a sigh that borders on sympathetic. As sympathetic someone as stoic as her can appear toward non-sorcerers, even if you are a sister regardless of your status. “And you have to give one as well. I can help you prepare one. I can’t expect any sentiments you have for Geto are anything positive.”

Oh, if only. Maybe then this all won’t feel like such a fucking joke but here you are, about to be tied to a man you despise more than words in your extensive vocabulary can express. That says something.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” you mutter under your breath, practically seething at the mere prospect. “Guess he’ll find any way to stroke that already over-inflated ego of his…”

Manami chuckles at that as she steps back to admire you in your wedding kimono.

Her dark green eyes meet yours through the mirror as she adjusts some of the wrinkles on your hips.

“I think I got all of your measurements. I’ll tailor the kimono to complement your body. You’ve got quite the figure,” Suda compliments with a small smile. “And of course, we can figure out what we’re going to do about hair and makeup. It’s still your wedding day, and while it might not be your dream wedding, we still want you to look your best.”

The words fall flat. Practically meaningless to you but you know she’s actually trying to forge some kind of bond with you and she doesn’t even need to do that.

You mumble a half-hearted, “Thank you, Miss Suda,” as your gaze lands on the mirror again. The reflection staring back is someone you no longer recognize. While the kimono is stunning as you’ve stated before, it’s an iridescent cascade of blues, silvers, and a hint of some pink shifting beneath the lights, it still feels like a mockery. Just some cheap version of a bride’s gown (even if Geto has spent a fortune on this damn fabric).

“Please, call me Manami,” Suda waves off, her dark green eyes twinkling with something that you can’t name. “Of course. I’m going to grab some more supplies, so hang tight for a few, alright?”

Manami then saunters out of the room with a little flounce to her shapely hips (that you’re a bit envious of yourself, you can’t help your eyes trailing after her a bit) and into the restroom to fetch more supplies, her absence leaving you alone with your raging thoughts. The silence is suffocating, deafening—broken only by the soft rustle of the silk kimono as you shift in your spot.

You give yourself another once over, glancing once again at your reflection, but all that stares back is still a stranger to you. You long for the woman you once were, someone full of fight and might and spirited as ever, but she seems beaten and bruised when you look hard enough past the superficial. All the little marks Geto or Gojo have left behind has tainted your perception of yourself. You feel dirty, used recklessly by two horrid men. You appear more fitting as a servant girl than a greedy sorcerer’s wife, yet he deems you the worthiest among a sea of unworthy.

You find your mind beginning to wander off to another reality, envisioning a scenario where you marry your real dream man and not some nightmarish ghoulish version of him that you find in Geto. You think of someone who’s attentive, someone who’s kind, someone who doesn’t coerce you or force you into some twisted fantasies his best friend has about sharing his girl. You’re not even his girl and you refuse to address yourself as such. Not without the title he’s thrust upon you being laden with resentment and bitterness. Foul like those curse spirits Geto is forced to consume.

You only ever hear him speak ill of his cursed technique, and you’re surprised he even vents to you about such thing when before he doesn’t bother to discuss his rituals in exorcisms of unsuspecting clients. In some ways, it seems that he’s begun to use you as a way to ground himself between the burdens he’s forced to carry on his labored shoulders. It’s almost as if…when he speaks anything of his role as a sorcerer, he doesn’t view his role as his sworn duty. More like an obligation he’s been forced into himself.

It’s almost as if…being a sorcerer is something he’s never wanted, either. While he enjoys being worshiped like a deity without a shadow of a doubt, he doesn’t appear to want to do this all alone. Yes, you understand you’re here to fill a certain void Gojo won’t be able to fill at one point in the future. But there’s something else there that you just can’t wrap your head around.

There are still too many missing pieces to this large puzzle. But the sooner you fit everything together, the sooner it might be easier to get the fuck out of there.

After the first few bits of preparations for the ceremony, you retire back to the bedroom and prepare a bath for yourself. Geto has not yet returned from his typical duties, and you don’t really care to wait much longer. You shut off the main lights and lit some tea lights to rim the bath tub and help yourself to some of the Epsom salt and bath oils Geto likes to spoil you with from time to time. This might have been even better with a bath tray full of bountiful gourmet snacks, but you can do without them.

As you wait for the bath to fill up you reach for some other supplies. In the middle of twisting around you realize the mirror beginning to crack and a shard flies toward your hand and you shriek from the contact, frightened out of your wits as you scramble out of the restroom and slam the door shut. You can’t even see what attacked you; it just seems like it came out of nowhere and now you’re fully naked with a sliced up hand and as blood drips out from the large gashes you try desperately to dab it clean with a towel you still had in possession.

Geto rushes through the door upon hearing you scream, calling out your name —what timing—and his eyebrows flash upon seeing you so shaken up, like you’ve seen a ghost which in his world isn’t far off because you couldn’t perceive who or what had been in there with you.

Geto dashes to you what feels like seconds, careful in handling you as you try to babble some excuses over what happened, trying to tell him you’re fine and it’s just a few scratches but he hushes your rambling and tells you to calm down.

Funny words coming from a man who looks far from calm about this.

Geto gingerly grabs the injured hand. He inspects the cuts and gashes, his eyebrows furrowing into what almost seems something akin to concern. It almost looks like how he looks when he tries to express guilt for when Satoru takes things too far between the three of you.

“Who dared to do this to you?” he demands, his voice low, grainy, feral eyes meeting your frightened ones. “Who the hell did this to you?”

“I-it was an accident,” you stammer, struggling to form a coherent response and a little dazed as you take in what’s happening—he’s not just concerned, he’s absolutely furious. Not with you, but with what’s happened to you? Are you sure you’re not hallucinating this entire thing? “I-I was just trying t-to reach for something and s-something cut me. I couldn’t tell what it was and I—!”

His piercing violet gaze renders you nearly breathless, as you endlessly babble on and on and on trying to find the right words but he lets out a sigh out of irritation. It’s not directed at you.

“—Someone attached a curse to you,” he interrupts while a deep scowl stresses his features, his forehead wrinkling. “It’s one I don’t recognize. I’ll take care of the problem, but I’m taking you to the infirmary to get this taken care of or actually…”

He trails his finger along the edges of the largest gash on your hand, his touch gentle, tender, but also clinical like he’s trying to examine your wound like a medic. You grimace from the light sting from the contact, tears welling in the corners of your eyes. He mutters a half-hearted apology under his breath as he gathers some supplies to help clean and disinfect the wounds.

“I’ll take care of this myself,” he snarls in a sharper tone. “I won’t let you out of my sight.”

He’s gentle with his handling of you, such a stark contrast to what you usually see from him. If you don’t know any better you might have glimpsed at something a bit more humane beneath the numerous layers of the role he’s forced into himself as some kind of deity. You know better than to trust what he chooses to show you. It’s all part of some grand scheme. That’s all he knows how to do; he’s a puppeteer. He knows how to string those around him along and it’s not just limited to you. You see that in how he slaps Satoru around like an obedient dog even if he claims to love him too. You can’t tell if a man like him understands what love really is.

If someone like him can truly love at all.

You examine his gestures with a quizzical look on your face. Nothing about this guy adds up at all; everything about him is a conundrum, a mystery. You don’t even understand the half of what kind of burdens that weighs so heavy on his shoulders.

“There,” he comments after a period of silence, inspecting your hand for any cuts or gashes he may have missed while tending to the wounds and ensuring everything is bandaged up. He cradles your hand in both of his, and your jaw slackens as you scrutinize him. It’s hard to make out what thoughts might be raging in his mind, but you’re shocked to find he truly is concerned for your safety.

"Suguru?” you inquire, tilting your head as you continue to search his eyes for something beyond what he chooses to display. You can’t understand it. Does he actually think you’d fall for this? That you’re going to believe he cares for you?

“You don’t have to speak,” he mutters as he leads you to the bed and gestures for you to rest on it. You follow his order without another word. One of his hands brushes through your hair as a way to ground himself, perhaps he’s grappling with what his next steps should be in figuring out who’s planted that curse he’s probably exorcised between this time and you haven’t realized it because you’re not yet gifted with the vision even with the aid of the talisman. He joins you on the bed and pulls you into him, his expression blank, unreadable. You take your uninjured hand and cup one of his cheeks, brushing your thumb against his skin.

“I’m alright now because of you,” you try to soothe him with false praise, but as long as he believes your words does it matter if they’re true or not? All you can ever say is what you know he wants to hear. No one ever likes the truth, especially when it hurts. “Thank you, Suguru.”

You bite down on your lip, snuggling yourself into him, just trying to bring him some semblance of reassurance, of comfort, something you wish you could have yourself but this brings you nothing but more and more resentment building a fortress around your heart. You feel him kiss you on your head again, hugging you close, breathing slow, controlled.

“No one should think of bringing harm to you,” he growls under his breath. “I’ll figure out who planted that curse and see to it that they’re executed on sight. No one should insult either of us like this.”

Your head snaps up at that. Both of you? Are your ears deceiving you? Why is he acting like this—? Why are you finding yourself falling for the act? Because that’s all this is to him, right? Just a little show?

“Suguru,” you begin tentatively, your hand dropping to his chest, drawing idle patterns as you usher for him to look at you. “Look at me; I’m fine now.”

Though I wish that curse offed me the chance it got, you think to yourself. Because if I can’t get out of here alive…

Geto grits his teeth at that, trying to find comfort in what you’re saying but failing; his grip around you constricts like squid arms and you feel your heart racing.

“I know,” he admits finally, loosening his grip as he steps out of bed. “You rest here. I need to take care of a few things. From tomorrow, we begin our fast.”

You nod and watch him as he ambles out of the bedroom, leaving you to dwell on everything.

Everything keeps making my head spin, you think, I don’t know what more to do…

Your eyes widen upon realization and you amble into the restroom to switch off the bath, thankful it hadn’t spilled over during all of this. As you perch on the edge of the tub, you hear the bedroom door creak open again and Geto returns, joining you in the restroom.

He’s brought you a bouquet of flowers, some more pain reliever, chocolates…

And you notice something else, a more bashful expression. Bashful. That’s something you’ve yet to witness from someone who prides himself on being composed and far too above such emotions.

He rests the bouquet of fresh red roses on the bathroom counter and rest the box of chocolates on your lap.

“Those are your favorite, aren’t they? You…mentioned that those were your favorite one time,” he mutters, his gaze averting elsewhere as though he’s trying not to make a big deal of this like he had just moments ago. “Are you alright?”

You blink, gripping the box of chocolates tightly.

“I am,” you whisper, “Don’t worry, darling. I’ll be fine. You exorcised whatever that was already, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” he replies, his gaze landing on the broken area of the mirror. “We’ll get that repaired as well. It might have been a stray curse, but you never know. I’m not very well received in the world of jujutsu and their conservative ways, so they might’ve planted a few things for me here and there.”

Ah, paranoia. Always a fun look on a man who already has so many other issues.

“So you think that thing was really after you?” you ask him, fiddling with the box.

“Perhaps,” he concedes, sliding a finger down your cheek. “Or someone close to me.”

You don’t know how to respond to something like that. You go completely silent but he’s the one kneeling before you now, his hands resting on your knees.

“I see you were drawing a bath,” he comments in a low voice. “You’re free to do that now, of course. There’s nothing here to harm you anymore, Mamma.”

You nod, brushing your hand through his bangs, admiring how silky his hair feels. He takes such good care of it, and your fingers idly twirl a strand while you hum in response.

“Join me?” you invite him, and you catch him flushing slightly in response—yet another moment of bashfulness that’s so rare to see from him. You can’t believe what you’re asking, but this doesn’t have to be more than what it really is for you and that’s trying to fucking survive this torment.

His breath hitches but he stands up, disrobing before you and getting into the tub, the water sloshing a bit as he settles inside. He beckons you to follow and you do, allowing him to pull you onto his lap.

“You’re supposed to be safe here,” he says after a period of silence. You’re not really paying attention, focused on the way the flames on the tea lights still flicker every now and then. “You still are, as long as you’re with me.”

He can keep telling himself that, but you know your own truth, you rown reality. It’s a reality you sorely wish to escape from, but your spirit is beginning to fade.

The dreaded day arrives. As you are instructed to do, three days prior you have fasted alongside Geto as a way to honor the cult. It’s in a way seen as a spiritual awakening.

Following the first ceremony, there shall be a bountiful banquet that only shall be shared between the two of you; no other spectators so you can enjoy your first night as an officially wedded pair.

You stand close behind Geto before all of his devotees who are on a platform just below you. Nanako and Mimiko are hidden in the crowd somewhere, but you know they must be eager to finally see their efforts in making their father not be lonely actually work out for them. You so dearly wish to crush their spirits like they have yours…

The chanting from Geto’s followers begins softly, their voices murmuring in unison:

“Death to the fool, punishment to the weak, love to the strong…”

The words merge into a crescendo, echoing through the grand hall of the temple.

Ah, the classic prayer Geto scripts himself for his goons to chant to him and he soaks up the attention like he really is some kind of God. It can’t be further from the truth, but you figure here, that doesn’t matter. Here, Geto calls the shots. Geto is the man of the hour at all times. Now he expects you to share his throne even if this is not what you want for yourself.

“Death to the fool, punishment to the weak, love to the strong…”

Man, I knew the guy was full of himself, but this is just on another level, you think as you’re seated next to him on a raised platform as his followers kneel and pray to both you and him. They chant like soldiers at war. Their words echoing through the room. As one of his followers in a Time Vessel Association cloak ignites the large fire in the center of the room, that’s when the ceremony finally begins.

“Followers of Time Association, lend me your undivided attention on behalf of our Enlightened One, our Lord, and our King, Geto Suguru,” the follower wielding the dancing torch announces in a deafening tone to the rest of the room. Your gaze flits around each corner and you find Manami and Miguel standing at the very end of the room, observing the events. “Tonight, we gather to celebrate the union between our Lord, our King of the New World and his chosen bride. A worthy woman who has sworn herself to him.”

Such fucking lies, you think to yourself as your gaze flits downward to your hand, which is still healing from the gashes from your accident. Geto notices something amiss with you and rests his large hand over your injury free one, catching your attention. Your brows furrow as he gazes down at you with a blank expression. If you don’t know any better, you would have thought he was expressing concern for your wellbeing.

But you know if he truly cares he would not have put you through this.

As Geto is presented a knife with the Time Association engraving just like the one on your necklace, you wince as you watch him sink the blade ever so slightly to pierce the skin and draw a bit of blood before doing the same to you. You clench your eyes shut as you feel the slight sting but you can tell Geto is trying to be kind, to be gentle with you. He presses two fingers into the open wound and gathers a bit of blood to circle into your wound.

“Now your blood has been purified by mine,” he murmurs with a hint of affection—none of that condescending nonsense or something he often laces with some kind of ulterior motive. Nothing. Just pure affection and you can’t believe that you’re witnessing something like that from a scumbag like him. You see his eyes dilate ever so slightly. The follower returns with small bandages to conceal the small cuts.

Geto yanks you forward, closer to him, and he removes a bit of his yakata to showcase what he’s tattooed onto his collarbone. Your eyes widen into the size of saucers.

Your name. It’s etched into his skin in a royal blue ink. Something he has done to himself. The brilliant color seems to pulsate with some kind of energy one can barely perceive if they’re not actively looking for something else.

“We won’t force this of you, allow this to serve as a reminder of my loyalty and my love to you, my dear,” he tells you, his tone still abundant of affection and you almost want to scoff at him but you hold your tongue. This is not the time nor the place. No need to cause a scene before his loyal devotees.

He gestures you to stare ahead to the endless arrays of followers who still kneel before the two of you, filling the grand hall to the very brim. Nameless faces who continue to chant that fucking mantra like they actually believe in his cause but you know the truth. Many either join him out of obligation or something rather, something that aligns more with their agendas. Suda and Miguel are the only ones standing and Suda has her gaze averted elsewhere, like she can’t live with this.

“May everyone bear witness the bond between the worthy,” Geto bellows to the crowd as they all raise their heads in unison and cheer for all present for the ritual to hear. “Kneel before her. Pray to her now. For as long as she is by my side, she is a Goddess.”

His hand reaches out to brush your cheek with his knuckles. His expression melds into a soft one, and those sharp violet eyes flicker with something else—something almost human, the most human you’ve ever seen from someone who declares himself a deity, a pseudo-religious figure to a world outside of yours you still cannot wholly fathom. He must pity your lack of understanding but he hopes to bring you into his world, into this new world order where only pure sorcerers reign across Japan. Is Japan the only country he hopes to conquer?

The existence of sorcerers outside of Japan are rare; the existence of sorcerers altogether is rare—you’re from outside the country as is Miguel—but you’re dumbfounded by his spiel even still. None of it adds up. There has to be something you’re missing that’s just beyond what he preaches to his followers.

You just aren’t sure what that is.

“It wasn’t fate but chance that I met such a perfect specimen of woman,” he breathes, pecking your forehead in a shocking tender way. Such a goddamn mockery of what love should be, yet he believes fully in his feelings for you. You know better than to think he has any reason or logic behind anything he does or says. “You are now betrothed to me, as my Queen.”

What might have been a dream come true for any other woman in the world is nothing more than a cruel insult or joke to you. A wave of disgust overwhelms you, rearranging your insides like stew, and you find yourself clutching at your stomach as you fight back the tears threatening to spill from your exhausted eyes. The concealer Suda has used for your bridal makeup does wonders on concealing the deep dark eyebags.

You have never hated your very existence more than in this moment. There’s still another ritual to fulfill the following morning. A reception of sorts. A large feast. Geto showing you off to his lowly monkey followers like you’re some shiny beautiful object to him.

Suddenly you hear the sound of a classic band from the back of the room. The banging against Taiko drums drones through the room, soon accompanied by other traditional instruments. Geto leads you to a an empty area of the room, leading you into a slow dance.

It’s difficult to maneuver in a kimono but you follow his lead, your eyes never leaving his as there’s a layer of tenderness in them that takes your breath away for real this time. Your breath catches in your throat as he twirls you around before pulling you back into him. You’re engulfed in the heat from his body; you shiver under the weight of his affectionate gaze that feels so much more like a mockery to what a union between two souls should be. If he really believes this is real then you remember there’s nothing you can do to change his mind.

But that doesn’t mean you can’t find a way to work with this.

The music keeps at a slowed, even tempo as he guides you across the floor. You ignore the endless stares from his devotees, some still chanting that fucking mantra as he focuses on you. His hands slide lower to rest on your waist, twisting you away from the observers’ direct view like he’s trying to protect you from their scrutiny.

“I love you,” Geto calls to you again and your head snaps up to meet his gaze, still shockingly tender. Those violet eyes still glimmer with that intensity but it’s softer, affectionate. Gentle. All the things he’s so, so far from in your book. He tilts your head upward with two slender fingers tucked beneath your chin and you hold your composure the best that you can—fearful of causing a scene in front of all of his ‘subjects.’ “I adore you. Let’s retire for the day. We should eat at that banquet they’ve prepared for us and rest up for tomorrow.”

You glance away, a tear escaping your left eye. “O-okay…”

He wipes away the stray tear, tutting at your reluctance.

“A life with me is better than a life in that circus out there,” he hisses under his breath, words only you’re meant to hear. “Trust me. You’ll come to find this is a blessing in disguise, one day.”

That day may never come. However, you do pick up on something floating above him. A much clearer image of a curse, a small one resembling a rodent hovering just above Geto’s head.

This is the first time you’re ever able to see one even if your vision is still a bit faint, and suddenly you have to fight back the twitching of your lips as realization dawns upon you.

This is the seed that’s planted—your ticket out of there. Now all that’s left is to set everything in motion.