#And he's like ??? How did you know I was worried about all of those things

[jungwnies]

wreckage - charles leclerc

୨ৎ : pairing : charles leclerc x wife!reader ୨ৎ : synopsis : after a heated argument with charles, you watch in horror as his car crashes during a race

୨ৎ : genre : angst ୨ৎ : tws : car accident/injury, arguments/conflict, anxiety/panic, trauma, medical trauma. ୨ৎ : wc : 1318

part one | part two | part three | part four

They say life can change in the blink of an eye. One second, everything feels steady, solid, like the ground beneath your feet couldn’t possibly give way. And then it does. Maybe that’s the irony of it all—you never see it coming. Not really. You think you’re prepared, think you’ve braced yourself, but you’re never quite ready for the moment it all falls apart.

You fought this morning. Not just a little spat about something trivial—no, this was one of those fights that echoed louder than it should have. The kind that lingered, thick in the air, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth even hours later.

It wasn’t about anything catastrophic, either, but somehow, with Charles, the small things had a way of snowballing. His schedule. Your schedule. The time you didn’t have together. The things he didn’t say and the things you did.

“I’m trying, okay? You think it’s easy for me?” he’d snapped, his accent sharpening the edges of his words. “You know what this life is like.”

“Yeah, Charles, I do. But I also know you don’t get to use it as an excuse every single time something gets hard. I’m here, too, and I’m trying to make this work just as much as you are.”

His jaw had tightened, his gaze flickering to the ground before meeting yours again. “Sometimes it feels like no matter what I do, it’s never enough for you.”

You’d felt the sting of those words, like a slap across the face. But you weren’t one to back down, not even when the weight of his frustration pressed heavy on your chest.

“You don’t get to say that to me, not when I’m the one waiting, worrying, wondering if this is ever going to feel… stable. Do you know how hard it is to love someone who’s never really here?”

The silence that followed was deafening, his features a mix of hurt and anger, like he didn’t know which to lean into more. And then he’d said it.

“Maybe it’s hard because you don’t trust me enough to believe that I’m doing my best.”

You hadn’t answered, and maybe that was the problem. The fight ended there, not because either of you wanted it to but because there was no time to fix it. Not when he had a race to prepare for, and you had to pretend like none of this was tearing you apart from the inside out.

When you arrived at the paddock, it felt impossible to mask the weight of the argument. You greeted a few people with forced smiles, but you could see some of them watching you a little too closely. It didn’t help that Charles seemed just as tense, his jaw set and his usual ease nowhere to be found.

Carlos was the first to pull you aside, his brown eyes narrowing slightly as he leaned closer. “¿Qué pasa, eh? You look like someone stole your churros, and Charles… well, he looks worse. What happened?”

“Nothing,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “It’s fine.”

Carlos raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “Amiga, por favor. I know you, and I know him. Whatever this is, it’s not nothing.”

You sighed, glancing over your shoulder where Charles was talking to his engineers. “We just… had a fight this morning. It’s not a big deal.”

Carlos gave you a skeptical look. “Not a big deal? You’re both walking around like someone cancelled Christmas. If you’re not okay, neither is he. You should talk to him before the race.”

You hesitated, the memory of this morning’s argument still fresh in your mind. “I don’t want to distract him. He needs to focus.”

Carlos clicked his tongue, shaking his head with a small smile. “Tch. If you think he’s focusing now, you’re wrong. You being upset is a bigger distraction than anything else. Go.”

Reluctantly, you nodded and made your way toward Charles. He was still in deep conversation with one of his engineers, but when he saw you approaching, his expression softened—just slightly.

“Hey,” you said quietly, folding your arms across your chest.

“Hey,” he replied, his voice lower than usual. There was a pause, the tension between you lingering like a storm cloud.

“Good luck out there,” you finally said, your voice steadier than you felt. “I mean it. Be safe.”

Charles studied you for a moment, his green eyes searching yours. Then he nodded. “And… I’m sorry. For earlier.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could, someone called for him, signaling it was time to get ready. He gave you one last look, then turned and walked away, leaving you standing there with words unsaid.

The race began, and for a while, the roar of engines and the blur of cars distracted you. Charles was in good form, holding his position, making clean overtakes. You found yourself exhaling with relief every time his car flashed across the screen.

But then it happened.

It was almost too fast to comprehend. One moment, Charles was rounding a corner, perfectly in control. The next, there was smoke, debris, and the sickening crunch of metal against metal.

Your heart stopped.

The commentators’ voices rose in panic, their words a jumbled mess that barely registered in your mind. “Oh no, that’s Leclerc… that’s a big one.”

Everything else faded—the noise of the crowd, the hum of your thoughts—until all that remained was the image of his car, mangled and still.

“Red flag,” one of them said, and that’s when it hit you. They’d stopped the race. It was bad.

Your hands trembled as you gripped the edge of the table, your breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be happening.

The minutes crawled by like hours, every second another layer of dread settling in your chest. You kept your eyes glued to the screen, desperate for any sign, any update, anything to tell you he was okay.

When they finally cut to the scene, you saw the medics surrounding his car, moving quickly but carefully.

“He’s conscious,” one of the commentators said, and you felt a rush of air leave your lungs, but it wasn’t enough. Not until you saw him. Not until you heard him.

You thought back to the fight, to the last thing he said to you, and it made you sick to your stomach. This couldn’t be the last memory you had of him, the last words you exchanged. It couldn’t.

You were already reaching for your phone, dialing his team, someone, anyone who could give you more than the vague reassurance of the broadcast.

“Please,” you whispered, the word barely audible over the pounding of your heart. “Please let him be okay.”

It’s strange, how quickly everything can unravel. You think you’ve got it all figured out, that the argument was just another bump in the road. But in the back of your mind, there’s always that voice whispering, telling you that things might never be the same.

And now, with every second that ticks by, your thoughts spiral, faster and faster, until you can’t breathe. What if this is it? What if those were the last words you ever said to him?

You close your eyes, trying to steady yourself, but all you can see is that image of his car, broken and still. Your pulse races. You told him you loved him today, but did he really hear you? Was he ever truly certain, or was that last moment of tension, the words left unsaid, enough to make him doubt everything?

You hate this. You hate the fear gnawing at you. You hate that you're sitting here, helpless, as he’s out there fighting for his life. That feeling of powerlessness—it’s unbearable.

Please, you think again, clutching the phone like it’s the only thing tethering you to reality. Please, don’t let this be the end.

© 2024 jungwnies | All rights reserved. Do not repost, plagiarize, or translate.

[childrenofcain-if]

That one scenario where C and MC have a kid has my heart completely 😭 Can we get a follow up for that? How are things going on in the joint household? I'm also very curious to see what C would name their kid 🤭

the hershey’s kisses glinted in the late afternoon sun, crinkled foil catching the golden light that streamed in through the window. aster sat cross-legged on the sofa, a small island of contentment in the messy sprawl of school bags and discarded socks she’d left in her wake.

she was humming under her breath as she unwrapped another piece of chocolate, oblivious to the way her shoes lay in two opposite corners of the room and how her lunchbox sat precariously balanced on the edge of the coffee table.

you leaned against the kitchen counter, sipping coffee and watching her with the detached amusement of a parent who knows they’ll have to clean up the mess but hasn’t yet summoned the energy to do so.

C was in the armchair, one foot propped on the edge of the ottoman, clicking through their macbook with half an eye on aster. it was domesticity in its sweetest form, the kind you don’t think about when you’re young and idealistic, imagining love and family like perfect polaroids on a wall.

“did you give her those?” C asked suddenly, their voice louder than the hum of the dishwasher in the kitchen.

you blinked and set your coffee down, moving closer to inspect the crumpled foil wrappers littered around aster.

“nope,” you said after a beat. “not exactly either of our flavor. that’s… what is that, cherry? we don’t have those in the house.”

C arched a brow, and without missing a beat, turned their full attention to your daughter.

“aster,” they said, voice soft but with a worried edge, “where did you get the chocolates?”

aster’s head snapped up, her chalcedony green eyes lighting up with excitement.

“felix gave them to me!” she said, her grin wide enough to show the little gap where her front tooth had fallen out last week.

C froze, their hand tightening slightly on the edge of their macbook. you, on the other hand, were far more amused.

“felix, huh?” you said, crouching slightly to meet aster’s eye level. “and who’s felix again?”

her grin grew impossibly wider as she happily declared: “my boyfriend!”

you chuckled, leaning against the arm of the sofa. “oh, really? you have a boyfriend now, kleine ster? when did this happen?”

“this morning actually!” aster exclaimed, bouncing a little on the cushions. “he gave me the chocolates at recess and said he liked me, and i said i liked him too, and now we’re boyfriend and girlfriend!”

C’s eye twitched, a muscle jumping just beneath the surface. they sat up straighter, their attention now fully honed on your seven-year-old’s revelation.

“did he now?” they said, their voice tight. “and what else did this... felix boy say?”

aster frowned, confused by the sudden shift in tone. “uh… he said i could have the last red crayon in art class.”

“generous of him,” they muttered darkly, looking distinctly unimpressed.

“C,” you said warningly, but they ignored you, leaning forward with the intense focus of someone about to conduct an interrogation.

“and does this felix… hold your hand?” they asked, their tone too casual to be actually genuine.

“sometimes,” aster admitted, her brows knitting together.

C’s mouth tightened into a thin line. “does he share his lunch with you?”

“yeah, today he gave me his oreos!”

C’s jaw twitched. you pinched the bridge of your nose.

“C,” you said again, a little louder this time. “let it go, darling. they’re just kids.”

but they were too far gone now, leaning forward as though proximity might grant them any sort of control over the situation.

“aster,” they said with all the solemnity of someone at a funeral, “you can’t have a boyfriend. you’re too young. your brain isn’t fully developed. you’ll... you’ll explode! you’ll leave your parents all alone then and it’ll make us very sad.”

aster blinked at them, unwrapping another hershey’s kiss with deliberate slowness.

“i will explode?” she asked, clearly confused by this turn of events.

you rolled your eyes. “no, you wo—”

“yes, you will,” C insisted, cutting you off. “and anyway, you’re not allowed to date anyone until you’re like 30 and paying taxes. it’s a rule.”

“that’s not a rule,” aster said with the stubborn certainty of someone who knew she was right. she really was her parents’ daughter. “and felix is a good boy.”

“‘good,’” C muttered under their breath, glaring at the imaginary felix as though he was lurking in the shadows, waiting to hand their precious little star another chocolate. “i’m going to fight this seven-year-old.”

“C!” you snapped, stepping between them and placing a hand on C’s shoulder. “calm down, my love. it’s harmless.”

C leaned back reluctantly, their gaze flicking between you and aster, who was now watching them like they’d sprouted a second head.

“fine,” they grumbled, crossing their arms over their chest.

***

after dinner, aster sat cross-legged in the middle of the living room, her brow furrowed in concentration as she examined a tiny instruction manual for building LEGOs with the intensity of someone decoding the human genome. her fingers, small but deft, picked up pieces and slotted them into place, her movements sure and deliberate.

C sat beside her, their long legs folded awkwardly beneath them, one hand bracing their bad knee. their fingers worked slower than hers, more hesitantly. the gap between them—her bright enthusiasm, their cautious quiet—was almost laughable. but C didn’t laugh.

they watched her instead.

aster had inherited their stubbornness, the precision of their thoughts, the way they spoke with certainty even when they were wrong, the hard-headed refusal to back down in the face of a challenge. but she’d also inherited your warmth, your easy charisma, the way people seemed to orbit around you like you were some kind of gravitational force.

she was both of you, but neither of you. something wholly her own. and she shone so brilliantly.

“non,” aster said suddenly, shaking her head. she spoke in a tone that was equal parts exasperated and amused, the way one might speak to a child who couldn’t quite grasp a simple concept. “that piece goes here. look.” she leaned over, plucking a flat blue brick from the pile and snapping it into place on the half-constructed spaceship.

“ah,” C said, their lips quirking into a faint smile. “of course, petite étoile. how foolish of me.”

she beamed proudly, her confidence growing with each small victory.

“it’s okay. you’re still learning,” she said magnanimously, patting their arm. honestly, it amused C greatly to see her reflect you back when you both argued everyday like your life depended on it.

C snorted, shaking their head. “merci, mademoiselle.”

“pas de problème,” she replied breezily, her accent and pronunciation impeccably like a parisian native.

C felt a pang of pride so sharp it was almost painful. french had been one of their gifts to her, a piece of their heritage they had handed down like an heirloom. and she had taken to it effortlessly, as if it had always been hers.

she slipped between languages with a grace that left C in awe, her young mind absorbing everything like a sponge.

“wat is dit?” she asked suddenly, holding up a strange piece they hadn’t encountered yet.

“hmm,” you said from where you were sprawled on the couch, your legs stretched out and a book resting on your chest. you barely looked up as you answered her in dutch, explaining what the piece was and where it might fit.

aster nodded thoughtfully, her small fingers turning the piece over as she considered its possibilities. C watched her, their heart swelling with a mixture of love and disbelief.

how could someone so small hold so much brilliance? how could she be so much more than they had ever dared to imagine for themself?

“do you think felix likes LEGOs?” aster asked suddenly, breaking their reverie. she was staring at them now, her eyes—C’s eyes, pale green and perceptive—narrowed in thought.

C felt their jaw tighten at the mention of the boy, the ghost of their earlier irritation flickering to life.

“i have no idea,” they said evenly, focusing on the spaceship.

aster tilted her head, clearly unconvinced by their tone.

“he’s nice,” she said firmly, as though this simple fact should erase all of C’s doubts.

“i’m sure he is,” C said, their tone carefully neutral.

you glanced up from your book, smirking slightly as you watched the exchange. let it go, your eyes seemed to say.

but it wasn’t that simple.

it wasn’t about this felix boy, not really. it was about aster, about the inexorable passage of time, about the impossibility of holding on to something as fragile and fleeting as childhood. she was growing up, and there was nothing C could do to stop it.

C reached for another LEGO brick, their fingers brushing against aster’s. she looked up at them, her eyes bright with curiosity.

“tu vas bien?” she asked, her voice soft and earnest.

the question caught them off guard. for a moment, they didn’t know how to respond. how could they explain the tangled mess of emotions that had been simmering inside them all day? how could they tell her that the thought of her growing up terrified them in a way they couldn’t quite articulate?

“i’m fine, petite étoile,” they said eventually, forcing a smile. “just tired.”

she seemed to accept this, turning her attention back to the spaceship. but C couldn’t help noticing the small furrow in her brow, the way her hands moved more slowly now, as if she was trying to puzzle something out.

they watched her in silence, their heart aching with a strange, bittersweet kind of love.

***

later, when the spaceship was complete and aster had been tucked into bed, C found themself sitting on the edge of your shared bed, their head in their hands.

“okay,” you said, sitting beside them. “do you want to talk about what exactly is bothering you, my love?”

they sighed, looking up at you now.

“it’s just… strange,” they said, their voice low and tired. “she’s growing up so fast. too fast. i feel like i blinked, and suddenly she’s not my little girl anymore.”

you stayed quiet, letting them find the words.

“i still remember holding her in my arms for the first time,” they continued, their voice thick with emotion. “i remember her first steps, her first word, the first time she looked at me and called out for me. and now… now she’s talking about boyfriends and whatnot.”

they let out a bitter laugh, running a hand through their hair. “i didn’t have this. a proper childhood. a father who cared. i don’t know what i’m doing half the time. i just… i look at her, and i love her so much it terrifies me. so much so that i still don’t understand how my father could—”

“hey,” you interrupted gently, placing a hand on their arm. “you’re nothing like him. you’re such a wonderful parent, C. she loves you so much. you can see it every time she looks at you. and yeah, it’s hard watching her grow up. but that’s the deal. you love them, and you let them go, little by little, so they can become who they’re meant to be.”

C nodded slowly, their eyes softening as they looked at you. “i know you’re right.”

you leaned in, pressing a kiss to their temple. “of course i’m right, i always am.”

they rolled their eyes, but a small, tired smile tugged at the corners of their mouth.

“do you think…” they hesitated, the tips of their ears turning adorably red. “do you think we should have another one?”

“another what?” you teased, raising an eyebrow.

they scowled, burying their face in your neck.

“you know what i mean,” they mumbled, their voice muffled. “don’t make me say it out loud.”

you laughed, stroking their hair. “we’ll talk about it in the morning.”

but you already knew the answer.

[storiesfromafan]

I Want All Of You (18+) - Benny x Plus!Size Reader

A/N: I bring you all part two of my plus size reader one-shot 😊

Feedback always welcome 😅

Warning/s: 18+, smut, unprotected p in v, a bit of praise kink (?), grammer/spelling mistakes

Tag list: @psychocitylights @lilithlunastark

Kathy was right, a man will always want to be seen with his woman. No truer statement fitted Benny. After the first night he did everything to chase you. Showing up at the house, or your work, to make sure you were right to get home, or needed a ride. Even watching you as you grocery shopped with Kathy. It became so much that one night you just asked him; what do you want Benny?

His response; you.

You were shocked, surprised, excited and scared all wrapped up in one chaotic ball. You asked him why you? What made you so special. He looked you in the eyes, point blank and asked why not? That stumped you. There were so many reasons why it shouldn’t be you. But in that moment, you couldn’t think of them. The holding gaze Benny had on you, all the negative thoughts, or doubts disappeared. How did he have such power over that part of you?

Maybe it was the way he pursued you. Not taking no for an answer. Not caring who saw him with you, talking to you, wanting you. The determination in this man was commendable. That was why you gave in. No man has ever pulled you in for a kiss so fast. A hungry, possessive kiss. His large hands holding onto your waist securely, like you’d run from him. The way his tongue dominated your own, had your knees buckling. When Benny pulled back, he enjoyed the kiss drunk look on your face. Telling himself to do that to you often.

Though you were happy and excited for what you had with Benny. You found it hard at times to fully let yourself loose itself. Such as when Benny would kiss you stupid. Hands running over your body. Usually started with your chest, down your sides to grasp your hips. Or grope your behind. His movements were desperate and dominating. But you would shift, or move away. Worried that sooner or later Benny would find a part of your body that he doesn’t like. So, you kept as much distance as you could. But it was hard with his need to touch you.

Monday was an extra day off, making up for a double you’d done Friday. Kathy was at work, leaving you to do your share of the house work. Before you were done you heard that familiar rumble of an engine coming down the street, before it stopping out the front of your house and the engine cutting out. You smiled softly knowing Benny was here to see you. Like he did every day you’re off, along with nights. Yet he hadn’t stayed the night, or been in your bed.

You made it to the front door just as Benny leant in to knock, of course surprising him. But then he shot you an amused smirk.

“I could hear you two streets away with that thing" you mused leaving the door open, and returning to the kitchen to finish scrubbing some pots.

“That thing is my bike" he retorted closing the door after entering the house. “And you like my bike”.

You laughed from the sink, a sight that greeted Benny as he leant in the kitchen doorway. The soft sound of the radio on in the background, which you were absent-mindedly moved too. Oh how Benny enjoyed watching your body move, swaying side to side. Those curves he enjoyed feeling, before you’d shift or move away. Cutting him off from the simplest joys. He had thought about it for the last week, and the only thing he could put it down to was you being self-conscious. Afraid there will be a part of you he won’t like. Which is wrong.

To Benny, your body was a supple, curvy feast for his eyes and hands. If you’d give him the chance, he would run his hands over every part of your body. His lips, tongue and teeth not fair behind them. He would worship you till you couldn’t take it anymore.

Moving from his spot, Benny crossed the room to stand behind you. His arms wrapping around your waist, and burying his face in the crook of your neck. You giggled when his stubble brushed your skin, while you fidgeted in his hold. Yet Benny made sure you weren’t getting away from him this time. You protested and whined, making it about needing to finish the pots. But really you were worried today would be the day he’d find something about your body to dislike.

“Stop fidgitin' baby" Benny sighed against your neck. “I just want to feel ya”.

You quieted down, movements halting. You racked your brain for an excuse, a reason, to get out of his hold. But you couldn’t think of one. Shakily you continued to scrub the pot before you. While Benny remained wrapped around you. Happy to finally get to feel you against him. But he could tell you were still holding back, and he knew he had to nip it in the butt once and for all. So Benny started to think of a plan, one that would show you just how much he loved your body.

Starting by soft, sloppy kisses to your neck. His hands then moved over your stomach, which had a little chub to it, but not enough for a tummy. You stiffened when his hands roamed that area. Which was a worry of yours. But Benny didn’t seem to notice, or if he did, he was being nice. Slowly his hands headed up, over your ribcage to cup your breasts. His large hands encased each mound, slowly caressing them over the sweater you were wearing. With the first gentle squeeze, a small sigh slipped from your lips, a little surprised mixed with a touch of pleasure. Yet, you were still fighting those self-doubts.

Benny planted a firm kiss to your neck, before moving and nipping your earlobe. “You’re so beautiful” Benny growled lowly in your ear. “Every inch of you...”

He moved his hands back down your stomach, and to your hips. Holding them firmly he drew his head back, before he turned you around to face him. Benny's lips met yours in a hard kiss, hands slipping to your rear. Firmly he squeezed before drawing you close to him. Your chests pressed together. Benny pushed his tongue into your mouth, dominating it. The way his tongue took charge, stroking your tongue in a guiding manner. He wanted you to know you were everything.

You pulled back from the kiss with a small squeak when Benny picked you up, his large hands cradling your behind. Those delicious arms of his flexing with strength as he held you up. You protested, saying to put you down. That you were too heavy to lift, you’d hurt him. Those words soon died on your tongue when he shot you a dark, angry look. Resting you against the sink, Benny held your gaze firmly before speaking.

“Sweetheart, these arms were made to pick you up. What kind of man would I be if I couldn’t carry my girl?” his tone was low, gravelly but deathly serious. Sending a delightful chill down your spine.

You moved your hands to his shoulders, gripping his denim vest and t-shirt. You felt embarrassed by his hold on you, but his strong words lightened you a bit. That flutter in your stomach back because Benny wanted to show you, you were just like everyone else. Feeling pride in him, you leant in and gave him a quick kiss. Which made him smile. It was a small step forward to you getting over your self-consciousness, and Benny would take it.

“I want you" he said softly, looking you deep in the eyes. “I want all of you".

God, he knew what to say to make you a mess. If he keeps going, you’d go limp in his arms. You know if he keeps talking like this, you might finally believe it all. You crushed your lips to his, hand moving to hold the back of his head. Your lips moved together in a fever, tongues colliding and caressing in a rush. You might be a worry wart, but you wanted this man to help you get over it or learn to love yourself through his eyes.

Pulling back, Benny hoisted you up in his arms, a loud squeak leaving your lips this time. Which made you both laugh. Before he carried you from the kitchen, and up the stairs to your room. Entering the room, Benny made sure to close the door with his foot. He placed you upon the bed, a tad ungraceful, resulting in him leaning over you. Again you both laughed, before sharing a quick tender kiss. What should be a heated moment, seemed to have touches of clumsy and laughter. Which seemed to ease you.

Pulling back, Benny removed his denim vest and then his t-shirt. Giving you the opportunity to gaze at his chest. And what a sight to behold. Starting at his pecks and then down his abs. Noticing where you were looking, Benny ran a hand over his chest, down and then up, a knowing smirk on his full lips.

“Like what ya see?” He asked with a chuckle, and a wink.

You blushed, but nodded your head.

“Good" he stated, leaning back over you again, eyes boring into yours. “Because I know I’m gonna like what I’ll see".

Benny's hands moved to the hem of your sweater, his fingers sliding under as it rode up. You stiffened, holding your breath. He kissed your lips, softly telling you all the right words before moving his hand higher, fingers skimming over the flesh of your stomach. The pads of his fingers were rough against your soft skin. His hand warm, almost scorching you. Yet the briefest touch of his ring was cool. You relaxed but shuddered at the feelings he was bringing forth in you.

With a bit of shuffling, Benny removed your top, tossing it behind him to rest with his vest and t-shirt. You were a sight, slight laboured breathing and laying before him in your bra and slacks. His eyes feasted on the revealed skin. You squirmed a little, wishing you could cover yourself.  But you stopped the moment he leant down and placed a kiss between your concealed breasts. The eye contact he was giving you – intense and determined – took your breath away.

“So beautiful" he muttered against your skin. “And I haven’t fully unwrapped my treat yet...”

You felt the heat pooling in your lower half. His words, actions and eye contact the trinity to your arousal. God, if this was what it would be like to fool around with Benny, you’d have done it sooner. Next Benny moved his hands to undo your bra, and rid you of it. Right away one of his large hands cupped a breast, the warmth of his hand hotter than your skin. His lips kissed the other breast, then his teeth grazed it. You groaned, arching your back wanting more.

And Benny happily gave it to you. His lips touching the erect nipple, a chaste kiss. Next, he sucked it into his mouth, full lips plush to your skin. The more he sucked your groans turned to a glorious moan. Music to Benny’s ears. He then switched breasts, sucking one while fondling the other. All the while Benny watched you, enjoying how he was making you feel. The moment his name left your mouth, he groaned as he sucked harder. Which in turn turned the volume of your moan up.

Satisfied with lavishing your breasts with attention, while driving Benny crazy, he released them. Of course he wasn’t going to leave it there. He moved on to your slacks, unbuttoning and zipping them before removing them without a trouble. Now you lay before him in just your panties. Instinctively you drew your legs together, arms moving to cover your chest.

But Benny was quick, hands on your legs, moving them apart for him to crawl between. No way to hide that part from him. Not after being such a torture to him. His manhood was hard, uncomfortable in his jeans. He could so easily free himself, push your panties to the side and fuck you into the mattress. But he wouldn’t – couldn’t – do that to you. Your body had to be worshipped, tended to with care and devotion.

“I love your outfits" Benny racked his eyes from your panties, up and over your stomach and chest, to look deeply into your eyes. “But I love you like this so much more".

It’s funny, but you believed every word he said. He was genuine and honest. Slowly you removed your arms, placing them at your sides and holding onto the bedding. He smiled, pleased you trusted him.

“Good girl" he praised, hands skimming up your sides. “I want to worship this body with my hands, my tongue and my teeth. But I desperately want to be inside you. Do you want that, baby?”

Slowly you nodded, your face hot from embarrassment.

He pinched your side gently. “I want to hear it. Say you want it".

Biting your lip you took in a shaky breath. “I-I want it" you muttered.

Benny shook his head. “Gotta be louder...”

“I-I want it!” your voice was loud and clear for Benny to hear.

He smiled before moving in to kiss you deeply once more. Nipping your bottom lip before pushing his tongue in. It was all hunger and want. He then moved down your neck and chest, sloppy kisses and bites. He licked from under your breasts and down over your stomach. You sighed with content, watching him with hooded eyes. This would be when Benny would move his hand lower, fingers exploring the jewel between those enchanting thighs. But he really couldn’t wait. He had to be in you, fucking you till you couldn’t take it.

Managing with one hand, Benny freed himself from his jeans and boxers. And – with a little time – was able to get them over his hips and far enough that he could kick them completely off his legs. Pulling back from you, Benny moved to your panties. He should have pulled them down your legs, like anyone would. But by now, he was a little impatient. Swiftly he tore them from you, extracting a small surprised scream from you. That made Benny laugh.

“Sorry, I really can’t wait anymore, baby" was his amused words to you.

With some moving around, mostly opening your legs wider, and getting himself into place, things were back on track. In this position Benny could see you all, how perfect your pussy looked. Holding his cock, Benny leant in, running the tip through your folds. You softly gasped, he looked to you as he did it again. The moment he nudged your clit, you groaned. Over and over again he did it again, sometimes even slow, just to get noises from you.

This was all good and fine, a feast for his eyes of you on display and your reactions. But he needed more. Slowly Benny pushed the tip into you. Inch by inch he watched himself sink into you, before bottoming out. You’d taken him so damn well. And he voiced that. Making you blush, which he found beautiful. You needed to know how good you were for him, and how good you were doing.

Leaning in Benny once more kissed you. This time it was slower, tender even. Showing you that he was still there, and would go easy on you. Even if his words said otherwise. He was doing this for you, showing you how much he wanted and needed you. In and out of the bed. How you were his. This was the final way to claim you as his girl.

“You feel so fuckin' good" Benny sighed against your lips. “You ready, baby?”

You nodded, and he let that slip this time. But he will teach you to answer him, how much your words mean. Benny slowly pulled back, until the tip was just inside, before thrusting back in. He kept his pace slow at first, letting you get use to his size and the intrusion. You felt so damn good, and it was getting hard for Benny to not just lose himself. Your back arched, noises of approval leaving your lips, spurring him on more.

You’d slept with a few men before but they were nothing like Benny. For them it was all about them. What they liked. How they felt. That they got off. None had ever taken the time and care like the man above you. Benny was taking care of both of you, but had put you first of course. You felt that coil in your stomach tightening. His word and actions playing a big part in your arousal. Plus Benny was exceptionally good to look at. He was the total package.

When he hiked up your leg, and snapping his hips, Benny somehow managed to thrust deeper. Hitting that spot that was sinfully pleasurable. The moan it ripped from you should have made you blush and want to die, but it felt just so good. Again Benny thrusted, hitting that spot. Getting the same reaction, only the moan seemed a little more desperate, needing more.

Leaning over he moved faster – harder – needing more of those reactions. Your hands moved from gripping the bedding, to grasping onto Benny's shoulders and back. His name falling from your lips when he hit that spot over and over again a few times. God how he loved hearing his name coming from your mouth like that.

With every thrust you got closer to reaching your climax. That coil in the pit of your stomach getting tighter and tighter. The groans and noises Benny was making just added fuel to the fire. The gruff, deep voice of his lost in this moment between you both. The way he would look at you with those stormy blue eyes, the fire and passion there shining back at you. This man was perfect with attention and affection.

“I-I’m c-close...” you stuttered, voice raspy.

Benny groaned in approval. “Cum for me baby".

With a few more harsh, deep thrusts – hitting that spot over and over – finally pushed you over the edge. Clutching at Benny, nails digging into his skin, back arched you moaned as you came. Feeling you tighten around his cock, Benny thrusted a few more times, movements getting more sloppy. Before finally hitting his peak. Buried deep within you Benny came, his seed filling you up.

You both stayed how you were for a few moments. Sweaty and heavy breathing messes. You looked up at Benny, face warm not only from your activities but shyness washing over you. Benny, on the other hand, looked down at you with admiration. He was absolutely transfixed with you. How beautiful and perfect you were. And those words tumbled out of his mouth, shocking you.

“W-what?” You asked softly.

Now Benny was the one going shy. “Shit...I said that out loud?”

You nodded, remaining quiet.

He put his head down, feeling embarrassed. “I-it’s true though, you’re beautiful and perfect...”

Your chest fluttered from his admission. You might not see it or believe it when you look at yourself in the mirror, but the man above you did. A small, warm smile graced your lips as you moved a hand to the back of Benny’s head. Running your fingers through the tuff of hair on the back of his neck, you coaxed him to look back to you. Seeing how happy you were, it made him smile in return.

“Thank you" you said with joy.

Wanting to not ruin the mood, but Benny wanted to hold you close, he reluctantly removed himself from you. And fell beside you on the bed, bringing you to his chest as he wrapped you up in his arms. Placing a kiss to the side of your head, Benny repeated his words, wanting you to remember them. You moved your head back and pulled him in for another kiss, showing him just how much he meant to you.

“I think I could get use to bein' your girl, if that was what I get every time we’re in bed" you boldly stated.

He chuckled before moving his lips to your ear. “Baby, not just in bed will I do that to you".

Numerous places crossed your mind, all the possibilities that lay ahead for you in Benny's presence. You were thrilled but also a little embarrassed, but a good kind of embarrassed. This man might be the death of you. Or the man of your dreams.

[icarusredwings]

Thinking about how fast logans hair grows and how naturally thick and shiny it is (lucky fuck) and while it started as something small, Wade mentioning how fluffy it is when tuffed out.

"Guess you're gonna cut it then?"

But his voice is kind of hoping he doesn't. It's not hard to tell either. Wade can't hide his adoration for Logan. He's never been able too. (And probably never will)

"Mmh.. Nah." Is all his says, but the brightness in Wade's eyes is everything.

He lets Wade take care of it. He lets him completely groom him, wash him, condition it, oil it, braid it, try different looks on him, like blowouts and curls. It makes him wonder how he knows these things. I mean, he's bald.

But he wasn't always bald, right? Duh. Vanessa mentions something about him doing her hair sometimes, helping her curl it and would help put her curlers in, etc.

It makes him wonder why he doesn't have an actual set. Why doesn't he get one glued or professionally put in. Cancer patiants got fake hair all the time, so what was the problem? It's not like they didn't have enough cash to pay for an installation.

As it gets longer, Wade is obsessed, showing it off and bragging how beautiful he is. He likes to drag his fingers through it, pull on it COUGH, pet him.

And don't get me wrong, Logan doesn't mind much, but it's getting a little too long than he likes. So much so that Gabby has started joking that Laura and him look the same. This isn't his issue, though. The problem is that it's touching his back in a way that makes him feel like someone is touching him. The curls at the ends brushing against his shoulder blades and makes his body hair raise from sensory.

Logan tilts his head, laying on the couch with Wade on his chest watching some trash tv.

".. Im gonna cut my hair later."

"What?"

"It's too long for me." He says.

"Oh... okay." Who was wade to tell him what to do with his body? Esspecially when he was engaged to a stripper. It would be hypocritical.

Before Logan leaves, Wade blows him a kiss. "Bye bye beautiful."

"Heh. Thanks."

"I was talking to those lushious locks, but you too gorgeous."

Logan rolls his eyes, scoffing softly, but stops.

"Change your mind?"

".... you were jealous of other yous hair... why don't you... you know?"

Wade blinks. "...well... wolvie.. when a daddy cancer and a mommy cancer-"

"That's not what I meant. I mean.. they have hair that you can glue on, right? Or.. does this universe not have that?"

"It does. I just... feels weird. You know? Itchy. And hurts. And.."

"You don't have to explain. So.. do you like clips or something??"

"...whyy?" He asks, becoming skeptical.

"Nothing.. just curious." Logan mumbled, leaving ".. Bye."

"See ya 'just curious'."

____

When he finally does return to the apartment, his kitty ears are clean, leaving his hair a bit thicker than when they met but not long enough to surpass his ears or chin.

From the kitchen, Wade whistles. "Well, Hello, sailor! Where's my husband? Whos this hot tom cat?"

Logan blushes, embaressed. Keeping his hand behind his back as he hugged him when glomped out of excitment. It wasn't uncommon for Wade to do this. To kiss the shit out of him when he got home, but the way he pulled at his lapels made him chuckle, pulling away.

"Okay okay, wait wait. I got something for you."

"Clip ins?" He asks, gasping softly and lit up when presented with a small box. "Oooh!! Presents! Peanut you shouldn't have!"

He shrugs. "Yeah.. well.. you liked it too much to not."

Pausing, Wade stares up at him with a sparkle in his eyes. "...You..."

Logan nods. Instantly, he begins to rip open the box, smiling widely before squealing. "Oh my god! Loagie!! Is this why you took forever? I thought you got lost on the way there or something..."

"Oh, I did, but.. that's besides the point."

"How much did these even cost to make?" He asks, looking at them fondly as he checks the quality.

"Don't worry about it. They're nice aren't they? I was actually shocked I could find someone to do it so quickly."

"Yeah! Its almost as if the writer is super lazy and didnt even research the process or how long it takes to make these! Oh- but...How am I going to wear them? You have to clip them. I can't really clip them to my scalp." Wade mutters, pouting.

Immediately, Logan frowns. "Oh shit.. I..i guess I didn't think about that. I thought you.."

Wade giggles. "I'm just kidding! Ill go clip them. I got a wig that'll look perfect with this!" He smiles, giddy as he runs away.

Logan grins, watching how excited and happy he was. Sighing, he glanced at the food Wade was starting to make, picking up where he left off.

____

"Sooo.. what do you think?"

Turning around, Logan smirks, eyes softening at the pure joy on his face. They fit perfectly into his already existing wig, making it thicker and shiny, soft and the it flowed the way real hair would.

"Ta-da!" He giggles. "And watch!!" He shakes his head around, flipping his hair and posed a few times. "I tried the halo extentions before, and they flew off! But they stay!"

"Yeah?" He asks, leaning back against the counter, so lovingly looking at the pure glitters in his excited eyes.

"Yeah!! Isn't it so cute? And its so soft!"

"And water resistant." He comments. "Soooo you like'em?"

"Yes!!! Of course I love them! And I love you." He comes to logan, hoping up as he grabs him, pulling him up to kiss him agaisnt the counter. Between kisses, giggles, groans and affectious compliments, Al crossed her arms, sitting at the table.

"Really? In front of my salad??.. nasties.."

[himluv]

The Intervention

Here's the next chapter of Say My Name (Say it Twice)! Enjoy some more Neve and Bellara, and of course Lucanis and Spite.

Lucanis sat on the cot in Neve’s study, one arm over his chest, the other gently swirling a steaming cup of coffee. That was his only defense against the women staring him down. Neve sat behind her desk watching him with a little smirk on her lips, while Bellara leaned against the front of the desk with both arms crossed and a frown on her face. 

Spite sat perched on one of Neve’s bookcases, swatting at wisps like a cat after fireflies.

Lucanis bit back a smile at the demon’s antics, then returned his attention to Bellara. “All right,” he said. “You wanted to talk.”

Neve rolled her eyes. “To be clear, Bel wanted to talk. I’m just… facilitating.”

“Right,” Bellara said, nodding. Then she scowled at Lucanis. “What’s going on with you and Rook?”

He sighed and fought the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Nothing,” he said. 

Neve raised an eyebrow at him. “So, we just imagined all those heated glances over dinner the other night?”

Lucanis shrugged. “I guess so.”

“Then how do you explain what happened in the Crossroads the other day?” Bellara asked. 

He shook his head. “You’ll have to ask Rook about that.”

“I did.” She frowned. 

“And?” He could tell from her face that she hadn’t liked Rook’s answer. 

“She told me not to worry about her and that she was handling it.”

Neve shook her head and gave him a wry smile. “Sounds familiar.”

“It sure does,” Bellara said. “Must be all that time she spends with you, Lucanis.” She glared at him. 

Lucanis took a drink of his coffee. “I told you, Bellara, it isn’t any more time than she spends with anyone else.”

Neve snorted. “And you believe that?”

“It’s the truth,” he said.

Both women just stared at him.

“What?”

Bellara rolled her eyes. “We have eyes, Lucanis.”

“And ears,” Neve said. “You’ve hardly been subtle.”

Lucanis went still, panic bubbling in his chest. “What do you mean?” Was he sending signals he wasn’t even aware of? Did the whole Lighthouse know how he felt about Rook? If they did… did Teia and Viago know, too? If they knew, then Illario surely did. 

Was Rook in danger because of him?

“You and Rook,” Neve said. “The banter, the heated looks when you think no one’s looking–”

”– the way you watch her back more than anyone else’s,” Bellara added. “And how you’re both so careful not to touch in front of anyone?”

Neve nodded. “That was a big tell. No one is that aware of another person if there isn’t something going on.”

Bellara laughed. “I know, right?” She turned back to Lucanis and her smile faded. “Oh.”

Lucanis felt the blood drain from his face as he realized that, yes, everyone did know how he felt about Rook.

Neve looked at him with surprise. “No,” she said. “There’s no way you thought that was subtle!”

“There’s nothing to be subtle about,” he said. “We’re just colleagues.”

Again, the women stared at him. 

“Friends,” he admitted. 

NO! Spite said from his perch. Rook. Is. More.

Neve and Bellara looked at him with such disbelief that Lucanis knew he was only trying to fool himself. “Fine,” he said. “I…” he sighed. “Like Rook.”

Neve smiled. “Now, doesn’t that feel better?”

He glared at her, but her smile only widened.

Bellara’s grin could outshine the sun. “How long have you two–”

“–We haven’t,” he said. “We aren’t…” he cleared his throat and knocked back the rest of his coffee, then set the cup on the floor between his feet. 

Bellara’s face fell. “Wait. What?” She and Neve shared a glance. “Why not?”

His mind spun with all the reasons. He was an abomination. He was damaged goods. He didn’t know the first thing about love, real love that wasn’t part of a romance novel. His cousin might be trying to kill him. He could barely sleep and when he did manage it, he still dreamed of the Ossuary. His hands knew only death, how could he trust them to cradle her heart?

Lu. Can. Is. 

He blinked, rousing from all those terrible, spiraling thoughts. Neve and Bellara were watching him, waiting for his response. “Rook deserves better.”

Neve sat back in her chair, packing her pipe. “And you get to decide that for her? Hardly seems fair.”

“The world isn’t fair,” he said. 

“True.” She lit her pipe with the snap of her fingers. She inhaled then breathed out a plume of fragrant smoke. “So, why do the world’s work for it?”

“I–” he ran a hand over his face and took a deep breath. “I can’t,” he said, his voice trembling.

“Ah,” Neve said. “The truth at last.”

Bellara looked between them, her brow furrowed. “You can’t what?”

Lucanis gave Neve a pleading look. A look that Bellara interpreted just as well. 

“But, Rook likes you!”

He couldn’t look at the elf. “I know.”

“You could be together!” Her voice hit a new pitch in her confused frustration. 

“I know, Bellara.” Did she think he didn’t know that? That he didn’t fantasize about holding Rook, about kissing her whenever he pleased, about sleeping in her arms?

“Then why won’t–”

“–Bel,” Neve said, her voice low. 

Lucanis felt pinned to the cot, his heart racing against his suddenly too-tight ribcage. He couldn’t breath, everything felt constricted. His blood thundered in his ears, he knew it was his blood, but it sounded like water. Like he was underwater. 

No! Spite seethed. Get out. We had a DEAL. Get out!

That familiar chill climbed up Lucanis’s spine. He shook his head, rolled his neck. “No,” he whispered. “Not now. Please.” He focused on his breath, controlling it as he cataloged the sensations around him. The aroma of coffee and pipe smoke, the rough brush of the linen blankets beneath him. The chatter of the wisps that floated around the room, oblivious to the turmoil inside him. 

“Lucanis?” Neve’s voice sounded far away, but firm. Real. Like a place he could land. 

He opened his eyes, only then realizing he had closed them. The first thing he saw was Neve, her dark eyes wide with concern. 

“I’m all right,” he said. His voice sounded far from all right, shaky and thin. He glanced at Bellara, who looked frightened. He gave her a fragile smile. “That is why,” he said.

“I’m sorry, Lucanis.” Her chin quivered and her eyes welled up. 

Lucanis didn’t think he could handle it if she cried. He held up a hand to ward off her concern, but said, “You’re doing my dishes for a week.”

She let out a surprised laugh. “I’ll do them for a month.”

He chuckled at that. “Even better,” he said. He glanced between the women. “Can we agree to leave my personal life be for awhile?”

Neve and Bellara both winced. “I think we can consider this case closed,” Neve said.

Bellara nodded. “Yeah,” she said. “I am sorry, Lucanis.”

He nodded and picked up his cup. “I know, Bellara.” He stood and tilted his chin at them, then left for the dining hall. He needed the dim, close comfort of the pantry. He needed the smell of roasted coffee beans and wax candles. And though he knew the risks, Lucanis needed to sleep, even if just for an hour or two. 

Maybe then, with a little distance, everything that had just happened in Neve’s study wouldn’t seem so terrible.

[balrogballs]

The Clean Break

a little take on Aragorn and Elrond’s final meeting, a removed scene from Cast in Stone (no context required; it’s canon compliant) that I liked too much to toss.

Aragorn was Estel when he broke his wrist, somewhere between five and six years old. It was a perfectly ordinary break, which happened for a perfectly ordinary reason: he had been running about on a wet floor, slipped, and crashed over a threshold. Elladan and Elrohir had come running at his wails, picked him up and took him to Elrond.

He remembers how Elrond explained to him that it was a clean break, and a very small one — it would stop hurting in a few days if he kept it still. The twins, those ardent connoisseurs of broken bones, had kept up a steady stream of joking patter to distract him whilst their father slowly applied a pain-relieving poultice and began to wrap up the wound.

Estel had been sobbing and sobbing, regardless of how mild the injury truly was. He was only five years old, and was more frightened than hurt, because he had never broken a bone in his life and he did not understand what everyone was doing, did not understand why his arm was being covered in white cloth, and it did hurt quite a lot, so he wailed.

And at some point in the process, he remembers looking up and realising that his father was crying too. Elrond hadn't made a sound, but his cheeks were awash in silent, indecipherable tears. Aragorn remembers how his expression didn't change at all, blank and beautiful in the white afternoon light: wrought from stone like a weeping statue, a quiet miracle, a promise of faith.

He remembers Elladan's tense, barked-out "Ada! What is it? What is wrong? You said it’s a clean break!"

And Aragorn remembers how Elrond had sat back on his heels and smiled, the motion pulling his features back into familiar lines. He remembers sitting silently, watching the last tears fall down the marble face, as Elrond said: "hush, my boy, you will scare Estel. Nothing is wrong, it is only a clean break. He will be fine tomorrow."

"Then why are you in tears?" Elrohir had asked, equally worried.

"Oh dear, am I? Aha, I am. Truly, it is only because he is," Elrond admitted sheepishly, sniffing. He had stroked a lock of hair back from Estel's face, laughing self-consciously, and his voice shook only a little. "I hate seeing him in pain. It breaks my heart seeing him cry so ceaselessly, even for such a small cause. It is only that, Elrohir, do not worry."

At the time, the twins had laughed, teased their father for his softness as they often did, made so many jokes about it that even little Estel, who didn't really understand the fuss and at the time had just probably assumed Elrond had a broken wrist too, was laughing alongside the three of them for absolutely no reason at all. It was casual, domestic, completely ordinary and commonplace as far as his childhood went: there were funnier incidents, sadder scenes, happier conversations.

But for some reason, this one is Aragorn's first real memory. The day he broke his wrist is the scaffolding he built his life atop, the day he looked at his father and found something sacred within him.

________

"I thought for a very long time," Aragorn says, on the tallest tower in Minas Tirith, their final meeting. "About what I could give you as a parting gift."

"If it is anything extravagant," Elrond warns him, raising a finger. "You know as well as I that I will take it to mean you are offering me a bride price, and I will take deep offence."

Aragorn grins, winks: "it's actually less than worthless, financially speaking" and cackles at how Elrond actually looks somehow more offended at that option.

"And what is this less than worthless thing you are donating to the one who raised you all your life?" he raises his eyebrows, a smile playing on his lips. "What castoff hand-me-down do you deign to bestow me with?”

"I know you must be weary of rings," Aragorn gestures at Vilya, winking away on Elrond's finger. "But perhaps this one may restore your faith in them."

"I am of a race that thinks nothing: jewels, lives, wars, is eternal," he continues, hair drifting over his face. "Of an old jewelry box my mother had, many trinkets were lost to time, some earrings were without a pair. And such loss of heirlooms never grieved us. After all, they were not ours to grieve."

"The oddest thing in the box was an old, battered golden ring. When I was first given the collection, I was only twenty yet already that ring was far too small for me. I thought that it belonged to a petite woman, perhaps a sister or a mother. Yet more recently, I was thinking of it and it confused me — why would a noblewoman own a cheap, plain ring? The other stones in the box were all precious, valuable, true heirlooms. When my mother died, she told me to pass them on to my children, and I will: but with this ring, I intend to disobey her."

"It was only some weeks ago, as Arwen showed me her own rings, that I realised something," said Aragorn, fishing around in his collar. "That this trinket I carry was no woman's ring, it was made to be worn by a child. You had given me one of these too, if you recall, as per tradition — on my sixth begetting day, a flat gold ring like this with my name carved into the inside. That was when I looked closer at this one, at the inscription on the inside of its hollow."

He unfastens the clasp on the chain, slips a small ring into Elrond's palm. He watches as all the blood leaves the elf's face only to be replaced by a harsh, terrible expression.

"Nothing is eternal, Ada," repeats Aragorn. "But some things should be."

"You are — you are giving me this?" Elrond's voice is strangled, eyes wide. "It —"

"I am. It is not mine to grieve."

Elrond does not say a word, does not even look at Aragorn, instead turning away and walking towards the far side of the balcony where he stood silently, ring clutched tightly in a shaking fist. Aragorn allows him to hold on to dignity.

Dignity, and a small, burnished gold ring.

It was rather battered, some of the plating rubbed off, a groove carved into it from all the times its owner tied it to a string and used it to tease cats with. It had a small dent in the frame, warping it slightly, and if you looked closely you could make out a little tooth mark, as though someone had a habit of gnawing at it. It was less valuable heirloom, more solid proof that the ancient king Elros Tar-Minyatur of Numenor, had once been a messy, careless little boy.

A few minutes pass, in which neither of them speak.

"I had nothing of him," Elrond tells him quietly after a while. "All my life, I had nothing of him at all. It had felt wrong, you see, sailing off to Numenor and demanding his possessions from his grieving children. So for five thousand years, I had nothing of him."

"But I never told you of him," Elrond's voice is searching, harsh and confused, trying to find a justification for the gift. "I had never told you of him, and yes, you had known of him from your lessons but I had tried so hard never to speak of him to you lest you, for one second, thought that I only loved you because you were the heir of Elros. You had no reason to know how I loved him, how fiercely I missed him, how I had nothing of him at all."

Elrond sounds almost angry, wrenching the words through gritted teeth like a scolding, his back still turned to Aragorn: "who made you so kind, Estel? Who made you so selfless — that you — that you give me this without ever being told — that you thought of it — who made you, boy?"

Elrond is breathing in deep, clarifying breaths and Aragorn stands there silently. He does not answer any of the fevered questions. It was Elrond, after all, who once told him over a chalkboard: stupid questions did not deserve answers.

"I never wanted to hurt you, Ada," says Aragorn at last, when only a sliver of sun is left behind in the sky. "Not for a moment. That is why I had… I had… that is why I had hoped we could have a clean break. I just didn't want to hurt you."

"I know you didn't," Elrond says, half-smiling as he turns back, composed again yet not entirely unruffled. "But I would rather it hurt in such a way, than it not hurt at all."

"Would you?"

"Of course," Elrond tells him, unconsciously running a finger across the flat, golden surface of the ring he had slid onto his smallest finger. "After all, the most treasured things in the world are only so valued because of how debilitatingly painful it would be to lose them."

Aragorn cannot speak. He has dawdled and delayed, pushed this parting to a cliff-edge, given gifts and made jokes, all the while waiting for a clean break that would never come for those who love like the two of them. He walks forward in a daze, and Elrond takes him into his arms and Aragorn is five again — building a life atop the scaffolding of the heart Elrond offered to him.

"I do not know what divinity made you this way," his father's voice is rough as he repeats his earlier question, but it does not break. "I do not know which of the Valar wielded the knife that carved you out of kindness. But I am glad, Estel, so glad that I know you."

Aragorn stays pressed in that embrace, shaking. He fights a sudden, absurd urge to laugh and roll his eyes, to say don't ask stupid questions, to say who made me kind? oh, I don't know, perhaps the one who loved me so wholly that he beheld a five year old's silly, childish tears, and wept that I shed them at all.

Still, he does not move: he does not want to see Elrond's face, does not want to see his own, not at this moment. Time passes, strains like molasses through linen, slowly and with great reluctance. At last, the king draws away and takes in this final image, the one who raised him standing before his son with an inscrutable expression on his face.

When he was younger, Aragorn used to think it might make it easier for his father to bend with the marred world if he learned how to be as cruel as it was, instead of taking each slap in the face as a surprise. But he understands now that whilst he wasn't looking, the marred world had bent itself to Elrond's gentleness; that it is a strength, an honest one, to be kind when the world not only abides by cruelty but insists upon it.

Aragorn cannot bring himself to turn and leave, wanting to brand Elrond’s face into the back of his eyelids with knife-hot tears. It is anything but a clean break.

“I cannot bring myself to turn,” he admits, the moonlight limning the silver in his hair. “Because when I turn, you'll be gone, and it will be the end of everything. Is this the end of everything now, Ada? Are we done now, you and I?"

Elrond smiles, looking at Aragorn in the same way he had always looked at him, every day since the moment he was put in his arms: eyes bright with unconditional adoration, unashamed pride, and a constant, total faith in him. He shakes his head.

"You and I will never be done,” he says softly; resolute. It is the only oath he ever makes.

[devildomwriter]

You Go To See A Christmas Carol Part III

The show is about to begin and things might be settled, or they might be slowly getting worse.

Belphegor: “That was fun.”

MC: “I’m tired…”

Belphegor: “Me too.”

MC: “You’re always tired.”

Beelzebub: “Want some?”

MC: “That’s very sweet of you Beel but I don’t really feel like eating right now… anyway let’s just ask someone where the box we’re in is.”

Staff: “Your seats are right up those stairs there to your left.”

MC: “Thank you.”

Staff: “Anytime. Oh, by the way, do you happen to know the red-haired man in that area?”

MC: “Yes.”

Staff: “Please thank him again for me for his generous tip. I can finally pay off my student loans.”

MC: “Okay?”

Belphegor: “How much do you think he tipped her?”

MC: “I think he probably heard about her Student loans while he was here for three hours and looked up the average amount and gave it to her. Or he doesn’t know how tips work in America.”

Beelzebub: “I’m out of popcorn.”

MC: “Dammit not again.”

MC: “Belphegor, this is the spare card for house expenses, do not lose it. Go get your brother some popcorn or something.”

Belphegor: “Okay. Can you find the seats on your own?”

MC: “I’ll survive.”

Belphegor: “Not what I asked but okay.”

Diavolo: “Do you think everything is alright downstairs?”

Barbatos: “I’m sure we would have heard if anything were amiss.”

Lucifer: “….”

Diavolo: “Lucifer you’re looking awfully pale, can I get you anything?”

Lucifer: “Do you suppose that summoning a human across realms counts as human trafficking?”

Diavolo: “I beg pardon?”

Solomon: “Hahahaha! This sounds like a fun debate!”

Lucifer: “Just what I needed…”

Solomon: “It’s good to see you too Lucifer!”

Diavolo: “Barbatos did I kidnap MC?”

Barbatos: “There is a very big difference between an international crime and a surprise summoning.”

Diavolo: “Good. I was worried for a minute there.”

Leviathan: “Why did you suddenly bring that up anyway?”

Lucifer: “I just happened to overhear it when I called Asmo.”

Satan: “You overheard it? Is something bad happening downstairs?”

Lucifer: “I think…for once…this is MC’s fault…”

Mammon: “Why ya gotta blame MC?”

Lucifer: “MC made a joke that Diavolo kidnapped them.”

Diavolo: “Oh dear.”

Solomon: “That sounds like MC.”

Lucifer: “…”

Lucifer: “Solomon…what is that you’re holding?”

Solomon: “Oh this?”

Diavolo: “Oh no.”

Solomon: “There’s a bar around the corner downstairs.”

Lucifer: “I’ll be right back.”

Diavolo: “Ah, please wait.”

Leviathan: “He’s gone.”

Satan: “We tried.”

Simeon: “I bought some extra popcorn, does anyone want some?”

Diavolo: “Simeon! It’s good to see you here! Luke too!”

Diavolo: “I apologize for not extending the invitation to you three, I heard you had prior obligations.”

Simeon: “Yes, they fell through so Solomon looked into what you were doing and bought tickets.”

Solomon: “Oh I didn’t buy them.”

Simeon: “What?”

Solomon: “I know a few people.”

Simeon: “…How did you get these tickets Solomon.”

Solomon: “No one was hurt.”

Simeon: “Solomon…who’s tickets are these? Is this why we had to use fake names?”

Mammon: “You used fake names too? I got stuck with Matthew what’d you guys get?”

Simeon: “Arthur Carbunckle.”

Mammon: “Ahahahahahaha!”

Lucifer: “The sorcerer from Yorkshire?”

Solomon: “You know of him?”

Simeon: “I don’t like where this conversation is going. Where is MC? I thought they’d be here by now?”

MC: “You called?”

Everyone: “MC!”

Diavolo: “I kidnapped you?”

MC: “So you admit it.”

Diavolo: “What?”

MC: “I’m only teasing. Where did Lucifer go?”

Solomon: “The bar.”

MC: “Ugh who let him find out.”

Solomon: “Was it a secret?”

Simeon: “Well I think he needs it…it should all be fine.”

Solomon: “So has anyone seen this play before?”

Mammon: “Nope.”

Leviathan: “Never heard of it.”

Barbatos: “A few times.”

Satan: “I’ve read about it. I’m not sure how well they can adapt it to a live-action stage performance though.”

Diavolo: “I haven’t seen this rendition but I believe it will go excellently. This is supposed to be the best one there is.”

Luke: “Really! I had no idea it was so popular!”

Lucifer: “I’m back.”

Satan: “Is that beer?”

Lucifer: “And?”

Satan: “Nothing…”

MC: “Can I have some of that?”

Lucifer: “Later tonight.”

MC: “Never mind.”

MC: “Sooo…Diavolo… am I still allowed to sit next to you even though I made a stupid joke that got the cops called?”

Diavolo: “Hahahaha! We all make mistakes MC. Of course, you can sit by me.”

Mammon: “I call the other side—“

Lucifer: “Sit down, we already agreed on the seating.”

Mammon: “Come on, I took a beating earlier at least let me sit next to MC.”

MC: “Mammon sweetie are you okay?”

Mammon: “Wh-Huh? Y-yeah…”

Leviathan: “You were crying.”

Mammon: “Shut up.”

MC: “May the lingering traces of pain vanish from the demon before me, I am the sorcerer MC, obey me.”

Mammon: “…shit…I feel all better! That worked like magic MC!”

Solomon: “It is magic.”

Mammon: “I didn’t ask you.”

Luke: “Ooh the lights are flickering again!”

Simeon: “That means it’s time for us to be very quiet, okay Luke?”

Luke: “Ok. Can I have the popcorn now?”

Simeon: “Yes, I snuck in some juice too if you want it.”

Leviathan: “Ooo, the angel broke the rules. Did you hear that Lucifer?”

Lucifer: “Simeon can do what he wants.”

Simeon: “Thank you, Luci.”

Lucifer: “Do not call me that.”

Simeon: “I thought I could do what I want.”

Lucifer: “I’m getting a migraine.”

MC: “Okay guys, I love messing with the old man as much as anyone but I think we should all be quiet now, okay?”

Satan: “Fine.”

Mammon: “Got it.”

Leviathan: “Okay.”

Simeon: “Hehe.”

Solomon: “…one last question…where are Beelzebub, Belphegor, and Asmodeus?”

MC: “…umm…Belphegor has the house’s spare credit card.”

Lucifer: “What?”

MC: “He’s getting some snacks with Beel.”

Lucifer: “…and Asmo?”

MC: “Man is living his best life.”

Lucifer: “What does that mean exactly?”

MC: “I can’t tell you within earshot of Luke.”

Lucifer: “What? With who!? How did he even find the time to—“

Barbatos: “Calm down Lucifer, everything will be fine, won’t it MC?”

MC: “Yeah, he got rid of the cops he’s doing us a favor.”

Luke: “The police?”

Lucifer: “He’s….with the police….”

Diavolo: “…”

Mammon: “Ahahahahaha! That’s one way to handle it!”

Satan: “The lights are dimming everyone shut up and eat your popcorn.”

Belphegor: “Hey guys, did we miss anything?”

MC: “Shhh.”

Belphegor: “Okay. Beel sit over there.”

Beelzebub: “Okay.”

Belphegor: “Oh hey it’s the Chihuahua.”

The theatre is completely silent, not even murmurs in the crowd. The only thing that echoed off the walls before the play began was the loud protests of a child, “I’m not a Chihuahua.”

Luke blushed as the audience laughed and then the director walked on stage.

Director: “Ladies…gentlemen…chihuahuas…”

Mammon: “BAHAHAHAHAAHAHA!”

Leviathan: “Pft! Lolololol Luke, you’re a legend!”

Luke: “Grrrrrrr.”

The crowd laughed and quickly silenced as he raised his hands and gave credit to everyone involved in the production, prop art, acting, and orchestra.

Mammon: “Man, lotta people went into this, huh?”

Lucifer: “Yes, so don’t mess it up.”

Mammon: “Why me?”

Lucifer: “This play is practically about you.”

Mammon: “Huh?”

Belphegor: “Pft!”

Satan: “He’s…right actually.”

Mammon: “Huh? Ain’t this about a grumpy old man or somethin’ sounds more like Lucifer!”

Lucifer: “Shut up or I’ll punch you.”

Mammon: “Ow! Give me the chance to stop first!”

MC: “Everyone shut up, that’s an order.”

Mammon: “Eep!”

Lucifer: “Gh!”

Barbatos: “Thank you MC.”

[The play begins with an old man standing over a coffin. He steals the coins from the dead man’s eyes.]

Mammon: “Why the fuck would ya bury money, that just makes sense.”

Satan: “I can never see Scrooge the same way again…”

[In the next scene, he counts money in his office while his assistant freezes from the lack of coals for a fire as they are a needless expense.]

Mammon: “Counting money, this guy gets it.”

Luke: “Simeon I’m a little worried about Mammon…”

Simeon: “Well, maybe this play will set him straight.”

Solomon: “If it doesn’t, I know a few ghosts willing to help out.”

Mammon: “What are you guys whispering about back there.”

Solomon: “Oh nothin’.”

Mammon: “Really, ‘cause your smile is freaking me out?”

[The man’s nephew comes to visit, wishing his uncle a merry Christmas but the man rejects the sentiment.]

Mammon: “What the hell, ain’t that his nephew?”

Luke: “I think it’s working.”

Simeon: “Don’t jinx it.”

Luke: *nods*

[The man returns home alone when suddenly things move about around him flying across the stage.]

Mammon: “How the hell are they doin’ that?”

Satan: “Wires and magnets probably.”

Mammon: “Better not be a real ghost.”

Solomon: “Don’t tempt me.”

Mammon: “What does that mean?”

[The ghost of the man’s dead friend and former business partner, Marley appears and warns the man that because of his greed, he is doomed to wander the earth weighed down by chains. ]

Mammon: “Pft, ghosts can’t get chained up. …Right?”

[Marley warns the man that three ghosts will be coming to visit him and he leaves. The man faints but awakens just before the first ghost arrives.]

Luke: “Wow it’s glowing.”

Mammon: “That thing gives me the creeps.”

Belphegor: *sneaking up on Mammon*

Belphegor: “Boo.”

A shrill scream sounds in the theatre making many audience members jump. As professionals, the actors do not acknowledge the disturbance or the thud that followed it.

Mammon: “That hurt. That wasn’t even my fault.”

MC: “Belphie, quiet.”

Belphegor: “Fine.”

Diavolo: “Thank you, MC.”

MC: “Don’t mention it.”

[The ghost brings the man to his childhood days, and then to his apprenticeship with a man named Fezziwig. Finally to when he met his beloved, Belle, and when she broke their engagement because his lust for money was too much.]

Mammon: “…”

MC: “…”

Lucifer: “…”

Luke: “It’s working…”

Solomon: “Shh.”

[Scrooge is returned to bed at last, after shedding remorseful tears. Finally, the next ghost arrives, a gentle giant representing the Christmas of the present.]

The curtains draw for intermission.

Previous • Next

[kurishiri]

Alfons Sylvatica ┊ Chaotic Night

꒰ ִ ֺ ⊹ @ notice ⊹ ֺ ִ ꒱ this translation may not be 100% accurate or contain creative liberties due to characterization or narrative flow purposes. if you enjoy, please consider reblogging, but don’t repost these or claim these as your own!

— happy christmas, friends! i present to you...a halloween story lmao this is alfons' story from the chaotic night collection event (featuring will and nica)!

— cw: some suggestiveness, but no portrayed smut.

Due to having ingested the Queen of the Night flower, the Cursed ones’ appearances have changed——

And pulling my hand, Alfons brought me to his room.

Kate: Why did you bring me to your room?

Alfons: You’re asking me that in earnest? There are brutes, all with their Curses amplified, riddled about, you know?

A: With you around, why you’d be gobbled right up.

Kate: But, everyone’s appearance has changed and there may have been changes in their condition... I would think there’s quite a bit of inconvenience.

K: I’m not affected by this, though, so I figured there was something I could do to help or take care of those around me...

Alfons: I do understand the sentiment of wanting to take care of others, but you may end up worrying too much.

A: Just like the ‘Queen of the Night,’ our sins have also amplified...

A: So I would imagine everyone is trying their hardest to hold in the impulses smoldering in their chests.

A: It would be in our best interest to lay low then.

(He does have a point there...)

Kate: ...Alright then, I’ll stay here quietly.

Alfons: Oh, but if your soft and good heart stirs so much and you want to look after someone so much you can hardly bear it, then do take care of me.

A: See, dear me, Alfons’ appearance has changed as well, and what a dire situation he is in, yes?

...was what he said, as I once again looked over his body.

(For some reason, he’s wrapped around in gauze...)

(He’s not wearing a costume, and he’s looked like this since he ingested the queen of the night extract, right...?)

As gauze was not meant to be put on and removed by one’s own volition, even if he lightly pulled on it, it wouldn’t come off.

Kate: With that look... are you hurt anywhere, or did you go through any pain and whatnot?

Alfons: Hardly. My whole body from head to toe — oh, and this place too — is thriving.

(‘This place’...?)

Kate: Umm... if that’s the case, then it’s fine for now.

K: But, now that I’m looking at it again, it’s kind of strange... why do you look like that?

Alfons: In fact, that was exactly what I wanted to ask you, Kate.

A: You would be the one to know why I’m taking on such a form.

A: After all, whatever appearance I take on is a reflection of your desires.

Kate: Your appearance reflects my desires...? What do you mean?

Alfons: Up until now, I have been showing others illusions.

A: And so, if the extract amplified such an ability...

A: Then, even without touching the back of the other’s neck, I would be able to show them what they wish to see, perhaps?

A: ...Besides that, it was when you laid your eyes on me that I changed appearance.

Kate: B-but I don’t ever want you hurt in the slightest!

Alfons: That is the least I can tell, even without your passionate declaration.

A: You are hardly the type to wish harm on me.

Kate: Then why...

Alfons: Hmm, well...

A: ...Ahh, I have an inkling. This is Japonisme, isn’t it?

Kate: Japonisme... you mean how the culture and art from a country called Japan became a trend?

Alfons: Exactly that. In Japan, there is a type of clothing called a kimono, you see...

A: And within that is a part called the obi [1], in which all will be laid bare with one flourish... was a part of their culture.

A: Oh, and by the way, when it’s been removed, the wearer would shout, ‘Oh me, oh my!’ while falling upon the bed.

Kate: ...Was that really a thing?

Alfons: Who knows? I, too, have only ever heard it in passing... well, anyhow, what I wanted to say was...

A: You probably wanted to wrap me in bandages before pulling it all off in one go.

Kate: Wh— why would I be into that sort of naughty thing...!?

Alfons: But you could have been influenced by me, no?

Kate: ...It pains me to admit that I can’t completely argue with that.

Alfons: Ahha! I won’t judge no matter how many strange hobbies you hold, you know?

A: How about you try to take them off, just to test the theory?

(Just what desire of mine caused Alfons to take on such an appearance, I wonder...?)

(It’s not as though I particularly like bandages...)

Then, while thinking about my own tastes...

Alfons: Urgh...

Alfons let out a small groan.

Kate: Did something happen!?

Alfons: The bandages around me wrapped even tighter... and it’s become a tad painful.

Kate: Wha...

Alfons: ...Ahh, but worry not. I do feel being bound to your desires like this isn’t so bad...

As Alfons said that, his expression looked a little pale. He was clearly holding it in.

(I need to stop my desire quick, or Alfons will continue to be in pain like this...!)

(Bandages... bondage... just what’s the reason? What in the world am I wishing for...!?)

I continued to mull on it as hard as I could, in hopes of saving Alfons... when it was then I realized.

(Could it be...!)

Kate: Alfons, say, ‘There’s only the two of us in this room’ to me!

Alfons: ...? ‘There’s only the two of us in this room’...

Albeit hesitant, Alfons said those words, and...

Alfons: Ah... the bandages feel more loose.

Kate: Thank goodness... which would mean my guess was right.

Alfons: Care to explain?

Kate: Well... the other day when we went out to eat together, there were a lot of women in the shop...

K: And many of those women seemed pretty taken by you, so...

K: I ended up thinking, ‘If only nobody else could see Alfons...’

Alfons: Hehe... I see now. So that’s what it was.

A: You didn’t want anyone else seeing me, and so by wrapping me all around in bandages, you could hide me away... is that it?

A: In that case, ‘there’s only the two of us in this room’ would make sense.

A: If it’s just the two of us, there is nobody but you to see me, so there would be no need to wrap me up in bandages then.

Kate: So it really was my desire that left you looking like this... I’m really sorry.

Alfons: Why the apology?

A: To see your earnest love manifest in a way that’s easy to understand is rather a good thing, no?

A: Love is an invisible thing, and at times I do question its existence. But... to see it like this, it does put me at ease.

With an amused smile, Alfons kissed me.

The heat and sweetness of those lips melted away my guilt.

Alfons: ...Say, Kate. There is only the two of us in this room, with no one to interrupt.

A: So what would follow then?

Kate: T-that...

I was too embarrassed to form any more words, but it no longer had anything to do with whether I said it or not.

My desire unbound Alfons’ bandages, causing his clothes to become disheveled on its own.

Alfons: ...You’re quite naughty, aren’t you, Kate.

While laughing happily, Alfons pushed me down on the bed.

Each of us consuming a jumbled mess of Curses and love, this Chaotic Night was just getting started.

Fin.

masterlist🪞 ┊ ko-fi ☕️ ┊ comms🤍

NOTES:

[1] The obi refers to the part of the kimono, traditional Japanese clothing, that is a sash. It might look something like this.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Sometimes I wonder how Eric Venue would react when he finds what happened to Vil. His son has overblot, got kidnapped not so long after his overblot, got involved in fighting another overblot, and he got old. How is he going to think about all of this?

Based on what we've seen and heard of Eric, he generally presents as very charismatic and easy to talk to. I'm sure a lot of that comes from his career as a celebrity--he has to have good camera presence and communicate well with those in his industry + fans. However, Vil tells us that while Eric is usually amicable, he can be a very different person when it comes to work and business. We the players never get to view this serious side to Vil's dad; it's only ever alluded to or mentioned in passing. I'd imagine that this is the side of Eric that comes out when he learns that his precious son, the apple of his eye, went through so many grueling experiences.

As a father, Eric must know how hard Vil works for his beauty and his career. I don't see him as the type of person to go and blame others for Vil overblotting; I think he would always have had that worry in the back of his mind. That's why he actively tries to make time for his son, even with both of their busy schedules--because otherwise, Vil might not have those reminders to take time for himself. Learning that those fears have become a reality would have Eric worry even more. Anger and upset would be secondary to that; I genuinely don't see Eric as a belligerent/vengeful person or someone who would blame others for something ultimately Vil (and his spiraling emotions) did. (Yes, Vil is the result of people labeling him as something he's not, but you cannot truly blame a system or reasonably be mad at a vaguely defined group of people/the public.) I feel like he would be more upset that whoever's in power (probably Crowley, lol) didn't take more preventative measures or didn't intervene sooner. Maybe Eric would be sitting in a meeting with Crowley and demanding to know what steps the headmaster intends to take next to keep his son safe. Like, not shouting at Crowley but moreso directing a very cold, stern anger toward him. I don't believe Eric would do something scummy (such as threatening to leak this to the media) in order to make Crowley take action. Such a thing would be disastrous for Vil's reputation, and I believe Eric would want to respect his son's boundaries and not act in overprotective ways that encroach on those boundaries.

Everything that happens to Vil in book 6 would still cause Eric to worry, but I think this time there would be a more positive spin on the events. Yeah, he is still very concerned about Vil being kidnapped, fighting an OB, and then losing his youth in the process. However, I do think that Eric would be less upset about the kidnapping since no harm really came of it and Vil did consent to being studied. Ultimately, Eric would be proud of his son for surviving those ordeals and especially for being so heroic that he was willing to throw himself into literal Tartarus to save a classmate. I just see Eric smiling from ear to ear as he embraces his son, welcoming Vil back and telling him that he truly is the fairest of them all, both inside and out.

[completeoveranalysis]

[6]

SCREAMING FOREVER OK EVERYONE SIT DOWN

Since the literal beginning of all this the big hanging question behind Clow Reed has always been, “Is this the same one or a different one?”

And under that question came infinite other questions such as, “How could this be the same one if he died ages ago?” and “Is this an Alternate Universe Clow Reed- oh god how many Clow Reeds could there possibly be?!”, and even “Is this a Clow Reed Clone? Or was the CCS Clow Reed a clone all along?!?!” and on and on into forever.

ENTER: THE MOST SIMPLE ANSWER OF ALL. 

IT’S JUST THE SAME GUY. 

THIS WAS THE CLOW REED FROM CARDCAPTOR SAKURA ALL ALONG. 

And I’m just LOSING MY MIND because that means a huge part of Cardcaptor Sakura is centered on a lie. 

Or like, not REALLY a lie. It’s still true that he's dead. But Clow Reed lied to everyone he left behind, and those are all the people we get our answers from in that series. He told them he was going to die and they believed him.

I suppose he could have phrased it ambiguously? But if he DID it was with the intent that they thought he was dead, because that's what they think. He told them that on purpose.

AM I GOING TO GO DOWNSTAIRS AND FACT CHECK WITH CARDCAPTOR SAKURA? ... YES. OK.

OK OK OK OK HERE WE GO KERO SAYS THEY SAW HIM DIE. There we go, 100% he lied to them and even made it look convincing.

WAIT HAVE YOU READ CARDCAPTOR SAKURA? DON’T WORRY LET ME TELL YOU EVERYTHING YOU NEED TO KNOW. (But if you don’t want spoilers for everything before Clear Card just skip the rest of this post). 

So the ENTIRE narrative of Cardcaptor Sakura centres on the fact that Clow Reed is dead. He died and left Yue and Keroberos in charge of the Clow Cards and their legacy. (Which is what is being depicted in the Top Left of this page. It's the conversation Clow had with Kero and Yue when he suddenly announced it to them). He died and left a family legacy for Syaoran to eventually inherit - however distantly, we don’t actually know. He died and had foreseen Cardcaptor Sakura, and left gifts and hints for her to continue his legacy and eclipse it. He died and his magic as a power source was dying all these years later, which was why she had to convert the cards, to save them, and Kero, and Yue. 

EXCEPT, HE DIDN’T DIE. 

Or at least, he didn’t die right away. He told Yue and Kero that he was going to die (and made them think they SAW it) and then FUCKED OFF to the Clow Kingdom to live there happily and raise Sakura and Touya there. 

WHICH. I am hung up on because that means in Clow's original reality, which is essentially our world, he had foreseen his death and that Cardcaptor Sakura was going to become his successor - and then, I guess, found out about the big Time Reset Wish that Evil Wolverine did for Lava Lamp, which trapped an alternate version "Sakura" in a Frozen bubble of time that would leave a new 'cloned' copy of her in the new version of the timeline. But that means Clow also would have had a vision of what happens to this new version of the Alternate Sakura, and the huge fate that lay ahead of her, and also that she did not have parents anymore, and so he was like, "AH YES A JOB FOR ME? Let me just tell everyone who loves me that I’m dead and slip over there for like ten years and ride that out." 

But not only that but CLOW REED IS IN CARDCAPTOR SAKURA TOO. HE IS THERE. HE IS ERIOL AND HE IS FUJITAKA. HE SPLIT HIMSELF INTO THE TWO OF THEM. 

Which means that he, like, told Yue and Kero that he died, went to the Clow Kingdom, lived that out, then told THEM that he died too, then went back to his original reality and Split Himself into two new people. Which counts as “death”, TECHNICALLY, sure. There is no more ‘Clow Reed’. He is not a singular living person anymore. But he didn’t “die” in the way that his family in Cardcaptor Sakura AND Tsubasa thought. Though it amounts to the same thing. 

EXCEPT - there is Eriol. Eriol inherited Clow Reed’s memories. So HE KNEW ALL THIS. HE KNEW THE WHOLE TIME. 

HE TECHNICALLY IS OFF IN CARDCAPTOR SAKURA DOING HIGH SCHOOL SHENANIGANS WITH THE FULL KNOWLEDGE THAT HIS DAUGHTER (SAKURA CLONE) IS OFF DYING FOR THE UNIVERSE AND TRYING DESPERATELY TO SAVE IT FROM EVIL WOLVERINE. WHILE HE’S SITTING ACROSS FROM YAMAZAKI AND MAKING STUPID JOKES. 

Though like, full disclaimer, I don’t actually mean it was at the same time. Because (a) time runs differently on different worlds, and (b) we are very lucky that’s true because otherwise it becomes a headache trying to piece it all together, but also (c ) Time travel, so we don’t even need to worry about it. I was at the end of writing another huge paragraph trying to put the events all in order but DONT WORRY ABOUT IT. TIME TRAVEL EXISTS. It all becomes circles in the end anyway. 

So like, don’t worry about it. :) Time Travel. 

The more fun thing is that Fujitaka technically existed as his own separate person in the Clow Kingdom FIRST, with Nadeshiko. Until time reordered events and Clow Reed jumped in to be Sakura’s new dad, before going back home and splitting himself into two people - one of which is the Fujitaka from Cardcaptor Sakura. Like. How does that work on a personal level. Did Clow Reed choose to let part of himself become the guy he replaced, or was he always kind of an Alternate version of him to begin with.

And then THAT Fujitaka meets the alternate Nadeshiko and they fall in love all over again. Which is also fun because it means that THAT Nadeshiko existed in this universe without a Fujitaka in it, Until Clow Reed came back split himself INTO the guy he went over there to replace, and BECAME the guy she was destined to fall in love with, even though he didn’t technically exist at all before that point. 

VERY HITSUZEN OF IT ALL. 

[lmaowhatt]

happy ever after - jj m.

summary: youre tossed into a corner, now practically being forced into telling jj about your pregnancy with his child. however, lucky for you, he takes it exactly how he told you he would all those nigths ago.

set: a week after part three, early-mid december. please read the 'set' section in part one to understand this!

psa: jarah had their baby and named her josephine joy. she is around 9 months.

one - two - three - four

pairing: jj maybank x pogue!reader

warnings: pregnancy trope, cursing, mentions of throwing up.

if theres any others feel free to let me know!

it was mid lunch hour at the chateau, everyone else besides jj was downstairs, having a not-spicy meal cleo had cooked up for the first time. you, however, were upstairs, currently spilling your guts into the toilet in the bathroom adjacent to you and jjs room. and jj had, according to john b, gone to work. this to you was weird considering his current employment consisted of working at the bait-and-tackle shop, which was empty when you last looked out your bedroom window.

"y/n? you okay?" kiaras voice was heard from the other side of the bathroom door. you could only groan as she twisted the doorknob, opening the door. you spat into the toilet, "this is bullshit," you shut the toilet lid, flushing the toilet. kie gave you a sympathetic look as you brushed your teeth, placing a hand on your shoulder and squeezing lightly. "ill do your chores today, you can rest." the woman offered.

you shook your head, "no, its fine. ill do them." you shut off the tap and put away your toothbrush walking out of the bathroom with kiara. "dude, i insist. you look pale as shit." she said, more persisten this time. "go, lie down. i can bring you some yogurt or a banana? something?" she asked, standing by the doorframe, watching as you grabbed a random t-shirt of jjs.

you shrugged, "some yogurt i guess." you turned to face kie who nodded with a soft smile. "be right back," she declared, knocking twice on the door trim. you sighed, shutting the door slightly as you changed your shirt. once you did, you moved to lay stomach down on your side of the bed, one leg slightly craned up as you moved to bring the covers up to your neck.

after a couple moments, you heard kie knock on the door again, a couple things in hand. "kie, i said a yogurt," you mumbled with a laugh. kie smiled as she set a small cup of yogurt along with a spoon on yoru nightstand, handing you a heating pad as well as a damp rag. "i know. but youre my bestfriend, its my duty to take care of you when you need caring," she saluted jokingly, laughing as you rolled your eyes.

"hey, you heard from jj?" you mumbled as you placed the heating pad under your ribcage. kiara shook her head with furrowed eyebrows, "no, im sorry. want me to text him?" she offered, kneeling down to be face to face with you. "if you could, please? im worried." kie smiled softly with a shake of her head, moving a stray piece of hair back to your head of hair. "ill be right back," she stood, walking out of your room to grab her phone.

kies phone

"hes almost here mama. you need to tell him about the pregnancy. like, no bullshit." kiara concluded as you groaned slightly, sitting up in your spot on you and jjs bed. "i havent even wrapped my head around it, dude. how am i supposed to tell him?" you messed around with your cuticles on your lap with a breathy sigh, glancing at the test you had detached from your nightstand earlier that day. "i know but you have to. maybe he'll help you wrap your head around it." kie rubbed your knee soothingly as cleo stepped into the room.

you both smiled at eachother, "you okay, girl?" she asked you, kneeling down beside kiara. "im okay ceecee," you smiled softly, glancing between your lap and the two girls to your left. they stayed quiet for a moment before hearing a truck hastily pull into the driveway. "fucking finally," kiara mutters, patting your knee before grabbing cleos arm, pulling her up gently. "well buy you some time in case you need it. and remember, were downstairs if you need us." kie smiled as she and cleo exited your room, gently closing the door behind them.

the two rushed downstairs, making it in time to catch jj suspiciously talking to james and pope. light whispers were heard from where they stood, the girls both watching with furrowed eyebrows. kiara and cleo approached normally, only hearing a mutter of an 'odd job' jj had left to come home.

"what are we talkin' about?" kiara gave a soft—very fake—smile. jjs eyes widened slightly, turning to her. "nothin', nothin'. so.. i should probably," jj pointed up at the stairs, moving around both girls.

"wait," kiara called, grabbing a hold of his arm. "she is feeling slightly better, but uh, just. i- brace yourself." she stuttered out, earning a smack on the arm from cleo and a concerned look from the other three guys. "why, exactly?" jj voiced his concern with furrowed eyebrows. kie let go of his arm with a shrug, motioning for him to go up the stairs.

jj warily knocked at you twos bedroom door once he got upstairs, cracking the door open. "baby, y'okay?" he shut the door behind him, moving to kneel at your bedside where you were currently sat. you gave him a soft smile, nodding slightly. "you sure? you can tell me anything baby ive told you this," he trails off, standing to grab a clean shirt from your shared dresser.

the thought of the pregnancy test box you had hidden hastily in your dressed had gone completely over your head as you watched him look through the mess of clothes. it only set into your brain that the box was still in there when you noticed him pause, then reach further into the drawer. you stood, moving as fast as you could around him to grab the box from his hands.

however, your fingertips missed it by mere inches when he jerked his arm back, shutting the drawer. he held the box up, lightly shaking it as he searched for the correct words to say at the moment. he opened his mouth as if he had finally gathered the words, only to let his arm fall to his side, looking down at you with a saddened look and a small bite of his bottom lip.

"why didnt you tell me?" he tilted his heart with furrowed eyebrows. your heart broke. you paused for a moment, looking down at the wooden floor as you gathered your thoughts. looking back uo at him, you began. "im sorry. i didnt wanna freak you with everything. theres already one kid in the house were all helping out with." you rambled out as you took a step closer.

you watched as a tear began to build up on his waterline, shaking you head. "and i know. i know its a shitty excuse, believe me. but i could barely wrap my head around it and i didnt want to stress you out with it." you reached up to wipe the tear that ran down his cheek. "im sorry," you whispered. you only stumbled back as he tackled you in a bear hug.

you immediately wrapped your arms around his neck, running a hand up and down his back as you felt a tear fall on your shoulder. "please.. dont ever think you cant tell me anything, ever. im always here for you, no matter how busy or stressed i might be." he pulled away, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead. you smiled softly as you held his face in your hands, wiping his teary eyes with your thumbs. "so, youre okay with this? no bull." jj laughed quietly, nodding his head and he kneeled down so he was face to face with your stomach.

tangling you fingers in his huge head of hair, you watched as he lifted your shirt slightly to kiss your stomach. "i told you how i felt that day at the beach baby, im okay with this." he looked up at you, watching as your eyes crinkled at the sides from the smile that made its way to your face.

you grabbed one of his hands gently tugging him back up. he placed a hand on your cheek, smiling as you leaned into his touch. "i love you." he leaned in, his lips gently brushing yours in a soft, loving kiss. it was quiet and slow, full of affection and reassurance. there was no words that needed to be spoken in the moment—his touch said everything he couldnt express in the moment. it was a warm moment that made your heart feel light.

he pulled away with a small cough, "well, i wasnt planning on doing this here, but it seems like the perfect moment. at least for our dysfunctional selves so." he let out a chuckle, reaching into his back pocket. "you dont even know what-" a gasp suddenly left your mouth as you watched him kneel down, opening the small velvet box in his hand.

"youre kidding." you stated with wide eyes. it set in even further once you watched him shake his head with a small laugh. "i will forever be grateful for the person you have turned me into. your constant fight and determination towards making us and our friends a better family continues to push me into becoming a better man. all for you." he confessed with teary eyes.

you placed a shaky hand over your mouth as the tears spilled over your own eyes. "will you marry me?" he looked up at you with a soft smile, widening as you nodded your head profusely. "y- yes." was all you could muster at the moment as jj took your hand from over your mouth, a shaky hand removing the ring from the boxes hold, placing it onto your ring finger.

he quickly stood, taking a hold of your faces and placing a soft kiss onto your lips. although it was mostly teeth clashing from the smiles that refused to be wiped from your features, the love could be felt from both sides. "she said yes!" he called to all the boys that he was sure were downstairs.

although surprised by the very early proposal, they all quickly understood and began yelling out their own hoots and hollers of congrats, along with them quietly explaining to the girls who then quickly exclaimed congrats of their own.

you laughed as you held his face in your hands. this was everything. everything you couldve ever wanted. so imperfectly perfect. it was all you ever needed.

you loved jj.

and he loved you.

taglist: @marleymarleymarleymarley @nami11 @agnxstic

a/n: this is probably the last part to this little mini series unfortunately :(. but i really enjoyed how i ended it and i hope you do too!! (so sorry, i also wanted there to be more but the ideas unfortunately do not pour out of me as they did with jj) a/n pt.2: guys its diva louis tomlinsons birthday tomorrow! i sincerely hope he gets to at least have a sliver on happiness tomorrow.

[the-cauldron-witch]

Howdy T'Witch! It makes me so happy that you got your blog all up and designed! Those are big days and I’m happy that it looks so good! Hopefully you think so too!

I say that your writing requests were open and I’d love to pick your brain on some light angst if you’re up for it! No worries if you ain’t because hey understandable. The holidays be crazyyyyyy 🤪

But maybe to something to think about if you’re bored and whatever. But I wanted to ask on how do you think the Bayverse Boys would respond to you (y/n) getting amnesia and forgetting about them completely for whatever reason for how ever long? Do you think they’d try to rejog their memory or try to love them better with the chance of a fresh start? Or something else entirely. I am curious and I’d love to hear your thoughts if you’ve got the time and energy. Thanks for existing!

Hey Anon! (It’s weird to type this and have you not actually be an anon lmao)

I am very happy I finally have my blog up and running how I like, it finally feels like a little home to me. Thank you for noticing! 🫂🫂🫂

Thank you so much for sending an ask, I’m going to have fun with this one! I’m giving them a happy ending though, cause I can’t write angst and not give my boys a good ending. (Also completely unedited and not proof read lol)

Leonardo

The worry and anxiety he feels in the pit of his stomach like he swallowed a lead weight is one thing, but the chest-clenching heartbreak when you shriek at the sight of him and had no recollection of his existence is another.

He keeps a stoic face once you’ve calmed down and while explaining who he is to you, but really this poor guy is absolutely gutted. It takes so much of him to keep a straight face.

Still a bit of a helicopter, using any subtle opportunity to jog your memory of himself. He’ll make a cup of tea for you in the exact way he did on your first date, subtly comment on your outfit when he recognizes it’s something he bought you, anything he could think of to hopefully remind you.

This man does not sleep the entire time. You aren’t sleeping in his bed, how could he anyway? Once he is sure you are fully asleep, he comes to check on you. Listen to see if you talk in your sleep, mumbling about memories or just in case a nightmare decides to haunt you.

When he can’t check on you or do really anything else, he’s meditating in order to keep his emotions in line. He’s completely destroyed, so meditating for hours on end is the only way he can keep himself in check.

Although he’s snappy, irritable, and driving everyone but you away, what Leo really needs is one of his brothers to ignore the attitude and just stand there and let him get it out. By the time he’s done he’s already apologized a hundred times, he’s just lost and broken hearted.

Out of all his brothers, Raph is probably the one that cracks him and gets him to just spit it out. They all know what’s going on and how much Leo’s hurting from it all, but he still needs to let it out. Raph can handle the attitude with ease, brushing it aside and letting Leo get himself together

After what feels like an eternity, you gain your memory back at the most random of times while you happened to be watching him practice his kata. When you start babbling memories excitedly, he picks you up in a hug and cries into you.

It doesn’t matter if anyone’s watching, he’s crying and just so grateful that you remember who he is. Weeping tears of joy and the bottled anxiety finally burst as he holds you. Bear with this poor guy, it’s been a ride for both of you really.

Raphael

This poor guy is so surprised and in shock when you don’t remember him, he thinks you’re playing some sort of prank on him at first.

“Heh- babe, c’mon…don’t joke around like dat”

Once it hits him that this isn’t a prank or joke, you genuinely do not know who he is, Raph practically shuts down.

The love of his life doesn’t remember who he is, even looks at him like he’s the monster he felt he was before meeting you. It breaks his heart so much he locks himself away for a day or two, unfortunately leaving you more confused.

When you start wanting to be near him- no, needing to be near him, is when he starts coming around. He found you pacing back and forth in front of his bedroom door like a cat waiting to enter a closed off room one night.

You couldn’t explain it, but you have this invisible pull and primal need to be near him somehow. To be close, even touching him. Although you don’t remember why, you just know you need to,

Raph starts coming out of his room and trying to act normal, but when his brothers look him in the face an see how red and raw his eyes are, the dark circles, and the heartbreak in his eyes, they know it’s just an act but wisely choose not to comment.

He catches you staring at him while he’s working out, chuckling as you bashfully try to shy away. He doesn’t tease or joke though, instead encourages you to come watch

“I miss my favorite spotting partner,” Raph admits, hoping that will help jog your memory a little. It doesn’t outright, but you do find yourself already knowing how to spot him.

After a few days of you following Raph around like a lost puppy, your memory finally comes crashing back to you when Raph slipped the boxing gloves on you for practice.

Relief. So much relief it washes over Raph like a tidal wave that nearly knocks him off his feet. He holds you and kisses you, telling you repeatedly how grateful and happy he is you have your memory and you’re here. The tears will come at night while the two of you are in bed for the night, but he holds you and everything is okay.

Donatello

Initiate full on analytical mode. He is immediately going through a thousand different scenarios and cures in his head, he almost forgets that *you forgot* who he was all together, so his babbling did nothing to calm you down.

Even with all his knowledge and abilities, it still doesn’t negate the overwhelming emotions he feels when you don’t recognize him. It hurts, makes it hard for Donnie to even breathe, but he hides it behind his science and research.

Sitting in front of his computer for days on end in between checking up on your, it becomes almost like an obsession for Donnie to get your memory back. At the risk of his own health and wellbeing, he does not stop.

From using scents he knows you enjoy, like that cologne you bought for him as a gift or your favorite body wash, tasting your favorite coffee or the tiramisu Donnie bought for the two of you on a date once.

Let’s put on that movie we watched on that one Valentine’s weekend; you were obsessed with it for weeks!

Oh, what if Donnie took you to that rooftop the two of you saw a comet in the night sky once? It was absolutely beautiful, but wasn’t nearly as beautiful as you, he confided.

Countless hours of research keep Donnie from sleeping, honestly at one point contemplating how he could just straight main-line caffeine into his blood stream to stay awake.

Without warning one night, you come into his lab and demand he sleep. Not ask, not coax, you demand Donnie to get in bad with you and get some sleep. He questions if you’ve finally gotten your memory back, but sadly no. And he’s crushed. But you still demand he lay down in bed with you.

Crawling into bed with you with awkward limbs, Donnie is surprised that you lay down exactly as you always do with him. Even without memory, it was like your body still remembered how you fit together.

Quiet tears fall as Donnie holds onto you, sleep mercifully taking him into a deep slumber. Guilt crawled its way into your stomach while trying to sleep, wishing that your memory would just return so you could stop all of this.

Waking up in the morning, you blinked with shock as you look at Donnie- looked at him like you knew him again. And you did. You had woken up with your memory by some miracle.

Kissing and hugging you with love and relief, Donnie can’t keep his hands off of you or keep the tears from smudging his glasses. It was all so hard to believe while it was happening that now it was over, it felt like the end of a tornado.

The two of you decide to sleep in a little longer, only because Donnie could barely hold his eyes open. Frankly, sleep was probably what you needed too after all this.

Michelangelo

Confused. Downright, no jokes confused. How could you not remember him so suddenly? Time just doesn’t erase like that right?

Mikey asks Donnie a million and one questions, repeating or re-wording them or giving scenarios. It drives his brother mad, but he tries to be lenient because Donnie knows how terrified his younger brother is.

He caters to you in every way; offers to get you a drink, make you something to eat, get you a pillow, it becomes a little overwhelming, but you don’t know how to tell him to stop.

When Mikey tries to kiss you and pull away, it was like you could practically hear the way his heart shatters like glass. But he hides it with a smile and flirts, telling you he won you over once, he could do it again.

This is when he starts to flirt with you like he did before the two of you started dating, but with far more strategy and knowledge. Comments about how sweet you are while making your favorite chocolate pancakes with strawberries and whipped cream

Tells you how amazing you look in that shirt or those pants, mostly because he was the one to buy them.

He’ll give you your favorite kind of gifts; favorite flowers, candy, stuffed animals, anything he can think of giving you and jog your memory. Each time it doesn’t work, he’s crushed a little bit more, but he keeps trying.

Plays movies that you and Mikey watched together, shared music playlists the two of you built together over the period of your relationship, and whatever else he could possibly think of. But it still didn’t work.

When you aren’t anywhere near to see, Mikey with let himself cry for a moment out of frustration and sadness that you don’t remember him. It hurts, but by the time you are near he has a smile back on his face.

He thought you were sleeping one night when you found him crying down one of the sewer tunnels away from the lair. The sight broke your heart, which for some reason jogged your memory. Rushing to hug and kiss him, you damn near scared Mikey out of his shell.

“Angelcakes, you remember!?” Mikey shouts, picking you up and spinning you in a massive hug. Thank the pizza Gods, he had you back!

Taglist

@silverwatergalaxy @thelaundrybitch @sophiacloud28 @iridescentflamingo @thegirlwiththeninjaturtletattoos

@yorshie @truffle-reblogs @redsrooftopprincess @ninnosaurus @thepinkpanther83

@avery73 @luckycharms1701 @tmnt-tychou @suksiskovaikkakuuseen @milykins @justalotoffanfiction

[asarigg]

Inside the Character's Mind: Part 1

mentions of physical, psychological and sexual abuse towards both Koujaku and his mother

SELF DESTRUCTIVE BEHAVIOR

Let’s go back to the beginning. Or rather, what Koujaku tells us. He also talks about himself, of course, but usually when he talks about his past, most of the time he talks about his mother: because that’s what hurts him the most. He barely mentions the abuse towards him other than the tattoo and that one time his father punched him. But he always talks about all the hardships that his family put his mother through. And I’m sure you’ll agree with me that it is hard to believe that was it.

Koujaku’s father has proven to be an extremely violent piece of shit and a zero-empathetic person. I don’t doubt that Koujaku’s mother, because of her nature, was his favorite toy. What’s more, he did every cruel thing he could think of to her, his wife too, she had fresh wounds every day and she couldn’t even eat, and although it isn’t said nor implied I wouldn’t be surprised if Koujaku was a product of rape. I mean… most likely. We hardly know anything about his mother, not her appearance, not her name, not what she liked, not how the hell she ended up in that place, if there was any love involved in it or if it was something about debt, we only know that she was the perfect victim.

She was always saying sorry to her son, for everything Koujaku’s been witnessing, she feels guilty and responsible because he tries to stand up for her, and because she has brought him to a world where the one that decides for them is a criminal. She keeps a deep pain inside for everything that’s happening and she tries to hide it, especially from Koujaku, and seeing her son suffer doesn’t help. Smiling to him so he doesn’t worry, and saying sorry to try to comfort him. That’s why the last thing she repeats over and over to her son when she’s lethally wounded is “I’m sorry”, feeling sorry that it’s because of her that he has lived like this, because she wasn’t able to protect him, to give him a proper life.

Obviously all his father did was also psychological abuse towards Koujaku, even blackmailing him with hurting his mother. But I sincerely believe that his father would use physical abuse to teach the boy a lesson, nothing could stop him anyway, because Koujaku as a child complained and rebelled, he didn’t care if his father hit him, he would defend his mother regardless. This is why I sometimes give Koujaku more scars to his body, and besides defensive cuts I also give him cigarette burn marks. Lore expansion better known as adding trauma.

I think he just doesn’t talk about it that much because the abuse towards him isn’t what has hurt him the most. We ourselves often don’t give it much importance if someone tries to insult us, but maybe if it’s someone close to us, that does piss us off, some logic like that. Moreover, throughout the game Koujaku’s personality is just like that, always worrying about others and giving little importance to himself, to the point of being tremendously negative for him.

Don’t you think those scars would make him look more masculine, intimidating, as if he’s survived dozens of dangerous, tough fights? It seems the perfect image for an environment like organized crime.

Despite all of Koujaku’s feminine traits, the perception of him both in canon and in fandom (usually) is that of a stereotypically masculine, super straight man who fucks a different woman every night, always joking with “no homo, bro” (which, mind you, I’m not saying I don’t like these jokes, I make them myself too). But in reality that couldn't be further from the truth.

With that image that we have of him, sometimes it would seem that he is someone with prejudices or that he really had a hard time accepting that he’s not straight, specially when in the scene where he confesses to Aoba he says the following:

The reasons he tries to hide his feelings is a mix between the fact that they are friends and he doesn’t want to ruin the friendship they already have, that he wants to hide his past and that he doesn’t want to be a burden on Aoba, so he keeps all those things to himself. (And he’s also been educated a certain way and has always seen things one way, never gave it much thought so when it crosses his mind, of course he’s confused)

When he first met Aoba he thought he was a girl because he had really long hair, and after all, when we’re kids we don’t have very developed features anyway, it’s a pretty androgynous state. When Aoba corrects him and tells him he’s a boy his behavior is exactly the same, nothing changes. He corrects himself and never treats him as a girl.

He is someone who has no problem showing his affection for Aoba, neither in private nor in public, he’s very comfortable with his bisexuality, the only one who is reluctant to do so, either out of shame or fear, is Aoba.

What I’m trying to get at with all this is that all that “gentleman” facade and the “always accepting women who want to have something with him” that makes him look so stereotypical in a first impression has a much darker origin, although underneath all that there’s a much more sentimental, vulnerable and open Koujaku about his true feelings, expressing them even if he feels embarrassed, as we see on some occasions (touching his hair nervously when he confesses, of when he explains why Aoba's hair is so important to him).

The relationship he has with his mother is the most direct connection, or course. Being the son of an abused woman has made him hyper-aware of his position as a man (so much that sexism in this game almost goes full circle like the Bourbon family tree, but this is NC’s problem and it happens everywhere, it’s so obvious it’s a writers problem and it’s a shame it affects Koujaku so much because he’s basically the only one who isn’t scared of a bad bitch). We’ll talk about this in particular some more later, but let’s focus on what concerns his father for now.

Being the family of criminals that they are, abusers and… almost slavers, the most logical thing to assume is that they are specially conservative. It could very well be that his father, once he decided to make him his heir, wanted the image of his kid to be as intimidating and masculine as possible. A criminal, a murderer who could run his business in a world like this.

We know that the tattoo is an experiment by Toue, and it wouldn’t be strange if his father knew what was behind it, because after all it would also be beneficial for him to have a way to control him, to mold him to his liking and to make him obedient, unlike he had been behaving, refusing to be his heir and trying to defend his mother. The image of an effeminate, soft, sissy man was not exactly ideal for the future leader. For me, Koujaku’s father either already intended to name him heir before agreeing to the tattoo being an experiment with Toue and Ryuuhou, or he ended up deciding to name him the heir precisely because they had already talked about the tattoo and its possibilities beforehand.

His father would want to break him, drive him to despair so that he would stop resisting, take away his will and, although this is mostly headcanon, “make him a man”. Be a man, be strong, tenacious, learn to fight and find a woman to continue the family with, etc. So it is not surprising that at first he didn’t even reconsider his sexuality and thought that the affection he had for Aoba was just friendship, which over time, with such strong feelings, he realized was not the case. I sincerely love that he is shown to be so nervous and that he confesses to be kinda confused about it and in a state of denial, without having any external reference and too busy hating his father and Ryuuhou to even think about it, it’s normal that it took him so long.

He was trained to be a gangster, while his father insulted him, hit him and threatened him using his mother, on whom he took it out. This training also implies not only fighting but also for doing business, how to talk to be well-received, how to negotiate, how to give the best impression of himself at any given situation. This pack of skills seem to resonate with those that he uses to flirt and run his own business, even if he does it on an unconscious level, he just knows what to say to strike the person he’s talking to in their weak spots. His father’s physical treatment would not only be a punishment, but also to teach him a lesson, to learn to endure the pain, just like he endured the pain of the tattoo. If he cried, it would be shameful, he would be punished. He had to hide his pain, his feelings, his thoughts, for the sake of his mother’s safety and his own. Practically becoming a puppet, thus evolving into the life he carries in Midorijima as an adult.

Him not wanting to open up to Aoba wouldn’t be just an “oh he’s going to hate me”. It’s also what he learned would be the best, having a charismatic appearance that everyone likes. After all wouldn’t it be logical to not want any confrontation with anyone after all that? A tough guy, with people around him who admire him, who never gets tired or cries, because nothing’s wrong. In a way it’s also a shield, a protection, a defense mechanism. To be a man.

Now, the way he behaves that almost everyone without exception associates with his mother. And this, for sure, is the intention, his desire to protect his mother and therefore take care of the women he meets. But it’s also him actively wanting to be the opposite of his father.

What kind of relationship does he have with women? The contact he has with them is mostly through all his female fans, who are crazy to say the least. We’re not going to get much into the subject of sexism but first of all it’s a huge mistake that his fans are only young women or the way they make them all act.

Koujaku spends all his time building a character that he considers perfect, someone gentle, who never says no to a woman and is always available to entertain them, it would never occur to him to deny anything to any of them, as his mother was denied so many things. Unlike that hard and tenacious masculinity that he was taught to have in order to take on his role as the heir or the bestiality of his tattoo, he presents a gentle and chivalrous masculinity on the outside. What he does is pamper them and give them everything they ask for (almost, because has never really had serious relationships. Which makes sense because he would be telling them pretty big lies, right? That wouldn’t fit with his own code). He doesn’t think very highly of himself, he has a low self-esteem as he thinks he is nothing better than a worthless monster that should have probably died a long time ago.

Sometimes people who are abused go through abuse again, in a cycle. I think saying that Koujaku is a playboy is incorrect. (He acts flirty and likes playing around, sure, but there’s something deeper). That perception of him is natural, of course, because the way he behaves and how he is presented to you, is the image they want to give of him after all, in a basic and cliche way, so artificial that it is unsettling. I could believe that it sounds artificial on purpose, referring to that shell of how a confident and strong man should talk, if it weren’t for the fact that they do this kind of cliche and artificial situations quite often with other characters as well, and it makes it kinda hard to remain immersed. I honestly think that the foreshadowing could have been done a little better, but it still serves the narrative. Also this is practically almost all you see of his character the two first interactions he has with Aoba. Considering the structure of the game and how rushed everything is, it’s not very positive, but for the sake of your mental health it's better not to think too much about it.

In short, Koujaku is a very accommodating and attentive person. He listens and encourages others with their problems but doesn’t let anyone worry about him with his own, taking on everything himself. He even ironically tells Aoba that if he’s worried about what happened with Mizuki, he can blame him, and that he can always count on him to tell him anything. It’s a very lonely way to live, even though he has so many people around him.

Knowing this, it’s more than reasonable to think that more than him flirting with women, it’s simply him agreeing to give what those women ask of him. They come looking for something and he gives it to them. He’s a toy. It’s often joked that he’s practically a prostitute, and pretty much that’s what it is. And it’s in the balcony scene where we see a more personal side of him, where we can observe that in reality all this burden tires him, it’s not natural. It’s not like his character isn’t extroverted and charismatic, but that’s not everything, and in public he doesn’t allow himself to be “less”, so in private and in confidence is when he can afford to relax, with Aoba or in his own house.

Somehow, even though he is no longer with his family, the way he interacts with other people, or how he lets himself be used, be it consciously or not, even if there is a different intention behind, is not that different from before, people still use him.

ERHM... SOMETHING

I’ve sometimes wondered if there was some sort of sexual abuse on Ryuuhou’s part towards Koujaku. Nothing is implied canonically, at least physically, but the erotic connotations of the story of the tattoo artist he’s based on, the sadism, and his constant references to love make me think of it happening on a symbolic level.

I think it’s obvious that Ryuuhou loves Koujaku, in his own way, as his creation, and he’s referencing love at first sight and Koujaku’s abuse of Aoba. In a metaphorical way that abuse certainly happened, ever since he was tattooed, his body did not belong to him anymore. There are people who can’t stand the idea of having sex, and others who often seek it out to ease the pain. Ryuuhou made sure to mark his body and mind so that he could never forget him. His tattoos are his shame, his filth and sin. When Aoba touches his tattoos Koujaku practically jumps at contact.

[laauranenn]

I love how maturely you handled the negative asks from The Anon I really admire you for it! I would also like to add on to your already on point analysis: Each arc is really significant for Sakura. Shishitoren arc I feel highlighted what could've been Sakura's future had he followed the same path he planned on that is becoming the top of Furin. Ume teaching Sakura how to use fighting as a conversation was a significant moment and the beginning of Sakura's change as a person who isn't all about fights, the moment he started evolving. Keel arc further steeled his character in the sense it showed a vulnerable side of him. Sakura, who had never been cared for, realizing he has people he wants to protect and struggles with it. His senpai and friends take the spotlight because they are there to help him. Just because other characters are getting a spotlight doesn't mean Sakura is losing it, it's simply to highlight their role in Sakura's life, and of course to give an insight about those characters themselves. Also one thing a lot of people often fail to notice is how much the plot revolves around Sakura. Everyone actually praises him for valor. Especially when you notice how Nirei was awestruck watching Shishitoren and Roppo Ichiza be friends because he's from the town, he knows how dire the situation used to be and now those enemies are Furin's friends but Sakura doesn't realize that because he wasn't there before the New Furin. He doesn't know his own impact so he doesn't think he has done much when he changed so much, not just as a person, but the town as well. Also how Ume said he didn't consider asking help from others like Sakura did because he thought Sakura considered that a possibility because he was from outside but he didn't consider the probability that maybe Sakura thought it was okay to ask for help because that's what he's been taught since he joined Furin. "Rely on your Brother" as Ume put it and Sakura really did. This town, this school and even the other gangs, they shaped him and are still doing so. Sakura's character isn't something you can interpret in isolation neglecting the role of his friends. Sorry for the rant I have been getting peeved by the Anon and wanted to share this. Sorry for any mistakes English is not my first language. Thank you for your time!

Thank you so much!! I mostly started this because I wanted to give the guy a chance to actually talk about their opinions on Wind Breaker and it's writing !! I figured that there might actually be something there other than just trolling or rage bait.

AND I WAS RIGHT !!

And thank you for adding your own analysis to this!! You've explained Sakura's involvement in the arcs really well!! That was something I kind of struggled to do in my analysis! I wasn't sure how to explain how involved he truly is in the story, even if it might seem otherwise to some!

And don't worry about the writing, English isn't my first language either!!

[quarterlifekitty]

Something, something, König picking up gaming in his free time, not uncommon for an older guy especially with a cute little thing who has a nice set up for gaming and he absolutely takes to it with flying colours. Kinda pissing you off how he’s gotten leagues better than you at one of your favourites in such a short amount of time. So when that skin you absolutely NEED drops you’re going insane grinding for it. It’s frustrating too because all the sweats have come out of the woodwork to grind for it too, leading to a lot of swearing and groaning on your end, coincidentally, König’s free time aligns and he’s more than happy to help you grind the tougher parts if you sit pretty on his lap and drain his pent cock.

What’s better than two stress relievers when he comes home from a high tension workplace environment?

(Bonus points if he’s your weird online long distance boyfriend who definitely told you an age younger than what’s on his ID and the place he comes home to is just your apartment that he decided was his too.)

Brother. The way this ask is in my mind. I would like to preface this by saying if you or a loved one is playing a video game with microtransactions and limited edition skin drops it’s not too late to get help. We can beat this together.

cw: he’s kind of a creep in this. Red flags abound. Somno/dubcon type stuff

Gonna make a couple of amendments to this one if that’s ok. 1) König is never going to be a god gamer because his hands are too fucking big and also I WANNA BE THE DOMINANT GAMER IN THE RELATIONSHIP. My ass is carrying HIM in apex. I don’t care that he knows how to shoot real guns. Don’t take this away from me

2) while he didn’t outright lie about his age, he did not say shit that would lead you to believe this man was over 40. He shared very few details about his personal life. Just that he was in the military, Austrian, and now? A gamer. Those are all the hallmarks of being a man in his 20s! Except the Austrian thing— that can happen to anyone.

I like to imagine he treats you like his discord kitten tho. You ask how old he is and he’s like “I’m an adult, if that’s what you’re worried about” or “old enough” or “don’t worry about it” and you say “okay 💖 yay 💖”

And he’s 100% your sugar daddy. Constantly buying you games just so you can co-op with him, gifting you in-game currency to spend on battle passes, absolutely ravaging your wishlist— steam, amazon, or otherwise.

He finds himself in your area for work and you tell him your address so he can meet up with you.

And you’re kind of a stupid femcel so when this dude shows up at your door, almost seven feet tall and wearing a surgical mask, scarred face with a healthy grey streak in his hair, it’s not setting off any alarm bells. There’s like at least 5 red flags here but you’re colorblind and inviting him in.

You didn’t realize that he was planning on staying with you while he was in the area. You also didn’t realize that the moment he found out he’d be stationed near you, he decided it was time to take your relationship to the next level.

Which is how you end up stretched out on his cock on the same day that you met in person for the first time, with him grunting in your ear about how he dreamed of this— thought of it every time he jerked off when you fell asleep during a discord call. He could tell just from your voice that you’d be pretty and soft and tight and perfect for him— and he was ready to settle down.

Good thing you didn’t really have any plans for the rest of your life, or you might find how fast he moves a little scary.

So it makes sense that you’re still a little shy. Too nervous to initiate things usually. So he just has to motivate you a little.

This skin’s an exclusive, can’t be earned with currency, and available as a drop for just 7 days. You can’t put in the hours to get it on your own, not to mention how tedious it is, and it can’t be bought. But it’s so cute.

So he makes the offer. He’ll spend his precious leave time helping you earn it if you keep his cock warm while he does it. He’d initially planned on using that time to rearrange your guts, so you’re gonna have to make it worth his while.

And maybe you exaggerate a little. You’re used to saying these things over calls— where nothing has any repercussions in the real world. Where you can promise anything from the safety of being on a screen a world away.

You tell him you’ll let him do whatever he wants to you if he can get that skin for you. After a moment you realize the implications of saying that to someone who can and will hold you down and make out with your cervix using the tip of his cock.

He borrows one of your elastics to tie back his hair.

He’s gonna get you that skin. And then he’s gonna get you pregnant.

You did say anything.

[error-dark]

Helluva Boss Sinsmas Spoilers!!!

So much to talk about. I am absolutely feral right now. Even with a bit of time to process everything, I'm still not okay (in the best way possible).

Blitz, giving Stolas lots of horse plushies to cuddle with, cooking Stolas food, helping him with shopping, laundry, getting food and clothes, hell EVEN FUCKING ROBBING stores for Stolas! He's giving Stolas everything he needs right now!!

Not to mention this!!!!

HE HIRED STOLAS!!!!

I also noticed there were a lot of Season 1 parallels. For example:

There were even parallels to "You Will Be Okay" within Octavia's solo, "I Will Be Okay". (Actually, now that I think about it, it might be the revise version/Octavia version of "You Will Be Okay".

Speaking of Octavia...

I made a theory post some time ago about the possibility of her coming in to save her dad.

I WAS FUCKING RIGHT!!!!

Also, I love this anime/manga effect that they chose to do. I was not expecting that and I LOVED IT!!

It is bittersweet, really. She still saved him (and Blitz), obviously deep down she still cares and loves her dad. She's still hurt and disappointed that, in her eyes, he left her for Blitz. I mean, she's not wrong. That's technically what happened, even though we all knew that Blitz would've died if it weren't for Stolas. But she's disappointed that he broke his promise. She has every right to be upset right now.

I know Stolas did everything he could to protect Octavia, to avoid giving her the similar trauma that he went through as a kid. But even then, I feel like some of this complicated stuff could be avoided if he had just told her the truth. Even though it's a hard pill to swallow, Octavia still needs to know the truth about everything.

And yes, I know that Stolas tried to tell her at the end, but at that point, it was technically too late. Octavia is not gonna hear him out right now or any time soon. And that hurts, for both of them.

Perhaps one day, Octavia will learn what's really going on behind the scenes. Perhaps she'll understand better why Stolas acted the way he did, and why he did all of those things. She doesn't have to forgive him right away (though, she could forgive him much later on if she wants to). But I still have a strong feeling, despite everything, deep down, she still loves her dad, even if everything's complicated right now.

Moving on...

MILLIE'S PREGNAT!!!! AHHHHH!!!!

She even called up Sallie May for advice!!! She's worried about how Moxxie would react!!

Honestly, I'm highly sure Moxxie would still love Millie and support her. I really hope he'd be happy with having a child (or children if they end up being twins or triplets). Maybe he'd also be worried about ending up like his shitty father, in which Millie would reassure him that he is NOTHING like his father and never will be.

And of course, Blitz would try to give them Parenting 101 Lessons on What To Do and What NOT To Do. Maybe Stolas would also try to help them out as well, but I feel like he'd get very emotional, because it'd remind him of his daughter.

One bonus thing I wanna mention real quick: Loona's still calling Blitz "Dad".

Alright this post is way too fucking long. I'm so sorry but there's too much to talk about and point out. And I'm sure there's a lot more to talk about, like Blitz and Stolas acting like an actual couple. But I'm gonna leave it here.

Anyway... how are y'all feeling about the Season 2 Finale?